4/16/10 – Friday

That “hug” Rhyme is giving you is actually the way cats in the wild would kill their prey. The hind legs would be used to disembowel the victim. Now, doesn’t that make your day???? You mean it wasn’t just Rhyme telling me that he lurrrrves me?! I am heartbroken! (Luckily he was distracted by a … Continue reading “4/16/10 – Friday”

That “hug” Rhyme is giving you is actually the way cats in the wild would kill their prey. The hind legs would be used to disembowel the victim. Now, doesn’t that make your day????

You mean it wasn’t just Rhyme telling me that he lurrrrves me?! I am heartbroken! (Luckily he was distracted by a belly rub, or my life might have been in danger!)

 

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I have a question from yesterday – you mentioned that you aren’t worried about the kittens being with your cats because your cats are “all vaccinated.” I’m curious – do you vaccinate for FIV? or Leukemia? I don’t remember hearing stories about the regulars going to the vet – so they must be fairly well behaved? hehe.

We don’t vaccinate ours for FIV, but they do the regular vaccination for Leukemia when they get their regular shots. I’ll admit that I don’t for one moment think that the Bookworms are truly FIV positive, so I wasn’t that concerned about letting them out into Gen Pop. If I really thought there was a chance that they’re FIV positive, I’d be more hesitant about letting them out.

And yeah, most of our cats are good about going to the vet. Can you believe that way back when, when Spot or Spanky needed to go to the vet, we had to make the appointment when Fred was home from work, because I couldn’t get them into the carrier myself? What a wimp! Nowadays, I grab whatever cat needs to go, pop ’em in the carrier, and off they go. Even Spanky making like a starfish doesn’t work – I’m getting to be pretty good at shoving cats in carriers. About time, too, wouldn’t you say?

 

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Is Sugarbutt getting…dare I say it: portly?! Those two are adorable. But I felt the need to comment because looking at the picture of them snuggling as kittens, I was all “awww I remember that” and then I saw the date, and realized I’ve been reading your blog for well over 5 years and well…that kind of freaked me out! I mean at this point I feel like I know you, yet putting it in the perspective of YEARS; that made me feel absolutely voyeuristic lol.

Sugarbutt looks like he’s getting to be portly, but in actuality, he’s just a big, muscular cat. That’s not fat, that’s muscle – which apparently he builds up by running around the tops of the kitchen cabinets every night. I swear to god, one day those cabinets are going to start falling down under the weight of a running Suggie, and I just hope I’m not standing underneath them when it happens!

(Um. Not that I make a habit of standing UNDER the kitchen cabinets. But youknowwhatImean!)

I have someone in Chicago who’s apparently reading their way through my archives (hi, Chicago!), so think of it this way – at least you don’t have to do THAT, you already know my history, you voyeur, you. 🙂

 

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Robyn, did Maura think she was pregnant … well how the hell would you know?! Ok, my question is, when she gets out with the kittens, if she thought she was pregnant, would she adopt them? Think they were the kittens she thought she was having when she thought she was pregnant?

I don’t think Maura thought she was pregnant – I think she was like “I don’t know why this lady is giving me kitten food to eat, and three snacks a day, but – okay! ::gulp::!” When Fred brought the Bookworms home, I honestly thought about putting them in with her, thinking that since she was SO close to giving birth (HA!), maybe they’d try to nurse, and she’d produce milk, and then she could take over mothering them. But I hesitated because she’s on medication, and I didn’t want her to pass anything along to them, and also, you KNOW how those mother cats can be – I thought it was a possibility that she’d be like “THESE are not my babies!” and eat them. Or at least wound them.

But Maura is SUCH a laid-back girl that when she’s allowed out into the house, she’ll let those kittens do whatever they want. It would be neat if they took to her as if she were a surrogate mother, but I’m thinking they’re getting to be a little old for that.

Besides I’M their surrogate mother! 🙂

 

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Have you seen this site?

http://daveola.com/Zoo/Mr_Peterson/

I thought you would get a kick out of the cat’s name… 🙂

I had not seen that site – too cute!

 

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That is funny about calling the cats nicknames – I do that all the time! (hence why I probably find it so funny!) My latest thing is “bear”. My black lab is black bear, the cat is old bear and my horse is papa bear. Typing that all out sounds pretty silly. I’ve also been know to call them all some form of “mugs” – old mugs, mr. mugs, etc. 🙂

If you think I’m not planning to name a future foster kitten “Mr. Mugs”, you don’t know me at all. Hmmm. How about Mr. Mugs, Dr. Mugs, and Miz Mugs? The Mugses! Heh.

 

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What’s in a name? Almost 2 years ago (when I began grad school) I moved in (with my one cat) with a lady who had 5 cats. All were rescues and all of hers had some sort of issue (one, I’m convinced, has cerebral palsy). I was convinced that one of her cats, named Furby, was autistic. This cat would not look at you, could not make eye contact, would run if she saw you looking at you, and would not allow anyone to touch her. About 2 months ago, for no particular reason, I began calling her Fur-Bunny (now just Bunny). Since then she has become a COMPLETELY different cat–She will look at me, I can give her treats and she will take them from my hand, and I’ve actually petted her. She responds to Bunny and will look at you if you call her (but only Bunny–she will not respond to Furby). She will even approach you. Still doesn’t like to be touched, but I have actually petted her tail.

I love love love LOVE LOVE this story! All this time, that cat has been thinking “No one knows me at all!” and then suddenly you called her by the right name, and she was like “SOMEONE KNOWS THE REAL ME!!!”

 

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OMG have you seen this? I’m sure you can relate!

My Bookworms don’t get quite that excited – but they get PRETTY DARN EXCITED at snack time (they get canned food in the morning and again in the evening). I’ll have to see if I can’t shoot a video to show how happy and excited they get.

 

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Gerri asked:

So sorry to hear about Fred. Will you have to cut back on fostering till things pick up? Hope not. Your kitten stories and pix just make my day. Also all the other guys. I’m not sure did you ever tell us Maura’s story. Where did she come from?

We definitely won’t be cutting back on fostering! Challenger’s House is absolutely awesome – they provide all the food and medication we need for our fosters, so none of that comes out of our pocket. We do, of course, spend some money on the fosters, for litter and toys and stuff like that, but that’s also stuff that we’d have on hand around here anyway for our own cats.

(Also, I think I might have a cat toy buying addiction, so I’m staying away from PetSmart for the time being. I mean, seriously – you spend $5 on a toy, and their favorite toys end up being things like toilet paper rolls and crumpled up balls of tinfoil!)

Having the fosters around is a definite stress reliever for both of us – especially now that they’ve got the hang of the litter box and all their litter box leavings are as they should be – so we’ll still be fostering, no matter how long it is ’til Fred is employed again (and hopefully that’ll be soon!)

Maura was rescued from a kill shelter in Tennessee. (It still makes me laugh when I think about the fact that she was NEVER pregnant. She’s no dummy – she thought “If they think I’m pregnant, maybe it’ll make them more likely to save me!” Heh!)

