Category: Life

reading: Don’t Cry Now, by Joy Fielding. Finished last night: Otherwise Engaged, by Eileen Goudge. Not a bad book, but by the middle, you pretty much know exactly how it’s going to end.

* * * I went to the dentist yesterday and not only did it NOT hurt, but my gums have improved enough so that I only have to go every four months instead of every three. It’s a miracle what following a regular brushing-and-flossing schedule will do for you, isn’t it? The Aleve I took before the appointment – I woke up with a shoulder hurting so badly it made me grunt and groan and moan and bitch ’cause it hurt so bad to turn over and get out of bed – may have helped stave off the usual pain from the poking. But she had to do a lot less scraping and gum-poking than she has in the past, so I’m going to say that the regular brushing and flossing had to help at least a little. And it only took me 30 years to figure out that Mom wasn’t just being a pain in the ass when she insisted that I brush and floss regularly. * * * There’s a scene in the movie A Time to Kill, a courtroom scene where lawyer Jake Tyler Brigance is questioning the witness Deputy Dwayne Powell Looney. Deputy Looney was caught in the crossfire when Brigance’s client, Carl Lee, shot and killed the two men who raped his 10 year-old daughter. At Carl Lee’s urging, Brigance asks Deputy Looney whether he thought Carl Lee intended to shoot Deputy Looney. Deputy Looney says that it was unintentional and he holds no ill will toward the man. Deputy Looney goes on to say “I mean, I don’t blame him for what he did. Those boys raped his little girl.” At this point, naturally, the D.A. objects. Brigance’s response to this objection is the sentence “Your Honor, I believe Deputy Looney has earned the right to speak here today.” It’s a good line, but it’s an utterly ridiculous legal argument, and yet the judge agrees with it and overrules the objection. It’s been 9 years since we first watched that movie, and ever since when we’re watching TV and someone is about to do or say something utterly ridiculous, Fred will yell out Brigance’s response to the objection, substituting the character’s name and what they’re about to do. Like such: “Your Honor, I think Deputy Julia has earned the right to remove the skin from that dead person!” And it always, always makes me laugh. In the movie Face/Off, Nicholas Cage has a line where he says “I want to take his face… off.”, and accompanying the line is a gesture where he holds his hand in front of his face and then, as he says “off”, he pulls his hand away from his face, to demonstrate the idea of taking someone’s face… off. So the other night as we were watching Nip/Tuck, a few minutes after Fred said “Your Honor, I think Deputy Julia has earned the right to remove the skin from that dead person!”, he was able to follow it up with “She took the skin… off!”, and we both performed the correct accompanying gesture. It’s the little things that amuse us, obviously. * * * Dear Mother Nature: A little sunshine? Please? For the love of god, this isn’t Seattle, I need some damn SUNSHINE to get me through my PMS. xo, Robyn * * * The small bed I have on the right side of my desk is getting to the point where it’s really too small for Tom Cullen and Sugarbutt to share. But if I put a big bed over there, they tend to slide off the side of my desk onto the floor. I think the solution is obvious. I need a bigger desk. They sure do piss me off when I’m trying to print something and they go running over and bat at the paper coming out of the printer. It always ends up jamming, and I have to dig out the paper and restart the printing process. And I yell at them, but they just look up at me like “What, Mom? We’re not supposed to do that? No one told US!” You bet your ass there was some smackin’ going on when Miz Poo woke up and realized she was snuggling with That Damn Interloper. The too-small bed in question. They can’t really both fit unless one of them is lying partially on top of the other. And then they get hot and melt out of the bed. All of today’s uploaded pictures (the ones above, and more) can be seen here. ]]>

the logo at the top. (This is what the previous one looked like) This was also created by the wonderful Gertie, who rocks.

