Month: June 2006

And then I realized that that shirt doesn’t so much “fit” as “is two sizes too big and looks like I’m wearing a pajama shirt with a pair of jeans, what a dork.” Time to put the shirt on the giveaway pile, I s’pose. So anyway, that’s a picture of ME wearing JEANS, which is an amazing thing. Did I mention that awesome reader Bobbie rocks? Because she DOES. Even Sugarbutt was amazed that I was wearing jeans. Hell, even the spud noticed! Today, jeans. Tomorrow, miniskirts slit up to HERE. (NO, not really. I don’t got the legs for miniskirts.)

* * * Last night I was a poker widow AND an empty nester for the evening. Fred went to a poker game after work, and the spud went over to her friend’s house, and thus I was left alone from about 3:00 ’til 7:30. And ohhhhhhhh the plans I had! I was going to wait and eat dinner late (at 6:30) instead of at the 4:30 that Fred prefers! I could watch whatever I wanted on TV, and I could take an early evening bath if I wanted, and I wouldn’t have to answer to NO ONE. What’d I end up doing? Watching a couple of episodes of “How I Met Your Mother”, eating dinner late (woohoo! PAR-TAY!), and reading on the couch in front of the TV, which was tuned to VH-1 Country. Do I know how to live large, or what? * * * This morning after I talked to my mother for a little while, I was checking my messages, when Fred called. “If you want to see something cute, you need to come to the office,” he said. So I did. And BOY were they cute. One of Fred’s employees was sitting in his office, and saw these three little ducks go wandering by, no Momma in sight. He went out and looked for the mother duck, didn’t see her anywhere, and so grabbed up the babies. He lives on quite a bit of land with ponds on the property, so he’s going to take them home and raise them. He estimates that they’re about four days old, and says they’re mallards. They are UNBEARABLY cute. I picked one up and held it, and it cheeped at me and was so frightened that it vibrated. I know it’d be a bad idea, but I can’t help wishing like hell we could have one as a pet! (Luckily, calmer minds will prevail on this one.) * * * Suggie and Toms are uncertain how they feel about The Momma in jeans. They ARE certain that they’d like a pet duck, though. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: It took me a minute to get it. Duh. 2004: Have I mentioned that I have a big ol’ crush on Roland? Yeah. There’s me, being geeky again… 2003: Still no Fancypants. 2002: Well, did you feel the earth crack open? 2001: I guess not everyone is as much a wimp as I. 2000: I feel like I spent all day running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off and got nothing accomplished. ]]>

Tuesday Three. List three things you’ve drank today yesterday (since it’s still pretty early for me): 1) Water 2) Diet Snapple Pink Lemonade (not sure if I like it or not) 3) Diet Snapple Lime Green Tea List three things you’ve eaten today yesterday: 1) Boiled shrimp. 2) Roasted asparagus. 3) String cheese. List three talents you wish you had: 1) I wish I had zero fear of speaking in public (is that a talent?). 2) I wish I could play any kind of musical instrument. 3) I wish I could sing.

