Month: May 2007

Long story short, my husband is being stationed at Pearl Harbor. You know, for the first time in his 17 year career the Navy is actually moving TOO fast for our comfort, and we’re leaving in the next 30 days. Unfortunately, we have a beautiful housecat that we just don’t want to subject to the stress of a crosscountry move and quarantine. I am desperate to find her a good, loving home, but because we just moved to this area (Pittsburgh) six months ago, I don’t have a whole bunch of contacts. Obviously, then, the reason I’m writing you is to see if you would maybe post something on your site to help us find a new home for Rubykins. A little background-we rescued Ruby from the Newport News (VA) SPCA the day she was dropped off two years ago. I had taken my girls there to look for cats, but thought I was being slick when I said, “We’ll only get a cat if it’s declawed and fixed” thinking there was NO way there would be one there. Yeah, well…there was Ruby. We think she’s about 4 years old, and she’s pretty mellow; only once in a while does she do the crazy cat run up and down all of the stairs and over the couch! She’s loving and affectionate, but only on her terms. It took her a while to warm up to us, and she is still pretty skittish if you sneak up on her. She doesn’t mind children or noise, and if she’s feeling overwhelmed she’ll go off on her own rather than bite. We’ve never had a litterbox incident, and she is a healthy eater with no hairball issues. One thing that’s so lovely about her is her fur–I don’t think I’ve ever felt a softer cat! Unfortunately, she doesn’t like it when I pick her up and baby her, but she tolerates me with wild kitty eyes. She loves to look out of windows and sleep on your feet, and she’s just about the most perfect cat. Here’s a picture of Miss Rubykins in all of her glory- I’d just appreciate any help you can give. I know your readers are, for the most part, cat lovers and maybe one of them can help find Ruby a new home. Thank you, Angie So come on, can’t y’all help out? IT’S FOR THE TROOPS (who are moving to Pearl Harbor to bask on the pretty, pretty beach, but that’s NOT the point). If anyone can help out or knows someone who can, email me or leave a comment and I’ll pass your email on to Angie. And thank you!

* * * Yesterday, what did I do? Oh, right. SIX HOURS OF CLEANING. Cleaning is my favorite thing ever, you know, so it was a happy, happy day for me. NOT. Okay, so it maybe wasn’t too bad. There was no furniture to clean around, no stuff in the closets or cupboards to clean around, so things went a lot faster than I expected. The most labor-intensive part of it all was scrubbing the bathrooms, and luckily I did that first. I did the entire upstairs first, and other than scrubbing the bathrooms, I had to haul a lot of stuff out of the closets and toss it in the trash (this was stuff not worth keeping, believe you me). I did a lot of vacuuming too, obviously, and mopping, and scrubbing down the fronts and inside of cupboards, and now the place is spick and span. As I was mopping the garage (DON’T JUDGE ME), I wondered if the neighbors thought I was a complete lunatic for MOPPING the GARAGE (I said shaddup), but I don’t know. It just seemed like the thing to do. Anyway, I discovered something yesterday. Now, look. We’ve been friends for years, you and me, right? I’ve told you my deepest, darkest secrets, and you’ve withheld your deep dark secrets from me, but that’s okay. You like your privacy and all, and though of course I wouldn’t JUDGE you, I understand that not everyone can be as free and open as I. It hurts a little, but I understand. Maybe sometimes late at night, I think about how you don’t trust me with your most secret of secrets, and I cry a little bit of the Ugly Cry, but that’s okay. You shouldn’t feel bad. That said, we’re as close as any two people who’ve never met and who share their secrets in a one-sided sort of way can be, right? I knew you’d agree. And maybe you consider this too personal to answer, and if you can’t stand to deal with it, I understand. I’m sweet and kind and understanding that way. You know it’s true. If it’s too much for you to face, just look away and we’ll suffer through a short, uncomfortable silence, and then I’ll babble about my cats. Okay? Good enough? Here goes. Why did you never tell me that Pine-Sol will get my bathroom fixtures shinier than they’ve ever been before? Why? Last night I sobbed in my bed, heartbroken, wondering why you’d never share what is perhaps the most important piece of cleaning information that exists these days. All these years! I’ve been using the ammonia to clean my bathroom fixtures! And sure, they got shiny…ish. But they didn’t gleam and glow with the light of a thousand candles. They didn’t shine so brightly I needed me some shades. Is it because you believe Pine-Sol is bad for the environment? You figured it would be okay for you to use the Pine-Sol – just a little! – to shine your bathroom fixtures, but to tell me about it would push the environment right into Super Duper Hot, and polar ice caps would melt and we’d all be living on boats like in Waterworld? (Pine-Sol did not cause the horrific hair that Kevin Costner sported in that movie. If it was particularly shiny, we might cast a gimlet eye at the Pine-Sol, but it was not, so we shall not.) (Dear Kevin: When one has thinning hair, having long hair only emphasizes the lack of hair. A word of wisdom from me to you. Also, Pine-Sol will shine the FUCK out of your bathroom fixtures. See? I SHARE the important stuff!) I think that none of us particularly want to see Al Gore zipping around in a paddle boat yelling “I told you bitchez it was coming! I TOLD YOU!” Is it… because you didn’t know? I thought you knew everything. Whyyyyyyy wouldn’t you tell me? WHY? * * * ::short uncomfortable silence:: * * * Also, it makes the room smell fresh and piney instead of stale and farty! * * * ::short uncomfortable silence:: * * * Every night, Fred and I take a walk around the back forty. Always, if they’re around, Maxi and Newt accompany us on our walk. They are always very, very serious about accompanying us, as if it’s their job to follow us around the back forty and protect us from rogue squirrels and rabbits. They crack me up, with their serious little faces. Newton of the Corn. “Behind you! A serial killer! Or a ray of sun! One or the other!” * * * Previously 2006: 18. Have you ever been in a fight? Nothing stronger than a slap-fight. Are you kidding? I’d shit myself and pass out before anyone got a chance to hit me. 2005: NO ONE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT COREY CLARK. 2004: No entry. 2003: You know you’re hormonal when the video for Reba McEntire’s “Fancy” (hee! I almost typed “Fancypants”) makes you all teary-eyed. 2002: It rocked. I loved it. I see a strong love for sushi in my future. 2001: I’ve managed to stay strong. 2000: Poor, poor pitiful me.]]>