 

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The Bookworms are getting used to the new routine ’round these parts. They’re closed in the guest bedroom overnight, until Fred gets up around 5 or so. He lets them out, and they run around and play until I come downstairs, usually a little after 7. When they hear me coming, they run into the guest bedroom and supervise my scooping of the litter boxes, then howl at me to let me know that they are STARVIN’!

(For the record, they have crunchy food available to them at all times. They’re just spoiled!)

I give them their morning ration of canned food, then after they eat they either curl up for a nap or run around like their tails are on fire. For the rest of the day, they alternately nap and run around. Yesterday, Corbett climbed up on me when I was taking a nap on the couch, and we napped together, and he purred so loud I swear you could hear him two rooms away!

They have their evening ration of canned food around 7, and then run around the living room for a couple of hours while we watch TV. We put them in the guest bedroom around 9, when we go upstairs to bed (we’re early-to-bed, early-to-rise types, if you hadn’t guessed!), and they don’t complain at all.

They sure are sweet boys.


Rhyme, on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. You can see Corbett flirting with Jake in the background. Corbett LOVES Jake!


Fight! FIGHT!


::thlurrrrp!::


Time for a nap.

 

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Jake sure does love to be outside.


Such a crazy little face!


Happy Jake.

 

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Previously
2009: Newsflash: Stupid Alabama woman is the last person in existence to realize that shit is less expensive at Wal-Mart than the local yuppy grocery store.
2008: And then I will duct-tape the stupid thing to me so that I don’t lose it!
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.

4/15/10 – Thursday

Is anyone out there still watching Brothers & Sisters? Because I still am, actually, and while I do enjoy it, I’ve gotta say: 1. Please, would someone put Scotty out of his misery? All he does is sit around and look concerned, say sweet and supportive things to Kevin The Neurotic, and try his best … Continue reading “4/15/10 – Thursday”

Is anyone out there still watching Brothers & Sisters? Because I still am, actually, and while I do enjoy it, I’ve gotta say:

1. Please, would someone put Scotty out of his misery? All he does is sit around and look concerned, say sweet and supportive things to Kevin The Neurotic, and try his best to not actually, y’know, TOUCH The Neurotic One. Seriously, have you ever in your entire life seen two people with less chemistry than those two? If I have to suffer through one more dry close-lipped kiss between those two, I’m going to hurt someone. NORA AND SAUL have more chemistry than Scotty and Kevin.

(Okay, that was gross.)

2. Dear Writers of Brothers & Sisters: If you’re going to demand that we sit through a two-hour “movie event” version of the show, please for the fucking love of god, make it so that at the end, we’ve gained some sort of fucking knowledge that we might not have gotten from a regular one-hour show. Fucking “Narrow Lake” is turning into an albatross. I give you three more episodes to figure that fucking horseshit out, and then I’m going to drown the entire fucking cast in the nearest body of water.

3. What the fuck, Rob Lowe? You’re practically nothing but a glorified extra. You’re far too pretty to swan in, look mildly concerned, and then swan back out.

4. The Walkers? Too goddamn close. This family needs to put some motherfucking distance in. When Kevin was all “Weep weep weep accidentally did something 25 years ago that I didn’t know I did, weep weep weep”, and Kitty was all up in his shit hugging him with love and concern, I was like “Hi, how about his HUSBAND, sitting over there looking uncomfortable? You wanna maybe make some room, Kitty, and let the LOVE OF HIS LIFE in for a hug and a dry kiss?”, and then when Kitty announced her test results when they were all celebrating the good news that happened during the “special movie event” (I’m trying not to spoil it for you people who haven’t watched it yet), and Kitty was all teary-eyed, and then “Oh, let me subvert your attention while I announce my much more important news because it’s allllllllways about Kitty in MY world!”, and Rob Lowe was sitting at the table looking vaguely concerned, and she told the news, and everyone got up to hug her, how about you people make way for HER FUCKING HUSBAND? I mean, not that he was getting up to hug her (what the fuck, Robert?) or anything, he was too busy making the transition from vaguely concerned to vaguely relieved, but still.

 

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skimmers

Okay, happy searchers, here’s the information you’re desperately searching for, which is repeated from my entry on April 5th:

Fred’s company and their largest customer have parted ways – and as a result, Fred is looking for a job.

That’s it, that’s all there is, I’m sorry there’s no drama to share. Fred is looking for a job.

He’s sent out a large number of resumes, has been on an interview, and during this time off has boned up on C++, which took him about two days because he’s a smart motherfucker. Now we just wait for the right opportunity to come along and a job to be offered, and in the meantime he’s got the garden planted and has mowed the lawn fifteen times.

I thought he might drive me crazy, with the always being present in MY HOUSE, but it’s been fine. I refuse to allow him in the kitchen when I’m cooking dinner, but that’s not really an unemployment issue. It’s more an issue with him always thinking he’s got a better way to get something done, and I don’t much cotton to being told a “better” way to do my shit, thank you. If he’s got a better way to make dinner, then by all means – perhaps he should take over the making of the dinner.

Fucker.

It’s only been two and a half weeks that he’s been seriously looking for a job, and as smart as he is and as good as he is at what he does, I have no doubt that he’ll find himself employed soon enough.

 

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Someone asked yesterday if Maura was going to become a permanent resident. The short answer: no. The slightly longer answer: once she’s cleared by the vet and has had the last of her vaccinations, she’ll be going to the adoption center. The long answer: we have 11 cats, 2 dogs, and a large number of chickens. Fred is unemployed at the moment. We are not adding another mouth to feed to the family, are ya CRAZY?

She’s a sweet girl, completely laid-back, and good with other cats (as far as we can tell from her reaction to Jake entering her room for the last two nights) – I have no doubt someone will fall in love with her.

 

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Sweet Corbett.


Rhyme hugging my arm with his front paws while kicking my arm with his back legs, and Reacher looking on.


Corbett and Bolitar pulled that cat bed off the bottom shelf of the coffee table and cuddled up for a nap. In the background, Jake is curled up on the cat bed he pulled down from the table under the window. None of the cat beds stay where I put them, is what I’m saying.


::thlurrrp::


Reacher. Isn’t it amazing how quickly they go from little round roly-poly babies to long and lanky kittens?


Corbett, Bolitar (in the back), Reacher, and Rhyme cuddle up for bedtime.

 

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Almost five years old, and Tommy and Sugarbutt still snuggle up for a nap. I LOVE that!


Of course, they don’t fit quite as well in one cat bed as they used to…


Tommy and Sugarbutt, October 2005.

 

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Previously
2009: Scenes from around Crooked Acres.
2008: It just looked like a great big blob of tumor, is what it looked like.
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.

4/14/10 – Wednesday (kitties!)

Last weekend, after the Bookworms had finished up their medication, and I was sure that their litter box leavings were as they should be (ie, solid), we opened the door and set them free to roam the house. (They haven’t been Combo tested yet – we (the shelter manager and I) decided to wait to … Continue reading “4/14/10 – Wednesday (kitties!)”

Last weekend, after the Bookworms had finished up their medication, and I was sure that their litter box leavings were as they should be (ie, solid), we opened the door and set them free to roam the house.

