Have you met Rhyme? Gorgeous, stripey, lovebug Rhyme? Rhyme with a ‘tude. Rhyme is an incredibly sweet, good-natured boy. When Fred sits in the living room in the evening, Rhyme snuggles up next to him and just purrs. He’s friendly – no shrinking violet, our Rhyme. A friend stopped by one evening last week, and … Continue reading “11/3/10 – Kitteh Wednesday!”
Have you met Rhyme?
Gorgeous, stripey, lovebug Rhyme?
Rhyme with a ‘tude.
Rhyme is an incredibly sweet, good-natured boy. When Fred sits in the living room in the evening, Rhyme snuggles up next to him and just purrs. He’s friendly – no shrinking violet, our Rhyme. A friend stopped by one evening last week, and Rhyme caaaaasually strolled through the dining room, taking a look at the newcomer. He got closer to the stranger each time he passed through the room until he finally walked over and flopped onto his back, presenting his belly in case this man he’d never seen before might be overcome with the need to rub some kitty belly. He’s a giver, that Rhyme.
He’s a people lover and he’s a cat lover. He gets along with all the cats in our house (though he’s less interested in the kittens than he is in our adult cats), and can usually be found curled up next to another cat. Even Spanky, who has no use for other cats, puts up with him.
At bedtime, Rhyme climbs into bed between us and rolls around on his back. When I lay in bed and read, he drapes himself over my leg and purrs. When I turn the light off and turn onto my side, he stretches along the length of my leg and purrs me to sleep.
He’s a lovah – but he’s a playah, too. There’s nothing he loves as much as a good game of chase.
(He doesn’t even necessarily have to be the chaser – he’s just as happy to be the chasee!)
Sweet, friendly, gorgeous, with a touch of sass. How can you possibly resist?
Rhyme, as you know, needs a forever home. He’s fine here for now, but he really needs to be in a home where he’s not just one in a crowd of 16 (or 18, I guess, if you count Starsky and Hutch). If you or someone you know needs an awesome cat like Rhyme (who is almost 9 months old), please contact Challenger’s House, say “I want that kitteh!” and get started on the adoption process! What with Thanksgiving coming, Rhyme is watching lots of cooking shows. I hear he makes the finest cranberry sauce this side of the Mississippi. True story! (Okay, false story. Lack of opposable thumbs makes wielding that whisk just a little too difficult. But he’s working on it!)
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Previously
2009: No entry. 2008: Poet! Knowit! 2007: Newt was a total teeny baby this time last year – he was clearly NOT fully grown at that point, as this picture can attest. 2006: Maddy’s new Mommy and Daddy came a-visitin’ yesterday. 2005: Huh. I was wondering why Tom Cullen was snooping around in the stamp drawer 2004: The spud and I stood patiently by while the man chattered at the school employees for several minutes and then my head exploded, scattering brain matter everywhere. 2003: “Jessica Lynch!” I said. “Isn’t she the only POW we’ve ever had in all of history?”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry. 1999: She went in and treated the whole office to a very loud gagging sound (she gets that from her mother), and came out a few minutes later a little less green.
Attention, viewers of Sister Wives – there was a Sister Wives special on Sunday night. I didn’t know about it and my DVR didn’t catch it, Amy just happened to mention it on Facebook, and I ran downstairs to see that I’d missed the first 45 minutes of it. Luckily, it was on again a … Continue reading “11/2/10 – Tuesday”
Attention, viewers of Sister Wives – there was a Sister Wives special on Sunday night. I didn’t know about it and my DVR didn’t catch it, Amy just happened to mention it on Facebook, and I ran downstairs to see that I’d missed the first 45 minutes of it. Luckily, it was on again a few hours later, so I set it up to tape. It’s on again Wednesday night, and so are all the shows. I actually missed show #6 (where Christine stormed off the set), so I’ll be taping that to watch, even though I think I’ve seen it all through the clips they showed on Oprah and the ones they showed on the special.
I watched the special yesterday, and it was interesting, though I certainly didn’t learn anything new. The whole idea of polygamy still boggles my mind (did I mention I don’t like to share?), and all the women seem likable enough (Christine seems a bit high maintenance), though I do wonder why on earth they took up with Kody, who I think wants to come across as an affable dork but I believe has a bit of the asshole about him.
Here’s a note to all men with receding hairlines – growing your hair long and poufing it out does not, you may be amazed to hear, disguise your receding hairline. Cut your damn hair short and embrace your receding hairline, goddamnit.
Sister Wives has been signed for a second season, and you know I’ll be there with bells on.
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Not only was Sunday Halloween, it was also our 12th anniversary. To be honest, if sweet reader Loretta hadn’t sent me an e-card Saturday night, I probably would have gotten to about mid-day Sunday before I remembered. We don’t, I guess you can tell, make a big deal about it most years. We went up to Tennessee to the Dog Days Flea Market, came home, hung around, had meatloaf and mashed potatoes for Sunday dinner, I did laundry, Fred took a nap on the couch, and we snuggled with kittens.
A pretty good way to spend our anniversary, if you ask me.
I suggested to Fred that we start saving up to go somewhere special for our 15th anniversary. The last time I started saving to go somewhere for our anniversary – our 10th – I had a nice amount socked away, and then we bought this house. We ended up spending all of that savings I’d put away on renovating the house, and I certainly don’t regret that. This house ended up being a good 10th anniversary gift to ourselves!
I’d love to go to Scotland or Australia for our 15th anniversary, but I think I’d be lucky to get Fred out of the state, let alone the country. Maybe I could talk him into a trip to the Northwest. Or Canada! (Yeah, it’s another country, but it’s not THAT far.)
I do love my Canoodlians.
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Saturday, we went to Big Lots to see if they had It (the TV miniseries from 20 years ago) on DVD (Fred’s rereading the book, and has become obsessed with seeing the miniseries again), and while we were there, I wandered over to look at the Halloween section. All the Halloween stuff was half price, so I bought a few things. Then when we got home, I tossed the Halloween stuff on the counter and ignored it, as is my way.
Then late Sunday, I set up a fancy studio and began snapping pictures. Please do not be jealous of my fancy photo studio.
Apparently the best way to get a picture of a kitten wearing a hat is to wait ’til the kitten falls asleep and place the hat on his head so gently that he doesn’t realize it’s there. I’ll be keeping that in mind for next year.
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You know who I hardly ever get pictures of, and who is the sweetest, friendliest, most adoptable, should-be-snatched-up-in-10-seconds-flat cat in (temporary) residence? Rhyme, that’s who. I’m going to remedy that this week. In fact, maybe I can get enough awesome pictures of his awesome self for tomorrow’s post, and maybe someone will be mindlessly surfing the internet and stumble across the post about him, fall instantly in love, and set about adopting him.
Wouldn’t that be cool?
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Loony Jake seems none the worse for wear after being shoved into that chicken costume. Over at Flickr, Christy called him “El Pollo Loco”, and I laughed out loud.
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Previously 2009: “I heard they was servin’ chocolate pudding at the Senior Center. Outta my WAY!”
2008: No entry. 2007: How’sabout you win us $100 billion in the lottery and we’ll negotiate the terms after that, foolio!
2006: No entry. 2005: He’s a class act, that Vincent Gallo 2004: “Squee!” it reiterated. “Squee! Squee! Squee!”
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry. 2001: Is it just me, or do you get pissed off when you’re the victim of unexpected pain?
2000: No entry. 1999: Damn that Halloween candy!
New month, new banner! Another one by Christine, who saved my bacon once again. Thanks, Christine! You rock, as usual. 🙂 + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + The 2011 calendars are now available! I’ll link them at the top of … Continue reading “11/01/10 – Monday”
New month, new banner! Another one by Christine, who saved my bacon once again.
Thanks, Christine! You rock, as usual. 🙂
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The 2011 calendars are now available!
I’ll link them at the top of this week’s entries, and there are links in the sidebar to the right ——->
The sidebar links will remain until the end of the year – or until I remember to take them down, which means they very well might be there ’til March.
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Attention, readers in SE Texas and SW Louisiana!
From Metz:
My friend Brinn who lives in Texas is trying to find a new home for her kitty Sheba. The whole story is on a blog post of mine, so you don’t have to take up too much of your space just maybe a quick shout out and link to her story. It is really breaking her heart to do this, Brinn is a super sweet girl and she loves all of her pets so much. But she’s just not able to keep Sheba any more and wants to find the best possible home for her.
So, remember two months ago when I felt like I had food poisoning for a couple of days, and then I had digestive issues for another week, and I lost 15 pounds in something like 10 days? And then I went to the doctor, and they did a fecal (or whatever it’s called for humans) and found nothing, so referred me to my gastroenterologist, setting the appointment for a month later?
