10/17/10 – Sunday

(There’s an entry up for yesterday, too.) It’s probably for the best that Buster went back to Petsmart last week. While he was here, he was clearly COMPLETELY miserable. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +   In case you ever wondered … Continue reading “10/17/10 – Sunday”

(There’s an entry up for yesterday, too.)

It’s probably for the best that Buster went back to Petsmart last week.

While he was here, he was clearly COMPLETELY miserable.

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In case you ever wondered what it’s like trying to walk through the house with a cat – Buster – who loves you so much he wants to be in constant contact with you, who rubs against first one leg and then the other, here you go:

What can I say? Buster lurves me. Well. Buster lurves EVERYONE.

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Remember how I said that our cats are fans of the BOLT laser cat toy? Here’s your proof:

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Previously
2009: Ah, douchebags. What fun would life be if they weren’t there for us to mock?
2008: Like I was having a temper tantrum, so I grabbed his list and took off so he couldn’t check it twice.
2007: No entry.
2006: I sure do wish I was going to see Callie Torres and not some old guy.
2005: Does this mean I’m getting old?
2004: No entry.
2003: Bringing home Mister Boogers.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: All about the cats.
1999: I certainly am bitching a lot today, aren’t I?

10/16/10 – Saturday

Home again, home again! I meant to post this entry from Myrtle Beach, but I had to sit out on the steps to get my netbook to connect to the internet, and it wasn’t comfortable, so I only occasionally checked my email and did nothin’ else. There’ll be another entry up on Sunday, then probably … Continue reading “10/16/10 – Saturday”

Home again, home again!

I meant to post this entry from Myrtle Beach, but I had to sit out on the steps to get my netbook to connect to the internet, and it wasn’t comfortable, so I only occasionally checked my email and did nothin’ else. There’ll be another entry up on Sunday, then probably normal posting (or at least vacation picture recaps!) on Monday!

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Newt and the Squirrel.


“Come on down here, Mister Squirrel. I won’t hurt you!”


“NO.”


“Come on, Mister Squirrel, you know you wanna play!”


“NO. You’ll bite my head off and play with my body, and I’m rather fond of having my head remain attached to my body.”


“Come closer, Mister Squirrel…”


“That tree is certainly far away. Did someone move that thing?”


::pondering::


::preparing to leap::

In the end, though I didn’t catch it with the camera, the squirrel leapt over Newt’s head and ran for the tree. Newt was so surprised that it took him a few seconds to catch on what was going on, and by then it was too late. No squirrel for the Newtles. Not that day, anyway.

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“OH BOY A FEATHER TEASER! MY FAVORITE!”


“What’s he doing over there?”


“SIGH. I love my feather teaser!”


“How come HE gets all the good toys?”


“I’m kind of bored with my feather teaser.”


“OH BOY! Starsky toes! My favorite!”


“This feather teaser isn’t nearly as cool as he made it look.”

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Starsky and Hutch are, shall we say, a little PROTECTIVE of their food bowls.

And here’s some footage of them playing.

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Previously
2009: He cracks me up, that boy.
2008: He’s not usually pink, for the record.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: “M-O-O-N!” Fred said. “That spells Tom Cullen!”
2004: No entry.
2003: I’m pretty certain “Never going to fucking go hiking with him EVER A-FUCKING-GAIN” crossed my mind at least once.
2002: Hotel room so big/ roomy, spacious, perfect. Butt/ is what it smells like.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: Don’t get your bippies in an uproar, though; we’re not trying to get pregnant.

On vacation

I’m in Myrtle Beach (it’s GAWJUSS here!), but the internet access is spotty for me for some reason. Thus, I am taking the rest of the week off from posting. I’ll likely post when I get home, because I have a couple of entries (cat pics & movies) that I pre-wrote. Things will be back … Continue reading “On vacation”

I’m in Myrtle Beach (it’s GAWJUSS here!), but the internet access is spotty for me for some reason.

Thus, I am taking the rest of the week off from posting. I’ll likely post when I get home, because I have a couple of entries (cat pics & movies) that I pre-wrote. Things will be back to normal, posting-wise, Monday.

Try to live without me, y’all. 🙂

10/12/10 – Tuesday

I’m about to head to the airport, on my way to Myrtle Beach. My parents have a timeshare there, and the last time I went – 2004, I think – the spud and I drove out there, stayed most of the week, and then drove back. This time, I’m flying out there, and then my … Continue reading “10/12/10 – Tuesday”

I’m about to head to the airport, on my way to Myrtle Beach. My parents have a timeshare there, and the last time I went – 2004, I think – the spud and I drove out there, stayed most of the week, and then drove back. This time, I’m flying out there, and then my parents and I are driving back this weekend.

I’m assuming there’ll be internet access while I’m there, but I’m also assuming that I’m not going to be spending that much time on my netbook, so this is going to be one of those weeks where I get a chance to clear off my hard drive.

In other words, lots of cat pictures and movies for the rest of the week. Lucky you!

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I’m sorry, how can you look at that smilin’ little face and not want to kiss it? I have kissed both these kittens so much, I have chapped lips.


“I HAZ TOES!”


Starsky has deep thoughts.


::chomp::


What’s cuter than a kitten standing on two legs? Nothing, am I right?

