Vote for Gracie! (Thank you!)
If you have BBC America and aren’t already watching 24 Hours in the ER, I highly recommend it. Fred and I watched the first two episodes of it, and although there were times when I had to look away, or when my metaphorical balls crawled up into my body and hid (especially every single time they talked about the guy who was hit by a bus and then “folded in half” GAH), it immediately became one of my favorite shows.
The only problem was that since it was filmed in London, I have one hell of a time figuring out what they’re saying sometimes. I had to ask Fred several times “What the fuck are they saying?” and he’d translate for me.
I swear to god it’s about time to turn on the closed captioning when I watch TV.
I got super excited yesterday afternoon, because someone was unloading a big backhoe on the access road across the street. The guy who is supposedly, someday, perhaps, no-really-I’m-gonna dig our goddamn POND told Fred they’d have to unload the equipment across the street and bring it across the street and down the lawn to get to the back forty because they didn’t want to park on the driveway for fear that they’d crack the driveway.
As it turned out, though, the backhoe was meant to do work on the land across the street, and they worked diligently all afternoon.
This whole thing where you hire someone to do shit is just SO FUCKING FRUSTRATING. It’s like we’re standing here with cash in our hands, trying to throw it at anyone to DIG THE FUCKING POND, and they’re all like “Um, yeah. We’ll get right on that. In seven to ten days. I mean two weeks. Oops, it sprinkled, it’ll be another month.”
The economy might be in the shitter, but apparently the guys who dig ponds aren’t hurting any.
After the pond guy came out last week and walked all over the property with Fred and discussed what exactly needed doing, he told Fred that he thought they’d be starting “The beginning of next week” – ie, yesterday. No one showed up. No one called. Nada, nothing, zip.
As far as I’m concerned, he moseyed his way out of a job, and last night Fred called the guy who dug the original pond, the one that we filled in a few years ago.
We’ll see if we get anywhere with HIM.
I say if this pond-digging nonsense doesn’t work out, we dig a random big hole in the middle of the back forty, call it good enough, and buy new living room furniture with the money we saved.
(I’m not holding my breath on the new furniture.)
Charlie Peppers has been allowed some limited time out of the guest bedroom, running around the house with the big Peppers (and the rest of the cats). Patty Peppers has been out once or twice, but it makes her kind of nervous, so she tends to hide under the couch until we pull her out and put her back in the guest bedroom.
Both of the little ones are over two pounds now, but they’ve just turned two months old, so I’m not in any hurry to spay and neuter them. I’ll wait another month, most likely, and do it around the time they turn three months. Adoptions seem to have slowed down a bit, so there’s no rush to get them ready to go.
Charlie has turned into a total lovebug, and Patty’s starting to come around, too. Fred finally heard her voice for the first time yesterday (she’s been giving us the silent meows up ’til then). Her first instinct is to run and hide when the door opens, but she comes back out pretty quickly.
“Tastes like.. chicken! I better send one of these to Dorothy, stat!”
“MY GOD, LADY, BEHIND YOU! IT’S A SERIAL KILLER AND HE HAS A KNIFE IN EACH HAND AND HE’S GOING TO EAT YOUR LIVER WITH FAVA BEANS AND A FINE CHIANTI! Oh, wait. No, there’s nothing there. Trick of the light. My bad.”
Not the best picture, but this is what she likes to do, lay there and have her belly rubbed while she makes biscuits on my leg. When I think of what a scared little hisser she was when we got her, it just blows my mind. She’s always the first to run over and demand love!
“‘Allo, lady. You see that I have razor-sharp claws on my back feet as well as my first? The better to mess you UP with, my dear. Now admire my one white whisker, give me a gentle pet, and be on your way.”
2010: Oh skimmers, why can’t I quit you?
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: No, my number one concern is that a woman, somewhere in Alabama, might have purchased a device to ensure that she’s able to get off.
2006: The stinkin’ kitten is not so cute!
2005: Annnnnnnnd that’s just a little glimpse into the dorkiness that is my life.
2003: No entry.
2002: Wow. Apparently I’ve been doing the pet store thing for three years now.
2001: Day Zero.
2000: I’m back!