Category: Life

This is what the sky looked like in the afternoon, before all those tornados hit Alabama and Tennessee. It was as if the sky couldn’t decide whether it wanted to show white, puffy clouds or dark, scary ones, so it compromised. I have finally discovered what the little flower button my camera does. It makes it so I can get a closeup of my flowers! The blurry rose pictures of the past are, well, a thing of the past. I love the color of this rose. I also love the color of this one. It’s got yellow in it, so of course I’d love it! I’m also partial to this color. I like most roses, especially the ones that aren’t your average red ones. But I like those, too. ]]>

Bonnie – hope it’s a great one! So, since I’d spent the weekend making a buttload of copies of last week’s Oprah (the “What it’s like to be obese” one from Wednesday), I needed to go out and buy boxes to mail those tapes out. St@ples is conveniently located, not even five minutes away, so I headed over there. I strode confidently through the front door and headed for the shipping supplies aisle, knowing exactly where it was because school supplies aside, the only reason I ever go in there is to buy boxes or padded envelopes, though there is the occasional purchase of bubble wrap to spice things up. I’d loaded up with an armful of boxes (and some padded envelopes, because you can never have too many of those, especially when you’re mailing stuff out all the time) and was headed toward the front of the store when an employee hailed me. “Can I help you find anything?” “No thanks!” I said, and continued walking. “Find everything you need?” she asked with a wide smile. “Yep. Thanks!” I said over my shoulder. She followed me. “Going to ship a lot of things, huh?” she said. “That’s right. Thanks!” Obviously she’d never taken Customer Service 101, wherein the “‘Thanks!’ = go away” equation is covered thoroughly. Somewhere around the tins of butter cookies, I lost her. I stood in line while the elderly gentleman ahead of me argued with the cashier about whether the two clipboards he was buying were $0.99 or $1.04. I was about to step forward and offer to pay the ten cent difference when the employee who’d been following me earlier came back into view. “I can help you at this register!” she announced, waving wildly. I walked over and dumped my armload of stuff on the counter, and then we spent the next five minutes doing the “What’s your zipcode/ email/ phone number/ true haircolor/ contacts or glasses?/ is the weight on your driver’s license true?/ the first day of your last menstrual period?” dance. As she finally began ringing up my items, she gave me another wide smile. “Do you have the St@ples Business Plus card?” she asked. “Nope.” Pause. “Would you like to apply for one?” “No thank you.” Another pause. “They don’t cost anything, and you get 2.5 percent of your purchase back blah blah blah blah.” I stared at her with a blank smile, noting that she’d tromped willy-nilly all over the unspoken code of honor I, as a customer, and she, (as someone who wanted me to write down my name, address, phone number, and god knows what else so that a large corporation could track each and every one of my purchases every time I made a purchase at their store, needing such information for such nefarious purposes as deciding whether or not they needed to send me another coupon so I’d get off my lazy ass and Spend! Spend! Spend! at their store, or perhaps sell this information to the government, so that Big Brother could keep track of my padded-envelope-buying habits, decide I was spending too much of my time mailing things out, and toss my ass in the gulag for a hard 20 years, only I would die a cold and horrible death in mere months without my beloved Poo by my side, and Fred? I’m sure Fred would have a skanky blonde as his date for the funeral (that’s a joke between the two of us, don’t get het up)) as the employee, are both supposed to hold dear. To wit, I only have to say “No” once, because I’m PRETTY FUCKING SURE I mean “No”, and you’ll only embarrass yourself if you keep going on about it, goddamnit, so hear me say “No” and shut the fuck up about it. The entire time she babbled on about the incredible features of this card, I kept up with the blank, horrified smile, staring at her as if she’d shown up to work butt-ass naked and just hadn’t noticed yet. Finally, she trailed off, and then, before she could finish the transaction, she smiled once again. “Is this for business or personal?” she asked. “Business,” I said brightly. “As in none of your fucking.” And then I hauled ass out of there.]]>