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Fred and I regularly argue over who’s more beautiful, Corbett or Reacher. I think there’s no contest, Corbett’s the most gorgeous creature ever, but Fred thinks I’m nuts. I mean, I’m not saying Reacher isn’t a pretty boy, but honestly. Look at Corbett. How can you possibly think he’s not the most beautiful cat in existence?


“I heard that, lady, and I’m insulted. Hmph!”


Reacher’s fang. (“Reacher’s Fang” would be an excellent band name.)

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Poor Tom. He goes up on top of the kitchen cabinets to get away from the other cats, but sometimes Stinkerbelle just can’t let him have his space. When a girl needs her love, she NEEDS her love and Tommy’s just gotta learn to live with that.

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Previously
2009: “He needs one of Lieutenant Dan’s magic legs,” I said.
2008: No entry.
2007: Robyn, why do you use so goddamn many exclamation points?! It makes my eyes hurt.
2006: “Dude, that’s gross,” I said to Spot, who didn’t care and gave me a nasty look as I picked it up and threw it away.
2005: I hate those stupid tests. I always think I’m going to find out some deep, hidden truth about myself, and then I get “Oh! You should be an artist! You’re the artistic type!” Bah.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: TV talk.
2000: I’m about the laziest chick in the world, I think.
1999: Yeah. I’m a bitch.

10/11/10 – Monday

Saturday morning, I took the bucket of kitchen scraps out to the compost heap. I heard George and Gracie going nuts over something, so I glanced over to see what they were doing. They were both intent on something just outside the fence on the far side of the back forty that I couldn’t see, … Continue reading “10/11/10 – Monday”

Saturday morning, I took the bucket of kitchen scraps out to the compost heap. I heard George and Gracie going nuts over something, so I glanced over to see what they were doing. They were both intent on something just outside the fence on the far side of the back forty that I couldn’t see, so I walked a little further.

All I could see was a set of pointy ears and a snout that looked very much like it could be a coyote. I went back to the house, banged on the computer room window, and beckoned Fred outside. He came to the side stoop and I told him to get his shoes and a gun. He did, and we went out to where George and Gracie were and found…


Not a coyote.

He was a friendly little guy and though he had a collar on, there were no tags on it, so obviously we didn’t know who to call or where he’d come from. He came right over to be petted, and when Fred went into the chicken yard to get a bowl of dog food for him (Fred thought the puppy was on the thin side – I didn’t particularly think so, but then I’m also not a dog person, so what do I know?) the puppy tried to follow Fred into the chicken yard. Judging by how worked up George and Gracie were, I didn’t think that would be a good idea, so I held him by his collar.

He sniffed at the bowl of dog food but didn’t eat, and when Fred and I walked back to the house, he followed. He drank some of the water out of the bowl on the side stoop, and then was pretty sure he was coming inside when Fred walked into the house. Fred pushed him back and came inside, and the puppy sat on the side stoop and first he whined and then he howled, and then he went back to hang out near George and Gracie.

Given that he was in such good shape, we were pretty sure he’d wandered away from home rather than been dropped off. I went outside a few minutes later to see what he was doing. He saw me, and ran over to be petted.


Yes, that IS an eye booger on his cheek.

We had errands to run, so we printed out a picture of him and went to a few houses asking people if they knew who he belonged to. No one did, and we decided that when we got home we’d put an ad on the Craigslist lost & found section, and maybe run a printout of his picture up to the corner store.

He was napping near the chicken yard when we got home, and ran over to be petted when he saw us. For the next couple of hours, every time I checked on him he was hanging out near George and Gracie (who finally calmed down about his presence), and then when I went out around 2:00 to see if he wanted a piece of cheese (Fred had offered him several different dog treats, and he was completely uninterested, which blew us both away.) he was gone. We looked for him and called him, but he never reappeared.

I really think that he must belong to someone who lives around here, given that he was in such good shape, he was friendly, and he was wearing a collar. Obviously, if he shows up again we’ll stick him in the blue coop yard until we find out where he lives. I hope he made his way home, though.

Oh, and I’m thinking someone’s been working on training him already, because he knew “sit” and performed it beautifully several times.

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So, I managed to get a shot of Buster and Rhyme together:

(And yes, we DO call them “Busta Rhyme”!)

But then, Friday evening I got a call from the shelter manager. She said that the Friday night adoption counselors were concerned about Corbett, that he wasn’t eating and had lost weight, that he was lethargic and they thought he might be sick. I pondered for a moment, then told her that I’d take Rhyme up and bring Corbett home. After I hung up, I reconsidered and talked to Fred, and we decided to take Buster and Rhyme up and bring Corbett and Reacher home, since Rhyme and Reacher hadn’t seen each other in a month, and I was afraid that it would stress them both out.

Corbett, who is a skinny cat to begin with, had clearly lost weight. Neither he nor Reacher looked very happy, and they howled all the way home.

(Before I forget to mention it, Buster and Rhyme were not at ALL freaked out to be back at Petsmart. In fact, Buster climbed into the cage and began eating right away. That made me feel a lot better about leaving them there.)

When we got home, it was my intent to put Reacher and Corbett in the guest bedroom, give them some canned food, and spend a little time with them to see how they were acting. So Fred was in the guest bedroom with them, I went to get canned food, and when I opened the door, Corbett shot out into the house.

We ended up doing snack time for all the cats, and both Reacher and Corbett ate just fine. Corbett went over to Elwood and butted heads with him, and Corbett and Reacher slept with me all night long. Saturday morning when Fred opened the back door, Reacher and Corbett went right out into the back yard. Corbett’s been eating just fine and acting like himself, so I’m going to say he wasn’t sick, he was sad and scared and stressed out.

