May 2007 – Bitchypoo

5/31/07

* * * Fred called yesterday before noon to let me know that the realtor had called and said that the new owners – today’s the day we close on the old house and pretty soon we’ll only own one house THANK YOU GOD – wanted to know if it’d be okay to put an air mattress in the house and sleep there overnight. He told her it was okay with him, and when he told me that, I remembered that I still hadn’t gotten the vacuum cleaner out of the house. This is not my beloved Dyson of which I speak, by the way. It’s some other canister vacuum Fred went to Sears and purchased when he was working on the stairs, because the Dyson wasn’t good at sucking up the dust or some shit like that. Some LYING bullshit like that, because my Dyson is perfect and awesome and it’s what I’ve been using ever since I got it moved into the house and it is perfection. The thing I hate about canisters is that that goddamn canister is always in the way. I don’t like the canister vacuum at all, but we paid way too much money for it to leave it for someone else. I suggested that he stop on his way home to get the vacuum, since he was going RIGHT BY THERE, but he whined and moaned and insisted that I should just make the 40-minute round-trip drive so he wouldn’t have to. I hate that goddamn house and I cannot wait to see the ass end of it for good. Anyway, I told him I’d do it and hung up the phone and stomped through the house, swearing and telling the cats how much I hate their daddy (they agreed that he’s a bastard), then drove to the goddamn house and got the vacuum. While I was there, I took the chance to snap pictures of the rooms. See, a few weeks ago the realtor called and said that the buyers wanted to hire a painter to come in and paint some of the walls before closing. In our realtor’s opinion, wanting to hire a painter was a good sign that they had no intention of backing out (not that we thought they would, but there’s always that chance), so we let them go ahead and do it. Let’s just say that the colors the buyers chose are… not really colors that appeal to us. The kitchen and living room are painted yellow, and it’s a pretty color, but I think it’s too bright and a tad overwhelming. I like the dining room colors, but the colors in the master bedroom, I don’t like at all. Also, when painting a room two colors, I thought it was customary to paint the top part the lighter color. Not everyone believes that, apparently. So, pictures. Click on any to see the larger version. The computer room. It’s more minty than it appears in the picture. The spud’s old room. I call this color latte – it’s kind of pretty. The master bedroom. I just… don’t know. Not my thing. Not conducive to a good night’s sleep, I’d think. Fred’s old room. It’s extremely close to the color it already was, but I’m 99.9% sure it was repainted. A little more beige than it was, I think. I like it, though I might have gone with a less bright yellow myself. Love the color, but I think it would be overwhelming. Maybe I’m just easily overwhelmed. The study upstairs. It’s another one that’s mintier than it appears. They seem to like minty green. I have to say, the painter did a really good, clean job of painting. He even vacuumed the house when he was done, with my vacuum. I don’t know a lot of painters who would vacuum a house when they were done!

* * * If you’re a fan of Lost, you’ve got to check out the BEST Lost recaps EVER. Speaking of Lost, that finale was amazing. I wish I hadn’t deleted it from the DVR. In fact, I think I’m going to download it from iTunes so I can rewatch it a thousand times. I heart Hurley. * * *

In honor of his late idol, Charles Nelson Reilly, Sugarbutt lets loose with a wacky laugh. * * * Previously 2006: “TURN LEFT HERE OR I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL.” 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.]]>

5/30/07

* * * By the way, I worried, when we bought this house, that the nightly teeth-brushing and contact-popping would be a pain in the ass, that we’d get in each others’ way because the bathroom only has one sink, rather than the two sinks we had at the old house. However, I am pleased to report that we don’t get in each others’ way hardly at all, and I only have to sigh and give him the stinkeye once or twice each evening, and only because he needs to keep up his stinkeye tolerance just in case. I’m not discounting the possibility that ten years of sharing the same sink might get Mighty Fucking Old, but for now it seems to be working for us.

* * * So my parents have come and gone. We did lots of eating out, shopping, and TV-watching (though we didn’t go to the movies at all) while they were here. The best part of it all is that my father was a working MACHINE, and he and Fred got a bunch of stuff done – trees cut down, the areas around some of the big trees cleared, and – my favorite – the fence around the back yard put up. My father keeps saying he’ll be back in the Fall, and given how much he really likes the hard work that he and Fred did, I don’t doubt that he will. Fred went from “I think your parents are kidding about buying the house next door!” to “I think your Dad should buy the house next door so he can come over and help me with stuff!” My father said several times that they should buy the house as a winter home – but really, it ended up costing too much for them to seriously consider it. I think I mentioned that they were going to bring their dog – Benji – with them, and I was concerned about how the cats would react. Let me repeat: I was concerned about the cats. What I should have been concerned about, apparently, is that Mister Boogers and Maxi and Newt – especially Maxi – would kick Benji’s butt every time he looked at them funny. Sometimes it was understandable, as in the first time Benji went running toward Maxi and Newt and they felt threatened, so immediately unleashed the Paws of Doom and had him spinning in circles yelping. (I didn’t see it myself, but apparently it was quite the sight to behold.) Sometimes Benji would be minding his own business and a cat would decide he needed his butt kicked, such as the time we were all on the cement pad eating dinner. Maxi and Newt always join us when we eat outside, and my parents brought Benji outside because – well, why not? He’s a good dog, he (mostly) behaves himself, why shouldn’t he get to hang out with us? Anyway, Maxi and Newt were over by us, and Benji was over by my parents. Maxi decided Benji needed some discipline, so she puffed up and showed him what was what. By day three, poor Benji wouldn’t walk by any of the cats on his own. And he’s such a good dog that he didn’t even dream of going after any of the cats. I only saw him bare his teeth once, and that was while he was eating, and Mister Boogers began vigorously sniffing his (Benji’s) butt You can’t really blame a guy for not liking to have his butt sniffed while he’s trying to eat.

So as much as Benji is a good dog and behaved himself and didn’t pee in the house (my big concern, but he’s not prone to that, I guess), I came to the conclusion, for the umpteenth time, that I am SO not a dog person. He’s a sweet dog, but I just don’t like having a dog around. It’s with no small sense of irony that I report that late last week, a beagle (or beagle mix) dog showed up on our front porch and has been hanging around ever since. She and Benji had a good time (and Benji didn’t let the fact that he’s been fixed slow him down at ALL. If y’know what I MEAN.) and I tried my best to talk my parents into bringing her home. My mother might have gone for it, but my father wasn’t up for it at all, and in the end they left without her.