Nance once again, but am sad to report that she declined.” I wouldn’t link to somone who annoys me or says something rude about me, because why would I send traffic to someone like that? If someone caused me to roll my eyes hard enough, though, I might link to them from Fred’s forum, since it gets a lot less traffic. And speaking of linking, why is it that any time I say something about Fred and link to his site, like such: “… after doing the laundry, I had sex on the kitchen floor with Fred once again. Floor continues to be TOO FUCKING COLD…” he gets a gazillion referrals? Who are y’all expecting to see on the other end of that link? Are you hoping that one of these days you’ll follow a link and find a nekkid picture of Fred? I guess you never know – it could happen. But I wouldn’t hold my breath. Fred won’t let me take nekkid pictures of him anymore, the bastard, since what happened the last time I did… Let me tell you about the saga of the box. Fred went out and bought some new sneakers last week, and was going to get rid of the boxes until I told him we should keep them just in case we needed them in the future. You just never know when you’re going to need a shoebox. So then… well, I think the story should be illustrated with pictures.

Sittin’ in the box. Sittin’ in the box. I’m Spanky, and I’m sittin’ in the box, yeah, baby. I’m Fancy, and I’m in the box. Fancy in the box, Fancy in the box. Minding my own business, I’m Fancy in the box. Miz Poo wants to know just who the holy hell Mr. Fancypants thinks he is, sitting in the box like that… Miz Poo sniff-searches Fancypants for illegal catnip. Fancypants gets riled and flounces off, leaving the box for a sneering Miz Poo. Which was her dastardly plan all along. Not to be outdone, once Miz Poo wanders off in search of food, Fancypants returns and reclaims the box.]]>

We’re getting a lot of doves on the feeders lately, and it’s funny as hell to see them try to sit their fat asses on the feeders and eat without falling off. Usually, they walk around on the ground and eat seed that’s fallen from the feeders. As I’ve told Fred, doves are the Tubbys of the bird world. Oh, how the kitties love to lay around the bedroom. Just like me! Spanky appears to be very deep in thought. Or possibly depressed. See that basket? That basket usually sits at the bottom of the stairs. I put dirty dish towels in it, and every so often I bring it upstairs to wash them, and set the basket in the corner until I go downstairs again. Tubby doesn’t often sit in that corner, but he likes to be ABLE to sit in that corner if he so wishes, so he knocked the basket over so that the corner was clear. Did he then sit in the corner he’d protected so viciously? NO. He was laying in the study, being a bitchy little bastard. “Mih. MIH. Mih.”]]>

Miz Poo watches the doves at the bird feeder. Spanky looks like his usual kinda dumb self.]]>

creepy homo) is questioning the numbers. Or, to put it another way: Siegelman: “I won! I’m still the governor!” Riley: “Nuh uh!” I suspect the battle over who truly won will be fought for the next few months until Riley and Siegelman bore the shit out of the entire state of Alabama. That’s my prediction, anyway. I taped the documentary Journeys with George last night, and I’m pretty eager to watch it. I won’t be watching it tonight, though, because between The Bachelor and The Amazing Race, my tv plate is pretty full. Oh, wait – after checking the television schedule, I see that The Amazing Race isn’t on tonight because the Country Music Awards are. That just means I have one less show to tape and watch, I guess. I still haven’t watched Boomtown, which I taped Sunday night. My life. So very exciting. So, last Friday Fred and I actually ventured out to the grocery store together. This is VERY unusual, and we’ve only been in the same grocery store at the same time MAYBE three times in the 6 years we’ve been together. Anyway, Fred was going to the store to get some snack food for the evening, and asked if I wanted anything. I did, but wasn’t sure. I was in the mood for chinese food for dinner, but the really good chinese restaurant is several miles down a busy highway. A drive I didn’t really want to make during rush hour, because it takes maybe 15 minutes in the morning, but can take half an hour during rush hour. And I know that those of you who have to drive 2 hours each way to commute to work are really feeling my pain right now. Anyway, I decided to go with him to see what the grocery store had in the area of chinese food. I ended up buying a big pan of frozen General Tso’s chicken, a small bowl of beef and broccoli, and some spring rolls. Fred chose what he wanted, and we headed for the checkout line. Now, since Fred goes to get the groceries every Saturday morning, the majority of the cashiers who work there know him by sight. And since I’m usually in there a couple of times during the week, some of them know me by sight as well. It just so happened that we ended up in the line of a cashier who always recognizes us separately by sight, but since we’ve never been in there together before, she had no way to know that we were married. Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed as she looked rapidly back and forth between Fred and I, and I think I saw smoke coming from her ears as she put two and two together. As we walked out to the car, I said to Fred “I guess that destroys her image of you as a swinging single!”]]>

