Month: March 2006

Hi, this is Jackie. I just realized that I called the wrong number. Unless Brianna is there. Thank you. It was so friggin’ cute I made Fred listen to it, too. I should have called her back and said “Hi Jackie, this is Robyn. Brianna’s not here – you did dial the wrong number – but thanks for leaving the CUTEST voicemail EVER!”

* * * Happy last day o’ March! This month just flew by, as far as I’m concerned, as opposed to February, which crawwwwwled by. The weather has improved enough lately that I’ve been able to go for my morning walk without a jacket, it’s that nice and warm out. I think Spring’s finally here, knock on wood. * * * From my comments: do you have to remove the claw covers to clip their toenails? or do they just not grow while they have them on? Their claws grow out and then they shed the old claw, so the cover sheds with the claw, leaving behind a nice sharp little claw, which we clip and glue a new cover over. The SoftPaws are held on with superglue, by the way, and the cats can’t remove them. (Given how much advertising I do for SoftPaws, don’t you think I oughta get a free lifetime supply of them?) Do the cats ever try to climb the trees? They don’t, actually – the little ones because they can’t (due to the SoftPaws), and I guess the older ones ’cause it just doesn’t occur to them. Also, you should post a picture of the alleged badass scar. Your wish, my command: (Yes, I need to cut my toenails. Shaddup.) You probably have to look closely – it’s at the base of the three middle toes, and thins as it heads toward the middle of my foot. It’s FAR more badass in person, trust me. I would like to know if the emigrant direct savings account was a good savings plan? So far, it absolutely is. It’s easy to transfer money in and out of the account (though I’m only transferring money in), and we’re earning 4.5% on our honeymoon fund. When 2008 rolls around and it’s time to hit the Bahamas, we are going to be living LARGE. Strawberry dacquiris for everyone! so, i’m curious… and i’m sorry if you’ve addressed this before (hehe), but how did you get the nickname (what’s that, a nickname?) bessie? for some reason, i just love that one! Fred used to call all his favorite things (his computer, his car) Bessie; he started calling me Bessie when I moved in with him, and stopped calling anything else Bessie, because I’m his favorite favorite thing. At least that’s what he tells me! I missed something along the way..how did you end up getting Tom Cullen? I read how Sugarbutt came back to you (was sick?) and then you all ended up adopting but I missed TC along the way? Tom Cullen actually didn’t go to the pet store with his brothers and sister. The day they were all supposed to go, he was limping and we decided to keep him for a few more days to make sure that he was okay. The next day the limping was gone, but it was all over – without his brothers and sister around we were able to see what a sweet little gem he was (and is!), and we adopted him. Already, even though they’re both young and in perfectly good health, I worry about when the day comes that Tommy or Sugarbutt has to be put to sleep or dies and the other one doesn’t understand what’s going on. I swear, I’m going to get all teary-eyed, just thinking about it! So a burning question . . . Do you still share your lotion with Spot! I don’t, but only because Spot doesn’t need lotion anymore. I still have it (it’s a hydrocortisone lotion, for those of you who are coming late to the game) and use it if my skin gets particularly bad. * * * My favorite new podcast: Keith and the Girl. I listened to one (Rhythm Nation, show #235) this morning, and it cracked me UP. Warning, though: It’s totally NC-17. You don’t want to listen to it around your mother or your kids, at least if the one I’ve listened to is anything to go by. * * * I had a Gilmore Girls-fest this week. I watched an entire disc from Season 1 on Wednesday and another entire disc yesterday. I really, really like that show. There’s no one on the show I don’t like a LOT. Sookie and Jackson are going to end up married, aren’t they? And how long is it ’til Lorelai and Luke hook up? I know they’re hooked up now, but did it happen this season, or last? Luke is dreeeeeeamy in a cranky, curmudgeonly kinda way. * * * So undignified. (Pardon the blur) Tommy in motion. “What the-?” Spanky always takes time to smell the dying daffodils. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: I have my finger on the pulse of pop culture, apparently. 2004: A day in the life. 2003: What makes me crazy. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: Okay, enough of the wallowing.]]>

Lately, by the time evening rolls around, I am absolutely wiped out. I think this is a side effect of the surgery, which – from what I hear – lasts several weeks to a couple of months, and it SUCKS. Last night we were watching CSI at 7:00, and I could barely keep my eyes open. Hopefully it’ll pass quickly, because – did I mention? – this SUCKS. (Yes, I’m taking my iron and B12 supplements, so it’s not that.)

