Category: Fostering

9/28/06

DSC01639 There were several of these growing near the house, and neither of us had any clue what they were. Fred’s stepmother informed us that they’re spider lilies. Since they grow from bulbs, I may dig them up and transplant them. Then again I might not – I’m not sure where the bulb garden is ultimately going to be. Dsc01655 Pardon the blurriness, but these fuckers can MOVE. I saw one of these last month in the front yard of the house and tried to get a picture of it, but couldn’t. On our trip to the house Saturday, I saw several of them and finally managed to get a picture. I was going to put it up and ask y’all what it might be, but on a whim I Googled “Red velvet ant”, and found that – amazingly enough – it’s called a “Red velvet ant.” Or you can call it by its other name – “Cow Killer.” It’s not really an ant, it’s a wasp, and you can read more about it here. I thought they were kind of pretty, but if the fuckers have a painful bite, I’m just as happy to stomp on them. DSC01657 We walked out to the back forty. DSC01665 DSC01658 From the back corner of the back forty, looking toward the house. The owners’ son had started to bushhog the back field, but their tractor broke down before it could be finished. The tractor Fred almost bought, but decided not to. Dodged a bullet on that one! DSC01666 Leaves starting to change on the black gum tree. DSC01668 In the back forty. Dsc01669 Huge tree in the back forty. DSC01672 Pecan tree overlooking the “pond.” When we left the house, we headed toward Decatur to do something you don’t get to hear about yet (patience, grasshoppers. All will be revealed tomorrow. Or Monday. Nothing huge, I promise.), but on the way we passed a tractor place, and since it was apparently Fred’s intent to visit every single tractor place in the state of Alabama, we stopped. I sat in the car with my book while he went in and talked to someone. Half an hour later, he came back outside. “I’m going to drive a tractor,” he said. “And there’s a cat in the store!”

DSC01682 She was friendly, but started getting bite-y after a while, so I left her alone. DSC01688 Fred, driving his very first tractor.
When I was done petting and taking pictures of the cat, I went outside and watched Fred drive around on the tractor. The salesman turned to me and said “I hear you’re a fan of cats.” “I am,” I said. “We have six of our own.” He shuddered. “No offense, but I’m not a cat person.” I shrugged. “None taken. I’m not a dog person.” “I’m not really a dog person either,” he said. “I’m retired, and I might get home today and my wife might say “Let’s go to Tunica for a few days!”, and we won’t have to worry about the pets.” “That’s true,” I agreed. I watched Fred for a few more minutes, and when he headed inside with the salesman to talk numbers, I went back to the car and read some more. We went to Decatur, did the thing you’re not allowed to know about yet, and then headed for the Morgan County Fair. After all the talking-up Fred had done, I expected this fair to be HUGE and AMAZING. We went into the Expo Hall first, and I admired the quilts, while Fred talked to a couple of guys at a booth about – what else? – TRACTORS.
Dsc01693 This is my favorite. Dsc01694 My other favorite. Makes me want to take up quilting.
After the Expo Hall, we went and checked out the livestock, and fed some goats. Well, Fred fed some goats. I wandered around and took pictures.
Dsc01698 Dsc01720 Dsc01723 Dsc01709 I haven’t got a CLUE what this thing is. It kind of looks like an ostrich, but I think it was some kind of sheep.
After the livestock, we wandered around the fair grounds checking out rides and games. It was a pretty small fair and there were no rides we wanted to go on, and Fred played one game and won a cheap little prize for me, and then we walked around a little more, bitching about the heat, and finally left to find something to eat. We ate at a buffet – where I ate too much, damnit, but it was good – and then headed for home, after stopping off to do something else y’all don’t get to hear about yet. (This is not sex-related, in case you’re worried. Though telling you that we’ve decided to become swingers would probably be a tad more interesting than what it’s really about.) On the way home, Fred suddenly exclaimed Ere he drove out of sight, “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!” “Hey, look! It’s Donald Sutherland!” And we spent about ten minutes trying to catch up to the SUV Donald was driving, so I could so-very-subtly snap his picture.
Dsc01730 Not really Donald Sutherland. Or IS IT?
I spent the afternoon bonding with Maddy and then taking a nap, and Fred and I spent the evening watching TV until the spud got home (Fred can’t sleep until he knows she’s home safe). All in all, a good Saturday!
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A couple of cat questions, answered: Ummmmm…… You *warmed* Maddy’s food? That must STINK to the high heavens!!!! Yeah, I warm her food because I’m a total sucker, and god forbid she have to eat COLD food. She might starve to death! And yeah, it does stink. By the end of the day, after smelling the soft food I give Maddy all day long, when Fred opens a can of soft food to feed the big cats for a snack (and we wonder why Tommy is such a porker), it makes me a little nauseous. Also, I worry that I walk around all day smelling like cat food and just don’t realize it! Maddy is SO cute. Question from a non-cat owning person…will her eyes always be blue or will they change color as she gets older? Still think you can give her up? Her eyes will probably change from blue; they’re already lighter than they were, and I think I see flecks of gold in them. I’d love it if she kept her big blue eyes, though. They’re gorgeous! And yes, I think I’ll be able to give her up. It won’t be easy, but y’all forget – I’ve actually given up more foster kitties than I’ve kept. Excluding Maddy, I’ve had 11 foster kittens and given up 9 of them. So, see? I can do it! (And I know that if I give her up, there’ll be more fosters in my future. If I keep her, the fostering will have to stop because there is NO WAY Fred would ever let me foster again.) I work with [deleted] and she has been showing me pictures of this perfect little angel kitten. I can’t believe that after you has nursed this little beauty that you can give her away….What kind of mother are you?? You are all she knows. You will damage her for life you know. I’m actually not the only mother she’s ever known – I’m the third mother she’s ever known, at least of the human persuasion. God knows what happened to her “birth” mother. And let’s get serious here – she’s a CAT. I’m not going to damage her for life, because her brain is the size of a pea. If I went away for two days and came back, she’d be like “And you are…?” I’m giving her away to a very good home, because the shelter I work for is extremely careful regarding who they allow to adopt their cats. And like I said above, if I keep Maddy, the fostering will have to stop. I talked Fred into letting me foster again even after we adopted Tommy and Sugarbutt, but I have no doubt he’d put his foot down if I tried to keep Maddy and then foster again.
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Maddy (or as I’ve taken to calling her lately, Miss Maddy Mack (Mack! Mack! With stripes of black! black! black! And fur that’s gray! gray! gray! All down her back! back! back!) continues to do well. She’s solidly over a pound, she’s using the litterbox exclusively (I do NOT miss stimulating her to pee and poop. No matter how fastidious you are about it, you end up with pee and poop on your hands at some point, and you don’t always necessarily realize it.), and she’s past the diarrhea stage. I got her to eat soft cat food twice yesterday, though at her evening feeding Fred tried to feed her, but she wasn’t that interested, only ate a little bit. I tried a while later to feed her, but she wasn’t at ALL interested in food or formula, just spent the evening exploring and sleeping on me. She is just so unbearably cute that I have to bite my tongue so I don’t squeeze her to death, and now my tongue is sore all the time. Everything I’ve read says that when you give a baby cat a bottle, you should have them on their stomachs at a 45-degree angle. But this is the ONLY position she’ll take her bottle in, standing on her back legs with her back against me. Also, very important to grab my hand so the bottle doesn’t go anywhere. More pictures hither.    
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Reader yawny pet pics!
This is Angie‘s Eden, relaxing in the leather recliner. Nice life indeed, Angie! Dana’s Gracie… And Dana’s Maxine. Who apparently live very exhausting lives. How hard ARE you working them, Dana? Danielle says, This is Gilbert, an italian greyhound. I think he was about 8/9 weeks here, and ok, technically he was after his tail, not yawning. But the effect is the same, and I thought it was pretty damn cute. And the second picture, Gilbert is, again, not yawning, but instead trying to eat Hamlet Truman, my adorable new kitten. They’re about the same age, and really best friends. Hamlet spends a lot of time trying to carve Gilbert up into little puppy pieces, so they’re even. Y’all know I’m not a dog person, but Gilbert really kinda makes me want to get a dog so he can harass the cats! This is Susan‘s Ruby. Susan says, Here’s another laughing kitten picture – a picture of one of our kittens, Ruby. I accidentally snapped it one day as she was crawling across my lap (that’s why it’s out of focus) but I absolutely love it. Is she laughing, or does she want to bite you like a vampire? Those are some seriously sharp-looking teeth! Y’all can see more of Susan’s kitten pics here. This is Kelly’s Stella, who is an absolute dead ringer for Sugarbutt! I don’t think Sugarbutt could fit his big butt in the sink anymore, though. And Kelly’s Jupiter. The look on Jupiter’s face just cracks me UP.
Thanks, Angie, Dana, Danielle, Susan, and Kelly, for sharing your pictures!
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Dsc01731 He straddled the bird bath like this for the longest time, staring off into space at something. It’s like he was posing for me!
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Previously 2005: Phear my l33t fotograffic skillz. 2004: Dear Stephen King: Stop defending what you did, and just write the goddamn story. 2003: Meet Gizmo. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry.]]>

9/27/06

very annoying self-important neighbor)”,” I suggested. Fred laughed appreciatively. “That would be the ultimate in passive aggressive,” he said. Hey, we’ll only be living here for another six months or so. Let’s BURN THOSE BRIDGES!

