Category: Life

here. Thank you for the cards you sent. I got some really awesome ones this year, and I always love seeing pictures of your kids and your families and your cats, and reading the sweet things you write in your cards to me. I have the best readers EVAH! And now for this year’s Christmas Card stats (last year’s are here). Date I started addressing cards: December 6th. Date I finished: December 18th. Total cards sent out (not including family): 260 States receiving 10 or more cards: California (18), Illinois (14), Ohio (18), Texas (18). States who don’t love me and didn’t want a card: Delaware, Louisiana, Missouri, Nevada, New Mexico, Rhode Island, Vermont, Wyoming. Other countries receiving cards: Canada (16), New Zealand (1), Australia (6), United Kingdom (4), Sweden (1), Portugal (1), Germany (1), Finland (1), Scotland (2), India (1), Belgium (1), Switzerland (1), Norway (1). Most often recurring first names: I don’t know; I didn’t keep track of first names this year. I do remember an awful lot of Amy/ Ami/ Aimees, though. Number of cards kicked back as undeliverable: None, so far! Percentage of probability that I accidentally sent out more than one card to at least one person: 99.99874. Was I terribly organized about my card sending this year?: I was neither terribly organized nor terribly disorganized. I’m pretty sure that everyone who requested a card got one (or has one on the way to them), and that’s good enough for me! Did I have a lot of fun shopping for funny cards?: No, actually. I bought all my cards online during after-Christmas sales last year. What I’ll do differently next year: Maybe get going a little earlier. Number of cards I’ve received: As of today, 93 109 137. I’m sure there are more on the way, and I’ll edit the number sometime in mid-January to reflect the correct total.

* * * Currently reading: Food and Loathing, by Betsy Lerner (thank you to reader Martha, who sent it along to me. Martha rocks!). Recently finished: Twelve Times Blessed, by Jacquelyn Mitchard. Good christ, it’s the slowest-moving book I’ve ever read in my entire life. I don’t recommend it unless you’re in the process of DYING and want to make every minute seem like six years. Also recently finished: Better Than Chocolate, by Susan Waggoner. Interesting premise, well-written, and yet I couldn’t force myself to give a good goddamn about what happened to the characters. Another one I don’t particularly recommend. * * * It’s a Christmas Meme! (Which I stole from Athena) 1. Egg Nog or Hot Chocolate? I love egg nog, but I can only have one or two servings of it, or I’ll end up drinking it all. There’s something in egg nog that makes me want to drink it until my stomach explodes – and no, it’s not the alcohol, ’cause I drink the non-alcoholic kind. 2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them around the tree? They’re wrapped. What fun is it to see what your present is without having to rip off the wrapping? 3. Colored lights on tree/house or white? I like either, but not together – I very strongly hate the mixing of white and colored lights. It drives me nuts, I think it looks horrible. 4. Do you hang mistletoe? Nope. It’s poisonous to cats, isn’t it? 5. When do you put your decorations up? Whenever I get around to it. I put our decorations up around the 15th this year, which is a little later than I prefer to, but I don’t like to put them up the day after Thanksgiving, either. I think that’s too early. 6. What is your favorite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? Fred’s stepfather makes a kickass oyster dressing. He doesn’t make it every year, but when he does I make a total pig out of myself. 7. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? My cousin – who is a year younger than me – told me when I was 13 or 14. I believed so long because I honest to god didn’t think my parents would spend that much money on us! 8. Do you open a gift on Christmas Eve? When I was a kid we all got to open one gift on Christmas Eve. Now that I’m an adult, the spud opens presents from her California relatives on Christmas Eve (we had to institute this rule, because she gets so many presents that we were sitting and watching her open presents for HOURS on Christmas Day), and Fred and I open our presents from each other. 9. What kind of cookies does Santa get set out for him? Whatever’s around. When I was a kid, I think it was a couple of sugar cookies. 10. Snow! Love it or Dread it? Love it, but only because we rarely get it around these parts. 11. Can you ice skate? I used to be able to – I don’t think I’ve been on ice skates for more than 20 years, though, so I have no idea whether I still can. 12. Do you remember your favorite gift? I think I was about ten, and Debbie (who was eight) and I were harassing the hell out of my mother for a kitten. OHHHH, how we wanted a kitten, we needed a kitten, GIVE US A KITTEN! On Christmas Day we had opened all our presents, and my mother said “I think something’s missing…” and looked around, frowning. Then she cocked her head and said “I think I hear something upstairs!” Debbie and I ran screaming up into my parents’ room and found… a cage with two hamsters in it. It wasn’t a kitten, but we were pretty damn thrilled anyway. We named ’em Laverne and Shirley. 13. What’s the most important thing about the Holidays for you? Seeing family we never see during the rest of the year, and hearing my favorite Christmas songs. 14. What is your favorite Holiday Dessert? I’m not sure I have a favorite. They’re ALL my favorites! Fred makes a coconut cake that is to DIE for, I’d certainly count that amongst my favorites. 15. What is your favorite holiday tradition? Seeing Fred’s family on Christmas Eve and getting Christmas Day to ourselves. 16. What tops your tree? Nothing! 17. Which do you prefer Giving or Receiving? Definitely giving – especially when you find the perfect gift for someone and know they’ll love it even if they didn’t know they wanted it! 18. What is your favorite Christmas Carol? O Holy Night, Little Drummer Boy. 19. Candy Canes! Yuck or Yum? I’m neutral. If I really want something sweet a candy cane would do, but we don’t really keep them around the house. 20. What is your favorite holiday? Christmas, of course! * * * Do you see what those little fuckers have done to my Christmas tree? They made a HOLE between the branches where they like to hang out and fuck with the ornaments. I keep fixing it, and they keep fucking it up. Bastards. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2004: Gotta love that Jack Bauer. 2003: When it’s such a noteworthy event that my child stops and stares in wonder, it’s possible I’m just not cleaning often enough, ya think? 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry. 1999: That’s my girl!]]>