* * * We watched The Amazing Race last night, and my GOODNESS, what was UP with Phil’s pants? We were eagerly awaiting Phil on the golf course because a reader had emailed me and told me to keep an eye out, and we CERTAINLY got an eyeful. Someone either needs to break the news to Phil (“Phil, we see you’re a show-er rather than a grower and also that you dress to the right”) or he needs a wardrobe advisor or perhaps maybe they just need to shoot him from the waist up. Because that thing is VERY distracting, and not necessarily in a good way. Maybe Phil wears pants like that on purpose just to see what the internet will say. We also watched Nip/ Tuck last night, and lordy. That ending was worth the whole show! That’s all I’ll say about that. * * * I would say it’s definite that I’m currently in the throes of PMS. This morning I turned the TV on to VH-1 while I did my morning stuff (making the bed, putting in my contacts, getting dressed, all that good stuff) and before I knew it I was sobbing like a great big baby. Over an Eminem video. Someone kill me. * * * This would be the pile of Christmas presents sitting in the library, waiting patiently for me to cram them in boxes and send them off to various and sundry places around the country. Not only have I not sent out boxes yet, I don’t even intend to do so until the Monday before Christmas. Because I just don’t feel like DEALING with it until then. And I’m sure once I start getting the boxes together, I’ll realize that I’ve forgotten to get something really important. On the up side, I’ve finally started on the Christmas cards. And why is it that I’ve got 150 fewer people who want Christmas cards this year than did last year? Why is that? Have y’all stopped loving me? * * * I had occasion to call Blue Cross again yesterday. I think I’ve called them three times since they implemented their voice recognition system, and I’m starting to get the hang of it. The most annoying thing is that the voice speaks sooooo slowwwwly, that I get all annoyed and want to tell the bitch to stop talking down to me. When I said “Customer Service” so I could get a live person on the phone, there was this very long pause, and I thought for a moment she was going to say “No, I don’t think so. You can deal with ME, and if you don’t like it, you can stick it.” But instead, she said “Okay, let me get someone on the line to help us.” “Us”? Who’s this “us” kemosabe? As far as I know, once the live Customer Service rep gets on the line, Voice Recognition Chick goes away. Maybe I’m wrong; maybe Voice Recognition Chick stays on the line, then tells the Customer Service everything he or she did wrong. I wonder if Voice Recognition Chick has ever made anyone cry? * * * I suppose I need to get my ass in gear and put the Christmas tree and decorations up, don’t I? I think I’ll do it this weekend, that way everything’ll be up for a good two weeks before I have to pack everything away again and leave for Maine. Don’t I sound like I’m totally in the Christmas spirit? * * * Sugarbutt is finding his voice, and his voice is a little squeak that he makes when something interests or confuses him. It sounds like someone’s walking around gently squeezing a little squeak toy. Now that I think about it, Sugarbutt and Tom Cullen are the quietest cats we have. Well, except for snack time when Tom Cullen howls his fool head off, that is. I need to remember to make a movie of that. Tom Cullen makes the funniest faces, doesn’t he? Fred reading (does the blanket look familiar, Nance?), and Sugarbutt making himself at home. Sugarbutt, up close. Is that a happy cat, or what? “Bob! BOB! Damnit, BOB! Listen to me! Come in here! They’ve got the fire going, grab me a snort of catnip and let’s get cozy!” (For the person who asked what the “Bob” thing was about, well, I started using the generic “Bob!” in kitty captions, and a couple of people took a liking to it, which means that now I must beat it into the ground because that’s just the kind of gal I am. You know those kids who say something funny and their parents laugh, so then they say it again immediately, like 100 times in a row, expecting a great big laugh every time? Yeah, that’s what my inner child is like.) * * * Previously 2004: I suppose I need to actually start buying lottery tickets to make these dreams come true. 2003: And also because you Canadians are so cool that I want to canoodle with each and every one of you. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: God bless the internet and online merchants, god bless their little black hearts. 1999: More Christmas talk.]]>

* * * This was an actual printer jam at John Deere Seeding ! “Come and fix the printer jam please ?” He’s not dead but he’s sure stuck. We did end up getting him out and letting him loose for those of you that are mouse lovers. You think you are having a bad day! (Thanks to reader Penny for the forward!)

* * * My sister sent me some pictures of her cats. This is her new cat, Punki. Is she cute, or what? I can’t wait to meet her in person in a few weeks! Punki needs more toys, don’t you think? Tigger. Are all orange cats this happy, or are Sugarbutt, Tigger, and Spanky the exceptions? * * * Hey, remember Gizmo from two years ago? Well, my brother recently sent me some pictures of her. She was being a pain and wouldn’t look at the camera long enough for him to take a straight-on picture, but you can see enough to see how gorgeous she’s gotten. Doesn’t she look really, really soft? * * * Currently reading: Otherwise Engaged, by Eileen Goudge. Finished last night: Lost Boys, by Orson Scott Card. What a very, very strange book and a very strange ending. I didn’t hate the ending, but it took me way too long to understand what the hell was going on – someone else might have caught on right away – but I did cry like the big baby I am at the end. I’d recommend it, but I’ll say that it’s not what you’d expect it to be from reading the back. I’ve never read Orson Scott Card before – are all his books that strange? * * * * * * Previously 2004: (I never claimed not to be a dumbass) 2003: I would be ever so grateful if you would restrain yourself. 2002: No entry. 2001: I knew y’all were a hip and happenin’ bunch of readers! 2000: Stuff I’ve bought. 1999: And it tasted excellent, of course, which made the eggfart stenchiness more than worth it.]]>

Axi-Dent. I swear that I’ve been meaning to start up a “recommended” page with a link in the sidebar so y’all would always know where to find the name of the stuff, but I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. I will, though. One of these days!

