Category: Life

February March April May June But I’ve run out, and need some new ones – not that the ones above aren’t kick-ass logos, ’cause they certainly are, but I’ve gotten used to having a new logo each month. The only rules are that the logo should have a white background, and if it doesn’t, it should have a border around it (like the one above), and be 400 x 100-150 pixels. That’s all – now get to work and send me what you’ve got! (Bossy, aren’t I?)

* * * Someone asked in the comments to yesterday’s entry (hi Amy!) how it is that we managed to get 5 cats to live in harmony. I’d love to say that we had some kind of trick to make them get along, but there’s really nothing we’ve done to make it so. We’d bring home a new cat and just kind of throw it in the mix. The other cats would respond by hissing hysterically and running away, then relax after a certain amount of time went by. There’s the occasional fight, but it doesn’t happen all that often. Maybe it’s just that their personalities mesh fairly well, or that most of them are pretty laid-back. Possibly it’s because all the boys know that Miz Poo will kick the shit out of them if they don’t keep cool. Whatever it is, I have to say that I’m glad we don’t have to deal with too much fighting. And speaking of cats fighting, I’m reminded of a story. This, I believe, was before Miz Poo joined the family, and it was definitely when we lived in the other house. I was sitting in the living room reading, and I heard the thump-thump-thump sounds of a heard of elephants running through the house. The sounds stopped, and then I heard a hysterically hissing cat. “Hey!” I yelled. “Knock it off!” Laugh, but that tends to break up the fights, maybe ’cause the cats don’t want Mama to come over there and break it up herself. A minute later, I heard thump-thump-thump-HISS!, a brief pause, and then thump-thump-thump-HISS!. This happened three or four more times, and I was just about to get up off my ass to investigate, when Spanky ran into view. Behind him were Spot, Fancypants, and Tubby. Spanky stopped, turned around to face them, and hissed hysterically. And then he ran off, with the three of them in pursuit. I did break it up, but I’ve never seen anything like it since. The cat fights in our house only ever involve two cats. I have no idea what Spanky did to piss them all off so that they ganged up on him. * * * There’s something new up in the crafty blog, if you’re interested. * * * We watched the last episode of Out of Order last night. It was a pretty good series – the only thing that sucks is that, given the way cable series work, it’ll be 2005 before we see any more episodes. I think Felicity Huffman poked my eye out with one of her nipples. I watched The Hours over the weekend, and at one point I paused the movie and called for Fred. “Who does she remind you of?” I asked, pointing to the screen. “The chick from The West Wing,” he said. “Well, no shit,” I said. It was Allison Janney on the screen. “But who else?” He couldn’t come up with an answer. “Doesn’t she look a LOT like Justine Bateman?” I suggested, and he immediately agreed. Allison Janney Justine Bateman Surely we’re not the only ones who see the resemblance? I think it’s the eyes. Maybe the lips, too. And possibly the nose. In other words, y’know, the whole face. * * * I’m sitting here with the windows in the computer room open, because the air conditioning was set on 70 (I turned it off before I opened the windows, so don’t give me shit, people), and I got cold. Miz Poo was sitting in the window watching the kids run back and forth, and then a mockingbird suddenly landed on the shepherd’s hook holding the hummingbird feeder, not two feet from the windows. He sat there for at least five minutes, chirping bitchily. I’m not sure what his problem was, but he wasn’t intimidated by Miz Poo at ALL, nor was he frightened when I walked up to the window and tapped on the glass. He didn’t fly off until I opened the front door. “Yeah, I see you, you portly little cat. You don’t scare me!” “You don’t scare me either, lady!” * * * So, we’re leaving for Gatlinburg tomorrow morning at 8:30ish. Since I have to go feed the cats at the pet store and then come home and take a shower and finish packing before we go, that doesn’t leave me much time for writing an entry. Lucky for y’all, though, I have plenty of CAT PICTURES, so I’ll slap up a pictoral not only for tomorrow, but also for Friday. You lucky, lucky people. * * * Snoozing on top of the monitor… “Woman, MUST you flash that friggin’ bright light at me every time I get comfortable?” “Yeeeees?” A little sun and a stretch. What could make a Poo happier?]]>

