Author: Robyn

someone is a bastard and likes to pee up the side of the box, the litter boxes need to be taken outside and scrubbed vigorously – when the spud harassed me for the 34,986th time about making an appointment to have her hair cut. I finally forced myself to sit down and call and make the appointment – for 11:00 – and then scrambled to finish cleaning the laundry/ litter box room, and the master bathroom (which was getting nasty ’cause it’s been a few weeks since I’ve cleaned in there). I not only did all that, I also vacuumed the entire upstairs before I had to jump in the shower and get ready to go. Luckily, I’m a low-maintenance girl, and can go from shower to dressed and ready to go in about 15 minutes. I dropped the spud off at the hair salon and ran to Wal-Mart to buy some ear plugs. Then I went to Amoco to fill up the gas tank, and was back at the hair salon within half an hour. I cooled my heels for ten minutes or so, read the February 2001 issue of GQ (oh, that Edward Burns!), and then paid for the spud’s hair cut. On a side note, I think that that particular hair salon is on the edge of going out of business – there was only one person working, and a sign out front advertising booths for rent. I decided, since we were out already, to go to Sam’s and get a short list of stuff. Once we got there, we were wandering across the store toward the gum and candy aisle (we’re some gum-chewing fools around here) when an elderly gentleman hailed me. “Excuse me,” he said, with a large smile. I stopped and politely said “Yes?” He pointed at me, and then at the spud. “Which of you is the mother and which is the daughter?” he asked, still smiling. It took a moment to sink in, and then I laughed and resumed walking. He appeared to be QUITE proud of himself for that one. We were finally in line waiting to check out when another elderly gentleman walked toward my cart. Thinking he wanted to go around me, I pulled my cart back, but he put his hand on the edge of it and struck up a conversation about the shrimp I was buying. It was a short conversation, because to my knowledge, there are two simple ways to answer the question “Is that shrimp good?”, and I answered in the affirmative, not once but twice, sounding (I’m sure) like a big dork. By the time we got home, it was time for lunch, and the rest of the afternoon was spent in an orgy of laziness – in other words, the usual. * * * Thus far today I have spent many many MANY hours cleaning the floors in the downstairs portion of the house. I love the fact that we have hardwood floors in the library and foyer, but I hate the fact that I haven’t once been able to get them polished decently since we moved in over a year ago. Mopping leaves them streaked, and wet kitty toes leave them kitty-toed, and no matter what I’ve tried, they’ve remained streaked, even after I ran the Floormate over it. So I was resigned to streaky, unpolished-looking floors, until last week when I spied a bottle of Orange Glo Wood Floor Polish and Cleaner. After much thought, I decided to go for it, and bought the bottle. Then it sat under the sink for a week or so, until today. After running the Floormate over all the floors downstairs, I watched ER and waited for the floors to dry. Then I used the Orange Glo on the hardwood floors, and when it had dried, I saw that it was good. I mean, the floors aren’t going to be mistaken for new or anything, but it looks amazing compared to how it used to look. Two thumbs up to the Orange Glo. * * * This is a mighty exciting entry, isn’t it? Could I be any more interesting? Should I do an entry about watching paint dry, or what? * * * I rented Jason X and Kissing Jessica Stein today. Actually, before I rented the movies I looked for them at Movie Gallery, the movie store closest to our house, and thus the preferred store. I found Kissing Jessica Stein, but didn’t see Jason X anywhere. I stood in line to ask if they HAD it behind the counter, but after waiting several minutes at the end of a non-moving, very long line, I got pissed, put Jessica Stein back on the shelf, and headed for Hollywood Video, which is about a five minute drive. The entire way there I composed a letter in my head about the shoddy, crappy service at Movie Gallery, and how the movies are NEVER on the fucking shelf on the day they come out, and it’s getting MIGHTY FUCKING OLD. At Hollywood Video, I found Jessica Stein easily, again, but couldn’t seem to locate Jason X. I looked at all the movies that started with J, and saw it nowhere. I was about to ask the clerk (the good thing about Hollywood Video is that it’s rarely crowded during the week), when I passed the movies that start with G, and saw it sitting there. My snarky comment – I was actually going to sing the alphabet song, and ask which alphabet the people who work at Hollywood Video go by – was removed from my brain when the clerk asked if I was a Jason fan. “Hee!” I said. “Hahahahah! Uh, NO! It’s not for ME.” And it’s not – it’s for Fred and the spud. While they watch that craptastic movie, I’ll be upstairs watching Life with Bonnie and Less Than Perfect – neither of which I’ve seen, but about which I’ve heard good things. Even watching paint dry would be better than watching Jason X, I’m certain.]]>

