The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open!
Go buy jam and hot sauces here.
(And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.)
This morning I’m running Miz Poo up to the vet and dropping her off because she’s been licking her stomach and now has a sore that she won’t leave alone.
And then I’m going to come home and spend the morning canning chicken while waiting for 1:15, whereupon I’ll be going to the doctor because I’m pretty sure I have a urinary tract infection.
The worst part is that I actually HAD a doctor’s appointment scheduled Tuesday afternoon, but Tuesday morning I woke up feeling a lot better due to the cranberry juice/ baking soda in water/ Vitamin C/ lots of water home cures. I thought I was getting over this ridiculous UTI nonsense, so called and cancelled the appointment. Dumbass.
Then of course Tuesday night it got worse, and when I called first thing yesterday morning, the soonest they could get me in was this afternoon, so I took the appointment. Right now, I’m having what feels exactly like menstrual cramps (which would be a neat trick given my lack of a uterus), so I’m sure I either have cancer or the alien baby is PISSED and trying to get out.
You know you wanna be me.
The Crooked Acres Tour, Continued.
Standing in the doorway of the front room, looking down the hall. The first door on the left is the bathroom, the second is the stairs, and the third is the closet. The doorway on the right is to the guest bedroom.
The bathroom, obviously. This is the bathroom Fred uses (unless we have guests, in which case he moves all his stuff upstairs and shares my bathroom) because the shower’s a bit bigger.
Guest bedroom, from the doorway looking in.
And from the corner by the bed (Stinkerbelle is so disgusted by this picture-taking nonsense, she can’t even look at me).
Buster’s always got something to say. As you can see, when it’s not serving as a bed for weary visiting guests, it serves as a bed for weary cats.
The dresser might not be anything to look at, but it’s got a hell of a lot of drawer space.
Directly across from the guest bedroom doorway, the stairs. (In real life, the stairs are straight, not crooked. Can I possibly EVER take a straight picture, do you think?)
And last but not least, the closet. It’s okay if you’re horrified; I am. I did not straighten that closet one tiny iota before I snapped this picture. We keep the closet closed, because the hot water heater is back there, and when there are kittens running amok they like to get way back where we can’t reach them. Also, I can toss stuff in there and close the door and not have to look at it. Also also, YES. I keep my potatoes in the hall closet. It’s too warm in the kitchen most of the time.
Scenes from around Crooked Acres.
Hummingbird, keeping an eye on the feeder.
New pigs!
Boy pig.
Girl pig.
It took them maybe five minutes to get into the wallow.
The many faces of Georgie:
When the little ones whine, I always mock them by saying in a particularly whiny voice, “Wahhhhhh! I’m a BAYBEEE!” and then I laugh and laugh because I am evil.
I love that Jake and Elwood (but especially Jake) love the kittens so much, even the mostly-grown kittens like Buster and Rhyme.
I need to get some more pictures of Rhyme, don’t I? Y’all are going to start thinking he’s just a figment of my imagination, what with all the pictures of Buster and NONE of Rhyme. I swear, he’s here, he’s the friendliest cat on earth, I don’t know why I never manage to get any pictures of him. I guess he’s just not around when I’ve got the camera in hand.
Tommy would like you to know that he has retained his svelte kittenish figure, as proven by the fact that he can still cram his bulk into a canning jar flat.
Previously
2009: “That’s like me!” Fred said. “Maybe I’m schizophrenic! I always need stimulation!”
2008: And he likes the chickens, but I think if a hawk swooped down and snatched one up while he was watching, it would make his YEAR.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: 9. What is your biggest mistake? Immediately believing what I’m told without standing back and thinking about it.
2004: Reader requests.
2003: Why have kids if you aren’t going to make them do the scut work?
2002: You know, I don’t even have the words.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.