Fresh Lemon Sugar. Whenever I spray it on myself I smell so damn good I want to marry myself. But I’m sure I’d get all annoyed with myself in no time flat, and there’d be screaming and throwing (“You BITCH, that was my GRANDMOTHER’s candy dish! I can’t believe you BROKE IT!” “No, not the mini salt and pepper shakers!”) and cheating (“WHO is JUAN?”) and snooping through emails (“What whore sent you pictures of herself in lingerie and made a suggestive comment about blowing you?”) and listening in on calls (“That didn’t SOUND like your MOTHER?” “Yeah? Well YOU’re sounding more and more like YOUR mother!”) and eventually a divorce (“I get Sugarbutt and Thomas, they love ME more! Here, Shoogie, Shoogie, here TommyTommyTommy!”), and I think we don’t want THAT. Well, maybe we do; y’all do love a trainwreck, right? My other favorite perfumes: That Lemon Meringue perfume I got at Bath and Body Works a few months ago (I can’t think of the name of the company that makes the perfume), Vera Wang, and my perennial favorite: Sand and Sable. Between my perfumes and my yummy smelling shampoo/ conditioners (I go back and forth between Victoria’s Secret So Sexy and Back to Basics Marine scents. YUMMY.) I smell pretty damn good all the time. (Speaking of the Victoria’s Secret So Sexy shampoo and conditioner, every time I see the uber-cheesy name, I hear in my head the voice of a super-cheesy guy from the 70s with a bad perm and a Fu Manchu mustache saying “Myyyyyyyyyy lady is sooooooooooo sexyyyyyyyy!”)

* * * Fred returned the camera phone yesterday and got me a flip phone like his and the spud’s. It’s a Samsung x495, and I like it. I spent a good 45 minutes looking at and listening to ringtones last night before I found the one that is perfect for me: South Park’s Cartman singing O Holy Night. I kept calling myself from the home phone just to hear it play. I’m going to get a new ringtone once the holidays are past, but I’m torn between an Office Space ringtone (Milton saying “Excuse me, I believe you have my stapler?”) and a Napolean Dynamite ringtone (too many to choose between). Or, I don’t know, maybe the theme song from The O.C. Too many choices! I always get really excited when I get a new phone. I’m sure the excitement will die down in a few days. * * * Yesterday was a semi-busy day for me. I had to take Miz Poo to the vet’s in the morning; her lip is pretty much completely healed – though there’s a bit of scar tissue – and she lost a third of a pound, so I need to keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t lose any more, but she’s not scheduled for any more vet visits in the near future. Thank GOD, because I don’t think my ears could take another 25 minutes of her howling on the way to the vet anytime soon. In the afternoon I had a hair appointment, so now my grays are all covered for another 5 weeks. I’m still growing my hair out, because I haven’t gotten tired of it yet. Maybe I’ll grow my bangs out, too. Or maybe not – that’s usually the death knell for my long hair. Just as my bangs reach the length of the rest of my hair I get tired of long hair (not that it’s all that long, just a little past my shoulders) and have her chop it off. Always happens that way; always has, probably always will. I’m a creature of habit, what can I say? Amongst all the appointment-going, I watched The Aviator, because Fred rented it the other day and it’s due back today and if I wanted to watch it, I needed to get it watched so I could return the movie. Good god, what a waste of time. It was neat to see all the actresses of today playing the actresses of then, and it was interesting to learn about all the things that Howard Hughes accomplished, because I knew NOTHIN’ about the man before I watched the movie (for many years I thought Howard Hughes and Hugh Hefner were the same man), but I could have accomplished the seeing of the actresses of today by looking at pictures from the movie and learned information about Howard Hughes by reading an article about him, and still retained at least two and a half of the almost-three hours I wasted watching the damn movie. And Cate Blanchett is a great actress and everything and she did a good job of sounding like Hepburn, but she just didn’t have that Hepburn glow. I don’t know, I was a little disappointed I guess. * * * Brudderly love. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2004: No shit, Matt. Ya think? Ya think she might like to eat? 2003: “You are NOT allowed in Maine!” I informed him. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: Except for world peace and all that. Yadda, yadda. 1999: No entry.]]>

* * * Today’s earworm: So I waited with high hopes, then she walked in the place. I knew her smile in an instant, I knew the curve of her face. It was my own lovely lady, and she said, Oh, it’s you. And we laughed for a moment, and I said, I never knew.. That you liked Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain. (Escape (The Pina Colada Song), Rupert Holmes) The “easy listening” station I occasionally listen to (easily) has played this song at least three times in the past two days. Every time I hear it, I hope that THIS TIME it’ll go more like It was my own lovely lady, and she said “Oh, it’s you.”/ and she punched me in the face and the blood how it flew/ And she kicked my ass and I cried like the annoying motherfucker I am/ Because any man who refers to his wife as “my lady” isn’t worth a good goddamn. Or something like that. It hasn’t happened yet, but I live in hope.

