May 2010 – Page 2

5/14/10 – Friday

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You can read Fred’s entry about his book and how it ended up on Kindle, here.

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Until June 30th, Kaye is donating 20% of sales to the Red Cross for Nashville Flood Relief. If you mention that you came from Bitchypoo, she’ll add another 5% for a total of 25%!

So go check out her Artfire and Etsy sites and buy buy buyyyyyy! (Don’t forget to mention that you came from Bitchypoo!)

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We had a sad incident yesterday morning (we’re fine, the cats, dogs, and chickens are fine, before you start worrying). I glanced out the window and saw that Newt had a squirrel in his jaws. The squirrel was fighting pretty hard, so I told Fred what was going on. He went out to get the squirrel, and of course as soon as Newt saw Fred, he started running. Fred eventually caught up to him, and took the squirrel away, then waved through the window at me to get a box.

The squirrel was hardly moving, and we were pretty sure that it was going to die, but we wanted to give it a chance, so we ended up putting it on a soft blanket in a cat carrier, and put the carrier out in Fred’s workshop. Fred checked on it regularly, and then suggested that we try giving it some kitten formula to perhaps give it energy. Fred syringed some formula into its mouth, and it swallowed a little. Then I got out a bottle, and he tried giving it some more. She swallowed some more, but she also didn’t seem to have any control over her limbs. He put it back in the carrier, and I headed off to run errands.

He told me, when I got home a few hours later, that he’d ended up putting her down. She clearly couldn’t move, and when he went out to check on her at one point, she had chewed one of the toes on her front paw completely off. He surmised that she was probably paralyzed and couldn’t feel anything, so opted to put her down.

And I know someone’s going to ask, so this is how we put small animals (voles, chicks, squirrels) down when they’re critically injured:

Soak several paper towels in ether, which is commercially available as diesel or gasoline engine starter at any auto parts store. Put the paper towels into a sealed container large enough to hold the animal, and leave them for several minutes. This lets the fumes build up to lethal levels. Put some dry paper towels down over the wet ones, and lay the injured animal on them (probably you would want to make sure you didn’t inhale any fumes). Reseal the container. In very short order, the animal will go to sleep, then die quietly. Make sure you leave the animal in there long enough for the ether to do its job.

(Copied from one of Fred’s entries.)

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Is Jake more into kittens (or, these current ones anyway) than Elwood? I got to thinking, and realized I never really see pictures of Elwood with them.

Elwood tolerates the kittens, but Jake really LIKES them. And for that matter, the kittens really LIKE Jake, too. Elwood will allow a kitten to snuggle up to him, but Jake encourages it. So yeah, to answer the question, Jake likes kittens more than Elwood does. Elwood’s mostly interested in where the next snack is coming from. I tried to get a shot of Jake and Elwood together, but Jake was having none of it. Elwood is HUGE compared to Jake, it’s absolutely amazing to me, the difference in their sizes.

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I haven’t read all comments, so I don’t know if it’s been mentioned, but I have you looked into Bio-identical compounded HRT? I have been on compounded BI HRT for more than a year and a half. I feel it saved my sanity and my life, and I actually think it helped me LOSE weight. My ovaries were doing a whole lot of nothing at age 43, and I have never felt better since I started my compounded prescription. I got it from a hormone specialist at my OB/Gyn office. My insurance doesn’t pay for it, so I gladly pay out of pocket for it!

I’ve considered it, and at some point I’ll likely broach the subject with my Gynecologist, but so far it looks like switching to a half-dose on my estrogen halted and reversed the weight gain.

A couple of people suggested that the weight gain could be due to stress. I don’t feel particularly stressed out, but that doesn’t mean I’m not, right?

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I wish you good luck with finding a job! I’ve been trying for months to find ANY p/t job…. like at Lowes, Home Depot, CVS, Walgreens, Staples any damn place….. apparently no one is hiring!!!! What are we in some kind of recession or something?

and

My opinion about employment is if you are not asking anyone else for financial assistance then it is none of their business. I’m not surprised that you are looking some too. I hope Fred can find a great new position and you find something good too if you want/need to. Good Luck!

I should take a moment here to confess to y’all that I don’t really WANT to get a job. But with Fred out of work, I thought that if I got a job, it would at least slow the rate at which our savings are being spent, which would mean we could go longer with him out of work, if necessary. So I decided to make a good faith effort at applying for any jobs I’d be qualified for, but let’s be honest – I haven’t worked in 10 years. I doubt my resume is getting a second glance. I’ve talked about going back to college once Fred’s employed again, just to have some schoolin’ under my belt (haven’t had any learnin’ in 15+ years) and to put on my resume, and there’s a community college conveniently located not ten minutes down the road. We’ll see.

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Dear cat lovers,

I have a dilemma. So almost every evening I go jogging on this pretty tree-lined path in the middle of Phoenix, AZ (yes, there are trees in Phoenix). And the past three times I have jogged, there is this cute young cat who hangs out near the path. Tonight she followed me part of the way as I was jogging. She has no collar, is kind of dusty from being outside but otherwise looks like she is well fed. I want to take this cat home and turn her into my sweet baby kitty. But what if she has an owner? I don’t want to kidnap this cat and take her away from her family. On the other hand, this beautiful tree-lined path is adjacent to a very busy road. In fact, I saw her attempt to cross the road a couple of times. It is a situation where this cat could get hit by a car very easily. What should I do? I fear for the cat’s safety but I certainly don’t want to cat-nap her from her owners if she has them?

My suggestion would be to bring her home, and then put up flyers in the area. That way, if she has owners, they can get in touch with you, and no harm is done. If she doesn’t, well, then you have a sweet baby kitty! (And please let us know what happens!!!)

Anyone else have suggestions?

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Our indoor cat Lola is a little over one year old. She is fixed and is not declawed. The problem is that she is stalking the door now and whenever we open it, she runs outside and hides under the neighbor’s car, or in the bushes or under our deck, etc. I’m so afraid she is going to get lost one of these days. What should we do? If she got away, would she find her way home?

My suggestion would be to keep something by the door to scare her away – I’d use a can of compressed air or a spray bottle of water. You could scare her away, then get out the door without her escaping.

I imagine that if she were to get away, she’d probably hang around in the area and you’d be able to catch her later, but there’s no guarantee – and I’m concerned that if she gets out once and finds out how AWESOME it is out there, she’ll just redouble her efforts to get out.

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I was having dinner with friends last week and talking about selling my late father’s house, splitting the money with my sister, and buying myself a small house with a yard. (I’m currently in a small condo with no patio or balcony, but near the beach.) One friend asked why I wanted to move after 30 years in the condo. (I’m 57, and most people my age are going from houses to condos, not the other way around.) I said so no one could tell me how many cats I could have. He said, appalled, “You want more than TWO cats????”

I doubt he could even imagine the Robyn/Fred household! 🙂

By the time I am 57, we will have won the lottery, of course, and we will buy a small island in a warm place, and we will have a sweet little cabin, and the cats will roam free and I will call it SWEET PUSSY ISLAND. Oh, yes I will.

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YOU, Miz Ander$on are TROUBLE! We went to the SPCA this weekend to pick up a replacement cat buddy for my husband and the 21 year old cat and we ended up with TWO kittens. This here DOG person, blames you and your house of cats. If you can have 20 and still be sort of sane, surely we can handle 3 cats for awhile.

No word yet on how the dog introduction is going to go. I suspect there will be some unhappiness on the part of the cats. For now, everyone is sequestered.

