2/5/09

So, the pigs are going back from whence they came. With these two, we really bit off more than we can chew. To quote from the email Fred sent out to the various people who were buying one and a half of the pigs (the last half being ours, of course): The pigs I bought … Continue reading “2/5/09”

2009-02-05 (4)

So, the pigs are going back from whence they came. With these two, we really bit off more than we can chew. To quote from the email Fred sent out to the various people who were buying one and a half of the pigs (the last half being ours, of course):

The pigs I bought in Tennessee came from a factory farm hog raiser,
and they were considered “culls” because they have inguinal hernias,
which are small holes in their abdominal walls. Their intestines can
come out through the hole, making a bulge on the pig’s underbelly.
According to the man I bought them from, it’s a simple matter to “poke
the guts back up in the hole” regularly, and the pigs will eventually
get big enough that their intestines no longer protrude.

I did not find this to be the case.

After days of crawling through poop and wrestling squealing pigs, I’ve
had enough and am returning them to the man I got them from.

I’ll let you know when I find another (normal) pair.

Sorry for any inconveniences this may cause.

2009-02-05 (5)

On Tuesday when Fred got home from work, we went out so that I could hold each pig while he “poked the guts back up in the hole”. These pigs are little but HOLY SHIT were they hard for me to hold. Apparently the best way to hold a pig is by their ears, and although I was reluctant, I did it. It didn’t, for the record, hurt them. Just made them angry and squeal very loudly.

(The volume of a tiny pig squealing is utterly amazing.)

So Fred did the poking, and after their guts were poked up into the hole, the guts? Immediately slipped back out. Okay. Well, apparently their guts were big enough to stay, right?

Yesterday when Fred got home from work, we went out. Only this time, instead of looking curiously at us when we walked into their shelter, the pigs remembered the horror from the day before (and again, nothing we did HURT them, it just scared them) and went shooting out of the shelter. Big Pig made it – we managed to catch Little Pig. I was just barely able to hold on to the pig while Fred did his thing. Big Pig, seeing that we were distracted by Little Pig, came over to investigate, and then bit my boot, hoping it was food.

Pigs = stomachs on legs.

Little Pig done (and yes, the guts slid right back out), we had to lure Big Pig with food. The dogs were exceedingly interested in watching us. I had a VERY hard time keeping hold of Big Pig, and after trying his best to push guts, Fred finally gave up and told me to let Big Pig go.

We came inside and discussed it, and Fred called the guy we’d gotten the pigs from. The guy told him “Oh, you don’t need to do it every day, just every ten days or so.”

“Here’s the problem,” I said to Fred. “I was – barely – able to hold onto the pigs today. In ten days, I don’t know that I’m going to be able to.”

We talked some more, and ultimately decided to give the pigs back to the guy this Sunday. The man who sold us our first two pigs last year will have some later this month, so chances are good we’ll be buying from him. The guy who sold us these two pigs will likely be able to find someone at the flea market to buy these two, so they won’t be going back to a factory situation.

And that’s what’s going on with the pigs!

It’s kinda too bad that they’re going back, because they’ve certainly got personality.

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From the side yard, driving Sugarbutt crazy:

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Tufted Titmouse, keeping an eye on you.

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Finch sock, right outside the side door.

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The other Finch sock, about twenty feet away.

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From the chicken yard:

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Chicken George has gone broody. Fred put her in a cage last night to break her from the broodiness.

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Our wee Silkie has started laying the prettiest little pink eggs. In a few months, we very well may try hatching a few. (Silkies are purported to be very good mothers.)

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Silkie in the yard.

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Michelle and the wimminfolk.

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Life on the farm is kinda laid-back.

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The speckled rooster. I think he’s awfully pretty – I’ve started calling him Bob. Fred was going to process him back when he did all those chickens a few weeks ago, but I begged for his life and Fred relented. (Or I said “No, let’s keep him.” One or the other.)

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Keeping an eye on the flock.

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It’s a George.

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Eyeballing the flock.

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Things that ANNOY THE SHIT OUT OF ME:

2009-02-05 (8)
Every goddamn time we go somewhere and Fred needs to run inside or go do something at the other end of the vehicle while I wait in the vehicle, he leaves the goddamn door wide fucking open. WIDE OPEN. It was like TEN GODDAMN DEGREES that day, and we were getting straw or feed or something, so he backed up to the loading dock and got out to give his sales slip to the guy, and left the door wide open. WIDE MOTHERFUCKING OPEN. Occasionally he’ll give the door a half-hearted push so that it closes part of the way. I fucking ASK YOU – how DIFFICULT is it to shut the goddamn door? JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY.

2009-02-05 (24)
When I do the dishes, I do the dishes. That is, I put whatever will fit in the dishwasher into the dishwasher, I wash what doesn’t go in the dishwasher, then I dry and put said dishes away. THAT is what I consider “Doing the dishes.” Because if you leave dishes drying beside the sink overnight, you just might walk into the kitchen to find that a cat has helpfully peed upon the drying dishes. (YES, THIS IS MY LIFE. CAN WE GET MORE CATS, PLEASE?) Fred, on the other hand, puts what he can into the dishwasher, washes what won’t fit, and then piles them to the side of the sink and leaves them there forever. (IF YOU SAY “WELL AT LEAST HE DOES THE DISHES” I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND CUT YOU. Most nights “doing the dishes” for him entails putting his dirty dinner dish into the dishwasher.) Last night, after I gave him shit for not putting the dishes away, he said “Well, you should have said ‘Can you come put these dishes away?'” (1) WHY SHOULD I HAVE TO? DOES HE NOT SEE THAT THE DISHES NEED TO BE PUT AWAY? (2) If I had, I GUARANTEE I would have gotten the “Oh, you’re allllllllllways thinking up things for me to do!” PARDON ME if I think that picking up the bag of cat shit and taking it over to the garage WHEN YOU ARE HEADED THAT WAY ANYWAY is “thinking up things for you to do”, motherfucker!

(It might be one of Those Days. You know, a day that started off with stepping in a puddle of cold cat barf, followed by a couple of cats screaming at each other? Yeah, like that.)

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2009-02-05 (12)
I love how it looks in this picture like Rumba’s yelling at Samba. “You just stay over there! I need my space!”

More kitten pics over at Love & Hisses.

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2009-02-05 (23)
He’s a happy Joe.

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Previously
2008: At one point I turned around to say something to Sugarbutt, who was sitting by the screen door leading to the back yard, smacking at the cat door, and I saw every single chicken sitting on the back steps, staring expectantly at me, hoping I’d send some food their way.
2007: God. That sounds just like a herd of elephants, I thought.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I DON’T KNOW YOU, I CAN’T CHAT WITH YOU, PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE.
2003: Pictures found.
2002: That’s just the kind of sucky slacking emailer I am.
2001: You know, if I had ANY self-control at all, I’d wait to buy these books ’til they come out in paperback.
2000: No entry.

2/4/09

Attention: Edward (Teddy) Geiger, please remove yourself from my brain. Considering that For You I Will (Confidence) spent ONE MILLION YEARS bouncing around my brain before it bounced off into someone else’s brain, I don’t expect this request to be honored. Grrrr. PS: Get a hair cut, boy! * * * * * * * … Continue reading “2/4/09”

Attention:

Edward (Teddy) Geiger, please remove yourself from my brain.

Considering that For You I Will (Confidence) spent ONE MILLION YEARS bouncing around my brain before it bounced off into someone else’s brain, I don’t expect this request to be honored. Grrrr.

PS: Get a hair cut, boy!

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So, my visit to the surgeon who performed my weight loss surgery is over for another year, thank god. I know I’ve mentioned that my surgeon is very good at what he does, but he’s not much for the warm and fuzzy bedside manner. Which is okay, except that I have to go see him every year and squirm through a torturous visit and he’s perfectly nice and all, I just don’t know.

I DON’T LIKE HIM.

I don’t have to like him, I know, but I sure do dread the yearly office visit. January just dragged by for me, because I knew I had that appointment at the beginning of February and I was so not looking forward to it. There’s always this awkward moment at the end of the office visit where he smiles and just looks at me, and I feel like he’s waiting for me to gush gratitude over how this surgery has changed my life and this surgery HAS changed my life, I can do things physically that I was never able to do before and I’m grateful for that, but I just don’t gush. I’m not a gusher.

(THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!)

It’s probably all in my head, and I can deal with suffering through a ten-minute office visit once a year, but I’m sure glad it’s over with, is all I’m saying.

Once my visit was over and my appointment for next year was scheduled, I went to the health food store, since I was on that side of town. I really like this place, I always find some interesting new food to try. This time around I bought some animal crackers and some sesame sticks.

It wasn’t ’til Fred got home and looked at the animal crackers and read what it said on the box that I realized they were gluten-free, wheat-free, dairy/ casein free, egg free and trans fat free. We later determined that when they’d left out all that other stuff, they also left out the flavor.

It’s okay, the pigs’ll eat ’em!

(The sesame sticks were good, though.)