* * * When Fred was at Lowe’s the other day, he saw a cinnamon broom and thought it smelled so good that he should buy it. So he did, and I looked at when I got up, and I said “What are we supposed to do with this?”, and he said “I thought maybe we could hang it on the wall?” and I said “It’s pine pressed with cinnamon oil. You don’t think cinnamon oil would stain the wall?” and he said “What if we just leaned it in the corner?”, and then he looked at the back of the broom and noticed that there was a hook for hanging, and after a few more moments of brainstorming, we pulled a magnet off the refrigerator and hung the cinnamon broom on the back of the door leading to the garage. And now the entire downstairs smells of cinnamon, and between the cinnamon broom in the kitchen/ living room area, and the Yankee Candle air freshener spewing out lemon scent in the hallway leading to the stairs, if you walked into our house you would keel over dead, either from allergies or from the sheer yumminess of smelling our house. Actually, that’s a lie. The cinnamon broom got so overwhelming last night that I had to toss it, because my throat was burning. It smelled good in the house for a little while, though. * * * You know, if Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie seriously wanted people to believe there was nothing going on between them before he divorced Jennifer Aniston, it might behoove Brad to not immediately attempt to adopt Angelina’s children like a month after the Pitt-Aniston divorce was made final. And further, these lightning-quick Hollywood romances are just seriously fucked up. I mean, Angelina doesn’t have the longest-lasting romantic track record; does it occur to her that maybe she should wait, like, a year or so before making Brad her baby daddy? When and if – and I mostly mean “when” – these two break up, I hope there’s a lot of interesting drama. Maybe they could stand in the street and she could pull on Maddox’s feet and Brad could pull on Maddox’s head, and they could swear at each other at the top of their lungs and yell “Mine! Mine! Mine!” while the paparazzi snap pictures and Maddox cries. Just kidding. I wouldn’t wish that on poor little Maddox, even if his hair does annoy me. * * * Pet store kitty pics from yesterday are here. * * * Currently reading: Lost Boys, by Orson Scott Card. I’m about halfway through, and may I just say, it’s taking an awful long fucking time to get some action going on. I’m enjoying it, though. Finished last night: Gods in Alabama, by Joshilyn Jackson. Oh, how I love books about crazy southern families, I just do – no one can do crazy families like the southerners can. I loved this book. LOVED IT. I hate it when I discover a first-time author, because then I have to sit around and twiddle my thumbs while they write their next book. At least when I discover an author who’s had a few books out, I can read their previous books while I’m waiting for the next one. The new Sue Grafton will be out tomorrow. ABOUT FUCKING TIME, I say. * * * Price of gas, yesterday. Now I feel like a dumbass for swearing to the spud that I didn’t think gas would ever go under $2 a gallon again. I’m NOT complaining, I’m just surprised. * * * How can you resist the lure of the the little pink toes? Tom Cullen’s still protesting the Survivor stupidity. I think he’s serious about this… All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. ]]>

house tour page; the picture was taken about 4 years ago):

After: I like it, I think it looks really cozy in there with the walls that color. Fred was planning to paint the master bedroom this weekend, too – he went and got the paint Saturday night – but when he woke up Sunday morning his shoulder was hurting, so he decided to take the day off. It’s probably for the best – at least if he waits until next weekend, I’ll have most of this week to pull all the books off my bookcase and put them in a box so we can pull the bookcase away from the wall. Speaking of hurting shoulders, I woke up with my left shoulder and the left side of my neck very stiff and painful Saturday morning. I don’t know if I slept on it wrong or what, but it hurt all day Saturday (no, I didn’t take anything for the pain. Then I couldn’t bitch about the pain. DUH!) and then Sunday morning when I woke up, my right shoulder was hurting as well. So I finally took some Aleve, and the pain mostly went away. Now my ankle kinda hurts. * * * Fred went out to buy a new DVD player, because the one we bought back in March – which we returned less than a week after we bought it for a replacement, and then had to send to the manufacturer to be repaired a month later – has finally got on our last nerve. For the record, it’s a JVC VCR / DVD recorder combo (model DR-MV1), and it is a piece of CRAP. Not only did the VCR side of the machine never work, but in the last month or so every time we used the DVD side of the machine, it skipped and broke the image into artifacts when playing brand new discs (ie, out-of-the-box movies, not scratched rentals), and the motor that spins the disc made a loud grinding / rubbing noise when the machine is on, to the point of being distracting on the rare occasions we could actually see the picture. (Part of that paragraph above was stolen from Fred’s letter to JVC, by the way.) Friday we started watching March of the Penguins, and the picture started breaking up and skipping, and finally Fred went out into the garage and got the DVD player out there – the very first DVD player we ever bought, 5 or 6 years ago – and we watched the movie on that. That DVD player – a Sony – is probably the best investment we ever made. It never gives us a bit of trouble, and although the picture isn’t as clear as it is on newer DVD players, it never even thinks of skipping or breaking up the picture. Anyway, on Sunday Fred went out to look for a new DVD player – I told him that, if possible, I’d like to have a DVD player/ recorder, and he ended up coming home with an Emerson DVD player/ recorder/ VCR. So far it’s working just fine and I’m hoping that it continues to do so, because I’d really like to transfer all my home movies from VHS to DVD. Only time will tell if it’ll continue to work – but so far it’s working better than the JVC machine ever thought of working. * * * Currently reading: Gods in Alabama, by Joshilyn Jackson. Recently finished: Talk to the Hand, by Lynne Truss. I’m sorry to say, this book bored the ever-loving shit out of me and I ended up skimming most of it. Oh well, I guess ya can’t love ’em all. * * * Sugarbutt is a bad boyfriend. During the day, he’s all “No! Put me down! I don’t WANT you to kiss me! People might SEE!”, and yet at 3:30 am EVERY FRICKIN’ MORNING, he’s all “Come here, my darling, and let me frantically lick your neck. Let me lay upon your head and purr so loud I vibrate your brain right out of your head, I LOVE YOU AND I DON’T CARE WHO KNOWS! NO, you cannot go back to sleep, you cannot sleep when I am FILLED with the love for you, and I must express it!” He’s kind of like Pepe Le Peu at night, now that I think about it. Sugarbutt doesn’t care if the older cats WANT to snuggle or not. If he sees enough room, he’s in there like a shot. Usually the older cats put up with it for a little while, and then stomp off in a huff. Which is probably part of his evil plan. Talk about taking your life in your hands. ]]>

