Category: Life

Father Ray (played by B.D. Wong) said “fuck”, Fred turned to me and said “A priest who says ‘fuck’! That’s my kinda priest!”

* * * I think that Wendy feels the same sort of hatred for Jemima J. as I do for We Were the Mulvaneys. I could be wrong, though. She seems a little wishy-washy about it. I think she might secretly like the book. Heh. * * * Pet store kitty pictures are hither. * * * So, I ran over to Target this morning to buy some paper towels (the cat room was out of paper towels, which makes it somewhat difficult to clean the cages), and while I was there I wandered by the book section. This book looked really, really good, and I picked it up and thought about buying it, but ultimately put it down because I have so many books to be read on my bookcase; I decided to add it to my Amazon wish list, instead. (And I had a hell of a time finding it on Amazon, because I couldn’t quite remember the name. Sickly? Sicken? Sickening? Finally I searched on Munchausen By Proxy and found it.) On my way back by the book section toward the cash register, I stopped to look at a few “chick lit” type books, and I glanced at the top of the display, and did it say “Chick Lit”? Why, no. No it didn’t. It said “Hip Lit.” Hip Lit? Kinda sounds like a display of books written in the 70s, doesn’t it? Does anyone say “hip” anymore? Is “hip” making a comeback, in that throwback-to-the-70s kinda way? I need to know these things. * * * Fred came upstairs this morning after I thought he’d already left for work SCARING THE HELL OUT OF ME as I walked out of the bathroom. “Did you order an empty box from The Humane Catalog?” he asked, holding up a huge box. I blinked and thought for a moment (see? I can do two things at once!), and then stared at the box. “I ordered a black and white cat egg to round out the collection,” I said. “But it’s really small. There’s no way it needs a box that big!” I opened it up, and under ten tons of packing was this very small cat egg that fits neatly in the palm of my hand. For an idea of the size, here it is next to Spot for comparison purposes. Aaaand here it in sitting on a corner of the box it came in. I’m thinking they might want to stock up on smaller boxes in the future, just in case. * * * From this angle, Tubby looks twice as big as Spanky. Oh, wait. He IS! ]]>

Bitchypoo logo! This one was done by the lovely and talented Kristen. Thanks, Kristen!

* * * Don’t hold me to it, but I’m considering doing NaNoWriMo this year. It doesn’t start until November 1st, so that gives me a whole month to procrastinate signing up for it! * * * I went into the back yard yesterday afternoon to fill up the bird feeders and clean out the bird bath (which had MOSS in it, it’d been so long since I’d cleaned it), and since I could keep an eye on her, I let Miz Poo come out with me. She sat uncertainly on the patio for a few minutes, sniffing at the air as though she’d never been outside before, and then suddenly she ran as fast as she could toward the fence and the tomato plants. She hung out over there, rolling around in the grass, for a while. I glanced up as I was filling the bird feeders, and saw her hauling ass toward the other end of the back yard, the end where the DAMN NEIGHBORS have still not replaced their fence. “Miz Poo!” I called, worried she’d run into their back yard and I’d have to chase her. She stopped and looked at me, and then ran over to the shed. She sniffed around for a few minutes, then tried to crawl under the shed. She was stymied by her big butt, which wouldn’t fit under the shed. I was about to walk over and pick her up to bring her inside with me, when she came out from under the shed and stared toward the gaping hole in the neighbors’ fence. She started doing that snake thing that cats do – you know, where their heads weave back and forth – and then she whimpered in confusion. I walked over and picked her up, because I could just sense that she was about to lose her shit, run pell-mell into their back yard, and then haul ass out the gaping hole in the back of their fence, which looks onto a very busy road, and get herself splattered all over said very busy road. Instead of of thanking me for saving her stupid life, she whined at me, and struggled to get away, leaving a big scratch across the top of my left boob. Brat. * * * I got an email forward from my father earlier today. The text of the email was: Hey my friends. My buddy is looking for a good home for a very special dog. He said it’s really lovable and friendly with the kids, but his wife says the dog makes her nervous when it stares at her and she wants it out of the house. She isn’t much of a dog person. Pass this on if you know anyone who may be interested. A photo is attached. Now go look at the picture. Nightmares. I’m going to have nightmares. * * * Pictures of Gizmo, courtesy of my sister-in-law, Kate. Dulcinea puts the smack down on Gizmo. Kinda looks like Gizmo’s dancing, doesn’t it? LOVE the kitty pictures from above! (Thanks, Kate! 🙂 ]]>