* * * Someone asked in my comments how on earth I read so many books in such a short amount of time. First of all, it helps a lot that I don’t work, so if I wanted to just sit and read all day long – as long as I didn’t have any errands to run or appointments to attend to – I could do that. I don’t, though – in fact, I hardly ever read during the day except for half an hour or so in the morning after I shower. Sometimes I read longer in the morning, but more often I only read for 15 – 20 minutes, because I have something I want or need to do. The bulk of my reading is done after Fred goes to bed. These days he’s off to his room around 9:45, and I read for one to two hours (sometimes more, depending on how hard it is to put the book down). Plus, I’m a fairly fast reader. I don’t read as fast as Fred does – he reads so fast he can barely turn the pages fast enough, I swear – but I read pretty fast. And that’s how I manage to get all that reading done! Speaking of reading, I’m currently reading Better Than Chocolate, by Susan Waggoner. Finished recently: Puppet, by Joy Fielding. I liked the book, and the twist near the end really took me completely by surprise (though I did get it a bit before the main character did, which made me feel special). I don’t think I’ve ever not liked anything I’ve read byJoy Fielding. * * * I got up after Fred went to bed last night and cleaned the bathroom – which I’ve been trying to force myself to do for days, now – and dusted all the furniture in the upstairs part of the house. It took me a little more than an hour, and I think I might start cleaning at night a little more often. I’m not always in the mood to lay in bed and read when Fred goes to bed, so why not clean? The downside of cleaning at night, of course, is that I can’t run the vacuum cleaner. Well, I could, but I imagine Fred would get pretty pissy about it. * * * I sold both the cameras yesterday to readers (Hi K! Hi J!), which means that Fred gets a to buy a camera like mine, now. He’s such a copycat. * * * Our T-Mobile contract was up a few days ago, and so yesterday afternoon Fred and I talked about going to Verizon and signing up with them. But then he started looking around and decided that going with Verizon was a bad idea because the monthly fee was going to cost more, we’d have to pay for the phones, and… something else, I don’t remember what. We talked about it for a while, then decided that T-Mobile doesn’t COMPLETELY suck. I mean, sure, our phones like to cut out when we’re right in the middle of civilization, but we’ve never been in an emergency and not been able to use them. So yesterday afternoon he took our phones and the spud over to the T-Mobile store (my only instruction to him: “Bring me back a cool phone!”), and when he came home, he and the spud had cool flip phones, and I had a Nokia camera phone. I’ve been talking about getting a camera phone for ages now, because it seems like I’m always in a situation where I’d like to be able to take a picture, but didn’t have a camera with me. HOWEVER, a few hours before he went to T-Mobile, I was talking about getting a camera phone, and then he said “But your new camera is so tiny, you could lug it around in your purse with no problem!”, and I said “You’re right. I don’t need a camera phone, don’t get me one.” Where would I get the idea that whatever I say goes in one ear and out the other sometimes, I WONDER. Anyway, I thought it was cool and I snapped a few pictures, and then I played around with the ringtones, and that’s when things rapidly went downhill. Because I liked the fact that with my old phone I could download snippets of songs to play on my phone, but apparently with the Nokia, you didn’t have that option. You had to get the dorky Muzaak ringtones, and I hate those. Well, I don’t hate them, I just wanted to be able to have the HiFi ringtones, not the Muzaak ringtones. Also, after fiddle-farting around with the damn thing for an hour – YES, I looked at the manual – I couldn’t figure out how to assign a certain ringtone to a certain contact, and I really wanted to be able to do that. I was able to do it on the crappy phone I had before my last phone, and that was years ago! So tomorrow Fred’s going to take the camera phone back and get me a cool flip phone like the one he and the spud have. I imagine that when all three of our phones are in the same vicinity, we’ll get them confused and hijinx will ensue. I can hardly wait! * * * Such an expressive little face. If someone’s in the kitchen, they must always be accompanied by Sheriff Sugarbutt. It’s the law. What if food dropped on the floor and Sheriff Sugarbutt wasn’t around to take care of it? Anarchy would ensue! All of today’s uploaded pictures (there are some cute snuggly brudder pictures) are here. * * * Previously 2004: Reader questions, answered. 2003: “Um, no,” I told Fred when he asked. “And not only no, but HELL no, and I’ll be out of the house whenever they come to interview you and tape you exercising and all that goofy-ass shit.” 2002: No entry. 2001: I guess he defines “tension” as “getting drunk and pawing every female in sight.” 2000: I practically woke up screaming, I tell you. 1999: Suddenly, it occurs to me that nestled next to my underwear is not the best place to put a bag of very potent catnip.]]>

My Humps” song, because if I find myself singing What you gonna do with all that junk? All that junk inside that trunk? I’ma getgetgetget you drunk, Get you love drunk off my hump. to the cats ONE more time, I promise you there will be a shooting spree and it will NOT be pretty. And while I’m talking about songs, someone please explain “Hollaback Girl” to me. What the HELL is a “Hollaback Girl”, and is being one a bad thing or a good thing or a neutral thing? Is Gwen all “I, myself, am not a Hollaback Girl, but there’s nothing WRONG with those of you who prefer to be one. Because to each her own and that’s cool and everything, yo.”, or is she saying “It is a horrid thing to be a Hollaback Girl, which is why I must profess ten thousand times that I, myself, am NOT a Hollaback Girl, because being mistaken for a Hollaback Girl is something I don’t want.” Also, if Hollabackness is a desired state of being, how do I go about achieving it? Y’all know a lot about a lot; enlighten me, would you?