From there, I ran over to Sam’s Club because I was just about out of paper for the printer, and seeing as it’s February I figure it’s possibly time to get my ass in gear and move my 2008 files up to storage. To do that, I need hanging file folders, so I bought some ugly green ones at Sam’s. A box of white vinegar (two one-gallon bottles for less than $4!), 25 pounds of sugar, and a bag of pig’s ears (for the dogs), and I was out of there.

About the pig’s ears: Fred bought a small bag of pig’s ears for the dogs a while ago, and apparently the dogs are BIG FANS. We wondered if we might not be sending a bad signal to George and Gracie – “Here, have these pigs ears! And yes, those ARE pigs, and the only thing standing between you and their tasty, tasty ears is a flimsy gate! Good-night, we’re going inside now!”

But after some initial barkiness toward the pigs, the dogs pretty much ignore them now – though when we go into the pig yard, the dogs stand and look sadly at us, like “Why you givin’ them little weird animals yummy treats? We thought all the yummy treats was for US.”

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Speaking of the dogs, back when I bought the Fling-ama-string, I also got a couple of these Humunga Tongues for the dogs. I’ve actually seen George running around with it in his mouth, with the tongue part hanging out, and it’s pretty funny looking, but I never have the camera with me when he’s doing it, of course.

They’ve started shredding the ends of the “tongues”, and there are bits of red plastic “tongue” spread across the back forty.

Dogs like to chew! Who knew?

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I was going to make an appointment for Samba and Rumba to be spayed this week, but yesterday Samba started getting kind of whistly and sneezy, so I started her back on chlorpheniramine (which seems to be helping), and if she’s doing well by Friday I’ll call and make the appointment for next week.

There’s no big rush, though – Delmar, Lem, Marion and Claudette are still unadopted. My poor babies!

Last evening we took the baby gates at the bottom of the stairs down. Samba and Rumba did NOT know what to think about that – at first, they’d sneak down to the hallway, then at the first sight of Fred or I, they’d turn and run up the stairs to the landing. When we settled down to watch TV, they came down and explored, and even made it out as far as the living room for a while.

It wasn’t hard to get them back into their room last night, and they were quiet all night long, didn’t bang on the door demanding to be let out. I let them out this morning and for now I’m going to let them have the run of the house. So far, they’re spending most of their time running around the upstairs and occasionally coming down the stairs to see what’s going on.

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Samba always looks like she’s smiling. I want to just pick her up and squeeze the stuffing out of her.

More kitten pics over at Love & Hisses.

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2009-02-04 (2)
From a garbage can to a tiny condo crammed between a set of concrete stairs and the hose reel in two short months! Who says the American Dream isn’t alive and well?

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Previously
2008: “WHERE’S THE SCAR?! HERE ARE HIS WRISTS, WHERE’S THE SCAAAAAAAAAAR?!”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: How does one become a house appraiser?
2004: I told Fred about how little things remind me anew of our loss strike me when I’m least expecting it, and I cried again.
2003: And, oh and does fred annoy you? Not any more than I annoy him, probably. 🙂
2002: See something on the floor? Sit on it.
2001: No entry.
2000: Here’s a cute story to satiate your bitchypoo jones until then

2/3/09

It rained for a good part of the day yesterday, and I have to say – I didn’t notice the sound of the rain on the roof being any louder than it was when we had shingles. Even in the closets, where there’s no attic space to act as insulation against the sound, it was … Continue reading “2/3/09”

It rained for a good part of the day yesterday, and I have to say – I didn’t notice the sound of the rain on the roof being any louder than it was when we had shingles. Even in the closets, where there’s no attic space to act as insulation against the sound, it was about the same.

I’m starting to really like the look of the green roof on our house, now that I’ve had a few days to get accustomed to it.

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Okay, I’ve got nothin’, and I’ve got to leave in a bit for a doctor’s appointment on the other side of Huntsville (my three-year checkup with the surgeon who did my weight loss surgery), so I’m going to slap up a meme local reader Jean sent me via email, and call it good. Fair enough?

[Have you ever…?]

Gone on a blind date? Nope.

Skipped school? God yes. I skipped so many classes my Senior year of high school, there’s no way on earth I should have been allowed to graduate.

Watched someone die? No.

Been to Canada ? Yes, several times – but not since I was 18 and went to very Northern Maine with Liz.

Been to Mexico ? I don’t believe so.

Been on a plane? Many times.

Been lost? Many times! (Which is why I think I need a GPS!)

Been on the opposite side of the country? I’ve been to California, but I think the true opposite side of the country would be Washington state, and I’ve never been there.

Gone to Washington, DC? Twice, both times with Fred.

Swam in the ocean? Many times.

Cried yourself to sleep? I’m sure I have, but not any time recently.

Played cops and robbers? If I did, I don’t recall. God, it’s horrible getting old.

Recently colored with crayons? Nope.

Sang Karaoke? Never. I would never inflict my horrid singing voice on an unsuspecting public.

Paid for a meal with coins only? Yes, in my youth. After we closed at McDonald’s, we’d go to Denny’s for a late-night meal, and on the night before payday most of us would pay for our food with coins.

Done something you told yourself you wouldn’t many times? Yes.

Made prank phone calls? Yes. The last time was years ago when Debbie and I lived together in Lisb0n Falls, and I don’t remember who the guy was, but he’d done something to piss her off, so we called him over and over and over again, and I played the Adam Sandler Thanksgiving Song over the phone. I perhaps needed a life.

Laughed until some kind of beverage came out of your nose? Yes. The last time was when Nance and Rick were visiting at some point last year and we were playing Catchphrase, and I had to get Fred to guess Jazz, and I couldn’t get him to say it by yelling “You hate this kind of music!” (because that was too broad a clue, obviously), so I scat sang. And then afterward, I started thinking about the fact that I – the whitest woman in all the universe – had scat sang, and I was drinking water at the time, and I started laughing, and water came shooting out my nose.

Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yes, many times.

Danced in the rain? Nope, never. I am boring.

Written a letter to Santa Claus? I’m sure, but I don’t recall the experience.

Been kissed under the mistletoe? Yes. Once by a boy I had a crush on, who went on to date a friend. Bastard.

Watched the sunrise with someone you care about? I’m sure I have.

Blown bubbles? Yes. Who hasn’t?

Gone ice-skating? Yes, but not in years.

Been skinny dipping outdoors? Yes, when we had our pool at the first house we skinny-dipped frequently. Though, as they say, for me it was more like chunky-dunking. Har.

Gone to the movies? Yes – but not in a month or so. I always think I’m going to pick up and go to the movies by myself during the week, but I never actually do it.

Saved someone’s life? Nope.

1. Any nickname? Fred calls me Bessie, Liz calls me Robbie, and some of y’all call me Bitchypoo.

2. Mother’s name? Brenda.

3. Favorite drink? Water!

4. Any Tattoos? Not yet – maybe this’ll be the year I get a small, tasteful cat-themed tattoo on the back of my shoulder!

5. Body piercing? My ears are pierced – have been since I was 13, but I rarely actually wear earrings.

6. How much do you love your job? I adore the fact that I don’t have one!

7. Favorite vacation spot? Maine or Florida. I’m also partial to Gatlinburg.

8. Ever been to Africa? Nope. I’d love to go one day.

9. Ever eaten cookies for dinner? Of course.

10. Been on TV? Yep. I was on Penn & Teller’s Bullshit! back in its first season. It was the episode called Eat This!, and it was the experience that ensured I never particularly want to be on TV again. (The next year, Fred was on the CBS morning show, whatever it’s called, and the reporter was stunned that I didn’t want to be on TV and tried to talk me into it. NO I’M OKAY THANKS.)

11. Ever steal any traffic signs? No – stole a couple of traffic cones once, though.

12. Ever been in a car accident? Just fender benders.

13. Drive a 2-door or 4-door vehicle? Four-door – a red Suzuki Reno hatchback.

14. Favorite Salad Dressing? I don’t have a hard-and-fast favorite. I’m partial to honey-mustard, blue cheese, balsamic vinaigrettes, and French dressing. Depends on my mood.

15. Favorite Pie? Pecan or blueberry.

16. Favorite Number? 73.

17. Favorite Movie? When Harry Met Sally. (And my second favorite: Center Stage. Don’t mock me.)

19. Favorite Dessert? Depends on my mood – I can always go for a hot fudge sundae.

20. Favorite food? I really like most Asian-style food.

21. Favorite day of the week? Friday.

22. Favorite brand of body wash? GCDSpa’s Desert Air Shower Gel. My sister got a small bottle of their lotion and one of their shower gel for Fred for Christmas, and I tried out the gel in the shower one morning. For the rest of the day, I was like “What is that smell?” It was such a nice, light scent, and for the longest time I just thought it was the smell of my laundry detergent. Finally, I figured it out, ordered a big bottle of the gel and lotion, and have been using it ever since. Yes, it’s considered a “man’s” scent, but it’s not particularly masculine to me. I highly recommend it.

