Month: May 2006

Queensryche when she was a kid (and very well may still be a big fan). I wish like hell I’d brought the camcorder with me. Of the surviving kids from my father’s family, the one who was pushing the hardest for the family reunion – and his son – ended up not showing up at all. Which pissed off his siblings, and there was much shit talk at the reunion. Maybe he’ll make the next one. There do exist, of course, many pictures from the reunion, but y’all know I can’t show them to you, since they involve other people, and all that. I’m sure you understand.

* * * So, my parents got back from Tuscaloosa early Sunday afternoon, and we basically hung around the house, reading (my father), napping (my mother), and making dinner (me). We sat down to watch TV at the usual time, and since we didn’t have anything to watch, we watched the Desperate Housewives season finale, which I’d Tivo’d the week before. My mother and I are both fans, and so my father and Fred had to suffer through it (though Fred admitted later that he kept getting caught up in the show and it wasn’t a bad show. Well, DUH). Monday, Fred took my father hiking. I think they were gone about FOUR HOURS, and we later found out that my father had slipped and fallen on the hike, and twisted his leg a bit. I yelled at Fred for that, since I’d given him strict instructions to not KILL MY FATHER, but Tuesday morning my father woke up with no pain in his leg, so I guess it’s all good. For most of Monday my mother and I hung around the house, and finally I got bored enough to ask her if she wanted to run over to Kohl’s with me. I needed to buy a blanket for my bed (I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d rather wake up warm in the middle of the night than freezing fucking cold, curled up in a fetal position, shivering and begging through blue lips for death so that the flames of Hell will warm me up. Plus, if you’re too warm in a 30-below-zero house, you can just kick off one of the blankets.) and new towels for the bathroom. She, of course, is always willing to go shopping, and so we went to Kohl’s, where I found a cheap “hand-stitched” quilt for the bed and towels I liked. Tuesday, I got up a little before 7, went for my walk, came home, showered, and did some laundry. A little after 10:00, we left the house, headed for Scottsboro and the Unclaimed Baggage Center. I don’t think I mentioned that my father bought himself a $500 GPS, specifically for this trip. Which is all well and good – it’s great to always know where you are, and how many chain restaurants are within a two-mile radius – except that he ARGUES with the fucking thing. And it’s VERY BOSSY, with the “Left turn coming up” and “In 500 yards, turn left” and “Turn left here” and then, if you don’t turn, “TURN LEFT HERE OR I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL.” So we got to Scottsboro, and the annoying, bossy GPS lady was suspiciously silent, and my father said “Now, where the hell is this place?” and I said “I don’t know, I’ve never been there. I THOUGHT YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS GOING TO TELL US HOW TO GET THERE”, and then the bossy bitch was all “Oh, right. Turn left in 500 yards. HA! You need me! Don’t forget that, fuckers!” So anyway, we got to the Unclaimed Baggage Center, where we spent an hour and a half looking around. I, personally, ended up buying a $20 digital camera (new in the box! And it sells for $50 on eBay! Perfect for my purse!), a bunch of books, and… well, I think that’s about it. My mother bought herself a blouse for $4, and the spud a couple of skirts for $6 and $8, or something like that. By the time we left that place it was after 1:00, and my father started naming off the places to eat in the area, ’cause apparently we were going out to eat for lunch. Which I figured we would, but eating out still makes me nervous, ’cause I have a hard time counting protein and calories in that kind of situation. When he named off Ruby Tuesday, I suggested we go there, since I knew they had a low-carb menu. I ended up with a small steak and a ton of broccoli, and it was surprisingly good. And it didn’t make me gassy! Yay! We got home around 3:00, and I told the spud that I was going to run some errands (post office, framing store, Wal-Mart, produce stand), and my mother heard “Wal-Mart” and got all bright-eyed, because she is ADDICTED to those sugar-filled Weight Watchers snack cakes (don’t get all up in arms, Weight Watchers lovers, because it’s true – the first ingredient on the ingredient list is sugar, which means there’s more sugar than anything else in those cakes), and she knows where to find them in Wal-Mart. So we ran the errands, which somehow ended up taking two hours, and we got home in time for me to slice up some tomatoes, warm up some grilled chicken, and serve dinner. And last night we watched Transamerica, which Fred whined and moaned and bitched about, but that’s just too damn bad, ’cause I don’t think I should have to watch Dick movies every fucking night of my life, personally. Also, there were many penii to be seen, which always the sign of a good movie. Today, we’re doing some heavy-duty shopping. We’re hitting the mall, among other places, and I’m finally going to use the Yankee Candles gift card the spud gave me, and get some new bras (since the old ones are already too big, and I only got them like a month ago), and perhaps I’ll find some sandals I can wear this summer. A gal can hope. * * * I need advice on an easy-to-use 35mm, decent quality camera that I can get for the spud. I bought her one at Wal-Mart yesterday, but it’s a piece of crap. Flash, focus, and auto-advance are mandatory. A link would be good, too. I’d like to spend no more than around $50 for it, but nothing too cheap – the one I got at the Mart yesterday was $17 and, like I said, a piece o’ crap. I know y’all have advice; hand it over! * * * I have a metric shitload of email I haven’t even begun to slog through. If you’ve emailed me in the last week and a half and I haven’t answered, fear not. I’ll get to it when my parents leave – I promise! * * * Could that squirrel look any less concerned about how close Mister Boogers is? More kitty pics, here. * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: It was like being in a flying SUV. 2003: No entry. 2002: It was a stank that coated the inside of my nostrils, and was so thick and noxious that I could actually TASTE it. 2001: A buncha links. 2000: Something about that rictus grin just gives me nightmares.]]>

mah baby!!!!