The lady two doors down is interested in keeping her, but she has no way to contain her (interesting fact about beagles – they don’t like to be fenced in, and they have got some LUNGS on them). I don’t know if the dog was a dropoff, or if she ran off from her home – she’s wearing a blue collar, but no tags – and doesn’t know how to get back or what. Fred’s under instructions to call and place ads in the local papers; hopefully that’ll bring a tearful owner thrilled to be reunited with little Trixiebelle.

She’s a sweet dog and I don’t mind having her around, but it annoys me when we go for our nightly walk and Maxi and Newt don’t accompany us because the dog’s with us. I mean, they’ve kicked her butt, too, and she avoids them and all, but they don’t go out of their way to hang out with her in the vicinity, and I really like having them follow us around.

For the time being, I guess we’ll feed her (she’s been eating cat food on the front porch, but I dug out the bag of dog food left over from when we had Jake and filled a bowl for her), but that dog is NOT coming in my house, and once the gates are up in the back yard, I’m not allowing her in the back yard. And the first one of you idiots who’s all “Oh Robyn, just ADMIT IT! You have a dog!”, I’m going to hunt you down and kick you in the knee. I don’t have a dog, I don’t want a dog, I’m not a dog person, and I won’t feel bad about it. However, if anyone out there’s interested in taking her, BY ALL MEANS let me know. She’s good with other dogs, she’s not aggressive, she’s pretty submissive in fact, and she’s a sweetie pie. I’d drive at least a couple of hours to bring her to a good home.

She likes to roam, though. She’d probably be happiest on a farm or in a pretty rural area. She has no street smarts – she’s not completely up on the idea of staying out of the road, though I think Benji taught her the basic idea of it – so a heavily trafficked area might not be the best idea for her. Beagles are supposed to be good hunters, aren’t they? Well, she might be a good hunter, but she doesn’t know squat about fetching a stick. You know you want her. There are all kinds of cat and dog pictures over at Flickr. Also, you can check out a buttload of the spud’s graduation pictures, here. * * * * * *

Miz Poo: “I don’t see why that damn dog gets to go outside and we can’t. UNFAIR.” Mister Boogers: *fume* “Ah hets dawgs.” * * * Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: Every time I type in “u” instead of “you”, I die a little inside. 2004: No entry. 2003: What happens if you put a box on the floor? 2002: “Where was it, Bessie?” he asked, trying to draw me into the trap with him, so he could perhaps trip me and then run away, leaving me there for her to latch onto. 2001: What do you s’pose a realtor’s house looks like? I always assumed it’d be a real showplace, with everything just so, all appliances gleaming and so on. 2000: Every time I blow-dry my hair, it sounds like the phone is ringing. ]]>

5/22/07

Do I look old enough to be the mother of a high school graduate? (Don’t answer that!) Congratulations, spud! They grow so goddamn fast, don’t they? ]]>

5/18/07

got tagged to do this 10-things-about-me thing. I thought about not doing it, because I seriously, seriously doubt that there are ten things about me that y’all don’t already know, but then I woke up this morning (got myself a gun/ Mama always said I’d be the chosen one) and couldn’t think of a goddamn thing to write about, and the meme isn’t called the “Ten things you didn’t already know about me”, after all, is it? No it’s not. So here’s 10 things about me. 1. I love cats. DUH. 2. I also like birds. I love to sit at my desk and look out the window at the birds frequenting the feeders. I think mockingbirds are my favorite, followed by those bright yellow finches and chickadees. I can’t seem to lure bluebirds to my yard, no matter what I offer. Stupid bluebirds. 3. I always have to force myself to go out and mow the lawn, but once I get going, I enjoy it. I’d probably enjoy it more if it didn’t take me three motherfucking hours. 4. I told Fred I put sunblock on before I went out to mow the lawn yesterday, but I totally didn’t. Shut up. I don’t wanna hear it. 5. I love the hell out of Miz Poo, but I think Sugarbutt’s my secret favorite kitty. He’s just so freakin’ happy all the time. Who can resist a purring kitty who’s SO THRILLED to be alive every moment of every day? 6. I spend too goddamn much money on shit I don’t need. I’m trying to improve on this, but it’s harrrrrrrrd. 7. I wish our house was further back from the road than it is. 8. I’ve been up at 6:00 almost every day this week. I hate being up that early, but I sure do get a lot accomplished. 9. I wake up at 2:19 every single freakin’ morning having to poo. YOU ARE WELCOME. 10. And one evil thing about me: There are various people who’ve said things about my relationship, some at the very beginning of it, some fairly recently, some at varying times in the middle. Some things were said directly to me, some to someone I know (who passed it along), some in places I stumbled across. Some of these people are people Fred or I know in real life, some are not. Every single one of these people has said something derogatory about my marriage, whether it’s how Fred and I relate to each other, or the fact that we sleep in separate bedrooms or whatever. And without fail, every single one of these people are now divorced. And sometimes I childishly want to email or call them, and say “Well. I guess you don’t know what constitutes a happy marriage AFTER ALL do you, Smuggy McAsshole? HA! HA! I WIN!” I don’t know what I win, though. Hopefully it’s not a divorce. I’m supposed to tag 10 people. If you’re reading this, consider yourself tagged.

