Month: November 2010

From Kim:

In September 2008 my son was life flighted to Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh. He/we took that flight so that he could be evaluated for a liver transplant. My son, Greyson was 7 ½ months old.

I traveled in our car. A car filled with everything I could fit of his and a suitcase for myself. I was told to pack for at least 6 months, but to be prepared for a year. I went with great medical coverage, but no job (our home was 5 hours away, I met parents from all over the WORLD). Greyson was checked into CHP and I soon checked into the Ronald McDonald House.

Ronald McDonald House (RMH) became my calm. I could meet with other parent who, if they were not going through my exact situation, they were going through something similar. We were living on a hope, we were living on small stipends from insurance (if so fortunate,), with a household of bills for our “real” home still coming in. RMH gave us food, they gave us shelter… for a measly $11 a night and in some cases that too was waived. But, that is not all that they provided. They provided parents and children (who were able) with tickets to local “sights” they provided us with donated clothes for our children. Yes, children in the hospital are allowed to wear clothes, it is encouraged. It is a sense of normalcy, even for the babes. No one wants to walk around with their arse hanging out of a johnnie gown, not even a toddler.

During our 3 month stay I was amazed when others would drop off clothes for RMH “guests” and I was extremely grateful. I didn’t have to worry about what my son was outgrowing. That worry was alleviated.

My son died December 8, 2008 while waiting for his liver transplant. Last year for his first “anniversary” I decided to give back. I collected clothes for children of all ages from friends and family and sent a care package to RMH. I would love to do the same this year. I would like your help. I will accept gently used or new clothing for kids of all ages, books, toys. Gift cards. Anything! They will be sent to RMH Pittsburgh. I thank you in advance and on behalf of the families you will be helping. THANK YOU! (Please do not send stuffed animals. they cannot be 100% washed free of germs.)

If you’d like to donate in remembrance of Greyson donations can be made directly to Ronald McDonald House Pittsburgh, here:

Ronald McDonald House
Attn: Leslie Montgomery
In remembrance of Greyson Menefee
451 44th Street – Penthouse Floor, Pittsburgh, PA 15201

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Attention, those of you in the North Alabama/ Tennessee area: the North Alabama Spay Neuter Clinic is having a fundraiser this weekend in the form of a Plea Market (they had one last year, you might recall.) They’re looking for donations (which are tax deductible!) – you can go here to read more about what they’re looking for, when and where you can drop off your donations, and when the Plea Market will be open to the public.

This event is sponsored by 13 animal welfare groups in the area. The money raised will be used to buy a transport vehicle to assist people in rural areas to get their animals spayed/neutered. Volunteers will be needed on Thursday & Friday (12/18-19) to help set up and also on Saturday, the day of the sale. Donations of saleable items will be accepted both days at the Jaycees Building on Airport Road.

The North Alabama Spay Neuter Clinic charges $35 for feline neuters, $45 for feline spays, $55 for canine neuters, and $65 for canine spays. The only cost above the basic charge is $10 for the rabies vaccination if you cannot provide proof that your animal has been vaccinated in the past 12 months.

PLEASE NOTE THAT ANYONE CAN USE THE SPAY AND NEUTER CLINIC. You do NOT have to qualify! There is no extra charge for weight or if the cat/ dog is in heat.

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Thank you so much for your donations to Heaven’s cat, Dirty Feet – and if you haven’t donated and would like to, you can click on the widget below, or visit the ChipIn page here.

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Food I made this weekend that I highly, highly recommend (I was in a cooking/ baking mood on Friday, apparently!)

Hot Cocoa Bread. It’s a wonderfully dense, chocolaty bread. It’s not super-sweet, but very very good. I think next time I make it, I’ll double the marshmallows just because I like marshmallows a lot. You could also add chocolate chips and chopped nuts and call it Rocky Road bread!

Chunky Guacamole. SO SO SO good. The only thing I’d do differently next time is, I’d actually add the entire half a red onion, as the recipe calls for. I got nervous when I was chopping the onion because it seemed like an awful lot of onion, so I only used about 1/3 of the onion, which I don’t think was enough. Also, note to myself: make sure there actually ARE baked Tostitos in the pantry before you make it next time. We ended up eating the guacamole on Ritz crackers. Which was still really good!

Individual Cream Cheese danish. Once again, I was blown away by just how good – and easy! – these things are. I told Fred I thought it was time for us to try plural marriage, because I’m bringing on Chunky Guacamole and Individual Cheese Danish as his Brother Husbands.

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Have you been sitting there just WAITING for the Cranberry-Habanero jam?

If so, it’s your lucky day!

Cranberry Cruelty Habanero Jam is now available!

Go forth and order.

(I’ve got plenty of the other flavors still in stock, and considering how many habaneros we grew this year, I don’t expect to run out anytime soon!)