So I don’t know what’s going to happen when Buster and Rhyme are adopted and it’s time for Reacher and Corbett to go again. Maybe it would help if I went up to Petsmart every day and spent some time with them and helped them get adjusted to being there. I don’t know. To be honest, I’m just not going to think about it right now. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

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Starsky and Hutch are off the formula. They’re off the canned food, too, actually – neither of them are at all interested in any of the canned cat food I’ve offered them. They’re eating kibble just fine (though they do still have to kind of sit in the bowl while they’re eating) and they’re drinking water. Maybe they’re just kibble kitties – all I can tell you is that they’re happy, they’re healthy, and they’re gaining weight. You certainly can’t ask for more than that!

They’re also starting to climb – a couple of times when I’ve gone into the room, they’ve been on the small cat tree, and they always act all amazed when I ask them how they got up there, like they’re saying “I don’t KNOW how I got up here!” They’re able to get down just fine, too. They’re growing up!


Doesn’t he look like a sulky little monkey?


“And then I CLIMBED up onto the cat tree, and it was so cool! You could see ALL the way across the room from up there!”


Displeased Starsky.


Hutch in a bucket!

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“What?”

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2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: I was so concerned for their safety that I ran and got the camera. Ahem.
2006: But there’s no horn on the lawnmower!
2005: Did you feel the earth shake too?
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: My breasts are strawberry scented.
1999: I was ambitious today.

10/8/10 – Friday

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open! Go buy jam and hot sauces here. (And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +   Of course, yesterday morning … Continue reading “10/8/10 – Friday”

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open!

Go buy jam and hot sauces here.

(And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.)

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Of course, yesterday morning when I got up I felt pretty close to normal. A little pain when I peed, but not nearly as bad as it had been. But I wasn’t being fooled by my body again and did NOT cancel the appointment. So, I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon and peed in a cup. Apparently there was “some” bacteria in my urine and a trace of blood, so they put me on antibiotics and are doing a culture.

I would like to never have a UTI again, please and thank you. (But the awesome thing is that my antibiotic was FREE! Yay!)

Last night Fred and I were laying in bed, and I said “I feel kind of high. What the hell?”, whereupon Fred reminded me that last month (remember the bout of digestive issues that I thought was food poisoning at first and ultimately caused me to lose 15 pounds in a week and a half and then put it all right back on?) when I was prescribed the same antibiotic, it made me feel super sleepy and high. At least this time around I only have to take it for three days.

Miz Poo, who went to the vet yesterday because she’s been overgrooming the fur on her stomach which led to a nasty rash and a couple of particularly nasty-looking sores, got a steroid injection. Hopefully that cures that issue until next Spring. Miz Poo, for those of you new to the site, is our money pit. She’s always got something going on with her – a couple of months ago, the rodent ulcer on her lip, which flares up a couple of times a year, flared up in a big way, which required a steroid shot. The steroids always work – and they’re the only thing that works reliably – but they’re not a good long-term solution. SIGH.

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Robyn, you may have mentioned this before, but what are the colors on the wall of your guest bedroom? I LOVE them! It’s just what I’ve been looking for.

This is the paint color on the top.
And this is the paint color on the bottom.

I think (though I’m not positive) that on the before-and-after tour page, there are links to the paint colors in all the rooms. I may have missed a room or two.

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I am moving soon to a city where backyard chickens are allowed. I am so excited! I want one or two, and I want a breed that’s both a cuddly pet and a good layer. Out of the breeds you’ve kept, which do you think fits the bill? And would you suggest keeping one or two?

Without a doubt, I highly recommend Buff Orpingtons. They’re the calmest, they’re excellent layers, and as long as you handle them lots when they’re little, they should be cuddly. Or at least put up with you cuddling them! (You’re probably not necessarily looking for them to hatch chicks, but if you were, they’re also really good mothers.)

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You probably know this already but just in case-they sell the stuff for UTI symptoms – the pills that make you pee the scary orange over the counter at the drugstore now. It really helps while you are waiting to get into the drs. for antibiotics.

I actually had some of that stuff in the medicine cabinet. The expiration date on it was 10/2008, but I still took a couple. And it really did help! That orange pee is super scary, though, isn’t it?

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What scent is that Yankee Candle in the bathroom?

Cinnamon & Sugar! I bought a ton of candles earlier this year when the Hallmark store in the mall was going out of business. First everything in the store was 30% off, so I bought a few Buttercream scented candles (my absolute favorite scent). Then everything in the store was 50% off, so I bought the rest of the Buttercream and a few Sparkling Lemon candles. THEN everything in the store was 75% off, so I bought every scent I even sorta-kinda liked.

Needless to say, I have a candle hoarding issue. (But I DO burn the hell out of them, and I do NOT keep the empty jars when the candle is gone. I SWEAR I DO NOT, DR. ROBIN ZASIO!)

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I have never seen walls like the ones in your house before — we have the typical lath-and-plaster New England house. Is it common to have wood paneling like that in the South, or did you manage to scoop a lovely antique before somebody covered it in sheet rock?

I had to ask Fred for the specific names, so now I can tell you that the walls in the hallway and bathroom are beadboard and the walls in the front room (at least some of the walls) are tongue and groove. I know that I’ve seen beadboard in other houses around here, so perhaps it is a Southern thing? Anyone else want to weigh in on this?

