November 2008 – Page 2

11-14-08

I left the house yesterday morning at 7 (half an hour later, just in case the chicks that were shipped from the hatchery arrived a day earlier than expected; they didn’t.) and didn’t get home ’til almost 4. After I did my stint at the pet store, I hit the following places (for the following … Continue reading “11-14-08”

After I did my stint at the pet store, I hit the following places (for the following reasons):

Target (for Tide (more on this in the next section), and to try on jeans because the pants I’ve been wearing are too goddamn big for me and I’m sick and tired of constantly hiking up my pants so I don’t flash my ass at the world. I didn’t have any idea what size jeans I wear, and it’s not any clearer after trying on about sixteen pairs of jeans. It seems that I can get my ass into jeans size 8, 10, or 12, depending on the brand).

The gas station (gas was $1.98 a gallon, and I was able to fill up for less than $25, woot!)

Michael’s (for crafty items with which to torture cats).

The pet store (since by then it was open, I could go buy the cat food I needed).

The fabric store, party store, and Hallmark store (looking for a tiny Santa hat; not having any luck).

Sam’s (kitty litter, edamame).

To Fred’s office to pick him up because we were going to go to a furniture store to look for a new table by the side door. We drove to the furniture store (located right around the corner from his office) and found that the store’s no longer there, so I dropped him back off at his office.

To Madison to the post office.

To Old Time Pottery to look for more cat beds (I bought three!) and to see what’s on the left side of the store (bedding, towels, curtains. No pottery!).

To Kohl’s to try on more jeans (in Lee mid-rise boot cut jeans, I wear a 10 petite. I couldn’t even get the Gloria Vanderbilt 10s over my thighs) and a couple of tops.

All this took me right up to 2:00, and I had to hurriedly pay for my purchases because I had to head for Huntsville and my doctor’s appointment. I haven’t had a pap smear or gynecological exam since January of 2005 (yes, BAD, I know) and so I finally scheduled one, and as much as I wasn’t looking forward to it, I knew I had to just suck it up and get it over with. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

The appointment went fine, I got myself scheduled for a mammogram in December, a prescription for the birth control pill (my period is so regular you could set your watch by it, and it’s getting tiresome to have the damn thing every month, so I got a prescription for Seasonale), and headed for home just in time to hit rush hour traffic.

The funny thing is that when I left the house at 7, I figured I’d be done with all the errands I wanted to get done by 10, and would have to figure out something to do ’til my appointment, so I wouldn’t have to drive home and then turn around and drive back to Huntsville. As it was, I had to rush out of Kohl’s to make my appointment.

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I bought a small bottle of Tide at Target because I noticed over the weekend that my cleaning rags and dishtowels aren’t absorbing anything, which makes cleaning (and drying dishes) a pain in the ass. I’m imagining that the homemade laundry detergent I’ve been using is leaving some sort of residue on them, preventing them from absorbing fluids. Hopefully a few washes with Tide will take care of the problem – I plan on continuing to use the homemade detergent on my clothes, though, since it seems to be keeping our clothes perfectly clean.

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This is totally unrelated to anything y’all are talking about but I wonder what you think about this. In First magazine this month Tricia Yearwoood had a section from her new cookbook.

I’m very interested in her method of cooking turkey. She said it makes it very moist and tender. She preheats the oven to 500.She takes a 12 pound or so turkey. She rubs butter and then puts salt and pepper all over the outside and in the cavity. She puts celery, onions and carrots in the cavity. She puts it in a roaster with a tight fitting lid Then she puts in 2 cups of boiling water and covers the roaster tightly. She puts it in the oven and when the oven reaches 500 again she sets a timer for 1 hour. When it goes off she turns off the oven and leaves the door closed until the oven totally cools, about 4-6 hours.

Does anyone cook turkey like this? Will that high heat wreck my fancy-dancy stainless steel roaster? How will it brown if it is covered for the whole process? Thanks for any info or opinions.

I’ve never heard of making turkey like this – anyone out there try it? Let us know what you think of it!

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Since you’re always giving reviews on items, I thought I’d add one for you! I’ve used Sigg bottles for a while, but recently ordered/received a Fly Lady water bottle… and it’s big enough to put big pieces of ice in, has a screw on spout and cap that is smaller than Siggs, and DOES NOT SWEAT. The ice stays for hours and hours. I love it!

Speaking of water bottles Desi, who ROCKS, recently sent me a couple of CamelBak water bottles, and they look a lot like those Fly Lady bottles. My CamelBaks are really cool and easy to use, and I like them a LOT.

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Thought you would enjoy this news story….

I guess we’re pretty lucky that none of our roosters has ever been really aggressive – and I can say that any rooster who tried to show us that he’s the boss of us wouldn’t be around for long! But the idea of random people being terrorized by roosters, well, it kinda makes me giggle.

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Does Newt scoop up the Field mice and bop them on the head?

NOOOOOO, that’s Little Bunny FooFoo’s job! (I must have sung that song three thousand times when the spud was a baby.)

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…what happened with joe bob? did he stop spraying?

He’s mostly stopped spraying – after that one horrible day, we’ve found a couple of small sprays, but nothing like the spraying rampage he went on that one day. I suspect that his behavior was due to Miz Poo smelling like the vet – that’s one thing that can cause spraying, anyway. We’ll be keeping an eye on him, though. I’M WATCHING YOU, JOE BOB!

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How do you keep the cat beds clean? My old cat is so hairy I finally gave up on keeping bedding clean. She likes to sleep on wool so I just get old wool sweaters at Goodwill, put them over a basket, and throw them out when they get too hairy. In 19 years of cat ownership I never could keep beds clean.

All the cat beds get tossed in the washer and dryer every couple of months. That gets rid of most of the excess cat hair. There’s always hair pretty much embedded in the beds, but once they go through the wash, it’s not too bad. Buying old wool sweaters at Goodwill is a really good idea!

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I’m just always amazed at your ENERGY level. You get up early and get hundreds of things done before rush hour even hits. Do you just have a high metabolism, or do you just ignore the tired feeling. I waste so much time on days I’m home. I often think, “If Robyn was in this house, it would be whipped into shape in about 2 hours.” But even shaming myself doesn’t work. I nap, I read, I watch t.v., and do an errand or two. Then I’m exhausted by 9 pm, and it’s on the couch for me. Ridiculous! And, no I’m not sick. Apparently, just way lazier than you.

I have to say that I don’t accomplish half of what I think I should every day. My house is SO not whipped into shape, I don’t vacuum nearly as often as I should, and I desperately need to do some decluttering. Most of what gets me moving my ass, though, is that even when I’m relaxing on the couch watching TV, my brain is telling me what I need to get done, and I get so annoyed by that that I get up and do it.

I get lots of lazy butt-sitting time in every day, though, I promise!

(Also, I’m usually sound asleep by 10. Sometimes earlier!)

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I think Mister Boogers would be happier in a cowboy hat or something more manly. It’s not the hat, per se, but the flamboyancy of said hat!

Ahem. It’s funny that you say that. Did I mention that I went to the craft store yesterday?

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Dang…I was hoping you had used your SCOOP HANDS to catch the chickens and move them to the new chicken coop. I am slightly disappointed. Hmph!

You cannot actually pick up more than one chicken with SCOOP HANDS, which would have made the transfer a lengthy pain-in-the-ass process.

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How the hell do I get rid of the pantry moths. I have been battling them for weeks now. I have taken out every item, looked it over and put it back or tossed it depending on what I found. And yet, THEY return. I am really tired of them flying in my face when I open the door.

I found that Pantry Pest Traps work pretty well – I put a couple in the pantry, and though I do see a moth every once in a while, they’re mostly gone. I got mine at Lowe’s and they’re not too terribly expensive. They last for a couple of month, too.

Speaking of pantry moths, did you know that the little fuckers like chocolate chips? I was SO PISSED, the day I went to make cookies and the chocolate chips were infested with pantry moths.

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I just can’t wait until it’s Stinkerbelle’s turn with the hat 😀

Stinkerbelle seems to know where the hat is at all times and whether it’s headed in her direction, in which case she disappears into thin air. I’m not holding my breath that I’ll be able to get it on her head, damnit.

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I giggled when I read that you you bake cookies for the pigs. And I can’t even imagine what it would be like to have 91 chickens. And it makes me curious if you really struggle with adding to the household cat count. I think having a lot of cats only carries a negative stigma for single old ladies, like me, which is why I have to keep it at 2. (I don’t count the 2 young strays I just started feeding whose mommy got killed in the street last week – and they count as a bonus, because now I get headless mice on my porch!) So, I guess my question is, why don’t you have 30 hundred million cats? And the other question is, what in the hell are you going to do with 91 chickens? giggle! 91. Holy schnikeys!

It’s not really a matter of the stigma of having so many cats – I think we all know that Fred and I are crazy cat people whether we have 5 cats or 10 or 100 – it’s more of a matter of whether the new cats will fit in well with the other cats. Also, the 91 chickens are out in the back forty and the 10 cats are (mostly) in the house and cats react poorly to overcrowding. As independent as cats are, they still need attention (some more than others) and there are only four hands between the two of us for petting.

Now, if our house was bigger, I could see adding more cats to the family, but as it is now I think we’ve pretty much reached our limit (right now god’s laughing and sending a family of adorable kittens to live on my porch, right?). Don’t hold me to it, though!

What we’re going to do with 91 chickens is eat the eggs they give us, sell what we don’t eat, and (theoretically) eat chicken regularly.

Did I mention that since we’ve started eating our own chickens, we eat chicken a lot less often than we used to?

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What’s with people honking to get you to come outside? This happened to me yesterday.

That’s a good question – it never happened to us before we moved to the country!

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Be careful! I think you should put up a new sign, saying, “we bear arms” or somesuch. Maybe they were friends of walkin’ dude….. I know, perhaps try to become dog lovers – well dog likers enough to keep one outside in a dog run so that the dog can bite anyone who tries to steal your chickens or harm you!

I actually think that the reason we don’t get more people stopping by is because we have what looks like a dog house on the front porch (the house Fred built for Maxi and Newt to stay in before they started coming inside all the time), and people assume we have a dog.

Fred IS going through a “Let’s get a dog!” phase (he’s also going through a “Let’s get an X-Box!” phase).

