Category: Life

* * * Miz Poo is once again in need of a trip to the vet (heh – I almost typed “Dentist”). Over the weekend, she started squinting her right eye and it’s been leaking and crusty for the past few days. In addition, her lip has gotten all puffed up, this time on the left side. Before, it was always the right side that got puffy. We’re thinking it might be an allergy thing, but since we ARE talking about Miz Poo who’s just a big ol’ money pit, it’ll probably be some nasty, exotic disease that will require bags and bags of money. We were talking about her last night, and I said “With everything that’s wrong with her, we’ll be lucky if she lives to be five years old!” Fred said “No, she’ll live to be twenty, and we’ll be spending $1,000 a month on her!” It’s a good damn thing we love her so.

* * * We got a nice, beautiful, warm, sunny day yesterday, and so I took advantage and planted the rest of my gladiolus bulbs. Fred installed the hanging hooks so I could hang up the planters I’d planted the catnip in, and it looks pretty good. So good, in fact, that I think I’m going to buy a couple more of the hanging planters and plant flowers in them, maybe Petunias. I love the Petunias, have I mentioned? I also planted some Four O’Clocks seeds that Fred mom gave us last year, and the packet of primrose seeds that have been sitting in my desk drawer for as long as I can remember. When I opened the packet of primrose seeds, I was surprised to find how tiny they are. I planted them, but I’m not holding up much hope that they’ll fill the planter. It’s too bad I’ve instituted the “I will never dig in the yard again!” rule, because we could have a kick-ass flower garden. And speaking of gardens, Fred’s tomato plants must be liking the weather – I swear they’ve grown a foot in the last week. * * * I think we’ve got a robin nesting in the tree. Yesterday, I heard a pissed-off sounding bird in the tree, along with the sounds of leaves slapping back and forth, and then a bluejay came hauling ass out of the tree, a robin hot on his ass. There’s a nest in the middle branches of the tree, and I looked up at it, but couldn’t tell whether there were eggs in the nest or not. And we’re realized that we don’t only have a male cardinal who hangs out at the feeders – there’s a female as well. I hadn’t realized that female cardinals only have a splash of red rather than being red all over. We kept seeing a bird that looked like cardinal, but thought it couldn’t be because it was mostly tannish – like such. But the male cardinal was hanging out with her an awful lot, and after I saw them chasing each other around this morning, I did a bit of looking around online. What can I say? You think cardinal, you think of an all-red bird, am I right? They’ve been hanging out in the tree this morning. Maybe they’re planning on nesting there themselves. That’d be cool. * * * I’m proud to announce that I FINALLY got the master bathroom scrubbed down yesterday. I guess that means I have another month before it has to be done again. (Kidding!) (Not really…) * * * I read Sloppy Firsts on Saturday, and enjoyed it a great deal. In fact, I enjoyed it so much that once I found out there was a sequel, I jumped at the chance to accompany Fred to the bookstore and buy it. So far I’m enjoying it – and I recommend them both.]]>

* * * Pet store kitties are here.