And then after I lost that 15 pounds, I gained it all back plus a couple of pounds, and then I lost 10 pounds and gained 8 back, and just imagine the needle on the scale bouncing back and forth before settling pretty much where it was in the very beginning before the “food poisoning” (or whatever it was).
So at the end of September, I went to see my gastroenterologist, and he came in and gave me a look and was all “Hasn’t it been a while since I last saw you?” and I was all “Yeah, I was supposed to see you last Fall but, uh, I forgot.” and he grabbed that rubber hammer that they use to check your reflexes and pretended like he was going beat me with it.
“Please tell me someone has been monitoring this stuff,” he begged. “This stuff” meaning my liver function levels.
“Uh… not so much,” I said.
He grabbed the rubber hammer again and pretended to beat me with it again.
So, bottom line (har HAR), since I was diagnosed with Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis, the digestive issues I had in August could potentially have been the onset of colitis (most times people who are diagnosed with PSC actually present with colitis before the PSC is discovered) and guess what? OH GO ON, GUESS WHAT. What’s the one thing you expect a gastroenterologist to order which is also the last thing you WANT him to order?
That’s right, it was COLONOSCOPY TIME! WOOHOO!
But do they do the colonoscopy right then to get it over with? Well, no. Because your digestive system has to be squeaky clean before they can go spelunking in your colon. And do they do the colonoscopy, oh, the next week? No, no, no. They do not. What they do is they schedule the test at the next available time, and of course that next available time is a month away. So they schedule you on September 30th for a colonoscopy to take place on October 29th so that YOUR ENTIRE MONTH has a I-am-going-to-have-a-colonoscopy cloud hanging over it. My entire month of October was covered in a slight film of oh-christ-why-me mixed 50/50 with a dusting of fucking-a-jesus-christ-i-don’t-wanna.
And the people you know who have had colonoscopies in the past are always reassuring and tell you that it’s no big deal, and I believed that completely, but I still didn’t want to have it done.
Let me take a step back for a moment to inform you that when I was 15, I had a tumor on my right knee. They didn’t know until the tumor was out and went to the lab whether it was cancerous or not (it was not). You know how in Final Destination, the kid beats Death, but in the end Death comes around and gets everyone who escaped him the first time around? That’s kind of how I feel about cancer – it swung and missed when I was 15, but sooner or later it’ll be back for real. Maybe when I’m 42, maybe when I’m 58, maybe when I’m 75, who knows? So I can tell you that I pretty much expected the colonoscopy to show a big, raging tumor. And the thought didn’t scare me, because it would just be another thing to mark off the checklist, and I could stop waiting for that shoe to drop.
What scared me? The idea that I’d be awake during the colonoscopy. That they’d dose me with something like Versed, and that I’d be lucid during the procedure and say something obnoxious. Because someone who would be, um, present during the procedure might bear a resemblance (to me) to that goddamn Muppet reporter, and I WAS TERRIFIED I WAS GOING TO BLURT IT OUT DURING THE PROCEDURE.
So anyway, the colonoscopy was scheduled for Friday at 2. Thursday dawned, and I woke up starving to death, but had to stick to a clear diet for the day – broth, Jello, popsicles – and since I don’t like any of that stuff, I opted to not eat anything at all. Thursday evening came, and I mixed up the prep and started drinking it. The prep – MoviPrep, it’s called – is this powder you mix with water that gives you a lemon-lime flavored liquid that smells very familiar (I still don’t know what it reminded me of – lemon Mr. Clean, perhaps). You have to drink 1 quart over the course of an hour (8 ounces every 15 minutes), then five hours later, you repeat it.
I got the first 8 ounces down, but after that the smell of the stuff was making me gag. I finally ended up plugging my nose to drink it, which worked well.
I thought for sure I’d be running for the bathroom every five minutes and huddling there in agony but – and is this due to my restructured digestive system? Perhaps. – it really wasn’t that bad. I’ve had a worse reaction from a day of eating too much fat.
I woke up Friday morning very thirsty and with a headache. The paperwork said that I could drink water up until 6 hours before the procedure, so I did.
All was fine until about 10:00. I canned a batch of chicken, I went out and picked tomatoes, I puttered around the house. But shortly after 10, my headache worsened and I got very nauseous. Laying down hurt my head, so I sat and watched the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and petted kittens and got up and walked around, then sat down and petted kittens some more. None of that helped. Fred got home from work and ate lunch, and at 12:30 we left for Madison.
(Have you ever noticed that when you’re very nauseous, no one ever wants to talk about anything but food? GAH.)
I checked in, and they had me in a bed in preop with an IV in place and four warm blankets on me by 1:20. Laying back hurt my head and made me more nauseated, so I sat up and asked Fred to rub my head, which helped the headache a little. I did ask the nurse if they could give me something for the headache – it hurt a fucking lot – and she said they’d call the doctor and ask him, but I never got anything.
They took me back right at 2:00, and my gastroenterologist popped in to ask if I had any questions. The nurse was prepping the room for the procedure, and I looked around at everything (you know they use an air compressor to blow up your colon because it’s all wrinkly? I swore to Fred that if I were lucid during the procedure I’d howl “I’m flying! I’M FLYYYYYYING!”), then they had me turn onto my left side, the nurse anesthesiologist told me I’d be out soon, and the next thing I knew they were wheeling me into recovery.
When they brought Fred back, I told him that I had started to come out from under anesthesia, and the nurse anesthesiologist had told me I’d be back to sleep in a minute. I have only the vaguest memory of that – and I don’t know if it’s a real memory or not, to be honest – but all in all I can tell you that:
1. I don’t remember a damn thing
2. It wasn’t bad at all.
I don’t particularly want to go through it again, but when the day comes that I have to have another one – hopefully in years and years – I’ll know what to expect.
The last time I looked at the clock before the procedure started, it was 2:20. At 3:20 we were in the car and on the way home. We stopped at the grocery store for a few things on the way home, and I was a tiny bit stumbly, but by the time we were home, I was okay. I made dinner, I canned the last batch of chicken, I did some laundry. I was absolutely fine – I didn’t even fall asleep during the movie we watched that night. I had a hard time falling asleep that night, but I woke up feeling fine, and I’ve been feeling great ever since.
The fact that I no longer have to dread the fucking colonoscopy had me almost giddy almost all weekend long, and I must have said “Thank god that’s over with!” about a hundred times.
Oh, and there was no raging tumor, no signs of colitis, no polyps. He took a few biopsies to test for something called microscopic colitis, just to be safe, and expects to have the results by the middle of the week. I expect it’ll show nothing, personally, but we’ll see.
And now you’re up to date on the state of my colon.
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Happy belated Halloween!
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When I was in TJ Maxx a few weeks ago, I saw something I could use to torture the cats with…
That’s Jake, by the way. He sure was good about being stuffed into a chicken costume!
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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry. 2007: “Bessie!” he said, waving his arm expansively. “Are you having a good anniversary so far?” 2006: I hope one of the little brats who took a handful of candy ended up with a slug, too. That’d serve ‘em right! 2005: And I don’t WANNA. 2004: Fuckin’ yawnsville.
2003: No entry. 2002: Bob Riley’s campaign strategy is to say “Nuh uh!” 2001: Did you know that they make foam cups in espresso size?
2000: No entry. 1999: Such appetizing topics, eh?
I took a relaxing bath one night with a bowl of sorbet, a glass of wine, and some votive candles. Percy the cat came to visit me and maybe get a taste of the People Soup. While he was sniffing around, he set his giant fluffy tail on fire and was completely unaware of this … Continue reading “10/29/10 – Friday”
I took a relaxing bath one night with a bowl of sorbet, a glass of wine, and some votive candles. Percy the cat came to visit me and maybe get a taste of the People Soup. While he was sniffing around, he set his giant fluffy tail on fire and was completely unaware of this and therefore quite confused and upset when I splashed him to extinguish him. He took off like his tail was on fire. I made my husband chase him down and make sure he was no longer on fire.
You would think I would have had privacy in the bathtub after that incident, but you would be wrong.
This comment made me laugh and laugh, probably because I could completely visualize it!
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I think I know why you don’t use that bathroom much. The proximity to the area where the magic happens makes it undesireable right? The guest bathroom at my last job was located about six feet behind my desk and if anyone made a larger “deposit”-OH MY gross!!!! One coworker was doing just that after lunch every freaking day until the boss had a little talk with him. He lived near by and started to go home for lunch. I couldn’t believe he had to be told not to do it.