reading: Broken Prey, by John Sandford. Finished the other night: The Other Woman, by Jane Green. Not a bad book, though it seemed kind of rushed at times, like she wanted to get to the end of the book, and for a 400 page book, that’s a lot of rushing. I was also pretty annoyed with the main character sometimes, ’cause she was so eager to take offense at every little thing her mother-in-law said that I felt sorry for the mother-in-law. And I needed to take a moment and give thanks that I have unintrusive, nice, very sweet mothers-in-law. I hit the jackpot in the mother-in-law lottery; not only are my current mothers-in-law nice, but my ex’s mother was a sweetheart as well. Maybe that’s why I always love to read evil mother-in-law stories, because I don’t have any of my own.

* * * I spent a couple of hours running errands and shopping yesterday, and I’m inching ever closer to being done with my Christmas shopping. I was in Target for a good hour, just wandering around looking at stuff. From there, I went to the pet store and bought Christmas presents for the pets I am related to. Since we found 63,000 toys under the furniture in the library/ dining room when Fred was painting in there, I had to promise not to get them any more toys, so I didn’t. I did, however, get them a Drinkwell water fountain, and I’m going to put a bow on that and put it under the tree (Fred said “You’re not going to wrap it? But they’ll know what it is!” Hee!) and I’ll set it up for them on Christmas day. I also think I got dissed as a crazy cat lady by the cashier. She was ringing up the myriad cat toys (and dog bones) I was buying, and said “I bet you don’t have kids!” Meaning, I guess, that I can’t have a lot of pets AND a family, I’ve gotta have one or the other. Ha on her! I DO have a kid! AND a husband! AND 6,000 cats! Look at me, I’ve got it ALLLLLLLLL! Then I had to go to Sam’s since Fred requested I go and see what the price would be for a bag of almonds (answer: a little less than $14 for a 3-pound bag), and while I was there I picked up water and toothbrushes and a few other things we’re close to running out of. And did you feel the earth crack open? I actually spent LESS THAN $100, and I don’t believe that’s ever happened in the history of me. Then I went home, forgetting that I’d intended to stop at Kohl’s to get pillows for the couches (our old ones didn’t really go with the new couches), only I was lucky because Fred needed to visit Kohl’s for personal items (UNDERWEAR) and he picked up the pillows since he’s so good at choosing colors. And then I sat on my ass in front of the computer until 7:00, only stopping long enough to roast a bunch of asparagus to eat with my dinner of sushi rolls, and it was a DAMN FINE dinner. I really love that asparagus, except for the stinky-pee factor. Would you believe that my sister used to buy canned asparagus and eat it and she LOVED IT, and I was so grossed out – because, let’s face it, it’s kind of a gross-looking vegetable, especially the canned stuff – that I wouldn’t even dream of touching it, and I’d get all obnoxious and gaggy when she’d sit and eat asparagus. It wasn’t until Fred and I were starting to eat right that I gave them a try and decided I like them a lot. Except, like I said, for the the stinky pee factor. (FYI, why your pee smells when you eat asparagus: Asparagus contains a sulfur compound called mercaptan (also found in onions, garlic, rotten eggs, and the secretion of skunks). The breaking-down of this substance in your digestive system causes the smell. Not everyone has the gene for the enzyme that breaks down mercaptan, so some people – lucky bastards – don’t get the stinky pee.) * * * The Happiest! Kitty! In the world! Tom Cullen was so disgusted that those idiots on Survivor are letting Princess Stephenie run the show that he made himself a nest under the couch pillows and refuses to come out. He said, “That fucking bitch gets everything she fucking wants and all those idiots just kowtow to her and I AM SICK OF IT.”, then groomed himself for a while to calm down. Grooming = kitty xanax. “Talk to the paw, Survivor idiots.” (Note that Miz Poo matches the couch quite nicely) * * * Previously 2004: The internet just ROCKS, doesn’t it? 2003: Her date (”But not a DATE date!”) was more dressed-up than she. 2002: I did mention that I have airhead tendencies, did I not? 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry. 1999: On the drive home, she uttered such supportive statements such “Well, everyone saw this coming” and “I don’t know why you’re surprised.” ]]>

