April 2008 – Page 2

4-17-08

7:50 pm: She pushed out three little ones in the course of about an hour. She’s resting now – Fred thinks there are a couple more in there. We’ll see! Number 3. More pictures up later, or tomorrow. I have a ton to go through – and there might be more babies! Edited to add: … Continue reading “4-17-08”

7:50 pm: She pushed out three little ones in the course of about an hour. She’s resting now – Fred thinks there are a couple more in there. We’ll see!

Number 3.

More pictures up later, or tomorrow. I have a ton to go through – and there might be more babies!

Edited to add: 9:08 pm: And now there are four.

She appears to be done, so I’m off to bed. I’m sure I’ll be checking on her through the night!

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Wow, y’all had busy days yesterday, didn’t you? I felt like a great big slug thinking about what I had planned, and then seeing what you were doing!

(Which didn’t make me inclined to be any more active, just so ya know.)

I like reading your plans for the day; thanks for sharing with me!

I made it to my appointment only about five minutes late – I had to stop at the post office on the way to mail something – and settled in for my cut and color. I got a good ways into the newest book I’m reading, and although I didn’t think I’d like the book in the first few pages, it grabbed my interest and dragged me in pretty quickly.

I left there a little after 10:30, went to the fabric store, and spent over an hour browsing through the store. Fred and I are planning something – I’ll take pictures of it as it’s being made, assuming it turns out okay – and I had a list of stuff I needed to buy.

By the way, a month after I ordered and received the sewing machine (maybe even more like 6 weeks), I finally took the damn thing out of the box, set it up in the guest bedroom, and am slowly working my way through the book to make sure I know how everything works, ’cause it’s been damn near 20 years since I used a sewing machine. Maybe this weekend I’ll actually do a few straight stitches! Woo!

The problem with fabric stores is that even someone who has NO sewing skills (that would be me) goes in there to look around, and there’s so much CUTENESS in there that you can’t help but buy a few yards of material just in case you suddenly discover a skill for sewing (not holding my breath).

I ran over to the pet store to use the bathroom (and see if all the cages were filled, because I have scooping-and-feeding duty this morning at the pet store, so I wanted to have some idea of how many cats are around), bought some finch seed, and then went over to Target to grab a few things.

By the time I got home, it was close to 1:00, and I was starving. I had lunch, spent about half an hour with Splash, and then settled on the couch to watch Real Housewives of NYC (more on that in tomorrow’s entry). I finished watching that, and was cleaning up the kitchen when the phone rang.

“Help me Obi-Wan, you’re my only hope!” said the woman who runs the shelter.

“What’s going on?” I asked, figuring that she was going to tell me that there was another semi-feral who needed a home. Not so. Turned out, she knew someone who’d had a cat show up on her front porch – and the cat was very very pregnant.

“So, would you want a pregnant cat?” she asked hopefully.

I will tell you what – I almost did a little happy dance, because it’s been a while since I’ve had any itty bitty babies ’round here, and I’d offered to take the last couple of bottle-fed babies, but had been too slow because other people had snatched them up before I got my butt in gear and offered to take them.

She said that the woman upon whose porch the pregnant cat had appeared would take her to the vet for testing, and she’d let me know when I could pick her up.

Turns out that the woman took the cat to the vet right then, so an hour later the shelter manager called and said I could pick her up anytime.

You know me. I opted to pick her up IMMEDIATELY.

I moved Splash from the foster kitty room to the guest bedroom. I was afraid it was going to be a difficult task because I have yet to get my hands on Splash without her unleashing the Claw o’ Doom, but in the end since Splash spends her days hiding in a kitty condo all I had to do was put a towel across the front of the condo and carry the whole thing downstairs. Splash didn’t try to escape, didn’t move at all, thank god.

I showed up at the vet’s office, and they said that the cat – a pretty brown tabby – was ready to drop those kittens at any time. She was perfectly calm as I drove her home, only meowing once or twice. I put her carrier in the foster kitty room, opened the carrier, and she immediately came out, came over to me, and started purring.

She’s a seriously friendly little thing – though I’ve read that mother cats who are about to give birth get extra-friendly, so part of her super-friendliness might be due to that. She’s definitely ready to pop, and she has a hard time laying down and getting comfortable, so she paces a lot (another sign of being ready to give birth!) and she purrs and kneads, and if you rub her belly she will roll onto her back and give you the Love Eyes.

Last night before bedtime, Fred and I went in and spent some time with her, and we petted and petted and petted her, and rubbed her belly, and I brushed her (she’s shedding a lot, and – yay! – really likes to be brushed), and then we were ready for bed so we said goodnight to her and left the room. She howled for a few minutes and then settled down, so I figured she’d be okay.

A little after midnight, I was awakened by the sound of her meowing softly. As I listened, she got louder, and I was afraid that she’d wake Fred up (you know, the one member of the household who has a job and thus needs his sleep?) so I grabbed a pillow and a quilt and went in to lay down with her. Well, I laid down – she paced back and forth and rubbed up against me and kneaded on my arm and rolled over for a belly rub. Eventually, she dozed off for a few minutes before waking up and beginning the whole rigmarole all over again. When she’d finally calmed down, I went back to bed. She meowed for a few minutes, then quieted down.

I fell back to sleep a little before 2:00 and then she woke me up about 5:15, so I got up. I’d set the alarm for 5:25 anyway, because I had to get up and do my stint at the pet store. I gave her a snack, gave her some love, and scooped out her litter box before I went off to take my shower and get ready for the day. Fred spent a few minutes with her, and she started howling again, so we decided to put a radio in with her, hoping that the sound would soothe her.

Not so much.

So I’m hoping that she drops these babies soon, because I’m prepared to spend the night in the room with her tonight (I need to find something semi-comfortable to sleep on, though – this “floor” shit is for the birds) but I don’t know that I’ll be able to handle more than one night of it.

She doesn’t have a name yet, and Fred wants to wait ’til she births those babies before we name her, so we’re calling her Momma Kitty for now. Original, no?

I suggested naming her “Miss Scarlett” ’cause I don’t know nothin’ ’bout birthin’ no babies, but it was actually Melanie who was giving birth when Prissy said that. And we could go with a whole Gone With the Wind naming theme, but I’m fairly certain that all those names have already been used. We’ll see.

She’s ALL belly.

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So for dinner last night we had Kahlua Pork. I think I’ve mentioned that I’m trying out new recipes lately, because I tend to see a recipe I like, stick it in the “try out these recipes” folder, and forget about them.

Fred didn’t think he was going to like the Kahlua Pork because he said it smelled like something was burning. I tried to convince him that it was due to the liquid smoke, but he disagreed. I went ahead and made stir-fried cabbage as suggested with the recipe, and I have to say: two thumbs up to the pork AND the cabbage. It was very good – Fred agreed completely – and so we’re having it again tonight for dinner. The only thing I would change is that I would maybe use a less fatty cut of meat (I used a Boston Butt) next time, but otherwise, I highly recommend it. And it’s a seriously easy meal to make!

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Okay, the Momma Kitty is howling again. I’m going to go settle in with her and see if I can’t convince her to just go ahead and birth those babies already.

HG, by the way, is completely at home with the Crooked Acres gang. He absolutely LOVES all the older cats, and I have actually seen him rub up against Miz Poo and she did NOT have a hissy fit. Will wonders never cease? He’s also big-time into Snackin’! Time! It never takes the new ones very long to get the hang of Snackin’! Time!, not surprisingly.

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Stinkerbelle in motion.

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Previously
2007: It can’t happen soon enough, if you ask me.
2006: Taking the week off.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: “Helloooooo, Fancypants! Hey, buddy, whatchoo doin’?” I said in my special Fancypants voice.
2002: Know what I’m thinking? Psycho stalker, desperate to come into the house, rape and rob us and leave us for dead, stealing the computers and the big-screen TV on the way out.
2001: I should have stayed in bed this morning.
2000: No entry.

4-16-08

Someone suggested in my comments yesterday that perhaps I accidentally tossed the bottle of Feliway in the trash. I’m starting to think that that must be what happened, and I shall just sit patiently and wait for my new bottle, ordered off eBay, to get here. And then I will duct-tape the stupid thing to … Continue reading “4-16-08”

And then I will duct-tape the stupid thing to me so that I don’t lose it!