Nance and Rick were coming to visit. They showed up, and Fred was thrilled to see them, because he wanted to play 10,000 games of Catch Phrase. But then he discovered that they’d stopped overnight in Idaho on the way to Alabama (because Idaho is very clearly on the way when one drives from Pennsylvania to Alabama, of course), and they’d stayed at the Shalom in the Home trailer park. Fred was PISSED because he’d been harboring a secret yen to stay in the Shalom in the Home trailer park, and he stomped off to sulk, thus making Nance and Rick uncomfortable and not in the mood to play Catch Phrase. (I do not know whether there’s truly a Shalom in the Home trailer park in Idaho, though my guess would be that there’s not (I’ve only ever heard of the TV show, though I’ve never watched it.) I don’t know, either, why Nance and Rick would stay in the Shalom in the Home trailer park when there are so many crack den motels to stay in, but it’s not my place to judge.)

* * * Stolen from Nance: Here are 50 questions for the people who are a little more “mature”… 1. What bill do you hate paying the most? All three mortgages. Luckily, I just paid my last round of three mortgages – we close on the old house at the end of the month, thus paying off the mortgage on that house, and ending up with enough money to pay off the second mortgage on this one. 2. Where was the last place you had a romantic dinner? We don’t really do romantic dinners. 3. Last time you puked from drinking? Fifteen years ago, maybe. I had a fight with Liz on the night before she was leaving to join the Navy, and Debbie and I went to her friend’s house and I drank until I was shitfaced. I don’t think I’ve had more than one or two drinks at a time since, and haven’t had anything alcoholic at all since way before I had weight loss surgery in January of 2006. Can’t say as I miss it at all. 4. When is the last time you got drunk and danced on a bar? I’ve never danced on a bar. 5. Name of your first grade teacher? Mrs. Radecki, maybe? 6. What do you really want to be doing right now? Laying in bed reading, then taking a nap. Then reading some more, then more napping. Then lunch served by a half-naked man. Then more napping. Anything but preparing to go to the old house to spend the day cleaning, which I’m about to do. 7. What did you want to be when you were growing up? For a while, a veterinarian. Then, an orthopedic surgeon. Then I didn’t know, and I still don’t. 8. How many colleges did you attend? Two – New Hampshire College (on the base in Brunswick, Maine) and the University of Southern Maine. Graduated from neither. 9. Why did you choose the shirt that you have on right now? It’s my nightgown, and I chose it because it’s clean. 10. GAS PRICES??? Suck. 11. Where would you move if you could move anywhere? If it was just me, the coast of Maine. But I know I’ll never convince Fred to move that far north, so I’m going to say the Gulf coast. 12. First thought when the alarm went off this morning? “Fuck. Already?” 13. Last thought before going to sleep last night? “Don’t forget the vacuum. And the cleaning rags. And a radio!” 14. Favorite style of underwear? Comfortable ones. Barely There, I think? 15. Favorite style of underwear for the opposite sex? Boxer briefs. That’s really boring, isn’t it? 16. What errand/chore do you despise? Putting dishes away. I’ll wash the damn things ’til the cows come home, but I LOATHE putting them away. 17. If you didn’t have to work, would you volunteer? I don’t, and I do. 18. Get up early or sleep in? Sleep in, if it didn’t make me feel so guilty. 19. What is your favorite cartoon character? Cartman! (Or Bugs Bunny) 20. Favorite thing to do at night with a girl/guy? Watch TV and snuggle. 21. Have you found real love yet? Indeed. 22. When did you first start feeling old? I’ll let you know when it happens. 23. Favorite 80’s movie? Xanadu. Or She’s Having My Baby. 24. Your favorite lunch meat? Ham. 25. What do you get every time you shop at Sam’s club. Bottled water, paper towels, Trident White Wintergreen. 26. Beach or lake? Beach. 27. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual? I think anyone who wants to get married should be able to, and no one should be bullied into it if they don’t want it. 29. Favorite guilty pleasure? Laying in bed and reading. (I only feel guilty when it’s morning time and I’m putting off things that need to be done.) 30. Favorite movie you wouldn’t want anyone to find out about? I have no shame – I admitted to Xanadu being one of my favorite movies, after all. 31. What’s your favorite alcoholic drink? The kind with no alcohol in it. 32. Cowboys or Indians? I don’t know – depends on the Cowboy, depends on the Indian. Are they naked? 33. Cops or Robbers? Cops; the badass ones like Vic Mackey. (Only, not really. I’m a sucker for a goody two-shoes, Detective Wagenbach.) 34. Who from high school would you like to run into? I’d like to run into my then-best friend Tammie and see what she’s up to these days. 35. What radio station is your car radio tuned to right now? 103.9, which isn’t a radio station – it’s tuned there so I can listen to Keith and the Girl on my iPod with the help of my Griffin iTrip. 