* * * The other night I dreamed that I was watching Nip/Tuck. It was the season finale – which comes on tomorrow night, which means that we’ll be watching it Wednesday night since we (Fred) couldn’t possibly stay up that late to watch it – and to my shock and surprise I found out who The Carver is. Kitty Foreman. Yes, Eric’s momma is the dastardly bastard who’s been carving up all those people. Anyone who pretends to be that happy all the time has some serious hidden anger issues, that’s all I’ll say. Sorry if I spoiled it for you. * * * I think perhaps I didn’t mention that I’ve gotten myself a new camera, a Sony Cyber-Shot DSC-P200. Yes, yes, YES, shaddup, I know I go through cameras like Bob goes through catnip, but I’m getting money from Fred’s parents for Christmas and I’ve been eyeing this camera for a while, and it’s just SO DAMN CUTE and tiny and starts up in a tenth of the time the old camera starts up in – I swear, you hit the power button and the thing is ON, there’s no waiting for it to slowly wake up and decide what the hell it wants to do. Anyway, here’s a comparison picture of the old camera and the new: Fred likes my new one so much that we’re going to sell we’ve sold both our old cameras (we each had our own DSC-V1s) so he can get a new one like mine. Only probably not red, so we won’t mix ’em up. * * * Currently reading: Puppet, by Joy Fielding. Finished recently: S is for Silence, by Sue Grafton. Loved it! Kinsey didn’t make any trips to McDonald’s, though, and I must say I’m a tad disappointed. At the rate she’s going, I’m a little worried that Sue Grafton won’t finish out the alphabet before she dies. I wish she’d SPEED IT UP a little, damnit. * * * Something tells me it must be snack time. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2004: Apparently she’s a princess now. 2003: Three things. 2002: My shit list. 2001: Emailing gets me all excited. 2000: I sure whine about the weather a lot, don’t I? 1999: Disaster averted!]]>

hairs around Rachel McAdams’ nipples? SO SICK. You know what, you fucking Dork Brigade fuckwads who are having a cow that a woman DARE to have hair in an area unapproved by you, I think that perhaps you should not be so concerned, because the chances of YOU getting up close and personal with Rachel McAdams’ breasts are so minute they don’t register on any scale that can be seen by the human eye. Who are these freakin’ dorks who are NO PRIZES themselves, holding up some impossible standard for women to live up to? Oh no, she has hairy nipples! Oh no, she’s bigger than a size 0! Oh no, they’re wearing granny panties! Oh no, they don’t shave every single public hair, and in fact every hair from every inch of their body except their heads! The horror! THE HORROR! I’m sure that if Rachel McAdams knew that pictures of her nipples were going to be splashed all over the internet she would have yanked out the hairs just to spare the Dork Brigade the sheer horror of having to be aware of the fact that she’s a living, breathing human and exists for purposes beyond serving as an image for them to jerk off to. When I think of the Dork Brigade, I think of a bunch of guys who strongly resemble Philip Seymour Hoffman in Boogie Nights (only a tenth as HOT, if you know what I mean), (or maybe this guy) sitting in front of their computers wearing clothes that haven’t been washed in a week, guzzling Coke, eating pizza, clicking through the nekkid celebrity sites and saying things like “I could never do Rachel McAdams. She has a couple of HAIRS around her NIPPLES. So gross!” GOD.