I don’t use it to pee in either, actually – I think the problem is that it’s small and dark and kind of unfriendly looking. Even if I’m in the computer room and I suddenly have to pee like nobody’s business, I’ll almost always go to the hallway bathroom near the front of the house. Maybe if I decorated the little bathroom I’d use it more often. We have actually talked about turning that bathroom into a pantry, because it’s so seldom-used, but I’m sure that the instant we did so, we’d desperately need to have a third bathroom!
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Do I spy an orange belly that needs to be rubbed on Fred’s chair? The rule is in our house that if they show the belly, it MUST be rubbed.
(Please ignore the ripped-up portion of Fred’s desk chair. They don’t sharpen their claws on that chair anymore, but they did some serious damage to it. He needs a new chair.)
Indeed you do! And that’s Sugarbutt, who spends 60% of his time laying on his back waiting for someone to rub his belly. Sugarbutt is the happiest cat on earth, I swear.
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” told Fred I’d seen the shot across the bow” OK I’ve never heard that expression before…what does it mean? Also, I have two cats that are 6 years old an still like to suck on a blanket occasionally.
Gina explained better than I could have, I think:
Like a warning shot – the rest of the army is following behind so prepare for the masses that follow. War is on!
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I love the look of your house. And I have to giggle when you talk about deboning chickens (even when they hide under the turkey in the freezer) and swatting bugs and making jams and all that stuff and I think back to when I first started reading you (a gazillion years ago) and you were a squealing girly girl!
Oh, don’t you worry – there’s still plenty of squealing girly girl left in me. I’m just less patient than I used to be, so rather than squealing and insisting someone else squish the wasps, I do it myself – and then I shudder about it. 🙂
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I have some pictures of me with big glasses like that and I remember loving them and thinking I was so cool at the time! It’s fun to look back. Was your hair permed or was it natural?
Oh, my hair was permed, BIG time. This is what my hair looked like before I started perming – mostly straight, but with a bit of curl to it when it got long enough.
Age 10
Age 13ish
And then the perming began!
Junior prom
Senior picture
Age 18 1/2 or so. God bless the ’80s, I hope this kind of hair ridiculousness never returns.
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If “THE ALPACA IS SCREAMING” was a code phrase, he would NOT have bellowed it. It would have been said, somewhat curiously, in a normal tone of voice; And the reply would have been, “It’s wool is too long.” Then he might have said, “I’ll have to shear him soon.” Haven’t you watched any spy flicks lately?
But seriously, it does make me wonder what the hell is happening to his alpaca!
Good point! I did a quick Google and found that alpacas scream when they feel threatened, so maybe they’d been having a problem with predators, which would definitely explain his quick exit!
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I feel quite certain that if you sifted through the remains of TrailerDude’s home, you would find a journal that read:
“They keep feeding perfectly good cookies to those pigs. But do they bring a neighbor cookies? No.” and “How many damn cats do they have? Every time they open the door 4 different cats come out. Never the same 4 cats, though. What is going on over there?” and “Those chickens have a nicer home than I do! I wonder if they’d build a pen for me?”
I think you are absolutely right! (This made me LOL.)
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I just have to share my “Anderson dream” with you. Last night I had a dream that I was volunteering at your farm with a few others while you and Fred took a vacation. I was watching the chicks out in the yard and a flock of vultures (do vultures even fly in flocks??) was flying overhead and I knew they were after the chicks! I grabbed your leaf hands and scooped up the chicks and carried them to the barn. (in my dream you didn’t have chicken coops, you had this huge barn, with many different rooms. I left them in the main room with their mamas and went back outside because someone told me there was a goose with a broken wing wandering around and I knew if I could get him inside Fred would nurse him back to health. I found the goose and got him tucked into a room in the barn but then I couldn’t find the chicks and hens! I was wandering all around the barn looking for the maternity room and walked through the foster room which had spaces for all the kittens- the cookies, the Bookworms, The Wonkas and True Bloods were all there! THe next room was the foster dog room and there were all these people there hoping to adopt some of the animals but the volunteers were telling them they had to wait for you to get back from vacation so you could approve them. And for some strange reason there was this HUGE Elk staring into one of the barn windows!
How much do I love it when you guys have dreams about us? SO MUCH do I love it! And they always make me laugh.
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Hi Robyn, Although it can’t compare with your cute pices, here’s one you might like, a kitteh eating a banana (cute dog pics, too):
How do you “oven-fry” your tomatoes? Is that a Maine-thang? We are not from The South and don’t know any better so have only tried dredging them in cornmeal and frying them stovetop.
No, I don’t think Mainers eat fried green tomatoes that much. I oven fry them using this recipe. I much prefer them when they’re made properly, fried in oil on the stovetop, but they’re pretty good oven fried, too. Fred’s watching his girlish figure, so we try to keep the fat to a minimum ’round here.
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I didn’t catch if there were any screaming children on your flight(s). There were on my (six hour) flights BOTH WAYS. God hates me.
Nope, no screaming kids on the flight to Myrtle Beach. I find that screaming kids mostly only amuse me these days in a “Thank god that’s not me!” kind of way.
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My darling little (15 lbs) marmie boy is starting a new & nasty habit. He hisses at & then charges every kitty in sight! Including his sister that he never beat up before. Any suggestions on how to stop sweet boy from turning into a bully?
Good question, but I don’t have any good advice. Anyone else have advice on how to stop the bullying?
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Doesn’t Reacher look like one of Kara’s babies? I’m forgetting the name.
Good point, one that a couple of you mentioned. Kara’s baby boy River, who’s now known as Nate, could be Reacher’s twin. Here’s River/Nate from shortly before he went to his new home:
And here’s Reacher:
Maybe Kara’s just trying to figure out why Reacher looks so familiar!
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I have a crush on Reacher and I’m 46, what does that make me?!
Oh, I think “Cougar” still works! 🙂
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And oh the dishwasher – one place every kitten seems to love. I guess the food smells are the attraction. My question is do you do a headcount before you start it – because at our house, even though the cats are all big and you would see them in the dishwasher, Brad has to do a headcount every time he loads it (I am not that crazy – I can just look in the dishwasher to see that there are no cats there). At your house that would be a lot of counting!
I don’t do a headcount before I start the dishwasher – though I do glance inside just to be safe. The only time I do a headcount is in the evening when we bring the cats inside, and then I only double-check to make sure all the Bookworms are inside. I’m less worried about the older cats being locked outside, because they know if they come to the back door and bang at the cat door, we’ll hear them and let them in. I shudder to think what would happen if one of the Bookworms was locked outside overnight!
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Have you seen or heard of Caboodle Ranch, a shelter for cats? Google it, if not. It’s awesome!!
I’ve definitely heard of Caboodle Ranch – I love seeing the pictures, and I read the blog regularly. I think it’s amazing!
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You and Laurie both do an amazing job geting great kitty photos. I have often wondered what sort of magic or drugs (just kidding) you guys use! Of course there are probably 15 deleted photos for every good one. Keep them coming!
I can’t speak for Laurie, but there are definitely a large number of deleted pictures for every one I use. Thank god for digital cameras – can you imagine how much it would cost to have all those pictures developed? I saved over 2,000 pictures last year!
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When they’re relaxin’ at the house, are they still on Petfinder?
Oh yes, they’re still on Petfinder, still completely available for adoption. Don’t forget, you guys, if you know anyone in the Alabama/ Tennessee area who’s dying for an awesome cat, steer them this way! 🙂
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You know, Topher & Dorian (i.e. Mike & Gus) totally have the same fang toof thing going on. It’s adorable.
Does Corbett or Reacher drool while purring like Topher does?
They don’t drool while purring, no. But I do notice some step-sibling resemblances. When Buster complains about something, he reminds me so much of Mike/ Topher’s complaint meow that it always makes me stop and hug him. I don’t know if Gus/ Dorian still does this, but when he was little and he was eating, he’d lean low to get a piece of food, then sit up straight and eat it, lean low and get another piece of food, straighten up and eat it. Corbett does that, and it’s seriously cute. Also (as you’ll see below), Corbett doesn’t have quite the magnificent ear floof that Gus/ Dorian has, but he has some respectable ear floof going on!
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I love the way Reacher and Corbett are basically the same pattern, in different colors.
See? He’s got a little bit of ear floof going on!
Pretty Corbie.
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I was laying on the couch watching TV, Miz Poo beside me (as always), and Starsky wedged himself in between us, then promptly fell asleep.
Hutch likes “Grey’s Anatomy.”
Hutch, kneading and sucking on the blanket.
“Hi. Hi! HI! Belly rub, please?”
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Pretty Spanky.