36. Movies or Documentaries? Depends on the movie or documentary. 37. The Cosby Show or the Simpsons? The Simpsons, I think. Though I did like me some Cosby back in the day. 38. Worst relationship mistake that you wish you could take back? If I changed any relationship mistakes I made, it’d be like removing a stick from the carefully constructed (or carelessly tossed-together, take your pick) tower that is my life, and I might find that changing one little thing means I end up a single Peace Corps volunteer in the wilds of Rwanda being torn apart by wild monkeys rather than cooling my heels in the comfort of a home I love. I think I’d change nothing, thanks. 39. Do you like the person who sits directly across from you at work? I don’t work, but I’m sure I’d hate the bitch if I did. 40. If you could get away with it, who would you kill? No one – the guilt would eat me alive. 41. What famous person(s) would you like to have dinner with? Oh, I don’t know. Sandra Oh or Kate Walsh or Chandra Wilson, maybe. 42. What famous person would you like to sleep with? None of them. I’m sure I couldn’t handle the disappointment. 43. Have you ever had to use a fire extinguisher for its intended purpose? No, thank god. 44. Last book you read for real? Last book finished: Jericho Point. Meg Gardiner fucking ROCKS. Currently reading: Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult. 45. Do you have a teddy bear? I do. You press his paw, he croons “I loooooove chocolate!” 46. Strangest place you have ever brushed your teeth? I’ve pretty much stuck to brushing my teeth in bathrooms, never anywhere strange. (I’m struck with the urge to say “In the butt, Bob!”, though.) 47. Somewhere in California you’ve never been and would like to go? San Francisco. 48. Do you go to church? Nope. 49. At this point in your life would you rather start a new career or a new relationships? Uh… neither? 50. Just how OLD are you? 39! I always feel like people think I’m lying when I say that though, like they’re thinking “Oh SURE you’re 39. For how many years now?!” * * * Okay, I’m headed off to the old house to spend the damn day scrubbing and cleaning and hating. See you tomorrow! * * * “In 1982, Rodney Squirrel stuck the landing so hard that the judges had no choice but to give him 10s across the board, leading to an upset victory and the first gold medal awarded to an Alabaman. To this day, no one knows how this squirrel – an alternate who was a last-minute substitute for the ailing Charles D. Chipmunk, who was rumored to have accidentally eaten a green acorn – managed to spring his way into Rodentlympics history. It’s been suggested that cashews in the feeder were responsible for the amazing performance from this scrawny young squirrel.” “Squirrels do love cashews, Bob.” “Indeed they do, Jim. Indeed they do. After winning the Gold, Rodney immediately retired from competition and has spent the last 25 years touring the country, living off the fat of the land, and lecturing young rodents on how they, too, can force their way into sports history through sheer physical prowess. He’s fond of saying “It only takes once to make a career, kids!” He’s never managed another landing like the one he stuck in ’82. For sure, a once-in-a-lifetime move.” * * * “Okay, so you go left at the bird feeder… No, wait. You go right at the bird feeder, then left at the tree… no, that’s not right, either. I gotta confess, I was pretty whacked out on the ‘nip when we found the mole head, so I’m not sure exactly where it was. There was a ditch, though, I remember that. Probably if you follow the trail of tiny intestines, you’ll get to the mole head. Take a left, and you’ll find the rabbit leg Maxi left behind. I don’t guess that rabbit foot gave that guy much luck, huh? No small animals are safe when the mighty mighty Maxi is on the hunt, that’s for sure.” * * * Previously 2006: I ran out the back door, yelling the entire way for Tommy to “Drop it! Drop it, Tommy! DROP IT!” 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: It’d certainly be interesting, at least until it came to blows, I’m sure. 2002: Of course, the mother of the bride is a total sobbing mess. 2001: My butt hurts. 2000: I meant to pick up the razors for Women with Big Asses.]]>

My Personality

Neuroticism	98
Extraversion	20
Openness To Experience	12
Agreeableness	79
Conscientiousness	13

You are introverted, reserved, and quiet with a preference for solitude and solitary activities. Your socializing tends to be restricted to a few close friends. You can be easily upset, even by what people consider the normal demands of living. People consider you to be sensitive and emotional. As a practical person you like to think in plain and simple terms. Others describe you as down-to-earth, practical, and conservative. You have a strong interest in others’ needs and well-being. You are pleasant, sympathetic, and cooperative. You like to live for the moment and do what feels good now. Your work tends to be careless and disorganized.