over here. You can click on the “preview calendar” link to see what pictures are in the calendar. There’s a link to that page over there in the sidebar down toward the bottom, and I’ll leave that up ’til Christmas, or basically whenever the hell I get around to taking it down. Every calendar you buy, $3 goes to the no-kill kitty shelter I volunteer for. Also, if you’d like, I’ll quietly whisper your name to the cat of your choice so that they think happy kitty thoughts in your direction. I’ll have an And3rson Kitties 2006 Calendar up by Monday, and I’m toying with a Sugarbutt & Tom Cullen Calendar, too. Lulu.com’s going to rue the day they ever made it so damn easy to create calendars.

* * * New month, new logo! This one (and two others, which will debut later this month) was created by the lovely and talented Gertie. Thanks, Gertie! * * * Calling Gertie “lovely and talented” up there (which she is!) reminds me for some reason of Dr. Phil. Every time Dr. Phil has a female guest on and he’s trying to boost their ego, he always ALWAYS throws “vivacious” in the list of attributes. For some reason, that always cracks me up and I’ve gotten to the point where if he starts talking about how wonderful a female guest is, I’ll yell out “Vivacious! Tell her she’s VIVACIOUS, Dr. Phil!” * * * So, I think I’m going to take the Couch Potato blog down, because I just don’t feel like posting in it and every time I think about posting in it and don’t, I feel guilty. And believe you me, sister, I get plenty of guilt in my life, I don’t need a damn blog guilting me when I’m minding my own business. Goddamn uppity blogs. * * * The Christmas shopping is, I would say, 3/5 of the way done. I’m waiting on a ton of stuff from Amazon, a gift card for Fred’s mother, and need to pick up a few things at Target and another store That Will Not Be Named (oh, all RIGHT – the pet store. I think my family knows by now that I always send small gifts for their pets. Probably they’ve caught on after five years, ya think?), and I have to do some wrapping and packing and mailing, but for the most part it’s practically all done. The Christmas cards, however, haven’t even been started. It’s like a universal rule that if I have my shit together in one part of my life, I slack elsewhere. At least I was organized enough last year to buy Christmas cards on sale for this year. Is that impressive, or what? * * * I went to McDonald’s last Friday for an Egg McMuffin (“OH MY GOD! NO WONDER SHE’S SO FAT!”) and a large Diet Coke, and when I pulled up to the window where they hand you your order, the woman working there recognized me (after a few years of going through the drive-up several times a week for the NECTAH OF THE GODS fountain Diet Coke, you start to get recognized (and shaddup, you Diet Coke haters, coffee tastes like boiled ass – no, make that BITTER boiled ass, and it doesn’t matter if it’s the “good” coffee, I’ve listened to Fred lie to me about how “smooth this coffee is, it’s not bitter at all, TRY IT!”, and it’s still nasty, nasty shit, which saddens me ’cause you coffee drinkers always make it sound so good, and I WANT to like it, much in the way I want to like wine and champagne (I’ve tried the $200-a-bottle stuff, and it still makes me gag, so perhaps the problem is that I have pedestrian tastes?), but I cannot) and she said “Hi! How are you?” I responded with a very perky “Great! How are you?”, because I was Brung Up Right, and when I said that, the order-giver-lady stepped back so that I could see into her little cubby, and she gestured toward the soda machine where her co-worker (we called ’em the Runners when I worked at McDonald’s because they Runned for the Orders, but god knows what the kids are calling them these days) (I’m feeling very parenthetical today, can you tell?) was filling up a cup… from a 2-liter bottle. Apparently their soda machine was on the fritz, and a manager’s solution to the problem was to go out and get a bunch of 2-liter bottles until it was fixed. In other words, I thought I was paying $1.51 for a fountain Diet Coke, and I was actually paying $1.51 for a cup of 2-Liter Diet Coke, and I wasn’t pleased because you can get a 2-liter bottle of Diet Coke for $1.09. I didn’t WANT 2-Liter soda, I wanted the special crack-cocaine Diet Coke, damnit. Stymied again. * * * Kitten questions: 1) Why do we only see the kittens and Miz Poo partaking of the wet food snack? ‘Cause they’re the only ones who are interested. Spanky and Spot couldn’t be less interested, and Mister Boogers will join in every once in a while, but for the most part it’s just the kittens and Miz Poo who dance around like they’re starving to death at 7:00 every night. 2) Is the Boog partial to grooming sugarbutt? I haven’t seen any pics of him cleaning Tom, Tom Cullen. The Boog will groom whoever he can get his tongue on. Tom Cullen won’t put up for it for long, but Sugarbutt will just lay there and be groomed for a looooooong time. I actually think that Mister Boogers would like to groom Miz Poo, but she hisses and smacks if he gets within a foot of her, because she’s mean and evil. The blissful look on his little face cracks me UP. He looks like he’s smiling. And maybe a little bit high. I think you know he’ll kick your ass. ]]>