* * * This meme is one I cut and pasted and saved at some point in the past. I don’t know where the hell I got it, but I think that since it’s another “10” meme, I’ll go right ahead and do it. Why the hell not, right? 10 FAVORITES Favorite Color: I usually say yellow, but I think it’s a tie between yellow and blue. Favorite Food: Depends, but I always like chinese food. Favorite Month: January, ’cause it’s all about ME. Favorite Song: Right now, it’s Shpadoinkle Day (from Cannibal! The Musical!) (The sky is blue/ and all the leaves are green/ the sun’s as warm as a baked pataytuh/ I think I know precisely what I mean/ when I say it’s a shpadoinkle day!) Favorite Movie: Eh. I don’t know that I have one favorite, but I always enjoy O Brother, Where Art Thou. (We thought you was a horny toad!) Favorite Sport: None of them! Favorite Season: Fall, followed very closely by Spring. Favorite Day of the week: Wednesay. Things are calmest then, and I can usually take a lazy day (“Aren’t they ALL lazy days, Robyn?” Har. Har.) Favorite Ice Cream Flavor: Vanilla, or sometimes vanilla with Oreo chunks. Is that called Oreo ice cream? I think it very well might be. Favorite Time of Day: Dusk. 9 CURRENTS Current Mood: Tired. Current Taste: Wintergreen gum. Current Clothes: Gray cotton pants, green t-shirt that says “My imaginary friend doesn’t like you either.” Current Desktop: This Sugarbutt picture. Current Toenail Color: Plain. Uh, not painted, I mean. Current Time: 7:34. Current Surroundings: Computer room, Miz Poo in a cat bed on my desk, birds outside the window eating. Current Thoughts: Vacuum, clean the floors, dust. What else do I need to do before they get here? 8 FIRSTS First Best Friend: First one I remember: Candi Rhoades. First Kiss: John Bowie. First Screen Name: Robyn (or Nybor, if someone else was using Robyn). First Pet: Suzy, my birthday present when we lived in Guam. She had a litter of kittens, one of them being Charlie, my first beloved orange tabby. Good ol’ Charlie. He just disappeared one day. First Piercing: Right ear, followed by the left. First Crush: I can’t imagine. I had crushes on just about every male I wasn’t related to. First CD: I don’t remember! 7 LASTS Last Coffee: I don’t know – years and years ago. I don’t like coffee at all. Last Drink: Alcohol, I assume this means. I don’t know when that was, either – years and years ago. I keep telling Fred that we should go out to a restaurant where I can get a drink and see how long it takes me to get plowed (people who’ve had wls are notorious lightweights), but I have no follow-through on that. I don’t particularly want to get drunk. Last Car Ride: Yesterday morning. I drove to the pet store, stopped by the grocery store, and came home. Last Kiss: At 6:00, when Fred was leaving for work. Last Movie Seen: Uh. The Grudge 2? No, we only watched about three minutes of that one. Music and Lyrics was the last one, I guess. Last Phone Call: The spud, calling to let us know she was going to study at her friend’s house after work last night. Last CD Played: The Jesus Christ Superstar soundtrack. 6 HAVE YOU EVERS Have You Ever Dated One Of Your Best Guy/Girl Friends: Nope. Have You Ever Broken the Law: Yep. Have You Ever Been Arrested: Nope. Have You Ever Skinny Dipped: Yep. Have You Ever Been on TV: Yep. Have You Ever Kissed Someone You Didn’t Know: Nope. (How boring am I?) 5 THINGS Thing You’re Wearing: My red Big Dog “Her Royal Highness The Queen But You Can Call Me Mom” nightgown. Thing You’ve Done Today: Cleaned out the litter box, put some laundry in to wash, procrastinated cleaning the bathrooms. Thing You Can Hear Right Now: The washer going. Thing You Can’t Live Without: My iPod (though of course I COULD live without it – I just don’t wanna.) Thing You Do When You’re Bored: Read, surf the ‘net, find kitties to pet. 4 PLACES YOU’VE BEEN TODAY 1. The bathroom. 2. The bedroom. 3. The laundry room. 4. The clothesline. 3 PEOPLE YOU CAN TELL ANYTHING TO 1. Fred. 2. Debbie. 3. Liz. 2 CHOICES 1. Black or White: White – black shows the cat hair too damn much. 2. Hot or Cold: Hot (right now, I am COLD. It got really cold overnight. I hate when that happens.) 1 THING YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE Go on a world tour, hitting countries like Australia, New Zealand, Scotland, England, Ireland, Greece, among others. * * * I just called my parents. They’re west of Knoxville, so I guess I have four or five hours to get the house dusted, vacuum, and clean the floors before they get here. From my comments: is this the second time a gay couple looked at that house? because when I read this yesterday, I could have sworn that I’d read it before. Except not in that deja vu way. I mean for real. Probably you’re remembering Fred’s entry from a few weeks ago when I called to let him know that there were a couple of men looking at the house, and he suggested they might be a gay couple. Do we have gay couples on the brain, or what? As for the potential neighbors: $50 says there’s either a treasure or a body buried under the cement slab, and they’re only pretending to be interested in the house so they can get to it. And for God’s sake, woman, what did the note say?!?! If there’s a body under the cement slab, they’re welcome to it! The note, paraphrased, said “Dear Robert, you’ve been leeching off Momma and Daddy since last April, haven’t paid a lick of rent, haven’t offered to pay the electricity or water, and we want you the hell out of there. You have ’til the 11th to get your shit and get out, and if there’s any of Momma and Daddy’s furniture missing, we’re going to take your ass to court to get money for the stuff you stole, and WE KNOW you sold (the people who sold us this house)’s dog run, because we have a witness who saw it happen [that would be Fred]. Any shit you leave behind, we’re going to move into the shed in the back yard. This is bullshit, you’re an asshole, and you SUCK.” It was said much nicer – they’re good christian folks, after all – but that’s the gist of it. If I were you and Fred … I would be looking at planting some sort of “screen” between the properties. Bamboo comes to mind – it grows amazingly fast, and there are species that if you plant them properly so they are contained, it won’t spread outside the area where you need it. We’re talking about planting something along the property line – maybe fast-growing evergreens. I’d love to see bamboo there, but when I suggest it, Fred looks at me like I’m a lunatic. He’s not a fan of the bamboo. Could the bird be an Indigo bunting? I believe it is! I’d share more pictures of him, but he’s very skittish and if I get up and walk toward the door, he sees me and flits off. I’m not going to give up, though! I’m going to be in Nashville in mid-September with my husband. He has a work thing to attend. We’ll be staying at Opryland Resort. Any suggestions for me for fun stuff to do solo during the days he is in meetings? I live in Oregon and I’ve never been to the South. Thanks in advance for any suggestions. I have no suggestions for things to do during the day (though I think there’s plenty of shopping to be done!), but I’m sure someone else will have plenty of suggestions! * * * Okay, I’m off to finish cleaning the house. Updating will be spotty next week while my parents are here! Y’all behave yourselves. * * *

Vampire Kitty likes to spend his days on top of the cupboards, where it’s warm and relatively dark. * * * Previously 2006: I walked over to them and threw Cheerios at them, and they looked at me as if I were mentally disturbed. 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.]]>

