Month: December 2004

A few months ago Fred went on a long hike wearing boots he hadn’t worn before. As a result, when he got home the second toe over from the big toe (the “index toe”, if you will) on his left foot was painful. As time went by, the toenail turned black, and we were pretty sure that it would eventually fall off. But more time went by and nothing seemed to be going on and except for the occasional glimpse of his toe when it caught my attention, I pretty much forgot about his nasty black toenail. A few nights ago Fred called me into the living room, where he was watching TV. “Look!” he said excitedly. I sat down on the loveseat and prepared to be amazed and impressed. He reached down, put his finger on the end of the black toenail and pulled upward, saying “There’s another toenail under there growing in! I bet this one is going to come off!” Now, I can hardly think of anything nastier than a toenail that’s about to fall off, because the thought of that naked toenail bed under there being exposed to the elements… gah. I swear to you, if I had balls – real ones, not figurative ones – they would crawl right up into my body at the thought of a toenail lifting up. I just now had to walk away from the computer and think happy thoughts, I am so disturbed at the thought of nails – toe and finger – being lifted up. Gah. Gah, gah, gah. So as Fred lifted the nail up to show me that it was loosening from it’s moor, I stood up and ran around in circles screaming “OH MY GOD, THAT IS SO GROSS!” at the top of my lungs before blacking out. When I came to, Dr. Poo was sniffing at my eyeballs to see if I was still alive and – oh yes, could I pay her fee in catnip, please? Fred tried to show me the Nasty Loose Toenail again, but I refused to look, and I resorted to screaming “NO! NO! STOP IT, I AM NOT GOING TO LOOK, NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” whenever he opened his mouth. Finally, he got the message and stopped trying to make me look. Last night we were sitting in front of our computers. “Hmm… what the?” Fred said, and I turned to see what was going on. He was sitting with his left foot propped on his right knee. He’d pulled off his sock and was looking at The Toe. Immediately I knew what was going on. “NO!” I bellowed, turning to face my computer. “Bessie, look, the toenail came -” “NO!” “Just look at this, this is so cool, there’s like a little half-toenail-” “NO!” “Just LOOK, there’s a toenail there, it’s not a naked toe-” “NO!” “It’s so cool, though, you have to see-” “NO!” “Look at the toenail then, it’s kind of nas-” “NO!” “Bessie, please! Just look! Why won’t you look?” he begged in a sad look, and finally just to get him to SHUT THE HELL UP, I turned around and looked. Except that I let my eyes go unfocused, so while it might have looked like I was gazing in admiration upon his freakish toe, in reality I could see nothing but a big white blur. Ha! Later, we were sitting in the living room watching TV. Meester Boogers was in a state of high dudgeon because he’d left his bed on the end table to investigate something, and while he was gone, Miz Poo had climbed into the bed (they both like it because it’s under a nice warm lamp) and gone to sleep. He sniffed at her several times and thought about climbing into the bed with her, but it was a small bed and there was really no room for both a portly Poo and a Booger, so he gave up and sat on the back of the couch looking disgruntled. When it became clear that his sitting on the back of the couch looking pissy and pouty wasn’t going to convince us to toss Miz Poo out of the bed and let him have it back, he jumped down onto the couch, stretched out, and went to sleep. At some point I looked over and he looked so damn cute that I had to rub his belly. I put down the cross-stitch I was working on and leaned over. As soon as I touched him, he made a grumpy “Who’s touching me?” noise and opened his eyes. He decided that he could go for a belly rub, and flopped onto his back to allow for maximum belly exposure. Finally, Fred could stand the cuteness no more, and he got up from the loveseat and walked over to pet Meester Boogers, who grumped again and stretched out some more. Fred kneeled down in front of the couch and bent down to give the Booger a kiss on top of his head, and a moment later pulled back with a horrified look on his face. “Oh my GOD,” he said. “Whew!” “Oh, is it bad?” I asked sympathetically. I don’t know whether it’s the fact that Meester Boogers only has a short tail and thus not enough tail to cover the occasional stink from his butt, or that he’s a nasty boy and thus doesn’t clean his butt often enough, but he seems to have more Stinky Butt episodes than the other cats, and every so often Fred catches a whiff of stink from him, and has to go after his butt (Meester Boogers’ butt, that is) with a baby wipe. Fred nodded. “God, he reeks!” And then. People, this is so gross, the width and breadth of the grossness cannot possibly be fully explained to you. As I sat there on one end of the couch and Meester Boogers sat there on the other, Fred kneeling in front of him, the most disgusting thing ever happened. Fred leaned down and SNIFFED MEESTER BOOGERS’ ASS AGAIN. “Whoo!” he said, shaking his head. “That is just nasty!” “Oh my god!” I said. “What the fuck? Why on EARTH would you INTENTIONALLY sniff the cat’s ASS again, when you already KNEW it stinks?” “Smell it!” he said, gesturing toward Meester Boogers. “What? NO, I’M NOT GOING TO SMELL THE CAT’S ASS!” “Bessie, just put your head down there and smell it.” “NO! Jesus christ, what is WRONG with you? I am NOT going to sniff the cat’s ass! I already know it smells repulsive, I don’t need to CONFIRM IT!” “Just smell it,” he wheedled. “I need to know if it really stinks, or if he just farted!” “NO!” “Smell it!” “NO!” “Bessie, come on!” “NO! Get the hell away from me. GOD!” “You just don’t love me,” he said sadly. “Not enough to smell the cat’s ass! JESUS!” I mean seriously, people. What the hell would make a person who is apparently in full control of all their faculties INTENTIONALLY SMELL A CAT’S ASS? I just don’t get it. The thought makes me want to throw up. I can’t stand the smell of nasty things, so I don’t go out of my way to lean down and sniff them. That just seems to make sense to me. GAH.