* * * Wednesday morning, Fred sent me an email, suggesting that we go for a hike up on Monte Sano. I responded with a “HELL NO” and a bitch about how hot and humid it was outside. He p’shawed the idea that 85 degrees and 10,000% humidity was too hot and humid, pointed out that it was cooler in the woods, and just to SHUT HIM THE HELL UP I agreed to go. God help me. He called when he was leaving work, and I ran upstairs and put my Coolmax shorts and shirt on, then came downstairs to put band-aids on the backs of my feet (I have two huge, nasty, raw-looking blisters on the backs of my heels, due to new sneakers that caused me no problems the first time I wore them, then blistered me up the second time. STUPID SHOES.). “Why are you walking funny?” Fred asked. “What?” I said – nay, snarled – at him. “You’re walking like Vito,” he said. Vito, for those of you not in the know, is the fat guy from The Sopranos who lost a lot of weight, but has quite a ways to go. He walks like a duck due to, I guess, hip issues. And my dear, beloved husband was comparing me to Vito. I get nothin’ but compliments. “I HAVE BLISTERS ON THE BACKS OF MY FEET AND MY HEEL HURTS BECAUSE OF THE PLANTAR FASCIITIS,” I said, telling him what I’d told him a thousand times before. “Oh, right.” I was in a pissy mood until we were about halfway to the mountain, and then I lightened up a little, listening to Fred tell me how this wasn’t a bad hike at all, and he knew I’d have no problems at all. He’s such a liar. The first part of the hike wasn’t bad, except for the fucking BUGS buzzing all around me in the woods. Bugs in the woods. Who the fuck would have thought? You’d think the guy who hikes ALL THE DAMN TIME would have expected the bugs and would have possibly brought along some bug spray, but nay. No bug spray, but plenty of bugs. Anyway, like I said, the first part of the hike wasn’t bad. It was downhill a ways, and it made me nervous due to the fact that if we were starting out going downhill, chances were pretty damn good we’d have to go uphill on the way back to the car. And then, all of a sudden, the trail started going uphill. And uphill. And uphill some more. And I had to stop and rest a THOUSAND times on the uphill part, because apparently walking on a fairly flat surface 5 days a week (even if it IS 4.16 miles) doesn’t prepare one for an uphill climb. Fred kept reassuring me that we didn’t have much further to go, but I decided pretty quickly that he was a great big liar, and I stopped believing him. And then finally, we got to the Stone Cuts (the Stone Cuts were formed when “the capstone got exposed and then split”, according to Fred). They were quite cool, and we spent quite some time looking around and trekking through the Stone Cuts and the covered Stone Cuts (pictures in a minute). Not long after, it was time to head back to the car, and we got about halfway back, when Fred offered me an alternative. I could accompany him on the rest of the hike – an all-uphill climb – back to the car, or I could take the “easy” route out to Bankhead Parkway, and he could climb back to the car, then drive down to Bankhead Parkway. From where we were standing, I could see the “easy” route, and it looked like a nice, flat, wide trail. So, being the wimp that I am, I opted for the easy trail. In a usual-for-me entry, I’d get just out of sight and sound of Fred, to find that the trail was six miles of uphill climbing. Luckily, that didn’t happen, and the trail stayed mostly wide and flat and easy the entire way out to the old Bankhead Parkway road, and I was a little ways down that when Fred came walking up to meet me, my bottle of water in his hand. Altogether, not a bad hike. But I suspect I’m never ever going to turn into one of those people who LIKES to hike. I might tolerate it just to spend time with Fred, doing what he likes to do, but I don’t imagine a future wherein I wake up and think “Hey! I’d really like to go for a hike!” Stranger things have happened, though, I suppose. The trail, before it got hard. Us, sitting at the top of the trail, next to the Stone Cuts. Note that I am drenched in sweat, and Fred’s not sweating at ALL. Trees growing between the Stone Cuts. Things growing out of rocks fascinates me, for some reason. It seemed to be about ten degrees cooler in here. This stuff is native honeysuckle. The stuff you usually think of as being honeysuckle, that grows all over the place, was actually brought over from… China? Japan? One of those. The sun shining through the trees. Any ideas what this flower is? Now, THAT is what I call a trail. This is also my kinda trail. (It’s not really a trail, it’s the old Bankhead Parkway.) You can see all of the uploaded hiking pictures here. * * * Y’all, I am going to say this clearly and in caps so you don’t get all freaky – MY PARENTS ARE GOING TO BE HERE ALL NEXT WEEK AND I DON’T KNOW IF I’LL BE UPDATING. I MIGHT, BUT ASSUME I WON’T. Okay? Y’all were sweet to worry, though. Mwah! * * * “Run and hide or snooze in the grass? Snooze in the grass or run and hide? I CANNOT DECIDE!” Talk about your evil eye. Talk about your look o’ love. “Who, me? No, I’m not drinking out of the bird bath. What are you talking about, crazy lady?” “You cannot see me… you doooo nooooot seeee meeeeeee….” (If you look closely, you’ll see water droplets on his chin.) All of today’s uploaded pictures (including a bunch of a dancing Tommy) are here. * * * Previously 2005: But by the time I was about three words in to the text message to the spud, I was using “u” and “2″ and “gd” with abandon, and it STILL took me 4-fckng-eva 2 get th gd msg typd n & snt. 2004: I started to answer her, when I realized to my horror that Fred was leaning forward, CUPPING HIS HAND TO HIS EAR to illustrate that he hadn’t heard what she said. 2003: “I breathe oxygen!” “Me too!” 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: Our first trip to G’burg.]]>