(They haven’t been Combo tested yet – we (the shelter manager and I) decided to wait to have them tested until they’re three months old, since if they were tested right now they very well could come up FIV positive because their mother was. Given a little more time, they may come up negative on the first test, which means we could have them neutered and shoot ’em over to Petsmart to be snatched up immediately. And since all our cats are up to date on their vaccinations, I’m not worried about them catching anything from the kittens.)

The Bookworms really really enjoyed having more room to roam. At first they were like “THERE’S A WHOLE NEW WORLD OUT THERE!”, and then they were like “Hey! Other kitties!” and then “Hey, those other kitties are mean!”

Jake and Elwood dedicated the first couple of days to making sure the ‘worms knew just who was in charge around here (funny, Jake and Elwood think THEY are in charge, but I suspect the older cats would disagree with THAT), and since then, they’ve calmed down and aren’t harassing the babies too much.


“What’s he doing?”
“He said he was licking his toes.”
“What’s a ‘toes’?”
“I don’t know.”


“Hi, Mister!”


“I said ‘Hi, Mister’ to him, and he didn’t say anything.”
“Maybe he didn’t hear you. Let me try. HI, Mister!”
“…”
“Nope, nothing.”


“Hi, Mister! Hi! Whatcha doin’, Mister? You wanna play with us? We found a mouse and we was batting it around, but one of the big cats came and took it away from us, then hissed and smacked at us. That was mean, we just wanna play. You wanna play? Huh, Mister?”


They really like the coffee table in the front room. Bolitar was hanging out there with his back end up on the lower shelf of the table and his front paws on the floor when Reacher wandered by.


“YOU GO AWAY. THIS ARE MY SHELF NOT YOURS!”


Maxi’s not a fan of the kittens. At ALL. She growls if she even sees one.


“What’s HER problem?”


Corbett got flirty with Jake.


“Hi, Mister! Hi! HI! Hiiiii!”


“Hi, Mister! Whatcha doin’? You takin’ a bath, Mister? You have nice long whiskers, Mister. I have short whiskers, but that’s ’cause I’m little. The Lady says when I get bigger, I’ll have pretty long whiskers like you. I can’t wait! I want to have long whiskers too!”


“::sigh:: You sure are purty, Mister.”

 

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Beanie asked yesterday if Maura’s doing okay after her extra treats and special food went away. The answer is that yes, she’s doing just fine. She hasn’t complained at me at all, she’s not howling at the door in anger, she’s just happy to see me show up and hang out, and just as fine with me leaving. I am not kidding when I tell you that she’s one laid-back cat. Last night when I went into the room to hang out with her, Jake ran into the room. I didn’t chase him down and toss him out because I wanted to see how she’d react to him. She ran over and sniffed at him, then sat in the middle of the room and watched him run around and sniff everything. No hissing, no growling, no food aggressiveness on her part. She was fine with having him in there. Which makes me look forward to getting done with her medication and getting the all-clear from the vet so she can have the run of the house. I suspect that if the kittens ran up to her and jumped on her and batted at her, she’d just lay there and watch them.

 

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Suggie on the Ham-Mick!

 

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Previously
2009: Am I alone in this belief, or am I the only one on earth who didn’t know that the Easter Bunny laid ten million eggs (and candy items) before delivering them to the bad little heathens of the world?
2008: Places where the Feliway bottle is NOT
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.

4/13/10 – Tuesday

From reader Amy – go read about sweet little Pug Casey, and help out if you can! Seriously – have you ever seen a cuter little face?   * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= *   I recently read a post on someone’s blog somewhere (I can’t … Continue reading “4/13/10 – Tuesday”

From reader Amy – go read about sweet little Pug Casey, and help out if you can!

Seriously – have you ever seen a cuter little face?

 

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I recently read a post on someone’s blog somewhere (I can’t even begin to remember where it was), and the person was answering a question someone had asked wherein she had read her boyfriend’s text messages accidentally, and stumbled across the fact that he was supposed to have lunch with an ex-girlfriend while she (the question asker and current girlfriend) was supposed to be out of town. Now, the focus of the question was on whether the girlfriend should be concerned/ say something to the man in question. That’s not what caught my interest, though – what caught my interest was in the blogger’s answer to the question.

(Jesus christ, could I make the build-up to my point any more convoluted and boring?)

Okay, I went and looked – it was Slynnro, this post, and in her answer to the question, she says This is the thing about reading texts and emails- you tend to find things you wish you hadn’t.

Which leads me to my point, and that is that I have full access to Fred’s email and texts (Fred generally hands his phone over to me if there are texts, so that I can delete them – he has never sent a text in his life), and holy Virgin Mary in a pink sparkly sidecar does that man send and receive the MOST FUCKING BORING emails that have ever been seen on the face of the earth. I would almost welcome a flirty email with a “fuck me!” subtext from an ex-girlfriend when I’m snoring through his emails just to break up the tedium.

Now, I’m not a complete idiot, it’s entirely possible that he’s got a second email address about which I have no clue, and that there’s a veritable treasure of flirty emails –

(I’m sorry, if you’ll pardon me while I guffaw a little at the idea of any hapless dumbass sending Fred a flirty email, because if I know my husband, I imagine he’d be mostly impatient that she was wasting his time with that happy horseshit when there’s shit to be stirred on the internet.)

but I doubt it.

And just so y’all don’t think that I’m all breathing down his neck when he’s sending or reading his emails, I don’t look at his email all that often, maybe every few months. I either have to be looking for some specific information, or hugely bored with nothing left anywhere on the internet that I haven’t already read, to even think about looking at his email.

Also yes, of course he knows that I read his email, because he’s aware that I’m nosy like that, and I have full access to all his shit all the time. He has full access to all my shit all the time too, of course, but he doesn’t bother reading my email unless he’s looking for an email address or something else that I’ve asked him to look for. As bored as I am by his email, he is six times that bored at the thought of reading my email.

Of course, he’s WRONG, because my email is far more interesting than his. I mean, I have emails about cats and Real Housewives and Dr. Phil; how does it get more interesting than that, I ask you?

 

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I’ve recently realized that I go through nickname phases when it comes to the cats. Instead of calling each and every one of them by their names (because if I even tried, I’d be a mess of sputtering through the fragments of six different names before I got to the right name. “Spank – Sug – Tom – Mom – ELWOOD! Stop that!”), I go with a general nickname. I think for a little while last year it was “Honey”, then I went through about a six month “Bunny” phase, and now I’m calling them all “Turkey.”

“Whatcha doin’, Turkey?” I say to Elwood, who’s hanging out minding his own business. Then I walk into the next room and it’s “Hello, Turkey-butt.” to Sugarbutt, who’s sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor hoping that it’s almost time for The Snack. And so on.

I always add “butt,” “face,” and “dork” to the end of the nickname for reasons that are unclear to even me.

They don’t care what I call them – if I yell “Turkey-butt! Time for the snackin’!”, they come running just as fast as if I yell “Suggie! Time for the snackin’!”

It’s probably no surprise that most of them don’t know their names, is it?

 

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“Hello! Tryin’ to sleep, here!” (Bolitar)


Do you SEE the baleful look on Corbett’s face?! He’s got himself some hate going on, right there. I don’t know what Bolitar did, but it was apparently QUITE offensive.


Getting ready to jump on his brother and kick some butt.