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Also, I should point out that the fruit trees we covered Monday night so they wouldn’t freeze are still fairly small. They’re not fully grown by any means – the tallest are about eight feet tall, I’d guess – and I’m thinking that when they do get to the point where they’re big, tall trees they’re going to be on their own when the threat of a frost comes around.

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After a very fucking cold Monday, yesterday turned out to be GORGEOUS. It was so bright and sunny out with just a teeny breeze that I decided to do some laundry and hang it out to dry.

PERFECT clothes-drying weather.

I would absolutely take a bright and sunny cold day over a gray and overcast warm day ANY day of the week.

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Hmm. I have NOTHING for you today. And I’m about to leave and have my hair done and then I’m going to run over to the fabric store where I shall take my time looking around, and buy everything on my list, and then I shall come back home, eat lunch, and lay like a slug on the couch while watching last night’s episodes of Real Housewives of NYC and Workout.

BECAUSE I CAN.

What are YOU doing today? Other than working, that is, you industrious types.

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Sugarbutt & Tommy: Brudderly love.

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Previously
2007: It’s a rough fucking life.
2006: No entry.
2005: The freakin’ notify list.
2004: You could take notes, motherfucker.
2003: Okay, okay! Just please stop asking!
2002: I guess I was a doofus even way back then.
2001: DO NOT, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, EMAIL AND ASK IF I HAVE ANYTHING ON THIS LIST, STILL. I DO NOT
2000: I had to refrain from picking her up and squeezing her to bits.

4-15-08

My abdominal ultrasound yesterday went just fine. I left the house a couple of hours early with the intention of stopping at Target and then the fabric store. The Target stop went okay – I got everything I needed – but I pulled up to the fabric store a little after 9:00 only to find out that it doesn’t open ’til 9:30. And I had to be at my appointment at 10:15, and though the imaging center is only about 15 minutes from the fabric store, I didn’t want to feel rushed, so I put off the trip to the fabric store for another day.

So I stopped by to see Fred at work for a minute, then meandered around Huntsville and ended up at the imaging center about half an hour early. Luckily, I’d brought a book with me.

I always think I’m going to fall asleep when I’m having an ultrasound done, because it’s so dark and warm, and they put the warm gel on your stomach, and I just lay there and zone out. I watch the screen while it’s being done, but it never looks like anything but a big blob of nothing to me, so no self-diagnoses for me this time around.

Well, except for cancer of the abdomen, of course. OBVIOUSLY. It just looked like a great big blob of tumor, is what it looked like.

I’m sure I’ll hear from DrLiver later this week, telling me everything’s fine and to come see him in another six months.

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Since there was a possibility of frost last night, Fred and I had to go outside after dinner and cover the fruit trees. What a fucking COLD ASS PAIN IN THE ASS. I wore my warm parka and my warm boots, but it was windy and I didn’t have any gloves on, and the wind was going right through me.

Those goddamn peach and plum trees better PRODUCE this year, is all I have to say.

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Day 3: Feliway bottle still missing. Wherefore art thou, Feliway?

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Recipes I have made recently and which I am sharing with you:

A couple of weeks ago I was looking for something to make as a side dish with dinner. I didn’t want to make rice (Fred’s not a big rice fan), we’re getting low on black-eyed peas, and I don’t generally make pasta as a side dish. We had a ton of potatoes, so I looked around and found a recipe for Honey Roasted Potatoes. Quick, simple, easy, sounded good. So I gave it a try, and it was tasty. Only the slightest hint of sweetness – in fact, Fred took several bites before he said “It almost tastes… sweet?”

The next time we had homefries and scrambled eggs for dinner (which we do about once a week), I decided to make homefries in the oven using the same basic idea, only instead of using the honey/ mustard/ salt & pepper topping, I just salted and peppered the potatoes lightly and drizzled olive oil over the top. Voila! Homefries without the annoying sticking-to-the-pan part! I got a Vidalia Chop Wizard for Christmas, and it comes with two trays – I use the larger one to chop the potatoes into uniform cubes, and then the smaller tray to chop the onion. Works perfectly!

Last week I decided it was time to start going through the six inch tall stack of recipes I had, and making some of them for dinner. I have the tendency to see a recipe online and print it out or see it in a magazine and rip it out, then sticking it in a folder and never making it. After a quick look through my recipes, I decided to give Pecan-Crusted Chicken Tenders (from Southern Living magazine) a try. One of my favorite lunches is a salad with chopped tomatoes, a hard-boiled egg and shredded cheddar added, and then I like to slice a couple of chicken tenders (bought at the deli section of my grocery store) and put the chicken on top of the salad. I’ve never been able to make a decent chicken tender, so I’m always on the lookout for a good recipe.

For the first time ever, I made coated chicken where the coating didn’t stick to the pan. The secret, I guess, is either the part where you coat the chicken in flour and then egg, and then the outer coating, OR the part where you spray both sides with nonstick cooking spray before you put it on the rack to bake. Whatever the reason, the coating stuck, the chicken was very tender and tasty, and I had enough left over for a few days’ worth of (oven) Fried Chicken Salad. YUM.

Friday, since I finally had everything I needed for the recipe, I made a recipe I’d torn out of Cooking Light magazine. Old-Fashioned Oatmeal Honey Apple Cake sounds, well, kind of boring, I know. But the picture of the cake drew me in and made me want to try making it myself (unfortunately, I didn’t think to take a picture of the cake to share with y’all!). It’s a fairly simple cake to make, and except for the chunky applesauce, I had everything I needed here (well, except for the Lite Cool Whip. Tip from me to you: Fat Free Cool Whip tastes like plastic. NASTY.). It’s a lightly sweet cake – if I were the sort of person who had afternoon tea parties where I served tea and cake, this would be perfect. Like I said, it’s lightly sweet, it’s very tasty and won’t fill you up too much. Fred and I both liked it and the pigs and chickens LOVED the leftovers – especially the toasted almonds.

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McLovin would like you to know that he’s the man. He’s the man. He IS the man.

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“Haw haw haw, stupid humans, having to pay taxes, it’s times like this that remind me that it’s GOOD TO BE A CAT. Haw haw HAW! ::wheeze::”

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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: “Light” my ass!
2004: An odd duck, that one.
2003: Unfortunately, he lived.
2002: 10 Things I Learned Last Week
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

4-14-08

In case you missed it, I put an entry up on Saturday which included approximately 10,000 pictures of the Crooked Acres Gang. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I AM SO THIRSTY. But I can’t drink or eat anything until after my 10:30 ultrasound (don’t get excited, they’re ultrasounding my liver to see if that cysty thing that showed … Continue reading “4-14-08”

In case you missed it, I put an entry up on Saturday which included approximately 10,000 pictures of the Crooked Acres Gang.

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I AM SO THIRSTY. But I can’t drink or eat anything until after my 10:30 ultrasound (don’t get excited, they’re ultrasounding my liver to see if that cysty thing that showed up last time I had it done has grown at all. My suggestion to slice two holes through my abdomen and squeeze that cyst ’til it POPS LIKE A ZIT was met with resounding silence. Hmph.) and I am so thirsty.

So thirsty.

Did I mention so thirsty?

I should have taken the appointment that was later in the week, but earlier in the day, I think.

So yeah, I saw DrLiver on Friday for a followup visit. DrLiver is five days older than I am, so he noticed that I’d turned 40 too, so we did the requisite “OHMYGOD we’re SO OLD” and “Have your eyes started to go yet?”, then he told me I needed to go for an ultrasound, felt up my stomach flab (I assume he was feeling to make sure my liver wasn’t enlarged, but one day when he does that, I’m going to smack his hand away and yell “Don’t you know you don’t go feeling a lady’s flab like that without warning?!”) and ordered some bloodwork.

It’s always a quick, pleasant experience, seeing DrLiver. Well, except for the part where I have to have blood drawn, but the people at the lab do nothing but draw blood all day, so they know exactly what they’re doing, and they’ve never missed a vein yet.

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About ten days ago, to express the fact that he’s a giant asshole, Mister Boogers peed on a blanket I left on the new (to us) couch. Naturally, the pee soaked through the blanket onto the couch below, so I soaked the affected couch cushions with Nature’s Miracle. Nature’s Miracle dried, but I could still smell cat pee. I soaked it with Nature’s Miracle again. Dried. Cat pee smell remained.