* * * “This is not dignified.” ]]>

* * * When I was standing in line at the post office this morning, a woman from the local Chick-fil-A came in and asked the postal clerk waiting on me about how many employees worked at the post office. The postal clerk wasn’t sure, so the Chick-fil-A lady counted out thirty business-card sized cards, and handed them over. She saw me watching, and gave me one, as well. It was a card for a free Chick-fil-A chicken sandwich. Score! I guess it really does pay to be in the right place at the right time, eh?

* * * When I got up yesterday morning and came downstairs, there was a box sitting by the front door that had apparently been left in front of the door the night before by the UPS man. On her way out the door to wait for the bus the spud saw it and brought it inside. I thought at first that it was a box I was waiting for from Amazon, but upon closer inspection it didn’t have the Amazon logo on the outside of the box. I opened it, and what did I find? A yellow box… Filled with yellow M&Ms! Upon checking out the packing slip, I remembered that awesome reader Katy had emailed me last week and asked if she could have my home address, because she wanted to send me something and couldn’t send it to the PO Box. Since we’d exchanged emails in the past, I was comfortable with letting her have my home address and then promptly forgot that I was keeping my eyes peeled for a package from her. Who rocks more than Katy, huh? That’s right, NO ONE! (Thanks again, Katy!) * * * A little splash of Christmas color in our back yard… * * * “Dude, I swear to god it was this big. I didn’t think it was going to fit in the litter box!” We call him Fang. Fang McBoogers. * * *]]>

* * * Oh, shoot. I just realized I forgot to pick up presents for Fred’s Mom and stepfather’s cat, and his father and stepmother’s cats, as well. I’ll need to remedy that before next Friday. As I told the lady at the pet store on Monday as she rang up my humongous pile of cat toys, I spend way more time, energy, and money on the stuff I get for everyone’s cats than I do for the people themselves. That was a pretty awkward sentence, right there.

