I left the house yesterday afternoon at 2:20 – I had an appointment on the south side of Huntsville at 3:30, and since it was a new doctor, they wanted me there half an hour earlier. I showed up on the dot of 3:00, gave them the paperwork they’d sent me in the mail, and … Continue reading “9/16/09 – Wednesday”
I left the house yesterday afternoon at 2:20 – I had an appointment on the south side of Huntsville at 3:30, and since it was a new doctor, they wanted me there half an hour earlier. I showed up on the dot of 3:00, gave them the paperwork they’d sent me in the mail, and waited for fifteen minutes.
(Luckily I’d brought a book with me. Although, they did have a pretty good selection of magazines, too.)
The nurse called me back, weighed me and took my vitals, and then told me to go into another waiting room until they had an empty room.
At 4:15, I texted Fred to tell him that my prediction that I’d see the doctor at 4:15 (given my appointment time of 3:30) was wrong. A few minutes later, the nurse came and got me, and took me to an exam room. I had been sitting there reading for a good solid five minutes when the door suddenly opened and an old man – definitely not the doctor – stood there, blinking at me.
“They snuck you in here while I was in the bathroom!” he exclaimed. We went out to see if a nurse could solve this dilemma, and finally the old man flagged down the doctor, who was suitably embarrassed and ushered me into another exam room to wait. Another nurse bustled in a moment later and apologized profusely, changed out the paper on the exam table, and then left again.
I was just texting Fred to ask him to give the cats their Snack! when the doctor finally came in.
(It was 4:50. Good thing I showed up at 3:00, isn’t it?)
I think I was in the room with him for approximately 7 minutes, he did a cursory exam, and then I was on my way.
The physical I had a few weeks ago showed that I was severely anemic (despite the fact that I take a daily iron supplement), so my doctor referred me to a hematologist (who’s also an oncologist, and boy THAT is a fun waiting room), who told me he wanted to order iron infusions (once a day for five days) to bring my iron level up. It was what I’d expected (well, the five days came as a surprise, but I’m assuming he knows what he’s doing), and he told me that the scheduler had left for the day, so she’d call me to schedule them.
(I wanted to say “Oh, really? Your scheduler leaves at 3:30? OH WAIT. IT’S 5:00!”)
Observations:
1. This doctor had the coldest hands I’ve ever felt on another living being in my LIFE.
2. This doctor happens to be married to the doctor who put a tube in my ear almost 10 years ago (something I discovered through Google, when I was looking to see where his office was, not because it came up in the course of the exam). He’s as nice as she is, but he has the added benefit of not having a thick Indian accent, so I had no problem understanding him. (Thank god – being unable to understand someone with a thick accent always makes me feel incredibly stupid.)
3. If anyone ever schedules me for an appointment in South Huntsville at that time of day again, I will promptly call and reschedule the appointment for another day, much earlier. The location that took me 35 minutes to get to, took over an hour to get home from at rush hour.
4. I will (consider) shoot(ing) the next goddamn motherfucking asshole I find who’s just goddamn fucking lollygagging along in the left lane. Do people UNDERSTAND that if you’re driving down the interstate in the left lane, NOT in the act of passing someone, you’re DOING IT WRONG? I’m a fairly patient, non-aggressive driver, but people who just drive along in the left lane drives me fucking NUTS. If you couldn’t tell.
Okay. So. Who’s had an iron infusion, and what can I expect?
FYI, it’s not unheard of for people who’ve had weight loss surgery to have a problem with low iron; the changed innards can lead to the inhibition of iron absorption. It’s almost certainly connected to my weight loss surgery. In case you were wondering!
Off goes my sweet boy Terry, to get his fancy new eyelips.
I hate having to take him to the vet and leave him there. He’s my sweet little snuggler, and I hate the thought of him being scared and alone.
(And I know they’ll take really good care of him. They always do!)
I will be so glad when the operations are over and the eyelips are healed.
(I might miss his squint a little bit, though, once it’s gone. I love it when he peers up at me like a little old man.)
In my comments yesterday, Helene asked for a close-up of Sam’s face.
This is the eye where part of the graft fell off. It looks really good, compared to how it looked before surgery. It just looks a little hairless! (See it larger, here.)
I wasn’t able to get a straight-on shot of him, but you can see his still-healing eye on the right side of the picture (his left eye). (See the picture larger, here.)
Kara found herself on the outside window ledge (she jumped from the ground to the air conditioning unit and from there to the window ledge; Tommy does it all the time), and didn’t seem to know what to make of the experience.
Previously 2008: I’m certainly enjoying all the naked male behinds that pop across the screen pretty regularly, too.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: Just call us the three bears. 2004: small things that will remind me of my grandmother. 2003: Man, this whole running-a-business thing is strictly FOR THE FUCKING BIRDS. 2002: Fred (as if narrating a book): “She was a bitter-butted woman….”
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
Psst! You, searching on “fajita pie” yesterday. Did you mean quesadilla pie, maybe? (I tend toward calling it “tortilla pie, I mean quesadilla pie. No. Tortilla pie. Wait. What the hell is it called again?”, myself.) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * … Continue reading “9/15/09 – Tuesday”
Psst! You, searching on “fajita pie” yesterday. Did you mean quesadilla pie, maybe?
(I tend toward calling it “tortilla pie, I mean quesadilla pie. No. Tortilla pie. Wait. What the hell is it called again?”, myself.)
I am in the market for a decent dutch oven, but NOT one of those freakin’ Le Creuset dutch ovens that cost $200+ because, please. I’m not spending no $200+ for a dutch oven, I don’t care how awesome it is. I’m looking for a bigger one, in the area of 5 – 6 quarts.
On Sunday, when Fred and I were driving to look at the boat we ultimately did not buy, Fred said “We need to come up with a code phrase in case there’s something about it that you absolutely hate, to let me know that I shouldn’t buy it.”
We considered, and then I grinned and said “How about ‘tippytoe’?”
Fred laughed out loud, and I was pleased that he’d gotten my joke. And then he said “Why ‘tippytoe’?”, and my bubble burst.
(For the uninformed, it’s from an episode of Seinfeld. God, I miss that show. Friends, too. And no, I didn’t see the Seinfeld reunion on that Larry David show because we have no premium channels like HBO or Showtime. I figure I’ll see it when it comes out on DVD.)
Doesn’t it just SUCK when you make an inside joke like that and the other person doesn’t get it?
A few weeks ago, June wrote an entry, and in it she mentioned that she’s doing this crazy-ass new thing she’s calling Make June Do It wherein her readers tell her to do something they’ve always wondered about but never done, and she’ll do it. Naturally, everyone wants her to get a Brazilian wax, because frankly who does NOT want to cause someone on the internet a great deal of pain?
(Please note that there will NEVER be a “Make Robyn Do It” portion of this journal.)
Anyway, she told her husband Marvin about it, and he was less than enthusiastic about the idea, and she wrote I have the only husband in the world who prefers the Jiffy Pop look.