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I would keep a close eye on the chicken yard for a week or so to see if the guys were up to no good.

My desk overlooks the back yard and from here I can see the chicken yard clearly, so if anyone goes out there during the day, I’ll see them. If they come at night, the chickens are locked in the chicken coop (literally – there are locks on both the doors. I look forward to the day we lose the key to the locks.) and if they tried to bust down the door Fred would hear them (his bedroom overlooks the back yard). Hopefully we won’t have a problem with chicken thieves.

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I wonder when they made those little red hats did they think of cats? That’s the first thing I thought of when I saw one.

The hat was actually in the doll section of the craft store, so I think it’s probably intended for dolls – but it certainly works well on cats, doesn’t it?

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Our new baby chicks just arrived, literally less than an hour ago. I got them out of their box, dipped their beaks in water, and they’re all wandering around checking out their new home.

More chicken pics over at Flickr, if you’re interested.

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The kittens are continuing to come out of their room more and more often. I moved the baby gates to the bottom of the stairs, and now when you walk down the hallway, you’re apt to see Claudette or Delmar sitting there. They run back upstairs when they see us, but I think it’s just a matter of time before they’re ready to come into the downstairs and do some exploring.

More pics over at L&H.

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Sugarbutt is clearly thrilled. But doesn’t he look fancy?

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Previously
2007: Amazing what a little maintenance will do, ain’t it?
2006: “I CUT THROUGH THE GODDAMN EXTENSION CORD AND THEN I MADE THE CHAIN COME OFF THE CHAINSAW!”
2005: Senator Stanley J. Boogerton.
2004: No entry.
2003: So I’m not reporting that. At all. Never happened!
2002: Riley’s response? “Nuh uh!”
2001: Dr. Phil looked at me judgmentally, and I began to babble.
2000: And I don’t even like cherry Poptarts!
1999: Fred has agreed to let me adopt the kitten!

11-13-08

Fred opened the door to the chicken coop yesterday before he left for work, but it was still pretty dark out, so the chickens peered at him and said “Um, no thanks. We’re okay in here. Buh-bye!”. Fred went to work and I got up shortly thereafter, did my morning chores, and sat down at … Continue reading “11-13-08”

Fred went to work and I got up shortly thereafter, did my morning chores, and sat down at my computer. I looked out at the chicken yard to see a large number of chickens milling about, so I knew they’d figured out how to come out the door (with chickens, you can never overestimate their stupidity, TRUST ME).

A while later, Fred called to check on the chickens, and as I was talking to him, I looked out the window and realized that there was a chicken wandering through the old chicken yard. I hung up the phone and went out to see what the hell was going on, and I was displeased to realize that the chicken was one of the three fairly youngish chickens we’d been calling the Three Musketeers (because we are so original), a chicken who is very scared of Fred and I, because she was hatched by one of our chickens and thus was never really handled by either of us and thus believes we’re about to harm her in some very painful and inventive way if we even think about glancing in her direction.

Then I realized that there were about fifteen other chickens wandering around in the space between the new chicken yard and the old chicken yard, which meant they’d gotten under the fence somewhere and needed to be herded back into the new chicken yard.

With the help of cracked corn, I was able to lure all of them but the Musketeer back into the new chicken yard, and when I looked around to see how they’d gotten out, I quickly spotted a huge-ass gap under part of the fence, where the fence didn’t even come close to touching the ground. T-posts still need to be pounded in all around the back forty to hold the fence in place, but we (FRED) had been so eager to get the chickens moved that we (FRED) decided to move them to the new coop before the new yard was really secure.

Since the rest of the chickens were occupied with the chicken scratch I’d tossed in the chicken yard, away from the fence, I propped the gate open and ran to get on the other side of the Musketeer to shoo her into the yard.

Oh, yes. What a fool-proof plan THAT was. I ran to get on the other side of her, and she saw me running at her and she ran away from me. Away from the gate. She ran so that she was between the fence on the side of the old chicken yard and the trees and greenery next to the fence. I ran into the chicken yard and tried to get even with her so I could encourage her to move toward the new chicken yard, but never could get near her.

(You should imagine that I was swearing at the top of my lungs, this entire time.)

Finally, I gave up, opened the old chicken coop in case the stupid goddamn Musketeer wanted to go inside to lay an egg or something, and then I stomped inside. Then I stomped back outside to the new chicken yard, where I dragged a post over to the gap in the fence to block other chickens from getting out that way again. Then I stomped back inside and growled to myself that I hoped something would EAT that goddamn Musketeer and that it would be SLOW and PAINFUL for her.

An hour later I looked out to see the Musketeer strolling alongside the fence again, the fence on the side of the old chicken yard. So I grabbed more cracked corn and I went out and tried to lure her near the new chicken yard. She would not be lured. So I grabbed my SCOOP HANDS and went out to try to shoo her toward the new chicken yard. The shooing went okay at first, but then she remembered that she is a goddamn idiot and so she lost her shit for no apparent reason and went squawking hysterically into the woods.

(You cannot make a stupid bird a smart one with SCOOP HANDS.)

And I gave up. I could occasionally see her wandering along beside the fence, but I figured she’d either make her way into the old coop whereupon Fred could grab her at dark and transfer her to the new coop, or she’d figure out how to get back into the chicken yard, or something would eat her and ASK ME IF I CARE.

Goddamn chicken.

(When Fred got home, her day of being without food and water had apparently gotten to her, and it took very little coaxing on his part to get her in the chicken yard. Stupid chicken.)

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In between the bouts of chicken wrangling, I was sitting in front of my computer trying to reason with Mister Boogers, who is having PMS or something these last few days and picking on any other cat who happens to wander across his angry, hetful path. I was just about at the “They’re not bothering you, why are you being such an asshole to them?” part of the discussion when I heard a horn in the driveway.

“Oh! I must have a package!” I said to Mister Boogers, who clearly could not have cared any less about anything I had to say. I put him on the floor, slid my feet into my shoes and went out into the driveway.

It wasn’t the mail lady, it wasn’t the UPS, FedEx, or DHL guy. It was a guy I’d never seen before getting out of a white minivan, and so I met him in the side yard, smiled and said “Hi” and silently cursed myself for not looking out the window before blithely skipping out the door. If I’d known it wasn’t a mail call, I’d have hidden and pretended not to be home, because the Robyn don’t take kindly to strangers, especially of the unexpected sort.

The man pointed out toward the chicken yard and asked if we sold chickens. We’ve only sold chickens once before, and both Fred and I felt so bad about doing so, despite the fact that the family who bought the chickens did so to have them as laying hens and therefore they probably are going to lead a longer life than they would have here at Crooked Acres. Or so we believed at the time, before we got to the point where we only have chicken every other month or so.

“No, we sure don’t,” I said. His friend/ brother/ coworker/ how the fuck do I know their relationship? got out of the van and walked over to us.

The first guy mumbled something that I didn’t quite understand, though I heard “just roosters?” in there somewhere, so I said “Well, we have a couple of roosters, and the rest are hens.”

The second guy said “You have any fresh eggs?”

“No, we sure don’t,” I said. “We sold the last extra dozen yesterday.”

“So, when the sign is out is when you have eggs?” Guy #2 said.

“Right, if the sign is out we have eggs, and if it’s not we don’t.” I wisely didn’t add “DUH!”

There was silence as the two men looked out toward the chicken yard. And it wasn’t anything they did, I didn’t have any flashes of intuition, I’ve read The Gift of Fear and I believe fully in following your intuition, I never truly felt unsafe, but that’s the point when I thought to myself, You’re a goddamn idiot for standing here talking to two strange men. This is how news stories that begin ‘A Smallville woman was brutally raped and murdered in her own home earlier today while ten cats hid under a nearby bed’ happen.

“How many chickens do you have?” Guy #2 asked.

I lied. “About forty,” I said.

Another pause as they looked out toward the chicken yard, and then they smiled and thanked me and left.

When I came inside and called Fred, he made me go over the conversation a couple of times, and then he said “Have you learned anything?” and I said “To look out the window before I go running out the door when someone honks their horn!” and he said “Anything ELSE?” and I said “No, not really”, even though I knew what he wanted me to say was that I’d stick a gun in my pocket before I went out to talk to strange men, but the conundrum there is that if I’d realized they were strangers I never would have gone out there.

(I’ve told Fred we need a doormat that says “The wife don’t take too kindly to strangers.”)

So then he said “What would you have done if you’d seen them headed for the chicken yard to STEAL OUR CHICKENS?”

And I obediently said I’d have grabbed a gun and gone after them, but please. As if. I know me, and I’m as likely to go after a couple of trespassing strangers who are out to steal some chickens from us as I am to get the lead role in The Nutcracker on Broadway.

So, yeah. Strangers came by, I talked to them, they left without incident, and I live to bitch another day.

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The other day I went upstairs to hang out with the kittens, and Kara wanted to come with me, so I let her in. She went into my bedroom to hang out, and I put the baby gate back up.

After getting his fill of love from me, Lem was all “It’s time to EXPLORE!”

So he sat in the hallway looking at Kara for a long time.

Kara said ::hiss!::

Lem said ::HISS!::

Kara said “That’s what I thought you’d say. I’ll just be in here hiding under the bed.”
Lem said “Good to know. I’ll watch here from the doorway.”

I don’t expect Kara to adopt the kittens as her own or anything, but would it be too much to ask her mothering instincts to kick in just a little and have her be NICE to the little ones?

Apparently so.

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Crooked Acres President-Elect Tommy “Big Time Pimpin’ Daddy” Cullen with his bodyguard.

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Previously
2007: Well, of course. Of course he was in the house. Where else would a squirrel be, after all?
2006: In lieu of an entry today, you get a plea.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: I’m not holding much love for Tubby at the moment, believe you me.
2002: And also, I have short and stubby legs.
2001: I think that our dog thinks she’s a Mexican jumping bean.
2000: In fact, my new motto is going to be “Bitch, whine, moan. Lather, rinse, repeat.”
1999: I would name her Molly.

11-12-08

Best review of Twilight (the book, not the movie) I’ve read. It would be as if you or I were dating an apple fritter. made me laugh my ass off. & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & Sometimes when Fred and … Continue reading “11-12-08”

Best review of Twilight (the book, not the movie) I’ve read. It would be as if you or I were dating an apple fritter. made me laugh my ass off.

