Remember how last November I was sent a Cat Quest cat toy to review? Well, several weeks ago I got another email asking if I wanted to review another toy. I know I don’t have to tell y’all that cat toys are my downfall. If my cats don’t currently own every toy in existence right … Continue reading “9/15/10 – Kitteh Wednesday”
I know I don’t have to tell y’all that cat toys are my downfall. If my cats don’t currently own every toy in existence right now, it’s certainly not for lack of trying on my part. You cannot possibly offer to give me a cat toy I don’t own and expect me to turn it down. It’s just not possible!
So last week I received the package, and I opened it, and knowing that I needed to do a review of the toys, I put them where the cats couldn’t get them, and waited until I could calmly introduce them to all the cats. Except of course that never really happened, and so on Sunday I grabbed the toys, called the cats, and went up to the foster room. I figured anyone who was interested could check out the toys, and as it turned out, the little ones were interested in seeing what was going on, Corby came up to see what was happening, and Elwood (who thought there might be food involved) came along as well.
The toys were these:
Skinneeez For Cats. Two from the Forest Series (a skunk and a duck, on the wand toy) and one from the barnyard series (a chicken). I particularly liked the chicken, because we have our own chickens and occasionally one escapes the chicken yard and wanders by the door between the computer room and the side stoop, and the cats get pretty excited. Not that they’d see the similarity between the big bird outside and the little stuffed chicken toy, but I still thought it was cute.
What I found appealing is that the Skinneeez toys are stuffing free. I don’t know about y’all, but I’ve certainly had to fish polyester stuffing out of kittens’ mouths in the past when they’ve ripped open a toy and decided to see if the filling would be tasty. The only thing the Skinneeez toys have inside them is catnip.
So I carried the toys upstairs and called to the cats. Then I put the toys down on the floor and waited to see what would happen.
Melodie and Martin checked out the chicken.
Melodie liked it quite a bit.
Melodie checks out the skunk.
Melodie and Martin were curious and interested and batted the toys around a little, but didn’t really seem to feel the effects of the catnip.
Corbett, on the other hand, is a complete and total ‘nip head, and he kind of came out of nowhere to check out these catnip-filled toys.
A little high.
So high he resorted to toe-sniffing.
Martin, giving me the attitude.
Then Corbett sneaks in…
And gets a little high.
Melodie disapproves of Corby’s catnip addiction.
Then I got out the wand, and Dodger came flying over from wherever he’d been hiding to check out what was going on.
Corby liked the catnip aspect of the toy. Dodger liked the moving-toy aspect of the wand.
Martin came over to see what the fuss was all about, and Dodger grabbed and bit him on the neck in an effort to protect HIS toy.
Elwood batted at the toy a few times, as long as he didn’t have to expend too much effort, but wherever the toy went, Corby was right there.
Elwood and Martin checked out the toy, while Corby tried to figure out how he could get hold of the wand and take the whole shebang away from me.
And then, like all little kids do, they abandoned the toys for the packaging!
The biggest surprise to me – and what I managed to NOT get a picture of, of course – is that later that day, Jake “discovered” the skunk and decided that it belonged to him. Every morning for the past three days, he picks up the skunk – which somehow ends up upstairs every evening – and he carries it from my bedroom upstairs, down the hallway, down the stairs, down the downstairs hallway, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. The entire length of his journey, he keens at the top of his lungs as though he’s caught and killed a real skunk, and he’s coming to show me his “kill”. I always praise him – okay, well, he looks like such a little nut that first I laugh and then I praise him – and he drops it and looks very proud of himself.
So I’m going to say that the older cats give the Skinneeez toys two thumbs up (they do LOVE the catnip!) and the little cats will play with the toys, but they’re not sure why the older cats act so strange.
The one thing I’d change, about the teaser wand in particular, is to maybe add a bell to the toy. It’s hard to get the kittens’ attention by just waving the toy around, and I think a bell would help accomplish that.
Skinneeez cat toys retail for approximately $3.49 – the Forest series is on Amazon, here, for $2.21 (though I’m unclear whether that’s $2.21 per toy or for all three of the ones shown), the chickens are here for $3.49 (again, I’m not sure whether that’s per toy or for a set of them) and the Forest Friends teaser wand is $3.19, here – that appears to be for three wands, which is a pretty amazing price.
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Previously 2009: I wanted to file for divorce. 2008: It took me ’til dinner time to get the house cleaned, and I swear to god the house doesn’t look any different at ALL.
2007: No entry. 2006: He shifted position and eyed Fred with bright-eye malevolence. 2005: Maybe I just like to bitch, y’think? 2004: Waiting for Ivan. 2003: No more Benifer. How sad.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry. 2000: Speaking of N Sync – that Lance Bass is a cutie, but I get the distinct feeling that although the lights are on, no one’s home.
The other night, we were watching Killers. It was an okay movie, I usually like Ashton Kutcher’s movies even though he strikes me as having douchebag potential in real life and I can usually tolerate Katherine Heigl (ditto on the real-life douchebag potential). It had a super-weak ending, though. But anyway, we were watching the … Continue reading “9/14/10 – Tuesday”
The other night, we were watching Killers. It was an okay movie, I usually like Ashton Kutcher’s movies even though he strikes me as having douchebag potential in real life and I can usually tolerate Katherine Heigl (ditto on the real-life douchebag potential). It had a super-weak ending, though.
But anyway, we were watching the movie, and it begins in France. Ashton Kutcher was driving a sportscar down the road, and he was all OVER the damn road in that thing, and after he’d spent a long stretch of the road on the right side, I turned to Fred.
“They drive on the left side in France, don’t they? Doesn’t most of Europe?” I was pretty sure I was right, but I know there are random countries that drive on the right side, so I wanted to check with him.
Not that he’s been to France, either, but I thought he might know.
He paused for a long time and then slowly said “They drive…. on the opposite side of the road than we drive on.”
Which, hello, isn’t that a strange way to word it? So I turned and looked at him and I said, “What side of the road do we drive on?”, just to test him.
He took a lonnnnnnng time to deliberate, and finally he said “We drive on the right side of the road.”
“Are you sure?” I said, testing him.
Another long pause. “Yes. The right side of the road.”
“Are you having a stroke?” I said.
“I might have been dozing,” he said.
Fair enough.
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I was searching through the freezers yesterday wondering if I had any cranberries left over from last Fall. I’m getting ready to start back up with the habanero jam making, and in the process of making my grocery list, I couldn’t remember if I’d used up all the cranberries or not.
In the house we have two refrigerators, each with its own freezer, and one stand-alone freezer (let us not discuss the TWO freezers we also have out in the garage). I searched all three freezers, but found no cranberries.
What I did find:
*Small ziploc bags holding (according to the label) ground chicken hearts and livers, from last December. Not sure what I was planning to do with those. I’m also not quite sure whether they’re raw or cooked. No doubt I was planning to give them to the cats, but if I recall correctly, the last time I offered the cats raw hearts and livers, they turned their noses up at them. Spoiled fuckers.
*Edamame. It was like CHRISTMAS when I found those! Ever since Sam’s stopped carrying my beloved edamame in snack-size (frozen) containers, I haven’t had much luck finding edamame in bulk, and that makes me very sad. Apparently, at some point, I did find a couple of small bags at the grocery store, stuck them in the freezer, and promptly forgot about them.
*Cube steak, given to us by Fred’s former coworker about a year and a half ago. He raises his own cows, and we traded him some pork for beef.
*Frozen cookie dough, intended (I am sure) for pig cookies. I have no idea how long that’s been in there.
*VitaTops 100 calorie muffin tops. I bought a pack, tried one, and decided I don’t care for them. I’m pretty sure they’ve been in there about a year.
*Hot dog and hamburger buns. I must have bought them when they were on sale, but have no idea how long they’ve been in there.
*At least 20 2-cup bags of pecans, from our own trees, from Fall 2008. I took a bag out, roasted them in the oven, and they’re still good. Yay! We didn’t get any pecans last Fall, but I think we’re expecting a good harvest this year. I love the hell out of pecans.