* * * Recently – I don’t have any idea how I stumbled across the site – I found myself on Alabama Health Careers. After spending a good, long time looking at every single career and what schools around this area provided training for said careers, I decided that I could totally become a Scrub Technician. Never MIND that I can’t even bear to watch operations on TV and have to look away until Fred tells me it’s safe to look again, I was totally determined that I could become a Scrub Tech. I’d be a GOOD Scrub Tech, and I’d keep close count on the scalpels and shit, and NO ONE would ever go away from an operation wherein I was in charge of the instruments with a scalpel or clamp still left inside. I’d totally be Scrub Tech of the year. Doctors would be impressed by my Techness, and other Scrub Techs would live in fear of me. And then I went to the local college that offers the Scrub Tech course, and I read the personal characteristics of a Scrub Tech, like so: The ability to perform under pressure in stressful and emergency situations is an essential quality of a surgical technologist. A stable temperament, a strong sense of responsibility, considerable patience, and good organizational skills are important. Manual dexterity and physical stamina are vital. The Surgical Technologist must be able to work quickly, but accurately, and must be oriented to detail, yet able to integrate a number of activities according to priority. and then I said “Well, fuck THAT.” Because performing well under pressure? Not so much. I am absolutely the last person on Earth you want in the vicinity if there’s an emergency. Years ago when Fred was making gravy and he splashed boiling-hot oil on my foot, I basically screamed and ran around in circles. (Let me point out here that his bright idea was to bend down and WIPE the boiling oil off my foot, thus wiping off layers of skin WITH the boiling oil, so that when he took me to the emergency room I walked along with one bare foot, with skin hanging off my foot. I don’t really recommend him in a boiling-oil-on-the-foot crisis.) (But I DO have an excellent badass scar on my foot, so there’s that.) So, no Surgical Tech school for me. I went back to looking through the careers available, and I decided “I could TOTALLY become an X-Ray Tech. I’d be an excellent X-Ray Tech! Doctors would request me personally, and other X-Ray Techs would cower in the awesomeness that would be my X-Ray Tech skills.” So I went to the web page for the local school that offers a two-year Radiologic Technology program, and I read the following requirements: # Be a high school graduate with an overall grade point average of 2.0 or have a GED with a minimum overall score of 500 # Have a high school or college level Algebra course with at least a “C” average # Have a high school or college level Anatomy and Physiology or Biology course with at least a “C” average And… huh? Becoming an X-Ray Tech involves things like Algebra and Science? Because, um, FUCK THAT. Therefore, my idea of getting some training in the health care field (don’t even try to tell me to become a nurse, ’cause I think not) came to an end. I don’t know what the hell I’ll do when Fred runs off with some hussy and leaves me high and dry OR falls down the mountain one day when he’s hiking and lands in a hidden gorge where no one finds his body until he’s been dead for weeks. (Yes, he has life insurance, but it’s enough to set me up for a few years, not a lifetime. I keep suggesting he up his life insurance, but he always takes it badly when I say “Hey baby, why not up your life insurance by about 200 percent?” I wonder why?) In either of those scenarios, I imagine I’d have to find a job and work for a living ( ::shudder::), and it’s always easier to find a job if you have some kind of specialized training. Or so I’ve heard. Maybe one of these days I’ll figure out what I want to be when I grow up… Or, hey! Maybe one of these days I’ll actually grow up! (Don’t hold your breath.) * * * Tommy in motion (pardon the blurriness). The kitty committee meeting is in session. Sneaky Spanky. Sugarbutt, grabbing for the camera. (On the claws. On the collar.) All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: Questions answered. 2004: I am absolutely stunned that… I frankly couldn’t give less of a shit. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: I have to wonder, what the hell do all you skinny people do? 2000: Yes, this is a lame, short entry, but since y’all love me, you’ll be back. Right?]]>

YOU Relationship Status: Married – it’ll be 8 years on Halloween. Shoe size : 9 wide. Parents still together? Yes. Siblings: Tracy, Randy, Debbie. Pets: Spot, Spanky, Miz Poo, Mister Boogers, Sugarbutt, and Tom Cullen. FAVORITES Color: Lemon yellow. Number: At the moment, I’m partial to 9. Animal: Cat, of course. Book: A Girl Named Zippy, She Got Up Off the Couch, The Stand, and Swan Song. Flower: Daffodils and sunflowers. DO YOU… Twirl your hair? No, but I run my hand through my hair an awful lot. Have tattoos? Not yet! Cheat on tests? I haven’t taken any tests to cheat on in years and years, so no. Like roller coasters? Yes, but I haven’t been on one in years. OPINIONS… Wish you could live somewhere else? Yes. Write in cursive or print? Usually print, unless it’s a letter. Own a cell phone? Yes. Current clothing: Yellow shirt, sports bra, gray pants, black pan-tays. Current hair: Medium-brown, shoulder-length with bangs. Current thing I ought to be doing: Cleaning. Current CD in stereo: There’s no CD in the stereo. There is, in fact, no stereo. Last movie you saw: Derailed. Last thing you ate: Pollo Sudado. Life on other planets? Why not? Do you hate yourself? No, but I certainly annoy myself quite often. Collect anything? Cats! ARE YOU… A daydreamer: Yes. Sarcastic: Occasionally. Shy: Yes. Talkative: Depends on who I’m with. WOULD YOU RATHER… Get your nose or lip pierced? Neither, ever. I like the look on other people sometimes, but for me? No. ARE YOU… Simple or complicated? Surprisingly simple. ABOUT YOU… What time is it: 8:15 am. Nickname(s): Mom, Bessie, Rob. WHAT DO YOU WANT? Where do you want to live: On the ocean. It doesn’t even have to be Maine ocean – just ANY ocean. Not holding my breath on that. How many kids do you want: One. What kind of job do you want: If I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up, I’d tell you, but I have NO IDEA. Do you want to get married: I already am. UNIQUE… Nervous Habits: Twitching my lower lip from side to side. Also, wiggling my feet. Are you double jointed? No. Can you roll your tongue? Yes. Can you raise one eyebrow? Yes, the left one. If I concentrate really, really hard I can raise the right one, but not very well. Can you cross your eyes? Yes. Do you make your bed daily? Yes; it’s the first thing I do when I get out of bed. CLOTHES, ETC Which shoe goes on first: The right. Ever thrown one at someone: Not that I remember. How much money do you carry in your wallet: Usually around $20. IN THE LAST MONTH HAVE YOU… Bought something: I’ve bought many things in the last month. Gotten sick: Vomited, yes. Gotten a cold or flu, no. Sang: I sing all the time during the day; less so when there’s someone other than the cats to hear me. Felt stupid: I’m quite sure I have. Missed someone: Not that I remember. Gotten your hair cut: Cut and colored, yes. I think. Unless it was late February? I don’t remember. Watched cartoons: Yes, South Park. Hey, it’s a cartoon! Lied: I’m sure I have. LAST PERSON THAT… Slept in your bed: Me! Saw you cry: Fred, I’m sure. Made you cry: FRED, I’M SURE. Saw a movie with you: Fred. Unless you mean gone out to see a movie, in which case it would probably be my sister, nephew, parents, and the spud while we were in Maine after Christmas. HAVE YOU EVER… Been to California: Yes, a couple of times. The last time was when the spud was… three? Somewhere around there. Been to Canada: Yes, a few times, but didn’t spend any great amount of time there. I’d love to spend a week on the Canadian coast. Wished you were the opposite sex: Every month. Snuck out of the house: When I was a teenager, yes.

