Category: Life

What Keeps me Sane 1. Da kitties. No matter what’s going on, I know I can get me some kitty love. Usually it’s from Miz Poo, but most any of the kitties will kindly allow me to pet them atop their little heads. Aside from the soothingness (yes, I made that up) of petting them, they constantly amuse me. Either they’re chattering at the birds who flock to the feeders, or they’re trying to kick each others’ ass, or there’s some Fancypants – Tubby action going on. I love me some kitties, have I mentioned? 2. Some readers. I have to say, some of the email I’ve gotten over the last week (especially the Lisas who are aghast that the reader mentioned last Monday was also named Lisa) has been funny as hell. And the pet pictures? I’m loving them. Keep them coming! 3. Books and magazines. I’m so glad that I married someone who loves to read as much as I do. Whenever we have some extra, unspoken-for money, the first thought on both of our minds is “Let’s buy some books!” It’s even better when I start a book I don’t think I’m going to like very much, only to end up staying up until midnight because I HAVE to know how it ends. 4. The online journals and diet journals I read. Because I love reading about the lives, struggles, and triumphs of other people – whether their lives are similar to mine, or nothing at all like mine. 5. Fred. Of course – because (pardon the sap) he’s my best friend and I can count the fights we’ve had on one hand. Because he understands what I’m talking about, he gets (most of!) my jokes, and in a few days, we’ll have known each other for 7 years, and he still makes me laugh. When something happens, big or small, he’s the first person I want to tell. And he loves cats as much as I do. 6. The spud. Because she reminds me so much of myself at that age that it’s scary. She’s not exactly like I was, but I know how she thinks, and somehow that’s oddly comforting. She’s gorgeous and silly and funny and it’s going to be hard as hell to let her make her own mistakes, but I know I’ve gotta. 7. Candles (I stole this one from Say). My favorite candle scent of all time is Yankee Candles’ Buttercream, but I like most food-scented candles. I love to light one candle in the living room, one in the computer room, and a couple upstairs. As I walk through the house, it smells awesome all the way through.]]>

A Day in the Life of Mr. Fancypants (A pictorial) Snoozing on the cat pillow on the bed in the master bedroom. This is actually unusual – he doesn’t lay there very often, it’s usually Spot’s spot. Moving from the master bedroom to the guest bedroom. And being joined by Spot a while later. I think it was a good idea to stick a couple of pillows under the sheet, because all the cats seem to like sleeping on them from time to time. “Do I want to flop in front of the fire, or go find some birds to kill?” Pissed, because the birds are too fast for him this time of year. It’s raining out, so Mr. Fancypants will flop down next to Spanky (who looks quite pleased, doesn’t he?) and snooze for a while. Still raining out. Poor, depressed Fancypants. He loves to go outside, but hates to get his toes wet. Sitting in the computer room, seeing if there are any old, sick birds in the front yard. Giving his daddy looks o’ love.]]>

Mary Ellen‘s mom), who sent me a bunch of doctor’s office pens, pads o’ paper, and some really cool paper clips. I love that stuff like you wouldn’t believe. Obviously, I should get me a job at a doctor’s office. Except, I don’t need to, because Gail rocks!) Thanks also to reader Sandy in Florida, who was recently on vacation in San Francisco, and visited the Lush store there. Knowing my love of Lush, she bought me a BUNCH of stuff, and sent it to me. Why? Because she rocks, of course! 🙂 As an aside, I highly encourage thinking to yourself “What, oh WHAT can I buy for Robyn?” when you’re on vacation! (And as another aside, you know I’m kidding, right?)

* * * A Day in the Life of Spanky (A pictorial) Shnoozing in his favorite chair, getting fur all over his momma’s favorite blanket. Time for a bath! And time for more snoozing… After being kicked off the chair by his mother – that bitch – he licks his wounded, uh, pride. And contemplates how much he hates his momma. You can’t see it, but Miz Poo’s sitting on the side of the tub looking down at Spanky. He’s trying to decide whether it’s safe to eat, or if Miz Poo will descend upon him with her Smack o’ Doom. Places to go, people to see, things to do! Back on the chair. Nice of momma to fold that quilt up for Spanky, isn’t it? “Do I want to go hide out in my “house” or not? Hmmm…” There are actually days when Spanky hangs out in that box all day long. Or at least until he leaves to eat or use the litter box, and Fancypants steals his spot. Back on the chair once again. This sleepy “what the hell?” look is my favorite Spanky expression. You can tell (if you click on the picture to see the full-sized version) that he’s holding his paw up as if he can’t decide whether he wants to clean it or go back to sleep.]]>

