I recently finished The Washingtonienne by Jessica Cutler. It was a bathroom book, by which I mean, a book I keep in the bathroom because it is BORING IN THERE, and so when business needs to be conducted, I need something in there to read. (Shaddup.) Anyway, previously unbeknownst to me, Fred also reads my … Continue reading “3-26-08”
I recently finished The Washingtonienne by Jessica Cutler. It was a bathroom book, by which I mean, a book I keep in the bathroom because it is BORING IN THERE, and so when business needs to be conducted, I need something in there to read.
(Shaddup.)
Anyway, previously unbeknownst to me, Fred also reads my reading material when he’s conducting his own business in there, and after a few days of leafing through The Washingtonienne and reading bits of it, he begged me to put a magazine in there because the horror of The Washingtonienne was causing his bowels to slam shut and no business was being conducted.
It took me a few weeks, but I finally finished The Washingtonienne and today I am announcing that bitchypoo.com, in conjunction with vituperation.com, is awarding The Washingtonienne the title of The Most Vapid Book of This Century.
Honest to god, it was the least substantial book I have ever had the displeasure of reading, and I don’t know why I read it all the way through – well, yes I do. I read it all the way through because it was the only thing in there, and somehow I kept forgetting to replace it, so I was held hostage by circumstance.
I should have known when I opened the front cover and a great burst of hot air blew my hair back that there wasn’t going to be a lot of “there” there. It’s like the literary equivalent of marshmallow fluff, except that marshmallow fluff is tasty annnnd…. The Washingtonienne is the opposite of tasty. It’s like marshmallow fluff gone rancid. If marshmallow fluff went rancid. And I don’t see why it wouldn’t. Anyway, you get my point.
I certainly don’t blame Jessica Cutler for this horrific book unleashed upon an unsuspecting public, because she was only capitalizing on the notoriety of writing a blog about who she was fucking and in what position (that’s an assumption on my part, since I never read her blog) and if someone contacted me and was all “Write a book about (whatever trainwreck issues might arise in my life, of which there are thankfully few, or ARE there, ho ho HO wouldn’t YOU like to know?!) and we’ll give you lots of money! Whee!”, I’d be all over that.
I do blame the idiots at Hyperion who thought they’d capitalize on… Oh. Well, I guess I can’t really blame them, either. They’re in the business to make money after all.
I guess who I should be blaming, really, is my own stupid ass and the fact that I feel a weird compulsion to buy books written by bloggers to support! the cause! man! That’s bitten me on the ass more than once, and I guess I need to stop doing that shit. Probably I should just stick to buying books by bloggers I actually read and enjoy and not every book written by a blogger, whether I’ve read them or not.
So, um, yes. The Washingtonienne: don’t bother.
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Maxi is a pretty cat and she’s a good cat, but what she is not, is a smart cat. She has, lately, taken to asking to go outside. We almost always let Maxi and Newt out the side door, because that’s usually where we are when they ask to go out. So we let her out, she sniffs around, chases birds, does whatever, and then decides she wants back in the house.
Instead of going back to the door she came outside through, she climbs over the fence into the back yard and goes to the back door and comes in the cat flap in the screen door. This works fine and everything, except that often times she tries to come in the back door when we’ve already closed it for the night, so she sits there and waits for us to open it. Usually, we don’t even know she’s out there. Eventually one of us goes out the side door, and Maxi races over to the fence and howls at us. And howls. And howls some more. Does she climb the fence and jump up on the side stoop? She does not. She howls, and then she races to the back door. So we either have to open the gate and call her, then let her in the side door, OR we have to go inside and open the back door to let her in.
I cannot even imagine how much time she’s probably spent sitting patiently by the back door, waiting for someone to let her in.
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New fosters!
The white one is a girl named Smudge Bunny and the black and white is HG (stands for “Hourglass”, because he’s got an hourglass-shaped patch of white on his tummy).
They’re very skittish. Their story is that an 89 year-old woman found them and took care of them as best she could, but she was just throwing them scraps of the food she had around, so their little digestive systems were pretty messed up when the shelter took them. They’re about 6 months old.
Smudge Bunny, though you can’t see it in the picture, has a smudge of gray on top of her head (you have to look closely to see it) and a smudge of orange along her tail. I just got them last night and haven’t spent a lot of time with them yet – they’re so nervous that I wanted to let them get used to their surroundings a little before I start spending time in there. I took them a small plate of canned cat food this morning and they were interested, but then I moved and they zipped under the dresser and hid.
They’re sweet little things; I’m sure they’ll come around, especially once Fred the cat whisperer gets his hands on them. I just hope he doesn’t fall in love with Smudge Bunny’s gorgeous blue eyes; I really don’t want the permanent cat population to get up into the double digits!
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Newt keeps his eye on the prize (but then it flew away!).
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Previously 2007: I was filled with a black hatred for the goddamn lights and my goddamn husband and every goddamn thing that ever was.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: Another reason I love the man: he makes me laugh every day. 2003: I’ll tell you what, he’s lucky I didn’t go get the cleaver and chop that fucking finger right the fuck off. 2002: My mind is blank… 2001: It’s just the little things that get to me, y’know? 2000: Married people! Having sex in the middle of the day! What IS this world coming to?
Yesterday was a pretty uneventful day, but it went by really fast – I guess when you’re gone for three hours first thing in the morning, the rest of the day goes by quickly. I did my thing at the pet store, ran over to Target for groceries, ran back to the pet store (once … Continue reading “3-25-08”
Yesterday was a pretty uneventful day, but it went by really fast – I guess when you’re gone for three hours first thing in the morning, the rest of the day goes by quickly. I did my thing at the pet store, ran over to Target for groceries, ran back to the pet store (once they were open) for a new litter box, then stopped by the grocery store on the way home for the stuff I needed that Target hadn’t had (bran flakes, turnips. Not to be eaten together.).
When I got home, I ate breakfast, and then I had to catch up on the Scrabble and Text Twist and Scramble games I’d gotten behind on over at Facebook (I’m enjoying the Scrabble and the Text Twist; not so much on the Scramble, because I suck so badly at it. Well. I suck at the Text Twist too, but I kind of enjoy it. Most of the time.) and then I sat on my ass and got caught up on some of the TV shows I missed while I was in Pennsylvania.
I find that I’m not terribly interested in the Michael/ Walt storyline on Lost; it’s been too damn long since we saw either of them, and I find I don’t miss them.
There was this episode of Jon and Kate Plus 8 that I watched before I went to Pennsylvania, and during one of the interview segments, Kate is talking about the kids being sick, and she stops mid-sentence – almost mid-word – and turns to him and politely says “I’m sorry, could you stop breathing?” Apparently he was breathing a little loudly and it was distracting her. She goes on to imitate him, and I’ve watched that one little segment about fifteen times now, and it makes me guffaw every damn time.
And after I watched a (different) episode of Jon and Kate, I thought to myself “Self, if Kate Gosselin can get through a day with eight small children, you can get off your dead ass and take the recycling back and clean the kitchen and switch out the litter boxes!”
So I did.
I’m kind of dreading Friday because I have an appointment with the plastic surgeon and if there’s nothing on earth I hate more than going to the doctor, it’s going to a doctor who will purposely touch my flabby sections.
Heh. “My flabby sections” would be an excellent band name.
As do all overweight and formerly overweight and really ALL women, I loathe having my flabby bits touched, let alone touched at length and eyeballed and discussed. Can’t you just trust me that there are flabby bits there and wait until I’m under anesthesia to touch and eyeball them doc, huh?
I’m still scarred from the time my gastroenterologist (ie, DrLiver) GRABBED THE ROLL OF FLABBY SKIN AND FAT AROUND MY MIDSECTION AND SQUEEZED IT. Yeah, he asked first, but I didn’t know he was going to TOUCH IT, I just thought he was going to look. I restrained myself, though, and didn’t scream “DON’T YOU KNOW YOU NEVER TOUCH A WOMAN’S FLAB?!” at him.
What was I saying? Oh, right, I have an appointment on Friday with the plastic surgeon. Not looking forward to it.
“Robyn,” you are saying, “Correct me if I’m wrong, I know you will, but didn’t you originally have an appointment with the plastic surgeon at the end of last month?”