* * * Last night, we passed one of the six churches we pass on our drive to and from the post office every evening. “Let’s become rabid fundamentalist christians!” Fred suggested. “Do we get to tell people they’re going to hell?” I asked. “HELL yeah! We can tell everyone, repeatedly, until they start avoiding us!” “Ooh, that sounds like fun!” You’re all going to hell. (Save me a seat)

* * * By the way, all y’all who keep telling me I need to get a kitten? I can’t hearrrrrr youuuuuuu. Lalalalalalaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Heh. For the record, we’re not against getting another cat – preferably a kitten – but Fancypants has only been missing for about four months (only!), and we’d like to give it a few more months, at least through the winter. Of course, that’s all null and void if I fall in love with another kitten. * * * Gardening advice needed – can I chop my butterfly bush down to a nubbin and still expect it to come back okay? And when would be the best time to cut it back? Fall? Spring? It’s grown in kind of funny and tilted, and I’d like to cut it back severely in hopes of getting it to look a little more normal. Also, my Million Bells Petunias, can I cut those back, keep them in the shed, and expect them to come back next Spring? Or am I dreaming? Please leave any advice in the comments, thank you! * * * I’m currently reading and enjoying Lies and the Lying Liars Who Tell Them. I try to stay away from the political-type books, because even the thought of them bores the snot out of me (though I did read one of Ann Coulter’s books several months back – maybe last year – and enjoyed it), but watching Fred guffaw over the book made me want to read it. Al’s especially funny when he talks about Bill O’Reilly. I mean, I like Bill O’Reilly a lot and usually enjoy his show, but you can’t deny that he’s got blowhard tendencies. Of course, anyone who points the finger at either the Left or the Right and blames everything on them has to be taken with a grain of salt. * * * The happiest! kitty! in the world! ]]>

About one in 3,000 tricolored cats are males, although only 1 in 10,000 of these males is fertile , so who’s the nutball now, huh? (Don’t answer that) Other interesting information: though calico males are rare, you can’t get someone to pay zillions of dollars for them, because even if they are fertile, chances are good they won’t father another male calico. And Miz Poo is not a calico, but rather a tortoiseshell, because: With a calico, there is a significant amount of white, and the two colors are broken up into distinct patches. This has to do with the interaction of white spotting. With a tortoiseshell, the three colors are blended and don’t form distinct patches. A tortoiseshell may have significant portions of white as well, but the remaining colors are blended . Learn something new every day, don’t you?

* * * After Tracy and Kate (I’ll refer to her as Kate from here on out, since that’s how she posts, and the Kate/ Lee thing can be a bit confusing) left, we decided it was such a beautiful day that we needed to go for a drive. We drove a big loop through Athens and some other towns (sue me, I wasn’t paying attention), through Decatur, and then home down the highway. We kept seeing cotton fields that stretched as far as the eye could see, and finally Fred stopped so we could take some pictures. Today’s even more beautiful, if that’s possible, not a cloud in the sky, and the temperature hovering around 70. I know I’ve lived in Alabama too long when 70 is a bit too cool for me. At one point when I was in Maine we were sitting out on the back deck, and a breeze came up. I crossed my arms and shivered, and my sister said “Oh shut UP, you are NOT cold! It’s the middle of the summer!” Heh. * * * Friday, I opened the front door to find a bag hanging from the doorknob. Further investigation showed that it was a bag left from a dry-cleaning company that picks up and delivers. The note on the bag read “If you’re going to use our services, call (this number). If you plan to never use our services, please leave the bag by your door Saturday so that we may pick it up.” I tossed the bag on the floor by the front door and promptly forgot about it. Saturday while I was on the phone with Tracy discussing the kitten, the doorbell rang. I ignored it, since I wasn’t expecting any company and also since I was in the middle of a phone call. Later, we found a note on the front door that basically reiterated everything that the note on the bag said, and if we were never going to use their services, to leave the bag by the front door and they’d pick it up. Now, here’s the thing. It’s not that I really want to keep the bag (I did mean to hang it out this morning but forgot), but I’m of the mind that if you leave something on my front door, it pretty much becomes mine. (If you’d like my address so that you can leave a big bag of money hanging off the doorknob, just let me know)(stalkers need not apply) And it’s a nice, sturdy bag. Also, “never” is a broad span. What if at some point in the future I start wearing clothes that need dry-cleaning, and I want the handy-dandy drop off-pick up feature? Shouldn’t I hang on to the bag just in case? Ah me, what a dilemma. * * * Spanky was sitting in the computer room, minding his own business. Along came Miz Poo, who decided she wanted to be startin’ somethin’. “You tawkin’ to me?” “Well I’m the only one here. Who the fuck do you think you’re tawkin’ to?” Spanky’s about ready to put the smack down (note his tail, which was whipping around so furiously that it’s blurred in the picture). Sadly, they were distracted by Fred before the smack could be put down.]]>