* * * Also on my nerves: this “War on Christmas” horseshit. I think that we are all adults, and I think that if you have half a brain in your head, whether I say “Happy Holidays” or “Merry Christmas” or “Happy what-the-fuck-ever”, you are possibly intelligent enough to understand that what I am saying is “Have a good one; now get the fuck out of my way.” So shut the fuck up about the “War on Christmas” and… get the fuck out of my way. * * * Rumor has it that Renee Zellweger and Kenny Chesney have been seeing each other recently. I suspect that Renee Zellweger might be a fan of the drama. Didn’t she and Jack White break up and make up many times over the course of their relationship? She’s a closet drama queen, mark my words. * * * I watched Celebrity Autobiography: In Their Own Words on Friday, and it was funny as SHIT. The best part was the two guys (whose names I didn’t catch) reading from Sylvester Stallone’s and Tommy Lee’s autobiographies. HILARIOUS. Definitely worth checking out if you get Bravo. * * * This weekend I discovered that there’s no way I’ll ever be a Xanax addict. Fred’s been encouraging me to try a Xanax ever since he got his prescription (and then took three or four of them and stopped taking them, so he could save them for a rainy day), and on Saturday I finally tried one. (Not looking for a lecture, by the way. It’s not like I’ll be jumping into my time machine and going back to change the fact that I took it.) I hated the way it made me feel. First it made me really sleepy, so I went back to bed and slept for two hours. Then when I finally rolled my ass out of bed and got dressed, I felt groggy. Eating lunch woke me up a little, and for the rest of the day I was simultaneously spacey and in a really, really bad mood. A bad mood that’s just now starting to abate. I don’t like feeling high in any way, thus the reason I don’t drink or do drugs (though that meth sounds like some gooood stuff, doesn’t it? Where can I get me some o’ that?!), and I don’t ever want to take another Xanax again in my life, thanks. * * * Fred painted his bedroom this weekend. Before: After: I really, really like it. It’s amazing how much cozier and homier it looks in there now with the walls that color. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: The man sure knows how to pick out a room color! * * * Speaking of Fred’s bedroom, I got yet another concerned “Why do you and Fred have separate rooms? That doesn’t seem like it’s very good for your marriage!” email this weekend. I didn’t answer it, because I’m tired – you have NO idea how tired – of answering that question. It surprises me just how many people assume that the fact that we sleep in separate beds is a bad thing. The longer I’m married, the more I realize just how rigid people can be when it comes to the idea of what does and does not entail a healthy marriage. And the longer I’m married, the more I realize that each marriage is an entity unto itself and what would never work for one married couple works perfectly fine for another. Let me assure you that my marriage is perfectly healthy and that we spend as much time laying in bed talking as any couple who sleeps in the same bed. And you don’t have to actually share a bed at night to have a healthy sex life as well. But, y’know, thanks for your concern and everything. Now if I could just get the cats to sleep in their own room, I’d be a happy camper. * * * I uploaded a veritable ton of pictures over at Flickr today. Go check ’em out. * * * Previously 2004: I’d swear to never use Amazon again, but it’s so FREAKING convenient I just can’t help myself. 2003: Clearly we were in the presence of REALLY important people. 2002: Because I’m just that good. 2001: That’s right, damnit, I’m a chick magnet! 2000: We’re standing strong in the face of those two snowflakes. 1999: Though I guess “substance” would be a matter of opinion.]]>

this site. You will DIE from the unbearable cuteness. (Thanks to reader Kathy for the link!)