Nance!!!!

* * * We’re selling a few things on eBay, if you’re interested. Yes, the shipping on the puzzles is expensive. That’s ’cause the damn box weighs 17 pounds! * * * Currently reading: The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio, by Terry Ryan. Finished last night: The Hard Way, by Lee Child. Excellent book – I think I’m a little in love with Jack Reacher. How can you not be? Finished before that: Nursery Crimes, by Ayelet Waldman. I enjoyed it a great deal – it was a light, easy read, and it kept me entertained. I have the next one in the series, and I added the other four to my wish list (which is so damn big it’s the Wish List That Ate the Internet, but how is that possible, considering that my bookcase is jam-packed with books I have yet to read, I ask you?). * * * So, my parents left for Tuscaloosa yesterday morning. I did think about doing an entry, but I had errands to run, and I just generally needed a mental health day. I’m sure you understand. They’re coming back Sunday (I’m coming back with them after spending the night at my father’s sister’s house, after the family reunion on Saturday.)) My main concern was that my mother would want to eat out all the time and I really wanted to watch what I’m eating, since weigh in is… oh, look. It was today! (Another 11 pounds gone, for a total of 85. Entry about that, here.) Anyway, I made a point of telling them with plenty of advance warning what we were planning to have for dinner each night (Sunday night I made General Tsao’s chicken for everyone else and a cheese omelet for me since I can’t eat chicken (and Tuesday night when I made a comment about not being able to eat chicken, my father did a big, exaggerated double-take and frowned and said “You can’t eat CHICKEN?” Um, HELLEW, were you not listening when I yammered about not being able to eat chicken Sunday night, Fadder?), and then Tuesday night we had hamburgers, coleslaw, and three-bean salad). Monday, when I got back from my 4.16 (that’s right! Not just 4 miles, but also .16 miles! Fear me!) mile walk and was heading upstairs to take my shower, my mother said they thought they’d take me out to lunch, and did I think I could eat something at Applebee’s? I told her I could get something off the Weight Watcher’s menu, and we picked the spud up from school (she had half a day, due to finals), and we all went to Applebee’s. Where I ordered the Teriyaki Steak and Shrimp skewers, and it was all very good, but I swear, ten seconds after the steamed broccoli hit my stomach, I started having the scary, rumbly gas. Sunday morning, Fred took my father for a hike, and actually went so slowly that he (Fred) didn’t even break a sweat (taking it easy on the old man – isn’t he nice?), and Fred actually ended up going for another hike in the afternoon so he could do some sweating (though he told my father that he was working off the pizza he’d had for lunch). Monday evening, we loaded up the kayaks and headed for Decatur, stopping on the way at Subway to pick up dinner, and then we went to Point Mallard Park (which was pretty deserted, because the water park doesn’t actually open ’til this weekend), and we ate dinner at a picnic table, and my father and Fred went out kayaking while my mother, the spud, and I sat and talked. I think Fred and my father were out on the water for close to an hour, but my father didn’t look like he was ready to keel over or anything, so I guess Fred took it easy on him. We didn’t really go shopping during the three days they were here – actually, they went shopping on Tuesday, but I needed to be home when the spud got home, so I could give her a couple of signed checks for her trip to the dentist for her six-month cleaning. So they went shopping and I stayed home and cleared off the DVR a little. One thing I’ll say about my parents – they are open to ANYTHING. Want to go to the mall? Sure! Want to go out to eat? Sure! Movies? Sure! Underwear shopping? Sure! In fact, we have plans to hit the Unclaimed Baggage Center in Scottsboro next week, since I’ve never been there, Fred has no desire to see it, and I’d like to check it out. Also, we may or may not hit the movies once or twice, and I know we’ll be at the mall at least once next week. Also, they are really and truly charmed by our cats (or at least they pretend really well!) – especially Tommy, who wasn’t scared of them for one single second, and in fact sat in my mother’s lap a few times, and Miz Poo, who is scared of NO ONE who will give her belly rubs. The other cats responded with varying degrees of freakitude. Spot made an appearance, finally, for a few minutes Tuesday afternoon, only because we were eating hamburgers and he wanted some handouts. Spanky hid for a few days, then came out and acted like he’d never been scared. Mister Boogers avoided my parents for the most part, except for the time my father was sitting out back reading, and Mister Boogers came along and rubbed on him… until he realized it was my father and not Fred, and then he ran off like the dork he is. Sugarbutt was pretty freaked out by my parents, but by yesterday morning he would flop down on his back near my father, but run like the wind if my father tried to pet him. Goofy cats. Now we have a few days of breathing room before the family reunion on Saturday, which will take a little more than two hours to get to, and it’s supposed to be hot as hell in Tuscaloosa on Saturday (also, there might be scattered showers. LOVELY.). At some point in the afternoon, Fred and the spud will come home, and I’ll stay in Tuscaloosa with my parents at my aunt’s house, we’ll get up Sunday, have breakfast, and head back here. Them’s the plans, anyway. * * * Pet store kitty pics from Monday are here. * * * Something has displeased the Boog. Tommy waits fearfully for the day when the Sug of Damocles falls upon him. Something has spooked the Spot. I need a camera that will take better pictures of a black cat in a fairly well-lit room. Any suggestions? All uploaded pictures for today are hither. * * * Previously 2005: Grackles are kind of evil-looking and have great big beaks and I’m sure their bite is far, far worse than their bark. 2004: I sure am MIGHTY FUCKING TIRED of going to the FUCKING doctor’s office all the damn time. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry.]]>