* * * Fred and I went for another hike yesterday, this one here in Madison on Rainbow Mountain. I had to yell at him on Sunday because every single day since I brought up the idea of hiking together a few days a week, he’s brought it up CONSTANTLY. “Let’s go for a hike around Rainbow!” he likes to say, right after I’ve eaten and have had to make 63 trips to the bathroom. “Let’s go up the Waterline trail!” he likes to say, when I’m in the middle of having a relaxing day. “Let’s go for a hike around Rainbow!” he likes to say, when I’m in the middle of doing housework. Finally, Sunday afternoon, when he tried the “Let’s go for a hike around Rainbow!” for the zillionth time, I let him have. “Would you SHUT THE FUCK UP about hiking?!” I yelled. “Just because I suggested we start hiking together doesn’t mean I want you harassing the fucking shit out of me sixteen fucking times a day! If you don’t knock it off, I’m never going hiking with you again and you can climb goddamn Mt. Katahdin on your OWN!” I might possibly have been PMSing. So yesterday when he got home from work and we were laying on the bed talking, he said “Are you in a good mood?” I groaned. “WHYYYYYYYYYYY? What do you have to tell me?” “I’d like to suggest, in the most non-harassing way possible, that we go for a hike after dinner.” I thought about it, took a mental inventory of how I felt, and said “Maybe. Ask me after dinner.” Obviously – since I already said we went for a hike yesterday – I decided I was up for it. On the way to the mountain, Fred started asking me about what kind of hike I wanted to go on. “Do you want to go downhill and then flat and then uphill at the end? Do you want to go downhill and then uphill and then flat at the end? Do you want to go uphill and then downhill and then uphill again and then a little bit flat and then uphill again?” “Goddamn!” I said. “I don’t want uphill at the end, otherwise I don’t care!” “We’ll go on the downhill, then uphill, then flat at the end, so you can cool down a little.” He is such a fucking liar. We went on the downhill, this is true. And then we went uphill, also true. And then it was flat for about three feet, and then it was uphill almost the entire way back to the car. “I guess this isn’t as flat as I thought,” he said. “No,” I said, gasping and panting for air. “Some people might even call it UPHILL.” It took us 45 minutes to do a mile of hiking. This does not bode well for our three-mile hike on Wednesday. And at the end? I was dripping with sweat, and he had not a single drop of sweat anywhere on him. I hate him. * * * When we got home, we settled in front of our computers, me to check my mail and Fred to call about a couple of houses we’d seen in a “Homes and Land” magazine. I glanced toward the front door and saw Miz Poo and Mister Boogers sitting there. “How odd,” I thought. “They never sit there like that. What’s going on?” And I leaned forward and saw that, under the table in the corner by the stairs, was a bird, just calmly standing there. And the cats were calmly standing there watching it. “Hang up the phone,” I said to Fred. “We’ve got a bird.” Fred told me to go get him some gloves, and once he put them on (hot pink gloves I keep under the sink for cleaning, which looked quite SMASHING on him, if I do say so) he reached under the table and picked up the bird, who didn’t fight or squawk or resist in any way. (I like the picture of Tubby, Patron Saint of Bird-Killing Cats, hanging in the background) Fred walked the bird to the back door, went out into the back yard, held out his hand, and the bird flew off. It was the calmest bird experience we’ve ever had. I bet that the bird’s refusal to fight or fly frantically around the house is what saved his life. Anyone know what kind of bird that is? * * * The happiest kitty in the! whole! world! The old grouch, curled up and sleeping. * * * Previously 2005: Gives a whole new meaning to the term of endearment “Shithead”, doesn’t it? 2004: No entry. 2003: Still no Fancypants. 2002: What the FUCK is going on with Meg Ryan’s hair?! 2001: House hunting. 2000: Any way you slice it, it’s going to be one hell of a long drive.]]>

Hell’s Kitchen, starting tonight, and I’m looking forward to Tuesday Night Book Club tomorrow night. Hopefully it doesn’t suck. Oh! And if you haven’t checked out Meerkat Manor on Animal Planet yet, you really ought to. I love those damn meerkats.

