What we did this weekend.
Got up early, went to Lowe’s to knock out our mile-long list that we’ve been adding stuff to for weeks now. Stopped by Walmart to pick up a few things. Fred put the truck in the back forty, and hooked it up to the trailer, which was partially in the pig yard. He does that a week or so before it’s time to take them off to Freezer Camp so they’ll be used to it. Usually, he feeds them in the trailer, but the pig yard is now so freakin’ wet and muddy all the time that they were tracking tons of mud into the trailer. Once he determined that they had no fear of the trailer, he went back to feeding them on the ground so they wouldn’t be slipping around in mud in the trailer.
At 10, our weeks-long discussion about whether or not we wanted a Kindle as a joint Christmas present (from us, to us) came to a head due very much to the fucking FIFTY POUND book Stephen King just put out (reading in bed with that book = PAINFUL. Stephen King must be getting a kickback from Amazon for that freakin’ book), and I simultaneously placed an order for a Kindle at Amazon, and placed an order for this “Room with a View” for the cats (I know, I know, we do NOT need it, but it was HALF PRICE! God, I love Jeffers Pet.) I had to wait ’til 10 to place the order for the cat thing because it wasn’t going on sale ’til 10, and we had intended to be in the car AT 10, so when we left 10 minutes late, I was STRESSED and snapped at Fred who was wandering around the kitchen wanting to know where I’d put his cinnamon gum.
“DID YOU NOT KNOW YOU NEEDED YOUR GUM TEN MINUTES AGO!” I snarled. “WHY ARE YOU WAITING UNTIL NOW TO LOOK FOR IT?!”
So, we left. We got to Petsmart about 10 minutes late, but it was okay because the other helper was already there, and the display was set up and… oh? Did I not tell you?
Guess who played Santa at Petsmart on Saturday? And guess who was his helper?
Of COURSE I didn’t tell you in advance that Fred was playing Santa at Petsmart. He would have killed me and buried me in the back forty if I’d announced that he was playing Santa and y’all (or even some of y’all) showed up!
It was kind of fun. He played Santa a few years ago for another animal rescue group; this year it was for Challenger’s House. I’ve never been a “helper” before, so I had no idea what to expect. I’d been told that coming in costume was not only allowed, but encouraged, and as the day approached, I was starting to worry because not only did I not have any kind of costume, I had no kind of Christmassy outfit at all. I ended up buying a long-sleeved green t-shirt at Walmart and wearing a red t-shirt over it, and getting a last-minute Elf hat at Walmart. It was fine.
The other helper took the pictures, and I handed out the envelopes, printed out the pictures, and put them in the frames. It wasn’t super busy, and there was lots of down time. The time, not surprisingly, went by a lot faster when we were busy.
There were a LOT of adorable dogs, and they were all surprisingly well-behaved. I was disappointed that there were no cats or other animals, though.
So, if you’re local (or even if you’re not – I’m pretty sure Petsmarts across the country are all doing this) and want to help out Challenger’s House (or your local animal rescue group), go have your animal’s picture taken with Santa! It’s going on next Saturday and Sunday, and the Saturday and Sunday after that from 11 – 4.
I tried to convince Fred that we should go next weekend and take a chicken to have its picture taken with Santa, but he doesn’t seem to be going for that.
I slept in ’til 6:03 (I’ve been getting up at 5:30ish so we can dose everyone with Lysine before Fred goes to work – and Saturday I had to get up early so we could get to Lowe’s and Walmart and home again as early as possible), then got up and did all the usual morning stuff (shower, litter boxes, dosing kittens with Lysine). I started going through the house gathering up boxes (we had a LOT of boxes laying around, because every time I get something in the mail and take it out of the box, the kittens are all “I LOVE THIS BOX IT IS THE BEST BOX EVER” and so I leave the box. The house was starting to look all hoarder-y, so it was time to do some cleaning. When I was done, the boxes were either stacked in a closet (if they were a good size for shipping stuff) or piled by the door (to be piled in the garage for the next trip to the recycling center), and then I cleared a few things off the table, did laundry, vacuumed the downstairs, and canned black beans.
