Category: Life

* * * I’m having Cat Issues lately. The Bean, whom I love to death, is such a pain in the ass sometimes, especially in the morning when I first come downstairs. I sit down to check my mail, and he hops on my desk to look around. Yesterday he attempted to steal a pen from me and gave me a dirty look when I took it out of his mouth (yes, he was walking around with a pen in his mouth) and put it back in the pen cup. Then he walked over and knocked a couple of things off my shelf, knocked over one of my speakers with his big klutzy back foot, jumped down between the trash can and the wall to investigate, jumped back up onto my desk, tromped across my keyboard, stomping on F11, necessitating a call to Fred (“What the fuck did that bastardly cat step on that made my Internet Explorer go all funny?”), and for his super-special finale he walked across the scanner, which is set atop my CPU, and jumped onto the recliner on the other side. When he jumped, he knocked over the scanner and all the crap atop it. Little bastard.

* * * Latest Mean Husband Quote: Me: “If I get the Alzheimer’s and end up in a nursing home, will you come visit me every day?” Him: “If I don’t, you won’t remember, anyway!” Me: “Har de har.” Bastard. * * * The entries are kind of short lately, huh? That’s just ’cause there’s not really anything going on around these parts. Sorry ’bout that. * * * I have that picture of Spot and the Bean that I posted last month as my wallpaper, and every time I see the Bean’s goofy little face, it makes me laugh. Silly Bean. ]]>

The Newlyweds, I DVR’d their variety show Sunday night, despite endless mocking from Fred. Last night, while Fred was taking a bath, I sat down to watch it. Oh. My. Eyes. That was the worst fucking imitation of a ’70s variety show I’ve ever seen in my life. The worst part? When Jessica and Jewel were singing Who Will Save Your Soul. Now, I love that song and have loved it since the first time I saw it, but when Jessica started singing, IMITATING JEWEL, WITH JEWEL RIGHT THERE, I cringed. I continued to cringe as the song went on, and then I could stand the pain no longer, and I had to forward through the song. When Nick started singing with KITT (you know, the fucking CAR from Knight Rider), I finally gave up and erased it. Good god almighty, what can they have been thinking? Please PLEASE let there not be a second one!

* * * Movies rented today: Kill Bill Volume 1, Timeline, and Shattered Glass. I want to see House of Sand and Fog, but all the copies the movie store had were out. Fred actually went out and bought the last Matrix movie when it came out last Tuesday. He was pretty excited to see it and thought I would be, too. He was amazed that I had no interest at ALL in seeing it. “You can watch the first two and not want to see the last one?” he said. “You bet.” It’s not a decision I regret. Especially after he and the spud watched it, and I said “How was it?” “It was really good,” he said. “Mostly because I slept through about half of it.” Heh. * * * So, I have an email address that I use only for subscribing to notify lists. I’ve had it for, oh, I don’t know. Six months? Something like that? I use it to receive notify emails and nothing else. I’ve never published it on my site anywhere. I’m currently receiving 150+ spam emails a week at that email address. Luckily the spamcatcher catches the majority of them, but one or two a day make it through that net. If you’ve ever wondered whether yahoogroups or notifylist.com sells your email address, I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet that the answer is yes. * * * Hey, it’s open nomination time for the Diarist Awards. If you have a journal, go nominate someone. I suggest Nance and Jane for the “Mother of Doom” awards. Heh. * * * “How YOU doin’?” ]]>

Heh.

