CMT yesterday morning while I was cleaning, and this very familiar-sounding song came on, and it struck me as very much NOT a country song, so I sat and watched the rest of it, to find that it was Best I Ever Had, by Gary Allan.
I thought to myself “That is the least country-sounding song I’ve ever heard on this station. What the hell?”
When I came downstairs, I went on to iTunes, and listened to a clip of the song, the version by Vertical Horizon (I guess they originally did it, since their album came out in 2001, and Gary Allan’s album with that song on it isn’t even out yet) and then I listened to Gary Allan’s version, and suddenly it sounded like it definitely had a country edge (twang?) to it.
Funny how it sounded country in comparison to the other version, eh?
On a side note, am I the only one who thinks Gary Allan looks like Stephen Dorff? Fred thinks he looks like Kiefer Sutherland, but I don’t see it.
Actually, that’s a lie. Now that I’ve looked at a picture of Kiefer, I DO think he looks kind of like Gary Allan.
Funny thing, comparisons.
* * *
I know there are a lot of you cat luvahs out there, and Lisa’s got a question maybe someone can help with:
I adopted a kitten this past Monday. Her “foster parents” told me that she was a skittish cat, but I didn’t mind. When I took her home, she escaped from my hands and darted into a hole underneath the cabinets that I hadn’t noticed was there (we just moved into this place). After freaking out about it, we learned that she comes out of the hole when we are sleeping or not home, eats some food, uses the catbox and then goes right back in there!
Any tips on how to get her to stop freaking and come on out of there? Has anyone else had this sort of frustrating cat experience? I’ve tried calling her, talking nice to her, putting out stinky food, etc… no dice. Help!
If you’ve got a suggestion, either leave it in the comments, or email it to me, and I’ll pass it along.
* * *
Okay, I wrote the above part of today’s entry before we left for the surgery center this morning. We left here around 8, made a couple of stops, got there right on time, and did a lot of sitting around and waiting.
They whisked Fred back to have him undress, started his IV, and shaved his shoulder and betadined it up. They brought me back, and I was back there for perhaps three minutes before the anesthesiologist came along and asked him if he wanted a something-or-other block in his shoulder. He had just gotten an email from a nurse anesthesiologist overnight telling him that if they offered one he should take it, so he did.
They had me wait outside while they did it, and no sooner had they finished doing it, when they were ready to take him back to surgery. I looked at the clock when I went into the waiting room, and it was just 10:15. His surgery was scheduled for 10:30, so it appeared they were running right on time.
After a little more than an hour, his doctor came out to talk to me, told me that everything went well, and gave me a few instructions. Another hour later, a nurse from recovery came out to tell me that he was still a little groggy, that he was sipping Diet Coke and was feeling a little nauseated, and that she’d keep him back there for another fifteen minutes or so.
When the fifteen minutes had passed, another nurse came out to get me, took me back to a room where she gave me a couple of sheets of instructions, a prescription for Lorcet, and told me to pull the car around and they’d bring him out.
We were home by 1:30, and then I went back out to pick up his prescription and a bunch of movies. When I got home, the lady from next door brought over a flower delivery they’d dropped off with this morning, from his mother and stepfather.
Right now, Fred’s upstairs trying to snooze while Mister Boogers comforts him.
I’m sure he’ll have a more comprehensive account of the entire experience up one of these days – either he’ll have to dictate it to me, or spend three days typing with one finger – and I’ll be sure to link to it when it goes up.
I expect he’ll be spending the weekend snoozing, watching movies, and asking me to run errands for him.
* * *
The “scratch” I mentioned in yesterday’s entry? Yeah, I got a look at it when the spud got home:
That’s not a “scratch”. That’s a “dent”. Caused by someone who hit the mailbox… and then kept driving for a couple of feet. Urgh.
* * *
The thing about kittens is that they don’t quite have that whole cleaning thing quite right; as a result, we had to go after Rambo’s butt with a wet wipe a couple of times, because the STINK was killing me.
Good thing he’s so damn cute.
I’ve noticed that our cats – specifically, Mister Boogers and Miz Poo – are more interested in playing with Jodie than Rambo. Miz Poo was actually running up to, sniffing, and running away from, Jodie this morning, and at one point Mister Boogers was playing with her, too. I wonder if it’s because she just looks like a fluffy little cat toy?
Looks like he’s got something smartass-y to say, doesn’t he?
“Hi, hi! HI!”
If you look closely, you can see the hummingbird at the feeder Rambo’s looking at.
Jodie examining my desk.
All of today’s kitten pics are
here.]]>