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Sometimes when Fred and I are sitting in the living room watching TV, I consider screaming and flailing wildly, then jumping up and running down the hall and out the back door.

Just to see what he’d do.

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Monday night after it got dark out, Fred and I spent an hour moving the chickens to the new coop. Rather than moving them one-by-one (which would have taken forever), we put them in a big carrier, six or seven at a time and carried them out in that. Fred caught the chickens one by one, and I lifted and lowered the door to the carrier as he put them in. Most of them were pretty quiet once they were in the carrier, but there was one bitchy little squawker who acted like we were strangling her, she screamed when Fred caught her, screamed once she was in the carrier, and screamed all the way to the new coop. Fucking drama queen.

(By the way, we waited until after dark so we could just get them straight from the coop rather than having to chase them around the chicken yard.)

We left them in the coop all day yesterday so they’d imprint on it as home, and Fred went out several times to check on them. They seemed to be adjusting pretty well, especially considering that we put the twenty-five small chicks (ranging in age from 6 to 10 weeks) in with the forty grown chickens. (Yes, we have sixty-five chickens. We also have twenty-six more on the way. Shaddup.) Fred had read somewhere that the best time to merge two flocks is when you’re moving them to a new coop. It seemed to work pretty well.

Now they have a huge chicken yard to roam around in, and hopefully we won’t lose any of them to passing hawks.

Pretty sure that little one in the front is a rooster.

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Yesterday morning, Fred got the gates on the front part of the new chicken yard put up, and then he had no plans. I’d mentioned the day before the idea of venturing up to Tennessee, but Fred hadn’t wanted to, so I figured we’d be hanging around the house all day. After he got the gates up, he asked if I still wanted to go to Tennessee. I did, so we headed out.

Before we got too far, we decided that neither of us was really in the mood for the long drive, so we ended up going to the movie store and picking up movies, then going out to lunch at Logan’s Roadhouse before going home and hanging out for the rest of the day watching movies.

We got about ten minutes into 88 Minutes and Fred needed a nap, so he sacked out on the couch while I went upstairs and hung out with the kittens. He called up to me when he was awake again, so I came back downstairs and we watched some more of the movie. With about fifteen minutes left in the movie, the phone rang. I talked to my sister for a few minutes, and while I talked Fred fell asleep on the couch again for about twenty minutes.

When he woke up again, he went out to feed the pigs and I went to clean the kitchen. Then we finished the movie, and let me tell you – that movie was clunkily written and horribly acted despite the cast of usually good actors, and there was a point at the end where Leelee Sobieski threw her head back and laughed in an attempt to be sinister, which I mocked several times, to my great amusement.

We took another break, then sat down to watch The Happening.

(Let me point out here that during both these movies I had my laptop on my lap and I was surfing the entire time, which is the only reason I watched both movies all the way through.)

I knew I was in for a special treat about two minutes into the movie when I turned to Fred and said “Why is Marky Mark talking to these high school students like they’re second graders?” The movie met my expectations, sucking right to the end. I honestly do not understand who in Hollywood keeps giving M. Night Shyamalan money; alls I can guess is that he’s got some really good blackmail material on someone big.

We watched True Blood (I LOVE YOU, SAM) and then I went upstairs to spend some time with the kittens while Fred watched TV. When I came back downstairs, he started watching Paranormal State while I surfed, and he occasionally tried to convince me that we could fake having a ghost problem to get Ryan and the gang to Crooked Acres (when I told him I didn’t want to expend the energy on faking a ghost problem, he suggested we claim Mister Boogers was possessed. That just might work!).

We started the latest episode of Heroes, which Fred paused about ten minutes in and said “I honestly don’t care about this show any more” and I said “Me either!”, so he deleted it and we watched Dirty Jobs instead.

So yeah, it was a total slacker, TV-watching, nap-taking day for us. Fred’s been working so hard on the chicken coop and fencing the back forty that I think he deserved it. I haven’t necessarily been working so hard, but hey – someone needed to keep him company, right?

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I learned something yesterday. For days I’ve been going upstairs to hang out with the kittens, and wondering why they weren’t exploring the upstairs. Sometimes one or two of them would be hanging out in my room and go running back to the kitten room when I appeared. But once I was upstairs, they’d never leave the kitten room.

Yesterday, I hung out with them for a few minutes and then I thought Hmm… I wonder if they’d come hang out with me in my room? I went into my room, lay down on the bed and started reading, and within a few minutes the kittens started appearing on the bed beside me. Eventually all four of them were on the bed with me, rolling around and purring. Apparently the reason they were spending all their time hanging out in the kitten room while I was upstairs is because I was in there.

Ya learn something new every day!

Jazz paws!

More pictures over at L&H.

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Oh, the humiliation!

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Previously
2007: Whatever I do, I’m sure it’ll be exciting!
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: NOTHING gets by him. NOTHING.
2003: Yep. When you have a crush on a fictional character and whine about how no one in a NOVEL is telling you anything, it’s about time to get a life, say true.
2002: Obviously she’d never taken Customer Service 101, wherein the “‘Thanks!’ = go away” equation is covered thoroughly.
2001: Poor Sadie. Those damn mean cats just refuse to play with her…
2000: No entry.
1999: No entry.

11-11-08

Happy Veteran’s Day! Go hug yourself a veteran. & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & Yesterday morning I was trying to decide what I needed to get done during the day, when an email came in from the Monday morning … Continue reading “11-11-08”

Happy Veteran’s Day! Go hug yourself a veteran.

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Yesterday morning I was trying to decide what I needed to get done during the day, when an email came in from the Monday morning pet store volunteer. She was sick and needed someone to cover for her, and was throwing herself on the mercy of the volunteer mailing list. Since I had nothing big planned, I told her I’d do it, and ten minutes after I’d read the email, I was headed for Huntsville.

On Thursdays mornings, I usually leave the house at 6:30ish in an attempt to avoid the traffic going into Huntsville. Yesterday, there was hardly any traffic at 8:00. Either the traffic doesn’t happen ’til later, it happens between 7 and 8, or a LOT of people took yesterday off to extend their three-day weekend into four days.

At the pet store, I had a moment where I glanced into a cage to see a new cat, and my heart just sank. I was pretty sure it was Zoe, and Zoe always was my favorite kitten (sometimes), and I couldn’t see that there was any way I could leave her in a cage without sobbing hysterically.

And then I took a closer look, and the cat in the cage looked nothing at all like Zoe (I’d offer photographic proof, but I left the house without a camera in my purse), but I gave her lots of extra love, just because.

I stopped by Micha3l’s to look around and pick up a few things, stopped and got groceries, and was home shortly after 10:00.

Fred spent the day putting up the fence around the back forty, so I puttered around the house, went out to check his work, spent time with the kittens, made cookies for the pigs, and canned the last three half-pint jars of mushrooms.

I ended up getting 17 half-pint jars of mushrooms, by the way. I’ll report back, after my next trip to Sam’s, on how much money I saved by buying the big can and recanning into smaller jars. Watch it end up being like 75 cents, right?

Speaking of mushrooms, Paula asked in my comments yesterday if you can grow your own mushrooms. You can, actually. The easiest way (I assume it’s the easiest way, anyway) is to order your own kit. You can Google and find places to buy your own kits – here’s an interesting site. The more I checked out that site, the more I realized how little I know about the different kinds of mushrooms.

And speaking of making cookies for the pigs (somewhere up there I mentioned it, I think), Sunday night Fred waved at me from the back yard and pointed out toward the pigs, asking if I was ready to go give them their evening snack. Which is when I realized we’d given them the last of the cookies the night before and I’d forgotten to make more. We ended up giving them rolls instead of cookies, and do you think they even noticed? Not a bit. Food’s food as far as they’re concerned.

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Last week, I stopped on the way home from my doctor appointment at Old Time Pottery. I’ve been needing new cookie sheets and cooling racks for a while, and that store has got just about any kind of kitchen tool you could think of, so I knew they’d have what I needed. They did, and while I was there I moseyed through the pet section, eyeballed the pet beds, and ultimately bought a big cozy bed.

I put the big cozy bed on the couch where Tommy sleeps in the evening. He’d been sleeping on a couch pillow, but it was annoying me because he was getting cat hair all over the pillow.

Tommy liked the cat bed a LOT. In fact, all the cats like the cat bed a lot. Tommy uses it in the evening while we’re watching TV, but Spanky has dibs on it during the day, and I’ve seen Stinkerbelle and Miz Poo taking turns in it, too.

Not bad for a $7.99 bed.

Last night Fred and I were discussing it, and I said “Well, I have a lot of errands to run later this week, I’ll stop by Old Time Pottery and see if they have any more beds.”

Because what this house needs more of is cat beds, you know. The goddamn cats can’t go three feet without falling over a bed but, you know. I’m a little addicted to buying cat beds, is what I’m saying.

Fred said “Old Time Pottery?”

I said “Yeah, that’s where I got it.”

Fred said “Do they actually have pottery there?”

I said “No, they have just about anything else you could imagine, though. It’s in the old K-Mart building.”

Fred got irate. “I feel like that’s false advertising! What if people are suckered in by the name and they go in to look for pottery and there’s NO POTTERY? That’s like naming a place “Joe’s Restaurant” and then you go in, and it’s a SHOE STORE.”

I laughed.

Fred went on. “What about Pottery Barn? Do THEY sell pottery?”

I said “Well, I – uh – no, I don’t think they do. I think they have kitchen stuff and maybe furniture too, but I might be mixing them up with Ikea*.”

“That’s -”

“Well, they MIGHT sell some pottery too, I don’t know,” I added hastily.

“That’s just ridiculous. That’s fucked up. You’re forbidden to ever visit a store that calls itself “Old Time Pottery” and then doesn’t SELL pottery.”

I rolled my eyes and said “Yes, master.”

Please. I’m so going back there again. I just realized that I’ve never been to the entire left half of the store, which is apparently where they keep their sheets and quilts and stuff.