Bitchypoo will go to jail for … Celebrating nude day ‘What sexual activity will you go to jail for?’ at QuizUniverse.com

Robyn will go to jail for … Making sweet love to a religious symbol ‘What sexual activity will you go to jail for?’ at QuizUniverse.com

* * * Meme, seen in multiple places. Accent: I have NO ACCENT. None, you hear me? Okay, I suppose I have a half-Maine, half-Southern accent. I should record myself reading something, and y’all could tell me what kind of accent I have. Booze: I have yet to find any kind of alcohol I can stand the taste of. Even those drinks that people are all “Oh, taste this! You TOTALLY can’t taste the alcohol in it!”, I can taste the alcohol. And I don’t like the taste. Chore I hate: The list would be shorter if it was “Chore I love.” Actually, that one would have to be blank. The chore I hate the most would either be cleaning out the litter box, or mopping the floors. Dog or cat: Cat. Duh. Essential electronics: BobPod, my computer, and the laptop (which I don’t use often, but it definitely comes in handy sometimes). Favourite cologne(s): Sand & Sable and Body by Victoria. I have more perfume than that, but those are the two I wear regularly. Gold or silver: I like both, but I think the majority of my jewelry (which I never wear) is gold. Hometown: Born in Bangor, Maine – raised (mostly) in Lisbon Falls, Maine. Insomnia: Almost never, THANK GOD. I really like my sleep. Job title: Professional Couch Potato. Kids: One 17 year-old daughter. Living arrangements: Big house, one husband, one child, six cats. My own bedroom! Most admirable trait: Fred says it’s my sense of humor. (Though his first answer was “Your husband.”) Number of sexual partners: I am uncomfortable with this question. Overnight hospital stays: Three – no, four. Once when I had my tonsils out, once when I had the tumor removed from my right knee, once when I gave birth via c-section, and once when I had weight loss surgery. Phobias: I’m not crazy about anything creepy-crawly, and I can’t stand watching operations on TV. Quote: “She is too fond of books, and it has addled her brain.” – Louisa May Alcott. Also, “How nice to do nothing then rest afterward.” (I don’t know who coined that one) Religion: A non-practicing Protestant. Siblings: Two older brudders, one younger sister. Time I wake up: Depends on the day – today I got up a little before 8:00. Unusual talent or skill: I can wiggle my ears, roll my tongue, and raise my left eyebrow. I also do a pretty good Cartman imitation, or so I’m told. Vegetable I refuse to eat: Peppers, of any color. Worst habit: Ignoring the fact that I have to pee until I’m about to wet my pants, and then I dance to the bathroom. X-rays: Too many to count. Also, I’m sure I couldn’t remember them all. Yummy foods I make: Shrimp with garlic and onions (spray a pan with Olive Oil Pam, add as much garlic and onions and you’d like (along with a couple of tablespoons of water, so they don’t stick to the pan), sautee until they’re softened, add raw shrimp to the pan, push around with a spatula until the shrimp are pink and ready to eat. YUMMY. Zodiac sign: Capricorn. Capricorns are supposedly Earth signs, but I think something got screwed up, ’cause I’m CLEARLY a water sign. * * * Tuesday Friday Three List three things you do that tend to irritate those around you: 1) Fart. I’m sorry, I CANNOT HELP IT, if you hold in a fart you can EXPLODE, also it hurts, and since I had the surgery, if I eat the wrong thing, I am a complete and utter fart machine. You’d think, given the amount of enjoyment Fred gets from his own farts, he’d think it was funny, right? SO WRONG. He takes it as a personal affront. 2) Jump to conclusions. 3) Get pissy and bitchy for no apparent reason. List three things those around you tend to do that irritates you: 1) Loud belches from out of nowhere, with no warning, SPUD I AM LOOKING AT YOU. 2) Fart. FRED I AM LOOKING AT YOU. 3) Springboard across my body 63 times in a row when I am trying to sleep. CATS I AM LOOKING AT YOU. If you could ask one question each to any three people, living or dead, who would the three people be and what question would you ask each one? Assume the answer would be 100% true. 1) My grandmother. “Were you happy?” 