5/17/07

Man, was yesterday a busy one for me. I left the house early to run to the recycling center, then came home for a few minutes and cleaned up the kitchen, then had to head to Madison for my hair appointment. (Yes, I intend to keep the same hair chick. I’d have to move to Beirut before deciding that the drive was too much, because once I find someone who does a decent job on my hair, I like to stay with them FOREVER.) Once my hair appointment was over, I went to Fred’s office to drop off Danielle’s old computer – he gave it to a coworker, who’ll either donate it to a school or find a family member who needs a barely functional computer – and from there I went to Sam’s, then to TJ Maxx, then Petsmart, then to Target, then to Bed, Bath & Beyond. At this point it was 1:30 and I had to choose whether I wanted to go home and have lunch, then drive back to Madison to meet Danielle at Kohl’s, or just hang out at the old house in Madison until it was time. Ultimately I decided to go home, have lunch, and take a shower to depouff my hair. I did so, bonded with the kitties for a while, then headed back to Madison. I wandered around Kohl’s for about an hour before Danielle showed up, and then we started some serious shopping. She’s graduating next Tuesday, and needed to have a black or navy blue skirt or dress to wear under her robe. She didn’t have either, thus the shopping trip. It didn’t take long to find a skirt and top she could live with, and then we headed over to find black shoes. The first pair she tried on were too small. “Take off your socks and try them on,” I said. “Well, you’re not supposed to do that,” she said, casting a look at a passing store employee. “I guess I’ll just wear black socks to graduation.” I looked at her to see if she was joking. She wasn’t. “Um, NO. You aren’t wearing SOCKS to graduation with a skirt!” “Well, what am I supposed to wear?” “Either go barefoot, or wear hose!” “Hose?” she said with no little amount of confusion. “PANTYHOSE?” I said, giving her the bug-eyed look. Then I reconsidered – how would the child KNOW what pantyhose were? I haven’t worn them Fred’s grandmother’s funeral six years ago, and it’s not like Danielle wears skirts all that often, either, and when she does, she usually goes bare-legged. Hard to blame her for not knowing about pantyhose when I’ve never suggested she wear them in the past, I guess. She tried on a second pair of shoes, which fit, and we grabbed a couple pair of pantyhose, and we were done! Last night Fred and I were laying in bed talking. He had also stopped by Kohl’s on his way home to pick up clothes to wear to graduation, and he told me what he’d bought (khakis and a button-up shirt, if you must know), and then he said “Are you wearing a dress?” I lay in silence and wondered how far Alzheimer’s treatments have come in the past few years. “You are, aren’t you? I remember you talking about the shoes you bought, or something?” I lay in silence and wondered how fast early-onset Alzheimer’s progresses. Also, whether sundowning usually happens so late in the evening. “Shoes with heels or something?” “Come ON!” I said. “I’m going to have them haul you away to the nursing home! YOU WERE THERE WITH ME AND PICKED OUT THE SKIRT FOR ME!” Last month when Fred and Danielle were still living in Madison, the home inspector was doing his thing, and I decided to go to Kohl’s to find an outfit to wear to graduation. Fred couldn’t go home, ’cause he’d be in the home inspector’s way, so I told him to come to Kohl’s to help me choose an outfit. I tried on the outfit I’d chosen – a black skirt and yellow top – and he didn’t like the skirt because it was similar in construction to a poodle skirt. I thought it was cute, but he didn’t like it. So he ended up picking out a skirt for me to try on, liked it, and that’s what I bought. Then we went over to the shoes, because probably New Balance slip-on sneakers might not “go” with the outfit, and I jokingly put on a pair of Daisy Fuentes shoes with six-inch heels, and Fred got a horrified look on his face, and I couldn’t find any shoes I liked, so we left. Later that evening I said “Why’d you look so freaked out when I tried on those shoes?” And he said “I’m just not used to seeing you in clothes like that. They’re GIRLY.” “I CAN BE A GIRL!” I said. Which made him laugh while he was drinking his Diet Coke, and he choked and spluttered and laughed and when he could breathe again, he said “I didn’t say you COULDN’T, you just don’t usually dress like that!” Which is to say, I usually dress like a teenage boy, I guess, and have done so for pretty much the entire almost-11-years we’ve been together. I don’t expect things to change – but I WILL be wearing girl clothes to graduation, so if the earth cracks open next Tuesday, you’ll know who to blame. (I won’t be wearing pantyhose, though.)

* * *

“It must not touch The Sugs, Thomas.”

“Ohhhh, how I love the feel of the cool wood floor under my sweet fuzzy cheek…” * * * Previously 2006: Sorry, no real entry today. 2005: Fucking cats. They sure are a money pit. 2004: Oh, look. It must be a day that ends in “y.” 2003: No entry. 2002: You know, this whole band shit drives me nuts. 2001: The spud’s band is having another concert tonight. 2000: I would put a sign announcing the name of the house: Horseshit Alley.]]>

5/16/07

Google Desktop: Do I want it? And if so, why? Is it the coolest thing since sliced bread, or just more crap cluttering up my desktop?