* * * Reader Lisa sent me a link to this cat video on John Heffron’s site, and it is HILARIOUS. Go check it out. * * * Saturday morning, Fred and I left the house around 9:00 to venture into Huntsville and go for a hike. It was my idea to start hiking together two or three days a week, because next summer we plan to climb Mt. Katahdin together, and I figured it would be better to start sooner rather than later, because I’m not – I think I’ve mentioned – much of a hiker, and it’s probably going to take me a long, long time to be able to do anything approaching the strenuous hiking Fred does on a regular basis. Because I move much more slowly than Fred, he decided that we’d do half a hike together, then I could head off on a wimpy hike back to the car, and he could go off on a far more difficult hike and meet me at the car. The first part of the hike wasn’t bad, though I did find myself bitchily saying “WHY are we going uphill AGAIN?” We saw lots of squirrels and several chipmunks (which are just unbearably cute, and I WANT ONE as a pet), and even one teeny black snake (I actually spotted it; Fred walked over it without seeing it). Then we split off, and he went off on his difficult hike, and I followed a mostly flat, wide trail which would eventually lead me back to the parking lot and the car. The problem came as I was following the trail, and if I’d kept going straight, I would have been on the red trail, but if I went to the left, I would have been on the white trail, and I couldn’t remember at ALL whether Fred had told me what color trail to stay on. I was sure I’d asked, but if you ask Fred a question like that, what you get is a 15-minute lecture about where every single trail on the mountain goes, and he never ends up answering the question. I decided to follow the white trail, because I couldn’t remember him saying anything at all about the red trail, but he’d mentioned the white trail, at least in passing, at some point. Actually, what I tried to do first was to call him, but naturally – THANK YOU, T-MOBILE – I couldn’t get a signal. So I followed the white trail for ten or fifteen minutes, and it started to get pretty narrow. Since Fred had repeatedly told me that the trail I needed to follow back to the parking lot was “so wide you could drive a truck down it”, I got a little worried. I pulled the plastic baggy out of my bra, pulled my cell phone out of said baggy, and found that I was getting a cell signal. I called him, asked what trail I was supposed to be on, told him that if I’d kept going straight, as instructed, I would have ended up on the red trail. And then he went on about how if I’d gone on the red trail, that would have been okay, because it would have eventually gotten me back to the parking lot, but it would have meandered a bit. Anyway, long story short, I was on the right trail, and not 5 minutes after I hung up after talking to Fred, the trail widened out again, and I started seeing a lot more people out hiking, which I was fairly certain meant that I was getting close to the parking lot. And I was. I ended up getting back to the parking lot about 35 minutes after we split off to our separate hikes (I’d been hoping to do it in 25 minutes, because Fred estimated it was going to take me between 30 and 45 minutes, and I wanted to show HIM I wasn’t THAT slow. Guess I really showed him, huh?). I got into the car, started it up, got a bottle of water out of the cooler, and settled down to read while I waited for him to show up. About 20 minutes later he did, and we headed for home. Altogether, it took us about two and a half hours to do that hike, and for me, it was only about three miles! We did keep stopping though, because – have I mentioned? – I don’t really do much hill climbing, so I had to keep catching my breath. Maybe this time next year I’ll be talking about how we did a 17 mile hike in three hours. Probably not, but a girl can dream! * * * It was my intent to sleep in on Sunday, but the spud went off to work at 7, found out that she didn’t have to work until 1:00, and felt the need to call and tell Fred that she didn’t have to work until 1:00 instead of, you know, just coming home. Once the phone woke me up, I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I pulled a book off the bookcase and laid in bed for the next three hours, reading. Which I haven’t done in a LONG time, so it was a pretty nice start to the day. The spud’s employer called at 9:30 to ask her to come in at 11:00 instead of 1:00, so she got a few extra hours. Once I woke her up at 10:00 to get ready for work, I