2) Tom Cruise. “Tell me the truth about what happened with Nicole.” I MUST KNOW. 3) Moira. “What the hell happened? You just disappeared.” * * * From my comments: Hey Robyn, I meant to ask before but keep forgetting…do you still watch American Idol, and if so, are you rooting for the Alabama boy, Taylor Hicks? I do, and I am. When I watch American Idol, it’s always on the DVR, and I only fast-forward to watch each of the songs. I really like Taylor – Fred and I liked him way back in the auditions – so I’m rooting for him, but I was really disappointed to see Chris go, because I liked him a lot, as well. I do like Katherine, though, because I think she’s just cute as a button (she has a little to learn when it comes to dressing herself, though, because I swear to GOD every shirt she wears makes her look pregnant, so she needs a little help in that area), but I don’t think she’s as good a singer as Taylor is. JUST MY OPINION, FOLKS. Robyn, I’m reading your archives from last year when you had all the little kittens (awwww!) I wondered if you had any experience and/or advice for something that our kittens are doing. They’re about 12 weeks old, and they’re perfectly well litter trained, but sometimes they play in the litter boxes, pouncing on the litter or digging frantically even though they don’t have to go. Any thoughts? I’m guessing it’s normal, but I have to admit that it stresses me out a bit. They sometimes just lounge in there, too. Weird! It’s totally normal. All of our foster kitties did that very same thing (Tommy LOVED to hang out in the litter box. I think he even fell asleep in it at one point), and they all grew out of it. I’m sure your babies will grow out of it, too. It stressed me out a little, too, because – well – it’s nas-TAY for little kittens to hang out where they poop and pee. I don’t know what the attraction is, but like I said, I’m sure they’ll grow out of it. * * * Fred and I went back to Brahan Spring Park in Huntsville yesterday because the weather was pretty nice – though a little windy – and he had a yen to do some more fishing. I sat in the car for a while, then he called me from his cell phone and told me I should come keep him company, so I did. While I sat with him – about ten or fifteen minutes – he caught three bream. They were small, so he threw them back, but it was nice to see him catching something. While he was fishing, a mother and her son (I assume – I guess she could have been an aunt or babysitter or nanny) came along. The kid was, I don’t know, maybe five or six years old. And as we stood there, Fred OBVIOUSLY fishing, the kid picked up rocks and started throwing them at the bobber attached to Fred’s hook. After the first rock, Fred and I gave each other A Look, and I glanced over at the mother/ aunt/ babysitter/ nanny, who was very carefully not looking in our direction at all. And then the little shit threw another rock. And another one. And another one. And Fred and I gave each other “Do you fucking believe this?” looks, and I so very much wanted to yell at the mother/ whatever “Are you FUCKING kidding me? This big lake, and your evil spawn has to throw rocks RIGHT HERE?”, but of course I didn’t, and Fred didn’t say anything to her, because of course if either of us had, we would have been the ones who looked like assholes. And we might have expected Mommy/ Whatever to tell the Little Prince “no” and, well, we can’t have THAT. People drive me fucking NUTS sometimes. * * * I’ve been trying to get the house ready for my parents’ arrival tomorrow. I spent – I shit you not – two hours tossing shit out of the dining room. I had no IDEA we had so much crap in there, and I ended up tossing about three garbage bags full of stuff. It looks better, but it doesn’t look TWO HOURS OF WORK better, I’ll tell you that. I’m planning to take it easy today – clean out the refrigerator, the microwave, under the kitchen sink, and possibly the pantry – and then tomorrow I need to scrub down the spud’s bathroom, replace her shower liner, and get the guest bedroom ready for my parents (ie: make the bed, toss the old, crappy, barfed-upon blankets that are on the bed, move the luggage out of the closet so they can use it, and clean up around the spud’s computer). I had thought that I wanted to use the steam cleaner on the carpet upstairs and in the computer room, but I’m just NOT that motivated. I don’t know what the situation will be like as far as entries next week. I’ll try to get at least short ones up most days, but I may not be able to. I’ll do my best, and as usual, the notify list will be the first to know! * * * Fight! FIGHT! Mister Boogers gets the upper paw. Is it just me, or does Sugarbutt look a little like a cow here? All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: We’re foster parents. 2004: Because WHY HAD IT NOT OCCURRED TO ME TO THROW MYSELF DOWN THE MOUNTAIN TO AVOID THE CONCERT??? 2003: The words “ass ugly” were invented to describe these shoes. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: She hasn’t claimed boredom since. ]]>

reading: Nursery Crimes, by Ayelet Waldman. Recently finished: I Thought My Father was God. Good book, but it took me forEVER to finish it. I think it would make (this is NOT a putdown of the book, by the way) a great bathroom book, because each story was short enough to finish in one, er, sitting.