23. Favorite toothpaste? Crest.

24. Favorite smell? See up there where I was talking about the Desert Air gel and lotion? Well, you’d think I might answer with that – but in actuality, when my sister and I were talking about the lotion, she mentioned another scent, Spiced Orange. So I ordered a small bottle of the stuff when I ordered the Desert Air, and I finally got around to trying it, and holy crap. HOLY CRAP. I swear to god, when I put this lotion on my hands, I want to EAT MY HANDS. It smells amazing. If I sold my soul to the devil for the most incredible smell on earth, this is what he would have come up with. It’s orangey, and it’s spicy and it is FABULOUS. And yes, it’s another “man’s” scent, but I care not. It’s not particularly manly to me, and I love it. LOVE IT.

(I also like the smell of the ocean, if you must know.)

25. What do you do to relax? Lay in bed and read with a cat curled up next to me, or go out and hang with the dogs and the chickens.

26. How do you see yourself in 10 years? As looking good for my age?

27. How many siblings do you have? Three.

28. Furthest place you will send this message? Across the entire internet!

29. Who will respond to this the fastest? I’m not asking anyone to respond – but feel free to steal it for your own blog if you want!

30. Who is your favorite dog of all time? Taffy. She was a good little dog, even if she DID have to stop and sniff every single piece of grass she ever came across. Good ol’ Taffy.

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For a couple of days I left the baby gates up across the upstairs hallway so that Samba and Rumba would have their room, the bathroom and a little piece of the hallway to explore. At some point on Saturday I heard a freaked-out kitten meow, and discovered that Rumba had climbed over the baby gates and gone exploring, and ended up downstairs. I have no idea how long she’d been out. So I moved the baby gates to the bottom of the stairs. We have three baby gates, so I put one at the bottom of the doorway, one on top of that, and then one blocking the small amount of space at the top of the doorway.

Every time I went upstairs, they were hanging out in my room, but they’d see me and go running for their own room.

Last night, we heard the distinctive sound of a kitten climbing the baby gates and when we investigated, Rumba was perched atop the bar across the top baby gate. We rescued her and put her back on the steps, and when Mister Boogers came over to see what was going on, Fred lifted him over the gate and set him on the stairs.

Turns out Samba rather likes Mister Boogers, and Mister Boogers is tolerant of her. Fred reported that he vigorously licked Samba on top of the head, and she really liked it.

I’m leaving the baby gates in place at the bottom of the stairs during the day today, but this evening when all our cats are inside and the back door (with the cat door in it) is closed, I’m going to take down the baby gates and see how that goes. I expect Samba and Rumba will be doing more hiding than anything, but we’ll see!

2009-02-03 (5)

More kitten pics over at Love & Hisses.

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2009-02-03 (7)
All it’ll take is one good stretch, and Sugarbutt will plummet to the floor….

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: “How do they grow salt?”
2004: Stalkers, beware!
2003: Did you hear that Tubby was a hero over the weekend?
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Can I just say that I loathe the hell out of those gaunt, haggard-looking bitches, Joan and Melissa Rivers?

2/2/09

So as you might be able to tell, I spent a good part of Saturday making jams. I came up with the neat idea of layering a couple of different kinds of jams – when I got to the end of the first batch of jam, I didn’t have enough to fill an entire jar, … Continue reading “2/2/09”

So as you might be able to tell, I spent a good part of Saturday making jams. I came up with the neat idea of layering a couple of different kinds of jams – when I got to the end of the first batch of jam, I didn’t have enough to fill an entire jar, but I didn’t want it to go to waste, so I put what I had in a jar, then filled it the rest of the way with the next batch of jam. I ended up with four jars like that, and as far as I can tell (from looking at the jars), they stayed separated through processing.

OddsNEnds2

Fred thinks it would be a neat idea to layer three kinds of jam, getting progressively hotter with each layer. I may do that next weekend.

I thought we had a ton of habaneros left in the freezer, but as it turns out, after Saturday’s JamFest, we have twelve bags left (each batch of “medium heat” jam takes one bag of habaneros). So I guess the end is in sight as far as the jams and hot sauces go!

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Friday marked three years since I had RNY weight loss surgery. Sunday, I updated over at OneFatBitchypoo.

(For the record, if you’re ever looking for information on my weight loss surgery or plastic surgery experience, you’re going to find more of that over at OneFatBitchypoo than here.)

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Lo asked where my new-hairstyle pictures were. I didn’t go with any kind of change, just the same ol’ ‘do. I figure if it ain’t broke, why fix it, right?

Proof:

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Before. Note the gray.

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After. Very early in the morning, which explains why I look like I’m 100 years old.

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2009-02-02 (8)

The roof guys spent all weekend working on the roof, and finally (mostly) finished late Sunday. I think it looks good, and I know the cats are relieved that there are no longer guys tromping around on the roof in a loud way.

I think the roof looks good – it’ll take some getting used to, but hopefully it’ll hold up well and we’ll have no further issues with leaking.

They finished the front part of the house Friday and then started on the back part, and since my computer is situated so that it looks right into the back yard, I got to witness the many times the younger of the two roofers picking up a huge, heavy piece of metal roof, and then staggered around with it held over his head.

2009-02-02

I was fairly certain one end of the piece of roofing was going to come right through the window and split my skull in half, but luckily I was incorrect about that.

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2009-02-02 (5)

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It wasn’t until after she put her glasses on that Samba realized she’d been whispering sweet nothings to a water bottle all evening long. That explained why her paramour had been so unresponsive, she guessed.

She made a mental note to see about contact lenses.

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2009-02-02 (7)
I swear to god, I think this cat kills people and buries them in the back yard at night when we’re sleeping. Have you ever seen such serial killer eyes? (Luckily she likes us. FOR NOW.)

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: Spoiled rotten brats. The cats AND me.
2006: So, that’s the state of things with me.
2005: “Oh my god!” he said. “There’s a dead mole under here!”
2004: The man thinks that “hot” and “good-looking” are the same thing!
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: We all know I’m lazy, but this is ridiculous.

1/30/09

I know I mentioned all the pecans Fred picked up from the ground under the poltergeist tree (located in the old chicken yard) last Fall. He ended up filling up almost three buckets that had previously held 40 pounds of Fresh Step kitty litter. We took the first two buckets to the Co-op to have … Continue reading “1/30/09”

I know I mentioned all the pecans Fred picked up from the ground under the poltergeist tree (located in the old chicken yard) last Fall. He ended up filling up almost three buckets that had previously held 40 pounds of Fresh Step kitty litter. We took the first two buckets to the Co-op to have them cracked, and then when we picked up those two buckets, we dropped off the third bucket.

It took for-fucking-ever, but we got the first two buckets shelled and washed and then frozen. The third bucket, though, I decided I needed a break while I finished the cross-stitch picture I was working on. (I always have to be doing something else when we watch TV in the evening, I can’t just sit there and watch TV, usually. For a while I’d sit and surf on the laptop, but I felt like I was spending too much time online, so I moved the laptop up to my bedroom (where it sits, pretty much ignored all the time) and for a while I was shelling pecans every night, and then when I needed the aforementioned break, I cross-stitched. Sometimes I read magazines. Fascinating, no?)

So earlier this week I finished the picture I was cross-stitching, and I brought the bucket of pecans out to the living room with me at TV time, and I started shelling the pecans. I got a couple of cups of pecans before I got to the nasty ones. It turns out that those pecans had been sitting there waiting to be shelled and they’d somehow gotten damp in the cracking or the waiting process. After the top layer of pecans, every pecan I picked up was moldy.

Fred tossed the pecans onto the compost heap, and I left the pecans I’d gotten shelled in a bowl on the counter for a couple of days. Tuesday, I finally got around to rinsing the dirt off them, and then I spread them on a cookie sheet and put them in the oven at 170º to dry and then lightly roast.

When I decided they were dry and roasted enough, I turned the oven off, but left the cookie sheet in the oven.

If you’re, like me, a fumbling idiot, you probably know where this is going.

Wednesday night I turned the oven on to 400º to preheat it for the chicken pot pie, and after a little while I thought “What is that odd smell?” That odd smell was the pecans, in the oven, starting to burn.

They didn’t get burned to a crisp, but they did get lightly burned, and so I set them aside to cool, figuring Fred could try them out and decide whether he wanted to eat them or if they needed to go to the compost heap.

Long story short (too late!), he tried them and pronounced them REALLY good. I finally gave them a try myself, and I have to admit he’s right. They’re pretty damn good!

Who knew lightly singed pecans would be so good?

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We are in the process of getting our new roof. When I got home yesterday, there were two guys on the roof pulling up shingles and tossing them down into a trailer. They worked through the day and got the front part of the house three-quarters of the way done, and I assume they’ll be back later today to get some more of it done (maybe finish it?).

It honestly never occurred to me that our homeowner’s insurance would pay for any of the new roof – I thought that getting a new roof was going to be one of the (very expensive) things that homeowners just have to suck it up and pay for. Imagine my surprise – and DELIGHT – to find out that it’s not so.

2009-01-30 (1)

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Real Housewives of Orange County:

Shane is the king of all douchebags and needs a good, hard smack upside the head. That is all.

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I know this entry is really old but I’m working my way backwards. Yes, I peek at the end of books too.