* * * I am apparently married to a 100 year-old man. We picked the spud up from church Wednesday night and practically broke every traffic law in existence to get home. Why? So Fred could watch some poker tournament shit on TV. Y’all, he watched it with such concentration, his mouth hanging open, that his chin almost hit his chest. Little rivers of drool were making their way down his chin, merging with other little rivers of drool to create a Drool River. I opted to do something more interesting and went into the other room to watch paint dry. * * * This squirrel just came into the yard and started digging around under the bird feeders. I’ve only ever seen one other squirrel in the yard. (Note to self: if you’re going to take pictures out the window on a regular basis, take the screen off the damn thing) Miz Poo caught sight of him and danced back and forth between the regular window and the cat door. The squirrel spotted her and ran off down the yard. Miz Poo responded by running into the living room. Heh. Then suddenly she remembered that there was, y’know, a cat DOOR, and she ran back and out the door. The squirrel was long-gone by then, up the tree and chattering his fool head off. She’s currently laying on the library floor licking the rain water off her toes, after she tracked footprints all over the hardwood floor. * * * A few months ago, I bought a grab bag of socks off this site. I prefer Coolmax socks, even if I don’t walk outside anymore – at least recently – and so I figured a grab bag of Coolmax socks was the way to go. (I also bought a pair of smiley face socks, because, well, you know how I am.) Anyway, when you opt for the grab bag of socks, you don’t control what design you get, and that, my friends, is why I’m wearing socks with a Texas flag on them that say “Texas Pride” on the sole of the socks today. They’re comfy as hell. * * * Fred bought me this for my antenna several months ago because the smiley face I’d had there either flew off or got stolen (bastards!). This sat on my desk for a long time until I finally got off my butt and took it outside to put it on the car. Is that the happiest little smiley sunshine you’ve ever seen, or what? Now all I need is the perfect car to put it on… Very “me”, don’t you think? * * * Fancypants looks like an especially ratty-looking dead thing these days. * * * 1. What was the last TV show you watched? Extreme Makeover, which I taped Wednesday night. It was pretty damn cool. 2. What was the last thing you complained about and what was the problem? That I couldn’t get the archives on my petstore blog to look the way I wanted. It was because something needed to be changed in the php script Fred wrote. 3. Who was the last person you complimented and what did you say? I believe I told Fred he looked nice when he left for work either this morning or yesterday morning (they all blend together…). I also told the spud that her MLA paper was well-written. 4. What was the last thing you threw away? A super-size soda cup from McDonald’s. I love me some Diet Coke, yes I do. 5. What was the last website (besides this one) that you visited? I did a Google search on Grackles and found this and this. Before that, I read Nance‘s last two entries. Damn but she has a couple of cute little kittens!]]>

* * * Damn that Rob Rummel-Hudson. Damn him straight to hell. He gave me The Pink Eye! I read his Pink Eye entry and thought smugly to myself “Iit’s been a while since I’ve had the FUCKING PINK EYE, glad it’s him and not me!” That’s what I get for being smug, I s’pose. I hate The Pink Eye. (It isn’t as painful as it looks) I also hate that it took 45,000 tries to get two halfway decent pictures. I am blinded for life, and I apparently have the biggest fucking schnoz known to man. Seriously, I don’t know how the hell I can see around it well enough to walk down the street. “Oh, was that an 18 wheeler? I couldn’t see it around MY BIG FUCKING BEAK!” Actually, I like my nose. I just hate the pimple the size of Mt. Katahdin that’s grown on the side of it. And as I say every time I contract a case of The Pink Eye, I need to get some new glasses.

* * * No hummingbirds on the feeder yet, but I did see a finch checking it out. He flew off before I could get a picture. In the back yard, there were tons of grackles, joined by some finches, and our cardinal: And also a robin: I imagine I’ll need to take the screen out of the window to get better pictures in the future. * * * I was up, showered, and out of the house by 8:30 this morning, heading for Lowe’s. The Gladiolus bulbs I got a week and a half ago really need to be planted, and since I’ve taken my “I’ll never dig in the yard again!” vow, I needed to get planters to plant them in as well as soil. Lowe’s had the planters – not the ones I wanted, but ones that will do – and the soil, but when I went looking for hanging planters (more on that in a minute) they were nowhere to be seen. After wandering around for a good half hour, I finally gave up and checked out with my planters and soil. Then I went over to Home Depot, which is less than half a mile from Lowe’s, and both are less than a mile from home, which fucking ROCKS. I found hanging planters and found a couple of planters that I liked more than the ones I bought at Lowe’s, so I bought those as well since they’re plastic, and fairly inexpensive. When I got home, I got out two of the planters – the ones from Home Depot – and planted bulbs in them. I managed to fit 10 bulbs in each planter, and I think I’m going to go ahead and plant bulbs in the other two planters. We have room at the end of the driveway by the house to put a couple of planters, so that’s where I’ll put the uglier planters. I have to go back to Lowe’s to buy more soil, though. So the reason I needed some hanging planters is because we’ve decided to plant catnip this year. I thought about planting it in a pot and putting the pot on the front steps, but I imagine that would attract the neighborhood cats, and while it would be fun to look out the window and see cats rolling around on the front porch, the mess would probably outweigh the fun. So we’re going to plant two hanging planters with catnip seeds, and hope that that keeps it out of the reach of the cats. Fancypants likes to walk along the top of the fence, though, so it wouldn’t surprise me to look out the window and see him partaking of the kitty pot. I also, while I was at Lowe’s, bought another plant for inside. I didn’t realize it when I bought it, but it’s a Coffee Arabica plant, and in a few years it’ll actually grow coffee beans, which is kinda cool. * * * I guess I need to keep an eye on it, too. According to the page I linked above, it can grow up to 60 feet high! * * * Okay, that’s it for today. Move along, nothing else to see here… Have a good one, y’all.]]>