* * * From my comments: I just wanted to comment on the post office thing. I myself have went to the post office with my box not taped closed. No, not because I don’t have tape. The reason I do it is because I sell a lot of books and dvd’s and such on ebay and I ship them via media mail. The post office here, will make you rip the tape off the box and open it so that they can make sure it is indeed something that can be shipped media mail. So I got smart and I now just wait to tape it after they inspect it. I do always have it addressed and ready though and I always take my own roll of tape in with me. Anyway, maybe that is why some of these people do not have their boxes taped up. I had no idea they’d actually make you open your box so they could make sure you weren’t trying to put one over on them! Yesterday, there was a woman mailing a box to Europe, and she was surprised when the postal clerk told her he didn’t need to look through the box before she taped it up. I had no idea they ever looked through boxes going to Europe, anywhere – though I have to say, I don’t think I’ve sent many boxes to Europe, so it wouldn’t have come up. On behalf of all people who visit the post office everywhere, Ginny, I thank you for showing up prepared with your own tape! See, if the woman standing in line in front of me the other day had had her own tape or even any awareness of the fact that the post office doesn’t provide free tape unless you’re shipping Priority, I would have had a little more sympathy, but she was pretty clueless. I’m not going to complain too much, though – both Monday and yesterday, I was in and out of the post office in less than ten minutes, and I consider that pretty awesome! Robyn, I have a cat question for you. My husband and I are going to the animal shelter to pick out a cat this week. We’re trying to decide between male/female and long-hair/short hair. Any opinions on whether males or females are easier, (we have an infant, so we’re looking for something gentle.) And do long-haired cats or short-haired cats tend to shed more? Any opinions on this? Honestly? It depends on the cat. Sometimes females are less playful and more cuddly, but I’ve also come across plenty of females who are very playful. If you’re looking for a gentle cat, I’d suggest you get an older. Not that kittens don’t learn to be gentle, but they can get awfully rambunctious. I’ve only had one long-hair cat – Mr. Fancypants – and he left piles of hair wherever he went, but Spanky and Spot (who are short-hairs) are our worst shedders. The biggest problem with a long-hairs is that they need to be brushed on a regular basis or their hair clumps up. If you got a long-hair and didn’t have time to brush it on a regular basis, you could have it shaved the way we did with Mr. Fancypants. So, really all I can advise is to not get a kitten. Do take your time and spend as much time with the cat one-on-one (most shelters have “play rooms” for that exact purpose) and really get to know it, rather than going in and making a spur-of-the-moment decision. Talk to the shelter attendant and tell them what you’re looking for; they may be able to help. Good luck, let me know what happens, and don’t forget to send pictures! What kind of space heaters do you have? I need to get one for my girls’ room. I’d like to find with a thermostat so the room doesn’t get too freakin’ hot. On one end of the room, we have a Holmes One-Touch. This is the newest one, and we like it because it does have a thermostat. Fred got it a couple of weeks ago at Lowe’s. And on the other end of the room, we have a Pelonis. I like this, because you can set it to oscillate or not – and during the day when I’m home alone I have it pointed right at me, but when Fred’s home we set it to oscillate. Whatever you decide to get, just make sure you get one that turns itself off if it gets tipped over. I’m pretty sure all heaters do that now, but you’ll want to check, just to be sure. * * * “I do NOT shed a lot. Bitch.” * * *]]>

I was reading a thread over at The Usual Suspects regarding the remake of Willy Wonka, and the question How much the artist’s original intentions or dislikes influence your opinion of the work? struck me as an interesting one. I guess that for the most part, I don’t really care what the writer’s opinion about a movie is – remember back when Ann Rice was having a cow at the idea of Tom Cruise as Lestat in Interview with the Vampire and there was a whole brouhaha about it, and then in the end she came around and admitted that he’d done a pretty good job? (All I can think of when I think of that movie is Kirsten Dunst telling everyone who would listen that kissing Brad Pitt was gross, and he had dry lips. Hee!) It’s interesting to see a movie that has an author’s stamp of approval, because – at least I’d assume – the finished movie is closest to how the author saw it in his or her head when s/he was writing it. But then I think of The Stand, which was perfect except for the fact that Molly Ringwald was Frannie (I DON’T THINK SO) and Laura San Giacomo was Nadine (DON’T THINK SO, PART 2) and I think that maybe if I were queen of the universe, as I should be, and could cast every movie ever made that is based upon a book that I love, in the movie version of The Stand, Frannie would be someone LIKEABLE and Nadine would be someone drop-dead gorgeous, like in the frickin’ book. But Stephen King was apparently thrilled with the cast of the mini-series and though I think everyone else in the movie is perfectly cast, the fact that Frannie, one of the main characters, is Molly Frickin’ Ringwald just leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Gary Sinise as Stu? Matt Frewer as Trashcan Man? Bill Fagerbakke as Tom? Perfection. Molly Ringwald as Frannie? Laura San Giacomo as Nadine? Corin Nemec as Harold? Not so much. So anyway, in conclusion (“Thank god!” you’re saying, right? “Thank god she’s concluding the section!”) it’s interesting to see the story as the author intended, but it’s not always better that way. Because once the book is written and I’ve read it, my perception of the book and the author’s perception of the book may be exactly the same, or it may be worlds apart. When you read a book, you’re bringing your own experiences to it with you and that always colors what you see in your head as you read it.

