So? How was your Cinco de Mayo? Did you eat Mexican food and drink tequila? Yeah, me either. Fred had to work late (but he gets off early on Friday, woo!), so I had a long day to myself. I prefer it when he gets home at 3:30. He’s usually outside somewhere puttering until about … Continue reading “5/6/08”

So? How was your Cinco de Mayo? Did you eat Mexican food and drink tequila? Yeah, me either.

Fred had to work late (but he gets off early on Friday, woo!), so I had a long day to myself. I prefer it when he gets home at 3:30. He’s usually outside somewhere puttering until about 6:30 or so, but I like having him home doing stuff so I can go out and see what he’s done, or tell him what the cats just did (he’s always just as fascinated as you might imagine when listening to the tale of Listen What Tommy Did Now!) or whatever.

Shaddup, I just like having him home.

Yesterday morning I didn’t even sleep ’til my usual 6:30, because we talked for a few minutes before he left for work and I was so peeved at what he’d told me (someone peed on his bed I WILL KILL ANY CAT THAT I FIND PEEING ON FURNITURE. Which is probably why they don’t do it when I’m around, now that I think about it.) that I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I got up and put his peed-upon sheets in to wash and did all the usual morning crap. I was sitting at my desk captioning my Flickr pictures (I’m sure my captions are just fascinating. “Oh look, dear, she’s captioned another one with “Feeding Time”! Where DOES she get her innovative and creative captioning skillz?” I can’t help it, I feel bad if I leave them uncaptioned!) when something caught my eye and I looked out into the back yard to see Joe Bob flying through the air and then landing on the ground with a bird in his mouth. I swear to god, that bird must have been six feet off the ground when Joe Bob caught it. This isn’t the first time he’s caught a bird in mid-air, either. He’s quite the hunter, our Joe.

“Oh shit!” I yelled, kicked off my slippers, and ran out into the back yard. I stood over Joe Bob and bellowed “Drop it! Drop it, Joe!” But not only did Joe NOT drop it, he evaded me, did an end run, and flew into the house. I ran after him screaming “NOT IN THE HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUSE!”

I found Joe Bob, the bird in his mouth squealing like a pig, surrounded by cats, in the front room. He tried to evade me, but I was quicker than he’d expected, and I grabbed the bird out of his mouth. The bird – a young Cardinal – rewarded me by squealing like a pig a few more times and then biting me really hard on the hand.

“I’m trying to save you, stupid!” I said. I thought for a moment, then went onto the front porch and put the bird in one of the big plant pots on the porch. I figured either it would recover and fly away, or Newt or Maxi would come along and take care of it. It didn’t appear to be too badly hurt – more scared and stunned than anything – so I went back in the house and started picking up the trail of feathers. A few minutes later I looked out the front window and the bird was still there. As I watched, Newt jumped up on the porch, totally did NOT see the bird sitting there, and so I opened the door and called excitedly to him, and he ran inside.

On a side note, Newt is SUCH a good boy. If I open a door, he’ll go through it whether he was intending to or not. Maxi, on the other hand, does the “Do I waaaaaaaaaanna go out? Or stay in? Out or in? In or out? I cannot DECIDE… Let me stand here halfway in and halfway out and see how that feels.” I’ll put up with indecision from her for a few minutes before I bellow “IN OR OUT! One! Two! Three! Four! Five!” If she’s not out by the time I count to five, I push her out and shut the door.

Goddamn cats.

So then after I’d gotten some laundry hung out to dry and had given Kara her morning snack and done a few other things, it was time to head to Wal-Mart for a few things I’d forgotten to pick up on Saturday. After meaning to for weeks, I finally remembered to bring the camera with me. There’s this field of yellow flowers (weeds?) on the way to Wal-Mart that’s really pretty to look at, and I’ve wanted to get a picture of it for ages. After my trip through Wal-Mart, I stopped on the way home and did just that.



The rest of the day was pretty peaceful. I watched the rest of Atonement, which I’d started on Friday. I usually like to cross-stitch when I’m watching TV or a movie, but I got lost a couple of times in the first few minutes and had to rewind, so finally gave up on the cross-stitching so I’d know what was going on. I ended up liking the movie a lot, despite the very sad ending and despite the fact that the way Keira Knightley talks annoys the snot out of me.

So, all in all, a pretty peaceful day.

Today, I get to snatch Sugarbutt up, toss him into a carrier and take him to the vet. He’s been licking between two of his toes and it’s gotten pretty bad. We’ve tried putting antibiotic ointment on it, but he just licks it off and then continues licking ’til his toe gets bloody and then he tracks blood all over the place. Poor Suggie. I hate to terrorize him by taking him to the vet, but he clearly needs some medical attention. Also, his shots.



(pic) Is it just me, or do they appear to be posing for a picture? Like for the monthly Chicken newsletter or to hang in the front lobby? “Bob, please put down the coffee and get in here, the photographer doesn’t have all day and the Big Guy says we have to present a united front for this stupid picture. Anyone found giving the finger will be fired immediately!”

(pic) I was going to say that I really like the little red chickens who look like Rhode Island Reds, and then I was going to say that I really like the black ones with cream-colored markings, and then I was going to say that I really like the little yellow ones, but really? They’re all my favorites. I think they’re all just as pretty as can be. I can barely stand the beauty of the animals here at Crooked Acres.

Well, maybe except for this obnoxious ass:


The pigs are so pushy and obnoxious that they have certainly not wormed their way into my heart at all – and I’m not being facetious. If Fred hadn’t called and reminded me that I needed to feed them yesterday, I would never have thought of it. I rarely go out there unless I have food for them, and I never ever enter the pig yard at all. They’re growing quickly, and anything they see, they try to eat – including clothes and boots – and I can totally imagine them knocking me down and chewing my face off. They’re certainly entertaining enough to watch, especially when they’re eating, but I’m not going to miss them when they’re gone.

Y’can’t love everyone, I suppose. They’re still spoiled as hell, as is every animal who steps onto our property, and will be ’til slaughtering day comes around.



Kara and kittens are doing just fine. I have not squooshed a single kitten to death. YET.

(pic) “We iz sleepin pls leave alone thx.”

(pic) “Hey, wha – is it time to EAT? No one called ME. There better be some left for me, or I’ll be kicking ASS.”

More pictures over at Flickr.



(pic) The hallway outside the guest bedroom is a busy, busy place.



2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Hoverers make me want to just get the hell out of that store as soon as humanly possible.
2004: I think it’s a boy, though.
2003: He’s his usual Fancy self.
2002: “I can’t believe you let me go out in public like this!” I yelled at Fred.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.