“I am but a poor sweet baby who wants nothing but a cuddle.” Don’t be fooled!


“HELLO! That belly’s not going to rub itself!”

 

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Don’t be fooled by the sassy look. She’s a complete and utter sweetheart.

 

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Spanky, snoozing on the couch. He’s such a HAPPY boy.

 

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Previously
2009: Rude little brats.
2008: No entry.
2007: Feel free to cut and paste, assholes, though I fully understand if you prefer something with a few more misspellings.
2006: Must… resist… evil… urge…
2005: “Ah JEEZUS, here she goes again with the Gatlinburg! She goes for four days and talks about it for four weeks!”
2004: Oh. My. Eyes.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Entries I liked.
2000: No entry.

4/12/10 – Monday

You guys, I am SURE, already read this, but in case you haven’t, let me be the one to tell you: go read Jane right now, and then read this one, too. And then shave your heads to show solidarity. Also, wear nothing but pink. Also also, make sure you give her LOTS OF BIG … Continue reading “4/12/10 – Monday”

You guys, I am SURE, already read this, but in case you haven’t, let me be the one to tell you: go read Jane right now, and then read this one, too.

And then shave your heads to show solidarity. Also, wear nothing but pink. Also also, make sure you give her LOTS OF BIG HUGS. She pretends to be a non-hugger, but she secretly loves the long, long hugs. She’s a closet hugger!

 

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Okay, you guys had questions about the chart. Let me see if I can address them all…

The chart is set up thusly – the names going across the top are the ones who are feeling, and the names going down the side are the ones who are being felt about. For instance, in the first column, where Spanky’s at the top, that shows his feelings toward Miz Poo, his feelings toward Tommy, and so on, going down the list. Most of the time the feelings are the same in both directions, but there are a few occasions where the cats have different feelings toward each other – ie, Spanky tolerates Jake and Elwood, but Jake and Elwood like Spanky.

Don’t feel sorry for Miz Poo and Kara – they are not fans of the other cats, but that’s because they’re people lovers, not cat lovers. Miz Poo would be perfectly 100% happy to be an only cat (it’s good to dream!), and Kara would too, except that then Kara would go crazy because there’d be no one for her to keep in line. As long as the other cats stay the hell out of their way, they ignore them. If anyone gets too much up in either of their faces, they hiss and smack and make it known that The Bubble has been breached.

There is one time of day when Kara LOVES THE HELL out of all the other cats, and that’s Snackin’! Time! While the cats are milling around excitedly waiting for their Snack!, Kara will rub up against any other cat she happens across. Usually that’s Jake and/ or Elwood, sometimes Spanky. And sometimes she’ll rub up against Jake or Elwood, and then in the next second she’ll smack the hell out of them.

I don’t know what on earth the deal is with Joe Bob, honestly. When he was our foster cat four years ago (or thereabouts), he was great friends with Mister Boogers, Tommy, and Sugarbutt. When we adopted him and Fred brought him home, Mister Boogers didn’t care for him at all, Sugarbutt ignored him, and Tommy went back and forth between being friends with him and picking on him. Most of the other cats have no use for him (oh, how Stinkerbelle LOATHES him, mostly (I think) because he picks on her), which is too bad, because he’s a good cat. I will say, though, that it’s not all their fault – he’s kind of touchy about being looked at by the other cats, and can take it as a challenge if they look at him for too long. He’s a little bit of a drama queen, is what I’m saying.

Actually, the chart is incorrect, now that I think about it – Spanky HATES Joe Bob, and will follow Joe Bob around and glare at him, sniff at the places where Joe Bob has been, and just generally make Joe Bob feel uncomfortable. (We call him “Creepy Cousin Spanky” when he acts like that.)

Someone asked if there are any major cat fights around here, and the answer is that sometimes there are, mostly between Stinkerbelle and Joe Bob (though now that I’ve said that, I think it’s been relatively calm between the two of them). Occasionally Jake or Elwood will chase Stinkerbelle, and she runs and hisses like the hounds of hell are after her. Sometimes Stinkerbelle will be up on top of the bookcase in the front room, and Kara will jump up there, and there’s a hiss-off, culminating with one or the other of them jumping down and running off. One day last week, Miz Poo was on top of the cat tree near the same bookcase, and I don’t know WHAT possessed her, but she decided to jump up to the top of the bookcase. The problem was, Maxi was already up there, and there was yelling and hissing and growling, and I sat up and looked over to see Miz Poo jump down to the top of the cat tree in terror, and then the poor thing fell OFF the cat tree (she’s fine).

Okay, I think that answered all the questions – of course, if I missed one, feel free to ask again!

 

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So, I think I forgot to mention that I had my follow-up appointment last Thursday with my gynecologist (if you’ll recall, at my 6-week appointment, my internal incision wasn’t quite healed up). It was again not quite there, so she hit it up with the friggin’ silver nitrate a little. This time around it hurt a lot more than last time, WHICH I ENJOYED SO. She told me that I didn’t have to come back for another follow-up, but to let her know if I had any problems.

I don’t intend to have any problems. I am not fond of that damn drive, I’m telling you.

The thing about my gynecologist’s office is that instead of calling the day before to remind you of your appointment, they now call you two days before. And when you answer the phone, they make sure they have the right person on the line, and then they remind you that you have an appointment.

Then there’s this pause. I always say “Okay!”, expecting that they’ll say “See you then!” and hang up.

But they don’t.

What they do is remind you that if you don’t show up for your appointment or cancel it at least 24 hours in advance, they’ll bill you for the office visit. And I always feel really defensive, like “BUT I WAS PLANNING ON BEING THERE!”, like they KNOW me, and KNOW that my REAL plan was to just ditch the appointment and not bother to cancel in advance. Which would be stupid on my part, because I have to go back eventually, right?

(Well, I guess I don’t. I could always find a gynecologist nearer, I know But I’m too lazy to go looking for another gynecologist right now.)

When they called on Tuesday to remind me of my Thursday appointment, I confused the lady who called by saying “8:45, right? I’ll be there!”, and she just meekly said yes and hung up.

 

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Had I known that the Census Bureau would be wasting MY TAX DOLLARS by sending me a postcard letting me know that my census form was on the way and THEN sending the census form and THEN sending another postcard to inform me that I should have gotten the census form, I wouldn’t have been quite so fast to fill the damn thing out and send it back. The SAME DAY, I sent that stupid thing back.

Will they be calling me now, to check and make sure I understand that they know I filled it out? Will they be knocking on my door? “Mrs. Anderson, it says here that there are only two people living here, but HOLY CRAP you spend a lot at Sam’s. Can you explain that to us? Also, the washer seems to run a lot, as shown here by your water bill. Cats? You have cats? Really, I don’t think a couple of cats would make… Oh. 11? You have 11 cats? In this house? Oh… and five fosters. So that makes… Okay, so two people and 16 cats. I see. Well, we’re going to need to put you on the SPECIAL list….”

Fucking census people, mind your own fucking business. Unless you wanna find out how many GUNS two people and 16 cats can cram into one house*.

(Attention FBI and other law enforcement: That is not a threat. That is me being annoyed and talking shit.)