* * * Currently reading: Turning Angel, by Greg Iles. Recently finished: The Best Awful, by Carrie Fisher. Didn’t care for it. * * * I finally harassed Fred into stopping by the carpet store that he passes on his way home from work to pick up carpet samples. Last year he told me we could replace the fucking ugly-ass Berber carpet in the living room with something less fucking ugly-ass when we got our tax returns, only we ended up with a much-needed (NOT) high-definition television set and all the accoutrements, which left not so much money for replacing the carpet. Anyway, this year I started harassing him early, so he promised, out of self-preservation, to stop by the store and pick up some samples. When he got home, he told me the price of the carpet and the cost of installation would be around a thousand dollars and I swore up a storm, because I didn’t want to spend THAT FUCKING MUCH MONEY on carpet that would be in a house we’ll be selling in a year. Then he had a brainstorm and went over to Lowe’s, knowing that Lowe’s has inexpensive EVERYTHING, and when he came home, he told me that the cost of the carpet was less, but the installation was more expensive thus making it as expensive as the other place, and I swore up another storm. Because I DON’T want to fucking look at that fucking ugly-ass Berber carpet for another year (assuming that we sell the house within a few weeks up putting it up for sale, WHICH WE WON’T because our house is back to a very busy road, and who the fuck wants that?), but I guess I’m FUCKING WELL GOING TO HAVE TO. Goddamn you, Berber carpet and carpeted stairs and bedroom carpet that Tubby peed on so that there’s a fucking hole in the carpet of our bedroom closet, GODDAMN YOU STRAIGHT TO HELL. * * * “What IS that? Some kind of GODDAMN NICKNAME? You fucking heartless freak? You want me to kick your ass to Seattle, or you want to confess right now, jackass?” (What Nick WANTED to say on CSI (Vegas)) Poo pie in the sun. Hee! Mister Boogers watched the mothership descend. (It’s an electric fence collar so he can’t leave the back yard) All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: A day in the life. 2004: Naturally, the mental note got lost in the mental clutter, so I forgot she was in there, and only remembered when it had been a few hours and I hadn’t seen her. 2003: No entry. 2002: Don’t look at me like that. 2001: Of COURSE he falls in love with her inner beauty, because EVERYONE knows that fat women don’t have any of that OUTER beauty, for crying out loud. 2000: I can only hope he’ll flash me some butt cleavage.]]>

Dude, sucks to be you tone of voice, “And then you’ll see a bright light in your right eye and it’ll go out, and you’ll die.” She gave me two days – not “at most, two days” or “two days at the very least” but exactly two days. AND FRED DIDN’T EVEN STAY HOME FROM WORK. I spent the entire two days running around trying to get everything in the house organized so Fred would be able to figure out how to do everything after I’d died. AND DID I MENTION HE DIDN’T EVEN STAY HOME FROM WORK? Bastard. If he can’t be bothered to stay home from work during my LAST TWO DAYS OF LIFE, he can figure out how to do everything on his own, damnit.

