This blog is to help her get to Disneyland.
You guys, how awesome would it be if we could help raise enough money to send Aaron to Disneyland? You realize that every little bit helps, I hope – if you can spare some money, pleasepleaseplease go donate!
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Happy, happy birthday,
Say!!!
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Tomorrow’s the weekly comment-answering extravaganza! Got a hot question? Ask it in the comments!
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Poor Sugarbutt. Sunday, his eyes were fine. Monday morning, Fred said “Would you look at Sugarbutt’s eyes and tell me if they look bad to you?” I looked, and yes – they were awful. I got a tube of Terramycin out of the drawer and we put ointment in his eyes, which he SO didn’t appreciate, and then spent half an hour cleaning his face.
We put Terramycin in his eyes again when Fred got home, and again at bedtime. Sugarbutt’s eyes didn’t improve, so we moved on to the other ointment I had, and that didn’t seem to help, either, so I called and made an appointment at the vet’s. Come 10:00 yesterday morning, Sugarbutt just happened to be in the house, so I bent down to grab him, and something in his little brain connected the fact that I’d brought the cat carrier into the computer room with the fact that I was leaning down to grab him, and he ran off upstairs.
Luckily, Sugarbutt might be pretty, but he’s not the brain trust of the And3rson cat community, so when I went into the kitchen and opened and closed the refrigerator a couple of times, he came running back in to see if maybe it might be Snack! Time!, and I grabbed him and popped him in the carrier.
Oh, the look of betrayal he gave me! It’s enough to break a Momma’s heart. Except that I’m hard-hearted so I wasn’t too heartbroken. Besides, it’s not like I was throwing him in the carrier for the fun of it. He needed to go to the vet!
The vet put drops in his eyes and shone a black light at his eyeballs to look for scratches (there were none), remarked that his nictating membrane was quite swollen and inflamed, and ultimately gave me ointment with a hydrocortisone, told me to stop giving him his twice-daily dose of chlorpheneramine (for his neck) for at least a week. Once his eyes are under control we can start back with the chlorphenwhatsis if we need to.
Given that his neck is almost completely healed, I think we all know what the next seven days will bring: his eyes will clear up completely and he’ll start digging at his neck again, leading to a big, gaping wound that will need to be covered by a bandage.
It’s a good thing he’s so cute. I guess no one told him that the “money pit” role was being played by Miz Poo in thishere household.
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The clock on my computer runs fast. I’ve reset it several times, but it always gets out of synch within a couple of weeks. I don’t know exactly how fast it’s running – ten minutes or so, I think – but I kind of like that it runs fast. Many times I’ll be sitting in front of the computer, look at the clock, think “Oh, it’s 10:00! I need to (whatever)!”, get up and do whatever, then go into another part of the house, do even more stuff, and then eventually look at the clock to find that… it’s not even 10:00 yet.
It’s like my own little time machine – I’m in the computer room, I get up and go to another part of the house, and I get those ten-ish minutes that I just spent sitting on my ass aimlessly surfing back again! It’s a miracle!
Part of the reason I don’t want to know exactly how fast the clock is, is because then I’d do the “It says 10:28, but it’s REALLY 10:16!” thing, and that’s just too goddamn much math and it would ruin the whole time machine thing.
Let me have my dorky fantasies.
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Did I mention that I’m a dork? I know, probably you’re thinking to yourself in shock and dismay,
Robyn? A dork? Unbelievable!
But the older I get, the more I find that I really like to know what the temperature outside is. Is that weird? I mean, I ALWAYS want to know the outside temperature, every single morning. I check out
weather.com first thing when I get up. What do I do with this fascinating information? Why… nothing. In fact, ten seconds after I’ve looked up the current temperature, I’ve most likely forgotten the number.
So when I was in Maine and we were in LL Bean, I bought a handy thermometer that displays the inside AND outside temperatures (it came with a sensor for outside that I hung on a tree about twenty feet from the side door), and every morning when I get up – and various points through the day as well – I check the inside and outside temperature. Sometimes I have brilliant comments to share with the cats.
“Hmm,” I say to Mister Boogers. “It’s almost 80 outside, but only 74 inside. Imagine that!”
Says Mister Boogers:
Life here at Crooked Acres? It’s fascinating and filled with excitement, every single moment of the day. You KNOW you wish you lived here!
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The kittehs sing the blues.
I look at this picture, and I cannot stop laughing. What is up with those freakishly long orangutan arms?
“I’ve got the I-needs-me-a-snuggle bluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuues.”
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Fear him.
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Previously
2006: You really don’t want to fuck with the Plumbing Mafia.
2005: “GodDAMN you, Mister Boogers!” I yelled.
2004: “This book makes me want to have a baby!” I said to Fred when I was about halfway through the book. “Let’s have a baby!”
2003: No entry.
2002: Gag city.
2001: I think you know what I’m thinkin’.
2000: I’d like to return to my regularly scheduled life, please.]]>