Out of Nature’s Miracle, I stopped at the pet store on Thursday to buy more, but they didn’t have the regular, plain ol’ Nature’s Miracle, just the Oxi-Orange (or whatever it’s called) stuff, and I dislike intensely the smell of fake orange. I looked around to see what else there was, spotted a bottle of Stink Free, saw the money-back guarantee, and decided to give it a try.

Friday night I soaked the hell out of the couch where we could still clearly smell the smell of cat urine. Saturday morning, Fred danced into my room as I was making my bed and said “It’s a miracle!” There was no cat pee smell at all. AT ALL. Just the vaguest scent of the Stink Free, which is a pleasant laundry detergenty smell.

I highly, highly recommend it – though keep in mind that it’s early days yet, and I can’t guarantee that the urine smell won’t come back at some point. For now, we are very, very happy with the Stink Free.

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As I mentioned in Saturday’s entry, I bought a spray bottle of Feliway at the pet store on Thursday. I used it Thursday evening to spray down the couches, and then I couldn’t find the goddamn thing.

I still can’t find it.

Places where the Feliway bottle is NOT:

Bathrooms, bathroom cabinets, shower organizer
Kitchen cabinets, kitchen bookcase, under the kitchen sink
Refrigerator, other refrigerator, freezer, other freezer
Litter boxes or litter box areas
Washer, dishwasher, dryer (though it’s a possibility it slipped through the dryer portal and is nestled in a nest of lost socks in another dimension)
Medicine cabinet (any of them), drawer in the kitchen where we used to keep the cat medicine, dresser in the foster kitty room where we keep foster kitty supplies
Any of my desk drawers, under my desk, behind my desk
On the couch, on the other couch, stuck down in either of the couches, under the couches
In any of the cat toy baskets
In my purse
Held hostage by Contrary, the big LIAR (and to think, I almost traumatized George by tying a ribbon around her neck!)

And McLovin reports that he can definitively state it is NOT, as previously suspected, up his butt

I even tried ordering a bottle of Feliway off eBay, certain that as soon as I paid for it, the lost bottle would show up. NO LUCK.

I think it’s clear that my Feliway has R-U-N-N-O-F-T.

If you see it, grab it firmly around its neck and march it back to me, post-haste.

Thankyew.

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Yesterday was pretty much doing all the fun stuff that you have to do to get ready for the week ahead. If I had a job, I’m sure I’d have been all pissy by the end of the day because I spent all day doing shit I didn’t particularly want to do, but I don’t have a job, so I wasn’t pissy.

In case you wondered.

I got up fairly early yesterday because we left HG out of the foster room overnight (we put him up as usual at bedtime Saturday night, but he started meowing sadly (and very loudly) and when I peeked into the hallway, he had one paw stretched out under the door, and it was such a sad little sight that I let him out of the foster room) and Mister Boogers took exception to the addition (however temporary) of another cat to the household by being a great big jerk and picking on Joe Bob. I think Mister Boogers enjoys picking on Joe Bob because Joe Bob responds with an ear-piercing scream. HG, on the other hand, behaved himself quite nicely, spent most of the night on the end of the bed (which means I had five cats on the bed with me, but still managed to sleep pretty well) and didn’t make any trouble.

I spent a good part of the afternoon talking to Splash, who hid in her kitty condo and glared at me and wasn’t charmed by me at all.

COME ON, SPLASH.

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So HG, as mentioned, has been spending all his time out in the house with the other cats. I’ve never seen a kitten who gets along so well with other cats. He LOVES the other cats, and if they respond to him by hissing and smacking, he just shrugs and moves on. He and Tommy are fast becoming friends – I caught them snuggling and Tommy licking the top of HG’s head yesterday, and last night I woke up with the entire bed vibrating from the sound of HG’s purring, and I looked over to find Tommy and HG curled up together – and HG doesn’t run from us when we approach him (which he was doing when we first let him out into the house). He’s about ready to go to the pet store and be adopted, I do believe. I think that separating him from Smudgie was a very good idea.

Splash on the other hand, I don’t know. I don’t know what else to try with her. I go into the room and talk to her, I offer her snacks (sometimes she eats them, sometimes she doesn’t). I don’t make prolonged direct eye contact with her, I try to entice her to play, I try to touch her gently (I’ve gotten smart enough to wear a glove, at least) and every time I try to touch her – or even just hold out my hand for her to sniff – she hisses and smacks with her lightning-fast paw of doom.

I don’t know. I’m not giving up, but she’s the most feral cat I’ve ever had as a foster. Maybe when her sister gets here (the lady who has her hasn’t been able to get her hands on her) she’ll come out of her shell. I don’t know. We’ll see.

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The other day I was standing at the kitchen sink doing dishes when something in the big bush outside the window caught my eye.

I was pretty sure it was Newt, but there’s at least one other cat around here who looks like Newt, so I wasn’t positive until I knocked on the window and he turned to see what was going on.

Definitely Newt. He hung out in the bush for a couple of hours before he appeared at the side door wanting to come inside.

Last night after dinner, Fred was doing dishes, and when I walked into the kitchen, he said “What is that?”

Apparently Newt really likes hanging out in that bush. I hope the birds that usually hop and in out of that bush realize he’s there!

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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: God save me from the permed ‘fro.
2005: Why do I bother to make New Year’s resolutions, I ask you?
2004: Bastard.
2003: “That’s right, you LITTLE SHIT, get the hell out of here!” I yelled, stomping at him.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Not much of an entry.

4-12-08

Impromptu Saturday entry, just for shits and giggles. Who loves her readers? No one loves you like I do, baby. NO ONE. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A reader in Indiana sent me the link to this story. It’s a Humane Society in Madison County, Indiana, and they’re in danger of closing due mostly to theft by an … Continue reading “4-12-08”

Impromptu Saturday entry, just for shits and giggles. Who loves her readers? No one loves you like I do, baby. NO ONE.

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A reader in Indiana sent me the link to this story. It’s a Humane Society in Madison County, Indiana, and they’re in danger of closing due mostly to theft by an employee. An employee of the shelter has committed to staying in the shelter for a month to raise at least one months’ operating costs for the shelter.

Want to help? Here’s how.

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I bought a bottle of Feliway spray on Thursday, used it once, and now I cannot find the bottle ANYWHERE. It’s driving me absolutely nuts, because I’ve looked everywhere, three times in some locations, and can’t find it. I know I put it down in some stupid location thinking “Oh, I’ll remember I put this here!”, and now it’s nowhere to be found.

If you see my bottle of Feliway, please send it home. Thankyew.

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Fred sent me a link to this video on Friday. I started watching it, figuring I’d get tired of it about ten seconds in and close it. It was surprisingly entertaining, though – the part about 26 seconds in when the mascot misses the ramp, runs into the audience, and popcorn goes flying everywhere made me laugh ’til I snorted.

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Let’s play a game we’ve played oh so many times before, a game of which no doubt many of you have grown weary. But I am stupid and I know nothin’.

What’s this plant?

(flickr)

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I’m sorry to gross you out, but Fred took this picture of a bee stuck in a spider’s web – being taken care of by the spider – and it came out so awesome that I had to share it.

(flickr)

Something else gross – with the warmer weather comes ants, and lots of them. See the full-size picture here to get the full effect.

(flickr)

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(flickr)

Daffodils are still in bloom for a little while longer.

(flickr)

Onions are growing nicely.

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Due to the amount of rain we’ve gotten lately, we have a lot of standing water in various points on the property. This is where the pond used to be, before we filled it in.

(flickr)

This is the front part of the back forty.

(flickr)

Given last summer’s drought, I’m not complaining about the standing water at ALL.

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The pigs like chocolate.

“Hey! Maybe they gots chocolate!”

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I’m afraid to ask.

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Fred made a “playpen” in the grass by the garage, and we’ve been bringing the little chicks out to play when it’s nice outside. At first they were freaked, but now they get excited and start hopping and flying around as soon as we put them in the pen.

The white chick is George (because she’s so curious). She’s got a bit of a sashay going on here.

The little rock stars hang out away from the unwashed masses.

Chicks in flight.

One of the Americaunas does her Bird of Prey impression. Watch out, George!