Anyway.

My cat, who was about 8 at the time, had what can only be described as a pet squirrel. This small (baby?) squirrel got into the house and was living in the basement with the cat (the cat is allowed the whole house but the basement is his den, and no one bugs him down there) for like 3 weeks – we couldn’t catch the squirrel. We’d see them both sitting in the basement window together, and once even saw the squirrel eating the cat’s food. Seriously dumb cat – he just didn’t realize it was a rat with a prettier tail. Eventually the squirrel was captured and released and the cat was friendless once again.

I wanna know if the cat even noticed that the squirrel was gone – like, was he sad that his BFF had been kicked out of the house, or did he even notice?

(Also, I wish there were pictures to go along with this story!)

Edited to add: Fred sent me this link. TOO CUTE.

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And a question about the robots.txt file… I’ve noticed that a lot of people who don’t make their sites non-googlable will do this odd little “disguising” thing – like typing “L0we$” instead of “Lowes,” or “we saw a D-sney movie” or “we went to A p p l e b e e’s” to make at least those terms non-googlable. (“Google” here being shorthand for “search engine.”)

And like, where you said, “as often I use the many forms of ‘fuck’, I thought it best to try to slow down the flood of random surfers.”

I don’t understand the reason for that. Is it a bandwidth issue? Am I being incautious by not particularly caring if someone googles a brand name, or something indelicate, and winds up on my site instead? (I always just think it’s funny how they were probably expecting something wild and raunchy and instead got a boring story about my kid and my cats.) What am I missing? So many people do this that there has to be a good reason for it, but I can’t figure it out.

(One person that I asked about it said that she didn’t “want any pervs looking at” her site, and I thought, “Oops. Guess I’d better go, then.”)

The only reason I’ve got the robots.txt on my site to slow down the flood of random surfers is because if someone’s surfing on some pervy term in particular and they end up on the journal of a crazy cat (and chicken… and pig… and dog…) lady, they can get kind of nasty. And I don’t mean nasty in a pervy way (all pervs welcome here!), I mean nasty in a rude way and the random drive-by rudeness of strangers annoys me sometimes.

Also, after posting a story once upon a time about how I bought some sandals and they gave me blisters, I got an email from someone who’d wandered across my site via some search engine or another, and they wanted details. About my feet. And what size were my feet? And could I put up pictures of my feet? And what I do with my feet. And so forth. I think that was the same year I got linked by some K3ds fetish site after I mentioned I’d bought a pair.

I know I disguise the names of some of the stores we visit and restaurants we go to, because I don’t particularly want someone who works there to stumble across me bitching about the service. Actually, I’d kind of prefer it if no one in Smallville knew this site existed, but judging by my stats, I’ve already been discovered.

Final thought: JoeBob looks like he might be a little bit dead up there. Have you poked him recently? (c:

Joe Bob is perfectly well and alive, and he has abandoned his nest atop the bookcase in the kitchen – I think he was tired of fighting with Stinkerbelle over it – for a cat bed on the guest bedroom bed.

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I am embarrassed to admit this….but the Shamwow works. Maybe not to the extent that “Vince” says it would but I have used it on everything to coffee and wine spills and a one time fluke dog accident and it really worked. The things you buy when you stand in line too long at Bed, Bath and Beyond.

I never did work up any test spills to see if my Shamwow works! It’s good to know that it does work, at least to some extent!

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“she bit his tech and pooped on the doc” In the past when I was still a vet tech we had a tortie come in for shots/exam and it went like this. Cat flipping around on the table, me trying to hold cat semi-still for exam and not get bit, cat flipped on back starts peeing, imagine fountain, cat still on back starts pooping, imagine those guns they use to shoot t-shirts into the crowd at sporting events, cat gets shots and back into carrier. No one got bit, cat got shots, I cleaned up the exam room. 30 minutes later I’m still smelling cat poop, check bottom of shoes, no poop. Still smell poop, can’t find poop. More time passes, reach into labcoat pocket for pen, find cat poop. Yeah, I’d been carrying it around in my pocket for about an hour. Nice. Oh the stories I could tell.

HEE.

If I were a vet tech, I would surely have stories like this one. It almost makes me want to BECOME a vet tech, except for that whole pesky “working” thing.

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I have a trapping a cat story – it’s really sad… About 10 years ago, I had changed positions at my current employer. It required that I travel for 6 months solid (only an occasional weekend home). I talked my Aunt into taking my two kitties while I was gone. When I went to pick them up 6 months later, she said she hardly saw either one (never seeing the 2nd). I went and spent the night and got my Terry to come to me after much work (his love of cottage cheese did the trick). But could not find Timmy. He was hiding in my Aunt’s laundry room which was stacked to the ceiling with stuff. So my Aunt called her friend that caught feral cats to fix and release and borrowed a live trap. It took 2 days, but my poor Timmy was in the trap in the laundry room. I had to run (3 hour drive) to go get him. He was so scared – he peed on the floor. When I got him home, he remembered the house and actually came to me more often then before. I think my act of “saving” him gave me more love credits with the silly kitty. He actually let me pet him with my hand instead of my foot.

Awww – it’s a sad story, but it’s got a happy ending!

(Also, the idea of a cat who would only let you pet him with your foot? PRICELESS!)

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Holy cow have you seen this?

Ouch!

(Damn showing-off British hens!)

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Just a tip on towels and cleaning rags – if you use any kind of fabric softener, whether liquid or dryer sheets, that will hinder their absorption. (I think you mentioned you don’t use fabric softener, though, at one point (?) so maybe it’s a moot point?) Just thought I’d share.

Yeah, I’ve known since I was a kid that you can’t use fabric softener on towels and cleaning rags if you still want them to be absorbent. Nothing annoys me more than a towel that doesn’t absorb when I’m trying to dry off after a shower!

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Robyn – saw this article in the Washington Post today about Alabama’s back roads and thought you might be interested.

Reading that makes me realize just how little of this state I’ve seen in the twelve years I’ve lived here – and it makes me want to do some exploring!

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ah, my Kara mia. She looks like she is a little fuller around the face. Probably just the collar.

Kara has gained a little weight since she birthed her kittens last April – I say she’s built like a linebacker, all short and stocky and muscular. Which makes it interesting (to me, at least) that her kittens, Nate and Dora, are long and lean and sleek. It’s too bad there’s no way to know what their father looked like!

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Ok. I got through the chicken blood and guts in the kitchen and the pig hernia poking, but I nearly lost it at the consumption of the kitty booger. Blech, blech, blech.

Also, I seem to have dropped the ball on the pigs. I don’t remember the last two leaving? Were you pigless for a while? Or are there now four pigs? That can’t be.

How’s this for gross (skip this if y’all are eating or have a weak stomach!): yesterday before I went to my hair appointment, I went into the kitten room to hang out with Rumba and Samba, and Rumba climbed into my lap, and as I started to pet her I realized she had a smear of poo along her side. How it got there, I have NO idea. I had to go get the wet wipes and clean her off.

Fred took the last two pigs to be processed at the end of November (when I was visiting Nance), and we’ve been pigless since, until last weekend.

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I seemed to have missed the “episode” of taking the females to the butcher. Did they yield anywhere close to the first 2? Was it easy to get them out of the pen? You know we have to know cause the closest farming I get except living thru you is playing “my farm” on facebook.

They yielded less this time than the first two, because they were smaller pigs. I can’t give specifics as to how much we got from each pig, ’cause I don’t know, though. Fred didn’t have a hard time getting them to the processor, luckily, because about a week before they were going, he started feeding them in the back of the trailer. So the morning they were going, all he had to do was bring the food to the trailer, and they went in with no problem, and he closed the gate.

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Those are definitely the cutest pigs you’ve had yet. Are they younger than the others and that’s why they are so cute? Or are they just more photogenic and less dirty?

I think they’re about the same age as the first two were, but the first two were absolutely caked with mud and crap, which made them a little less cute, I think. The second two were a bit older, but cleaner. This set is both young and clean, I guess, which makes them pretty cute!

They spend an awful lot of time snuggled up in their shelter, though. I guess they don’t like the cold weather any more than I do!

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I saw this today and thought of you.

I love that! I think our back yard at the old house in Madison would have been awesome for a small flock of chickens – but I can only imagine how that would have gone over with our neighbors!

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Can you tell me where you got the cat bed that Maxi is in? I need MORE of those!

I got that bed at Goody’s, which is currently going out of business. After I bought that bed and brought it home and found out that the cats think it’s the BEST! BED! EVER!, I went back to buy more, but they didn’t have any more and never got them back in stock.

However, smartypants reader Gracie found them on Overstock! $14.99 is definitely not a bad price for these beds, they’re big and deep and comfy, and there’s always a cat snuggled up in the bed on the dining room table.

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By the way, you seem to have a lot of gang trouble in your neighborhood. Have you contacted the police?

2009-01-29
Are you implying that Sheriff Mama isn’t doing her job?