Indeed I did, my appointment was originally for the last day of February, only two days before my appointment I decided I was feeling too fat to be seen partially nude by a stranger so I rescheduled. I told Fred that if I tried to cancel it again, he needed to hold me down and threaten to spit in my mouth, because I could easily cancel and reschedule appointments for the next two years if no one stopped me from doing it.
I want to have had plastic surgery, I just don’t want to have to go through the process of seeing the plastic surgeon, pouting until Fred lets me have all the plastic surgery I want done (don’t even be thinking “fake boobs”, because the day I have surgery to make my boobs bigger is the day I throw myself off the nearest cliff; I only want them lifted), going through surgery, healing from surgery, whining about the pain from surgery, screaming at the cats for tromping all over my cut-and-stitched bits, sobbing about how I’ll never feel normal again, etc etc etc.
Can’t I just snap my fingers and have it over with? Must I really go THROUGH the entire process? Because no fair. I object!
WhineWhineWhine.
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Every night, when I’m not paying attention, Fred LOVES to turn the heat in the downstairs part of the house down a few degrees. So I’m sitting on the couch thinking “Why is my nose cold?”, and it turns out that it’s because he’s turned the goddamn heat down.
Now, WHY does he have to turn the heat down in the downstairs part of the house when HE DOESN’T SLEEP DOWN HERE, I ask you? He can hang out downstairs ’til bedtime, then go upstairs to his 45-degree upstairs, and sleep like a baby. Why does he always gotta fuck with my heat?
Last night I was bitching at him about how cold it was, and he was all “I only turned it down ONE DEGREE!”, but apparently that’s the one degree that makes all the difference. I have to have the heat on 71 during the day or I’ll be cold (well, I’m cold anyway, but it’s bearable), and if it’s set on 70 instead, I freeze to death.
Clearly he just wants me to freeze to death. Bastard.
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Tommy and Sugarbutt like to sleep in the beds on my desk. Well, most of the cats like to sleep in the beds on my desk (Spanky’s sleeping in one right now, and the other is empty, which is unusual), but Tommy and Sugarbutt spend most of their time on my desk. Sometimes Sugarbutt will feel the sudden need for love from his brudder, so he gets up, walks across the desk to Tommy’s bed, and plops himself down on top of Tommy.
They’re fully-grown cats, and not small ones, either. Seeing the two of them trying to share one bed is pretty funny.
Tommy’s such a sweet boy that when Sugarbutt makes himself at home, Tommy does as requested, and begins grooming Sugarbutt. Every time it happens, I want to pick them up and squeeze them to death.
Sugarbutt haz a flavor.
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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: The spud is officially licensed. 2004: Ain’t it always the way that when you call someone names in your journal, secure in the knowledge that they’ll never see it, they always do? 2003: (And before you say it, yes. You shouldn’t give a shit what I think, either.) 2002: Is it just me?
2001: No entry. 2000: If you knew you’d get $341 million for being treated savagely and cruelly for 7 years, would you do it?
Nance and Rick are gone, left here Saturday about mid-day to drive partway home, stop for the night, then finish the drive on Sunday. We sure did have a lot of fun while they were here. Fred took Friday off so he and Rick made a bridge to go over the ditch that separates the … Continue reading “3-24-08”
Nance and Rick are gone, left here Saturday about mid-day to drive partway home, stop for the night, then finish the drive on Sunday.
We sure did have a lot of fun while they were here. Fred took Friday off so he and Rick made a bridge to go over the ditch that separates the back yard from the back forty (I hate having to slog through the water to get out to the back forty when it’s as wet as it’s been recently – and the fact that there are holes in my boots makes it that much more miserable) while I made breakfast (bacon, eggs, biscuits, YUM). Nance alternately loved on the cats (Miz Poo is a huge love slut) and mocked me for being Suzy Homemaker in my apron.
I dropped Lucille, Lindsay and Maeby off at Petsmart. They’re so cute and personable that I expect quick adoptions. (Maeby was adopted on Saturday; I haven’t been to the pet store yet, so I don’t know if either of the other two have been adopted yet). The entire drive to the pet store, the kittens would take turns howling mournfully, and then at the pet store while I was setting up their cage, they howled sadly, and then I put them in the cage and it was like I was taking them out of the carrier and putting them in the cage and they were all “Wah wah wahhhhh, why must we be in this carrier, why do you hate us so, why do – oh! Is that a new toy?” When I left the cat room, they were all sniffing interestedly around their cage like “Hey, this place is cool!”
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From the pet store we went over to Target, then stopped by the fabric store (Nance bought some fabric and I picked up a flyer. I’m thinking of taking a beginning sewing class, since it’s been more than 20 years since I touched a sewing machine) and then Fred called and was all “When are you coming home? We want to watch I Am Legend, do we have to wait?”, so we headed home.
Nance went off to read while Fred and Rick and I watched I Am Legend. About half an hour into the movie my sister called and we talked for a minute and after I hung up the phone the three of us decided to pause the movie so we could take naps.
Yes, we are the lamest.
I dozed off for about ten minutes and then couldn’t sleep any more, so I went out and filled the bird feeders and then Fred and I walked out to the back forty to see the pigs.
Here’s where a conversation took place that later came back to bite me in the ass. I was wearing sneakers on my feet and I bitched about having to walk through the mud, and Fred said “You should wear Nance’s boots!”, because Nance has these cool yellow boots.
I said “Oh, they won’t fit me. She wears, like, a men’s size 14.” Exaggerating for effect, you see? Because she’s like a foot taller than I am, so she has proportionately larger feet?
“Does she really?” Fred said, fascinated. “A men’s size 14?!”
“Well, no. But Rick can wear them, so they’re probably far too big for me.”
And then we went out and visited the pigs, then went back inside and finished watching the movie. Once the movie was over, it was about dinnertime, so Fred and Rick went out to start the grill and Nance and I went into town to return the movie and go to the grocery store.
We had Fred-grilled steak for dinner and baked potatoes and salad. The steak (according to Fred) was salty (because he was at the bottom of a bottle of Dale’s steak sauce), and the salad was sadly lacking. Unlike the salad they served me in Pennsylvania that was the best! salad! ever! (I’m going to start calling it Shirley salad), the bagged stuff I added tomatoes and cucumbers to was just not all that. The pigs ended up with the bulk of the salad later that night, and they loved the hell out of it.
Rick took Nance up into town to Starbucks, and I did a quick vacuum of the house while they were gone, then Nance and I sat in front of our computers and Fred and Rick played with the Wii (Trey’s Wii, which he kindly allowed us to bring to Alabama with us) until Fred could barely stand it anymore, and we adjourned to the living room to play Pictionary.
Pictionary is a fun freakin’ game, helped out by the big whiteboard Nance had bought during our trip to Target. We played two games, and Fred and I started out strong with both of them, but about halfway through each game got ourselves tripped up so Nance and Rick would just mosey on by us to win the damn game. It was KILLING Fred to lose those games, but you can’t win ’em all, right?
During the game, Fred would walk over to the whiteboard to take his turn and then he’d stomp back over to the couch, and he’d walk so fucking close to my drink – which was sitting on the floor in front of me – that I was convinced he was going to kick it and knock it over. So I’d be “Watch out, watch your feet, don’t kick over my drink!” and he’d say, all annoyed, “I’m nowhere near your drink!” and finally I got so annoyed with him that I got up and clomped about in imitation of the way he walks with his big goofy feet, and I thought Nance was going to pass out, she was laughing so hard.
Which is when Fred said “Yeah, well, she was making fun of YOUR feet not very long ago!”
Aghast at the lie, I said “I was NOT!”, and then he recounted the “Men’s size 14” conversation from earlier, and I about choked to death, I was laughing so hard. I had COMPLETELY forgotten I’d said that. And then they tried to say that I was calling Rick’s feet “dainty”, so in one short day I managed to insult everyone in the house. Score!
We turned in pretty early, ’cause we were all tired. That sitting around all day with a nap thrown in halfway through the day is a killer, ain’t it?
Saturday morning we left the house earlyish (not as early as Fred would have liked to leave, because I’m sure he wanted to leave at like 5 am) and we went into Nearville to eat breakfast at a restaurant Fred knew about (a restaurant I do not recommend in the slightest, because my omelet had NO flavor whatsoever) and then we headed to Lacon Trade Days, which is just a big, crappy flea market type place where they also sell some livestock. It’s where we got McLovin, actually.
