Category: Fostering

If you check out my blog you will see some photos of deer in our neighborhood that have been horribly treated. Not only are these living animals these activities are illegal. Can you help me spread the word that these gentle creatures are not to be kept as pets or treated as targets for practice? I was hoping you might be able to help me spread the word. Thanks, Wendy

Tuesday it rained all day, and that night when Fred went off to bed, he called me into his room to look out the window. The entire back forty was covered in water, the garden was covered, the back yard was covered. As far as I could see, there was nothing but water.

Half worried that we were all going to float away (or at least that the chicken coops might), I went to bed.

Yesterday morning it was clear and bright and sunny, and the water had receded quite a bit.

Last night, the temperatures dropped into the 20s, and it’s supposed to be COLD AS SHIT for the foreseeable future. I’m actually not complaining, believe it or not, because I’d rather the ground get cold and hard so every time I go out to the back forty, I don’t sink into six inches of mud.

I finally got around to watching Hoarders. I know y’all mentioned it to me when it first came on, and I swear I thought we didn’t get A&E, so I made a mental note to watch an episode or two online. I never got around to it – mostly because I hate sitting and watching anything longer than a few minutes on the computer – and then last week I checked again, and lo and behold, we DO get A&E. I set up to tape, and have recorded a few episodes.

Tuesday, I decided I was going to have a lazy-ass day, so I snuggled up on the couch with a varying number of kittens, and watched TV.

SKIP THIS PART IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE MOST RECENT EPISODES OF BROTHERS AND SISTERS.

1. That whole shit with Nora and Simon and her ending up giving him money is so OBVIOUS AND HAM-HANDED that I’m embarrassed to watch that shit. I tell you what, if I ever end up a rich widow and start dating some guy who runs a “charitable organization” and needs “funding”, I will boot him out on his ass so fast he won’t know what hit him. DON’T BE A VICTIM, NORA. (That said, I’m sure it’ll end up being TOTALLY legit. Or whatever. I don’t care for this particular storyline, though Kitty stumbling across Nora and Simon in the shower cracked me UP.

2. Why the fuck do people who have serious illnesses feel the need to hide shit from the people around them? I hate that shit.

3. Oh, and of COURSE Kitty’s got to collapse at Justin and Rebecca’s wedding. Did I mention “ham-handed” and “obvious”? Also, that blond wig has got to GO. I cannot believe Rebecca would ever want to marry into that crazy-ass

OKAY IT’S SAFE, BROTHERS AND SISTERS WATCHERS.

So then I watched three episodes of Hoarders. And why did two of them have to feature people who had DEAD CATS in their houses? I was watching the one with the elderly couple who had cats all through their house (they thought they had 20 or 25, but as it turned out, there were 70-something cats in the house, about half of them dead) and I was watching them walk around putting cat food on plates for cats in various parts of the house, and I had a mental image of myself EVERY FUCKING NIGHT standing in the kitchen with ten million cats dancing around me and squawking and whining about how starving they are, and how I’ve started putting Stinkerbelle’s nightly snack on the top of the canning cabinet because she’s all “I am hungry, but THEY’S TOO GODDAMN MANY CATS IN THERE” and then how I follow Spanky to another room because he’s all “I would enjoy a snack but THEY’S TOO GODDAMN MANY CATS IN THERE” and I leave the snack wherever he settles, and I was all “HELLO I AM SEEING MY FUTURE.”

When your cats are telling you that you’ve got too many cats? You might have too many cats.

(But does the fact that nine of them are transitory make a difference? And also, I don’t use paper plates? I use REAL plates. And then I wash them. Oh god help me, I’m a fucking lunatic, aren’t I? I’m going to go look under my bed and make sure there are no dead cats.)

The last one I watched, that I finished watching and then COINCIDENTALLY got up and started cleaning house, no correlation between the two, of course not, was the woman in Louisiana whose house was so bad that they devoted the entire show to her. Who had had no plumbing for six years, and the cleaning crew started cleaning her house, hit the bathroom and were all like “Um, FUCK NO THANK YOU, WE’LL WAIT OUT HERE.” They hauled something like 8,000 pounds of garbage out of her house.

Watching that shit makes me itchy, because OF COURSE I have hoarding tendencies. If one cat bed is good, sixteen is sixteen times better, right?

ARGH.

Seriously – if you’re not watching Hoarders, you’ve gotta give it an episode or two. Trust me.

My Kindle arrived on Tuesday. I gave it to Fred to play with, and downloaded Uncle Tom’s Cabin for him (because it’s free), and after about fifteen minutes of him using the Kindle, he came in and gave it back to me and declared that he doesn’t like it.

MORE KINDLE FOR ME, THEN.

(Still can’t believe I have to wait ’til Christmas Eve to get Under the Dome on my Kindle. FUCKERS.)

I haven’t downloaded any books yet, mostly because I’m kind of stocked up on real books, and I ain’t gonna go pay for the same book again. I’m sure I’ll find something I want immediately, it’ll just take me time to figure out what.

Oh, and for the record? I REALLY like the Kindle.

Anyone know what this bug might be?

Miss Pink.

I know not why, but every kitten in the house adores playing in the can where I toss all my junk mail and magazines to recycle.

Keebler, pondering.

I don’t know why Elwood’s got that grumpy look on his face – he LOVES to snuggle with the little ones, and it’s not like they’re crowding him.

Five Cookies in one bed (you’ll note that Miss Orange almost always has her eyes on me. She’s a lovah, that one.)

The many faces of Mike Teevee.

MY GOD I JUST LOVE HIS SWEET LITTLE FACE.

Newt, in the back yard. Not lookin’ for trouble – but somehow, trouble always finds him.

Previously
2008: I AM BESIDE MYSELF WITH EXCITEMENT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2007: It’s a pisser that the things that are the least fun – cleaning, laundry – are a neverending cycle.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I want to marry you, Consumer Reports.
2003: The Bean’s nickname for today is “Stanley Rotten.”
2002: Xmas meme.
2001: And then Miz Poo SMACKS him again.
2000: No entry.
1999: I’m just saying.

Yesterday, I had an appointment for an ultrasound (so that, theoretically, my gynecologist can figure out why I’m spotting 8 – 10 days out of every freakin’ month). It was originally scheduled for the day before Thanksgiving, but they called and rescheduled. I knew, going into the appointment, that there was no way on earth I’d be in and out of there quickly, and I was not disappointed (or rather, I was disappointed to be right!). My appointment was at 10:15, and when I left it was 11:45.

The ultrasound showed nothing. The wall of my uterus was so thin that she couldn’t even see the fibroid that showed up during my ultrasound in June (my uterus has been dieting, apparently). She’s ordering copies of the lab work done by the hematologist who did (ordered) my iron infusion, she’s going to look those results over, and then call me.

