October 2009 – Page 2

10/14/09 – Wednesday

I’m about to run Sookie to Tennessee to see the vet, so for today, I leave you with a video of Terry the Mouth (with a special vocal performance by Hoyt!). What’s great is that you can actually hear his voice changing. I don’t know when the first video was taken (back when he was … Continue reading “10/14/09 – Wednesday”

I’m about to run Sookie to Tennessee to see the vet, so for today, I leave you with a video of Terry the Mouth (with a special vocal performance by Hoyt!).

What’s great is that you can actually hear his voice changing. I don’t know when the first video was taken (back when he was a baby, apparently!), but the most recent (toward the end) was within the last week.

He cracks me up, that boy.

(Pardon the awful camera work, and the bad editing. I am no movie maker, for sure.)

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Previously
2008: He’s not usually pink, for the record.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: “M-O-O-N!” Fred said. “That spells Tom Cullen!”
2004: No entry.
2003: I’m pretty certain “Never going to fucking go hiking with him EVER A-FUCKING-GAIN” crossed my mind at least once.
2002: Hotel room so big/ roomy, spacious, perfect. Butt/ is what it smells like.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: Don’t get your bippies in an uproar, though; we’re not trying to get pregnant.

10/13/09 – Tuesday

Yesterday just flew by. I slept in ’til almost 7 (I tend to sleep in later on the weekends – Saturdays, I get up around 6:20, Sundays around 6:30 – I imagine that if Fred took a week off work and I didn’t have to get up to let the chickens out a little before 7, I’d sleep in ’til 8 every morning. Oh, wouldn’t Fred act like I was sleeping ’til noon if I did THAT. He gets up ridiculously early even when he’s not working, so he thinks everyone should do the same.), then I got up and made a couple of Bacon, Egg & Toast cups (the awesome thing about that recipe is that you can make as few or as many of them as you’d like). I made a batch of Chunky Caramel-Apple Jam (some of which is available for sale), and a batch of Scorchin’ Strawberry-Habanero Jam.

I was sitting in the guest bedroom snuggling with all four of the Wonkas when Fred asked me to come out and look at Sookie’s eyes. They seemed a little goopy and swollen, so I put ointment in her eyes, and we started her on a regimen of antibiotics. For a few hours she acted quiet and sat hunched-up as though she didn’t feel well, but by the end of the day she was playing with her brothers, and snuggling with my boots, which she dearly loves to do because she’s a weirdo. We’ll keep her on the antibiotics, and I’ll be vigilant about putting ointment in her eyes, but I don’t think there’s going to be a problem.

I went back into the guest bedroom and hung out with the Wonkas, and they were bouncing-off-the-walls wild, biting each other and clawing at my feet (what the hell is it about kittens and my feet??), so I left them to it. As I walked out of the room, Fred came down the hallway on his way to find me and ask me to come look at “this.”

“This” was the damn refrigerator. For the last few days, it’s been putting out weird (yet kinda neat) hollow ice cubes. Fred had been getting a drink when he noticed that there was water leaking out from under the refrigerator. We pulled it out (okay, HE pulled it out. I supervised.) and found that the tray underneath the fridge was full of water and had started to (slowly) overflow. I cleaned up the water on the floor, and then cleaned the ten pounds of accumulated dust and cat hair from the floor and walls.

(Actually, considering that it’s been almost exactly two years since we got that fridge, it’s kind of surprising conditions back there weren’t worse.)

We ended up having to empty out the refrigerator and put everything from the kitchen fridge into the laundry room fridge.

“This would be the perfect time to clean out the refrigerator,” Fred said, all perky-like.

“Except that I did that JUST LAST WEEK,” I growled.

We did end up getting rid of a lot of stuff, mostly expired salad dressings and 17 – YES I SAID SEVENTEEN – jelly jars with various and sundry dabs of habanero jams in them. No wonder we never have room for anything in that fridge.

Due to advice from an expert, we left the fridge unplugged overnight, and started it up again this morning.

“What the hell do people who only have one fridge do in this instance?” I asked.

“Well,” Fred said. “If it was [Douchebag we know], he’d call L0we’s and tell them to come get it and bring him a new one, because he always buys the extended warranty. And then he’d sue them for the cost of any food that spoiled.”

I laughed.

“You think I’m kidding!” he said.

“No, I know you’re not!”

Ah, douchebags. What fun would life be if they weren’t there for us to mock?

As a result of emptying out the fridge and freezer in the kitchen, I found some stuff wayyyy back in the freezer that I didn’t know we had. I actually found a pack of three boneless, skinless chicken breasts. I haven’t bought chicken from the store in close to a year, so I’m going to guess that chicken’s pretty old. It still looks good, though, so maybe I’ll make some Crockpot Swiss Chicken. We haven’t had that in a long, long time. Our chickens are really good, but they don’t have large enough breasts so that Fred can debone them and leave me with enough meat to make a meal from.

(That whole last sentence sounds kind of dirty, doesn’t it? Or maybe it’s just me.)

I also found a big back of chicken backs and bones, from which I have been intending to make chicken stock. I’ve never really made chicken stock before, so if someone has a super-simple recipe that they swear by, I’d love to hear it!

For dinner last night we had a pork roast (just rubbed with spices and roasted for 35 minutes per pound at 350ºF), fried green tomatoes, and baked squash. It was truly a Crooked Acres-grown meal, and the best part is that we have enough for at least one more meal, and probably two.

Today, I’m taking a break from making jam, but I plan to use up the rest of the Granny Smith apples we bought on Sunday by making many batches of Caramel-Apple Jam before the weekend gets here.

(I’ll probably save some apples for Apple Crisp. I haven’t made that in at least two years, if not longer.)

Would it be too much to ask for a few days of sunshine? We’re forecast to get rain all week, though we’re expected to have a sunny weekend. I’ll believe that when I see it – those damn weathermen LOVE to promise us sunny days that are juuuuust out of reach.

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Have you ever seen a happier cat?

I love it when they snuggle up to sleep – and they ALWAYS snuggle up to sleep!

“I HAZ A COMPLAINT.”

“A COMPLAINT, DO YOU HEAR ME?!” (In the foreground, Bill’s all “Yeah, what’s NEW?”)

Tommy snuggles up with Lafayette and Hoyt.

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webbthistle mentioned in yesterday’s comments that the Wonkas’ eyes are changing. They are, indeed. They’re no longer that deep, dark, almost purple, blue. They’ve changed to a really pretty greenish blue, on the way (I’m sure) to shades of green.

I had a long discussion with Veruca last night, and she finally agreed that she’s a big girl now and doesn’t need the bottle. Then she “convinced” the rest of the gang that they don’t need it, either. They’re a little nervous about this no-bottle thing, but I’ll give them formula in bowls in the morning and evening for a few more days, and there’s always crunchy food available in a small dish, so they shouldn’t starve.