* * * Congrats to Shelley and M! That’s going to be one stylin’ baby. (Also, if it’s a girl, I think they should name it Jezebel Tallulah.) * * * When I said on Friday that one of my goals for the weekend was to dust and vacuum the garage, some of you got confused (and some of you made fun of me. Hmph.). Yes, dust and vacuum the garage, like such: For the record, I did vacuum, but never got around to dusting. Which desperately needs to be done. Luckily it was pretty dark when I was exercising this morning, so I couldn’t really see the dust laying around, thus I didn’t feel guilty. I also didn’t weed outside. Slacker. I’ll get around to it one of these days. I did get mostly caught up on my email, though – I only have three or four left to respond to, go me! * * * Hey, you know how I always say Ben Affleck has a humongous noggin? Well, a few weeks ago he was on The Ellen Degeneres Show, and I snapped a picture of the screen, and for comparison purposes, here is the Affleck noggin, compared to the Degeneres noggin: Look at that! His head is like THREE TIMES the size of hers. One of these days he’s going to be minding his own business, and that huge melon of his is going to start tilting to the side before he can stop it, and his neck is just going to snap. You heard it here first. * * * Pet store kitty pics are hither. Also, there’s a new movie of the week up of Miz Poo chasing a laser beam. Exciting, no? Click on the link in the sidebar under “other”. As always, please right-click and “save as.” * * * Such a Bean. ]]>

Steven Cojocaru to slap some makeup on me really quickly, and he refused because a reporter from Town and Country was coming to interview him. I begged and begged, and he refused, and I ran out saying “I’m going to remember this, jackass!”, to which he responded with a husky laugh, saying “Don’t they all…” I got in my Jeep and drove to the nearest drugstore, writing a journal entry in my mind about what a jackass Steven Cojocaru is, but the drugstore had no makeup and then there was a fire drill, and I didn’t win the Emmy because apparently you can’t win if you don’t attend. It would have taken, like, 10 seconds to slap some mascara, eyeliner, and blush on my face. Stupid Steven Cojocaru.

* * * I took the spud shopping for new bras and shorts and a bathing suit this morning. We went to Kohl’s, because it’s close, and you can get pretty good deals on stuff there. It was a huge pain in the ass, though, because all the kids are out of school today. Kohl’s was packed, and there was a lot of traffic on the road. I hate shopping for bras – I wait until mine are practically two threads held together by a clasp, and then I haul my butt to Lane Bryant and buy 8 at a time so I don’t have to deal with it for a good long time. Shopping for bras in a department store is a huge pain, because there seems to be little rhyme or reason to how everything is arranged, and she doesn’t like underwire bras, and blah blah blah. I finally found a couple of bras in different sizes and sent her off to the dressing room. She came back and told me which one fit the best, and I made her go back tot he dressing room with bras four different times. Once the bra shopping was over, I made her try on shorts, and then we went looking for bathing suits. Unfortunately, the only bathing suits we could find were bikinis (which she won’t wear) in the petite section (which she’s not), so I told her we’d look online when we got home and see what we could find. She went off to look at the purses, I grabbed some pillows for the couch (the old ones are getting pretty threadbare), and then we were on our way. When I got home, I called Fred to tell him how much money I’d spent, and he gasped (hey, bras are expensive!), then said “I KNOW bras are expensive. That’s why y’all should burn them and let it all hang out!” Yeah, I’m sure. * * * The two things I want to get accomplished this weekend: weeding in the back yard, and cleaning (vacuuming and dusting) the garage. Oh, and getting caught up on my email. But don’t hold your breath on that one! * * * Another sunset from our back yard. The Bean, serious. ]]>

Janet started a Whitney, Britney and Courtney blog. Talk about your trainwreck! Heh.