* * * We were watching CSI (Vegas) the other night, and there was this case where a body was found in a toolbox in a ditch, and fire ants were using the body as a nest (shudder). Anyway, whatsherface, the blond woman Grissom has the hots for was able to reconstruct the guy’s face and they were able to identify him as a Down’s Syndrome man who’d been reported missing months previously. So Grissom and Nick – and possibly other CSIs, I don’t remember who-all was there – are at this ranch, and they’re talking to the guy who took the missing man’s job, and they show him the picture and there’s a whole lot of blah-de-blah, and then the man who took the missing man’s job says “They call him ‘Stub.'” Whereupon Nick Stokes, Ace Detective and CSI Genius jumps in and says, a dark scowl upon his face, “What is that, some kind of nickname?” And I about fell directly onto the floor, I was laughing so hard, because what kind of LINE is THAT? I mean, how the hell do you respond to such an OBVIOUS question? Did he expect the guy to say “Actually no, Nick Stokes, ACE DETECTIVE, that’s his REAL NAME!”? Ever since, we can be heard saying, in an accusatory tone, “What is that, some kind of NICKNAME?” * * * We taped last week’s episode of CSI: New York last week and tried to watch it Saturday night, but as soon as Gary Sinise picked up a piece of evidence without wearing a glove, we were completely turned off. HE PICKED UP A PIECE OF EVIDENCE WITHOUT WEARING A GLOVE, PEOPLE! There could have been epithelial tissue ALL OVER that piece of evidence, and he was all ham-handing it all over the place without gloves. GOOD-BYE, EVIDENCE! Good to know ya! We won’t be solving THIS case, ’cause Lieutenant Dan fucked up the evidence! Seriously, though, we both GASPED OUT LOUD when he did it. We are great big huge dorks. Luckily we have a few more seasons of CSI (Vegas) to go before we need to start worrying about what we want to watch next. I think I’ve got Fred convinced to give season 1 of Grey’s Anatomy a try. I almost don’t want him to watch it, though – what if he doesn’t love it like I do, or even worse, thinks it’s stupid? Then I’d have to divorce him. * * * Lately I’ve been not only waking up earlier and earlier, but actually getting my ass out of bed earlier on a regular basis. This disturbs me, because I have ALWAYS been a person who loves to sleep. In the past, if given a choice I would have slept ’til 10 or 11 every day (though I haven’t done that in years, because it disturbs Fred if I sleep too late. Nevermind that he’s in bed at 9:42 and I’m up ’til midnight; I’m still burning daylight). But in the past couple of weeks, despite the fact that I’ve got my alarm set to go off (playing the radio) at 7:45 every morning (that particular time because I like to be out the door on my morning walk by 8:30, and I generally need to putter around the house for half an hour to 45 minutes before I’m ready to go) I’ve been up almost every day by 7:30. I’m sure that at least part of it is due to the fact that it’s getting light outside earlier, and maybe once we turn our clocks ahead this weekend I’ll start sleeping in later. Who knows, though? I could be turning into one of those annoying morning people – in fact, I’ve been going to sleep earlier and earlier except for a few nights ago when I stayed up ’til midnight to finish the book I was reading; most nights lately I’ve got the light turned off by 11, though – and that, dear readers, would be a tragedy. For 38 years I’ve been a night owl, and have firmly believed that night owls are the coolest of the cool (I, however, am not the coolest of the cool. I am the dorkiest of the dorks.). Now all of a sudden I’m turning into a morning person? Say it ain’t so. (Now watch – in a few weeks I’ll no doubt do an entry wherein I talk about staying up ’til 2 am every night and sleeping ’til 10.) * * * Currently reading: The Best Awful, by Carrie Fisher. I’m not loving it, but I’ll probably keep reading it. Finished last night: Strange But True, by John Searles. Didn’t love it, but I liked it. It’s worth a read. Finished before that: Sleep No More, by Greg Iles. I like the Greg Iles books, but his sex scenes are kind of stilted and self-conscious, and I’m not sure I care for them. I prefer my sex scenes to flow in an unstilted manner, thank you. * * * Oh, I almost forgot! Best movie we’ve seen in a while: Derailed, believe it or not. There are not one but two sweet little twists toward the end that made it worth watching. Fred thinks Jennifer Aniston has cold, dead eyes, though. * * * Bad picture, but do you SEE how high the ridge of fur on Sugarbutt’s back is standing up? That’s a ticked-off kitty, right there. Sugarbutt snuggled up under my lap quilt (which I wasn’t using at the time), and then Miz Poo snuggled up to the OTHER side of the lap quilt and didn’t seem too disturbed that she was, in essence, snuggling with Sugarbutt. I never thought I’d see the day. If that ain’t a sashay, I don’t know what is. All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: Because there’s nothing worse than having your eyes scooped out with a spork when you’re not quite dead yet, believe you me. 2004: No entry. 2003: Your “shit” discussion is now over. You may move on. 2002: “Momma!” he cried “Momma, I’ll be good! Let me in Momma, let me in!” 2001: “Owowowowowow,” I whined, hand over my eye, and then stomped my foot in frustration. 2000: When I saw it in the theater, the ending so disturbed me that I sobbed all the way home from the movie theater.]]>

