3/9/12 – Friday

I made Quesadilla Casserole and posted about it over on Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza. The picture of the stuff makes it look gross, but it was tasty. Food photography is clearly not my forte. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “3/9/12 – Friday”

I made Quesadilla Casserole and posted about it over on Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza. The picture of the stuff makes it look gross, but it was tasty. Food photography is clearly not my forte.

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Katy was kind enough to fix part of my entry from Monday, because while I think SOME things go without saying, Katy thinks you have to be a bit clearer about things:

“The door that leads under the house {where we hide the bodies}. That cement wall to the right is where the well is located. The well does not currently work {but serves a purpose nonetheless as another hiding spot for the bodies}. We’ve been meaning to have someone come out and make it so that it’ll work {but clearly we have to relocate a few bodies first}. The door, open. That black plastic covers most of the ground {bodies} under there. There’s a large pile of bricks under there to the right {which are good for knocking people in the head when they try to escape}…” 😉

Heheh, thanks Katy!

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Yikes!! Dont you guys have Black Widows and Brown Recluse spiders down there?

Indeed we do! Though the difference appears to be that Brown Recluses are, well, reclusive and will avoid you at all costs and only bite when they’re cornered. Black Widows, on the other hand, are vicious bitches who’ll rush out to bite you with the slightest provocation. I didn’t see either kind of spider under there, which doesn’t necessarily mean they weren’t there, just that I didn’t see them. And in my mind, if I can’t see something, it’s not there, and I’m happy to live in that fantasy land.

(Upon rereading the question, I’m wondering whether the “down there” was in reference to Alabama or under the house! We do have Black Widows and Brown Recluses in Alabama, but I don’t know if they’re under the house. I’d have to guess that they probably are, but maybe they were hibernating at this time of year!)

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Do most houses in the southern states not have basements? urg would hate to crawl under all of that!!

It depends on the part of the South you’re in, I’m guessing, but I’ve seen very few basements around here. Which is too bad, I’d certainly feel safer in a basement when the tornadoes are threatening!

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“All Hail The Mighty Robyn Defender of Kitties Large And Small, Conqueror Of The Crawl Space!” Hear, hear!

My brother used to do the same thing, clean towels and pillow-cases – but underneath the “cape,” he’d hook our mom’s bra straps over his arms so that the cups were facing backwards “to give me big muscles.” I hadn’t thought of that in years – thanks for the memory jog!

The bra to give him big muscles is pretty inspired! 🙂

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Emmy’s eyes look blue. Trick of the light or real? I know they are only slits, poor tired girl.

Must have been a trick of the light, she’s got pretty green eyes.

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So, Dave and I were commenting on Newt’s apparent fixation with the food bowl. We clicked on Mar 4 2010 due to the Mr. “THE FUCK YOU SAY” teaser and saw the picture of Newt. Seems to be an increase in the Newt over the last two years. Life is good.

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That’s 2010 Newt on the left, 2012 Newt on the right.

It’s angle, I tell ya! The angle!

In his defense, Newt really isn’t a fat cat. I swear to you he’s not – Elwood is a porky boy, Alice is a bit portly, but Newt is just a big strong muscle-y motherfucker (wtf? Auto correct is having conniptions over “muscley”, is it seriously spelled “muscly?” Because that does NOT look right.)

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So, do the ducks go to the pond without having to be herded there now?

and p.s., where are my George and Gracie today?

The ducks will go out near the pond, but I haven’t actually seen them go into the pond without being herded in. Hopefully that’ll change once we get duckweed planted out there, and some bushes around the pond, and basically make it more inviting than the hole-of-water looks it’s currently sporting.

George and Gracie were too busy and important to pose for pictures. They’ll be back next week!

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My 7-year old is enthralled by your entire cat setup. In fact, she informed her father and I this evening that she is, “moving in with Bitchypoo.” She also enquired as to whether you “own a mansion.” Apparently that will seal the deal for her.

We live a good 5 states away, so I don’t anticipate her showing up on your doorstep, but she would if she could. 🙂

My evil plan to sucker in the children who will be responsible for doing all the hard work around here is working! Mwahahah!

Now, will she be bringing her own scoop, or should I take that out of her first tiny paycheck? 😉

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I saw this and thought of you..

funny cat pictures - Shh, I'm nursing my potato's !
see more


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I have a question about enticing more timid cats to play, though. Our “foster” Tommy was a fearless outside hunter-type of cat before we took him in. We are in a big metro area, neighborhood with no fences, and too many dogs and cars. I won’t let him outside, but we’re trying to keep him exercised indoors. This cat literally seems afraid of every toy we try. He shows initial interest, but after a moment of checking it out he backs away and acts if we are attacking him with it. Any suggestions for getting him moving? We can get limited moments with the laser toy and he checked out “da bird” without too much fear. He will also tear apart a sock filled with catnip like nobody’s business. But I’m running out of ideas for activities for him. (I should add that he’s not afraid of us, just the toys)

Would he maybe like “low” toys, like maybe those tracks that the balls go around in, or something battery powered, like a little mouse that you could turn on and he could chase? Ooh, or maybe the Undercover Mouse? I bought one of those and the cats really liked it, I need to drag it back out again.

I’m throwing this open to everyone else – y’all jump in here with suggestions, please!

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Do you know how the ducks are getting out?