Guess What? Oh, don’t get excited. He’s not ours. My sister-in-law, Lee, and brother, Tracy, were in Alabama this weekend (Lee’s mother passed away late last week), and before they left Lee saw the picture of the kitten on the pet store page and just fell in love. Tracy gave me the go-ahead yesterday morning, and I ran to the pet store and adopted the kitten, spent the day playing with him (we thought the kitten was a girl, by the way, until Fred pointed out that it wasn’t so), and when Lee and Tracy got here last night, Lee took one look and fell even harder in love. Tracy, Lee, and Mireya didn’t stay nearly long enough, by the way. It was a lot of fun sitting around and talking with them and watching the kitten play. I think they should just move closer. Though why anyone would move to Alabama… 🙂 He’s so damn sweet, y’all. It was hard to let them leave with the kitten this morning, but I’m sure Miz Poo’s heart would have been broken if we’d kept him – he slept with me last night, and Miz Poo spent the night under the couch. I do not, however, envy Tracy and Lee the 13-hour drive home. I’m sure the kitten’s howling his little head off at this very moment. His name, by the way, is Gizmo. I think that’s a pretty perfect name for him. And Lee, you know you’re obligated to take 10,000 pictures of him as he gets bigger, right? :)]]>

Door to Door last night, when something caught my eye and I glanced at the floor. A small cockroach trundled along the rug, went between Fred’s feet, and under the love seat. I made a face and pointed to the spot between his feet. “Ew,” I said. “There’s – ” Immediately, screaming like a little girl, Fred levitated across the room to the fireplace, where he began dancing a jig, slapping at his legs, and screaming intermittently. I collapsed in a heap, laughing so hard I could barely breathe. Fred, not appreciating the humor of the situation yet, glared at me from across the room. It is my goal in life to get that scream on tape so y’all can enjoy it as well. He said.

* * * The Patricia Heaton book is chatty and amusing. I’ll probably be giving it three stars, unless it goes to shit in the last third of the book. Still looking forward to starting the Al Franken book. Between the Dr. Phil book, the Patricia Heaton book, and the Al Franken book, this is more nonfiction than I’ve read in the entire last year! * * * POSSIBLE SURVIVOR SPOILERS; SKIP TO THE NEXT SECTION IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN IT YET Was I surprised to see Drake win both challenges? Nope. Was I surprised to see the Morgan people call Sandra a bitch for taking their tarp? Nope. (And as a side note, I could NEVER have gone to the other tribe’s camp and taken something like that. I would have been all “Yeah, I’ll take this rock right here.” Because Morgan had so much less than Drake, and I would have just felt sorry for them. Because that’s the kinda gal I am!) And was I surprised to see Skinny Ryan go? Again, nope. I was disappointed, though, because I thought he was way more likeable than Osten could ever be. I’m going to predict that if Drake loses the next Immunity Challenge, Lillian will be the next to go. Of course, that’s an easy prediction. Have I mentioned that I love this show? * * * We also watched Extreme Makeovers last night. I love that show, but god. If I have one piece of advice for y’all, it is this: Please DO NOT LET ANYONE INJECT ANYTHING INTO YOUR LIPS, EVER. Because the result is so achingly plastic looking that no one will ever believe for a single second that those are your real lips. I feel your thin-lipped pain, because I have the thinnest lips ever, but the day will never come when I want fat taken from one part of my body and injected into my lips. Never. (Although it would be fun to have fat taken from my ass and injected into my lips so I can tell people that Fred kisses my ass all the time. Yes, I’m a 12 year-old boy.) * * * Yeah. Not a whole lot going on around here today. I think I’ll toss up a few extra kitty pictures and call it a day! * * * Tubby and Spanky sleep in those cat beds ALL day long. Unless Tubby hears me open a window (no, our neighbors haven’t gotten their fence repaired yet. Grr.) Miz Poo is offended by Tubby’s existence and smacks at him. He just ignores her and she eventually goes away. ]]>