It looks like we’re headed for an endometrial ablation at this point. We’ll see.

This fucking horseshit sure is moving at a fucking snail’s pace.

If I might inquire: what the holy fucking shit does “Jesus Gay” mean? It appears to be some sort of exclamation one uses to stress one’s point (“Jesus Gay is it cold out there!”), but for some reason I find it EXTREMELY irritating and thus please be warned that using it in my presence (or on your blog, which is where I’m stumbling across it) means you are giving me permission to hunt you down and smack you upside the head REALLY FUCKING HARD.

Other irritants:

1. The usage of “my man” instead of “Bob” (or whatever the fuck his name is). Yes, we know you have a man. Very impressive. Can we grow up now? Also, when you use lots of initials to refer to your children or coworkers or relatives, and they’re all so similar that I don’t have one fucking clue which one you’re talking about. Come up with a pseudonym and keep it simple. (Did I ever mention that 10 years ago (!) when I started my journal, I was going to use pseudonyms for Fred and the Spud and I, because OMG THE INTERNET STALKERS, but I couldn’t come up with ones that fit for Fred and I, so I gave up the idea. Clearly I kept the idea for the Spud, though!)

2. Bloggers constantly flogging their other blogs. (Like, I don’t know, ME and Love & Hisses?) I don’t want to go ELSEWHERE to read your shit, I want to read it IN ONE PLACE. (And thus just this second, I have decided to start posting my Wednesday all-cats posts here (and the weekend ones, too) as well as at Love & Hisses so you don’t HAVE to click over there. I didn’t really start Love & Hisses so you’d have to go elsewhere to read my shit, I started it so that those of you who like to show cat pictures to your kids wouldn’t have to wade through all the goddamn/ motherfuck/ horseshit/ fucking/ assface/ jumped-up-christ on a saltine cracker (etc.) talk. See? I can be thoughtful!)

3. When people go password protected and don’t leave a link to their email address or even a form to send a request, thus making it impossible for you to email them and ask for access. I GUESS I DIDN’T WANT TO READ YOUR BLOG ANYWAY, GODDAMNIT.

4. Those popup ads. Not the ones that pop up into another window (thanks to Firefox, I rarely ever see THOSE, thank god), but the ones that pop up and block the main part of the page, and you have to fucking FIND the “x” to close it, and then if you so much as look in the direction of where the ad came from, it pops up and does another song and dance, and honestly? Whoever thought that shit up should be crucified at dawn. Or sunset. I’m not picky. But DEATH TO THE CREATORS OF THAT HORSESHIT. Also, ads that have MUSIC or TALKING. I was on Dr. Phil’s page yesterday (shut up, I was looking for Alexandra’s blog) and there was this ad up at the top of the page with Hershey’s kisses, and if your mouse went anywhere in the upper right quadrant of the page, the GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING HERSHEY’S KISSES STARTED CLEARING THEIR THROATS IN PREPARATION FOR A GODDAMN HOLIDAY SONG. It pissed me off so much I yelled “OH DR. PHIL, I HAVE A SHOW IDEA FOR YOU, MOTHERFUCKER!”, and then I went and bought a couple of bags of Hershey’s kisses and ate the hell out of them to show them just who the boss is.

5. That you might think I’m talking about YOU. I am not talking about YOU, I’m talking about those OTHER annoying bloggers (unless you have those annoying ads on your site, then I am TALKING ABOUT YOU). You, I love because you obviously have excellent taste.

I’ve had to stop reading Under the Dome (the Stephen King novel) for the time being. It causes me great emotional pain to lug that fucking thing around (Dear Stephen King: You had to use 1,000 pages to say the same thing that I AM SURE could have been said in approximately 500? They really do NOT edit you in any way anymore, do they? Sincerely, Your Biggest Fan.). My Kindle should be here today, and the first thing I’m going to do with it is download the Kindle version of Under the Dome.

Stephen King better be getting kickbacks from Kindle, because I’m SURE I’m not the only one who was pushed into a Kindle purchase by the sheer weight of that book.

I bet the Kindle version of that damn book won’t crack my sternum the way I can sense the hardcover version wants to.

Stupid heavy-ass books.

It is cold and it is rainy and it is gray and ugly outside. I hate the weather this time of year. I told Fred that if we didn’t have so many kittens running around, I would have made a fire in the big fireplace by now. He said “They’re not going to JUMP in the fire! Give them some credit!”

I’d give them credit, except they have marshmallow fluff for brains. I have had to stop Orange and Blue from leaping into the fiery-hot oven at least twice each. Every time I do laundry, I’m paranoid that one of them has jumped into the dryer while my back was turned. On Sunday, I had just seen one of them hanging out by the dryer, and then after I’d put the clothes that were in the washer in the dryer he was nowhere to be seen, and I was worried that he’d jumped into the dryer while I wasn’t looking. So I pulled all the clothes out, to be sure there was no kitten in there. Then I started the dryer, walked away, and became concerned that somehow I’d overlooked a kitten among the wet clothes even though I’d pulled them all OUT of the dryer, so I stopped the dryer, pulled everything out, double-checked, started the dryer… And then went through the house counting Cookies (and Wonkas, while I was at it), just to be safe.

Damn kittens are stressing me OUT. But then they climb all over me, purring like crazy little Fluffheads, and the stress goes away.

Sometimes when I walk through the house, a herd of cats in front of me, fighting with each other, trying to trip me up, rubbing against each other and me and the walls, I sing a little ditty. It goes like this:

Too many kitties up in my shit. Too many kitties up in my shit. TOO MANY KITTIES UP IN MY SHIT.

Sounds like a hit, no?

We have hit the point in time (and it happens with every litter, no matter how old they are, no matter how many of them there are) where I can’t do anything without having to shuffle along for fear of stepping on a cat. If I’m doing something in the kitchen, they sit there and scream at me about how they’re starving to death. Orange, the hungriest of the hungries (which makes it ironic that she’s the lightest of the Cookies – she’s at just under two pounds; Hydrox, on the other hand, is now three pounds. He’s going to hit double digits before Orange makes two pounds, I swear!) has learned to climb up me. She gets as far as my waist, and then she hangs there, howling angrily about her starvation.

Someone’s always growling at someone else. Jake and Elwood don’t understand that Violet and Veruca do not care to have them too close, and some evenings it seems that I hear a hellcat scream from every corner of the house. Those Wonka girls have some LUNGS on them.