I’ve noticed that Gus and Mike are more interested in the crunchy food, and the girls prefer the canned stuff, though Violet will occasionally eat some crunchy stuff, too. Judging by the amount of crunchy food that ends up scattered across the floor, they also enjoy a good swim through the crunchy food.

There doesn’t appear to be any danger of these babies starving to death, in any case.

“How’m I gonna tell Mom that I failed Gym? She’s gonna KILL me!”

Count Verucula.

I love me some Mike.

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Not only is Miz Poo willingly sleeping next to Elwood – please note that her arm is UNDER him. As if she’s SNUGGLING.

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Previously
2008: Like I was having a temper tantrum, so I grabbed his list and took off so he couldn’t check it twice.
2007: No entry.
2006: I sure do wish I was going to see Callie Torres and not some old guy.
2005: Does this mean I’m getting old?
2004: No entry.
2003: Bringing home Mister Boogers.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: All about the cats.
1999: I certainly am bitching a lot today, aren’t I?

10/12/09 – Monday

So, guess who’s had herself an online journal for ten years and two days now?? Hard to believe I started this site back in 1999, and have been writing here five days a week all that time. I think it’s time to shut down. See yas. I KID. I’m going nowhere. Here’s to another ten … Continue reading “10/12/09 – Monday”

So, guess who’s had herself an online journal for ten years and two days now??

Hard to believe I started this site back in 1999, and have been writing here five days a week all that time.

I think it’s time to shut down. See yas.

I KID. I’m going nowhere.

Here’s to another ten years!

(I can only imagine how many cat pictures that’s going to include.)

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I reformatted my computer this weekend. Well. I think you probably already know that I did nothing of the sort. I backed everything up to an external hard drive, and Fred reformatted my computer. He started it Saturday night before we headed to bed, and by the time I got up Sunday morning, everything was pretty much good to go. I just had to install iTunes, Avast! anti-virus, Open Office, Paint Shop Pro, and Quicken. Then copy everything back over from the external hard drive.

For the record, I have so many pictures that it took over 2 hours to copy them from my hard drive to the external hard drive, and another 2 hours to copy them back.

I really need to look through my pictures and delete some of the less awesome ones.

When we weren’t messing with my computer, we ran up to the flea market in Tennessee and bought a couple of big bags of apples (more Caramel-Apple Jam on the way!), then went to the flea market in Madison and puttered around. We actually bought a lot more stuff at the Madison flea market than in Tennessee – and most of what we bought was books. I went in there telling Fred that I have plenty of books and didn’t need any more, and came out with four paperback.

Could be worse, I suppose.

It was a pretty relaxing weekend, all in all. I wish I had any idea what the hell we did on Saturday…

Oh! Lisa came to visit! She got to snuggle the True Bloods (who were perfectly friendly – I always worry, when we have fosters who most of the time only see us, whether they’ll be friendly to new people) and the Wonkas (who climbed all over her and chewed on her shoe laces), and we talked about cats.

We discussed Bessie, one of The Seven. She’s been at the pet store, unadopted, for a long time now. Fred and I had decided that when the first four True Bloods go to the pet store, I’d bring Bessie home with me to give her some rest and relaxation.

And THEN I got an email from the shelter manager last night letting me know that she’d finally been adopted!

YAY!

Saturday night we watched Forrest Gump. My god, I love that movie. There are so many parts that make me cry – when Jenny prays that god will make her a bird. When Forrest says “Why don’t you love me, Jen-nay?” and “I’m not a smart man… but I know what love is.”, then goes to stand on the porch. When Jenny tells Forrest that he’s a father, and his whole face changes, and he says “Is he smart or is he…” (Agh, I’m tearing up just THINKING about it right now!) When he’s talking to Jenny’s gravestone and he says “He’s so smart, Jenny” and then “I miss you, Jenny…”

There are not a lot of movies I can stand to watch over and over again, but Forrest Gump is one of them. I don’t think it’s possible for me to ever get tired of that movie.

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While we were going up into Tennessee yesterday morning, Fred noticed a guy going into the gas station across from the light where we were sitting.

“Hey, that guy only has one leg,” he pointed out.

(Yes, I’m aware that it is SOOOOOOOO politically incorrect to notice that there’s only one leg, everyone is the same and deserves to be treated the same, and cry me a fucking river, okay? We weren’t mocking. We were NOTICING.)

“He needs one of Lieutenant Dan’s magic legs,” I said.

“I was just thinking that.”

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The True Bloods are just the total rulers of the house lately, it seems. They allow Fred to put them in their room at bedtime (not without some complaints, mind you), but the instant they hear my feet hit the floor in the morning, they’re demanding to be let out. They’ve completely taken over my desk (Miz Poo does not appreciate this development), and they follow me from room to room. If they sense that I’m cleaning out the litter boxes, they come running in to wait for me to finish so that they can then climb into the litter boxes and befoul them anew.

(I’ve learned to scoop, go off to do something for a few minutes, and then go back and scoop again. Spoiled brats, is what they are.)

It’s hard to be too annoyed with them, though. They’re always happy to be snatched up for a snuggle and a kiss, and Hoyt and Terry crack me up with their complaints if they’re disturbed whilst sleeping.

You think Fred would notice if they just stayed here forever? I could shrug and say “I don’t know, there’s just no room at the pet store yet! I know, I know it’s been two years. Weird, huh?”

Speaking of Fred, Saturday morning he was sitting at his desk eating breakfast, and I was sitting at my desk eating breakfast, and then suddenly I heard a muffled scream coming from his direction. It turns out that Lafayette had leapt up and sunk his claws into Fred’s back (through his t-shirt) and then just hung there. And Fred had just taken a bite of his breakfast, so he couldn’t do anything but scream a wordless, muffled scream of pain.

“I would have expected a much higher-pitched scream,” I said to Fred, and then I laughed until I cried.

Hey, I couldn’t help it – something about that scream was HILARIOUS.

Sam, Hoyt and Bill, in the cat bed on my desk.

Smilin’ Hoyt.

Happy Sam.

Happy Hoyt.

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The Wonkas have all gotten the knack of climbing up onto the kitty condo and onto the bed in the guest bedroom. So now I go into the room and lay down on the bed, and they all climb up on the bed and snuggle with me, and it is HEAVEN.

I sure do love those sweet little monkeys.

“I has a TOY and it is MINE.”

“Look, YOU. I want a bottle and I want it NOW, and if I’m still demanding a bottle when I’m six months old, you’d best HOP TO IT, you feel me?”

“Hey. HEY. If she gets a bottle, I get one too, right? RIGHT?”

“I am but a poor wee helpless kitten and I need a bottle to make me strong.”

The girls have learned the skill of climbing up my leg. They generally give up about the time they reach my knee, but I know the time is coming when they’re going to climb up all the way to my face. And then I will be in TROUBLE.

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When I placed that pile of flour sack towels on top of the canning cabinet in the dining room, it was not my intention to leave the pile there. It was further not my intention for the cats to consider it a cozy place to lay. I’m guessing it doesn’t so much matter what I intended, but rather what the cats prefer. Here, Tommy’s keeping the towels warm for Stinkerbelle (who’s usually the cat laying there).