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Previously 2009: The goddamn lady asian beetle invasion has begun. 2008: My poor Poo. 2007: I have no idea on earth how we’d ever tell if a chicken was insane, since they seem to lean toward The Crazy even when they’re (we assume) perfectly normal.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: In case you were wondering, we are officially Crazy Cat People. 2003: I always look like a fucking lunatic when I take my own picture. 2002: (Is it just me who always thinks of Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally saying “I would be pleased to partake of your pecan piiiiiiiiiiiiie” when I hear, say, or read the word “partake”?) 2001: (For the record, her verdict was that the real-life prostitutes were “creepy”.)
2000: No entry. 1999: And going blind would just suck.
Between Tuesday and yesterday, I got the 19 remaining chickens from the freezer in the garage (I originally thought there were 18, but found one hiding under a turkey) boiled and deboned. This house was like a motherfucking SAUNA with two pots on the stove boiling away merrily all day, two days in a row. … Continue reading “10/28/10 – Crooked Acres Thursday”
Between Tuesday and yesterday, I got the 19 remaining chickens from the freezer in the garage (I originally thought there were 18, but found one hiding under a turkey) boiled and deboned. This house was like a motherfucking SAUNA with two pots on the stove boiling away merrily all day, two days in a row. The whole house was warmer than usual, but you really felt the temperature difference when you walked into the kitchen. It must have been 20+ degrees warmer in the kitchen, even though I had the exhaust fan running and the ceiling fan in the kitchen going the entire time.
By the time I got to deboning chicken #19, I had it down to a very quick science. I’ll be able to do two batches of chicken in the pressure canner today and another two batches tomorrow, which should take care of it. I swear to god, I’ll never get this behind on canning chicken again!
(Except that I think we all know I WILL.)
I was going out to the garage to get the last two chickens from the freezer, took one step down from the stoop, and fucking SLIPPED AND FELL. This makes the second time I’ve fallen on those goddamn steps in three months. Last time I was wearing Crocs and blamed my fall on those. This time, I was wearing boots, meant for slippery conditions, and fell anyway. Needless to say, we’ll be visiting Lowe’s this weekend to find a way to make those steps less slippery. Next time, I could very easily break something and I’d really rather not.
Last time, I fell in a way that caused me to hit the edge of the steps with my ribs – luckily, I didn’t break any – but at least this time I fell straight onto the steps. I got a little scrape on my left ankle, thought I’d sprained my wrist a little (today, it’s fine), and I should end up with a spectacular couple of bruises on my ass. I got lucky, and I don’t want to press my luck again.
In between boiling, cooling, and deboning chicken, I used the vacuum cleaner to suck up at least 10 yellow jackets and hornets. Yep, it’s that time of year again. I’m trying to convince Fred that replacing the windows throughout the house would result in less sting-y buzzing insects coming inside, but he doesn’t seem too into the idea. I’ve reached the point now where I can be in the kitchen, the exhaust fan going on high, two pots of water boiling merrily, listening to Keith and the Girl on my mp3 player, and still hear the buzzy/crinkly-paper sound of a hornet hitting the window. If I see more than one of them, I grab the vacuum cleaner. If it’s just the one, I grab a piece of paper towel, grab it, and squeeze ’til I feel a popping sound.
You know you want my life.
I’m bracing for the yearly onslaught of asian lady beetles. Last night I saw one in the upstairs bathroom and told Fred I’d seen the shot across the bow. I expect to see a few more every day until one day they’ll start swarming in around the windows.
Goddamn I hate those things.
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The Crooked Acres Tour continues! Today you’ll be admiring (or staring in horror at) the dining room and computer room. Click on any picture for the much larger version.
Standing in the doorway between the end of the hallway and the dining room, looking toward the computer room (the kitchen is on the right side). On the wall straight ahead is a washstand that belonged to (I think) Fred’s great-grandmother. Hanging over that is a sampler made by my grandmother. The doors of the washstand are open because that’s where we keep extra towels, and the cats like to sneak in there for a snooze.
Standing in the kitchen doorway, looking toward the hallway. Note that my wasp-sucking vacuum cleaner is ready to go, there on the left. The desk next to the hallway doorway belonged to Fred’s mother (and possibly her mother before that). Next to that is the canning cabinet that holds any number of canned stuff.
From the kitchen doorway looking straight ahead at the fireplace. Another year goes by where we didn’t get a wood-burning stove to put there. Note the cat beds on the dining room table (what? We never eat there!). That blue cabinet hanging on the right is the medicine cabinet Fred made at my request.
Another shot looking in the direction of the computer room. Please note that I finally painted the base of the scratching post we made from a cedar post (next to the wash stand).
I got this little cabinet at a thrift store a couple of years ago. I like it quite a bit. (It’s hanging pretty much over where I was standing when I snapped the previous picture.)
Standing in the doorway of the computer room, looking in the general direction of the side door.
Standing by the side door, looking in the direction of the dining room. Straight ahead, the bookcase that holds our shoes, boxes of pictures, and canning jars. I’d like to get something different for that spot – something that will hide our shoes but will still have a shelf (the cats like to hang out on top of that bookcase). To the right, the hook where I hang my purse. One of the cats peed in my purse once, and that was the last time that happened – at least until they can figure out how to get their asses high enough to pee in it at that height.
Looking toward Fred’s desk, and beyond that the rarely-used bathroom.
Turning more to the left, you can see my desk and the bookcase that holds all the jams, jellies, and hot sauces I sell.
My desk area, where all the magic happens.
That’s it for the tour this week. Next week: the kitchen and laundry room.
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Scenes from around Crooked Acres.
Fall has… fallen?
Something’s gotten George and Gracie in a dither (I think they saw one of the cats).
End of October, and we’re still harvesting cherry tomatoes, thank you very much. That’ll likely come to a halt after tonight (last I heard, it’s supposed to get down below freezing tonight), but I still think that getting cherry tomatoes this late in the season is AWESOME.
Still getting full-sized green tomatoes, too. We’ve been eating a lot of oven-fried green tomatoes – and letting some of them ripen, too.
The raised beds. Those are carrots growing on the right.
Radishes. They desperately need to be thinned, but I had no idea the damn things would grow so quickly – I put a piece of chicken wire over the beds when I planted the carrots and radishes to stop the cats from using them as litter boxes (and the chickens from taking dust baths), and the radishes grew through the wire. If I pull the wire up, I’ll pull up all the radishes – and it’s a pain in the ass to reach through the wire to thin the radishes. I may very well do nothing and see what happens.
Rogue baby rooster. When they’re this little, they can still get through the fence at the gates. We don’t worry about them too much, they seem to stay pretty close to home.
We had volunteer squash plants pop up in mid-August. We left them alone to see what would happen, and what happened is that they gave us squash. One of the plants is a spaghetti squash plant, and a couple are summer squash plants. Next year we may very well plant a row of squash in mid-August, because it’s nice to get squash so late in the season, and what’s even cooler is that they’re not infested with bugs.
Happy squash.
The Satsuma tree – we harvested our first citrus this week!
Satsumas are super easy to peel – as easy as Clementines – and they’re super sweet. We are definitely fans!
We picked our key limes. I do not know what the hell to do with these. Not really enough of them to make lime curd, as I’d hoped to do.
CAVE CRICKET UP CLOSE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!
The first time we had bacon, I must have opened the pack they forgot to cut (length-wise), because these were some seriously long pieces of bacon! (Tasty, though. We don’t have our bacon cured or smoked and it’s better than any bacon I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve never been a bacon fan, but this stuff is fantastic.)
George, please. Can’t you TRY to look happy? We don’t want these nice people to know about the daily beatings!
George! You’re a Pyr, not a Pointer!
Am I sensing some attitude?
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We call this “Corbie’s party box”, because he keeps putting stuff in it. The first day the box was there (in the middle of the computer room), Corbie ran in and dropped a pecan in the box, then sat there and looked very proud of himself. The second day, another pecan from the back yard. Day three, a dead cave cricket. I don’t know what he’s planning, but it looks like a partaaaaaaaaaay super party!
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See that green blanket? Starsky and Hutch ADORE that blanket. Hutch, especially, snuggles up to it and sucks on it. It’s sad (because they were taken from their momma too soon), but it is so very sweet that I have a hard time not smushing them to bits when they do it.
Starsky, scheming.
Hutch, trying to look innocent. We’re not fooled, little man!
“I lub you THIS MUCH!” (Or, “Paws up, y’all!”)