*I don’t know how many. A lot. Enough so that Fred and I could each have one in each hand and one in each foot with a few left over. Not that I’m saying my toes are strong enough to pull the trigger of a gun, but you know, desperate times call for desperate measures. And unless you count the shootout over the kibble between the Bookworms yesterday, no one’s been shot yet. YET. But I’ve got guns and I know how to use ’em, stalkers. That’s all I’m saying.

 

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I’m sorry, does that little face KILL YOU DEAD like it kills me?


Dreamy little Corbett. He is just SO FREAKIN’ GORGEOUS, I can’t stand it.


“Halp! HALP I SAY!”


“Who, me? Sharpening my claws on your jeans? I’d NEVER.”


“Hellow.”

 

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“Okay, hi, my eyes are UP HERE, if you don’t MIND. Jeez.”

 

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Tommy needs a good dusting, apparently.

 

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: If you see my bottle of Feliway, please send it home. Thankyew.
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.

4/9/10 – Friday

Do you guys put newspaper in the carriers? Seems like it would make cleanup easier. Unless it’s projectile. You take such good care of the cats and George and Gracie, it doesn’t matter how many you have. It’s heartbreaking how many are in the shelters. No, I usually have a small blanket or towel in … Continue reading “4/9/10 – Friday”

Do you guys put newspaper in the carriers? Seems like it would make cleanup easier. Unless it’s projectile. You take such good care of the cats and George and Gracie, it doesn’t matter how many you have. It’s heartbreaking how many are in the shelters.

No, I usually have a small blanket or towel in the carriers. Newspaper would make cleanup easier, but it doesn’t sound all that comfy to me, and god forbid any cat should be less than completely comfortable for longer than thirty seconds. Cleanup with a towel/ blanket isn’t so bad – I remove as much of the solids as I can, and toss ’em in the washer.

 

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Ah Ha, so I am not the only one getting my Bitchypoo blocked. At least I know there are other people trying to access the same ‘porn’ as me!

I told Fred that I should buy a new domain and mirror my entries on a weekly (or monthly) basis there, so that y’all can keep up with your Bitchypoo goodness from work instead of having to wait ’til you get home. We were watching something one evening last week (I don’t remember what), and I decided that RazzleDazzle.com would be an excellent domain – but it’s already been taken. Fred suggested SpazzleDazzle.com (heh), and I was reading an old entry and thought that FloopleTheDoop.com would be a good one, or even just Floople.com.

But it’s a moot point – having another domain and having to clean up the language before copying entries over there is both more money than I want to spend right now, and more work than I want to do. I’ll keep it in mind for the future after we’ve won the lottery and I’m a wealthy lady of leisure.

 

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Rhyme has the darkest M of them all.

He really does – he looks like someone took a Sharpie and wrote an “M” on his forehead!

 

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Living in Alabama, you have to know the rebel flag as well… or is that just in Tennessee?

I know the Confederate (rebel) flag, but I don’t really consider it a flag in the way that I consider state and country flags to be flags, if that makes any sense.

 

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Look at this cat.

I don’t know if your guys can master that, but I’m thinking that they have a shot at out-gaping the amazed cat in one of the other videos.

I’ve had the occasional cat (especially Sugarbutt) stand up straight, but not as long as that cat can!

 

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Last night my fiance told me that monkeys aren’t mammals… um, then what the hell are they? 😉

Wikipedia says Considered generalist mammals, primates exhibit a wide range of characteristics. Sounds like they’re mammals to me! 🙂

 

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Saw this on the news this morning and thought of Maura!

Doctors Perform C-Section and Find No Baby
Two North Carolina doctors have been reprimanded for performing a caesarian on a woman, only to discover she wasn’t pregnant at all.

Doctors opened up the woman and found a nonpregnant uterus.
The incident — a rare case of pseudocyesis or a false or hysterical pregnancy — happened at the Cape Fear Medical Center in Fayetteville, N.C.

The woman reportedly appeared at the hospital with her husband asking for a C-section. A resident in charge made the pregnancy diagnosis and doctors agreed to surgery after trying to induce labor for two days.

I don’t know why, but it makes me laugh my ASS off, thinking that doctors tried to induce labor for two days before attempting a c-section.

 

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Hey, I do believe there’s a photo of your fosters in an article for Challenger’s House in todays Huntsville Times. I don’t get the print version, but found the article at the online news site al.com

Here’s the URL: http://blog.al.com/breaking/2010/04/challengers_house_hopes_to_rai.html

Hope they raise a lot of funds for the kittehs!

Yep, that’s the picture I provided for the story about the True Blood 6! I’m still trying to talk Fred into attending the benefit, but I’m not sure how much luck I’m having!

 

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I desperately want to know what the other Robyn’s reaction was to your reply email. I can only imagine that she was either nonplussed about it, thinking, huh, I don’t remember sending THAT email or that she was deeply offended and upset with herself for being so lazy! Or perhaps she has convinced herself that she’s got another personality! Imagine coming to THAT realization! Oh to have been a fly on the wall..

and

Hilarious! You should also send the other Robyn motivational stuff like “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough and people like me!” 😀

and

You have GOT to start sending Robyn Anderson notes from herself! Like, “Are you sure you’re making the right decision with that thing you’re thinking about?” or “How about that dream last night! Do we have a weird subconcious or what?” Or, if you’re in an earlier time zone than her, send her notes from her future self! “You’ll regret it if you go where you’re thinking of going for lunch!”

and

I agree with Heidi–send that “other” Robyn regular emails “advising” her. Try “We’re going to have a super-dee-duper day today!” hehehe

and

You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of anyone sending themselves e-mails on what to do that day! I’ve made lists of stuff to do and then lost the list, but mailing it to myself? Not so much….

and

Emailing oneself. Hmmm. I’ve send myself reminders on my phone …

I’ve been known to email myself reminders from time to time, but more often, I send a text to my email address (usually when I’ve filled up the gas tank and want to remember to enter the correct amount into Quicken. Yes, I could get a receipt, but those tend to get lost in my purse).

I would email the other Robyn helpful emails of advice (“Don’t wear that shirt again, it just is NOT flattering. I’m only telling you ’cause I love you! Call me!”), but I think I’ve decided she doesn’t have a sense of humor, because I still haven’t heard anything back, and HMPH TO HER. Also, it’s her work email, and I don’t want her to get in trouble with her bosses because I’m sending her cat pictures at work or something. Heh.

 

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Hilarious! Hysterical pregnancy even?

Well, she DID try to tell me she wasn’t pregnant, y’know. I guess next time a cat tells me she’s just full-figured NOT pregnant, I’ll listen!

 

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My mom has a set of foster kittens (and their mama) and she needs to name them. There are 6 of them and all but one are stripey (like the Bookworms). How on earth do you tell your kittens apart? I tried looking for some distinctive mark (on their head, on their tummies, on their back) but they all look too similar!

Well, the Bookworms are different enough from each other that I don’t have a problem telling them apart. There are different ways to mark kittens so you can tell the difference – with the Cookies, I put a tiny dab of brightly colored nail polish on the back of their ears (which is how they ended up with the nicknames Blue and Orange). Another way to mark them is to put a dab of nail polish on the tip of one of their claws. Also, I know that somewhere out there are temporary collars that you can put on them – they’re made of some sort of tough paper and stick to themselves so you can make them whatever size works for you – but I don’t for the life of me remember where I saw them. Anyone out there know?