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: Robyn, why do you use so goddamn many exclamation points?! It makes my eyes hurt.
2006: “Dude, that’s gross,” I said to Spot, who didn’t care and gave me a nasty look as I picked it up and threw it away.
2005: I hate those stupid tests. I always think I’m going to find out some deep, hidden truth about myself, and then I get “Oh! You should be an artist! You’re the artistic type!” Bah.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: TV talk.
2000: I’m about the laziest chick in the world, I think.
1999: Yeah. I’m a bitch.

10-9-09 – Friday

So, on Wednesday I went into Huntsville, and I drove the extra way to Costco to get a membership there. Over the weekend, Fred and I read this article in the NY Times and basically what we took away from it was that Costco tests trimmings for E. coli before grinding. Publix and Sam’s, my … Continue reading “10-9-09 – Friday”

We don’t eat that much ground beef, but we do eat it from time to time, and I’m thinking I’d rather buy it from a source that actually tests for E. coli rather than one that’s all “Test for it? Why would we do THAT?”

Anyway, the Costco is a pain in the ass distance away, but it’s the only one in the area, so I sucked it up, and I drove the extra distance there and got myself a membership card, and then I took a walk through the store.

Hey, guess what? It’s SAM’S CLUB, only they call it COSTCO. I swear to god, almost everything I saw in Costco, I’ve seen in Sam’s. I picked up and considered buying a pack of heads for my Braun toothbrush, but ended up putting it back. I had hoped that the selection of frozen fruit at Costco would be better – or even different – than the selection at Sam’s. Nope – they have the exact same frozen fruit as Sam’s. What the fuck?

Ah well – I suppose it’s good that if I need some non-tainted ground beef, I know where to get it!

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did you get the turkeys solely for meat, or do they lay eggs as well? If so, what do turkey eggs taste like?

I was under the impression that we were getting them just to eat, but then Fred started talking about breeding them, so fuck if I know. We haven’t had turkey eggs yet, because they’re still too young to lay, and I don’t know if one is supposed to eat turkey eggs or if they taste too turkey-y, but I imagine I’ll find out sooner or later. If I eat a turkey egg, I’ll certainly report back. Also, we don’t actually know yet whether any of our turkeys are female, so there may be no eggs at all.

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Where do George and Gracie go when it’s raining or it’s really cold outside? I know they have heavy coats that provide a lot of protection but do they seek shelter in the chicken coop or what?

Back when we knew we were going to get them, we bought big-ass Dogloos for them. It was an experience fraught with worry and concern – Pyrs get big, so we wanted to be sure to get Dogloos that they’d fit into. I seem to recall Fred actually getting into a Dogloo at one point, but I’m not sure if that really happened. It might be wishful thinking. George and Gracie would have NONE of those damn Dogloos, wouldn’t even consider going in them. Most of the time, they’d sleep out in the middle of the field, but then it got cold and we started getting all that goddamn rain, and George and Gracie would go under the coop to get out of the weather. I couldn’t stand the thought of those poor wee puppies having to slide under the nasty chicken coop (it’s probably not really nasty – not any nastier than the actual chicken yard, anyway), so Fred built a dog house on the back of the chicken coop. It worked well for about ten seconds, they’d sleep in the (very solid, very warm) dog house, which was piled high with straw. Fred would even go out there and lay down in the dog house with them, and they thought that was SUPER FUN. Then, after about two weeks, that was it. No more going into the dog house. They had no desire to go in there, and they refused to go in there, and that was that.

Now, they go under the coop if they’re hot, or if it’s raining, or they just want to. The coop’s open during the day, and they can go in there to get out of the weather. If it’s supposed to rain, we leave the coop open at night, too, so they can go in and keep dry. Most of the time, they seem to prefer going under the coop, though.

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Have you guys named any kittens after the characters from Friends yet? (You’ve had so many now that I can’t keep track!)

We haven’t, but I think that’s probably because most of the names have been used before. I’ll have to double-check that!

I’m suddenly struck with the urge to name a foster Chanandler Bong.

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I have always been scared of roosters. Do they chase you a lot? Do they seem to sense fear?

Our roosters aren’t aggressive towards us at all – if they were, they wouldn’t be around for long. There’s no room on Crooked Acres for roosters who think they’re in charge. If they showed the slightest bit of aggression toward either of us or someone who came to visit, they’d be next in line for processing.

I’ve had one or two roosters act like they might be up for chasing me around the chicken yard, but I find that turning and looking at them and saying “What are you doing, fucko?” stops that bullshit right away. And if you don’t run, they can’t chase you. 🙂

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Is Floofy Gus going to be a longhair?

I think so – and won’t he be gorgeous when he’s full-grown with that long hair floofed all over the place?

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I wonder if next time instead of roasted asshole, you could make asshole nuggets? Or asshole fingers? With Dippin’ sauce! 🙂

Mmm, asshole nuggets. That sounds tasty!

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Do you watch Food Network? Do you hate “Cooking for Real” as much as I do? That show is worthless, and I’m sick of the host’s wig. She makes nothing worthwhile, and name-drops every five seconds. EUGH!

I don’t watch Food Network, and in fact I’m not even sure if it’s one of the channels we get. But I’ll tell you what – you certainly do make me want to check out that show!

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So you and Fred don’t watch The Amazing Race anymore? I still enjoy it, the only reality series that has kept my interest over the years. I gave up on Survivor a couple seasons ago.

No, we missed the first episode of this season, and then part of the second, and then Fred said “You know? I just don’t really care.” and I said “Me either.” and so we stopped recording the show. I think we might be getting close to reality TV’d out. We haven’t even turned the TV on since… Sunday, I think? We’ve been spending our evenings reading.

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I missed the chicks in a jar, but that’s because I was busy trying to figure out what the things are on the top left. Is that dehydrated zucchini chips? And is that mushrooms next to them?

Yeah, to the left are dehydrated zucchini chips, then mushrooms (I buy the big-ass can of mushrooms at Sam’s, then re-can them), and then cinnamon pickles, yellow squash pickles, and some other kind of pickles. I put up a lot of pickles, considering we rarely eat them.

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Ok, so when I saw the line “I like pumpkin in pumpkin pie, and that’s about the only place I like it”, the FIRST thing I thought of was, “I mean, I like cheese….just not on a salad.” And then I laughed and laughed some more…..

I also do not like pumpkin on a salad… or a burger!

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You and Fred are coming very close to what we Alaskans call the subsistence lifestyle. You produce your own meat and veggies, now if you could just make your own kitty litter…

If I could make my own kitty litter, I would be thrilled beyond belief. Imagine how much money I’d save!

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Any chance of one of those turkeys making it to your table come November 26th?

No, they won’t be big enough by then. We’ll have to think ahead for next year!