(pic) If we hadn’t just eaten breakfast, I would have insisted on eating at this place. It smelled really damn good. Alas, we were all still full from breakfast.
(pic) I tried to convince Nance that she needed to invest in this as a statement piece. Somehow, she disagreed. Isn’t it creepy?
We walked around there for a few hours, eyeballing everything they had for sale, and believe me – there was a LOT of crap. Fred ended up buying some goose eggs just ’cause he wanted to try them (he scrambled one yesterday and tried eating egg sandwiches, but then declared the egg to be – any guesses? – too eggy, so gave the others to the pigs).
It’s so sad at that place to see all the puppies they have for sale. It wouldn’t be so bad except that some of the people have these little bitty puppies all crammed into one small cage, and the puppies are scared and have no food or water. And you can adopt some of them and bring them home, right? Except that you cannot possibly save them all, there’s no piece of land on earth that will hold all the puppies places like these sell.
(pic) I think this is a Silver-Laced Wyandotte. They’re gorgeous birds, I wouldn’t mind having a couple.
(pic) Fred’s still pushing for goats. I’m still pushing back.
We left there after a few hours and ran over to Stuckey’s so Fred could use the bathroom and Nance and I could nose around. Nance and I are copycats, because we both bought “genuine hand-made Mexican blankets” for $6.99 each, and then I bought some ground pecans to make pecan-crusted chicken, and we headed home.
We stopped on the way home to visit the bakery thrift store. We poked around looking for sweet stuff for the pigs (we’ve found that they’ll eat their pig chow a lot more readily if there’s a little something sweet mixed in with it) and Fred ended up buying about 100 packs of mini powdered donuts for $10. That’ll last for a month or more, so that’s a pretty good score.
(pic) You cannot come and visit Crooked Acres without leaving with a load of canned stuff. It’s the law!
Once home, Nance and Rick loaded up their car, we stood around and talked for a few minutes, and then they were on their way and Fred and I were like “What the hell do we do NOW?”
(The answer: Eat lunch, putter around, then settle down and spend the afternoon watching The Office and Enchanted and Survivor.)
Yesterday was very low-key for us. I slept in ’til almost 7, started laundry, wandered around in my nightgown, stripped and remade the guest bed (when we have no guests, we keep some old sheets and a crappy comforter on the bed so that the cats can hang out on it and I don’t have to worry about getting cat hair all over the mattress or cat vomit all over the good comforter), cleaned the litter boxes, then read for a while and showered and did more puttering.
Fred’s mother and stepfather stopped by, late morning, to drop off leftover food for the pigs. I don’t know what it was – rice and carrots and cabbage and there was some kind of teriyaki sauce on it, it smelled really good – but the pigs dove in and didn’t stop eating ’til every bit of it was gone. We hung out and talked to them for about an hour, then Fred pawned some tomato plants off on them (he’s planted 120, woot!) and they left.
The rest of the day was laundry, puttering around, hanging out with the cats. The usual.
(pic) My new sweatshirt, thank you to reader Lyndell who posted the link in my comments. Fred’s got the t-shirt. He’s promising to wear it while he does the slaughtering.
We had steak for dinner, with black-eyed peas and green beans. I’d thought about doing a mini-Easter dinner with the ham and mashed potatoes and deviled eggs, but that was more work than I wanted to do, and we ended up with a damn fine meal anyway.
Now it’s back to life as usual. I’m off to the pet store. See you tomorrow!
I love the way Tommy goes a little crazy-eyed when you rub his stomach. Check out those claws!
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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: I. Am. PISSED. 2004: “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t believe I quite understand. Could you explain this “spoonful” word to me via pantomime again?” 2003: That, or she’s a stalker-reader.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry. 2000: Some people just have a smack-me face, don’t they?
Last night, in front of the closet in my bedroom, I was getting ready for bed. As I stripped off my shirt and bra, Fred came in. He stood beside me and cast a considering eye at my chest. “What?” I said, because that’s what we always say whenever the other so much as glances … Continue reading “3-21-08”
Last night, in front of the closet in my bedroom, I was getting ready for bed. As I stripped off my shirt and bra, Fred came in. He stood beside me and cast a considering eye at my chest.
“What?” I said, because that’s what we always say whenever the other so much as glances in our general direction.
“Your boobs look smaller,” he said.
“Gee,” I said. “THANKS. That’s always a way to win a girl’s heart.”
He shrugged. “They look less… saggy.”
When I was done berating him, he said “You make me sound like an ogre. I was being complimentary!”
“I think you mean ‘oaf’,” I said. “And it’s not ME making you sound like one.”
Some girls get all the romance.
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Since you are the person I “know” who watches the most tv, can you tell me: There is a reality show involving two very prim-n-proper British housekeepers who come in and clean up horribly messy houses. Is this a US show, or a BBC thing?
My son had some “50 most shocking TV moments” show on last night, and one of them showed these two British society-matron-looking women coming in and gasping in shock and horror at the mess they were expected to clean up. The heavy-set one of the pair got down on her hands and knees (she was wearing a shirt suit with heels and hose, by the way, to clean a house in?? anyway) to sniff a stain on the carpet. (That’s what I always do.) She recoiled and made a horrible face and told her partner, “It’s pee-pee! It’s pee-pee!” On the couch, she sniffed another stain, waved her hand behind her bottom, and whispered, “Poo!”
The idea of watching these Oh So Proper women in business dress clambering around on their hands and knees and talking about poo and pee-pee makes me seriously reconsider my anti-television bias (also I’d feel better about my own messy house), but I don’t know where to find the show. Robyn, or anyone?
Elayne, in case you missed it, Laura said That show is “How Clean Is Your House?” and it’s on every weekday on BBC America.
And Robyn S. said, To add on to Laura’s comment, How Clean Is Your House used to be on Lifetime. I haven’t seen it on there in ages though.
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Is the pig solid or is it a piggy bank?
It’s a solid hand-carved pig!
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I love roadtrip stories — and you SHOP? Wow. I was brought up to get on the road and STAY THERE until you get there. Your way sounds like a lot more fun.
Yeah, if it had been Fred there would have been NO stopping and shopping. In fact, he probably would have rolled his eyes every time I told him I had to pee. Probably, he would have told me to JUST HOLD IT, DAMNIT, WE’LL BE THERE IN TEN HOURS!
I think it would suck in a BIG WAY to die under a chicken coop with Frick looking at me like “Has you got some food, lady?” and McLovin pecking at my feet.
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I also have a sneaking suspicion that I’ve been AT that Love’s .. do you happen to remember where it was?
All I can tell you is that it was the last exit before mile marker 45, and there was a Burger King up the road and on the opposite side.
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I have been re-reading all of your old entries, and I am reading about last summer’s garden and canning fest. Have you started planning the garden for this year?
Oh, definitely. In fact, Fred has already planted the potatoes and the entire plot has been tilled. Also, he’s started the tomatoes (inside). We’re growing all the same stuff we grew last year, and in addition we’re growing edamame, navy beans, black beans (I think), onions and… that’s it, I think. I cannot wait ’til we get our first tomato! We’re growing a lot more tomatoes, and some of them are paste tomatoes this time around.
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Since I LOL’d at your previously listings for today, inquiring minds just HAVE to know. Did your period once again start right before you left on this vacation?
My period did NOT start again right before I left on vacation – THANK GOD, because getting sick while having my period is the most miserable thing on earth.
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Is that a Wegmans?
The grocery store we visited with the awesome candy aisle was a Great Eagle.
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Was reading a book the other day called Good, Good Pig by Sy Montgomery. Thought of you and your little piggies. One thing I found very interesting and surprising in the book, is that more people are killed by pigs than sharks each year. Wow, be careful out there.
Here’s a funny story for y’all – every time you warn Fred not to feed the pigs by hand, he rolls his eyes and continues to feed them. I, on the other hand have never fed them by hand because I am a good girl and I heed your warnings. So one day Fred and I were in the pig yard sitting on the stump he hauled out there for them to rub against (which they never do), and one came sniffing around my feet, and I held my hand down, and he lifted his head up and sniffed my hand and then…. he tried to bite it. He didn’t, and he wasn’t aggressive about it in the first place, but my own dumbassery horrified me, and I don’t really venture into the pig yard anymore.