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I agree with most of the results of this test, but I disagree that my work tends to be sloppy and disorganized. The questions tripped me up – once I can force myself to buckle down, my work is well-done and thorough. It’s just forcing myself to get my ass in gear and do my work that’s the trouble. Also, I don’t like to think that people think I’m “pleasant”, because if that isn’t the world’s most boring word EVER, I don’t know what is. (I prefer to think of myself as Ouiser Boudreaux screaming “I’m PLEASANT. Damn it! I saw Drum Eatenton at the Piggly Wiggly this morning, and I smiled at the son of a bitch ‘fore I could help myself!”) * * * Best thing I’ve purchased lately: A window hummingbird feeder. I filled it up Sunday afternoon, and within half an hour, there was a hummingbird at it, slurping up as much hummingbird food as his little belly could handle. Considering that in Madison I wasn’t seeing hummingbirds ’til late summer, I think that this is fucking AWESOME. I hung another two feeders off the front porch, and I may hang some more in the back yard. I want Crooked Acres to be a total hummingbird paradise! * * * Anyone read that Cormac McCarthy book that Oprah chose for her book club? I’ve only read one Cormac McCarthy book – All the Pretty Horses – and didn’t care for it at all. Anyone hate Pretty Horses but like The Road? Should I check it out? Or should I keep in mind that Oprah chose the book about Those Goddamned Mulvaneys and give it a pass? It’s been 15 years since Pretty Horses came out, and I think I read it pretty close to the time it came out, so maybe my reading tastes have matured and I can appreciate Cormac McCarthy. Or maybe not. I do like me some postapocalyptic novels, though. Maybe I should check it out? Advice appreciated, here. It’s not like I need any more books, but will I kick myself for missing this one? * * * This weekend was a damn good one, at least in my opinion. I’ve been putting off clearing out the front flower beds for months now, and so while Fred mowed the back forty, I started clearing stuff out of the flower bed. I quickly got overwhelmed, bitched at Fred, whined and moaned and stomped around, and finally he came around to help me. By “help me”, what I mean is “cleared the flower beds while I flitted around and did other stuff.” Though I should note that I did load up several wagons of weeds and discarded plants and bushes, and dumped them in the mulch pile. Which was hard enough work that I woke up Sunday morning with my shoulders and quads hurting. So I did help a little. (A VERY little.) After Fred dug up all the bushes and plants – which I hauled off – he got out the cultivator and ran it across both flower beds, digging up rocks and random crap, such as big rusted metal hoops, an old pair of pliers, an old lighter. You know, the usual crap. I would offer, for your perusal, a picture of the front flower beds before the clearing began, and then another picture after the clearing had been done, except I didn’t take pictures, because I didn’t think of it. Also, if I did that, no doubt someone would be all “::gasp!:: You didn’t save the clematis? You dug up the (whatever)? I would have saved those and used them again, if I were you!” and then I’d have to go bitch at Fred and I have no energy for that right now. So once the beds were cleared – something that took a large part of the day, which surprised me, because I didn’t think it would take so long – Fred put down weedblock fabric, we weighted it down with rocks, and then went inside to take showers and lay around for a little while. We left Smallville and headed for the flea market, where we bought a rug for the kitchen, a runner for the upstairs hall, one for the front room (angled from the front door to the hallway), and a small rug that goes right inside the front door. Now all we need is a rug for the stairs landing, and we’ll be all set. From there, we stopped by the Madison house to check the mail (which is supposed to be forwarding, but apparently isn’t doing so yet for some reason, goddamnit), went to Kohl’s for new clothes for Fred, and then to Ruby Tu3sday’s for dinner. At Ruby Tu3sday’s, I like the turkey sandwich combo (I think that’s what it’s called), which is a turkey sandwich with your choice of the salad bar or a cup of soup. I like to get a plate from the salad bar, eat half the turkey sandwich and a couple of fries, and take the rest home for lunch the next day. It’s a damn fine turkey sandwich, let me tell you. The only problem with the Ruby Tu3sday’s in Madison is that the majority of the staff is comprised of very good-looking college-aged waiters and waitresses. Personally, I am against the employment of very young, very good-looking people as waitstaff, because I don’t want to tell Joe Cutie-Pie College what I want to be stuffing in my face, because I’m sure they look at me and think “GodDAMN I’m good-looking. Why am I taking orders from this old hag? Am I making enough money to put up with this over-polite shit*? I think NOT. GodDAMN I’m good-looking.” After dinner we went to a nursery and checked out the plants, decided they were a tad expensive, so went to Lowe’s instead. Where we bought Encore Azaleas, Daisy Gardenias, and Boxwoods for the front flower beds. Then we headed home, unloaded the car, and spent the evening watching TV. Sunday, Fred put edging down around the front flowerbeds, then planted the bushes while I flitted around some more being very unhelpful. Once the bushes were planted and the mulch was put down, the flowerbeds looked about 10,000 times better than they had before. Now, don’t get me wrong – I LOVE annuals, but I hate planting them in the ground and having to spend all that time weeding the flowerbeds. I much prefer to have something low-maintenance in the ground and to plant annuals in flowerpots on the front porch. In fact, I’m going to run to Lowe’s later today and buy some more big pots and annuals for the front porch. Fred bitched about the fact that he spent so much time doing “my” stuff when he’d intended to get started on the fence around the back yard (“his” stuff), but he had to agree that the front looks much better than it did. Also, Fred got my clothesline up and running (I don’t know if he came up with the idea on his own, or if he read a comment one of you left, but he found a local ironworks place to create two t-poles for us), so I did three loads of laundry and hung them out to dry. Just in time, too, since the dryer died Friday evening. Nothing like the smell of sun-dried clothes, I’m telling you. *I swear to god, I thank my waiter or waitress every time they so much as look in my general direction. * * * Pretty, pretty Newt. * * * Previously 2006: No entry. (But check out the dancin’ kitties on the 5th) 2005: No entry. 2004: Questions answered, and a meme. 2003: Once again, pot-kettle-black. 2002: You can imagine the temper tantrum that followed. 2001: I would have preferred a candy bar, but unfortunately, we don’t got none o’ them ’round these parts. 2000: No entry.]]>