* * * I spent a good part of the day cleaning yesterday. I had Fred’s Jeep, since mine was having the oil changed and the tires rotated, so I cleaned it out, vacuumed it, and cleaned the dashboard. I filled about half a garbage bag with crap, and probably half a vacuum cleaner bag as well. In the afternoon, with Roseanne in reruns going in the background, I cleaned out the pantry (I’m an amazing pantry cleaner. Definitely do a good pantry.) and then the refrigerator. The house looks like crap, but the inside of Fred’s Jeep, the pantry and the refrigerator are stunningly clean and organized. Go, me! Speaking of my Jeep having the oil changed and the tires rotated, when Fred dropped it off at Firestone this morning, he asked them to please PLEASE try not to find $500 worth of work that needed to be done. Seriously, every time we bring a Jeep in, they seem to find almost exactly $500 worth of work that needs to be done. The Firestone guy took offense at Fred’s tone, but when he called later, guess what? That’s right, $500 worth of work needed to be done, but it wasn’t critical. Fred told him not to do it, and we’re going to take it somewhere else to be checked over. I can’t guarantee Firestone’s screwing us over, but it seems ODD that every time we have either of the Jeeps in for an oil change or something along those lines, it suddenly needs $500 worth of work. Bastards.

* * * And while I was cleaning, I finished organizing the spud’s room, and I’d like to say that without a whole pile of crap sitting in the middle of her bedroom floor, and without a pile of shoes she never wears on the floor in her closet (the shoes are instead hanging in an organizer, and ha! I’m so cute, aren’t I? Dropping five bucks on a thing to hang in her closet and organize her shoes? Because I think we all know that within a week the organizer won’t hold a single shoe, but instead will hold dirty clothes and dirty dishes and probably straight-out garbage, we know that, right? And I will wander into her room at some point, and I will lose my shit, oh yes I will, and the words “Fred works hard, and it isn’t so you can LIVE IN A PIG STY!” will surely come out of my mouth), without crap everywhere, and everything neatly put in it’s place, there’s actually plenty of room for the child to move about. Amazing. * * * I finally went and picked up my new glasses today. They called Saturday to let me know they were done and ready to be picked up, but I didn’t feel like driving up that way until this morning. The big pair – which I will probably use most often. The small pair. For those rare occasions when I have to wear glasses in public. Why do I look like death warmed over? Also, note that if you look closely, you can see the Zit O’ Doom on my left cheekbone. Every fucking day this month I’ve had a zit on my face. If it wasn’t on my nose, it was on my chin or between my eyebrows. Basically wherever would be most noticeable to the public. Do I get zits in a convenient place, where I could hide it with my hair? Why, no. Of course not, damnit. And do I cover it up with foundation so as not to draw the horrified stares of other people? Fuck, no. All that does is make it more noticeable, at least so far as I can tell. If people have nothing more interesting to look at that the monster-sized zit on my cheek, then let ’em look to their heart’s content. * * * Fancypants has NOT wandered home yet, but this picture’s been sitting on my memory stick, waiting to be put up for y’all to enjoy, so I’m going to do it now. “Hey… dude, move over, you’re too close to me. Dude? Dude! Wake up!”]]>

Fred’s book, and when the final changes had been made, I needed to print out a copy to send the printer (he’s getting a copy burned to cd, but needs the printed-out copy to compare to). Before dinner last night I decided to get the printing started, and asked Fred “How many pages do you print at a time?” The printer attached to my computer is the “good” one. “Sixty-four,” he said, as if it were the obvious answer. I looked at him, eyebrows raised, thinking “I’m a good printer. Definitely a good printer”, but said nothing. He sighed. “Because everybody knows that 256 (the total number of pages in the book) is 2 to the 8th, which is 2 to the 6th times two squared, which is 64 times 4, so you should print four blocks of 64 pages.” Of course.