 

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I used to have a dog, a female. (And she was spayed.) Then I got a cat, a kitten who was really too young to have left her mother but I didn’t know that at the time. After a day or two of getting to know each other, the kitten, seeking comfort, began nursing at the dog. Cue false pregnancy in the dog.

Two years later – two YEARS later!! – the swollen belly had gone away, but the dog was still walking around with milk-filled teats, and the cat was still nursing whenever she wanted. She’d walk up to the dog, yowl, perhaps pop the dog on the nose a time or two, and the dog would sigh and go find a comfortable spot to flop over. Damnedest thing.

Elayne, you crack me UP!

 

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Robyn, I have never before joined in the chorus when your readers start predicting that you’re going to keep this or that foster, but this time…it’s different. How in the HELL are you going to be able to let those adorable babies go? I swear, if I didn’t have two dogs, and my husband wouldn’t immediately leave me, I’d take ALL of them!

I’ll tell you what, I was able to give up this one here:


(That’s Mikey of the Wonkas, if you don’t recognize him)

and if I can give up Mikey, I can give up anyone! Seriously, we STILL talk about Mike from time to time, and just the fact that Fred even remembers who Mike is is something – he rarely remembers the names of any of our fosters, once they go off to their new homes.

So yeah, I do love the hell out of the Bookworms, and they’re awfully sweet little brats, and I know it’ll be hard to give them up and I’ll miss them when they’re gone, but we’re not keeping them. We’re not!

(I know you guys never believe me when I say that!)

 

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George and Gracie are gorgeous. Some of the pics of them remind me of a polar bear. Anyone else see that?

Oh, definitely!

 

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What happened to the chart of which cats interact with each other? I was looking forward to that all week! ha :p

Here it is (click on it to see the bigger version). It’s nothing fancy, but it gives you the idea, I think. “No” means they don’t generally interact with each other, and “LOVE”, “LIKE” and “HATE” are pretty self-explanatory. If there’s anything unclear, feel free to ask!

 

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Gorgeous Corbett.


Rhyme in the sun.


::thlurrrrp::


Rhyme in the sun.


Corbett in my lap, fighting off Reacher.


This pretty well defines this litter. Rhyme, Reacher, and Bolitar looking at something (my hand, I think), and Corbett fighting with his foot. Corbett marches to the beat of his own drummer.

 

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Maxi in the cat bed on Fred’s desk. She sure is pretty.

 

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Previously
2009: So, the great freedom-letting has begun!
2008: Now if I can just convince him to get going on that closet for the corner of the computer room….
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?

4/8/10 – Thursday

I was surfing around the net yesterday, and I read that you can actually plant the top of a pineapple, and eventually it’ll take root and grow and after like two years, you might end up with a whole new pineapple. This fascinated and intrigued me, and I of course had to immediately tell Fred … Continue reading “4/8/10 – Thursday”

I was surfing around the net yesterday, and I read that you can actually plant the top of a pineapple, and eventually it’ll take root and grow and after like two years, you might end up with a whole new pineapple.

This fascinated and intrigued me, and I of course had to immediately tell Fred about it.

“Hey!” I said. “Did you KNOW that if you plant the top of a pineapple, it will take root and grow? We should grow our own pineapples!”

Fred considered. “So, it takes root and grows into a pineapple tree?”

I wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not, so I turned around and gave him a look.

“A pineapple tree,” I said.

“It grows into a pineapple tree, you’re saying, and we could go out and pick our own pineapples?”

I gave him another look.

“Pineapples… do not GROW ON TREES,” I said.

“Oh. They don’t?”

“Um. No.”

“So you plant a pineapple top, and you get one pineapple from it and it takes a couple of years?” he said.

“Yes.”

“That seems like a lot of effort and waiting for two people who aren’t THAT into pineapple.”

Can’t argue with that.

 

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We were driving somewhere last weekend, and AS HE ALWAYS DOES, Fred was weaving all over the road because he was so busy looking at the houses we were passing, or waving his hands in the air to make a super-important point.

“IT WOULD BE NICE IF YOU WERE ABLE TO KEEP THE CAR ON THE ROAD,” I said. I swear to you, I’m 99% sure that my cause of death will be due to Fred driving off the road into a tree (or ditch) because he’s NOT PAYING ATTENTION, driving directly into a car stopped at a red light because he loves to approach red lights at roughly 95 miles per hour, or my having a heart a attack at the way he drives.

(He said the other day, in response to my complaint about his driving, “I have never gotten into an accident!”, because I got into an accident a few years ago in the Lowe’s parking lot (and you think I tell you everything), and I said “Yeah? Well I have never lost my job!” HA HA HA ZING. I guess it’s hard to get fired when your lazy ass hasn’t had a job in ten years, though.)

“I’m ON the road,” he said, annoyed with me for questioning his driving skills.

“Then WHY are we driving down the goddamn rumble strip?” I asked.

“Is that what those are called?” he said. “Really, they’re called rumble strips?”

Yes,” I said.

“How on earth do you know that?” he asked.

I shrugged. “How on earth do you NOT?”

So of course the question here is, how many of y’all knew that they’re called rumble strips? That’s common knowledge, right?

 

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We were driving through Research Park in Huntsville last weekend, writing down the names of companies so that Fred could go online and see if they were hiring (this was before he realized that Wikipedia has a complete list of all the companies).

Fred pulled into the parking lot of a large company to make sure there weren’t other companies in the same building as the large company. I noticed that, alongside the United States flag, was a flag that was unfamiliar to me. I decided that it must be the flag of the country the company originated in. It wasn’t familiar to me, but aside from the US flag, the Canadian flag, and the Japanese flag, I can’t really identify flags from other countries.

This was definitely not a Canadian or Japanese flag.

I pondered the flag for a few moments, and then pointed it out to Fred. “What country is that flag from, do you know?” I asked. I thought maybe it was the German flag. Or perhaps Switzerland?

(Oh, I guess I do know Great Britain’s flag too, now that I think about it. Duh.)

Fred gave me a look.

“That,” he said carefully, probably restraining himself from out-and-out calling me a great big fucking idiot. “That is the Alabama state flag.”

“Oh.”

Fred snickered.

“Shut up.”

Fred snickered.

“Kiss my ass.”

Fred snickered.

How embarrassing.

 

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“WHAT?”

What you really really need to see (I have GOT to start carrying the camera around with me at all times, I guess) is poor Maura’s big ol’ shaved belly. I was hanging out with her yesterday afternoon, and she was so relaxed and happy that she rolled onto her back and just stayed there, belly exposed, her four paws sticking straight up. It was seriously cute.

She is the MOST laid-back cat I’ve ever seen. She’s always pleased to see me when I walk into the room, and she loves to lay up against me when I sit on the floor. When the hanging-out time is over, she’s mildly puzzled, like “Oh, you have to go? Why would you need to be anywhere else? This room has it all, do you see the toys and the chair and the cat tree? You really have to go? Okay then, bye.” She doesn’t rush the door, she looks curiously out into the hallway at Jake and Elwood, who would dearly love to get into the room with her, and then she goes off to play or sleep or whatever is next in her hectic schedule.