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Buster, I am pleased to report, has reverted to his sweet, laid-back ways. I mean, he’s still a hissy little drama queen when the mood strikes him, but he’s not NEARLY as growly or hissy as he was over the weekend. THANK GOD. He loves to get up on top of the kitchen cabinets and roll around happily, causing me to have a heart attack in fear that he’ll go sailing over the side and to the floor, smashing into a billion Buster shards.
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Pardon the fact that I shot this picture through the window. I was sitting at my computer when this squirrel came down the limb of the tree and seemed to be considering jumping to the ground. Of the back yard. Where there were a large number of cats hanging out. Tommy and Kara ran over in hopes that he’d do it, but he rethought his brilliant idea, and eventually ran back up the limb to the tree which is on the other side of the fence.
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Previously
2009: No entry. 2008: I’d like to stop with the anxiety dreams, thank you. 2007: I have no idea on earth how we’d ever tell if a chicken was insane, since they seem to lean toward The Crazy even when they’re (we assume) perfectly normal.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: In case you were wondering, we are officially Crazy Cat People. 2003: I always look like a fucking lunatic when I take my own picture. 2002: (Is it just me who always thinks of Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally saying “I would be pleased to partake of your pecan piiiiiiiiiiiiie” when I hear, say, or read the word “partake”?) 2001: (For the record, her verdict was that the real-life prostitutes were “creepy”.)
2000: No entry. 1999: And going blind would just suck.
Lately, something kind of weird has been going on. We’ll be in the back yard, me and 348 cats, and Kara will walk up to Reacher, and they’ll briefly touch noses. And then Reacher will draw back and hiss a little bit. Then Kara will stare at Reacher for a moment, then turn and walk … Continue reading “10/27/10 – Kitteh Wednesday”
Lately, something kind of weird has been going on. We’ll be in the back yard, me and 348 cats, and Kara will walk up to Reacher, and they’ll briefly touch noses.
And then Reacher will draw back and hiss a little bit.
Then Kara will stare at Reacher for a moment, then turn and walk away.
This is weird because, up until now, if one of the cats or kittens hissed at Kara, she’d hiss back, maybe growl, and then smack then upside the head, whereupon they would turn around and run away. But she never hisses or growls at Reacher, just looks at him and then walks away.
So my question: is she getting mellow in her old age (she’s 3 1/2, after all!), or does she have a crush on Reacher? And if she has a crush, does the age difference (he’s almost 9 months old!) make her a cougar, or not?
He IS awfully pretty.
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Yesterday, we trimmed Starsky and Hutch’s claws. That makes it a lot easier to deal with them, especially when I’m deboning chicken in the kitchen and they’re pretty sure they want some, so try to climb up my leg when I’m wearing shorts.
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Sugarbutt’s the baby, sometimes. (That’s Fred holding Sugarbutt, by the way, not me!)
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Previously 2009: Also making me look OLD: the fact that I am OLD. 2008: Sulking and doing nothing is greatly helped by a sweet little litter of fluffy kittens, if you were curious.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: I’m sorry, but “Sell yourself to me” is Interviewer-speak for “I’m too lazy to come up with a real question, so try to answer this stupid-ass question I read on a bad interview webpage somewhere or perhaps even pulled directly from my ass.” 2004: I cannot stand this song. I cannot stand this video. I am filled with extreme hatred every time I happen across either the song or the video. 2003: We went to see Miss Saigon on Sunday.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry. 2000: The man drove two hours to spend one hour with his grandchild and then drove two hours back. How cool is that? 1999: May I say that the child gets an UNGODLY amount of presents.
Guess who’s 22 today?! Seriously. Do I look like the mother of a 22 year-old? I DIDN’T THINK SO. The update on the spud for y’all: she’s happy, she’s undergoing training to be a manager at McDonald’s, and she has a boyfriend (though she has a cold at the moment, which is a sucky way … Continue reading “10/26/10 – Tuesday”
Guess who’s 22 today?!
Seriously. Do I look like the mother of a 22 year-old? I DIDN’T THINK SO.
The update on the spud for y’all: she’s happy, she’s undergoing training to be a manager at McDonald’s, and she has a boyfriend (though she has a cold at the moment, which is a sucky way to spend your birthday). At one point she was talking about starting college after Christmas, but I’m not sure if that’s still in the plans or not.
22. Good god. How is that POSSIBLE? This is how I still think of her:
And in case you ever wondered what I looked like on the morning I became a mother (sh’yeah, like you don’t sit around and wonder exactly that every moment of your life!), here you go:
I’d been admitted to the hospital (she was a c-section; I was 4 days past my due date and went to my gyn/ob. They did an ultrasound and guesstimated her weight to be 10 pounds, 6 ounces. The doctor recommended a c-section, and I went along with it. I had a strong feeling from the very beginning that I would end up having a c-section.) and this was probably my 4th trip back from the bathroom. Nice glasses, eh? THE BETTER TO SEE YOU WITH.
Happy birthday, Danielle! I love you! (You don’t look a day over 3, as far as I’m concerned.)
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This is a shameless beg from a longtime lurker.
Please vote for the Greater Birmingham Humane Society!! GBHS has been in an ASPCA $100K challenge with 50 other shelters since August 1st. We have adopted over 825 animals in less than 3 months — but we are not going to win the money. Other shelters have rocked it more but there is no disappointed in our shelter. We are super excited about our progress with adoptions (825+ new homes!). Our community has been FANTASTIC! Please help us rally votes to celebrate! The ASPAC has $25K to award the shelter with the most votes for community outreach. Please visit:
This link will redirect you to the challenge page. You can vote once a day — but you can use multiple email addresses. We highly encourge that option. 🙂
Voting ends at midnight October 31st. Like all shelters, we need the money!!! It has been a great 3 months. We are exhausted but shameless in asking for votes. GBHS would really appreciate anyone that would help.
Only a few more days left and we are #5 and climbing. $25K is waiting for us at #1.
Yesterday I left the house to run errands. First I went to my doctor’s office. I’m almost out of Synthroid, and my doctor won’t give me another prescription unless I have my thyroid levels tested (well, she would if it was an emergency I guess, but it would only be for a month and I’d have to go in and have blood drawn before the month was up to get another prescription for it.). Until now, what I’ve been doing is going in and asking for a lab slip, they give me one, and then I go next door to the LabC0rp office to have my blood drawn. Only this time, when I asked for a lab slip, they told me that they’ve got their own lab now. She told me to sign in and have a seat, and I did so.
I pulled out my iPod and played a couple of games of Snood, then I thought “Huh. I wonder if they have wireless for their patients here?” and clicked over to check. The doctor’s office didn’t have wireless, but the dentist next door did, so I hopped on, checked my email, checked my Twitter and Facebook stuff, and then started playing another game of Snood. As I played, I happened to glance down at the front of my shirt, and I was instantly mortified.
I had a layer of white cat fur an inch thick on my left shoulder and going down my left sleeve.
You will likely find this difficult to believe, but I don’t ordinarily leave the house with much cat hair on me. I usually wear clothing that cat hair doesn’t stick to (t-shirts and sweatshirts, for the most part), but this shirt was apparently made of material more attractive to cat hair. I tried to casually brush the cat hair away, but it wouldn’t be brushed. Then I tried plucking the cat hair off my shirt, but that was pretty pointless, and so I gave up and decided that if I’m going to have SIXTEEN cats in my damn house (PLUS Starsky and Hutch) (though really it’s 15 plus S&H, because Coltrane doesn’t come in the house, which… damn. That’s still a lot of fucking cats. ARGH.) I might as well look the crazy cat lady part.
I spent about 15 minutes in the waiting room before they called me back to the lab, and another 30 seconds after that I was on my way.
I went to Kohl’s to return four pair of jeans that I bought the other day. I tell you what, I’m about to give up on this goddamn jean hunt. Last year I bought a bunch of jeans from Fashion Bug that fit me well. But apparently my body has readjusted itself, and now they look funny when I put them on. I have one single goddamn pair of Levi’s 550 jeans that fit okay, two pair of men’s Levi’s 550 jeans that fit okay enough to wear around the house*, and other than that I’m shit out of luck. I thought I found some jeans at Kohl’s last week, but when I got home and attempted to actually wear them, I realized that they weren’t just a “little” too long for me, they were WAY too long for me. So back they went.
I spent an hour and a half trying on a pair of every single kind of jeans at Kohl’s in size 8 and size 10 (depends on the brand as to which size I wear – I actually have a pair of capri jeans in size 6 that fit really well, which seems utterly ridiculous to me) and ended up with some that’ll work for now. The problem is twofold: 1. I have no waist at all. There’s no indentation at ALL between my chest and my hips, and I’m not even kidding. 2. My thighs are, well, there’s loose skin there. And I’m not willing to have surgery on them because the madness has to stop somewhere (still hoping for a boob lift early next year, if you’re wondering). Maybe I should invest in some Spanx and shut the fuck up about it. I keep telling Fred I’m going to just start wearing skirts, but ugh. I don’t wanna.