* * * Is it wrong that I find this amazingly creepy? I mean, seriously creepy. As creepy as I found that stupid dog picture with the human face. CREE-PY. (Thanks for creeping me out, Karen! 🙂 * * * I just finished Twisted, by Jeffery Deaver. Excellent book, I highly recommend it! The title is very appropo – each story takes a twist you don’t expect at all. I just started Operating Instructions, by Anne Lamott. She’s hilarious! I had no idea. * * * The spud has tomorrow off, so I’m taking her shopping for bras and bathing suits and shorts and whatever else she needs. We’re going to start at Kohl’s, then hit Target if we need to. I hate shopping, have I mentioned? But bras and bathing suits are really things you need to try on rather than ordering them online. I did a little shopping the other day, because ever since Fred and I switched beds so that he has the king-size bed and I have the queen-size, I’ve only had one set of sheets. It’s a huge pain in the ass to have to take the sheets off the bed, wash them, dry them, and then put them back on the bed all in one day. I prefer to take a good long time when doing laundry (a couple of days, usually) and I hate having to go upstairs, take the sheets out of the dryer, and make the bed at the end of the night. Sheets are expensive, though – at least the 250 count Percale ones I like are – and I kept putting it off until I got a 15% off coupon for Bed, Bath and Beyond last week. I bought the second set of sheets (exact same sheets, actually), and now I’m sitting (laying?) pretty. I need to get more towels for the master bedroom too, one of these days. The towels we have now are getting pretty ratty looking. I haven’t decided whether I’ll still with the bluish gray towels we already have, or go in another direction. Lime green would work. (Kidding!) * * * Some months ago (February, in fact), I posted a picture of the sunset from our back yard, saying that it would look a whole lot better if it weren’t for all the wires in the way. Reader Chrystal took the picture and made it so that the wires weren’t in the picture: I was right – it DOES look a lot better! (Thanks Chrystal!) * * * Spot was sleeping in the Bean’s usual spot (in the cat bed, on the couch), so the Bean (or should I say Mister Boogers) pulled the blanket off the arm of the couch and made himself a nest. Pushy little bastard. (Don’t you want to grab him and squeeze him ’til his guts come out?) The Bean has started to learn how to go through the cat door without being shoved out it. Sunday, he started to go out, then caught sight of birds in the yard, and sat there, frozen in place, for several minutes. Goofy Bean. (picture taken by Fred)]]>

this recipe on Joelle’s site, and decided to give it a try. The only problem is that not only do we have no white wine in the house, but that we’re not wine drinkers (cannot stand the taste of the stuff, and yes – we’ve tried the expensive stuff and it still tastes like crap to us) and have no idea which kind of white wine would be dry. We were laying in bed talking about it the other night, and finally I said “Well, it doesn’t necessarily have to be dry – the recipe said ‘or whatever white wine you have laying around’, so I guess any white wine will do.” “Oh,” Fred said, then thought about it. “You should get a Cabernet Sauvignon. I’ve cooked with it before, and it’s a good wine to cook with.” Now, from that sentence, wouldn’t you come to the conclusion that Fred is recommending that wine because it’s a white wine? Apparently it’s a red wine. Who the fuck knew? (I substituted chicken broth for the white wine in the recipe and it came out just fine, by the way) While making his snack last night, Fred opened one of the little bottles of wine to give it a try. See, while we both just detest the taste of wine, we kind of wish we didn’t, because wine drinkers always seem to ADORE their wine. Our palates are too immature, I suppose. Anyway, he took a swig of wine, swished it around in his mouth, and then spit it out. “Yep,” he declared. “Still sucks!” The spud, who was standing there at the time, asked if she could try it. He handed her the bottle – call DHS! – and she got a tiny bit in her mouth, spit it out, and declared it “Nasty!” Heh. Hopefully she’ll feel the same about all alcohol!

* * * Speaking of alcohol, my mother said that the hotel she and my father will be staying at in Hawaii will have free Mai Tais by the pool on Thursdays. Now, Mai Tais I can handle! * * * Fred has a new name for the Bean. Mister Boogers. He’s been calling him that for quite a while now, but I guess I wasn’t really paying attention until the other night when we were in bed, and Fred cooed “Hey, Mister Boogers, what are you doing?” For some reason, it made me laugh so hard I cried. It still makes me laugh. I have no idea why it amuses me so, only that it does. “If you write about it,” Fred said. “You MAKE SURE that you spell out ‘mister’, don’t abbreviate it!” Freak. * * * Why is it that the cats can be scattered to all corners of the house, dead to the world, but the instant I start mopping, they come and tromp their little kitty paws all over my nice, clean floor? Bastards. * * * Pet store kitties from Monday are hither. * * * “Mister Boogers” seems an appropriate name, no? ]]>