 

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What a baleful look I’m getting here!


“HELLO HI I HAZ A COMPLAINT AND MY COMPLAINT IS THAT I HAVE EYE BOOGERS IN THE CORNERS OF MY EYES AND THEY MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A STREET URCHIN THAT NO ONE CARES FOR BECAUSE IF SOMEONE LOVED ME, THEY’D CLEAN THE CORNERS OF MY EYES OUT BUT OBVIOUSLY NO ONE LOVES ME AND THAT IS MY COMPLAINT THAT I HAZ.”


Reacher’s eyes are changing color, and right now, they pretty much match his fur. Very neat.


Again with the baleful look.

 

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Newt, Tommy, and Jake, hanging out on the patio and taking in some sunshine.

 

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Previously
2009: Y’all are some grumpy motherfuckers, aren’t you?
2008: Detective Boogerton, the grizzled, cranky veteran detective who has seen it all, is disgruntled that his day off has been interrupted.
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.

4/7/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)

Sissy McGee – one of our hens who regularly escapes the chicken yard to free roam the property ’til it gets close to dark, and then she returns to the chicken yard ’cause she’s no dummy – took it upon herself to jump the fence into the back yard yesterday. Jake, who had never seen … Continue reading “4/7/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)”

Sissy McGee – one of our hens who regularly escapes the chicken yard to free roam the property ’til it gets close to dark, and then she returns to the chicken yard ’cause she’s no dummy – took it upon herself to jump the fence into the back yard yesterday. Jake, who had never seen a chicken from that close up, was beside himself. He stalked her around the back yard as she explored and scratched and ate bugs.


“What the -?”

He never did attack – just followed her around and watched her. I guess he might be a lunatic, but he’s not CRAZY. She would have kicked his butt.

 

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“NOM NOM NOM, there is NOTHING as tasty as a sock-covered foot! Unless it’s a slipper-covered foot!”


“NO! That are MY foot for chomping on! You go away!”


“Hiiii! I’m Reacher, and I’ll be in charge of eating your foot today!”


Don’t be fooled by the sweet face. Corbett also enjoys chomping on feet.

 

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“So I told her and told her I wasn’t pregnant, and she just kept saying ‘Ha, ha, RIGHT you’re not pregnant. Give me those babies!’ and then she took me to the vet, and the VET told her I wasn’t pregnant, and apparently the VET knows more about my pregnancy or lack thereof than I do, and she was all ‘J’accuse!’, but seriously, what did I need to do, spell it out in poop or something? I TRIED TO TELL HER! And now the halcyon days of eating kitten food and sleeping off 63 snacks a day are OVER, and I ask you – is that fair? Am I to be punished for NOT being a harlot?”

 

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Over the weekend, I spilled half a container of flour on the kitchen floor. Elwood ran right over and started EATING the flour, as if it were the finest cat treat I could have given him. I shooed him away, but not before I got a picture of him. See the coat of flour on his chin? Crazy boy.

 

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Previously
2009: Random things that make me twitch.
2008: She turned and glared her “FUCK YOU” glare at me, and went along her way.
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.

4/6/10 – Tuesday

Thanks, you guys, for your advice and positive thoughts in our direction (for the skimmers, Fred is looking for a job). Still no calls yet, but it’s early days yet, right? Right!   * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= *   Remember how I’ve mentioned before that … Continue reading “4/6/10 – Tuesday”

Thanks, you guys, for your advice and positive thoughts in our direction (for the skimmers, Fred is looking for a job). Still no calls yet, but it’s early days yet, right? Right!

 

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Remember how I’ve mentioned before that I have a Gmail email address that I don’t really use, that it’s got my first and last name in it, and I occasionally get emails from the college mates of a Robyn Anderson in Canada, discussing assignments, and sometimes I get emails from the mother of a Robyn Anderson in Texas, that I’ve gotten emails from the frequent flyer program of the Robyn Anderson in Texas, and work emails – once I got a spreadsheet from a coworker of hers?

And that I always respond to these emails with “You have the wrong email address. Please tell STUPID Robyn Anderson that she’s so STUPID she doesn’t know her own goddamn email address”?

(Okay, maybe I just say “You have the wrong email address” with a polite smiley. But the other stuff is totally implied.)

I logged into that email address over the weekend, and found that she had sent HERSELF an email with a list of tasks.

Now not only do I know where she works, I know the boring-ass tasks she tells herself that she has to finish by the end of the day.

I responded back with “Don’t wanna. How come I have to do all the work?” and a smiley, but have received no response as of yet.

Fred thought I should have responded with “Seriously. You don’t know YOUR OWN FUCKING EMAIL ADDRESS?”

I’m far too polite for that, though. I prefer to disparage her behind her back.

 

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By the way, I was so annoyed by Firefox’s constant fucking updates, and the way the last time it updated my system was screwed up for an entire afternoon, that I finally gave up and downloaded Google Chrome to give it a try.

I’ve gotta say, I like it so far. There are a few things that annoy me – like, I’m not seeing an “undo” button, and I don’t know how to use the menu to print, so I have to remember to hit control-P (and the print menu that comes up won’t let me just print the highlighted selection for some reason, and that annoys the bejeebers out of me), or control-F for “find”, but I like the bookmarks toolbar at the top of the page. Also, Chrome loads in about a tenth of the time, and hasn’t forced me to update in the four days I’ve been using it, so I’m giving it a cautious two thumbs up.

 

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The water fountain is an endless source of amazement. They’ve all gone swimming in it (accidentally) at one point or another.


I weighed them yesterday. Corbett (above) is the runt, at 1 1/2 pounds. The other three all weigh 1 pound 12 ounces!


Bellied up to the water bowls.


Bolitar, lookin’ for a snuggle.

 

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Hey!

Remember yesterday when I was all GET A LOAD OF THAT BELLEH:

And y’all were all HOLY COW WHEN’S SHE GONNA DROP THOSE BABIES?!

And I was all DO YOU SEE THIS THING?! (Or at least I meant to – I forgot to post the picture, actually.)

And y’all were all HOLY MOLY YOU WEREN’T KIDDING, THAT IS ONE PREGNANT CAT! (Or you would have been had I posted it.)

Well, yesterday morning I decided that the fact that Maura had had herself a dirty behind for the last few days, and acted as though it hurt when I cleaned her off, might mean that she could have impacted anal glands. So I called the vet’s office and made an appointment and I loaded her up into the carrier, and headed for the vet.

She was completely silent all the way to the vet’s office (I am serious when I tell you that this is one laid-back cat), except for a few times when she turned around in circles trying to get comfortable, and I thought WOULDN’T IT BE FUNNY IF SHE WENT INTO LABOR RIGHT NOW, OH THAT WOULD BE HIGH-LARIOUS!

We got to the vet’s office, and I turned her over and sat down in the waiting room. The shelter manager came in while I was sitting there, and she went back to see what was going on. She asked a few questions, and then suggested I just come back so I could answer any questions the vet had. I went back, and as I walked back, the vet was feeling Maura’s abdomen.