this just leave me speechless. If I had a million dollars, I’d buy a huge piece of land in the country, and I would build huge insulated barns, and I would adopt every cat and dog I could, and I would care for them, and I would let people adopt them from me, and I would make them sign a contract agreeing to the condition that I could randomly drop by their house to see how that animal was being cared for. But I could adopt and house and care for a million cats and dogs, and it wouldn’t even be a drop in the bucket. For the love of god, people. Spay and neuter your dogs and cats. If I had a trillion dollars, I’d pay to have them spayed and neutered myself. * * * Attention, Tubby-lovers! If you haven’t seen it yet, Fred put up a bunch of pictures of the Tubster, here – toward the bottom of the page. Enjoy, you weirdos! * * * He also got some good pictures of Miz Poo. I don’t know why on earth she insists on cramming herself into the most uncomfortable-looking positions on earth, but she consistently does it. You are, by the way, forbidden to notice the pile of dust bunnies laying on the floor in front of the bookcase.]]>

Well! I thought to myself. At least he ADMITS it. I mean, I’m not surprised, but it’s good that he’s confessing the truth to the world! The deejay continued. “Reid pled guilty to the eight counts against him, which included attempted use of a weapon of mass destruction, attempted homicide, and placing an explosive device on an aircraft.” Which is when I realized I was thinking of Ralph Reed, not Richard Reid. Common mistake, I’m sure. * * * This is my kind of evil. * * * Big, bad thanks to Heather, who sent me – from my wish list – Hallmarks of Felinity. God, it’s funny as hell. I highly recommend it! Check this out, too. * * * I went and fed and poop-scooped for the cats at the pet store this morning. Fred went with me, since he’d done it before, and he actually fed the cats while I scooped the poop. I forgot what a pain in the butt it is to actually scoop out litter boxes, instead of using the handy-dandy sifter system we have going for ours. It was cool – all the cats there are adolescent-aged, and except for the escapee who hid under the cages and had to be dragged out kicking and hissing, they were all pretty well-behaved. I didn’t take much time to hug and love on any of them, because Fred was eager to get to work. When I start with my regular day next week, maybe I’ll get a chance to do some kitty-lovin’. * * * 1. What size shoe do you wear? 9 wide. 2. How many pairs of shoes do you own? I’ll estimate that I own 6 or 7 pairs of shoes. I’m not a big shoe person, but I do have certain shoe needs. 3. What type of shoe do you prefer (boots, sneakers, pumps, etc.)? Sandals during warm weather, because they’re comfortable and easy to slip on. During the winter, I wear my black leather Keds. 4. Describe your favorite pair of shoes. Why are they your favorite? My blue slide-on sandals. They’re my favorite ’cause they’re easy to put on, and because they’re comfortable. I’m not one of those women who will wear 6″ heels because they look good. In fact, the one pair of heels I have are about 1″ high, and I haven’t worn them since we went to Fred’s grandmother’s funeral in the summer of 2001. 5. What’s the most you’ve spent on one pair of shoes? A little more than $100, I think, on a pair of New Balance sneakers. I can’t fathom regularly spending hundreds of dollars on shoes. Hundreds of dollars on books? That I can understand. * * * Tubby and Spanky in the midst of a confab at the top of the stairs. And Spanky gets so excited he needs to go sniff Tubby’s ass. Tubby isn’t sure how he feels about that. If you look closely, you can see how badly Tubby needs to be brushed.]]>