Oh sure, eeeeeveryone blames the pusher. Hey, man, I’m just here to encourage you tryyyyyy the drug. If you get addicted, well, that’s not MY fault! 🙂

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I work in a hair salon, and I’ve learned that if you use fabric sheets, they create a layer of waxy buildup on the towels, making them less absorbent.

I knew that, actually, and I don’t use fabric softener on the towels or cleaning rags. Actually, I don’t use fabric softener on anything but cat beds, now that I think about it. I do use straight white vinegar as a fabric softener, but there shouldn’t be any build-up from that… right?

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Okay, I am owned by ten cats. It’s a work hazard from being an employee at an animal shelter. Anyway, I have an orange feline, inappropriately named Blossom. Now I’m wondering…do orange cats make stinkier stinks?

Okay, orange cat owners, weigh in on this topic! I can tell you that Sugarbutt could peel the paint off the wall. Spanky’s not too bad (but he’s not all orange either), and I can’t really vouch for Newt, since I think he usually uses the great outdoors as his litter box.

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Robyn: I was bored so I started reading your posts from years back. On this date in 2003 you posted the following:

“The best part of the zoo, my friends, were the baby pygmy goats. My god in heaven, they were the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. Seriously, I was this close to snatching one up and tossing it in the Jeep. I said to Fred “Someday, if we have a house on enough land, promise me we’ll get some pygmy goats!” He wouldn’t, though, damn him.”

Now that you have Crooked Acres I was just wondering where those pygmy goats are???

Shhhh. I’m older and wiser and I know that I don’t want goats! Fred wants to get goats to eat, and I AM NOT GONNA EAT GOAT (don’t waste your breath, I’m just NOT GONNA), so don’t go putting ideas in his head.

(It would be awfully cute to have a couple of pygmies out there running around, though, wouldn’t it?)

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The pictures and videos of Jake are fantastic.The meowing one cracked me up and that boy has some large paws in the second video. Is it the angle or is he gifted in the foot department? He appears to be a major piece of work.

It must be the angle – Jake is actually a pretty small cat, but of course all cats have big ol’ rabbit feet (the better to haul ass when need be, I guess!), and his are comparable to the rest of the cats.

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Friday question/request: Are you growing veggies etc this year, and where are the pic’s of them, woman! 🙂

We are, of course, though there’s not much to see at the moment. I’ll try to get a picture this weekend to share – but nothing’s very big. I’m dying for my first tomato of the season, so hopefully the cold weather is gone and the hot weather will encourage the garden to grow!

(Pictures of the garden and part of the “orchard” will be up in Monday’s entry!)

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Where’s Elwood? I never see any pix of him….is he camera shy??

He’s not really camera shy, he just tends not to be around when I’ve got the camera out. He’s a solitary creature, our Elwood. I did get a few shots of him, though!

“Hey, I can do the crazy eyes, too!”

Trying to get a shot of Jake and Elwood together (that’s Elwood laying down), but Jake would have none of it.

He really likes to hang out in the kitchen in hopes that food might be accidentally spilled.

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I have accused my KIDS of pooping in the litter boxes because of both the stink and the size. They deny involvement.

Oddly enough, this reminds me of my favorite George Clooney story, which I read in a magazine years ago:

“Richard [Kind] had this cat that he loved and adored,” Ben Weiss tells me. “So George would go in the bathroom, and that’s where the litter box was. And there would be cat shit in there, so George would clean it up and flush it down the toilet. Then Richard would go in there and say, ‘God, it’s so weird. My cat hasn’t taken a shit in forever.’

“George went along with that, and kept cleaning the box for a few days. Richard went to the vet to get some kind of thing to make the cat go to the bathroom. The poor cat. The cat’s shitting, and George is still cleaning it up. And then finally George stood over the cat box and took a giant shit. And finally Richard goes in there and says, “Oh, my God! Kitty!” (Source)

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Miss Maura is doing well in her new home with Kathy in Birmingham!

Poor Kathy got to see first-hand what Maura is like when you try to do something to her she doesn’t like. That cat is one of the hardest cats we’ve ever had to pill – and it’s stunning to see Miss Quiet and Laid-back fight for her life when you’re trying to pill her. She might be quiet, but she knows how to stand up for herself!

Things have cleared up for her, so now she’s been let out to explore the house and meet her brother Beau. Kathy said that Maura is submissive, but stands her ground. Beau gets all wound up, then runs away. I suspect that as a little time passes, Beau and Maura will ultimately be good friends.

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“What?”

This is Bolitar. Doesn’t he look like his name should be “Buster”? He totally looks like a Buster to me.

“WHAT YOU WANT, LADY???”

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When Kathy came to get Maura, she traded this cat bed for Maura’s favorite cat bed (so Maura would have her bed and not feel nervous in her new home), and I left it on the table – temporarily, I thought, ’til I could decide where to put it. Miz Poo located it, and declared it hers. I guess that’s where the bed will stay!

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Previously
2009: I swear to god that if I had a brain, I’d be dangerous.
a href=”http://www.bitchypoo.com/date/2008/05/14″>2008: The hetred will never steer you wrong.
2007: Ugly, but somehow oddly appealing to me.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Memeriffic.
2003: “One of the cats brought in a baby possum and it appears to be dying.”
2002: A mother can dream, can’t she?
2001: I almost shot a red bean out of my nose, I was laughing so hard.
2000: No entry.

5/13/10 – Thursday

Last week I was at Sam’s (and in fact, I’ll be leaving to go to Sam’s in a few minutes, because I forgot a few things last week, and I need to get out of the house), and I was in line behind this woman who was buying two huge-ass boxes of adult diapers. I … Continue reading “5/13/10 – Thursday”

I realized a moment later that I was eyeballing her behind to see if she was actually wearing adult diapers (I couldn’t tell).

Tell me you’d do that too. You would, right? Not that I was JUDGING (I figure I’m about 18 months away from adult diapers myself), I was just curious. Nosy, I guess.

DON’T JUDGE ME.

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There’s a lot of poop talk in this section. Skip it if you’re eating or have a weak stomach.

I know that I’ve mentioned before that the air flow in our house is kind of weird. Like, if a cat pees near the fireplace in the front room, you tend to not smell it when you’re in the front room, but you can totally smell it in the guest bedroom doorway. This makes for a SUPER-fun game of “I SMELL CAT PEE DO YOU SMELL CAT PEE? CAT PEE CAT PEE, WHERE THE FUCK’S THE CAT PEE?”, where we walk around, sniffing wildly. Of course, if it’s dark or near dark, I can wander around with the black light and sometimes I find the offending pee and sometimes I don’t and I lose my mind.

Anyway, the air flow upstairs is odd also. At the end of the hallway is Fred’s room, and then next to his room is mine, which is across the hallway and down a little from the bathroom. The doorway to the bathroom and the doorway to my bedroom are nowhere near each other, and there are two litter boxes in the nook in my bathroom.

Every fucking time a cat goes into the bathroom and uses the litter box, the smell somehow ends up hovering over the head of my bed. The stink goes OUT of the litter box (stink, like heat, rises. In case you were wondering. Actually, more like bread dough. It’s like a big loaf of stink, rising and expanding to fill all available space.), around the corner into the hallway, DOWN the hallway, and then through the doorway into my room, across the room, then hovers malevolently there until I chase it out with air freshener.

More than once I’ve woken in the middle of the night, positive that a cat has taken a great big dump on the pillow next to me. I’ve gotten up, turned on the light, looked all over the room, and ended up tracking the smell down the hall to the litter box. Last night, when I went upstairs at bedtime, Fred was peering under the bed, looking for the source of the smell. I had to clue him in that the smell had traveled over a great distance to torture us.

It is, as I’m sure you can imagine, DELIGHTFUL.

