Readers, Suzy wants to shave her head again this year. Who are we to deny her? She’s shaving her head in memory of an 8 year-old named John, who lost his life to leukemia.
Donate and help her meet her goal!
If you’re on Facebook and you want to play Scrabulous or Scramble, you just go right ahead and invite me to a game. I suck at both of them, but I’m happy to play!
It’s been a while since I uploaded any movies, so here you go. This is from sometime in December, and seems to come from several different Snackin’ Time sessions. Elleh-Belleh is demanding a snack at the beginning, then she’s not there, and Punki and Felicia are, so I don’t know what was up. Also, it’s really freakin’ long, sorry about that.
Also, warning: Spot’s in the movie, so don’t be all sad and surprised when you see him.
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Punki.
Felicia.
I had completely forgotten what a sweet girl Punki is. The only times I’ve seen her for the last month was at the pet store, and she was all hissy and growly and climby, which is apparently how she acts when she’s stressed. After I cleaned at the pet store yesterday, I put Elle and Skittles in the cage where Punki and Felicia had been, and brought Punki and Felicia home, and Punki immediately turned into this goofy, sweet, sniffy, purring little monkey.
Before I left the pet store, I had a stern talk with Elle and Skittles, and they promised me that they’d get themselves adopted into very good homes before next Monday. I so hate going in there and seeing my girls in cages. I just don’t GET why they’re not getting adopted.
I suspect that Elleh-Belleh knew she was about to go to the pet store, because she spent all last evening sitting and giving me a “How COULD you?!” look. Then, she climbed up next to me, snuggled up, and spent the night sleeping with me, which she’s never done before.
I hate hate HATE taking cats to the pet store, especially cats who’ve been with us for so long and have come to think they’re in their “Forever home” rather than just a waystation. I feel sad and guilty and like the most evil person alive, but if we kept every cat I’ve come to love, we’d have about a hundred cats right now.
If you have a moment tomorrow evening, pause and send a happy adopting thought toward North Alabama and those two sweet brown tabbies, would you?
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When I got home from the pet store this morning, I settled in for a rough day of doing not very much at all: followed the cats around with a camera, checked on the whereabouts of Joe Bob (I still don’t quite trust him not to hop the fence), boiled a chicken carcass to make a couple of pans of chicken and rice casserole (which I immediately put in the freezer to have at a later date).
Speaking of food, last night we had green tomato chili for dinner. We had half a batch of it left over from September (it makes a LOT, so I always freeze half the batch), so I tossed it in the crockpot, let it cook all day, and told Fred that if he wanted corn bread, it was up to him to make it. He, being a southern boy, loves corn bread. I like cornbread if it’s sweet – I think that’s a Yankee thing – but otherwise I’m no big fan.
Fred got out the bag of cornmeal, looked at the recipes on the back and said “There’s no recipe for corn bread!”
“Well,” I said. “That’s why they make the internet.”
“I’m not looking up a recipe for CORN BREAD on the internet!” he scoffed, and made up his very own recipe on the fly. And it was really pretty good, as corn bread goes.
It pisses me off that he can do that. I can follow a recipe and make corn bread; he can throw a bunch of stuff in a bowl and make better corn bread. I’m a functional cook, but he’s the one who’s really good at it.
Bastard.
Anyway, I was just hitting my ass-sitting groove this afternoon when Fred came inside (it was 50 degrees outside today, but there was a brutal wind and it was fucking cold out there, so he was all bundled up). After talking around the subject for a few minutes, he finally said that he was worried he wouldn’t get the pig shelter finished today, and he wanted to get the roof on it so it wouldn’t get wet inside. I bundled up and went outside and I was the best! helper! ever!
While he cut wood, I drilled holes and then screwed screws to hold the side and back panels on. We took a break for lunch, and then he went out and mostly got the roof on, and I drilled more holes and screwed more screws.
This is my “What the fuck am I supposed to do here with this board that isn’t as tall as the others?” face. Please note: warm, puffy jacket.
Badass.
Mister Boogers is no dummy. He stayed inside where it was warm, curled up in a nice soft bed, and slept the day away.
Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Amazon is the Jonathan Baker of boyfriends.
2004: I could have crowned myself “The Queen of Fuck.”
2003: Because M&Ms rock, and so does my husband.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Have I mentioned that three-day weekends rock? They surely do.