Most of all, I found English muffins. A TON of English muffins. What the fuck? How many English muffins do we need to have on hand? I counted thirty before I decided to stop counting. THIRTY. I’m an English muffin hoarder. You’re going to turn on the TV one day and I’ll be standing there, surrounded by mounds of English muffins, my hoarder eyes all atwirl as I say “Well, I likes me some English muffins! You cain’t have too many English muffins! You can toast ’em and eat ’em with jam! You can toast ’em and put a piece of cheese and some scrambled eggs on ’em! You can make tiny pizzas out of ’em! The possibilities are endless!”
I also loves me some Hoarders. The new season of Hoarders has started, in case you didn’t know, and it’s running concurrently with a Hoarders offshoot called something like Hoarders: Piles of Crap.
More Hoarders than you can shake a stick at!
Yesterday I was watching Hoarders: I Cannot Let Go of This Invoice from 1983 and the organizer was helping this skateboard-collecting guy start cleaning up his house, and she was all “Should this go in the toss pile, the keep pile, or the recycle pile?”, and the guy was all “Toss. No. WAIT. What do you mean by “toss” and “recycle”? Because this has use! Someone could use this! If you toss this, does it go to the landfill?” They debated the meanings of “toss” and “recycle” until I felt like I was watching Bill Clinton debate the meaning of “is.”
I would be absolutely horrible at helping a hoarder clean up his or her house because I would have NO FUCKING PATIENCE for the woman who was dithering over whether or not to toss out a rotten cantaloupe and I’d end up yelling at her and grabbing everything and tossing it in the dumpster while she wailed over her loss.
Speaking of shows I love, have you seen that there’s going to be a reality show about a polygamous family on TLC called Sister Wives?
You better believe I’m counting the moments ’til THAT show premieres.
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Is it just me, or do Moxie’s eyes look almost red in this picture?
Moxie atop the cat tree, Melodie and Dodger climbing up the cat tree, followed closely by Jake.
Melodie on the stairs.
And smacking at the curtains.
Where Martin spends most of his day.
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Corby, asleep on the cat tree.
Corby and Reacher are pretty sure that if they’re under the foliage, you can’t see them, and thus you can’t yell at them to get inside.
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Tommy, atop the pantry. He goes up here sometimes to get away from the kittens.
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Previously 2009: Kanye: Douchebag.
2008: No entry. 2007: By the way, I still want a pet hummingbird. 2006: Maddy sadly contemplates the vast expanse of my thigh. How will she ever cross it and reach freedom?! 2005: For the record, there’s a big fucking difference between pranking someone and just being an asshole. 2004: Like, so world-weary, like “I can’t be bothered to sign ‘love’, because it sounds so warm, I need something COLDER, so I’ll just scrawl ‘as ever’”.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
We had an absolutely beautiful weekend, with sunshine and weather in the mid-80s (I told my brother on Friday that when I lived in Maine, I would never ever EVER have considered a temperature in the mid-80s to be cool and comfortable, but I guess it’s amazing what 14 years of living in the south … Continue reading “9/13/10 – Monday”
We had an absolutely beautiful weekend, with sunshine and weather in the mid-80s (I told my brother on Friday that when I lived in Maine, I would never ever EVER have considered a temperature in the mid-80s to be cool and comfortable, but I guess it’s amazing what 14 years of living in the south will do to your opinion of what’s hot and what’s cold).
I know I’ve mentioned that a lot of our younger chickens are able to get out of the back forty and wander the property during the day. They’re getting out of the back forty by walking under the gap that has developed between the bottom of the fence and the ground. A gap that has gotten so large that, if the fully grown chickens were of a mind to, they could also get out of the back forty and wander the property. It hasn’t occurred to them, though, or maybe they’re smart enough (DOUBT IT) to know that in the back forty they’re protected by George and Gracie. If a dog or some other predator were to come onto our property and go after one of the wandering chickens, there’s nothing that George and Gracie could do.
I don’t think that’s happened, but to be honest we have SO FUCKING MANY chickens right now that if a few have gone missing, we don’t know about it.
So anyway, Saturday morning I went out and started working on the fence so that the chickens who are going under the gap can’t get out that way. This was a fairly tedious process that consisted of cutting fence, pushing it into the ground at the bottom of the gaps, and then attaching the pieces of new fence to the old fence with cable ties.
It looks… not great. It’s kind of a mess, but who do we have to impress? It seems to be doing the job. Sunday morning when I went out to work on more of the fence, there were chickens by the gaps I’d blocked off on Saturday walking back and forth with big cartoon question marks in the air over their heads. I worked on the fence for another couple of hours, and I should be able to finish up the front part of the back forty next weekend. I know there are gaps on the fence going along the side of the back forty, but I don’t think any of the chickens are going out that way. If I’m proven wrong, I suppose I’ll have to do the fence along the side, too.
Right now, the ends of my fingers hurt like a motherfucker.
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Worst feeling in the world: paper cuts. I got one on the end of my thumb and just thinking about the feeling of the cut happening makes me shudder. HATE PAPER CUTS.
(Do you glue your paper cuts shut with super glue too? It works like a charm!)
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Is there a word for taking corn off a cob? I made a shit-ton of corn on the cob last night so that I could use the cobs for cob jelly (shaddup, don’t judge), and had to take the corn off the cob to use the cobs, and I have NO CLUE what the word for taking the corn off the cob is. IS there a word? Dekerneling? Decobbing? Anyone know?
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Last weekend, Nance posted a picture of a damn tasty-looking cheese danish. Naturally, it got me craving a good cheese danish, so I started looking around to see if I could find a recipe for a simple danish I could make at home.
I found one (and not one that requires you to make your own dough, thank god), and made half a batch of them on Friday.
Oh my god, they were SO FREAKIN’ GOOD. Too good. So good I need to never make them again because I could NOT stop shoving them in my face.
Moxie, Melodie, Martin, and Dodger continue to explore the house. They start howling to be let out of their room a little after 6 – unless they hear me up and moving around earlier than that. I give them their morning snack, then let them free to roam the house. Marty is completely comfortable in all corners of the house and has staked his claim to one of the beds on my desk. Moxie also occasionally sleeps on my desk. Melodie and Dodger haven’t quite gotten that comfortable, but they’ve at least gotten to the point where they’ll come downstairs.
All four of them ADORE Jake. He really is the Charlene Butterbean of Crooked Acres – he plays with them, he grooms them, he snuggles with them. It’s way too cute.
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Bolitar and Rhyme: still unadopted. Wah! But reports are that they’re calm and friendly and NOT hiding in the litter box any more, so I’m not too worried about them. It’s only been two weeks, I guess it’s going to take a little time.
In the meantime, we give Corby and Reacher all the snuggles they can stand, because it could be their turn to go to the adoption center any time!
God, Corby. I wish you’d learn to relax a little. You’re stressing me out!
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Miz Poo reflects that someone needs to clean that window.
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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry. 2007: “You,” I said to Flappy through clenched teeth, “Are the stupidest goddamn animal in the entire world. GET IN THERE!” 2006: Maddy! 2005: let’s just say I am NOT very fond of Robyn v. 2002 right now. 2004: My mother hung up the phone and said “If she wanted closure so bad, maybe she should have shown up at the nursing home to see her!”
2003: No entry. 2002: I think he has a camera hidden somewhere in the bathroom, and when I’m in the shower, an alarm goes off and tells him to call me immediately. 2001: Time to go cold turkey, Deb… 2000: WHEN WILL THE SUFFERING END???
The problem with this whole thing where I was sick and dropped 15 pounds and then gained it all back is that when I gained it all back, I apparently gained it in places other than where I lost it, so my bras ARE REALLY FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE and I spend all day twitching and trying … Continue reading “9/10/10 – Friday”
The problem with this whole thing where I was sick and dropped 15 pounds and then gained it all back is that when I gained it all back, I apparently gained it in places other than where I lost it, so my bras ARE REALLY FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE and I spend all day twitching and trying to get comfortable while wearing an uncomfortable bra and I have actually HURT MY SHOULDER from all the goddamn twitching. I could (and will) buy new bras, but not until my weight gets to a stable place and I can be sure I won’t suddenly put on 20 unexpected pounds in three days or something.