Last night, Fred and I came in from putting the chickens to bed (you’re imagining us tucking them into little beds, aren’t you? No, we just close up the blue coop, then go to the back forty to give the dogs their evening snack, hang out with them for a little while, and then check out the garden), and as I walked through the back door, I saw that Sugarbutt was in one of the litter boxes.

Now, I don’t much care for having to look at cat poop, but it is my unfortunate duty as the caretaker of what feels like a thousand cats to make sure that no one’s got anything untoward going on in the poop category. “Untoward” meaning diarrhea, blood, obvious worms, anything along those lines.

So when I walked through the door and saw Sugarbutt in the litter box, I thought “Oh good, I can see if all is well.”

(When I was 10 years old and thinking about becoming a vet (idea discarded due to the amount of schoolin’ involved), I had no idea the amount of time I’d spend peering at poop or how JOYFUL I’d be at the sight of a well-formed poop. For the record.)

By the time I got my boots off and got to the litter box, Sugarbutt had vamoosed. I headed for a look anyway, and was about a foot from the litter box when I thought “Oh, I guess he was just peeing, I don’t smell -”

Then the smell hit me in the face. You know how in Alien, that face-hugger flies out of nowhere to attach itself to peoples’ faces and implants an embryo in their chest? It was like that. It was like a living thing. The smell was so thick that I could TASTE IT. I’d say that Sugarbutt’s digestive system must detour through the gates of Hell, but I’m pretty sure that the smell of fire and brimstone would be a more soothing and pleasant odor.

“AGH!” I howled, and covered my mouth and nose with my hand. Which is like closing the barn door after the horse has gotten out, I know, but it was a reflex.

In the kitchen, Fred turned and looked at me. He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sugarbutt?”

“GOD JESUS YES I THINK I’M DYING,” I yelled.

He laughed.

On the up side, Sugarbutt’s poop, as I determined after leaning down and peering into the litter box, was perfectly fine.

Except for the smell.

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Fred is determined to torture me with crappy movies lately, it appears. First, over the weekend we watched Every Which Way But Loose, and then on Tuesday we started the sequel, Any Which Way You Can. He read somewhere that the sequel was better than the original, and since he didn’t think the original was all that bad, he put the sequel at the top of the Netflix list.

(I rue the day I ever gave him the Netflix password.)

As soon as the movie started, I said “That’s not the same Clyde, is it?” Clyde being the orangutan who plays Clint Eastwood’s sidekick.

“You don’t think so?” Fred said.

“He’s not orange enough, and he doesn’t have that potbellied old-man walk the first Clyde did.”

After about ten minutes, I said “He lacks the subtle charm of the original Clyde.” Seriously, Clyde v2 was all about the Bronx cheers and the shitting in cruisers and big over-acted kissing. (And Wikipedia tells me I’m right about it not being the same orangutan.)

After another ten minutes, I said “Sondra Locke lacks the subtle charm of a MACK TRUCK.” Honest to god, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Sondra Locke in anything else, but in the Every Which Way movies, she overacts horribly and appears to be doing a really really bad Marilyn Monroe impression.

I suffered through Sondra Locke singing (GIVE that woman some Auto-Tune!) and then gave up and read magazines for the rest of the evening.

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All four in one picture! Too bad they’re not looking anywhere near the camera.

Going…

Gone! Zzzzzzz….

Pretty Rhyme.

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“Mooooooom! The couch is eating kittens again!!!”

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Previously
2009: In self-defense, I had to do the unthinkable.
2008: Here’s a hint: Mister Boogers? Not the man.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Oh, it’s FUN to be a girl, ain’t it?
2004: Am I not stylin’?
2003: Like I repeatedly said to him yesterday, “I’m GLAD you’re ENJOYING my pain!”
2002: Momma don’t do food-related or cleaning-related stuff on Mother’s Day!
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

5/12/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)

The many faces of Loony Jake. And then two movies featuring Jake. It’s a Jakeapalooza! His crazy little face KILLS ME DEAD. * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * Movies for you, today! First, the fightin’. And then the lovin’. * =^..^= * =^..^= … Continue reading “5/12/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)”

The many faces of Loony Jake. And then two movies featuring Jake. It’s a Jakeapalooza!

His crazy little face KILLS ME DEAD.

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Movies for you, today!

First, the fightin’.

And then the lovin’.

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ACK! The dishwasher kittens are back. We just sprayed for them two weeks ago! I’ve never seen an infestation this bad. I guess it’s a bad year for dishwasher kittens.

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Previously
2009: And when the wily snugglicious runt has determined that no smackdown is coming her way, what does she do?
2008: And… that was my weekend!
2007: No entry.
2006: Where the hell did the year GO?
2005: If my nose is cold, the rest of me is cold.
2004: I guess this is what we get for living in the Bible Belt, isn’t it?
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Ah well. Maybe next life.

5/11/10 – Tuesday

You guys are sending good thoughts in Jane‘s direction today, right? 1:30 Central time, whatever you’re doing, drop it, turn in the direction of Kansas, and think about her. If you were to bellow “I’M THINKING OF YOU, JANE!” at the same time, that could only be a good thing. Then get your ass over … Continue reading “5/11/10 – Tuesday”

Then get your ass over to Twitter (if you have a Twitter account) and let’s make #janesjugs a trending topic for today. We can doooo eeeet!

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Life with Fred.

1. We were watching Survivor Thursday night, and Fred suddenly paused the show and turned to me, brow furrowed.

“You know what I don’t get?” he said seriously.

“What’s that?” I said, expecting him to come up with some sort of wisdom about the show.

“Picasso’s Cubist paintings.”

I started laughing.

“Seriously, one of his paintings just sold for $106 million. Some fucked-up naked, floppy-necked woman.”

I continued laughing.

“It’s so UGLY. Have you ever seen the stuff he painted before he went Cubist? He could really PAINT. But he wasn’t challenged by painting real paintings, so he started up with that ugly Cubist shit.”

2. We were driving into Huntsville, listening to Bob and Sheri on the radio.

“They’re about to come out with a double-K bra,” Sheri said.

Sheri and Bob talked about that for a few minutes, how it was amazing that there was enough of a demand for a KK-sized bra and how huge that must be. I wasn’t really paying attention until Fred burst out laughing.

“They’re talking about a double-K sized BRA!” he said.

“Yeah…?”

“I thought they were talking about a SANDWICH!”

“What….?” I started laughing.

“It sounds like some kind of Hawaiian burger from Burger King.”

As it turns out, he heard “bra” and thought they meant “bra” in the sense that Dog the Bounty Hunter (and surfers and snowboarders) use “bra”, to be synonymous with “bro”, and that it was some sort of Hawaiian sandwich from Burger King along the lines of KFC’s Double-Down.

3. In the grocery store, walking down the aisle, he stopped and grinned.

“What?” I said.

He pointed. “That would be an excellent name for a porn movie.”

Indeed.

4. Every time we watch Survivor, and it’s about time for a challenge, as they begin the scene by showing an aerial view of the challenge course, Fred calls out “Come on in, guys!” moments before Jeff Probst does the same.

Last night, Newt and Maxi were sitting out on the side stoop and Fred opened the door, waved one arm in the air and called “Come on in, guys!”, then acted like he didn’t know why I was laughing.

Okay, we’re dorks – but it’s never boring around here, I can tell you that.

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Life with me.

I’m messing around with my hormone replacement therapy again because I like to fiddle with shit and make life difficult for myself and those around me, for one, and because I packed on seven pounds in the course of about two weeks without changing my eating habits in the slightest, and that shit isn’t going to fly. I decided it was a possibility that my estrogen level was too high (sign of estrogen level too high: weight gain. Sign of estrogen level too low: weight gain. SIGH.), so last Monday I cut my estrogen patch in half.