* * *
Several of you have asked whether the weight loss surgery could have caused the Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis. I’m pretty sure Fred asked Dr. GI that very same question, and Dr. GI danced around the question a little, but in the end said he didn’t think so. They don’t know what causes PSC, but it’s widely believed that it’s an autoimmune thing. In fact, it’s possible that a few years ago, when I first saw Dr. GI, when he tentatively diagnosed (is it just me, or is it scary how the older you get, the more you realize just how uncertain doctors can be? I want a FIRM diagnosis, a “I have no doubt that you have this, and this is how we’ll cure you, and you WILL live forever!”, but that doesn’t seem to happen all that often, at least not with ME.) me with a fatty liver and told me to come back in six months so he could monitor my numbers and perhaps get a liver biopsy if things hadn’t improved AND I FORGOT AND NEVER WENT BACK, that could have been the beginning of my PSC symptoms, only the symptoms of the onset of PSC are so subtle that it never occurred to me that there was a problem ’til I turned all Marge Simpson.
So no, we can’t blame weight loss surgery for the PSC. We CAN blame it for the gallbladder, though. Stupid weight loss surgery! (Yeah. At this point, I’d still do it again without even hesitating.) And on a side note, both Fred and reader Cristin sent me the link to this article. It certainly gives me even more hope that I might not be facing a liver transplant one day!
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Saturday, I dropped off my prescription for Urs0 Forte, the medicine Dr. GI prescribed for me. The pharmacist told me they didn’t have that in stock, but she’d order it and it should be in on Monday. “Do you want me to see how much it’ll cost?” she asked. “Yeah,” I said, then remembered that Fred was waiting for me. “No, never mind. I need it no matter how much it costs, so just go ahead and fill it.” “Okay, see you Monday!” said the pharmacist. Saturday afternoon, as I was sitting in the kitten room feeding Maddy, Fred came to the door. “You need to call Pharmacist Chick,” he said. “She said the Urs0 Forte is very expensive, and with the generic version it could save you about a hundred bucks a month, so I can only imagine what the cost of it is!” I handed Maddy off to him and went to call the pharmacy. “Yeah, your prescription is going to run you about two hundred and thirty dollars a month,” she said. I made some sort of horrified sound that went a lot like “Yeek!” “But there’s a generic version,” she went on. “It only comes in 300 mg pills, though, so you’d have to take it three times a day instead of two, but it’ll save you about a hundred dollars. Would you like me to call your doctor and see if he’ll write a new prescription for the generic?” “Yes, please,” I squeaked, doing the math and figuring out that even the generic was going to cost $130ish a month. Good god. At least our insurance company covers 80% of generic drugs. Yesterday morning the pharmacist called to let me know that Dr. GI had okayed the generic, and I could pick up the prescription anytime after 2. With that $100 a month I’m SAVING by getting the generic (I call that Robynomics – Fredonomics would be where I’d point out that I could just not take the medication, put the money in a savings account every month, and my funeral would be paid for by the time my liver exploded) I think I should be allowed to go on a book-buying spree, don’t you?
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I went to physical therapy yesterday to report to my physical therapist that I was having no back pain at all, and she – well, she and I together – decided it was time to discharge me. We spent most of the hour filling out the discharge report, and at one point she said “How long can you sit without back pain?”, and I said “I sat at my computer for three hours the other day and had no back pain at all.” Then I couldn’t just leave it at that, noooooooo. I had to open up my big fat mouth. “Well, if I sit in the recliner with the laptop on my lap, my tailbone starts to hurt after about an hour and a half, but that’s just because of all the cushioning I’ve lost back there!” And I laughed gaily. The physical therapist, on the other hand, did not. “Your tailbone shouldn’t ever be hurting,” she said sternly. “But it’s just when I sit in the recliner in the same position for a long time,” I said weakly. “It still shouldn’t hurt, no matter how much cushioning you’ve lost.” I sighed. “If we have time, I’ll take a look at it before you go,” she said. “But… it’s really not normal?” I said sadly. “No, not at all.” I immediately remembered something she’d told me the first time she was working on my back. Apparently a lot of people come in with hip problems that end up being tailbone issues, and if the tailbone is flexed outward (you don’t really think of your tailbone as being a flexible thing, do you?) they have to fix it by coming in from behind it. It involves gloves and lube. I didn’t want to do anything that involved gloves and lube with my physical therapist, thank you. I berated myself for opening my BIG FAT MOUTH, and hoped she’d forget about it. But of COURSE she didn’t, and I had to climb up on the Table of Doom so she could see (feel) what was going on with my tailbone. To my IMMENSE relief, it wasn’t flexed outward, it was just rotated to the left, and she worked on it for a while and swore it was back where it was supposed to be. I thought I could feel the difference for a while, but last night it pretty much felt like it always did. As far as I knew, anyway. I got a free t-shirt and a hug from the physical therapist, and I was out of there lickety-split, before she could change her mind about the gloves and the lube. I’m going to miss the hell out of those back massages, though. I might even have to suck it up and start going to a masseuse. Probably not, though. I still don’t much like being touched by strangers.
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I am way way WAY too pleased to announce that last night a little after 9, while we were watching TV, Maddy (who had been alternately sleeping and playing all evening) started howling like she was starving to death. Never mind that I’d shoved three syringes of cat food down her throat not two hours earlier, AND about a tablespoon of formula to top it off, she was starving. STARVING. PEOPLE I AM STARVING, HOW CAN YOU STARVE SOMEONE THIS CUTE? HOW? So I got all determined that if she was hungry, by god, she was going to eat some soft food on her own, and I was NOT going to give her formula TOO. I went and put some cat food on a plate and warmed it up, then went into the living room and sat on the floor and called to her. And she climbed up on me, all whining and sad about how hungry she was – STARVING, I SAY! – and I pushed some food in her mouth, and she got even sadder like, “Why you hate me, lady? Why you not just give me food in my mouth that I only have to swallow? A LOT OF FOOD.” And Fred said “You’re not going to give her some through the syringe?”, like I was a BAD MOTHER, and I said “All right, go get me a syringe!” He did, and I filled it with food and put it in her mouth and squirted food into her mouth, and then she swallowed it, and I squirted more, and she swallowed it, and I was once again resolute. “If you’re hungry, Maddy, EAT!” I commanded. I held a finger with cat food on it up to her mouth, and she wailed and squirmed away. And so I grabbed a syringe and dabbed the end of it in the cat food and held it up to her mouth, and she licked the food off. “WHY won’t she eat off my finger, or off the plate if she’s so hungry?” I appealed to Fred. “I don’t know,” he said helpfully. Maddy squirmed and wailed some more, and so I held her in her favorite feeding position, where she stands with her back feet on the floor and her front paws wrapped around my hand, and put some cat food on the end of my fingers and held it up to her. She started eating it off my fingers, so I got more for her, and more, then showed her where the plate of food was. But she wailed and squirmed. “Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?” I wailed along with her. “Whyyyyyyyyy, Maddy?” “Wait,” Fred said. “Stand her back up and feed her like you were doing before.” I did, and Fred came over to us and crouched down. He grabbed the dish of cat food and held it up right under my fingers. “Now put your fingers on the dish,” he instructed. I did, and I’ll be darned if that cat didn’t start eating off the plate. Slowly, as she ate, we moved the plate to the floor, and I took my hands away from her, and she kept eating. She ate all the cat food on the plate, and then Fred went and got some more, and with a little help from me (I had to push the cat food up in little piles so it was easier for her to eat), she ate almost all the food he’d gotten for her. So Fred, he’s not only a handyman, he’s also a cat-feeding genius, that’s right. Now my next question, those of you who’ve dealt with kittens this small – when will she start drinking water? I keep a small bowl of water near her cage, but she shows no interest at all in it. Is there something I should be doing? I wouldn’t want her to get dehydrated. I adore this picture. She looks like a little cartoon! More pictures hither.    
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Reader yawny pet pics!
Mary says, I know you love cats, but here is a picture of Nieko and Gracie. They have the same parents but were born a few years apart. Nieko really preferred being an only child! Gracie worships the ground he walks on, follows him everywhere and basically annoys him to no end! I LOVE this picture. It’s like, “I’m bad! I’m bad! I’m the baddest badass ever!” “Yeah, darlin’, sure you are. Whatever.” Stephanie says Okay, so Ace isn’t yawning in these pics, but he would be if he didn’t have his face stuck in a glass and a canteloupe! I’m only amazed that I don’t have pictures of Sugarbutt with HIS face stuck in a glass. I better be careful – if he sees that picture of Ace, he might get ideas… This sweet little fluffy cat is Kizmet, and she belongs to Shelly. She’s got some attitude going on, doesn’t she? And Shelly says, here is Baxter, our dog. In one of the pics, he is actually singing (he howls along when you blow a harmonica). That reminds me of when I was a kid and my brother Randy would get our dog Taffy to “sing” with him. I love cats, but they’ll rarely sing with you. Well, Miz Poo will try, but she just ends up whining annoyingly instead. This is my sister’s feisty little monkey, Punki. I LOVE pictures of cats with their tongues sticking out. They crack me up.
Thanks for sharing your pictures, Mary, Stephanie, Shelly, and Debbie (though Debbie didn’t probably intend to share that picture of Punki with y’all – but I’m sure she doesn’t mind!)!
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Dsc01837 “That screamy little kitten scares me.”
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Previously 2005: Did I bring “a book” with me? HELL NO I didn’t bring “a book” with me – I brought FIVE books with me. 2004: No offense to you stoners out there, but the Warrens totally look stereotypical stoners. 2003: No entry. 2002: I think I’m going to start calling him The Todd. 2001: Does that kid’s face just scream “dilemmanated”, or what? 2000: No entry. ]]>