The Copper Duck) in Ducktown, TN. Looking for more time to kill that afternoon, we ended up at the Ducktown Basin Museum, which was very… museum-y. We drove around some more, drove into Cleveland to see if there was anyplace to shop or see a movie (there was a movie theater, showing the exact two movies we have no desire to ever see in our lives – V for Vendetta and Shaggy Dog), and then drove back to the cabin so I could take a short nap before we headed out for dinner. (Edited to add an explanation for why the river isn’t always running, stolen from Fred’s page: The river is controlled by the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA), and has been dammed in several places. They built a massive aqueduct through the mountains, and the river is actually diverted through that aqueduct most of the time, for the purpose of turning huge turbines and generating electricity. From late March until sometime in October, TVA schedules a series of releases of the river, to let it flow on its natural course through the riverbed. These computer-controlled releases create a perfect situation for whitewater rafting and kayaking, because one never needs worry about the water levels. If it rains, no problem. If there’s been a lack of rain, no problem. The levels of the river are constant during the releases, thanks to the dams. This time of year, they’re only releasing the river for 6 hours on Saturdays and Sundays. As it warms up, they’ll release it more often and for longer periods. By the height of summer, there are six release days a week, of maybe 10 hours a day. ) It took us maybe half an hour to eat dinner at a nearby restaurant, visit a convenience store to pick up snacks for the evening, and then we went back to the cabin for the evening. We watched the entire disc of four episodes of CSI and then went to bed some time after 10. Fred got up early Saturday morning, took a shower, and then headed out to get coffee and see if the river was running yet. According to the guy at the convenience store they’d start the river running at 9, but in actuality it didn’t get going until 10. By the time Fred got back to the cabin I was showered and dressed, and he woke up the spud so we could get going. And then we spent the next few hours driving around, waiting for the river to get going, and taking pictures. After an early lunch/ late breakfast (we tried to visit the Copper Duck again, but it didn’t open ’til noon, so we all had burgers at Albie’s, just down the road), we went back and spent a good long time standing over the spillway watching rafters and kayakers put in and take off down the river. When I told Fred that I’d like to take kayaking lessons and shoot for kayaking down the river next summer (2007, not 2006), you could have knocked him over with a feather. But the kayaking looked about 63,000 times more fun than the rafting, so I’m definitely up for it. And after that fascinating blow-by-blow description of our trip to Tennessee, how about a million pictures I took? The spillway, before they turned the river on. And after. Ducktown Basin Museum, mountains in the background. “Spud, go stand in that big metal thingy!” Part of the Burra Burra mine, collapsed on purpose. Looks an awful lot like the quarry, doesn’t it? It made me want to go for a swim. From our cabin deck, looking left. From our cabin deck, looking right. Can’t complain about the view, that’s for sure. An unimpressed Bluejay. My evening snack. It’s a little-known fact that the butt is the tenderest and most flavorful part of the cashew. A calm section of the river. If it hadn’t been 40 degrees, I would have for sure wanted to go for a swim. The spillway, with the river running. The spillway. Did you know part of the 1996 Olympics were held here? I had no idea. We walked across this bridge, and I stopped to take a picture over the side. I was pretty freaked out to find I could feel the bridge swaying in the breeze. Y’all know how much I love waterfalls! A crazy insane nut of a man, body-boarding down the VERY COLD Ocoee. Not fun. FUN. I can’t wait to do it myself! All of the pictures I took in Tennessee are here. Fred’s got an entry about the trip, here.

* * * “Oh. Were you gone? I hadn’t noticed.” * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: I’d have to have a mind before I lost it, wouldn’t I? 2002: Luckily, I’ve perfected the mental art of putting my hands over my ears and humming very loudly should my mind ever try to wander in that direction. 2001: While we were on the way to the movie store this afternoon, she turned to me and said “For my birthday” which is in October, by the way, “Can I get another kind of pet?” 2000: Since then, Fred and I, predictably, have referred to smoking pot – when seen in movies – as “Smoking the wheat.”]]>

reading: Sleep No More, by Greg Iles. Finished recently: Is That a Moose in Your Pocket?, by Kim Green. I said yesterday I wasn’t that into the book. I kept being not being that into the book right up until the end. I don’t recommend it. When will I learn that it’s okay to put down a book I’m not that interested in? I guess it’s the optimist in me – I keep hoping, right up until the end, that it’ll pick up. This one never did. Also finished recently: Be More Chill, by Ned Vizzini. I really liked this book and it was a quick read. There’s a quote on the back cover wherein someone compares it to The Catcher in the Rye. I guess I can get behind that comparison – though I think Be More Chill was far better than Catcher. I’m not fond of that whiny-ass Holden Caulfield, personally.