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You should get some turkey chicks too. I assure you that you will have no trouble wringing their necks when the time comes because turkeys are the stupidest, most exasperating creatures to breathe. In fact, you will probably have to restrain yourselves to keep from killing too early. They’re tasty too!
We’re talking about it, actually – maybe getting them and putting them in the pig yard when the pigs are gone. Do they act like chickens? Do they sleep roosting like chickens do?
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I have always said to myself, that when my (very old) cat dies and I want a new kitty, I’ll just try to adopt one of your fosters. I am several states away though. Do you think your shelter would make exceptions for your readers who promise to spoil the cat for the rest of it’s life, and have already proven themselves to be good cat owners?
You know, I don’t know. She’s pretty reasonable, but it’s probably a case-by-case sort of thing. Keep in mind that the current adoption price per cat is $150, and you have to fill out paperwork to apply for adoption.
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so are Nance and Rick now staying for a visit at your house for a while?
Yep, they’re staying for a few days, and then driving home again!
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Fred thought it would be a good idea to pick up the pig. The pig didn’t agree that it was a good idea, even though he looks like he’s smiling.
Happy pig.
Hungry pig.
I LOVE spring.
Sugarbutt in his favorite hidey-hole.
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Previously 2007: That is a monster shredder. 2006: Someone kill me now. NOW. 2005: And THEN in the car on the way to Mom and Dad’s, I was thinking “Well, THAT was rude, to tell her she was being too loud!
2004: No entry. 2003: Miz Poo has an infection. 2002: And if you unsubscribe from the notify list? A reason for the unsubscription is neither necessary, required, nor desired. Thanks so much.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
In case you didn’t already read it on my Twitter, we’re home! We got here just before 9:00 last night. Rick had predicted the trip would take 13 hours – it took 14, but only because we stopped a couple of times to shop and about 15 times to pee. I am a peeing machine. … Continue reading “3-20-08”
In case you didn’t already read it on my Twitter, we’re home! We got here just before 9:00 last night. Rick had predicted the trip would take 13 hours – it took 14, but only because we stopped a couple of times to shop and about 15 times to pee.
I am a peeing machine.
We meant to leave the house at 5:00 yesterday morning, and I myself was ready to go, but other people (HELLO) were not. Which was okay, because it gave me time to post my entry and bond with the animals for a while longer. Maddy (for those of you who are newish or just want to see the old pictures, this is what Maddy looked like when she was my foster bebbe) allowed me to come close to her, and she allowed me to hold out my hand for sniffing, but she clearly did not want to be petted by me, and I respected her wishes.
Well.
I respected her wishes until I was standing by her a little while later. She had just eaten and was sitting and watching the goings-on, and her tail was near me, so I just reached out and touched her tail. You would have thought I’d picked her up and swung her around by the tail from her hysterical hissing reaction.
Maddy has no love for me, I tell you what. She’s gorgeous and she’s happy and she’s spoiled rotten, though, and that’s really all a foster mother can hope for.
We got on the road and stopped to fill the gas tank, and then had to go back to fetch Nance’s laptop (luckily, we hadn’t gone too far), and we stopped for breakfast, and then we were on the road for real a little before 7:00.
We were out of Pennsylvania and into West Virginia pretty quickly. We stopped at Cabela’s in West Virginia for a look around. I’d never been to a Cabela’s, and it reminded me of a cross between LL Bean and the Kittery Trading Post.
We were through West Virginia pretty quickly and then we got into Ohio, and I tell you what – we were in that state forever. At the point when I started thinking “SURELY we’re almost through here?”, Rick said “We’re about halfway through the state.” Lordy.
We stopped at the JC Penney outlet store in Columbus and did some shopping. I think we were there about an hour. There was a lot of good stuff (really low prices!) there, but I ended up not buying anything. We left there, stopped for lunch, and hit the road again.
The entire trip, Nance and I were Twittering like the dorks we are. Also, of the 14-hour trip, I think we talked 12 hours of it. We’d made sure to have plenty of Keith and the Girl podcasts to listen to on the way down, and then ended up listening to only a couple.
At some point in Ohio – or maybe Kentucky, at this point it’s all a blur – we stopped at a McDonald’s to pee and have our pictures taken with the Ronald McDonald statue in the parking lot, because we are dorks.
(flickr) Looks like I was giving Ronald hell about something.
We stopped at Cracker Barrel in Elizabethtown, Kentucky for dinner (I only knew where we were because Fred called while Nance and I were checking out the store, and I asked an employee where we were) and the guy who waited on us harassed the hell out of us. No kidding, that guy must have come back to check on us 10 times during the course of our meal. We finally fled in self-defense just so we didn’t have to keep reassuring him that everything was FINE THANKS. Talk about needy. (Actually, I think he was just new and determined to do a good job of it.)
We got a little lost in Nashville, but not for long, and after a few stops for gas and peeing, we got home and saw the cats and Fred dragged Rick out to admire the pigs, and then we all went to bed pretty early.
I slept like a baby.
Did I mention that I woke up Tuesday morning with a really bad sore throat and stuffy nose? All of a sudden the out-of-it feeling I’d had all day Monday and attributed to jet lag made sense. I started taking the Cold fx I’d just bought the day before at Big Lots (yes, it’s just ginseng, shaddup) and Nance gave me some cough drops. I hoped that by the time I woke up yesterday morning my sore throat would be gone, but it held on until about dinner time before it finally went away. Today, I’m coughing and snotty, but I feel pretty good, so maybe the Cold fx did its job!
Traveling with Nance and Rick, I have to say, is a blast. They are apparently familiar with every single town between their home and ours, because every time we stopped to pee Nance would say something like “Oh, this is where we stopped and bought that shirt, right?”, and Rick would say “Yeah, the Starbucks is right around this corner.” Or we’d be on the highway driving, and Nance would say “That’s the mall where we stopped and shopped. They have a good (insert store name here).” It cracked me up.
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(flickr) Miz Poo approves of the $7 cat beds from Big Lots.
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Previously 2007: That just screams “Monday”, doesn’t it? 2006: “I prefer ‘va-jay-jay’,” he said almost prissily.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry. 2003: And why is it that I ALWAYS have my period when it’s time to leave on vacation? Why? Whyyyyyyyyy? 2002: I don’t want to have to think about Ozzy having a boner, thankyouverymuch. 2001: Fortunately, I have many more lazing-around-the-house-reading hours in the day than he does. 2000: I didn’t think cats did such things once they were fixed.
Happy, happy birthday to Debbie, my sister, who turns 38 today! Happy birthday, Deb! I hope it’s a fabulous one! * * * * * * * * * * Yesterday, after Felina was done surfing the internet and reading blogs (we’re getting her addicted to the internet young), she said “That Pioneer Punk is … Continue reading “3-19-08”
Happy, happy birthday to Debbie, my sister, who turns 38 today!
Happy birthday, Deb! I hope it’s a fabulous one!
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Yesterday, after Felina was done surfing the internet and reading blogs (we’re getting her addicted to the internet young), she said “That Pioneer Punk is cool. I wanna be cool like him!” Next thing we knew….
Yesterday morning, we were getting ready to leave the house, when Nance said “Guess who’s downstairs?!” I grabbed my camera, but as soon as she saw me, she ran for the stairs. I very, very slowly followed her, and she sat on the stairs and looked at me. I moved slowly enough that she didn’t feel threatened, apparently, and when I held out my hand to her she sniffed it, looked up at me, and gave me a mini-Hellcat growl. I’m no dummy, so I backed the hell off.
Nance and I partied it up some more yesterday, heading back to Big Lots so I could buy the cat beds I was coveting ($7 each! That is SUCH a deal!) and the drugstore so I could pick something up for Fred, and then we had lunch in downtown Near-Nance-Ville. We drove around a little and Nance showed me the sights, then we stopped by the grocery store so she could pick some stuff up, and let me tell you, that is one nice freakin’ grocery store. The produce section was HUGE and then we walked around the corner and I spotted nirvana.
Any kind of candy you could ever want! I bought some sour balls, because you just can’t find them in Alabama and I like the green ones.
Then we went back to Nance’s house and I sat on my dead ass while Nance and Shirley made dinner.