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I’m no cook. I can follow recipes and the stuff usually turns out. If I experiment, watch out. So I have a stupid question. In your Green Tomato Chili recipe, it calls for 10 medium tomatoes. Can you give me any idea how many pounds of tomato that would be? IT will save me a field trip to the store.

I’m going to be making this recipe with the little Roma tomatoes that are left after the killer frost hit this week. I had one tomato plant that was loaded with tomatos and I don’t want to let them go to waste. I almost have 2 large mixing bowls full of green tomatoes and alot of them are the size of a cat turd (sorry – I could not resist the comparison that you and I both know all too well!).

I can’t give you a pounds estimation, but I CAN give you a cup measurement estimation, if that helps! The last time I made a half batch of the green tomato chili, I used 8 cups of chopped green tomatoes. But keep in mind that you can’t really overdo it on the green tomatoes – I think that if they fit in the pot, there aren’t too many of them, because they cook down so much.

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I LOVE the ceiling in the guest bedroom. I don’t think I have ever seen natural wood on a ceiling, except maybe in a log house kind of thing. But that room is all finished out, and that ceiling is FAAAAANCY!

I love the hell out of that ceiling! The ceiling in the front room and in the dining room is the same way. I’m not sure, but I think that at one point in the past, that ceiling actually had wallpaper on it. Wallpaper covering up that gorgeous wood! Can you imagine?

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Do you leave your toilet lid up all the time, and if so do the cats not drink out of it/play in it/ throw toys in it?

I swear-the second anyone leaves it up in my house, it takes .2 seconds to have both cats throwing toy mice in it/drinking out of it/putting their paws into it with awe like ‘I have never felt water before’.

They ALWAYS have fresh water but for some reason they are toilet fanatics. (and don’t get me started on trying to brush my teeth or wash my face with a cat on each side of the sink, trying to stick their head under the tap and drink)

I do tend to leave the toilet lid up (unless I have very small kittens running around the house, in which case I keep the toilet lid down so they don’t fall in and drown. Wouldn’t that be a horrible thing to find?), and I try to clean the toilets every day or every other day, because yes, we have cats who love to drink out of the toilet. (If it’s been more than a couple of days since I cleaned the toilet, I keep the lid down.) ::SIGH:: And yes, our cats can barely go two feet without there being fresh water available to them in the form of cat water fountains and if they don’t like the water fountains there’s also a fresh bowl of water NEAR the water fountain, but still some of them HAVE to drink out of the toilet. Actually, the toilet that they drink out of is the one off the computer room, which gets very little human use – isn’t that weird, that I’ll get up and go to the bathroom down the hall rather than use the one that’s right there?

I’ve never found cat toys in the toilets, though, thank god. That would drive me nuts!

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How odd about the “unexplained weight loss” google. When I entered that phrase (along with a couple of other symptoms), I got everything BUT cancer. Guess what? I have cancer. Stupid google.

Stupid google is right!

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I fear I am going to be labeled a SKIMMAH, but have you always had a boy and a girl pig or are you planning on piglets this time around? And, question number two/SKIMMAH threat, why don’t you have any goats (again)?

and

I know this is a question you asked Robyn, but when pigs are raised for food rather than breeding purposes, the boys are castrated when they are little. So no little piggies!

We’ve had one boy and one girl pig before (I think), and we’ve had two boys a couple of times and two girls once. But like Maureen said, when we get boy pigs, they are already castrated by Egg the Pig Man. The sex of the pigs we get is determined by what Egg has available, though if I’m given the choice I’ll always choose girl pigs because I think they’re more personable.

If I have my way, we are NEVER going to breed pigs, though Fred would love to give it a try. I don’t think I could handle the stress of being worried that the momma pig will inadvertently roll over on her babies and “mash” them, as Egg puts it.

And we don’t have goats ’cause I don’t want goats and I don’t think we need any more animals. Fred CLAIMS he wants goats, but he hasn’t annoyed me to the point of giving in (yet), so I don’t think he wants them all that badly either.

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I LOVE your house tour. It amazes me that you can have little statues with all the cats. I have two cats and one of them regularly clears all surfaces. So I would think, percentage-wise, you should have at least one that would do the same!!

The only place I have statues is where the cats don’t go. If they really wanted to, they could jump up on top of that dresser, but they never (or rarely) do, so that’s one of the safe places in the house.

Of course, now that I said that, there’s going to be a rush of cats jumping up on that dresser, knocking figurines to and fro!

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Have you named any kitties after the Dexter characters?

I haven’t, but only because “Dexter” has been used in the past. That certainly would have been a good naming theme. Actually, “Dexter Morgan” hasn’t been used, so I may have to keep that in mind for the future!

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Those “cat lover” mugs in the photos in yesterday’s entry? Yesterday, I got my coffee served to me in one of ’em at a local diner. When the waitress brought it I cried “LOVE this mug!” She was relieved because she said some customers complain about it (wtf?).

I got those mugs at Old Time Pottery – aren’t they awesome?

I can’t imagine why on earth people would COMPLAIN about “cat lover” mugs – wtf is right!

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I’d be seriously interested in where Debbie saw that pattern that was so expensive. I want to stitch it! I tried googling it and didn’t find it.

She tried to find it again and had no luck, unfortunately! 🙁 Here it is!