The vet couldn’t feel any kittens. And as far along as Maura was supposed to be, she should have been able to feel kittens. She was pretty concerned that Maura might have developed Pyometra (basically, when the uterus fills up with pus), and suggested that she go ahead and spay Maura.

I agreed, and left Maura there.

All day long, I worried about Maura, of course, because I am nothing if not a worrywart. Also, I was a little sad that there would be no wee baby kittens. When the vet’s office was about to close, I picked up the phone and called to see how she was doing.

“Oh, Doc was about to call the shelter,” said Belinda, who’d answered the phone.

I steeled myself for bad news.

Turns out that our Maura, big ol’ pregnant Maura? Huge, ready to pop Maura? Maura with the great big pregnant momma cat appetite?

FAKING IT THE ENTIRE TIME.

NOT pregnant. NOT FOR ONE MOMENT PREGNANT.

NOT suffering from Pyometra. PERFECTLY FINE.

She TOTALLY played us.

She’s not pregnant. She’s just big-boned.


“Look. I never SAID I was pregnant. You just assumed. I went along with it for your sake, because I am sweet and kind and didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

I’m going to go pick her up from the vet’s office in a bit. Then I’m going to bring her home and girlfriend, who’s been living the life of Riley with the eating of the kitten food and the two snacks a day of canned food, is going on a DIET.

In a few weeks, after she’s healed from her spaying and up to date on her vaccinations, she’ll be headed off to the adoption center.

The party is over, sweet girl!


“I don’t believe I care for the sound of THAT.”

 

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“I told you she was fakin’ it. When you gonna trust the Sheriff Mama to know what she’s talking about?”

 

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Previously
2009: (The smell of boiling chicken livers: gag me.)
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: Now, I’m sure I’d rather be skinny and bald than fat and hairified, but what I’d MUCH prefer to be is skinny and hairified, thanks.
2005: I think that a more accurate description would be “covered the annoyance of itching by making your skin feel as though you’re being set on fire.”
2004: Meme.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Fred’s such a bastard.

4/5/10 – Monday

Hellooooooo. Did y’all have a nice Easter? We didn’t do much, had roast pork, deviled eggs, green beans, and I made Jordan Rolls. Dinner was kind of screwy, because the roast was done long before I expected, so it had to sit under a foil hat while I put the rolls together. I’ll admit, I … Continue reading “4/5/10 – Monday”

Hellooooooo.

Did y’all have a nice Easter? We didn’t do much, had roast pork, deviled eggs, green beans, and I made Jordan Rolls. Dinner was kind of screwy, because the roast was done long before I expected, so it had to sit under a foil hat while I put the rolls together. I’ll admit, I was a little leery of the rolls because the dough seemed a bit soft to me when I broke the dough up into rolls, but they baked up nicely (though I think they could have used just a couple more minutes in the oven to brown up completely; I was afraid of overcooking them) and were very tasty. I’ll definitely make them again, though I might make them a tad smaller next time. Or actually, I think I’ll try Method #2 next time.

We’ll be eating roast and deviled eggs and rolls for at least another couple of meals. The good thing about only two people to cook for: leftovers. These days, it seems I’m only having to cook a couple of times a week.

I’m glad the rolls turned out, because I was starting to wonder if I’d lost my baking skillz. Nance posted the other day about all the damn fine food she’d made the day before, and I thought “Oooh, soft pretzel bites! Those look GOOD.” So on Friday I made a batch of soft pretzel bites, and I can tell you right now that they were NOT worth the effort. It must have taken me three hours to get the goddamn things made, because I made half of them with sea salt and the other half with cinnamon sugar, and the making of the dough and the boiling of the dough and UGH. There was a window of time about two hours long when they had cooled and were pretty good, but after that they just got tough.

AND I HAD FORGOTTEN THAT I DON’T REALLY MUCH CARE FOR PRETZELS ANYWAY. Duh.

Then on Saturday I made a Lemon Truffle Cake. Fred and I both love lemon-flavored stuff, so when I saw the recipe I knew I had to make it. The fucking cake took forever to make, and it was okay, but it was another instance where it just was not worth the damn effort. (Which didn’t stop us from eating half of it between Saturday and Sunday, before we gave the rest to the chickens.) (Also, I learned a new skill – I’d never tempered an egg before, and I did it successfully, so score one for new skillz!)

Sunday morning, I made muffins – Paula Deen’s Surprise Muffins – and I forgot the damn baking soda, so they were hockey pucks (which were also fed to the chickens).

But the rolls turned out, so hopefully my Baking Streak of Suckiness is at an end!

 

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Tell me this, fellow reality TV viewers – did or did not a season of Survivor take place in the Seychelles? Because when the teams on The Amazing Race were there, I knew how to pronounce it correctly, and there’s no WAY I would have figured that out on my own. I’ve Googled around, but can’t find a damn thing.

Anyone?

 

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The weather has been so lovely over the past week, with just half a day of rain, that it looks like we may actually be able to plant the damn garden before July. Fred went and got seeds this morning. Over the weekend, he mowed the lawn (mostly – the side lawn in front of the garage is still far too wet for mowing), the daffodils have all bloomed, the trees are starting to leaf out.

By god, I think spring might actually be here!

 

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I wasn’t going to write about this, but honestly I see no reason not to – it’s the ONLY DAMN THING going on around here right now.

Fred’s company and their largest customer have parted ways – and as a result, Fred is looking for a job. Anyone in the Huntsville/ North Alabama area looking for a Software Engineer strong in C and C++?

Yes, Fred has been all over Monster, Dice, and Craigslist, he’s applied for one million positions in the last few days. At this point, we’re sitting and waiting for the phone to ring and it’s driving us (me) nuts. He’s literally been looking for five days (including the weekend), so I know the hunt is just beginning. But still – COME ON, PHONE. RING.

Where’s the employment love, Huntsville? Dayum.

 

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“I do not appreciate this. At ALL. This is completely undignified. STOP IT.”

(No babies yet!)

 

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Those Bookworms sure do love their food.


“Hi. Hi! Hi. Just hangin’ out. Snugglin’ in the lady’s lap. I think if I charm her enough, she’ll give me some more of that canned food. Hasn’t worked yet, but I think it will. Seriously, have you ever seen anything cuter than ME?”


“Um. Is that POOP on her leg? Ugh, humans are SO gross!” Yeah, and I wonder where that poop CAME from, brat!

 

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Spanky! In! A box!


“Hey, Spanky.”
“Hey, Sugs.”
“How’s the box going?”
“Working well for me, thanks.”

 

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: (Nevermind that Mister Boogers’ way of protecting me would be to go hide in the closet.)
2006: “Hard liquor is the first stop on the train to Gaysville.”
2005: I had no idea that leaving the top of the washstand bare meant that you didn’t appreciate the washstand.
2004: (Yeah, yeah, cry you a river. I know. Bite me.)
2003: No entry.
2002: Apparently Fancypants’ evil twin (except that I’m sure Fancypants is actually the evil one) now lives in our neighborhood.
2001: No entry.
2000: I guess there’ll be no physical fisticuffs for me to go break up.