Which is why I’m not wearing a bra today. I feel sorry for anyone who stops by unexpectedly.
For the next 60 days, you can vote daily on www.givelitter.com for one of these three deserving Los Angeles-area organizations:
Alley Cat Allies in partnership with Baldwin Park Animal Shelter
Kitten Rescue
The Cat House on the Kings
Vote every day. They’ll donate a tenth of a pound of World’s Best Cat Litter for every vote you register. At the end of the voting period, the litter will be distributed proportionally to the total vote count.
I really like the fact that no matter who gets the most votes, all three charities get donated litter. You can vote every day, and I’ll stick the badge on my sidebar as a reminder.
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Is Newt really bigger than before, or is it the camera angle? He looks gorgeous, well-fed…large and in charge!
He’s not actually all that big, but he probably is bigger than he was earlier this summer. He and Maxi both tend to put some weight on in the late summer, perhaps in anticipation of the days of winter when they’ll starrrrrrve to death (sh’yeah). He’s not a fat cat, but he’s definitely very muscular. Probably the angle makes him look bigger than he actually is.
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Re nappin’ time (as opposed to snackin’ time) – what time do you and Fred get up and go to bed (of a day, not a nap). I love love love the idea of a nap but can’t quite work out when is the appropriate time to indulge. Do you nap on your beds or in a chair? Should I be up and running at a certain time of the morning to make a nap acceptable? At least I know the answer to the number of cats needed for a nap – as many as want to participate.
Fred gets up every morning at 4 am, whether it’s a work day or not (he doesn’t understand people sleeping in on the weekends because he’s a weirdo). He leaves for work sometime around 5:30, so he comes upstairs to say goodbye and give me a kiss. I usually roll over and try desperately to go back to sleep, but am rarely able to do so, so I’m up shortly after 5:30. On the weekends, I sometimes get up at 5:30, sometimes sleep in ’til after 6 (I know! The slackery!)
If we’re talking the weekend, we generally lay down on our respective couches in the living room some time after noon and talk for a few minutes, then doze off for as long as we need to. I’ve been known to nap in my bed, but I prefer the couch these days. Our naps generally last half an hour or so, though last Saturday I snoozed on the couch for TWO HOURS.
During the week, my afternoon schedule looks like:
1 pm: eat lunch, answer emails, surf the internet.
2 – 3ish pm: lay on the couch and watch TV. It goes in cycles for me in that some weeks I snooze every single day for that hour, but this week I’ve actually been watching TV.
At 3:00 I get up and go give the cats their snacks, putter around the house, and basically wait for Fred to get home from work (which he does between 3:30 and 4). I never (unless I’m sick) nap past 3, because I’m afraid it’ll mess with my bedtime.
In the evenings, we turn the TV off around 8:45, do one last email check, Fred checks on Coltrane and Maxi, lets Maxi in (usually), lets Newt out, we wrangle up the foster kittens, spend some time hanging out with them in the foster room, then lay in bed and talk for about half an hour. He goes off to his room around 9:45, and I usually lay in bed and read until I get tired enough to turn off the light. I generally make it to 10:00 most nights. If what I’m reading is holding my attention, I might stay up ’til 11 or 11:30, which happens a couple of times a week.
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I don’t consider myself a skimmer, but didn’t you do away with Snack Time? Did I miss when it was reinstated?
I think I only mentioned it in passing, but I reinstated it about a month ago. We were having an issue with Elwood and no matter what medication we tried giving him, nothing stopped the awful diarrhea he was having (and the vet was finding nothing). As a last-ditch effort, I wanted to try giving him Diatomaceous Earth. Diatomaceous Earth comes in a very fine powdery form, and the best way to give it to a cat is to sprinkle it on their food. I mixed it in with canned food to get it into Elwood’s system, and there’s just no way on earth you can give ONE cat in this house a snack and not give it to all of them, so snack time was reinstated.
I changed the time I give them their snack, because before I was giving it to them after Fred and I ate dinner. That meant they were all hanging around the kitchen while I was making dinner, getting underfoot and howling at me. Now I give them their snack at 3:00, which is a much better time – I give them their snack, get all the plates cleaned up, and then can make dinner without harassment.
Oh, and I don’t know if it was the Diatomaceous Earth or just time, but Elwood’s diarrhea has cleared up completely. THANK GOD.
(My other favorite use for Diatomaceous Earth: I sprinkle it where ants tend to congregate (around the wood shed, in particular), and it takes care of them. I mean, they pop up in another location, but at least I don’t have to worry about them building their home in the bottoms of stuff that’s laying on the ground over there.)
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I was fiddling around and went to your profile page. I read this:
“We have six cranky cats who live indoors with us, and two more who live outside (left behind by the people who sold us this house); …. We have chickens, who provide us with eggs, and one day may provide us with meat. We’ll see about that.”
and laughed til I had to squeeze my thighs together.
Man, it’s been a while since I updated the bio, hasn’t it? Three years! It’s now up to date as of this moment – I’m going to just stop putting a number of cats in there, because it bites me in the ass every time.
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I just found out about Jonathan Coulton through Lucymarch.com, and I had to go on youtube and listen to all his stuff. His song “Code Monkey” reminded me of your “robust” and “elegant” comments in this entry. Not that I am suggesting Fred is a code monkey.
I found that video just a touch more amusing than he did!
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Video called Inception Cat. I haven’t seen Inception. It did not affect my enjoyment of this video.
Same here, I love it! (The two of you who haven’t seen that video yet, stick with it. It’s slow to start, but worth watching!)
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A clutch. A “litter” of chicks is actually called a clutch. I think. Maybe. I am not very helpful huh?
I know that a bunch of eggs that a hen lays that she intends to sit on until they hatch is called a clutch, but I don’t know that they’re called a clutch once they hatch. And really, you’d think maybe “flock”, but that doesn’t seem right, either, since it sounds like it refers to the whole bunch of chickens in residence. Maybe a sub-flock?
Okay, I went and Googled around, and apparently you’re right – sometimes the chicks that hatch are called a clutch, but more often they’re referred to as “the hen’s brood.” Which is clunky and does NOT roll off the tongue at all. I prefer clutch, or litter.
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This might be the opportunity to use your skimmer picture, as I just can’t remember -how did the turkeys taste that you guys raised? (Last fall I think? I’m going to guess you’ve eaten some?) The chicken pictures reminded me of them, and I still giggle the way you described the turkeys as having heads full of air.
You know, I don’t know that I ever talked about eating them, actually. We’ve eaten, I think, three of them and they taste really good. They’re smaller (and not pumped with saline the way a lot of grocery store turkeys are), so they cook faster than we’re used to. I really like to use the Overnight Turkey recipe, here, but instead of cooking it overnight I put the turkey in the oven when I get up in the morning, and it’s always ready long before dinner. The turkey falls right off the bones and it is SO good.
I stand by my assertion that god made chickens, and then he said “Hmm. I wonder if I could make something EVEN DUMBER?”
And he DID.
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I know you scoop the litter boxes every day, but what do you scoop into? We generally use old plastic grocery bags, but 1) we run out of plastic grocery bags, especially since most of our stores now offer paper ones, and 2) they aren’t biodegradable. I’d rather take the old grocery bags back to the store to be recycled. I was wondering if you had any other suggestions.
BioBag makes a dog waste bag that is intended for you to bring with you when you’re walking your dog, to scoop the poop into. It’s biodegradable and most days the bags are big enough to fit all the scoopings from all the litter boxes. (Occasionally I have to use a second bag, depending on the number of cats in the house.) They’re not as cheap as the old plastic grocery bags, obviously, but I buy them in bulk off eBay, and I think they’re worth it just so I don’t feel like I’m killing the planet every time I scoop the litter box.
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Corbett’s gahgeous…are you at ALL tempted to keep him? I tell ya, if I didn’t already have 3 cats and a demanding chihuahua AND didn’t live in Oregon, I would’ve taken ALL the Bookworms!