The Wonkas have sneezed a few times, but don’t seem to really be developing colds (fingers crossed!). A couple of the Cookies have slight colds, but it’s been a few days, and they don’t seem to be turning into anything too bad. I had thought that I’d get them fixed this week, but it looks like it’ll have to wait ’til next week. Which is probably for the best – that way, Orange can pack on a few more ounces.

The Cookies seem to really like the bigger cats. Jake and Elwood don’t mind when the little ones snuggle up with them.

Of the Wonkas, Mike’s the only one who doesn’t much seem to mind when someone who is NOT of his litter snuggles up with him. The girls will hiss and growl and complain, but if Jake and Elwood are persistent enough, they’ll eventually give in. But they’re not HAPPY about it.

Mike was sleeping in the cat bed on Fred’s desk, when Blue came up to Fred asking for some love. Fred held her for a few minutes, then put her in the bed with Mike. They both sat there for a minute, like “What is THIS happy horsepucky?”….

…and then this happened.

Hydrox will snuggle up with anyone, anywhere, anytime. He’s not picky.

Jake got too close to Gus, and this was the result. Gus is NOT up for snuggling with anyone, anywhere, anyEVER. Unless they’re from his litter. He’s picky about who he snuggles with.

Keebler found yet another stack of cat beds, climbed inside, and declared it good.

Violet and Veruca are all “Do you SEE what we have to put up with?!”

Mike would like to know why Elwood thinks it’s okay to snooze in the foster room. Elwood and Jake LOVE to hang out up there. So does Stinkerbelle, for that matter.

Check out the size of those ears!

Front to back: Veruca, Violet, Mike, Gus, and Miz Poo.

Spanky in a box!

Previously
2008: ::DESPAIR::
2007: Stinkerbelle: “I have put my stamp of love upon him, and now I shall lay here and seethe with hatred for those hussies who think they can have him. THEY CANNOT.”
2006: Newton (full name: Newton “Newtie” McNewterton, the salty country kitty) is pretty, yet aloof. It drives the wimmins CRAYZEE.
2005: “Us”? Who’s this “us” kemosabe?
2004: I suppose I need to actually start buying lottery tickets to make these dreams come true.
2003: And also because you Canadians are so cool that I want to canoodle with each and every one of you.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: God bless the internet and online merchants, god bless their little black hearts.
1999: More Christmas talk.

What we did this weekend.

Saturday

Got up early, went to Lowe’s to knock out our mile-long list that we’ve been adding stuff to for weeks now. Stopped by Walmart to pick up a few things. Fred put the truck in the back forty, and hooked it up to the trailer, which was partially in the pig yard. He does that a week or so before it’s time to take them off to Freezer Camp so they’ll be used to it. Usually, he feeds them in the trailer, but the pig yard is now so freakin’ wet and muddy all the time that they were tracking tons of mud into the trailer. Once he determined that they had no fear of the trailer, he went back to feeding them on the ground so they wouldn’t be slipping around in mud in the trailer.

At 10, our weeks-long discussion about whether or not we wanted a Kindle as a joint Christmas present (from us, to us) came to a head due very much to the fucking FIFTY POUND book Stephen King just put out (reading in bed with that book = PAINFUL. Stephen King must be getting a kickback from Amazon for that freakin’ book), and I simultaneously placed an order for a Kindle at Amazon, and placed an order for this “Room with a View” for the cats (I know, I know, we do NOT need it, but it was HALF PRICE! God, I love Jeffers Pet.) I had to wait ’til 10 to place the order for the cat thing because it wasn’t going on sale ’til 10, and we had intended to be in the car AT 10, so when we left 10 minutes late, I was STRESSED and snapped at Fred who was wandering around the kitchen wanting to know where I’d put his cinnamon gum.

“DID YOU NOT KNOW YOU NEEDED YOUR GUM TEN MINUTES AGO!” I snarled. “WHY ARE YOU WAITING UNTIL NOW TO LOOK FOR IT?!”

So, we left. We got to Petsmart about 10 minutes late, but it was okay because the other helper was already there, and the display was set up and… oh? Did I not tell you?

Guess who played Santa at Petsmart on Saturday? And guess who was his helper?

Of COURSE I didn’t tell you in advance that Fred was playing Santa at Petsmart. He would have killed me and buried me in the back forty if I’d announced that he was playing Santa and y’all (or even some of y’all) showed up!

It was kind of fun. He played Santa a few years ago for another animal rescue group; this year it was for Challenger’s House. I’ve never been a “helper” before, so I had no idea what to expect. I’d been told that coming in costume was not only allowed, but encouraged, and as the day approached, I was starting to worry because not only did I not have any kind of costume, I had no kind of Christmassy outfit at all. I ended up buying a long-sleeved green t-shirt at Walmart and wearing a red t-shirt over it, and getting a last-minute Elf hat at Walmart. It was fine.

The other helper took the pictures, and I handed out the envelopes, printed out the pictures, and put them in the frames. It wasn’t super busy, and there was lots of down time. The time, not surprisingly, went by a lot faster when we were busy.

There were a LOT of adorable dogs, and they were all surprisingly well-behaved. I was disappointed that there were no cats or other animals, though.

So, if you’re local (or even if you’re not – I’m pretty sure Petsmarts across the country are all doing this) and want to help out Challenger’s House (or your local animal rescue group), go have your animal’s picture taken with Santa! It’s going on next Saturday and Sunday, and the Saturday and Sunday after that from 11 – 4.

I tried to convince Fred that we should go next weekend and take a chicken to have its picture taken with Santa, but he doesn’t seem to be going for that.

Sunday

I slept in ’til 6:03 (I’ve been getting up at 5:30ish so we can dose everyone with Lysine before Fred goes to work – and Saturday I had to get up early so we could get to Lowe’s and Walmart and home again as early as possible), then got up and did all the usual morning stuff (shower, litter boxes, dosing kittens with Lysine). I started going through the house gathering up boxes (we had a LOT of boxes laying around, because every time I get something in the mail and take it out of the box, the kittens are all “I LOVE THIS BOX IT IS THE BEST BOX EVER” and so I leave the box. The house was starting to look all hoarder-y, so it was time to do some cleaning. When I was done, the boxes were either stacked in a closet (if they were a good size for shipping stuff) or piled by the door (to be piled in the garage for the next trip to the recycling center), and then I cleared a few things off the table, did laundry, vacuumed the downstairs, and canned black beans.

(You are pondering to yourself at this very moment, I know you are, you are saying “Self, I wonder just because I am the curious sort, how many half-pint jars of black beans does one get from a one-pound bag of black beans once they have soaked overnight and then cooked for half an hour?”, and the answer is seven. Seven half-pint jars from one pound of dried black beans. Honestly, I thought it would be more.)