9/26/06

Warning: Liberal use of the “c” word in this entry. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. So, ever have one of those days that starts out just fine, and then something goes wrong and then something else goes wrong, and then you realize you’ve called every car in front of you on your trip from one city to another “A stupid goddamn asshole cunt fuckhead”, so you come to the decision you should never have gotten out of bed? No? Just me, then? Seriously, yesterday started out just fine. I got up when Fred left for work, I got dressed and puttered around the house a bit, I started last week’s CSI and Grey’s Anatomy burning to a DVD for my sister/ nephew (CSI) and mother (Grey’s Anatomy) (PS: Torrents are THE SHIT), then I looked at the clock and realized that it was five minutes ’til seven, and the spud wasn’t out of bed yet. I went and woke her up, and when I was sure she was in the shower, I left for the pet store. (I would have given her a ride to school, but her boyfriend – friend? guy she’s dating? I am unsure of the correct technology, here – was planning to give her a ride to school, so I knew she’d make it there okay.) I was at the pet store, cleaning out a litter box when my cell phone rang. It was the spud, telling me she’d left something on the printer, and could I drop it off at school for her before her class? I briefly considered giving her a hard time about it, but I think this is pretty much the only time she’s done this, so I refrained. I was almost finished cleaning cages at the pet store when one of the cats who’s been there for a little too long reached out and swiped her claws across the back of my hand, leaving long, painful scratches behind. I’m used to the occasional scratch (those kitties don’t always love to be held and snuggled and kissed on the top of their little heads, you know), but I’ve gotten pretty good at dodging the cats who intentionally try to scratch me, only this time I was distracted and she caught me by surprise. I washed out the scratches, gave the cat a dirty look, and finished up my chores. I left the pet store and went across the street to the gas station where I usually fill up on Monday mornings, because it’s the cheapest gas in Huntsville* and although I usually only go through about half a tank of gas in the course of a week, I prefer to have half a tank or more of gas at all times. Who knows when I’m going to need to make a run for the Mexico border? Best to not have to stop and fill up in that case, is how I see it. So I pulled in next to the pump, got out with my debit card to pay at the pump, and looked down to see that the display on the pump was saying “Please pay cashier inside.” Dudes, what the fuck? If I WANTED to go inside and stand in line to pay the cashier, would I be trying to pay at the pump? I said “FUCK THAT”, got into my car and left for home, deciding to stop on the way home to fill up the tank. Sure, I’d pay a little more, but I wouldn’t have to STAND IN LINE. I cannot abide standing in line when I don’t have to -thus the reason 90 percent of my shopping is done online. And even the slowness of THAT pisses me off sometimes. Heading towards Madison, I pulled out my cell phone and called Fred to bitch. He pointed out that we were going to be going to Athens in the next few days, and he’d filled up at a gas station there for $2.06 on Sunday, so we could just take my car instead of his and fill it up on our way into town. I agreed that that was a good idea, hung up the phone, and pulled into the grocery store parking lot. My trip to the grocery store was okay except… you know what I hate? Besides standing in line (which I didn’t have to do at the grocery store, because it was early and there weren’t many people there)? I hate it when the cashier looks at something I’m buying, and makes a comment about it. Like “Oh, that looks good!” or “Is that good?”, because although I am not as fat as I used to be, my brain still hasn’t caught onto that fact quite yet, and so I stand there feeling like the 300+ woman who’s buying a cake, knowing that they think I’m going home to shove it all in my face. (Which I usually was.) So I went home and put the groceries away and got Maddy’s food ready for her while Sugarbutt lolled seductively on the counter, giving me his best “Hey Momma, what you got there for the Sugarman?” eyes. I went upstairs and Maddy was sitting in her little car bed in her cage, and when she saw me she got all excited, and then when I opened the door to her cage, what did she do? She stepped OUT through the door and ran over to me. She’s so smart, my Maddy. I was loading the syringe of cat food to shove in her face, and she was apparently so hungry that the smell of the food was driving her crazy and she started sniffing around my hands, and she actually ate some cat food off my hands and off the dish! I got all excited and thought we might have made a breakthrough, but I saw the light go on over her head as she thought to herself “Wait a minute. I’m a pretty princess and shouldn’t have to feed mySELF!”, and she whined and cried until I shoved some cat food in her face through the syringe, and followed it up with a bottle of formula. I am surely pushing this cat into an eating disorder. She’s going to end up like a little Nicole Ritchie, with the huge sunglasses and the scary, bony legs. The absolute best moment of the day came when I was just hanging out with Maddy, and Sugarbutt and Tom Cullen came in to hang out, too. Sugarbutt got into one of the cubes that stays in the kitten room. His tail was hanging out one of the holes, and Maddy saw it and became curious (she’s turning into a real little CAT!) and ran over to sniff his tail. I snapped a picture of that moment. And one instant later, Sugarbutt realized that Maddy was sniffing his tail, and he simultaneously hissed and levitated out the hole in the top of the cube, and he hung there for several long seconds, then pulled this running-sideways Matrix move, where he ran along a part of the wall and out the door. This act scared Tommy, who was hanging out in Maddy’s cage, so badly that he hit his head on the side of Maddy’s cage with a resounding ::clang:: and then tore out of the room so fast that he was nothing but a big black portly blur. I called Fred to tell him about it, and ended up laughing so hard I was crying and he couldn’t understand what I was saying. GOD I wish I’d had the camcorder in there with me. That’s a moment that would surely have won us ten thousand dollars on America’s Funniest Home videos.** So I discussed with Fred what time I’d be at his office to pick him up for an errand y’all don’t get to hear about just yet, and we decided I’d be there at 10:30. At 10, I called to tell him I needed to run to the spud’s school and the post office and then I’d be there to pick him up. And just. like. that. I got into a bad mood. Because Fred bitched about the fact that if I was later picking him up to run the errand, the later I’d be dropping him back off at his office, and the later he’d be eating breakfast, and he was hunnnnngry. YEAH? HUNGRY? JOIN THE FUCKING CLUB, FUCKER. I HADN’T EATEN YET EITHER AND YET I WAS GOING TO BE SPENDING THE MORNING DOING ERRANDS I DIDN’T PARTICULARLY WANT TO BE DOING, I HAD SHIT TO DO, AND I HAD PLANNED TO WATCH DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES IN AND AMONGST DOING ALL THE SHIT I DIDN’T PARTICULARLY WANT TO DO. So I got dressed, drove like a speed demon to Fred’s office, and got there at 10:28. “Did you not go to the school?” he asked, surprised that I was there so early. “Well, NO,” I snarked. “I had forgotten that the world revolves around you and your carefully timed pot of coffee between 8 and 9:30, your breakfast at 10:30, and your 11:03 bowel movement.” “Oh, shut UP,” he said, rolling his eyes at me. My bad mood faded a little during our errand, and then I dropped him off at his office and headed toward the spud’s school. Well, no. Actually first I thought I’d go to McDonald’s and get a fruit bowl, since I was fucking STARVING TO DEATH, but how many cars do you suppose were sitting in the drive-up at 11:30? Why, ten million OF COURSE. And there were even more people in the fucking lobby, and I growled “OH, FUCK THIS,” and pulled back out onto the road. I saw a gas station up the road and decided I’d stop there for a bottle of water and find something to eat. I ended up buying a small pack of cashews, and a J@ck Links piece of beef (I don’t remember the official name of the stuff) along with my bottle of water. And then I got in my car and headed toward the spud’s school, trying to open the package holding the piece of jerky-like beef, and I could not get the fucking thing open. I finally had to CHEW my way into the package, and when I got into the package and bit into the jerky-like beef, it tasted EXACTLY like the cat food I accidentally ingested when Maddy shoved her cat-food-covered face into my mouth the other day. I was so pissed I thought about pulling over and throwing the beef barfy onto the ground and running over it several hundred times while swearing loudly, but I (a) didn’t want to pull over and (b) didn’t want to be arrested for introducing such a toxic piece of shit into the environment, so I settled for swearing loudly while I drove down the road. And then. AND THEN. The road I was on? The road from Huntsville into Madison? Old Madison Pike? Oh, there was CONSTRUCTION, of course. Construction. WHY WOULDN’T THERE BE CONSTRUCTION? But of COURSE. Construction. And the traffic was backed up so far that I couldn’t see the actual construction, and I was in such a place that there was no way to turn around. So I downed the pack of cashews and swigged some water and tried to calm down, but we were MILES past the “eat and calm down” stage. I was in full-bore pissed-off stage, and as I sat in place for ten minutes, I swore and swore and swore, and usually that calms me down in a “cursing zen” kind of way, but not this time. All I ended up doing was pissing myself off some more, and FINALLY the traffic started moving and I thought we were finally getting somewhere, but I moved about twenty feet and stopped, but luckily I was in such a place that I could bang a u-ey, so I did so in a squeal of Badass Tires, and I went back the way I’d come, got onto the highway, and approached Madison from another direction altogether. I stopped by the post office, mailed off the CSI/ Grey’s Anatomy disc, and headed for the spud’s school. I got there right at noon and went in to the front office and dropped off the spud’s paper at the front desk. I went back outside and got in my car. I noticed that a woman a few cars up was pulling out, so I sat and waited for her to get out of the way. And she stopped her goddamn car DIRECTLY behind mine. Why, you might wonder, WHY would she stop her car directly behind mine? Was there another car in the way? Had her car broken down? Was she having a stroke? Why, no. No other car. No broke-down car. No stroke. She apparently had the OVERWHELMING GODDAM NEED TO PUT LOTION ON HER GODDAMN HANDS. People. If I’d had a golf club, a bat, or some other implement that was good for breaking things, anything other than a soft-sided cat carrier in the back seat, I would have gotten OUT of my car, and I would have gone Nicholson on her ass, and I would have been screaming very loudly (you have NO idea how loud I can be if I want to, people. I could break eardrums with the volume of my voice, just ask Fred), “SERIOUSLY? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME, YOU SELF-INVOLVED, SELF-IMPORTANT CUNT? SERIOUSLY? YOU HAVE TO STOP RIGHT HERE AND PUT LOTION ON YOUR FUCKING HANDS? SERIOUSLY??” As it was, I swore loudly and inventively and when she didn’t move, I hit the gas and started backing out directly towards her (calm down, I was backing out slowly. Mostly.), and that got her attention, and she drove away. THEN I had to go to the bank, where I had to wait far too long to deposit one check, but that was to be expected and the only person I was pissed off at was me, for being dumb enough to forget to bring a book to read while I waited. From there, I went over to the grocery store to pick up something for lunch, because I was STARVING and unwilling to go home and cook something, I just wanted something easy that I could go straight home and eat. And I ended up going to the same cashier as I’d gone to a few hours earlier, and she smiled and greeted me with “Back again?!” And I threw my smoked salmon wrap on the floor and bellowed “ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?” No I didn’t. But I wanted to. Then I went home and ate my salmon wrap, and then I ate some salad, and then I cleaned the kitchen and watched Desperate Housewives as I threw a Shepherd’s Pie, three-bean salad, and hamburger patties together (not together, together. I threw the Shepherd’s Pie together, then the three-bean salad together, etc.). I half-watched an episode of Dr. Phil while I cross-stitched, and then I talked to Fred on the phone for a few moments. He wanted to go to a tractor place and drive a tractor, and thought I should just throw the steak we’d been planning to have for dinner in the freezer, and we could go to the tractor place and then out to eat for dinner. So I agreed, and a little before 3:00, I went upstairs to feed Maddy so I’d be ready to leave when Fred got home. Maddy was her usual cute self, and I swear just rubbing her little bitty ears makes me happier than anyone has a right to be, so after that I was back in a somewhat good mood for the rest of the day. But for a while there, I’m telling you. I thought my liver was going to explode from the stress! (I kid. Livers don’t explode from stress (I hope).) Fred got home around 3:45, and we headed for the tractor place. Since I thought it was going to be a long drive (it was, but not as long as I expected), I remembered to do all the stuff my physical therapist had recommended, like put a rolled-up towel on the back of my seat for back support, and a Boppy on my lap for arm support, and I’ll be damned if my back didn’t hurt at all. At the tractor place, Fred was disappointed to find that I was completely uninterested in coming inside to hear him talk knowledgeably to the tractor guy about tractors and tractor parts and all that incredibly fascinating stuff. I love my husband, but I couldn’t possibly be any less interested in tractors. I do NOT give a shit what kind of tractor he buys, I honestly just don’t. If you’d spent the last month hearing every last detail about every last tractor god put on this earth, you too would be uninterested in anything tractor-related. Cats, I can talk about ’til the cows come home. The house? I’m ready to talk about it! Same goes for books, TV shows, clothes (for a limited amount of time) and whatever stupid thing the dumbasses in Hollywood are doing. (I AM SO DEEP.) But tractors? Snoresville. Totally. So I sat in the car with my book, and I happily read for over an hour, while Fred was apparently off a tractor, and when he was done, he made me accompany him to see the tractor he’d bought, and the various implements. He tried to get me to drive the tractor, even got on himself and drove it around, but I refused.