American Express commercial with Shaun White came on, and Fred glanced up for a minute. He went back to whatever he was reading for a second, then looked up again. He started laughing. “I totally thought that was France McDormand!” he said. No offense to the totally awesome Frances McDormand, but I can kinda see the resemblance.

* * * Do you see what I see? How about now? How about… now? When I spotted Newt up in that tree, sound asleep, it startled me so badly – just because I wasn’t expecting to see that – that I gasped and went running outside. I guess I’ve forgotten that he’s a salty country cat who does things like climb trees and sleep up there without hurting himself. I went out and spoke to him, and he got so happy that he started rolling around and purring, and I got worried that he’d fall out of the tree, so I came back inside. And he bounded down the tree with no problem whatsoever, and went along his merry way. * * * This entry is going up later than usual today, because I spent this morning mowing the front and side lawn. It took me about two hours, and would have taken much longer, except that Fred got annoyed with how long the grass (and weeds) in the back yard had gotten and mowed the back and part of the side yard yesterday (well, he started the day before, but then blew a tire on the lawnmower, so had to get that fixed before he could do more mowing). If I’d had to mow the back yard as well as the front and side, I’d probably still be out there. Down side to owning so much land: All the mowing. Not because I don’t like mowing (I do, except for the parts that are too steep for the riding mower, so I have to do those parts with the push mower, and it’s a pain in the ass), but because the mower’s so loud that I can’t listen to my iPod whilst mowing. In fact, the riding lawnmower is so loud I have to wear earplugs, which I’m sure makes me look HAWT. * * * Fred’s gotten all the supplies to start the fence around the back yard. I’m beyond excited that our spoiled citified cats will be able to go outside soon – I know that Mister Boogers, for one, is just dying to get out there. I’m concerned that Maxi and Newt will feel slighted, since they’ll no longer be able to get into the back yard, but since they have the ENTIRE WORLD at their toes, I’m not going to feel too bad about blocking off a little bit for our cats to have for their own. * * * Mister Boogers: “Look at her out there, all impressed with herself. She thinks she’s really SOMETHING, all ‘I get to run around outside and kill and eat squirrels if I want to! And I get to lay on this deck and you DON’T, ha ha!’ I HATE HER.” Tommy: “::sigh:: I think she’s beauuuuuuuuuutiful.” * * * Previously 2006: And I mean that “woohoo!” in a completely sincere and non-ironic way, which is a little sad, but whatEVERRRR. 2005: Did I really write a chapter about my sex life? Eek! What was I thinking? 2004: “YES! Yes, she’s sick! No, she’s not sleeping, she’s SICK, and SHE’S ABOUT TO DIE, NOW WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?!” 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: It wasn’t until I said “I think she’s messed up in the head” that something clicked for her.]]>

The faux Berber rug we bought for $20, which we put in the kitchen, is no more. Tommy and Sugarbutt kept getting their claws caught in the loops of the rug (there’s a space between the end of the cap and the paw itself when you’re using SoftPaws) and freaking out. I had to cut the rug in three different spots to save Tommy, and finally I was just tired of it. I rolled it up and tossed it out on the back lawn (there might have been a mini temper tantrum involved, with much swearing), and then Fred carried it up to the end of the driveway. It stayed there all night, then the next morning it was gone. The cool thing about living on a busyish road in the country is that when we want to get rid of something, we don’t have to wait ’til it piles up, then call a charitable organization to come get everything. We just leave it by the side of the road and someone eventually comes along who wants it, and they stop and take it with them. Nothing sits there for longer than a few hours, usually, except for the rug. Though to be fair, Fred did put the rug by the road at night, so it probably wasn’t as easy for passersby to see what it was. We’ve talked about going back to the flea market this weekend to look for a runner for the upstairs hallway, and maybe we can find something better for the kitchen while we’re there.