Then Fred went out to his workshop and he used some of the wood he’d bought at Lowe’s the day before, and he made a crate for me, a crate that will perfectly hold a dozen half-pint jars.

It was PERFECT. It was sturdy and the perfect size, and I liked it one hell of a lot. So he went back out and made two more for me. And I liked those a hell of a lot, too. Then I said “How many more crates can you make from the wood you bought?” He said “One more.” I said “Huh.” He said “What?” I said “I could use about ten more of them, to be honest.”

(I am using the crates to store jam and chicken broth because I’ve run out of room in the canning cabinet.)

He offered to show me how to make them myself, swearing that it was easy as pie. So once my black beans were done processing, I took them off the heat, and we went out to his workshop.

And I’ll be goddamned if it wasn’t awfully damn easy. I mean, they’re certainly nothing fancy, but I am certainly nothing fancy, and I certainly do not require fancy crates to store jars of jam and chicken broth in.

Mademoiselle Orange, with the great big mouth, approves. She guesses. But thinks the crate would be much better if there was a plate of food in there for her to scarf down.

I said to Fred, “Now that I know how to make a wooden box I FEEL LIKE THE WORLD IS MY OYSTER!”

I can sense myself champing at the bit* to become a box-making motherfucker.

At almost 2:00, Fred went out and lured the pigs into the trailer with food (HE USED THEIR LOVE AGAINST THEM) and then closed the trailer. I held the gate for him while he drove through (it’s always stressful for me, because I’m afraid George and Gracie will get out and then be impossible to recapture), and then we left. Driving any kind of distance at all with the pigs in the trailer gets me all stressed, too, because while I know the trailer is good and solid and they can’t break out or anything, THERE’S ALWAYS A FIRST TIME.

But we got them delivered to the, uh, camp counselor safe and sound, and then we made it home safely, as well.

Then we ran a few errands, and by the time we got home it was Snackin! Time! for everyone, and then time to settle down for the evening.

It was a busy weekend, but a productive one, I think.

*After arguing with Fred about whether it’s “chomping” or “champing”, I throw this link in here so that those of you who are about to leave comments telling me that “ROBYN, you are an IDIOT, it is CHOMPING at the bit, DUH” will resist. Except that you probably went and left that comment already before you came back to read the rest of the entry, didn’t you? DUH TO YOU, I SAY.

Since we were at Petsmart for five hours on Saturday, guess who I got to see?

True Blood Terry!

It was SO nice to see him and pet him and snuggle with him for a few minutes. He came right to me when I opened his cage, and he purred like mad, and he rubbed his face on mine, and he talked to me.

I hated putting him back in his cage, but he was so friendly and happy that I just know he’s going to find a home soon. The right person just hasn’t come along, but he would certainly make someone a good Christmas present, don’t you think?

Sweet, sleepin’ Hydrox.

That’s it for the Cookies pics today. Obviously I need to get the camera out and get to snapping more pictures!

Oh, these teenagers and their attitude!

The Wonkas REALLY like sleeping in the bed on the dining room table.

See?

Ahem. It appears that Violet wants to be the focus of the picture!

Okay, cat experts. This is Stinkerbelle. What would you call her? A Lynx point? A Lynx point Torti (because of the orange)? Something else entirely? I’ve never been quite sure exactly how to describe her!

Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: That’s approximately 100 pounds of litter every two weeks.
2006: “I LOOK LIKE SID VICIOUS!” I said.
2005: I love my husband, but “Mrs. Fred And3rson” IS NOT MY FUCKING NAME.
2004: (I never claimed not to be a dumbass)
2003: I would be ever so grateful if you would restrain yourself.
2002: No entry.
2001: I knew y’all were a hip and happenin’ bunch of readers!
2000: Stuff I’ve bought.
1999: And it tasted excellent, of course, which made the eggfart stenchiness more than worth it.

I was reading a blog the other day (for the love of god, don’t ask me which one, I don’t remember), and she mentioned that another blog – a “mommy” blog – had gone passworded, and if you were a frequent commenter, you’d get free access, but everyone else had to pay a monthly fee.

And that just blew me away. Because I truly do not get why anyone on earth would pay to read ANYTHING on the internet. There’s no information on this planet that’s not available for free on the internet – why the hell would anyone pay to read someone’s personal site? There’s no one so fascinating that I’d pay $5 a month to read what they have to say.

I mean, good for her for attempting to make money off her site and all, but (1) I’ve never heard of her before (this is a common thing – except for Dooce and…. well, Dooce, I only have a vague idea of who the “big” mommy bloggers are, and only because Nance tells me something about them and then has to explain who the hell she’s talking about. I sure as shit don’t read any of them. I didn’t know half of the names on the BlogHer list, mostly because mommy bloggers aren’t really my thing. I mean, I read plenty of bloggers who are moms, but I don’t consider them “mommy bloggers.” They might consider themselves mommy bloggers, but I don’t particularly. And it’s funny, I certainly enjoy reading about other bloggers’ kids, but most of them are bloggers (could I say “bloggers” just a FEW more times?!) who do not have their heads up their asses. I get quickly bored by the “Oh my special snowflake, let me tell you AT LENGTH about his/ her special snowflakeness.” shit. To be fair, I’m sure they’d get quickly bored by my “Let me tell you about MAH KITTEHS” shtick, too.) and (2) No one is that fucking fascinating.

I know y’all know of my deep and abiding love for Stephen King, but I wouldn’t even pay to read a blog personally written by him, that’s how opposed I am to paying for access to a site.

For a little while – about a year, I think – I paid to be able to get onto the Consumer Reports site, but then I thought “This is fucking ridiculous. There’s nothing Consumer Reports can tell me that I can’t find FOR FREE on the internet, fuck this paying horseshit.” and let my membership lapse. They email me sadly every few weeks to try to convince me to come back, but I will not be wooed back into that relationship, thanks. I HAVE MOVED ON.

There’s a site I read for a while about frugal cooking and such, and she recently started up a pay forum. Because there aren’t 3 million PERFECTLY free frugal cooking/ shopping sites? I don’t mind clicking on the occasional ad, but paying my own money to read something I could read somewhere else for free?

Ain’t gonna happen.

This will only be interesting to those of you who use Google Reader to keep up on your blog reading. Swistle Twittered the other day about this awesome Google Reader add-on for Firefox.

This one here.

It is AWESOME. There are a lot of options that I don’t even particularly understand so I don’t use them, but the ones I really like are the “preview” one, where you can read those incredibly annoying truncated posts IN THEIR ENTIRETY right there in the Google Reader, and the “cleaner font” skin.

Highly recommended.

As you were, non-Google Reader users.