* * * I watched Mr. Personality last night, of course, because I’m a sucker for that kind of reality show. I don’t know how much I enjoyed it – the guys kind of blended together – but then, it usually takes several episodes of any reality show before I figure out who’s who. The differently colored masks will help, I guess. I still think Monica Lewinsky is cute as hell. And Hayley is cute, but she ain’t no Trista. We watched Billy Bob Thornton on Inside the Actor’s Studio Sunday night, and it was absolutely amazing to see him transform into the character from Slingblade. One second, Billy Bob Thornton, the next second, Karl. Damn but James Lipton is a big suckup, isn’t he? And while we’re on the subject of TV, we caught two or three episodes of Punk’d Saturday night (why yes, we DO have a thrilling social life!), and if you haven’t seen it, it’s definitely worth checking out. It’s like The Jamie Kennedy Experiment on speed. It’d be even better if they tossed Ashton Kutcher to the curb, though. I’m too old to be watching MTV, aren’t I? Last thing about TV, I promise. Friday nights (there goes that thrilling social life again!) we watch America’s Funniest Home Videos. The current host, Tom Bergeron, is far and away the best host that show has ever had. When the show originated Bob Saget (who will always be the dad from Full House, just like John Stamos will always be Uncle Jesse) hosted, and at some point Daisy Fuentes and some guy hosted, and every damn one of them made it clear that they thought hosting the show was far, far beneath them. Especially Daisy Fuentes, who was annoying as shit. Can I get a witness? But Tom Bergeron, while not taking the job too seriously, really seems to enjoy what he’s doing, and I hope he’s the host forever and ever.

* * * Right before I took this picture, there were several birds on the bird feeders. Fancypants is actually not as close to the feeders as he looks – he’s about 15 feet from them. We finally got a hummingbird feeder up. I can see it perfectly from my desk. Now all I need is for the hummingbirds to discover it. * * * A few weeks back, I put a picture of Spanky sitting atop my monitor up and said that if I’d thought of it, I’d have put a picture of my bitchypoo logo up on the screen and taken a picture. A couple of readers jumped to the challenge: The original. Done by Miss Becky. Done by Pinky. Over the weekend, Spanky jumped on top of my monitor again, so I did a quick logo and took a picture. * * * Holy FUCK, look what JUST wandered across my front yard! That, for those of you not in the know, is a possum. I was sitting here minding my own business, and I saw movement out the window, in the front flower bed. I thought it was a cat at first, until he lifted his head. Naturally, I grabbed the camera and ran outside. He went from our yard to the yard next door, and then got nervous because I was following him, and ran into someone’s back yard. I know it’s weird that I think it’s cool, but I’ve never actually seen a real live possum – most of the ones I see are dead on the side of the road. I don’t think we’re in Maine anymore, Toto. * * * ]]>

were almost brutally attacked.

* * * We saw this little baby on the way home. I wanted to burst into tears and reach out toward it while screaming “Mine! Mine!” like a two year-old, but I refrained.]]>

* * * Heard in our living room the other night, as we were watching something or other on Fox News. Me: So, it’s okay for us to have nuclear weapons, but not North Korea? Fred: Yes. Five minutes pass in silence. Fox goes to commercial. Fred: That was a cowardly yellow-dog liberal DEMOCRAT thing to say. Me: (laughing) I was just wondering. It seems a bit bossy to be all “No, it’s okay for US to have nuclear weapons, but YOU can’t have them.” Fred: Because they’re openly hostile to us! Me: Well, we’re openly hostile to other countries, too. Fred: Name one. Me: (thinking quickly) Iraq! Heh. I love fucking with that man. I think next I’ll tell him I’m going to a war protest.