As the week progressed, I got a tad, SHALL WE SAY, edgy.

Last night, Fred suggested we watch TV, so we headed toward that end of the house.

“Did I see the help wanted ads open on your monitor?” he asked.

“YES,” I snapped. “I’M APPLYING FOR JOBS, I SAID I WAS GOING TO APPLY FOR JOBS, DO YOU THINK I’M NOT APPLYING FOR JOBS?!”

“I was just ASKING,” he said, looking amused. “I saw an ad for a receptionist on your monitor, I didn’t know if you were applying for it or what.”

“Well, you can tell YOUR FATHER that I’ve sent out like twenty resumes, so next time he says ‘Is Robyn bothering to APPLY for jobs, or is she just sitting on her dead ass contributing NOTHING AT ALL, AS USUAL?’, you can TELL HIM I’ve been sending out resumes!”

Fred laughed. “You’re reading an awful lot into him asking if you were applying for jobs.”

“BECAUSE HE THINKS I CONTRIBUTE NOTHING.”

“He’s never said that -”

“HE DOESN’T HAVE TO!”

” – and even if that’s what he thinks, who gives a shit?”

“Shut up and go get me some Tylenol. I have a headache.”

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Bolitar, sleeping on top of one of the cat trees in the front room. How can this be comfortable?

Corbett: “What?”
Miz Poo: “He’s not TOUCHING ME, is he? Do I HAVE to put up with this?”

Corbett: ::Zzzzzzz…::
Miz Poo: ::Zzzzzzz…::

Jake and Bolitar in the Ham-Mick.

Stinkerbelle in the cat bed atop the book case, glaring at the idea that Rhyme (in the cat tree) is so close to her.

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Maxi, in her bed on Fred’s desk. When she’s in the house, 99% of the time she’s in her bed. (The other 1% of the time is divided between eating and growling/ hissing/ smacking any kittens who look in her general direction.)

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Previously
2009: Blessed are the pure in het, for they shall see Dog.
2008: No entry.
2007: Mister Boogers doesn’t have opposable thumbs and finds it too difficult to text anyone – he gives up and stomps off in a huff after texting a few LOLs.
2006: Which to ME means “I’m not interested,” but to the operator apparently was code for “I might be interested. Try harder!”
2005: Now, I don’t know. I think that if your life is SO BUSY that taking the time to put a little pill in your mouth throws your entire schedule off, then perhaps it’s time to reorganize your life.
2004: You can’t have genius every day, y’know.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: SHE WAS FIXIN’ TO GO DOWN THE HILL.
2000: Poor overworked, abused child…

5/10/10 – Monday

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After Friday’s entry, when I said that it was embarrassing that we’d had that damn Amish pantry for a year and it was STILL out in the garage, I decided it was time to get our asses in gear. Fred wanted to wait ’til Saturday to try moving it, but Jean had offered to help us get it inside, so I figured if we tried it on our own and couldn’t get it moved, maybe we could beg her to come out over the weekend to help.

That pantry is heavy as hell, but we were able to get it out of the garage onto the back of the truck, then drove the truck into the back yard, unloaded it onto the walkway, got it on the dolly, and then Fred pulled and I pushed, and we got the pantry up the steps into the laundry room. It had to rest there while we moved the bookcase that was in the spot where the pantry was going, and holy COW was there a lot of dust and crap behind that bookcase. I vacuumed, then I sprayed the wall and floor and scrubbed ’em down, and then we got the pantry in place, and I spent the next few hours organizing my kitchen. I did more organizing on Saturday, and while the kitchen isn’t quite yet organized the way I want it to be, it’s almost there.

Of course, the DOORS aren’t on it yet (they still need a coat of polyurethane), but when they are, it’ll look awesome.

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We watched Every Which Way But Loose over the weekend (Fred seems to be on a Clint Eastwood kick at the moment). Or to be more accurate, he watched it while I snoozed through most of it.

I actually laughed at several parts of the movie, but my favorite sections were when Ruth Gordon was on, of course.

“That’s YOU in 30 years!” Fred said.

Indeed.

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Saturday morning, knowing that Maura’s new mom was going to be arriving any time, I let Maura out of her room where she’d been sequestered for the week. She immediately came downstairs, hung out in the chair in the computer room, sat on the dryer and looked out the window, and when her mom arrived, she was rolling around on the rug in the kitchen.

This is where, since Maura is now safely ensconced in her new home, I can tell you who her new mom is – Kathy, in Birmingham! Kathy says things are going well, Maura is happy in her new home, and she’s a snuggle bug.

I just love the fact that Maura has a home, that it’s a home with people I can harass for updates on her, and she’ll never have to sit in a cage at the adoption center. It’s no secret that black cats often wait a long time before they’re adopted, and I didn’t want Maura to have to go through that (well, I never want ANY of my fosters to go through that, of course).

Yay for Maura, and yay for Kathy!

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Now that Maura is gone, we’re down to just our eleven, plus four fosters. Why, it’s like we hardly have any cats in the house at all!

Except for times like right now, when all four of the fosters are supercharged with energy and flying around like their butts are on fire. They love ALL toys, but they especially adore crumpled up balls of tinfoil. Bolitar carries one around in his mouth and growls at any other cat who comes near. With the money I spend on cat toys, their favorite toys are the tinfoil balls, the milk jug rings, and boxes. Why do I bother buying cat toys, again? (Oh, right. It’s an illness!)

Corbett, considering.

They certainly make themselves at home, don’t they?

“Here is the snacks, lady. Did you forget where they are?”

I’ve been giving the Bookworms a morning and evening “snack” of canned cat food. I decided yesterday to cut out the morning snack. That went into effect this morning, and boy were they confused. They came upstairs after I got out of the shower, like they do every morning, and they escorted me down the stairs to the guest bedroom, like they do every morning. I scooped the litter box like I do every morning, and then I walked out of the room without giving them a snack. You could practically see the question marks over their little heads, like “THAT’s not right!” They followed me around and mewed and chirruped and rubbed up against me, then I threw toys for them, and they were distracted just long enough to forget that they hadn’t had their morning snack and were starving to death.

I absolutely adore them at this age.

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Newt, keeping an eye on the chickens. Those two are Sassy and Sissy McGee, our two free-range chickens. They fly out of the chicken yard every morning to wander around our property, and then fly back into the chicken yard at night time. If they were prone to wander beyond our property, we’d clip their wings so they couldn’t get over the fence, but they don’t, so we don’t. (And I really like seeing them wander around, scratching and pecking.)

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: I call you people SKIMMERS, because we have SOLD the house, fools.
2006: I NEED MY VEGGING TIME, PEOPLE!
2005: We call him… FANG!
2004: Who has more fun that me, kids? That’s right, NO ONE!
2003: No entry.
2002: I think I’ll call him Fredriq, and make him talk in a French accent and squeal with excitement while he’s doing it.
2001: Your shoes are not lined up exactly, and what’s this?? A PIECE OF GRASS ON THE BOTTOM OF YOUR SHOE??? TO THE DUNGEON WITH YOU!”
2000: Exhausting!

5/7/10 – Friday

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From Michelle:

While I don’t live in Nashville proper, I do live about an hour north, right along the KY border, and I work in Nashville. It’s been absolutely crazy around here since Saturday morning, and most of us around here who weren’t directly affected have watched in disbelief. And it’s not just Nashville…there are people in the surrounding counties who have been cut off for days with no phone, water, or food who are STILL being rescued by boat.