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The True Bloods accompanied the Wonkas and I to the vet yesterday. They (the True Bloods) were due for their last vaccinations, and since I was headed that way, anyway, what better time?

They did not enjoy the ride. Hoyt, in particular, complained all the way there and all the way back. He has such a distinctive voice, and he always makes me laugh when he starts up.

They got their vaccinations, and when we got home, they crashed for the rest of the day. This morning, they’re back to their wild ways. I love how quickly they recover.

I’m thinking, one more kitten tries to squeeze in that bed, it’ll explode.

Lafayette. This boy cracks me UP. See the sutures sticking out from either side of his mouth? They look like jaunty whiskers (don’t worry, I trim them if I think they’re going to be a problem. The sutures, that is, not his whiskers!)

I show you this picture so you can see the wonkiness of Terry’s paw. Doesn’t it look like a mitten?

I bought a FroliCat BOLT Laser Cat Toy after seeing an ad for it in Cat Fancy magazine. We have a laser toy that I bought at PetSmart a while back, but it just moves the laser around and around in the same circle, and the cats get bored with it fairly quickly. When I saw that the BOLT does the laser in random patterns, I knew I had to give it a try. The kittens LOVE it. Well, all except for Sam. Notice that everyone else is like “Where did it go? WHERE DID IT GO?!” and Sam’s like “Oh, a tasty gray tail for me to chomp on!”

Lafayette’s staring hopefully up at the wall, and Terry’s leaping across the floor.

Sugarbutt says “I don’t know what they’re doing, but I don’t think I approve.” (I love how they’re all lined up, staring up at the wall.)

Playtime’s over, now it’s time to nap. This must have been one of the days when I was in the kitchen all day making jam. I love that Sam and Elwood are curled up together in a box that my canning jars came in, and Jake’s under the canning cabinet (which I use as a pantry), all “This is MY bed. Why do I gotta SHARE?”

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Okay, so. The Wonkas were Combo tested at the vet’s yesterday. They came up negative for Feline Leukemia – but positive for FIV.

Since they’re so young and (according to what I’ve read) it’s unusual for an FIV positive mother to pass FIV to her babies, I am confident that when they’re retested in 60 days, they’ll come up negative.

What sucks is that since they’re positive, they have to remain segregated from the other cats. I had hoped that after they hit two pounds and were spayed and neutered, that we could let them out into the rest of the house. That can’t happen, because we can’t take the chance that they’ll get into a spat (or even a play fight) with the other cats and pass along the FIV.

I’m going to stick my head in the sand, here, and believe 100% that they’ll come up negative when they’re retested in December. I won’t even consider any other outcome. They’ll be my own personal Christmas miracles!

So, they’re going to come up negative, I just know it, and in the meantime I get a little more time to love and snuggle with them. What a hardship for me!

“WE IS TRYING TO SLEEP!”

::thlurrrrp::

Who is the smarty pants who figured out how to get up on the bed? Who who who? Why, smarty pants Mike Teevee, of course! He was SO proud of himself! (Do not be fooled by this picture – he looks all long and lanky like a real cat, but in actuality he’s really a round little ball of floof.)

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“HELLEW. You has a snack for me?”

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Previously
2008: This is such an appetizing topic, isn’t it? I draw you in with talk of clam chowder and quiche and then hit you with litter box talk.
2007: Further proof, in case you needed it, that I’m a dumbass.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: I’ve SEEN Deliverance, and I have no desire to be forced to squeal like a pig.
2002: Well, duh.
2001: No entry.
2000: We like our fast food, we do.

10/08/09 – Thursday

Sights from around Crooked Acres. Nance and Rick sent me this mini rose bush after I had surgery (plastic surgery, maybe? I don’t remember!), and it has languished in a tiny pot and almost died, and finally I transplanted it into a big pot, and it’s never been happier. “You rang?” “You has food for … Continue reading “10/08/09 – Thursday”

Sights from around Crooked Acres.

Nance and Rick sent me this mini rose bush after I had surgery (plastic surgery, maybe? I don’t remember!), and it has languished in a tiny pot and almost died, and finally I transplanted it into a big pot, and it’s never been happier.

“You rang?”

“You has food for me?” (That’s food on his nose.)

These pigs all of a sudden got really, really long.

One of the way-too-many roosters we have.

Another rooster. Doesn’t it look like he’s twirling around and his skirt’s flying up in the air?

Yet another rooster. I can’t help it, the roosters are so pretty! This is Mr. Friendly.

Rooster – this is the one we call the Road Runner ’cause he’s so long-legged and goony looking.

Rooster. We call this one “the new guy” because he was one of a batch of chicks Fred sold back in the spring. He told the guy that if any of the birds turned out to be roosters, we’d take it back. This one turned out to be a rooster, so back he came.

We have a chicken or two.

Another rooster.

The turkeys, on top of the coop.

Sidling along the tree branch that touches the top of the coop…

Trying to get higher. We figure we’re going to go out one night and find them roosting 50 feet up in the tree.

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“How YOU doin’?”

Sookie and Terry, snuggling.

I always forget what pretty stripes Terry has, until I see them in pictures.

“You need a snuggle?”

Hoyt has no complaint (but then, he’s sleeping. Give it time!).

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The many faces of Augustus Gloop, aspiring film star.

“You tawkin’ to ME?”

Dramatic Kitty is dramatic.

Mister Sweet and Innocent.

“You wouldn’t LIKE me when I’m angry.”

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Happy George.

(And yes, Mary Jo, I’m sure I can work up a “Day in the Life” entry for them. Give me a few weeks.)

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Previously
2008: And since there’s not a lot going on around here (except that it’s raining for the first time in forever, yay!), here are some pictures from around Crooked Acres.
2007: Whither Tom-Tom goest, the Stank will follow.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I’m just going to sit here and whine about being cold and thirsty, I suppose. Sounds like a plan!
2003: Just know that it was a little SKEERY.
2002: This is a mighty exciting entry, isn’t it? Could I be any more interesting? Should I do an entry about watching paint dry, or what?
2001: “Farm boy, fetch me some ice! Farm boy, fetch me a diet coke, chop-chop!”
2000: No entry.

10/07/09 – Wednesday

A few weeks ago, I was trying to tell Fred about this little girl with schizophrenia. Her parents, in an attempt to protect her 18 month-old brother, traded in their apartment for two smaller apartments, and her parents will switch off taking care of her. I cannot begin to imagine what it’s like for them. … Continue reading “10/07/09 – Wednesday”

I cannot begin to imagine what it’s like for them.

Anyway, I was telling him about her, and as part of the telling, I said “It’s apparently impossible to overstimulate her, her parents would have to take her out and do as much with her as possible, take her around people. You know how little kids get overstimulated if too much is thrown at them?”

“No,” Fred said, which I suppose is reasonable. He’s never spent much time around little kids – the spud was 8 when we moved down here.