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hasn’t it been 5 years for Tubby (2004-2009)? I am so sorry for the loss. I cried. JoJo is overweight and having some cleaning her butt issues (TMI I know). Anyway, I feel for you…

Yeah, apparently I can’t do the math – it has been five years. And I feel for you – having a cat who can’t reach her behind to clean herself is no fun at all!

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Great minds think alike. I just made pot pies the other day and they were ridiculously good. I’m thinking I might want to make a batch and freeze them to bake off at will. Mmm, potpie!

I told Fred that I think I’d like to try making single-serving pot pies with that recipe to freeze. I just need to find the right baking dishes to do that in.

Speaking of the pot pie, Fred said last night that he thinks a couple of diced potatoes added to the recipe would make it perfect – and I think I agree.

Also, speaking of recipes and such – if you ever have a recipe that calls for white wine and you (like us) don’t keep white wine on hand, you can always substitute chicken broth. The recipes I do this with turn out perfectly fine with the substitution, as far as I can tell.

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Wow!!! I just got my Scorchin’ Strawberry-Habanero jam and hot sauce delivered about a half hour ago. Just in time to try some jam on a freshly baked corn muffin. It is awesome! The perfect hot/sweet, in my opinion. The heat lingered for a bit, but since I like spicy, it was all good. Great, in fact! Thanks so much! (I have now exhausted my exclamation point quota for the day. 🙂

Thanks for the ringing endorsement! Anyone who’s interested, we’ve still got jams and hot sauces available – and I’ll be making more this weekend, so there’ll be more half-pint samplers and half-pint single jars available on Monday!

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I just searched your site for hand held vacuums but didn’t find what I was looking for. I have wood floors and two shedding dogs. I’m looking for a good hand held vacuum with attachments that I can use to suck up all the pet hair from the floors as well as the wood staircase. I know you have wood floors and lots of shedding cats so I was wondering what you use. I have an upright with attachments that works well for the stairs but it’s heavy and a pain to use. When I use it on the wood floors it blows away more pet hair than it sucks and sweeping causes a lot of hair to fly around the room. I remember that you wrote once that you love your Dyson upright but you weren’t impressed with the Dyson handheld (if I’m remembering that right) and use another brand. Mainly I just want to know how do you remove pet hair from your wood floor and wood staircase?

Usually, I just vacuum with the Dyson upright (and you’re remembering correctly, I’m not impressed with the Dyson handheld at all). On the stairs, I generally use a Swiffer to pick up the cat hair, and if there’s a lot of cat hair on the floors, I’ll use the Swiffer to get most of it before I vacuum. The Dyson does kind of blow the tufts of cat hair around, but I find that if I position the Dyson right, the tufts of hair will end up against the baseboards, and I can “catch” them with the Dyson at that point.

I have no real words of wisdom on this topic, unfortunately. Readers? Suggestions?

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As I mentioned, when I got home from my appointment yesterday, there were guys on the roof pulling up shingles. The part where they were working was right outside the foster kitten room, and when I walked into the foster kitten room to check on them, Samba and Rumba came slinking out of the closet and came right over to me, then leaned against me to be petted.

They were like “It’s about time you’re home! Who are those guys and why are they terrorizing us?!”

If I’d known all I had to do to get them to like me was to get someone else to scare them, I would have done it ages ago!

(Okay, not really.)

Fred said when he went into the room before bed, they came right over to him to be petted. Funny the things that will turn unfriendly cats into friendly ones, isn’t it?

Last night when I went into the foster kitten room before bed, I let Newt in with me, because he was hovering outside the door. I wish I’d had the camera with me, because Rumba’s reaction was instant – she turned into a little Halloween cat, back up, tail puffed out, ridge of fur on her back standing straight up.

Is there anything LESS threatening than a little kitten who’s all puffed up and indignant?

Eventually, after many theatrics, she sniffed his tail and hissed at him. Samba spent most of Newt’s visit as far away from him as she could get, though as time went on, she got closer.

This morning, as soon as she heard me get up, Rumba started howling at the door. I put baby gates in the doorway to the kitten room, but she just stood at the gates and howled – she’s escaped the room a couple of times (when we open the door, she’s usually RIGHT there and can scoot out before we know what’s going on) and has apparently decided she wants to explore. So I moved the gates down the hallway a little, so they have the bathroom to explore, as well as their room. Depending on how things go today, I may move the gates further down the hallway so that they have my room to explore, too. We’ll see.

Rumba’s far more interested in exploring than Samba is. Samba has run into the bathroom a few times to look around, but she prefers being in the kitten room.

2009-01-30 (2)

More kitten pics over at Love & Hisses.

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2009-01-30 (7)
Snackin’! Time! has come and gone, but these three live eternally in hope that there’ll suddenly be a second Snackin’! Time! and only those who are prepared for it will be allowed to take part.

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Previously
2008: Visiting dogs = okay. Permanent dogs = not gonna happen.
2007: How old are these guys, that you’ve got to tell them to flush the toilet, I’m wondering.
2006: Off to the hospital!
2005: No entry.
2004: Poor Bean.
2003: About the cats.
2002: When did Dick Gephardt die?
2001: The illness continues.
2000: I am officially the laziest chick in the world.

1/28/09

Today marks a year since Spot died. And yesterday marked four five years since Tubby died. The end of January is apparently not a great time to be an And3rson kitty. Um, not that any of the cats are sick or feeling poorly – that wasn’t a lead-in to another kitty death story, thank god. … Continue reading “1/28/09”

Today marks a year since Spot died. And yesterday marked four five years since Tubby died.

The end of January is apparently not a great time to be an And3rson kitty. Um, not that any of the cats are sick or feeling poorly – that wasn’t a lead-in to another kitty death story, thank god.

Since it’s been a year since Spot died, that means it’s been almost a year since Joe Bob came to live with us, and I have to say that finally, FINALLY he’s really fitting into the pack comfortably. He’s not spending all his time on top of the bookcase (though that might be because Stinkerbelle has kind of claimed that space), and he’s coming around to be petted and to sit in Fred’s lap more. There have been fewer instances of Mister Boogers, Tommy, and Sugarbutt (the Asshole Gang, is how I think of them) picking on Joe Bob, which means thankfully that there have been less ear-piercing screams.

Actually, now that I think about, Stinkerbelle has been coming around more often, too. Last night she felt the need to come into the computer room, swish about the room, then meow bitchily before stalking back out of the room. I’m not sure what her point was.

Fred has started using the Cesar Millan “SHHHHHT!” on the cats when they’re acting up. It works as far as distracting them from whatever assholery they’re beginning, but it doesn’t surprise them into instant obedience the way it does with the dogs on The Dog Whisperer.

Speaking of The Dog Whisperer and his “SHHHHHHT!”, Fred uses it on George and Gracie, and it works amazingly well. That, and “Hey!” are his words to correct the dogs. I myself use a very negative sounding “ANNHHT!” (that’s the closest I can come to spelling it out) and they seem to know I mean business.

It surprises me a little that I can take a big bowl of kitchen scraps to the chickens, and keep the dogs back while the chickens dig in – despite the fact that they are VERY much interested in whatever it is – with just a look and body language.

I mean, given how many people have told us that Great Pyreneeseses (or, as the hoi polloi call them “Great Pyrenees”) are obstinate and not prone to obeying, I suspect we’re probably still in the honeymoon phase with those two, but I’ve gotta say – they sure are sweet. I think I mentioned that if I go out to the chicken yard, they’re very happy to see me. If Fred goes out to the chicken yard, they’re very happy to see him. But if we go out there together, it’s apparently Christmas, Mardi Gras, and Independence Day all rolled into one. It’s apparently THEIR DREAM COME TRUE, and they get very excited. They don’t jump up on us – that was the first thing we did, teach them not to jump up on us – but they jump up NEAR us, and it’s awfully damn funny to see them go from a sitting position to jumping straight up into the air because the excitement of having both of us in the same area is too great to be contained.

I told Fred the other day that I need to stop taking treats for the dogs with me every single time I go out there, because they don’t need THAT many treats, and I don’t want them to expect a treat every time they see me.

And then I promptly went and made a batch of Peanut Butter treats.

(Fred ate one of them when he got home since there was nothing gross in them, and he said they were pretty good. I haven’t eaten one, ’cause that’s not a habit I want to get into, and luckily I don’t care for peanut butter cookies, anyway.)

I have made a concerted effort to NOT bring treats with me every single time I go out there, and George and Gracie seem to love me just as much.

I’ve put a permanent link to George and Gracie over there on the left sidebar – every time I put pictures of them up, a million of y’all do searches to find out what breed they are, so I helpfully put that information under their picture.

I also changed the “foster kitten” information, since Samba and Rumba will be staying ’til they’re ready to go to the pet store. Their previous foster mother and I decided that it’d be best for them to just stay here instead of being uprooted and going back to their previous home.

I stopped medicating Samba (last night was her last dose of medicine), because she sounds all clear. I’ll give her through the weekend just in case she feels like relapsing (something that’s never happened in all the time I’ve had foster kittens, but still something I worry about), then as long as she sounds okay, I’ll make an appointment to have them spayed and id chipped.