(You are pondering to yourself at this very moment, I know you are, you are saying “Self, I wonder just because I am the curious sort, how many half-pint jars of black beans does one get from a one-pound bag of black beans once they have soaked overnight and then cooked for half an hour?”, and the answer is seven. Seven half-pint jars from one pound of dried black beans. Honestly, I thought it would be more.)
Then Fred went out to his workshop and he used some of the wood he’d bought at Lowe’s the day before, and he made a crate for me, a crate that will perfectly hold a dozen half-pint jars.
It was PERFECT. It was sturdy and the perfect size, and I liked it one hell of a lot. So he went back out and made two more for me. And I liked those a hell of a lot, too. Then I said “How many more crates can you make from the wood you bought?” He said “One more.” I said “Huh.” He said “What?” I said “I could use about ten more of them, to be honest.”
(I am using the crates to store jam and chicken broth because I’ve run out of room in the canning cabinet.)
He offered to show me how to make them myself, swearing that it was easy as pie. So once my black beans were done processing, I took them off the heat, and we went out to his workshop.
And I’ll be goddamned if it wasn’t awfully damn easy. I mean, they’re certainly nothing fancy, but I am certainly nothing fancy, and I certainly do not require fancy crates to store jars of jam and chicken broth in.
I said to Fred, “Now that I know how to make a wooden box I FEEL LIKE THE WORLD IS MY OYSTER!”
I can sense myself champing at the bit* to become a box-making motherfucker.
At almost 2:00, Fred went out and lured the pigs into the trailer with food (HE USED THEIR LOVE AGAINST THEM) and then closed the trailer. I held the gate for him while he drove through (it’s always stressful for me, because I’m afraid George and Gracie will get out and then be impossible to recapture), and then we left. Driving any kind of distance at all with the pigs in the trailer gets me all stressed, too, because while I know the trailer is good and solid and they can’t break out or anything, THERE’S ALWAYS A FIRST TIME.
But we got them delivered to the, uh, camp counselor safe and sound, and then we made it home safely, as well.
Then we ran a few errands, and by the time we got home it was Snackin! Time! for everyone, and then time to settle down for the evening.
It was a busy weekend, but a productive one, I think.
*After arguing with Fred about whether it’s “chomping” or “champing”, I throw this link in here so that those of you who are about to leave comments telling me that “ROBYN, you are an IDIOT, it is CHOMPING at the bit, DUH” will resist. Except that you probably went and left that comment already before you came back to read the rest of the entry, didn’t you? DUH TO YOU, I SAY.
Since we were at Petsmart for five hours on Saturday, guess who I got to see?
It was SO nice to see him and pet him and snuggle with him for a few minutes. He came right to me when I opened his cage, and he purred like mad, and he rubbed his face on mine, and he talked to me.
I hated putting him back in his cage, but he was so friendly and happy that I just know he’s going to find a home soon. The right person just hasn’t come along, but he would certainly make someone a good Christmas present, don’t you think?
That’s it for the Cookies pics today. Obviously I need to get the camera out and get to snapping more pictures!
Okay, cat experts. This is Stinkerbelle. What would you call her? A Lynx point? A Lynx point Torti (because of the orange)? Something else entirely? I’ve never been quite sure exactly how to describe her!
2008: No entry.
2007: That’s approximately 100 pounds of litter every two weeks.
2006: “I LOOK LIKE SID VICIOUS!” I said.
2005: I love my husband, but “Mrs. Fred And3rson” IS NOT MY FUCKING NAME.
2004: (I never claimed not to be a dumbass)
2003: I would be ever so grateful if you would restrain yourself.
2002: No entry.
2001: I knew y’all were a hip and happenin’ bunch of readers!
2000: Stuff I’ve bought.
1999: And it tasted excellent, of course, which made the eggfart stenchiness more than worth it.