We were watching TV Saturday night – World’s Craziest Police Chases (something like that – it was hosted by Sheriff John Bunnell (Ret.), anyway) on FOX, and I glanced up from my magazine when a commercial for Paradise Hotel came on. Now, I’m not really interested in the show and haven’t watched it at all, thus I don’t know anyone who’s on it. Someone’s face flashed across the screen, and caught my attention. “Hey,” I said to Fred. “That looks like the bug-eyed chick from Love Cruise!” Fred knew exactly who I was talking about, but hadn’t seen the girl in the commercial, so we forgot about it pretty quickly. It came on again during the next commercial break, and I made sure to pay attention. “That’s her!” I insisted. “That’s bug-eyed chick!” Naturally, I had to run in and look up the show online. Also naturally, I had to steal her picture from the FOX webpage and slap it up here for y’all to see. Ah me, I do love the Trash TV. Since for once Fred wasn’t in the mood to go kayaking or hiking yesterday, we hung around the house. I scrubbed out the bird bath (which I’d just scrubbed out two or three days earlier, but was already growing green crap) and refilled it, repotted a plant, did some straightening around the house, and he ran out to do some errands. When he got back, he announced that he’d rented a couple of things for us to watch – specifically the Band of Brothers dvd containing episode #9, which he wanted to see. Did he want to see episode #9 because I’d happened to see the last 20 minutes of it when it was actually on HBO, which I thought was just amazing? Why, no. No indeed. The one and only reason he wanted to see episode #9 was because Rachel Lucas mentioned it some time ago, and apparently her opinion on the matter is more important because birds of a political feather flock together. Hmph. (Amazing episode, seriously. If you can only watch one episode of Band of Brothers, stock up on the Kleenex and watch #9.) It’s pretty hard to take Ron Livingston seriously, though. Even in a serious role he always looks like he’s going to raise an eyebrow, smirk, and make a smart-ass comment. (Of course, that’s what I like about him.) Saturday, we did various and sundry errands, including running by Sam’s to buy some saltines (we were going to the park to feed ducks and geese and fish and pigeons, oh my!). While there, I checked to see if they had the newest Harry Potter. I’d meant to buy it during the week last week but never did get around to it. Sam’s had a copy, though, so we bought it along with the saltines, creamer, teabags, and hot dog buns (Sam’s is like that – you go in for one thing, come out with four. At least we spent less than $100, which almost NEVER happens). I like Harry Potter, but I’m not as excited about the new book as everyone else seems to be. I need to read it right away, though, or I’ll inevitably run across a spoiler telling who dies in this book, and the surprise will be ruined for me. I understand Harry’s much darker in this book. That can only be a good thing. Babies! You better believe I thought about sticking one in my purse and bringing it home with me… Another baby, and a big-ass fish. This guy came hauling ass up to us, demanding crackers. When we weren’t fast enough with the crackers, he’d start biting our feet. When he was done eating, he hauled ass away from us as quickly as he’d run up to us. Pet store kitties are here.]]>

The Amazing Race and work on a cross-stitch ornament. Then I DEFINITELY saw the difference – I could see! I could see! For the past few months I’ve just thought that the problem was that there wasn’t enough light in the living room, but apparently the real problem was that I was wearing a contact too strong for my eye. It was nice to be able to see all those squares in the Aida cloth without squinting and getting a headache.