Rumba is the friendlier of the two kittens, but I’ve actually been able to pet Samba several times too. They have to be in the mood to be petted, though. I can lure them close to me using a toy, but if they don’t feel like being petted, off they scamper when I reach out to them.

They are SO SWEET, have I mentioned?

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As she reached for the slot machine arm, Samba sent a prayer to the Big Cat in the Sky.

2009-01-28
“Please, Big Cat,” she whispered. “Samba needs a new pair of shoes.” Except that cats don’t wear shoes. Samba secretly wanted to win a ton of dough so she could blow it all on catnip toys. She suspected that the Big Cat in the Sky wouldn’t approve.

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Samba kissed the slot machine arm for luck, then gave a mighty pull. Rumba sent a prayer to the Big Cat in the Sky. “All Sevens!” she whispered. “All Sevens!”

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Upon realizing she’d once again gambled away the food money for the week, Samba frantically pulled the slot machine arm again and again, to no avail.

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2009-01-28 (4)
Tommy, Sugarbutt, and Newt, looking for trouble. I don’t call ’em the Crooked Acres Gang for nothin’, y’know. If there was a stagecoach coming through here regularly (or at all), I’d be concerned for the safety of the passengers.

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Previously
2008: Yes, he is a good dog. No, we’re still not keeping him.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Yesterday marked one year since Tubby died.
2004: Tubby is dead.
2003: No entry.
2002: Signs of spring.
2001: No entry.
2000: Some work day, huh?

1/26/09

Saturday, Fred was knee-deep in c0cks all morning long (and into the afternoon). I spent the morning cleaning the house, doing laundry, and hanging out with the kittens. I spent some time bagging chicken as he finished cleaning each one (“This would go a lot faster if I weren’t the only one doing this,” he … Continue reading “1/26/09”

Saturday, Fred was knee-deep in c0cks all morning long (and into the afternoon). I spent the morning cleaning the house, doing laundry, and hanging out with the kittens. I spent some time bagging chicken as he finished cleaning each one (“This would go a lot faster if I weren’t the only one doing this,” he said with a significant look in my direction. Uh, no thanks. I don’t do chicken cleaning, I have to cook them, isn’t that enough?)

So we ended up with a total of 14 small roosters cleaned, bagged, and put into the refrigerator to “age” for a few days before I move them to the freezer.

“We need to eat chicken more often!” Fred said.

The problem (not that it’s really a “problem”) is that with only the two of us, every time I make something we end up with at least two meals for each of us. I made chicken and dumplings last week, we ate it for dinner Thursday and Friday, and Fred ate it for lunch yesterday.

I’m not complaining, though – if I can make it so that I cook once and then we eat twice, that just means less cooking for me, and that’s always a good thing!

Once Fred was done with the cleaning of the chickens and they’d all been stowed in the refrigerator, he said “I’ll take care of the outside cleanup and you take care of the inside cleanup, okay? I’m pretty sure my cleanup job of the kitchen wouldn’t up to your standards.”

You are correct, sir.

So he went out and took care of the feathers and guts and I scrubbed down the kitchen until it looked as though there’d never been blood and guts strewn all over.

Saturday being our eat-dinner-out day, we got subs from Domino’s (I got the Italian sub, ate a little more than half. It was okay, but if I never have another one, that’s alright by me) and stopped by the movie store. We watched Swing Vote Saturday night, and it was entertaining enough. Kevin Costner does the fuckup-who-redeems-himself role pretty well.

Sunday morning we had to get up and out early, because we had a date at the flea market in Tennessee. After stopping at the ATM for cash, running by the movie store to drop off a movie, and stopping to gas up the truck, we headed for Tennessee.

Where we got our new pigs! Two little pigs, boys, to put in the pig yard. They were scared and kind of cold (we were told that they were used to being in a heated building), so once they were settled in the carrier, Fred piled a little straw on top of them and they seemed to get the idea that burrowing down into the straw would warm them up.

2009-01-26

I don’t have any really good pictures of them, because they’re scared and hiding in the straw in their shelter for the time being. Maybe once they’re accustomed to their surroundings, they’ll come out and pose for pictures.

They sure are cute.

To quote Fred, Our new pigs came from a commercial grower who houses 1500 sows, via the guy we bought some hatching eggs from last week. These two didn’t make the cut for the commercial world because they have small hernias and that’s a no-no. I’m supposed to push on the hernia daily on each to make sure their guts aren’t poking out. When they get a little bigger, their guts won’t fit and everything should be fine. They don’t go commercial because the big guys don’t hire an official hernia poker to check the little pigs all the time.

When we got them home, we carried the carrier out to the chicken yard, and we put the carrier down on the ground and called George and Gracie over to sniff at the pigs through the carrier. George was all “Um, yeah, did you say you have food? Is there a snack involved? Because otherwise, I am not so much interested.” and Gracie sniffed cautiously a few times and then began barking her fool head off. For the rest of the day, if she heard the pig squealing (which they did on the occasions that Fred invaded their space and touched them with the fangers) she’d bark. Otherwise, she minded her own bidness.

Fred took them some cookies yesterday beginning, as he said, the conditioning where they realize that seeing a human come toward them is a good thing and is usually followed by tasty, tasty food.

Since it turned out to be pretty freakin’ cold Sunday, I ended up making a fire and after a few hours it was putting out some decent heat. Who knew I’d be such a good fire builder? I should totally be on Survivor!

(Except that I suspect they don’t provide Kindle Candles on Survivor. More’s the pity.)

I harassed Fred for the rest of the day saying “Look at that fire! Isn’t that an excellent fire?” and “What a fire!” and “Go stand by the fire and feel that heat!” and “What a magnificent fire!” and “I bet you wish you could make a fire as good as I can!”

We had a late lunch of pork steaks, baked potatoes, and spinach salad Sunday afternoon, and then I spent a good hour cleaning off my desk (I don’t know how on earth it gets to be such a freakin’ mess!), then got the jams and hot sauces page up and running, and then I tried to scan something for my sister, whereupon I discovered that the shitty all-in-one printer/ scanner/ copier will still copy and print, but won’t scan. So I spent the rest of the afternoon looking for a decent scanner, because I NEEDS ME SOME SCANNING ABILITY JUST ‘CAUSE.

Also, I nagged and harassed Fred ’til he put hooks in the door frame by the back door so we can hang our slobbing-around-the-40 jackets there instead of hanging them off the chairs in the dining room.

And that was my weekend! Exciting, no?

(If you’re keeping count, that means we now have (approximately) 70 chickens, and another 30 or so coming in a couple of weeks. Also, we’re up two pigs.)

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Samba and Rumba are doing well. Samba’s still on medication for her congestion. She seems to start out the day sounding fairly clear, then gets more congested as the day goes on, it seems. I’ve seen her have a couple of coughing fits, both times in the afternoon. Fred said he saw her have a coughing fit Friday, and then she sneezed out a big ol’ green booger.

(Which she promptly ate, of course.)

Two or three times when I’ve walked into the room, Rumba has looked at me, started howling, and then run over to me. When I sit on the floor, she slinks back and forth and lets me pet her while she stretches and sharpens her claws on the carpet. Yesterday for the first time Samba actually approached me for some petting. I mean, once I started petting she rethought whether she wanted to be petted, and after putting up with it for a few minutes she ran off, but hey – that’s progress, right?

These sisters are so adorable, they kill me!

2009-01-26 (4)
“What’s that?! Over there?! Behind you?! A serial killer?! Or a piece of fuzz?! One or the other?!”

More pics over at Love & Hisses.

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2009-01-26 (6)

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Previously
2008: The dog continues to improve. (Read here to see how the dog came to be in our possession.)
2007: Are ya feelin’ bubbly, punk? Well? Are ya?
2006: I think it would be hilarious if someone started manufacturing imitation Maui Jim sunglasses and called them “Oahu James” sunglasses.
2005: I figure they’re professionals and know what they’re doing, so I have no desire to clutter up the small amount of space left in my brain with that kind of information.
2004: I sense that there is a battle of epic proportions in my future, a show-down between Miz Poo and I as to just WHO the blanket belongs to.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: But don’t tell Miz Poo I’m admiring another cat, please…
2000: It’s a conspiracy!

1-22-09

Yesterday was a fairly productive day for me. In the morning I spent a few minutes with the baby kittens, then headed out early. I went to Madison to have blood drawn so that the week after next when I go for my three-year followup visit with the surgeon who performed my weight loss surgery, … Continue reading “1-22-09”

Yesterday was a fairly productive day for me. In the morning I spent a few minutes with the baby kittens, then headed out early. I went to Madison to have blood drawn so that the week after next when I go for my three-year followup visit with the surgeon who performed my weight loss surgery, he’ll have the results.

The guy who took my blood was hands-down the BEST phlebotomist I’ve ever had blood drawn by. He looked at my arm, grabbed the needle, and inserted it before I knew what was going on, and I did NOT feel it go in at all. I’ve had blood drawn by skilled technicians before, but this guy was exceptionally good.