Mary Ellen‘s mom), who sent me a bunch of doctor’s office pens, pads o’ paper, and some really cool paper clips. I love that stuff like you wouldn’t believe. Obviously, I should get me a job at a doctor’s office. Except, I don’t need to, because Gail rocks!) Thanks also to reader Sandy in Florida, who was recently on vacation in San Francisco, and visited the Lush store there. Knowing my love of Lush, she bought me a BUNCH of stuff, and sent it to me. Why? Because she rocks, of course! 🙂 As an aside, I highly encourage thinking to yourself “What, oh WHAT can I buy for Robyn?” when you’re on vacation! (And as another aside, you know I’m kidding, right?)

* * * A Day in the Life of Spanky (A pictorial) Shnoozing in his favorite chair, getting fur all over his momma’s favorite blanket. Time for a bath! And time for more snoozing… After being kicked off the chair by his mother – that bitch – he licks his wounded, uh, pride. And contemplates how much he hates his momma. You can’t see it, but Miz Poo’s sitting on the side of the tub looking down at Spanky. He’s trying to decide whether it’s safe to eat, or if Miz Poo will descend upon him with her Smack o’ Doom. Places to go, people to see, things to do! Back on the chair. Nice of momma to fold that quilt up for Spanky, isn’t it? “Do I want to go hide out in my “house” or not? Hmmm…” There are actually days when Spanky hangs out in that box all day long. Or at least until he leaves to eat or use the litter box, and Fancypants steals his spot. Back on the chair once again. This sleepy “what the hell?” look is my favorite Spanky expression. You can tell (if you click on the picture to see the full-sized version) that he’s holding his paw up as if he can’t decide whether he wants to clean it or go back to sleep.]]>

A Day in the life of Miz Poo (A pictorial) Laying on the pillow on The Momma’s bed. That pillow is there just especially for Miz Poo, who is a spoiled rotten brat. But you knew that. And now laying sulkily on the bed on the other side of the pillow, because The (mean bitch of a) Momma was reading and not petting. Hmph. Taking a bath with The Daddy, and thinking about cracking open that Stephen King book. Apparently a tad freaked out at the idea. Sitting on a pillow on The Momma’s lap, so she can’t cross-stitch or read or do ANYTHING but pet me. So there! “Do I want to go get something to eat, or just sit here so The Momma can’t put her arm here? Decisions, decisions…” Chewing on the cord to the blinds, while looking for birds. Time to hide under the couch so The Daddy can’t shove something down her throat! “If I sit by the fence, the birds won’t notice me, and I can catch and eat one of them…” All the bird-watching is apparently quite tiring. Surfing the web with The Momma (who looks quite lovely with her nose squished like that, no?) and trying to reach the mouse with her short, stubby little front legs. Settling down by the fire – and yet, not looking terribly pleased about it. Trying to decide whether or not to deal a final smack upside the head of one Tubster J. And3rson before bedtime.]]>

P.S. … For Robin, The supermarkets have candy and tabloid free lanes. How about a fn cat free entry? Again, nothin but love. I thought about copying the big, boxed disclaimer on my front page and reprinting it here, like such: Disclaimer: Before reading this web site, please be aware of two important things: 1. I write about my cats a LOT, and 2. I swear like a sailor when the mood strikes me. If either of these things bother you, I’d like to suggest that you read someone else’s journal – there are thousands of them out there – rather than email me and demand that I change my ways. In the event that you feel you MUST email me and demand that I clean up my language and only write about things that interest you, please know that I will most likely tell you to go fuck yourself. In like manner, if you whine about the fact that I write too much about my cats (or swear too much) in a public forum that I will eventually stumble across, I would also like to take this opportunity to suggest that you go fuck yourself. Thankssomuch. And then I thought about saying “Loyal reader Lisa, if you can’t be bothered to spell my name correctly, I would do as you ask why, precisely?” But, that would be childish. I really am, all in all, an easygoing sort who will from time to time bend over backwards to make readers happy. Let’s see whether or not I can give Lisa what she wants!