Rhode Island Red.

Hey now you’re a Rock Star get the show on, get paid

I call these girls “Ivanas”, Fred calls them “Don Kings”.

I love the eye makeup.

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Tommy disapproves of this “Saturday entry” business.

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Previously
2007: “If a fluffy black cat prances across the yard, goes upstairs and shits on the carpet, could you give us a call?”
2006: “Hmm,” I said, like that meant something to me.
2005: Just because the fuckers are talking to me doesn’t mean I’m obligated to listen to their bullshit, does it?
2004: What exactly the fuck was I supposed to be doing at 5:30 on a Sunday afternoon, running for fucking president?
2003: No entry.
2002: Apparently the Committee for Deciding Who is Hellbound was meeting in the waiting room.
2001: “Jesus has arrived in Madison,” he said nonchalantly.
2000: Now that, my friends, is wickedly fast.

4-11-08

Real Housewives of NYC (spoilers within): Look, I understand that there are things that make people uncomfortable, things that kind of trigger their instinct to cut and run. However, the fact that Ramona FLIPPED OUT because Alex brought Simon to the “girls-only” party and then she lectured the table on what class is, and THEN … Continue reading “4-11-08”

Real Housewives of NYC (spoilers within): Look, I understand that there are things that make people uncomfortable, things that kind of trigger their instinct to cut and run. However, the fact that Ramona FLIPPED OUT because Alex brought Simon to the “girls-only” party and then she lectured the table on what class is, and THEN she was all “Gotta go, buh-bye!”? What an asshole. Did she need to keep screeching “WHY IS HE HERE?”? Did she need to do her best to make everyone else feel uncomfortable?

I don’t care for Simon, I think he’s smarmy and creepy, but Ramona managed to make me feel bad for him. And let’s get this straight: that man did not belong at that dinner party, when Alex asked if she could bring Simon, Bethenny should have said “No, it’s girls only!”, but I understand why she didn’t, because I’d have had a hard time saying it, too.

I think it’s interesting that we haven’t seen the shape Alex and Simon’s house is in until this show, and I think it’s funny that they’re all social-climbing wannabes but their house needs a desperate overhaul. Hey, here’s an idea – instead of wearing $10,000 worth of jewelry and couture to the OPERA, why not use that money to whip your house into shape, huh? Just an idea. (And now I’m looking around at my perpetually-a-work-in-progress home and thinking I should shut the hell up. But hey – at least I didn’t spend thousands of dollars on a dress I could only wear once!)

Um, that’s it. I’m sure more happened, but I was so blown away by Ramona’s assholery that I can’t remember what else happened.

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Survivor (skip the next section if you didn’t see last night’s show – spoilers within!)

How much do I LOVE the fact that Eliza tried to play the faux Immunity Idol? Oh, I love it SO VERY MUCH, but at least she suspected beforehand that it wasn’t really the Immunity Idol, so she wasn’t completely blindsided, because then I would have felt really bad for her.

I also love the fact that Eric MADE UP a new name for the tribe and convinced everyone that it meant “Good” (or whatever he said it meant). I thought for sure that Jeff Probst was going to bust him at Tribal Council, but I’m glad he didn’t!

Ozzy really ought to win this game, but I suspect that in the end, it’s going to be a woman who wins, unless Ozzy can muscle his way into the final three by winning immunity challenges.

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Do any of your cats not eat people food? The reason why I ask is that our cat will not eat anything but his cat food (both wet and dry). We’d give him raw or cooked hamburger or chicken and he smells it and walks away. What a weird cat. (At least this means he’s not begging for food, I guess.)

Miz Poo has never been interested in people food at all. Mister Boogers has taken to sitting next to Fred and bitching at dinnertime until Fred offers him some of whatever’s for dinner, and Mister Boogers invariably sniffs it and walks away. I’m pretty sure that all the other cats will eat the occasional piece of people food, though now that I think about it, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Miss Stank eat anything not meant for cats.

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Also re the Bathroom lady: who in the hell brings food to someone in the bathroom?! (You don’t have to answer this one, it’s kind of rhetorical.) I mean really! We only have one bathroom, so this probably won’t be an issue, but the time my husband asks me to bring him food when he is on the throne is the time I say “get it your damned self.” I am pretty sure he’d say the same. It should be a rule or something. A code. Man!

Yeah, I imagine the first time I was all “Hey Fred, bring me my dinner in here, would you? Don’t forget the napkin!”, there’d be firemen breaking down the door. Though obviously there are mental issues at play here – according to an article, the woman came from a very abusive family and she felt safe in the bathroom and I suspect there were some kind of weird control issues on the boyfriend’s side – if he hadn’t provided food for her, she would have come out of the bathroom pretty quickly.

And I want to know what the bathroom-lady’s housemate did when he needed to go to the toilet…

I heard or read somewhere that there was a second bathroom that he used. I hope that’s true!

“Whipple was the second law enforcement officer to go to the mobile home where McFarren and Babcock were living. Whipple, who described Babcock as a “thin, petite woman,” used a pry bar to take the seat off the toilet so the woman could be taken to hospital where the seat was removed.”

No pictures, E, but maybe that’ll convince your mother?

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Also, on a side note, I was looking through all the books on your list, Robyn, you’ve read a few Wally Lamb’s but not “I Know This Much is True” – if you really haven’t read it, you sooooo should! Its possible you’ll like it even more than his others.

I actually did read I Know This Much is True when it first came out – and I will always and forever remember Oprah with Wally Lamb on her show, and the way she constantly called it “I Know This Much to be True” and he never once corrected her – but it’s on my bookcase so I can read it again. I remember liking it a lot; hopefully I’ll like it as much the second time around!

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They are going to start calling you the Cat Whisperer. Or do they already?

They don’t, to my knowledge. I’m afraid Splash is going to be a hard nut to crack. I hope she’ll come around!

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Question about shedding: I was just noticing last night that my Nash and Pushkin are shedding like crazy right now. Should I try brushing or combing them? Does that help? Or one of those grooming glove things?

It always helps to brush them – that way the fur is in your brush and not on the floor – but what to use really depends on the cat. None of my cats like being brushed (poor dear departed Spot LOVED it), but I’ll occasionally go after them with the Furminator, which is the most awesome grooming tool around. Most of them will put up with a few swipes with the Furminator and the amount of hair that comes out with just a couple of swipes is AMAZING.

Anything that grabs the fur and keeps it in the brush (until you pull it out) is a good brush, in my opinion, but you might have to try a few different brushes to find one they’ll put up with. I don’t recommend the grooming gloves, though – they’re kind of weird and awkward to use, and I don’t think they do that great a job.

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What do the boys’ middle initials “J” stand for?

Your guess is as good as mine. They won’t tell me!

All the cats have “J” as their middle initial, including the girls (Pootie J. Pooterson, Stanker J. Belle, and Miss Maxi J. Momma).

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So, it was Joseph J. Bobbington, was it??

That would be Joseph J. Roberts, of course.

Is JoeBob getting a little plump or is it just the pose in the picture? If it’s the pose, you might want to suggest to JoeBob that pose isn’t his best side!

Joe Bob’s a big cat, but he’s not fat at all. I mean, give him time – he eats like the end of the world is coming – but for the time being, he’s just a big cat with no weight issues. He cares not how he looks in pictures, though – he’s a badass who commits crimes and then fools Crooked Acres’ premier (also, only) detectives!

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Seriously, Robyn…that logo is just cracking me up because i can’t believe you actually have that many cats. I mean it doesn’t seem like you’re overrun or anything like that at all, so that’s why it’s so shocking and hysterically funny to me to just see them all lined up like that. All lined up it kind of screams “crazy cat lady!”. but anyway one time on Oprah I saw this thing about this woman that had like fifty cats and every week she would cook them two turkeys, and she’d just leave the pans on the floor and the counter and let them eat it themselves. So until you start roasting turkeys just for the cats, you won’t be a crazy cat lady in my eyes, if that makes you feel any better!

Except for Snackin’! Time!, I don’t think it seems like there are that many cats around, either. They’re rarely all in one place, so with them spread out, you can hardly tell this is Crazy Catsville.