Here I Am, Patty Loveless)

* * * A few months ago, I asked y’all for veggie suggestions. I copied a few of the suggestions to a Word document, printed it out, and it sat on my desk until recently. When Fred got groceries on Saturday, I had him get me a bunch of fresh asparagus. Yesterday with my lunch I had roasted asparagus, and oh my GOD, it was SO DAMN GOOD, I could have eaten twice as much asparagus and nothing else, and been perfectly happy with that as my lunch. I don’t remember who posted the roasted asparagus recipe in my comments, but whoever it was – thank you!! * * * We had yet another visit from the exterminator yesterday. Last Wednesday I was sitting in the computer room and glanced over toward the window to find a line of ants coming from the corner of the room, along the baseboard and into the hallway. Fred called the exterminator, but seeing as it was the day before Thanksgiving and they take the Friday after Thanksgiving off (slackers!), they couldn’t get an exterminator out to us until Monday. So Fred told them I’d be here all day, and then discovered on Monday that I had to take Miz Poo to the vet. He called the exterminator again, who said she’d be in our area Tuesday and would come to the house sometime after 11. So yesterday morning while I was waiting for the drivers from the local charity to come pick up all the crap in our garage, I opened my desk drawer to grab my list of phone numbers, only to find about thirty ants wandering around in there. “Dudes, what the fuck?” I said. “There’s no FOOD in there, what are you so excited about?” “Lady, we’re ANTS!” said the ringleader. “We wander about randomly in hopes that we’ll run across food, and when we find some, we get all excited and call all our friends!” “But dude, I reiterate: there’s no FOOD in there.” “Au contraire,” said the ringleader. “We found a SESAME SEED!” And all his cohorts did a conga line dance of excitement, kicking their little spindly legs and waving their antennae in the air like they just didn’t care. Or rather, cared a little too much. “I wonder how excited you would be if I squished every last one of you fuckers?” I suggested. “That wouldn’t be nice,” said the ringleader. Actually, he said “That wouldn’t be ni-” and could say nothing more, because I’d squished the life right out of his little body. And then his cohorts became alarmed and some of them reared back with their spindly little front legs in the air as if they could fight me off, and some of them just ran around in circled, trying to remember from whence they’d come, and after I squashed the fuck out of every one of the little fuckers, I went and got some ammonia and some paper towels and scrubbed out my desk drawer. Every now and then for the rest of the day, an errant ant would wander through my desk drawer only to be asphyxiated by the ammonia fumes. Finally, they put up a skull-and-crossbones sign at the entrance to my desk drawer and no more ants have been spotted in that drawer since then. Sometime after noon, the exterminator showed up. When I answered the door, she told me that she was going to spray outside around the foundation, and then she’d spray inside to kill the ants that were crawling around. I showed her where the fuckers were coming in, and she nodded wisely and went back outside to spray. When she came inside to spray, she told me that she hadn’t seen any ants outside, which meant that they were coming in from under the house somewhere, and then she kind of shrugged, and I didn’t think to say “So if this spraying in the yard and the house doesn’t stop the fuckers, then what the hell do you do?” I’m sure the answer is something along the lines of “Why, we charge you thousands upon thousands of dollars to use many loud machines to winch your house up off it’s foundation so we can spray under there, so that won’t work either!” Anyway, she sprayed inside along the baseboards and told me that it wouldn’t kill the ants immediately, that they’d “take it back to their nest and it would kill them there”, and I’ve just gotta say that that sounds like a big pile of horseshit, because I’ve used granules and sprays and all sorts of shit that always claims that the ants will take the poison back to their nests, and IT NEVER FUCKING WORKS, so I think that this stuff was the exterminator’s way of placating me. So she left, and I had to lure the ultra-nosy Sugarbutt and Tom Cullen into the garage so they’d stay away from the area where she’d sprayed until it dried (actually, I should say that I LOCKED them in the garage, but they didn’t care because they think the garage is the MOST fascinating place ever in this entire world), and I went off and roasted some asparagus for lunch. I did see ants for the rest of the day, but as of this morning, there’s not an ant to be seen. Whether that’s because of the stuff she sprayed in the house or because it got really cold last night, I have no idea. I’m just glad the little fuckers are gone. * * * “Well, I’ll be darned. They DO taste just like chicken!” All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2004: I give it two weeks before someone barfs on the new comforter. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: “What will I do now that I don’t have to clean dust off my ball?” 2000: I’ll just not think about that. 1999: When she came to a stop, she sat up and swayed back and forth, blinking sleepily up at me.]]>

reading: The Other Woman, by Jane Green. Finished recently: Naked Prey, by John Sanford. I realized about twenty pages into this book that I read it back in 2003, but I couldn’t quite remember what happened, and it was interesting enough that I wanted to keep reading it. It was definitely worth reading again. Also finished recently: Me & Emma, by Elizabeth Flock. A review on Amazon called this book “meandering”, and I have to say that’s a pretty good word to describe it. I actually raised my personal rating for the book from two smilies to three, just because the twist at the end caught me by surprise. A more astute reader would probably have caught the hints of the twist much earlier than I did, but I think I tend to be too trusting – unless the book is a mystery – and they pretty much went right over my head.