* * * A Day in the Life of Tubby (A pictorial) Sitting by the garage door, waiting for some food to wander by. Snoozing. He may not fit comfortably in the top of that thing, but damnit, he’ll sleep there anyway! Waiting in vain for some food to flutter by. Because he’s not all big and obvious sitting under those bird feeders or anything… Getting a belly rub from the daddy. Hunting down that weird red dot that just appears out of nowhere. Almost got it! But it disappeared at the last second, damnit. Well, fuck the laser. I’ll just soften up this pillow for a nice, long nap. It’s been such an exhausting day, and it’s only noon! Or maybe I’ll just scoot over to the kitty condo, and lay there and stare at the daddy with luhhhv in my eyes. I haven’t shed fur on nearly enough things today, so I’ll snooze on Mom’s cool afghan. And she won’t notice that it’s covered with hair until she pulls it over her. I have to keep an eye on that evil Miz Poo, who sits by the bathroom door and hisses at me if I try to go get some food. And back to the kitty condo for the night!]]>

* * * Not only am I still stricken with a horrid cold – although I was running a temperature of 101� last night, which according to Fred sounds more like the flu – and not only am I having my period (which is weirdly light this time around. You’re welcome), but I am beset with the worst case of pimples in recent memory. Of course, that’s not really saying much, since I’m not all that pimple-prone, but the pimples that have popped (ha!) up over the last week have been noteworthy in that they appear in the places most likely to catch the attention of passersby. Currently, I am sporting a zit on the END OF MY NOSE, and another one on my forehead, that is red and angry, with no head in sight. Between the zit on the end of my nose and the redness caused by wiping my nose every 64.5 seconds, I look like friggin’ Bozo.

“Why, god? Whyyyyy?” I’m happy to report that my cold is traveling down my body, probably with hopes of setting up camp in my lungs, so I’m looking forward to coughing up great gobs of phlegm for the next few days. Maybe I’ll even develop bronchitis or pneumonia. Oh, a girl can dream… * * * 1. What is your most prized material possession? You know, nothing really comes to mind. If the house caught on fire, as long as Fred, the spud, and all the cats were out of the house, I’d be willing to let it all burn. If the house were to burn down, I think I’d miss my photo albums the most, so I guess there’s the answer. 2. What item, that you currently own, have you had the longest? It’s a tie. It’s either this stuffed frog: (His name is Kermit, and I got him when I was 5 or 6), or this quilt, on the side of the chair: My mother made it around the same time, and it’s my favorite of all the quilts we own. My mother thinks it’s horrible and hideous and is aghast that I still have it, but I love it. 3. Are you a packrat? Not at all. I may have packrat tendencies, but I fight them pretty successfully. That’s not always a good thing, though – there are things I’ve gotten rid of that I wish I still had, but that’s what happens when you don’t have a huge attic to store things in, I guess. 4. Do you prefer a spic-and-span clean house? Or is some clutter necessary to avoid the appearance of a museum? I think that a little clutter is necessary, but we don’t really like too much clutter around here, so it’s a delicate balance. 5. Do the rooms in your house have a theme? Or is it a mixture of knick-knacks here and there? It’s pretty much a mixture of knick-knacks here and there, though I guess the overall theme would be “cats”, with an underlying theme of “yellow” and “smiley faces”. * * * This is what happens when there are a bunch of cats, high on catnip, laying around feeling high, and a slipper is somehow thrown into the blinds, making a very loud sound. Not that we would ever do such a thing. Heh. * * * Our back yard has turned rather swampy over the past week of what seems like constant rain. It’s gotten so bad that the library floor, which is hardwooded, is covered in muddy little footprints, and this after I cleaned the floor Wednesday. Fancypants has started sitting by the patio door, meowing to be let in, because he doesn’t want to walk through the sopping-wet grass. I don’t let him in, though, because I’d rather have muddy footprints on the hardwood floor than the beige rug in the living room. * * * The bird feeders were filled Monday. This picture was taken yesterday – note the almost-empty feeders. This is where Miz Poo sits for many hours a day, making chattery sounds at the birds. Birds, birds, everywhere. And they look malevolent, as if they’d like to peck your eyes out, don’t they? This was pretty cool, I thought – I happened to take the pictures as something startled them, and they all flew off.]]>

* * * I love that Trista picked who she picked last night on The Bachelorette, and that’s all I’ll say about that. Except that I think the runner-up should be a Bachelor in a future installment of The Bachelor.