“Yeah, they get overstimulated if they do too much, and… Well, when the spud was little, if we’d have her out too late or do too many things in the course of a day, she’d get overstimulated, and then it’d get to the point where she’d have to burst into tears before she could calm down. It didn’t happen a lot, but when it did, there was nothing you could do to calm her down – the tears would have to come, and then the calming down would begin. But this little girl who’s schizophrenic, there’s no such thing as too much stimulation for her.”

“That’s like me!” Fred said. “Maybe I’m schizophrenic! I always need stimulation!” Fred cannot just sit around and relax, he always has to be occupying his mind one way or the other. Even watching TV, he does Sudoku puzzles at the same time.

“Oh PLEASE,” I scoffed. “The doorbell rings with someone coming to buy eggs, that’s overstimulation for you.”

“And then I have to burst into tears before I can calm down,” he smirked.

“Exactly.”

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A little while ago, Amy emailed me and said she really wanted to send me a box for the fosters. I emailed her back and said, in effect, “Oh, I’m not even going to pretend like I wouldn’t love that!”

And then I completely forgot.

The box arrived yesterday morning, and I looked at it and thought “Huh. Did I order something…?” I opened it, and looked in, and realized it was the box Amy had sent. I wanted to do a pictorial of the kittens “opening” the box and taking out the toys, but I had to run to Walmart first, so I put the box up on the counter.

Half an hour later when I got home, one of the big cats had pushed the box off the counter, and there’d been a free-for-all. I gathered the toys back into the box and called all the kittens into the kitchen so we could do it properly.

“Hey, look! A box! And toys!”

Ten seconds later, the toys are scattered everywhere, and Hoyt’s like “A box! I LOVE BOXES!” Note that Elwood’s right in the middle of everything. He truly believes he’s a True Blood.

Lafayette enjoys a good snootful of catnip. (These knit toys stuffed with catnip are VERY popular, as you can imagine!)

“Also, I love crinkly paper!” See the red ball to the left of the picture? It lights up, and the kittens think it’s very cool.

Elwood’s all “I LOVE TOYS! MINE!”

Chasing the flashing ball around. I don’t know which they like more – the fact that it flashes, or the sound it makes when it rolls along the hardwood floor.

Sam says “Crinkly paper and a feather toy! O joy!!!”

Bill, in a state of fluffy-toy rapture.

I also took several of the smaller toys in for the Wonkas to enjoy, and enjoying them they certainly are. I haven’t gotten a picture of the little ones playing, but trust me – I will!

The True Bloods, the Wonkas, Jake & Elwood and I think you are awesome Amy – thank you!!!

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Tomorrow, the Wonkas are going to the vet for their Combo testing. I’ve never had fosters test positive, and I would really like it if that tradition continued. Y’all send a happy thought or two toward Alabama tomorrow morning, okay?

“I HAZ A COMPLAINT. IT IS MY TURN TO SIT IN YOUR LAP, AND VIOLET IS TAKING UP SPACE AND I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS TURN OF EVENTS.”

“My god, I am trapped in this cage, I will be trapped in this cage forever WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?!” (Note the wide-open door RIGHT THERE. Maybe not the brains of the operation, our wee Violet.)

“And now I have litter on my nose. Why, God, WHYYYYY?”

Prince Gus, sitting atop the stuffed Momma kitty.

I really need to get more pictures of Mike. He’s such a pretty boy. This is such a pretty litter. I can barely stop myself from squishing them.

Floofy Gus. I like to twist the hair on top of his fuzzy little head together and tell him he’s a troll doll.

“Lady, you gives me the bottle, and no one gets hurt. Promise!”

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Gracie on the left, George on the right.

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Previously
2008: And he likes the chickens, but I think if a hawk swooped down and snatched one up while he was watching, it would make his YEAR.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: 9. What is your biggest mistake? Immediately believing what I’m told without standing back and thinking about it.
2004: Reader requests.
2003: Why have kids if you aren’t going to make them do the scut work?
2002: You know, I don’t even have the words.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

10/6/09 – Tuesday

Did I mention I’m selling jams and hot sauces? The Chunky Caramel-Apple Jam was popular enough that it sold out pretty quickly, leading me to believe that I need to add it to the supply permanently. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * … Continue reading “10/6/09 – Tuesday”

Did I mention I’m selling jams and hot sauces?

The Chunky Caramel-Apple Jam was popular enough that it sold out pretty quickly, leading me to believe that I need to add it to the supply permanently.

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We had leftover Roasted Asshole for dinner last night, and it was as fabulous as the first time.

I love me a good juicy Asshole.

(Go back and read yesterday’s entry if you have no clue what I’m talking about, SKIMMER.)

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Jon Gosselin: not only a douchebag, but unable to run that super-complicated spell check.

“Penelty,” indeed. You’d think, knowing that the media would be all over that sign, he’d have thought about double-checking the spelling (or maybe having someone with half a brain double-check it for him while he was busy being douchey.)

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I read in TV Guide last week that over the summer, the average person watched 32.2 hours of TV per week.

32.2 hours? Are you fucking kidding me? THIRTY-TWO HOURS? That average has got to be thrown off by high school students who don’t have anything to do during the summer but watch TV, right? That can’t possibly people who have JOBS, for god’s sake. I don’t have a job, and I’m almost always two weeks behind in my regular TV-watching (with the exception of Grey’s Anatomy). I’ve been working my way through the second season of Gossip Girl for months now (mostly because I don’t watch it unless I’m traveling). I record every episode of Oprah on the DVR, but tend to delete the majority of them without watching because while some of them look like they could be interesting, I don’t want to take the time to watch them. I’ve given up on Jon & Kate Plus 8, because it got boring when Kate decided to stop showing her figurative ass and act like Happy Kate.

Fred and I generally watch about two hours of TV in the evening (and that’s a very generous number – most of the time it’s more like an hour and a half; Sunday night I whined about being tired, so we stopped watching TV at a little after 8, which gave us about an hour of TV time), we’ve lost interest in Survivor and The Amazing Race. We very rarely watch movies in the afternoon on a Saturday or Sunday IF it’s raining out and we have absolutely nothing else to do. I usually sit on the couch and watch TV for about three hours on Friday (and when I’m watching a Real Housewives show, I flip through magazines and half-watch the show). So I figure I’m getting, at the most, about 17 hours of TV in a week. And let me reiterate: I don’t have a job. I can’t imagine trying to cram 32.2 hours of TV into my week.

So roughly how many hours of TV do you watch per week? Thinking about my days, I could probably watch TV after Fred went to bed, or maybe watch TV in the afternoon instead of reading for an hour or so while warm purring kittens are piled atop me.

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Yesterday morning, I got up and showered and dressed, and then headed downstairs to feed the Wonkas. I was going to get some baby food for the True Bloods, because even though they don’t particularly need it, I still give them some baby food as an early morning treat.

I spoil my fosters, y’know.

When I headed downstairs, one of the True Bloods (I’m pretty sure it was Sam) had his paw sticking out under the door. Elwood was in the hallway, sniffing at Sam’s paw.