Grossmans Garden and Home is going to donate a $100 Gift Certificate to the Verona Street Animal Society’s Frosty Paws Silent Auction if we can help get their number of Fans on Facebook to 500 by the end of the year (they are currently at 170). It’s a stretch but doable.

If you are currently a member of facebook, you can become a Fan of theirs by going to www.grossmans.com – toward the bottom right there is link to become a Fan (or you can search on Grossmans Home and Garden in Facebook and then become a Fan that way).

They are also asking for people to post holiday pictures of their pets up on their Fan page.

The Wonkas have been spayed, neutered, rabies’d, and ID chipped! I picked them up yesterday afternoon, and the boys spent the evening racing around like wild things, then sleeping in my lap. The girls were still a bit dopey, and slept the evening away at my feet.

This morning, it’s like nothing even happened to them. It’s amazing how quickly they recover!

A couple of people asked when they’ll go off to the adoption center. It all depends on when there’s room, but I imagine it won’t be too long now.

I am CERTAINLY going to miss them, so I’m spending as much time loving on them as I can. They’re such a sweet and friendly bunch, I don’t imagine it’s going to take long for them to get snatched up!

I calls him “SnuffleFLOOFaGus.”

::thlurrrrrrrp!::

Peekaboo!

Forever Foster asked how I resist the urge to smooch my fosters all the time. The truth is, I never ever resist the urge. I am ALWAYS kissing a kitten. If there’s a kitten near me, I’m usually kissing it, about to kiss it, or have just kissed it. I am a kitten-kissing fool. My lips are actually chapped from all the kissing.

Fred occasionally wonders aloud what cats think about all the kissing that goes on, whether they understand that it’s a sign of affection. I think they might not understand exactly what’s up with the kisses, but they must like it, because they almost always start purring as soon as I do it.

I forgot to mention about Pink’s eyes in yesterday’s post. Basically, the vet doesn’t know what’s going on. She says it’s probably not herpes, because it would be unusual for only one in the litter to have it. Her eyes aren’t goopy or bothering her, and there’s no corneal abrasion. She said that it’s possible that Pink is just more sensitive to her environment, and suggested a few things to try. For now, we’re giving her Chlorpheniramine, and Lysine. I think it might be helping, but I’m not quite sure. I’ll probably be better able to tell after a few more day.

All the kittens are getting Lysine right now, as a matter of fact. A cold/ virus started making the rounds with our cats, back before we let the Cookies out of their room. We hoped that it wouldn’t spread to the Cookies, but of course it did. It doesn’t seem to be hitting them as hard as it did Spanky and Miz Poo, and it doesn’t seem to be all of them, but we’ll see if it really develops into anything in the next few days. The Wonkas don’t seem to be affected so far, though I’ve heard one or two sneezes from a couple of them. I’m hoping like hell it doesn’t spread to them!

(And if you guys have any advice on lessening the length/ severity of a virus in cats/ kittens, I’m all ears!)

Pretty Cookie in the sun.

I believe there was a hiss from Spanky right after this picture was taken.

Meezers, but no Tuxie. (Wouldn’t “Tuxie and the Meezers” be an excellent band name?)

Orange and The Brick.

When I took Pink to the vet, I put Hydrox in the carrier with her, as her travel buddy. After the vet had examined Pink, I made her hold Hydrox (she laughed when I told her we call him “The Brick”), and she was amazed at what a solid, heavy cat he is. He’s got such big paws and such long legs, that I think he’s really going to be a big cat. He’s certainly headed that way!

The cold started with Sugarbutt. I’m calling him Typhoid Suggie. (What? You don’t pile your dining room table with cat beds and clean laundry with the intention to fold it and put it away (or find places for the cat beds), only to leave it all piled there for days?)

Previously
2008: I’m off to get my boobs squooshed!
2007: Sitting in the portal, waiting for the mother ship to arrive.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Meester Boogers howled even more forlornly.
2003: I’ll be ONE OF THOSE FUCKING PEOPLE WHO WALKS AROUND SMELLING LIKE CAT PEE WITHOUT KNOWING IT!
2002: Lay on it!
2001: Fred smiled his asshole smile.
2000: No entry.
1999: No entry.

New month, new logo! This was created by the wonderful Christine, who must have sensed that I had JUST realized that I didn’t have a December banner yet, and whipped one up for me.

Thanks, Christine!!!

So, a couple of people pointed out in my comments yesterday that I mentioned we watched a bazillion movies over the long weekend, but I didn’t say anything about any of them. I meant to, actually, but completely forgot in my zeal to talk about food and turkeys.

The movies we watched:

1. The Ugly Truth: I think I’m starting to have a real dislike for Katherine Heigl. I don’t know if it’s the drama queen horseshit she pulls or her increasingly smug, smackable face, or what. I actually fell asleep during the first half hour of the movie, and I can tell you that I did not miss a THING. Predictable, kind of boring. I don’t recommend it.

2. Drag Me to Hell: I can’t believe I watched the whole thing. Alison Lohman might need to think about learning a second facial expression. Even when she’s supposed to look terrified, she mostly looks bored. Or stoned.

3. Transformers 2: We got about 10 minutes in before Fred declared it bad and we turned it off. For the record, I wasn’t even bothering to watch the movie because I had NO desire to see it in the first place.

4. Four Christmases: Cute enough, I suppose. Who doesn’t love Vince Vaughn and Reese Witherspoon? Predictable, but then most romantic comedies are.

5. My Sister’s Keeper: Eh. I read the book, so I knew how it was going to go. However

SPOILER

if you read the book, you know about the twist at the end. They took that out. I guess it was too unbelievable even for Hollywood? I was disappointed, though.

END SPOILER

6. Bruno: Eh. There were some funny parts, but I don’t much care for it when movies make me cringe so often.

7. Food, Inc.: Really the only movie worth watching again (though if pressed, I could probably sit through Four Christmases again). Every time I see a movie like this one, it makes me think about how much more we could be doing. We don’t eat much meat that we don’t raise ourselves anymore, but I really want to see about buying half a cow (or even a quarter of one) from a local farmer who doesn’t raise cows to a certain size and then ship them off to a feedlot. If we had more land, we’d certainly own our own cow or two by now – though I’m starting to think we may actually have enough land already.

I am, obviously, not opposed to eating meat. What I’m opposed to is how the factory meat we buy in grocery stores is treated before it’s slaughtered. I mean, good christ – have you SEEN the footage of what goes on in feedlots? The piles of dead animals? The way they’re crammed together so tightly they can barely move? The way they’re knee-deep in their own waste?

I can’t stand it.

I’m trying to convince Fred that we should take a vacation in the Spring and visit Polyface Farms.