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I had a hair appointment last Wednesday morning, and looking at myself in the mirror while she cut my hair, I came to the realization that I’m apparently growing out the grays. I haven’t colored my hair since just before I went to Maine in July, and I’d say my roots are about 1/3 the length of my hair.

I’m actually surprised to find that though I have plenty of gray hair, it’s not quite as gray as I’d expected. For now, I’m planning to keep on growing it out (this would be far more fascinating if I had a picture to show you, I’m aware), but it’s entirely possible that I’ll get tired of seeing all that gray, and go back to making Fred helping me color it a boring medium brown.

After my hair appointment, I stopped at the grocery store on the way home. It wasn’t ’til I was in the cereal aisle penned in by two gray-haired grannies (my people!) that I remembered Wednesdays are not only the day the new sales flyer comes out, but also senior discount day. I don’t know what the discount is for seniors, but it must be something pretty damn good, because the seniors come out in DROVES from about 7:30 on, and the place probably stays packed ’til closing (I wouldn’t know, though, ’cause I’m probably sound asleep by the time Publix closes).

There was one line with just one woman in line, and she was standing there looking at a newspaper when I walked up behind her. I put all my stuff on the conveyor belt and waited. And waited. And waited. Ever so slowly, she turned the pages of her newspaper, and keep in mind it was 9:45 and I hadn’t had anything to eat that morning, so how I did not fly at her with claws extended to yank every last hair out of her head, I do not know.

Finally, all huffy like, I said “Oooooookay”, picked up all my shit, and moved two cash registers down. I don’t know what the fuck was going on with that lady, but she was still there casually perusing the newspaper when I left.

I did not smack her.

Note to self: stay the fuck away from Publix on Wednesdays for the next 20 or so years. When the hell do you start getting a senior discount, anyway? 62?

Which reminds me – I got a GODDAMN AARP MEMBERSHIP FORM in the mail a few weeks ago. What the fuck? I’ve got a good 6 years and 2 months before I qualify, fuckers!

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This blue basket lives in a corner of the kitchen, and it’s no surprise that I got these pictures of Hutch going “Oooh, there are toys in here! I like toys! Look at the cool toys!” and Starsky’s trying to figure out how to get a good bite on the basket handle.

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::thlurrrrp::

Sweet Rhyme. I determined over the weekend that Rhyme’s personality is a lot like that of his half-brother Mike (of the Wonkas). Is he a happy boy? He is SUCH a happy boy. At night he gets up on the bed and flops right down between Fred and I and purrs and purrs and purrrrrrrs.

Bath time for Reacher.

I’ve perhaps mentioned that when I go outside, the cats – especially the Bookworms – like to gather around me. Here are three of the four – and you can see, since Reacher and Corbett are next to each other, just how thin Corbett is. He’s perfectly healthy, and he eats just fine, he’s just a skinny cat. Reacher is the biggest of the Bookworms.

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Spanky claims the basket as his own.

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: Happy vacuuming!
2006: When I thought of how crappy the doors would look, he gave me a long-suffering look and said in his “Look how patient and long-suffering I am” voice, “I’ll paint them.”
2005: “Fascinating.”
2004: All your frog are belong to us.
2003: No entry.
2002: I am freezing to death.
2001: I think I need to get a life…
2000: In other words, Robyn is a total spaz about her eyes, comprende?
1999: On the way into work, and the whole time I worked today, I reconsidered that reconsideration.

Happy veteran’s day, Americans!

Go hug yourself a veteran, won’t you?

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Have you seen Shae? Spread the word!

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©Heaven Mahle

This is Dirty Feet – she belongs to Heaven, a foster mum for Challenger’s House. (You guys think I have a lot of cats in my house at one time? Heaven routinely has WAY more fosters in her house at one time than I do. And she’s a miracle worker. I’ve seen kittens that don’t look like they’re going to make it one more hour when she gets them turn out to be the most beautiful, healthy cats. Which you already know if you’re Facebook friends with her!)

Last week, Dirty Feet was ill, and ended up at the vet’s where she was for most of the week. They couldn’t seem to figure out what was going on with her until Heaven took her to another vet who was able to ultrasound Dirty Feet and find the blockage causing her illness. She had surgery on Friday and as of today is recovering at home and doing well.

©Heaven Mahle

Like so many of us do, Heaven spent every penny she had to save Dirty Feet, and she still owes money to the vet. I encouraged her to sign up for a Chip In fundraiser, and I hope y’all will consider helping out. The widget should show up below, but if it doesn’t, you can go here to see her Chip In page. Thanks in advance for any help you guys can give!

And here are some pictures of Dirty Feet as a baby, because I knew you’d want to see them!

All above pictures ©Heaven Mahle

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Sights from around Crooked Acres.

(The inside-my-cupboards tour is in the next section!)