My home wasn’t flooded, but we did wind up with a very bad leak in a back room & we were pretty much stranded until middle of the day Monday with numerous road closures & flooded areas all around us. Our town is on top of a hill, and it rained so much, so fast, that they were having to do boat rescues in my town. We’ve always joked that if we were flooded, that means everyone else around us would be gone, so that really hit home for me.

One of the hardest things to watch are the families forced to leave there pets behind or refusing to leave because the shelters wouldn’t accept pets. Once again, I fortunately did not have to evacuate, but the thought of being displaced with 12 cats & 2 dogs (or worse, having to leave them behind) absolutely terrifies me, & seeing those people struggling with such a heartbreaking decision with only moments to make a decision really hit home for me.

I hope you don’t mind, but for those interested in either donating or volunteering time to help, this link provides numerous ways to help.

I’ll probably have a blog post about it this weekend, complete with some pictures.

Thanks, Michelle!

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Since tomorrow is the question answering extravaganza, my question for you is what happens if the kittens continue to test positive for that FLV is it?

It’s FIV (FIV = feline version of HIV. FeLV = Feline Leukemia.) If the kittens continue to test positive for FIV, well, I’m pretty sure (without directly asking, because ignorance is bliss) that the shelter policy is to euthanize FIV positive cats. However, FIV doesn’t transmit from cat to cat as easily as Feline Leukemia, and cats who are FIV positive can live long and healthy lives. Should they turn out to be truly FIV positive, we’ll keep them here until we can find permanent homes for them. If worse came to worst, we’ll keep them permanently, although please note that AS MUCH AS I LOVE THESE KITTENS, I DO NOT WANT THAT TO HAPPEN (see: husband, unemployed), so y’all just pause for a moment and send happy thoughts in this general direction, would you?

For those of you who don’t know, the combo test that the kittens were given tests for FIV antibodies. Since their mother was FIV positive, she passed those antibodies on to the kittens through her milk. As they get older, they’ll hopefully shed the antibodies and a retest will show that they’re negative.

(Note: if someone knows their stuff better than I do and I’ve got some part of it incorrect, feel free to correct me!)

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It seems to me that you could freeze all your summer fruits in the summer and fall and then make your jam in the winter months.

That’s the plan – we’re hoping that this year we’ll actually get some fruit! Last year, we had a thaw in January, which convinced all the fruit trees that it was bloomin’ time, and once they’d bloomed, Mother Nature came along with a cold snap, and as a result we ended up with perhaps a handful of peaches. Mother Nature is a beotch. This year seems to be going better, so we’ll see – it would be very neat to make peach-habanero jam with our own peaches!

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Robyn, I am not a cat person at all. I’m allergic and most cats annoy me.

That said, for some reason I am ass-over-teakettle for Reacher. I’m gonna come over and steal him in the middle of the night, okay? Thanks.

and (from someone else altogether)

Man, Corbett is one cutie-pie isn’t he?

Oh, they’re all seriously cute. One moment I think I’m in love with Corbett, and then Bolitar comes along and purrs up at me. Then Rhyme grabs my foot and chirps at me, and I’m all “I love youuuuuu!”, and then Reacher saunters along and complains about something. They’re going to kill me with the cute, is what I’m sayin’.

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I thought of this question yesterday when all the storms were going through the south. Do you guys have a tornado shelter, or a basement to take cover when the big storms are threatening?

We do NOT, can you believe that? And in fact, we don’t agree on where the safest place in the house is when the weather is bad (Fred thinks the downstairs hallway – I think under the stairs). I’m hoping that we’ll eventually be able to get a tornado shelter put in, but if a tornado drops out of the sky in the back forty and heads for the house, we’re screwed!

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Laundry. I assume that you still hang it out to dry, and my question is this. Do you hang your towels out to dry, and if so, how do you keep them from being stiff. The only towel of mine that doesn’t get stiff is a $20 towel that my motherinlaw bought. I’m not gonna go out and buy 10 $20 towels! 🙂

The only things I don’t hang out to dry are cat beds (the dryer is better at getting the cat hair off the beds than a breeze would be), and cleaning rags/ dish cloths, because the dryer takes care of the lint that tends to stick to the cleaning cloths. I use white vinegar as a fabric softener, and it seems to help make the towels not quite so stiff, but they’re still a little stiff. I actually don’t mind a stiff towel (pardon me while I snicker like a 13 year-old boy), and hanging them out to dry seems to make them more absorbent than drying them in the dryer (I could be wrong about that, but they certainly SEEM more absorbent).

Anyone out there got any tips on this topic?

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I use to work at a bank as a teller and your story was hysterical! It was even better when you got to the dye pack and setting off the alarm! Did the cops show up? I’m also surprised that you were able to get into the vault at an off banking day/hour. Ours would only open M-F and only between certain times.

We had to go to a training seminar given by the FBI on bank robberies. As one of the FBI agents was on stage talking all of the sudden some guy comes flying through the auditorium, waving around a gun (fake, I think?) and a cloth bag screaming “This is a robbery, etc.” As soon as he exited the room the guy on stage told us to write down everything we remembered about the guy. I always thought I was quite observant, but when they brought the guy back on stage I learned maybenotsomuch!

The police didn’t show up – I guess because the teller at least knew not to hit the silent alarm! (That damn silent alarm, I was always TERRIFIED I’d accidentally hit the damn thing.)

When I was going through training to be a teller, I had to go to classes in Augusta for a week. One day was devoted to what to do if the bank was robbed. The lady running the class had us all turn around so our backs were to each other, then she went around and had each of us randomly describe one of the other tellers in training.

Well OF COURSE she gave me the name of the one woman in the class who was of undetermined race – I believe she was part African American, part Caucasian, but didn’t know for sure and didn’t want to offend her – and I did NOT KNOW how to describe her skin color, so I said NOTHING about it at all. She also had this HUGE pair of fluorescent green earrings on that I hadn’t noticed at all. Luckily we weren’t being graded on our descriptions of each other, because the woman who had to describe me somehow failed to mention that I weighed in the neighborhood of 300 pounds, so I guess it was all good.

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Do yours do this? When our three furry fools get a treat to eat, one of them plays ‘guard cat’ and sits at the cat flap and watches through the door whilst the other 2 fill their faces. When one has finished, they swap round. It’s remarkably democratic and v. funny to watch. Anyone else have a catty co-operation story?

I so wish I had cats who would look out for each other, but NAY. My cats would cut each other to get to the good Snackin’! before anyone else.

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Meant to ask… is the Amish pantry finished or did I miss it? Last I heard it was still waiting to be oiled or stained or something?

The Amish pantry – which can be seen in this entry FROM A YEAR AGO – is finished, and it is residing in the motherfucking GARAGE because we have not yet tried to get it inside. I’ve been harassing Fred about it this week (I’m sorry, how embarrassing is it that the goddamn thing has been hulking out there in the middle of MY SIDE of the garage for a YEAR?), and I think the plan is to try to get it inside later today. If you don’t hear from me again, it’s likely because I tripped over something while trying to carry it into the house, and was immediately crushed by the goddamn thing.

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What?? No pictures of the transformed front porch?

I’ll snap a picture once everything’s blooming, promise!

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Last time I went grocery shopping, I found myself faced with a similar puzzle: Was brand A really cheaper than brand b? I don’t even remember what is was, but I know I thought of you and I didn’t get any smarter, but I felt better. Love ya!

Did you say to yourself “I am clearly having a Robyn Anderson moment, and should ask for professional help in figuring this out.”? 🙂

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Does anyone have a problem with clumping litter sticking to cat’s paws and being tracked ALL over the house? Or could it just be the brands I have purchased?