went into the laundry room to set up the new litter box system, scrub down the litter box, and fill it with clean litter. When I walked into the laundry room, I was extremely displeased to find that there was Tide all over the fucking place. See, I buy those big-ass containers of Tide, the ones with the spout on it, so I can put it up in the cupboard over the washing machine, and all you have to do is press down on the spout to fill the cup with Tide, put the Tide in the washing machine, and put the cup up next to the Tide container. Only, the fact that there was a spout never hit the spud’s consciousness, so she’s apparently been pulling the container of Tide down from the cupboard, and dumping Tide into the cup from the other end of the container (the end where you loosen the cap – or take it off, which is what I do – to make the flow of Tide faster). And Saturday night when she was doing laundry, she’d managed to pour Tide all down her back, all over the laundry room floor, and all over the wall above the dryer. Apparently she was under the impression that to clean laundry soap up all she had to do was to swipe at it with a cleaning rag or paper towel, and not worry about that pesky film it leaves behind. So I spent half an hour Sunday morning scrubbing Tide off the washer and dryer and off the floor. THEN I scrubbed out the litter box, put clean litter in it, and set up the new litter box system. Then I spent the next hour vacuuming the entire house, repotting a couple of plants, cleaning the kitchen, and yelling at Tommy to get the hell out of the repotted plants. He’s such a nosy little fucker. After that, it was almost noon, and as I headed upstairs to take a shower, Fred got home from his hike. He took his shower, then I took mine (but not before stepping into the shower, which was very slippery, and banging the holy hell out of my leg on the side of the shower (I think it’s going to leave a badass bruise, and I’ll be sure to take pictures of it once it gets really colorful)). Then I sat in the recliner in the corner of the bedroom and spent two hours answering the email I’ve been studiously ignoring for about the last month. But! Now my email is all answered, and it is my summer resolution to keep on top of my email. I don’t know that that’ll really happen, but it’s nice to think that it might. And then I spent the rest of the afternoon reading, dozing off for a while, and paying bills. Don’t I lead an exciting life? * * * The spud is leaving for California in less than a week. She’s been carefully putting money in savings to save for a down payment on a car, and I think she’s going to get really close to the amount we told her she has to have. Which means she and Fred might be shopping for a car when she gets home in July! And which means I’ll be able to use my car whenever I want and not have to worry about whether the spud wanted to use it or not. Hell, it feels like I’m the one who’ll be getting a new car instead of her! * * * Suggy in motion. I love his little old-man chin. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: Wouldn’t it be funny if as soon as we put all the flyers out in the neighborhood, he came swishing home? 2002: “NO,” he said with great certainty. “That was YOU!” 2001: But look at that little face. How can you not see it and just grin like a fool? 2000: Which is better than it could have been – we were afraid his foot was slowly rotting off.]]>

Glory Road the other night, and the next morning I woke up with Marty Robbins bouncing around in my brain singing El Paso. Pretty easy to trace where that came from; most of the time when songs are bouncing around in my head, I can’t figure out why. Glory Road, by the way, was a pretty good movie in the way all those underdog feel-good sports movies are. Emily Deschanel was completely and utterly wasted in the role of the Loving Supportive Wife Who Holds Down the Fort At Home While Dad Shows the Big Boys What’s What. I don’t know why they even bothered to give her character a name; Interchangeable Supportive Wife would have explained all you needed to know. But that Josh Lucas; hubba hubba! We refer to him as “The Poor Man’s Matthew McConaughey”, but the older he gets, the less he resembles MM and the more he grows into his own looks. We watched Firewall Tuesday night, and it wasn’t bad – typical Harrison Ford fare – but has Harrison Ford gotten old all of a sudden, or what? I swear, he kept stumbling around like an old man and didn’t seem all that steady on his feet. Maybe Calista Flockhart’s keeping him off-balance with the hot, hot sex.