I got downstairs, opened the back door to let our cats into the back yard, and started calling for Tom, so I could put his collar on him. When I couldn’t find him in the back part of the house, I decided to check upstairs for him. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, Sam came trotting down the stairs.

“Wha?” I said, wondering if somehow he’d been out of the foster room all night without my realizing it. Stranger things have happened.

And then Bill came trotting down the stairs, followed by Hoyt and Terry. I went upstairs and looked, and the door to the foster room was wide open.

I don’t know who or how, but either a True Blood or Elwood (or perhaps both, working as a team) had gotten the door open.

It didn’t happen this morning, so I’m thinking (hoping) it was a one-time thing. We’ll see about that! Maybe we’ve got some little Houdinis on our hands.

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I’m pretty sure that Elwood thinks he’s a True Blood. He can usually be found in the middle of a bunch of them, playing. He is going to miss them in a big way when they’ve gone off to be adopted! (Please note Lafayette over to the side, complaining about something. Doesn’t he look like he’s in great emotional pain?)

Jake’s a fan of the True Bloods, too.

Terry and Sam, in the cat bed on the chair in my bedroom.

A sprawl o’ kittens.

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The Wonkas are doing well – I’ve seen them all eating Babycat crunchy food right from the dish as well as canned food, so I know they won’t starve to death. I should probably wean them off the bottle, but have I mentioned that I spoil my bratty fosters? They’re just so HAPPY when they’re sucking down their bottle, and they always look so hopeful when they see me coming into the room. And now that they’ve figured out that whole latching-on thing, they are so EASY to bottle-feed. I’m going to spoil them just a little while longer. DON’T JUDGE ME.

“Auntie Hyacinths says you HAVE to spoil me and give me the bottle whenever I want it!”

“I would be very sad if you stopped giving me the bottle, and the internets would call Kitty Protective Services on you!”

“I was just checking out my box, and I heard someone say there’s a bottle in the room?!”

“I am a wee starving kitteh, and I want my bah-bah!”

Look at that smug little face!

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Pretty, pretty Gracie. (I know I don’t put up enough pictures of the dogs. Therefore, the rest of this week I’ll include dog pics at the end of the entry! You’re welcome.)

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Previously
2008: Pretty batshit crazy, as it turns out.
2007: No entry.
2006: You all have my full permission to skip the boring stuff to get to the cute kitten stuff.
2005: I forsee a lot of spud-teasing this evening.
2004: Phil Hellmuth is a whiny little bitch.
2003: “And then he told me he likes to have sex with you in the break room every day at 11!” he lied.
2002: No entry.
2001: Recovery.
2000: No one ever said I had a long attention span!

10/5/09 – Monday

Crooked Acres Jams and Hot Sauces are up for sale! Astute observers will note that the price has increased a bit since last January/ February. That’s because if I’m going to continue with this jam-making venture, we need to realize at least a small profit, rather than losing money. I don’t think the price is … Continue reading “10/5/09 – Monday”

Crooked Acres Jams and Hot Sauces are up for sale!

Astute observers will note that the price has increased a bit since last January/ February. That’s because if I’m going to continue with this jam-making venture, we need to realize at least a small profit, rather than losing money. I don’t think the price is ridiculous (considering some of the prices I’ve seen at Etsy and Foodzie) and hope you’ll think it’s worth it, too.

I made one single batch of sugarfree jam with Splenda, and I can’t tell you how it is because I can’t eat the hot stuff, and Fred doesn’t like artificially flavored stuff (he does report that it’s “medium” heat, and the consistency is comparable to the sugarfree jams you can buy in the store). If there’s enough of a demand, obviously I’ll make more. It’s 50 cents more than the sugared stuff, due to the price of Splenda. You know how it goes.

So, there you go. Hot jams and hot sauces, and a bit of the non-hot stuff. Go check it out if you’re interested! They’ll be available ’til I run out of habaneros, whenever that might be. (And for the future, the link is over there in the left sidebar.)

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You guys definitely get the Eagle Eye award. When I posted the picture of my canning cabinet on Friday, I half expected no one would even notice the “canned” baby chicks.

I think it took about ten seconds for the first person to spot them.

And then like a MILLION of you spotted it. I guess that picture wasn’t nearly as subtle as I thought it was.

For the record, in case you missed my response in the comments, no baby chicks were harmed in the making of that picture. Fred brought them in, we put them each in a jar, put the rings on the jars (but NOT the lids), and put them in the cabinet. From the time Fred picked them up in the maternity yard to the time he took them back was about three minutes altogether.

There was even enough time for a bit of a kitten-sniff.

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New Simon’s Cat!

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The one thing I don’t like about this time of year is the proliferation of pumpkin-centered recipes. I like pumpkin in pumpkin pie, and that’s about the only place I like it. Don’t want pumpkin cookies, don’t want pumpkin bread, don’t want pumpkin anything.

A century ago, when I was a teen working at McDonald’s, they used to have pumpkin pies – like their apple pies – this time of year. Now, those things were fantastic. That was back when their pies were fried and not the crappy baked pies they have now. They also occasionally had blueberry pies, at least in Maine.

I also highly miss the cinnamon danish McDonald’s carried. Those little cinnamon things they sell these days aren’t even the slightest bit tempting.

::sigh::

Speaking of food, I finally sucked it up and made my own flour tortillas on Friday using this recipe. I just knew it was going to be a nightmarish experience, but for once I was wrong. They turned out pretty damn good, and we had scrambled eggs wrapped in homemade tortillas for dinner.

Speaking further of food, it seems that every so often, a rooster comes along who earns himself the name “The Asshole.” Whether he’s too rough with the hens, picks on the little chicks, or is just a pain in the ass to deal with, we start referring to him as “The Asshole”, and they’re always quick to be processed. We’ve got no room at Crooked Acres for roosters who are assholes.

The most recent asshole was a Light Brahma rooster. He was proving to be a pain in the ass because he’d hide under the coop when it was getting dark rather than going into the coop like he was supposed to, or he’d stand in the doorway to the coop and act like an asshole so the little chicks would be too scared to go past him.

Last weekend Fred processed him, and told me that we should have roast it. After processing, The Asshole weighed in at just under 4 pounds, and Fred plucked rather than skinned it, so we could roast it and not end up with a dry mess.

Last night, we had roasted Asshole for dinner, and it was fantastic. And we showed our incredible maturity by saying many humorous things along the lines of “This Asshole is fabulous” and “You make a tasty Asshole” and so on.

We are far too amused by ourselves.

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If you don’t regularly check out Love & Hisses on the weekend, you’re missing out.

Saturday, an awesome picture of Gus.

Sunday, pictures that show just how far little Terry’s eyes have come.

Whoops! Veruca yawned so hard her pupils fell out! (I love it when I get pictures of cats looking goofy.)

“I take a nap. You go away with that flashy thing.”