I highly recommend visiting Nance and Rick and Shirley and Trey and Alex – they totally let you sit around on your ass and not do anything, and they give you the interesting local gossip. Also, if you ever need an animal to snuggle with, you totally have your pick.
Previously 2007: I am such a prize, I really am.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: “Have you noticed that it smells like the bodies of fifteen [gentlemen of Chinese descent] laying in a pile in the ditch, rotting?” 2003: Always something, you know? 2002: “I’m starving to death. Meh. STARVING, I’m STARVING. Meh.” 2001: My baby’s growing up!
2000: No entry.
Yes – I did quote Dr. Phil to Nance yesterday, but ONLY because we were talking about Heather Mills McCartney and how it worked out that she ended up with something like $30,000 a day for their 4-year marriage. I said “Well, you know what they say – if you marry for money, you earn … Continue reading “3-18-08”
Yes – I did quote Dr. Phil to Nance yesterday, but ONLY because we were talking about Heather Mills McCartney and how it worked out that she ended up with something like $30,000 a day for their 4-year marriage. I said “Well, you know what they say – if you marry for money, you earn every dollar!” and Nance looked at me like I was all smart and shit, so I had to admit that I’d heard it on Dr. Phil.
(flickr) Rick bought us a cool hand-carved pig in Germany. Yay, Rick!
Nance and I partied it up yesterday, taking a trip to the drugstore and then to Big Lots. The Big Lots here is a lot bigger than the one at home, so I wandered around with my mouth hanging open.
Nance made me a fancy lunch, but I’m sad to report that neither of us thought of taking a picture of it, so you’ll have to take my word for it.
Maddy continues to avoid me – this morning she sat in the kitchen and glared at me, but of COURSE I didn’t have my camera with me, so no pictures of her. Nance said that last night, the instant I went to bed, Maddy showed up and hung out. Brat.
Regan came over and hung out for a while last night and snuggled the baby and we all sat around and shot the shit. I think sitting around shooting the shit is about my favorite thing to do – I don’t get nearly enough of it at home.
Sadie continues to be completely charming. I don’t know that I’ve turned into a dog person, but I’ve definitely turned into a Sadie person. A Felina person, too. When Felina gets feisty and starts harassing Sadie, they crack me up. Sadie’s like the older, tolerant sister who puts up with the brat. She’s so sweet.
Alex made me laugh out loud last night when Nance was talking about needing her sunglasses fixed and he called her “Corey Hart.” HEE. I kid you not, Alex and Trey are pretty freakin’ adorable and funny, don’t let Nance tell you any different. Shirley cracks me UP, too. I’ve been a laughing fool since I got here.
Julie is such a total Daddy’s girl, it’s funny to watch her sit and give Rick the Eyes o’ Love. She reminds me of Miz Poo, only Julie’s less bitchy. A LOT less bitchy.
Felina is slowly killing me with The Cute. The thing about Felina is that she’s smaller than she looks in her pictures. I’ll have to take a picture of her with a can of soda or a quarter or something to give you a better idea of her size. She sleeps a lot ’cause she’s still a baby, and then she prances around the house and when she decides she needs a lap to sit on, she politely touches you on the leg and waits for you to pick her up. Cutest dog on Earth, I kid you not.
I’m making Nance take me back to Big Lots today because I was going to buy something (cat beds for $7, if you must know) and then put it back and now I wish I’d bought the damn things. Better than buying them and wishing I hadn’t, right?
Last night after dinner (really good lasagna and the best salad on earth), Rick was playing Wii Golfing and Nance and I were talking about how I get the occasional email from people who say “I read your journal, but I don’t like cats at all”, and I said “Why on earth would anyone who doesn’t like cats read me?”
Rick, in mid-swing, said “Because you’re a fascinating writer with an effervescent style.”
HEE.
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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: No doubt she wishes I’d leave her the hell alone and just let her SLEEP, GODDAMNIT. 2004: I’m known for my dumbassery, though. 2003: Get your cart OVER TO THE SIDE SO I CAN GET PAST YOUR STUPID ASS. 2002: Good riddance to boring characters, I say.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
(Flickr) Guess who flew to Pennsylvania so she could eat cupcakes with Nance and Rick, snuggle the cutest dog on Earth, and reunite with Maddy? (Flickr) Yeah, that’d be me. No, I didn’t mention I was coming up here, because do I ever share my travel plans with you, stalkers? Of course I don’t. (Flickr) … Continue reading “3-17-08”
I’ve met the sweetest dog on earth, Sadie. All Sadie wants is a little lurve and not to be harassed by Felina. She is SO SWEET.
We walked through the door and Shirley brought Maddie down to see me, and Maddie took one look at me and was like “HELL NO”, hissed, and ran off. She’s been back to look at me a few times, but still won’t let me get close. Gorgeous but hateful, that one.
I think it’s about the cutest thing in the world to see Felina hopping around trying to pick a fight with Sadie, who outweighs her by a thousand pounds.
Don’t let Nance fool you – her family is fun to listen to, and her kids are funny and adorable. I felt at home immediately. They started up the Wii and I played several games of Bowling. Unlike real life, I can bowl like a madwoman in the virtual world. It was way too fun and now I kinda want a Wii. I guarantee you, if Fred ever got the chance to try a Wii we’d own one in about ten seconds flat.
Last night I called Fred before he went to bed, and the first thing I said was, “This dog (Felina) is SO freakin’ cute!”
Previously
2007: No entry. 2006: everyone’s Irish today, right? 2005: Guess it must run in the family. 2004: The cats are on my fucking NERVES. 2003: You KNOW you’re fascinated!
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry. 2000: The Big Butt Fairy visits us every year though. Just like clockwork.
Here’s a rare treat for you – I spend a little time stalking the cats and asking them what they’re doing. What doin’? What doin’? What doin’? I sound, if I might be frank, like a complete goober, especially when I ask Newt if he’s alive. “Are yew ‘laaaaaaahv?” YouTube link The pig section. … Continue reading “3-14-08”
Here’s a rare treat for you – I spend a little time stalking the cats and asking them what they’re doing. What doin’? What doin’? What doin’?
I sound, if I might be frank, like a complete goober, especially when I ask Newt if he’s alive. “Are yew ‘laaaaaaahv?”
Holey-moley! Being a city girl, well, suburban girl I guess, I had no ideas that pigs will get that big in 5-11 months. I have to say, I thought the pigs would be cute…. But to me they aren’t. They actually kind of gross me out. Are they going to be killed at the same time? Roughly, how much meat are they going to provide? It sounds really labor intensive to go from a live pig to pretty white packages in the freezer!!
Well, now FarmWife’s got me nervous thinking that the pigs are going to be several hundred pounds by December. Does it make a difference that we’re not confining them and feeding them out, FarmWife?
Anyway, yes – the pigs are going to be slaughtered together, and I’m told that we can expect to get 150 – 200 pounds of meat from each pig. Only one of the pigs is ours; Fred’s friend Franklin, the one who grew up on a farm and has slaughtered many pigs, is getting the other one.
Those pigs are toocute. How come they don’t have little cork-screw tails? I always thought pigs had that… I love their little grunting pig noises and their pink snouts. Too cute.
I don’t know why their tails aren’t cork-screwy. Their tails usually stick out (and when they’re eating, they tend to wag them), but every once in a while their tails are curled up. I don’t know if it’s something that comes with age, or if it depends on their mood, or what. I’ll report further as they get older!
Oh and Robyn, if you are looking for pig penis — it’s not visible from the rear, it’s in the middle of their stomach.
I can assure you – I am totally NOT looking for pig penis, nor do I intend to. 🙂
Could someone point me to the post where all the chickens were named? I still don’t know who’s who. (Aside from McLovin)
There’s no post where they were named, ’cause they don’t all have names. In fact, if you include McLovin, only three of them are named. Pictures and names are as such:
(pic) Flappy McGee, the giant-mega-mutant-egg-laying Americauna.
(pic) Frick, the one we love the most. She’s an Americauna, too.
(pic) We have several Black Jersey Giants. We are creative, and call them “The black ones.” There was one that was kind of the runt and looked like a little ostrich, so we were calling her “Oscar” for a while, but now I can’t tell her from the other ones.
(pic) We have several Buff Orpingtons. We call them “The buffs.”
(pic) Plymouth Barred Rocks, and we have several of these as well. We call them “The specks.”