When I read that, I laughed so loud that all the cats in the room folded their ears back and went running for cover.
So a few nights later I was telling Fred about what I’d read (I meant to tell him immediately after I read it, but then I saw something shiny and I forgot for a few days until the memory bubbled up to the surface of my brain) and I was all “BWAH! HAH! HAH! AND THEN SHE SAID SHE HAS THE ONLY HUSBAND WHO PREFERS THE JIFFY POP LOOK!”
He did not get it. At all. I tried to explain, but he failed again to get it. He tried to say that maybe it was because he’d never HAD Jiffy Pop. I tried again to explain. Nope. Didn’t get it, wasn’t funny.
I HATE IT when the person who’s supposed to understand and giggle along at the things that make you laugh REFUSES TO GET IT. It’s like he purposely didn’t get it. Oooh, it just enraged me. I wanted to smack him. I wanted to file for divorce.
DAMN IT.
And now instead of thinking “June has the only husband in the world who prefers the Jiffy Pop look” and guffawing silently to myself, I will forever be consumed with rage that Fred DELIBERATELY AND WITH MALICE AFORETHOUGHT did not get it.
So, on Saturday morning when I went in to give the True Blood 6 their morning snack and shoot antibiotics down the throats of some of them and ointment in the eyes of most of them, I noticed something odd was going on with Sam’s right eye. Basically, his eyelip had peeled off and was hanging there by a stitch. There was no blood and what was left where the eyelip had been looked pretty good, actually. It being Saturday, I couldn’t take him to the vet, so I just smeared ointment on the part where the eyelip had been and shot worried looks at it for the rest of the weekend.
Yesterday morning, I called the clinic and made an appointment for late afternoon to bring Sam in, as well as Lafayette and Hoyt. Both their eyelips are looking pretty ugly right now, like they want to peel away, and I wanted her to take a look and see what was going on.
In the morning, though, I put all six of them in carriers and took them up to the shelter so they could get their vaccinations.
(Jake and Elwood investigate the carriers to make sure they’re secure.)
They handled it fairly well (except for Lafayette, who always fights everything. He’s always the hardest to medicate, and as for putting the ointment in his eyes – boy, he REALLY fights that. He sure is a sweet boy otherwise, though!) and soon enough we were home again.
I let them out of their carriers, and they all went and ate and drank a little, and when I checked on them about ten minutes later, they were all napping. As it turned out, the vaccinations they’d received really knocked them for a loop, and they napped all afternoon long.
At 3:30 I put Hoyt, Lafayette, and Sam in one carrier and headed for the vet. They slept the entire way.
Basically, most of the eyelip graft on Sam’s right eye took. Once she clipped the dangling eyelip away (it was literally only hanging there by a stitch, so it didn’t hurt him), we could see underneath, and it looked really good. She thinks that, ultimately, all their eyelips will slough off, leaving healthy tissue behind. Hopefully all their grafts will take underneath, because that’s really the important part, the part that’s actually touching their eyes. If need be, skin can be pulled down to make their eyelids look right.
She checked both Hoyt and Lafayette, and said that both their grafts are vascularizing and look okay (they’re ugly, but like she said – they’re going to get ugly before they get pretty!), so we’re going to leave them alone.
As always, it was good to hear that all is well and I don’t need to worry!
At home, once I let the three of them out of their carrier, all six of them piled up to sleep. They were uninterested in their evening snack, and spent most of the evening sleeping, as well.
This morning? Back to normal, completely. It’s amazing how quickly they bounce back, isn’t it?
Hoyt and Sookie.
Hoyt (left), Lafayette (right), and Bill (background).
Sam thinks the carrier’s a great spot for napping. He hasn’t developed fear of the carrier yet.
Previously 2008: It took me ’til dinner time to get the house cleaned, and I swear to god the house doesn’t look any different at ALL.
2007: No entry. 2006: He shifted position and eyed Fred with bright-eye malevolence. 2005: Maybe I just like to bitch, y’think? 2004: Waiting for Ivan. 2003: No more Benifer. How sad.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry. 2000: Speaking of N Sync – that Lance Bass is a cutie, but I get the distinct feeling that although the lights are on, no one’s home.
There are entries up at Love & Hisses for Friday and yesterday. Bill had to have a little maintenance work done on one of his eyelips, and so far it’s looking pretty good.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Saturday was a super-busy day for me, a day I spent mostly in the kitchen. When we went to the flea market two weeks ago, we bought a big bag of apples so that I could make some Caramel-Apple Jam and some applesauce. I let the apples sit in the kitchen because I didn’t want to deal with them, and finally Saturday I decided it was time to get my ass in gear. I made a batch of Caramel-Apple Jam, but unfortunately after all the work of peeling and slicing and dicing the apples, the fucking stuff didn’t gel, and so what I’m left with are 7 pints of Caramel-Apple syrup.
(I guess that means I’ll need to start making pancakes or french toast to use the syrup on, right?)
I actually think the syrup would be a good hand pie filling. I may have to give that a try.
I have plenty of apples left, so I’ll likely try another batch of the jam this week before I use the rest of the apples to make and can applesauce.
I also made a Reese’s Cup Chocolate Peanut Butter Cake. Really, really good cake, but also very filling, and the pigs ended up getting about 3/4 of the cake when all was said and done. Next time I make it, I’m going to freeze half of it, right off the bat, I think.
I cut the tops off and froze about a gallon of habaneros (I have a ton of them put away now, which is a good thing – Fred says he thinks the habanero plants in the garden are just about done producing), and put a couple of trays of cayenne peppers in the dehydrator to dry (to grind up into cayenne powder because we have about three years’ worth of cayenne powder, but apparently we need to just KEEP ON GROWING the goddamn things, so what the hell else am I going to do with them?).
We had a late lunch/ early dinner at Logan’s Roadhouse, then swung by the grocery store to pick up a few groceries. At home, I spent some time with the kittens and then put together a batch of King’s Ranch Chicken to have for dinner on Sunday, because we had plans and didn’t know what time we were going to get home for dinner.
(Also, I did several loads of laundry at some point during the day and hung them out to dry, then brought it all in and put it away. I am SUCH the Superwoman!)
After that, between Snackin’! Time! and medicating the kittens and scooping the litter boxes, it was time to sit down and watch TV for the evening.
Sunday morning I got up with the intention of making baked blueberry french toast, which I had started the night before, and do you know what I fucking hate? I fucking hate it when recipes say, for an ingredient, “Family-size bag of (whatever)”, and at the grocery store there’s a small bag and a big bag, but the big bag doesn’t say “Family-size bag”, but you assume it’s the family size bag, since it’s the big bag, and yet it turns out to be way too fucking much.
Why can’t recipes list the size of the bag required as “10 oz” or whatever? God, I fucking hate that shit.