Oh please, of COURSE I’m tempted to keep him. I was tempted to keep Bolitar and Rhyme and Reacher too (I LOVE MY BOOKWORMS), but we really are about full to bursting with the number of permanent residents we have. Of course, now that I’ve put that out into the universe, we’ll probably end up with 30 permanent residents by the end of the year!
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Someone else has probably already mentioned it, but Corbett is very VERY Bengal. He looks just like my Ozzy.
Believe it or not, no one has mentioned it – but I absolutely agree! Bengals really like water, though, don’t they? Corbett hasn’t shown any interest in water… at least, not yet!
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Have you or anyone else out there ever used The World’s Best Cat Litter?? Expensive corn based litter…I’m in the process of trying to convert one litter box upstairs in the hopes of cutting down on litter dust. I HATE litter dust.
I have a bag of it, and I use it when I’ve got little ones who have just started (or are about to start) litter box training, since it’s safer for them than the Fresh Step I use for the big cats. Back when I was first considering buying it, a few people told me that they didn’t care for the smell of the litter. The smell isn’t offensive to me – I mean, it’s got a distinct smell that I notice, but it doesn’t bother me. I don’t use it in all the litter boxes because of the cost, and because (in my opinion) it doesn’t clump as hard. Your mileage may vary, of course, but if you’re going to buy some and give it a try, check out this page for links to the rebate page.
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Thanks for the pictures of the litter boxes, by the way… after the other commenter asked about them, I realized that I, too, had no idea how the setup worked. And I LOL’d at your intro paragraph. You sound like me… I can get through spending 18 hours cleaning my house top to bottom, upside down and inside out, and if someone walks in my front door three seconds later I’m all, “Please don’t mind the mess, it looks like a tornado went through here, I try to keep it clean but it just gets away from me…” hee!
Well, you know. I’d go into YOUR house when you thought it was a complete mess, and I doubt I’d notice that it was a mess, but if you came into MY house, I’d be very much aware of the dust bunny peeking out from under the couch. We’re always way harder on ourselves than we’d ever dream of being on each other, am I right? 🙂
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Once again you have proved you are a Yankee! That nasty sweet Yankee cornbread shouldn’t even be called cornbread. Real cornbread is made with some serious cornmeal and is NEVER sweet. I have moved across the Mason Dixon line myself, but I still know how to make me some cornbread and believe you me there is no sugar in it! Fred would love my cornbread. I was raised in East Tennessee. My daddy taught me how to make it and he was a Georgia farm boy.
If I ever had cornbread as a kid, I don’t remember it. I just do NOT care for unsweet cornbread! Fred loved the cornbread I made for him, using the cast iron skillet and everything. He had his southern cornbread, I had my sweet cornbread, we were both happy. 🙂
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I want a video of you unleashing a stream of obscenities in your sweetest softest voice. Your voice is so sweet and soft anyway!
I’ll see what I can do, but I’ll be honest – I’d feel like an asshole making a movie of me talking shit to one of those poor sweet babies when they’ve gotten me riled up!
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I can’t imagine cornbread that isn’t sweet -seems unnatural to me. Is most Southern cornbread sweet? I think of cornbread as a food that originated in the South but I could be wrong.
No, Southern cornbread isn’t sweet – or so I’m told by Fred, who always calls me a Yankee when I express my preference for the sweet version!
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Now here’s a question for you! I’ve been reading here for absolutely ages but I can’t for the life of me remember if you’ve already mentioned this. Has Coltrane been “done”? And if he has did he only have one ball?
I’m not being really pervy but my cat Gizmo who looks so similar to Coltrane has a high pitched meow quite like that and he only had one ball… so I wonder if its anything to do with that? Or just cos they are ginger?
We did have Coltrane neutered soon after he first showed up this Spring – as far as I know, he had both of ’em; the vet didn’t say there was only one, and I didn’t think to ask, so I’m guessing both were present. Newt also has that really high-pitched meow, and he’s a similar shade of orange, so maybe it’s a color thing. Or possibly the two of them are related, we’re not sure.
Sugarbutt, our other orange kitty (he’s darker than both Coltrane and Newt) doesn’t have the super high-pitched meow. Sugarbutt always sounds like he’s asking a question when he gets going. That’s another movie I’ll have to try to get!
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Susan sent me the link to this article, and I’ve been meaning to post it for ages (it made her think of me because they refer to the cat’s expression as “smug”, which I also do. And I have to agree, that is one smug-looking cat!)
I’d like to ask you about kitten behavior… I have a kitten, maybe 4 or 5 months old, I believe he was taken away from his momma too young as he was miniscule when I adopted him (my local humane society was so over filled they were adopting out cats for $15 for the first one, $5 for each one after. I grabbed two babies, the $15 baby was a very sick kitty and although I tried he didn’t make it). He was barely bigger than my hand and I have tiny hands. He liked to nuzzle my neck and face, which is precious, but he hasn’t grown out of doing that. He does it with such urgency, very important nuzzling, it’s cute and loving, but I have to get some sleep. Yes, he wakes me up to press his cold wet nose into my face and neck. I’m trying to be consistent at stopping him before he starts when I’m awake, but he doesn’t seem to be getting the message.
Any suggestions?
I have no helpful advice on this topic – none of my cats do this. Though now that I think about it, Sugarbutt used to wake me up in the middle of the night every once in a while, kneading on my shoulder and licking my neck. He stopped doing that of his own accord not long after we moved to this house, over three years ago. I don’t know why he stopped, maybe he grew out of the behavior.
Y’all, help me out here – who has helpful suggestions on this topic for Becca?
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(Yes, I am wearing boots with shorts. Don’t mock me; Corby’s clearly already doing that.)
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I mentioned, perhaps, that Martin helps out during afternoon snack time? After only a few days, he already understands what the sounds of snack time are (me taking plates down out of the cabinet), and he’s with all the big cats, meowing and pawing at my legs.
“What?”
::thlurrrrp::
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Loony Jake, hanging out in the foster room.
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Previously 2009: I think sometimes that dreaming of what we’d do if we won the lottery is more entertaining than actually winning the lottery would be. 2008: Torturing the Toms. 2007: Google is THE SHIT.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry. 2003: “Fuck it!” I said. 2002: “Stinky?” I said. 2001: I stole this survey from Noreen, but I’ve seen it all over the place recently, and god knows how much I love to be one of the cool kids! 2000: Look! It’s nay-chuh!
Yesterday I went to Publix in the morning to take advantage of the sales (their sales go from Wednesday to Tuesday). I especially like their buy one get one free sales, and take advantage of them to stock up on the stuff I use regularly – Pam, bagels, english muffins, dog treats, Cheerios. I don’t … Continue reading “9/9/10 – Crooked Acres Thursday”
Yesterday I went to Publix in the morning to take advantage of the sales (their sales go from Wednesday to Tuesday). I especially like their buy one get one free sales, and take advantage of them to stock up on the stuff I use regularly – Pam, bagels, english muffins, dog treats, Cheerios. I don’t know how it is that I show up at the store ten minutes after they open, there’s NO ONE ELSE around, and yet somehow their shelves of whatever the fuck I’m there to buy are almost completely wiped out. I managed to get two cans of Olive Oil Pam, but there were only two cans on the shelf, so whoever came along after me was shit out of luck. I wonder if they deliberately don’t stock the shelves of stuff that’s on sale so that one person can’t come in and buy all of one sale item. Publix doesn’t usually have a limit on the number of sale items you buy at one time, so it could happen, I suppose.
I went home and put the groceries away, ate breakfast, and then headed to Kroger. Fred’s been completely out of Diet Pepsi (we are a house divided – he prefers Diet Pepsi, I don’t drink that stuff unless I’m desperate) and has been drinking my Diet Coke for the past week. I don’t like to share my Diet Coke, and Kroger has Pepsi products on sale for 88 cents a 2-liter, so it was time to haul my ass to Madison and stock up for him.
When I was done at Kroger, I was going to come home, but I decided that since it wasn’t so very far to Petsmart, I’d run by there and see how my boys were doing. Then I could go over to Bed, Bath and Beyond, and buy a bag of the kettle corn (korn?) they’re selling. They’re big bags, and they’re $3.99 each and they are LIKE CRACK, and neither Publix nor Kroger carried any bags of premade kettle korn (corn?), and have I mentioned that this stuff is fantastic?