I bought some bird seed yesterday, and it claimed on the bag that it was specifically designed to attract colorful songbirds. I’m not seeing any colorful songbirds out there aside from the same Bluejay and male and female Cardinals I always see. The Doves and Sparrows really seem to like it, though. I finished Pamie’s book at 1 am Wednesday morning. That I stayed up so late to finish it (I usually turn the light out at 11) should tell you that I liked it a lot. The only thing is (and this is my own weird fault, not Pamie’s) is that I spent a good part of the beginning of the book thinking “Okay, who’s that character based on? And did that really happen? What about that?” Once I forced myself to stop doing that and concentrated on the book as a book rather than a book-by-Pamie, I was able to truly enjoy it. I was glad to see the Little Wooden Hand entry, because that’s my favorite entry of all times. Definitely a good book. And definitely a Zany Chick book, no surprise there. I’m only appalled and horrified that I wasn’t mentioned in the book itself or in the acknowledgements. (You realize I’m kidding about that, right?) It could have used a little more Taylor, though. While I was in Target yesterday, I headed for the book section to see if they were carrying Why Girls are Weird. They have a whole Zany Chick section now (though of course they don’t call it that. I don’t know what they call it, now that I think about it. Maybe they DO call it the Zany Chick section! I need to copyright that phrase, no?) Unfortunately, although there were other Downtown Press/ Pocket books, none of them were by Pamie. I was disappointed, because I was going to make sure it was in the prime eye-level location, and if it wasn’t, I was going to move it so it was. Just doing my part to help out, you know. But I was thwarted in my attempts, and instead of raising a great hue and cry that they weren’t carrying the book, I was distracted by the funny greeting cards. I never said I had a long attention span. I dreamed two things last night: One, that we adopted 23 rats, each in its own cage, and didn’t know where to put them. Two, that there was a nuclear bomb about to go off, and I was knocking on Sundry‘s door to tell her, and she was freaked out and wouldn’t answer the door. I don’t know where the rats or the nuclear bomb came from, but I do know that Sundry’s latest entry was the last thing I read before bed last night. Just for the record, if there’s a nuclear bomb about to go off, I won’t be knocking on anyone’s door. I’ll be hauling ass for a bomb shelter. Not that I don’t love y’all, but you can save yourselves. Speaking of books (like I was a few paragraphs ago), upon perusing my reading list for this month, I note that I’m reading book number 19 for the month of June. I don’t know what that’s about – I don’t think I’m spending more time reading lately. I guess part of it is that I read a book while I ride the stationary bike 30 minutes a day (except for this morning. Sometimes I just can’t face the damn thing. I did lift weights, though, so shaddup.), and it generally takes me about a week to get through a book, so that probably adds to the total a bit. Zany Chick books make the stationary bike time go by faster, yes they do. 1. How are you planning to spend the summer? Doing what I usually do – working out first thing in the morning, sitting on my ass in front of the computer, and spending my evenings in front of the TV cross-stitching. Occasionally there’ll be an errand-running day. Next week we’re going to Gatlinburg (leaving Thursday, coming back Sunday), which will be a nice change. 2. What was your first summer job? My first job that was just a summer job (I’d already had two jobs – one as a carhop at the Hi-Hat Drive-In III (it was a restaurant drive-in, not a movie drive-in), and the other at McDonald’s) was on Malden Island, which is located at Five Islands, Maine. I was 17, and I worked in the kitchen house (the island is small with 10 or so summer homes, and there’s the kitchen house, which serves breakfast, lunch & dinner 6 days a week). I worked with the cook, Emily, and another server/ kitchen slave person, Chris. Chris and I switched off – one week I’d work in the kitchen, doing dishes and cleaning, and the next week I’d work out in the main dining room, making sure all the dishes of food were filled and there were enough clean plates and silverware for everyone. It wasn’t a bad job, and the people (with some exceptions – because if you have a bunch of summer homes that rich people from Massachusetts can afford, you’re going to have some flaming assholes. And if I could remember their names, I’d provide them.) weren’t bad. I was going to do it again the next summer, but decided I didn’t want to – because while it was a pretty good job (and the pay was good for a high school kid), it was hard being away from my friends all summer long. 3. If you could go anywhere this summer, where would you go? The Bahamas or Hawaii or the Caribbean. Are you sensing the beach-and-ocean theme here? 4. What was your worst vacation ever? The only thing that comes to mind is the time we drove – as a family, all 6 of us – from Maine to Alabama to visit my father’s side of the family. That much driving just sucks – and we didn’t even live where my parents live now, we lived about 6 hours north of there. 5. What was your best vacation ever? The first time we went to Gatlinburg. Because the trashy little gift shops rocked my world. Really, there’s nothing I could say to make this picture any funnier than it already is.]]>