How old are the cats who are doing the tracking? I ask because my adult cats don’t generally tromp through their pee clumps, but kittens always always always do until they’re about 8 weeks old. (Also, they tromp through their poo, which is especially fun when they’re suffering from diarrhea.) It could be the brand of litter, though.

Readers? Anyone else have this issue and/ or words of advice?

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Regarding the bagel pricing…for Buy 1 Get 1 sales, some stores will just charge half price for each package, but other stores will charge full price for the first package and the second package rings up as free (this is what my stores in the Northeast do). Thus if you were only buying one package you may have been charged $2.59. You may have, in fact, saved yourself that $0.09.

What I would have done, though, would be buy two on B1G1 sale, then popped the second bag in the freezer. If you’re going to be toasting them, you can’t tell the difference.

What I love about Publix is that if they have stuff that’s Buy 1 Get 1, each item is half price. But you’re right – I should have just stocked up and frozen the extras. I did that today with english muffins.

Oh, how I LOVE the Buy 1 Get 1 sales.

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Another sweet story for you about a mama cat, this time adopting a litter of dachshund puppies.

SO CUTE.

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The Gulf oil spill news is terrible too. At least the cement box is supposed to be tried today, hope it works. I found a really good video of the oil spill made by a couple nature conservation pilots yesterday. If you have time to watch it (not long), I think it’s one of the best flyovers of the oil spill I’ve seen.

That is just incredible and horrifying. Thanks, Cara!

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Seriously , you take the best kitty pictures ever. Have you thought of doing it as a side business? I am not joking. You seem to be able to capture just the perfect moment and that, my dear, is a gift.

Awww, you’re too kind! I haven’t thought of doing it as a side business, because I’m not so sure I’d be any good at photographing others’ cats. The only reason I’m able to get such good shots of my own cats and fosters is because they’re always right there for me to get a picture of. And I’m not kidding when I say that of every picture I share, I probably toss at least three!

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I was vacuuming. They did not approve.

“Why, I oughta…!”

Corbett, grabbing for the camera.

Someone knocked the cat bed onto the floor, and Bolitar came along and decided it was the perfect place for a nap.

Rhyme and the ear floof.

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Maura will be going home tomorrow. She’s kinda looking forward to being in a home where she’s properly appreciated, I’m sure.

“Is it time to go?”

Not yet, sweet girl. One more day!

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Joe Bob, having slipped his collar, sits on the fence post.

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Previously
2009: If you ever thought of mother chickens as being sweet and maternal, get that thought right out of your head!
2008: I choose to believe it recovered and took flight.
2007: “GodDAMN I’m good-looking. Why am I taking orders from this old hag? Am I making enough money to put up with this over-polite shit*? I think NOT. GodDAMN I’m good-looking.”
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Questions answered, and a meme.
2003: Once again, pot-kettle-black.
2002: You can imagine the temper tantrum that followed.
2001: I would have preferred a candy bar, but unfortunately, we don’t got none o’ them ’round these parts.
2000: No entry.

5/6/10 – Thursday

Okay, Bitchypoo now has a mirror site. Those of you who can’t access this site at work due to the domain name, give this one a try. Alls I’m going to do is cut and paste the entries from here over there. If it’s the language on this site that’s got the Nazis at work … Continue reading “5/6/10 – Thursday”

Okay, Bitchypoo now has a mirror site. Those of you who can’t access this site at work due to the domain name, give this one a try.

Alls I’m going to do is cut and paste the entries from here over there. If it’s the language on this site that’s got the Nazis at work blocking it, you’re going to be shit out of luck. But if it’s only the domain name, you should be good to go!

There’s a permanent link over there in the right-hand sidebar, under “journal.” Not that I expect you’ll remember that, and you’ll slowly drive me crazy by doing constant searches on “other site” and “stupid fatheaded kittens” and “robyn, WHERE THE FUCK is the site without the bad domain name?” and such.

But I loves ya anyways.

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Fred and I were watching some of the footage of the flood in Nashville. It’s just unreal to see the Opry House under water like that, and the Opryland hotel. I read yesterday that there were piranhas swimming around in the water of the Opry Mills shopping center, and suggested to Fred that we take a drive up to Nashville to check it out. I can think of a few people who could use an accidental bump into the piranha-infested waters. (Turns out, the piranha escape was just a rumor)

In any case, Nashvillans, we’re thinking of you. Hope you’re staying safe and dry!

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We’ve had a week of THE most gorgeous weather. Warm and sunny, not a cloud in the sky. A good week for doing laundry, so I’ve been doing laundry all week and hanging it out to dry. I love the smell of line-dried laundry.

What else have I been doing, what with the warm weather outside making it hot inside?

Making it even hotter, of course.

Tuesday night, I was poking around in the freezer looking for frozen strawberries so I could make some strawberry jam (not strawberry-habanero, just plain strawberry), and what did I find? A big ol’ bag of frozen habaneros! And not half an hour later I got an email from someone looking to buy peach-habanero jam and a bottle of hot sauce.

So Tuesday night I made a batch of the ugliest strawberry jam you’ve ever seen. That stuff was seriously foamy, and don’t worry – I’m not selling it, it’s all for us to use. (9 jars of strawberry jam should last the two of us about a year!)

Then Wednesday morning I got up and made a batch of peach-habanero jam, so I could get the order in the mail before the post office closed. And I did.

Jam-making sure makes for a hot kitchen, though, even though the ceiling fan was going the entire time. Add to that the fact that I was slow-roasting a turkey for dinner, and it was like a sauna in there.

At least it smelled good!

(If you were looking for more habanero jam or hot sauce, it might be time to stock up!)

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SQUEE! I love a good interspecies animal surrogacy story. How CUTE is that?

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I know I’ve been sorely lacking in Maura pictures this week. She’s doing well, being medicated every day, and just kind of waiting ’til this weekend, when her momma brings her home. Which will be Saturday!

Patiently waiting.

She’s such a sweet girl. I know I’ve only mentioned that a million times!

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Reacher and Corbett.

Prince Corbett.

Corbett, plotting.

Bolitar, plotting.

Reacher, giving me the teenage attitude.

They’ve hit their long and lanky stage, especially Reacher.

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Sheriff Kara, keeping an eye on the goings-on.

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Previously
2009: We laughed ourselves stupid.
2008: I ran after him screaming “NOT IN THE HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUSE!”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Hoverers make me want to just get the hell out of that store as soon as humanly possible.
2004: I think it’s a boy, though.
2003: He’s his usual Fancy self.
2002: “I can’t believe you let me go out in public like this!” I yelled at Fred.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

5/5/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)

Paula’s walking in honor of Jane‘s Jugs on Mother’s Day to raise money for breast cancer services. Get your butt over yonder and sponsor her! * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * While you’re gettin’, get thee over to Ms. Darkstar’s and enter her giveaway! … Continue reading “5/5/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)”

Paula’s walking in honor of Jane‘s Jugs on Mother’s Day to raise money for breast cancer services. Get your butt over yonder and sponsor her!

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While you’re gettin’, get thee over to Ms. Darkstar’s and enter her giveaway!

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“I YAM A FEARSOME MONSTER! HEAR ME ROAR!”

“NO WAY, I AM THE FEARSOME BEAST AROUND HERE! I DOES ALL THE ROARING!”

“Rowr.”

“Rowr?”

“Rowr, I say!”

“Rowr!”

“That is some lame and sad and pathetic roaring! I AM THE FEARSOME BEAST! HEAR ME ROAR!”

::wheeze::

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Today, a couple of movies for you, both of them featuring Reacher. In the first one, he’s tussling with Bolitar and being a drama queen.

