Things may be improving, physically, though I’m hesitant to declare myself over this nonsense because I’m sure as soon as I do, I’ll collapse from a brain aneurysm or something. At least the weight loss has not only stopped, but I gained a little weight yesterday. Fingers crossed!
I have no Crooked Acres pictures for you today, but I pulled a couple of old videos off my Flip video for your viewing pleasure. They’re nothing amazing, but they’ll have to do for this week.
First, Gracie keeps an eye on Fred, who (off-camera) is using the torch to burn weeds around the fenceline.
The next is from the end of May. We went out to give the pigs their evening cookies, and I had the Flip video with me. The pigs are, needless to say, much bigger these days. I should take the camera out to get another movie of them at the size they are now.
And lastly, I wanted to make a movie of all the cats coming through the cat door at snack time, after I did my “Whoooooo’s ready for the snackin’?!” call. Oh, it was going to be SO cute, with one cat coming in after another and running past the camera to the kitchen for their snack. SO CUTE.
It didn’t quite work out that way when Corbett ran out the door.
This is what I love about Corbett: I give all the cats a snack in the mid-afternoon (Snackin’! Time! was cancelled for a little while because I got tired of dealing with all the mess and confusion. I found that when I moved it back a few hours so that it was NOT centered around our dinnertime, life got a whole lot easier.) The Bookworms get their snack in the guest bedroom because otherwise Jake and Elwood would move in on their snacks and Hoover them up. So the Bookworms know to follow me into the guest bedroom and wait while I divide up their snacks on four plates. Then I put the plates on the floor, and when I leave the room, I shut the door so that none of the big cats can go in there. Then I give the rest of the cats THEIR snack, and I wait about five minutes, then open the guest bedroom door so that the Bookworms can come out.
Every single time, Reacher, Rhyme and Bolitar are clamoring at the door to come out. But Corbett is curled up in a cat bed on the bed. And he always looks at me, surprised, like he’s saying “We can come out? I thought it was night-night time!” Every time. How I have not squeezed the stuffing out of that boy, I do not know.
Coltrane, looking guilty. (The sound of the camera was freaking him out.) I generally only see Coltrane at night – Fred goes out to give him a scoop of food, and then he spends the night in the back yard. He’s still there in the morning to greet Fred, and I’m not sure where he spends his days. We’re talking about moving the old chicken coop (the first one Fred ever made, for our initial flock of 12 hens. Oh, how I long for the days when we only had 12 chickens….) into the back yard so that the outside cats will have shelter when the weather turns cold.
2009: Damn whippersnappers.
2008: I don’t know why he can’t just call it Demer0l or whatever the fuck other people call it.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I sure do hate the hell out of housework.
2003: When I think of Judge Roy Moore, the phrase “Getting too big for his britches” comes to mind.
2002: If he didn’t do that creepy, over-intense stare all the time, he wouldn’t be so (you guessed it) creepy, but he does, so he is.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.