Now I feel bad for saying I don’t care for the optometrist. He was perfectly friendly and charming. I must have gotten him on a bad day the last few times I went. That, or he was impressed with my lovely, blown-straight hair. Or maybe he was frightened by the zit on my cheek. One of those, I’m sure. Wouldn’t you think that past a certain age your eyes don’t get better, only worse? Especially when they’ve been pretty much the same for about three years? It appears that one of my eyes has gotten better, so now my eyes are both the same, uh, level of blindness. Which rocks, because now I can pop a contact in either eye, instead of worrying about which eye it belongs in. Dr. C was impressed to find that I don’t wear my contacts to sleep in, that I take them out every night. He said that most people with my level of vision (ie, “blind as a bat”) tend to sleep in them. Considering how awful I look in my glasses, I probably SHOULD sleep in my contacts, but I’m just not comfortable doing that. I used to as a youngun, but now that I’m older and wiser (ha!), the idea of a dry contact getting stuck to my eye freaks me out. Speaking of glasses, I’ve needed a new pair for years. In fact, the pair I currently have are the pair I bought the first Christmas after I moved down here. They make me look horrible (although I do that just fine even without the glasses), and they’re not strong enough. I spent at least half an hour looking at each and every pair of frames, and finally decided on a pair of the cheapest ones I could find. I figure, the only time I wear them is at night for about ten minutes before the lights go out, so why spend a lot of money on them? Naturally they were out of stock on the pair I wanted, so it’ll be 3 – 5 days before I get my new glasses. While I was there, I stocked up on my contacts. How fucking cool is it that 12 pair of contacts (I toss out the old ones once a month) is $60? I honestly remember when contacts were that much PER CONTACT. Damn I’m old. After leaving there, I went to the pet store, where I checked the kitties (they were all sleeping) and bought some bird seed, then ran to Target. I swear to god, I could wander around Target and it’s lovely, clean, WIDE aisles for six hours. Such a difference from Wal-Mart, with it’s crappy, crowded aisles. At Target I bought a new iron (the old one is probably ten years old, if not older) and a few things to organize the spud’s closet. There’s currently a huge plastic storage box in there, and she apparently feels that anything she doesn’t want to put away where it BELONGS should go in the box with her stuffed animals and toys: I found two spoons at the bottom of the box. SPOONS. I know I did the same lazy-ass, stupid-ass shit when I was a kid, and in retrospect my mother didn’t beat me nearly enough. I honestly don’t know why I’m bothering to buy anything to organize her closet, because within ten seconds of arriving back home in August, the child will half of everything she owns shoved under the bed, and the other half scattered across the floor of her room. Last summer her father bought her a pair of cowboy boots. Want to take a wild guess how many times she’s worn them? She has at least ten gimme caps, and I’m 99% sure I’ve never actually seen her in any of them. There are clothes hanging in her closet with tags still on them, and I would venture a guess that she will come home with a whole new slew of clothes that she won’t wear. Because when you say to her “Would you wear this?”, she immediately says “Yes!”, which is just a lie. And also which is why I never take her shopping unless we’re looking for something specific. Okay, it’s getting late. Let’s call this an entry, shall we?

If you look very closely, you will see dried catnip around Spanky’s lower lip. “DAMN woman, can’t I do anything without you flashing that thing at me? Meh! MEH, I say!”]]>

