Happy happy birthday, Nance!!!
LOST finale spoilers in this section. Skip to the next if you haven’t seen it yet!
In an email this morning, I said:
I cried and cried and then at the end I was like:
Jin and Sun, especially, got me. So did Claire and Charlie. And Kate and Jack (though I was never a big Kate and Jack fan).
Then this morning I woke up with the burning desire to know just how the holy hell Lapidus explained to the tower at LAX (I assume that’s where they were heading) that “Hi, yeah, remember the survivors of Flight 815? Well, we were going to Guam, and the DARNEDEST thing happened. I mean, what are the chances, right? Now they’re the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815 AND Ajira Flight 316. Oh, and by the way, we have an extra or two.” And the PRESS. Now they need to have a follow-up series, LOST: Life After the Island.
This site did a pretty good job of explaining to me just what the hell happened.
Fred had his first day yesterday, and it went pretty well. It was strange to have him gone all day, and at one point I actually called for him to come help me with something, and it was a long few moments before I remembered that he wasn’t here.
For those who asked, I’m not really looking for a job any more. I mean, if I run across a great job, I might send out my resume just to see, but I don’t really have a screaming desire to work and Fred’s okay with me not working, so I don’t intend to keep vigorously working.
Plus, he’s going to be doing some work-related traveling soon, so SOMEONE has to be around to take care of the farm, am I right?
A couple of people asked what Fred’s commute is like. It takes him about 20 minutes to get to and from work. Considering that it took him half an hour to get to and from work before, he’s pretty happy with 20 minutes.
Also, NO I didn’t get any pictures of him in his pretty new work clothes. He wouldn’t let me!
Now if you’ll pardon me, I have a row of tomatoes to weed and a bookcase to sand and stain.
For those who asked, I wasn’t able to get a shot of Spanky’s acne area because he’s a skittish and wily one, and if you come toward him with a camera or a syringe of medicine or even nothing at all, his Spanky sensors send out a Warning! Warning! Attack is imminent! signal, and he’s gone like a cloud of smoke.
His acne isn’t quite as bad, but this is what it looks like.
We don’t have plastic dishes for the cats, they eat off of ceramic only and have for years – Miz Poo had acne a few years ago, and we switched to ceramic at that time. Had we known that it was acne that Spanky was suffering from, we likely wouldn’t have even taken him to the vet, just dealt with it here at home. We had no idea what was going on with his chin, and Fred suggested that it could be ringworm or a TUMOR, so off to the vet we went.
Next time (I’d like to think there’ll be no “next time”, but I think we all know there WILL) we’ll know what it is and won’t have to traumatize him by a visit to the vet.
Reacher and Bolitar: Brudderly Love.
I’m sorry if I worried any of you yesterday – upon a reread, I can see where you might think I was leading up to telling y’all that Sheila didn’t make it. Not only did she make it, she is THRIVING. She’s packing on the ounces, and when she gets going, her brothers don’t know which way is up.
I love that these four kittens came from three different places, but they almost immediately bonded and seem to think they’ve always been siblings. Franco and Garrity, especially, love to play together.
2009: “Go get the ladder, Joe. GO GET THE LADDER. I’m a portly cat. A jump from here would kill me!”
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: Goofy cats.
2005: Grackles are kind of evil-looking and have great big beaks and I’m sure their bite is far, far worse than their bark.
2004: I sure am MIGHTY FUCKING TIRED of going to the FUCKING doctor’s office all the damn time.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.