* * * Today’s earworm: Remember seeking moons of birth Rings made mirrors of the earth The sun was just yellow energy It is a living promise land Even over fields of sand City filled with burden Cover me From bringing back More than a memory (Chariot, Gavin DeGraw) (Every time I see or think of Gavin DeGraw‘s name, I always – for just a moment – confuse him with Gavin DeBecker) * * * I was originally scheduled for a hair appointment yesterday but I wasn’t look forward to it – not because I don’t like the woman who does my hair, just because it bores the hell out of me to sit in a chair for an hour and a half having it colored and cut and blow-dried, and who the hell wants to sit in front of a mirror for all that time? Not ME. Wednesday night the phone rang, and I answered it to find the receptionist who works at the… place (I feel goofy calling it a “salon”). My Hair Chick was sick with a stomach virus and needed to reschedule for next week. I felt like I’d been given a reprieve. I ended up with a semi-busy day anyway, running errands to the bank, the post office, Fred’s office, and Target. It was a little more relaxed than it would have been, though, since I didn’t actually have to be anywhere at a certain time. * * * I even finally got around to putting up the Christmas decorations. Which consisted of a few things (I got rid of a lot of Christmas stuff when I was decluttering a few weeks ago) and the Christmas tree. My absolute favorite ornament. I got it in Maine during the after-Christmas sales last year. Got this one in Myrtle Beach. I think I got this one in Maine last summer. Also Maine last summer – I think when we were in Kittery. I’m going to look for more Maine-themed ornaments this year to add to the collection. This cow cracks me up. Surprisingly (or not), Sugarbutt was fascinated by the tree. This would have been a good Christmas card picture if he’d been looking directly at me. Absolutely fascinating. (You can see more Christmas ornament closeups and pictures of the tree here) I’m afraid they’ll pull the tree onto the floor on top of them, and squish themselves to death. I’m not worried about them breaking ornaments – all the ornaments on the tree are unbreakable, at least I did THAT much right – but I’d hate to come downstairs to find a Sugarbutt or Thomas pancake one morning. Maybe I can convince Fred to help me move the thing the tree is on top of, and I could put the tree on the floor. They’d probably still pull the tree over, but at least it wouldn’t fall as far and cause as much harm. The pot at the base of that tree is heavy as hell. Ah well. We’ll see. * * * You know what I really fucking hate? Well, yes, I do hate kitty litter in the sheets, you’re right. Okay, I also hate little droplets of tea spilled on the floor and not wiped up by the guilty party, yes. And when Fred says “onesy-twoesy” or “mepergan fortis”, that does drive me awfully crazy, the first because “onesy-twoesy” is so annoying cutesy I’d slap any two year-old who said it right upside the head (as long as their fontanelle wasn’t still mushy) and the second because, well, I don’t know. It just annoys the fuck out of me. (Also I really really hate it when he takes a bite of something hot and drums his feet on the floor whilst clutching a napkin to his lips (why can’t he just spit it back out like a normal person), but he’s made an effort to stop doing that BECAUSE HE ROCKS, so it’s really not worth mentioning.) Anyway, just shut up, ’cause you’re not going to guess. I really fucking hate it when you make a small donation – say, $25 – to a charity, and they turn around and spend that $25 and more trying to convince you to give them more money. I REALLY FUCKING HATE THAT. I donated $50 to North Shore Animal League two or three years ago, and they haven’t let up for one fucking second. Every week I’m getting some spam in the mail, address labels, a few weeks ago I got those gift labels you put on gifts so people know who they’re to and from. It drives me NUTS that they put so much effort into pushing me to give more money when the money they’re wasting with the flurry of paper they send me every month could surely pay for shots or food or spaying/ neutering. I think from now on I’m only going to send anonymous donations via money order and refuse to fill out my name and address. That, or I’ll include a letter with every donation saying “If I ever get any mail from you asking for another donation, address labels, address books, calendars, gift labels or anything of the sort, I will immediately put you on my blacklist and refuse to send you another dime as long as I live.” * * * Currently reading: S is for Silence, by Sue Grafton. Recently finished: Wifey, by Judy Blume. Yes, I read it when I was a kid. I saw it in the used book store and figured I should read it again. That Judy Blume, what a perv. Heh. It stands the test of time okay, I suppose, though Sandy’s a little too prone to letting life happen to her, and I found her more annoying this time around. Citizen Girl, by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus. I kept thinking to myself “Didn’t I already read this? This seems so familiar.” But then I realized it was Everyone Worth Knowing, by Lauren Weisberger I was thinking of. Both books are worth a read, though I wouldn’t read them within a couple of months of each other. * * * “Hey, Bob. BOB! Over here, dude. Whatcha got in that bag? Got a little of the ‘nip? Wanna share with your best friend? Wuh? ME, Bob. I am your best friend, you dumbass. You what? Huh? Come on, Bob, NO ONE believes you really gave up the ‘nip, you just did that rehab ’cause Jeff VanVonderen tripped you up with that “Everyone here loves you like crazy” bullshit. I SAW the show, Bob. You were crying like a big pussy the second you walked through the door and saw your Momma and Aunt Prudence.” “Like you could ever give up the ‘nip, Bob. Don’t make me giggle.” “Yeah, whatever, Bob. What. Ev. Errrr. There’s nothing wrong with the occasional snort of the ‘nip, you hear me? NOTHING WRONG. Enjoying the ‘nip doesn’t make me an addict. You go admit you’re powerless over the ‘nip, but when you hit Step 9, you just add me to the list of people you need to make amends to, ’cause you’re annoying me, Bob. You’re just annoying the shit out of me. Go away. Wait ’til I tell Thomas about this, he’s going to laugh his ass off.” “Bob’s giving up the ‘nip for good? Yeah, RIGHT. I’ll believe THAT when I see it! I give him three days, tops.” “Wait. What if he IS serious about this? Where the hell are we going to get our stuff? Bob’s the only dealer in town! And he always had the primo stuff. No one else can give us anything even close!” “Oh, crap.” * * * Previously 2004: I guess it really does pay to be in the right place at the right time, eh? 2003: No one cries alone when I’m around, I always say. 2002: Next week will be a lovely roller coaster ride of stressed-out PMS hormones gone wild. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry. 1999: Have I mentioned that I sleep in the nude?]]>

He’s on the dance floor yelling Freebird Singing off pitch but he knows every word Grabs him another girl and he holds on tight Now he’s chasing everything in sight He’ll fall apart when he gets home Right now his worries are gone Life looks good, good, good Billy’s got his beer goggles on (Billy’s Got His Beer Goggles On, Neal McCoy)