* * * It is in the 20s here today, IS IT OKAY FOR ME TO BE COLD NOW? I have two space heaters going in the computer room, and I have the fire going in the living room, and if I could possibly do so without causing permanent damage, I would sit IN the fire, I’m so fucking cold. Keep in mind, people, that the reason I am so freakin’ cold is because this fucked-up house has two floors, but only one heating unit and one air conditioning unit, and the control for both floors is located on the wall halfway up the stairs. So right now, it’s toasty warm upstairs, but my computer is downstairs, where it is MIGHTY FUCKING COLD. Because aside from the fact that there is only one heating unit for the entire house, the computer room sits directly in the path of the window where the cat door is located, and so when the wind blows outside, it blows in through the cat door and directly on me, thus freezing me even more. I suppose I could shut the cat door; the cats aren’t out there in the cold – they’re upstairs, where it’s warm and toasty. Little bastards. Okay, the cat door and window are now closed. But I’m still freeeeeezing, damnit. * * * “Yes, the one in the window with the waggly tail. How much?” ]]>

You guys are awesome with your gift-wrapping suggestions! I went to Target this morning because I’d done my animal Christmas shopping (for other animals in the family) at the pet store and needed something to put the gifts in, because you can’t just toss cat toys in the box! The cats would be appalled, and they’d play with their toys before Christmas! Anyway, I was in Target, and I wandered up the aisle with the gift bags in it, and there were all KINDS of awesome alternatives to gift bags and gift envelopes, nice boxes and cases and such. I only bought a few – a wine box to put my parents’ dog’s present in, for one – but I’m for sure going to hit Target the day after Christmas to stock up on boxes (they had a ton of chinese take-out boxes!) for next year. A couple of people suggested that I just put the gift cards in decorative envelopes, and I could do that, but I prefer the gifts to take up a little more space than that, y’know? I don’t know, I guess I’m just weird about that. I also prefer not to stick gift cards in little gift bags, because that just makes it too easy for people who are Snoopy McSnoopersons (DEBBIE, I am looking at YOU!) to look through their gift bags and see what’s in there. (Oh, OKAY, I do it too. Sometimes. Not always, though!) But like I said, Target had a whole aisle of gift boxes and cases and such, and I’m definitely going to go in that direction next year. I’d go in that direction THIS year, but I already wrapped all the gift cards I’m giving. Thank you so much for your suggestions!

* * * I mailed out the first three boxes of Christmas presents, to the spud’s father and his wife, her paternal grandparents, and her father’s sister. I showed up at the post office ten minutes after noon, which is possibly one of the least intelligent things I’ve done this month. (The month is young, though!) The line wasn’t too bad, but there was a woman in line in front of me who didn’t seem to understand the concept of having your box ready and addressed before you got to the counter. Not only was the box not addressed, it wasn’t even taped shut. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again – who ARE these people who show up at placed unprepared and expect to be provided free tape to tape their packages closed and for everyone to wait while they address their packages? Ah well – the line moved pretty quickly and they had three postal clerks working, so I guess I don’t need to complain TOO much. I have to mail another two packages tomorrow and two more on Wednesday and unless I forgot to pack something, I’ll be all set with the mailing of Christmas gifts this year. Whee! * * * The boy next door is standing out in his front yard pointing and pulling the trigger of his cap gun. You have no idea how tempted I am to call 911 and report a small child holding and firing what appears to be a gun… (I’m not that much of an asshole. But it sure is fun to imagine!) * * * “Where the hell are they hiding my presents this year?” “They must be nearby, I can practically smell the catnip!” “Grrr! Where ARE they??” (The joke’s on him – they’re hidden in a dresser drawer he can’t get to.) * * *]]>