(And no, I’m not providing a link to the baked blueberry french toast, because I’m not recommending it, because once I determined that there were too fucking many of this item in the dish, instead of going the rest of the way to make the dish, I gave all that shit to the fucking pigs. If you’re desperate to find a baked blueberry french toast recipe, Google is your friend. And you’ll likely find a recipe that doesn’t start with a goddamn “family size bag” of pita chips FOR THE RECORD.)
So I vacuumed the downstairs, which desperately needed it, and I made pickled jalapeno peppers for Fred, and I checked my cayenne peppers in the dehydrator, and found that they were not, in fact, dry enough to put through the blender.
Fred and I ate breakfast, and then we hit the road in his truck. We drove for an hour and a half to get to Smith Lake, to test-drive a boat, and something was wrong with the engine, so that is yet another boat we did not buy.
We stopped at a flea market on the way home and it was the same old crap that all flea markets always have (but it’s always fun to look, anyway). Then we stopped at a store near the flea market, and it had just about anything you could imagine. There were tools galore and metal signs and all manner of ugly home decor. It was kind of neat to look around that place, actually, and we must have spent 45 minutes wandering around that place before we left.
We got home around 2:30, and I ate lunch and then took a nap with the kittens and pretended to listen to Fred babble on about boats much in the way he pretends to listen to me babble on about kittens, and then I mostly slacked for the rest of the day.
(When I put it that way, I feel like I didn’t accomplish nearly everything I’d intended to over the weekend. Oh! I also emptied, scrubbed out, and refilled all the litter boxes in the house Saturday morning. How about that?)
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Wild Hoyt, jumping into the cat tower cubby.
Feeling smug about his conquering of the cat tower cubby.
Bill, in the cat tower cubby, kept biting the end of his tail and then squealing in outrage that someone was biting his tail. He might not be the brains of the operation.
Bill’s Jazz! Paws! as he lays in the cat tower cubby.
Annoyed Hoyt.
“Hey, you! I said no paparazzi!”
“I swear to be cute, the whole cute, and nothing but the cute, so help me dog.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jake. Maybe Elwood. How the hell would I know? These boys need to wear collars so I can have some kind of clue who’s who when I see them from a distance or in a picture.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Previously
2008: No entry. 2007: By the way, I still want a pet hummingbird. 2006: Maddy sadly contemplates the vast expanse of my thigh. How will she ever cross it and reach freedom?! 2005: For the record, there’s a big fucking difference between pranking someone and just being an asshole. 2004: Like, so world-weary, like “I can’t be bothered to sign ‘love’, because it sounds so warm, I need something COLDER, so I’ll just scrawl ‘as ever’”.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
"These acts shattered steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve." Progress on the 9/11 Memorial: Construction workers have installed 70% of the total steel to be erected for the Memorial and Museum. Concrete pouring is nearly complete for the base level of the north memorial pool. + + + + + + … Continue reading “9/11/09”
"These acts shattered steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve."
Progress on the 9/11 Memorial:Construction workers have installed 70% of the total steel to be erected for the Memorial and Museum. Concrete pouring is nearly complete for the base level of the north memorial pool.
Help Rebel!!! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Since I had to cut through Tennessee to get to the vet clinic to drop off Terry yesterday morning, I stopped at one of the gas … Continue reading “9/10/09 – Thursday”
Since I had to cut through Tennessee to get to the vet clinic to drop off Terry yesterday morning, I stopped at one of the gas stations I pass to get a couple of Powerball tickets. I buy lottery tickets if I happen to be in Tennessee, but I don’t think I’ve ever made a special trip to get tickets.
(The vet clinic is actually located in Alabama, but I get there faster if I go up the interstate into Tennessee and then up the highway back into Alabama.)
The gas stations I pass on my way through the small section of Tennessee are kind of depressing inside, each with tables for people to sit at and scratch their scratch-off tickets. Some of them have notes warning people not to stand at the counter to scratch their tickets. It makes me sad to think of desperate people crossing the state line to buy their scratch-off tickets and not even wanting to take the time to go over and sit at the tables provided to see if this is the time they got The Big One.
I think sometimes that dreaming of what we’d do if we won the lottery is more entertaining than actually winning the lottery would be.
(Of course, I’d like to be able to test this theory for myself if you don’t mind, lottery gods.)
So what would you do if you won the lottery? We’re going to take for granted that – like me – you’d make sure all your siblings had their own houses (or their houses paid for) and your younger family members – children, nieces, nephews, grandchildren – would all have college funds set up and you’d buy your parents their dream house or a trip around the world or something along those lines.
That stuff’s a given.
What else would you do, though? What FUN things would you do?
I can pretty much guarantee that Fred would quit his job. We’d get him that boat he wants, and a good truck to pull the boat with so he wouldn’t have to worry about his truck breaking down on the way to or from the river.
I’d donate a huge amount of money to Challenger’s House and other area pet shelters.
We’d buy 100 acres somewhere around here, and build our dream house (don’t be too surprised if our dream house looks pretty much exactly like this house and hey, we’re multi-millionaires so it’d probably be bigger, so we could have a few more rooms dedicated to fostering cats!).
I’d totally hire someone to clean the house a couple of times a week. Because god knows it doesn’t get cleaned a couple of times a week NOW.
I’d trade in my car for a Prius.
Vacation home on the coast of Florida – not a huge, fancy one, but a decent one.
I’d start a foundation to spay and neuter cats and dogs. If I came across a sign that said “free kittens”, I’d stop and offer have their mother cat spayed, at my cost. And if the owner didn’t jump at the offer, I’d PAY THEM to allow me to spay the mother cat. If they still refused, I’d hire a ninja team to steal that fucking cat. Because if you’re giving away free kittens and you’re not jumping at the offer of a free spay for the mother cat? Come on.
I’d take a photography class so I could get pictures of my foster kittens half as gorgeous as the Itty Bitty Kitty Committee lady’s pictures.
Wow. I really expect a few million bucks to go pretty far, don’t I?
That’s it, that’s all I can think of at the moment.
I left Ike at the vet clinic when I dropped Terry off yesterday, and the shelter manager told me that another foster mom had stopped by to drop off her fosters for spaying and neutering, and grabbed Ike up to foster for herself. She lurves the babies (really, who wouldn’t love Ike??), so I know he’s in good hands.
I won’t lie, though – I kinda miss the little guy!
And speaking of Terry – no eyelips for him! They called early afternoon to ask if I minded if they waited on the eyes. Terry’s still a little guy, and the hernia repair along with the neuter was going to take a while, and they don’t like to keep them under for such a long time. I told them that was fine with me – I wasn’t looking forward to having him recover from the neuter AND hernia repair AND eyelips all at the same time. Hopefully he’ll be going back next week for his eyelips. And if that meant he has to stay here a little longer than his brothers and sister to recover, well darn. Wouldn’t that be horrible?