Does this look comfortable to you? * * * Best wishes to reader Aly, who will be walking in the Atlanta 3-Day this weekend. Here’s hoping that the rain just blows on by! * * * Have I mentioned that my parents, my sister, and my nephew are talking about coming to Alabama for Christmas? It’ll depend on whether my mother can get the time off. My mother is just dying to get the hell out of Dodge over Christmas – for years she’s been saying she was just going to go away for the holidays and everyone else – my grandmother and uncle – could just take care of themselves. She’s tired of cooking all kinds of food to only have my grandmother be uninterested in eating. Anyway, I should know more this weekend, if not before. It would be kinda cool if they could do it – and the spud and Brian wouldn’t have to go an entire 10 months before seeing each other again. * * * During the eternal days of rain we suffered through last week, I happened to glance out the window at our bird feeders. Apparently the rain and humidity had caused some growth: Yesterday, when I went to empty out the feeders to clean them and refill them with clean seed, I found that both feeders were ROOT-BOUND, and I was unable to empty them. Because the feeders are a few years old, I figured they’d done their tour of duty and tossed them in the trash. Later, since I needed a few other things, I ran to Target, with the intention of buying a couple of bird feeders on my way out. After going all OVER the store and being unable to find them, I had to stop and actually think about it. “Where,” I asked myself, “Are the bird feeders at Wal-Mart?” I thought a good long time, smoke coming out of my ears. “Oh yeah… by the dog and cat food. Does it not, then, stand to reason that the bird feeders in Target might be near the pet supplies?” And they were. So I stood in the aisle, looking for feeders just like our old ones, and when I thought I had found them, I was aghast. “TWENTY-FIVE dollars for a bird feeder?” I said to myself. “I think NOT!” And as I looked closer, I noticed that the feeder was just like our old ones, but didn’t have the little seed-catching/ platform thing on the bottom. And we have big, fat doves who love to come eat from our feeders, and without the platform thing, there would be no way for them to partake of the yummy seed, because they’re very big and heavy, and couldn’t possibly balance on the tiny little stick-things that the smaller birds can easily sit on. I stood in the aisle for perhaps five minutes, looking at each and every kind of bird feeder, trying to decide what to do. I wasn’t willing to spend much more than ten dollars per bird feeder, and some of the prices were just ridiculous. I thought and fumed and considered, and then I decided I would just haul my ass to Wal-Mart, because I knew for sure that they had the right kind of feeders. And as I turned, I saw it. Directly in front of me, was the exact kind of feeder I wanted, on sale for just under $11. It had been there the entire time, but I just hadn’t seen it, despite the fact that I’d made a point of carefully looking at each and every feeder at least twice. I hate it when that happens. * * * Spanky is the Lance Bass of our family. Lights? On. Yet no one is home. * * * I’m kind of excited about tomorrow. See, there’s a no-kill shelter in Madison – they have mainly cats – and they’re in partnership with one of the pet stores in the area, wherein the pet stores keep several cats in cages so that people can come in and fall in love with them and want to adopt them. There are volunteers who go to the pet store each morning and evening to feed the cats and scoop out their litter boxes. Fred went and did it on Monday, and said that I should volunteer to do it as well. So I emailed the lady who runs the shelter and asked if they needed any volunteers to help out, and she said that starting next week one of their regular volunteers would no longer be doing [censored so that stalkers won’t know when to find me] mornings, and if I wanted, I could take over. Oh, and their usual Friday morning person was going to be out of town this week, so could I cover that as well? So I’m going to, and of course the best part of this whole experience will be neither the feeding nor the scooping, but rather the petting and hugging. I’ll let you know how it goes. * * * Fred took this incredibly good picture of Tubby, and I stole it. So there!]]>