Holes on Tuesday (also rented: A Mighty Wind, Door to Door, and Real Women Have Curves). Since I have the book but hadn’t read it yet, I started it yesterday morning and finished it last night. What a great book! Why on earth hadn’t I read it before now? I’d heard of it because it was on the spud’s assigned summer reading a few years ago, and someone – Eliza, maybe? – mentioned it in her journal in highly flattering terms, which I’m pretty sure is why I put it on my wish list, and I know that it’s been sitting on the bookcase for months, but why did I not read it before now? Why? I’m sure my tendencies toward dumbassery has something to do with it. As a side note, if you buy the book and it’s the version with the color pictures from the movie in the middle, skip looking at the pictures until you’re done with the book, or you’ll ruin the ending for yourself. Today I’ll begin reading the Patricia Heaton book. I have no idea why I bought the book, and I only hope that it doesn’t suck. At least it’s thin, so it won’t take long to read, and I can start reading the Al Franken book that Fred keeps guffawing over. Which he’s probably ruined for me by reading the funniest parts out loud to me. Which I TOLD him not to do, because I wanted to read it for myself, damnit! Actually, I had no interest in reading it until I realized that Fred was laughing out loud every 2.5 seconds. I hope I find it as funny as he does!

* * * Pet store kitty pics are hither. * * * Good god, were the girls on The Bachelor all really young, or what? I swear there was a run where every single one they showed was 24. And the chick who said that she’d be a “servant” to her husband? Gag me. I haven’t seen the last hour of the show yet, though. It was a 2-hour show, and so I had to tape the last hour. I need to watch it today, I guess, because tonight I’ll be taping Friends and Will & Grace and ER and whatever else is coming on NBC. Oh, and Extreme Makeovers is on at 8! Woot! I love it when the Fall season starts in full force, I really do. * * * To find a kitty in our house, just look for a spot of sun. ]]>

* * * Fred linked to this story in his forum. People, I will say it only once: if you do NOT buy from telemarketers who call and want to sell you crap, they will NOT make money, and telemarketing will go the way of the dodo bird. Of course, we really don’t get calls from telemarketers because we never EVER provide our phone number to anyone, ever. If I place an order online and am required to provide a phone number, I provide this: (256) 555-1212. And good luck to anyone calling information for our number, because we’re unlisted. Let’s all make a pact to never EVER buy anything from someone who calls trying to sell us something, mm’kay?

* * * Man. I went upstairs after I wrote the above to vacuum the upstairs and do some dusting and then take my shower. I had vacuumed everything but the master bedroom when I realized that the vacuum was making a loud noise. I turned it off so I could check the belt, and was disgusted by the amount of hair stuck around the, uh. The beater thing that turns around. I have no clue what the hell it’s called. Just call me Jessica Simpson. Anyway, there was a TON of hair stuck on that, and I ended up spending a good 10 minutes cutting and ripping the hair out. In retrospect I should have gone and gotten a screwdriver to take the cover off, which would have made things a bit easier, but it never occurred to me. When I was done, I had a pile the size of Miz Poo, and DAMN was it nasty. I can’t even blame it all on cat hair, because cat hair is short and goes right through the vacuum to the vacuum bag (which I don’t change out nearly often enough). This was human hair – specifically Robyn and Spud hair. Gah. There’s just so much shit I never think of doing. Cleaning out the air uptake filter thingy? Nope. Dusting the corners of the rooms to get rid of the cobwebs that form in 10 seconds flat? Nope. Changing out the vacuum cleaner bags and cleaning out the turning thingy on a regular basis? Nope. Dust the ceiling fans? Wash the windows? Clean the cat door? Nope, nope, and nope. And on top of that is the stuff I just never get around to doing – cleaning out the fridge, wiping down the baseboards, cleaning the bathroom more often than twice a year. (Okay, I’m kidding on that last one. Really!) I know I make the house sound like a total pigsty, but it really isn’t THAT bad – just tending toward the messy and maybe cluttered. I guess it’s just that when it’s your own house, you notice the little things that people who visit don’t see. Or at least they’re too nice to say anything to you. * * * Holy god in heaven. I have Dr. Phil on in the background, and he just quoted the lyric “Guilty feet have got no rhythm”. Heh. Name that song! * * * This is a blurry and grainy picture (I had to lighten it), but it absolutely cracks me up. ]]>

* * * A partial picture of me so that you can see the dye job, and that my eyes are no longer creepy zombie eyes.