* * * 1. Who is your favorite celebrity? Hm. Do I have a favorite? I’m not sure. Let me think about that. I like Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt, so I’ll go with them for the moment. 2. Who is your least favorite? Burt Reynolds. I HATE him. Madonna annoys me too, but I don’t hate her the way I hate Burt Reynolds. 3. Have you ever met or seen any celebrities in real life? I saw Jean Smart (from Designing Women) at Disneyland once – she was with a screaming child and looked very unhappy. I also saw whatshisface, the guy who direction Edward Scissorhands and Batman. What the hell’s his name? Tim Burton (I looked it up). I saw Tim Burton and his then-girlfriend Lisa Marie at baggage claim at LAX probably ten or twelve years ago. And of course, I met Stephen King (he is SO a celebrity) at a book signing in ’84 or thereabouts. 4. Would you want to be famous? Why or why not? FUCK no. There are a lot of lunatics out there, and I’m not up for that shit. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with the occasional online loon. 5. If you had to trade places with a celebrity for a day, who would you choose and why? Jennifer Lopez, because I’ve never sat on a $100,000 toilet seat. Besides that, she seems to really enjoy her life, so I wouldn’t mind checking it out. Wouldn’t want to have sex with Ben Affleck, though. * * * I went a little overboard when I ordered Gladiolus bulbs this year. I thought I ordered 40 bulbs, when in reality I ordered 80. And with my new only-container-gardening rule, I only have room for about 20 or 30 of those. I don’t know what I’m going to do with the rest; either toss them (which I don’t want to do) or talk Fred into digging a new plant bed in the yard (which I also don’t want to do) or dig a new plant bed in the yard myself (which ain’t gonna happen). I suppose I could buy more containers to plant them in, but Glads like full sunlight, and there’s a limited amount of space where I can put containers so that they’ll get full sunlight. I’m all dilemmanated, is what I am. * * * I think I’m about to have to buy a front carrier to carry Miz Poo around, like Rob does with Bucky. I don’t know what it is, but the last several days, she just always wants to be ON me. When I’m done working out in the garage and walk into the house, she’s always sitting on the counter in the kitchen, and she launches herself at me, fully believing that I’ll catch her. And of course I do. She’s constantly wanting up on the desk, then gets mad when I try to get my arms around her to the keyboard, so she stalks off. Two minutes later, she’s smacking at my ass so I’ll turn around, so that she can jump up on my leg and then onto the desk, where the whole vicious cycle repeats itself. I love her, but she sure is a pain in the ass sometimes. In other cat news, Fancypants spent night number 4 outside. We had heard it might rain, so Fred brought him inside, but the swishing and pitiful ear-shattering meowing commenced. I suggested that Fancypants might show his displeasure by shitting on the floor somewhere (and I followed up that suggestion with “And if he does, he’s spending EVERY FUCKING NIGHT outside from now on!”), so Fred gave up and let him back outside. It didn’t rain, but one of these days it will, and that little bastard will RUE the day he insisted on spending his nights outside, yes indeed.]]>

* * * Yesterday, Fred and I were discussing where to open a business checking account. He was for Regions Bank, and I was pushing for AmSouth. I will always love AmSouth, because their customer service is head and shoulders above any other bank I’ve dealt with since I’ve lived here – any bank I’ve ever dealt with, period, except for our credit union – and in my opinion, really good customer service is worth the extra few dollars a month. And since I’ll be dealing with making deposits and such, I won. Whee!