* * * Okay, y’all can stop harassing me. I made my lab appointment for next Tuesday to have my thyroid levels checked, okay? And I’ll let y’all know what’s going on as I know. * * * Yesterday Fred stopped by the petstore and bought something for the cats. We’d actually talked about getting something bigger, but cat furniture is so incredibly expensive, and god knows that one of the porky cats would get up on the top shelf and topple the thing over, that we thought we’d start with something small and see what they did. They freaked out. Well, Miz Poo didn’t. She was the first to approach the thing once we set it in the living room, and once Fred coaxed her inside, she seemed to enjoy hanging out in it. Encouraged by his success, Fred picked up Tubby and carried him toward it. Tubby, who does not enjoy being carried around, flailed around, and when Fred put him on the top of the bed, he responded by flailing some more, then falling off onto the floor. Miz Poo came out to see what was going on, and hissed and swatted at poor Tubby, who ran off, because he’s a smart boy, and knows better than to tangle with the Poo. Later, Fred tried it with Spanky, and Spanky lost his mind, flailing and trying to get the hell away from Fred. When Fred put him on top of the bed, he immediately bounced off and high-tailed it upstairs, where he probably hid under the bed and tried to still his pounding heart. I was in front of the computer when he tried it with Fancypants, so all I heard was the sound of Fancypants skittering across the floor and flying out the cat door. He stayed outside for the rest of the evening, hanging out on the patio, until Fred went out and brought him in when it was time to shut the cat door. I suspect that the cats think they’re about to be tossed into a carrier box and carted to The Scary Place, but I don’t know for sure. We took it upstairs with us, and put it in a corner of the bedroom, and Miz Poo slept in it for a good part of the night. None of the other cats have been anywhere near it, though maybe they’ll calm down a little once it’s been around for a little while. Our cats are such freaks.]]>

* * * Poor Miz Poo. She’s just the most defective cat I’ve ever seen. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Last week, we noticed that she had a gaping wound (exaggeration) on her neck where, earlier in the week, some zit-like bumps had been. Apparently she’d gotten annoyed with the itchy bumps, and scratched them off. We put a dab of Neosporin on the spot, hoping that would help. The next day, more gaping bloodiness. By this point, it was the weekend, so we discussed taking her to the vet Tuesday, and thought no more of it. Monday morning, while I was snoozing in the bed after our trip to the pet store, the phone rang. Fred answered it, and a few minutes later came upstairs. “Who called?” I asked. “The vet!” he told me. Apparently it was time for Miz Poo to have another steroid shot for her lip, and they were calling to remind us. Now, let me just say that ordinarily having the vet’s office call to “remind” us would probably strike me as a tad pushy, but I really REALLY like this vet, and god knows that if I’d been on my own in remembering when to take her back, I never would. So Fred made an appointment for Tuesday afternoon. She’ll live – the vet gave her a shot and us some antibiotics to give her (oh joy, yet another thing to shove down her throat), and we can continue with the occasional dabs of Neosporin, but she spent the rest of the day casting a wary eye at Fred and running away whenever he approached her. He made it up by giving her some catnip to play with. I think she’s starting to get the idea of what catnip’s for, because last night she was looking more than a little high.

* * * Okay, since I haven’t done this in a while, let’s do a few FAQ questions, shall we? Reader Pam asks: Didn’t you go to the doctor and discover that you had a thyroid problem? What ever happened with that? And Reader Daphne asks: What’s the latest with your thyroid? Okay, first of all, y’all aren’t allowed to email and yell at me. Here’s the story: I went and had my blood drawn to have my thyroid levels checked a few days after my doctor appointment last April. Several days after that, I got a call from the doctor’s office, wherein they told me that my levels were above borderline levels, and it was up to me whether I took the Synthroid or not, and to come back in 6 months. I decided, since I had the prescription and the pills weren’t that expensive, to go ahead and take them, and see if it made any difference. For six months I took the pills, and noticed no difference in the way I felt (I hadn’t been feeling poorly to begin with, of course). When the six months was up, I went off the pills and kept forgetting to call to make an appointment to have my levels checked. I knowww I need to go back; I’m just not looking forward to it. But I did just call to make an appointment. Unfortunately, the doctor’s office is closed from 11:30 to 1 for lunch every day, so I’ll have to call back. And I will. I promise! And I’ll let y’all know if anything of interest comes out of it. Several of you suggested, last time I bitched about how cold I was, that it could be due to my thyroid. It could be, but I doubt it. I think what it’s really due to is the fact that my desk is located 10 feet from a cat door, and in the winter the bottom floor of our house tends to be about 15 degrees colder than the top floor. My preference for ice-cold Diet Coke probably doesn’t help, either. Have a burning question you’d like answered? Just ask. * * * It’s difficult to balance this much bulk on such a small couch back, but give the boy kudos for trying! Spanky hangs out in the box. The box. It’s a box of Spanky, yes it is. SPANKY’S box is what it is, and he’ll cut you if you even think of trying to sit in his box… Or maybe he’ll just run away like a big chicken at the first sign of a Poo smackdown.]]>