* * * Yesterday ended up being a busy, busy day for me. I got up at 6:30 (I’ve been getting up at 6:30 most mornings, god help me, because the earlier I go out and walk, the less hot it tends to be. That’ll hold true for another couple of weeks, and then it’ll probably be so unbearably hot outside at 6:30 that I’ll have to start either getting up at 3 am or exercising inside), went for my walk, came home, cleaned the bathroom (and it’s only been a WEEK since I cleaned the bathroom! Holy crap!), vacuumed the entire upstairs, talked to my mother for twenty minutes or so, and then headed out to do errands (after I got dressed, of course. My purple nightgown is cute, but not really the thing for errand running). The first place I needed to stop was Target, so I did, and I bought two 35-pound boxes of Arm & Hammer litter (our litter of choice, because it clumps fast and hard and does the best job of reducing the litter box stank) and some bird seed. My main reason for stopping at Target was to get a big box to set the litter box inside of. See, we used to use a sweater box for a litter box, and then we’d put the litter box inside a bigger box, because Spanky – cute as he is – is a little bastard who adores peeing over the side of the litter box, and no matter what we’ve done we can’t get him to STOP FUCKING DOING THAT, and at some point if you can’t change a behavior and you don’t want to get rid of the cat, you’ve got to figure out how to deal with the behavior. So we dealt with it by putting the litter box inside a bigger box, then every time I’d clean out the litter box, I’d spray down the inside of the bigger box and wipe it down. Good lord, I must really love my cats. Who else would put up with this sort of bullshit? Anyway, one day I was in the pet store, and I stumbled across the covered litter boxes, and they have nice BIG covered litter boxes, and I thought “Self, what if I got a big covered litter box? That way, Spanky could still pee up the side to his heart’s content, and it would be less of a pain in the butt. Well. It turned out to be MORE of a pain in the butt, ’cause I’ve been having to take the cover off the litter box, spray down the inside of the cover, dump the litter into the other litter box (through the strainer), wipe down the inside of the cover, and put it all together. Plus, on the days when Spanky is particularly hydrated, he manages to pee up the side of the inside of the cover enough, that pee leaks out and makes a small puddle on the floor. So we’re going back to the litter box inside of a bigger box, and I’m going to get rid of the covers to the litter boxes, which is why I was at Target looking for a big storage box that the litter box would fit inside. Luckily, I measured the litter box before I left the house, so I’d know what size would work, and so there I was in Target, looking at EVERY storage box, only to find that none of them were big enough. I convinced Fred to make a trip to Lowe’s tomorrow morning after he gets groceries, so hopefully he’ll find something that’ll be just right. I left Target with my litter and bird seed and headed up University Drive to the Goodwill store, to see if I could find some jeans that I might fit into. The pants I’m wearing currently are too big for me, and I can’t find pants that I really like in a smaller size, so I thought I might go in the direction of jeans. And my brother told me that my sister-in-law bought jeans at thrift shops when she was losing weight, so I tried the thrift shops around here and found nothing, so I decided to check out the Goodwill store to see if I could find something. And I did not find a damn thing. I dug and dug and dug through the racks and racks of clothes, but didn’t find a thing in my size. Here’s an example of how I cannot, for the life of me, look at a piece of clothing and know whether it’s my size or not: I walked through the door of the Goodwill, and I saw a pair of jeans hanging on the end of a rack, and I thought “Oh, those look like they might fit me…” and when I checked, they were a size FOUR. Um, yeah – not so much! So I left Goodwill and went to Sam’s, where I stocked up on all the stuff we’ve been running out of lately – Tide, paper towels, shrimp, more bird seed (the stuff I bought at Target was Finch food), and bottled water – and once I loaded everything in my car, I called LoneStar to place an order for a Steakhouse salad (salad with bleu cheese crumbles, lettuce, tomato, red onions, and – surprisingly enough – steak). Then I headed over to TJ Maxx to look around for a few minutes, with the idea that I might find a comforter for the spud’s bed, but I decided pretty quickly that if I was going to get a comforter, I needed to have her with me to tell me what she did and didn’t like. From TJ Maxx, I went over to LoneStar to pick up my lunch, and headed home. I got home around 2:00 – three hours after I’d left the house. The car was PACKED, and it took me a good ten minutes to unload it, but I’d say we’re all set on paper towels, shrimp, and gum (the only kind of gum I chew – and I chew a lot of gum – is Trident White Wintergreen, and for the longest time Sam’s had stopped carrying it. Yesterday, they had it again, so I stocked up in a big way, just in case they stop carrying it again) for a long, long time. I put everything away, and then I sat down and ate my salad, and it was faaaaaaaaaaabulous. Well, at least while I was eating it, it was. A little later I turned into (sorry to be gross, but a reader over at OFB suggested this term, and it makes me giggle every time I think of it) a salad shooter. To continue the grossness, it AMAZES me that you can eat something and then see it again (IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, AND I THINK YOU DO) pretty much undigested 30 minutes later. Aren’t your intestines, like, long enough to reach to the moon and back? Are the raw veggies going through my intestines on the bullet train, or what? Okay, I’m done with the grossness. And that was my day! * * * Currently reading: Myths, Lies, and Downright Stupidity, by John Stossel. I generally like John Stossel, and I’m very much enjoying the book. Finished late, late, late the other night: Skinny Dip, by Carl Hiaasen. I just love Carl Hiaasen to death. I wish he’d stop putting out the damn kids’ books and write another one for adults, though! (Rumor has it he’ll have an adult book out early next year.) * * * Random pictures: This is what I made for Nance for her birthday. I loved making it – I love all the Dolly Mamas pictures – and it was fun making the picture and sending it off to her. The t-shirt I got in Maine ’cause I loved it so much, then couldn’t wear because it was too small for me. Now it fits! Whoo! Trying to get a decent picture of myself, because the picture I’m using over at MySpace is at least four years old, if not older. * * * And, cat pictures: Suddenly, Sugarbutt adores the Sug Cave and spends almost every evening here. SUCH a Tommy look he’s got on his face. Preparing to jump. All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: Teen labor: I highly recommend it. 2004: The quarry. 2003: You can’t tell I’m PMS-ing with a vengeance, can you, with all this talk of food? 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: So, have I mentioned that I’m an idiot?]]>