* * * Pet store kitty pics from Monday are here. * * * When I talked to my mother the other day, she brought up the family reunion my father’s side of the family will be having over Memorial Day weekend. She mentioned that she’d talked to my father’s sister (also known as my aunt, I suppose!) the other day, who had asked who out of my father’s family was planning on attending. “I told her that I didn’t think either of the boys would be going, and I think Debbie’s starting to give up hope that she’ll be able to go, because Brian’s still going to be in school,” she said. “And then she told your father, ‘Well, you can stay with me’ and he said ‘Well, Robyn lives in the area, I think we’re going to stay with her’, and she said ‘Wayne wants us all to have breakfast Sunday morning, you should just stay with me so you don’t have to make the drive again Sunday morning!’, so I guess we’re going to stay overnight on Saturday. Is Fred going to go to the reunion?” she asked. “Yeah, he’s going to go Saturday,” I told her, neglecting to mention the tense negotiations wherein I browbeat Fred into agreeing to attend, but he made me promise that he could bring his own vehicle so he could leave when he wanted to. “Well, maybe he wouldn’t mind spending the night, too!” she said. “Oh, yes he would,” I said. “Then you and the spud could stay at her house with us, and Fred could drive home that night,” she said. I got the distinct feeling that she didn’t want to stay in my aunt’s house without some of her own family around as buffer. “Yeah, we’ll stay overnight, too,” I said. Later, I told Fred about the conversation, and he suggested that the spud could stay overnight with them, and I could come back home with him. “No, I’m going to stay overnight. It won’t hurt. Besides, you’ll get the house to yourself,” I pointed out. “Hookers and blow!” he crowed jubilantly. “Yeah, except that I know that what really makes your heart race is the idea of being able to go to bed at 9:15 instead of having to stay up ’til 9:42,” I said. He grinned and didn’t say anything, ’cause he KNOWS it’s true. * * * My husband, in case I’ve never mentioned it before, is a bit of a spaz. Last week, after much harassment, our yard guy came out and sprayed poison in the back yard to kill the weeds. Of course we left the cat door shut so the cats couldn’t go out back for the rest of that day, and part of the next day. Two days later, Tommy wasn’t quite acting like himself. He hung out in the kitty condo in the master bedroom for most of the day, and when Fred announced that it was snack time – “Snack time! Snack time, kitty-kitties!” he sings in a surprisingly high soprano, “Snack time! Come get the snack!”, and all the cats except for Spot and Spanky come running from all corners of the house – Tommy just wasn’t interested. This is very VERY unlike Tommy, (who I’ve been calling “Tommy Two-Ton” behind his back, because he is turning into a porky little thing), who gets so excited at snack time that he dances around like he hasn’t eaten for DAYS, and pleasepleaseplease just GIVE HIM his snack before he fades away! Instead, he looked slightly interested for a brief moment, then went into the living room and flopped down on the floor. Fred fretted and worried that Tommy had gotten poison on his paws from the back yard and licked the poison off his paws, and was thiclose to death. He held Tommy and talked about how hot Tommy felt, and he worried and fretted, and I was very sure that he was going to end up taking Tommy to the emergency vet in Huntsville, because this sort of thing ALWAYS happens on the weekend, doesn’t it? Finally, he suggested that we give Tommy some of the antibiotics we had up in the cupboard (left over from when Miz Poo’s lip was really bad, but she hated the taste of the liquid so much that I went and got pills instead), and so I mixed the antibiotics up and we gave Tommy a dose and not two minutes later he looked a lot more bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and the next day he was acting exactly like himself and Fred was very, very relieved. (I know you want to give us hell for randomly giving out antibiotics to a cat who probably wasn’t sick, but please. Restrain yourselves, eh?) * * * When Fred’s referring to snack time and he doesn’t want the cats to understand what he’s saying, he always spells it out. As in, “Should I give them their S-N-A-K now, or wait ’til 7?” And it never fails to crack me up. Because you KNOW if cats were interested in spelling things, they’d spell it like that. * * * Pretty, pretty boy. (They’re SoftPaws nail caps so the little bastard won’t scratch up our furniture) I show this picture to prove (1) How mean that Sugary little bastard is to me, and (2) How beaten-up my hands are. Is that the hand of a badass, or what? (It’s an electric fence collar so he can’t leave the back yard) (They’re SoftPaws nail caps so the little bastard won’t scratch up our furniture) He’s not really tipping over backwards; it’s just the angle of the picture (I was laying on the bed). (It’s an electric fence collar so he can’t leave the back yard) (They’re SoftPaws nail caps so the little bastard won’t scratch up our furniture) He can stay in this position forEVER. I think it’s got something to do with the length of his tail. One of these days I’m going to measure that tail. (They’re electric fence collars so they can’t leave the back yard) (They’re SoftPaws nail caps so the little bastards won’t scratch up our furniture) All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: Also, there’s that whole pesky “dealing with people” thing, and I don’t like that sort of thing at ALL. 2004: The spud passed the test for her learner’s permit, THANKYAJEEZUS. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: Fred and I chose the names of our future child/ren way before we ever met – Seth Forrest and Samantha Jayne. 2000: On the other hand, I was shopping in Wal-Mart, wasn’t I? What’d I expect, diamonds and furs?]]>

reading: Is That a Moose in Your Pocket?, by Kim Green. I’m not that into it, but I think I’ll keep reading just to see what happens. Finished recently: Rosie Dunn, by Cecelia Ahern. Good book, but my lord did it start to drag toward the end. Because you KNOW what’s going to happen at the end, just not how or when, and I think the book could have been edited down a bit. It’s really weird when it comes to Cecelia Ahern’s books – I don’t care for her writing style, but I like her books. Isn’t that strange?