I just spent four – YES, FOUR – hours wrapping presents, and I’m in a bad, bad, BAD mood. Why do I do this to myself every year? Buy gift cards for everyone to make the Christmas experience easier, and THEN insist on putting each and every gift card in a scarf box and wrapping each and every scarf box? Why? Why do I do that? Because every year I spend hours wrapping presents and getting annoying and pissed that I’m wrapping GIFT CARDS and the Christmas spirit is just sucked right out of me. Next year, I’m going to find a simple – yet festive! – way to wrap the gift cards that doesn’t entail measuring and cutting and taping and all that happy crap. Got suggestions? Leave ’em in the comments! On the up side, I just have to make a quick trip to the pet store, and I’ll be ready to mail out the three boxes I need to mail out. Hopefully I can do that Tuesday or Wednesday. Whee!

* * * So, did you hear the story about how Britney Spears and her husband were flying to or from somewhere and she kicked off her shoes, and the smell of her stinky feet almost made her fellow passengers pass out? Good lord, how NASTY is that? To be sitting there, oblivious to the fact that your stinky, nasty feet are reeking up the plane? At least she had the good sense to be embarrassed and put her shoes back on. Speaking of, did you know that People magazine had a blurb about Kevin Federline in the (I think) “sexiest husbands” part of their “sexy men” issue? I don’t know who the holy hell looked at Kevin Federline and said “My, yes. That is one sexy, sexy man!”, but I suggest they get their eyes checked, and possibly some therapy. The man looks like a weasel and he also looks incredibly unclean, as if he can’t be bothered to take a shower because he’s far too busy getting wasted and servicing his equally unclean-looking stanky-footed wife. Those two just make me shudder. And not in a good way. * * * Reminder, Survivor watchers! The two-hour season finale is on tonight, followed immediately by the one-hour live reunion. I’d complain about not having anything to watch on Thursdays anymore, but we just got the third season of 24, so we’ve got plenty to watch! * * * Stumpy sings the blues. * * *]]>

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“Reckon that made me madder than what Jesse’d made me, so I takened the kaiser blade, some folks called it a sling blade, I called it a kaiser blade, mmm, and I hit my mother upside the head with it.” * * *]]>

Clearly, I am getting OLD. I went to the grocery store this morning and while I was there I picked up a copy of Consumer Reports because someone recommended it since we’re in the process of shopping for a new elliptical trainer, and the big story in the January issue of Consumer Reports is all about elliptical trainers and treadmills. Anyway. I bought the magazine, and when I got out into the parking lot I took the magazine out of the bag and started reading it, and before I knew it, I’d spent ten minutes in the parking lot reading some very interesting articles. Then I thought to myself that not only was this a VERY good magazine, why had no one ever told me what a good magazine it is, but I also thought I need to subscribe to this magazine! Consumer Reports. I need to subscribe to this magazine, I thought. SUBSCRIBE. To CONSUMER REPORTS. Fred’s FATHER subscribes to Consumer Reports, and we’ve spent years making fun of him for acting like Consumer Reports is his bible, and yet I am fascinated by this magazine, which is unbiased and exists solely to help me make good decisions on things to buy. It cares about me! It doesn’t want me to get gypped! It has only my best interests at heart! IT LOVES ME. I want to marry you, Consumer Reports. Robyn Consumer Reports. Robyn C. Reports. Mrs. Consumer Reports. It has a ring to it, no?