* * * Yesterday morning was my usual morning at the pet store. I went in with the intention of not lollygagging around, just getting the cages cleaned out and the cats fed and watered and petted. Miz Poo had an appointment with the vet at 10:30, and after I left the pet store, I needed to go to the grocery store (Fred got groceries Saturday morning, but then we apparently ran out of just about everything, and Monday is my regular run to the store to pick up whatever we’ve run out of between Saturday and Monday), and wanted to come home and eat breakfast and take a shower before I left for the vet’s office. As usual, when I want to get in and out of the pet store quickly (I was aiming for 45 minutes instead of the usual hour to an hour fifteen) I turned into a total freakin’ klutz. I knocked so much stuff over – food bowls, water bowls, the trash can I scoop the poop into – that I was about ready to throw up my hands and give up trying. I managed to get out of there in about an hour, though, so I guess it was all good. I got through the grocery store pretty quickly, came home, ate breakfast, showered, got dressed, tossed Miz Poo in the carrier, and got to the vet’s at the stroke of 10:30. Miz Poo cried mournfully for the first five minutes of the drive, but finally gave up, curled up in a corner of the carrier, and glared up at me for the rest of the ride. We were in and out of the vet’s office in less than ten minutes. The vet pointed out that Miz Poo still has a spot of ick (okay, perhaps she called it “Plaque”) on her upper lip, but she’s definitely doing a lot better. She gave Miz Poo her shot, and told me to bring her back in three to four weeks. Since four weeks brings us to the day after Christmas (um, WHAT?) and they’re not open that day, and the spud and I are leaving for Maine that Tuesday, I made her appointment for the Wednesday before Christmas. The rest of the day was pretty low-key, except that I got an email from Fred letting me know that the people from the local charity to whom we are donating the couch and loveseat and a TON of shit we’ve purged during our decluttering of the house were going to be here today between 9 and 12, which meant that I needed to get my ass upstairs and go through the storage spaces in his bedroom, and look through the luggage we have (we have a LOT of luggage) to see if there was any we wanted to get rid of. I would provide you with a picture of the boxes and bags of shit we donated to the local charity, but to be honest, I didn’t think of it before now, so you’re out of luck. Just believe me when I say you’d be awed and amazed at how much shit we’re getting rid of – the guys who picked the stuff up were pretty amazed. And considering how much shit we’re getting rid of, you’d think our house would be empty and echo-y, but you would be wrong. For the most part, you can’t even tell there’s anything missing. Perhaps I’ll make it my New Year’s Resolution to not fill my house with crap in 2006. Considering how well my not-buying-books resolution worked in 2005, I’d say I’ll probably be posting an entry about getting rid of all the crap in my house riiiiiiight around this time next year. * * * Every morning I wake up with a song bouncing around my brain. It’s always a different song, and there’s never any explanation for why that particular song has invaded my brain. Sometimes it’s a song I like, sometimes it’s only a song I’m familiar with and neither love nor hate. This morning, it was the theme to Love Boat. When I was a kid, I honestly thought that Doc sang the theme song, I have no idea why. Maybe because he looked like the voice fit him? The LOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE BOAT, soon will be taking another run…. * * * I did triceps extensions on Sunday, and have fucked up my triceps in a big way. Not permanently – I’m sure in a few days I’ll feel just fine – but right now it hurts to lift my arms any higher than shoulder level, and I never knew just how much time I spent scratching my head, rubbing my nose, and playing with my hair before now. Now that it hurts to do any of that, it’s annoying as hell. Grrrr. * * * I swear to god I’m going to start wearing a turtleneck to bed, because waking up at 3:30 every morning with Sugarbutt frantically licking at my neck is not a sensation I’m wild about. Also, the claws on bare skin (even though I keep his claws clipped) isn’t anything I care for, either. Bless his stinky little heart, it’s a good thing he’s so cute. We do our best to make sure the furniture matches the cats. “When I am feeling cranky, an ice-cold Diet Dr. Pepper makes me happy. See? This is me, happy.” The brudders love to tell secrets. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2004: Ever had one of those days when you just can’t remember the name of anything? 2003: No entry. 2002: I keep wanting to use the phrase “Sweet crappin’ Jesus!”, and just haven’t determined the right moment to do so. Maybe in the middle of sex? 2001: Her name is Brady James. 2000: If I knew whodunnit, I’d beat that $300 right out of his ass, the little bastard. 1999: They all tend to sound alike, you see, and hearing basically the same sound over and over ain’t the thrill at 31 that it is at 11.]]>