* * * Hmm. So we have one black indoor cat and one (NOT OURS) black outdoor cat. One orange indoor cat and one (NOT OURS) orange (more buff, really) outdoor cat. I think this means we need a NOT OURS tortie, a black and white, a white and orange, and a gray to create a true feng shui balance. My feng is not shui’d, and it’s annoying me. * * * I’ve been making the hell out of zucchini bread lately, using this recipe, sent to me by lovely reader Kristen. I don’t even know how many loaves of bread I’ve made in the last week, but it’s certainly been more than one. I’ve made loafs with and without chocolate chips, with and without nuts (oddly, I think toasted pecans are the most amazing nut ever, but I just don’t care for nuts in my baked goods), and I have enough grated zucchini for one more loaf before I give it a rest (we don’t want to get tired of it before our zucchini even starts growing!). It’s such a lovely, moist, delicious bread that I give it a hearty two thumbs up. I spent a lot of time in the kitchen yesterday not only baking a loaf of zucchini bread, but also making dinner for last night and dinner for tonight. Dinner for tonight is going to be chicken and rice casserole, because I have lately gotten into buying rotisserie chicken at the grocery store, eating it for lunch for a couple of days, and then sticking what’s left in the freezer, because I cannot abide the idea of leaving a chicken in the fridge for more than a few days. So I had three partial chicken carcasses taking up space in the freezer, which was the perfect amount for chicken and rice casserole. While I spent all that time in the kitchen, I put the laptop on the counter and watched episodes from the first season of How I Met Your Mother. I just love the hell out of that show. They reran the Swarley episode a couple of weeks ago, leading me to ask Fred if we could rename the router “Swarley” (he named it FuckerMother a few years ago when we first got it, but thought renaming was in order before we moved to Smallville). We didn’t rename it Swarley, but I think we all know that I am TOTALLY going to name a foster kitten Swarley in the future. Anyway. Zucchini bread: Good. How I Met Your Mother: Good. Chicken and Rice Casserole: Damn Good. * * * The Newt-alike can occasionally be spotted in our yard. He looks so very much like Newt that the only way I realize it’s not Newt is when (1) He doesn’t flop over and whine for a belly rub, (2) He takes one look at us and runs away, or (3) I can see Newt and the Newt-alike at the same time. Fred says I should name him “Nawt”. He’s very nervous when he sees us walking in his general direction, so I’m guessing he’s feral. I’d like to trap him and have him neutered (NEWTered. Ha!), but he doesn’t come around with any regularity and I haven’t successfully gotten within fifty feet of him yet, so I’m not sure how successful I’ll be at that. Also, it’s entirely possible he’s a she. Like I said, I haven’t gotten terribly close to him/her. * * * The plumber for whom I was waiting yesterday morning, finally showed up around noon to run the water line from the house to the shed. I cannot describe for you how very fucking much I hate having to deal with workmen. I don’t know why I hate it so much, except maybe it’s just my general loathing of strangers and my dislike of feeling like an idiot when said workmen describe what they’ve done (I always want to say “Don’t bother my pretty little head with details. Just tell me how much I owe you.”), but the plumber guy is very cool, he’s done plenty of work for us before, and yet I still hate having to deal with him. This has been a week of dealing with workguys, actually, and even though I didn’t deal with any workmen on Tuesday, I still waited around for 3/4 of the day waiting for the plumber to show up so I considered it a day wasted. I need to haul my ass to Lowe’s for plants and planters for the front porch, and I’ve been wanting to do that all week long, and it’s still not done. NOT DONE. Also, I had one last light to send out from the eBay auction of lights, and I prefer to mail it out from the mailing place in Madison, because the guy who works there will take one look at a box I’m sending and say “You are crazy if you want to send that via the post office. You want to send it Fed Ex. Seriously, you’re a ridiculous fool for even considering sending anything over 5 pounds through the post office.” I need to be bossed around when it comes to stuff like that. Speaking of, I am a severe idiot who should not be allowed to put things up for sale on eBay, because of the 9 light auctions I had, I took a loss on the shipping on all except for one of them. That is, I undercharged for shipping on all but one, because all I did was fill in the weight section of the item when I was filling out the eBay auction form, without considering the size issue. It appears that you have to take size into account when it comes to shipping stuff. Who the fuck knew? Anyway, the best part of the whole plumber thing is that he finished running the water here in Smallville, and he talked at me for a little while, I paid him, and then he headed off to his next job. I came back inside, walked to the computer room, sat down at my computer, and remembered that he was supposed to meet me in Madison so he could take care of the washer hose problem there. I ran back out, but he was gone. Which means what, exactly? I think we all know what it means – I get to cool my heels today, waiting for them to call and let me know the plumber’s on his way to Madison, so I can drive over there and meet him. UGH. Annnnd, since I wrote that, I ran to Lowe’s, where I bought a few bird-related things, then got so overwhelmed with the selection of planters and plants that I left without buying any plants OR planters, and was on my way home when the plumbing company called to let me know that the plumber was on the way to the Madison house. I drove there and he showed up a few minutes later. While he and his helper worked on the laundry room hose, I went through the house and gathered up everything that was left behind, some to throw away, some to bring back to Smallville with me. After half an hour of working on the laundry room hose, the plumber told me he needed to get a part, and left for 45 minutes. I finished gathering up all the crap left behind in the house and would have started cleaning, except that the water to the house was turned off (see: leaky hose in the laundry room) so I couldn’t really clean anything. The plumber came back, finished his job, I paid him and came home, and I am in such an incredibly crappy mood that I think I have no choice but to go take a goddamn nap and then maybe watch Lost. I am SO OVER this whole goddamn waiting every single day for a workman to show up bullshit. * * * You may not touch the Suggie toes. * * * Newt and Maxi approve of the new steps. * * * Previously 2006: It’s a Suggie in the Sug Cave! 2005: I RUE THE FUCKING DAY I decided to buy a car from this guy. 2004: I snorted. “This from the man who put Oxi-Clean in the dishwasher over and over and over last summer.” 2003: No entry. 2002: I am now sporting a fashionable little red mustache. 2001: What? You don’t think bugs would use the word “abattoir?” 2000: Why all of a sudden is her big scary clown face all over the place talking about it?]]>