* * * Meme found over at Kym‘s: [Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, find line 4. Write down what it says] “hope to read, and changing his manner of dress, and coming over here every time I turn around, and just making a plain nuisance of himself.” (Miss Julia Hits the Road) [Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What do you touch first?] My Biggie Diet Coke from Wendy’s. [What is the last thing you watched on TV?] Discovery Health National Body Challenge. We watched the first episode and DVR’d the second. They found some seriously likeable people this time around. Watching them do the obstacle course made me need a nap – and also made me wish there was something like that around here I could try myself. [With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?] That damn Bean sitting in front of the window chattering at birds. He sounds like he’s in pain. Also, doves cooing. [When did you last step outside?] This morning, on my way out to check the mail, go to Sam’s, and stop by Bed, Bath and Beyond. [Before you came to this website, what did you look at?] Fred’s new forum. [What are you wearing?] A green pullover shirt (with short sleeves! Woo!), gray cotton pants, a pink bra and off-white pan-tays. [Did you dream last night?] I had the most fucked up dream involving myself, a pilot, Gatlinburg, and a little girl who could read our minds. The pilot went insane, kept screaming “I can feel her in my mind!”, and as soon as he said that, I could too – a feeling like ants in my brain. We got into some kind of airplane, took off, and the pilot turned the plane so that we were headed straight up. The plane fell into pieces, and I started falling toward the Earth (we were pretty damn far up). I woke up scared to death and discovered I was shaking. Then I realized I wasn’t shaking – the Bean was laying up against me, purring so hard he was shaking both of us. [When did you last laugh?] This morning, looking at the Bean pictures on Fred’s latest entry. The last one in particular. (Scratch that – I laughed just a second ago when Fred sent me an email saying “I need this” and a link to this bumper sticker) [What is on the walls of the room you are in?] A couple of calendars, a bulletin board with many things hanging from it, a frame with a bunch of Tubby pictures, a sketch of Miz Poo, a couple of framed postcards from the Nashville Zoo, a signed picture of Tony Sirico and Steve Van Zandt (Paulie and Silvio from The Sopranos), and my phone. Also a couple of framed Escher prints I gave to Fred for his birthday. [Seen anything weird lately?] I think the way the Bean is flying through the air in that last picture on Fred’s page is pretty damn weird. [What do you think of this quiz?] It rocks the casbah, baby. [What is the last movie you saw?] Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the remake. Damn it was bloody. I spent half the movie with my shirt pulled up over my face. [If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy first?] A house on the coast o’ Maine, of course. [Tell me something about you that I don’t know.] I was 16 the first time I kissed a boy. [If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?] I would make me the Queen and Supreme Ruler, and I would routinely kick the ass of everyone who annoyed me. [Do you like to dance?] As long as no one else is around. [George Bush.] This video, which makes me laugh every time I watch it (you have to have RealPlayer to see it, but it’s worth it) [Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?] She was, and I named her Danielle Leigh. Fred and I agreed a long time ago that if we had a child and it was a girl, we’d name her Samantha Jayne. I’m also starting to really like the name Molly. [Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?] Seth Forrest. Although (shut up) ever since I read The Red Tent, I’m liking the name Judah. (I said shut up) [Would you ever consider living abroad?] Definitely. But I don’t think I could live abroad indefinitely – a year or two, yes. Forever? Probably not. ]]>

When I was walking for exercise, I would walk by that trailer every day, and I’d wonder about the people who lived there. I’d stare at the trailer, trying to see in the windows (which were always covered), and each time the guy who lived there drove away (I’m 99.9% sure he was a cabdriver) I’d try to catch a glimpse of him. That trailer seemed like the last stand against the Yuppieville Madison is becoming, and I always liked seeing it sitting there, rough but proud. Several months ago I happened to be driving by, and saw that the trailer was being torn down. Apparently the people who owned the trailer had sold it and gone looking for greener pastures. It makes me a little sad each time I drive by it – and I drive by it a LOT – because it always interested me. The trailer was in rough shape, but it wasn’t a cookie-cutter subdivision house. You don’t drive by houses in a subdivision and wonder about the people who live there – well, I don’t, I guess I can’t speak for you. It makes me sad to think of the people who lived there living in a subdivision. Maybe they took the money they got and moved to Florida, and are living in another trailer. I hope wherever they are, they’re happy. And I hope they got an assload of money for that plot of land.