* * * I spent a couple of hours yesterday afternoon making cookies. Say posted a link to a recipe for Rolo cookies, and I looked at the recipe and thought it sounded good. Then I remembered that every year I swear I’m going to make those cookies with the Hershey’s kisses in the middle (not the peanut butter ones with a kiss on top, but the ones with the kiss wrapped in the middle), so I decided that since I was going to be out running errands yesterday I might as well stop and get the stuff to make both kinds of cookies. Since Friday is the day we eat whatever we want, I decided to make the cookies Thursday and then send most of them to work with Fred because if we really put our minds to it we can eat a lot, but we can’t eat two batches of cookies. The Rolo cookies recipe is here, and the Secret Kiss cookies recipe is here. I didn’t realize until I was typing up those recipes that I had forgotten to add baking soda when I was making the Rolo cookies – which may be why the cookie tastes pretty similar to a brownie. Both of the recipes call for rolling the cookies in sugar or powdered sugar, but I skipped that step because I couldn’t be bothered.* Fred loved both kinds of cookies, and they were a big hit with the people at work, too. I bet the Rolo cookie recipe could be used with about any kind of small candy – so could the Kiss recipe, for that matter. I told Fred cutting a miniature Snicker’s in half and putting it in the middle of a cookie would be good. He thought an almond M&M would be good, too. Cookies rock. * Does the phrase “couldn’t be arsed” translate to about the same thing as “couldn’t be bothered”, or does it mean something completely different? Anyone know? * * * Okay, there’s just not a damn thing going on around here. If there are any questions y’all have for me, or something you’d like me to write about, leave a comment and I’ll see what I can do for you, okay? For now, we’ll just fill up the rest of the entry with pictures. Last night’s sunset, from our back yard: Some of my favorite Christmas decorations: I think I got this last year in Maine. I love the really cute little santas. I got this a few years ago at Linens ‘n Things. When it’s turned on, it changes colors. I’ve had this one for years and years. I have no idea where I got it. Another one I got in Maine last year. Fred thinks this looks like a Far Side cow. I got this at the Hallmark store in Maine last year. The tree is about three feet tall, but the pot it sits in really adds to the height. * * * Miz Poo, checking out a ladybug. * * *]]>

Pet store kitty pics from Monday are here.