(Fred said last night, after I went on and on (and on) about how much I love Terry, “We are NOT keeping him!” and then after a long pause “But if we had twelve cats, that would make figuring out the pictures for the calendar for next year a lot easier!” and I said “Well really, you can’t have Jake and Elwood in separate pictures on next year’s calendar because they’re always snuggled up together. We’d have to have thirteen cats to make it come out right!” and he said “We are NOT keeping him and we are NOT keeping two!” Heh.)
Terry was one unhappy little guy last night. Between the hernia repair and the neuter, he couldn’t get in a comfortable position, and so he mostly just sat there, hunched over. He’d allow me to pet him for a moment or two before he made a grumpy “That’s enough” noise. His brothers and sister were so kind to him – they’d be racing around like wild things, then come over and sniff at him, lick him on the face, and then go racing off. If they got too vigorous with the licking, he’d make his grumpy noise, and they’d back right off.
This morning, I opened the door to let the kittens out of their room, and Terry came right over to me, sat on my foot, and bit my leg.
In other words, I think he’s back to normal.
Sam, a week and a half after surgery.
Lafayette, five days after surgery (not that you can see anything!)
Bill, a week after surgery (he doesn’t care for the camera flash, thus the squint).
Previously 2008: Torturing the Toms. 2007: Google is THE SHIT.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry. 2003: “Fuck it!” I said. 2002: “Stinky?” I said. 2001: I stole this survey from Noreen, but I’ve seen it all over the place recently, and god knows how much I love to be one of the cool kids! 2000: Look! It’s nay-chuh!
A Day Without Cats? I say a day with nothing BUT cats! If you can’t get your daily dose of cats at Cute Overload or any of those other cat-boycotting sites, you know you can always get more pussy than you can shake a stick at here at Bitchypoo and over at Love & Hisses! … Continue reading “9/9/09 – Wednesday”
I say a day with nothing BUT cats! If you can’t get your daily dose of cats at Cute Overload or any of those other cat-boycotting sites, you know you can always get more pussy than you can shake a stick at here at Bitchypoo and over at Love & Hisses!
I got up yesterday morning and medicated and eye-ointment’d Sam, Hoyt, Bill, and Lafayette. As I put the ointment in their eyes, I cast a worried look (as usual) at all the eyes, and they seemed to be doing okay. I spent some time playing with them, and then I got out the vacuum cleaner and vacuumed their room.
It’s funny, I always assume kittens are going to be terrified of the vacuum cleaner, but it’s not always so. The majority of the True Bloods aren’t terribly scared of the vacuum cleaner, and a couple of them – Sam and Terry – actually act very interested in it and what it’s doing. I wouldn’t be surprised one of these days if Terry tries to jump on and go for a ride.
I put the vacuum cleaner away, and then I picked up Bill to look closer at one of his eyes, which seemed from a distance to be kind of goopy. I decided there was a little eye goo, but nothing to be worried about, walked into the kitten room and sat down. Bill followed me in and sat next to me. I snapped his picture, and then I looked at him.
His right eyelip was bloody.
I’m only surprised that I didn’t scream and faint or start running around in circles. He didn’t seem to be in pain, he let me gently wipe the blood away, but more blood came to fill the spot I’d cleaned. I immediately called the vet and asked if I could bring him in. It being the day after a holiday weekend they were pretty busy, but told me to bring him in and leave him, and they’d figure a way to work him in.
As I put Bill into the carrier, I looked down at Hoyt, and decided on a whim to bring him along for the ride. He had a little spot on one of his eyelips that seemed a little raw to me, but mostly I didn’t want Bill to be alone, so I thought Hoyt could keep him company.
I dropped them off at the vet, told the receptionist what was going on, and left my number for them to call when the vet had checked them over.
They called at 3 and said I could come get them, so off I went. I talked to the vet briefly, but basically she just said that both Bill’s eyes and Hoyt’s looked good. Perhaps Bill bumped his eyelip on something, which caused the bleeding.
And actually, she theorized that the fact that it was bleeding was likely a good sign – that it meant that the graft is taking, that there are blood pathways forming between the graft and where the graft is attached. She told me to keep going with the antibiotic and ointment, but to her they look good.
What a relief!
Maybe Bill just thought I didn’t have enough to worry about?
I’ll be leaving in a little bit to drop Terry off at the vet. I won’t lie, I’m going to worry about my little guy. His eyes are far and away (in my opinion, I’m no medical professional) the worst of the bunch. I’ll be glad to see him with his new eyelips, though, so that he won’t have hair rubbing against his eyeball. It hurts just to see that!
Also leaving with Terry and I will be wee Ike, the most adorable three week-old you’ll ever see. It has been such a pleasure having him here, he’s such a sweet little guy.
Yesterday, after his morning feeding, he snoozed for a few hours, then I brought him out to play. He likes the occasional belly rub, I’ve discovered. And since I had just vacuumed the kitchen, I felt okay about letting him crawl around on the rug in there. Ike can move when he wants to! At one point he got off the rug onto the hardwood floor, and I swear I could see the little question mark over his head as he thought “Now, this is NOT what I meant to do!”
After another nap and some more bottle, he took a lap around the living room rug while I watched last week’s episode of The Real Housewives of Atlanta (don’t judge me!). I’m pretty sure at one point he looked at me and said “Is that lady with the wig really singing ‘Don’t be tardy for the party’, or is my hearing not quite up to par yet?”
Really, there’s nothing like a sweet little purring kitten. My favorite part about feeding Ike is that his little ears WIGGLE as he’s sucking. I had completely forgot that their ears wiggle, and how I did not pass out from the cute, I’m still not sure.
So, say goodbye to Ike – he’s going to the shelter, where the shelter manager will love him and care for him, and hopefully give him a sibling or two so he doesn’t grow up to be weird (always a possibility with single bottle-fed kittens).
(You can click on any of these to go to a larger version over at Flickr.)
Honestly, look at those little pink toes and the up-against-the-wall position he likes to be in when he’s eating. Is he not the MOST adorable thing??
Previously 2008: “I SEE YOU HAS CORN GIVE TO ME NOM NOM NOM” 2007: Who needs a stinkin’ appendix, anyway?
2006: No entry. 2005: (I shot a man in Texas, just to watch him die.)
2004: No entry. 2003: So basically I paid twice as much for a keyboard as I would have on my own for no good reason, all thanks to that Staples employee, may he rot in hell. 2002: I hope that leaf doesn’t give me a damn yeast infection.
2001: No entry. 2000: I’m not sure what happened next. I believe I blacked out.
Did you hear that there are new Dumbversation video podcasts up? * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * We have someone visiting us! We’re calling him “Ike” for now, I don’t know that that’ll end … Continue reading “9/8/09 – Tuesday”
We’re calling him “Ike” for now, I don’t know that that’ll end up being his name, but he’s only going to be here ’til tomorrow morning. Another Challenger’s House foster mom rescued him at the emergency vet clinic. She didn’t have room for him at her place, so I took him, knowing that we’d figure out a way to fit him in somewhere. Luckily, the shelter manager told me that she’d have room for him after today, so he’s just passing through.