DSC01888 “Yeah, babe. Fascinating. Can we go eat now?”
I figure there’ll be plenty of time for driving the tractor when it’s actually AT the new house. I should totally get on the tractor and pretend I’ve lost control of it and head for the pond! Except that that would totally bite me on the ass, because I probably WOULD lose control of it and end up upside-down in the damn pond. We left the tractor place, Fred babbling about the tractor and me occasionally inserting a story about Maddy, and neither of us even pretending to pay attention to what the other was saying. We went into Decatur and had dinner at Big B0b Gibson’s, which has some damn fine meat, but I find the side items somewhat lacking. I could barely eat a quarter of what I’d ordered (a quarter dark chicken and pulled pork, with a side salad), but I did save room for lemon pie. If you ever get to Decatur, Alabama, you have GOT to eat at Big B0b Gibson’s. Seriously, folks, it’s damn good. Then we came home and played with Maddy and Fred sent out pictures of himself on the new tractor, and we watched that pretty, pretty Wentworth Miller on Prison Break, and pretty much, the day ended okay. Started okay, ended okay, but the middle part was a bitch. I’m sure I’m dealing with PMS, because it HAS been an entire week and a half since I last had my period, so it’s about time to start again! (I’m seeing my Gynecologist on Wednesday. CAN’T WAIT! FUN FUN!) *Except that apparently the cheapest gas in Huntsville ain’t the cheapest gas in the area. The gas station where I usually fill up had gas for $2.12 yesterday. When Fred and I went through Decatur last night, gas was five to six cents cheaper. **Except that only the not-particularly-funny videos tend to win on that show. The exception being the guy whose wife would lock him out of the house or car and make him dance and wouldn’t let him back in until he did. BEST VIDEO EVER.
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See more Maddy pics hither.    
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Reader yawny pet pics!
This is Rachael‘s Darby, who I LOVE. He’s just such a character, and I always love seeing pictures of Darby. He cracks me up! This is Cathy’s Princess Sophie. Cathy says, This is my little bundle of love. She is 10 years old and I adopted her from an animal shelter when she was just a kitten. She is with me in my store everyday and gets lots of love from my customers. This is her typical position – and her typical expression. Ah the life of a cat especially in a home where they are loved more than anything in this world… What a gorgeous kitty! Trisha sent this one in. She says, This is my boyfriend’s parents’ cat. Her official name is Stinky, but I affectionately call her Tub-Tub, in honor of you know who – also because she is quite tubalicious! I love her pretty colors. Hey, now. She’s not tubby, she’s just big-boned! (I love her colors, too!) This is Andrea’s late cat, Tiger. Andrea says, Tiger was a 23 year old cat who was my husband’s buddy and my boyfriend for ages and ages. He passed away last August, but when you asked for yawny cat photos, I immediately thought of this one. Enjoy. We do miss him, my sweet Tiger kitty. Awww, rest in peace, Tiger!
Thank you to Rachael, Cathy, Trisha, and Andrea, for sharing your awesome kitty pics!
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Dsc01866 Tommy practices his kitty yoga.
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Previously 2005: I’m sure I’ll get used to it, though, the way I got used to the neighborhood kids always running across our yard and always setting up shop in our driveway. 2004: No entry. 2003: Immediately, screaming like a little girl, Fred levitated across the room to the fireplace, where he began dancing a jig, slapping at his legs, and screaming intermittently. 2002: But it’s still tempting. 2001: J’accuse. 2000: No entry.]]>

9/22/06

* * * Fred sent me this link earlier this week and it made me laugh like a goon.

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If I were manic-depressive (wait. Do they call it bipolar now? I haven’t kept up on my psychiatrically politically correct terms lately), I think I would have been considered to be in a manic state yesterday. I woke up a little after 5, got up to pee, and went back to bed. And I laid there, my mind racing, until I accepted that I wasn’t going to go back to sleep. So I got up, went into the bathroom, and started cleaning out drawers. We have three drawers in our bathroom, and they were crammed full of all kinds of shit, making it almost impossible to find anything in any of the drawers. Last week I went to Wal-Mart and bought a plastic single-drawer storage thingy (kind of like this, only blue; and it wasn’t a set of four, it was just the one) with the intention of putting it in the closet, putting the extra stuff in the drawer, and just keeping the stuff we use on a daily basis in the drawers by the sink. Only problem is that once I emptied out the bottom drawer (by the sink), the single-drawer storage thingy was packed with shampoo and hair stuff, and there was nowhere to put all the crap in the OTHER two drawers by the sink. So yesterday I went to Wal-Mart with the intention of buying another couple of drawers (they’re stackable), only when I got there, I found that there was a single piece with three drawers about the size of the one drawer I had at home (similar to this, only bigger), so I bought that and decided to use the single drawer I had at home to put in the kitten room because I had blankets and towels and shit strewn all over the kitten room floor and it was making me cranky to see how messy it was in there. Then I came home and manically wrote an entry, went through the house putting stuff away and thinking about how desperately I needed to vacuum (but not actually vacuuming), answered email, straightened up my desk, and then spent the afternoon running around unorganizedly in circles, trying to do a ton of stuff, but not really getting anything accomplished. I have a hard time focusing lately. Maybe I have ADD! This morning I got up right after Fred left for work, finished organizing the bathroom (the three-drawer unit works out quite nicely), did laundry, cleaned the kitchen, and now I’m sitting here thinking about how much I need to vacuum the house. But I so don’t wanna.
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Maddy continues to do well. She was screaming to be let out of her cage last night, so I went up and got her around 7 and brought her downstairs to the living room with us while we were watching TV. She crawled around and explored, then I fed her (she continues to be mostly uninterested in the soft food – those of you who have dealt with this, is she going to just suddenly one day be very interested in the soft food and start eating it? Because she couldn’t be less interested right now.) and then handed her off to Fred. She climbed ended up curled up next to his leg, sound asleep. After I finished eating, I took her back upstairs and settled her in for the night – though I did have to give her her nightly dose of Albon, which kind of woke her back up again. This morning I let her wander around the room while I was organizing it (it looks so much better in there now that I have a place to pile the blankets and towels) and Tommy went in to check her out and hang out. She saw him and got ALL excited and ran over to him to sniff him. She’s starting to get a lot more curious, sniffing stuff, and actually starting to play with things. She continues to use the litter box to poop in, but I haven’t seen any pee yet, so I’ve still been stimulating her to pee at feeding time. Will she just start using the litter box to pee in, or what? Any advice those of you who’ve dealt with this have to offer, I’m all ears. She is just the SWEETEST THING ever, and I love how she’ll crawl up me and just lay on my chest with her front paws stretched out. She’s so cute it hurts, she really is.   Okay, how much do I love this kitten? I let her chew on my lower lip (didn’t hurt), even though she had cat food all over her face and mouth (bleh).   Sleepy kitten.   “I could eat you in one bite. Maybe two.”   “I needs me a snuggle.” All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither.    
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Reader yawny pet pics! This is Amy‘s Daisy. I just adore it when cats yawn so wide it looks like their teeth are sticking straight out! This is Amy’s Chloe. I just love how clear the picture is. Check out all those whiskers! Yawning Chloe with her sister, Zoe. They crack me up, these two. Zoe’s turn to yawn! I love how Zoe’s all off yawning, and Chloe’s looking up like “Hey. You got food, lady?” I’m not sure what cracks me up more, here. The yawn Zoe’s got going on, or the look on Chloe’s face, like she’s thinking “Dude. WHAT are you DOING?” Maisey is GOING to suck your BLOOD! Amy takes some awesome pictures and occasionally puts them up in her journal (though not often enough!). Also, Amy is like a crack dealer, ’cause she said: I discovered a new blog called Birdchick blog and she doesn’t have cats but has a rabbit. Her photos of her rabbits past and present are hilarious. Often times I see photos of Mister Boogers and think he is disapproving as much as Sharon’s rabbits are. Or maybe Miz Poo is the more disapproving of the two. Anyway, check her out. And then I spent forever on Birdchick blog. This disapproving bunny picture is SUCH a Mister Boogers look I can barely stand it. Thanks for sharing the cat pics (and the links), Amy!
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DSC01199 A great big grasshopper got into the house. What else would you expect a bunch of cats to do?
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Previously 2005: Never-ending. 2004: If you had any idea how much time I spent backspacing and retyping words when I write my entries, you’d burst into tears of sympathy. 2003: Who the fuck are Nikki and Paris Hilton, and why would I give a good goddamn what they’re wearing or doing or driving or fucking? 2002: No entry. 2001: You know you’re getting old when you have to ask a 12 year-old girl who’s on the TV. 2000: No entry.]]>

9/21/06

reading: Playing with Boys, by Alisa Valdes-Rodriguez. So far I’m liking it more than I liked The Dirty Girls Social Club, which I liked well enough, but did not love. Finished recently: A Spot of Bother, by Mark Haddon. It was okay, certainly worth a read, but I didn’t like it nearly as much as I liked The Curious Incident. Kind of dragged on a bit there at the end.

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Now, I know that I’ve mentioned in the past that I’ve met readers of this web site in person. Back when I walked the 3-Day, I met a reader from… North Carolina, maybe? We had a brief conversation and then I promptly twisted my ankle and had to go home. And last year I met Whitters, who wanted to play with Peanut (I could have sworn that I wrote about that, but I can’t seem to find the entry, so perhaps not). And both times it was a little weird to meet someone I’d only ever communicated with online, but both Whitters and Susan (the other 3-Day-er) were perfectly nice and didn’t hit me or yell at me for swearing so much or even make me cry. So when Nance told me that Rick was coming to Alabama, my immediate response was “Well hell, tell him to come over and have dinner and hang out with us!” Then his trip was pushed back a bit, and I forgot all about it, and then Nance emailed me to let me know he was really coming, and so I said to Fred “Hey! Nance’s Rick is coming to Alabama on business, and I want to meet him!” We talked about various things to do, and I looked around at our nasty, cluttered house and said “We cannot allow the man to step foot into our house, because he’ll take one look at the mess and run away screaming!” Fred suggested that we pick him up at his hotel and take him out for some good southern cooking. Which necessitated looking online to see where we could take him for some good southern cooking. Heh! Anyway, to make a long story short, last night Fred and I had dinner with Rick! Nance‘s Rick! I was so very nervous on the drive to get him, because I am a dork, and I was worried that there would be long awkward silences and Rick would call Nance and say “Why did I want to meet these people? THEY ARE NO FUN!” There were no long, awkward silences! At all! There were long, un-awkward conversations, and we learned many things, though Rick didn’t let any family secrets drop, so I can’t be the one to break the news to y’all that Nance is completely bald and when she claims to have just had her hair done, all she really did was run out for another Dolly Parton wig. That is news I am not breaking. In case you were wondering. Fred and Rick bonded over handyman stories, and goats (Fred’s still trying to talk me into goats at the new house) and all manners of guy things. It was fun to sit there at the barbecue place (more about that in a minute) and just talk for a couple of hours, and when we drove Rick back to his hotel, I kinda wished he was staying another night so he could come over and hang out with us and watch TV and admire my Mad Kitten Parenting Skillz. I’m told that next time, Nance is coming with him, which would rock, because it would be about damn TIME for us to meet face to face! Oh, and the funny thing is that when we picked Rick up at the hotel, I immediately gave him a hug. This is funny because a few years ago when Nance, Jane and I were discussing having a Smart&SassyCon, we said we were going to wear t-shirts that said “No goddamn hugs” on them, because none of the three of us are huggy people. Warning, Nance: I might be turning into one of those huggy Southern types. Next thing you know, I’ll be getting a great big beehive Southern woman ‘do, topped with half a can of hair spray. Photographic proof that I met a (Not So)Scary Internet Person and lived to tell the tale!
Okay, Nance doesn’t put pictures of her family online (you damn stalkers!), so I had to blur Rick. And then once he heard that Rick was going to be blurred, Fred demanded to be blurred as well. So there you go – me and two blurs. That’s Fredblur on the left and Rickblur on the right. Dsc01498 Also, there was this cute (very friendly!) kitty who hangs around the hotel, and apparently the people at the hotel encourage him to hang around, ’cause Rick said they feed him and take care of him (he was wearing a flea collar) (the cat, that is, not Rick), which is very cool.
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Miss Maddy is doing much better today, thanks for all your good thoughts! I must announce that not only is she much better today, she is a GENIUS. See, before I realized she’d lost weight and that I should spend the day worrying about her, I decided it was time to introduce her to the litter box. So I put (non-clumping) litter in the box and then put her in the box and showed her how to dig in the litter. She could NOT have been less interested, and immediately climbed out and crawled away. I put the litter box in her cage so that she could get used to the idea of it, even if she didn’t use it. And yesterday at noon I went into the kitten room to feed her, and DO YOU KNOW WHAT I FOUND? A little squirt of diarrhea in the litter box! Okay, so, maybe it was a fluke, right? Like she just HAPPENED to be in the litter box when she pooped. So I cleaned out the litter box and then? Yesterday evening? POOP IN THE LITTER BOX! She’s pooping in the litter box, and I didn’t hardly have to do a damn thing! Now if she’d only start peeing in there… This morning she’d gained back about half the weight she’d lost and she was so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (or stubby-tailed, as Fred calls her) that she was clearly feeling okay. My email to the shelter manager yesterday brought a response suggesting that I start giving her soft cat food (mixed with formula) and weaning her from the bottle. Giving her the soft cat food was… not a rousing success or anything, but I think I got enough of it down her by shoving it in her mouth and putting it on her face (which she’d immediately lick off) that it filled her up. She did drink a little formula from the bottle, but mostly she was interested in exploring the room and checking out the big cats. Her poop is starting to solidify a little, and there’s been no blood in it today, which is a step in the right direction (bloody diarrhea being a sign of coccidia. You weren’t eating, were you?). I’ll be glad when she’s to the point where she’ll eat out of a dish and I can make sure she’s getting enough food in. I imagine that point in time isn’t too far off. Licking cat food off her face.   “What’s going on there, small fry?”   Maddy and me.     She fell asleep like this for a few minutes.   All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.    
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Reader yawny pet pics!
This is Fudge, who belongs to Martha. She’s like a little Miz Poo! And this is Vincent, aka Vinnie Mac. I love the swirls! You can see more of Martha’s cat pics here. By the way, Martha has TWELVE cats. Which I am pretty sure means that WE don’t have enough! This is Christine’s Lily. I think I’m going to have to report you, Christine – whatever you’re doing to this cat, it’s EXHAUSTING. Christine says of Lily, Her turn-ons include: playing chase/hide and go seek, attacking laser lights, kisses from the parrot. Her turn-offs are: too much cuddling, seeing that the toilet seat is down when she wants a drink, getting yelled at for chewing on plants. You can tell just by looking that she’s SUCH a character.
Thanks for sharing, Martha and Christine!
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Previously 2005: I mean, it’s not bad enough the man has road rage, he’s got to have fucking walking-through-the-house rage too? 2004: “No, this is real time!” Fred sighed. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: Written by hand. 2000: No entry.]]>