Excuse the slightly loony look on my face. That’s what happens when you raise one eyebrow in an attempt to look cool and above it all. * * * One of the things I had to do Saturday after The Big Reformat was download the newest version of Eudora, so that all the components would be in a single file, because that’s how I like it (and also, that will make it much easier when I have to back up all the important stuff before the NEXT reformat. Because you KNOW it’s gonna happen). I thought I pretty much had it set up the way I’d had my old Eudora set up, until I was emailing with Nance yesterday and Eudora got all old-lady tsk-tsk on me. Obviously Eudora doesn’t know Nance. It would probably take WAY more than that to offend Nance. Later, I was adding people to the Go Fuck Yourself page, when another one popped up. I feel like Eudora’s a creepy old lady hovering over my shoulder, reading my email, and threatening to tell my mommy on me. * * * Speaking of the Go Fuck Yourself page, if you emailed me to be added in the past 6 weeks or so and didn’t get a confirmation email yesterday, you need to email me again, because I’m somewhat certain that I lost some of that email in the transition from old, crappy hard drive to new, reformatted hard drive. Speaking further of the Go Fuck Yourself ‘burb, I think it’s probably not out of the question that one day I will receive an email from the spud requesting to be part of it. The thought both amuses and horrifies me. * * * Sunday morning Fred went out to run some errands and do some shopping, and when he got home I saw that he had a Books-A-Million bag. “Did you buy me anything?” I asked hopefully. He reached into the bag and pulled out The Ultimate Weight Loss Solution, by Dr. Phil. Close your email clients, angry people. He knew that I wanted to read it, but just hadn’t had a chance to go out and buy it. I started the book Sunday night, and about ten minutes in I was just wishing it was OVER. I need to do a more in-depth entry about it over at OneFatBitchypoo one of these days, I suppose, but unless you’ve read and enjoyed other Dr. Phil books, I don’t recommend it. I’ve listed the book on my reading list, but I don’t think I’m going to rate it, because I’ll be the first to admit that right now I have a big chip on my shoulder regarding Dr. Phil, and I didn’t read his book with an open mind, and it wouldn’t really be fair to rate his book with an “eh”. Closeminded with a big chip on my shoulder, that’s me! I do have two books to recommend, though, if you’re looking for something good to read. The first is The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon. It’s an absolutely charming book written from the viewpoint of an autistic 15 year-old, and I loved it even before I read the line “I can’t do chatting.” At one point I turned to Fred and said “I feel like I’m reading a book about you.” Highly, highly recommended. The other book is one that a reader saw on my wish list and sent me about a year ago, Plainsong, by Kent Haruf. The thing about this book is that it is such a simple book, and I didn’t expect much from it, but I was charmed and drawn in from the very first page. When I finished the book (and it left me wanting more, the way good books do), I immediately went online and added his other books to my wish list, and can’t wait to buy and read them. Heh. I’m such a good book reviewer, aren’t I? Why didn’t I just say “Books good. Me like!”? * * * Oh, and speaking of books, I have to mention the craptacular The Last Victim. I read it while I was in Maine, thinking to myself “The boy corresponded with John Wayne Gacy and other serial killers. How can this NOT be a gripping, thrilling read?” Well, let me tell you, it was dull as dirt. Total yawnsville. Stay away, folks, stay away! My sister-in-law made the mistake of picking it up and beginning it after I’d finished it, at which point I felt like I couldn’t really say “Oh, don’t bother. It SUCKS”, because what if it was just me? What if I just couldn’t see the amazingness (is TOO a word) of it? Turns out it WASN’T just me. Poor Lee! * * * He’s a pretty Spot. Yes he is! ]]>