I stopped by the bank to deposit a couple of checks, went by TJ Maxx to browse (and didn’t buy a single thing, which must be a first for me), swung by Publix to pick up a few things, and got home just in time for lunch.
Today, I think I’m going to be spending the day boiling and deboning chickens so that I can can chicken tomorrow. Remember a few weeks ago when I said I’d discovered there were something like 30 chickens in the freezer out in the garage? Well, that week I boiled, deboned, and canned 12 of them (giving me 8 quarts and 7 pints of chicken). I STILL HAVE 18 CHICKENS LEFT.
And while I was in Myrtle Beach, Fred processed 7 more chickens, young roosters. At least THIS time when I put them in the freezer I wrote the date and “roasters” on the outside of the bag. I’m sure next time he processes chickens, though, I’ll fail to label them in any way.
*They’re size 34 waist, 30 inseam. The waist is too big for me, like A LOT too big for me, but size 32 waist? Can barely get it closed. What the fuck, I ask you?
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Good news: Moxie was adopted over the weekend! Martin was adopted a few weeks ago (I think I told y’all that already), which means that Melodie and Dodger are left at Petsmart to wait for their forever homes. I hope they go together.
We got to see Moxie, Melodie and Dodger when we went to Petsmart to visit (and ended up bringing home) Buster and Rhyme. They’re doing well – they’ve grown so much in the few weeks they’ve been there, it’s amazing! I don’t know why I was surprised that they’ve grown since they’re still young and have some growing to do, but surprised I was.
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Because we’re suckers for punishment, not only did we bring Buster and Rhyme home over the weekend, we also started allowing Starsky and Hutch the run of the house. It went pretty well, really – even when Buster was at his yowliest and smacked at Starsky and Hutch (he never made contact, just smacked in their general direction if they got in his space), all they did was fall over submissively, which seemed to satisfy his need to be the Mancat in Charge.
We’re beginning their training early, making them help with dishwasher duty.
(Slurping bacon grease off the rack.)
Then Hutch wandered off and Starsky ran into the front room and shimmied up the scratching post like he’s part monkey.
When he got to the top, Reacher sniffed at him then smacked him on the head. Hutch hung there and thought about it for a moment, then shimmied back down and ran off in search of friendlier places.
They don’t get the run of the house all day – usually I put them back in their room for an hour or so mid-morning, and then again when I’m eating lunch (they’re pretty sure that my lunch should be their lunch, too). If I’m leaving the house for any length of time, I put them in their room, too – I don’t think the big cats would hurt them, but I certainly wouldn’t want to come home and find that one of the babies is missing an ear or something.
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Reacher and Corbie, before the Busta Rhyme duo descended.
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Miz Poo is pretty sure there are too many cats in this house and she’s willing to decide who stays and who goes. (All cats who are not Miz Poo should GO, is her highly considered opinion.)
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Previously 2009: Happy 21st birthday, Danielle!
2008: No entry. 2007: I hope that the days come easy and the moments pass slow, And each road leads you where you want to go 2006: My little girl. 2005: The spud is 17 today! 2004: I hope you dance.
2003: No entry. 2002: “You want to buy STUFF faster than we get rid of it!” he accused shrilly. 2001: Well, the little bastard is home again.
2000: No entry. 1999: Boring work-related shit.
A couple of weeks ago, I had to make a trip to the bank to deposit a check. I walked into the bank and there was this really long-ass line, and I was all “Oh hellz no”, so I went out into the lobby to see if you could make a deposit at the ATM. … Continue reading “10/25/10 – Monday”
A couple of weeks ago, I had to make a trip to the bank to deposit a check. I walked into the bank and there was this really long-ass line, and I was all “Oh hellz no”, so I went out into the lobby to see if you could make a deposit at the ATM. You could, so I filled out the envelope and was in the process of making the deposit, when a man walked in and stood at a respectful distance while he waited for me to finish.
He was talking on his cell phone, and I didn’t pay much attention until he suddenly said – in an “oh shit” voice – “What? Now? Okay, I’ll call you right back!” I glanced over my shoulder to see him frowning down at his cell phone. He punched in a phone number, put the phone to his ear, and as he hauled ass out the door he bellowed “THE ALPACA IS SCREAMING!”
Is it just me, or does that sound like a code phrase?
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At the intersection of our road and a busyish highway, the highway I take to go into Closeville when I need to get groceries or go to Walmart or the bank or whatever, is land that used to belong to a nursery. I guess the nursery fell on hard times, because this spring there was a sign up that they were auctioning off the land and everything on the land. The auction took place, and then… nothing. All the plants that were in the greenhouses were sold off and weeds grew up into the (uncovered) greenhouses. There were some houses on the nursery land that were knocked down.
The nursery land goes behind our property, and we lived in dread because we were absolutely certain that the land had been sold to a company that would put a subdivision right behind us. There’s nothing wrong with subdivisions – hell, we lived in two subdivisions, and they were right nice – but I didn’t particularly want people living back there and bitching about how the dogs bark or the pigs stink or the chickens squawk like hysterical ninnies if you look at them sideways.
As it turned out, a nursery company bought that land, so hopefully there’ll continue to be nothing back there but trees.
But anyway, on this nursery land has been this trailer. And in this trailer has lived this man who, I’m pretty sure, worked as a caretaker of the property. Now, I have NO PROBLEM with trailers, I know there are people who live in perfectly nice trailers. Hell, my best friend lived in a trailer for about a year, and it was a cute little place.
This trailer, however, was not one of the nice ones. It was a ratty piece of shit trailer, and judging by the pile of 500+ beer bottles that appeared in the middle of his lawn one morning, I guessed that the guy who lived there might like a drink every now and then (I assume they’d been piled up inside the trailer and he’d decided to do some house cleaning). I also guessed that he might have a problem with anger, given the time I drove by and there was a recliner and couch laying near the door as if he’d thrown open the front door and pushed both pieces of furniture out the door and onto the lawn. At a later point when I drove by, the recliner was set upright and he was reclined in it, sound asleep.
He always had a dog, sometimes two. You’d see him one day walking along with a puppy at his heels, and then the puppy would get a little older, and then the puppy would start wandering across our land, and then the puppy would end up dead by the side of the road. Then a few weeks later, another puppy. I guess someone had a talk with him (I don’t for one minute doubt that animal control got a myriad of calls about him and his dog-neglecting ways), because a ramshackle dog shelter of sorts showed up beside the trailer, one made out of chain link fence panels kind of leaned against each other, with a dog bed inside. Eventually, a board was placed across the top to prevent the dog from getting completely soaked when it rained. We’d see the dog walking with him, and sometimes we’d see the dog locked in the dog “house”, but of course the dog still showed up on our property from time to time to taunt George and Gracie. After the dog was fully grown, another puppy showed up to keep him company, and as far as I know, they’re still alive.
Because I am the nosiest woman on the face of the planet, every time I drove by the trailer, I’d go slow and get all bug-eyed and stare at the windows, hoping to see inside that trailer. I was dying to see what it looked like inside, because I assumed it was a huge mess with stuff piled everywhere. But the shades were always drawn, and the door was never open (except for the middle of the summer – but then he had a fan sitting in the doorway blocking my view of the inside. Hmph.)
And THEN.
One day I was driving by the trailer on the way home from getting groceries, and I looked over as usual, and saw that there were men pulling siding off the trailer. And the front door was not only open, it was COMPLETELY REMOVED. I had a clear view to the inside of the trailer and it was every bit the nightmare I’d imagined, garbage piled everywhere, beer and soda bottles all over the place, piles and piles of Hoarders-esque junk.
Because I’m an asshole, I was delighted to find that it was exactly as I’d imagined. I drove by that trailer at least four times that day, and at the end of the day as I drove by for the last time, they were in the process of knocking the whole thing down. I had stupidly thought that they were taking the siding off the trailer so they could re-side it, but apparently they were doing it with the goal of knocking the whole thing down. Which they did.
It’s been, I don’t know, two weeks maybe? And every time I drive by, I see the pile of trailer where the trailer used to be (I assume that one day they’ll haul it all away), and I’m sad that now I don’t have anything to be nosy about.
I’m even sadder that I didn’t stop and take a picture of the inside of the trailer while the demolition was going on.
I wonder where the caretaker and his dogs went. I need to find out, so I can continue to stalk them like a weird, nosy, creepy stalkery stalker.
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“I’m da baybee.”