9/20/06

Say!!!

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I got up early this morning to take Fred to work, because I have an appointment this afternoon on the other side of Huntsville that I want him to go to with me, and I would prefer to just drive home together after the appointment rather than have to drop him off at his office to get his car, or drive home alone. So I used his car to drop him off at work then come home, and this afternoon I’ll pick him up at work, we’ll go to the appointment and drive home together. Convoluted enough for ya? Anyway, I got up early to take Fred to work. We left a little earlier than he usually does because he wanted to stop at Lowe’s for steel wool (I swear, he’s gone to Lowe’s every single day this week. He’s turning into such a GUY.) and to stop at his favorite coffee place to (can ya guess?) get coffee. I dropped him off and headed for home. At one of the many red lights I had to stop at on the way home, I looked around me and realized I was surrounded on all four sides by plumbing trucks. Apparently 7 am is when the plumbing trucks head from Huntsville toward Madison, and they were all around me. I suddenly felt like I was in an episode of The Sopranos, and the doors of all the trucks were about to fly open and I’d see a bunch of angry plumbing southern goombahs pointing silencer-laden guns at my head. But the light turned green and I breathed a sigh of relief. You really don’t want to fuck with the Plumbing Mafia.
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I was in the grocery store the other day, and saw that there are a couple of new – “bold”, according to the packages – flavors of Tic T@cs. Since I’m always concerned about breathing bad breath on other people, I bought a pack of the “bold” fruit flavored Tic T@cs to carry around in my purse. When I got home I put the groceries away, and grabbed up the container of Tic T@cs to give them a try. They were AWFUL. Now, I’ve never actually tasted boiled ass myself, but the “bold” fruit flavored Tic T@cs were pretty much what I’d expect boiled ass to taste like. I spit out the one in my mouth… and immediately tried a second one to be sure it was as assy-tasting as the one I’d previously had in my mouth. It was. “Bold” Fruit Flavored Tic T@cs – two thumbs down.
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When we were in Mennonite country last weekend, Fred held up a jar of apple butter and asked if I wanted to get it. I’m always willing to try just about any fruit-based thing that they sell up there – I LOVE their strawberry jam; I don’t eat much jam these days, but every now and then I’ll eat some – so I said he should buy it. That evening when we got home, he tried a spoonful of it out of the jar, and gave me a small spoonful of it. It was very, very good, which didn’t surprise me, since the ingredients were apples, apple butter, sugar, and… something else I don’t recall and am too lazy to go look. Monday evening I was hungry and wanted something to tide me over ’til snack time at 7. I looked through the refrigerator and saw the apple butter, and decided I wanted some of that. I didn’t want a spoonful of it, though – I wanted to eat it on something. I looked around for something to eat it on. Toast? No. I didn’t want that much. Half a bagel? No. I definitely didn’t want that much. I opened the pantry and looked around, and then I saw the box. Melba toast. Apple butter on melba toast sounds kinda good, right? I pulled the box out and looked at it, and that’s when I realized it wasn’t just any melba toast – it was onion melba toast. I started to put the box back, then stopped and reconsidered. I’ve been known to eat (light) strawberry cream cheese on onion bagels, and it is DAMN FINE (light cream cheese, low-carb bagels, don’t need any “should you be eating that” comments, thanks). So maybe apple butter on onion melba toast would be equally as DAMN FINE. I’m here to tell you, folks. It’s not damn fine. It’s not fine. It’s on the other side of the room from “fine”, curled up in a corner and sobbing for its Momma. It tastes, in fact, what I imagine boiled ass would taste like. Apple butter on its own? YUMMY. Two thumbs up! Apple butter on onion melba toast? Two thumbs down!
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I am concerned about Maddy. She’s had several bouts of diarrhea, and she’s not been eating as much as she should. I consulted with the shelter manager, who suggested giving Maddy something called “Reb0und”, which has L-glutamine in it and helps to stop diarrhea. She also recommended starting Maddy on Alb0n, which treats diarrhea and coccidia. So I met up with her and got the Reb0und and the Alb0n. Last night, Maddy just flat-out didn’t want to drink that Reb0und. I tried and tried to get her to eat, but she wasn’t interested, and since she had just eaten a few hours earlier I gave up. Her urine was perfectly fine, and she had a little squirt of diarrhea, but she was bright-eyed and very interested in exploring, so I let her explore for a while, then put her up. I gave her her first dose of Alb0n. This morning I walked into the kitten room to find that she’d had a bout of diarrhea in the middle of the night, with a small amount of blood in it. That didn’t worry me so much, because bloody diarrhea can be a sign of coccidia, which I was already treating with the Alb0n. I pulled her out of the carrier and cleaned her up, then offered her the bottle of Reb0und. She flat-out refused to eat any of it, and after a while I came back downstairs and made her a bottle of formula, which I – after a LOT of coaxing – got her to eat 2/3 of a Tablespoon’s worth. She did a little bit of exploring and remained fairly bright-eyed and perky. My concern is that since Monday she’s lost almost half an ounce. I don’t know if that’s due to the diarrhea and once the Alb0n kicks in she’ll be okay, or what. Half an ounce is a lot for a little kitten to lose, and so I emailed the shelter manager about it and am waiting to hear back. It worries me that she ate less than a Tablespoon of food this morning, since her first morning feeding is when she usually eats the most, around 2 Tablespoons. So I keep peeking in at her (she’s laying in her cage snuggled with the stuffed monkey) and worrying about her, because that’s the way I am. I’m a worrywart. I’m sure she’ll be fine once the Alb0n kicks in, but if y’all want to send “Knock it off, Maddy, and stop worrying your Momma” thoughts in this general direction, maybe they’ll help. Maddy and Miz Poo come face-to-face over Tigger. And then Miz Poo ran away from the terrifying kitten.   “Are you my mother? You’re not my mother! You’re a Tigger!”   She’s more interested in biting than actually eating.   Maddy smiles. ‘Cause it’s warm under there, and there’s lots of bare skin to dig her claws into!   All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.
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Yawny reader pet pics!
This is reader Blair’s 5 month-old kitten, Gwen. Blair says, I DARE ANYONE TO BEAT THIS ONE IN CUTENESS! That’s quite a challenge – she’s awfully cute! She kind of looks like she’s yelling “Mom! I can’t believe you got me The Simpsons! It’s what I always wanted!” This is Anne’s Mini. Anne says, When she’s not unhinging her jaw or being a pain in the ass, she kind of looks like a girly Sugarbutt. I see the resemblance. And Sugarbutt, too, very much enjoys being a pain in the ass. They’re soulmates! This is Teresa’s Buddy. Teresa says, My almost 12 yr old cat Buddy yawns all the time, but I have never been able to catch him at it when holding my camera. And, His almost 1yr old sister Reverb would get jealous if I didn’t show off her as well. Here she is in HUNT mode.
Y’all have got some seriously cute cats. I love the pictures you guys share with me! Thanks for sharing, Blair, Anne, and Teresa! The rest of you – keep ’em coming.
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DSC01195 Sleepin’ Sugs. * * *
Previously 2005: “GodDAMN you, Mister Boogers!” I yelled. 2004: “This book makes me want to have a baby!” I said to Fred when I was about halfway through the book. “Let’s have a baby!” 2003: No entry. 2002: Gag city. 2001: I think you know what I’m thinkin’. 2000: I’d like to return to my regularly scheduled life, please.]]>

9/19/06

Milk face.   I adore this picture.   “Hewwo. I am Miss Maddy Mack. Welcome to my cat carrier. It’s small but cozy, and there’s a stuffed monkey for cuddling. I’m growing (I weigh 13 ounces now!), and it’s time to move on to a bigger house. I want to sell my carrier, but I need the help of professionals. Welcome to the newest episode of Sell This House!” All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.