to click on, no to happily answer my query, no ten zillion pieces of spam waiting for me each and every morning, no journals and forums to read, no Snood to play… No nothin’. How, if I needed to know the name of that song on Felicity, would I ever have figured it out in 1995? I know I would have, could have, because when I needed to know something I was very resourceful, and I can’t remember a single question that, in the long run, ever went unanswered, but I’m at a loss to know how I would have done it. * * * Another song that breaks my heart every time I hear it is This Woman’s Work, sung by Kate Bush. I can’t hear it without thinking of Jake standing outside the delivery room, tears running down his face. * * * I mean no disrespect to anyone who finds such things helpful, but whenever I read a book and find that there is a helpful “reading group guide” at the end, I find that I roll my eyes so hard I can’t quite see straight for the rest of the day. * * * Big, BIG thanks to reader Lexie, who sent me the Josh Groban cd from my notify list. I’ve been listening to – and enjoying it – all morning long. Thanks, Lexie! Yesterday was a really good mail day for me – aside from the cd I got, I also got Mil Millington‘s Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About, which is only available in the UK right now, so that’s where I ordered it from. In fact, I pre-ordered it months ago, and as soon as I’m done reading A Thousand Acres, I’m going to dive into that. I have to admit, I feel a certain kinship with Margret. What woman doesn’t? Fred and I also got a big box of books (my favorite kind of mail!) from Amazon. We had a little extra money a few weeks ago, and decided to split it on an Amazon order. Fred took random items off my wish list, ordered stuff for himself, and then placed the order. Because we opted for the free shipping option, once the order was placed and filled, Amazon sent the box to a super-secret location so that people could stick it on a shelf and leave it there for six months before actually sending it our way. But I’m not complaining, really I’m not. Because I have, in my hot little hands (well, upstairs on the bookcase, which is practically the same thing) Crime School, by Carol O’Connell, starring my beloved Mallory. So many good books, so little time. * * *

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Poor Kato! I was disappointed, to tell the truth, that David (Bud Bundy) Faustino was the only one to step up and have his head shaved – I would have liked to see Coolio with no hair, though they did shave his face. But we’re talkin’ CELEBRITIES, here, and I’m SURE it was written into the contract that they couldn’t make them shave their heads. Nikki Schieler Ziering wasn’t the brightest bulb in the lamp, but I found myself liking her, anyway. The surprise, really, was Coolio and Lorenzo Lamas. I ended up not caring for Coolio at ALL, due to his attitude (kick his ass, Rosenbaum!). (And it was obvious Coolio didn’t watch the first Boot Camp and see the shit-fit McSweeney had over the mint, or he wouldn’t have tried to smuggle that muffin from the chow hall.) Lorenzo Lamas, on the other hand, had some real leadership potential, which I never would have expected. I think my favorite moment of all was when everyone got a one-minute call home, and Kato MISDIALED the number and got a stranger’s answering machine. Instead of hanging up and re-dialing, he LEFT A ONE-MINUTE MESSAGE ON THE ANSWERING MACHINE. Damn was that funny. Kato’s not terribly bright, but he is infinitely likeable. * * * Only a week and a half, and I’ll be in Gatlinburg, y’all! I’m way too excited about that… * * *

Sooooo Fancy!]]>

In a Sunburned Country, and loving it. It makes me want to pack up and move to Australia right this very minute, and I’m only halfway through the book! Hell, I’ve already been all over realestate.com.au (just for fun, you understand – I’m thinking I could never convince Fred to drop everything and move to the other side of the world, the unadventurous bastard). * * * 1. What are your favorite ways to relax and unwind? I’m pretty much in a constant state of relaxation and unwound-ness, but I would say that sitting in the chair in the corner of my bedroom ranks pretty high, as does sitting and watching TV with Fred. Any time I can wander around without a bra on, basically. 2. What do you do the moment you get home from work/school/errands? Kick off my shoes, and check my email. 3. What are your favorite aromatherapeutic smells? Yankee Candles Buttercream candles. Nothing in the world smells as good to me as those things – I used to love vanilla-scented candles until I found the Buttercream ones, and now nothing else compares. 4. Do you feel more relaxed with a group of friends or hanging out by yourself? By myself or just hanging out with Fred. Fred doesn’t care whether I EVER wear a bra, but I’d feel weird not wearing one around other people. 5. What is something that you feel is relaxing but most people don’t? Maybe cross-stitching? * * * For reader Lena, who specifically requested them, and ALL you Tubby lovers out there: I think this is one of the best pictures I’ve ever taken of Tubby. It looks grainy because I didn’t use a flash and had to use Paint Shop Pro to lighten it, but I still really like it. Tubby, snoozing on the bed. * * * And, of course, pictures of other cats, since I had the camera out: Miz Poo, caught in mid-turnaround. Spanky snoozing, and Spot keeping a wary eye on me. ]]>