So I saw the boys at Petsmart (more down there in the kitteh section) and browsed the pet costumes. I was so very, very tempted to buy a princess hat to put on Jake, but in the end I didn’t. I went over to Bed, Bath and Beyond and grabbed up some kettle corn (korn?) and browsed through the store. When I was in the store last week, they had a pet carrier on sale, this one:
the black one, and they were marked down to $9.99 each. I had a couple of 20% off coupons, so I bought one, took it out to the car, and then went back in and bought the other. I deliberated buying the third one, but didn’t have another coupon, so opted not to. When I got home, I set up the carrier, put a pad in the bottom of the carrier, and put one by my desk, and the other in a corner of my bedroom. They are SUPER popular with the cats. Spanky and Sugarbutt take turns laying in the one by my desk (the front flap of the carrier folds down, so it just looks like a little cave), and Miz Poo likes to hang out in the one in my bedroom and watch the kittens. She’s even spent the night in there a few times, which is amazing for her, since she usually likes to get right up in my face and tickle me with her whiskers all night long.
Anyway, they still had the third carrier, but on my way to the cashier, I realized it wasn’t marked down to $9.99 the way the other two were. It was the regular price of $29.99 (!), so I put it back and just bought my kettle korn (corn?) (the whole korn/ corn question could be solved by my going into the kitchen and looking at the damn bag, but I’m too goddamn lazy to walk the ten feet to do so).
Lastly, I ran over to Target because I needed a new broom and dustpan, and I found the selections at Publix, Kroger, and Bed, Bath and Beyond to be lacking. I have three (I think) dustpans in the house, and two of them suck. The third is a Rubbermaid dustpan and it’s the Best! Dustpan! Ever! (my god, is this not the most fascinating topic on earth? Should I start talking about the weather next, you think?). Alas, even Target didn’t have the Rubbermaid dustpan, so I opted for the Mrs. Libman broom and dustpan combo.
I got home, and it wasn’t even noon. I put everything away, spent some time with the kittens, ate lunch, and then snoozed on the couch.
It even rained for about 20 minutes, so all in all? A very good day!
(PS: I got up off my ass to look. It’s neither kettle korn nor kettle corn – it’s kettlecorn! Made by these guys. I’ve tried the cinnamon flavor (which isn’t even listed on their web page), but prefer the original. I haven’t tried the smoked cheddar, but it certainly sounds good. Also, according to their list of retailers, Publix carries the stuff. I went over that aisle with a fine-tooth eyeball (two of them!), and our local Publix doesn’t carry them, I can tell you that.)
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Sights from around Crooked Acres.
Gracie, keeping a watchful eye on… something. (I don’t remember what she was watching so closely.)
“DID SOMEONE SAY ‘COOKIE’?!?!”
Four of the approximately ten young chickens who leave the back forty every morning and spend their day wandering the property. These four are from the same…. litter (?), and spend all their time together. That’s the burn pile they’re hanging out in.
Another wanderer.
These are assassin bugs, right? They seem to be hanging out on in flocks on my tomato plants, waiting for their prey to come along.
Bee on a Morning Glory.
Just-hatched assassin bugs. I went back to look at them a couple of hours later, and they’d vamoosed.
Mama Silkie and some of her babies.
Mama Silkie and more of her babies (please note the tiny chicken butt to the left, as one of her babies decides he needs to be under her wing).
Mama Buff and some of her babies.
Mama Silkie, lecturing.
“I have HOW MANY babies?”
“I can’t afford that much child support! I guess I better start looking for a job. Sexing up the wimminfolk doesn’t pay much ’round these parts.”
Check out the crossed paws. She’s always a lady, our Gracie.
George, looking like a ragamuffin.
Standing near the gate, note that Gracie has spotted something, while George is staring off into space.
They race off…
…chickens scattering…
…and stare at the intruder (a dog belonging to a neighbor had wandered across our property).
The end. (Nothin’ cuter than a chicken butt!)
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Sweet, stretchy Dodger.
The MMMs (including Dodger) are slowly starting to explore the house more. Martin is sleeping on a cat bed on my desk right this moment, Moxie’s sleeping on top of the bookcase in the front room, and Dodger is hanging out on the cat tree in the front room. I’ve even seen Melodie come downstairs several times. They tend to run off when the TV is turned on (I think they aren’t quite sure what to make of the noise), but I’m sure it’ll only be a matter of time before they’re hanging out with us while we watch TV in the evenings.
We call this next series of pictures “Martin’s mouth writes a check his tail can’t cover.” Or maybe “You mess with the bull, you get the horns.”
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Awww, look at the pictures I found on my hard drive! It’s Bolitar, hanging out with Tommy!
I stopped by Petsmart yesterday to check on my boys. I intended to go into the cat room and give them some love, but they were curled up together so sweetly sound asleep that I didn’t want to wake them up. By all reports, they’re adjusting pretty well to the adoption center, and aren’t scared or hiding in the litter box anymore. They also haven’t been adopted yet, obviously, but I sense that this will be their weekend! I can dream, right?
Corby, in his favorite snoozing spot.
The Reacher Creature, mid head shake.
Elwood and Reacher, keeping an eye on things.
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Coltrane, coming over for some petting. And a wandering chicken. Neither of them seems terribly impressed by the other.
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Previously 2009: Maybe Bill just thought I didn’t have enough to worry about? 2008: “I SEE YOU HAS CORN GIVE TO ME NOM NOM NOM” 2007: Who needs a stinkin’ appendix, anyway?
2006: No entry. 2005: (I shot a man in Texas, just to watch him die.)
2004: No entry. 2003: So basically I paid twice as much for a keyboard as I would have on my own for no good reason, all thanks to that Staples employee, may he rot in hell. 2002: I hope that leaf doesn’t give me a damn yeast infection.
2001: No entry. 2000: I’m not sure what happened next. I believe I blacked out.
So, last week I put up a video of Marty from soon after we got him, and his funny, squeaky little meow. In case you missed it, here it is: Someone asked if his voice had changed any since then, so I got a video so y’all can judge for yourselves. I shot this video … Continue reading “9/8/10 – Kitteh Wednesday”
So, last week I put up a video of Marty from soon after we got him, and his funny, squeaky little meow. In case you missed it, here it is:
Someone asked if his voice had changed any since then, so I got a video so y’all can judge for yourselves.
I shot this video yesterday as soon as I went into the foster room. The babies get their snack of canned cat food first thing in the morning, so they’ve all gotten used to yelling at me as soon as I walk in. No one yells more than our Marty.
His voice may have deepened a little, but it’s still the same funny meow.
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And while we’re on the topic of cats and their voices, Coltrane certainly has a very distinctive, VERY high-pitched voice. Every evening he takes up residence on the side stoop, and any time Fred or I go out there, Coltrane has something to say to us. (In the second part of the video, you can hear Maxi’s meow, which is lower and huskier, but no less distinctive!)
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I know, I know. I’ve put up an AWFUL lot of pictures of Corbett recently, but I just can’t help it. He’s so gorgeous that every time I see him I can’t help but take a thousand pictures of him. I swear I’ll point the camera in the direction of some of the other cats… tomorrow. For today, feast your eyes upon the sheer gorgeous stripey perfection of the kitty known as Corby McGee.
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Previously 2009: It’s like we’ve entered another universe completely. 2008: Yes, more chickens.
2007: No entry. 2006: I think that “Proven to be beneficial to livers” should be Fred’s new tagline. 2005: Give me some of that, Barbara Bush, you ignoramus.
2004: No entry. 2003: Because believe it or not, it never once occurred to me that the Walton family was comprised of hillbillies. 2002: Look, I drink a gallon of water a day. I need to know that I can pee when I need to, so stop rolling your eyes at me.
2001: No entry. 2000: Can I tell you how much I loathe Bret Easton Ellis?