I pickled onion slices in a sweet brine last weekend. I haven’t tried them yet, so I can’t say how they’ll taste – I’m going to let them sit in the brine for a month or so before I open the jar.

I bought this spatula in Myrtle Beach at one of the outlet stores, and I LOVE it. It’s a small spatula (though you really can’t tell from the picture), and I use it every morning to scramble my egg for breakfast.

Green cherry tomatoes. I pickled half of them (in the same brine that I used for the onions), and saved the other half so that Fred can get a few more weeks of tomatoes on his lunch salad.

Black Silkie and her babies. She was the last hen to go broody this year, and her chicks are still relatively small so they stay close to her.

One of our roosters.

Rooster and his wimmin.

This next set of pictures cracks me up. See if you can guess why.

The dogs were barely moving at more than a casual mosey, and that hen was like “HOLY CHRIST, THE DOGS ARE COMING! THE DOGS ARE COMING! GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!!”

::thlurrrrp::

::thlurrrrrp::

Sweet Gracie Mae.

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Inside my cupboards.
(Click on any picture to see the much larger version.)

Not that it matters, but these pictures are done in order, top to bottom and from the left of the kitchen (if you’re standing in the doorway facing the sink) to the right.

Top shelf: the alcohol. I think we’ve got vodka, rum, a bottle of Kahlua (though maybe we got rid of it, I don’t remember), strawberry dacquiri mix, and pina colada mix. Fred stopped on his way home from work TWO YEARS AGO and bought pina colada mix and whatever the hell alcohol goes into it. I don’t like pina coladas, so I stopped at Target the next week and bought strawberry dacquiri mix. Did I mention it’s been two years and neither bottle has been opened?
Middle shelf: White sugar, brown sugar, and more white sugar in the back, I think.
Bottom shelf: Plastic containers, colanders. I think there are a couple of bags of powdered sugar back there, too.

Cereal, rice cakes, and a box o’ Triscuits (which belong in the pantry, I don’t know how they ended up there.)

These shelves pull out, which you’d think would make them perfect for holding canned goods, but I never considered that before this moment, so right now they hold sandwich bags, storage bags, tinfoil, and Saran wrap on the top shelf, and onions , storage bags and shallots on the middle shelf. On the bottom (which you can’t see) are freezer bags for chicken, and a big-ass container of those peppermint candies you can buy at Walmart. You know, the really soft ones? Love those.

Top shelf: salad shooter (for chopping up soap when I make laundry soap), freezer containers.
Second shelf down: Miracle Grow, freezer containers, pantry pest traps (to catch those damn pantry moths).
Third: Lunch bags, Advantage, and various might-come-in-handy empty pill bottles.
Bottom: Tylenol, advil, that sort of stuff.

These corner cabinets are so nice and big that you’d think they’d be really handy for storage, but they’re kind of a pain in the ass, because when you’re three feet tall like I am, you have to get a friggin’ stool to look past the very front of the shelves. So this is where the plastic storage containers go (except for the top shelf, where I put cookie tins WHICH I DO SO REUSE so shaddup, I’m not a cookie tin hoarder).

Canning pots, pressure canner pot. Hand mixer, cider vinegar, pie plates. Random shit, basically.

If I go into this cabinet as often as once a month, I’d be surprised. Random candles, plastic forks, lots of fiber supplements for the fiber impaired, popcorn seasonings, maple syrup. That sort of stuff.

Silverware drawer, which also contains various knives, lots of straws for some reason, annnnd that’s about it.

More randomness – cooking utensils, potato peelers, biscuit cutters. One thing my kitchen is not: organized.

Dish towels, dish cloths, measuring spoons and cups. Yes, I have a lot of dish towels – I use clean dish towels every day, if you must know.

The drawer of batteries, straws, filters for the water fountains, and I think there are some instruction books in there, too.

Under the sink. Would you believe we’ve owned this house for four years and have lived here three and a half, and this is the first time I’m realizing that there’s a damn fire extinguisher under there? I must have cleaned out under that sink at least five or six times, and yet never noticed the damn thing.

Cups ‘n mugs.

The other corner cabinet. Let me reiterate: it’s a pain in the ass pulling stuff out of here. Those are the bowls I use most often when cooking dinner.

Food processor, blender, dutch ovens. This is stuff I use a lot – except for that ice cream maker in the back, which we haven’t used in a quite a while. But I know the instant we get rid of it, we’ll wish we had it back, so there it stays.

Top shelf: Fiesta Ware creamer, salt and pepper shakers, and mugs.
Second: Cake pans.
Third: Cat food, cat snack plates (like you don’t go out and get a bunch of matching plates to feed your cats on. YEAH, RIGHT.), canned cat food in the back, and some of the spices that don’t fit over the stove/ in the spice drawer.
Bottom: Spices that don’t fit over the stove/ in the spice drawer.