* * * Pet store kitty pics from Monday are here. * * * A few years ago I had occasion to catch Marilu Henner a talk show. She was flogging some book or another that she’d written about losing weight, and she told the host of the talk show that she could actually smell it on someone’s breath if they’d been eating dairy. “It’s disgusting,” she went on to say. “It almost makes me gag!” As you might expect, I rolllllled my eyes and flipped the channel. Probably I said “Shut up, Marilu Henner, no one cares what you think.” as I did so. Well. It’s the oddest thing: lately, if I walk into the house and someone’s been eating anything with milk on it, I can smell the milk. I can smell it from two rooms away, even. It’s not an upleasant smell – in fact, it’s rather pleasant – but it’s certainly a new thing for me. I probably have a brain tumor. * * * I got nothin’, entry-wise, so I’m going to rely on a meme. LUCKY YOU! FOUR JOBS YOU’VE HAD IN YOUR LIFE Carhop (people think of waitresses on skates when you say carhop, but there were no skates involved) Convenience store cashier Order taker at LL Bean (I don’t know which numb faster, my ass or my brain) Office manager at Fred’s company FOUR MOVIES YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER Center Stage (shaddup) When Harry Met Sally O Brother, Where Art Thou? Braveheart FOUR CITIES YOU’VE LIVED IN Lisbon Falls, Maine Bath, Maine Middletown, Rhode Island Huntsville, Alabama FOUR TV SHOWS YOU LOVE TO WATCH Lost Grey’s Anatomy (the most recent episode, George made me laugh out loud twice – once when he said “I can’t hear you when his hand is on your boob” to Christina, and once when Dr. Bailey said “Are you kicking me under the table?” and he said, very indignantly, “NO!” God, I love that George) Desperate Housewives The Amazing Race FOUR PLACES YOU’VE BEEN ON VACATION Gatlinburg, Tennessee Hawaii Myrtle Beach Fort Walton Beach, Florida FOUR WEBSITES YOU VISIT DAILY Wow. I visit WAY more than 4 websites in a day. Okay, as they come to mind… Nance Jane The Usual Suspects Pesky Apostrophe FOUR OF YOUR FAVORITE FOODS Diet Coke (shaddup, I say it’s a food even if it’s really just a can o’ chemicals) Whoopie pies Fudge (from Gatlinburg) Roasted asparagus (I swear to god, I can’t get enough of this stuff!) FOUR PLACES YOU’D RATHER BE RIGHT NOW Someplace warm Someplace sunny Someplace with warm ocean water Someplace with Reese’s Pieces * * * Every night, Tom Cullen (who we are calling “Thomas” more and more often for some reason) climbs onto Fred’s lap for some love. Fred starts rubbing Tom’s belly, and invariably Tom will throw one paw up in the air. Here in the South – well, maybe it’s not just a Southern thing, but I’d never seen it before I moved down here – when people are in church and filled with the holy spirit or touched by Jesus or want everyone to know that God’s filling their heart, or something like that, they raise one hand in the air. So now when Fred’s giving Tom Cullen a belly rub and Tom throws one paw in the air, Fred will say “Oh yeah, he’s feeling the spirit! Hallelujah, Tommy! Hallelujah!” Never fails to make me laugh. Religious fervor on his little face, one paw in the air. I think he’ll be handling snakes next. Hallelujah! * * * Previously 2004: I swear, my Grinchly heart grew three sizes right then and there. 2003: A tree with glass ornaments? In a house with five cats? 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: I told Fred we should hire her out to the local police agencies and she could tell them when someone looks like a “drug person.” 1999: Fred and I came to an agreement last night. The end of March, I’m going off the birth control, and we’re going to start trying to get pregnant. (HahahahahahaHAHA! My, how times have changed!)]]>

* * * I discovered yesterday – as I discover every so often and yet it still comes as a great big shock to me every time I rediscover it – that I sure do get a lot more accomplished in the morning if I turn my computer off at night before so I can’t come downstairs the next morning and sit in front of the computer for hours, procrastinating so long that I end up not doing what needs to be done. For instance, yesterday I rolled out of bed around 8:30 (I usually try to get up around 8 during the week so I don’t sleep the morning away, but apparently I needed some extra sleep), changed out the litter in the cats’ litter box (I have to do that once a week, or it gets nas-tay in there), scrubbed out the dirty litter boxes, vacuumed upstairs, started a load of laundry, came downstairs, quickly checked my email on Fred’s computer (Fred’s computer isn’t conducive to procrastination, ’cause all the good stuff (in my opinion) is on my computer), did the elliptical for half an hour (and cried like a baby at the end of the episode of The O.C. I was watching, the one where they play Champagne Supernova, covered by Matt Pond PA, at the end and Sandy comes home to Kirsten and Summer and Seth kiss in the rain and Marissa comforts Ryan, ::SOB::), cleaned the kitchen, vacuumed the downstairs and the stairs, got all the boxes o’ Christmas gifts packed and ready to go, went through the Christmas cards I’d addressed to pull out the ones going to other countries so I could send those out right away (they still might arrive after Christmas, sorry ’bout that), ate breakfast, took my shower, and FINALLY turned on my computer shortly after noon. I didn’t take a nap yesterday afternoon, but I could have, because I was more productive before noon than I usually am in an entire week. And then when the spud got home from school, I made her go to the post office with me so I could mail out the boxes o’ Christmas gifts, so that’s DONE. I’m impressed with myself, if you couldn’t tell. I think tomorrow I’m going to clean the downstairs floors and address and send out some more Christmas cards. Because I am JUST that good. Ph3ar m3.

* * * * * * Previously 2004: It is in the 20s here today, IS IT OKAY FOR ME TO BE COLD NOW? 2003: (”Thanks, me! I’m so thoughtful!”) 2002: No entry. 2001: Trust me, it was far more horrifying-looking in person. 2000: Babbling. 1999: No entry.]]>