“You hear me?”
I love the way the sun is shining through his fur, showing his little pink splayed “fingers”.
Starsky’s pretty sure he’s the alpha male in the foster room.
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One day last week I said to Fred, “Perhaps we could just keep Reacher and Corbie here as fosters until they’re adopted by someone.”
Given how they reacted to being in the cage at Petsmart last time, I was not looking forward to the idea of taking them to Petsmart again. I mean, I never like taking the babies to Petsmart, but for the most part they adapt pretty well and don’t spend a huge amount of time there before they’re adopted. But things are so slow adoption-wise right now, that I was afraid they’d languish for months.
“Maybe we should think about bringing Buster and Rhyme home and just keeping all four here ’til they’re adopted,” Fred said.
“Yeah. But we should wait a few more weeks and see if they aren’t adopted before we bring them home,” I said. “Maybe they’ll get lucky.”
“Okay,” he said.
BUT THEN.
We were out running errands Saturday morning, and I opened my big stupid mouth and suggested that we stop by Petsmart just to visit with Buster and Rhyme and Melodie, Moxie, and Dodger. And we did visit with them, and Fred started giving me THE LOOK, and before I knew it…
When we left the house that morning, I had no idea we’d be coming back with Buster and Rhyme, and so instead of doing it the right way – putting them in a room for a few hours, at least, so they’d adjust to being here before letting them out to explore a little – we just let them out of the carriers into the house. I don’t have any doubt that they knew exactly where they were. But Buster is a bit of a drama queen and seemed a little overwhelmed, and he walked around growling and smacking at everyone.
He smacked Miz Poo, who was minding her own business, and I said “OH NO YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT, BUSTER JONES*!” and made Fred hold him while I trimmed his front claws. He spent the rest of the day walking around in a state of high dudgeon. We were going to put them in the guest bedroom overnight (Rhyme was a little hissy, but mostly behaving himself, we were just going to put him in to keep Buster company), but as the evening wore on Buster calmed down a little. So we left them out overnight and everything was fine. Buster was still a little growly and yowly yesterday, but not nearly as bad as he’d been on Saturday, so hopefully given a few more days, he’ll calm down completely.
Reacher, hiding from the yowly Buster.
So, please, y’all. For the love of god – if you know anyone in the Alabama/ Tennessee area who’s looking to adopt some great, gorgeous, sweet 8-9 month-old kittens, feel free to steer them in our direction. Our house is about bursting at the seams with cats. We need to find these Bookworms homes of their own!
(I will box the ears of every person who suggests we keep them permanently. Or maybe I’ll just send them their very own Bookworm! Mwahahaha!)
*His other nicknames: Buster Brown (I very often say “Buster Brown, he’s a clown. He gets around!”, because I’m a dork) and Busties. In fact, most of the cats in this house have their names shortened and then an “ies” added to the end. Reacher’s nicknames are Reacher-Creature, Creature, Creatchies, and Reachies. Corbett is almost always Corbies, unless he’s Hello, Gorgeous. Sometimes Corbie McGee, too, now that I think about it. Rhyme hasn’t really picked up a nickname other than Rhymies and sometimes Rhymebones. I don’t think there’s a single cat in this house who doesn’t have, at minimum, two nicknames.
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Kara, Reacher, Corbett, Tommy, and Jake. That’s a lot of cats for one picture!
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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry. 2007: I’m sure it’s eyeball cancer and we’ll have to put a pirate patch on him and it will cost one million dollars to cure him.
2006: No entry. 2005: I feel so worldly and sophisticated now. 2004: “Bessie,” Fred said. “We used to watch TV without being able to rewind it. We can do it again!”
2003: No entry. 2002: It seems like yesterday. 2001: The term “give my feelings” cracks me up for some unknown reason. 2000: Mark my words, it’ll be back to looking crappy in three days flat. 1999: “Take credit card. Buy computer. Big monitor. Go fast. Go buy. Now.”
Do you remember Hoyt? Sure you do! He was one of the True Blood 6, was adopted locally, then returned to the shelter and adopted by reader Michelle in NC. Here he is as a little guy: Well, I got an email from Michelle yesterday, and she says: I have attached a couple of pictures … Continue reading “10/22/10 – Friday”
Well, I got an email from Michelle yesterday, and she says:
I have attached a couple of pictures of Hoyt. He just had his annual visit to the vet and my “little” boy now weighs 14lbs !! He’s still growing and if he gets as big as his paws he is going to be bigger than his brother. He is a healthy (not one incident of FLUTD or any urinary troubles) HAPPY, brat and I still love him to pieces. He and his big brother PitStop play together and enjoy romping up and down the hallway & stairs & chasing and wrestling each other. Hoyty boy loves everyone and everyone loves him. His favortie toy is a purple Kong that crinkles and we play fetch! He is still a BIG mouth and we “chat” all the time. He has been such a wonderful addition to our home that I don’t know what we ever did without him . Thank you for taking such good care of him when he was a wee lil buhbay.
Hoyt heard about Fran & Ollie and was sorry to hear of some other kittehs suffering with his problem. He demanded we send a check to help out 🙂 thanks for letting us know about them so we could help.
Isn’t he growing up to be one gorgeous boy? And so generous too! If anyone else would like to read about Fran and Ollie and find out how to donate, you can do so here.
(Thanks for the update, Michelle!)
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My very first cat died last month at the age of 13, and I was devastated because I had been owned by her since she was 6 weeks old. Since then our population has gone from 7 to 14 with the possibility of 15 if things work out. Can I tell my husband it’s your fault? 😉 Actually, he loves them all as much as I do, but he’s less than thrilled when I ‘forget’ to tell him I’m looking at rescues and bringing home new cats. Whoopsie!
Of COURSE you can tell him it’s my fault – what’s the worst he can do, show up at my house and dump off 15 cats? Good luck with that, SUCKAH, there’s a reason my address isn’t public! 😛
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Just a little heads up. Pyridium (the UTI pills that make you pee orange) can also stain your tears, and that can stain your contacts orange. Hope the UTI is better, they suck balls.
The UTI is completely better, thank god – my biggest concern was that I would go off to Myrtle Beach and suffer a relapse of it, which would have SUCKED, but nothing of the sort happened. I read on the box (which had an expiration date of 2008 and hadn’t been opened, but I used the stuff anyway!) that staining of the contacts was a possibility, but it didn’t happen. Is it wrong that I was just a teeny bit disappointed?
Motherfuckers, I do enjoy a good decorative gourd!
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You mentioned that you love to burn candles and I was wondering how you keep the cats away from them? I love to burn candles too but it seems like every time I light one, little black or pink noses find their way there and I get scared they are going to get burned!
There are three spots in this house where the cats don’t go, so it’s safe to light candles there: on top of the canning cabinet in the kitchen, on top of the dresser in the guest bedroom, and by the sink in the downstairs bathroom. Oh, and the top of the cabinet in the upstairs bathroom, so that’s four spots. That’s where I burn candles, and as of yet haven’t had a problem with the cats.
My most memorable experience with cats and candles was when Miz Poo was little. At that point, we lived in our first house in Madison, which had a bar between the kitchen and the living room.
(Jesus Christ, that’s one classy picture, ain’t it?)
I had a candle on the bar, and Miz Poo was walking across the bar and stopped to examine the candle. I was afraid she’d catch her whiskers on fire, so I took a deep breath to blow the candle out, and she apparently thought I was gasping at something naughty she was doing, because she backed up and fell off the bar.
Also, I seem to recall Fancypants walked around with one side of his whiskers singed at one point.
In any case, I believe that curious cats will feel the heat of the candle on their whiskers and back off before they can go up in flames, but I’m not saying it’s impossible for them to catch fire, so I’d recommend putting the candles in spots they don’t ordinarily frequent.
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Well, that’s it. I’m burning at least one Yankee Candle today while I clean house. I love how the lemon scents make the house smell like I’ve been cleaning even when I haven’t.
I’d keep the empty YC jars if I could get every bit of old wax out of them. Is that possible?
That’s a good question – and one Elayne had an answer to:
I’ve had luck getting wax out of glass jars (not specifically Yankee Candles, though) by scraping as much out as possible (using an X-Acto blade or other long-handled blade) and then boiling the jar in a large pot.
Fill a pot with water to about 4 inches higher than the glass jar, standing up. Put the jar in so it fills with water and has the opening facing up to the surface of the water; add some silverware or something to the jar if it tries to float around. Boil it for about 15-20 minutes. The wax will melt in the boiling water and be buoyed towards the surface by the boiling water (although I have had some that went straight to the bottom, or just wandered around like it thought it was noodles or something).