He’s three weeks old and (obviously) he’s awfully cute. He’s a pudgy, active, bright-eyed little guy. When I feed him, he purrs. When I kiss him, he purrs. When I clean him up, he purrs. When I put him in the big carrier with the heating pad and a big stuffed cat and a smaller stuffed bear, he crawls around and examines everything, then conks right out. He’s an active sleeper, this one. I’ll look at him (he’s in the computer room where I spend most of my time) one second and he’s in one position, then I glance again, and he’s in another position entirely. He moves onto the heating pad if he gets cold, then he moves off the heating pad if he gets hot.
He’s no dummy.
Apparently he was abandoned and found by the person who brought him to the clinic, but he mustn’t have been alone for long, because he’s in really good shape. (He was kind of nappy and flea-ridden, but the other foster mom who took him home cleaned him up and he’s an awfully pretty little thing.)
Don’t get me wrong – if the True Bloods didn’t have the whole surgery and recovering-from-surgery thing going on, I’d be glad to keep him. But with their surgery and their recovery and all the time I spend worriedly peering at them thinking “Is that eyelip going to pop right off his face and go bouncing across the room, or am I imagining things?”, I’m afraid he wouldn’t get enough attention.
It sure is hard to stop kissing his purring little face!
Since it was a holiday weekend here in the U.S., and since it was one of those holiday weekends where everyone grills out, we decided that Sunday we’d make a big grilling-out type meal of burgers, potato salad, three-bean salad, and I wanted to try Pioneer Woman’s/ Pam Anderson’s Best Baked Beans Ever.
Holy. Moly. She is NOT exaggerating when she says those are the best baked beans ever. They are SO good. And really, SO easy. I made them, put them in the oven, and then ignored them for two hours and voila! Yum!
And now… ::sigh:: It’s Fall, isn’t it? We go out every evening at dusk to lock the chickens in their coops and give the pigs their evening snack, and whereas at the middle of the summer it was after 8:00 when we were out there, we’re now done and back inside by 7:15 or so.
I’d complain, but to be honest it’s still so nice and warm that I don’t have a whole lot to complain about. It just seems wrong that the longest day of the year is in mid-late June, and then as the rest of the summer goes by, the days get shorter and shorter. It still feels like summer out there to me, the days should still be long, shouldn’t they?
I went out to the garden Sunday morning to pick the tomato plants bare. It was my intention to pick all the decent tomatoes and then have Fred pull up the tomato plants – this has been a very disappointing tomato year, let me tell you – but there were so many tiny green tomatoes still on the plants that we figured we’d just let them be. Either they’ll grow bigger and we can pick them, or the plants will die, and we’ll toss them to the chickens and pigs. Whatever happens, happens, right?
I have plenty of green tomatoes to make fried green tomatoes, in any case.
Jake and Elwood are truly making themselves at home, let me tell you.
Exhibit number one:
Do you see how close those boys are to Spanky? And do you see that Spanky is just laying there sound asleep, unbothered by their proximity? Do you know how often Spanky lets other cats get this close to him? Try NEVER.
Do you see that Jake is eating
OFF
THE
SAME
PLATE
as Kara? Do you SEE this? Do you see that Kara is neither hissing nor smacking nor stomping off in a huff? DO YOU SEE THIS? It’s like we’ve entered another universe completely. Kara does NOT like other cats all up in her shit. At Snackin’! Time!, she might occasionally get so excited that it is Snackin’! Time! that she accidentally rubs up against Tommy, but that’s okay because he’s the Ambassador of Love, and no one can hate having Tommy near them. Other times, she gets so excited at Snackin’! Time! that she accidentally rubs up against Spanky, but then an alarm goes off in her head and she thinks “MAYDAY MAYDAY AN INTRUDER CAT HAS ENTERED MY PERSONAL SPACE” and she hisses and smacks him first with one Paw o’ Doom and then the other.
But here, in this picture (let me refresh your memory):
Jake is all up in her shit, eating off her plate, and she just keeps on eatin’. Jake is NOT the first kitten to attempt to nomnomnom off her plate, and always before she has squeaked and then hissed and then double-smacked, and the poor subject of her rage has gone running.
Tomorrow, Terry goes to have his hernia fixed, his bits neutered, and possibly – hopefully – his eyes done as well.
I won’t lie, I will be so glad when all these babies have had their eye surgery. I’m going to drag Bill and Hoyt to the clinic with me tomorrow when I pick up Terry and ask the vet to give them the once-over. I think they look good, but reassurance from a real vet goes a long way toward calming my worrywart nature.
(Trick sentence! Nothing will stop me from worrying!)
Look who’s being greedy! Sookie doesn’t know if she wants to play with the mink tail or the packing strap, so she’s claiming both of them as her own.
Waiting for the feather toy to come juuuust a little lower.
Look at Sam back there, all sitting at attention! I can’t decide whether he looks more like a rabbit – you know how they sit up at attention before they go bounding off? – or a meerkat. A squirrel? Whichever, he’s such a cutie that pardon me, I must go pick him up and kiss him right this minute.
Previously 2008: Yes, more chickens.
2007: No entry. 2006: I think that “Proven to be beneficial to livers” should be Fred’s new tagline. 2005: Give me some of that, Barbara Bush, you ignoramus.
2004: No entry. 2003: Because believe it or not, it never once occurred to me that the Walton family was comprised of hillbillies. 2002: Look, I drink a gallon of water a day. I need to know that I can pee when I need to, so stop rolling your eyes at me.
2001: No entry. 2000: Can I tell you how much I loathe Bret Easton Ellis?
Copper Black Marans rooster. I love how it looks like he’s wearing feather shoes.
The small coop (the first one Fred built for our original 12 chickens) is now the maternity ward for broody chickens. See the buckets on the floor of the coop? We bought those at the flea market last weekend. They originally held buttercream frosting, and still slightly smell like frosting. I like to think that the chickens are sitting on their eggs thinking “Why do I keep craving birthday cake…?”
Happy pigs.
Michelle the rooster. His two lone tail feathers crack me up.
Rhode Island Red rooster.
The turkeys have been moved to the back forty. They’re not sure how they feel about chickens.
Dancing rooster.
Amish rooster.
The Roadrunner. Isn’t he the gooniest looking thing? He’s all leg! (Fred’s pretty sure he’s a Cornish.)
Happy George.
Happy Gracie.
George comes to investigate the situation.
“Hey, lady! You has the snackin’ for us?!”
I think this is star jasmine – anyone know for sure? I trained it to go up the fence because I thought it was clematis, but it’s definitely not that.
I think this is a newly hatched batch of assassin bugs. They hung out on this leaf for two days before they scattered.