The girls are snuggly, but the boys – good lord, they will snuggle with you forever!

And how can you put down a sleeping kitten? (You can’t!)

Mischievous little monkey.

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One ear folded back is the cool new look for kittens, as modeled by Bill.

Pile o’ kittens (and one long-suffering Miz Poo.)

All six, sprawled across my desk and filing cabinet. They prefer to be in whichever room I’m in. If I’m cooking dinner, they’re in the kitchen. I’m at my computer, they’re on my desk. They lurve me!

Happy Hoyt.

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Poor Miz Poo. She just can’t get away from those pesky kittens!

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: I had NO IDEA Red Lobster was such a den of heathenry.
2006: The rags used on that closet: ONE MEELLION.
2005: And then the last straw came along and broke the fat woman’s back.
2004: Because he’s a skinny bastard.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Day One.
2000: So obviously I don’t know nothing’ ’bout picking out no paint.

10/2/09 – Friday

New month, new logo! This one was created by the wonderful Christine, isn’t it awesome? Aly also created an October-themed one, so I’ll put that up around mid-month. Thanks, Christine! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * … Continue reading “10/2/09 – Friday”

New month, new logo! This one was created by the wonderful Christine, isn’t it awesome?

Aly also created an October-themed one, so I’ll put that up around mid-month.

Thanks, Christine!

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After spending all summer canning green beans and tomato sauce (not much tomato sauce, though – have I mentioned that the tomatoes were a bit of a disappointment this year?) and chicken and various other things, my canning cabinet is close to bursting.

(Yes, there are bottles of Ragu hiding behind the tomato sauce. Don’t judge me.)

I guess there’s still room for more.

Yesterday I spent several hours making jams. The day before, I made hot sauces. I have a few more batches of jam to make, and then there’ll be Crooked Acres jams and hot sauces up for sale soon, probably over the weekend. Those will be for sale ’til we run out of habaneros – and I froze a lot of habaneros over the summer (and they’re still growing!).

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I was dead asleep last night at 11:30 when I was awakened by a banging noise. I turned over, took out my ear plug, and listened. More banging. I decided that it was coming from the foster kitten room. I hoped it would stop, but it didn’t, so I grabbed the can of compressed air sitting on my bedside table (you know, the can of compressed air you guys ALWAYS think is a can of whipped cream!) and went out into the hallway. Jake (or maybe Elwood) was sitting by the door to the foster room. They love to sit outside the room and stick their paws under the door. I figured there was a kitten on the other side of the door who’d decided he’d had enough of this being in one room nonsense and was determined to dig his way out.

I shot a blast of air at the door, and heard the thumping sound of a running cat. I waited, and didn’t hear any more banging, so went back to bed. Naturally, as soon as I sat down, the banging started again. I got up, shot a blast of air at the door, then went to the bathroom. The banging started up again, and I finally decided that I’d open the door and see if it was just one kitten (I suspected Hoyt) trying to get out, and if it was, I’d let him out into the house. I don’t want all six of them running around all night, because I value my sleep, but one kitten would probably be okay.

I opened the door, and Sugarbutt came slinking out.

Apparently when Fred gathered up the True Bloods to put them up, he hadn’t noticed that Sugarbutt was hanging out in the room, and so Sugarbutt got locked away with the babies. Kudos to Suggie for toughing it out for two and a half hours before frantically digging his way out.

Of course, when I opened the door and Sugarbutt came out, Elwood went running in because he has decided that the True Bloods are His People, and he always wants to go in their room at night. I let him stay in there.

Then at 4:23, I was awakened by Elwood’s very identifiable questioning meow. He’d had enough of this one-room nonsense and wanted out. I got up and let him out, and a few minutes later Fred got up, and we started our day, with the feeding of the baby cats and such.

I’d say it would be NICE to get a full night’s sleep every once in a while, but I usually sleep pretty well with few distractions, so I’m not going to complain.

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Since there isn’t much on today’s page, I will share a link for The Animal Rescue Site.

Once you click you can then scroll down and vote for any animal shelter to hopefully win some money!

I of course vote for Challenger’s House daily! Even though I live in New York!

http://www.theanimalrescuesite.com/clickToGive/shelterchallenge.faces?siteId=3

I’ve been meaning to link to this for ages and ages – thanks for the reminder, Debra!

You might need to do a search for Challenger’s House in Alabama to get to the place where you vote for it. So, go vote for Challenger’s House, y’all!

Speaking of Challenger’s House, did y’all know that there’s a Facebook page for the shelter now? One of the other foster moms runs it – go friend Challenger’s House, she puts up lots of cute kitten pics (and there are pictures of Ike on there!)

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I notice that you don’t have the recipe for the Caramel-Apple jam posted in Nom on This….is it available?

I got the recipe over at Suzanne McMinn’s site, in this post. I think the Caramel-Apple Jam is fantastic, but I prefer mine with small chunks of apple (as in the original recipe) rather than with apple puree. With apple puree, it’s more of an apple butter than jam. It all depends on what you prefer.

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I was wondering if you ever had people that want to adopt the kitties you foster. Is or has that ever been a possibility?

I’ve had several people ask, recently, about adopting fosters. It is possible for readers to adopt them – Nance adopted Maddy a few years ago, and Katherine adopted River and Inara (now Nate and Dora) last summer. Anyone who’s interested in adopting any of the fosters will have to go through Challenger’s House – you can call and speak to Susan, the shelter manager. There’s a procedure that includes filling out paperwork, and there’s an adoption fee.

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Do you wear men’s long sleeve T’s in the winter, for around the house? I’m looking for something reasonable have some spotted at gap, but are there any other suggestions.

I have a large collection of long-sleeved t-shirts I’ve picked up at various places (a few years ago when I visited Maine, we went to Reny’s (GOD I LOVE RENY’S) and I ended up buying some Life is Good t-shirts for $5 apiece. They didn’t have the design on the front, and some of them had weird dye marks on the front, but I was buying them just to wear around the house, so I didn’t mind how they looked.

I usually either wear one of those long-sleeved t-shirts around the house, or a short-sleeved t-shirt with a zip-up hoodie over it. I love my hooded sweatshirts, but the sleeves get in the way if I’m cooking or doing some intensive cleaning.

(HA HA HA “intensive cleaning.” As if I EVER do that.)

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I don’t know if you like anchovies and garlic, but if you do, I cannot say enough about Nigella Lawson’s bagna cauda recipe. I don’t have it to hand, but from memory, you mince 15 anchovy filets and 8 garlic cloves, and cook in a quarter cup of olive oil until the anchovies melt (yes they do) and everything is all gorgeous. I know it sounds way over-the-top, but it’s delicious. (I believe Nigella’s recipe also calls for butter, but the authentic way has only anchovies, garlic, and oil – I am told.)

I ADORE garlic, but would you believe that I have never once had a single solitary anchovy? I’ve only ever heard of them being referred to in a joking manner, like something gross you’d find on a pizza. So, would I like anchovies? I like most fish and seafood. Readers? What say you?