I left there and went to the grocery store in Madison where you can renew your driver’s license (and get tags and, I think, pay taxes). I realized yesterday that my license expired on the 13th, so it was time to get my ass in gear. I got there a few minutes after 8:30 (they open at 8:30), only to find several people in line already. I was all annoyed, because I’d apparently decided that I’d go in and be done in five minutes, but now I had to stand in line OH WOE IS ME.

I ended up standing in line for MAYBE fifteen minutes, and it wasn’t so bad. When it was my turn, I handed over my license and told her that I had a new address. I dictated it to her (I swear to god, every time we move, we end up on a street name more convoluted than the one before) and then I was writing out my check when she said “And is your height and weight about the same?”

“Yeah,” I said. There was a prolonged moment of silence and I glanced up to see her staring at me with a funny look on her face. “Oh,” I said, and glanced down at my old license, which she was holding. The weight on my license? 250 pounds.

(And I KNOW I was lying when I gave that as my weight at the time!)

“It’s changed,” I said, and gave her the new number.

First time in my life the weight on my driver’s license has been anything but a flat-out lie, believe you me.

When I left there, I ran over to Kohl’s to return some jeans I bought in December and ended up wandering around the store for a few minutes. It turns out that Kohl’s is now selling fold-up reusable shopping bags, and they’re pretty cute, so I grabbed three of them.

(At $1.99, they’re more expensive than my beloved Hannaford Fold-A-Tote bags, but like I said, they’re pretty cute, so I had to have some! I got one of each design (there were three). Folded up, they’re a bit bigger than the Hannford bags; unfolded, they’re virtually the same size, but have longer handles. The Hannaford bags are still my favorite, though!)

I also grabbed two Fiestaware Gusto bowls – one in Sunflower, one in Scarlet – because I think we need bigger bowls than the cereal bowls we have, and I want to see if we’ll use the Gusto bowls or not before I get more to add to my collection.

Then I headed over to visit with a friend – remember Katherine, who adopted River and Inara, who became Nate and Dora? Well, she invited me over (or perhaps I said “I’m going to be in your area and I’m inviting myself over!” WHATEVER.) so I went and we talked and we watched the cats, and I completely forgot to snap pictures of the cats, but let me tell you – those two are growing up PURTY.

It’s funny – Kara’s kind of a short, stubby, muscular girl, but her babies have grown to be long and lanky and sleek. They are so gorgeous and they were not interested in me, ’cause they had THINGS to do and PLACES to go, the brats. (Next time, I’ll get pictures!)

When I left Katherine’s, I headed to Target. I bought Fred this Bubba Keg Travel Mug several months back to drink his coffee out of, and during the week he takes it to work to use so all is well at Crooked Acres. But on the weekend he brings it home to drink his coffee out of, and JESUS CHRIST I HATE THAT GODDAMN THING. He leaves it by the sink, and if you so much as look at the damn thing sideways, it topples over. I have, in annoyance, picked that goddamn cup and tossed it across the room to get it the fuck out of my way more times than I can count.

(Side note: Bubba Kegs are durable!)

Finally, I decided I was going to see if they had any Bubba Kegs that would NOT fall over if I sighed in its general direction, thus the reason for my trip to Target. They did have a Bubba Keg that isn’t smaller at the bottom than at the top, so I got it. He seems pleased with it, so the fact that it’s even bigger than his old Bubba Keg is apparently not a bad thing as far as he’s concerned.

While I was at Target, I went over to look at the space heaters. The foster kitten room, because we’re keeping the door closed, can get pretty cold at night. Katherine had a couple of tower space heaters at her house, and she told me she got ’em at Sam’s Club, but I thought if Target had them, I wouldn’t have to go alllllll the way to Sam’s.

(Sam’s is like a three minute drive from Target. I am a lazy-ass.)

The space heaters were all on clearance – and though they didn’t have the exact heater I was looking for, they did have a comparable Holmes heater that had been marked down from $60 to $14.99, so I snatched it up and was all proud of myself for saving all that money.

Which I promptly blew on ShamWOW! ShamWOWs? A box of ShamWOW? Whatever, I bought the box of cloths that will make me say “Wow!” every time I use one.

AND THEY BETTER BE AMAZING, OR BELIEVE YOU ME I WILL RETURN THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS.

Then I headed for home, stopped at the grocery store on the way home to pick up groceries, and by the time I got home, it was lunch time.

BUT.

I had to go out and visit George and Gracie and check for eggs, first. Those dogs are such good puppies. They come right over to me when I come through the gate, and they sit and look hopefully at me, and if I have treats for them, they are polite about waiting to be given their treats. And if there are no treats, they are polite about waiting for me to pet them and rub their ears.

(I really like rubbing their big soft ears.)

Then I checked for eggs and petted George and Gracie some more, and came back inside where I ate lunch.

And spent the rest of the afternoon reading on the floor of the kitten room.

Productive day? Yes, very much so. I still need like hell to vacuum the house today, though. And clean out the fireplace (it’s going to get up into the mid-50s today!). And maybe clean the bathrooms.

But most importantly – I have an episode of Real Housewives and an episode of Lost to watch!

Priorities, y’know.

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So, I spent a couple of hours hanging out in the foster kitten room yesterday. At first, Samba and Rumba hid behind the door in the closet. Then they got curious, and they peeked out. And ran back and hid. Then when it became clear that, hey, I was just minding my own business, man, just laying here on the floor reading and not interested in no little bitty kitties, they came out. They sniffed around the room, sniffed at the space heater I’d brought in with me, sniffed at my water bottle, sniffed at my feet.

Then they settled on the cat tree and snoozed, then kept an eye on me and snoozed. Rumba occasionally jumped down to see what I was doing that sounded so interesting (I rolled some toys across the floor). Neither of them actually approached me for petting, but when Fred got home and walked into the room and approached them, they allowed him to pet them briefly before they skedaddled back into the closet.

Last night, Rumba let me pet her quite a bit (it’s not that she wanted me to pet her, really, just that she was chasing a toy and I happened to be there, so I’d pet her as she went by, and she’d tolerate it) and even purred. I suspect after I spend some time in there today, they might even approach me on purpose and want to be petted.

We shall see!

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Pretty Rumba.

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Samba in the sun.

More pics over at Love & Hisses.

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2009-01-22 (10)
Maxi does her best Tony Soprano impression. Seriously, check out those serial killer eyes! (The funny thing is that she’s such a lover that when Fred pets her, she gets so happy she drools all over the place.)

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Previously
2008: If you can’t wander around in your nightgown and parka in the country, where can you?
2007: more than once I got frustrated and called Fred at work and wove an impressive tapestry of profanity that impressed him
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: You don’t actually have to say the words “You’re a dumbass” to get the idea across, and thus when your wife is mad at you later and you so very innocently say “Are you mad about something?” and she says “YOU CALLED ME A DUMBASS!” and you say “I did NOT call you a dumbass!”, you are wrong and she is right and you’d best commence to begging for forgiveness, you fucker.
2003: Little bastard.
2002: I can’t believe I’m FUCKING FALLING DOWN.
2001: No entry.
2000: I apologize for the lameness of this entry.

1-21-09

Yesterday was pretty low-key for me – I got the important morning stuff done, then hung out on the couch under my electric throw (like an electric blanket, only smaller!) for the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, switching between catching up on the shows I watch, and the inauguration. Grey’s Anatomy … Continue reading “1-21-09”

Yesterday was pretty low-key for me – I got the important morning stuff done, then hung out on the couch under my electric throw (like an electric blanket, only smaller!) for the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, switching between catching up on the shows I watch, and the inauguration.

Grey’s Anatomy fans, please remind me why the hell Meredith and Christina aren’t talking? For the life of me, I can’t remember and I don’t feel like slogging through recaps to find out.

Also, remind me how Derek’s father died?

Eric Stoltz makes a REALLY good creepy serial killer.

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Speaking of TV watching and such, Fred and I gave Burn Notice a try, and we liked it so much we watched Season 1 in no time flat.

And then we were lucky, because USA is showing the HELL out of Season 2, part one, this week, apparently ramping up to starting up the second half of Season 2. So we’ve managed to record most of the first half of Season 2 on the DVR, and once they’re all recorded, we’ll watch them.

I really, really like the show despite the fact that (1) Jeffrey Donovan has got a very smackable face and (2) I’m no fan of Gabrielle Anwar, because she seems like a real pain in the ass (JUST MY PERCEPTION). But despite the smackable face on Jeffrey Donovan, I love his character, and despite the fact that Gabrielle Anwar seems like a pain in the ass, I love her character too (also, she’s got killer abs). And how can you not love Bruce Campbell?

I highly recommend the show, if you hadn’t guessed.

Also, last weekend we were in the movie store, searching desperately for movies to watch (because it was cold out and we wanted to sit on our asses and watch movies all day), and finally I picked up Baby Mama and said “I think Tina Fey wrote this. We should at least give it a try.”

Turns out Tina Fey didn’t write it, but it wasn’t a bad movie – certainly worth watching, in any case. Made us laugh out loud at least a couple of times.

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I’ve been having really odd dreams lately – very vivid ones – and I don’t know why, but I’ll admit that they’ve been pretty entertaining.