Vivitar digital camera I bought at the Unclaimed Baggage store when my parents were here and gave it a try. I think I mentioned that I got it for $20, with the sole intention of carrying it around in my purse in case I should come across something I wanted to take a picture of. Anyway, I snapped a few pictures to see how they’d come out. Apparently I’m high. And in desperate need of makeup. Spot, in the window. Open a window in the front of the house, and the cats are FASCINATED. So yeah, it doesn’t take gorgeous or particularly sharp pictures, but it’s certainly a good enough just-in-case camera to leave in my purse (I don’t like to carry my good camera around too much, because I really sling that purse around sometimes). At least good enough ’til I get one of those Razr phones I’m coveting. The Unclaimed Baggage store ROCKS. I should start checking it out every month or so; if nothing else, the book selection is pretty damn good.

* * * I have an appointment for a cut and color next week. I think I’m going to go about two inches shorter and two shades lighter. I want to stay with brown hair, just a bit lighter. Now that I protect my hair with a baseball cap when I go out walking, it doesn’t see much sun, so it doesn’t get light, the way it has in the past. Just watch – next thing you know, I’ll be going platinum blond! (No, not really…) * * * 2 Things (seen somewhere over at LiveJournal) Two names you go by: 1. Robyn 2. Bessie Two parts of your heritage: 1. Scottish 2. Cherokee Two things you are wearing right now: 1. A yellow t-shirt 2. Gray cotton pants Two things you want in a relationship: 1. Laughter (check!) 2. Communication (check!) Two of your favorite hobbies: 1. Reading, even though I don’t do as much as I used to. 2. Cross-stitching (ditto) Two things you want really badly at the moment: 1. One of the caramel nut brownies Fred made to take to his company picnic (but it’ll make me barf. ::sigh:: ) 2. A teeny tiny laptop Two pets you had/have: 1. My very first pet that belonged to me and me alone was a hamster named Laverne (my sister got Laverne’s sister, aptly named Shirley) 2. Not our first dog, but the one we had her entire life was our dog, Taffy. She was a good girl, Taffy, and it chaps my ass to see the stuff my parents’ current dog, Benji, gets away with that Taffy never did. For instance, Taffy was only allowed in the living room ONE DAY of the year, on Christmas morning. Benji, on the other hand, hangs out in the living room ALL the time. Spoiled rotten brat. Two things you did last night: 1. Took a very hot bath because I was FREEZING. 2. Got pissed off at the cats, who kept tromping over me as though I was a RUG or part of the FLOOR. I got them back, though – I sprayed them all with compressed air, and scared the bejesus out of them. Fuckers. Two favorite places to eat: 1. Lonestar 2. Graziano’s in Lisbon, Maine Two people that live in your house: 1. Fred 2. The spud Two things you ate today: 1. Shrimp (boiled, with home-made cocktail sauce: 2 T low-carb ketchup and a dab of horseradish) 2. A cheese omelet (not at the same meal) Two people you last talked to: 1. Fred 2. The spud (yeah, they’re the two I talk to most, can you tell?) Two things you’re doing tomorrow: 1. Visiting the Goodwill store in Huntsville 2. Going to Sam’s Two longest car rides: 1. We drove from Michigan to California when I was… 6? 7? I don’t remember much about it, though. 2. Driving from Rhode Island to Alabama seemed to take forEVER. Two favorite holidays: 1. Christmas. 2. My birthday. What? It’s a holiday to ME! * * * Currently reading: Skinny Dip, by Carl Hiaasen. I just love the hell out of Carl Hiaasen, and every time I read his books about the zany characters of south Florida, it makes me want to move down there. Recently finished: The Big Nap, by Ayelet Waldman. I’m really, REALLY liking this series, and I lucked out, because VERY cool reader Kimberly sent me the next three in the series, so I don’t have to go out and buy them. Kimberly ROCKS. * * * Yeah, I know. The entries are lacking a little in substance these days. What can I say? There’s just not much going on! If there’s anything specific you’d like me to write about, leave a comment and I’ll see what I can do. Don’t be asking about my sex life, though, or I’ll have to tell you all the story about how incredibly flexible I’ve become, and how I smacked Fred in the side of his head with my foot the other day because he was being rude during an intimate moment. And no one wants to hear about THAT. * * * Spanky poses. “How YOU doin’?” More Spanky posing. All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: By this time the investigator’s eyes had glazed over, and he was clearly thinking “This has WHAT to do with reliability?” 2004: When I was on the pier, the bream darted forward to partake of my delicious thighs, and I stomped across the pier as fast as I could, saying “STOP IT, YOU FUCKERS!” and I stomped up the steps to the top part of the pier, and waited for Fred to take his face out of the water. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: But. It. Was. Too. Far. From. Huntsville. 2000: Oh look, it’s Robyn, bitching. How unusual.]]>

* * * Pet store kitty pics from last week and this week are up here. There were tons of kittens – it was fun as hell to have all those little kittens running around like their butts were afire.

* * * New things around the house, a pictorial. I bought a ton of shoes last week, because my mother is a BAD INFLUENCE. I love these shoes – they look like they’re black in this picture, but they’re actually dark brown. Slip-on Skechers. Very comfy, and I think they’re cute. Yes, I got the same shoes in two different colors. Hey, they were buy one, get one half off, and these were less than $20 to start with! And they’re extremely comfortable. Fred and I went to the flea market on Sunday, and I saw these lighters (perfect for lighting candles!). They were only a buck apiece, so I bought four of them. More shoes – these are Clarks. I love, love, love the color. I don’t remember the name of this plant, but I saw it at Wal-Mart and had to buy it. As well as a cute pot to put it in. $30 Reebok Classics. The best shoes I’ve found to walk in. Who needs $100+ sneakers? Not me! These lilies kept waving at me every day when I walked by them, so I stopped and picked ’em. No, not out of someone’s yard – they were in a patch of weeds near a walkway. My parents bought us a swing for the back yard! They put it in the yard, but we moved it to the patio, because the chiggers are bad this year, and neither of us wanted to walk around with annoying chigger bites all over our legs. It’s a great swing; I just wish we didn’t get sun directly on the back yard in the evening, because it would be a great place to sit and read. When we were shopping at TJ Maxx, I saw this blue faux-Matelasse coverlet, and I HAD TO HAVE IT. Because the quilt I’d bought at Kohl’s the week before wasn’t really keeping me warm enough at night, so I thought I might pair the quilt with the coverlet, and perhaps that would work better than the quilt and the comforter. And I was right, and every time I look at the coverlet (FYI, the bed is usually more neatly made than this) I get a happy feeling. I’m just concerned, since it’s so light, that the cats will funk it up with their dirty paws, because I just CANNOT have ANYTHING nice. Fuckers. (That little quilt on the end of the bed is for the cats. My mother made it for them, actually, and it’s Tommy’s place to sleep at night.) * * * Tommy and his weird sleep positions… “Bwahaha! It’s good to be the Sugs!” “Nyeh.” Today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: She’s a bad influence, that one. 2004: I have faith in you! 2003: Things that sucked. 2002: Here’s the thing. If you get yourself involved with a man you know full well is married, a man who doesn’t file for divorce until 6 months after he’s met and started dating you, then you don’t get to play the victim. 2001: My very first House Anxiety dream! 2000: Ah, world traveler, me.]]>

OneFatBitchypoo. You’re welcome.