I’m pretty sure they pushed under a piece of fence that was pulled up away from the ground a little bit. Fred fixed that, and the ducks haven’t gotten out again since the one time. The chickens that get out and wander the property have either found another piece of fence like that, or (more likely) they’re jumping over the top of the fence where it was hit by the tree that fell last April and needs to be replaced.

Did y’all know that chickens can fly a little bit? Not for long distances and not very high, but if they’re determined, they can flap hard enough to get over a fence. If it were a big issue (if, say, the chickens were wandering onto the property next door), we could clip one wing on each chicken, which would throw them off balance and stop them from being able to fly high enough to get over the fence.

I say that chickens can’t fly for long distances, but the really light ones can fly further than you’d expect. The Featherhead (did someone refer to her as Phyllis Diller recently? Because that’s what she’s starting to become named in my head.) was about halfway up Dirt Mountain a few weeks ago, and I was going out to feed the chickens. When the chickens see either of us walking toward the back forty in the afternoon, they know they’re about to get chicken scratch, and they get excited and come running. Well, the Featherhead saw me, got excited, started running and flapping her wings, and that little hen flew about 30 feet across the back forty before she touched down.

This is the Featherhead:

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Interestingly, the littlest chickens are the ones that you pretty much never see outside the back forty. Either they just can’t figure out how to get over the fence, or they know that they’re safer inside the fence than out.

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Does Logie look like a tortie to you?

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I don’t think so, because all I’m seeing is white and dark gray, but who knows? I can’t wait to see how her colors turn out as she grows up!

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I still think she/he will look like Smoky Joe over at 50 Kittens!

What a stunner!

I would not be surprised, I think Smoky Joe is one gorgeous boy!

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Robyn, do you get feedback numbers about page visits or views? That huge increase in numbers right around the time the kittens were born? All me. Whenever I get stressed, I visit for a minute to look at sweet mama and her babies. Better than any other medication I can think of 🙂

Ha – I do have a stats meter on my page, but I tend to forget to look at it. I went back and looked and my hits had about doubled the couple of days after the babies were born. I don’t think you’re alone in coming back to gaze upon their adorable little faces! 🙂

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Can Emmy really be regarded as feral and not just shy and reactive? She did go from hissing and running to letting you pet her within a week or so. My understanding of feral cats is that they never let you pet them for years!

I would really call her semi-feral rather than just shy. I’ve heard enough stories about feral mothers who allowed people to pet them and handle their kittens and then as their kittens grow older, they revert to more feral behavior. I’m not definitely labeling Emmy as feral, and all we can do is work with her and try to get her to trust us (she’s willing to let us handle her kittens, but she’s less willing to let us do more than pet her a few times), and we’ll see where we are with her once her babies are ready to go off. The good thing is that we’ve got a few months to work with her, so hopefully we’ll be able to break through that wall of fear and distrust. That poor girl has been through an awful lot in a short period of time!

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I don’t know if it’s Sugarbutt’s solid marmy-ness and lack of white, or what, but he always looks so densely furry and pet-able!

He definitely has a nice thick coat of fur. I always compliment him on his plush fur. 🙂

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Robyn, have you seen this? The video made me think of it.


HA – no, I hadn’t seen that!

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Razzie’s eyes are almost all the way open (though I haven’t gotten a good picture of them yet), and Newbery’s eyes are starting to open. Logie and Darwin are apparently in no big hurry to see the world – especially Logie; my lord is that one porky little kitten. I’m hoping to get updated pictures of them all this weekend.

Emmy’s doing okay, though she’s been a bit annoyed lately. Especially toward Fred – which bears out my belief that she’s getting overwhelmed because first she’s got all these babies on her all the time and then this guy keeps coming in and petting her and petting her. When I go in, I’ll scratch her a little around the neck and head then turn my attention to the babies, but Fred believes in the full-body massage (at least where mama cats are concerned), and I feel like she’s giving him the “Oh my GOD would you get OFF ME!” message. I backed off with the visiting yesterday a little, and it seems to have helped. Though I did go into the room in the early afternoon, and she was sitting behind the box. As soon as she saw me coming, she ran to the front of the box and then hissed at me. I put the plate of food on the floor and left, and when I went in later, she was fine and snoozed while I petted the babies.

I’m going to be interested to see her reaction when the babies start climbing out of the box.

Logie is the biggest crybaby of the litter. I pick her up, and as soon as she realizes she’s not in the box, she starts crying at the top of her lungs. I always put her right back in the box and she snuffle-snorts over to Emmy and tells her all about it. Razzie is the most relaxed about being held, and even when she complains it’s kind of half-hearted. Darwin and Newbery, well, it depends on their moods. Sometimes they’re screamy, sometimes a little more laid-back.

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Logie and Emmy (the other three are in front of Emmy, between her and the back of the box).

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Babies at the milk bar.

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Whooooooooooooooo’s a beautiful boy?!

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“She’s taking my picture again, isn’t she?”

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Corbie ignores.

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“There are BIRDS out there. Big ones. How do I get to them?”

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2011: I just wanna touch him with the fangers.
2010: Hoyt goes home.
2009: (Nance is laughing at me right now, I guarantee it.)
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: So when I reached down to pet his head, IT WASN’T HIS HEAD I GOT. ::shudder::
2005: Killing the messenger.
2004: Howling and hissing and growling and yowling ensued.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Gather ’round, younguns, and hear the heartbreaking tale of farts and betrayal…
2000: You still love me, though, right? Um, right?