* * * When I was in Maine over Christmas, I mentioned in passing that I’d love to have a lap quilt to (duh) put over my lap in the evening since that’s the time of day when Fred likes to ratchet the temperature in the house down to 45, and so I tend to get cold, but don’t want to have to drag one of the big quilts out of the basket in the corner of the room. At least I thought I was mentioning it in passing, but my mother must have heard it as a request, ’cause she made me one. And it works just perfectly! The cats seem to think it’s for them, and they like to drag it off the couch and hide under it (especially Sugarbutt), and I have to keep reclaiming it. Also, while I was taking pictures, someone asked last week (or maybe the week before?) if I’d take a picture of our couches (which I mentioned were very comfortable), so I did. Not the prettiest color, but SO comfy. We have two couches like this one (this one’s mine), because (I think I’ve mentioned) we were going to get a couch and a love seat, but it was only a few dollars more to just get two couches – so we did! I love love LOVE the fact that there are recliners on both ends of the couches. When I was in Maine recently, I mentioned that I’d like it if my mother passed these Pyrex bowls on to me someday (“Hey Mom, when you kick off, can I have those bowls?”) (NO, I didn’t say that*.) and she said “Oh, why don’t you just take them now?” So I did! They sit on the counter and I use them from time to time. I have no idea why I like them so much, but I do – it’s like the Fire-King bowls I got from my grandmother’s house after she died in September of 2004 – I like the way they look, and they make me smile when I look at ’em. *I think I actually said “You should leave these bowls to me.” Which isn’t something I say very often, I SWEAR, but I doubt my brothers or sister would be much interested in them, so I wanted to make my interest known (my sister looked at me like I was a freakin’ nutball when she saw I was shipping those bowls back home. Heh.). I swear I don’t walk around the house saying “You can leave me this and this and this…” like I’m shopping. Why do I feel like an ass all of a sudden? * * * From my comments: Thanks for the heads up on Harlan Coben- I managed to get on the hold list at the library at #3 for 2 copies (I’m on a semi-rural library system now) thanks to the early warning. Anyone else got something coming out I should know about as we have fairly similar tastes? The only book that comes immediately to mind is Definitely Dead, by Charlaine Harris, which comes out on May 2nd. I’m sure there’ll be more as summer draws closer, so I’ll try to remember to mention them as I find out about ’em! just a quick question. are those claw covers on the kitty’s nails? i was looking into those for my cat a while ago. and..whats around the orange cat’s neck? just curious 🙂 People, people, people. I swear I’ve answered those same two questions 159 times. Are all the questions coming from brand-new readers, or are y’all just skimmers? The caps on the cats’ nails are Soft Paws, and they’re working out really well so far. And the collar with the box around the orange, black, and gray cats’ necks are collars that will shock them if they get too close to the fence; we installed an electric fence a few years ago since Mister Boogers kept jumping the fence and we’re pretty fond of him and don’t want him to get hurt. We assumed the kittens would try to jump the fence, too, so we got collars for them, and they’re trained to stay away from the fence. Though every once in a while one of them will haul ass through the cat door like the hounds of hell are after them, which means they probably got too close to the fence and got zapped. BTW – kudos for whoever recommended the body butter ribbon shower wash moisturizing stuff! I forgot the name – maybe Olay with jojoba? I bought some over the weekend and it rocks! That would be awesome reader Libby who suggested Olay’s Body Wash with Body Butter Ribbons with Jojoba Oil, and I agree with you – I bought some on Friday at the grocery store, and have been using it every other day (I don’t use it every day ’cause I’m sure my skin would give me hell), and it is AWESOME. My skin’s never been so soft! * * * It’s hard out here for a Poo. He adores hanging out on top of the fridge. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: Damn. He saw through my wily scheme! 2004: She stood and let it sink in, then turned and flounced off. 2003: No entry. 2002: Cat pee, by the way, is the vilest-smelling stuff on this planet. 2001: Don’t you hate it when someone tries to be reasonable in the midst of your tightly choreographed hissy fit? 2000: “Of course they do, they like soft toilet paper. It’s the mafia, babe!”]]>

Big Love yesterday, and PLEASE. Who the hell didn’t know the instant Harry Dean Stanton handed over the pitcher of drink to Bruce Dern’s head wife during the pilot episode that there was poison in that thar pitcher? Harry Dean Stanton is one scary-looking motherfucker.

* * * For once, I timed my sending of discs back to Netflix juuuuust right so that they all arrived at Netflix yesterday and Netflix immediately sent The Squid and the Whale, Capote, and Derailed out to me, so they should be here in the mail later today. In other words, I’m getting three movies the day they come out without having to drag my ass to the movie store, and LIFE IS GOOD. I hope they’re good movies. Countdown: Two weeks to Brokeback Mountain on DVD! And I WILL be hauling my ass to the movie store for that. Because frankly, there’s just not enough gay cowboy sex in this world. * * * I sat down to watch Grey’s Anatomy yesterday, but when I turned the TV on the channel was set to HBO HD and Titanic was playing – the part where Rose and Jack are in the water and she sees the boat go by, only Jack is frozen to death – and I had to sit and watch it ’til the end, and I got all teary-eyed ’cause I’m a big baby. I sure do love that Kate Winslett. Even back then Bill Paxton had the most smackable face in Hollywood. * * * Currently reading: Rosie Dunn, by Cecelia Ahern. I realized the oddest thing this morning – I was reading the author bio on the back flyleaf, and read that Cecelia Ahern is the daughter of the Prime Minister of Ireland, and remembered that I knew that, since I read PS: I Love You a few years ago, and I remember reading back then that she was the daughter of Ireland’s Prime Minister, and thinking that it was cool that Ireland had a female prime minister. I have no idea on earth why I assumed that the Prime Minister of Ireland was a woman, since the bio didn’t mention whether it was her mother or father who was the Prime Minister, I just for some reason assumed it was her mother. The Prime Minister of Ireland is not a woman, in case you were wondering. At least, I hope that’s not a woman. Finished late last night: Dead Sleep by Greg Iles. Good book – I had to stay up late ’cause I couldn’t force myself to put the book down. I played the “Just one more chapter!” game so many times that around midnight I just gave up and finished the book. Of interest to Harlan Coben readers: He’s got a new one coming out toward the end of April. And it’s a Myron Bolitar! Whee! * * * Never met a closed door he didn’t want to be on the other side of. “What, Momma?” I love the way every time Suggie and Tommy fight, Suggie lays there with his mouth open in a rictus of horror. I should sell Suggie-cuddles online for $5 a pop. I’d make a killing! All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: And THEN in the car on the way to Mom and Dad’s, I was thinking “Well, THAT was rude, to tell her she was being too loud! 2004: No entry. 2003: Miz Poo has an infection. 2002: And if you unsubscribe from the notify list? A reason for the unsubscription is neither necessary, required, nor desired. Thanks so much. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry.]]>