* * *
Yawny reader pet pics!
This is Adah, who belongs to Lara. Lara says I think my favorite cat-yawn might be the post-yawn, demonstrated by Adah, here. I have to say, I love the post-yawn, too. I don’t think I can count the number of pictures I have of Mister Boogers with that exact look on his face. Hee! This is Ginger, who belongs to Joan, who says [Ginger has] lots of personality & ruler of the house (much to the dismay of our other cat!). I think I can see some personality, there!
Thanks for sharing, Lara and Joan! The rest of you – keep ’em coming!
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Dsc01193 Mister Boogers hates you.
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Previously 2005: We meet Sugarbutt, Tommy, and their siblings! 2004: No entry. 2003: Since he’s a year older than me, that’ll give me two years to theatrically take to my bed and waste away. Sounds about right. 2002: Obviously whoever lives at 308 belongs to the Bitchypoo “If I don’t know you, I ain’t answerin’ the door” school of thought. 2001: I hate you, Mr. Mailman. 2000: Only US Magazine would consider it newsworthy that Michael Douglas is changing diapers he hasn’t been wearing. ]]>

9/18/06

reading: A Spot of Bother, by Mark Haddon. So far, I’m liking it quite a bit, though perhaps not as much as I liked The Curious Incident, etc. Recently finished: my bathroom book (took me two months to read it – you’d think I would have finished it in a couple of weeks at the most, given how much time I spend in there!), Now or Never, by Elizabeth Adler. Not a bad book – easy enough to keep up with if you’re only reading it in short spurts (HA!), anyway. I totally guessed the killer wrong, which is always a plus in my book.

* * *
Two notable conversations took place while we were watching The Amazing Race last night. Conversation 1 On the TV: Father and daughter. Daughter says something. Father says something, then gets all choked up, tears in his eyes. We watch, baffled. And an instant later – before they say anything on TV – I know what the deal is. Me: Oh, she’s gay. Fred: That’s why he’s all choked up? Me: Yeah. On the TV: daughter says “I’m gay.” Me: (Trading a look of disbelief with Fred) Can you imagine EVER caring that much who your child is sleeping with?* Fred: I really can’t. *Of course I want my daughter to be in a relationship with someone who treats her well, isn’t a criminal, and is carrying no communicable diseases. But I flat-out do not care whether that person has a penis or a vagina. Conversation 2 Fred: Do you suppose Muslims have to ask people which way Mecca is? Robyn: I don’t know. Maybe they carry a little compass with them. Will Allah be mad if they intend to face the right way, but mess up? Fred: Maybe. Robyn: “Sa’eed, that’s ONE LESS VIRGIN for you!” “Aww, Allah! I’m already down to 53! I’m going to OWE you virgins if I don’t die soon!” Fred (a few minutes later): Oh Bessie, we’re so dumb! Robyn: Why’s that? Fred: The sun rises in the East and sets in the West. As long as you know that, you can figure out which way is North, South, whatever. Robyn: What about on cloudy days? Fred: You still can tell where the sun is coming from! Robyn: No you can’t, not if it’s behind the clouds. Besides, they’re visiting countries they’ve never been to, they don’t know which side of the hotel the sun usually comes up on in strange countries. And what about at night? Don’t they have to pray at night? Fred: Five times a day. Robyn: Well, there you go. How do they know the right direction if they’re running through the airport when it’s dark outside and it’s time to pray? Fred: I don’t know, Bessie. It’s a mystery. DO NOT READ THIS NEXT LINE IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED THE AMAZING RACE YET. I guess it’s also a moot point now, eh?
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Saturday morning we left the house early once again, after I’d fed the kitten, and headed up toward Tennessee. A couple of weeks ago Fred mentioned the idea of attending an auction or two, so I found a few upcoming auctions that looked like they might have things we’d be interested in. Specifically, we’re looking for something to put in the master bathroom downstairs (in the new house, I mean) for storage, and something to put in the kitchen, also for storage. We figured, if nothing else, we’d hang around for a while and watch the people. The auction started at 10, and we got there just a few minutes before it started. We’d intended to get there half an hour or more before it started, but left the house late (story of our lives!) and so all the good spots in the shade had been taken before we got there.
DSC01309 Dsc01315 We saw an orb weaver that I thought Fred was going to try to capture and bring home. He estimated it to be about four inches from end to end. It was HUGE.
There ended up not being much that we were interested in, though we hung around for about an hour watching the auction and the people. We sat on a towel in the shade of a beat-up old car for a few minutes, then Fred’s back started hurting, so we headed out. We didn’t want to go home – we’ve really liked going out and doing things on Saturdays these past several weekends – so we headed for Mennonite country, aka Lawrenceburg. The thing about the Mennonites is that they scare me a little. They’re very serious-looking, and they have sometimes difficult to understand accents. It’s funny that I’d be scared of them, since they’re known for being so peaceful, and I’m sure they have plenty of laughter and joy in their lives, but they always seem really grim when we’re dealing with them, like they’d just as happily smack us as look at us. Maybe they think we‘re scary. After driving around and making a couple of stops, we ended up finding a family that sold exactly what we were looking for – rocking chairs. Big sturdy rocking chairs to go on the front porch of the new house, and only $60 plus tax. Naturally we hadn’t brought enough cash with us, so we had to drive out of the Mennonite community and find an ATM, then get back to where the chairs were. We didn’t think both chairs would fit in the back of Fred’s car, and discussed coming back next weekend with his stepfathe’s truck, but I suggested we just give it a try, and after some moving stuff around, Fred managed to make them both fit.
DSC01329 The sheaves. Which I didn’t have to bring in. Dsc01325 Dsc01332 Dsc01338 Dsc01337
We made a few more stops so I could buy some baskets and we could pick up some apple pies and a few other things on the way home, and then stopped to have lunch. We stopped at a little Mexican restaurant, stupidly opted for the buffet (they close down the buffet at 2, and we got there right before 2, so everything was kind of old and dried-up. Like me!) and had some bad (tasting, that is) Mexican food. We finally made it home a little after 4:30, and I ran upstairs to feed the baby while Fred brought everything in. We had talked about going to an auction in Madison that started at 5, decided not to, and then decided we DID want to. So we left the house a little before 5 and got to the auction just a few minutes before it started. There was TONS of furniture there, and we eyeballed a dresser for the spud. This auction was WAY better than the one we’d attended in Tennessee. This auctioneer moved a lot faster than the one in Tennessee, and I quickly learned that if you hesitated just an instant too long, you’d lose out. We were sitting there watching a lamp being auctioned, and suddenly Fred raised his hand to bid on it. “What the hell are you doing?” I said to him, bug-eyed. “Bidding on the lamp,” he said. “That’s a good lamp for $7.50!” He wasn’t willing to pay $10, though, so was outbid. All in all, we got some excellent stuff. A gaming table came up for auction and we decided it would fit perfectly in a certain spot in the new house, so Fred bid on it, and we got it for $110. Then, of course, an even more perfect wall table came up, and we ended up getting that one for $100, too. We were willing to spend up to $250 on the dresser for the spud, a lovely old maple dresser. How much did we get it for? $110. We were absolutely floored at how low some of the furniture was going for. Like I said to Fred, “We are NEVER going into an antique store again!” Some of the stuff was going for less than $100, and there was no doubt in my mind it was going to show up in an antique store for $600 or more. On the other hand, we were amazed at how much some of the stuff was going for – there was a fast and furious bidding war on an old anvil, and we just looked at each other like “Why?” and shook our heads. Fred did get a jigsaw and a router for $10 each, though, which was cool. After we’d spent almost $350, Fred said “We’d better get out of here before we spend any more money!”, so we did. We packed the game table, the saw and router, and the wall table into the car, and decided we’d borrow Fred’s stepfather’s truck on Sunday and come back to get the dresser.
Dsc01334 Wall table. Dsc01335 Game table, closed… Dsc01355 …halfway open… DSC01354 … all the way open. Dsc01353 Spud’s new dresser.
We got going around 9 Sunday morning to go over to Fred’s mom’s to borrow his stepfather’s truck. We got to the auction house, loaded up the dresser, and were home well before 10. I puttered around the house for the better part of the day, while Fred went out and stained the rocking chairs a nice light pecan color.
Dsc01349 Fred’s mom and stepdad have an outside cat. He just showed up outside their back door one day and stayed around, so they make sure he gets fed and stays warm and gets his shots. He stays outside, though, because their house is really too small for another cat. Dsc01344 Bandit, the pampered indoor kitty. Dsc01411
All in all, it was a very, very good weekend. And what’s even better? We close on the new house in less than two weeks! Woohoo!
* * *
Maddy continues to do well. Last Wednesday (the morning after I brought her home), she weighed in at 10 ounces. This morning, she weighed in at 13 ounces. I worry about her not getting enough to eat – for two feedings yesterday she barely drank half a tablespoon of formula at each – but she’s still gaining weight, so apparently she’s getting enough. I think she’s teething – she’s been chewing on stuff a lot lately, and I see tooth nubs in her mouth, but I don’t think any of them have popped through yet. She’s been doing a lot of “exploring” lately, venturing further and further from me, but then if she gets too far from me she gets nervous and runs back. It’s seriously cute. What I saw when I went upstairs to feed Maddy yesterday.         “Oh! Yes! RIGHT THERE!” Maddy loves the belly rubs.     You have no idea how very, very, very much these little claws hurt. I finally went out and bought some work gloves to wear while feeding Maddy, because she digs in so hard with them. Good for her she’s so cute! All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.  
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Yawny reader pet pics!
This is Lola, reader Melinda’s Beagle. Melinda says, This is Lola, my 4 yr old beagle. When I snapped this picture last spring I thought of your yawning kitties so it is only appropriate to share. What a cutie! Almost makes me want a dog. 🙂 Look! It’s a Sugarbutt lookalike! (A Sugalike!) This is reader Leanne’s cat Basil (and that looks like a disapproving Boogalike over there on the left!). I don’t think I’ve mentioned that I love orange kitties, have I? These two are Pita (on the left) and Pepper (the yawner). They belong to Donna, and if you want to see some cute cat pictures, you should check out Donna’s site, ’cause she puts up some really good ones.
Thanks, Melinda, Leanne, and Donna, for sharing. The rest of you, keep ’em coming ’til the end of the month!
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Dsc01438 The price of gas this morning. I wonder if it’s going to get below $2 a gallon before it starts bouncing back up?
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Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: Dirk is a happy, happy man. Dirk is very close to orange. 2002: Instead of finding it cute and amusing, I am, instead, bitter that I’ll never get that 94 minutes of my life back. 2001: (he’s a dumbass, she’s a dumbass, they’re dumbasses, wouldn’t you like to BE a dumbass too?!) 2000: No entry.]]>

9/15/06

you still cross stitching? Yes and no – I have a ton of kits to do, and I keep intending to cross-stitch while I watch TV in the evenings, but I haven’t actually done any cross-stitching in a couple of months. I tend to cross-stitch every night for months and months, and then not a single stitch for a few months before picking it up again.