Did Fred call the hatchery and give them heck for shorting your order? Are more going to be coming or a credit being issues? For chuckles, how much does a one-day old baby chick cost?
He called and reported it, and they credited us for the ones we were shorted, the two that died in transit, and the two that died within 48 hours. It depends on what kind of chicken you get, but they cost between $2 and $3 each.
Slightly confused: Y’all get your mail at six thirty? In the A.M.? And the post office is even OPEN at that hour??? *brain reeling*
No, the post office wasn’t open, but there was someone there to receive the early morning mail shipment; they had Fred’s number because he’d called and alerted them to the fact that the chicks were coming, so as soon as they got the box o’ chicks, they called Fred. I had to pound on the door so they’d let me in, but yeah – your postal workers work hard!
How about a chick-cam? They are so cute and entertaining!
I would LOVE to have a chick-cam. It’s on our long list of stuff we want to have one day. I also want to have a cam on the front porch so I can see exactly what comes up and eats the cat food I leave there! (I suspect possums, squirrels and stray dogs and cats, but photographic evidence would be cool.)
The more I look at these pictures of the fuzzyheaded chicks, the more I want to try to pop them. That just ain’t right. Is their skull that shape, or is it all just feathers?
It’s all fuzzy little fluff, there’s no misshaped skull under there. And don’t try to pop the puffy-headed chicks or I’ll set Mister Boogers on you. I don’t think you want that.
I can’t remember… do you guys eat the chickens, or keep them solely for laying eggs?
Of the ones we ordered this time around, 12 of them were supposed to be for eating and the rest for laying eggs. Unfortunately, the 4 chicks we were shorted were meat chickens (white orpingtons), and the two that died after they got here were also meat chickens, which brings us down to 6 meat chickens. Which might be for the best – it probably wouldn’t hurt to have to only do 6 chickens when it’s killin’ time, considering it’ll be our first time.
At 00:31 through 00:33, tell me it doesn’t look like that little poufy headed chicken by the … big tall feedy thing.. whatever… is wearing a baseball cap on his head, backwards, all gangsta style.
He totally does – I hadn’t noticed that the first time around! (Here’s the movie, for those of you who didn’t see it when I posted it a few days ago.)
What do you do with the dead chicks? Please tell me you don’t feed them to the cats or chickens or pigs!
We put them gently in the trash. I feel kind of bad for admitting that – like we should have a baby chick graveyard somewhere – but that’s what we do. We’re heartless.
The The Office section.
I presume you are watching the USA version of the Office – if you can get hold of the British version, starring Ricky Gervais, I know you would love that also!
Yeah, it’s the US version of The Office we’re watching now, but we’ve seen the British version. Actually, I think we watched the entire British version in one weekend, and we liked it a lot. The first time we tried watching the US version of The Office, we weren’t crazy about it – Michael can be a little hard to take and somewhat overwhelming – but the second time was the charm.
I went to grade school through Freshman year of high school with Rainn Wilson (Dwight) in Seattle. He was awesome then, and he’s awesome now. I’m so thrilled for his success. Go Rainn!
Fred sent me a link to Rainn Wilson’s opening monologue on Saturday Night Live, and I was stunned at how non-Dwight-like he was. It’s almost like he’s an actor of something! Fred adores – ADORES – Dwight.
Not only is The Office available on Netflix, it is available for Instant Viewing. You know what that means? No waiting for the next disc!
Yeah, but then you have to watch it on your computer, don’t you? I’m not a fan of watching anything on my computer – I have to be comfy on the couch, in front of the big TV.
We have a local branch of our bank right down the road from us and I groom the manager’s dog. She has the biggest crush on Rainn Wilson. She has a bobble-head, a poster (signed), a mug for Pete’s sake. In her office. That’s some love right there.
Last Friday, Fred spent the entire day sending me Dwight quotes that he’d found online. He’s got some Dwight love going on – I might have to start stocking up on Dwight memorabilia for him.
Although I loved the British version of The Office, I HATED the American version. I guess that’s unusual?
We didn’t like the US version the first time we tried it – maybe it’s an acquired taste?
I have a friend who just got me interested in the Office. I love it so much. For April Fools day we are putting our boss’s stapler in jello. Also, my friend just got a yellow lab and named him Dwight Shrute. poor dog fits his name. They call him Shrute.
I know this is a completely dorky thing to be worried about – but wrap that stapler in plastic before you Jell-O it, would you? I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for ruining it. Unless it’s a cheap one, then Jell-O away!
The next batch MUST be named Michael, Dwight, Jim, Pam, Jan, Ryan, Kelly, Toby, etc.
I wanted to go with Pam, Angela, and Jan this time around, but Pam had already been used, so I abandoned it. I’ll have to check and see if all the names have been used, because who wouldn’t love a little kitten named Dwight?
I don’t know why, but whenever I hear your voice on your ‘movies’ it sounds so strange! Its like when you read a book and develop an idea of what the character looks/sounds like, and then they make a movie, and its not quite what you had in mind. I guess I ‘picture’ you with a southern twang, and when I read how you talk to the cats, I can totally hear myself talking that way, except my way is somewhat child-like and goofy.
I’m telling you – I really don’t have a southern accent unless I’m trying – or, apparently, talking to the cats. I don’t know what that’s about.
Totally OT but had to share…imagine my surprise when I popped in a Netflix DVD last night and all of the sudden Robyn and Fred are ON MY TV!!!! Somehow I missed the whole Penn & Teller thing a zillion years ago, so now I’m catching up on DVD. That was so cool, you crazy kids made my otherwise dull Friday evening
Yeah, Fred and I were on an episode of Penn & Teller’s Bullshit, the episode entitled “Eat This” from the first season (I wrote about it when it happened – hard to believe it’s been five years!) . I think it never occurred to us when we were doing the episode that it would be out there FOREVER. It was an interesting experience, but it certainly confirmed my idea that I have no desire for any kind of fame. AND THEN FLAPPY HAD TO GO LAY THAT DAMN EGG.
Robyn, I think that one day you should name a batch of kittens/cats after “Friends” characters!
I’ll have to keep that in mind – although, the idea is to use names that haven’t been used before, so if someone else has used that naming scheme, I can’t. Someone once named a couple of kittens “Jennifer Aniston” and “Angelina Jolie”, which cracked me up.
Hmmm. Could you not ship the three kittens to MA (wherever that is. I live in Vic Australia!)?? Almost worth setting up a donation site to enable people like me to help get kittens to people who would love to have them but don’t live close by.
What y’all need to keep in mind is that the kittens aren’t mine – they belong to the shelter I volunteer for. I don’t know what their policy is on adopting cats out to far locations, but they might not be up for it. One of the things you have to agree to when you adopt a kitten from the shelter is that if you ever give up the cat, it has to go back to the shelter and adopting them out to people a long distance away makes it more difficult to enforce (or expect) that. If anyone ever sees a foster kitten they’re interested in adopting, I will happily give you the name and number of the shelter manager and you can discuss the logistics with her.
You’ve never mentioned shopping at Old Time Pottery…. I am pretty sure you have one in Huntsville. It is one of my favorite stores and I was just wondering if you’ve ever been to one and like it or it’s just not your cup o’ tea.
Oh, I LOVE Old Time Pottery! There’s one in Madison, and I’ve been there several times. They have everything on earth in that store. If I ever needed to fully restock a kitchen, that’s the place I’d go, first thing. In fact, back around Thanksgiving when I was worried about finding glasses that matched, I totally should have gone there. They rock!
they don’t really scream “country kitchen”, but they’ll keep the damn moths out that’s for sure Actually the bugs to make the moths are already in there. It’s the warmth (of being out on the counter) and the food source that makes them hatch and become moths. (try not to think about it, you’ll only get grossed out!) Freeze the bags of flour, cornmeal etc for about 24 hours before storing them on the counter. I always store my flour-y things in the freezer because I go through spells of either using it all the time or not at all so I am safer storing it there.
So, if I put the flour and cornmeal in the freezer, will that kill the bugs before they hatch and take over my pantry?
It’s probably gross, but it doesn’t bother me in the slightest that there are bugs in my flour. As long as I don’t have to see them crawling around, I just don’t care.
I have to bring a dessert to work Monday for our St. Patrick’s Day party. Will the Paula Dean banana pudding be okay sitting out for a couple of hours? Will it hold up or will it turn nasty?