8. Funny People: Self-indulgent piece of crap, for the most part. This movie went on about 45 minutes longer than it needed to. Some funny parts, but not funny enough to ever cause me to want to see it again.

So, out of 8 movies, one I liked and a bunch of “meh”s. That’s about par for the course!

All day Sunday, I cooked the chickens Fred had processed late last week. I like to simmer them for a couple of hours, let them cool, and then debone them for canning. I use my dutch oven (I LOVE MY DUTCH OVEN), fill it mostly full of water, put the chicken in, cover it, bring to a boil, then turn it down so it can simmer. I could accomplish basically the same thing by cooking the chicken in our pressure cooker, but then I don’t end up with all that broth, and I actually think the chicken tastes better after a long, slow cook anyway.

So I’d gotten four chickens done and in the fridge to cool, decided I had time before bed to do one last chicken, and put it in the dutch oven and on the stove.

We were watching Funny People (it’s the movie that never ennnnnnnds, yes it went on and on my friends!) and I glanced at the clock and realized it had been about two hours since I’d put the chicken on, and told Fred we needed to take a break so I could get the chicken into the fridge. As I neared the kitchen, I smelled something that told me immediately that I’d fucked up.

Instead of turning the temperature on the stove down so the chicken could simmer, I’d left it on high, so the water had been boiling for the past two hours, and had boiled away completely. Leaving the chicken in the dutch oven to burn.

And a whole burned chicken? Not a pleasant smell. I got the dutch oven outside and took the cover off so that the house wouldn’t fill with smoke. When I went back to get it ten minutes later, I saw the bottom of the inside of the pot, and I was pretty sure I was going to be needing a new dutch oven.

But after three rounds of boiling water and baking soda, and lots of elbow grease, I got the better part of that burned spot off the bottom, and my dutch oven was saved!

The chicken, not so much.

And no matter what I do, the faint smell of seared chicken hovers faintly throughout the house.

Gah.

But at least I had enough deboned chicken to fill seven pint size jars. I also ended up with lots of broth, which I let sit overnight in the fridge. Yesterday I defatted the broth and combined it in a couple of big containers. Later today, I’ll be canning chicken broth. Tomorrow, I’ll be using the leftover chicken bones to make stock, which I’ll then can.

Along with cooking the last two chickens yesterday and canning chicken, I also put together a turkey and rice casserole (bottom layer of cooked rice, middle layer of shredded or chopped turkey, a layer of gravy, and a top layer of stuffing. Cook at 375 for 30 – 40 minutes.) and a pot of turkey soup. We will literally be eating turkey for the rest of the week, if not longer.

I’m not complaining!

So, guess who’s going for retesting later this morning?

I emailed the shelter manager and asked if taking the Wonkas a few days early would make that much of a difference, and told her the waiting was KILLING me, and pleasepleaseplease could I take them this week instead of waiting ’til the 9th?

She said that was fine, and so yesterday I called to make the appointment.

Pleasepleaseplease keep your fingers crossed that these guys come up FIV negative. Yes, I know that cats with FIV can lead long and healthy lives. That’s fine. But I want these guys to test negative anyway – is that so much to ask?

Fingers crossed!!!!

Edited to add: ALL FOUR TESTED NEGATIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now guess who’s going to be spayed and neutered tomorrow? 🙂

My sweetheart, Mike. Or Mikey, as we usually call him. Sometimes I call him Mickey-Mack. Whatever – he’s gorgeous, isn’t he? I love his eyes.

Bath time for sweet and gorgeous Veruca. This litter is super friendly, but the girls? Super SUPER friendly. They are just so sweet.

Did you know that Gus is the King of the Floof? I probably haven’t pointed out his floof before, have I? I’ve been remiss in pointing out that Gus? He has him some floof. Just a bit. Which he will use to take over the world.

Sweet and gorgeous Violet.

Going off to the vet with us will be Pink (Milano). Her eyes have been pink, on and off, and nothing I try has made a difference. They don’t seem to bother her, and they aren’t goopy at all. They’re super pink when she first wakes up from a nap (see the picture below), and then they get less pink, but they still look pink and swollen to me most of the time. We’ll see what the vet has to say.

They’re super pink when she first wakes up, but then settle down to a less pink color.

Can’t decide between the sparkly toy and the always-appealing packing strap.

She’s Blue, dabba-dee, dabba-dah.

Adorable, yes. Don’t try to pick him up and squeeze him to bits. You’ll throw your back out!

::CHOMP::

Pretty, pretty Kara.

Previously
2008: Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe the caramel popcorn is calling my name. It’s what’s for breakfast!
2007: Where Muh Daddy?! Starring Fricasee “Frick” And3rson
2006: You know, Maxi and Newt. The cats who AREN’T OURS.
2005: “Vivacious! Tell her she’s VIVACIOUS, Dr. Phil!”
2004: I eat too much of the wrong kind of food and am lazy.
2003: “IT’S JESUS DYING ON THE CROSS! HOW CAN THAT POSSIBLY BE CONFUSING YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKERS?”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Here’s a tip: If they’re your own children, it’s NEVER “babysitting.”
1999: I’m feeling incredibly lazy today (like that’s something new).

Not only did we not have one of our turkeys for Thanksgiving dinner, we didn’t have turkey at ALL for Thanksgiving dinner. And we didn’t have Thanksgiving dinner on Thanksgiving, because Fred’s niece couldn’t be there due to other obligations, and since no one really cared when we had Thanksgiving dinner, we pushed it off ’til Friday.

So on Thursday, we didn’t do a whole lot. Fred processed some chickens (unless he processed them on Wednesday. I honestly don’t remember which day he did it on.), we hung out with kittens, and then around lunchtime we headed up into town. We rented some movies at Blockbuster, then drove around looking for a place to pick up food and take it home. There was – not surprisingly – not much open, so we ultimately ended up picking up frozen shrimp and fries, and cooking them at home.

It wasn’t bad, as dinners go.

We watched some movies, snuggled with kittens some more, and just generally relaxed.

Mid-morning on Black Friday, we drove to South Huntsville. It was actually not as bad as we’d feared, though the mall we drove by was SUPER packed. I’ve never done the shopping on Black Friday thing, and I never plan to. I do like hearing about the awesome deals people got, though, is that weird?

Anyway, we had Thanksgiving dinner at Fred’s sister’s house. She’d told us that she planned to have the food ready to eat around 11, so we showed up at 10:30 because we’ve always been under the impression that it’s rude to show up at the time food is ready to be served. We are ALWAYS the first ones to show up, and although the food was ready to be served at 11, we didn’t eat until everyone had shown up 15 minutes later.