* * *
Why 6 months before you sell your house? Will it be that long before you move? Because the spud wants to graduate from her current high school and there’s nothing in place so that we could live in Smallville and she could drive to Madison every morning (Fred has talked to the superintendent – I don’t know if it’s because we’re moving to another county, or what). So we decided to buy the new house, work on it for the next six months, then put this house up for sale. In February we’ll probably do something where we move a bunch of stuff to the new house, then Fred (and the cats) sleep there nights (well, the cats will be there full-time) while the spud and I sleep here. That way the spud can make her five-minute drive to school and work until she graduates, and we can recarpet this house, since the cats won’t be around to barf all over the new carpets the minute my back is turned.
* * *
Hi Robyn – I have a question for you. I’ve read Bitchypoo a long time and I’ve been searching for something you wrote a while back. Here’s the thing — I started walking for exercise and I get a tense feeling in my shoulder blades and neck and shoulders. And I thought you had mentioned that you had that happen to you as well but I’ve looked back in your archives and can’t find anything about it. Please help me solve this mystery – was it you this happened to? Oh and don’t worry – I’m not looking for any miracle cure by Dr. Robyn – I know to see a doctor if I’m really worried – however I thought I remember you talking about some solutions or causes or something and if so I wanted to go back and read it. I was having some back pain in my thoracic spine region – mostly directly under my left shoulder blade. I switched from a regular bra to an Enell, which basically pulls your boobs back against your chest so there’s no jiggling and wiggling of the boobs, and that helped. I would also stretch while I was walking – stretching my left arm across the front of my body helped – but really, what’s helped the most is that I’ve been seeing physical therapists for about a month, and they gave me exercises, new ways to sit, and stretches, and that along with the time I took off from most all physical activity after I had my gallbladder out seems to have fixed the back pain issues.
* * *
Didn’t I read that you had plantar fasciitis? How has it been since your weight loss? I did! And I haven’t seen hide nor hair of it in months and months. In fact, I’d completely forgotten all about it. Another happy side effect of the weight loss!
* * *
I know you’ve looked into (or will) the possible complications of removing skin and various lifts, but have you seen The Shrinking Woman on Discovery Health? The episode about a Tennessee woman aired on Monday night, I think. Granted, she started out much larger than you ever were (over 600 lbs), but the complications and recovery of her multiple surgeries were scary. She also pushed herself, and had surgeries before allowing herself to recover fully, I think. Anyway, just be careful. (I know you will.) I haven’t seen that yet, but every so often I go through the Discovery Health programs and set up to record everything that looks interesting; I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for that! I will, of course, be careful. I think the fact that I’m pretty healthy, overall (don’t tell my liver!) will be a big plus when I’m ready to go for plastic surgery.
* * *
Re: cats. And now it’s official. I have 6 cats in a 1300 sq. ft. home (and 2 outside cats who are slightly feral, both from an irresponsible neighbor). Have I lost my mind? We took in 3 kittens, found a home for one, and probably scared off any potential adopters of the remaining two. Sorry, I don’t apologize for screening people. Good thing I have a Dyson. So I am crazy cat lady, but not a hoarder (yet). Someone told me that you were a hoarder only if you couldn’t afford them all. Not there yet, I hope. 6 cats in a 1300 square foot home is LESS THAN one cat per 200 square feet. I think, personally, you don’t actually have ENOUGH cats. Wait. I think I don’t have enough cats, either. I think the rule of thumb (which I just completely made up) is that you need one cat per 100 square feet of housing space (you should include closets in this calculation). I think this means you need at least another six cats – and I need another (doing the math…) 19! Seriously, though, I really don’t think you become a hoarder until you can’t move through your house because there are so many cats, you can’t possibly take care of them all (I hate it when the Animal Cops discover a hoarder who has cats who are living in their own filth. Drives me NUTS. If you are unable to care for your cats properly, you need to find a new home for them.), you can’t afford to take care of them all, and you refuse to consider finding homes where people can take proper care of them. And good for you for screening the hell out of potential adopters!
* * *
I’ve read you journal for years and have watched the spud grow from a kid into a beautiful young adult. She is gorgeous. I love both pictures but the one with her glasses on and that warm bubbly smile really is my favorite. Plus she’s lost some weight hasn’t she?
Yeah, I really love that picture of her. Her best friend went with her when she was having her picture done, and in that picture where she has the great, natural smile, her best friend was making her laugh. I don’t know if she’s so much lost weight as gotten taller, actually. But I agree – she looks good!
* * *
You should get your results soon since the test was done in a hospital (at least that was my experience). I hope you only get good news. When do you see your GI again? Actually, the GI told me it’d probably take about two weeks, because they send the tests off to California (yeah, probably California, INDIA) to be read. I don’t have another appointment with him, but he’s going to call when he gets the test results and let me know what they found out.
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Maddy is adorable. So tiny! How hard will it be to let this one go, Robyn? and how in the hell are you going to give that baby up after you have bottle fed her? Yikes! She’s too cute and I’m a sucker. But then again, so are you! I’m absolutely going to have to suck it up and let her go, because if I don’t? There is NO WAY Fred will ever let me foster again. I’m sure it’ll be hard – it was hard as hell with the other fosters – but knowing that she’s going to go to a good home helps a lot.
* * *
Aww, poor kitty! How did she ever get seperated from her momma and siblings? I don’t know what her story is yet – I need to ask the shelter manager!
* * *
I’ve been meaning to ask you since you are moving out to the farm, do you guys think you will ever try a dog again? I remember when you guys adopted one, but then it tried to bite Fred or something. Can’t remember exactly. If you do, I would suggest a basset hound. They are the BEST dogs and wouldn’t dream of biting a person. They could even hunt rabbits for you. The dog we adopted several years ago didn’t work out because she was pretty aggressive toward the spud and I and just flat-out wouldn’t listen to anyone but Fred. The final straw came the day Fred and the spud were out in the back yard, and the dog pretty much went out of her way to run over the spud, knocking her back and putting a gash on her forehead. Honestly, we’ve talked about having a dog when we move into the new house – it just seems like a farm needs a dog, y’know? – but when it comes down to it, we really aren’t dog people. Nothing personal to dog people – I like pictures of dogs, I like your dog stories, but as far as wanting one of my own? Not so much.
* * *
do you knit? I don’t, and I’ve thought about taking it up, but I did knit for a bit when I was a teenager, and it kind of made me twitchy, so just thinking of taking it up makes me twitchy. In fact, thinking of all the damage the fucking cats would do when they discovered my yarn stash (AND YOU KNOW THEY WOULD) makes me twitchy. Besides, I’d take up quilting before I’d take up knitting, because I can always use more quilts! Maybe I’ll take up knitting in my old age when I’ve learned patience.
* * *
There’s quite a discrepancy in that hospital bill, who paid the rest of it? You: $150, insurance $3K+, leaves a little over $19K left. Factoring in that I’m more than a half a moron when it comes to this insurance business not having had it most of my life. The hospital writes off that $19,000. Basically they say to the insurance company “This is what we’re charging” and the insurance company says “Too bad. We’re only paying this much.” and the hospital says “Um. Okay! We’ll just go harass some uninsured people and make them pay the total amount they owe us. For you, since you’re a big insurance company and we want the business of the people you insure, we’ll just pretend we didn’t need that entire amount anyway. Mmm’kay?”
* * *
Just in case you don’t know, (and what makes it all the more poignant) is that Tiffanie DeBartolo based Jacob Grace on Jeff Buckley. I did NOT know that (or if I found out about it after I read the book, I’ve since forgotten and it’s all new to me!) and I’m surprised I didn’t. I LOVE Jeff Buckley’s music.
* * *
I can’t believe it’s Friday, and I haven’t written about what we did last Saturday, yet, and put up the pictures. I guess this has been a kind of busy week for me, what with the hating on the floor guy and sitting around waiting for him to never show up and bringing home a bitty baby kitten. Anyway, we left the house early last Saturday because we wanted to visit some tractor stores and get prices and flyers and maybe sit on a few tractors, so Fred could dither back and forth about which one he wanted to buy and fret about how expensive they are and all that. We ended up visiting three different tractor stores. We visited the Massey-Ferguson tractor store first, and I snapped a few pictures.
DSC01154 Old blue tractor. I think it’s purty. DSC01158 Whenever Fred sees a big-ass tractor like this, he always says “Now, THAT is what we need!” I ought to rent one and park it in the driveway at the new house and tell him I bought it for him, just to freak him out.
There were no animals at the Massey-Ferguson store. I count that as a strike against Massey-Ferguson, personally. Next, we went to the Kubota store.
DSC01160 “Lady, please. Don’t make me rip out your throat. I have a store to protect and a fuzzy blue bed to keep warm.”
One cute little (but not terribly friendly) dachsund in the Kubota store – that’s a plus in the Kubota column, as far as I’m concerned. Next, we went to the Agco store. We went out to look at the tractors and I said “Get on the tractor and let me take your picture!” He wouldn’t, so I gave him the camera and told him to take my picture.
Dsc01162 He interpreted “Take my picture” to mean “Wait until I look as dorky as humanly possible, then snap my picture, please. Oh, and if I’m in the middle of a blink, so much the better!” Dsc01166 “Lady, please. Don’t make me rip out your throat. I have a store to protect.” Dsc01167 “Shit. Did she believe me? I don’t remember how to rip throats out. Pull, then bite? No, that doesn’t make sense. Bite, then pull, then what? Am I supposed to eat the throat I rip out? Do I spit it out and then pee on it? Crap. If I don’t look at her, she’ll think I’m mysterious and scary. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.” DSC01168 “Hello. You got food for me?” Dsc01169 A Tommy lookalike greeted us as we left the Agco store.
That’s three animals at the Agco store. Three checks in the Agco column, as far as I’m concerned. But I get no say in the purchase of the tractor, so Fred will probably decide on the no-animals-having Massey-Ferguson. Bastard. From the last tractor store, we had to drive back into Madison. The owner had planned to leave us a key to the new house in our Super Sekrit Hiding Spot, but she hadn’t had a chance, so she sent the key to work with her husband, who works in Madison. So we went to his place of business to pick up the key, and I sat in the car and watched Fred chat it up with him. I’d thought to bring a book with me, but naturally it was way in the back of the car, and I kept thinking Fred was going to come out annnnnny minute now, so I didn’t go back and get the book. Fred finally came out, and we headed to the house. There was, honestly, not anything we needed to do at the house. We just wanted to walk through it and hang out in it for a little while and look over the land. Fred wanted to check out the attic, so we swung by home to pick up a flashlight. At the house, we walked through again (I asked Fred to toss the dead mouse in the laundry room out into the yard, because it was bugging me), and then we went out to the pond to see Mister Duck, and Fred tossed some poultry feed out to him.
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On a side note, Fred actually had the idea to go to a Trade Days this weekend and get Mister Duck a girlfriend. When he called the owner to find out if they planned to leave Mister Duck at the house, he heard the sad news that something had killed Mister Duck on Saturday. Rest in peace, Mister Duck. So after the duck had been fed Fred went into the house to poke around in the attic, and I walked around the back yard and took a few pictures.
DSC01182 One of the numerous pecan trees in the back yard. I think it’s gorgeous – I love big old trees. Dsc01192 Red maple. It’s looking a little rough due to our dry summer, but hopefully it’ll recover nicely this fall and winter.
I was sitting on the back steps when I heard Fred call me from upstairs. “What?” I said. “Come up here,” he said in that special you’ll-want-to-see-this tone. I went inside and up the stairs. He was standing outside the bathroom. When he saw me, he gestured for me to walk into the bathroom. “What?” I said, walking into the bathroom. He pointed at the toilet, and I walked over, half expecting to see a dead mouse floating around. It wasn’t a mouse, and it wasn’t dead.
DSC01183 The Southern North American Toilet Frog.
“Is it real?” I said, peering down at it. The picture doesn’t do justice to just how bright green the frog was. “It is.” “And he was just sitting there when you walked into the bathroom?” I asked. “I walked into the bathroom and lifted up the toilet seat, and he was sitting there.” “The toilet seat was DOWN?” “Yes.” “How the hell did it get in there?” “I imagine it swam up the pipes.” I regarded the frog. It regarded me back. “I sure am glad this isn’t MY toilet,” I said. “And I hope the spud doesn’t come screaming bare-assed down the stairs one day with a bright green frog stuck to her ass.” “I second that,” Fred said. “Are you going to take it out back?” “Yeah, I just wanted you to see it.” Fred leaned down to pick up the frog. He had it in his hand and was starting to stand up when, with an almost audible ::SPROINNNNNNG:: the frog leapt out of his hand, hit the wall, and stuck there.
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“I don’t think he wants to go,” I said. “Well, we can’t leave him in here. He’ll starve!” “Can’t he swim back down the pipes?” “Maybe. Maybe not. Frogs aren’t known for their overwhelming brilliance.” Fred leaned down and reached for the frog. He shifted position and eyed Fred with bright-eye malevolence. “He’s going to end up stuck to your face,” I predicted. Fred looked around the bathroom, then picked up a toilet brush and poked at the frog with it. The frog blinked, considered, and decided that a toilet brush would be a fine place to sit.
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Fred carried the Toilet Frog down to the pond and left him near the water. Hopefully whatever got the duck didn’t get the frog as well. Or maybe the FROG got the duck! I’m sure if the frog ::SPROINNNNNG::-ed onto the duck’s face, the duck would have dropped dead from a heart attack.
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Maddy’s doing well – she actually stopped sneezing, so maybe it was a matter of just being in a new environment that was making her sneeze, I don’t know. I was a little worried because I didn’t get a poo from her yesterday, but then she gave one up this afternoon, so I’m happy. I never thought a little poo would make me so happy. Maddy isn’t to the “playful” stage yet, but she does like to play a game. When she’s done eating and peeing, she wants me to put her down. Then she wants to tunnel somewhere. If I don’t use a baby blanket to make her a tunnel, she’ll butt her little head against my leg until I lift it or she’s able to tunnel underneath. Most of the time I make a tunnel for her out of a baby blanket, and she goes through it, then is SO proud of herself she has to flop over for a belly rub. It’s excruciatingly cute. All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. Also, for those of you who requested Maddy movies, there are two. In the first, Maddy sniffs around and then meows her little meow. In the second, she’s just crawling around. Neither movie is all that great – I need to take the movie camera upstairs – but you get an idea of the cuteness that is Maddy. YouTube link. YouTube link.    
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Reader yawny cat pics! This is Zoey. She belongs to reader Hulda in Indiana. I love the attitude she’s got going on. Hulda’s Zoey again. I swear, when I first glanced at the picture, between the black cat, the red collar and the cat chewing on something it shouldn’t, I thought it was Tommy! What a cutie pie. Leo the mighty lion roars! Leo belongs to Hulda’s mother, who lives in Iceland. Leo again. Now THAT is a hard-sleeping cat. Leo’s sister, Krista. I love how sweet and soft she looks. Thanks for sharing, Hulda! The rest of you – keep ’em coming!
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Previously 2005: Maybe I just like to bitch, y’think? 2004: Waiting for Ivan. 2003: No more Benifer. How sad. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: Speaking of N Sync – that Lance Bass is a cutie, but I get the distinct feeling that although the lights are on, no one’s home. ]]>