I could never do the two turkeys thing, not because it’s such a loony thing to do (which it is), but because I wouldn’t be able to stand the mess. Also, Fred would have a cow. THE MAN IS ALWAYS HOLDING ME BACK.

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Have you considered doing a print on demand book through Lulu? Your stories/photos always crack me up and I would definitely buy some.

I actually hadn’t considered that, but maybe! I’ll have to think about it and dither and put it off and procrastinate before I actually do anything, though.

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Your bathroom purple color looks great! Have you ever considered purple AND pear green towels? I’ve seen them before and it’s a great color combination. Just make sure the green is muted and medium to light in tone and it’s gorgeous.

I know exactly the look you’re talking about, and I like that color combination. I’d already ordered my purple towels, so I’m sticking with them for now. I might look for a few small green accessories, though!

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One thing I love about reading your website is that you stay a home and enjoy life! I wish I could have done that when I didn’t have to work. I had all the time in the world for myself but wasn’t able to utilize it and be content. What’s your secret?

Good question. I don’t know! The funny thing is that you’d think since I don’t work and am home all day most days, I’d get bored. I very, very rarely get bored – in fact, most days I don’t get everything accomplished that I wanted to. I don’t know how on earth you people who have real jobs ever get anything done!

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Did Mr. Boogers have a vet visit? Looks like he has shaved forearms. Hope he is okay.

I actually had to call Fred and ask him, because I knew Mister Boogers had been to the vet and I knew they had to shave his forearms to get blood, but I could not for the life of me remember why he’d gone. Fred reminded me that a few months ago, Mister Boogers peed in the kitchen sink right in front of me, and we were worried that it meant that he had a urinary tract infection, so Fred took him to the vet for a workup. Turned out, Mister Boogers is just an ass. Go figure.

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Did I read that right, your medicine cabinet is in your dining room? I am confused. Although it might come in handy if you accidentally stab Fred with your fork.

No, if I stabbed Fred with my fork, I’d have to go from the computer room to get bandages, ’cause we almost always eat in front of our computers (bad habit, we know).

We put the medicine cabinet in the dining room because it’s a central location (considering we spend a large amount of time in the computer room), and you’re not supposed to keep medicine in your bathroom ’cause the humidity’s not good for it. But mostly, it’s just the convenience factor, and that that’s where we happened to have space.

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Who on earth would you have to please besides yourself and Fred? If you want different kinds of shades on doors than you have on windows, just go for it. Choose a fabric that appeals to you, and have fun. That overly matched look is silly, anyway.

Heh – you sound like Fred! I know, as long as we like it, who cares what anyone else thinks?

Have you ever checked the Country Curtains catalogue? It’s one of my dream-books. You can find every really pretty kind of curtain, drape or shade in there, things I don’t see in stores. You do pay a bit more, but they last a whole lot longer. My ex-husband, who stayed in our house, just told me yesterday that he is finally going to replace the kitchen curtains, which were from Country Curtains, and which I bought when we redid the kitchen in 1991. They just didn’t need replacing until now, which seems to me to be a good long life for curtains.

I ADORE the Country Curtains site and catalog. I’ve never ordered anything from them, but I have about a thousand different curtains bookmarked. I tend to get overwhelmed and can’t make a decision, though, which is why I haven’t ordered anything!

I want to get cafe curtains for the upstairs bathroom, though, and I’m considering these.

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Out of lurking with a suggestion as to the blind strings. If the doors are wood put a couple of cup hooks, spaced about 10″ apart, to wind the strings in a figure 8 so they aren’t hanging. Besides, you’ll have strings with roman blinds also.

That’s a good idea! I might have to do that, at least temporarily.

Fred did point out that there are blinds that don’t have strings to pull them up, there’s a button on the front that you press, and then you pull the blind up and the bottom stays where you leave it (I’m not explaining this very well, and can’t provide a link, because I can’t find the damn things on the Lowe’s website!), so we’re probably going to go with those on the computer room doors and the foster kitten room.

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We let HG out of the foster kitteh room yesterday afternoon and let him stay out until bedtime. He seems to like having the run of the house, if the fact that he ran around like a bat out of hell the entire time is anything to judge by. We put him back in the foster room with Splash at bedtime, and I’ll probably let him out again this afternoon. He seems to be adjusting well.

Splash, on the other hand, spends her time split between the bed under the dresser and the top of the cat tree. She hisses if you get too close, and I haven’t dared trying to pet her (though I might put on some gloves and give it a try). She’s going to be a tough one, apparently.

Please don’t talk about love tonight
Please don’t talk about sweet love
Please don’t talk about being true
And all the trouble we’ve been through

Ah, please don’t talk about all of the plans
We had for fixin’ this broken romance
I want to go where the people dance
I want some action

I want to live
Action, I got so much to give
I want to give it
I want to get some too

Ooooh I, I love the nightlife
I got to boogie

On the disco ’round, oh yea

Oh, I love the night life
I got to boogie on the disco ’round, oh yea

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The evil criminal mastermind, Joseph J. Roberts, smiles smugly with the knowledge that he has, once again, evaded the long arm of the law.

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Previously
2007: The man loves nothing so much as getting his fret on.
2006: Smart man, that one.
2005: Back from Gatlinburg.
2004: No entry.
2003: I love Von, and questions answered.
2002: No entry.
2001: Miz Poo gives me a scare.
2000: My husband, the diplomat.

4-10-08

Last week the person who does Thursday morning at the pet store sent out an email saying that her job was going to be changing, so she couldn’t do Thursday mornings anymore, and could anyone switch with her permanently? Since it doesn’t matter to me what day I go, I offered to switch with her, … Continue reading “4-10-08”

This morning, I did. So I’m off to the pet store, then I have an appointment with my LiverDoctor for a regular checkup, and then after that I’m going to run a bunch of errands.

Which means no entry for you!

See you tomorrow!

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However, while you’re waiting, I thought of a question. For the fashion-minded out there, would it look weird if I had roman blinds on my computer room doors and just regular blinds on the windows? We currently have regular blinds on the doors, but I have to pull the blinds up so that the cats can see out (and so I can see the birds at the feeders) and it looks terrible and the strings get in the way.

Suggestions?

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An oldie but a goodie, from two years ago. Oh, that Sugarbutt.

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Previously
2007: “Is it true that you’re fucking that evil woman, who just informed me that you are in love?”
2006: (See various entries I’ve written wherein I said that I’m bad in an emergency)
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: Questions answered.
2002: No entry.
2001: Spring cleaning.
2000: No entry.

4-9-08

A couple of weekends ago, Fred was kind of bored. He was caught up on all the farm stuff and looking for something to do. Casually, figuring it would lead nowhere, I said “You know what we need?” “What?” “A medicine cabinet. I bet you could build a good one we could hang on the … Continue reading “4-9-08”

A couple of weekends ago, Fred was kind of bored. He was caught up on all the farm stuff and looking for something to do.

Casually, figuring it would lead nowhere, I said “You know what we need?”

“What?”

“A medicine cabinet. I bet you could build a good one we could hang on the wall and put all our medicine in so we can stop using the secretaire as a medicine cabinet. It’s a pain in the ass having to dig through it when we need cold medicine or whatever.”

A while later, Fred came inside. “I was looking through the wood in the shed, and there’s a cabinet door. I think it came from the original cabinets that were in the house!”

Eventually, I came outside to see what he’d found, and I approved. “That would be the perfect size for a medicine cabinet!”

Ten days later, having built and painted it, he hung it on the dining room wall and I moved all our medicine from the secretaire to the medicine cabinet (after tossing out everything that had expired years ago, that is). It’s even big enough that an entire shelf can be devoted to cat medicine!

(pic) Pardon the crooked picture.

(pic) We clearly believe in keeping stocked up on band-aids!

I absolutely LOVE it. I’m a lucky gal, believe me I know that!

Now if I can just convince him to get going on that closet for the corner of the computer room….

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I think I mentioned that Fred and I moved a lot of (HEAVY) furniture on Saturday. This is because we’d talked about it at length, and decided that we’d switch my bedroom and the guest bedroom around. It makes Fred a little nervous to have me on a different floor and he’s mentioned the idea of moving me upstairs a few times. After a year in the same bedroom, I decided I was up for a change, but I had conditions: 1. I needed a ceiling fan, 2. I needed decent blinds, 3. I needed to paint the bookcase, and 4. I needed to paint the upstairs bathroom.