Top and second shelf: dishes for the cats, and loaf pans (not for the cats.)
Bottom two shelves: bowls of all sizes.

Junk drawer. Scissors, cat medication, okra pods that need to be dried (and the seeds saved), you know. Junk.

Muffin tins, cookie sheets, cooling racks.

Good god, does someone like some popcorn? Actually, Fred’s the one who eats popcorn, and he does it rarely. I guess I need to stop buying popcorn when it’s on sale. Those white dishes? Dishes for the cats. A small food processor/ chopper that I rarely use and in fact probably don’t need.

Dishes. And Splenda.

Extra pot, roasting pan, glass baking dishes. And nosy kitten, of course.

The cupboard over the refrigerator. This explains why I couldn’t find my damn Christmas dishes anywhere last year. Those green dishes on the top shelf belonged to Fred’s grandmother. I need to get them out so we can use them – I really like them a lot.

On the left, spices. On the right, battery charger, labels, other crap.

Extra flour, pectin, canning utensils, lots of canning lids. Fun stuff.

Another junk drawer – screwdriver, nails, screws, the Ball Blue Book o’ Canning (or whatever the hell it’s called).

Bread machine, slicer. That tan bin holds a ton of canning rings.

Inside of the fridge (and Tommy, inspecting).

This used to be what I used as the pantry. Now it holds all the baking stuff (except for the flours and sugars, which are spread in various places in the kitchen), the rotisserie cooking thingy, the Foodsaver (the tan bin holds empty Foodsaver bags), and the popcorn popper.

The canning cabinet. Top shelf: pickled stuff, salsa, applesauce, black beans.
Middle shelf: canned chicken, stock, some jams.
Bottom shelf: canned chicken, green beans.

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Elwood, kicking some Buster butt.

One thing (of many) that I adore about Buster: he has this light spot on top of his head that I’m forever thinking is fuzz, and I go to brush it away, then remember that it’s part of him.

Elwood and Rhyme.

Corbie, keeping an eye on things.

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Starsky believes in clean toes!

“WHAT?”

Happy Hutch. And just why’s he so happy?

Mystery solved.

Snoozin’ brudders.

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Look at Reacher there, making himself at home. And look at Spanky and Tommy (but especially Spanky!) putting up with him! (And look at Fred over there in his Snuggie!)

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: The goddamn cats can’t go three feet without falling over a bed but, you know.
2007: Why should I answer the door if I’m not expecting anyone, I ask you?
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: That girl has some serious lung power.
2003: Not holding my breath – but a girl can dream!
2002: Let me tell you about the saga of the box.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: No entry.

©Heaven Mahle

This is Dirty Feet – she belongs to Heaven, a foster mum for Challenger’s House. (You guys think I have a lot of cats in my house at one time? Heaven routinely has WAY more fosters in her house at one time than I do. And she’s a miracle worker. I’ve seen kittens that don’t look like they’re going to make it one more hour when she gets them turn out to be the most beautiful, healthy cats. Which you already know if you’re Facebook friends with her!)

Last week, Dirty Feet was ill, and ended up at the vet’s where she was for most of the week. They couldn’t seem to figure out what was going on with her until Heaven took her to another vet who was able to ultrasound Dirty Feet and find the blockage causing her illness. She had surgery on Friday and as of today is recovering at home and doing well.

©Heaven Mahle

Like so many of us do, Heaven spent every penny she had to save Dirty Feet, and she still owes money to the vet. I encouraged her to sign up for a Chip In fundraiser, and I hope y’all will consider helping out. The widget should show up below, but if it doesn’t, you can go here to see her Chip In page. Thanks in advance for any help you guys can give!

And here are some pictures of Dirty Feet as a baby, because I knew you’d want to see them!

All above pictures ©Heaven Mahle

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This picture makes me laugh. They’re like characters in a sitcom – Starsky’s the annoying neighbor who pops over with a “Hallo!” and Corbett’s the tolerant yet annoyed title character who puts up with his pesky neighbor’s shenanigans.

Starsky’s waiting for Miz Poo to go to sleep so he can slide into the cat bed with her for a snuggle.

Occasionally, I put an egg yolk in a little dish and put the dish on the floor for whatever cat happens along. It’s like a nice little surprise for them (and yet I wonder why they hang out in the kitchen and howl at me whenever I’m in there. Duh.) Note the dried egg yolk in Starsky’s whiskers.

I guess I’m not the only one who can’t do something in this house without half a dozen cats coming to see what’s going on. Rhyme’s all “Just wanna hang out in the grocery bag LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Snoozin’ Hutch.

Corbett, looking up at Tommy, who’s hanging out on the catwalk in the back yard.

Corbie, running.

And running.