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Click here for an interesting article about how long to keep food in the freezer. It says fruit has the longest “freezer life.” That surprised me!

How long can you freeze food?

Interesting link – thanks!

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Kitties in a cup reminds me of those signs you see in coffee shops: Unattended children will be given a free espresso and a kitten.

Can I steal the picture and make one?

Absolutely! And for the record, y’all, as long as you don’t try to pass off a picture I’ve taken as your own, or try to make money off it (good luck with that), please feel free to use any of my pictures. As long as they’re attributed to me, I’m happy!

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I’m assuming you have a backup generator just in case of a power outage — that’s a lot of stuff to lose if the freezers go down for a period of time.

We definitely have a generator – and fortunately, haven’t had to use it yet!

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Sorry about all the kitty drama. Carrying four cat carriers AND going under the house too? No one can accuse you of being a princess, Robyn. You are tough. I feel quite wussy compared to you!

That’s right! I’m a badass! 😀

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Hey Robyn, regarding that broken coffee maker on the dining room table: Throw that shit away!

You’re goddamn right, Laura! I read your comment on Friday, and then I immediately said to Fred “If you don’t fix that coffee maker this weekend, I’m throwing it away.” AND I DID.

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Love the house tour–I asked for it! (“You asked for it, you got it, the house tour.” Does anyone remember the scenes in the otherwise forgettable “Forget Paris” w/Debra Winger & Billy Crystal, where her father sings jingles under his breath & says “Toy-ota”??)

My favorite part of that movie is the part with Debra Winger and the pigeon when she walks into the vet’s office. I laugh until I cry every time I see that!

(I have to leave my piles of clean laundry in the bedroom behind a closed door. I can deal with a little cat hair from laundry being slept on in the basket, but leave it overnight and someone will decide to p*ss on the pile. Lovely.)

I left a pile of cat beds on the table just this week and one of them got sprayed. You’d think I’d learn, wouldn’t you?

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Where did you find purple reusable grocery bags??? I covet something fierce!

That is a Hannaford bag, and the Hannaford bags are still far and away my favorite!

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I have the golden key to growing the most perfect awesome tomato plats Ever. Ready???

Every year I plant four or so tomato plants that I faithfully dote over, read to, water diligently, and basically cater to their every need… including feeding organic… umm… stuff… that promises to make them the best plants ever. When something eats into the fruit or the branch gets funky, I would toss the useless tomato behind the plants. This year I gave up and didn’t plant any plants. Why bother, we barely get any decent produce from them. Well… this year, I have the most beautiful, huge plants you have ever seen. There are in excess of 20 plants all growing communally behind the garage that I had never even noticed until there were perfect blooms all over the place. They have provided hundreds of the sweetest cherry tomatoes you have even tasted. The big tomatoes didn’t turn out so well since the plants for those are heavy, the fruits are laying on the ground and there are often 4 tomatoes fused together. The plants have rerooted themselves from laying on the ground so they are the healthiest plants ever. There is not one yellow leaf anywhere. So, all of the tomatoes that have split or have inhabitants are getting tossed back in for next year. This partially infuriates me due to the investment I have made in prior years, but we are eating good so I am not really complaining.

Figures, doesn’t it? We have a volunteer squash plant on the side of the garden that looks happier than any of the squash plants we intentionally grew this year. I guess “neglect” is the most important ingredient!

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Someone asked (over at Love & Hisses) what Georgie guards.


George (back) and his sister Gracie are Great Pyrenees. They’re Livestock Guardian Dogs, and they guard…


the pigs…


..and the chickens! (But mostly the chickens. They can’t actually get into the pig yard, but they’re there to run off any predators who might come sniffing around the pigs.)

Some history – we moved our chickens out to the back forty (not really forty acres, that’s just what we call the three acre field at the back of our property) in the Fall of 2008. And then we started losing chickens, at the rate of about one a week. We discussed ways to protect the chickens. Fred was in favor of getting a donkey, but I thought dogs would be a better choice. Fred researched Great Pyr rescues, and found a few possibilities, but the problem was that first of all, they wanted $500 per dog and we couldn’t justify spending $1,000 on dogs to protect chickens that had cost $2 each. Second, none of the rescues wanted to adopt out Great Pyrs to act as livestock guardians, they were adopting them out as pets only. We happened across an ad in one of those free supermarket papers, and a week later, we brought George and Gracie home.

GeorgeGracie01

They were four months old, they’d been around chickens, and they were super friendly puppies. A few days after we got them, I was out in the chicken yard gathering eggs, and someone stopped by. I didn’t hear him until he approached the fence of the chicken yard, and then I was startled to see him. When I jumped and said “Oh!”, George and Gracie reacted immediately. They put themselves between me and the guy at the fence, and barked their heads off at him. It appears that we’d found our protectors.

It took a while longer for them to bond with their flock, but they did. They live out in the chicken yard with the chickens, they’re always happy to see me coming (though that might very well be because I usually have a snack for them!) and they’re very happy pups.

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Climbing into my lap so he can bat at my hand and bite me seems to be just about Hutch’s favorite thing to do.


“HEY! HI! WHAT YOU DOIN’ OVER THERE?!”


Starsky, mildly floofed.

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Coltrane is curious if it might be snackin’ time.