in her entry the other day, I went and looked up information about them and saw that they’ll grow in the shade, or some of them will anyway, and her hostas are pretty, and Nance knows that when she mentions something, I MUST immediately have one of whatever it is, too, because I am a lemming. I don’t know that there’s going to be any kind of latticework or painting done to the stairs, because I’m fairly lazy and I don’t know that the prettiness of the stairs concerns me enough to go buy paint and paint them. Also, I’d need Fred to do the handrail or the latticework (or at least help with it) and every time I mention something that needs to be done, he sighs in a long-suffering manner and act all put-upon and bitches about how I have such a long list for him. My list: laundry line, fence around the back yard. Possible future (no big rush) list: covered porch in front of the back door, deck over the concrete pad. Really. Is that such a long list? Because I don’t think it is, personally. And if he didn’t want to be doing shit around the house, he shouldn’t have FORCED me to buy this house, is all I have to say. (Ha!)

* * * We like to walk around the back forty, usually every evening before we put the chicks in the coop and shut them in for the night. Sunday night, I think, my leg kept itching about halfway between my ankle and knee, and finally I flipped my pants leg up to see what the hell was going on. And I had a tick crawling around on me. ::shudder:: Ever since, every time I think about seeing that fucking thing, I get all itchy and have to scratch myself from head to toe until the itchiness goes away. At least it was just crawling around, and hadn’t gotten to the point where it was burrowed in. Thank god for small favors. * * * Yesterday I had to cool my heels for part of the day waiting for the plumber to show up. We’re having a water line run over behind the wood shed so that we won’t need to have hoses laying across the lawn for Fred to water the garden and give the chickens fresh water, he can just run a hose from the shed. (Also, this reduces the likelihood that I’ll run over the hose with the riding lawnmower the next time I cut the lawn.) Around noon, Fred called to let me know that the plumber had been called out on an emergency, which didn’t bother me too much, because I didn’t have any big plans for the day, anyway. He told me that the company had said they’d send him out first thing this morning, he could do the job, and then we could both go over to the Madison house, where he was scheduled to come today, anyway, and fix the problem with the thing in the laundry room. (I don’t know what the issue is with the thing in the laundry room, only that water was squirting everywhere and they had to turn the water to the house off and a plumber needs to do something to something.) It’s almost 9:00, and I don’t see any plumber anywhere doing anything, so I don’t know what their definition of “first thing in the morning” is, but it clearly differs from mine. * * * Dear Catie: Your boyfriend has no couth: That’s MY GARDEN he’s using as his litterbox. Even Maxi was appalled. I am SO not stepping foot in that garden unless I’m wearing a biohazard suit in the future, swear to god. He didn’t even have the good grace to look embarrassed, the little bastard. * * * * * * Previously 2006: I like my life to be conflict-free, thank you. 2005: …and then she smacks the shit out of him, and he closes his eyes and smacks blindly at her, never ever ever landing a single smack on the portly Poo. 2004: No entry. 2003: It appears that the mother of Crunchy, Chewy, and Cheesy had a hard-core craving for the Crunchy Gordita during her pregnancies, and thus (possibly when she wasn’t smoking crack with one hand and downing the hard liquor with the other, one assumes) named her children after it. 2002: We sure are some dish-using motherfuckers around here. 2001: As if the little bastard had said “Oh, can’t poo on Mom’s newspaper, don’t want to get it all nasty!” 2000: (Every entry won’t be a laundry list of my day, I promise. This not-working thing is still new to me!)]]>

New month, new logo! This one was created by the wonderful t0rie. Isn’t it adorable? Thanks, t0rie!!!