Rhyme’s all “I’m the only one around to run around here like a big goofball!”

And then Rhyme proceeded to run around like a great big goofball. The end.

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This is Sugarbutt’s favorite place -and favorite position – for sleeping, these days. I don’t know. I guess he’s got to keep the nether regions aired out IF YOU KNOW WHAT I’M SAYING AND I THINK YOU DO.

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Previously
2009: The other night, Fred said “I should go out there at night and put a “NO FISHING” sign in the middle of the garden.”
2008: The pigs gave it two (four?) hooves up.
2007: Write about your day!
2006: I guess you can teach an old Fred new tricks.
2005: Can’t a girl be a dumbass without the whole world going into an uproar about it?
2004: For once, he had no good comeback.
2003: “Oh yeah. I hate this feeling. I should have just had a Diet Coke.”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: Can you tell this irks me?

Because I don’t have a whole lot to say today, here are some links I’ve recently fallen in love with.

1. Crunchy Betty. I happened across her blog from another blog – I truly don’t know which – and the first post I read of hers was this one, regarding the Marie Claire “OMG FAT PEOPLE EWWWW!” brouhaha. (You can read more about the Marie Claire bullshit here at Big Fat Deal, or Google it up, I know a lot of blogs have covered it in one form or another. My opinion is that it’s a desperate cry for attention on Marie Claire’s part (“Write something controversial! Sales are slipping!”) and it doesn’t make me sad that I canceled my subscription to MC a few years ago because aside from being a completely obvious bid for attention, the article is poorly written WHY IS NO ONE POINTING OUT HOW TERRIBLY WRITTEN THE GODDAMN THING IS, and I’m surely not missing anything from not reading the magazine).

I liked what I read, so I looked around on her blog, and holy crap. I LOVE THIS WOMAN. She tells you how to cover up any, uh, bathroom smells (TRY IT I SWEAR TO GOD IT REALLY WORKS!), she’s doing the No ‘Poo thing (I am seriously tempted in trying this, but I am skeered), she makes her own deodorant, she tested homemade glass cleaner to find the best recipe, tells you how to make your own hand sanitizer, and tells you how to make the best homemade bathroom cleaner! I’d tell you more, but why would I? Get your ass over there and see this fabulous woman for yourself! Did I mention that I love her?

2. Zenni Optical. I don’t know how I stumbled across this site, because it’s been in my bookmarks list for months. MONTHS, I say. You should see my bookmarks list, it is absolutely ridiculous. I come across a site I might want to check out again in the future, and so I bookmark it, and do I ever go back and look at it again? I do not – I just do a fresh Google search. Then every few months I clear out my bookmarks list, and I think “Why the fuck did I bookmark this?” three thousand times. Anyway. So I’ve been wearing these ugly, unflattering glasses for about three years now, because (a) they cost $150+ and (b) I didn’t want to deal with getting another pair. So when I saw that the glasses at Zenni Optical are dirt cheap, I figured I’d give it a try, if they didn’t work for me, I’d only be out a little money, and I’d tell y’all that they suck.

They don’t suck. I ordered the glasses – these, to be exact – and they fit really well, they’re comfortable, and what’s best is that they aren’t scratched, and I can see better out of them than I could out of my old glasses. The bad part – which is not the fault of Zenni Optical but rather my inability to figure out what glasses would look good on me – is that they are horribly unflattering. But I don’t care because did I mention they were dirt cheap, they fit well, they work great, and besides, I wear contacts all day long and only wear glasses for about two hours right before bed.

Note, though, that if you’re blind like me (my prescription is something ridiculous like -6.50) that there’s an additional charge – I think it was $19.95 extra. Also, you’ll need someone to help you figure out your pupillary distance (a painless maneuver that involves you looking straight ahead and someone else holding up a ruler to figure out how far apart your pupils are and then mockingly calling you ““Marty Feldman”).

3. Recently on Facebook, Lori mentioned Pioneer Woman’s Crash Hot Potatoes and said they were amazing. Naturally, I had to give them a try, so on Friday I bought potatoes. And then on Saturday I bought chives to put on them. I intended to make them to go with Sunday dinner. Come dinnertime, I looked at the recipe and realized I needed to boil them first. Since it was practically dinnertime, I put them off for another night. Last night, I boiled them, I mashed them (with a glass, since apparently I don’t have a potato masher. What the hell?!), and then I could not find my fucking chives ANYWHERE. I still don’t know where the fuck they are. Did you take my chives? Since I didn’t have any other fresh herbs on hand, I just brushed them with olive oil and sprinkled them with salt and pepper. I baked them for 20 minutes, sprinkled shredded parmesan (not the powdered stuff) on top, and put ’em back in the oven ’til the cheese melted.