But seriously – if you’re needing any kind of kitchen utensil, plates, glasses, canisters, any kind of that stuff and there’s an Old Time Pottery near you, check it out. There’s plenty of cheap and crappy stuff, but some decent stuff, too. It’s worth a try, right?

*Sue me. I’ve been in Pottery Barn once, and never in Ikea. How would I know what the hell they sell?

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I don’t know if I’ve actually mentioned it here in the past, but I’ve certainly thought it to myself enough. I’ve been thinking that Delmar looks a lot like a little fox. Fred’s even been calling him “Foxy Brown”. When I was surfing the web the other day, I realized that it’s not a fox he looks like.

It’s a little coyote.

Here’s Delmar:

Here’s a coyote.

It’s mostly the eyes and the coloring, I think. Anyone else see the resemblance?

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He’s got the red hat, now he just needs a purple dress, and he’ll be all set to join the Red Hat Society.

This is Exhibit #1 of why I should not be allowed into the craft store, your honor. I saw the hat and I imagined putting it on a cat and I laughed and laughed and laughed. More proof forthcoming.

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Previously
2007: Why should I answer the door if I’m not expecting anyone, I ask you?
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: That girl has some serious lung power.
2003: Not holding my breath – but a girl can dream!
2002: Let me tell you about the saga of the box.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: No entry.

11/10/08

Things I baked on Friday: Chocolate Chip Sour Cream Cake. It was certainly good, but not something I loved (Fred liked it more than I did), and I probably won’t make it again. The pigs gave it two (four?) hooves up. Twice-Baked Shortbread (it was a Smitten Kitchen Friday for me!). I guess I should … Continue reading “11/10/08”

Things I baked on Friday:

Chocolate Chip Sour Cream Cake. It was certainly good, but not something I loved (Fred liked it more than I did), and I probably won’t make it again. The pigs gave it two (four?) hooves up.

Twice-Baked Shortbread (it was a Smitten Kitchen Friday for me!). I guess I should say I started it on Friday and finished it Saturday morning. It was simple to make, and oh my god it was good. Fred had never had shortbread before, I guess he’s lived a deprived life. When he got home, he said “What’s the doughy looking stuff on the counter?” (this was while it was “resting” in the pan overnight). I said “It’s shortbread.” He said “It smells like cookies, not bread.” Which is when I learned that he’d never had shortbread before. He declared “It tastes like pie crust”, which I guess I can kind of see. I like the shortbread a lot more than he does and the pigs don’t get ANY, is how much I like it.

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I had a pretty relaxing and low-key weekend. I spent the better part of Saturday cleaning ladybug goo from around the windows in the bathrooms, the window in the stairwell and the windows in the kitten room. That took me ’til lunchtime to finish, and then I spent the afternoon hanging out with the kittens and recanning mushrooms.

I bought a huge-ass can of mushrooms at Sam’s a few weeks ago because we use mushrooms in the two dishes we eat most – an egg scramble* and spaghetti – and it seems like I’m always buying small cans of mushrooms. I figured with the big can of mushrooms, I could recan them into half-pint jars and be set for at least a little while. I canned seven half-pint jars of mushrooms on Saturday and another seven on Sunday, and I think I still have enough mushrooms to fill at least two half-pint jars. I’d tell you how much I saved doing that, but I don’t recall how much the big can of mushrooms cost OR how much an 8-ounce can of mushrooms cost, so I’ll have to do some research and get back to you on that later this week.

We had pork chops for dinner Saturday night along with green beans and sweet potato crack, everything grown here at Crooked Acres, and I have to say, it was a pretty good meal. I’m still experimenting to figure out the best way to cook these pork chops, but with spices rubbed on them and baked in the oven, they were pretty damn good.

For dinner Sunday, we had ribs cooked all day in the crockpot, baked squash, and corn on the cob – again, everything grown here at Crooked Acres and very, very tasty.

Sunday I did a lot of puttering around – recanned more mushrooms, did laundry, checked out the new chicken coop, which Fred finished early in the day, paid bills, balanced the checking account, all that fun stuff. I had thought it was going to be sunny all day, but around eleven it clouded over and even though it never rained, the laundry was still just the tiniest bit damp when I brought it inside, so I tossed it in the dryer.

It’s definitely Fall in Alabama now – Fred had to wear a hat when he was putting up the fence around the back forty yesterday. You know, I never appreciate the warm days of September and October until we hit November and I’ve got the space heater pointed directly at me, going full-blast all day long.

*Usually once a week we have a “scramble” and oven-fried homefries for dinner. How I make a scramble: saute chopped onion ’til soft, add sausage to the pan, cook ’til the sausage is browned. Drain in a colander, rinse with warm water, wipe down the pan. Put sausage and onion back in the pan, add mushrooms to the pan, add eggs (beaten) to the pan, scramble ’til the eggs are done, voila! A scramble! We don’t always have sausage in our scramble, it depends on whether I feel like dealing with it. The good thing about a scramble is that you can put whatever strikes your fancy in it – bacon, green pepper. You could even add cooked homefries to the scramble if you want, but I personally prefer to keep my potatoes separate from the scramble. Call me picky.

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Saturday night Fred and I were watching Silkwood. I’ve seen the movie at least a couple of times before, but Fred had never seen it, and it seems to me that it’s one of those movies you should see at least once in your life.

So we were sitting and watching it, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Tommy, who was snoozing in the cat bed on the other couch, lift his head as if he were watching something. I looked to see what he was watching, and saw a wasp fly up from the floor, then land on my leg.

I reached out to flick the wasp off my leg (with the intention that I’d then get up and kill it), but as I reached out to flick the wasp, Fred glanced over and made a face of horror, and as he made the face of horror, I don’t know, I thought the wasp was in the process of trying to sting me or something, so I reacted like a big dorky freak, screamed and flailed around.

While Fred doubled over laughing, I moved the laptop off my lap and saw that the wasp was still sitting there, despite the aborted flicking and the subsequent flailing.

“It’s still there!” I yelled in panic, then flicked at it. It flew across the room and landed on the floor. Fred stayed doubled over, laughing (truth be told, I was laughing too at that point) ’til I yelled at him to kill the damn thing. He stomped on it several times before the damn thing gave up the ghost and died (probably didn’t help that Fred was wearing slippers, which have a soft sole). I got the fly swatter, nudged the dead wasp onto the business end of the swatter, carried it to the front porch and tossed it out.

While Fred continued laughing at me.

Bastard.

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Since I hadn’t vacuumed the kitten room in a long time – I think it’s actually been a couple of weeks, except for the time I took the hand vac in there and sucked up the dead ladybugs – I decided to vacuum in there while I was cleaning on Saturday. I thought about shooing the kittens into the closet (where the litter boxes are kept) and shutting them in there while I vacuumed, but in the end I just brought the vacuum cleaner upstairs and started running it, figuring they’d all find places to hide.

They found a place to hide, all right. With the entire upstairs providing many hiding places, they apparently all felt the safest atop the cat tree. All four of them crammed themselves up there and glared at me, ears pointed out to the side, while I vacuumed their room.

They forgave me quickly, though – they always do. All I have to do to get them to come snuggle with me these days, is come into their room and sit on the floor. At this point, even Claudette comes over and asks to be petted. I have proof!

Kitten pics over at L&H.

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I happened to glance out into the side yard Saturday afternoon and saw Newt looking like he was after something. A closer look showed me that he had a field mouse. He likes to catch them wherever the hell he finds them (I don’t ask) and then bring them to the side yard to kill them, whether it’s to show off for his brothers who are confined to the back yard or because he wants me to know what an awesome hunter he is. Maybe both.

So I went out and shooed him away from the mouse. I didn’t touch the mouse or get too close to it, lest it get the bright idea to run up my leg, in which case I’d be typing this from the Great Beyond, but I could tell that it was pretty lively and not fatally wounded or on the edge of death, so I yelled for Fred and then kept Newt from getting too close to the mouse.

Right after this picture is when I screamed “No, no, NO! Don’t touch it, Newt!”, and he’s such a good boy that he obeyed.

Fred picked the mouse up and asked where Newt had gotten it, which is when I told him about my don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy re: field mice and the finding of such, and he took it off to let it go in the woods and Newt shrugged a “Win some, lose some” shrug and went off to snooze near the chicken yard.

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Previously
2007: Write about your day!
2006: I guess you can teach an old Fred new tricks.
2005: Can’t a girl be a dumbass without the whole world going into an uproar about it?
2004: For once, he had no good comeback.
2003: “Oh yeah. I hate this feeling. I should have just had a Diet Coke.”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: Can you tell this irks me?

11-7-08

This is totally me: & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & How good are you at “eyeballing” stuff? (I sucked pretty badly, though I’m pretty good at figuring out where the middle of things are.) (Thanks to Katherine for both those.) … Continue reading “11-7-08”

This is totally me:

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How good are you at “eyeballing” stuff? (I sucked pretty badly, though I’m pretty good at figuring out where the middle of things are.)

(Thanks to Katherine for both those.)

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Go here and type in commands to see the cute dog obey them (make sure you type in “dance” and “kiss”, it’s pretty funny). (Thanks to Elaine for the link!)

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Love love LOVE that Shep. (Thanks to Fred for the link, and also for sharing my love for Shep.)

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Printer won’t work? This might be why… (Thanks to several people for the link!)

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Real Housewives of Atlanta; skip to the next section if you’re not interested!

So, Kim cannot sing. AT ALL. The voice coach put it as nicely as possible without actually saying the words “Kim? You could not carry a tune if Big Papa bought you a gold-plate $15,000 bucket to put it in.” And Kim’s reaction? THE VOICE COACH IS NIT-PICKING. Good god. And did you see Dallas Austin’s face when Kim was singing? I know he was thinking “Big Papa, YOU OWE ME.” My god, her voice was horrible. And I WANTED to be proven wrong, but girlfriend cannot sing. CANNOT. She can be all “I sing, because I’m a singer!” (or whatever the hell she said) all she wants, but she needs to confine that voice to the shower and not attempt to inflict it upon the world. There’s only so damn much magic they can do in the studio! Also, voice coach is SO RIGHT. Kim sings through her nose and it’s horrific.