* * * Fancypants spent yet another night out last night. When Fred went to bed, he told me that Fancypants was hanging out on the patio in one of the chairs. I was instructed to “talk sweet” to Fancypants, and he’d let me pick him up and carry him inside. “Talk sweet” as opposed to yelling “Fancypants, get your ass in here!”, I guess, which is what I usually do. Heh. When I was done checking email and looking at forums, I got up from the computer and went out back. “Helloooooo, Fancypants! Hey, buddy, whatchoo doin’?” I said in my special Fancypants voice. He responded by hopping down off the chair and stretching. He let out a special, trilling, Fancy meow. I moved closer, continuing with the “Oh, such a Faaaaancy boy, yes you are!” He swaggered around, swishing his tail and purring loudly. I bent down to pick him up, and somehow he levitated from where he was to the middle of the back yard. I called out to him again, and he ran to the edge of the yard and jumped to the top of the fence then disappeared. Bastard. I came back inside and went to bed, and I hoped that it would rain, and the little shit would get soaked. But it didn’t and he wasn’t, because he’s a bastard. * * * When we were in Decatur Saturday, walking around the Founder’s Day Festival, we saw this little car and I had to take a picture. I think it’s an Austin Healy, and it was so tiny that I just wanted to stick it in my pocket and take it home. Seriously, I think it would have just about fit in the back of our Jeep. Sometimes laying on the desk, snuggled up against me, isn’t enough for Miz Poo. So she climbs up on my shoulder and then flops over (just assuming I’ll catch her – and I always do) and just lays there until my arm starts to hurt and I make her get down. Is she the most pampered cat in the entire world, or what? She is definitely back to her old self, though maybe a little more irritable. She was laying on the bed next to Fred last night, and Tubby jumped up on the end of the bed. She spent the next several minutes hissing hysterically and growling at him until he decided he’d had enough and jumped back down (Tubby, that is. Not Fred). Another picture from our trip on Saturday. I have no idea why, but the name of the restaurant just cracks me up. Probably because it makes me think of Randy “Dawg” Jackson. Tubs in the sun. The way he spreads the toes on his back feet is mighty cute, isn’t it? Tubby and Miz Poo. Sitting in the sun! Looking at the forbidden front yard!]]>

* * * Athena asked: What do you look for when you read a journal (or blog)? What kinds of things keep you coming back for more? I’ve gone through the list of journals and blogs I read, and really the only thing that they have in common is that they interest me. Some of the journalers/ bloggers have things in common with me, and some could not have more different lives. I like snarky attitudes, but I also read journals and blogs that are completely un-snarky. I prefer a sense of open-ness in the sites I read, because the “There’s something going on, but I can’t talk about it” drives the nosy old bat in me insane. If there’s something going on you can’t talk about, I’d prefer if you didn’t even mention it, and blind-side me with it when you can, because otherwise, I’ll assume you’re talking about your newfound hatred for me. The world revolves around me, you know. Lately, I’ve realized that I need to either skim or skip political postings in blogs or journals, because – and this is from people who believe a wide variety of things, politically – far too often they take on a tinge of hysteria and “Anyone who believes differently is a FUCKING IDIOT”. If they can state their beliefs reasonably and calmly without resorting to name-calling, I’m interested in reading what they have to say. If they can’t, I’ll skip that post. I have such a long list of journals and blogs that I read, that I can afford to be picky about the little things now when I’m checking out new ones. If a design is hard on the eyes, if I have to squint while I’m looking at the screen, if there are distracting jumping, moving things all down the side of the page, if the text of the entry stretches all the way from the left side of the screen to the right side and there are long, long, long paragraphs without a break, I have a hard time reading what’s written, and so I tend to move on without giving them a chance. I prefer a simple, clean look with easy navigation, and in a perfect world, each entry would be on it’s own page with navigation to the entry before and entry after clear and simple. Yes, I KNOW you think you don’t exist to please me. You’re wrong, but you just keep believing that if you need to. I LOVE notify lists, especially notify lists that link directly to the entry being notify-ed. My notify emails all get filtered into a “journal” folder, and when I have a chance I sit and read journal entries, clicking on the link in the email. Journals without notify lists tend to be where I turn after I’ve read the notified journals. Yes, sending out notifies can be a pain in the ass, but aren’t your wonderful readers worth it? I know that the question wasn’t really “What, design-wise, do you prefer, O Bitchy One?”, but there’s really not anything I can put my finger on that would tell you what, content-wise, will bring me back to a journal or blog. I guess that, like pornography, I just know it when I see it.