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Previously
2009: Sights from around Crooked Acres.
2008: And since there’s not a lot going on around here (except that it’s raining for the first time in forever, yay!), here are some pictures from around Crooked Acres.
2007: Whither Tom-Tom goest, the Stank will follow.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I’m just going to sit here and whine about being cold and thirsty, I suppose. Sounds like a plan!
2003: Just know that it was a little SKEERY.
2002: This is a mighty exciting entry, isn’t it? Could I be any more interesting? Should I do an entry about watching paint dry, or what?
2001: “Farm boy, fetch me some ice! Farm boy, fetch me a diet coke, chop-chop!”
2000: No entry.

10/7/10 – Crooked Acres Thursday

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open! Go buy jam and hot sauces here. (And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +   This morning I’m running … Continue reading “10/7/10 – Crooked Acres Thursday”

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open!

Go buy jam and hot sauces here.

(And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.)

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This morning I’m running Miz Poo up to the vet and dropping her off because she’s been licking her stomach and now has a sore that she won’t leave alone.

And then I’m going to come home and spend the morning canning chicken while waiting for 1:15, whereupon I’ll be going to the doctor because I’m pretty sure I have a urinary tract infection.

The worst part is that I actually HAD a doctor’s appointment scheduled Tuesday afternoon, but Tuesday morning I woke up feeling a lot better due to the cranberry juice/ baking soda in water/ Vitamin C/ lots of water home cures. I thought I was getting over this ridiculous UTI nonsense, so called and cancelled the appointment. Dumbass.

Then of course Tuesday night it got worse, and when I called first thing yesterday morning, the soonest they could get me in was this afternoon, so I took the appointment. Right now, I’m having what feels exactly like menstrual cramps (which would be a neat trick given my lack of a uterus), so I’m sure I either have cancer or the alien baby is PISSED and trying to get out.

You know you wanna be me.

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The Crooked Acres Tour, Continued.


Standing in the doorway of the front room, looking down the hall. The first door on the left is the bathroom, the second is the stairs, and the third is the closet. The doorway on the right is to the guest bedroom.


The bathroom, obviously. This is the bathroom Fred uses (unless we have guests, in which case he moves all his stuff upstairs and shares my bathroom) because the shower’s a bit bigger.


Guest bedroom, from the doorway looking in.


And from the corner by the bed (Stinkerbelle is so disgusted by this picture-taking nonsense, she can’t even look at me).


Buster’s always got something to say. As you can see, when it’s not serving as a bed for weary visiting guests, it serves as a bed for weary cats.


The dresser might not be anything to look at, but it’s got a hell of a lot of drawer space.


Directly across from the guest bedroom doorway, the stairs. (In real life, the stairs are straight, not crooked. Can I possibly EVER take a straight picture, do you think?)


And last but not least, the closet. It’s okay if you’re horrified; I am. I did not straighten that closet one tiny iota before I snapped this picture. We keep the closet closed, because the hot water heater is back there, and when there are kittens running amok they like to get way back where we can’t reach them. Also, I can toss stuff in there and close the door and not have to look at it. Also also, YES. I keep my potatoes in the hall closet. It’s too warm in the kitchen most of the time.

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Scenes from around Crooked Acres.


Hummingbird, keeping an eye on the feeder.


New pigs!


Boy pig.


Girl pig.


It took them maybe five minutes to get into the wallow.

The many faces of Georgie:

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When the little ones whine, I always mock them by saying in a particularly whiny voice, “Wahhhhhh! I’m a BAYBEEE!” and then I laugh and laugh because I am evil.

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I love that Jake and Elwood (but especially Jake) love the kittens so much, even the mostly-grown kittens like Buster and Rhyme.

I need to get some more pictures of Rhyme, don’t I? Y’all are going to start thinking he’s just a figment of my imagination, what with all the pictures of Buster and NONE of Rhyme. I swear, he’s here, he’s the friendliest cat on earth, I don’t know why I never manage to get any pictures of him. I guess he’s just not around when I’ve got the camera in hand.

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Tommy would like you to know that he has retained his svelte kittenish figure, as proven by the fact that he can still cram his bulk into a canning jar flat.

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Previously
2009: “That’s like me!” Fred said. “Maybe I’m schizophrenic! I always need stimulation!”
2008: And he likes the chickens, but I think if a hawk swooped down and snatched one up while he was watching, it would make his YEAR.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: 9. What is your biggest mistake? Immediately believing what I’m told without standing back and thinking about it.
2004: Reader requests.
2003: Why have kids if you aren’t going to make them do the scut work?
2002: You know, I don’t even have the words.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

10/6/10 – Kitteh Wednesday

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open! Go buy jam and hot sauces here. (And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +   Good news! Martin was … Continue reading “10/6/10 – Kitteh Wednesday”

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open!

Go buy jam and hot sauces here.

(And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.)

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Good news! Martin was adopted last night. I’m not surprised that he was the first to go, given that he’s FEARLESS.

And speaking of Martin, I found several more pictures of him on my hard drive, and so to celebrate that he’s found his forever home, today is Martin day!


Melodie, doing some heavy-duty flirting, is apparently annoying Martin.


“I SAID stop making the googly eyes at me, Melodie!”


“A mancat needs to stay clean, and I can’t concentrate on my cleaning with you staring at me!”


Helpful Melodie cleans the spot Martin missed.


“Hi! Hi! Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii!”


“Hey, Mister, you sure are purty.”