Did DeShawn really say that she and whatshisface have been married ten years? I had no idea – I thought they were newlyweds! And I can’t believe he gave her some expensive-ass watch for her birthday and she was all “Well, I can’t wear this tonight, I’m wearing silver!” Are ya KIDDING me? RUDE. How long does it take to change your jewelry? DeShawn and her husband (his name is Eric, I just went and looked) are so stiff and awkward around each other. I suspect it’s having the cameras right there – being on camera seems to make him VERY uncomfortable. And how come we never ever ever see their kids?

I actually kind of felt sorry for NeNe, because I’m sure she never expected the “song” to blow up in her face like that. Also, is it just me, or does she appear to be drinking wine 24 hours a day? She was PLASTERED in that limo, and I think everyone but DeShawn wished she’d just shut up. Anyone think Lisa DIDN’T tell Kim about the whole thing? Very disapproving, wasn’t she?

I don’t know that Sheree has got a whole lot of room to talk about NeNe talking about Kim behind her back, given that Sheree talked a WHOLE lot of smack about NeNe not so long ago.

Man, I need to start taking notes when I watch this show. I know there was more I wanted to mention, but I can’t think of anything else! What’d I miss, y’all?

Oh! The guacamole! Really, Kim? You’re (cough) 29 years old and you don’t know what guacamole is? And then she was horrified that they mixed it up in a big stone, like it was unsanitary. Gosh, it’s too bad restaurants don’t have any way to sanitize their big guacamole-making rocks or anything, DUMBASS.

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My, Miz Poo is a bit…portly….or is that just the angle of the first photo?

No, it’s not the angle. I’m not kidding when I say she’s a portly Poo. The vet tech said Miz Poo isn’t actually obese, but she’s a big chunk of a cat. She weighs just under 11 pounds, if I recall correctly. That’s about what Sugarbutt weighs, but he’s pretty muscular, and she’s a shorter cat than he is, so she’s got the spread going on.

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Happy anniversary. Your second picture up there reminded me of this one.

I LOVE that series of school ID pictures.

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I think you should add a new cat for every anniversary.

I’d be afraid that such a move would lead to their being no more anniversaries!

(Don’t you love how I act like it’s all my fault that we have ten cats? But it isn’t ME who lobbied for the adoption of the last three we kept!)

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Just to defend calico cats – I have a 19 yr old calico who has been sick twice in her life, had one dental, and otherwise has only been to the vet for shots. She’s getting very old, but as far as I can tell that’s the only thing that’s wrong with her even now.

and

You know, I love and adore Miz Poo because I’ve been reading about her for years and years, but I don’t think you can blame the vet bills on her being a tri-colour cat. I have a calico (a true calico with bright patches of colour – not a torti), and I think over the course of her 20 years of life she’s cost me about $2000 in vet bills, total (including being spayed, a couple of intestinal things, vaccinations – which she’s only gotten a couple of times in her life, etc)

Fred says it’s not that Miz Poo’s a tri-color that’s the issue, it’s that she’s just a defective cat!

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I really love my Electrolux EL1000A2 stick vac! It’s sleek, works VERY well, is pretty (which is important to me since it sits out while charging), and hasn’t let me down yet!

That IS a very pretty little stick vac.

You know, if I truly loved all y’all, I’d go out and buy these vacuums you’re recommending and try them out and report back on which is the best.

(Except Fred would kill me.)

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Happy Anniversary… I saw this article today and thought of your double-egg incident! Seems these things are international news now!!

It’s funny what makes the news, isn’t it? (Also, those Japanese are COPYCATS!)

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Please let us know what you think about “Dewey“. It sounds like a good read.

It was a VERY good read – I cried like a baby at the end! The descriptions of Dewey made me laugh out loud several times, it was definitely a good book and certainly worth the read. Four stars!

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Do you watch Celebrity Rehab? A most delicious trainwreck!

I watched the first season, but I haven’t seen any of this season. I need to set up to tape them, because I was hooked on the first season (also, I think Dr. Drew is cuuuuuuuute.).

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We didn’t have the ladybug trouble until about 4 years ago. When they first swarmed and made us hostages in our own home I thought they were the good ladybugs and hated to kill them. Those suckers are a different kind of bug and they bite the sh*t out of you. Our neighbor down the road said the Forestry Agency said that the bugs had been brought in to kill one pest and had ended up taking over. Our neighbor forgot the name of the bug but said that most indoor outdoor sprays would kill them.

and

Are you sure they are ladybugs and not Mexican bean beetles? Mexican bean beetles are considered a pest because they eat plants.

I believe they’re actually Asian Lady Beetles, because the ones I’ve looked closely at have the right markings.

Several people mentioned that since ladybugs eat aphids, they never kills ladybugs. Which is a nice sentiment, I suppose, but I’m not kidding when I say that I vacuumed up over 1,000 of them over the course of last weekend. They come in around the windows and spread through the house. If they came in and headed for the attic to hibernate, it’d be one thing, but they get in EVERYTHING, including beds, food, and the kittens’ water bowl. I’m not having it.

Luckily, the better part of the influx seems to be over, though we occasionally get one flying across the room or hanging out near the ceiling. A handful of them, I can handle. A thousand? Not so much.

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Don’t some places SELL ladybugs, as garden helpers (like commenter J said, they eat a certain type of pest)? Maybe you could collect them and make a side business out of it! (Oh, I just checked on ebay, and 1500 live ladybugs only goes for $12.99.) Would the chickens like them? How about ladybug and jalapeno jam?

I actually read that you can vacuum them up, freeze them, and then put them in your garden the next Spring, and they’ll live through the experience. I’ll have to consider doing that next year, but I’ll have to resist using the hand vacuum to catch wasps, because those things I do NOT want around.

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They’re supposed to be repelled by the smell of lemons. Maybe if you sprayed your window and door frames with the diluted juice?

I’m actually planning to give this a try next year. If it doesn’t work, at least it’ll smell nice when we walk by the windows, right? And if it DOES work, I won’t have to spend a weekend scrubbing ~~ladybug~~ asian lady beetle goo (they leave goo behind, did you know that?) off every window and window frame in the house.

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Did I miss something? When did Kara move in for good?

Several of you have asked this. The announcement was here, and the longer entry about it was here.

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I have a random-ass question for Friday. What color are the Anderson cats’ toe pads? I know you lurve kitty toes as much as I do…

I would take a picture of all their toes for you, but my helper’s already left for work, so descriptions will have to do.

Black toes: Tommy, Maxi, Kara.

Gray toes: Mister Boogers.

Pink toes: Spanky, Newt, Sugarbutt, Joe Bob.

Black and pink: Miz Poo.

Undetermined: Stinkerbelle (I can’t get a good look at her toes, but will report in the future.)

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Loved those polls! The chicken hat, without a doubt, was overly persuasive and I just had to vote for Mr. Cullen. Who was his running mate?

No running mates this time around – but keep an eye out in mid-2012 for a much fancier campaign.

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Did you happen to catch Ellen’s Halloween show? I finally watched it last night and the clips of her scaring people made me laugh and laugh.

I haven’t seen it yet, but after I watch Grey’s Anatomy here in a little while, I’m going to go over to YouTube and catch up on Ellen!

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CAT “comedy!!!” (Say in Jesse Joyce’s voice.) Thanks for talking about KATG on your site. I always assumed it was a local radio station from your area. When Hubby got me a Ipod last Xmas, I thought I would look for KATG on itunes. What a great way to laugh away my doldrums.

I LOVE Jesse Joyce, especially when he gets nit-picky. He’s such a bitch about some things, he cracks me up.

Also, I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again – I LOVE Keith and the Girl. They always crack me up.

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You could be a new superhero: Super Scoop!

I meant to get Fred to take a picture of me in a badass gangsta position, but completely forgot. Next time!

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Mister Boogers looks giant in that picture where he’s in front of you.

It’s the angle. He’s a pretty average-size cat, though his het does make him look bigger.

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If you’re looking for additional uses for other things, we use the bucket on my dad’s loader for all sorts of things. I climb in it and my dad raises it up so I can clean out the gutters at their house. He’s also boosted me waaaaay up to fix the roof on the owl house in the highest tree on the property. However, I will not go near the bucket when my brother is driving the tractor. I have a feeling he’d send the bucket as high as it would go and then wander off (on purpose) for a day or two.

There’s a tree in the back yard that has a web of those worms on it (I can’t think of what they’re called, but y’all know what I mean? A big web forms and then worms come out of it and eat the hell out of your tree?) and I’ve told Fred that he needs to bring the tractor into the back yard and lift me up so I can cut that branch down and burn it.

I suspect if I get myself lifted up in the bucket of the tractor in the future, there will be pictures taken.

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And when you told Fred that you wanted him to take a bunch of pictures with you doing things with scoop hands, he didn’t think you were crazy?!

Nah, he usually goes along with whatever I need him to take pictures of, though sometimes he grumbles about being pulled away from what he’s doing. This time he informed me that I have too much time on my (SCOOP) hands and perhaps I need a hobby.

Um. I HAVE a hobby, and it’s called bitchypoo.com! DUH.

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I love how you look completely confounded and frustrated by the picking of carrots, just like the infomercials.

“You flip, and they flop!” *Woman looking frustrated and overwhelmed by the flipping of pancakes*

“Love pasta, but hate draining the hot water?” How do you separate pasta from water?

Fred said “Now, scowl!” and I did, and then he laughed and snapped the picture. I can scowl with the best of ’em!

I have to ask, y’all, what’s the big deal with pasta draining? Why are there so many tools to drain pasta? Is it really that big of an issue, to dump the pasta into a colander? That’s what I usually do, but am I doing it wrong? Do I really need a tool especially made for draining pasta?

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Just think of how fast you could swim with those on! lol

I bet I’d totally make it to the Olympics with those things (though somehow I suspect the Olympics are anti SCOOP HANDS). Hmmm. Maybe I should take on the English Channel with SCOOP HANDS!

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There is a neat site that displays the front pages of tons of newspapers. The link takes you there, but it’ll be for today’s date. You can switch to November 5th to see the post-election pages.

How neat is that! Thanks for the link!

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I was reading past entries (sometimes those “previously” snippets pull me in), so now I must know. The spud had a brown hamster and a gray hamster 8 years ago that were “getting jiggy with it.” Did you end up with hamster babies or were they both male, like the pet store guy said they were???