What an absolutely gorgeous weekend we had! It was cool (mid-80s), it was so sunny that I didn’t see a single cloud in the sky from Friday to Monday, and we had three million adorable baby chicks hatch on Saturday and Sunday. (Well, more like fifteen, really. Expect loads of pictures for Thursday.) There were … Continue reading “9/7/10 – Tuesday”
What an absolutely gorgeous weekend we had! It was cool (mid-80s), it was so sunny that I didn’t see a single cloud in the sky from Friday to Monday, and we had three million adorable baby chicks hatch on Saturday and Sunday.
(Well, more like fifteen, really. Expect loads of pictures for Thursday.)
There were two chickens – the white Silkie and a yellow Buff Orpington – sitting on seventeen eggs between them, and all but two hatched. We have one grown rooster and he’s apparently been a busy, busy boy. I never would have expected to have that many fertile eggs. We didn’t particularly WANT that many chicks, really, but when those hens go broody, they aren’t kidding about wanting to hatch them some babies, so Fred piled a ton under them assuming that one lone rooster cannot possibly spread the lovin’ around to 40 grown hens. We were wrong, of course.
There was one chick who had a hard time hatching, and you are NOT supposed to mess with chicks who are having difficulty, you’re supposed to just leave them alone and let nature take its course. Fred, however, cannot possibly leave well enough alone, so he brought in the chick and helped him the rest of the way out of the shell, and put him in the incubator.
The chicks that Fred “helps” are always named “Lucky”, because we’re always hopeful they’ll make it. They don’t always, in fact they usually don’t – I think only one Lucky has actually made it – but you can’t blame Fred for trying. This little guy was in a heap on the floor of the incubator for most of Saturday evening, and then he got up on his feet and stomped around for a while and demonstrated that his lungs were functioning just fine. When Fred decided he was doing well, he took him back out to the coop and put him in front of one of the Momma hens and Lucky didn’t hesitate to climb under her and go to sleep.
Sunday morning Lucky was bright-eyed and moving around, but mid-day Sunday he started winding down, and by Sunday evening he couldn’t even open his eyes, so Fred euthanized him. The rest of the chicks were doing well, but Monday morning when Fred took the trailer out to set up in the pig yard (the pigs are going to freezer camp next Monday, and Fred starts feeding them in the trailer the week before so that when it’s time to go, they’ll go into the trailer easily. Yes, we use their love of food against them.), I followed him out and peeked in the maternity coop to find a dead chick laying in the food and Momma Silkie surrounded by a bevy of babies, all of them having a bit of a tizzy.
Anyways. Uh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on about the damn chickens for so long. There’s nothing cuter than a wee baby chick, though, let me tell you.
Saturday morning was when I took my last antibiotic, and Sunday morning began my reunion with my True Love, Diet Coke. I swear to god, I took my first sip of Diet Coke around 7 am, and for the rest of the day it was like I was on meth. I cleaned! I did laundry! I snapped a zillion and sixty-three pictures! I watered the plants! I cleaned and refilled the hummingbird feeders! I cooked! I cooked! And I cooked some more! (But I didn’t cook meth. My house smells like cat pee often enough without that special scent added to the environment, thanks.)
A year ago, or thereabouts, when I first wrote about the Green Tomato Chili, I said that I didn’t have a dutch oven, so I made the chili in my crock pot, and declared that it was just fine.
I was so, so wrong. Now, don’t get me wrong – the Green Tomato Chili was perfectly fine, but this year I DO have a dutch oven, and I made it using the directions Jenn gave me, and HOLY COW, it was SO much better. I also used steak instead of ground beef, and tossed a couple of small cans of mushrooms in, and OH SO GOOD.
To go with the Green Tomato Chili? Cornbread! Now, Fred has some strange belief that cornbread cannot be sweet. So instead of arguing with him over this fallacy, I made a batch of regular cornbread for him, and a batch of sweet cornbread muffins for myself.
Sweet Cornbread Muffins recipe here. If you want the recipe for the regular, non-sweet, non-life-affirming nasty-ass cardboard-tasting cornbread Fred loves so much, you’re shit out of luck. Go Google it up, that’s what I did!
Then, since I was planning on grilling burgers for lunch on Monday (which I think I do just about every Labor Day), I made a batch of Justin Wilson’s Slaw (it’s always best when it’s aged at least a day), and a batch of Potato Salad, too.
While I was waiting for the potatoes to cook for the potato salad, I wandered out to the garden and picked all the split, half-rotten tomatoes off the tomato plants in the garden and the raised beds as well, and then I tossed them all to the chickens. There is nothing our chickens love and adore quite so much as tomatoes, half-rotted or not.
I waited impatiently for Fred to wake up from his afternoon nap, and then I made him help me carry the big-ass cat tree from the foster room to the front room, and a smaller cat tree back up to the foster room. The big-ass cat tree is awesome, and the kittens like it a lot, but the problem is that the big-ass cat tree is about a foot taller than my reach, so if a scaredy-cat wants to get away from me, she knows she only has to go to the highest level of the cat tree and I can’t reach her and either have to go get the stepladder (which only serves to terrify all the other cats, when I go stomping into the foster room, stepladder in tow) or just stand and unleash a helpless stream of obscenities in my sweetest, softest voice in hopes that it will persuade her to come and be grabbed by my flailing hand.
Then Sunday morning I made Fred do all manners of things I’ve been wanting him to do for ages and ages, such as (1) hang a curtain rod in the foster room and (2) fix my shower so that it drains in a more timely manner and, uh, that’s all I can remember. I was going to make him put hair color on my hair, but I had already taken a shower because I forgot that I need to color my hair due to the graying of said hairs. I wanted him to put up another shelf in the foster room closet, but apparently the installation of said shelf required more work than he felt like doing, and I was so grateful that he’d gotten the curtain rod put up that I let that one slide.
OH MY GOD DOES IT SEEM TO YOU THAT I AM BABBLING AT YOU IN A BABBLING AND UNORGANIZED MANNER BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE I CANNOT KEEP THREE THOUGHTS STRAIGHT IN MY HEAD AT THE SAME TIME AND SO I AM GOING TO BABBLE ABOUT THE CATS AND POST THIS AND PERHAPS BY THE TIME IT IS TIME TO POST ANOTHER POST POST POST AM I SAYING POST A LOT?! I WILL HAVE BECOME ACCUSTOMED TO THE METHIMEANCAFFEINE FLOWING THROUGH MY VEINS IN A MANNER CAUSING ME TO ACT IN A DISORGANIZED BABBLING MANNER AND PERHAPS I WILL MAKE MORE SENSE TOMORROW OKAY SEE YOU TOMORROW THEN BYE BYE!
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ALSO, HABANERO-EATING MOTHERFUCKERS, HABANEROS ARE COMING IN LIKE GANGBUSTERS (PERHAPS THEY TOO ARE HITTING THE DIET COKE PIPE AGAIN!) SO HABANERO JAMS AND HOT SAUCES SHOULD BE AVAILABLE BY OCTOBER 1ST LOVE YOU BYE!
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Bolitar and Rhyme: Unadopted.
I blame the holiday weekend, and will likely go visit with my sweet boys in the next few days. Last report I got, from Jean who happened to be in Petsmart on Friday, they were curled up together in a non-scared manner on top of their litter box.
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On Saturday, I opened the half-door at the end of the hallway upstairs and gave Martin, Melodie, Moxie and Dodger the run of the house.
They were distinctly underwhelmed.
Martin eventually made it downstairs and did some exploring on Saturday, became a little more comfortable on Sunday, and by mid-afternoon on Monday, he was helping the big cats clean their plates at snack time (the upstairs foster kittens get their “snack” of canned cat food first thing in the morning. The big cats downstairs get theirs mid-afternoon.). The other three have been down several times to look around, but they’re more comfortable hanging out upstairs. It’ll take them a little more time to spend any real time downstairs, which isn’t surprising – they think of upstairs as “home”.
The biggest surprise to me is how well the big cats have dealt with the little cats. Reacher and Corbett genuinely like the little cats, and have been seen playing with them and giving them the occasional lick on top of the head. Neither Reacher nor Corbett have Bolitar’s drama-queen nature, so aren’t picking on the babies.
So far, so good!
Martin approaching Jake for some love.
Melodie and Corbett.