* * * So I’m chiming in late on this whole Paul McCartney/ Heather Mills thing, and I don’t have a lot to say about it, except that I was pissed when he got married to a much younger woman after he and Linda had their GREAT LOVE STORY and spent only like 11 days apart during their entire marriage, then two years later he’s getting married again. HOW ABOUT SOME MOURNING, PAUL? (Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I read it, too – people who were very happily married and lost a spouse tend to remarry much more quickly than someone in an unhappy marriage. I don’t CARE. Mourn a little, you fucker!) Also, the refusal to sign a prenup is one of the big all-time boneheaded moves in Paul McCartney history, I think. Yeah, I believe in everlasting love and all that, but to be worth that much money and not sign a prenup? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Hell, I signed a prenup – in fact, it was my idea, to shut up a relative of Fred’s, who insisted that I was marrying Fred for his money (let’s forget all about the fact that I’m the ONLY one who encouraged him to leave the job he had and start a company where he’s making three times as much, shall we? Bitter? Me? NAH.), and neither of us had much at all. Next time (oh, you KNOW there’ll be a next time), maybe Paul will give the idea of a prenup a second thought. Probably not, though. * * * I taped the Dateline NBC special with Mary Kay Letourneau and Vili Fualaau Friday night, and watched it Saturday afternoon. I swear to god, those two just give me the screaming creepies. If she doesn’t have herself a pair of crazy, twirling eyes, I don’t know who does. She just really strikes me as someone who isn’t all there. I mean, honestly – how “all there” can you be, to have a sexual relationship with a thirteen year-old when you’re thirty-four? And her soft little voice, and the way she always defers to him when they talk gives me the creeps, too. And he, he’s got the eyes of a serial killer. Gah. * * * I was walking outside one day last week, when I passed a car parked on the street. It was a purple Firebird, and I glanced at the license plate, and saw that, appropriately enough, the tags were personalized. Heh! * * * Meme, stolen from Whitters. I AM: Wondering if I need to get a pillow to sit on. My ass appears to be shrinking and there are… bones under there? Can that be right? I SAID: “She’s stronger than she knows. I wish she knew it.” I WANT: To be floating in the ocean with a froufy drink in one hand. I WISH: I could fly. Literally. That would be so badass. I HATE: The heat. Well. The heat above 95, in direct sunlight, to be exact. I MISS: The ocean. I FEAR: Things flying at my face. I HEAR: The dishwasher, and Sugarbutt snoring. I WONDER: What I want to be when I grow up. I REGRET: Less than you would imagine. I AM NOT: having a good week. The PMS monster has reared her ugly head and I want to eat everything in sight. I DANCE: Never. Trust me – the world is better off without my Elaine Benes gyrations. I SING: Horribly, but with heart, depending on the song. I AM NOT ALWAYS: Gung-ho. I MADE: Something for Nance for her birthday, which I still haven’t sent out. I’ll take a picture of it and post it once she’s gotten it. It cracks me the hell up. (I’ll mail your box o’ birthday stuff out in the next few days, Nance!) I WRITE: When the spirit moves me. I CONFUSE: Gavin de Becker and Gavin DeGraw. Also, the Bills – Pullman and Paxton. Not to mention Julia Stiles and Erika Christensen. I NEED: To find a drink I love as much as I loved Diet Coke. Nothing I’ve tried has come close. I SHOULD: Get up and put medicine on the rash on my arm. I START: Early in the morning. Once the cats wake me up around 6:15ish with their howler monkey ways, I can’t get back to sleep, as much as I try. I FINISH: Early at night. In bed by 10 most nights. I swear to god, I used to be a night owl. I BELIEVE: We are all stronger than we know. I KNOW: I’m not going to want to get up and walk tomorrow. I also know that I will. I CAN: Wiggle my ears, roll my tongue, and raise my left eyebrow. Also, I’m told I do a pretty good Cartman voice. I CAN’T: Sing worth a damn, but that never stops me. I SEE: Sugarbutt to the left of me, Poo to the right, and Tommy Tubs’ hot little body draped across my arms. I BLOG: I don’t blog. I journal. I READ: Less than I used to before the surgery. I used to do the majority of my reading between 9:45 and midnight every night, but now by the time 9:45 rolls around, I’m ready to go to sleep and so there’s that much less reading. I AM AROUSED BY: A sense of humor, someone who’s willing to smile and gets my jokes, and muscle-y arms and shoulders. IT PISSES ME OFF: When someone objects to an interracial couple by claiming that they’re only concerned about “the kids.” My fucking ass you’re concerned about the kids. I FIND: Change on the ground at least twice a week. And I always pick it up, whether it’s face-up or not. I LIKE: My life. I LOVE: My husband, my daughter, my family, my cats. * * * I fail to see how this could be comfortable, but he stayed like this for a good, long time. * * * Previously 2005: Dumbass things I have done today. 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: Ass in the Past will be the name of my 14th novel. 2000: Ah, the heart warms.]]>

new logo! This one was done by the lovely and talented Sarah. Thanks, Sarah! I’m out of logos; this was the last one I had in the queue. Anyone wants to design a new logo for me in the months ahead (I’d love summer-themed logos for the next couple of months), have at it!