Oh no, they were NOT both male like that fucking pet store guy said they were. One of them was female, and we ended up with a litter (?) of hamsters, which I wrote about here. I wrote here about persuading Fred to let the spud keep two of the baby hamsters (with the idea of keeping a female in the cage with the mother and a male in the cage with the father). Then, when the baby hamsters were about a month old, we took all of them back to the pet store at the spud’s request. And the mother hamster was pregnant again already.

Apparently I didn’t take a single picture of the baby hamsters. Good GOD things have changed – these days, it’d be all hamster pictures all the time until y’all begged for mercy!

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where did you get that bird bath/watering thing? I love it and *must* have one for my backyard!

At the Country Store Catalog site, here to be exact. I have two of those bird baths, one hanging on the front porch and one hanging in the side yard, and I LOVE them. They’re not the most gorgeous bird baths/ waterers around, but they’re easy to clean and they hold a lot of water and the birds really seem to like them. The squirrels too, for that matter.

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I think you should shorten Maxi “Outside Mama”‘s name to Maxi Omama.

Hmm. Maxi Omama And3rson. Kind of has a ring to it, no?

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I know you read the books, but have you seen this?

Oh man – how neat would it be to have Stanley J. Boogerton – or Crooked Acres! – in a Charlaine Harris novel? The bidding’s already up to $870, which is way too pricey for my blood, but if anyone wants to bid on Mister Boogers’ behalf, go for it!

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The kittens are continuing to do well. They had the run of the entire upstairs yesterday, and when I went up to hang out with them in the evening, Kara followed me up because she just loves to hang out in my bedroom. She ran into my bedroom and apparently Marion was in there, on the bed, and Kara sniffed at her and Marion hissed and flew out of my room and into the kitten room.

Delmar and Lem were snoozing on their cat tree, but I didn’t see Claudette anywhere, so I went looking for her. When I walked into my bedroom, I saw her scoot out from under my bed, into the closet, where she hid behind some boxes. I picked her up and she allowed that for a few minutes, then fought for me to put her down. When I did, she flew into the kitten room.

I went into the kitten room and all the kittens glared at me from atop the cat tree, but as soon as I sat down, they all came over for love and petting. They’re getting friendlier every day – Claudette actually demanded that I pet her yesterday. She purrs so loud. It’s hard to believe that volume of sound is coming from such a little thing!

A few more pics at L&H.

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Kara LOVES being outside.

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Previously
2007: I nominate Fred to do all the slaughtering himself.
2006: Questions answered.
2005: This makes me want to wrap my child in bubble wrap and lock her in her room until she’s 35.
2004: No entry.
2003: Meme.
2002: “How fucking much is that goddamn bread? A dollar ninety-fucking-five? Okay, put a couple of the motherfuckers in my cart, would you, fuckwad?”
2001: I briefly considered making a citizen’s arrest.
2000: (ie, “It’s all the fault of that fat bitch you married!”)
1999: I woke this morning at 2:30ish, feeling something wasn’t quite right.

11-6-08

Hi All, Many of you have helped me in the past (2000 & 2004) when I did this with my class and I’m hoping that you may be able to help us out again this Presidential Election year. My students are going to compare the front page headlines from around the United States (and maybe … Continue reading “11-6-08”

Hi All,

Many of you have helped me in the past (2000 & 2004) when I did this with my class and I’m hoping that you may be able to help us out again this Presidential Election year.

My students are going to compare the front page headlines from around the United States (and maybe beyond?) on the day after Election Day.

Therefore, if you can, would you please send me the front page only of your local newspaper dated Wednesday, November 5, 2008.

Most of the stories will probably be about the outcome of the Presidential election, with some local election coverage thrown in as well.

We have had a great discussion about the headlines in the past, and we hope to have just as much success this year.

If you are able to help, please send the front page to:

Mrs. Dissek’s 4th Grade Class
Pratt Elementary School
1628 Quaker Road
Barker, NY 14012

Thanks so much for your help!!
Phyllis

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I’m glad y’all enjoyed yesterday’s entry – I had probably too much fun posing for the pictures.

And yes, I was wearing a shirt that FIT. I told Fred that if I wore my usual slobby around-the-house couture, I’d catch shit from you bossy motherfuckers, so I dug around in my closet and found a shirt I bought at Wal-Mart recently.

It was surprisingly comfortable. I might have to try wearing clothes that fit a little more often.

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So, the Crooked Acres election results are in! Your Crooked Acres elected officials are as follows:

Senator-Elect Sugar J. Buttocks

Sheriff-Elect Maxi “Outside Mama” J. And3rson

President-Elect Thomas J. Cullen

All three races were pretty close, but I don’t think there was any hanky-panky with the voting, so Suggie, Maxi, and Tommy should all take their posts in January with no problems.

I see from the comments on the various polls that y’all are dying for Miz Poo to get into politics. She didn’t this time around due to health issues, but I think you might expect to see her gear up for a run at the presidency in 2012.

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By the way, the whole candidates-pictures-banner thing would have been a little more involved (with vice presidential candidates and much better photoshopping), but I didn’t come up with the idea until this past weekend, and didn’t actually get started on the entry (and the pictures and the polls) ’til mid-day Monday. I’ll try to do better in 2012!

Miz Poo also might have been a candidate this time around, except the opportunity to have the old white guy run against the young black guy was too perfect to resist.

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BREAKING NEWS! BREAKING NEWS! BREAKING NEWS!

Newly elected Sheriff Maxi “Outside Mama” J. And3rson is under investigation for nasty campaign tactics. Sheriff candidate Kara “Upstairs Mama” J. And3rson was reported missing mid-day yesterday. A search crew was dispatched to look for Upstairs Mama in all her usual locations, but after looking in the front room, the shed next door, the chicken yard, and all points across the back forty, possible foul play was discussed. She was eventually located in the upstairs cedar closet.

“But she never goes in there, I don’t know how that happened!” her mother cried before sweeping her up for a flurry of kisses atop the head.

Sources close to the investigation state that doctors have declared Upstairs Mama perfectly healthy, but that she received a blow to the head and cannot remember how she ended up in the closet, bound and gagged.

A source deep inside the Outside Mama campaign

“What?”

declared that Maxi “Outside Mama” J. And3rson was heard grumbling about how much easier life would be if Upstairs Mama were to be “disappeared.”

We’ll share more about this horrifying story as details emerge.

And3rson continues to be confused and addled about her terrifying ordeal, as well as slightly depressed over losing the election.

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I don’t know what on earth made me think that going to do my Thursday morning stint at the pet store followed by a 9 am hair cut and color, followed by an 11:15 appointment with the gastroenterologist (my usual six-month visit) would be a good idea. I think of all that running around, and it makes me want to take a nap.

Ah well. At least I can go out and get it all done and don’t have to make a special trip for the hair appointment or the doctor appointment, right?

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Miz Poo went to have her drain out on Monday. She has been such an angel throughout the whole process. Every night when we sit down to watch TV, she climbs up onto the pillow on my lap, and I take her no-cone collar off, and she spends the next hour or so grooming herself, then she naps until bedtime. At bedtime, Fred puts the collar back on her, and she settles in her cat bed and as far as I know, she spends all night there.

When she had the drain in, every single night she’d get one good bite at the drain before I stopped her, but when we went to the vet’s on Monday, it was still well in place. In fact, there was some scabbing around it, and the doctor had to take some time before he pulled the drain out.

I couldn’t stand the thought of watching the vet take the drain out, so I hid behind the vet tech ’til it was over. Miz Poo was a champ – she always is – and didn’t fight much. She goes back on Friday to have her stitches out, and she has to keep the collar on for a few days afterward, so I’m planning to take the collar off her for good Monday morning and see how it goes.

I expect she’ll be licking her back end all day long.

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The foster kittens continue to do well. After their scary experience last week, where I left the door to their room open and Delmar and Marion got lost in the house, I decided to take it a lot slower. For a couple of days I put baby gates across their doorway so they could see out of their room, but they couldn’t get out (and none of the other cats could get in). When I’d go into the room, I’d move the lower baby gate out of the way, and on Tuesday when I was hanging out with them, Lem said “Hmm. I wonder what’s out here?” and went exploring.

(View from the kitten room, down the hall.)

I moved the gates down the hallway so they could get into my bedroom and the bathroom if they so desired, and at some point later that day I went upstairs and couldn’t find Lem or Marion. After much looking around, I found them hiding up inside the recliner in my bedroom. I poked them ’til they came out, and they ran back into their room. They come out of their room occasionally to look around, and yesterday Claudette actually went out and looked around for quite some time.

When we get to the point where they’re all wandering around the entire upstairs and not looking scared while they do it, and hanging out in my room, I’ll think about moving the baby gates to the bottom of the stairs.

The only problem with the baby gates is that Kara likes to hang out on my bed, and if there are baby gates blocking her access to my room, she gets worried. I let her through the gates if she looks like she wants to go in there, and she doesn’t seem to mind being locked in there with the kittens (and there’s water and a litter box in the bathroom if she so desires), so I guess it’s not a big deal.

More pictures over at L&H.

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Newtles makes himself at home. (Please do not look at the nasty window behind him. Mister Boogers had a sneezing fit all over it yesterday, and I haven’t had a chance to clean it.)

Also, to the person who asked in the poll comments: Newt does not believe in politics. Also, his past as a serial killer might come under fire, and he doesn’t want to subject his family to the harsh media coverage that would ensue.

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Previously
2007: Goddamn bossy fucking cars.
2006: With a squeak, she fell into the tub and just sat there for a moment with a look that very clearly said “Do you believe this shit?”
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: So, Jackie, how’s the weather up there in Vancouver Washington?
2002: My life. So very exciting.
2001: Instead, when the question was posed to him, he looked at me as if I were perhaps mentally deficient.
2000: Have I mentioned that I love that man?
1999: And when you’re not good at something, unless you’re hugely delusional, you pretty much know that you’re not good at it. Even if you don’t know, there’s always someone more than willing to point it out to you.