* * * That whole time-change thing always screws me up for three or four days afterward. I woke up this morning and it was just getting light out, and I thought “Oh, with the time change, that means it’s not the time it usually is when it’s getting light out… It’s probably only, like, 4:20!” I looked at the clock and it was 6:21. Duh. I was thinking it would start to get light outside earlier instead of later. I also spend the first few days after we’ve changed the clocks thinking “It’s 9:00, but it’s REALLY 8:00…” It’s mighty cool to have it light outside until 7:30 though, that’s for sure. Even if it IS FUCKING COLD OUT THERE GAHHHHHHHH! (Yeah, yeah, cry you a river. I know. Bite me.) * * * ]]>

* * * Hee! This is SO something that would happen to me. I can totally see the Bean clinging frantically to the top of the Jeep while I cluelessly drive around.

* * * The weather has turned a bit cold lately (if, in fact, you can consider the mid-50s cold…), which was a nasty shock after the lovely, warm days of last week. Mid-afternoon yesterday I decided to go sit in the living room and watch Tuesday’s Ellen. I flipped the switch that turns the fire on and stepped away to pet the Bean. I sat down on the couch and pulled a blanket over me and started watching TV, when I realized that the fire had gone out. I went over and looked at the fireplace and saw that the pilot light wasn’t on. I flipped the switch down and back up a couple of times, to no avail. I shrugged and finally flipped the switch down and went back to the couch. Which is when the paranoid worrywart in the back of my mind went to work. What if the pilot light blew out and gas is pumping into the room? I feel kind of foggy-headed. What if the spud gets home and finds me slumped over, dead, and she just thinks I’m sleeping and she sits down to do her homework, and then the gas gets HER too, and the kitties as well, and then Fred gets home to find his family (and kitties!) laying around dead? I’m sure he would be very very sad… Wouldn’t he? So I got up and sniffed around the fireplace, thinking but gas is odorless, isn’t it? But then how come I can always smell it when it’s first turned on? Is this making any sense? Am I about to collapse in a heap on the floor and die? I wonder if the whole journal community would take down their sites for the day in mourning. (Ha!) They’d probably just think Fred was Kaycee Nicole-ing on their asses. It actually occurred to me to try to LIGHT THE CANDLE SITTING ATOP THE MANTLE, my reasoning being that if I clicked the lighter and wasn’t engulfed in a ball of flames I could pretty much be assured that gas wasn’t filling the room. I didn’t light the candle, though – give me SOME credit – and Fred just so happened to call while I was worrying about it, and talked me through turning the gas off. He also mentioned that he thought they’d come around recently to turn the gas off, which they (unbeknownst to me) do every year once the weather starts to warm up. Bastards. And so I live another day. * * * Speaking of gas and explosions – no, I’m not about to tell a fart story – I just remembered the time when Debbie and I lived together in Lisbon Falls (about 10 years ago, I think it was). My father bought a new gas grill and handed his old one down to us. It worked, but to get it going, you had to open the gas, let it run for a minute, and then reach underneath the grill with a lighter or match to start the flame, then you could use the knobs to control how high the flame was. If that’s not a recipe for disaster, I don’t know what is. So one evening Debbie and I were going to grill hamburgers for dinner, and Liz was coming over to eat with us, or she was hanging out with us, or whatever – the point is, she was there. I went out back to start the grill and Debbie was inside making the hamburger patties. I turned the gas on and, talking to Liz, bent down and leaned underneath with a lit match. There was this loud WHOOMP! sound, and I felt a brief flash of heat. My head buzzing, I stood up and turned around to look at Liz, who was staring at me, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. It appears that a fireball had quickly engulfed my head and then disappeared. My bangs were not only singed, but melted together, my eyebrows were partially burned off, and the hair on my right (but not left) arm was burned off. No burned skin, amazingly, and the clothes I was wearing were unscathed. I’d say I was pretty damn lucky, considering. As you can imagine, I refused to ever step foot near that damn grill again. * * * I was awakened at 1:30 this morning by the Bean – or at least I assumed it was the Bean – chasing a toy around under the sweater-drying-rack/ cat hammock, which resides under the table on the wall opposite my bed. The rack/ hammock kept hitting the wall, and I finally yelled “Knock it off, jackass!”, and the noise magically stopped. I realized I had to pee, so I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. The hammock/ rack was pulled out from under the table, and I pushed it back against the wall with my foot so that Fred wouldn’t trip over it on his way through the room to get ready to work out. Back in bed, I was almost asleep again when the noise of the hammock/ rack hitting the wall started again. “I said KNOCK IT OFF, JACKASS!” I bellowed, and the noise stopped long enough for me to get back to sleep. This morning, what does Fred tell me? That Spot (we assume it was Spot – the Bean doesn’t usually go outside at night, Spanky’s too much of a wimp and Miz Poo can’t move fast enough) apparently brought a bird inside, did some serious damage to it right outside my bedroom door (there were thousands of feathers spread all over hell and creation), and it ended up… guess where? That’s right, under the hammock/ rack. The poor thing was probably fighting for it’s life while I was yelling “Knock it OFF!”, and stumbling across the room to pee, and I had no clue. It’s definitely Spring – the daffodils have bloomed, the stanky Bradford Pear trees have stopped stankin’, and we’ve had our first dead bird in the house. The funny thing is that we always assumed it was Fancypants who was bringing the birds into the house. Maybe it was Spot all along… * * * The Bean’s Fangs o’ Doom. The Bean stops to groom Spot (and Spot lets him!). The Bean can touch his nose with his tongue. And he does it often… The Bean is off in search of greener pastures. ]]>

