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Oh, and speaking of the cats, I finally got around to putting up a cast page not only for the Bean, but also for Dulcinea and Gizmo, cousins to our kitties. Next, I need to get some pictures of Debbie’s cats so I can make a page for them as well!
Is it sad that each of the cats in our house have their very own page, but all the humans only get a blurb on the cast page?
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The Christmas boxes are mailed, thus ensuring that everything will reach it’s destination before Christmas, and like I do every year, I think “Huh. That wasn’t so bad!” Because really, it wasn’t. I just get overwhelmed when I start to think about what I need to do to get all ready, and then I get the bah-humbugs, but since I can spend the next week and a half relaxing before Christmas is upon us, I would say my Christmas spirit is back in full force.
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So Saturday my brain apparently took a bit of a vacation. Although it was less than two weeks before Christmas AND a Saturday, I said to the spud “Let’s go shopping for some winter boots to take to Maine with us!”
(In the more than seven years we’ve lived here, we’ve never really needed winter boots because on the rare occasion it snows, we don’t go OUT in the snow or anything, you know)
After fighting the traffic to get to the gas station (and just in time, as I was running on fumes) and filling up the tank, I sat at a red light for a long, long time to get across the street to Shoe Carnival. One would think that Shoe Carnival would have lots and lots of winter boots, no?
No. My fault, really, because like I mentioned, there’s not a lot of need for winter boots when you live in Alabama. There was one small aisle of wintery-type boots, and I told the spud to sit down, and I began choosing boots in her size and bringing them to her. Everything she tried on fit okay but wasn’t terribly comfortable. The Timberland boots, marked down from $99.99 to $79.99 were amazingly uncomfortable (I know this because I tried a pair on as well), and after trying three or four different pairs of boots on, a tribe of teenaged princesses set up in the boot aisle, dropping their crap around them and blocking the aisle as they tried boots on.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to get by them.
They LOOKED at me, and they DID NOT MOVE. Assholes. I could have pushed it – in fact, I should have knocked over their princessy asses but I could tell there was nothing for us in that store, so I turned to the spud and said “Get your shoes on, we’re leaving.”
“Why?” said the spud. Most children go through the “why” stage when they’re three. The spud skipped that stage and instead, at the age of 15, wants to know the reasoning behind everything in existence. And it might be annoying when they’re three, but GODDAMN is it annoying when they’re 15. Probably because they can think of more questions when the answer to “Why?” will not suffice.
“Because there are assholes blocking the aisle and there’s nothing here that we want, anyway,” I said. And once we were in the car I said “If you ever act like those bratty, obnoxious teenage girls, I will KICK YOUR ASS, do you understand me?”
She understood.
From Shoe Carnival, we went over to the Payless store, located by Wal-Mart. My reasoning being that if we couldn’t find anything at Payless, we could just walk over to Wal-Mart.
Look. I KNOW we could have gone to the mall and eventually found some expensive winter boots in one of the stores there. But we’re talking about boots that will be used in the cold, snowy Maine weather for a little more than a week, and will probably not be used again until we decide to visit Maine in the winter.
At Payless we found some cute little winter boots. They weren’t as tall as I would have liked, but they were cute, they were $17.99 per pair, and they were a hell of a lot more comfortable than the $79.99 Timberland boots. We went to check out and discovered that all shoes and boots were buy two pair, get one pair free. So we went back and looked for a good solid ten minutes before the spud was able to find a pair of shoes that she liked (or at least claimed to).
So now we’re all set with our winter boots and warm(ish) coats so that (hopefully) we won’t freeze to death in Maine later this month!
* * *
The ringworm seems to have hit Miz Poo. She was snuggled up to me in front of the computer the other day, and I glanced at her to see a crusty brown spot by one of her eyes. Since I’m kind of weird about not liking to see eye boogers on my cats, I grabbed a tissue and wiped at her eye. And the FUR in that spot came OFF on the tissue, leaving a little raw spot.
Yuck, ick, and also BLECH.
That’s just not right. Also, it’s kinda creepy. Miz Poo doesn’t seem to mind much, except when we put ringworm medication on it. She doesn’t like my fingers around her eyes, and rightly so it would appear. Poor, deformed Miz Poo. I know she’s funny-looking but I love her goofy little self with all my heart.
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Sex-say!
Sleep-pay!
This cat will sleep anywhere, in any position, without feeling the slightest bit of discomfort. He cracks me up.
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i hear you on the cats and the xmas trees. my bad kitties knocked the whole damn tree over the morning after we stayed up late to decorate it and clean up all the boxes and needles. so the next night we had a deformed tree leaning against the wall to stay up and broken ornaments and pine needles everywhere!!!! they haven’t gotten too close to the tree since…lol!
I don’t like the little eye crusty/booger things in my kitty’s eyes either. I always scratch them out with my nail. Sometimes she doesn’t mind it at all, but other times you’d think I was trying to claw her eyeball out. Maybe that’s what she thinks I’m doing.
I LOVE me some sleeping Bean pictures! And Mizz Poo has gorgeous coloring – she’s a sweety!
The cutness that is Bean. Thanks for the pics 🙂
My kitties are FAMOUS!
That Poo is really a cutie. Goofy-looking, but it really just adds to her cuteness. And your Bean reminds me of my Frank. He’ll sleep anywhere, in any position, at any time. Sometimes I think he’s got narcolepsy. He cracks me up.
The oral ringworm medication is called Program and here is a url for it. One dose got rid of the ringworm and no need for topical medications. Too bad they don’t make it for kids. Heh. It can also be used for dogs, BTW. The dose needs to be adjusted and remember that it is used for fleas, treating ring worm is not a listed benefit, but it does work.
gah, I must have forgotten to close a tag or something. Robyn, can you fix that?
You bet, V. Thanks for the url! 🙂
Amber: What I’m really worried about is that the Bean will knock the tree off onto the floor. The base is hollow and filled with kitty litter to hold the tree in place, so I can imagine what a mess that would make!
I am so glad you gave Dulcinea and Gizmo their own page — I hadn’t read Dulcinea’s story before and I almost started crying! What kind of monster dumps a little baby kitten by the side of the road? At least take her to a shelter where she has a good chance of being adopted! I just really wonder about people sometimes … grrrrr …
I am SO glad that Lil didn’t win. As much as I wanted to like her, she made it impossible.
What is it with people who take up the whole world and won’t move when you politely ask them? There seems to be an epidemic of it here in Vancouver, but I don’t know whether to feel better about the fact that it’s not just here. We live near a theatre (as in stage theatre) and the patrons completely block the sidewalk and do not respond to “Excuse me” at all. I complained about it to my friend and she laughed and said it didn’t bother her because she just plows through them because they have a history of not moving. I tried that method on the bus when people blocking the exit would move and they loudly bitched “Owww!” I keep wanting to say “Excuse me is not just for farts- it’s also polite for get the fuck out of my way!” but I just wanted to get off the damn bus.
Spud is lucky you guys are making an effort to prevent her from being an asshole- most parents don’t seem to be doing it or it’s just not working. My mother would have killed me for a fraction of the stuff I see kids getting away with in front of their parents, let alone what they get into on their own.