HOLY GOD were they good. And really, once you have your shit together, SUPER easy to make. We’re having them again tonight (well, leftovers from last night, really, which I will warm in the oven) and I think they’ve become an instant favorite in our house.

4. 20 Awesomely Untranslatable Words from around the World. I was looking for the correct spelling of l’appel du vide (French, which translates to “The call of the void”), which is the instinctive urge to jump from high places. This is NOT an instinctive urge that I myself have ever felt, but Fred’s mentioned it to me before and KATG listeners, correct me if I’m wrong – hasn’t Keith mentioned it also? I don’t feel the urge to jump from high places; rather, a little voice in the back of my head says “Wouldn’t it suck if you went stumbling over the side of that mountain (or wherever) right now?” I guess rather than the instinctive urge to jump, I feel the instinctive fear of high places, or maybe the instinctive knowledge that life’s a bitch and if anyone suddenly went windmilling over the side of the mountain (or wherever), it’d be ME.

My favorite from that list: Tingo: “the act of taking objects one desires from the house of a friend by gradually borrowing all of them.” I find it highly amusing that there needs to be a word for such a thing.

5. I grabbed this picture off someone’s Facebook post (I don’t remember who, or I’d credit them) and sent it to Fred, saying “This is you” because it made me laugh and laugh. That’s Fred – he just wants to be left the hell alone, damnit!

6. I sent Fred the link to this video and said “This would your reaction if I told you we were going to Disneyland!” What can I say? He’s a homebody.

Now tell me what links/ pictures/ videos you‘ve fallen in love with lately.

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These two, I’m telling you – wherever I am, there they are. If I’m in front of the computer, they’re in the bed to my right. If I’m in the kitchen, they’re sitting at my feet howling about how they’re pretty sure they’re starving to death. If I’m on the couch watching TV, they’re sitting on me, sound asleep. They are just the sweetest little monkeys!

Starsky does not care for the vacuum cleaner.

Note that first Hutch sinks his front paws into my foot to push himself along the floor, then he pushes his back claws into my foot to propel himself along further, and THEN he grabs for the camera. Why actually get UP and walk over to the camera when you can sink your sharp little claws into my foot?

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The Reacher creature, in the back yard. All the Bookworms love to run over and flop at my feet.

And asleep atop the canning cabinet in the dining room.

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Sleepin’ Sugarbutt. About 50% of the time he’s flopped out on his back in Fred’s computer chair. 25% of the time he’s in the back yard watching for squirrels. The rest of the time is spent eating, using the litter box, smacking at kittens who get too close, and making sure there’s not another place to sleep that’s more comfortable than on his back in Fred’s chair.

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Previously
2009: We actually left the house after dark on Saturday AND I DO NOT KNOW HOW THE EARTH REMAINED ON ITS AXIS.
2008: No entry.
2007: Stupid bossy car.
2006: “Damn pansy-ass city folk.”
2005: as a customer and a HUMAN, I outrank the computer, and I’d like a little RESPECT, thank you.
2004: All this cleaning is making me lightheaded.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Little things make me happy.
1999: Guest entry by Fred.

MAN do I love turning back the clocks an hour in the Fall. I know it gets dark earlier, but it also gets light earlier. My body seems pretty determined to stay my ass in bed ’til it’s starting to get light out, so that means I’ll be up a little after 6 for the next few weeks instead of a little after 7.

Also we’ve only got, what, another six weeks of the days getting shorter before the process reverses itself?

We had our first sub-freezing night Friday night, so Friday afternoon I went out and picked the tomato plants clean. I got a bucket and a half of green tomatoes – mostly cherry tomatoes. I ended up chopping the non-cherries tomatoes and freezing them so that we can have green tomato chili at some point this winter. I put several of the larger green tomatoes aside to ripen, pickled some of the cherry tomatoes, and left the rest of the cherry tomatoes in hopes that they’ll ripen so Fred can eat them on his lunchtime salad for a few weeks longer.

Except for the carrots and radishes in the raised beds, the gardening appears to be pretty much over for this season. I have a million new ideas for next year, and I’ve written them down.

Hopefully when it’s time to start planting stuff again in four or five months, I’ll remember where I wrote everything down!

I’ve been making the hell out of chicken stock lately. For the first batch, I followed Ina’s recipe to the letter. I went a little more loose with the next batch, and by the third batch, I mostly tossed in everything I thought would work (celery, onion, carrots, rosemary, salt, peppercorns) and called it good enough. I’ve got one more batch to go, and then I’ll have used up all the chicken bones I’ve been stockpiling, I’ll have a cabinet full of canned stock, and there’ll be room in the freezer to collect more chicken bones.

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In the mornings, I listen to Bob and Sheri while I’m taking my shower, blow-drying my hair, brushing my teeth, all the usual thrilling stuff.