The kittens are continuing to do well. I spent a lot of time hanging out with them this weekend, and more than once I was pinned to the floor by six snoozing kittens. When a kitten falls asleep on you, it’s bad luck to wake them up. True story! All you can do is lay there and maybe snooze along with them.
::slurrrrrp::
::slurrrrp::
Hoping that feather toy comes low enough for him to grab…
Bill has such a serious little face. I always say to him, “Billy, don’t be a hero.” He doesn’t appreciate my humor.
Previously
2008: No entry. 2007: Pretty good for kittens I was absolutely positive would be unadoptable due to their feral nature when I first saw them, ain’t it? 2006: Say, any of you boys smithies? Or, if not smithies per se, were you otherwise trained in the metallurgic arts before straightened circumstances forced you into a life of aimless wanderin’? 2005: I didn’t get any pictures of it, but last night the stank coming off Rambo’s hindquarters was so strong that we finally gave in to the inevitable and gave him a bath.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry. 2001: IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS WHO IT IS. 2000: Am I not an ass-kicking WalkAerobics diva?
I had to have blood drawn yesterday (they took four fucking vials! This was regular blood work ordered by my doctor to go along with the physical I had last week.) and it made me think of a question – how come when you have blood taken, they sometimes tell you not to lift anything … Continue reading “9/4/09 – Friiiiiiiiiiiday!”
I had to have blood drawn yesterday (they took four fucking vials! This was regular blood work ordered by my doctor to go along with the physical I had last week.) and it made me think of a question – how come when you have blood taken, they sometimes tell you not to lift anything heavy with the arm they took the blood from for a few hours? Will my vein pop out and go shooting across the room or something if I lift my purse (in which I regularly carry 45 pounds of change)?
Can everyone see the names of the cats under their pictures in the left sidebar now? Any other flaws in the design you guys notice, or does it look good enough?
I’m glad I’m not the only avocado lover – you guys and your suggestions were having me drooling yesterday! Using mashed avocado in place of mayo? You KNOW I’m trying that! I had another scrambled eggs, chopped tomato, and chopped avocado rollup for lunch yesterday and holy COW was it good!
My only question – exactly how does one grill avocado slices? It seems like they’d be too soft for that. Would you use a veggie basket or something similar?
I’m sure the other book you enjoyed that was written by a blogger was Fred’s book, right?
This was in response to something I said in my comments the other day – that I find that books put out by bloggers, except for Dietgirl’s book – which I thought was fabulous – (and possibly one or two others I couldn’t remember at the moment), tend to be kind of boring. I don’t think, for the most part, that blogs translate to books very well. I used to buy almost all books put out by bloggers to Support! the! Cause! (“What cause?” you ask? The cause of Shut Your Face, is what cause.), but I got burned so often that I don’t any more.
And yes, of course I enjoyed Fred’s book – is it sad that I didn’t even think of his book when I typed that? (But then, I don’t think of him as a blogger, either, I just think of him as Fred!)
When will the Crooked Acres Jams and Hot Sauces be available again (and yes, I’m on the auto mailing list, but I have friends – and friends of friends – that want to know.) :)))
It’s my goal to start jamming and saucing it up ’round these parts on or around October 1st. It could happen sooner, but it’ll definitely start that weekend. I need to stock up on canning jars and sugar and fruit and such, but once I start making the jams and hot sauces, I should have enough habaneros to keep going for a good long time.
I also intend to start experimenting with Splenda this time around, too.
Which of the cats are still outdoor kitties? You don’t talk about the older ones much any more. For instance, how is Sugarbutt’s foot doing? Hope he’s out of his collars!
Most of them – except for Stinkerbelle and Jake and Elwood – are allowed out into the back yard. Other than that, Maxi and Newt are our “free range” cats who aren’t confined to the back yard. Newt is always around, and spends his days wandering in and out of the house. These days, he likes to hang out on the chicken processing station (which has been cleaned since it was last used, let me assure you):
Maxi’s been around less and less lately. I think the fact that she and Joe Bob hate each other so much is keeping her away from the house, I’m sad to say. She stops by the side porch every once in a while during the day to eat (and at Snackin’! Time! I put a plate out there for her), but we can rarely get her to stay inside at night. I believe she’s spending a lot of time hanging out with the kids two doors down.
Sugarbutt’s foot is FINALLY – thankyajesus! – healed. We went from the two-collar system to the Bite-Not collar paired with a “boot” made of gauze and tape to cover his foot. When we found that he was leaving his foot alone, we kept the “boot” off and when his toes were healed, we took the Bite-Not collar off, and he’s been racing around like his ass is on fire ever since!
I think the current great minds of usability say that users can choose to open links in a new window with a key or click (or mouse action, for advanced users), so there’s no reason to dictate that action in the code. It really only gets done these days on bad commercial websites that don’t want users abandoning their pretty, pretty ads, and invariably mess it up so that every page of their site starts opening in new windows and gah, that sucks.
CTRL- (or Command-) click is your friend.
Myself, I’m fond of right-click/ open link in new tab but I may have to give this fancy new CTRL-click a try.
In a perfect world, I’d be able to find a WordPress plug-in where, if someone wanted the links to open in a new page, they could check a box over in the sidebar. I haven’t found it yet, but I also haven’t spent a lot of time searching, either.
Edited to add: OH JESUS CHRIST. Did you know that if you hover over a link and then click on your scroll wheel (on your mouse) that it opens the link in a new tab? DID YOU KNOW THAT? I did not! Fred just called and mocked me for not knowing that, but I ask you – how the fuck am I supposed to know this stuff if no one ever TELLS ME?!?!?
Have you ever heard of the cat breed Chartreux, otherwise known as the smiling blue cat of France? I swear your boys have the look!
I had never heard of the Chartreux. I actually think they look more like the Russian Blue, they’re built sort of long and sleek. Their eyes are more yellowish than the accepted Russian Blue, and I don’t think they have the wideset ears of a traditional Russian Blue. Actually, I thought yesterday that they’re long and sleek, and they are in the body, but they do kind of have short legs. It’ll be interesting to see what they look like when they grow up!
I recently read that they can do DNA testing on dogs to figure out what breed they are, but I haven’t seen the same thing for cats. Too bad, ’cause I’m certainly curious to know what their genetic background is comprised of. of what their genetic background is comprised.
I have had people ask me if my Sookie was like this or that because she was a Calico. I don’t think people know that Torti and Calico are coat colors and not breeds. I find it fascinating that people find them to be more vocal. I haven’t found it to be so with my Calico(s) but my Siamese it has always been true.
It would probably be sexist to point out that Calicos and Tortis are female and thus more prone to talkativeness, wouldn’t it?
I agree with the point about Siamese – I’m pretty sure both Spanky and Stinkerbelle have Siamese in their backgrounds, and they are some TALKERS when the mood strikes ’em!