::smooch::


::::LOVE::::

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And while I was poking around my hard drive (which apparently I need to do a little more often!) I found a movie I made in mid-August of MMM&D. I turned the Ba-Da-Beam laser light on for them to see what they’d do. As you can see, three were interested, and Dodger was wary and kept his distance.

The kittens are usually interested in the Ba-Da-Beam for a while, but since it just has the same pattern they get eventually get bored. The FroliCat BOLT keeps them entertained longer. Between the two toys, they manage to be entertained!

I have the BOLT in the dining room, and when I turn it on, if Sugarbutt and Tommy are in the house, they come RUNNING. Usually a few minutes after I’ve turned it on, there’s a cluster of cats in the dining room. I’ll have to try to remember to get a movie of that one of these days.

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Previously
2009: I love me a good juicy Asshole.
2008: Pretty batshit crazy, as it turns out.
2007: No entry.
2006: You all have my full permission to skip the boring stuff to get to the cute kitten stuff.
2005: I forsee a lot of spud-teasing this evening.
2004: Phil Hellmuth is a whiny little bitch.
2003: “And then he told me he likes to have sex with you in the break room every day at 11!” he lied.
2002: No entry.
2001: Recovery.
2000: No one ever said I had a long attention span!

10/5/10 – Tuesday

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open! Go buy jam and hot sauces here. (And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +   Readers, some help? Does … Continue reading “10/5/10 – Tuesday”

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open!

Go buy jam and hot sauces here.

(And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.)

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Readers, some help? Does anyone recognize this cross-stitch picture and who the maker is? Debbie wants the pattern, but the only place she’s been able to find it is selling it for more than she wants to pay. She’s hoping to have more luck finding it if she can figure out who the maker is.


(Click on the picture for a slightly larger version.)

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This email from Fred first thing this morning made me laugh:

I heard an ad on the radio this morning for a local mortgage company, wherein they were bragging that they’d helped a local family get out from under an onerous mortgage. The family was struggling to make their payments, and also had SEVEN credit cards contributing to their bills. With a re-finance from this mortgage company, they lowered their monthly payment by $400, paid off their credit cards, and didn’t have to make mortgage payments for October or November. So what did they do? Did they save that money, to keep from getting in the same situation again?

OF COURSE NOT. THEY TOOK THEIR KIDS TO THE BEACH FOR A FALL VACATION.

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Have you ever noticed that if you Google “unexplained weight loss”, the ultimate answer seems to be “you’ve got cancer and will be dying any minute now but at least you’ll be skinny HA HA HA”, but if you Google “unexplained weight gain”, the ultimate answer is “You’re putting too much food in your fat face, fatty”?

(An unexplained two pound gain since yesterday morning – after an unexplained three pound loss over the weekend – made me think of the Googling on both topics I’ve done in the past.)

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Over the weekend, Fred opened the big freezer in the laundry room, and said “I feel like we’re pushing our luck, here. One day I’m going to open this door and the shelves are going to collapse under the weight of everything we’ve got piled on them.”

In that freezer was the entire half pig we just got back from the butcher, an entire summer’s worth of green beans, shredded zucchini, boiled and mashed summer squash, spaghetti squash, corn on the cob, and a million other things.

“I really need to cook and can some of the chicken in the chest freezer in the garage, and then we can move most of the pork out there,” I said. “I keep meaning to do that since we’ve used up all the canned chicken, but keep putting it off.”

“We’re some procrastinating motherfuckers,” he said.

“That’s right.”

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Sunday night, we went out to give the pigs their evening cookies and the dogs their evening treat. Fred herded one of the momma chickens in the maternity yard back into the small maternity coop along with her seven babies. As we walked through the chicken yard to the gate, he indicated the two roosts sitting in the middle of the chicken yard.

“I wonder if the seven chickens who have been sleeping outside are going to go into the coop tonight,” he said. “It’s supposed to get down into the 40s tonight.”

“I hope they’re smart enough to figure it out,” I said.

We said goodnight to the dogs and went back to the house.

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Monday morning, Fred came upstairs to say goodbye to me before he left for work. Even if I’m dead asleep, I hear him coming up the stairs and wake up. He hugged and kissed me, and then stood at the end of my bed, petting Miz Poo.

“Houston,” he said. “Our procrastinating chickens have come home to roost.”

“Oh, good!” I said. “Did they all go into the coop or just some of them?”

There was a confused pause. “I didn’t mean that literally,” he said.

Fred found, when he went through the laundry room, that the freezer was dripping water. Whether it was due to being overstuffed or was on the verge of breaking down, who the hell knows?

“Can you take a few boxes of pork out to the chest freezer?” he asked. “We may end up having to empty the freezer completely and unplug it to defrost it. Blah blah blah something about a hose.”

“Yeah,” I said. I got up and went to take my shower and get started on the day.

I showered, dressed, fed the kittens, posted my entry for yesterday, and then grabbed one of the boxes that Fred had left for me on the side stoop. 45 minutes and 10 trips from the laundry room to the chest freezer in the garage, the laundry room freezer was empty.

(I figured that since we might need to empty the freezer anyway, I’d just go ahead and do it. Which would let me see whether we’d be able to fit everything in the chest freezer in an emergency. And as it turned out, everything (just barely) fit in the two freezers we have in the garage.)

So I present to you:

NOTES TO PAST AND FUTURE ROBYN FROM PRESENT ROBYN.