I was about to step into the shower, and Bob announced that the world’s most famous sidekick would be on in 20 minutes. I paused for a moment and thought “Huh. I thought Ed McMahon was dead?” and turned up the volume a little so I could hear the name of the guest, since I couldn’t for the life of me think of another famous sidekick.

Some time later, while I was still in the shower, Bob started talking about the upcoming guest again.

“The world’s most famous sidekick,” he said. “John Edward will be here in about fifteen minutes…”

Wow, I thought. John Edwards is the sidekick? Then the big cheese must be someone really famous! Who the hell…. ? Is Elizabeth Edwards going to be on, and they’re being funny calling John her “sidekick”…?

And then my brain kicked in and I realized that he hadn’t been saying “sidekick.”

He’d been saying “psychic” John Edward.

Duh.

(And yes, Ed McMahon died in June of 2009.)

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You know, I’m just never allowed to have anything nice ’round here. Someone sent us something a few weeks ago, and after I unpacked the box, I put the box (with newspaper in it) on the floor of the kitchen, intending to eventually take it out to the garage on the way to the recycling center. Of course a cat immediately jumped into the box, so OF COURSE I left the box there so that the cats could sleep in it.

All was well for about a week, and then one morning I walked into the kitchen to find that one (or more) cats had pulled some of the newspaper out of the box. I put it back in the box, and it stayed there for a few more days, and then every morning I’d walk into the kitchen and a few sheets of newspaper would be on the floor. I’d put it back, find it pulled back out the next morning, and so on.

Then one evening, the cats got together and had a newspaper-shredding party.

It’s a Bustie in a box!

Corbie, having shredded some newspaper, takes a bath break.

Starsky and Hutch watch Buster (who’s in that box – you can see the end of his tail sticking out.)

Corbie (on top of the box) and Jake (next to the box) watch Starsky kick some newspaper around. Rhyme and Hutch (at the bottom of the picture) join in on the shredding, while Buster stays in the box and minds his own business.

Newspaper: shredded. Kitchen: a mess. Kittes: happy.

When the cats abandoned their shredding project, I tossed all the newspaper into the box and took it out to the garage so that next time I go to the recycling center, it’ll be ready to go.

TAKE THAT, KITTIES!

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Stinkerbelle would like you to know that she had nothing to do with the shredding. She’s a good girl.

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: That is not “getting” someone a car, that is BULLYING SOMEONE INTO DRIVING THE KIND OF CAR YOU WANT THEM TO DRIVE.
2006: Y’all just shut UP. We do NOT have eight cats.
2005: It’s a fucking mystery.
2004: I seem to be a tad less fluttery today.
2003: No entry.
2002: Pictures.
2001: Fred in the dog house. Literally.
2000: I said “It’s a good thing you put your first AND last name, PLUS ‘your daughter’, otherwise I’d never have known!”
1999: Oddly, even though he’s had two doses of the antibiotic, he’s feeling worse instead of better.

Have you met Rhyme?

Gorgeous, stripey, lovebug Rhyme?

Rhyme with a ‘tude.

Rhyme is an incredibly sweet, good-natured boy. When Fred sits in the living room in the evening, Rhyme snuggles up next to him and just purrs. He’s friendly – no shrinking violet, our Rhyme. A friend stopped by one evening last week, and Rhyme caaaaasually strolled through the dining room, taking a look at the newcomer. He got closer to the stranger each time he passed through the room until he finally walked over and flopped onto his back, presenting his belly in case this man he’d never seen before might be overcome with the need to rub some kitty belly. He’s a giver, that Rhyme.

He’s a people lover and he’s a cat lover. He gets along with all the cats in our house (though he’s less interested in the kittens than he is in our adult cats), and can usually be found curled up next to another cat. Even Spanky, who has no use for other cats, puts up with him.

At bedtime, Rhyme climbs into bed between us and rolls around on his back. When I lay in bed and read, he drapes himself over my leg and purrs. When I turn the light off and turn onto my side, he stretches along the length of my leg and purrs me to sleep.

He’s a lovah – but he’s a playah, too. There’s nothing he loves as much as a good game of chase.

(He doesn’t even necessarily have to be the chaser – he’s just as happy to be the chasee!)

Sweet, friendly, gorgeous, with a touch of sass. How can you possibly resist?

Rhyme, as you know, needs a forever home. He’s fine here for now, but he really needs to be in a home where he’s not just one in a crowd of 16 (or 18, I guess, if you count Starsky and Hutch). If you or someone you know needs an awesome cat like Rhyme (who is almost 9 months old), please contact Challenger’s House, say “I want that kitteh!” and get started on the adoption process! What with Thanksgiving coming, Rhyme is watching lots of cooking shows. I hear he makes the finest cranberry sauce this side of the Mississippi. True story! (Okay, false story. Lack of opposable thumbs makes wielding that whisk just a little too difficult. But he’s working on it!)