Full House in my purse to keep me occupied. The woman who cuts my hair didn’t care, though – she’s usually running a little late herself. For most of the time I was there, she and another hairdresser (beautician? what IS the politically correct term?) and I sat and talked about husbands (they talked about theirs, anyway – I just nodded sympathetically), kids, and the election. My pronouncement that Maine is only one of two states in the union to have an Independent governor was met with resounding silence. Did you vote? You’d better! Once I left there, I went to the post office, where I found waiting for me, from lovely reader Sarah in WI, some smiley-face paraphernalia:

Man, I swear to y’all, I have the coolest readers in the whole wide world – thanks, Sarah! Then, I was off to Target, because Fred doesn’t like the coffee pot at work – it drips all over the place – where I bought the same kind of coffee pot he has at home, and looked at the Sarah Michaels bath stuff for a few minutes before buying and bringing home a tube of Jasmine-and-something shower gel. After Target, it was time for a trip to Sam’s. Man, do I hate the drive to get to Sam’s, and as I passed the place where they’ll be building the new one, I thought “If it was already built, I’d be there!” Which reminded me of the signs you sometimes see outside apartment complexes that say “If you lived at (name of apartment complex) you’d be home now!” I’ve always wondered if those signs work – do people drive by, see the sign, and think “Holy cow, they’re right! I WOULD be home right now if I lived there! I must get me one of those apartments! I’m moving, so that when I get here, I’ll be home!” Also speaking of signs, driving up to the church to vote this morning, there were signs all OVER the place for the various politicians. I wonder if THAT works at all. Do people get to the voting booth, and say “Hm… You know, I really haven’t thought this through. Who SHOULD I vote for? Well, let me think. That Bob Riley sign was really quite pleasing to the eye, so I should probably vote for him…” ? I’m predicting that Don Siegelman’s going to win this one, and I hope we get the damn lottery in Alabama. Where was I? Oh yeah, Sam’s. So I was in and out of Sam’s pretty quickly, and can I just say that I LOVE that place? You have no idea how happy it makes me to know that I probably won’t have to buy another bar of soap for a year or so. Contact cleaner, either. If I had my druthers, I’d put up a shed in the backyard JUST to hold all the extra stuff from Sam’s. Then I could really go nuts… Ah, dreams. The only downside was that Sam’s had no Splenda. Whether they’re not carrying it anymore or it was just out of stock, I have no clue. Luckily, we have about 200 packets left from my last trip to Sam’s, so we’re covered for a while. From Sam’s, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some salad, Wendy’s for lunch, and FINALLY home, where I spent forever and a day hauling everything I’d bought into the house. And did I mention that it was pouring the entire time I was running around doing all those errands? I swear, I don’t remember the last time we had a sunny day. Give me some sunshine, damnit! Attention, Evanovich lovers – not only is Full House (did you know that she used to write romance novels? ‘Tis true. Full House is one of those romance novels, with a little editing, I think) out, but Visions of Sugar Plums came out today as well. And it’s $2 less at Sam’s than at Target. Life is Evanovich-errific these days. Whoo! And while I’m thinking of it, this is a public service announcement for Christine: the movies that came out on video today are: The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys (want to see it, but didn’t want to go to the store), Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood (I’ve seen it already), The Powerpuffs Girls Movie (I’ll catch it on cable) and Pumpkin (want to see it, but didn’t want to add that to my mile-long list of errands. I’ll see it at some point in the future, I’m sure). I spent a good part of yesterday afternoon messing around with Movable Type, with the help of Himself. I’m setting up a blog to keep track of my daily food intake, since I’d rather have it as part of my site instead of over at Diaryland. What I’ve seen of it I like enough so that I might switch the journal part of my weight loss site over to Movable Type. I don’t think I’ll be doing that here, but I can’t guarantee it. Ya just never know with me. It’s a Poo! Inna bag! A bag full of Poo! What more could you want?]]>