And in the second one, you get to hearing my annoying baby-talk voice as I continually ask Reacher if he’s the baby. I love his response – which, of course, is why I keep asking!

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“Nice eye booger, Loony Jake.”
“Thanks. I’m saving it for later.”

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Previously
2009: And speaking of our house and smells, whoever thought it would be a good idea to put the air intake vent for the downstairs air/ heating system directly across the hall from the bathroom?
2008: If that man cripples me with the sledgehammer, y’all make sure he gets me the LUXURY wheelchair.
2007: No entry.
2006: “Motherfucker say WHAT? You wanna prance?”
2005: Did you know you could use it to relieve muscle soreness, as a plant fertilizer, and as a laxative?
2004: Okay, girlfriend? Just how fucking stupid ARE you?
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: God, please tell me when I was 19 I didn’t sound that much like an airhead…

5/4/10 – Tuesday

Paula’s walking in honor of Jane‘s Jugs on Mother’s Day to raise money for breast cancer services. Get your butt over yonder and sponsor her!

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While you’re gettin’, get thee over to Ms. Darkstar’s and enter her giveaway!

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So, remember how last week I mentioned that I used to work at a bank, and so should have known that the dye packs they use with the decoy pack of money are red dye and not purple?

I’m sure I’ve never told y’all the story of how one morning we were all required to come in extra early. Actually, now that I think about it, I wasn’t even scheduled to work that day, because I brought the spud (who was about 2 1/2 years old) with me. The plan was that we were going to go through a fake robbery step by step. One of the other non-teller employees was going to pretend to pass one of the tellers a note, the teller would obediently pass the “robber” the money from her drawer, then she’d “alert” the rest of us, and we’d each do the job assigned to us.

For instance, my job was to call the police, alert them that a robbery had taken place, and then there was a list of things I needed to tell the police dispatcher, and luckily said list was stored right by the phone.

So we were all at our stations, counting our drawers as though we were just about to open for real. We were all on high alert, waiting for the “robber” to come in and go through the motions of “robbing” the bank. Then all of a sudden, the “robber” appeared from out of nowhere, and I’ll be goddamned if she didn’t have a GUN, and she was waving it around while she passed her “Give me all your money or die” note to the teller. I did what I always do in an emergency: I froze in terror.

Thankfully, it was another teller, NOT ME, who was responsible for emptying her drawer into the pillow case, because if she’d waved that gun at me, I would have shit, gone blind, and then passed out in one smooth motion. As it was, all I could do was sit there and gape in horror. The robber turned and tossed the bag of cash into the vestibule between the front door and the lobby door, and then went to her desk to observe how the rest of us did at our jobs.

I went to the phone, pretended to dial 911, and then went down the list of stuff I was supposed to tell the dispatcher. As I did, the bank assistant manager (maybe she was the loan officer, I don’t actually remember at the moment) came along and gave me a look like I was an idiot.

“YOU DIDN’T REALLY CALL THE POLICE, DID YOU?” she said.

“NO, I’m not an idiot,” I said.

“Okay, then,” she said, and kept going.

I don’t for the life of me remember what jobs the other tellers were assigned, but they were diligently performing their tasks. A minute later, as I stood there talking to a dial tone, the assistant manager/ loan officer said in a horrified voice to the teller who’d been “robbed”, “YOU DIDN’T PUT THE DYE PACK IN WITH THE MONEY, DID YOU?!”

Well, she did. Because we were supposed to act like this was a real robbery, see? And if you’re a bank teller and you’re being robbed, you put the damn decoy stack in along with the rest of the money. And no one had explicitly said to her, “Don’t put the dye pack in with the rest of the money. Just PRETEND to.”

Guess where the sensor that set off the timer in the dye pack was located?

In the doorway between the vestibule and the lobby.

Guess what happened?

That fucking dye pack WENT OFF, and not only is there dye in that pack, there’s also tear gas. We kept going, trying to finish up the whole post-robbery “process”, coughing and rubbing our eyes as the gas filled the lobby, but it wasn’t long before the bank manager told us to lock our cash drawers and vacate the bank.

Did I mention that I had the spud with me?

So we stood out in the parking lot, and finally the bank manager told me I could put my cash drawer in the vault and vamoose, and I did.

I don’t remember what kind of trouble the bank manager got into for the whole thing, but I’m sure there was SOME kind of trouble because in retrospect I’m thinking we could have gone through the fake-bank robbery thing without actually involving (1) real cash, and (2) A FUCKING GUN.

The best part is that the spud was there in the lobby watching the whole thing, and she SAW the fucking gun. The gun-waving employee’s name was Mickey. The spud, being 2 1/2 years old, immediately started calling her “Mickey Mouse,” and for the next two weeks the spud would say at random times, “Mick’ Mouse had a gun!”

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Over the weekend, poor Maura developed diarrhea. Ten seconds after the vet’s office opened, I was calling to make an appointment for her. And since I was going anyway, I piggybacked the Bookworms onto the vet visit so that they could be Combo tested. I was completely certain that they’d come up negative and could be neutered and ready to go to the adoption center by the end of the week.

Maura’s on medication for her diarrhea… and the Bookworms came up positive for FIV.

AGGGH.

I was so sure that they’d test negative that I was already missing them! But they’ll be around for another couple of months at the very least. I’ll take them back at the beginning of July for retesting, and hopefully they’ll be negative.

(For those of you who weren’t reading back then, the Bookworms’ siblings, the Wonkas, initially tested FIV positive and then were negative on the retest two months later.)

On the ride to the vet, Maura settled down and napped – she did not make one single peep of complaint, I swear she’s the most laid-back cat on earth – and the Bookworms howled and yelled and did their best to dig their way out of their carriers. I was about two minutes from the vet’s office when I thought “Huh. I swear I smell food. Maybe it was that restaurant I just passed…” Only, the smell of food didn’t go away, and I found out when I reached the vet’s office that there was vomit in BOTH of the carriers containing Bookworms. And Reacher had apparently gone swimming through it.

Of course, this was the ONE TIME I left the house without my bag of cleaning rags in case of emergency. Luckily, they deal with that stuff all the time at the vet’s (probably after all the nasty stuff they have to deal with on a daily basis, kitten vomit is like roses to them), and got ’em cleaned up and tested.

So anyway, yeah. They’re positive. But I don’t believe they’re truly positive, I’m sure they’ll come up negative on the retest. And Maura is sequestered back in the foster room, being medicated twice a day, and lolling around like she just don’t care.

Reacher, flopped across Jake like he’s a great big body pillow.

Reacher and Corbett, curled up sound asleep in the recycling bin.

Please note Jake’s foot on the back of Corbett’s neck.

Corbett’s feet on Reacher’s face. Cracks me UP.

Rhyme, flopped across Reacher and Corbett.

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“What? WHAT YOU WANT?!” A Tommy and Sugarbutt confab in the back yard.

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Previously
2009: We walked in, and I looked at the menu and decided what I wanted, and do you know what Douchey McDoucherton did, as I stepped forward to place my order?
2008: No entry.
2007: Do you see what I see?
2006: And I mean that “woohoo!” in a completely sincere and non-ironic way, which is a little sad, but whatEVERRRR.
2005: Did I really write a chapter about my sex life? Eek! What was I thinking?
2004: “YES! Yes, she’s sick! No, she’s not sleeping, she’s SICK, and SHE’S ABOUT TO DIE, NOW WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?!”
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: It wasn’t until I said “I think she’s messed up in the head” that something clicked for her.