After my RNY WLS I was still allowed to take anti-inflammatories (I’d been taking them for about 3 years for back pain), but had to take them with a Losec tablet (not sure what Losec is called in the USA) and some food like yoghurt first to line my pouch. It took about 5 months for the back pain to finally stop and I don’t take them any more. Just thought I’d say that these things are possible, despite what the Drs say!
Very interesting! A Google search shows that Losec is another name for Prilosec. I’ll have to discuss this with my doctor, because if I could take an anti-inflammatory, I bet it would help my elbow quite a lot!
Your toe in the turkey poop story made me laugh out loud. The other morning I was up early in the computer room when my husband walks in and tells me he thinks our dog puked in the bedroom. I happen to be right in the middle of eating and I am chewing as I get up and walk in the bedroom. I look at this small, palm-sized object laying at the end of the bed. As I look closer, I realize it is just one of her rawhide chew toys and I proclaim, “Hey! It’s just one of her rawhide chew toys!” and I go to pick it up. Unfortunately, my fingers slide right through the “toy.” It IS puke! Thank god I am a nurse because it didn’t even phase me and I continued to chew my food as I went to wash my hands. Three years ago, I would have puked myself. Eeew!
Isn’t it amazing what we can get used to? I could probably get up from dinner, go scoop out a super-nasty litter box, and sit back down to dinner without missing a beat.
I do make a very loud (profanity-laden) exclamation of disgust when I step in a pile of cold cat puke, though.
So I am just curious…how much bacon do you get from one pig?
I actually had to ask Fred for the answer to this. He said that it depends on the size of the pig (of course), but an entire pig would bring about 20 – 30 pounds of bacon. That’s a lot of bacon for two people! (We’ve given a lot of bacon and pork cuts to various family members, which is the only reason we have ANY room in our freezer!)
It’s a constant, low, howling noise that the cats make when they feel the need to announce that they’ve caught something. Here’s Miz Poo doing it a few years ago (you really have to crank your sound to hear it, though):
Just wondering…do you have pet insurance for your own cats? I took my one cat, Snickers, in for a checkup,and rabies shot this week and it was $80.Considering that I only have one cat, that’s not too expensive, but your crew would cost a fortune, especially when other health problems come up once in awhile, too.
We don’t have pet insurance on the cats, though we’ve discussed getting coverage for them as they reach a certain age, maybe 10. (Hopefully there’s no qualification physical, because Miz Poo would never pass!)
Do you realize you and Fred have the perfect life ~ the “American Dream”? You are lucky in love, staying home taking care of the homefront, the garden, the kitties, the cooking, the internet writing – as you happily make your way through the day. While your brilliant husband makes enough for you and him to live moderately and creatively and happily! Congrats and thanks for sharing with us and letting me dream of what you do!
I do love my life an awful lot. I know it’s not everyone’s dream, what we have, but it’s the perfect life for me, and believe me – I’m grateful every day for it!
So, after I went back and looked at the pictures of Sam the day after he had surgery, I’m thinking that Bill’s eyes look about right. I didn’t remember Sam’s looking so red and sore, but they certainly were.
I also decided that the fact that Bill’s been so quiet and is mostly sitting around watching his brothers and sister play is completely normal – because that’s what he did before surgery. He’s always been a quiet observer, whereas Hoyt has always been the spazzy bigmouth. They both seem to be healing just fine, feeling okay, and that’s all we can ask for!
And now I’m about to leave to take Lafayette to the vet for his new eyelips. Send good thoughts in his direction, would you?
Sam, a week after surgery and lookin’ good!
Hoyt, a day after surgery. Fred came upstairs to help me with medicating Hoyt, Sam and Bill last night, and he picked up Hoyt and looked at him and said “This isn’t one of the ones who had surgery yesterday, right?” and was surprised to find out that he was. That’s how good he’s looking!
Bill, one day after surgery.
Bill, still squinty. He may just be a squinty kinda guy. Maybe I should have named him Clint Eastwood.
Previously 2008: GOD PLEASE MAKE IT STOP. 2007: I can’t help it if giant forks make me happy. 2006: Does it make me strange that I can handle the thought of field mice in the house, but the idea of ants in the house just REALLY infuriates me?
2005: No entry. 2004: My Gram. 2003: If I had a brain I’d be dangerous. 2002: What I’ve been doing. 2001: I’m wise to your stalker ways, Margaret!
2000: No entry.
New month, new banner! This one comes from Aly, my usual banner lady, who – god, SOME people! – had the nerve to be recovering from bi-lateral non-malignant breast mass removal surgery on Friday, and a PICC line put in yesterday, so she was a day late in rolling out of her sickbed and getting … Continue reading “9/3/09 – Thursday”
This one comes from Aly, my usual banner lady, who – god, SOME people! – had the nerve to be recovering from bi-lateral non-malignant breast mass removal surgery on Friday, and a PICC line put in yesterday, so she was a day late in rolling out of her sickbed and getting a banner done for me.
Tuesday, I realized that after Elwood had used the litter box, he was walking around making sad little “Ow, that hurt” noises, and I glanced in the litter box and then at his behind, saw that things were not as they should be, and called Fred. I convinced him to make an appointment for Elwood with the vet later in the day, and then I thought that maybe I was jumping the gun (we tend to rush off to the vet at a moment’s notice for issues that will resolve themselves if given a little time. We’re not as bad as we used to (ie, the time we took Spot to the emergency vet because he “didn’t look right”, but we still need to learn to wait and see a little more, I think) so I told him not to make the appointment. We decided we’d continue putting powdered Slippery Elm bark on Elwood’s food and hemorrhoid cream on his behind (yes, it’s perfectly safe to put hemorrhoid cream on your cat’s behind) and see what happened.
Then around 4:00 in the afternoon, he went to the litter box, and then afterward I wiped his butt with a baby wipe, and he screamed. I insisted Fred come inside and call the local vet, the one who’s about three minutes up the road. He called, but the vet had left for the day. I decided to call the vet in Ardmore, the one who does all the Challenger’s House cats and who I like so much (the only reason we don’t always take all the cats to her is because it’s a half-hour drive one way and that drive can put a hole in your day), told the woman who answered the phone that I could be there in half an hour if they could fit me in, she told me to come on up, and I headed up there.
I don’t know that Elwood’s ever been anywhere without his brother. Fred said Jake was very vocal for several minutes after I left with Elwood, and Elwood seemed deeply confused on the drive to the vet.
We got there, and they took Elwood off to get a fecal sample. That poor boy screamed like nobody’s business, and I heard the nurse say that she hadn’t really gotten anything and she was going to try again, and apparently she lifted his tail and he screamed again.
“I’m not even touching him!” I heard her say.
She brought him back into the exam room where I was waiting, and he huddled up against me, and he gave her the DIRTIEST look I’ve ever seen from a kitten. I felt bad for him, but that look was SUCH a Mister Boogers look that it made me laugh out loud.
They checked the fecal sample while the vet came in and looked him over, and in the end she prescribed Panacur and a prescription cat food for a little while.
