You’d think I’d have gotten all sorts of things accomplished on my week off from journaling, wouldn’t you?
Not so much.
I did some gardening, I got one of the raised beds planted with herbs, I filled the last raised bed with soil and nagged Fred to put a fence around it (which he did yesterday, in a jury-rigged sort of way), I organized a few closets, canned a few things, spent some quality time with the chickens.
You know – all the stuff I usually do, only last week I didn’t write about it.
Trust me, you missed nothin’.
You might have missed Friday’s entry, actually, wherein I reported about the kitten who showed up in the culvert at the edge of our property. Actually, that describes the incident perfectly, so you don’t have to go back and read the entry. Unless you’re dying to, I guess.
Things I intended to accomplish last week and did not: organizing the garage, organizing the clothes storage thing in my bedroom*, polyurethane-ing the pantry doors, sweeping all the dead bugs up from the upstairs in the garage, getting the wood shed (which doubles as a garden tool repository) organized, doing SOMETHING about the front flower beds. I’m sure there’s more (scrubbing down all the baseboards), but I can’t think of them at the moment.
I did manage to go out to the chicken yards and sprinkle diatomaceous earth in the coops, around the coops, and in the pig yard in an attempt to do away with some of the staggering number of flies. The flies this year are horrendous. The diatomaceous earth might have made a difference for a couple of days, but they were back in full force by Friday. I got some of those fly traps at Lowe’s and set them up, but I don’t know how much of a difference those will make.
Fucking flies.
(I know about the trick where you fill a plastic bag with water and hang it in the sun and it confuses the flies and makes them commit suicide. I’ve tried that – it didn’t work for us. Maybe our flies are smarter than the average fly?)
Are my tomatoes ever going to ripen? For the love of god, I NEEDS ME SOME TOMATOES.
The cucumbers have started coming in. The crookneck squash and zucchini and green beans are coming in nicely, too. I’ve blanched and frozen 16 pounds of green beans – my goal is to freeze 40 pounds before the plants stop producing. Yesterday I went down the row of okra and thinned out the plants. There were far too many of them, and they were way too close to each other. I must have yanked up about 150 plants, and we have 28 plants left. We’ll still end up with far too much okra, since a single serving a year is plenty of okra for me.
Last night for dinner I didn’t feel like cooking (trick statement! I NEVER “feel like” cooking.) so I had half a bagel with cream cheese and slices of cucumber, and raw yellow squash on the side. Despite the humidity (which is kicking my ass), I love this time of year.
*For someone who literally wears the same five outfits over and over again, you’d think I’d need maybe half a shelf for my clothes. Not so much – I have way too many damn clothes, even after I went through my closet and got rid of a bunch of stuff. Yeah, I know, wahhh, these diamond shoes are hurting my feet, woe is me.
PLEASE TO BE PAYING ATTENTION. THIS IS A MESSAGE FROM RHYME.
Dear Peoples of the Internets:
Please to be telling your cats of this very important change in the rules. This is VERY IMPORTANT, and all members of the feline persuasion must follow these instructions very carefully in the future or FACE THE CONSEQUENCES.
When you have the horrible runny poopies that makes the Momma Lady (or perhaps you have a Daddy Man, I’m not judging you) despair, this is what you must do:
First you gets into the litter box, and you digs. You digs and digs and digs, and then when you think you might be done digging, you digs some more. There is no such thing as too much diggings. If you want to get fancy, you can start to get into poopin’ position and then decide to do more diggings.
When you has gotten the desire for diggings out of your system, you gets into the hole that you has dug. Now, VERY IMPORTANT, you must have your back feets at the lowest part of the hole you dug. SUPER IMPORTANT, this point.
Then you poops. You knows how to do that. Hopefully. ‘Cause Rhyme ain’t coming to lick your behind to get you to poops. If you were wondering.
So then, because you is standing at the lowest point of the hole, the horrible runny despair-inducing poops will run down into the hole.
Because your Momma Lady (or Daddy Man) has been standing there because she thinks it is somehow her (or his) business what your poops look like (perhaps the Momma Lady/ Daddy Man needs to get a life), she will react by perhaps gasping or saying “Oh no!” and she will lean down to gently lift you from the poopin’ box before you gets poops all over your feet.
But it will be too late.
PLEASE TO BE PAYING ATTENTION THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT PART OF RUNNY POOP RITUAL.
You will have runny poops on your back feet and if you have done this correctly you will have LITTER-ENCRUSTED runny poops on your back feet. As your Momma Lady (Daddy Man) lifts you, you must wait until your back feets is above the level of the poopin’ box. And then you must call upon all your acting skills. You must look all wide-eyed like you are thinking “Le gasp! I has something on my back feets! Kitteh cannot have something on his back feets!” and with all your strength you must SHAKE first one back feet and then the OTHER back feet, so that litter-encrusted poops goes flying EVERYWHERE.
“GAH!” your Momma Lady (Daddy Man) will say. “GAH! AGH! AHHHHH!”
Now quick like a bunny, shake BOTH OF THEM FEETS AT THE SAME TIME. More poopins will go flying! All over the place! The point is to get as much poopy litter to cover as much of the room as possible!
If your parental figure is anything like mine, there will be many very bad words flying around in the air.
Now wriggle! WRIGGLE WRIGGLE WRIGGLE so that you cannot be contained and must be put down. And then run. RUN! RUN LIKE THE WIND! Get as much runny poop smeared all over the floor as you can before she comes to her (his) senses and grabs you by your scruff to contain you.
(Ugh, the scruff. SO UNDIGNIFIED, being contained by my scruff!)
Now, I is sorry to tells you that you has to suffer through the final act of the Runny Poop Chronicles when your Momma Lady/ Daddy Man gets out the gentle baby body wash and washes your feet and back end and anywhere else the poop might have gone. It cannot be helped – you just has to suffer through it. Practice your sad face, and it will make them feel bad.
(But they might use more very bad words when they walk around cleaning up all the poop smears you left behind. Serves them right, I say.)
Sincerely with love and is it Snackin’! Time! yet?,
Rhymbus T. Bookworm
Lieu is fitting in quite nicely in the Rescuees’ room. At first he was a little skittish and scared of them and of me, but he came around pretty quickly. By yesterday, any time I went into the room he’d crowd around my feet with the rest of his new litter, howling for love and kisses and snacks.
He’s got a tiny crush on Sheila. He seems to always be near wherever she is, and he ADORES playing with her tail. She puts up with him for a while, then puts the smack down. I’ve seen him play-fighting with all the other Rescuees.
When I’m laying on the floor, he loves to come over and butt his head against mine, then flop down for a belly rub. Such a sweet little guy, that Lieu.
Look at him, all appalled. “WHAT are they doing?!”
Trying to figure out what’s going on.
Keeping an eye on the feather toy.
Keepin’ clean.
“Hey. Who’s the NEW GUY?”
“I don’t like him. He’s not quite buff, he’s not quite orange. He’s indefinable, and I DON’T LIKE IT.”
Garrity likes him. Garrity likes everyone.
Maxi would like you to know it’s not the heat. It’s the humidity.
Previously
2009: Brian graduates.
2008: No entry.
2007: “UGH. I HAVE A DEAD BIRD IN MY HOUSE AND I TOUCHED IT!”
2006: Do I know how to live large, or what?
2005: It took me a minute to get it. Duh.
2004: Have I mentioned that I have a big ol’ crush on Roland? Yeah. There’s me, being geeky again…
2003: Still no Fancypants.
2002: Well, did you feel the earth crack open?
2001: I guess not everyone is as much a wimp as I.
2000: I feel like I spent all day running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off and got nothing accomplished.