* * * I still have not begun to slog through my email. Tonight or tomorrow, I promise! * * * Okay, before I forget – like Nance, I too have a MySpace page, and if you want to friend me, I’ll friend you back. There’s nothing there, and I don’t intend to ever start blogging over there, just so you know, but I suppose things could change in the future. And while I’m thinking of it, I’m RobynAnderson on LiveJournal and robynanderson on Flickr. I am so kewl. * * * So, my parents are gone. I realized, long about Thursday afternoon, that if I’d been thinking straight, my father and I could have done some hardwooding in the house last week, instead of just hanging out, watching TV, and reading. He hardwooded the floor in my parents’ basement (I haven’t seen it yet, but I hear it looks AWESOME). Also, we could have replaced the hideously tacky gold and silver fixtures in the bathroom that drive me absolutely crazy and which I hate SO SO SO much. I told my mother they should come back in the fall just for such a reason, and she laughed. But I wasn’t kidding! (Fred says, at the thought of hardwooding the computer room floor and the “study”/ cat room upstairs, that we’re selling the house in a year. I say, that’s a year of being driven crazy by the nastydirty carpet and uglyuglyugly gold & silver bathroom fixtures.) (Also, if you have any suggestions on how to clean the fucking water spots off uglyuglyugly bathroom faucets, have at it in the comments) Anyways, bits and pieces about their visit: * My father put the dishes in the dishwasher away almost every morning. Which makes me want to fly them down here every so often, because I HATE putting the dishes in the dishwasher away. * One night – I think it was Memorial Day evening, actually – my sister called while my parents and Fred and I were watching Batman Begins. Since I’ve seen it before, I was happy to go outside and talk on the phone to Debbie while they watched the movie. I think we were on the phone for about 45 minutes, and I ended up in the back yard, talking to her, watching fireflies, when the people in the next subdivision over started setting off fireworks, and it was like they were putting on a show just for me. Quite lovely, really. * Fred is, as I might have mentioned, a bit of a coffee snob. He likes to buy the flavored coffee from Coffee & Co in Gatlinburg. He was more than willing to share his froufy coffee with my parents, but they didn’t want to use up all his coffee (despite his reassurances that he had a ton in the freezer), and went out and bought a container of Folger’s. I think Fred wants to throw away the coffee maker, since it’s been contaminated by cheap, generic coffee. * A note to the wise: Do not, if you’re going to be more than 5 minutes away from home, wear brand-new underwear shopping. Because it might not be all that comfortable, and if you’re spending the whole day shopping, you can’t really say “My underwear keeps climbing up my ass. We need to go home.”, and you will be miserable. * We were on our way home from the movies Friday afternoon (The Break-Up, which I really liked. My mother liked the great chemistry Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn have, but personally I think the chemistry between Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau was the chemistry worth remarking upon (and I don’t mean that in a gay way, though I’ll say that Vince Vaughn strongly strikes me as gay. Jon Favreau, however, does not. I don’t have the strongest gaydar in the world, though.) * We were watching Transamerica, and Sugarbutt and Tommy started grooming each other in the middle of the living room. My father made a crack about them paying too much attention to the movie, and Fred said “You should have seen them when we watched Brokeback Mountain!” Which my father enjoyed so much he almost fell on the floor. * We watched several episodes of Scrubs, season 3, while my parents were here; they appeared to enjoy it. * * * The gray squirrel sits on the fence. Eyeballs Tommy. Eyeballs the food on the ground. Comes to a decision. Food is important, and the squirrel is pretty sure he’s faster than Tommy Tubs. The food – so close, yet so far. The squirrel is unconcerned with how close Tommy is. Annnnnd… the food has been reached! (The picture I didn’t get: Tommy running after the squirrel, getting too close to the fence, and getting zapped. The squirrel ran across the fence to the tree and laughed his little squirrel butt off at Tommy.) Good thing I keep that bird bath (relatively) clean. Tons more cat pictures, here. * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: Fred always says “You blame EVERYTHING on the fact that you’re about to have your period, having your period, or just HAD your period!” Well, duh. 2002: 26 things you may not know about me. 2001: No entry. 2000: Why, oh why, does writing snotty letters amuse me so?]]>