The other night I dreamed that my doctor told me that I had “chicken cancer.” And that I had two to ten years to live. And I was all “THEN I’M GOING TO LIVE ELEVEN YEARS, BECAUSE I’M GOING TO KICK THIS CANCER’S ASS!” The next day I kept thinking about my diagnosis and laughing my ass off.

(I don’t even want to think about what the hell “chicken cancer” might entail.)

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I took Marion and Claudette to the pet store last night, and let me tell you – it was quite some job getting those two girls into the carriers! They did NOT want to go (not that I can blame them!) and it took Fred and I about twenty minutes to wrangle them up and put them in the carriers.

At the pet store, when I put them in the cage, they just kind of huddled there in fear. Reports from the adoption counselor are that they continued to be pretty scared, but hopefully after a few days they’ll realize it’s not that bad.

Fingers crossed!

The sad news is that Delmar was returned by the people who’d adopted him. He’s apparently too bitey, and didn’t get along with the other kitten they’d adopted the week before. I can’t really blame them, they have a four year-old and a little kid combined with a bitey kitten, well, not good!

Poor Delmar.

So, my poor babies – not adopted! Wah!!!!

A few days ago, an email went out looking for someone who could take a couple of three month-old sisters who are suffering from upper respiratory infections. Since Marion and Claudette were going to the pet store, I offered to take them.

Last night, after I got Marion and Claudette settled in their new cage, I met the foster mother in front of the pet store.

She needed someone to take the kittens because she and her husband were going out of town. I told her I’d be fine with keeping them from here on out, or if she wanted them back, that was fine with me, too. She’s pretty attached to them, so I suspect that they’ll be going back to her.

They’re skittish, but so far I’ve spent time just hanging out in the kitten room with them, and they’re very VERY curious. They’ve come out to play and sniff around. I put a small space heater in the room with them, because it’s been cold lately, and since the door to that room stays closed, it can get cold.

Only one of them is still on medication for the upper respiratory infection, the other one seems to be doing just fine. Even the one still on medication is very bright-eyed and curious. She’s an angel when it comes to medicating her, thank god.

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Samba.

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Rumba.

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Another shot of Rumba.

(My apologies for the bad pictures – I didn’t want to use the flash, ’cause it was making their eyes shine.)

I’m going to spend some serious time with them today – I expect the curiosity will be too much for them to stand, and I’ll be snuggling with them soon enough!

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2009-01-21
Sugarbutt suffers from what we like to call “Ass-on-fire-itis.” The instant after I took this picture, he went racing at the window, then did a Matrix move off the window, raced through the house, and ran out into the back yard.

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Previously
2008: We were in bed asleep by 10:00, because we are such the party people.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Yeah, it doesn’t take a whole lot to make us laugh, I guess.
2004: Now isn’t there anything we can do to force Joey Buttafuoco back into obscurity?
2003: So if you meet me in person and expect a “Mighty fucking fine to meet you, fuckface!”, you’ll likely be disappointed.
2002: Wrong on that one, Brigitte. Trust me.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

1-20-09

Chasity‘s daughter Isabella needs a liver transplant, and they need help to make that happen. Go check out Isabella’s page and donate if you can!!! & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & &   Don’t feel bad, over-explainers – a … Continue reading “1-20-09”

Isabella

Chasity‘s daughter Isabella needs a liver transplant, and they need help to make that happen.

Go check out Isabella’s page and donate if you can!!!

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Don’t feel bad, over-explainers – a lot of people over-explain stuff. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I only over-explain when I feel like I need an excuse (like last week when the dentist’s office called to remind me of my appointment on Thursday, and I told them I needed to cancel and reschedule, and then went on to tell them that my daughter was in town and sick and had to reschedule for the next day and blah blah blah, the complete disinterest from the woman calling from the dentist’s office was practically visible through the phone line).

Most of the time I’m an under-explainer. Like, when I show you my driver’s license and you look at my license and then at me and then you say “You’ve lost a lot of weight!” (since my license picture is from, like, five years ago), I will likely smile and say “Yes, I have.” And then you might look expectantly at me, and I will smile and wait for you to hand my license back. It’s not ’til maybe three days later that it occurs to me that you were hoping I’d mention how I lost that weight.

I tend to assume if someone wants to know something specific, they’ll ask. Which is ironic, because I might be DYING to know the details of something, but I try not to get all up in other people’s shit and demand details, because I don’t want to be perceived as being rude.

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I forgot to mention it in yesterday’s entry, but regarding Miz Poo and the visit to the vet: a few weeks ago I noticed that she was doing an AWFUL lot of grooming, and upon further inspection, I discovered that the hair on her stomach from the waist down (not that cats have waists, but YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN) was pretty much completely gone, and she had a bit of a rash as well. Since she’s our money cat, off to the vet we (eventually) went.

The vet inspected her all over, discussed her history with me, and finally opted to give her a steroid shot. We’re augmenting that at home with a dose of essential oils to help her skin dryness, and a Chlorphenaramine tablet each evening to help with the itchiness. So far, it seems to be working well, but we need to be diligent about keeping up with the oil and pill every day instead of slacking, as we tend to do.

(This is how I’m diligent: “Can you give Miz Poo her pill and oil, please?” to Fred. Because he’s so much better at that sort of thing than I am!)

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So yesterday afternoon, the adjuster from our insurance company came out to check out our roof. It hadn’t occurred to us that our homeowner’s insurance might cover part of the cost of replacing the roof (did I mention that we had a lot of leaking inside the house during the last couple of sets of storms?) until one of Fred’s coworkers mentioned it. The guy showed up, Fred took him around the inside of the house so he could see the damage in the laundry room ceiling, the damage in the computer room, and the damage upstairs.

Then – and it was cold and windy and spitting snow at the time, thus a prime time to be stomping around on the roof of a house – the guy went up on the roof. And the dogs, who’d been snoozing out in front of the chicken coop (the colder it gets, the happier those two dorks are), were all of a sudden “Hey, Gracie! There’s a GUY! On the ROOF! Of the HOUSE! And I think he might be trying to get OUR CHICKENS!” and “GEORGE! GUY! ROOF! PROTECT THE CHICKENS!” and they barked. And they barked. Then they barked some more. Bark. Bark. Bark.

The entire time the guy was up there, they stood at the fence at the front of the back forty and they barked. Even after the guy left, Gracie barked for a little while as if to say “I saw you! And I’ll remember your face! And I will RIP YOU FROM LIMB TO LIMB!”

I said to Fred “Those two are so freakin’ cute, I don’t know how anyone could ever be scared of them.”

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So I mentioned last week that I was going to try making cookies with frozen (then thawed) eggs with a completely different cookie recipe. I made the cookies with the thawed eggs and… they were like cookies. Not cake-like at all!

Apparently it’s only the Sundry cookies, made with frozen (and then thawed) eggs that come out that way.

Just to double-check, I made a batch of the Sundry cookies for Fred over the weekend, leaving out the chocolate chips and adding a cup of peanut butter, and they came out cake-like. Saturday evening, he asked me to hide them from him, ’cause he was eating too many of them. I did – and the good thing is that I won’t be tempted to eat a peanut butter cookie here or there, ’cause I’m no fan of peanut butter cookies.

Anyway, there you go.

As for me, I’ll probably always prefer the Cooking Light chocolate chip cookies. They’re like crack to me!

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I spent a good part of the morning on Saturday making fruit-habanero jams. I started to set up an Etsy store, but after listing a few jars of jam, I stopped and rethought it. Since people have to pay directly to the seller for their purchases, I could put up a self-hosted page with the jams and hot sauces I have available, along with the estimated shipping costs, and I won’t charge myself 20 cents per listing the way Etsy does.

(I considered an eBay store, but at $16 a month just for the store front and the percentage eBay takes from each purchase, I don’t think so.)

So I’m going to set up a page and give that a try. I’ll link to it when it’s live for anyone who’s interested.

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The news on Lem and Delmar: Delmar got adopted on Saturday! Lem still hasn’t been adopted, though. Wah!

Tonight, Marion and Claudette go to the pet store, hopefully to be adopted quickly (not that I expect it, but a foster momma can hope!).

From the terrified, practically-feral kittens they were to the kittens who actually seek out human interaction they are now, they’ve changed a lot. They’re still skittish, and if you walk toward them they’ll run off and hide (especially Marion), but once things are settled, they’ll come and ask for petting.

Last night as I watched TV, with Miz Poo on my lap, Claudette settled down next to me and stayed there for a long time. I honestly never thought we’d get to that point back when we first got them.

Keep your fingers crossed that someone walks by the cat cages at the pet store and can see past their scaredy-cat exteriors to the lovable little sweeties they really are.

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More pics over at Love & Hisses.

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2009-01-20 (1)

2009-01-20 (2)

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: I think I took my first steps toward being an adult yesterday.
2005: Who the fuck knew?
2004: A Kitchenaid mixer!
2003: “My ass. Please let him go for my ass, and not my throat or my eyes, I’ve got plenty of ass to spare.”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Double ear infection, thankyouverymuch.