A Day in the Life (for Monday, March 29, 2004) 1:08 am: Miz Poo wakes me by digging frantically at my back. She wants me to flip over on my left side so she can snuggle up against me and drape herself over my arm. I turn over and fall back asleep before she’s settled. 1:58 am: I wake up and have no feeling in my arm, most likely because a portly Poo is draped across it. I pull my arm out from under her, shake the feeling back into it, and turn over onto my right side. 2:02 am: I’m almost back to sleep when Miz Poo takes a running leap, springboards off of me, and lands on the pillow next to me. She digs frantically for a few minutes until I yell “Miz Pooty, STOP!”, and then curls up. I fall asleep before the grooming begins in earnest, thank god. 5:something am: The Bean jumps up on the bed and attacks my stomach. I wake up for an instant and then fall back asleep while he’s still attacking. 6:45 am: Fred wakes me up to say goodbye. I think about going back to sleep for another 45 minutes, but I have to get up and go feed-and-scoop at the petstore, so I roll my ass out of bed. 6:45 – 7:40 am: Get dressed, pop in my contacts, take my thyroid medication, clean out the litter box (don’t you wish I’d taken a picture of that?), check email, read blogs. Open blinds in living room, step outside to check the weather. The Bean and Miz Poo get excited by the open door and run outside. I step back inside and shut the door. (What? They can get in through the cat door!)