Johnny Poopoopants. Oh shit. Now they’re taking turns…

I call him Rainman. Not because he resembles Dustin Hoffman – he does not – but because he likes his life to go according to certain schedules, and the thought that they might not makes him jittery. “Coffee gets made at 8. Definitely at 8. And then I drink a cup every half hour. One every half hour. Out of my Harry Potter mug. Not a little mug. The big one.” I can practically see him rocking back and forth. It’s not that he’s wedded to his schedule, really. Sometimes he’ll get a hankering to get out of the house into the bright and sunny day, and he’ll jump up and proclaim that he must get out, and suggest that we go somewhere we’ve never been before. One night we discussed his preference to have things done a certain way at a certain time. We laughed about it before he kissed me seven times (slight exaggeration) and then toddled off to his room at exactly 9:41 (another slight exaggeration), where he snuggled under his sheets with his pillows arranged just so. Before he left, he pointed out again that it wasn’t that he HAD to have things done according to schedule, but rather that he simply liked it that way. “It’s not like I have OCD!” he pointed out before walking out the door. He walked back and turned the light on and off 25 times, and then left for real. (I’m kidding. He didn’t do that with the light.) The next morning I was working out, and he came to kiss me before he left. I looked down at his feet. “Oh,” I said with surprise. “You wear sneakers to work? I didn’t realize that.” “Only on Monday, Wednesday and Friday,” he said. “Definitely Friday.” “Why only those days?” “Because it would be slobby to wear them every day, and I don’t want our customers to think I always wear them.” The next day – Thursday – he waited for me to join him in the garage. We were going to feed the cats at the pet store. “You’re wearing sneakers,” I said. “But it’s Thursday!” “It’s okay for me to wear sneakers on cat day.” Clearly he carries around in his brain an intricate set of rules only he can truly keep up with. I tease him about his Rainman ways, and the other night when I asked him a question and he responded with “Definitely the cats”, I almost swallowed my gum, I was laughing so hard. But secretly – don’t tell him – I like his Rainman ways. It’s weirdly comforting to wake up on a Saturday morning, smell coffee brewing, and know that it must be after 8. Sometimes, I think he has Tourette’s. One day last year, after he’d had his surgery, he felt the need to get out of the house and go for a drive. We were driving down the road, he in the passenger’s seat, when he yawned. As he yawned, he made a very loud yawny-type noise, of such a pitch and magnitude that my right eardrum shattered and ear-goo dripped onto my shoulder. “GodDAMN!” I said. “Do you MIND?” “Oh!” he said, realizing what he’d done. He giggled a little and apologized. Not a month later, we were in the car again going out to dinner, the spud sitting in the back seat. He listens to the Oldies station, and a song he particularly liked came on. He turned up the volume and sang along. At some point, overcome by his love for the song, he lifted up his hands and clapped them together, making a loud, sharp sound that pierced my eardrum. “GodDAMN!” I said, holding my hand over my ear. “Do you MIND?” Once again he giggled and apologized. Since then, he has become a master fidgeter. Every evening after dinner we sit at our respective computers until 7. He tends to be the white noise in the background, and almost every night he does something to pierce that white noise shroud, and I will realize that he’s been sitting there tapping or pounding on his desk just as hard as he can, and I turn around to stare at him. “GodDAMN!” I always say. “Do you MIND?” The scary thing is that it’s never deliberate – he doesn’t intend to burst my eardrums or get on my nerves, he just has to fidget. The loss of 175 pounds from his body has apparently made him a more active guy; I didn’t know he was going to turn into Matthew Lesko. When we’re laying in bed at night, in the pauses between one conversation and another, when there’s nothing to occupy his mind, he will begin tapping a tune on the headboard. And it gets louder and louder and louder until the entire bed is shaking and practically boogeying across the floor. I think you know what I say at that point. Along with the annoying fidgets there’s something I refer to as a verbal fidget. When singing along to a song, he will insert a certain phrase at a point in the song where there’s a bit of a pause. For instance, he likes the song Sweet Pea, sung by Tommy Roe. One line of the chorus goes “Oh Sweet Pea, come on and dance with me”. Fred will sing along with it, and in the brief pause between “Pea” and “come”, he inserts the words “motherfucker say”. I have no idea what it comes from, but it never fails to crack me up. ]]>

Big Spring Park. Once there, we parked and headed for the pond, where we walked slowly around, tossing oyster crackers to the carp, some of which were – I shit you not – three feet long or longer. It was so cool to see them swim to the surface with their big mouths open and suck down an oyster cracker. There were also ducks and pigeons, which weren’t all that interested in what we had to offer, because there were tons and tons of other people there also feeding them. There was either a church function going on, or a nearby church had let out, and people were wandering around in their finery. After we’d been there for half an hour or so, we both desperately had to pee, and were also both pretty thirsty. Also, there were just too damn many people around, so we left to find a bathroom and something cold to drink. Once we’d peed and bought some sodas, we headed for Brahan Spring Park, nearby. The ducks and geese at Brahan Spring were more than happy to see us coming, and we fed them until we were out of crackers and bread. By the time we left there, it was pretty close to lunch time, and so we swung by Subway to buy lunch, and then went to the lake by UAH. We ate lunch, and then began walking around the lake, feeding more geese and fish (Fred bought two boxes of saltines after we stopped by Subway). There were Canadian geese, some ducks, and these really odd-looking geese that reminded me, in the face, of turkeys. Their bodies weren’t shaped like turkeys, though, so I have no clue what they really were. There was also one white goose who followed us around and when we weren’t quick enough with handing over the crackers, he’d hiss at us. I’d put up pictures of all this cool stuff, but I didn’t bring the camera with me, unfortunately, or you’d be looking at ten thousand pictures of baby geese. And DAMN are baby geese mighty cute. I have a bit of a sunburn, since that was the first time this year I’ve spent much time in direct sunlight.