* * * Many trillions of readers have asked: Robyn. Don’t you love us? Won’t you put up a list of the blogs and journals you read? Please? Pleeeeease? Okay, okay! Just please stop asking! Here’s the deal. I made a list of the blogs and journals I read. I’m SURE that I left out a whole huge bunch of them, but I did the best I could, and that’s going to have to be good enough. I don’t plan on ever updating it again in my lifetime, because it’s a huge pain in the ass and I have no desire to keep it updated. Got that? Good. Now go check it out. (I’ll put a link on the front page, too, under “other”) Have a burning question? Ask!]]>

* * * I just sat here for three minutes, racking my brain (what there is of it! Ha!) trying to remember the name of the school the spud attends. Three minutes it took me to come up with it. Early, early-onset Alzheimer’s, I’m telling you…

* * * THE Lisa (not the cat hater. Hee!) asks: Do you miss having a swimming pool? I am thinking of getting one and I remembered that you had one at the last house. Is it worth it? Sometimes I miss the pool in theory, but the last summer we lived in that house, I think we only went swimming once or twice. Before we put in the pool, people told us that the longer we had the pool, the less we’d use it, and that was definitely true. So while every now and then I think it would be nice to be able to go swimming, it probably wasn’t worth the cost, at least not to us. My parents have an aboveground pool that they use every day, and sometimes more than once a day during the summer, so I’d say that it was worth it to them. Sharon asks: I saw a commercial last night for a contraption very similar to a diaper genie, but for cat litter. I was wondering if you have seen/heard of/ tried/ know anyone who has tried this? My sister and mom rescue wild cats in west texas, and I thought the cat-litter thing might be a good investment for them. I think I’ve walked past the thing you’re talking about at the pet store – it looks like this? I’ve never tried it myself, because when I clean out the litter box in the morning, I dump the dirty litter into a plastic baggie and take it immediately to the trash. If anyone out there’s tried it, let me know and I’ll post your opinion here. Rebecca asks: how many people on average send you responses to your daily postings….I am thinking you could easily sit all day long and just answer emails…… Actually, it depends on the topic. On an average day, between this journal and the weight loss one, I receive 30ish emails. When something interesting happens – such as when I did an entry about the Bullshit! promo, or had a run-in with a nutball – I receive a LOT more. The Bullshit! entry pulled in almost 150 emails, and when I asked for advice about lotion to use on my face, I got about 75 emails. While I do try to answer most of the email I receive, there are some days when the last thing I want to do is answer it, and so it’s easy to get behind on my email. It probably doesn’t help that when I do respond to email, I tend to go from the bottom (the most recent email) and work my way up. No wonder some of you end up waiting months to get a response, huh? 🙂 Christopher asks: 1. Has your daughter picked up your potty mouth? 2. If she did, do you or would you have a problem with it? She hasn’t yet. In fact, she refused to say “Bullshit”, even when Fred and I told her it was okay. I’ve never told her not to swear and never would, because that’d be mighty hypocritical of me. As long as she doesn’t pull out the “fuck, fuck, fuckety-fuck” in church or in front of her grandparents, I’d be okay with it. I imagine it’ll take some experimenting for her to decide how much swearing she’s comfortable with in her life. Lori asks: You’re from Maine, so do you say things like, “I’ve got to PAHK MAH CAH,” or “wicked good”? Nope, but only because I spent my formative years up to the age of 11 or 12 living on bases in various parts of the country. My mother has a Maine accent, which oddly shows up strongest when she says things like “Calm down”, which end up sounding like “Cahm down” – I can’t really do it justice in spelling, trust me. She also says “Pahk”. I suspect that her Maine accent and my dad’s Alabama accent kind of balanced each other out so that I don’t really have a strong accent either way (though a bunch of LIARS have been insisting that I have a southern accent. Liars!) I do say “wicked” every once in a while, though. Quick story: when the Moon Unit Zappa song “Valley Girl” came out (I bet a LOT of y’all are too young to remember that one), my mother turned to me and said “You should have written a song about Maine girls! The chorus could go “Wicked good! I’m pahking the cah in Hahvahd Yahd, and I’m doing wicked good!”” Heh. Have a burning question? Ask!]]>

* * * This is Spanky. He’s the GOOD boy, unlike his bastardly brothers, Fancypants and Tubby. This picture cracks me up. The big picture. I bought the big cat bed specifically so Tubby would have room to lay in it, but he never gets a chance, between Miz Poo and Fancypants. I think these cat beds are the best investment I’ve ever made. Is this a bitchy look, or what? I may have to go submit this to My Cat Hates You. (Um, holy crap. And we thought Tubby was big!) “The front window! It’s open! The front window is open! Let us sit and look longingly at the front yard…”