Cheapest gas in town! 7:40 – 7:55 am: Get in car. Drive toward petstore. Glance down at gas tank indicator THINGY and realize I’m driving on fumes. Ponder possible broken-ness of gank tank indicator THINGY. Yesterday I had 1/4 tank and today I’m on fumes. And I’ve gone nowhere at all since sometime last week. Is someone stealing my gas? (Doubtful) Gas tank indicator THINGY is possibly broken, and I should probably start gassing up when indicator (THINGY) indicates I have 1/2 tank of gas. Drive to gas station near petstore, fill up tank. 7:55 – 8:45 am: Arrive at petstore. Usually I have to hunt down a store manager to open the cat room door, but she sees me coming and opens the door before I get there. Same cats as last week, so I don’t take any pictures. 8:45 – 9:10ish am: Leave petstore and go to Target. Spend a good long time wandering around Target. I need to get a cushion for Fred’s writing chair (more about that later), and while I want to buy something really girly or country that will horrify him, the only cushion that will fit the chair is a sedate tan color. I toss it in the cart. I buy a bag of bird seed, since we’re running out, and a new trash can (actually, it’s a basket) for the master bathroom. I also buy a basket to set atop the toilet tank, in which I intend to put the 3,000 bathroom books sitting there. It’ll make it easier when I need to move everything to wipe the top of the tank. I peruse the book section, picking up Sophie Kinsella’s latest. I put it in my cart, then stop to reflect on the bookcase full of books I have yet to read, realize that surely by the time I get around to reading this book it will have come out in paperback and buying it right now just because I’ve seen it is stupid. I put it back. As I’m heading for the front of the store, there’s a woman halfway across the store who is pushing a stroller (carriage?) with a tiny, very unhappy baby inside. The baby’s wails are painful – I feel like someone’s pounding a stake through my eardrums – and I think judgementally about the fact that she not only is doing nothing to soothe the baby, but she appears to not hear the baby at all. Then I tell myself to shut up and stop being a bitch, and go to check out. I pass this road at least twice a week. I’ve been meaning to snap a picture of the sign for at least two years now! Nance, look! It’s a road named after you! 9:10 – 9:25 am: Drive home, listening to my cd of mp3s. Nothin’ But the Wheel and Here I am, by Patty Loveless. Politics, Religion and Her, by Sammy Kershaw. Love Sammy Kershaw. But unfortunately that ho Lorrie Morgan has her perfectly manicured claws in him. Hm. Or does she? (Holy crap, he’s her fifth husband!) A very long live version of Black by Pearl Jam comes on as I pull up in the driveway. When I walk through the door, the Bean is snoozing in his nest, and he glances up at me to make sure I’m not about to thunk him on the head or anything before he goes back to sleep. 9:30 – 10:10: Ellipticize on the elliptical trainer while watching an episode of Once & Again. I love the elliptical trainer, and I love that it has built-in programs, but the 30-minute program sure does kick my ass. Do 10 minutes of standing stretch. I like stretching more than I would have thought possible. After 30 minutes of exercising and 10 minutes of stretching I’m done exercising for the day. I’m always wiped out easily on Mondays, probably because I spend almost an hour bending and stretching while I clean kitty cages out at the petstore, not to mention chasing around the kitties who have no desire to go back in their cage. 10:10 – 11:05 am: Eat breakfast (I prefer to eat breakfast pretty late in the morning): A A Blueberry muffin and two clementines. Check email, read blogs, email a few times with Nance. From the computer room, I can hear the Bean in the living room, smacking at the blinds with his paw. He does it long enough that it begins to annoy me, so I grab him and push him through the cat door into the back yard. Little pain in the ass Bean. 11:05 – 11:15 am: Empty dishwasher, put dirty dishes from sink into dishwasher, wipe down counters. Think about mopping the floor, but decide not to. 11:15 – 11:25 am: The bird feeders are empty. Grab container of bird seed, go outside. Spot’s sitting outside and gives me a guilty look. Miz Poo comes out to supervise while I fill the platform feeders and rinse out and refill the bird bath. 11:25 – 12:10ish: Go upstairs. Take shower. Sit in chair in the corner of the bedroom and read. Miz Poo jumps up on my lap and kneads and kneads and kneads before deciding she doesn’t want to sit in my lap, and jumps down to put the smack down on the Bean. 12:10: Go downstairs, check email, try to clear a few things off my desk before giving up. 12:10 – 1:00 pm: Vacuum entire downstairs. The only cat who’ll let the vacuum cleaner get within two feet of him is the Bean. The other cats are terrified. Once the downstairs is vacuumed, I vacuum the stairs, which I hate to do. Wish for the millionth time that our stairs were hardwooded. The Bean keeps an eye on the vacuum. Pancit. 