* * * Our house was originally located on 5 acres of land. When the Banks family bought this house, they cut out an area of about half an acre and sold it to her father, who put a manufactured house on said half acre, and he and his wife moved into the house. Mrs. Banks’ mother eventually got sick and had to be moved into a home (I think) and since Mrs. Banks wanted to be closer to her parents, they sold this house to us. Since we bought this house, the house next door has been occupied by Mrs. Banks’ brother, who has been a perfectly fine neighbor, though sometimes he liked to wander around his yard wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, so every now and then I’d glance out the kitchen window and my corneas would be seared by the sight, and I’d stumble around blind for a day or two. Mrs. Banks’ brother is apparently considered the black sheep of the family, and lately there’s been a bit of activity next door culminating in a nasty note being taped to the back door (and I think you KNOW I snuck my ass over there at dusk one evening to read the note in all its glory, and I am only saddened by the fact that I didn’t take a picture of it to share with y’all), and finally in Mrs. Banks and a couple of her sons moving all of her parents’ furniture into the shed in the back yard late last week. So anyway, that house has been up for sale for a few weeks now, and there have been two or three instances where I’ve looked over to see potential buyers wander through the yard. I turn into a total fucking Mrs. Kravitz, peering out the window while trying to look like I’m going about my business with no interest in what’s going on over there. Yesterday I was doing dishes when I saw a couple of young guys walk through the yard with Mrs. Banks’ father (let’s call him Mr. Hooper). I stood and watched them walk around the back of the house, pointing out various things on the foundation and the windows and various things like that. Fred came in the house a minute later to see if I’d noticed the potential buyers walking around with Mr. Hooper, and we discussed them. “Why are two young guys interested in buying a manufactured home on half an acre in Smallville?” I asked. Now, when I say young, I mean that these guys were definitely youngish, but whether they were college-aged or in their early 30s, I have no clue. All I know is that they were younger than me, or at least that was my impression. “Maybe they’re a gay couple!” Fred offered. I don’t know why, but I am completely enthralled with the idea of having gay neighbors. Gay people are – pardon the stereotyping – the coolest, and the idea of having two young good-looking gay men or women move in next door is something I can get on board with. They’d surely have fabulous gay parties and invite their fabulous gay friends and give my inner Mrs. Kravitz something to spy on. “Maybe, but I don’t think so,” I said sadly. “They look like brothers. Probably they’re going to move in with their wives and have lots of small children who don’t know nothin’ ’bout honoring no property lines. Fucking breeders.” (Yes, I have a child. I suppose that makes me a breeder. But I taught her the fine art of honoring a property line and you’d never find her tromping through someone else’s flower bed. That I’m aware of.) The guys stood in the front yard and talked to Mr. Hooper for a few minutes, then left. “Did Mr. Hooper leave?” I asked Fred when he came in with our steaks, which he’d just finished grilling. “Yeah.” “He didn’t come over and tell you what was going on?” “Nope.” “Well goddamn, that’s rude. Call his ass up! Tell him you want to know what’s going on!” I demanded. “Because it’s clearly our business?” Fred said. “Indeed.” We went outside to eat at the table on the concrete pad. We like to do that when the weather is nice, so that Maxi and Newt can share in our meal (Maxi is pickier than Newt. I think Newt doesn’t chew a single damn thing he eats.), and Fred can toss scraps to the chickens. While we were sitting there, the two guys showed up again. Then it was like a clown car – more people kept appearing around the side of the house. “There’s a third guy,” I narrated to Fred, who had his back to the house. “And another one. Damn! And another one!” “Maybe it’s a family of twentysomethings who are going to buy the house together and throw loud and obnoxious parties. Sucks to be the person whose bedroom is on the side of the house facing that house.” “Quick! Take your shirt and pants off, and traipse around the yard!” I ordered. “Scratch your ass, too! That’ll scare ’em off!” Then a twentysomething girl appeared, and the whole crowd walked around the house, pointing at the foundation, looking under the deck. Newt went wandering across the yard, then stopped to look at the crowd. He looked at them, then looked at us. Them. Us. Them. Us. I could see the “Hey. I don’t know THOSE people!” lightbulb go on over his head, and then he ran over to us and gave us the “I’m starving!” eyes. The crowd hung out in the front yard for a little while, then left. “Call Mr. Hooper and find out what’s going on!” I demanded, but Fred wouldn’t. Bastard. And before you suggest it, I should point out that we seriously considered buying the house, selling the house off the land, and keeping the land for ourselves, which is what we’d really like to do. (We also considered buying the house, then renting it out, which is a much less appealing prospect, because we have no desire to be slumlords.) But Mr. Hooper is really asking more than we can afford to spend for half an acre of land, and chances aren’t great that we could recoup much money from selling the house. I will, of course, keep y’all informed on what happens over there. * * *
Every night around 7 – sometimes a little earlier, sometimes a little later – it’s snackin’ time for the kitties, our kitties, and the two who hang around outside and DO NOT BELONG TO US. After dinner – usually around 5 – every time I walk through the kitchen or stop to get a drink or whatever, the cats (especially Spot) run into the kitchen with the “IS IT SNACKIN’ TIME?!” eyes, and they mill around then decide it’s not snackin’ time because I haven’t bellowed “WHO READY FOR THE SNACKIN’?” like I always do. Last night, Fred was taking a shower before we started watching TV, and I went into the kitchen to get the kitty snacks. “WHO’S READY FOR THE SNACKIN’?” I bellowed, and they all started doing what they do every night at Snackin’ Time. Sugarbutt and Tommy jump up on the counter so that the instant I open the cans of cat food, they can stick their little pig noses in and start licking whatever they can get their tongues on. Spot sits in the middle of the kitchen and meows his weird soundless meows (you can hear his mouth opening and closing as he does it). Spanky sits in a corner of the room and gives me the “I am so hungry, but I am a big wimpy wimp who cannot fight the hordes of cats for a taste of the tasty snack. Help?” (he gets a little bit on a dish to himself). Mister Boogers stomps back and forth waggling his stump and meowing bitchily. Miz Poo might wander in to see if she’s interested, but she’s usually not. Anyway, as soon as I bellowed “WHO READY FOR THE SNACKIN’?”, I heard the sound of a human running goonily down the hallway. I instantly knew it was Fred, and he was going to show up in the kitchen doorway and either meow or give me the crazyhungry eyes. I glanced around at the cats, sure they’d be freaked out by the sound of a person running down the hallway, but they were all eyeballing the can of cat food in my hand. As Fred approached the doorway, I turned around to give him a grin. He popped into the doorway, and the instant he did, the cats lost their minds. As one, they levitated and ran into the laundry room. There was a loud clanging noise, and then they reappeared, some of them scrabbling to regain their balance as they ran across the hardwood floor of the kitchen, and they raced through the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room, and then they vanished. I laughed so hard I thought I was going to pass out. For the rest of the evening, the cats walked around low to the ground with big, dark eyes, tails puffed out, trying to remember why they were so freaked out. And I’d remember them racing into the laundry room, hearing that loud clanging noise, and then them running back through the kitchen, and I’d laugh all over again. Even now, writing about it, I’m giggling. * * *

Tommy makes like a bat. * * * Previously 2006: I’m READY FOR SUMMER, THANK YOU. 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.]]>

5/15/07

I bought this t-shirt when I was in Hawaii a few years ago. I got it home to find that it wouldn’t fit, so I put it away. I rediscovered it last month, and have been wearing it a lot. When I first bought it, it smelled like chocolate (it was dyed with chocolate), but it no longer does. It’s actually about two sizes too big for me now, but that doesn’t stop me from wearing it! I think the shirt is broken, though. No one ever offers me chocolate!

* * *

Bad picture, but I think you can tell it’s a mother Robin on her nest, and there are a couple of hungry baby Robin beaks sticking up out of the nest. I don’t know how long this nest has been there, but Fred just noticed it yesterday – it’s in the magnolia tree, and we must have walked beneath it approximately ten thousand times without noticing it. * * *

The mantel in the front room. That’s a picture of the Sacre Coeur my mother bought in Paris and gave us as a Christmas present. On the mantel: egg cats (I’d link to where you can buy them, but Google isn’t giving me anything), and Willow Tree figurines. * * *

The spud got a laptop for graduation from us (a little early), so decided she didn’t really need her desk anymore. Since storage space in our bathroom is close to nonexistent, I took the opportunity to claim her desk to use as a vanity. It sits in a corner of my bedroom. I intended to get a mirror to hang on the wall, but forgot that the chair rail would make that difficult. It works out well for me. (By the way, I had no idea when I purchased that lamp shade that it was so shiny. I’ll be replacing that pretty quickly.) * * *