Text Twist that the parts of my brain that do other things are beginning to atrophy. Last night, reading a magazine before bed, I could not multiply 150 times 14. I had a pen and a piece of paper, and no matter what I did, I kept coming up with something like 1200. I knew that wasn’t right, because I know that 150 x 10 would be 1500 and so 150 x 14 wasn’t going to be LESS than that, but I finally had to give up in disgust. (It’s 2100, in case you were wondering) We spent most of the day yesterday moving furniture around and vacuuming up the ton and a half of cobwebs and dead bugs under where said furniture had been. We sold two dressers (this one and this one) and a wardrobe, all to the same woman, who came to pick them up yesterday. And then we moved a couple of INCREDIBLY heavy bookcases from the dining room to upstairs, putting one in the guest bedroom and one in the spud’s room. We moved the bookcase she’d had in her room to the wall at the top of the stairs, and then moved one of the remaining bookcases in the dining room down the wall and put the secretaire we got from Fred’s mother next to the bookcase. I absolutely love the way the secretaire looks, and in fact keep going to look at it. On it’s own it was really pretty (it’s over 150 years old, I’m told), but with a few items added to it, it really warms up the dining room.

The plant on the top was actually Fred’s idea, and it makes all the difference. And with some of the money we got from the sale of the dressers and wardrobe, we’re going shopping for a recliner for the corner of the computer room where the wardrobe was. Whee! We’re also talking about moving the table from the kitchen to the dining room, and putting barstools in the kitchen, at the bar. Fred’s worried that where the table is in the kitchen will look all weird and empty, though. The house is going to look so different that I’ll need to do a new virtual tour! Yeah, I’ll get right on that… On Saturday, we finally went to the corn maze that Fred’s been wanting to go to for months and months, whining and moaning and gnashing his teeth because they’re closing down on November 9th, which was rapidly approaching, and all he’d ever wanted in his ENTIRE life was to go to the corn maze, but whenever we had the time to go, it was always raining or crappy-looking outside (and for the record, I can’t remember the last time we had a day that was sunny from beginning to end). Finally, Saturday, it was cool but semi-sunny, and we got our asses up and out the door to see the damn thing. It was interesting, but I would have been happier to have the maze half the size it was, because about halfway through it I developed a killer headache and plodded along grumpily until we found our way out of the damn thing. Fred put some pictures up in his entry, but here are a couple he didn’t put up: He’s the corn cop! Hee! I would have loved to have a shirt like this, but I don’t think they were selling them. (That’s Fred on the other side of the corn cop, receiving instructions on how to shoot the corn cob gun (?)) Now, THAT is a church name! And after I left the pet store this morning, I saw that the trees in the parking lot are finally changing color. Fall comes to Alabama at last: Another sign of Fall – Fancypants snoozing inside, instead of wandering the backyard looking for small rodents and birds to kill.]]>

Damn, we’re a good team. Things we saw whilst driving to pick up our free-range chickens yesterday:

The current governor of Alabama is Don Siegelman, and Bob Riley’s running against him. Don Siegelman’s campaign strategy (you have GOT to listen to “The Phony Pony song”, over on the left-hand side, it’s funny as shit) is to say “Bob Riley is a millionaire who doesn’t pay his taxes, and he never shows up for work, and he screws his employees over given half a chance!” Bob Riley’s campaign strategy is to say “Nuh uh!” But all of Don Siegelman’s negative campaigning must pale next to what some anti-Riley person did to this sign. It’s got to hurt ol’ Bob’s feelings, really. “Homo”? Okay, maybe. But “creepy”? That’s really going over the line, there. Apparently the county where Hartselle is located is a dry one. Obviously that’s made a big impact on my life. Chickens eating bugs in the driveway. Chickens are so damn funny. Tasty, too. What fun would that be? I have a sneaking suspicion that they were talking about me. Damn gossiping horses. Kudzu! Damn but I love the kudzu. Two things. 1. “Exception” is spelled wrong (let me pause for a moment so that the grammar nazi and I can feel superior). 2. Do these people not know that when you order your checks, you specify what number they start at? If I were the shifty sort, prone to bouncing checks, I’d sure as shit have my checks start at number 975 or something. Which reminds me of the time I wrote a check at an office supply store and asked the woman if she needed my driver’s license. She looked at the check and said “You don’t get to check number 2104 by bouncing checks, so no, I don’t need to see it.” The funny thing being that it was only the 4th check I’d written on that account. Heh. Friday Five. 1. Were you raised in a particular religious faith? When I was growing up on various and sundry Air Force bases, we had two options: Catholic or Protestant. We’re Protestant. 2. Do you still practice that faith? Why or why not? No, I haven’t been to church since I was 15 or so, except the time I accompanied a friend to church (she’s Catholic) when I was 18 or so. I have no real reason why I don’t, except that most religions leave a bad taste in my mouth. I have a hard time believing that there’s one correct religion and anyone who doesn’t follow that religion is going straight to hell, do not pass go. And I’m not a fan of the whole “A woman’s place is wherever her man tells her to be” train of thought that most major religions subscribe to. 3. What do you think happens after death? I think that we are, in some way, reincarnated. 4. What is your favorite religious ritual (participating in or just observing)? It’s been so long that nothing comes to mind. 5. Do you believe people are basically good? I think that most people would like to be good, but their desire to be good is outweighed by their own self-centeredness. (My, didn’t I sound all preachy and self-righteous.)]]>

(He even sent me flowers. Yellow ones! Hands off, ladies. You try to touch him, you’ll be drawing back a nub.) * * * Last night, I was almost asleep when I felt the light touch of a mosquito on my chin. You know those really big goony ones, with the long gangly legs? It felt like one of those, and so I jerked out of my almost-sleep to slap at it, because I didn’t relish the idea of walking around with a huge mosquito bite welt on my chin. I opened my eyes a moment after I slapped at the mosquito, to find Miz Poo laying on the pillow next to me, her eyes large and dark with concern for my mental well-being. Which is when I realized that hadn’t been a mosquito. It had been one of her whiskers brushing my chin. See, I sleep on my side facing the pillow she sleeps on, sometimes hugging the pillow when she’s not laying there. She had, without my realizing it, climbed up on the pillow and gotten as close to my face as possible, because she loooooooves her momma. Lucky, I guess, that I hadn’t hurt her when I slapped at the mosquito/ whisker. This isn’t the first time she’s startled me out of a sleep recently, either. A few weeks ago I was almost asleep when she was overcome with love for me, and had to reach her paw out and rest it on my neck. I jerked awake, which startled her, and it took some serious petting and snuggling to calm her down. I love my Poo Pie, have I mentioned? * * * Fred and I were watching Everybody Loves Raymond the other night, and I noticed that Ray Romano has a startling resemblance to… well, see for yourself: Call me mean if you want, but you can’t possibly deny the resemblance. * * * Cancel that paragraph at the beginning of the entry about how much I love my husband. I just found out that we’re doing Thanksgiving at our house this year. Maybe he’s just trying to give me a Halloween scare?]]>