I’m sorry, is Dodger THE biggest love bug on this planet, or what? He loves loves LOVES everyone.
Moxie puts up with the flood of love coming her way.
Melodie in the sun.
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When I go out into the back yard in the mornings to snap pictures, Corbett likes to come lean against my leg.
Corbett’s got a bit of the ear floof going on. Nothing like his half-brother Gus, but certainly a bit more floof than your average cat.
Sometimes he likes to tell me how it is.
And sometimes he just gives me the look o’ love.
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Newt wonders if perhaps it might be snackin’ time?
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Previously 2009: I like to think that the chickens are sitting on their eggs thinking “Why do I keep craving birthday cake…?”
2008: No entry. 2007: Pretty good for kittens I was absolutely positive would be unadoptable due to their feral nature when I first saw them, ain’t it? 2006: Say, any of you boys smithies? Or, if not smithies per se, were you otherwise trained in the metallurgic arts before straightened circumstances forced you into a life of aimless wanderin’? 2005: I didn’t get any pictures of it, but last night the stank coming off Rambo’s hindquarters was so strong that we finally gave in to the inevitable and gave him a bath.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry. 2001: IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS WHO IT IS. 2000: Am I not an ass-kicking WalkAerobics diva?
Have you ever tried caffeine-free Diet Coke. It is not so bad…… I’ve tried it in the past and don’t like it – it tastes kind of metallic to me. I figure, I’ve only got a couple more days, depriving myself for that much longer won’t kill me, right? @ @ @ @ … Continue reading “9/3/10 – Friday”
Have you ever tried caffeine-free Diet Coke. It is not so bad……
I’ve tried it in the past and don’t like it – it tastes kind of metallic to me. I figure, I’ve only got a couple more days, depriving myself for that much longer won’t kill me, right?
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You guys have done well with the piggies and chickens. Have you given any thought into raising your own cow? I imagine it would be much more difficult of a process at the end – but a homegrown, properly aged ribeye is sounding mighty tasty.
We’ve talked about it, but we’re both hesitant to add any more animals to the farm. Last year it just so happened that the guy who processed our pigs had a cow that was ready for processing. We traded (I think) a whole pig for half a cow (a friend bought the other half of the cow), and that worked out really well for us. Fred called the guy a few months ago, and we may be doing the trade again next Spring. It’s working out well, and we don’t have to build a barn for a cow someone else is raising, so I’m calling that win-win!
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Is it too much to request a photo of your litter box setup? I can’t wrap my mind around the description.
I just snapped these pictures about five minutes ago. Please forgive the dust around the top of the litter boxes. I usually wipe it off when it starts to annoy me, but I was more focused on getting the pictures than what the area really looked like. (I’d just scooped, so at least the litter boxes were clean!) Also, just keep in mind it’s been a couple of days since I vacuumed, so I’ll be vacuuming later today. It’s not ordinarily that much of a mess, I swear it!
Upstairs in the foster room.
Upstairs in the nook in my bathroom.
Downstairs in the guest bedroom. This litter box is about to go away – the only reason it was there is because we were putting the Bookworms in the guest bedroom at night before I took Bolitar and Rhyme to the adoption center, so they needed to have access to a litter box. Now that there are only two Bookworms, we’ve been letting them stay out at night, and as a result, this litter box isn’t needed – and is hardly ever used.
I didn’t snap a picture of the “main” litter boxes in the laundry room because they don’t have anything to catch the litter and there’s nothing special about the setup. Litter gets all over the place in the laundry room, but I keep it under control by sweeping every morning after I scoop.
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You must try the C0ke Zer0…oh, the Heaven, the Bliss (of course, I may earn the Skimmer Of The Day Award, if you’ve already written about trying it and how you hets it and will always lub the DiCo).
I think I will always lub the regular Diet Coke – but now that you mention it, I don’t think I’ve ever actually tried Coke Zero. I think maybe I should give it a try. I might be missing out on something even better!
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I’ve also had some sort of lower-intestinal bug thing for the past several days. It was BAD yesterday, a bit better today. Robyn, you’ve infected your readers! All the way to California!!!
I am nothing if not a giver. I’m the Oprah of the journaling world. Diarrhea for YOU and YOU and YOU and YOUUUUUUU! Diarrhea for EVERYONE!!!!
I need to know – did you watch RHONJ Reunion show last night??? What a circus!
I finally watched the Reunion, and I have got to say that there is something SERIOUSLY friggin’ wrong with Teresa. What an asshole. I know I’ve said before that Danielle’s a drama queen who manufactures drama where there is none, but the fact that she mostly sat back and was quiet and not out of control certainly made the rest of the “cast” look like bullying assholes.
Frankly, she was the least assholish of the bunch, I think. Just once, when Caroline’s threateningly saying “You don’t talk about Dina!” or “You shut your mouth!” to Danielle, I’d like Danielle to say “Or what?” What the fuck control does Caroline think she’s got over Danielle?
There was no one on that set who wasn’t an asshole, though. Even Andy Cohen was an asshole. Talking about how strong Teresa was, when she pushed him down! He should have put her in a wrestling hold and forced her to apologize to Danielle.
I didn’t like what ANYONE was wearing, either. Well, except Andy Cohen. He always looks stylish. The women, though, no. Caroline’s dress and hair style made her look 10 years older (she looked like she’d escaped from an episode of Falcon Crest). There’s nothing Jacqueline can wear that makes her look remotely attractive (and she has the personality of a wet rag) and I sure don’t need to see that much of her boobs. I don’t remember what Teresa was wearing, but I’m sure it looked hideous. As for that rig Danielle had on? She looked like she rolled out of bed and pulled on whatever was in arm’s reach.
You know I cannot wait to see the second half of this reunion. It’s far and away more interesting than ANY of the shows this season have been.
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Yesterday after I dropped Melodie, Martin, and Dodger off at the vet for their operation, I headed into Huntsville to stop by Sam’s Club.
Now, if you’re unfamiliar with Huntsville or where I live, you might not know that to get from Sam’s Club to home, I had to go RIGHT by Petsmart. I stopped, of course, because I am only so strong. I just wanted to peek at Bolitar and Rhyme and make sure they were okay. So I got to a point at the end of an aisle where I could peek into their cage and they couldn’t see me. I peered around the corner, and Bolitar was sitting next to the litter box, and the instant I peered around the corner, his head SNAPPED around, and he saw me immediately.
I couldn’t help myself, I went over to the cage and started talking to him. I couldn’t figure out where Rhyme was, so I looked and looked, and finally realized that he was in the litter box, sound asleep. I spoke to him and got his attention, and just hearing my voice, he came out of the litter box and stretched and pawed at the glass.
Well. What would YOU do? I couldn’t just leave!
No, I didn’t snatch him up and bring him home – but I did go find a manager to let me into the cat room, and I let them out of their cage, and I sat there on the floor and cuddled and kissed and played with them for 45 minutes. They were SO happy to see me. They climbed into my lap, they purred, they hugged me. They showed me their toys, they ran back and forth, stretching their legs, and they climbed into my lap for more love.
After 45 minutes, they were ready to go back into their cage for some food and a nap, so I gave them each one last kiss and cuddle, and left.
I was so relaxed that I felt like I’d had a massage.
I’m keeping my fingers crossed that someone falls in love with them tonight or tomorrow during adoption hours. But if they don’t, I know I can always go back to Petsmart and spend more time with them.
I forgot to mention this – Amy asked how it was that Bolitar and Rhyme were the first to depart. Basically, we were having an issue with Bolitar picking on the babies upstairs and also with him getting out into the back yard and then OUT of the back yard a couple of times, so even though (I know this will shock you) he was my favorite, I decided that he should probably be the first to go. And since he and Rhyme are best buddies, I let Rhyme go with him.
An interesting side note is that when I was at Petsmart with Bolitar and Rhyme, Bolitar went over to a cage of smaller kittens and sniffed at them… and then he did NOT hiss or growl or smack at them. Very interesting. So maybe when he was picking on the babies upstairs, he thought he was defending his territory or trying to establish dominance, and in a new setting like at Petsmart, he didn’t feel like he needed to do that? Then again, maybe it’ll just take a few days for him to be comfortable enough to let his inner drama queen out.