* * * Just to reiterate, for those of you who read yesterday’s entry before I went back and edited it: Those are NOT my Nicholas Sparks books. They’re laying on a shelf in the spud’s bedroom, awaiting a return to my mother, from whom the spud borrowed them. I myself am not a Nicholas Sparks fan – I did read A Walk to Remember, and I think that will suffice me, Nicholas Sparks-wise, for a lifetime. Not that there’s anything wrong for those of you who like Nicholas Sparks, but I myself do not. Repeat: NOT MY BOOKS. * * * I know I mentioned last week that I’d ordered a couple of different kinds of high-protein cat foods online and was waiting for them to get here, and in the meantime I’ve been feeding the cats Blue Buffalo Spa Select food. Well, the first bag of food – TimberWolf Organics Serengeti Herbal Feline Formula Cat Food – got here late last week, and I emptied one of the bowls of Spa Select, so they’d have a bowl of each. They LOVE the TimberWolf. LOVE IT. They’ve stopped eating the Spa Select altogether, and if the bowl of TimberWolf is low and I fill it up, they all come running to belly up to the bowl. Also, except for one memorable pile of barf that had a hairball on top of it the day I introduced the TimberWolf to the cats, there hasn’t been any barfing. They all seem happy (they express their happiness by sleeping 23 3/4 hours of the day and racing around like hellcats the other 15 minutes) and healthy, and I have to say, the TimberWolf seems to be a hit. Yesterday I received the bag of Orijen Cat I ordered last week – just in time, since the little pigs finished off the bag of TimberWolf – and so far, it’s not a hit. They’re eating it, but they’re not loving it. Score Board: TimberWolf: YUM. Orijen: Eh. Spa Select: Yum. Ish. If there’s no TimberWolf, they’ll eat it. (I do intend to give the Wellness so many of you recommended a try, too. We like to offer the cats two different kinds of food to keep them happy.) * * *

Your Political Profile:

Overall: 35% Conservative, 65% Liberal Social Issues: 25% Conservative, 75% Liberal Personal Responsibility: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal Fiscal Issues: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal Ethics: 0% Conservative, 100% Liberal Defense and Crime: 50% Conservative, 50% Liberal

No wonder Fred calls me a “damn liberal”. * * * Okay, time for advice, from you to me. Fred, the best handyman ever (and mine, all MINE!) finished the stairs from the computer room to outside over the weekend. I love how they look and how solid they are, but I think we need some kind of foliage planted on the sides of the stairs. I want something that will grow big enough to kind of hide the sides of the stoop, something bushy, I guess. I’m thinking of begonias along the lower part – near the stairs – but have no idea what would do well and grow big enough to plant beside the stoop. Here’s what it looks like: The amount of sun in that picture is about the most sun that area ever gets. Got suggestions? I want to hear ’em! Leave me a comment or email me. * * * I know that I’ve said in the past that A Girl Named Zippy is one of my favorite books. Seriously, that is one excellent book; I love it, I’ve read it several times, I’ve listened to it on cd, and it’s one of the few books I’ve read that I’ve actually kept. I highly recommend it. So I was excited to read another book by Haven Kimmel, this one a novel – The Solace of Leaving Early – and with great anticipation I started it the night before last. And sadly, I just didn’t care for it. At all. It bored me. DAMNIT. So I don’t recommend that one – but if you haven’t read A Girl Named Zippy, you oughta. And speaking of book recommendations, the Meg Gardiner novels featuring Evan Delaney are really, really good. I stayed up ’til almost 1 in the morning the other night (morning?) finishing Mission Canyon. It’s a rare author who can actually make my heart pound, but so far in the three Meg Gardiner books I’ve read, I’ve invariably found myself wide awake, heart pounding, reading as fast as I can. * * * During one of Mister Boogers’ escape attempts, he ran over to sniff at Maxi. Maxi, as you can see, was quite displeased. (I love the way Mister Boogers’ back foot is kicked up.) Orange kitties are just the happiest kitties on the face of the earth. Tommy and Sugarbutt hiding under The Daddy’s bed ’til the movers leave. Tommy tries to find a way into the boxspring. That chick just loves to hang out on to of the shade. The better to get snatched up by a hawk, my dear! * * * Previously 2006: “Hey little Tom, is yer Daddy home, did he go and leave you all alone, uhn-huhn, I got a bad desaaaaaaaahr, whoa-oh-oh, ahm on fire,” I sang, Elvis-ly. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: Every time Madonna opens her self-important mouth these days, she just annoys the shit out of me. 2002: Thank god I vacuumed yesterday, so he won’t be eye-to-eye with a thousand rambling dust bunnies composed of cat fur. 2001: Who’s the dumbass now, huh? That’s right, me. 2000: I stood there and watched the bag go by, thinking to myself “How did he get it to keep going like that?” ]]>