This is the first thing I hung up, a housewarming present from Nance and Rick soon after we bought this house. I LOVE it. That table Sugarbutt’s sitting on is now sitting next to the side door – we use the side door more often than the front door, now that we’ve moved the recliner so it’s no longer in the way. * * *

I didn’t actually intend to hang three pictures over the mantel in the dining room, but there were three nails there already, and I wanted to hang up the spud’s senior picture, so I dug through the pictures I had and found two others to go there as well. I’m thinking that the spud’s baby picture would go well where that picture of Miz Poo is, and maybe one of her other school pictures where the Tubby picture is. Or maybe I’ll just leave it like it is! * * *

I have no idea what this bird is. He reminds me of a finch, but I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a blue finch before. Whatever he is, he’s purty. (Edited to add: pretty sure that’s an Indigo Bunting.) * * *

Honeysuckle’s in bloom, and it smells DIVINE. * * *

* * *

::grumble::grumble:: “Come ON, Newt, time to follow the freaks around the back forty!” * * *

“Hellew.” * * *

Newt amongst the clover. * * *

We have a lot of cupboard space in the kitchen, but none of it is particularly conducive to being used as a pantry. We bought this pie safe from JC Penney to use as a pantry, and it works perfectly. At least until Fred decides he’s interested in woodworking and can build me something bigger! * * *

What the front porch looks like now. * * *

Newt admires the Gerbera daisies. * * *

Verbena. Maybe next year I’ll go wild and plant more than one kind of flower in each pot! * * *

Side steps. Those are impatients, which prefer shade, according to their little card. I obviously haven’t planted anything in the ground yet – maybe in the next month or so. I have to procrastinate for a while first, y’know. * * *

“Let. Me. OUT!” * * *

Note the new high score. I’m edging Fred off my high score board, slowly but surely! * * * All of the above pictures were uploaded here over at Flickr, in case you wanted to see them in a larger size. * * * Previously 2006: Mystery solved, I guess. 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!]]>

5/14/07

* * * Fred sent me the link to this video yesterday morning, and I immediately favorited it. It makes me cackle every time I watch it, and I think I’ve watched it about ten times. YouTube link I’m not a big fan of their other stuff, but this video is HILARIOUS.

* * * I had a seriously productive weekend FOR ONCE, and I love it when that happens. Saturday morning I woke up with the “I don’t wanna!”s, and I puttered around the house in an annoyed manner until Fred tentatively asked if I’d “sometime” think about maybe weeding the row of sugar snap peas, since they were getting seriously overgrown. I haven’t done much (ANY) weeding so far, because most of the plants are still kind of small, and I am not familiar with what most of the vegetable plants look like, and I was afraid that I’d yank up vegetable plants instead of weeds. The sugar snap peas are pretty big now, and I can tell what’s sugar snap peas and what’s weed (for the most part), so I got dressed and went out and started weeding. I ended up weeding not only the sugar snap peas, but half the row of squash, and the entire row of onions. And there were some WEEDS, I tell you what. In the end, I weeded for four hours, all of that time with my back to the sun. Hey, guess what? Did you know that if you put sunblock on your face and arms, then go out and stand in the sun for four hours with your back turned toward the sun when you’re wearing shorts, you’ll end up with sunburned legs? I KNOW! It surprised me too! I don’t feel like I even made a freakin’ dent in the weeds that are growing in the garden, so I’m thinking I’ll need to start going out there every morning and weeding for at least a little while, just to keep on top of the weeds. Stupid weeds. Saturday afternoon, Fred and I went to a small flea market type store, where we traded in some old phones for a VCR for the garage/ gym (the one we had out there died recently, and Fred likes to have old videos to watch while he’s exercising), a little shelf unit and the hokiest little wooden chicken that I have ever seen. Ugly, but somehow oddly appealing to me. And at 59 cents, how could I pass it up?

New (to me) shelf unit (I need to do something about those hearts – paint them or take them off, or something. I don’t like them the way they are) with my salt and pepper shakers on display. On top, the chicken!

I don’t know why I find it so strangely appealing. I just do! We rented some movies on the way home and pretty much took it easy for the rest of the evening. We started watching Freakshow (well, Fred did – I just read), but gave up on that after about a minute and a half. We watched Planet Earth: Pole to Pole – the first Planet Earth show we’ve seen, and it was AMAZING, I highly recommend it – and then watched Music and Lyrics, which we liked. We were almost done with the movie when the spud told us that she’d turned the washer on and only a trickle of water was coming out. Fred went to investigate and ultimately discovered that a big water main had burst somewhere (he found that out by calling the water company). I got all worried that I might need to flush the toilet in the middle of the night (if it’s yellow let it mellow, etc), so at 11 pm Fred and I were standing over the pond, me with a flashlight, he with a bucket on a rope, dipping water out of the pond so that if the need arose, I could use pond water to flush the toilet. “I know ONE THING,” I bitched at him while little insects swarmed around my face. “Come Monday, I’m going to buy THE FUCK out of some gallons of cheap bottled water and keep them in the garage in case this happens again!” I got up a couple of times during the night and checked the water. It didn’t come back on during the night, but Sunday morning Fred woke me up around 7:30 to let me know that it was back on. I was a little relieved that I wasn’t going to have to use nasty pond water to flush the toilet, to be honest. Sunday was a puttering-around-the-house day, but I felt like I got a LOT accomplished. I got the computer room straightened around so that my printer’s off to the side instead of sitting in the middle of the room like it was before. We moved the recliner out of the computer room to the front room, so that now we can use the side door to come in and out of regularly. The side door is just more convenient to use, and I moved a table from the front room to the computer room so Fred will have a place to drop his keys and wallet when he gets home. I finally started hanging up pictures, and it’s amazing how just hanging up some pictures makes a world of difference. I balanced the checkbook and paid some bills, moved all the empty boxes from the corner of the computer room to the guest bedroom closet (why have such a big closet if you’re not going to use it for storage, after all?), straightened up the closet, scrubbed out the litter box, and myriad other small tasks that needed to be done. There are still things to be done around the house – pictures to be hung, stuff that needs to be stored somewhere – but I think it’s really coming together nicely. Tomorrow, I’ll post random pictures of stuff I’ve done around the house. I made beef stroganoff for dinner (it was really damn good – a Cooking Light recipe I’ll post later this week), and we had ice cream while we were watching TV (GET OFF MY BACK, IT WAS MOTHER’S DAY!). Speaking of TV, skip to the next paragraph if you haven’t seen the season finale of Survivor. WHAT A FUCKING TRAVESTY. Fucking Dreamz, what an asshole. I’m tempted to just never watch this fucking show again in my life, but I know I’ll never give it up because I’m an addict. I haven’t watched the reunion show yet (I’ll do that later today), but I can guarantee you that Dreamz did NOT take the truck with the intention of screwing over Yau-Man. You know when he decided to screw over Yau-Man? When Yau-Man said the words “If you change your mind.” I could see the fucking lightbulb go on over Dreamz’s stupid fucking head when Yau-Man said that, because you know what? It never occurred to Dreamz until that point that he COULD go back on his word. Also, I have to confess: From about the midpoint of the season, I’ve been calling Dreamz “the dumb blond” because he sounds like such a fucking airhead. (Yeah, yeah, I know – people who live in glass houses. SHADDUP.) Fred predicted that it’d be a unanimous vote for Earl, and I wasn’t that surprised to find that he was right. That was also the assiest-acting jury I’ve ever seen in the history of that show, between Lisi and Alex. Even Rocky wasn’t as much of a douchebag as those two, and when Rocky’s less of a douchebag then you are, that’s when it’s time to take a quick jump off a high cliff, hear me Lisa and Alex? Annnnnd that’s all I have to say about that. ‘Twas a good weekend, and now I’m sitting here waiting for the guy to come replace the windows on the second floor of the garage. I suppose while I’m waiting I’ll go put groceries away, do some laundry, and maybe vacuum the fucking house (it is, after all, a day that ends in “y”). * * *