11-5-08

I blame Joe Bob for my current visitors! I had a dream Monday afternoon (my husband works 3rd shift and we have a new baby, so I sleep during the day) that you had posted a blog entry about giving Joe Bob away due to his neurotic behavior. Monday evening we had THREE stray cats come up on our porch. We haven’t had strays around here since we moved in back in 2000. We live a couple hundred feet from a 70mph highway, and there was no way I could leave them out there…especially when I saw that one was declawed! So now we have 23 month old twins, a 3 month old, a (small) dog, 11 resident cats, and 3 temporary fosters while I search for non-kill alternatives. Is it a coincidence that Vistor #1 (I call him Joss) is grey and white? I think not! Anyone in Michigan looking to adopt some adult cats? Photos at my blog!

I blame Joe Bob, too. Everything’s his fault, the little bastard. (Good thing for him that deep down inside he’s really a good boy, I suppose!)

Michiganders? Need a cat or two or three? They’re awfully cute!

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Several weeks ago, I decided that the leaves in the side yard needed to be raked up and carried (via the tractor) to the compost heap. Fred brought the tractor around, and I scooped the leaves up into the tractor… scoop… thingy.

It was a pain in the ass, using my hands and the rake to scoop up those damn leaves.

Not long after, as if a sign directly from the Gods of Gardening, I happened to be leafing through a catalog – Gardener’s Supply Company, to be exact – and I came across an item that would surely make my life easier.

Leaf Scoops!

Big scoops that are made to fit over your hands, with which you can pick up leaves and debris! And they only cost $12.95. I KNEW I had to have them. I ordered them, and they arrived on my front porch lickety-split.

And then I ignored them. Because I’d already taken care of the pile of leaves and I felt no sudden urge to do any more raking. So they sat there on the dining room table. And sat there. And sat there. Then I moved them out to the garage, and they sat there. And sat there.

Then one day, after Fred moved the littlest chickens from the brooder to the small chicken coop, we went out at dusk to herd them into their chicken coop. Little chickens are not born knowing that they’re supposed to go back into the coop when it starts to get dark, so it takes a few weeks of teaching them to go back in. They eventually get the idea and start going in on their own, but the two weeks of teaching them to go in the coop at dark is a killer.

Herding chickens is not so much fun, especially little chickens, because they’re tiny and can slip through the space between your hands before you’ve realized it.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

One evening, after too much time spent chasing the little chickens around and putting them in their coop, a light bulb went on over my head, and I thought “Hey. Those leaf scoops are kind of big. I wonder if they’d be any help?”

Yes INDEED they were helpful. They were VERY helpful. They were, as they say, the best thing since sliced bread. With the help of the leaf scoops (or, as I started calling them, SCOOP HANDS) we got those baby chickens herded and put away in no time flat.

So I present to you, dear readers, a pictorial to answer the burning question:

WHAT CAN YOU DO WITH SCOOP HANDS?!

As mentioned, you can herd the hell out of baby chickens with SCOOP HANDS!

You can ALSO herd ADULT chickens with SCOOP HANDS!

You really CAN scoop up leaves like a motherfucker with SCOOP HANDS!

You can swat at wasps that dive-bomb you with SCOOP HANDS!

You can scratch pigs behind the ears with SCOOP HANDS!

You can deflect Het Rays from stumpy little gray cats with SCOOP HANDS!

The SCOOP HANDS, as you can see, are multi-functional. They are inexpensive, they are light, they are AWESOME. They are not, however, perfect. There are many things you cannot do with SCOOP HANDS!

So with this incomplete list, I answer the burning question:

WHAT CAN YOU NOT DO WITH SCOOP HANDS!?

You cannot pick carrots with SCOOP HANDS!

You cannot pull a wagon with SCOOP HANDS!

You cannot help build a chicken coop with SCOOP HANDS!

You cannot open a gate with SCOOP HANDS!

You cannot stop yourself from getting smutz on the front of your shirt with SCOOP HANDS! SCOOP HANDS are not MAGIC, and if you are a klutz, you’ll be a klutz with or without SCOOP HANDS!

You cannot stop your husband from taking a picture of your ass unexpectedly with SCOOP HANDS! Well, you could if you knew he was going to do it, but SCOOP HANDS are not all-knowing. SCOOP HANDS have no intelligence of their own. If you want to protect your ass from unwanted pictures, you have to direct the SCOOP HANDS to cover your back end!

The list could go on (don’t groan and roll your eyes at me!), but the list of things you both can and cannot do with SCOOP HANDS is infinite. You could probably come up with a new thing to do and not do with SCOOP HANDS every day (Come back! I won’t. I promise!), but I think you should know this, without a doubt:

SCOOP HANDS rock!

(Though if you don’t rake leaves or herd chickens, they might not really be worth your time. They still rock, though!)

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We’ll discuss the Crooked Acres election results (and how one sheriff candidate is under investigation for locking the other in a CLOSET) tomorrow. Maybe Friday, depending.

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Previously
2007: I thought if the remote was lost, you were screwed.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Did you think I was writing this from The Great Beyond?
2003: Wonder if I appear too old and feeble to help with the loading of the groceries.
2002: That’s your trivia fact for the day. You’re welcome!
2001: Amish country.
2000: No entry.
1999: Hey, this is some exciting stuff, isn’t it? What will I talk about next, dryer lint? Woohoo, somebody stop me!

11-4-08

Okay, those of you who live in the US, it’s Election Day. Didja vote? Didja vote? Didja vote? Are you gonna vote? You’re gonna vote, right? You know there’s an election today? Didja vote? Feel free to steal this picture (get it here at Flickr) and use it wherever the hell you want. Link back … Continue reading “11-4-08”

Okay, those of you who live in the US, it’s Election Day. Didja vote? Didja vote? Didja vote? Are you gonna vote? You’re gonna vote, right? You know there’s an election today? Didja vote?

Feel free to steal this picture (get it here at Flickr) and use it wherever the hell you want. Link back to this page (or don’t, I don’t care that much, really.)

I have a special offer for those of you who live in the US. Every person who votes gets their VERY OWN Crooked Acres cat! Want Mister Boogers? Miz Poo? Sugarbutt? Kara? The list goes on? Want one? You gotta vote!

(This is not a valid offer and you can’t come claim one of my cats. Except Joe Bob.)

(I kid.)

(Or do I?)

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Here’s some Election Day fun! (These polls are absolutely anonymous, so don’t worry that The Man will come bust down your door and carry you away!)

Who are YOU voting for?

Who do you think I’m voting for?

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Here at Crooked Acres, we have our own elections going on.

Senatorial Candidates

Repurrblican Candidate (incumbent) Stanley J. Boogerton.

“I has been your Senator for a long, long time, and if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Ah hets being a Senator, but I’m so durn good at it that I cannot bring myself to find another job. Vote for me, fuckers. Don’t make me get mad and bite Suggie on the neck. We’s good friends and all, but I WILL BITE HIM ON THE NECK IF I HAVE TO.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Democat Candidate Sugar J. Buttocks.

“I promise a half-eaten field mouse in every paw, a snuggle every night at bedtime, and if Joe Bob comes around and bothers you, I will HAPPILY kick his ass six ways to Sunday!”

Vote!

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Candidates for Sheriff

Incumbent Maxi “Outside Mama” J. Anders0n.

“I have been the ass-kickingest sheriff this farm has ever seen, and I don’t intend to let some little upstart sashay in here and take over my territory! While she prefers to hide her head in the sand upstairs and pick on the little kittens who come wandering out of their room MINDING THEIR OWN BUSINESS, I only pick on the little kittens who get all up in my shit. I am tough but fair and I don’t pick on the underprivileged homeless kittens!”

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Kara “Upstairs Mama” J. Anders0n

“Contrary to what my opponent states, I do NOT spend all my time upstairs with my head in the sand. I occasionally retreat to the big blue bed to consider my options and how my skills as THE BEST ASS-KICKER IN EXISTENCE can be utilized in ways that will benefit Crooked Acres. I will keep unwanted elements out of the back yard, I will keep my eye on the known “bad” elements of Crooked Acres, I will break up fights between cats who do not get along (HELLO SUGARBUTT AND JOE BOB and TOM CULLEN AND JOE BOB and EVERYONE AND JOE BOB) and if someone looks suspicious I will make sure they know I have my eye on them! The Incumbent might prefer to think she’s a claws-on sheriff, but she spends all her time hiding under the stairs fending off attacks from Crooked Acres residents who CLEARLY know that she’s NOT the cat for the job of sheriff!”

Vote!

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Presidential Candidates

Repurrblican Candidate Lester J. Spankenstein

Looking Presidential.

Laughing to show that he has a zany and madcap side.

(Pardon the lack of PhotoShop skillz.)

“The one thing you need to know about me is that Snackin’! Time! is very important to me. Snackin’! Time! should be as important to all Crooked Acres residents, but my opponent – despite his size – claims that Snackin’! Time! is not foremost in his concerns. Well let me tell you something – if there’s no Snackin’! Time!, what have we as a country fought for? What’s the POINT of a life without Snackin’! Time!? As the more experienced candidate, I will tell you that Snackin’! Time! is what will keep this country strong and I will fight to keep the Snackin’! Time! troops fighting for our rights to Snack! if it takes 100 years of warfare!”

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Democat Candidate Thomas J. Cullen

Looking Presidential.

Showing his madcap and zany side.

(Ditto on the lack of Photoshop skillz. Maybe I’ll work on that between now and the next election.)

“While my opponent worries about things like Snackin’! Time!, it is, of course, more important to we Crooked Acresans that Change(ing The Litter Box) is the only way to go. How can we face our problems head-on when we carry around the stink of old litter? It’s time for CHANGE(ing the Litter Box) you can relieve in. I am not the status quo, I am young and am I here to invigorate the great citizens of Crooked Acres. CHANGE(ing the Litter Box) has been a long time coming and only YOU can ensure that CHANGE(ing the Litter Box) will happen!”

Vote!

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“Wait. Which candidate supports the legalization of catnip? Someone told me, but I was high on the ‘nip and now I don’t remember.”

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Previously
2007: Good thing they’re not our cats, huh?
2006: No entry.
2005: Well, well, well. Look who’s a big tough talker, but when the can of whoopass is opened and a little orange kitten gets to smackin’, Mr. Badass cowers like a great big girly-man.
2004: Apparently I had nothing to write about last year, either, ’cause it’s all meme and comment-answering.
2003: No entry.
2002: Now, THAT is a church name!
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: She thought “gauze” was plural, so obviously the singular would be “gau”!