* * * Last night, Fred got a yen to go fishing after dinner, so we loaded up the car and headed for Brahan Spring Park in Huntsville. On the way, we saw a rainbow. When we got to the park, Fred wandered off and went fishing, while I tossed Cheerios on the water in hopes of luring ducks and/ or geese to me. It didn’t take long before a couple of geese were headed my way. Apparently I wasn’t fast enough with the Cheerios, because this goose came running and hissing at me. And it was a little scary, so I threw the box at her (him?) and ran away. Ducks like Cheerios, too. We moved to the other side of the park so Fred could try fishing at another spot, and there was this flock of Canada Geese hanging out in the grass. I walked over to them and threw Cheerios at them, and they looked at me as if I were mentally disturbed. The lake. What you don’t see: All the garbage floating around the edge of the lake. It was so nasty it made me want to go get the kayaks and paddle around the lake, picking up the trash. Fred got a couple of nibbles, but no real bites. He had fun, though, and I got to feed the ducks and geese, so I consider it a trip worth making. * * * Yesterday during the day I had an absolute ton of errands to run – Sam’s for water and coffee creamer, the pet store for cat food, Target for a shower liner (and I thought I was going to have to hunt a couple of you down after I spent several minutes wandering around the shower curtain aisle and didn’t see a single shower liner. Apparently there’s an entirely separate shower curtain and shower liner aisle three aisles away from the first one. Why? I don’t know – but I did get a shower liner for $2.99!), and the other pet store for some bird feeders and bird seed. I ended up only being gone from the house for a couple of hours, so I even had time to watch Sunday’s episode of Desperate Housewives (which is not even close to my favorite Sunday show, so I didn’t mind waiting a few days to watch it. I like Lynette’s hair shorter, and I’m curious to know what the story is with Tom and that woman, because I don’t necessarily think it’s going to be an affair type thing, though I guess I could be wrong.) and Monday’s Dr. Phil. Which reminds me – the Dr. Phil family with Alex, Katherine, Erin, and Dead-Eyed Marty are going to be on Dr. Phil this week for an update! It’s scheduled to be on today, but your local listings might vary. I’ll be interested to see what’s going on with that family! (And thanks to Shelly for the reminder!) * * * Okay, I need to get some cleaning done around here – if nothing else, the dining room needs to be straightened up, and I need to clean the fridge – so I’m going to cut the entry short for today. I know y’all understand! * * * “Let me in, you little bastard!” “Stinky little Tubby-ass bastard, think you’re going to stop ME from coming in my OWN HOUSE through my OWN CAT DOOR? I DON’T THINK SO.” “Who, me? No, I wasn’t doing Su Doku! Really I wasn’t!” “Hellew.” All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: Which he proved by dancing lightly about the room once I’d said we should just stay home. 2004: He asked questions, he really listened to the answers, and he was just really a nice guy. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: She’s obviously picked up her mother’s bad attitude. 2000: My day in pictures.]]>

You Are Diet Coke

You are energy in its purest form. No need to complicate things with sweetness.
And while people may hate your aftertaste, you are seen as a necessary evil. Your best soda match: 7 Up Stay away from: Coke * * * Good GOD it’s gotten cold around here lately. I’ve gone from wearing a light Coolmax t-shirt when I’m walking in the mornings, to having to wear a sweatshirt this morning. Plus, it’s been raining like hell, and cold+rainy=SUCK. I’m just glad I didn’t let Fred take the space heater out to the shed to store it for the summer, because I’ve been using it quite a bit over the last few days. I’m READY FOR SUMMER, THANK YOU. * * * Pet store kitty pics from yesterday are here. * * * Sugarbutt shows off his bidness. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: I like cats. They’re good to eat. 2004: No entry. 2003: We’re some calendar-loving motherfuckers, that’s right. 2002: Kitty meeting. 2001: So… I guess we could probably sell your shithole… 2000: It sounds like there’s a lot to do in Gatlinburg, so it should be fun.]]>

* * * On Saturday, we all got up bright and early, Fred to get groceries, the spud to go to work, and me because Fred and I had decided to go fishing. Fred was back with the groceries pretty quickly, and I put them away while he went out to get the fishing stuff ready to go. We left sometime after 7, and headed to Madison County Lake, where we rented a small boat and headed out for some fishing. Fred did all the fishing – I’ve never been much of a fisher, so I brought a book with me and alternately read and enjoyed the scenery while he fished. He didn’t have much luck, so after about three and a half hours, we headed for home. Naturally, I took pictures. The ducks like Cheerios. “Hey, rumor has it you’ve got Cheerios. Hand ’em over, lady!” Considering what a shrieky girly-girl I can be, it would probably amaze you to know how excited I got when Fred spotted this frog hopping across the grass. We also saw a baby snake swimming – SWIMMING – along the shoreline, but I wasn’t fast enough with the camera. I continue to think that it’s the height of wrongness that snakes can actually swim. ::shudder::