Sopranos spoilers in this section. How weird was it to see Tony acting so non-Tony-ish in the dream sequences? I mean, nodding and smiling at people? Also, I was dying for him to get home so we could see who his wife was. At first it sounded JUST like Adriana, then Fred thought maybe it was Debi Mazar. That freakin’ hole in his chest was just NASTY when it was uncovered. It gave me the willies. When Tony came out of the dream to find that he was intubated and he was flailing around, I said to Fred “I hope to god I never wake up like that!”, and then later when they had the hole uncovered – and is it weird that they’d just have the hole all uncovered like that, with people standing around in unsterile clothing? Because that seemed to just beg for a worse infection – I said to Fred “I hope to god I never have a hole in my chest like that.” ::shudder:: I found the dream sequences oddly interesting, but like I said, I was dying for him to get home. I guess a good part of this season is going to be how everyone deals with life while Tony’s in a coma.

* * * Last week Fred and I were watching TV and I made him pause the show we were watching so I could tell him something. “Shonda Rimes* said that they had to come up with a word to use instead of vagina, because apparently the censors will let them say ‘penis’ 30 times for every time they say ‘vagina’,” I said. “I think she’s exaggerating a little,” he said. “I’m sure she is, but anyway, they came up with ‘va-jay-jay‘, and now it’s taking the country by storm! I’m seeing it all OVER blogs and journals, and Shonda Rimes said people are writing her letters telling her they’ve adopted it as their own.” “That’s fascinating,” he said, and hit “play” on the remote control. *The creator of Grey’s Anatomy. Where’ve YOU been? Fred doesn’t watch the show, but even he knows who Shonda Rimes is. * * * Currently reading: Dead Sleep, by Greg Iles. So far, it’s pretty damn good. The last two books I finished – The Worst Noel and Appetites, were both kind of “eh.” I wouldn’t really recommend either of them. * * * My leetle sister turned 36 yesterday. That means we’re BOTH within shouting distance of 40, which I think makes my parents officially ancient, since two of their kids are over 40 and the other two are thisclose to it. You’ll always be the baby, Deb! * * * Hey, if you’re looking for something to listen to on your iPod and you’re a Karin Slaughter lover (or even if you’ve never heard of her!), you can download a short story of hers here. You have to provide an email address (I gave ’em my junky hotmail address, that I never ever check, except like once a month to trash all the spam), but I think that’s all, and then you can download the story. I’m looking forward to listening to it as soon as I’m done with A Girl Named Zippy. * * * A few days ago we were watching The Shield, and they kept saying the word “pussy”, and they weren’t referring to kitty-cats. “Why do they have to keep saying it?” Fred said. “It’s such an ugly word.” “What do you prefer?” I asked. “‘Cunt’?” He gave me a long, silent, thoughtful look. “I prefer ‘va-jay-jay’,” he said almost prissily. And here I thought he never listens to me. * * * Reader Nancy sent me a link to talking cats, and I went and watched it and laughed ’til I cried. Go check it out! * * * I should have known when I saw something along the lines of “An MTV Krunk production” pop up during the opening credits that it wasn’t going to be my kind of movie, but I gave Hustle & Flow a try anyway. I made it about ten minutes in – only because I am weirdly fascinated with Taryn Manning, who is hothothot on her coldest day in a way Paris Hilton couldn’t be on her hottest day – before I gave up and turned it off. And considering I’m the one who willingly sat through A Smile Like Yours, that’s got to tell you something – namely that I’ll sit through most anything. Suffice it to say that I don’t recommend Hustle & Flow. Though probably it would have picked up if I’d left it in, right? That’s how it always goes. * * * * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: And why is it that I ALWAYS have my period when it’s time to leave on vacation? Why? Whyyyyyyyyy? 2002: I don’t want to have to think about Ozzy having a boner, thankyouverymuch. 2001: Fortunately, I have many more lazing-around-the-house-reading hours in the day than he does. 2000: I didn’t think cats did such things once they were fixed.]]>