* * * Here are some great links to check out: Tree Decorating 101, with cats. (thanks, Linda and Melinda!) All cat owners need about ten of these. (thanks, Donna!) A ton of people forwarded this picture to me: (Thanks, everyone who passed it on!) The evil, eeeeeeevil Shannon passed on an email full of those creepy-ass cats with human faces. I’ve coded them so that the picture will pop up when you click on the link. They’re creepy as hell, did I mention? Don’t say I didn’t warn you! Creepy Cat 1 Creepy Cat 2 Creepy Cat 3 (Thanks, Shannon! I think…) * * * Okay, y’all. I need help. I’m looking for something to put atop my tree that isn’t a boring old angel or star. A cute cat tree topper might work, or a smiley face something might, too. I just can’t find anything online that I really like, so I’m asking for suggestions. The Disney store used to carry a Taz angel tree topper with Taz wearing a leather coat, but they’ve stopped carrying them, and there’s only one eBay auction, and it’s going for 5 more days, it’s already $15, and I don’t want to pay $300 for the damn thing, which is what I’m sure it’ll end up at! So, okay. Leave me suggestions in the comments, or email them to me. Hopefully one of you will suggest something that I really like. Or, more likely, a dozen of you will suggest something I really like, and I’ll have to buy them all. Please, please, please, though – no angels! * * * Have I mentioned recently that Getupgrrl quote-unquote rocks? Her quote-unquote commenters crack me up, too. I was going to post a comment about those horrid air quotes, but about fifteen people beat me to it. Air quotes always make me think of Friends, and Joey trying to use them correctly. * * * What sucks more than having to go from 565 to south Memorial Parkway? Why, having to go from 565 to south Memorial Parkway in the blinding rain, during rush hour, when it’s practically pitch black outside. And I get to do it again on Saturday. I am FUCKING tired of the rain. Rivers and streams are flooding and there was an accident in Athens this morning that had three fatalities and it’s 63 degrees outside, and I’m hot, and it’s supposed to get cold tomorrow, which means NO DOUBT we’ll have tornadic activity on top of the freakin’ rain and JESUS CHRIST. A little sunshine, please? Is that too much to ask? And a few weeks without a single torrential downpour? UGH. * * * From my comments: ohhh i tried to make them [the roasted chick peas] and they taste good (not nearly spicey enough, i’ll use more next time) but how do you dry yours? just leave them out for a while? i tried paper towel but it didnt work too well, they started to shed — unless thats what is supposed to happen 😀 heh. also, do you toss them in oil then add the spices and toss THEN pour them onto the baking sheet? think i messed up there too, i mixed the spices and the oil together then poured it onto the beans directly on the sheet & tossed them up. some were soft others super crunchy… guess i’ll just have to try again! YUM!! 😀 Okay, this is what I do: I open the can, rinse the chick peas under cold water, and then I dump them onto a layer of paper towels. With another piece of paper towel I gently blot them dry, but I don’t go overboard. As long as they’re mostly dry, I’m happy. And yeah, some of them shed a little, but I just pick up the skin (or whatever you’d call it) and toss that. Then I put the entire batch of chick peas in a tupperware container, dump in the oil, add the spices to that, then put the top on the container, and shake, shake, shake the chick peas for about thirty seconds. If no one else is around I might even dance a little, but that’s not required. Then I take the lid off the container, dump the chick peas onto the cookie sheet, and bake. Voila! Mo posted this in my comments last week, and I go back and read it every now and again, and it makes me laugh my ASS off every time. Oh, I can relate to your freaky scaredy cat thing. One morning I woke up to find a VERY heavy hand lying over my face, covering my mouth. I screamed, sat up, looked around, and it was GONE! It had been my own hand, which had fallen into a dead sleep, so I totally could not feel it. Talk about CREEPY. I was just curious that you seem to be an avid reader, but it seems that you always read fiction. Why? You seem to read very fast, so why don’t you take books out of the public library (I am assuming they have public libraries in Alabama) (Don’t mean to sound snobbish). Thanks. I do read the occasional non-fiction, but yeah – mostly I read fiction. That’s just what I prefer, because I like to be told a story in a way that most non-fiction doesn’t tell them. Like I said, though, I do like non-fiction every now and then, but it depends on the author or the subject matter. I particularly like Rick Bragg’s Ava’s Man and Haven Kimmel’s A Girl Named Zippy is a particular favorite. I have at least one and maybe two books by Augusten Burroughs that I haven’t read yet, but I’m looking forward to reading them. I’ve read most everything Ann Rule has written. I don’t read political stuff because it mostly annoys me and I usually don’t read biographies or autobiographies unless I’m particularly interested in the subject and think I might learn something interesting about their life – or unless I’ve heard really good things about the book. My usual rule when reading a book is that if it doesn’t engage me by page 25, it goes into the donation box. With non-fiction, I usually only give it about 10 pages. Because if you can’t get my interest in the first 10 pages of a book about your life story, that’s a pretty boring life you’ve got going on, there. I don’t take books out of the public library (and Madison has a really good one) mostly because I like to read a book when I feel like reading it, and if I have a book that’s due back at the library in two weeks, it makes me feel like I can’t take my time enjoying it. (Of course, I don’t think it ever takes me two weeks to read a book, but it’s the principle of the thing!) I like to add books to my wish list so that I’ll remember I want to read them, and when we get a little unexpected money, the first thing we always want to do is buy a bunch of stuff at Amazon. I look at my bookcase of to-be-read books, and it just makes me happy. I love books, and I love the fact that it would probably take me a year of reading to clear off that bookcase. Plus, having a wish list full of the books I want to read makes it easy when Christmas rolls around and people want to know what I want for Christmas! You (or Fred?) had a recipe (or instructions?) for cooking oat bran. I used to enjoy it, but when I tried to make it from memory, it tasted like ass. Could you post it (them?) again? Sorry I can’t be more specific. Except for the oat bran muffins recipe, I absolutely do not remember an oat bran recipe at all. I think that Fred just takes the oat bran, adds water, throws in a handful of berries, and cooks as long as the package directs. He might add some Splenda, too. * * * Meester Boogers does his Donald Trump impression. “Yer FIRED!” * * *]]>