5/3/10 – Monday

Paula’s walking in honor of Jane‘s Jugs on Mother’s Day to raise money for breast cancer services. Get your butt over yonder and sponsor her! * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * New month, new banner! Thank you, once again, to the wonderful and talented … Continue reading “5/3/10 – Monday”

Paula’s walking in honor of Jane‘s Jugs on Mother’s Day to raise money for breast cancer services. Get your butt over yonder and sponsor her!

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New month, new banner!

Thank you, once again, to the wonderful and talented Christine, who created this banner for me – along with a lot more of them in the past. You rock, have I mentioned?

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So, a few weeks ago, local reader Jean read my entry from last year where I was bitching and moaning about the dryness of my hands. She highly recommended the CeraVe line, and even offered me some from her stock of the stuff. I took her up on her offer – I mean, why not try before you buy, right? – and she dropped some off, and I’ve been using it ever since.

This stuff is AWESOME. There’s the cleanser, the cream, the lotion. I use the lotion after I shower, and I use the cream when we’re sitting and watching TV (it’s very thick, so you don’t want to, say, slather your hands with the stuff and then pet a kitten), and it is doing the most amazing job of keeping my hands (and the rest of me) un-dry. And a little goes a long way – I’ve been using the stuff for a few weeks now, and I swear the level isn’t going down any. It’s not one of those lotions that sits on your skin, it sinks in and protects your hands from the 45-times-a-day washing. If you can’t tell, I highly recommend it – and you can even go over to coupons.com and get a $2 off coupon, to sweeten the deal! I use my beloved Spiced Orange lotion (from GCDSpa) during the day, then slather up with the CeraVe at night, and these days those damn microfiber cloths that I bought to dust with aren’t sticking to my hands like MicroVelcro, THANK GOD.

Jean said that she’s found that Costco has the most consistently low price, but you can find it at Walgreens and Walmart, and really a whole slew of places. If, like me, you tend to suffer from super-dry hands, give the CeraVe a try.

(I received no compensation for my rave review of the CeraVe, for the record. Though if someone from CeraVe stumbles across this page and wants to start handing out the free stuff, I would gladly take some o’ that, and make sure you send enough for CeraVe Pusher Jean!)

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Early Saturday morning, Fred asked if I wanted to accompany him to Lowe’s to return some trees that had died. Lowe’s has a 1-year guarantee on their fruit trees, and Fred wasn’t sure when he’d bought them, but suspected it had been around a year ago. The trees died, and so we were prepared to take advantage of the guarantee. As it turned out, he got them in October. There was no problem with the return, and Fred picked out two nice-looking fruit trees to replace them.

I started looking around at all the plants Lowe’s had available, and thought about buying some of them for the front porch, but couldn’t stand the thought of Fred standing around questioning every single thing I picked out, so I decided to wait and go back ALONE.

We stopped and picked up chicken feed on the way home, and then as soon as we got home, I kissed Fred and headed back to Lowe’s. I had a good idea of what I wanted to get, so I wanted to get everything, get it home, and planted and set up on the front porch. It took me about half an hour of browsing, but I ended up with a couple of hanging ferns, some begonias for the big pots, and impatiens to put around the begonias.

It was supposed to rain Saturday, and of course the rain held off until I was in the process of checking out. I called Fred to see if the rain was going to blow over quickly or stick around for a while, and after he told me that it would probably be around for a while, I realized that the Lowe’s employee was locking the doors to the Garden Center. I could have gone back through the store to go out into the parking lot, but then I would have had to go all the way down the parking lot to my car, because of course I’d parked near the Garden Center.

I decided that I wouldn’t melt in the rain, so I asked the employee if I could get through the door before he locked it. I went out the door, got halfway to my car, and the sky opened up.

Whatcha gonna do, right? Instead of freaking out and doing my best to stay dry, I didn’t even bother – SOMEONE had to unload the shopping cart, and like I said, I don’t melt in the rain. By the time I got the cart unloaded, I couldn’t have been any wetter if I’d stepped directly into the shower, fully clothed.

A few hours later, the rain let off and I got everything planted and put on the front porch. It already looks about a thousand times better than it did.

It rained on and off all weekend, and was gray and dull and ugly outside. Last night, instead of waiting until 7:00 to give the cats their Snackin’! Time!, I opted to do it around 6 so we could get them inside and shut the back door.

“Whooooooooooooo’s ready for the snackin’!” I bellowed out the back door, and all the cats came running. All the cats except Tommy, that is. Lately he’s been less interested in Snackin’! Time! and more interested in staying outside. Sometimes I go out and get him, and sometimes I leave him out there for Fred to get after he closes up the chicken coops. Tommy came halfway across the yard toward the back door, and just stood there and stared at me.

“Tommy, come ON!” I said impatiently. He just stood and stared. “You are a fucker,” I told him. “No snack for YOU!” I made a mental note to ask Fred to get Tommy on his way back from the chicken yard, and went to do the usual Snackin’! Time! duties, followed by scooping the litter boxes.

We were watching TV when the skies opened up. It rained for the rest of the evening, with thunder and lightning and all that good stuff. We put the kittens up around 9:00, and headed upstairs to bed.

I had the niggling feeling that something wasn’t quite right, but I couldn’t put my finger on just what it was.

I was in the middle of brushing my teeth when a loud clap of thunder sounded, and then I realized.

“OH SHIT,” I said.

“What?” Fred, who was already in bed said.

“SHIT. Is the alarm on?” I asked, heading for the stairs.

“Yeah, why? What’s wrong?”

“TOMMY’S STILL OUTSIDE!”

I’d completely forgotten to tell Fred that Tommy was out there, and so Tommy had been out there all evening long. In the pouring rain.

I got the alarm turned off, and Fred opened the back door, and we called for Tommy. He came halfway across the yard, paused, looked around, and finally came inside.

As it turned out, he wasn’t nearly as soaked as I expected he’d be. In fact, he was just slightly damp. There’s a trash can in the back yard, laying on its side, I’m sure you’ve seen pictures of Sugarbutt hanging out in it. That’s where he’d spent the evening, hanging out in that trash can, watching the rain.

Knowing Tommy, he probably didn’t even KNOW he was locked out of the house.

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I think I’ve mentioned before that we put the kittens in the guest bedroom at night so that we can, you know, SLEEP. I was pretty sure that there’d be all kinds of hijinks if we let them stay out in the house, and I really like my sleep.

Last night, we couldn’t find Maura at bedtime (she looks so much like Maxi that I’m always worried Fred will accidentally let Maura out thinking that she’s Maxi. Hasn’t happened yet, but there’s always a first time!), so we looked for her, and then decided that she had to be in the guest bedroom with the kittens. She was, so Fred got her out of there (which, in retrospect, is kind of dumb. I think she (and they) would have been perfectly fine locked in that room together overnight) and when he shut the door, he apparently didn’t shut it all the way. This morning, when he went to let the kittens out, they were already out.

I have no idea at what point during the night they got out. I guess we’ll be leaving them out all the time from now on – I slept just fine last night, no hijinks or loud crashes or hissing and growling at all!

Reacher.

Bolitar.

Rhyme.

Corbett.

Rhyme.

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Joe Bob, glaring at Sugarbutt, who’s all “What? I’m just rolling around, here. I’m not gonna steal your box!”

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: My feng is not shui’d, and it’s pissin’ me off.
2006: It’s a Suggie in the Sug Cave!
2005: I RUE THE FUCKING DAY I decided to buy a car from this guy.
2004: I snorted. “This from the man who put Oxi-Clean in the dishwasher over and over and over last summer.”
2003: No entry.
2002: I am now sporting a fashionable little red mustache.
2001: What? You don’t think bugs would use the word “abattoir?”
2000: Why all of a sudden is her big scary clown face all over the place talking about it?