* * * We actually, as a family, left the house on Saturday. Yes we did, and the earth, contrary to our suspicions, did not crack open. We were going to go to Bankhead National Forest, have a picnic (Subway sandwiches) and then go for a hike. We ended up stopping in Decatur and having a picnic and a walk by the river. It was pretty nice, and Fred’s got pictures of our experience in his journal. There’ll probably be more pictures up later today, too. It was really nice to get out of the house for a few hours, and it was so beautiful and sunny (and by the by, it’s supposed to hit 85 today. Feast or famine, folks. Feast or famine. Either it’s gray and overcast and rainy and cold, or it’s a gorgeous blue sky and warm, warm, warm. I sure as hell won’t complain about the latter, that’s for sure.) that we just couldn’t stay in the house. When we got home, Fred and I crashed for half an hour or so before dinner. Sunday, Fred and the spud spent 12 hours watching the newest Harry Potter, and I sat in my chair by the window, reading and watching the kids outside play, with a portly Poo on my lap. A damn fine weekend, all in all. * * * One of the – many! – things that sucks about it being That Time of the Month is that about a week before my period is due, not only do my boobs swell up to twice their usual size, but I also stop sleeping as soundly as I usually do. Add to that a cat who likes to tromp back and forth all night long, and I end up waking up 10 to 15 times a night. Not only does Miz Poo tromp back and forth from one side of me to the other at regular intervals, but she will also occasionally decide that I need to be laying on my left side, so that she can snuggle up into my armpit and hang over my arm. To let me know that it’s time to turn over, she sits next to me and digs at me. Ignoring her doesn’t work, because she’s stubborn as hell and would probably sit there for a week, digging and digging and digging, until I turned over. Tossing her off the bed doesn’t work, since she simply waits until I’m asleep again and does it again. Whining “Miz Pooooo! Stop! I want to sleep on my stomach!” doesn’t work either, because she’s a heartless little bitch. The only thing that stops her is obeying her every whim, and I’ve learned to just give in to her. Usually when she tromps across me during the night, I just wake briefly, identify the source of the pain, and go back to sleep. Often, I just sleep through it. When the menstrual hormones are raging, though, I wake every time she so much as twitches, and it takes a while to get back to sleep. And Fred wonders why I’m so bitchy when this time of the month comes around. * * * During a conversation with my mother last night, we had a mini-argument about how old the spud is. We were talking about not this upcoming summer, but next summer. The spud’s father will be getting married next summer (the summer of 2004), and for some reason the spud is of the impression that my parents will be invited to the wedding. I have no idea whether this is because he said so to her, or because she’s just assuming, but my mother was concerned to hear that she was expected to be at the wedding of her former son-in-law, and so wanted to know what was going on. “Well,” I said. “They’re not getting married until next summer.” My mother relaxed a bit and said “Oh, next summer. And [the spud] will be how old next summer?” “Fifteen,” I said. “No she won’t!” she said. Now, I ask you. Why would she ask me how old the spud was, and then tell me I’m wrong? Am I not the one who lugged around the bundle of joy through the hottest part of the summer? Am I not the one who was ripped open from side to side so that she could be lifted, screaming at the top of her considerable lungs, into the world? Am I not the one who ended up staying in the hospital for a week because I had a fever and an infection they couldn’t seem to locate? Am I not the one who had a delayed reaction to the anesthesia and barfed all over hell and creation in my hospital room? Trust me. October 26, 1988 is burned into my brain for all time. Even when I’m laying in the nursing home, with all the important things in my brain burned away by the Alzheimer’s, I’ll remember that date, okay? Patiently I said, “Well, she’s 14 now…” Long, long pause. “She’s 15!” Slowly I said, “2003 minus 1988 is 15… She’s 14 and will be 15 in October.” Finally, she conceded that I might be right. I don’t know if she actually believed that I was right or simply didn’t want to pursue the argument any further, but either way she gave it up.]]>