I can’t say for sure, but I’m afraid that the pudding would get kind of runny and warm and gross. Readers, your experiences?
How is the Spud doing? You don’t talk much about her these days and I was wondering how things are going with her?
She is doing just fine! She was working two jobs before Christmas, but they were seasonal jobs and they ended after the holiday. She applied for a lot of different jobs, and ended up back at McDonald’s. She’s not thrilled about that, but you do what you’ve gotta do. She’s sent in her application for the local community college (with the intention of starting this Fall), she’s working hard and hanging out with her Dad and stepmother, and waiting for her boyfriend (who’s in the military) to get back from training school. She’s hoping to come back to visit in the next few months, and I can’t wait to see her!
Do you have one or two quilts that are mostly pink? They seem to be made of about 3 inch squares. I think I have seen pictures of both of them with cats on them. One has more of a pattern to it than the others. Would you mind putting up pictures showing about 1/4 of the quilts? I would love to try and make something similar. Thanks!
I have two with pink in them.
(larger picture here) My mother made this for me when I was little. She thinks it’s horrible, but it’s probably one of my favorite possessions – if I’m not feeling well, that’s the blanket I want tossed over me.
(larger picture here) Fred picked this one up in an antique shop, I believe. It’s heavy and very warm.
(larger picture here) This doesn’t have pink in it, but the faded red around the edge looks kind of pinkish. It’s another of Fred’s antique store finds.
Is it one of those? If not, let me know and I’ll dig around to see if we have any quilts in hiding!
Did you ever think about going back to Tigers for Tomorrow? I guess you have enough of your own animals now.
We do plan to go back – it’s just that there’s always something to do here so we haven’t gone on many road trips. Maybe this summer I’ll be able to talk Fred into taking some time away from the farm for a trip back there.
Are you giving autographs?
I totally thought the cashiers were going to ask for my autograph in the grocery store!
I have a blog and I just got a visit from Saudi Arabia! My question is where is the farthest away that you have been visited from?
That… is an excellent question! I don’t really know the answer to that, but I can tell you that around 10:30 last night, someone from Hobart, Tasmania was on my site (helloooooooooo Tasmania!). I can give you a quick photographic (in the form of a screen capture of a Sitemeter graphic) representation of some of my readers, though.
One day, I’m going to travel around the world and visit all of you.
If you ever run out of things to write about in a given week, you could put a call out for all us orange tabby owners to send pics! It’s probably a big pain in the ass for you, but I’m curious to see how others’ orange kittehs look.
I’m actually thinking of having y’all send me your pet pictures (not just orange tabbies – and not just cats, for that matter!) and putting them all on a page together.
Have you watched Real Housewives of New York? I can’t remember their names, yet, but the tall very skinny blonde making her babies learn to speak French? Holy Jesus, I would like to slap her!!!!! Wow, and I thought the Orange County girls were over the top!
I did finally watch the first two episodes of the show, and I have to say, that is QUITE a show. If I ever started worrying about my social status, I encourage y’all to throw me off the nearest cliff. The only NYC housewife who doesn’t seem like a complete insecure mess desperately trying to climb up the social ladder is the countess (whose name I cannot recall. LuAnn, maybe?).
Ramona is completely annoying, she dresses far too young for her age (does no one on TV understand the concept of growing old gracefully?) and her husband seems like a sleaze.
Jill has a grating voice, she was totally trying to wring some drama out of that idiotic cooking-party situation with Ramona, and the relationship between her husband and her daughter is awkward and strained and weird, and she needs to stop pushing them into a close relationship and let them find their own common ground (“Go give Bobby a huuuug!”). Also, her daughter is completely adorable and someone needs to tell her that SHE IS NOT FAT. Way to set up the child for an eating disorder, Jill. Start her young!
The token single girl (whose name I cannot recall) is a mess, with her concern about where her relationship is going and whether her boyfriend’s parents approve. She’s also got the squarest jaw I’ve ever seen on a human being in my life.
And Alex – oh my good god almighty, Alex. She and her weird husband and the shopping and his overwhelming concern and putting together outfits for her, and the desperate need to climb up that social ladder. When they were in St. Bart’s, first of all, I did NOT need to see her husband in a bikini and second of all, the whole “I am the luckiest girl in the world and we are so in love and life is perfect” bullshit? Please. Any time someone feels the need to go on about how in love they are and how perfect their life is, that sets off my bullshit alarms all over the place. And it’s none of my business, but where do they get their money? From what I could see, he’s the manager of a hotel and she’s a graphic designer. They’re spending thousands upon thousands of dollars on clothes? What’s up with that?
My favorite “character” in that show has to be Roseann the countess’s housekeeper. Every time they show her long-suffering face, it cracks me up.
You both have such pleasant voices! Somehow not at all like I expected you to sound (not that I expected you to sound unpleasant.) I listened to the blooper reel and your potty-mouthedness seems so incongruous in your sweet-sounding voice.
Oh, how I love the incongruity of having a girly voice and swearing like a sailor. I know that no one who sees me in the store or working in the yard would ever suspect my love for the many variations on the word “fuck.”
I would listen, if you guys decided you wanted to do regular Crooked Acres podcasts.
I don’t know if I’ll ever convince Fred to do a podcast (he hates his voice, I don’t know why because I think it’s quite a nice voice), but I have toyed with the idea of doing a weekly reading of a journal entry. The idea of reading this journal entry, in particular, makes me giggle.
I don’t know. Is there anything in particular y’all want to hear me – or us – say?
In the blooper reel, when you were making fun and reciting your line, you sounded just like Peggy Hill from King of The Hill.
Ha – I can definitely hear the resemblance!
You have mentioned before about using a brine for your turkey – do you really taste a huge difference? Do you have a favorite recipe? Is it a huge pain in the rump to make?
I used this recipe to make a brined turkey – it calls for a turkey breast, but I’m pretty sure I made the entire turkey using that recipe. It definitely made a much moister turkey than I was used to, and it’s certainly worth the effort.
HOWEVER, I have since learned an even easier trick to getting a nice moist turkey. It’s something I stumbled across accidentally, but it’s apparently something some professional cooks recommend – roasting the turkey breast-side down instead of breast-side up. Apparently the fat from the dark meat kind of bastes the dryer white meat, and it is FABULOUS.
I just wanna squoosh her.
They’re so happy in the sun.
Sleepy baby.
Yummy water.
All three girlies in a row.
She loves that feather toy.
The little pink nose and lips kill me.
******************
Tommy’s praising the lord.
Previously
2007: No entry. 2006: They are SO pretty to look at, but my GOD do they stink. 2005: Questions answered.
2004: No entry. 2003: Yeah, don’t look at me. I have no idea what goes on his head, either. 2002: I think I could kick her ass, personally, and I’d be happy to do it. Bitch. 2001: “That’s okay,” I said cheerfully. “Those things are a pain in the big butt, aren’t they?” 2000: Fred sings again.
You might think that life here at Crooked Acres is nothing but work and drudgery and cleaning litter boxes and trudging through pig poop and stomping through chicken poop and dealing with dead things and cleaning up cat vomit interspersed with the occasional kitten snuggle or chick cuddle. What you don’t know is that there … Continue reading “3-13-08”
You might think that life here at Crooked Acres is nothing but work and drudgery and cleaning litter boxes and trudging through pig poop and stomping through chicken poop and dealing with dead things and cleaning up cat vomit interspersed with the occasional kitten snuggle or chick cuddle.
What you don’t know is that there are moments of pure glamour interspersed with all the drudgery. That’s right, I said it – flat-out glamour here on the farm. Who’d ever guess?
Friday evening after Flappy laid the mega-monster-mutant egg, Fred emailed a reporter at the local newspaper. Tuesday morning he got an email from the reporter that read “Fred, we’d like to do a story about your egg. Please call me as soon as possible.” We laughed about it, yelling “Stop the presses!” and “I wonder if we’ll be on the front page!”, then I promptly went about my business and forgot about it.
Later Tuesday morning, just as I was settling in for a couple of hours of reality TV, Fred called.
“Are you in a good mood?” he asked gleefully.
Whenever he asks if I’m in a good mood, I know it’s because he’s about to ask or tell me something that will put me in a bad mood, so I claim to already be in a bad mood to stop him. It never works.