There was no turkey because someone in Fred’s family doesn’t care for turkey. We had chicken and dressing (I spent all day Tuesday cooking and deboning three chickens, and saving the broth in a pot. The next morning I skimmed the fat from the broth and put it in an empty milk jug. Fred’s sister came by Wednesday to pick up the chicken, broth, giblets for the gravy, and eggs for deviled eggs. We also brought squash casserole and dessert with us on Friday. BUT AT LEAST I DIDN’T HAVE TO CLEAN THE HOUSE. I would have made every single dish and brought it to Fred’s sister’s house to save myself from having to clean the house.), ham, deviled eggs, and (my favorite) sweet potato casserole.

Let us take a moment to silently appreciate the sweet potato casserole. DAMN that stuff is good. It’s like dessert WITH the meal – and then you still get dessert at the end of the meal! It’s total win-win!

We sat at the table after we ate and talked for a long time, then we moved into the den. Fred’s niece and nephew had brought their… Nintendo? Play Station? X-Box? One of those game-playing systems, I don’t know which one. I’m too old to care about the details – alls I know is that they brought it with them, hooked it up, and put in Rock Star. Rock Band? Whatever that game is where people “play” the “guitar” and “bass” and “drums”.

Jesus, what am I, 95 years old?

Anyway, we watched his niece and nephew play and sing a couple of songs, and Fred smirked and laughed and just generally mocked them before he could stand it no longer and snatched the microphone out of her hand and began singing.

Actually, he had a hard time finding songs because we are 130 years old and had heard of almost none of the songs in the list. Ultimately, he did a couple of songs and then rounded out the show with “Still Alive“. I half expected that he’d want to stop on the way home and buy a Nintendo Station Box, but he didn’t. He didn’t completely discount the idea of buying a karaoke machine in the future, though.

We got home, took naps, hung out with kittens, and then watched movies.

Saturday, we had to take a trip to Lawrenceburg. The Amish guy who’d made us our pantry several months ago had sent us a letter telling us that the bookcase (which will go in my bathroom) we’d ordered was done. Fred wasn’t feeling well Friday night before bed, and I told him we could put off the trip for another weekend, but he just wanted to get it over with.

I always think of the trip to Lawrenceburg as taking about 45 minutes, but I finally timed the trip this time, and it’s actually an hour and 15 minutes, each way. That’s a long fucking trip, believe me.

We picked up the bookcase, and came straight home without stopping to buy stuff we don’t need, which is our usual M.O. when we go to Lawrenceburg. We ate lunch, puttered around.

Took naps.

Hung out with kittens.

The usual.

We watched more movies that night, and then before bed I put the turkey in the oven. This wasn’t one of our turkeys, ironically (I’ll get to that in a minute), but a Butterball I’d picked up at the store at the beginning of the week. I happen to really like turkey, and was sad that we weren’t having turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. Since the sales on turkey were decent, I figured why not have a scaled-down turkey dinner on Sunday?

Also, I was dying to give this recipe a try.

I put the turkey in at 10:00, and Fred took it out of the oven when he got up at 5:00. That turkey was absolutely falling off the bones. The last instruction of the recipe says to slice the turkey and put it on a platter, but there was NO slicing that turkey. All I had to do was pick the pieces of turkey out of the broth and put it in a container. I saved most of the carcass to make turkey soup later this week.

The turkey was REALLY good. And it was nice to pick the turkey apart when I got up, because then the turkey was ready to eat whenever we wanted to eat, and I didn’t have to mess with it later.

We ate at noon, and along with the turkey we had stuffing (Stove-Top, if you must know. Don’t mock.), scalloped corn, and cranberry sauce. Hey, I said it was going to be a scaled-down turkey dinner, didn’t I?

The scalloped corn was a challenge. It looks super easy, but first of all I didn’t have any creamed corn in the house. So I ran over to the dollar store hoping against hope that they’d have some. They did, to my relief, so I figured I was all set. I got ready to put the recipe together, figuring it’d take just a few minutes then I’d pop it in the oven, but of course

OF COURSE

I had no bread crumbs on hand. Back to the dollar store I went, hoping they’d have bread crumbs. They did not, so I ended up going up into town to buy bread crumbs. I finally got home, got it tossed together, and then put it in the oven. Then, since we had half an hour, Fred and I decided to take the pig trailer out to the back forty. They’re going to Freezer Camp next Sunday, and so Fred wanted to start feeding them on the trailer so that next Sunday they’ll be easy to get into the trailer.

He ended up getting the truck stuck in the mud, and had to get the tractor out to get it unstuck. By the time he got it unstuck and out to the back forty, the corn was done cooking, and so was the stuffing.

We ate, and it was everything I’d hoped for. The scalloped corn was good, but I don’t know that I’m going to add it into regular rotation.

We napped, we hung out with kittens, we ate dinner (a bowl of bran flakes for him; leftovers from lunch for me), and then we watched movies.

Oh, but I forgot to mention what happened earlier in the day.

Actually, I need to go back a few days. Thursday morning, the turkeys rampaged. They kept coming over the fence and going all over hell and creation. Fred had to go out at one point and herd them off our next door neighbors’ property. They’d stay in the back forty for a little while, then jump over the fence and maraud around like assholes.

We talked about it, and decided that despite our desire to raise turkeys next year from the ultra-personable Hjonkie, it was time to process them. It’d be one thing if we lived in the middle of 40 acres or more, and it didn’t matter that the turkeys were marauding assholes, but we live on 4 1/2, we don’t want them tromping across our neighbors’ property, and I’m sure it was only a matter of time before they’d go tromping into traffic and get hit.

Fred had intended to get up Saturday morning and process them, but he wasn’t feeling well, and had pulled a muscle in his back, so he opted to put it off for another day. He still wasn’t feeling so hot Sunday morning, but when he looked out into the back yard and saw that all six turkeys were in the back yard, surrounding Tommy, and displaying in an aggressive manner (Tommy was freaked OUT), he knew it was time for them to go.

It took him almost two hours to process all six of them, and when he came inside with the mostly-cleaned turkeys, he announced that he never ever wanted to have to process another turkey again. Apparently it’s a great big pain in the ass.

So we’ve got six turkeys sitting in the fridge for a couple of days, “aging” before they go out to the freezer. I’ve already told Fred that I want to have one of them for dinner on Christmas day.

We weighed the largest turkey, and he weighed just under 8 pounds. Not huge, but certainly big enough for the two of us.

That was our weekend: eating, napping, hanging out with kittens, and murdering turkeys.

I consider it a good one.

If you didn’t read Love & Hisses in the past several days, you missed Hydrox’s new career, excellent True Blood news, and some adorable kitten movies.

Speaking of kitten movies, I just want to make sure all y’all have seen this one. Warning: You will die from the cute.

Pretty Veruca.