* * * Friday evening Fred and I were watching TV, and I said, dreamily, “Just think! This time tomorrow night we’ll be sitting on our new couches, watching War of the Worlds with your parents, and I’ll be all kicked back and comfy!” Fred turned to me, a horrified look on his face. “Bessie,” he said. “You would recline in front of company?” “Well, GODDAMN,” I said. “NOT NOW, I won’t! I was GOING to, but now that I know you’d be sitting there all horrified about me reclining my seat in front of your parents, all worried that they’d be thinking ‘Good christ, look at her over there, so fucking LAZY she can’t expend the ENERGY to sit upright!’, I won’t! I wouldn’t DREAM of reclining on my OWN couch in my OWN home, I would HATE to embarrass you!” By this point, Fred was guffawing so hard that it took a few minutes before he could speak again. “That is NOT what I meant!” he said. “It just seems a little… relaxed to be reclining with company in the house. Like… like…” “Hanging out in your pajamas?” I suggested. “EXACTLY!” he agreed. Saturday morning, the guys who were delivering our new couches showed up half an hour before the beginning of the three-hour window we’d been told about. I was just getting out of the shower when Fred came upstairs, all wild-eyed. “They’re here!” he said. “HERE?” I said. “Yeah, they just called to let me know they’re in the subdivision, and will be right here!” “Well, shit,” I said, and quickly got dressed and ran downstairs to help move the old couch and loveseat into the garage. The guys who were delivering the new couches actually ended up moving the old furniture into the garage in no time flat, and then they quickly brought in the new couches and put them exactly where we wanted them. “You need to check and make sure the mechanisms in the recliners are working right,” the head delivery guy said. And the three of us stood and watched as Fred went from recliner to recliner, sitting and extending each to its full horizontal position, looking very uncomfortable. And I LAUGHED MY ASS OFF. Karma, it is a boomerang. (And for the record, Fred’s father and stepmother reclined almost as soon as they sat down, immediately followed by FRED. I held out for about ten minutes, but couldn’t resist the siren call of the half-laying position for any longer than that.)

* * * So, to give you some idea of what our old couch and loveseat looked like, I took this from the House Tour page (which desperately needs to be redone, because nothing in the house is like it was when I did that series of pictures 4 years ago): And with the new couches: I am aware, for the record, that those are some hideously ugly couches – the color of baby poop, I believe I told Fred – but they are sooooo comfy, and besides, who the hell do we have to impress? That’s right, NO ONE. I was concerned that the kittens weren’t going to be able to get under the couch – they like to hang out under there – but they actually have no problem getting under there. So, we’re all happy! * * * Fred has been a painting fool. Thursday afternoon he had the spud help him move everything out of the guest bedroom, and Friday he spent a good part of the day painting. By Friday evening, everything was moved back into the freshly painted room. Here’s a before picture, stolen from the House Tours page (none of the furniture in that room is still there, because it used to be Fred’s room, and then he and I switched beds, blah blah blah, but this gives you some idea of the color of the walls): Annnnnnd, after: When Fred first showed me the paint, I honestly wasn’t sure. Because I’d expected him to come home with a dark wine color, and this looked more to me like Pepto pink. But once it was up on the walls and dry, I decided it was more of a dark rose color (even though the name of it was “burgundy 1”), and the more I look at it, the more I like it. And THEN, Friday night while we were watching TV, we discussed what color he might paint the dining room. It’s the only room in the house with a chair rail, and he was thinking of painting the top one color and the bottom another. We discussed many different color combinations, and I finally just told him that whatever he chose would be fine with me. Saturday morning he went to Lowe’s and then to the grocery store, and came home to show me what he’d chosen. He spent most of Saturday painting, and once again when I looked at the result, I really liked it. Before (another picture taken from the House Tour page): And after: The bottom looks like it’s black, but it’s actually a very dark green – Blackened Pine, is the name. The top is White Pepper, and it’s gray, though it looks almost lavendar in the picture. That man o’ mine, he’s got a talent for picking out paint, doesn’t he? I think next weekend he’s going to paint the spud’s bedroom. Stay tuned for more before and after pictures! Tom Cullen thinks it was awfully nice of The Daddy to paint the kitten room to match the kitten cubes! * * * Considering the amount of gas these two produce, having their heads so close to each others’ gas-output outlets doesn’t seem very safe to me. If there was only something I could do to make him less miserable… All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2004: What If? 2003: Fred’s sister nodded. “That’s what I figured.” 2002: I forgot that teenagers are, on the whole (though yours may be different, or at least pulling the wool over your eyes) bone idle. 2001: McAfee rocks. 2000: Recent purchases. 1999: I informed him that there was no way he was getting out of taking me to the emergency room for this.]]>