I’m so pissed at WZYP, the radio station I usually listen to. In fact, I’m going to stop listening to it. When I first moved to Alabama, their morning show was the Ace & TJ Show, and Ace and TJ never failed to crack me up at least once every morning. A few months went by, and suddenly Ace & TJ were replaced by some crappy morning show. A few years went by, and the crappy morning show was replaced by another morning team, and then another. Then one magical morning, I turned on the radio to hear Ace & TJ, back on the radio! They’d moved from Huntsville to Birmingham, and then to North Carolina, where they decided to put out a syndicated radio show, and WZYP was one of the first stations to pick them up. Every morning, to make riding the stationary bike or lifting weights less painful, I’d listen to Ace & TJ, who always made me laugh and made the time go by faster. Then, yesterday morning, they weren’t there. I emailed them to find out what was going on, and got a diplomatic “WZYP decided to go in another direction.” Well, if yesterday morning and this morning is anything to go by, they decided to go in the “suck” direction. Fuckers. I MISS MY ACE AND TJ! Yesterday’s pet store kitties pictures are up here. I was surprised to receive Pamie‘s book in the mail yesterday, because I was under the impression it wasn’t coming out until July 1st. I pre-ordered it from Amazon months ago, when it was first available for pre-ordering, and it seemed like July 1st was forever away. I had to clear the deck – I was in the middle of reading a book, and had the latest issue of US to read – and so I stayed up late last night to do so. The deck is now cleared, and I’m ready to start reading Pamie, full steam ahead. Yay! Gardening pictures: Blooming glads (only two are blooming so far – the others have a few weeks yet) Very, very happy Million Bells. I guess they like either the heat or the humidity. I’d show you pictures of the tomato plants, which have gone hog wild (in a few weeks, we’ll be drowning in tomatoes), and the cantaloupe plants, which are really enjoying the heat and sunshine, but last time I went outside I got a Japanese beetle stuck in my HAIR (my HAIR! It was in my FUCKING HAIR! ::shudder::), and I did a shrieky little dance that probably caught the attention of half the neighborhood, so I’m going to just stay in for now. I know you understand.]]>

6:45: Be awakened by Fred. Talk for about 5 minutes how Miz Poo is a feisty little bitch. Hear about how she smacked Tubby around this morning when he got too close to her, and then smacked him again when he got between her and the food bowl. Kiss Fred goodbye (picture blurry because that’s what he looks like before I’ve put my contacts in). * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 6:45 – 7:45: Snooze. Finally roll out of bed and put contacts in, take Synthroid (for thyroid) and put on workout clothes. Traipse downstairs to face the morning. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 7:45 – 8:10: Read email, surf aimlessly, and tell myself I need to get up off my ass to go work out. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 8:12 – 9:03: Lift weights: Quads:

Deadlifts And step-ups Hamstrings: Lying leg curls (above) and hip raises (the picture didn’t come out). Calves: Single-leg calf raises and calf raises on the Smith machine (you can’t see it, but I have 110 pounds resting on my shoulders). Abs: The Firm 5-Day Abs, day 5 In the 1 minute wait between sets, if I’m not setting up weights for the next set, I quietly stand around and sweat like hell. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 9:03 – 9:38 Fill my cup with water (I drank an entire 32-oz cup of water while lifting weights) Rest, read email, guzzle water, surf. This rest time is very important – I could finish lifting weights and immediately jump on the stationary bike, but the times I’ve gone from one to the other without any rest, it’s been extremely difficult to finish those 30 minutes. Update exercise chart. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 9:40 – 10:10: Ride stationary bike… read Zany Chick book while riding to make the time go faster… ..listen to the local radio station on my Walkman (which is placed in a plastic baggie and then stuffed down my cleavage. I don’t know where I’d put it if I had a small chest.) “The Stand” is playing on the TV, in case I’m bored with the book. I can’t hear it, but I’ve seen the movie several times, so I know what’s going on anytime I glance over (mmmm, Gary Sinise…). * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 10:10 – 11:00: Drive to McDonald’s, and then home again. Eat breakfast (an Egg McMuffin and super-size Diet Coke)(Please note that Friday is my “eat what I want” Free Day, and thus I need no comments about how I shouldn’t be eating this, that or th’other. Thankssomuch.) Read Nance‘s entry, Sundry‘s entry, Chickie‘s entry, and catch up on the blogs I check out every day. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 11 – 12:10: Fold laundry, Snuggle with Miz Poo, take shower, blow-dry hair, and get dressed. After some deliberation, I put on a light yellow shirt and the cool earrings I bought from Kathy‘s eBay store. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 12:10 – 1:50: Drive to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to look at comforters. There’s not one comforter in the entire store that interests me enough for a second glance, so I buy a new pillow and some glasses marked down to 22 cents that I plan to use as candle holders. I consider going to Linens & Things, but it’s getting late and I’m getting hungry for lunch. I still have to go to the post office, so I take the back way… ..through Research Park, which has miles and miles of sidewalks and green, green grass. I never know quite where I’m going when I drive through Research Park, but I always end up at the right place. Must be my innate sense of direction. Get to the post office and find some cool mail… An Intel man for the top of my computer from cool reader Cheryle, and smiley-face stickers from cool reader Martha. (The Intel man is at the moment sitting atop my monitor. I give it 12 hours before Miz Poo “discovers” him and claims him for herself) After leaving the post office, I check my money situation and discover I don’t have enough for lunch. I decide to swing by the hated Wal-Mart, where I will hit the ATM and then pee (that super-size Diet Coke kicked in). I circle the Wal-Mart parking lot, hoping for a parking space within 1/2 a mile of the store, but am thwarted. I curse vociferously, taking the lord’s name in vain so many times and in so many ways that a nun in Yemen bursts into tears and drops to her knees to pray for the salvation of my eternal soul. I finally say “FUCK THE FUCK OUT OF THIS!”, and decide to drive to the other end of Hughes Road, where I will go to the ATM, get money, get lunch, and go home, hopefully before my bladder bursts. I make it the 4 miles to the other end of Hughes Road, and hit the ATM. Then drive to Wendy’s, where I place my order. I’m thankful that the drive-up team is fast, as usual, and head for home. When I get home, I dance the “gotta pee!” dance past the butterfly bush, and reflect on how very fucking much I loathe Japanese beetles, which are all over my damn butterfly bush. Fuckers. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 1:50 – 4:00: Once inside, I pee (sighing loudly with relief), talk to Miz Poo, who is chirping curiously at me from the bathroom doorway, and then eat lunch – a Spring Mix salad, grilled chicken sandwich, and biggie Diet Coke. Once lunch is eaten, I chat on IRC (the ultra-geeky Delphi channel on Efnet), work on a journal entry, read Jane, surf aimlessly, check my stats, check my usual list of blogs, then finish and post my entry. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 4:00 – 5:20: Fred arrives home, and we leave to go out for dinner (we like to eat early and beat the crowd). I am careful to put new batteries in my camera, but when we’re halfway to our destination, I get the camera out of my purse to take a picture, and realize I’ve left the friggin’ memory stick in the memory stick reader at home. I curse myself. We eat at the Green Hills Grille. I have a couple of yummy rolls, a side salad (DAMN fine salad – I always appreciate a really good side salad), a Huntsville’s Best Burger topped with cheddar, and a side of fries. I end up taking the burger apart, because it’s so big that it’s easier to eat that way. I only eat a few fries before I decide I’m stuffed. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 5:20 – 7:00: Sit in front of the computer, getting pictures set up for this entry. Discuss the Discovery Health show “I Lost It!” with Fred, guzzle water, and surf the web. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 7:00 – 9:30: Watch America’s Funniest Home Videos while eating half a pint of Purity Vanilla ice cream, a couple of handfuls of Kit Kat bites, a few M&Ms, and drinking water. Oddly, though I haven’t been particularly thirsty all day, once I eat the sweet stuff, I’m dying of thirst. We’ve already seen this episode of America’s Funniest Home Videos, so Fred gets out the Terminator 2 dvd, and watches that while I read magazines. Miz Poo comes looking for love, so I put a pillow on my lap, and she settles in for the duration of the evening. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 9:30 – 10:15: Go upstairs, get ready for bed, lay in bed and talk. Finally, Fred toddles off to bed, and I turn over and fall asleep fairly quickly, with Miz Poo snuggled up beside me.]]>