Silly Violet.

Augustus Gloop: The Floofening.

I’m surprised she’s gaining any weight at all – she doesn’t appear able to get any of it IN her mouth. (I still add pumpkin to their canned kitten food occasionally, mostly because they seem to really enjoy it.)

Snoozin’ babies.

Don’t be fooled by the sweet little face. Blue wasn’t grooming that poor sleeping baby – she was biting him. She wanted to PLAY!

I was wrong yesterday when I reported that Hydro X is his rapper name. It is, in fact, his superhero name. Of course.

Just a boy and his pink feather boa.

Jake and Elwood, atop the cat tree in the front room. (MAN that thing is looking ratty. I need to figure out how to get that sisal rope to stay up. Super glue? Anyone?)

Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: MOOOOOOOOOM! Make the shirt stop touching me!
2006: That’s really a bitch of a way to start the day.
2005: “Au contraire,” said the ringleader. “We found a SESAME SEED!”
2004: I give it two weeks before someone barfs on the new comforter.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: “What will I do now that I don’t have to clean dust off my ball?”
2000: I’ll just not think about that.
1999: When she came to a stop, she sat up and swayed back and forth, blinking sleepily up at me.

Note: I’m taking the rest of the week off from posting. I’ll still be updating sporadically over at Love & Hisses, though!

I need to make an announcement here, and I hope y’all aren’t too disappointed: we’re not doing the holiday card exchange this year. The price of the cards combined with the price of postage has just gotten way too high and I really can’t justify the expense anymore.

I know you guys understand.

On Sunday, I didn’t do much of anything. It was gray and rainy (or threatening to rain, in any case) and cold, and I just wasn’t in the mood to do ANYthing. So after a run to the grocery store, I hung out with the Cookies for a little while, and then went upstairs to hang out with the Wonkas. After a short nap with the Wonkas (really, you lay down and are immediately covered with warm purring little bodies. How can you NOT fall asleep?), I walked into the foster kitten room to put something away, and glanced out the window.

And saw our mailbox and the post it had been on strewn in pieces across the lawn.

Sputtering obscenities, I came downstairs and beckoned Fred onto the front porch. We stood and stared in amazement.

“When THE HELL did that happen?” I asked. I’d gotten home from the grocery store less than an hour before and I was pretty sure I’d have noticed if the mailbox was in pieces on the lawn.

(My Mailbox is in Pieces on the Lawn would be an excellent name for a country song.)

Fred thought about it and said that he’d heard a loud sound while I was in with the Cookies. We have a lot – A LOT – of 18 wheelers going by our house, and he’d heard a loud noise and then the sound of air brakes, and then the truck had kept going. He figured it was nothing, so didn’t even bother to look out the window to see what was going on.

There was no putting the mailbox back together – the post was in pieces, the mailbox was in pieces. So Fred picked everything up and tossed it in the trash.

It really really really really fucking PISSES ME OFF that that douchebag couldn’t even be bothered to stop after he hit the goddamn mailbox. Fucking douchebag.

WHAT A DOUCHEBAG.

I can only hope that hitting the mailbox did some damage to his truck, but I’m going to guess that it probably didn’t do any at all.

DOUCHEBAG.

And of course yesterday, because we have no mailbox, the mail lady didn’t leave our mail. She may have driven into the driveway and blown her horn, but I wasn’t home, so no mail for us today.

I REALLY LIKE CHECKING THE MAIL. IT’S THE HIGH POINT OF MY DAY.

Fred stopped at the post office on his way home and talked to the lady who works there. She said they could hold our mail for us at the post office and he could pick it up every day until we get a new mailbox in place. Then she told him to write down our names and address, and as soon as she saw my name, she laughed and said “Oh, I know who you are!”

I REALLY LIKE TO ORDER STUFF ONLINE AND HAVE IT MAILED TO ME, SHADDUP.

Every time I think of that douchebag hitting the mailbox and continuing on, it makes me want to devote my life to tracking him down and kicking his ass.

Fucker.

As we were laying on our respective couches later, talking about it, I kept saying “I cannot believe that utter fucking ASSHOLE just hit the mailbox and KEPT ON GOING!” and Fred kept saying “I can’t believe I didn’t even turn around and look out the window when I heard the noise!”

When we bought this house three years ago, there was no mailbox. The lady who sold us the house said that they didn’t have a mailbox because they were afraid it’d get hit by a drunk driver. Yesterday, Fred said “I wonder if that means it DID get hit by a drunk driver!”

The fucking cars on this road seem to spend an awful lot of time going off the road RIGHT ONTO OUR LAWN. In the two and a half years we’ve lived here, countless cars and trucks have left tire marks on the edge of our lawn near the street. A guy in a truck went off the road, across our lawn, through the ditch, before finally stopping over on the church property. An 18-wheeler came across the road into the ditch. I’m sure there’s more I’m not remembering. AND I’M SURE THEY WERE ALL TALKING ON THEIR CELL PHONES AT THE TIME.

It makes me want to put a cement wall across the front yard protecting the house, because you just KNOW some douchebag is going to come flying up the road and then going flipping across our lawn onto the front porch and into the living room.

Fucking douchebags.

I know it’s deer-hunting season (or so I assume, by the fact that I’m seeing men in hunting gear, and yesterday I saw a truck with two dead deer in the bed), but good lord – I have seen no less than 8 deer laying dead by the side of the road in various parts of this area. I’m thinking cars and trucks are doing a better job of killing those deer than any hunter could!

Excellent news – THE COOKIES’ TESTS ALL CAME BACK NEGATIVE!!! YAY!!!!!

“YES, MOTHER, that IS a booger on my forehead! It’s the new cool thing all the kids are doing! GEEZ!”

“No! You go away! This are MY lap for snuggling in!”

“I said go away!!!”

“First I stunned him with the ear floof, and then I stole his hat! Take that, fat man!”

“I dub thee… Sir Stinkybutt! HEE HEE HEE!”

Pretty Mikey in the sun.

He’s not all ear floof. He’s got some pretty impressive whiskers, too!

Gigglin’ Veruca.

“Hello, hi, HELLO? I’d like in, please!” I spend half my life letting Maxi in and then out. Then in, then out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Repeat FOREVER.

Previously
2008: Google is such a goddamn know-it-all.
2007: Questions, answered.
2006: No entry.
2005: I think I need to go eat some deviled eggs to assuage the pain.
2004: And I just glared at him and thought to myself Just because you’re too stupid and scatterbrained to read and watch TV at the same time doesn’t mean I am, jackass.
2003: “Purring? You don’t like the sound of them purring?”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Just a little more knowledge o’ Robyn y’all can add to your notes.
1999: No entry.