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Dodger, Melodie, and Martin are now spayed and neutered. All the way to the vet’s office, I expected them to start howling, but after I got them into the carrier, they did not make a single peep all the way there, and when I picked them up last night, they didn’t make a peep all the way home, either. None of them seem to know they’ve had anything done at all – the instant I let them out of the carrier last night, they ran around like their tails were on fire, and they played hard all evening long. I was worried that Melodie would revert to her scaredy-cat ways, and she was a wee bit nervous this morning, but she came over to me pretty quickly to be petted.
So they’re ready to go to the adoption center when room is available, but I’m guessing that it’s going to be a while before that happens!
(Someone asked a couple of days ago whether Martin’s meow has changed since he was little. He still has a pretty distinctive meow, but I intend to get another movie of what he sounds like now, so y’all can judge for yourselves! It’ll take me a few days to get that done, though.)
Melodie, pre-spay.
Dodger shows his teeth and claws.
::thlurrrp::
::thlurrrrrrp::
::thlurrp!::
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Reacher has turned out to be a middle-of-the-night foot attacker. But that’s okay – he also respects the can of compressed air.
I just cannot stand how GORGEOUS these boys are!
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Spanky would like you to know that he’s no dummy. Since he doesn’t wear a collar (he’s never ever climbed over the fence, so we consider it safe to leave him collarless), he can get right up against the fence and the collared cats can’t get to where he is (or they’ll get zapped from their collars), and so they can’t bug him. HA HA HA ON THEM!
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Previously 2009: It was almost cinematic, the way they ran toward each other and then Jake bit Elwood on the neck. 2008: When the cleaning bug strikes, you don’t ask questions! 2007: Bob Goodlatte fights the good fight against his opponent Joan Badespresso.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: “She looks… she looks.. she looks like a PIRATE!” he gasped. I started giggling. 2003: I guess Spike TV really IS television for men. 2002: When married characters are that cruel to each other, all you can think is, “Why the hell are they married if they hate each other so much?” 2001: Gatlinburg pictures!
2000: No entry.
I must be completely back to normal physically (I’ve NEVER been normal mentally HAR HAR HAR ::wheeze:: ), because I am CRAAAAVING the Diet Coke. If you came sauntering across the room slurping on a Diet Coke right now, I would cut your throat and steal your Diet Coke as you fell to the floor. … Continue reading “9/2/10 – Crooked Acres Thursday”
I must be completely back to normal physically (I’ve NEVER been normal mentally HAR HAR HAR ::wheeze:: ), because I am CRAAAAVING the Diet Coke. If you came sauntering across the room slurping on a Diet Coke right now, I would cut your throat and steal your Diet Coke as you fell to the floor. And then I’d feed you to the pigs. OH YES I WOULD.
I actually have bottles of Diet Coke in the refrigerator right now, but I’m trying to refrain from drinking any until this course of antibiotics is over and done with, as I am supposed to avoid caffeine.
Sunday morning will be a Diet Cokeapalooza ’round these parts, though, I tell you what.
I’ve gained back all but 4 of the pounds I lost, alas. I don’t know what form the loss took – I imagine it was mostly water weight with some muscle and maybe a little fat thrown in – but I can tell you that it’s all coming back as water weight. I’m practically sloshing when I walk right now. I guess it takes time for your body to rebalance after a quick loss-and-gain cycle like that. I’m eating normally and drinking lots of fluids, so things will work out.
My doctor’s office did call to let me know that I have an appointment with the gastroenterologist. On SEPTEMBER 30th. I’m glad things are back to normal, otherwise I might have gotten down to 98 pounds before then, for god’s sake. The nurse told me that if I felt like things were completely back to normal I could cancel the appointment. But I’m supposed to see him once a year so he can poke at my liver, order blood tests, and tell me everything is fine and I might have missed last year.
(For those of you newish to the site, I supposedly have Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis. I don’t particularly believe I have it, and the diagnosis only came through ruling out everything else, so whatever. Right now I take bile salts daily and see the doctor every so often.)
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Scenes from around Crooked Acres.
Mother hen and babies. We have about 40 young chicks and babies right now. This was NOT supposed to happen, but those damn hens keep going broody!
“He likes it when I slip him the tongue.”
“I swear to you, if she doesn’t stop wearing those polka-dotted boots, I’m going to drown her in the wallow.”
“I hear you.”
Pigs are off to freezer camp on the 13th. They’re at about 300 pounds right now and it’s time for processing. We’ll have two more pigs the following weekend, we’ve already got it set up with Egg the Pig Man, our piglet provider.
Black Silkie taking a dust bath.
Evening snack time for George and Gracie. Gracie keeps her eye on the prize, but George looks like he’s about to go bounding off.
“I has a rawhide bone.”
“I lubs my rawhide bone.”
::slurrrrrrp::
“I need a pedicure.”
I don’t know what it is, but it’s dead.
Pecans! Hopefully we’ll get a good crop this year.
I think Morning Glories are about the prettiest flower in existence.
Wee eggplant.
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The trip to the adoption center on Tuesday sucked. Of course it did – they always do. It didn’t help matters that about halfway there, Bolitar and Rhyme started howling like their little hearts were breaking. I almost turned around several times. I almost called Fred and told him I couldn’t do it a hundred times. But in the end, I got them there, I got them set up in their cages, and after much hugging and kissing and telling them I loved them, I left them.
I took heart in the fact that they didn’t immediately go into the litter box to hide. They were scared and nervous, but they had each other, and were snuggled up together when I left. Reports from the adoption counselor for Tuesday night were that they spent the evening hiding in the litter box.
It will take a few days for them to relax – it always does – and I know they’ll be okay.
But I miss their little faces, and it is SO much quieter around here without them!
Reacher and Corbett don’t really seem to notice that anything’s different. Corbett has maybe become a touch friendlier – he was never unfriendly, but also hasn’t been super-friendly either, but yesterday and today he’s been approaching me to be petted. He’s also putting up with being kissed a lot better than he did before.
Jake and Elwood are fine. They have Reacher and Corbett to hang out with, and if they get bored with that particular selection of kittens, they jump over the half-door upstairs and hang out with the upstairs kittens.
Bolitar and Rhyme, of course, haven’t been adopted yet, but I know they will be, soon. And you know I’ll let you know when that happens!
I snapped a few last pictures before we left for Petsmart.
See that collar? In his last few days here, not only did Bolitar spend a lot of time sneaking out into the back yard, he also managed somehow to get OUT of the back yard twice. We have an extra collar on hand (we have an electric fence around the back yard), and it worked very well to keep him from escaping.
Brudderly love.
Rhyme gets in a last snuggle with Jake.
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Martin, Melodie, and Dodger are about to go be spayed and neutered. Since Moxie was already spayed, she gets to stay home and hang out with me for the day. Things are certainly going to be QUIET around here today.
Once they’re recovered from their surgery – probably this weekend – I’ll be opening the half-door in the hallway to allow them the run of the house. Martin has shown that he’s VERY ready to go exploring. I’ve been having to hold him back with one hand as I go through the half-door. Last night he slipped through and headed down the stairs with no hesitation whatsoever, like he had places to go and he was GOING. Without BolitarZilla around to hiss and smack at them, I think they’ll be okay.
We were hanging out on my bed, and heard the noise of a cat jumping over the half-door. Moxie and Martin ran to the end of the bed to see what was going on – no doubt they were worried that Bolitar was coming in!
It’s hard to see, but Moxie’s got her back leg hooked up behind her head. It was bath time.
“What?”
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Maxi and Newt join me in the garden.
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Previously
2009: No entry. 2008: For the next half hour, it sounded like a TB ward in our house as we tried to expel from our lungs the fine powder we’d stupidly breathed in.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: My god, has Bill O’Reilly always been such a pontificating blowhard? 2004: (No, he’s not going to remove her eye. Thank god.) 2003: The first time I did actually inhale was the last time I ever put a cigarette to my mouth. 2002: “What’s “porn”, Mama?” she would ask.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