While I was in Pennsylvania, Fred installed a ceiling fan in the guest bedroom, and blinds as well. A few weeks ago I painted the bookcase. And then I decided it was time to just move my ass upstairs and not wait until the bathroom had been painted. So Saturday, we moved the beds and the dressers. Let me tell you SOMETHING, that dresser of mine is fucking HEAVY. It seems okay when there are two of you and you’re moving it across the room or whatever, but once you start going up the stairs and you’re in the lead and it feels like the entire weight of the dresser is on you, you realize how heavy that fucker is.

But everything got moved, and I spent the rest of Saturday organizing the rooms and moving closet stuff around. In my new bedroom, I have TWO closets – a cedar closet where my clothes are hung, and a closet with shelves. I’m still kind of deciding where everything’s going to go, but I’m pretty settled in.

(pic) My new room.

It looks kind of cramped in this picture, but it’s not at all. I had no choice but to angle my bed, because the only other option was to put it in front of the windows, and I didn’t want to do that. What you can’t see in this picture: the dresser, to the left, and the bookcase to the right. I didn’t notice it ’til I’d moved in, but I can lay in bed and watch the birds and squirrels run around in the big tree.

That comforter’s just for now – I’ve got a new one coming, along with new (blue) sheets. The comforter works for the room (it’s a very light blue), but it’s too light. The cats and their grimy paws have already dirtied it up. I’m okay with a dirty comforter, I just don’t want to have to SEE the dirt, y’know.

(pic) The new guest bedroom.

But more than just a guest bedroom, it’s also going to be…

(pic)

a sewing room! That is, if I ever get the damn sewing machine out of the box! I’m going to set it up on that desk, which used to be my vanity. I don’t know that I’ll be doing a LOT of sewing, but at least there’ll be a permanent home for it and I won’t have to move it out to the dining room when I need to use it.

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Last year when Fred was choosing paints for the various rooms in the house, we decided that he’d choose a neutral beige color for the upstairs bathroom. He picked two nice shades of beige, but once I got the bathroom painted, we realized that they were a little more pink than we’d expected – the darker color, on the bottom, looked just like the color of Barbie doll skin (caucasian Barbie, that is) to me. We talked about repainting it, but GODDAMN I hate painting, so we left it. It’s not like I ever had to use it anyway, right?

Well, now that I was moving upstairs, I was going to move all my bathroom stuff upstairs as well, and obviously I wanted to repaint the bathroom a color I liked. On our road trip from Pennsylvania to Alabama, Nance and Rick and I stopped at the JC Penney outlet store and while we were there, I saw a set of deep purple towels that I really liked, which got me thinking – why not paint the bathroom shades of purple? I told Fred that I wanted purple in that bathroom, so when he made one of his regular trips to L0we’s, he picked out the paint for me.

So then, the rooms moved around, I fully intended to paint the upstairs bathroom on Sunday. I started getting all my stuff together, which is when I realized that the paint roller was nowhere to be found. I could have hauled my ass 7 minutes up the road to L0we’s to buy a new one, but I jumped on the “Oh! I don’t have a roller! Can’t paint today! Too bad!” excuse with both feet.

Fred promised to stop at L0we’s on the way to work on Monday, so when yesterday dawned, I had no excuses at all.

I so love to paint, you know.

I got up early and after my shower the first thing I did was scrub down the bathroom to remove all the dust from the walls (there’s a litter box in there, which creates a lot of dust), then I spent two freakin’ hours taping around everything. Bathrooms are a bigger pain in the ass to paint than bedrooms, because there’s so much more to tape around. With bedrooms, you move everything away from the walls, tape around the trim, and get it done lickety-split. With bathrooms, even if you remove light fixtures, there’s so much more you have to tape around. I hate the holy hell out of taping. If I could get someone else to prep a room for painting and just swan in, paint, and swan back out, I wouldn’t hate painting nearly as much as I do. I might even like it!

I taped, took a break for breakfast, and started painting a little before 10:00. It took me two hours to get the first coat of paint on the upper part of the bathroom, so I took a break, spent time with the kittens, and then put a second quick coat on. A break for lunch, then two hours of painting the lower part of the bathroom. Getting behind the toilet was a NIGHTMARE, and if I have to paint that bathroom again, the toilet tank is going to have to be removed so I can get back there. Fred got home just as I was finishing up the lower part of the bathroom so I took a break, then put a second quick coat of paint on the lower part of the bathroom.

The paint dried pretty quickly, so I pulled up the tape and put everything back where it belonged.

I think I like the new colors – but the darker color is a bit more purple than either of us expected. It kind of looks like the color a preteen girl would want in her bedroom. It’s going to take some getting used to. But I tell you what – it’s better than it was, and I’m not painting that goddamn bathroom again.

Not for at least another year, anyway.

(pic) Before.

(pic) After.

(pic) This gives you a better idea of what the purple really looks like.

On the top: B44-1 Guardian Angel, Olympic Paints.
On the bottom: B4404 French Violet, Olympic Paints.

The trim could use a fresh coat of paint, I might do that this weekend.

I’ve got purple towels coming from JC Penney (in the same shipment as my new comforter), so the beige towels will be going.

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Poor Splash. She just wants to be left alone and we keep coming in and trying to make friends with her. She finally came out from under the dresser – Fred went into the room Monday evening, and she was up in the top of the cat tree. Instead of sitting there looking terrified, she hisses, and she actually took a smack at me when I had the nerve to get too close and offer her a snack.

I’m going to consider that progress.

Last night, Fred wanted to give her a cat treat without getting too close, so he BALANCED the cat treat on the end of a feather cat toy and put it next to her, and the sight made me laugh. It’s like “Your majesty, if you don’t mind, would you like this tasty cat treat?”

HG has completely come around and will let Fred pet him now. Every time I walk into the room, he “talks” to me. I think that, tonight, we’re going to let him out into the house for a couple of hours and see how that goes.

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I try to tell Fred that Splash isn’t any more feral than Miss Stank was when we first got her. He’s not buying it, though.

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Previously
2007: “What the fuck did you DO?” I accused Sugarbutt, who looked up at me with the most innocent face in existence.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Stupid Steven Cojocaru.
2003: I think I speak for most Alabamans in this area when I say “Uh, what the FUCK?!”
2002: sights from my walk
2001: I am SO PISSED OFF.
2000: It’s not stealing if I give them credit, right? Uh… right?

4-8-08

Detectives Thomas J. Cullen and Stanley J. Boogerton, on a rare day off from their grueling job as Crooked Acres’ premiere detective squad (they recently solved the infamous “Who done killed that cave cricket, ate it, and barfed it upon The Momma’s bed?” case resulting in the arrest and banishment of one Sugar J. Buttocks), … Continue reading “4-8-08”

Detective Cullen, however, spots something out of place in the grass. His detective senses go on alert and tell him that something here is terribly wrong.

Concerned, he moves in for a closer look.

After sniffing around for a few minutes on his own, he realizes that this job is more than one detective can handle alone, and he calls in the reinforcements.

Detective Boogerton, the grizzled, cranky veteran detective who has seen it all, is disgruntled that his day off has been interrupted.

As he sees the bright yellow evidence, however, he is stunned into silence.

As Detective Cullen keeps a wary eye out for the culprit, Detective Boogerton examines the evidence and has but one question.

“Who would do such a heinous thing? Who would play with a yellow tennis ball and then ABANDON it where kitties are wont to spend their time in peace and quiet? Who, I ask you, Cullen? WHO?”

No answer seems forthcoming from the evidence, and Cullen and Boogerton stand in disbelief, staring around as if perhaps the culprit will make himself known, the book can be thrown at the evil genius who has pulled off this crime, arrests can be made, and the feline population of Crooked Acres (a number widely believed to be between seven and nine) can go back to purring in the sun.

They do not, however, spot the evil culprit, for he thought ahead and is camouflaged in a way that seasoned detectives do not expect.

As Boogerton keeps a sharp eye peeled, Cullen begins nosing around for more evidence. They have a spotless record, have never failed yet to solve a case, and are determined that this will be no exception.

Suddenly, as Boogerton keeps his eyes peeled for the dastardly feline who would commit such a crime, Cullen begins to feel faint. He reaches out for the cat who has become, over the years, not only his partner in detection, but his best friend.