* * * I bet my weekend was WAY more fun than yours. Yes way, it was TOO. For instance, did you lose your air conditioning capabilities for several hours? No, having your power knocked out by the hurricane doesn’t count. Friday evening while I was waiting for the pizza to arrive, I turned to Fred, who was sitting in front of his computer. “Are you sure you turned the air up?” I asked. It’s his job on Friday afternoons, as he’s going upstairs to change into his shlubby hanging-around-the-house clothes, to turn the air up. Fridays are the days we eat whatever junk food strikes our fancy, and Friday evenings our bodies tend to run on overdrive to process all the food we’ve tossed down our throats, so we’re always hotter than usual on Fridays. “Yeah, I did,” Fred said. “But I’ll check again.” A moment later, I heard a bemused “Huh” from the stairs. “What?” I called. “It’s set on 71, but the temperature is almost 80, and the air conditioning isn’t running.” To make a long story short (too late!), due to the fact that we are lax in cleaning out the air uptake filter thingy, the air conditioning unit outside had frozen through, and we needed to turn it off for a few hours so it could thaw. Or something like that. By 7:30 I was on the floor with the cats, “Meh”ing bitchily and swearing that I was dyyyyyyying from heat stroke. By bedtime, I was shaking my fist at the ceiling and swearing that I would never be hot again. At least I had the ceiling fan to make some semblance of cooling me off. Plus there’s the fact that I sleep butt-ass nekkid – (I’ll just let you sit with the horror of that image for a moment before proceeding) and Miz Poo didn’t even try to climb up on me and share her body heat, so I was able to fall asleep fairly quickly. Fred got up at 2:30 to exercise (yeah, I don’t know what’s up with that. He’s freakish.) and turned the air on, and an hour later I was happily bundled up under the covers with only my nose showing. And the air conditioning has worked just fine ever since. Thank gawd. ‘Cause like I don’t LIKE to sweat and shit, Muffy! Seriously. I don’t know how you no-air-conditioning-having motherfuckers do it. Hats off to YOU.

* * * Then Saturday, we got up early (well, early for me. I like to sleep ’til at least 8 on Saturdays and I was up at SEVEN! ::gasp!::) and went to check out the thousands and thousands of motorcycles driving the Trail of Tears. Fred and the spud checked it out last year, but this was the first time I’d seen it myself, and words cannot express how awe-inspiring it was to see that unending stream of motorcycles coming down the road. We stood there for a good half hour or more and I don’t know if we even saw half of them. Fred’s got pictures here. At one point, the spud suggested that Fred and I should buy a bike so we could ride the Trail of Tears next year. We giggled pretty hard at that. * * * When we got home from that, Fred went out to mow the lawn, and I sat down to back up all the important things on my computer, because it was time YET AGAIN to reformat my hard drive. This is, I believe, the third time in the past year this has needed to be done. While I was backing up my email, I realized that I smelled something. It smelled good… it smelled like marshmallows… Oh shit! I realized I’d put sugar water for the hummingbirds on to boil FORTY-FIVE MINUTES PREVIOUSLY, and it had all boiled away. Hoping to save the very expensive pot, I ran water into it, and burned sugar splattered everywhere. I was able to save the pot (part of a Christmas gift from Fred’s parents three years ago), thank god. The house still smells faintly of burned sugar, and it’s not an unpleasant smell by any means. Covers up the dirty cat litter smell that usually permeates the air. (Kidding on that one. You can’t smell the litter box unless you’re in the room with it) * * * So the rest of the day was spent reading on the couch while Fred did the reformat thing. And then I spent an hour or so fighting with Eudora, trying to reinstall my “in box” files, my “Bullshit!” files, and the like. At one point I said to Fred “FUCK THIS. I’m free. All my old email is gone, and the Bullshit! people are shit out of luck. I’m done messing with it.” Fred said “You still have Bullshit! tapes going around?” Do I ever. I need to start harassing the people who have the tapes or who were last to have had the tapes one of these days. But Fred, being the genius, figured it out and saved all my email. Thank gawd. And my computer hasn’t locked up even once since the reformat (constant locking up was what made us decide to reformat). * * * Sunday, after sleeping until 9 (I’m a slacker) I got up and made Fred put the hair coloring in my hair. It came out darker than I wanted – I would have said it was more a dark brown than a medium golden brown – but Fred did a kick-ass job of covering all the grays, and I know that the color will fade in the next few weeks, so I’m not going to complain. And then last night we watched the Emmys, mostly because nothing else was on, and Fred had heard that there was going to be a tribute to John Ritter. Naturally it didn’t come on before 9, so we went to bed and taped the rest. Is it just me, or is Gary Shandling not funny at ALL? * * * The sunset from our back yard Saturday night. ]]>