1:00 – 1:25 pm: Make lunch – pancit (without the rice sticks, as rice sticks are calorie-intensive and I’m not a noodle/ pasta kinda gal for the most part). I have enough left over for two lunches (I made a smaller batch than the recipe). Basically pancit is a lean pork/ cabbage/ carrot/ onion/ teriyaki sauce stir-fry, and I’m absolutely addicted to it. Also, all those veggies are good for you! (I also had a banana and a white chocolate and raspberry yogurt, but forgot to snap a picture). 1:25 – 2:30 pm: Eat lunch, push the Bean out the cat door 45 times, think about beating the Bean, read journals (I’m almost all caught up!), respond to a couple of emails (it being my goal to be completely caught up before the month is over), talk to Fred on the phone a couple of times. 2:30 – 3:30ish pm: Watch The Ellen Degeneres Show, which I DVR’d earlier. Work on cross-stitching a truly hideous Christmas ornament (I was almost completely caught up with all the Christmas ornament kits I had, and my sister gave me a thousand (well, practically) for Christmas, so I’ll probably be working on those for the rest of the year!). Roseanne Barr is on Ellen, and she’s funny as hell. When that’s over, watch part of Dr. Phil. 3:37 pm: Have following discussion with the spud: Spud: What would make someone throw up if they aren’t sick? Me: If they saw something gross, maybe? Spud: No, not that, either. Me: Well then, I don’t know. Why? Spud: Because I threw up today. Me: Where? In class? Spud: Yes, in class at my desk. Me: And they didn’t send you home? Spud: No. Me: They just cleaned it up and kept going with class? Spud: No, there was nothing to clean up. Me: There was nothing to clean up? Spud: No. Me: Well, then it doesn’t really sound like you threw up. Spud: Flouncing off, sighing. Me: Killing spud, burying her in the backyard. 3:45 pm: Fred arrives home. I wait at the door to greet him and throw my arms wide, yelling “Give me some sugar!” He always looks so stressed out that I want to make him smile. Why, yes. I CAN take a nothing day, and suddenly make it all seem worth-while. 3:50 – 4:10ish pm: Lay on the bed and discuss Fred’s day with him. He gets up and goes downstairs to get something to drink, then comes back up and settles in to do some writing. We moved a table into the bedroom and set it up so that he can sit in there and write without distraction. He was sitting in the recliner in the corner of the room on the other side of the bed: but sitting like that with the laptop on his lap was uncomfortable, so voila! We found a solution. 4:10 – 4:15 pm: Lay on bed while he writes. Distract him. Blow him a kiss and go back downstairs. 4:15 – 5:ish pm: Make dinner. Check email, read blogs. 5:ish – 5:20 pm: Eat dinner – a barbecued chicken breast, corn, and a salad. Discuss various and sundry things with Fred and the spud. (I forgot to take a picture of the food. This is the aftermath) 5:20 – 5:40 pm: Go upstairs with Fred. Discuss what he’s writing. Discuss possible revisions. Distract him while he starts to write. Blow him a kiss and go back downstairs. 5:40 pm – 7 pm: Read email, read blogs, think about clearing the mess off my desk. Snuggle with Miz Poo. Go into the living room and read for a while. 7:00 – 8:00 pm: Flip channels. Eat snack (yogurt and a string cheese). Fred wants to watch Fear Factor, so I read while he watches it. When the eating-gross-stuff part comes on, I tell him he either needs to change the channel, or I’ll go into the other room until that part is over. He flips channels, and we end up watching a Discovery Health show about a woman having weight loss surgery. We flip back and forth between Fear Factor, Discovery Health channel, and a VH-1 show about The Rock. 8:00 – 8:55 pm: There’s absolutely nothing on TV that we want to watch, so Fred puts in the Andrew Lloyd Webber Royal Albert Hall Celebration DVD with the idea that we’ll listen to it while we read. But I didn’t get enough sleep the night before and am easily distracted, so I put down my book and lay down on the couch to watch. I insist Fred forward to “Those cute New Zealand boys” (Boyzone, singing “No Matter What”), and then we watch a few more songs until my favorite – Michael Ball singing Gesthemane – comes on. Fred chatters through it until I give him a shut the fuck up, please look. 8:55 pm: We go upstairs and get ready for bed. Fred gives the cats their nightly treat (kitten chow). 9:00 – 9:40 pm: Lay in bed and talk about various and sundry things. Kiss for a few minutes, and then Fred wanders off to his room. 9:45 pm: Ordinarily, I’d turn the light back on and read, but I’m sleepy, so I leave the light off, snuggle with Miz Poo, and drift off to sleep. ]]>