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I found a humorous piece on a joke website, just thought you and all cat/dog lovers would enjoy it. Here’s the link:

Pet Diaries

That always cracks me up!

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My sister’s name is Kristi Ann, she has 3 kids. I’m a goober, I call her “Kris-ann-the-mum”.

I think that’s adorable, personally. (And I’m glad I’m not the only goober around!)

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Sam is a “Kitler“!

Fred calls him Adolf. (Last night we were watching TV, and Fred said “Which kitten is it that looks like Hitler?”, because he can never keep their names straight.)

One of the kittens from our very first batch of fosters was a Kitler, too, little Flossie:

Though actually, I think that’s more of a Clark Gable ‘stache than a Hitler. I have no doubt that if she’d been a boy, Fred would have insisted on naming her Adolf.

I still use that picture as an avatar in a lot of places. And it’s the picture that’s been (as far as I know) most stolen and used without permission or attribution. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to send out copyright violation emails to have it removed. Everyone loves a Dr. Evil kitten pic, apparently.

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From Rachael:

http://www.spaysnotstrays.org/

Watch this for a few seconds and the cool stuff starts.

That is so neat!!

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So, on Tuesday I called and made an appointment to take Lafayette, Sam, Hoyt, and Bill to the vet so that she could look at their eyes and determine whether they’re ready to go to Petsmart for adoption. I waited until about three minutes before I needed to be on the road, then snatched them up (they were all snoozing on my desk) and put them in the carrier.

(I really should have put them in two carriers, but I was also taking Sugarbutt with me, because the rodent ulcer on his upper lip was acting up again, requiring a shot of steroids. Two carriers, I could just about handle. Three? Not so much.)

We were within sight of the vet clinic, which is a 25 minute drive from here, when either Sam or Hoyt pulled a pungent maneuver known as “Had I known you were going to snatch me up and keep me confined for a long road trip, dear lady, I would have used the litterbox before we left.”

Good LORD, the smell.

But by happenstance, I had actually stopped for one moment and thought before I left the house. The last time I had the kittens in carriers, when I took them to the shelter for their vaccinations, Sam vomited on Hoyt. So just in case, I grabbed a handful of cleaning rags to take with me.

I pulled into the clinic parking lot, and went to the back seat to see just how bad the damage was.

Whoever’d pooped in the carrier had been kind enough to do it at the end where the door was, and he’d done it so neatly that the bed in the carrier was untouched.

(But good god, the STENCH.)

I used the cleaning rags to clean up the poop, and then I dug through my purse for a wet wipe, and cleaned it up some more.

Then I took all the dirty rags and shoved them into a plastic shopping bag and left it in the car.

(As you can imagine, when I came out and got into the car, I was very much wishing I’d thought of a better place to put the poopy rags. I immediately drove to McDonald’s and deposited the bag in one of their trash cans.)

The vet looked at the kittens first, picking up each of them and looking them over carefully. She said that she wished Bill and Lafayette’s grafts had taken a bit more before peeling off, but they all look really good. The goal of the surgery was not to make their eyes look perfect, but to make them more comfortable. If Bill’s anything to go by, they are definitely far more comfortable than they were before.

She said that, in her opinion, they’re ready to go. They should still have ointment in their eyes once or twice a day, and it wouldn’t hurt to send a tube of it home with whoever adopts each cat, to use as needed. The ones with the worse eyes – Bill and Lafayette – might need ointment on and off through their lives, it’s kind of a wait-and-see thing.

When I got home, I emailed the shelter manager and told her what the vet had said, but made sure to let her know that there is NO hurry as far as I’m concerned.

So that’s where we stand right now – when room comes available at Petsmart, the first four will be going.

(HOW HOW HOW am I going to give up my sweet Bill, who has quietly wormed his way into my heart?? AGH.)

I bought this SnooZzy Cat Cave because I’m a terrible impulse shopper, even when I’m shopping online. When it arrived, I took it out of the box and put it on the floor. Terry came over and flopped down on top of it, so I put him inside it. He loved it and stayed in it for a couple of hours. Since then, I can’t convince a single cat to stay inside. They all prefer to sleep on top of it.

The kittens check my groceries to see if there’s anything in there for them, while Hoyt supervises.

Hoyt’s complaint of the day: “I WAS LAYING HERE SOUND ASLEEP AND ALL OF A SUDDEN EVERYONE ELSE CLIMBED ON THIS BED WITH ME AND THEY’RE SQUISHING ME AND PINCHING MY TAIL AND I WANT THEM TO STOP!”

::thlurp::

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The Wonkas are doing well. Veruca had us worried earlier this week, because she wasn’t eating much at feeding time, and she’d actually lost the ounce and a half she’d gained since we got her. She seemed to spend most of her time in the meatloaf position, watching her brothers and sister play, and she just didn’t look right to us. Fred stopped and picked up some canned high-fat cat food on Wednesday, and when he got home we mixed it with formula. He fed it to her with a needleless syringe, and she seemed to like it quite a lot. She ate a bunch more on Thursday morning, and then when I went in later to hang out with them, I took a plate with the food (mixed with formula) on it, and she said “GET OUT OF MY WAY!”, and just about dove face-first into the plate, and ate every bit of that food.

She’s perkier, she’s running around and playing, she’s using the litter box like a champ (they all are!), she’s doing just fine. The only danger is that I might squeeze her to death because she is SO CUTE.

Veruca kills me with how CONCERNED she always looks.

Veruca demands to know just what the heck is going ON here.

“NO, this are MY belly rubbin’ time, you go away and wait your turn!”

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I call Jake my little lunatic, because he’s always got this loony grin on his goofy little face.

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Previously
2008: Mostly because that Bella girl is SO FRIGGIN’ ANNOYING.
2007: Crazy Eyes say, “I am a fearsome creature.”
2006: Frying pan in the front flower bed.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: She seems a little wishy-washy about it. I think she might secretly like the book.
2002: (He always calls when I’m in the shower or eating. I think he has a hidden camera somewhere in hopes of catching me with my non-existent luvah-on-the-side Juan.)
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

10/1/09 – Thursday

Life is good. (I have a busy day ahead; I’ll do a real entry tomorrow, promise!) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Previously 2008: How about that, genius? 2007: Except that seeing me … Continue reading “10/1/09 – Thursday”

Life is good.

(I have a busy day ahead; I’ll do a real entry tomorrow, promise!)

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Previously
2008: How about that, genius?
2007: Except that seeing me so enraged the praying mantis that it took flight and flew at my head.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I could have done a faster job with a measuring spoon and my ass.
2003: She was stymied by her big butt, which wouldn’t fit under the shed.
2002: Here’s my question: It’s open 24-hours, so why the FUCKITY FUCK FUCK can’t they stock in the wee hours of the morning when NO ONE IS THERE?
2001: It’s funny how two people can look at the same thing and see it differently, isn’t it?
2000: No entry.