11-3-08

New month, new banner! (You might need to clear your cache if you don’t see it up there at the top.) This was created by Aly, who has created so many of my banners in the past. Thanks again, Aly – you rock!!! & & & & & & & & & & & & … Continue reading “11-3-08”

New month, new banner! (You might need to clear your cache if you don’t see it up there at the top.)

This was created by Aly, who has created so many of my banners in the past. Thanks again, Aly – you rock!!!

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Site housekeeping stuff:

Over there in the right column at the bottom is my “currently reading” widget from Good Reads. I don’t know why I felt compelled to add that to the sidebar, it’s just that the right and left sidebars are way unbalanced and it was bugging me. I might just move everything not cat-related from the left sidebar to the right to make it work out right. We’ll see. I’m not currently feeling the urge to houseclean the page, but I can feel it coming.

Over in the left sidebar, in case you hadn’t noticed, Kara’s been moved to the “permanent residents” list and the new fosters have been added to the “fosters” list.

Hmm…. I thought there was more, but it appears that that’s about it.

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I woke up Saturday with an aching hip. Ever since I painted the shed last week, my hip had been aching, and it got worse Friday and Saturday instead of better. So I limped around, swearing to myself that I’d make an appointment with my doctor as soon as possible.

(And then of course Sunday morning I woke up with it much improved, so now I’m going to put it off ’til after my visit to the gynecologist next week!)

Fred came upstairs after I got out of the shower to ask where I keep the cleaning rags (I’d make fun of him for that, except I just moved them. This is like the fourth time I’ve moved where I keep them since we’ve lived in this house. I don’t know, I just can’t find the perfect place, sue me!) because Joe Bob had gotten into the litter box I’d put in the guest bedroom for Miz Poo, and instead of peeing IN the litter box, he peed straight back and hit my cedar chest and left a big nasty puddle of cat pee on the floor.

Thus would begin my own personal HELL DAY wherein I must have cleaned up ten zillion Joe Bob sprays. I don’t know what the holy fuck is going on with him, but he walked over to a bookcase and sprayed it while we were RIGHT there, he peed on the table, he peed on the floor, he peed on the rug by the back door. (Poet! Knowit!) I got so over-the-top pissed (PUN INTENDED) off at him that I yelled at him to get out of my house, and when he obeyed by running out the cat door into the back yard (don’t be too impressed – he was headed for the cat door before I yelled, so it’s not like he UNDERSTOOD what I was saying, but my yelling certainly sped him on his way) I shut the door and left it shut for an hour.

(Don’t GIVE ME that look. It was warm outside and there’s a bowl of water out there. If he’d stayed inside, I might have ended up throttling him.)

Fred’s going to be taking him to the vet this afternoon so they can find out if there’s something physically wrong with him. If there’s nothing physically wrong with him, we’re going to see about getting him some medication to calm him the fuck down and STOP THE GODDAMN PEEING.

This makes me despair. We’d gone a good long time without anyone peeing anywhere, and then Fred had to say “It’s been a while since we had any peeing incidents, huh?”, and the NEXT DAY? Cat pee.

Grrrr.

So I thought that perhaps His Highness (Joe Bob, that is. Not Fred.) was objecting to the cleanliness of the litter boxes. It’s been a long time since I emptied, scrubbed, and refilled them, even though I make sure I add fresh litter regularly, and the litter boxes get scooped twice a day (we are not MONSTERS, you know!). I emptied them one-by-one, scrubbed them out, let them air-dry and refilled them with clean litter. (I don’t know why I feel compelled to tell you that I filled them with clean litter. It’s not like I would have put the old nasty litter back in the clean boxes. I WOULDN’T.)

Then I decided to move stuff around in the laundry room. For one, the cat fountain is in a location where there’s no nearby plug, so I’d run an extension cord behind the litter boxes (and in front of the door where the water heater is), and it just bugged me, having it set up like that. So I moved it so it’s near a plug, moved the storage containers holding the extra cat food over by the food bowls, dusted and straightened the storage unit in the laundry room, vacuumed the entire room and scrubbed the spot (in the middle of the laundry room) where Stinkerbelle and Mister Boogers share their Snackin’! Time!, because they tend to knock some food on the floor and then tromp through it.

In and amongst all this cleaning of the laundry room, I did laundry, made lunch, and hung out with the kittens.

At one point, I went out to take popcorn to the chickens, and Fred asked me to give him a hand. Some piece that holds implements onto the tractor was stuck, and he needed to hold one end and have me pull the other end to get it out.

(THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID!)

“Be careful,” he said. “You’ll have to put all your weight into it, but it’ll probably let go suddenly.”

It did, and seeing as I’m the ungraceful sort, I landed on my ass on the driveway.

(Later that night, he stepped onto a cat toy on the rug in the kitchen and bitched about how much it hurt. I gave him the bug-eyes and said “I FELL DOWN on the driveway, and got a mild “Are you okay?” You probably shouldn’t expect too much SYMPATHY right now, big baby.”)

The biggest part of the weekend, though, was spent dealing with the GODDAMN LADYBUGS. Apparently it’s time for them to hibernate, so they’re coming into my house in DROVES, all “No, that’s okay, we can find out own hibernating spot, let me buzz by your ear on the way across the room to scare the shit out of you, ‘k?” I vacuumed up several hundred of them Friday and Saturday. By Sunday morning I’d had it, and went to L0we’s to buy something that would kill them. I don’t particularly want to kill them, I just want them to stay away, but I found nothing that claimed to be a ladybug repellent, so I opted for an indoor/ outdoor spray that would kill them on contact. It seemed to work okay, but I still had to vacuum up a ton of dead ladybugs. At least they were dying near the windows instead of spreading out throughout the house.

The worst infestation of ladybugs was upstairs in the garage, where the windows were open a little bit to allow air circulation in the garage. The window facing the street was just COVERED in ladybugs and wasps, and I took great pleasure in spraying the hell out of them Sunday afternoon.

Seriously, though. I really would prefer to repel them rather than kill them. Anyone out there have a good ladybug repelling trick, something that has worked for you personally? Do share!

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After all my making fun of Fred in my Friday entry, I ended up deciding that we should just pick up Chinese food and eat dinner at home. I didn’t want to have to change my clothes, y’see, and I was dressed like a slob. So we got Chinese food and I ended up eating too fast and getting sick and spent some time hanging over the toilet.

(Good to see that the tool is still working as it should, almost three years later!)

We watched The Devil’s Advocate, which neither of us had seen, and despite the fact that we’d stopped to buy candy at the dollar store just in case, not a single kid knocked on the door.

While we were watching the movie, I fired up the laptop (which I keep in the living room – or I guess I should say I did until Sunday, when I decided I was spending too much time online in the evenings, so I packed it away in its case.) and surfed to Flickr, and then I thought “Hmm. It’s been a while since I went through my Flickr inbox, hasn’t it? I should clear that out.”

For the uninformed, every time someone adds you as a “contact” on Flickr, you get an email in your Flickr inbox (well, I do, I can’t speak for you. I’m just assuming. I’m using a lot of parentheses in this entry, aren’t I?) and when someone adds me as a contact, I go and check out their pictures, and if I think I might be interested in seeing their pictures on a regular basis, I add them as one of my contacts. But like I said, it had been a while, so I started with the most recent emails and worked my way back.

Yeah. It’d been a while since I clean out my Flickr inbox. TWO YEARS since I’d done it.

I know, I suck. I’ll try to keep on top of it from here on out. Don’t hold your breath.

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I made a mistake Friday night with the foster kittens. I thought it would be a good idea to just open the door to their room and leave it open. I sat in there for a while and petted Delmar, but Lem, Marion and Claudette sat atop the cat tree and nervously eyed the open door. After a while, I decided to just leave them alone, hope they’d decide to explore on their own, and get comfortable being out of the room.

Then I got distracted cleaning the kitchen, going out to give the pigs their nightly snack, and locking the chicken coops. By the time I got back inside and Snackin’! Time! for our cats was over, it had been about 45 minutes since I left the kitten door open. Lem and Claudette were still on the cat tree, but Delmar and Marion were nowhere to be found. We searched the upstairs, but they weren’t up there. We searched the downstairs and didn’t find them. We searched the downstairs again, and Fred found Marion behind the bathroom door, and thus ensued a chase where we pursued Marion through the house. She ended up behind the washer, but we flushed her out with a blast of canned air to scare her out, and Fred finally caught her and carried her upstairs.

We looked all over the place and couldn’t find Delmar anywhere. After three or four circuits of the downstairs, looking in every nook and cranny, I finally discovered him hiding behind the water heater in the hall closet. I lured him out with a toy, and he let me carry him back upstairs to familiar territory.

I tried to lure them out of the room several times on Saturday, but none of them were going for it, so I spent as much time in the kitten room as I could, petting them and telling them how sweet they are. Most of them forgave me, but Marion seems to be holding a grudge.

They got their first vaccination shots Saturday evening, and were kind of knocked out from that Saturday evening and most of Sunday. I decided to pull back on trying to throw them into new and scary situations, so instead of just leaving their door open on Sunday, I left the door open but put a couple of baby gates in the doorway in hopes that being able to see the hall and see the traffic (ie, the big cats and us) would eventually make them curious.

So far it’s not working, but y’know. It takes time!

More pics at L&H.

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Tommy, Sugarbutt, and Joe Bob, laying in the yard. I’m not sure what they were watching – probably chickens, since that’s what’s usually on the other side of that fence.

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Previously
2007: Newt was a total teeny baby this time last year – he was clearly NOT fully grown at that point, as this picture can attest.
2006: Maddy’s new Mommy and Daddy came a-visitin’ yesterday.
2005: Huh. I was wondering why Tom Cullen was snooping around in the stamp drawer
2004: The spud and I stood patiently by while the man chattered at the school employees for several minutes and then my head exploded, scattering brain matter everywhere.
2003: “Jessica Lynch!” I said. “Isn’t she the only POW we’ve ever had in all of history?”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: She went in and treated the whole office to a very loud gagging sound (she gets that from her mother), and came out a few minutes later a little less green.