9/14/06

* * * My husband is a budding handyman. It’s nice to be able to pee downstairs now, I’ll tell you that!

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Crockpot Swiss Chicken has quickly become one of our favorite recipes around here. I think I’ve made it once a week almost every week since we tried it the first time. You just can’t beat swiss cheese and chicken. What’s funny is that I don’t usually care for swiss cheese at all, but in this recipe I just can’t get enough of it. We also had crustless quiche the other night, and as we were talking about the things we could add to it (peppers, mushrooms, ham), I said “Next year we could have a vegetable quiche, and everything in it would come directly from our chickens and our gardens!”
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Book meme, stolen from Elizalou. 1. A book that changed your life. I really have to say that the first time I read Carrie – which was my very first adult novel – I realized that there was a whole different world of books out there than the Little House books (which, by the way, I still adore). I don’t think I actually “discovered” young adult fiction until after I’d read Carrie (my brother was a senior in high school, which would have made me… 11 or 12), and if I’d read something like The Pigman, I think my approach to adult novels might have happened in a completely different way. 2. A book you’ve read more than once. The Stand. I just love the hell out of that book. Also, Swan Song. The first time I tried reading it, I gave up after 50 pages. The second time I tried reading it, I couldn’t put it down. 3. A book you’d want on a desert island. Oddly enough, the Bible. I’ve never read the whole thing, and I hear tell there’s lots of sex, murder and intrigue in the book. 4. A book that made you giddy. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. I swear to god, when I read the sentence “I can’t do chatting.”, chills went up my spine. It’s an utterly charming book that I suddenly feel the need to read again. 5. A book you wish had been written. I wish Andrew Vachss and Lee Childs would team up. Burke and Reacher together would kick ASS. 6. A book that wracked you with sobs. God-Shaped Hole. I wrote this about it back in 2003: All this to tell you that yesterday I was reading God-Shaped Hole, a book that I foolishly thought was going to be of the light-hearted Zany Chick variety. What happens at the end is made clear from the beginning, and it happens even though you don’t want it to, and even though you hope against hope that it won’t. I was a few pages from the end (and hoping against hope for a resurrection) when I read the line But Joanna wouldn’t understand the incredulity of my grief. And I burst into tears. Even just thinking about it makes me tear up, and I have no idea why. I have no clue why that one line affected me so strongly, maybe because it sounds like the truest thing I’ve ever read. the incredulity of my grief And it still makes me tear up. 7. A book you wish had never been written. We Were the Mulvaneys. I hate that fucking book. Maneater was pretty useless, too – I had to give up after about 50 pages because it was so flat-out uninteresting. 8. A book you are currently reading. A Spot of Bother, by Mark Haddon, author of The Curious Incident. The moment I read the part on the flyleaf that said The Halls do not approve of Ray, for vague reasons summed up by their son Jamie’s observation that Ray has “strangler’s hands.” and snickered out loud, I knew I was going to like it. And so far, so good! 9. A book you’ve been meaning to read. I literally cannot lay on my bed, on my right side, and look at the bookcase in my bedroom, stuffed with books. There are SO MANY books and SO LITTLE time, that it just stresses me out, because I lay there and realize I have this book or that book or the other, and haven’t read it, and WANT to read it. I need to become a bed person so I can do nothing but read all day, every day. 10. Tag 10. Consider yourself tagged – and if you do this meme, leave a link to it in my comments.
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On the Maddy front (yeah, I guess that’s going to be her name. I think it suits her.), things are going well. Yesterday evening I was worried enough to call the shelter and talk to the manager, because the first three feedings I gave Maddy, she ate about 2 tablespoons of kitten formula. The next two feedings, she ate about 1 tablespoon at each feeding, then just wouldn’t take the bottle, but she’d lay there and howl. I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on, but was assured by the shelter manager that they’ll eat more sometimes than they do others. Since she was pretty active, pretty vocal, and was peeing well (and had a bowel movement! Yay!), then I should just keep an eye on her weight and make sure she wasn’t losing. I had heard her sneeze several times, though, and the shelter manager – okay, it’s time to give the shelter manager a name since typing “shelter manager” is annoying me. Let’s call her Susan, shall we? – told me that if she kept sneezing to call back, and she’d have someone run some amoxicillin down to the pet store for me to pick up. When Maddy had a sneezing fit around 8, I called Susan back and told her I thought we’d need some amoxicillin. At her 9:00 feeding, Maddy only ate a tablespoon of formula, but she was peeing well and she seemed interested in crawling around, so I made a little playpen of my legs and let her explore. This morning when I opened the carrier to feed Maddy, she heard my voice and came out of the carrier directly to me, as fast as she could. I got her to eat one and a half tablespoons, then burped her and let her explore, and then went to get a washcloth to clean the formula off her face. She squawked while I did that, then started climbing on me, making sucking noises. I gave her the bottle, and she sucked down the other half a tablespoon of formula and seemed content. So she’s had a bowel movement – that makes me feel SO much better, you have no idea. I bet it makes HER feel better, too. Ha! – and she’s also purred several times. I feel like I read somewhere that orphans start purring earlier than kittens who are kept with their mothers, but I also seem to recall that the first batch of fosters we had, the kittens were purring when we got them, and they weren’t much older than Maddy is. Anyway. I know y’all just come here for the pictures, so let’s get to it! Maddy sadly contemplates the vast expanse of my thigh. How will she ever cross it and reach freedom?! She always looks amazed by just about everything. Maddy frantically eats, while sinking her needle-sharp claws into my hand. Those things HURT. Mister Boogers growls from the doorway. I can guarantee you that if Maddy took one step in his direction, he’d run away like the great big wimp he is. I actually made a short movie of Mister Boogers making a jerk out of himself, growling at the tiny baby kitten. You’ll have to turn the sound up – you’ll hear Maddy meowing, and then the unearthly growl that is Mister Boogers. YouTube link.
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What a cute baby. I’m not a cat person myself and I feel us dog lovers are being discriminated against! 😉 Can we send some dog yawning pictures in? But of course! Hell, I’ll open it up to any yawning animal at all. Cats, dogs, ferrets, mice, birds, whatever – send ’em in!
This is Shelly’s cat Piglet. Shelly says, Her hair is so short b/c it’s her summer haircut (which she LOVES) b/c not only is she a piggy eater, she is Pigpen dirty too. And she CLAIMS it’s a yawn, but I don’t know. That kind of looks like a “Come closer and I’ll CHEW YOUR FACE OFF!” look to me. Okay, so possibly Sunny isn’t yawning – but obviously he’s thinking about it. Sunny’s momma, Sandy, says His name is Sunny, a/k/a Mommy’s little fat boy, and the toy on his back we call Pookie. We have two other cats, Ollie (who is a total camera whore) and Rascal (pretty old and doesn’t want to be bothered). Oh, how I love the orange kitties! This is Jill’s Toonces. Jill says, Toonces is such a “Diva Cat”. I have a group of three pictures which include this one I’m sending you in a picture frame on the wall in my office. People always comment on her pictures and the cat lovers who see these really enjoy them and it sparks a lot of conversations about their cats, too. Needless to say, her pics are quite the conversation starters! I love this picture – not only does it look like it was professionally done in a studio and everything, but also Toonces apparently yawned so hard her pupils popped right out and rolled across the floor. (Jill, I LOVE that you named your cat Toonces!)
Thanks for sharing, Shelly, Sandy, and Jill! The rest of you – keep ’em coming!
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Dsc01230 Mister Boogers hates you.
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Previously 2005: For the record, there’s a big fucking difference between pranking someone and just being an asshole. 2004: Like, so world-weary, like “I can’t be bothered to sign ‘love’, because it sounds so warm, I need something COLDER, so I’ll just scrawl ‘as ever’”. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry.]]>