“NO,” I said.
“Really, are you in a bad mood? Really?” he said, not sounding like he much cared if I was.
“What? What? WHAT DO YOU WANT?” I snapped, my Woohoo, reality TV! mood rapidly switching to a grumpy What is it now? mood.
“Well, I talked to the newspaper guy, and they’re going to do the story. They need a picture of Flappy, and they want a person in it with her.”
“I hate you,” I said.
Fred laughed. “I told him I could give him a picture of Flappy by herself ’cause I’ve got a ton of them, but he’s insistent that there needs to be a person in it, too.”
“I hate you. Why do you drag me into this sort of thing? I don’t WANT to be in the newspaper with Flappy!”
“They’ll be there tomorrow around 10,” he said.
“Did I mention that I hate you?”
Fred laughed again, and then in the background I could hear the sound of his cell phone ringing.
“Oh, that’s him!” he said. “I’ll call you right back!”
I hung up the phone and sat and pondered the depth and breadth of my hatred for my husband. A few minutes later, he called back.
“The bad news is, he wants to come right now!” he said.
“Well then, what’s the GOOD news? They don’t need me in the picture?”
“No, the good news is that you’ll get it over with and won’t have to stress about it for the next 24 hours!”
“Oh, you are TOO GOOD to me. Did I mention that I hate you?” I said.
“They’re on the way. Call me after they’re gone!”
I hung up the phone and went to change my shirt, comb my hair, and put on some makeup. Then I sat in front of my computer and tried to surf while obsessively looking out at the driveway for the reporter. He showed up about ten minutes after I’d last talked to Fred, and as soon as I saw his truck in the driveway, I went out to greet him with the intention of getting this all over with as quickly as possible.
He and the photographer greeted me.
“Hi, Miss Robyn!” the reporter said. “Now, before I forget – what’s the chicken’s name?”
“Flappy McGee,” I said, and blushed.
He chortled and asked me how to spell it. It’s a funny name ’til you have to spell it out for a reporter, let me tell you.
The photographer and I went into the chicken yard, and the chickens gathered around casting hopeful looks at my hands. I almost never step foot into the chicken yard without a treat for them (even if it’s just a handful of cracked corn), so they’ve come to expect that. I had nothing for them – it hadn’t occurred to me to grab something for them on my way out – and they figured that out pretty quickly and then scattered to scratch and peck at the ground.
Flappy McGee, skittish on the best of days, was as far from me as she could possibly get, casually scratching and pecking at the ground over near the back of the chicken yard.
“Chickchickchick,” I called, which is usually enough to get them to all come and gather around me. They all gathered around me again, except for Flappy, who shot me a knowing look and continued to scratch and peck.
I calmly walked in her general direction, and she high-tailed it for the other side of the chicken yard.
“Chickchickchick,” I said.
“Which one is it?” the photographer asked. I pointed her out.
“Your husband said it might be hard to get hold of her,” the reporter said.
“Yeah, she’s a little… high-strung,” I understated. I continued trying to get within grabbing distance of Flappy. She feinted left, I went left, she ran right. I chased her across the yard, and she ducked under the coop. “You… BRAT,” I said in exasperation. Flappy peeked out from under the coop, saw that I wasn’t close enough to grab her, and ran across the yard.
I walked over to the covered can sitting under the chicken rain shelter, and grabbed a handful of chicken feed.
“Chickchickchick,” I said. Chickens flocked around me hopefully. I scattered feed on the ground, and they went to work, grabbing it up as fast as I could scatter it. From the very edge of the flock, Flappy McGee glared suspiciously at me. I slowly, casually edged around the flock, and she ran back under the coop.
In my head I cursed her with every bad word I could think of. Twice. Out loud, I just shrugged at the photographer. Flappy peeked out from under the coop then zipped up the ramp and into the coop.
“Oh!” I said. “I bet I can get hold of her in the coop!”
I shut the door to the coop so she couldn’t get out, and then I opened the front door and stepped inside. The photographer hovered in the doorway. Flappy eyed me. I moved toward her. She feinted right. I moved right. She zipped around me and out the door.
“UGH!” I yelled. The photographer laughed.
I went back out and followed Flappy around the yard. I grabbed more feed. The other chickens gathered about, but Flappy wouldn’t come near me.
“If we could just get a picture where you and the hen are in the same frame,” the photographer said. “That would work.”
“Let me go in and get some cracked corn, they really like that,” I said. She nodded.
As I left the chicken yard, the reporter said “What did you think when your husband showed you that egg?”
I stopped and thought about it for a moment. “I think I said… That poor chicken! That egg was huge, I was worried about her!” And then I babbled some more and headed inside the house to get some cracked corn.
Back in the chicken yard with a cup of cracked corn, I crouched down and tried to coax Flappy closer. She’d have none of it. The other chickens thought they were in hog heaven, and gathered around me, eating the cracked corn as I sprinkled it on the ground.
I held out a hand full of cracked corn, and Frick ran over and started eating out of my hand.
“Is that the one?” the reporter called out.
“No, but it’s the same kind as the one who laid the egg!” I said back.
“So no one would know the difference?” he asked.
“No one but us!”
After a few more pictures, the photographer said she thought she had enough shots, and they thanked me and left.
“I hate you,” I said to Fred, having immediately called him when I got back inside the house.
“I’m sensing a theme here.”
“That chicken wouldn’t let me get ANYWHERE near her!”
Fred laughed. “I told him you probably wouldn’t be able to hold her.”
“Yeah, I called her ‘high-strung.'”
We talked for a few more minutes, and then I told him to let me know if he heard anything from the reporter.
This morning, I puttered around the house for most of the morning, clearing the junk off the dining room table (we tend to pile stuff up there, because we NEVER eat at the table anymore) and decluttering the computer room a little bit. Finally, around 11 I left the house to head for town to go to Big Lots and stop by the grocery store.
In the grocery store, I wandered around looking for the local newspaper. They were hiding it over by the pharmacy, and when I picked up the paper, I about fainted dead away.
ABOVE the fold, baby. Britney only WISHES she got coverage like THAT.
I grabbed several copies of the newspaper and went to stand in the checkout line. When it was my turn, the cashier grabbed the top paper and scanned it.
“Do you know you have two copies – well, more than that, I guess.” She counted the number of papers, then looked questioningly at me.
“That’s me on the front page,” I confessed, face glowing bright red. “You probably don’t recognize me with my eyes all the way open.”
She smiled and read the article. Then she called another cashier over, and then they called the manager over. They read the paper and then looked at me with approval.
“That’s pretty neat!” my cashier said. I smiled and nodded and paid and left before I actually burst into flames.
I read the paper, and then I called Fred.
“We sound like the biggest hicks on earth. We were sort of creeped out!” I quoted him, putting a thick redneck accent on it as I spoke. “I thought to myself, ‘Ouch!’ Oh my god, we sound like the biggest idiots.
Fred laughed. “Hey, this is the sort of thing the big news outlets pick up as a human interest story. Maybe CNN will call!”
“Yeah, I’ll let YOU pose for THAT picture,” I said. “I look like an idiot.”
The picture, if you must see.
As the day went on, I occasionally called Fred and read parts of the article to him. We quoted it to each other with thick southern country accents.
“We should totally record ourselves acting out the article,” I said. It took some convincing, but finally he agreed to it. After about thirty different takes, most of which I managed to mess up by laughing like a goon, we got a usable recording. Fred’s a much better redneck than I am – I started off okay in my quote, but then I veered off into the general voice I use when I’m imitating an idiot. Which I guess is still pretty apropos.
(Note from 2018: I took the wav file and put it in a video with random chicken pictures so I could upload it to YouTube. Also, we changed the name of our town (when reading it) to Smallville and the name of our road so that it would be a little harder to stalk us – not realizing that all you’d need to do to find the article was Google “Flappy McGee monster egg.”)
(Also, we recorded this using an old camcorder – remember, it was TEN YEARS AGO – so the sound isn’t the greatest.)
Previously
2007: No entry. 2006: That is an amazing and scintillating fact, right there.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry. 2003: Y’know, sometimes I wonder how I make it through the world, clueless as I am. 2002: Her portly butt probably cut off the circulation to something important. 2001: I should have her arrested. 2000: Work was just heavenly today.