* * * Oh, and here’s something funny that happened. Thursday, after Fred tried fishing in Decatur and didn’t catch anything, he had a bunch of crickets left over. Once the cats were done sniffing at them, we put the cricket bucket out in the garage, and then because every time I opened the garage door the cats went racing out to sniff at the crickets, I put the cricket bucket out in the driveway, next to the trash can. The next morning, Fred said “All the crickets were gone this morning.” “How odd,” I said. “The bucket wasn’t knocked over, was it?” “No, it was in the same place and the same position as it was last night.” So we discussed it for a little while and decided it had to be the work of a bird, a snake, or a possum. When we got back from fishing on Saturday, we left the bucket out in the driveway again, and then went to Ruby Tuesday’s for lunch. When we got home about an hour later, all the crickets were gone, and there were several splatters of bird poop around the bucket. Mystery solved, I guess. * * * When I got up yesterday morning and came downstairs, I found these sitting on my desk: (On the left: “Snax Lady”. On the right: “My mama”.) When I opened them, I found these cards: (front) (inside) (front) (inside) I know it makes us gigantic dorks, getting cards for each other from the cats on Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, but when I opened those cards and saw how Fred the cats had signed them, I laughed out loud. And then, because it was Mother’s Day and I don’t gotta do nothin’ on Mother’s Day (aside from vacuum, clean out the litter box, and do dishes, that is), I sat on the couch and completely cleared off the DVR. I decree Mother’s Day a huge success! * * * There are four men running for Madison County Coroner, and I’m seeing their signs everywhere. Their names are: Bobby Berryhill Carlton Cash Greg Goodwin Dennis Green Poor Dennis Green. Apparently no one told him about the alliteration rule. Poor man doesn’t have a chance! * * * Dirty boys. This could totally be on a movie poster about forbidden love – Brokeback Kitties. Tommy experiments to see if he can lick Sugarbutt’s ENTIRE head at the same time. The look on Tommy’s face cracks me UP. Here, here’s a closeup: All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: So far, I believe she’s ahead in the fart wars. 2002: That damn PTA. I will NOT be suckered in again by them, damnit! 2001: Realtors. 2000: New eyes, new hair – I’ll practically be a whole new woman!]]>

DAMN IT. The DVR screwed up and didn’t tape “My Name is Earl” last night, and it was the season finale DAMNIT. Anyone know where I can find it online? iTunes doesn’t carry it. Suggestions complete with direct links would be muchly appreciated. On a side note, Fred said one day that Tommy is the Earl and Sugarbutt is the Randy of our household. I could only laugh, ’cause it is TOO TRUE.

* * * Fred is just a big ol’ liar. It never happened, I tells ya! * * * Someone did a site search recently that makes me think they’re looking for Gmaps Pedometer – it’s here, and it rocks. You’re welcome. * * * Currently reading: I Thought My Father was God. Finished yesterday: Winter House, by Carol O’Connell. Mallory’s becoming a little more human, it seems. I’m not sure if I like that (but I loved the book). * * * Fred got a bug up his butt (figuratively speaking) yesterday and decided that, in spite of the strong winds, he wanted to go fishing. So he came home a little early, loaded up the car, and we headed for Decatur. We ended up stopping near where we’d gone kayaking on Saturday, and he went down to the water with his stuff, while I sat in the car and read. The water was extremely choppy, and I was glad we weren’t out in it in the kayaks, because I would have surely tipped over. We ended up going to three different locations for Fred to fish, but the little bastards weren’t biting, so we went home fishless. He’s thinking about going again this weekend – depending on the weather – so maybe he’ll have better luck. We did bring home a special surprise for the kitties, though, one they liked a lot. Crickets! The only cat who really wasn’t that interested – at least not enough to come for an up-close sniff – was Spanky. We let them sniff at the crickets until Mister Boogers got too excited and knocked the bucket over, then the game was over, and Fred put the crickets in the garage. Later, when he opened the door to the garage, Sugarbutt and Tom Cullen went running out. Sugarbutt located the crickets right away (no great task, since they were singing like mad), but Tommy was all over the garage sniffing wildly before he realized where they were. Poor crickets; stuck in a bucket, sniffed at by kitties, and doomed to be impaled on a hook and dropped into water. I don’t envy them. * * * The spud only has a week and a half of school left. Where the hell did the year GO? * * * For the past few nights before he toddled off to bed, Fred has opened the drawer to the bedside table on his side of the bed (only “his side” until he goes off to bed, then it’s “my side”), gotten out the laser pointer, and teased the cats with it. Sugarbutt and Tommy go absolutely wild, racing around after the laser beam, hoping against hope that THIS will be the time they catch it. After a few minutes of teasing, Fred goes off to bed, and I’m left alone with two cats who still don’t know where that little dot of red light went, and they spend the next half hour searching for it. “Is it under the covers? Is it behind the bed? Is it on Mom’s foot?” Last night, they’d both settled down and gone to sleep, when I opened that drawer to get out my ear plugs and bite plate, and they both immediately woke up and raced over to chase the little red dot. It took them another half hour to calm down again. One of these days I’ll have to remember to bring the movie camera upstairs with me, and make a movie of it. It’s pretty funny to see tubby little Toms racing around with his belly swaying back and forth. I haven’t put up any cat movies in a lonnnnng time, so I think it’s about time to start posting them again. * * * So, because lately it seems like all my shoes are really too big for me, I decided to look around online and see if I could find a way to figure out my shoe size without having to drag my lazy ass to the store. I found this page, and followed all the instructions. If I did everything right (not something you can assume, sadly), my shoe size has gone from a 9 wide to an 8 or 8 1/2 regular since I had weight loss surgery. Tomorrow I’m going to head over to the shoe department at Kohl’s and try on shoes and see if my feet have really gotten smaller. And then I guess I’ll need to start replacing my shoes – which won’t be any great undertaking, since I think I own maybe seven pairs of shoes, and three of those are sneakers. Here’s a math problem for you: if I’ve lost 74 pounds and gone down half a shoe size (if not an entire shoe size), what will my shoe size be when I reach my goal weight in another 89.5 pounds? Is there such a thing as a negative shoe size? * * * It’s always nice to have a brudder around to clean those hard-to-reach places behind your ears. “Excuse me? Doctor? It appears that I have a small gray box growing out of my neck?” Such a sweet little Tubby Toms face. Something has disturbed the Spankster. All of today’s uploaded pictures can be seen here. * * * Previously 2005: If my nose is cold, the rest of me is cold. 2004: I guess this is what we get for living in the Bible Belt, isn’t it? 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: Ah well. Maybe next life.]]>