When it looks like all or most of the wax has melted out, use tongs (carefully) to lift the jars out and dump the water. Wrap the glass in a towel to protect your fingers, and use dry paper towels to wipe out any remaining wax. Depending on how large the opening is, you might have to use the tongs to hold the paper towels to get all the way to the bottom.
Let the water cool so the wax will separate (more or less) and harden. Scoop out what floats free and throw it away, pour out the water and use a razor blade to scrape any that stuck to the inside of the pot. (Or, if you’re like I used to be and you have a special pan that you use for all your weird non-food-making stuff, just leave it, who cares.)
I only bother doing this if it’s a REALLY AWESOME jar. And one time I did because the jar was such a beautiful color, but the color turned out to be painted on with cheap, non-boiling-water-resistant paint. )c:
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I am imagining the Poo starving on steroids following you around trying to reinstitute snackin’ time. Those suckers make me want to mow the kitchen down. Oh it was a shot-maybe that’s better than the oral kind and probably doesn’t cause that side effect.
Miz Poo is an anomaly amongst our cats in that she does NOT partake of snackin’ time. She used to in the past – I have pictures of her bellied up to the snack plate alongside Spot – but at some point she decided that she was interested in NOTHING but dry kibble. We can’t even get her interested in any human food except for the juice from a can o’ tuna. Weirdo.
The steroid shots don’t seem to make her super-hungry as far as I can tell.
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I can’t bring myself to watch those hoarding shows, but am I to understand that keeping the empty Yankee Candle jars is a sign of some sort of hoarding tendencies? What if I NEED them some day?
Don’t judge. I actually keep STUFF in them. For REALZ.
Keeping a few empty Yankee Candle jars is not hoarding. Keeping 300 Yankee Candle jars is hoarding. Well, I guess keeping 300 Yankee Candle jars isn’t hoarding if you’re actually using them all, but you know what I mean.
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I see in your sidebar that you’re reading Replay. That’s one of my all time FAVORITE books. Can’t wait to hear what you think.
I enjoyed it quite a lot, even though I guessed the ending. Which probably wasn’t hard, since there was a limited number of ways it could go!
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So when will you admit that Corbett is an And3son? Hmmmm?
Hush, you. You guys always swear, every time I get a particularly cute foster that I fall in love with, that I’m going to keep one or more of them. Did I keep my sweet Mike Teevee or Gus? Did I keep Orange (whose Cookie name I cannot recall. Lorna Doone, I think)? Did I keep Marty or Moxie or the sweetest, most beautiful girlcat on the face of the planet, Elle? I did not. Really, if you think about it, we’ve kept very few of the 130ish cats we’ve fostered.
We have no plans to keep any of the Bookworms. I’VE SAID MY PIECE AND COUNTED TO THREE.
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your “conversation” photos just slay me! Have you ever seen the videos this guy does of the talking cats? There is also one with the cat talking to the fish in a tank… heh.
Love it! Have you seen this one?
That is TOTALLY me when I’m pissed off at some piece of electronic equipment. SO FRUSTRATING.
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ooh, is the water warm?
To me, the water in Myrtle Beach was too cold for swimming, but my father went for a dip one day. I require water much, much warmer than that. Because I’m a great big wimp, the temperature of the water in Florida or Hawaii is just perfect to me. When I think of the fact that as a child I routinely went in the water at the beach in Maine until my legs were numb, it makes me want to roll up in an electric blanket turned on high and stay there ’til I melt into a puddle.
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Did you get a new camera??? That looks like a DSLR!
It is a DSLR, but it’s not new. I don’t know exactly when we got it, but it’s been over two years since I ordered the “Field Guide” to the camera from Amazon (a book I haven’t so much as glanced at since I got it), so I’m going to guess it’s probably been close to three years since we got it. It’s a Sony DSLR-A100 and I like it a lot. I also have a Sony DSC-W300 which I use a lot, too.
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Did you go to any of the outlets? I think I left a lot of my money there. Gotta love Tanger Outlets!
We went to one of the outlet malls – I found the Sketcher mules I’ve been looking for and bought two pairs of them. I hit the kitchen store and bought a scone pan. I bought some $5 sunglasses. Most of the money I spent while I was in Myrtle Beach was on hoodies and t-shirts, though – we must have hit every discount t-shirt/ sweatshirt/ towel shop in the area!
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What kind of fish are the “nightmare” ones and the other single fish picture later? Hope neither is a fish I like to eat!
Those are carp. I wouldn’t say they’re inedible, but I don’t think they’re widely consumed in this country. I’ve heard that they’re a greasy fish.
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So, my parents left Tuesday morning. While they were here, who hid upstairs under my bed the ENTIRE time except for brief forays out in the middle of the night for food and litterbox usage?
“They was skeery.”
Ten minutes after they left, he was downstairs in the cat bed on the dining room table.
Big baby Reacher.
Corbie was also a bit of a scaredy cat, but my father coaxed him to within touching distance with a cat toy. Then Corbie developed a crush on my mother, and spent the rest of the time they were here either watching her from behind the couch or sitting in the hallway staring at her. Sunday night I couldn’t find him anywhere and got worried that he’d escaped the back yard (which he hasn’t done yet, by the way, but there’s always a first time!) and finally found him under the couch, laying directly under where my mother was sitting. Silly boy.
“Where she go?”
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If these mugs had been a bit bigger – or Starsky and Hutch a bit smaller – this would have been a funny picture. Those mugs both say “Dog Lover” on them.
It was maybe not a bright idea to put the mugs on a blanket before attempting to snap pictures. The blanket made the mugs kind of tippy.
And Starsky and Hutch refused to look at me.
And they kept tipping over.
Better luck next time, right? (Given the rate they’re gaining weight this week – these boys have FOUND their appetites in the past few days – I don’t know that they’ll fit in the mugs anymore!)
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Coltrane’s always got somethin’ to say.
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Previously 2009: Sorry, though. I have no pictures of headless squirrels or half-eaten rabbits to share. 2008: Pictures from around Crooked Acres. 2007: You snooze, you lose. That’s our motto at Crooked Acres.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: (We fat chicks love the buffet, don’tchaknow.) 2003: The gluttony, the sloth, the avarice! 2002: The kitties did not care for the tune, the unappreciative bastards. 2001: How to change a tire.
2000: No entry. 1999: But as I see it, more than 2 cats makes you a weird cat person. Am I wrong? Is it three, or some incredible number like ten?
Last day of vacation pics, I promise! (Click on any picture to see the larger version.) Early morning, just-cleaned beach. Early morning sun over the water. Early morning fisherman. If you go up the path, the condo where we stayed was in the back building on the right. Not directly on the water, but I … Continue reading “10/21/10 – Thursday”
Last day of vacation pics, I promise!
(Click on any picture to see the larger version.)
Early morning, just-cleaned beach.
Early morning sun over the water.
Early morning fisherman.
If you go up the path, the condo where we stayed was in the back building on the right. Not directly on the water, but I could lay on the love seat in the living room and see the ocean, so not terribly far from the water, either.
The morning we left, the sun was coming up as we headed out. My father stopped long enough so that I could snap a couple of pictures. Too bad I didn’t roll my ass out of bed before 7 on the other mornings – I might have ended up with a fantastic series of sunrise pictures!
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This is a basket similar to the basket Laurie’s cuties over at Itty Bitty Kitty Committee sleep in. However, in the four years since I bought this basket (at the Smoky Mountain Cat House in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee), numerous fosters have flipped it over and slept in it that way. I used to insist on flipping it right-side up, but they always ALWAYS flipped it upside down, so I gave up. Laurie probably beats her kittens to make them behave. (Oh, stop. You KNOW I’m kidding!)
“What?”
“It’s COMFY this way!”
::CHOMP::
I love the way Hutch’s paws are neatly stacked one atop the other, and Starsky is staring off into space. I haven’t quite decided yet if their little heads are stuffed with cotton or something more substantial, like marshmallow fluff.
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Sweet Joe Bob. Don’t you love his dramatic eye makeup?
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Previously
2009: No entry. 2008: Let Me Out? No, Wait. Let Me In. IN, I MEANT.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: This is the month that makes the hell of summer in Alabama more than worth it. 2004: I need to win the lottery so I can hire someone to come to my house every day and style my hair while I read. 2003: Which is when Stanley thought “Hey! I shouldn’t just skulk back! I should run and leap! Into the air! Like a big mexican jumping Stanley-bean!” 2002: As if he was going to say to himself “By god, she’s RIGHT! I do not, in fact, reside here. What on earth was I thinking?” and run off.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry. 1999: “Well, she took that well,” I commented.