did like it. The unrelenting yellow seemed kind of overwhelming and for a while I thought Fred might be spending next weekend painting the master bedroom – for the record, I’d originally suggested that we go with a smoky blue rather than yellow, but Fred wanted to see how the yellow went – but this morning when I woke up and looked around the room in the natural light coming through the windows, I started to like it. After I took my shower and spent half an hour reading in the recliner in the corner of the room, I really liked it, so yellow it shall stay. I do fear, however, that Fred’s going to have to repaint that room when we’re ready to sell the house, because some people just loathe yellow. Of course, after he’s painted all these rooms, we very well might opt to stay here. I doubt it, though, because by GOD I will never live at the end of a cul de sac as long as I live. Not only does every kid in the neighborhood consider our tiny front yard their own, but every time we get a windy day, all the trash from everyone else’s yard blows into our front yard and I’m TIRED of picking up other peoples’ trash. ANYWAY. I got off the subject, actually, because what I wanted to address was the zucchini bread that Fred’s mother gave us. When snack time rolled around (“SNACK TIME? NO WONDER SHE’S SO FAT!”) I said “I think I’m going to eat one of these little loaves of zucchini bread (“NO WONDER”, etc.) for my snack.” and Fred said “Oh, that sounds like a good idea.” And then he walked into the kitchen and gasped. “What?” I said. “Sugarbutt’s eating the zucchini bread.” I walked in to see what he was talking about, and sure enough there was Sugarbutt on the kitchen counter, bellied up to one of the loaves of zucchini, eating like it had been placed there just for him. “Sugarbutt!” I scolded. “Bad boy!” I picked him up and put him down on the floor. I would say that almost a third of the loaf of bread was gone. “God, I guess SUGARbutt is a good name for him,” I said. Sugarbutt likes any kind of food, but he especially likes the sweet stuff. “I’m kind of impressed,” Fred said. Sugarbutt’s been trying to figure out how to get up on the kitchen counters ever since we’ve had him, and has always been thwarted by his short, stubby legs. I glanced down at Sugarbutt, who sat and looked up at me with the most hopeful look on his face, like he thought I might change my mind and offer him the entire loaf of bread. I didn’t, but what I did do is pick him up and kiss him right on the top of his fuzzy little head. It’s hard to resist a chunky little orange kitty. (Fred cut the slobbery part off the zucchini loaf and ate what was left, so all was not lost.)

* * * The master bedroom, before (taken four years ago, from the house tours page). Different bed, different comforter: And now: I need to get a new comforter – the current one is pretty ratty – but I think I’m going to get a blue one. A yellow one would be way too much yellow, even for me. * * * Such a regal little face he has. Maximum catpacity has been exceeded. There is officially no room on the desk for The Momma’s arms. Just another example of how miserable our cats are. Poor, tortured kitties. All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2004: (I’m not that much of an asshole. But it sure is fun to imagine!) 2003: Yet another meme. 2002: But I’ll say this – if your kitten is suffering from anal leakage, y’all, TAKE IT TO THE VET. 2001: No entry. 2000: Sorry, but just as I began typing, I popped an Altoid in my mouth and it tasted like kitty litter. 1999: Martha Stewart would take one look at my tree and sob loudly, I’m sure.]]>

* * * When the spud was very small – probably around a year old – she loved to go into my parents’ bedroom, and press the button on top of their radio/ alarm clock. When she pressed the button, music would come on and she would get the funniest, most serious look on her face, freeze for a moment, and then begin shaking her butt back and forth in time to the music. It was hilarious, and I think I even got it on tape at some point. Back when Tubby died, a reader sent me a collage picture frame with pictures of Tubby in it, and “Meh!” written by some of the pictures. I immediately hung it up by my monitor, and it’s been there ever since.

Not only do I like having it there because it reminds me of Tubby, and it’s got some of Tubby’s best pictures in it, but I also like it because it’s a reflective surface, and I can use it to see if someone’s sneaking up on me (Fred used to sneak up on me from the kitchen and scare the holy hell out of me all the time, but now I can see him coming, and I remain unfrightened) or if someone’s in the kitchen making a lot of noise, I can glance in the reflection of the picture frame glass to see what’s going on. The other night the spud was cleaning the kitchen after dinner. As she usually does, she had the radio going and was singing along with it. I glanced at the picture frame to see what she was doing, and saw that she was wiping down the table. And as I watched, she was apparently very moved by the music, and she stopped for a moment, stared off into space with the most serious expression on her face, and then slowly began to dance to the music. Unlike when she was small, she moved her whole body this time, but she maintained her serious expression as she danced, and I thought for a moment of picking up the camera to make a movie of her dancing so I could show Fred, but you can’t capture every little moment on tape, sometimes you’ve just gotta enjoy the moment as it happens. She did a few moments of a dance move approximating the Cabbage Patch, then the song ended and walked off to finish her chores. * * * I spent – LITERALLY – all day Saturday in front of the computer reading this blog. (I would actually call it more of a journal, but I guess it’s time to just give it the hell up and accept that people call all personal-type web sites “blogs” now, and stop fighting the inevitable. Even though my site will always and forever be a “journal” to me, and not a “blog.” NOT A BLOG. But you can call it a blog, that’s okay, I’ll only flinch a little.) I love it when you find a blog and just can’t stop reading it – in a good way, I should add. I have no clue on earth how I discovered the site, maybe a link from another site?, but I’m glad I did. It made my Saturday pass in a very pleasant way. * * * The boy with the ‘tude. Miz Poo was sleeping in Fred’s desk chair, and Tom Cullen was absolutely fascinated by her. She was sound asleep, but he just couldn’t take his eyes off her. Maybe she was twitching in her sleep. All of today’s uploaded pics can be seen here. * * * Previously 2004: Those two just make me shudder. And not in a good way. 2003: “Hey!” he thought to himself. “I think that might be the same bird and the same feeder!” 2002: “That’s okay, Bessie. I hate you sometimes, too,” he said. 2001: No entry. 2000: A blue spark leapt from my tender, sensitive pinky finger to the door of the Jeep in the Wal-Mart parking lot, and I all but screamed. 1999: But if I end up MIA, y’all know where to tell the cops to look…]]>