I love it when Maxi and Newt rub up against each other.

Sometimes The Boog gets overwhelmed with being outside and starts acting like a jerk, so The Daddy has to pick him up and carry him. * * * Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: Memeriffic. 2003: “One of the cats brought in a baby possum and it appears to be dying.” 2002: A mother can dream, can’t she? 2001: I almost shot a red bean out of my nose, I was laughing so hard. 2000: No entry.]]>

5/11/07

Our Roomba went missing and it wasn’t until I REPLACED my bed with a new one that I found it. Underneath my bed,it had traveled over and around mega piles of junk,and a huge underbed storage box to wedge itself in the FAR CORNER. I was spooked because it was kind of like finding a missing small pet, dead and covered with dustbunnies. Is it wrong that I found this hilarious? Like, “Where the hell did the Roomba go?!”, followed by frantic searching for it, followed by mystified shrugs and a decision to just not think about how the Roomba must have escaped to live with a family that would love it properly.

* * * In 2004, you put it this way: “Lord, I need a house on 50 acres in the country, with no neighbors anywhere around.” Well, you don’t have FIFTY acres, but you did get your home in the country. I guess you imagined it and made it so. I’m not dead yet – there might be 50 acres in my future yet! A girl can dream, anyway. * * * Is that a can of whipped cream on your bedside table? 😉 No, we’re much kinkier than whipped cream. That’s a can of compressed air! * * * Your [Snood] score makes me have serious self worth issues Robyn!!!!! Thanks! Well, Fred’s Snood scores make ME have serious self-worth issues, so I’m just passing along the love. * * * How cool that you’ve discovered Weeds. I love that show and it’s so hard to describe it’s unique awesomeness to anyone who hasn’t seen it. Once you start with “well, it’s a about a suddenly widowed woman who starts selling pot to support her two sons.” It’s about SO much more than that. It’s about the boredom of suburbia and the unhealthy ways its inhabitants choose to cope. The situations that result are crafted for maximum shock value and hilarity but, even at its most bizarre, there’s something so uniquely genuine and incisive that even the teetotaler mom can recognize herself. There was this scene where Nancy was watching a home video of she and Judah*, and the “How did I get here?” look on her face was just heart-breaking. You can describe the show by saying it’s about a mom who’s selling pot to support herself and her family, but it’s completely NOT about that. *There are not enough men named Judah. I love that name. * * * Maybe Fred could put a couple of boards in the chicken shelter so they can roost in the dry area instead of half out in the rain. Or they could haul their asses into the coop and roost out of the rain there if they’re so intent on roosting, the spoiled little brats. (I don’t think they were actually in the rain – there was a lull in the rain, and they all came out to roost, then when it began raining again, they went under the shelter.) * * * I don’t comment much at all, but I just had to say that I haven’t been playing snood nearly as long as you have (you got me started on it), but I hit 500 games total last night. Apparently I have a nasty addiction. Now I’m embarrassed and wondering if there’s some sort of support group or something. It seems that you’re not alone. * * * Mr Boogers loves me, too. He texted me and told me. Mister Boogers doesn’t have opposable thumbs and finds it too difficult to text anyone – he gives up and stomps off in a huff after texting a few LOLs. I think you’ve been targeted by a Boogalike. * * * So, what are you going to do with that “prime real estate” when you no longer have a pond? Hell if I know! Maybe make the chicken yard bigger? * * * I suddenly thought as I drove home last night — Fred hasn’t mentioned hiking in a long, long time on his blog. Nor you. Now that you are one-home owners again, and the “to do list” is a lot smaller — are you guys going to hike any more? Or are the hiking places too far away with the move to Smallville? We actually talked about this last night. We might start occasionally hiking again in the future, but Fred has kind of lost the drive to hike now that he’s got stuff to do here in Smallville. I’m sure there’ll be occasional hiking over the summer, but I doubt he’ll be hiking as often as he used to. * * * You two totally have two extra cats. Who ya foolin’? OURSELVES, of course. * * * What in the world are you going to do with the boog man [escaping]? Doesn’t this make twice? I think what we’ll probably do, at least until the fence around the back yard is up, is this:

We’re totally going to become the talk of Smallville. (More Booger leash pictures hither.) * * * So, you like Nicholas Sparks? I would never have guessed. So, what are his books about? I have never read them but with you being such a huge fan apparently since you have every book he wrote.. figured I would ask you what they are about. I DO NOT LIKE NICHOLAS SPARKS. I’ve only read one of his books and didn’t care for it. JUST ONE. ONE BOOK DOES NOT MAKE ME A NICHOLAS SPARK LOVER. They are about CRAP is what they’re about. Hmph. * * * Zippy is one of my all-time favorites, too. Did you like the sequel? I haven’t read it yet. I read She Got Up off the Couch and loved the hell out of it. I like Zippy a bit more, but Couch is definitely worth reading. In fact, I think I’m going to read them both again, soon. * * * OK, I love orange kitties, too. When my cat was missing, a stray showed up (eating the food I’d put out to lure my cat home). I befriended him on the porch, sitting with him, petting him, letting him sit in my lap. As soon as I brought him in, he became his now usual bitchy self. He aggravates the older cats (the kittens get him back, though), and meows bitchily if you touch him other than the occasional head scratch. He will sit in my lap occasionally, causing me to suspect his motives. Is Rufus broken? Rufus isn’t broken – he’s clearly just the exception that proves the rule! * * * Hey Robyn, I’m sure you told us but I forgot. How many acres is your house on? Your property looks huge. It’s on 4 1/2. And I love how much land we have, but I’d love to have a bit more. Maybe a total of 10. See? I’m just never satisfied. Give me an inch, I want a mile. * * * I know what I’d be thinking about if I didn’t have my headphones whilst on the mower and that leads me to the question: How’s the writing coming?? Any more book excerpts in our near future? I’ve been doing no writing at all (and there was never any book in the works to start with). Maybe one of these days I’ll get my ass in gear… * * * I’m sure you’ve mentioned it before, but what year was your house built? It’s really, really cool! It was built in 1935. And thanks – we think it’s really cool, too! * * * Any tiger trips lately? Not recently, no – but we’ve been talking about it lately, and think we’ll be going in the next month or so. * * * I also don’t work and people think its really odd… although we are comfortable we are by no means rich, so I was wondering if people think its odd you don’t work and also wondering if you ever have and if so how many years have you worked? I feel so stange when people ask what I do for a living… and I never know what to say…. If people think it’s odd that I don’t work, they haven’t said so to me. I’ll occasionally have someone ask where I work, and I just say “I don’t.” If they ask what I do all day, I just smile and say “Whatever I want to.” It’s been about seven years since I quit my job at Fred’s company (I was the office manager), and I can’t say that I miss working at all. I keep pretty busy most days (in fact, it’s embarassing how much more people who have actual jobs get accomplished in the course of a day than I do), and every once in a while I consider looking for a part-time job. I like not working, though, and I don’t expect that to change. * * * I apologize in advance, but I had to show you this link. At the same time disgusting and really funny. I think Fred needs a tattoo! * * * I’m not a skimmer, I promise, but I’m afraid to ask my question in case you’ve already mentioned and I’ve forgotten the answer (FORGOTTEN the answer, I say, not skimmed it) and I don’t want to incur the wrath of Robyn. so very timidly I ask … when will the chickens start to lay? Don’t be afraid to ask – because I have to ask Fred at least once a week when the chickens will start to lay. It’s the kind of information that absolutely refuses to stick in my brain for some reason. I just called and asked him, and he said that they’re about 8 weeks old now and will start to lay around 18 – 24 weeks, so it’ll be at least another 10 weeks before they start. So maybe the middle to end of July? I can’t wait! * * * Here’s another tip for anyone who has stainless steel sink. To shine it up like there’s no tomorrow, keep a spray bottle of Baby Oil (that stuff you used to use for tanning oil back in the really OLD days) and just spritz it onto your dull stainless steel sink (AND FIXTURES) and buff with a paper towel. IT’S UNBELIEVABLE! I’m loving the cleaning tips you guys are leaving in the comments. So here’s an assignment for you – what’s your #1 favorite cleaning tip you use often and are proudest of? Leave it in the comments so we can all benefit! * * * I was severely tempted to download this ringtone for my phone, but I don’t guess I want Cartman bellowing “Moooom, kitty’s being a dildo!” when I’m browsing in Target. I have this ringtone assigned to my sister’s home and cell phone numbers, and she called last night when Fred and I were out running errands. I’ve been singing the song ever since, mostly to the cats. “Miz Poo is my best friend! Through thick and thin, we’ve always been together!”, etc. The cats don’t seem to appreciate it much. I have this one assigned to my friend Liz’s number, and it always freaks me out at first when it starts. It cracks me up – Liz and I were big Beavis and Butthead fans back in the day. I thought about downloading the Cornholio ringtone, but I don’t particularly want “I have no bunghole!” blaring across Target. I haven’t yet found an appropriate ringtone to assign for when my parents call. I thought about this one, but it could very well come back to bite me in the ass, so I’d rather be safe than sorry. This is the one that plays when someone calls me from our home phone number. I may have spent just a little too much time fretting over my ringtones, ya think? * * *

* * * Previously 2006: Which to ME means “I’m not interested,” but to the operator apparently was code for “I might be interested. Try harder!” 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…]]>

5/10/07

* * * The other day, after we had a bowl of fresh spinach from the garden, Fred pointed out that the spinach leaves had been surprisingly not nibbled on at all. We discussed the possibility that rabbits didn’t want to come so close to where the house is, then remembered that we’d seen them closer to the house than the garden. Then I realized what’s been going on – Maxi and Newt have been guarding the garden! Not only have they been guarding the garden, they’ve been killing the things that have threatened the garden and leaving pieces of them in various places such as the concrete pad in the back yard (a mole head and a few mole intestines), by the back door (pieces of a rabbit), and the side stoop (a skink). Maxi and Newt are mighty, mighty hunters, they’re very good at what they do, and despite the fact that they have cat food on the front porch AND get a canned-food snack every night around 7 (what? You don’t feed cats that are NOT YOURS a nightly snack?), yet they still kill and eat wildlife. No wonder Maxi’s developing a bit of a gut.

* * * Okay, this entry’s going to be a short one today. It’s almost 2:00, I went to the pet store this morning to cover for the usual Thursday morning volunteer, I had to stop and pick up a few groceries, and then I spent two hours cleaning this house (didn’t use Pine-Sol, though!). I still have a buttload of stuff to do, including filling up bird feeders, mop the floors throughout the house, water the plants on the front porch, do some organizing, sort through the crap on the dining room table to decide what to put up for sale on eBay and what to keep for the giveaway page, to start with. I thought I was going to have to mow the lawn tomorrow, but looking at it, I think it can wait another week, so I’m thinking tomorrow will be my lazy day. Gotta have the occasional lazy day, y’know. * * *

“Hellew.” (That’s Frick in the front and a Buff in the back. We call the Buff Orpingtons “Buffies”.)

Speckles shows the correct form for performing the Chicken Dance. * * *

Every day’s a lazy day for the Sugs. * * * Previously 2006: I NEED MY VEGGING TIME, PEOPLE! 2005: We call him… FANG! 2004: Who has more fun that me, kids? That’s right, NO ONE! 2003: No entry. 2002: I think I’ll call him Fredriq, and make him talk in a French accent and squeal with excitement while he’s doing it. 2001: Your shoes are not lined up exactly, and what’s this?? A PIECE OF GRASS ON THE BOTTOM OF YOUR SHOE??? TO THE DUNGEON WITH YOU!” 2000: Exhausting!]]>