I swear to god that if (when!) I win the lottery, I’m going to hire someone to drive me around wherever I want to go (“Sonic, Jeeves!”) so that I never have to get behind the wheel again. I had to drive to South Huntsville yesterday, and there’s this piece of road where you get off I-565 onto south Memorial Parkway, and it’s a total nightmare. Once the onramp and south Memorial Parkway merge, you have to immediately get, like, three lanes over or you’ll be forced to exit. I hate that particular section of road more than anything in the world. (And, yes. I know that all y’all who live in New York City, LA, Chicago, Atlanta, etc. are feeling realllly sorry for me right now.) So if (when!) I win the lottery I’ll buy a limo – a big, gaudy one! – and hire a driver to take me to Target and the mall and Sonic when I’m having a hankering for a Route 44 Diet Coke made with their delightfully crunchy ice. Then I’ll hire a housekeeper – no, two housekeepers! One to do the regular housecleaning, and one to come scrub down the bathrooms once a day! And I’ll hire someone to come clear the crap off my desk when the piles get too high, and someone to cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner (“Cook, I’ll have the M&M omelet for breakfast. Please use only yellow M&Ms or I’ll have to fire you.”) and the occasional snack (“Cook, do we have any of those delightful spicy chickpeas left?”), and then someone to mow the lawn when the weeds get half an inch taller than I’d like. Oh! And I’d hire a landscaper to plant an acre-size bulb garden and then I’d have to hire someone else to follow the cats around and shoo them out of the bulb garden. Also, there’d be a gladiolus garden, and someone to pick japanese beetles off the glads. I’d need a secretary, too. Someone to answer all the emails in my inbox and maybe occasionally write me up a journal entry when my life of not doing anything but laying on my dead ass in bed and eating bon bons while reading or watching TV has gotten just too hectic for me. Above all I’d need to buy a house out in the country on about 40 acres because I will need my privacy and no small children tromping across my lawn and hitting balls into the front flower bed. I suppose I need to actually start buying lottery tickets to make these dreams come true.

* * * From my comments yesterday: Okay, I tried to make the chick-peas. Not sure I am baking them to the correct level of “cooked-ness.” The garlic powder turned totally black! Is this a stupid question (don’t answer that), but could you maybe put in a photo of the cooked chick-peas? Your request is my demand, so here you go: I actually think that Fred would have liked it if they were just a tiny bit darker, but I’ve found that I have to be really careful, because if I cook them just a little too long, they’ll burn. I’ve found that the best time for cooking is 15 minutes, stir, then cook for another 17 minutes and then take them out to cool. I know that the recipe says “30 – 45 minutes”, but if I go even as long as 35 minutes, it’s too long. I hope that helps – and if anyone else has helpful suggestions about the chickpeas recipe, leave ’em in the comments, please. * * * Y’all, I am aware of the danger of antifreeze. Not only have I heard about the danger on Animal Planet, but the vet’s office I drive by several times a week changes their sign once the weather gets cold to remind pet owners that antifreeze can kill animals. There’s no puddle of antifreeze and/or coolant on the driveway – I check every time I pull out, and so far there hasn’t been a thing. I don’t know when the coolant is leaking out, but it’s not while the car is parked, I can guarantee you that. I appreciate your concern, though. * * * Have I ever shown you my favorite salt and pepper shakers? They crack me up. I kind of have a collection of salt and pepper shakers going – if four sets can be a collection – and when the spud and I were in Myrtle Beach with my parents I mentioned it to my father. At some point when we were out checking out one of the bargain t-shirt stores my father jokingly held up some ugly salt and pepper shakers and said “You could add these to your collection.” My mother, who apparently hadn’t heard I was collecting them, shrieked “SHE DOESN’T COLLECT SALT AND PEPPER SHAKERS, I COLLECT SALT AND PEPPER SHAKERS, JESUS CHRIST, (HIS NAME)!” And I was left standing there muttering like Milton “I could collect salt and pepper shakers, just because you collect the salt and pepper shakers doesn’t mean I can’t collect them too…” * * * Yesterday it was in the low 70s and I was freezing. Today it’s in the 50s and I’m burning up. Tell me what the hell that’s about. * * * I finally made a decision about the 3-foot pre-lit tree at McRae’s. Since I was out running errands yesterday, I stopped by the mall and bought the tree. $29.97 – that’s a bargain, right there. This morning I brought it inside and put it together, and then got out all the Christmas stuff and scattered it around the living room. Add to that the fact that my parents sent us a wreath from Maine that is hanging on the front door, and it’s starting to look (and smell!) an awful lot like Christmas around here these days. * * *]]>