* * * A few months ago, I visited the local Dress Barn, because I was between appointments and needed to kill some time. While I was there, I bought some jeans and a shirt that were several sizes too small for me, with the intention of taking progress pictures in them (which y’all won’t be allowed to see until I actually fit into the jeans and shirt, so don’t even ask). As I was checking out, the sales clerk told me that if I applied for a Dress Barn credit card, I’d save 20% on the entire purchase. So I went ahead and applied for it, saved 20% on the entire purchase, and promptly forgot about it. Until a few weeks later when the credit card appeared in the mail. I looked it over, decided to keep it rather than cancelling it, and stuck it in my desk drawer on my “things to deal with later” pile. Last week, I rediscovered it in my desk drawer, I decided to call and have it “activated.” Now, it’s been my experience in the past that when you call to have a credit card activated, you end up with an automated system, you enter a few numbers, and they activate it. Only this time when I called to activate this particular card, I entered the credit card number and my home phone, and had to wait while I was connected to an operator. She asked me a few questions, then started in on this fucking sales spiel wherein I could register all my credit cards with some program, and if a card was ever stolen, all I’d have to do is call them, and they’d take care of it! (Or some shit like that.) I listened politely for a few minutes, and then said “I’m not interested.” Which to ME means “I’m not interested,” but to the operator apparently was code for “I might be interested. Try harder!” So the operator took a deep breath and said “Ma’am, are you aware that there are 25,000 instances of identity theft every day?” To my current chagrin, instead of responding with “Are you aware that 80% of all statistics are made up and have no numbers to back them up whatsoever, so what I suspect is that you pulled that number out of your ass”, I said “I. Am. Not. Interested.” AND SHE CONTINUED TRYING TO SELL ME ON THE FUCKING PROGRAM. As if Dress Barn wouldn’t be making enough money off of me with their ridiculously high interest rate. I managed to finally convey to her that I was completely, totally uninterested, could not be LESS interested, NO THANK YOU, and she told me she’d “activate” my card, and I was able to get off the phone, but I wish in retrospect that I’d just told her to cancel the fucking account. I know it’s not her fault, she was just doing her job, but it really PISSES ME OFF when a company who is going to be making money off you anyway proceeds to try to get every last fucking penny out of you that they possibly can. And I KNOW people fall for it, and THAT just pisses me off even more. I think I’m going to cancel the fucking card, because I don’t even need the damn thing ANYWAY, and I’m going to include a letter detailing exactly why I’m cancelling it. Fuckers.

* * * The spud now has her very own checking and savings account at the credit union – one more step toward being a grownup. She’s started saving for a down payment on a car, because she very much wants her own car. I can’t blame her – I want her to have her own car, too! Hopefully whatever she ends up with will get her through college, at the very least, and perhaps even a few years longer. * * * You know that picture of Tommy I put up in yesterday’s entry? I found the picture of Tubby that it reminded me of. First, Tommy: Now, Tubby: Very similar, no? No wonder I’ve been calling Tommy “Tommy Tubs” lately. (But then, I’ve also been calling him “Timmy Toms” too, so that might not mean anything.) * * * I must say, I am VERY disappointed in Meredith and Izzie (on Grey’s Anatomy) for the bitchy high-school way they’ve been acting toward Callie. CLEARLY they’re just JEALOUS, because she is HOT HOT HOT and they… well, personally, I find them both a little lacking in the heat department. Also, what are they, her MOTHERs? I’ve seen Izzie put her hands all over that scuzzy Alex Karev, and didn’t see her burning her skin off to cleanse the scuzziness from her body afterwards, so she’s got NO ROOM TO TALK about the possibility of Callie wandering around with a few drops of urine on her hand. Besides, I KNEW Callie was going to have gone to the kitchen to wash her hands because of the High School Bitches standing there staring at her, and anyway, what the hell was she supposed to do, push the annoying Meredith out of the way to get to the sink? GOD I HATE MEREDITH. Can’t they kill her off? Why couldn’t SHE have exploded instead of the HOTHOTHOT Kyle Chandler? * * * The Booger, in a pissy mood. Brudderly love. “Hellew.” All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: Now, I don’t know. I think that if your life is SO BUSY that taking the time to put a little pill in your mouth throws your entire schedule off, then perhaps it’s time to reorganize your life. 2004: You can’t have genius every day, y’know. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: SHE WAS FIXIN’ TO GO DOWN THE HILL. 2000: Poor overworked, abused child…]]>