Cullen whispers “Boogie, I think I’ve been poisoned! There must have been cyanide on that ball! My lips are going numb! Save yourself!”

Boogerton, who loves The Tom with all the love he has (please note there is not much love in Boogerton’s heart. It’s mostly filled with hetred) is nonetheless a realist, and when he understands that Cullen is on his way to the big cat bed in the sky, instead of staying and providing a few last moments of comfort, sprints off to the other side of the yard so as to escape the – as he puts it in his tiny little brain – “cooties.”

A moment later, Cullen belches loudly and realizes that what he’d thought was cyanide poisoning was in actuality gas. He stares after Boogerton, who is trying to climb the fence and escape the yard, and knows that the cat he’d considered his best friend and life partner is, in actuality, no better than, as he whispers it sadly to himself, “a dang chicken.”

“Them’s fightin’ words, son. I say, I say, them’s fightin’ words!”

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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: FYI.
2005: Meme.
2004: Lime green would work.
2003: I called Fred at one point and said “Maybe it’s SARS!”
2002: Well, you can just bite my coconut-scented, soft, smooth, butt.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

4-7-08

On Saturday, my nephew won an award (I won’t say exactly what it was to forestall you STALKERS) and I am SO proud of him. Also, I’d like to know how the holy hell he got old enough to get an award like that, since this was him just yesterday: Yesterday or 11 years ago, … Continue reading “4-7-08”

Yesterday or 11 years ago, same difference.

Congratulations, Brian! You make your old Auntie Rah-Bah proud!

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It’s been five years since we humiliated ourselves on national television!

Seems like just yesterday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I tell you what, Friday was a total shithole of a day. It was ugly and gray and just kind of blah out, and I would like to see some sunshine at SOME POINT IN MY LIFE IF THAT’S A POSSIBILITY, and I knew I had ten thousand errands to run, so I got out of bed a little after 6:00, already feeling like I was running behind.

I did all my usual morning stuff – litter boxes, kitten snack, clean up the kitchen, make the bed, shower and dress, posted an entry – and was just checking my email before I walked out the door to get my errand-running under way when Fred called.

“The [local charitable organization] will be there between 10 and 2!” he announced.

We’d needed to find a new home for the old couches as well as a bunch of other stuff (a 27″ TV, a TV stand, a chair, some baskets – stuff that couldn’t easily be given away on the giveaway page) and Fred had joined the local Freecycle group the night before and tried to send out a message. But the Freecycle group is moderated and we waited and waited and waited, and when it had been more than 12 hours and the message hadn’t gone through, we shrugged and decided “Fuck it” and that we’d see if a local charity could come get everything.

I hadn’t expected they’d be able to come so soon, though, which threw a wrench into my shopping plans. Also, I’d wanted to go get a few groceries to make a cake I’d found in Cooking Light magazine, but I couldn’t leave because it was after 9:00 when Fred called to tell me they would be here between 10 and 2, and I didn’t want to run the risk of being gone when they showed up.

And also, I couldn’t – didn’t want to – bake the cake after they left, because the casserole we were having for dinner had to cook for three hours, so I couldn’t make the cake until after 5, and by that point in the day I don’t like to bake.

Yes, they’re lame excuses but you know what? SHUT UP.

So I went from a dreading-the-shopping mood to a OH-GREAT-NOW-I-CAN’T-GO-SHOPPING-AS-I’D-PLANNED-THE-MAN-IS-ALWAYS-HOLDING-ME-BACK mood, and after I hung up the phone (Fred: “Are you in a bad mood now?” Me: “NO. SHUT UP. I HATE YOU.”) I slammed around the house and tried to decide what to do, and what I decided to do was spend some time with the foster kittens (yes, kittenS, more on that in a later section) and HG rubbed up against me and purred and rolled around on his back and told me he loved me and butted his head against mine, and that put me in a better mood. At least until I left the guest bedroom, when I was immediately back in my bad mood.

I did some cleaning, which did not involve vacuuming up the furball dust bunnies floating around the house (I love Spring; I hate the Spring shedding of the winter coat because with 9 cats that adds up to a lot of goddamn fur) and sat in front of my computer surfing the web and sat and glared out at the ugly, rainy day. Finally, I decided I needed to go out and check on the little chickens and check to see if there were any eggs waiting to be gathered in the chicken coop and I needed to take the compost bucket out to the compost heap, so I put on my boots (I finally got my new ones from LL Bean. They’re comfortable but tight around my calves THANKS FOR MAKING ME FEEL FAT, LL BEAN.) and my rain coat and headed out to the compost heap.

The pigs had been in their shelter, but they heard me sloshing across the ditch so came running out to see if I was bringing them food. I had a white chocolate candy bar for them – rumor has it they really like chocolate – so after I dumped the compost, I took the candy bar to them. The little one was a big fan of the white chocolate, he ran around in circles with melted white chocolate drooling from his mouth as he begged for more. The big one was kind of “Eh” on the white chocolate front.

I went from the pig yard to the garage, where the little chickens are still being kept in the brooder, and I stood and talked to them, and they walked around and looked curiously up at me. I’ll have to get another movie of them – they’re no longer scared by “Hellooooooo, little chickies!”, just curious. I left the garage and headed for the chicken yard and realized I didn’t have anything for the chickens. I almost always bring them a cup of cracked corn, but this time around I’d forgotten. Fred keeps chicken scratch in his workshop though, so I went in there to grab a cupful.

I looked carefully into the bag of scratch before I put my hand in there, because there are mice living in Fred’s workshop and they like to eat the scratch and I didn’t particularly want one of them climbing up my arm because I didn’t have the energy to dance around screaming. There were no mice, so I dipped the glass jar he keeps out there into the bag, filled it halfway with scratch and headed for the door.

I took one step out the workshop door, and the next thing I knew, I was half-laying on the ground.

“What the fuck?” I asked the chickens, who were standing and staring hopefully at me. There was a patch of mud right outside the door I hadn’t noticed – washed there by the rain – and I’d stepped directly into it and hadn’t even had time to think “Are you fucking kidding me, I’m FALLING?!” the way I usually do on the way down. Just, ZOOP!, down I went. Into the mud. And I hurt my knee and pulled a little muscle in my back and got mud all over everything I was wearing.

“Jesus goddamn motherfucking christ on a jumped up motherfucking sidebar I do not believe this fucking SHIT!” I informed Frick as I tossed chicken scratch into the chicken yard. I had actually managed to hold the jar of chicken scratch aloft as I fell, and I’m sure that when I’m an 80 year-old woman hobbling around with a bad back, I will greatly appreciate the unbroken jar, of which we have ten thousand or so.

Frick gave me a sympathetic look and then was all “Oh, food!” and ran off to peck at the ground with her sisters and McLovin.

I checked for eggs, then went inside, threw everything I was wearing into the washer, and put on clean clothes.

I talked to Fred briefly (and when I told him I’d fallen, he LAUGHED and THEN asked if I was okay, because he’s a bastard. It matters not that I would have done the same damn thing, he’s still a bastard.) and decided to put dinner in the oven so it could cook, and then it would be done by 2:00, and I could go get the ingredients for my cake and bake it, and we could just warm up the casserole for dinner and we would have yummy, yummy cake.

The guys from the local charity showed up a few minutes after 1:00. They loaded the small stuff first, and then when they lifted the first couch to carry it out the door, Joe Bob – who had inexplicably decided that it was time to take a nap up inside the couch – FLEW out of the bottom of the couch and somehow levitated across the room, bounced off one wall, bounced off another wall, and flew down the hallway, without ever once touching the floor.

“He seemed a little scared,” commented one of the men.

“Yeah, he’s not fond of people,” I said.

They got the couches loaded onto the truck with no issues, handed me a receipt, and left.

I called Fred to tell him they’d come and gone and Fred said “Have you done a cat count?” and so I spent the next ten minutes walking around the house and locating cats. I couldn’t find Miss Stank anywhere, and I started to worry that she’d been up inside one of the couches and when she’s really scared she tends to freeze, and I walked around the house and said to Fred “I don’t really want to pull out the big gun, but I will!” and Fred knew that “The big gun” equals bellowing “WHO READY FOR A SNACKIN’?” and if I bellowed that, I was going to have to come through with snackin’ time and I didn’t want to mess with that in the middle of the day.