When I asked what I could put on his poor swollen behind, she suggested one thing I’d never heard of (and don’t have on the premises), and then said that hemorrhoid cream works just as well.
We’ll see how that goes. I can tell you that Jake and Elwood were SUPER happy to see each other when I walked through the door. It was almost cinematic, the way they ran toward each other and then Jake bit Elwood on the neck.
Would you believe that until recently, I had never had much to do with avocado? Sure, I’d had guacamole in the past, and I’m sure I’d tried a slice or two of avocado here and there, but I’d never bought an avocado from a store, and I’d never eaten any avocado at home.
That changed the first time I made quesadilla pie. I just happened to buy an avocado to have as garnish with the quesadilla pie, and HOLY COW. Avocado is good, isn’t it? (Isn’t THAT the understatement of the century!)
How come y’all never told me of the tasty magic that is avocado? We had quesadilla pie Tuesday night, and I had avocado pieces with that, and then I had scrambled eggs in a tortilla with avocado and tomato for lunch yesterday.
DAMN it was good.
Except that now I’m out of avocado and we’re having leftover quesadilla pie for dinner tonight. I guess a run to the grocery store is in order. For many avocados. I’m going to have avocado for lunch, avocado with dinner, maybe I’ll BATHE in avocado.
I guess you could say I’m now a fan of the avocado; in fact, I’m even a Facebook fan of avocado now. That’s how much I love it!
Canned thus far this week: two quarts of green beans (they’re still coming in, but verrrrrry slowly) and six pints of sweet pickled jalapenos.
The first year we had the garden, I pickled some jalapeno slices for Fred. He didn’t really care for them, so they ended up on the compost heap the next summer. Earlier this summer, he asked if I’d try pickling them differently, sent me some suggestions. I did, and he loves them. So far I’ve made something like eight pints of pickled jalapenos, and he’s gone through two of them already. He puts them on just about everything.
Last week, he said that he thought that maybe sweet pickled jalapenos would be good. His stepmother gave us a recipe for pickled summer squash and he likes those. He suggested that jalapenos in the same kind of pickling brine might be good. So I told him to pick jalapenos, and I’d make him some.
(I’m suddenly realizing that Fred’s bright ideas seem to be making more work for me. How have I not noticed this before now??)
The biggest pain in the ass was slicing all those jalapenos, and the seeds going everywhere. Otherwise, it was pretty simple (the more I can stuff, the easier it seems to get, go figure) and by the time he got home, they were cooled down enough that he decided to open a jar and give ’em a try. He thinks they’re so good that we should grow more jalapenos next year and sell some sweet jalapeno pickles, he says.
I took Bill, Hoyt, and Lafayette to the vet yesterday morning and left them, and then went back in the evening, arriving there about 5:15 with Sam in tow. When I walked in, they told me that one of the kittens had been operated on and was up and about, and a second kitten was currently on the table. They took Sam from me and carried him into the operating room so the vet could get a look at him, and she said he was doing just fine.
(Yay!)
I sat in the waiting room with Sam on my lap, and the other lady sitting in there, a big dog sitting next to her, said “I don’t come in here very often, but every time I do, you’re here!”
I laughed.
She said, “You must be in here every day!”
I said, “Not really, though sometimes it feels like it!” We talked for a minute about Challenger’s House before the nurse called her and her dog back, and in retrospect I should have given her the Love & Hisses url, maybe she would have liked reading about my babies!
The cat who was on the operating table turned out to be Bill. I’m sure the surgery for him took longer than she expected. I’ve probably mentioned before that Bill’s eyes are pretty bad (he and Terry are the worst). I sat in the waiting room with Sam, and eventually they brought Hoyt (who’d been done) and Lafayette (who hadn’t) out in their carrier.
“That little brown tabby was yelling his head off when he came out from under,” the vet tech told me. “He didn’t want to be held, didn’t want to eat – he didn’t quiet down until we put his brother in with him!”
That’s Hoyt, the big mouth. I was surprised to see that both of Hoyt’s eyes had been operated on. I was under the impression that he had one normal eye and one bad eye, but I guess she found a spot on the “normal” eye.
Eventually, Bill’s surgery was over, and they waited for him to wake up. When he did, he came up swinging. They wrapped him up and cuddled him, and he growled and yelled. Eventually they put him in his carrier and put the carrier on the drier (where it’s warmer), and he calmed down. They brought him out – he was still pretty shaky – and told me if I was comfortable taking him home in that condition (the vet thought he’d be fine), I could take him.
He was super groggy, but purred when I petted him, so I got his medication and loaded both carriers in the car (I put Sam in with Hoyt and Lafayette) and headed for home.
Lafayette’s going back on Friday to have his eyes done. I’m hoping to get Sookie and Terry in next week.
So we got home and big-mouth Hoyt wanted OUT of that carrier, so I let him out to eat and drink and use the litter box and sniff at his brothers and sister. Bill had no interest in going anywhere, so I left him in his carrier and put him in a corner of my room for a few hours.
At bedtime, I let him out of his carrier, but he was not interested in eating or drinking or using the litter box, just sat there and looked groggy. I snuggled him for a good long time, and then put him in a fluffy bed in the bathroom (where there’s a litter box, water, and food) with Hoyt, checked on them a few times through the night, and this morning he was a little more with it.
Hoyt, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to know that he’s had anything done at all. He’s like Sam was, racing around, playing, eating like nobody’s business.
Bill was using the litter box when we went in, and he came right over to have his snack with everyone else. He’s getting around well, but oh do his eyes look sore. He fought having his medicine, but before I left the room I saw him jump on a toy.
I don’t have pictures of Bill and Hoyt yet, but I’ll be sure to snap a few today and post them tomorrow. I’m relieved at how well they’re doing, and that I got the thumbs-up from the vet for Sam, too. With three kittens done, we’re halfway there – and after Lafayette’s eyes are done tomorrow, we’ll be 2/3 of the way there!
She’s just a sleepy, sleepy girl, our Sookie.
Terry with his paws in the AIR, like he just don’t CARE.
That’s Bill in the back, the day before surgery. Sam in the middle, Sookie in the front. They were napping and I rudely woke them up by walking into the room.
“Helloooooooo, good-lookin’!”
I put these mirrors up last week, and the kittens are enthralled.
I love how it looks like the crack in the cement started at her head. Like she landed so hard, it cracked the cement. In actuality, she flopped down and rolled back and forth like the happy girl she is.
Previously 2008: When the cleaning bug strikes, you don’t ask questions! 2007: Bob Goodlatte fights the good fight against his opponent Joan Badespresso.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: “She looks… she looks.. she looks like a PIRATE!” he gasped. I started giggling. 2003: I guess Spike TV really IS television for men. 2002: When married characters are that cruel to each other, all you can think is, “Why the hell are they married if they hate each other so much?” 2001: Gatlinburg pictures!
2000: No entry.