* * * This little section will be a discussion of last week’s Survivor. If you haven’t seen it yet, skip down to the next section. So, how cool is it that they finally went ahead and made it girls vs. boys this time around? And yet, how embarrassing that by the end of the show, the girls had no shelter. I get the definite feeling that no one wanted to step up and take the “leader” role, because they’d be seen as annoying and bossy, but geez. The guys were so fucking obnoxious with “little ladies” talk that I had no choice but to root for the women, and to have them come from behind and win the immunity challenge was awesome. The whole thing with the women not making any effort to be sure that Christy knew what was going on really got on my nerves – how difficult would it have been for them to turn to her and tell them what they were going to do? It would have taken very little effort at all, and no one seemed to even think of it. The part where the women caught that little fish and then cooked it and split it had me cracking up. Hey, ladies? How about boiling the fish to make a kind of stew, or even just use it to flavor the mush? Heh.

* * * So, did y’all have a happy Valentine’s Day? We had a very low-key one. Fred actually suggested going out to dinner (with the spud) that night, but I said “Are ya NUTS? It’s going to be totally crowded in all the restaurants that night!”, and so we stayed home. Fred and the spud had Sonic for dinner, and I had a sub from Publix. We exchanged cards and ate M&Ms, and it was a kick-ass evening, all in all. Because M&Ms rock, and so does my husband. Just don’t tell him I said so, he’ll get a big head. I went to Wal-Mart on Friday, and one of the things I needed to buy while I was there was a bag of birdseed, because the bird feeders had been empty for a few days, and the visiting birds were so pissed off that there was no food that they started taunting the cats (“Yeah, come GET me, fatass!”) and making threatening noises every time I walked by the window (“Give us food, fatass!”). I’d intended to pick some up at the grocery store, but it’s too expensive there, so I made a mental note to pick up a bag at Wal-Mart. I picked up not one big bag, but two, and when I got home from Wal-Mart I filled the bird feeders, and the birds were happy. By Monday morning, the feeders were empty again. I think it’s fair to say that the feeders have been absolutely covered with birds of all kinds, almost constantly. It’s driving the cats nuts, which I always enjoy seeing. Between the cats and the birds, we’re going to go broke, I swear. * * * I am going to be taping the Michael Jackson thing on Fox Thursday night, and I’ll be watching it with interest a day or two after that. Because what kills me is that Fox is acting like the fact that Martin Bashir said flattering things to Michael Jackson about his parenting means something. I’ve been involved in exactly two interviews in my life, and even *I* know that an interviewer saying something flattering means nothing at all. It’s a way to get you to relax and trust them, for god’s sake. Does the fact that Martin Bashir said (something like) “You have an amazing relationship with your children” mean that Michael Jackson didn’t say that he still sleeps with children, that he wants to buy adopt a child from each country, and other creepy things? Hell, I’m sure that when Martin Bashir was saying “You have an amazing relationship with your children”, he was probably thinking “amazingly CREEPY, that is!” You have to forgive me – most of the time I forget that Michael Jackson even exists, so when he does things that bring his existence to my attention, I get even more appalled and creeped out than I would if I held the knowledge of his existence in the back of my brain, instead of locked into the “scary things” vault located in the side of my brain, over my right ear. * * * And to end this entry on a non-creepy note, I’d like to thank one Bald Moses (whose birthday is Friday!), who sent me a pair of pan-tays for my birthday. They have a picture of a kitty on the front, and they’re adorable, and I would take a picture of them, but the camera ran out of battery power, and I haven’t recharged it yet. Also thanks go to Kathy (in Kansas!), who sent me the coolest smiley-face pen, that lights up when you use it. Whee! I’ll try to take pictures of that stuff next time the camera is recharged, but knowing me, I’ll forget. Does early-onset Alzheimer’s start showing up this early? (That’s a rhetorical question. :)]]>