Thank god Fred picked out the BIG freezer, huh? * * * Fred recently got a letter from a literary agent. Almost always when the mail comes, Fred’s still at work, and I call him and say “You got mail. Want me to open and read it to you?” And because he can’t stand to wait ’til he gets home, he always lets me. This particular letter was littered with misspellings and missing words. The funny thing, of course, is that this agent’s website has a bit on it about how important proofreading is. I’m so very tempted to correct the letter with a red pen and send it back to her, but I don’t guess that would be the best thing to do to an agent you’re hoping will represent your husband’s book. We have no guarantee that she has any kind of sense of humor, so doing that might just piss her off. But it’s still tempting. * * * Spot finally got fed up with all the rain keeping him in the house, and so he went out the cat door and sat on the outside window ledge, which is mostly protected from rain as long as it comes straight down. Miz Poo did not approve. * * * This would be an example of Spot spazzing when he’s out laying in the yard and we go out back to do something. He runs like hell for the cat door, like he’s not supposed to be out there. It’s ironic that it took Spot so long to start using the cat door, and now he’s outside more than any other cat, including Fancypants. Wait. Is that true irony, or just Alanis irony? It’s been too long since my college English courses… * * * Miz Poo sure does love her Momma…]]>

Firm tape, I feel like my brain is leaking out my ears. * * * So, you know the sound wet sneakers make on a hardwood floor, that annoying, high-pitched squeak? That’s the exact sound that Spot makes when he meows (I think I’ve mentioned the story behind his weird meow before, but here it is in a nutshell: he showed up as a kitten outside Fred’s door several years ago (before Fred and I met), and sat outside the door howling and howling and howling until he ruined his “voice”, and ever since it’s been a weird, squeaky non-meow). He just came in through the cat door, and is sitting behind me making that noise incessantly. Something about having someone see him come through the cat door really bothers him, like he thinks he’s not supposed to be out there. Anytime he’s out there when we wander out to do something in the back yard, he high-tails it for the cat door and skedaddles inside. Our cats. Such freaks. Oh. Actually, I guess he DIDN’T just come through the cat door. It’s raining like hell out there, and he isn’t wet. I guess he’s complaining about the fact that he can’t go out there due to the rain. I mean, he COULD go out there, but you know how it is with cats and the whole getting wet thing. * * * Speaking of cats, if you were a portly Poo and you wanted to lay comfortably somewhere, and you had the run of the entire house, including a cozy loveseat and a pillow in the corner of your Momma’s desk, put there especially for you, where would you choose to curl up and snooze? That’s right. Directly in front of the keyboard so that your Momma couldn’t do that annoying “typing” on the “keyboard” and annoy you. All she could do is maybe reach around you to use the mouse. Because she’s far too nice to dump your portly ass on the floor, where you belong. * * * I was reading Jennifer Weiner’s blog yesterday, and followed a link to an article, wherein I was struck by the picture of Anna Quindlen set to the side. Anna Quindlen has got herself some crazy, twirling eyes. Those are some serial killer eyes, y’all. You don’t want to mess with Anna Quindlen, ’cause with eyes like that, you know she’ll fuck you up without batting an eyelash.]]>