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: Poet! Knowit!
2007: Newt was a total teeny baby this time last year – he was clearly NOT fully grown at that point, as this picture can attest.
2006: Maddy’s new Mommy and Daddy came a-visitin’ yesterday.
2005: Huh. I was wondering why Tom Cullen was snooping around in the stamp drawer
2004: The spud and I stood patiently by while the man chattered at the school employees for several minutes and then my head exploded, scattering brain matter everywhere.
2003: “Jessica Lynch!” I said. “Isn’t she the only POW we’ve ever had in all of history?”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: She went in and treated the whole office to a very loud gagging sound (she gets that from her mother), and came out a few minutes later a little less green.

Attention, viewers of Sister Wives – there was a Sister Wives special on Sunday night. I didn’t know about it and my DVR didn’t catch it, Amy just happened to mention it on Facebook, and I ran downstairs to see that I’d missed the first 45 minutes of it. Luckily, it was on again a few hours later, so I set it up to tape. It’s on again Wednesday night, and so are all the shows. I actually missed show #6 (where Christine stormed off the set), so I’ll be taping that to watch, even though I think I’ve seen it all through the clips they showed on Oprah and the ones they showed on the special.

I watched the special yesterday, and it was interesting, though I certainly didn’t learn anything new. The whole idea of polygamy still boggles my mind (did I mention I don’t like to share?), and all the women seem likable enough (Christine seems a bit high maintenance), though I do wonder why on earth they took up with Kody, who I think wants to come across as an affable dork but I believe has a bit of the asshole about him.

Here’s a note to all men with receding hairlines – growing your hair long and poufing it out does not, you may be amazed to hear, disguise your receding hairline. Cut your damn hair short and embrace your receding hairline, goddamnit.

Sister Wives has been signed for a second season, and you know I’ll be there with bells on.

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Not only was Sunday Halloween, it was also our 12th anniversary. To be honest, if sweet reader Loretta hadn’t sent me an e-card Saturday night, I probably would have gotten to about mid-day Sunday before I remembered. We don’t, I guess you can tell, make a big deal about it most years. We went up to Tennessee to the Dog Days Flea Market, came home, hung around, had meatloaf and mashed potatoes for Sunday dinner, I did laundry, Fred took a nap on the couch, and we snuggled with kittens.

A pretty good way to spend our anniversary, if you ask me.

I suggested to Fred that we start saving up to go somewhere special for our 15th anniversary. The last time I started saving to go somewhere for our anniversary – our 10th – I had a nice amount socked away, and then we bought this house. We ended up spending all of that savings I’d put away on renovating the house, and I certainly don’t regret that. This house ended up being a good 10th anniversary gift to ourselves!

I’d love to go to Scotland or Australia for our 15th anniversary, but I think I’d be lucky to get Fred out of the state, let alone the country. Maybe I could talk him into a trip to the Northwest. Or Canada! (Yeah, it’s another country, but it’s not THAT far.)

I do love my Canoodlians.

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Saturday, we went to Big Lots to see if they had It (the TV miniseries from 20 years ago) on DVD (Fred’s rereading the book, and has become obsessed with seeing the miniseries again), and while we were there, I wandered over to look at the Halloween section. All the Halloween stuff was half price, so I bought a few things. Then when we got home, I tossed the Halloween stuff on the counter and ignored it, as is my way.

Then late Sunday, I set up a fancy studio and began snapping pictures. Please do not be jealous of my fancy photo studio.

Apparently the best way to get a picture of a kitten wearing a hat is to wait ’til the kitten falls asleep and place the hat on his head so gently that he doesn’t realize it’s there. I’ll be keeping that in mind for next year.

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You know who I hardly ever get pictures of, and who is the sweetest, friendliest, most adoptable, should-be-snatched-up-in-10-seconds-flat cat in (temporary) residence? Rhyme, that’s who. I’m going to remedy that this week. In fact, maybe I can get enough awesome pictures of his awesome self for tomorrow’s post, and maybe someone will be mindlessly surfing the internet and stumble across the post about him, fall instantly in love, and set about adopting him.

Wouldn’t that be cool?

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Loony Jake seems none the worse for wear after being shoved into that chicken costume. Over at Flickr, Christy called him “El Pollo Loco”, and I laughed out loud.

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Previously
2009: “I heard they was servin’ chocolate pudding at the Senior Center. Outta my WAY!”
2008: No entry.
2007: How’sabout you win us $100 billion in the lottery and we’ll negotiate the terms after that, foolio!
2006: No entry.
2005: He’s a class act, that Vincent Gallo
2004: “Squee!” it reiterated. “Squee! Squee! Squee!”
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Is it just me, or do you get pissed off when you’re the victim of unexpected pain?
2000: No entry.
1999: Damn that Halloween candy!