I turned to go down the hallway to go upstairs and check under Fred’s bed for the third time, and Miss Stank was sauntering down the hallway from wherever she’d been hiding. She turned and glared her “FUCK YOU” glare at me, and went along her way.

All the cats having been located, I grabbed my purse and headed out to the grocery store for the cake ingredients I needed, which were as follows: chunky applesauce, almonds, light whipped cream.

I drove to the grocery store and I got my almonds. And I got my whipped cream. But do you suppose – DO YOU SUPPOSE – they’d have chunky applesauce? Would they, huh? OF COURSE NOT. So I put my goddamn almonds back and I put my goddamn whipped cream back and I said in a conversational voice “Why would they ever fucking have what I ever fucking need at this fucking piece of shit store?” (relax – there was no one around), and I left.

It was lunch time and I was hungry and all I wanted on this entire earth was a grilled chicken sandwich from Burger King, and so I did NOT go to the Burger King that’s always busy because if I have to wait longer than two or three minutes in a fast food drive-thru, I will start thinking to myself “Why should I pay this money for a crappy grilled chicken sandwich when I can go home and have a salad and grilled cheese sandwich?”, and I will pull out of line and I will drive home and eat a salad and grilled cheese sandwich and I will wish that I’d had that crappy grilled chicken sandwich. I drove, instead, to the Burger King that is always less busy, and I pulled up in the drive-thru and then I realized that there were at least 15 cars in line, and I said “OH FUCK YOU” and I pulled out of the parking lot and drove home.

I called Fred on the way home and I said “I am done with this goddamn shitty rainy piece of shit day. I AM THROUGH WITH IT. I AM FILING FOR DIVORCE FROM IT,” and I told Fred about my day and he told me about his day and then I said “Oh, and Crackhead Bob was walking by when the guys were loading up the couches, and he could barely take his eyes off of them, all loading couches on the truck, so I am SURE that in the time that I’ve been gone he’s broken into the house, killed all the cats, eaten all the cheese I’m going to make my grilled cheese sandwich out of, peed on my bed, and if I’m LUCKY he stole that big goddamn monstrosity of a TV while he was at it.”

I hung up and went home and I did not make the cake and I DO NOT CARE that it probably could have been made with regular applesauce, THAT IS NOT THE POINT. And I spent some time with the foster kittens, and I snuggled with Sugarbutt and I read some, and cleaned some, and I don’t remember what the hell else I did, but I’m sure it pissed me off.

After dinner (which was not, in fact, the casserole I’d made, but was instead a sub Fred brought home – someone at work gave it to him – and it was pretty good) we settled down to watch TV, and I threw all the pillows off the couch we don’t usually use and I laid down on the couch and covered up with some blankets, and Fred put Sweeney Todd in the DVD player.

“Did you see his hand twitch?” Fred said at some point, and I shifted around and tried to pretend like I hadn’t been sleeping.

“Um, no,” I said. A few minutes later I looked at the clock and realized I’d been dozing for at least half an hour. “I think I might have dozed off for a minute,” I said. “Who’s in the box?”

Fred wasn’t fooled, and he gave me a hard time about falling asleep, but I just really wasn’t that into the movie. I apparently am not a fan of Stephen Sondheim’s music, although there were one or two songs I kind of liked.

We stayed up a little later than usual, played with the foster kittens, and then Robyn And3rson’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day came to an end.

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I had Big Planz for Saturday, but it was dismal and crappy and rainy out, so after Fred and I moved the hell out of some very heavy furniture – more about that later in the week, when I have pictures to share – I spent a lot of time with the foster kittens, read some, cleaned some (very little cleaning, though), and we sat down in front of the TV mid-afternoon and whiled away the afternoon watching things we’d recorded.

Sunday morning I got up, got my morning stuff done, went and got groceries, and then was thwarted in doing what I’d planned to spend the rest of the day doing, because I didn’t have a crucial piece of equipment (more on that later in the week, too), so I cleaned the house. I finally got all those damn cat hair dust bunnies vacuumed up – and when I was done with that, I was walking down the hall to put the vacuum cleaner away, and there were already two new huge tufts of cat hair in the hallway. Bastards.

I puttered around the house for the remainder of the day, and when the sun FINALLY showed up, Fred did a little dance of happiness, and we took a turn around the back forty (after stopping to feed the pigs some chocolate) to celebrate.

I love weekends, but this one certainly could have started off a lot better – or maybe the weekend was so nice BECAUSE it started off so crappily?

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So, about a week and a half ago, right after we’d gotten Smudgie and HG, I got an email from the shelter manager. One of her other foster parents had two semi-feral cats in her house, they’d been there for a while, had been spayed and had all their shots, but she wasn’t having any luck taming them. The shelter manager asked if I wanted to give it a try. I said yes, and talked to the woman who had them, and we decided that she’d capture the kittens (who were about 6 months old) and bring them over when she could. That was last Saturday, and she wasn’t able to get her hands on them (she said they’d follow her from room to room, but if she tried to touch them, they’d run away) and said she’d keep trying and would let me know when she had them.

Meanwhile, Smudgie went to the pet store on Tuesday (she was adopted on Saturday, by the way) and HG was by himself and he was getting marginally friendlier, just a tiny bit more each day. This past Thursday, the woman called and said she’d gotten one of the kittens, and was it okay if she brought it over? I said yes, of course, and she showed up with this little black and white kitten and we put the carrier in the room with HG (who was very curious and like “Oh, did you bring me a friend?!” – he really likes other cats a lot) and opened the carrier and just left them alone.

Ten or fifteen minutes after the woman left, I went upstairs and the kitten – whose name is Splash – had come out of the carrier and moved into a padded pyramid, burrowed under the cushion on the bottom, and wanted me to leave her alone, which she communicated by looking at me in terror if I lifted the cushion to look at her.

I was worried that HG would take on her unfriendly manner, so I moved him into the guest bedroom Thursday evening, and mid-day Friday, he broke and gave up his scaredy-cat ways. He’s turned into a total lovebug – a little wary at first, then once you pet him once or twice he paces back and forth and demands to be petted and “talks” and flops against my leg and kneads and lets me pick him up.

When I went into the foster kitten room (where Splash was) Friday morning, she was hiding behind the closet door. I touched her on the head once or twice, and she stared at me and shook. I put a little plate of soft cat food on the floor and left her alone. I went back later in the morning, and she had moved to hide in the litter box. I’ll let the scared kitties do just about anything they want to do except hide in the litter box. There are plenty of other places to hide, so I lifted her out, and she ran under the dresser and hid there. I spent a couple of hours in the foster kitten room talking to her, looking at her, and reading aloud to her so she’d get used to the sound of my voice. The entire time, she stayed under the dresser. Later that day she was hiding in the litter box again, so again I took her out. I tried holding her and she allowed it, but she shook the entire time.

Pretty much since Friday afternoon, she’s been hiding under the dresser. I finally put a cat bed under there for her, because I didn’t like the idea of her lying on the cold floor. After ignoring it for a day, she climbed in, so maybe that’s progress. I know she’s been out of the bed, because she used the litter box and finally ate some of the soft food I left for her (there’s dry food available all the time) and at one point I heard the sound of a cat toy jingling. Any time I go in there, though, she’s under the dresser.

HG continued being perfectly friendly toward me (a little less friendly toward Fred, but I suspect that’s because Fred hasn’t spent as much time with him) and mid-day Saturday I thought that maybe if I put him back in the foster kitten room with Splash, he’d kind of lead by example. I did that, and she continues to hide under the dresser. I got her to eat a kitty treat, and she hissed at me, which I consider a step forward, because at least she’s not just sitting there looking terrified.

At this point, all I can do is spend lots of time in there and try to get her used to being around me and hope she comes around.

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The mighty hunter Sugs hunts down a place to nap.

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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: You WISH you were me.
2005: Off to Gatlinburg.
2004: Our palates are too immature, I suppose.
2003: Now I know why, when the camera and sound guy were setting up and I chirped “Oh, is this the camera that’s going to make me look like Ashley Judd?”, everyone laughed so hard.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Then he and the spud went swimming yesterday, since the pool’s up to a sultry 66.