1. Hey, hi, how’d that LABELING thing go? You know, where you CLEARLY LABEL the shit you put in the freezer with details such as WHAT THE FUCK IT IS and WHAT FUCKING DATE YOU PUT IT IN THE FREEZER? Remember that brilliant plan? The plan that seems to have vamoosed in mid-2009? I almost put two big blocks of mozzarella cheese over with the fat I’m intending to render into lard SOME DAY because I thought it was fat. Then some voice in the very back of my head pointed out that the OTHER pig fat we have in the freezer is not neatly made into a square, and then I remembered that we had bought a big-ass block of mozzarella from Sam’s club sometime in 2008 with the intention of eating it with cherry tomatoes. And then WE DID NOT CARE FOR THE TASTE OF THE MOZZARELLA SO WE PUT IT IN THE FREEZER. Brilliant move, me.

And hi, if we’re going to label, WE NEED TO BE CLEAR about what we write. Do I have any goddamn clue on god’s green earth what the fuck “r” on a processed chicken means? Does it mean “roaster”? Why no, it does not mean roaster, because a roaster would have skin, and these do not. Perhaps “rooster”? And why the fucking shit are we marking the roosters and not the hens? WHAT THE FUCK?

Why did we bother to write “Michelle” on the bag that contains Michelle, the rooster who was processed a year and a half ago? What the fuck am I supposed to do with Michelle NOW? Was that so I’d know it was Michelle, and Michelle was kind of old – as chickens go – and thus to be stewed? WHAT THE FUCK?

2. New rule: the only chickens that go into the freezer are the roasters. Every other chicken must be stewed, picked off the bones, and canned. How many chickens do we currently have in the freezer right now? I DON’T KNOW, I STOPPED COUNTING AT 22. And of course because NONE OF THEM are labeled (except for the ones with the date hastily scrawled on them, and of course the “r” chickens), even if we were willing to sell some chickens, I couldn’t in good conscience do so, because the buyer might end up with an old, tough, nasty chicken. Guess who’s going to be stewing, picking, and canning chickens ALL WEEK LONG? Is it me? I THINK IT MIGHT BE. (Not that YOU care, Past Robyn, you lazy whore.)

3. What the fucking fuck is up with THE CHEESE? Jesus christ, are we afraid there’s going to be a cheese shortage? How much cheese do we have? I don’t know, I STOPPED COUNTING AT 30. THIRTY FUCKING PACKAGES OF SHREDDED CHEESE, PLUS. No more cheese until the cheese we HAVE is used up. NO MORE CHEESE. Jesus christ.

4. No more perusing the Publix flyer on Wednesdays and running to the store to take advantage of the “buy one get one” sales. I mean, don’t get me wrong, some of those sales are AWESOME, but truly how many english muffins need to be sitting in the freezer for months until we’re in the mood for them again? I’ve gotten the okay from Fred (and you KNOW what a frugal bastard HE is) to actually go out and BUY a package of english muffins AT FULL PRICE if we run out! I know, right? THE LUNACY!

Future me won’t listen, though. Present me always thinks that if I know something at a certain point in time, I will ALWAYS know it, and thus cryptic notes like an “r” scribbled on the bag holding a chicken will absolutely mean something to me.

Past, present and future me are all dumbasses.

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There are two things that has pretty much convinced me that Bolitar (who I’ll be calling “Buster” from here on out, because that’s what I call him in real life, and it’s too difficult for me to call him “Bolitar” when I never do!) and Rhyme remember living here.

The first was that on Friday afternoon, at Snackin’! Time!, I gave the cats their snacks, and then I walked down the hallway to the guest bedroom to go in and see Starsky and Hutch (this was before I moved them upstairs). I just so happened to have a plate in my hand, and Rhyme came FLYING down the hall after me and tried to lead me into the guest bedroom. Back when all four Bookworms were here, I gave the four of them their snack in the guest bedroom, and he clearly remembered.

The second was when, not an hour later, I looked out the back door and saw Buster and Rhyme frolicking in the back yard with Jake and Elwood.

And I guess I should add a third: yesterday morning I glanced out the side door to see that Buster had climbed over the fence and was in the side yard. I coaxed him inside and put a collar on him (for those who don’t know, we have an invisible fence around the back yard and the problem cats wear collars to deter them from getting too close to the non-invisible fence, so they can’t escape the back yard), and he hasn’t escaped since. Brat.


I’m not quite sure what Rhyme was doing here, but it kind of looks like a seductive dance, doesn’t it? There needs to be a feather boa involved.

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Starsky and Hutch have now hit one pound. Hutch is one and a half ounces larger than Starsky, and that one and a half ounces is all in his big round belly. I told Fred that we should have named him Waddles McGee, because he waddles so when he walks – which is the MOST adorable thing to witness. (Yes, it could very well be due to worms – they’re both on dewormer – but they’re also at that age where they’re tiny and round little things. In a few weeks, they’ll start to lengthen and thin out, I suppose, so I have to enjoy the round stage for as long as it lasts!)


Detective Starsky detects.

Small enough to put in coffee cups, big enough to escape them. I love this age!

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Loony Jake is loony.

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Previously
2009: We are far too amused by ourselves.
2008: No entry.
2007: I had NO IDEA Red Lobster was such a den of heathenry.
2006: The rags used on that closet: ONE MEELLION.
2005: And then the last straw came along and broke the fat woman’s back.
2004: Because he’s a skinny bastard.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Day One.
2000: So obviously I don’t know nothing’ ’bout picking out no paint.