Did anyone notice the quote at the bottom of yesterday’s entry from 1999? If you hadn’t noticed, what it said was Fred and I came to an agreement last night. The end of March, I’m going off the birth control, and we’re going to start trying to get pregnant.
Boyyyyyyy, did times change. I don’t remember exactly when we decided we didn’t want to have another kid – I assume at some point before he had his vasectomy in 2005 – but every now and then I turn to him and say “We could have a ten year-old right now!” and we both shudder at the thought. No offense to those of you with 10 year-olds, of course, I think your 10 year-olds are probably pretty awesome, that’s a pretty fun age, it’s a couple of years before they hit their Stage of Stupidity but they’re able to do stuff for themselves, and I’m sure if we had our own 10 year-old, we’d love it and hug it and make it scoop the litter box every day (shit, I just now thought of that. WHY did we not have another kid, damnit?! I’d have years of free child labor!), but all in all we’re pretty glad we don’t have a 10 year-old.
A few weeks ago, I had a dream that I was pregnant. It was a surprise pregnancy, and in the dream I was freaking OUT. When I woke up, I had a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach and I was EXTREMELY unhappy and I was thinking “What the fucking fuck hell fucking shit fucking damn am I going to do NOW? I don’t want a kid, our lives were going so well, whyyyyyyyyyy whyyyyyyyyy whyyyyyy?” It must have taken two or three minutes before my mind cleared and I thought “If I were pregnant, that’d be a pretty good trick”, given Fred’s vasectomy in 2005 and my hysterectomy in February.
Talk about your rush of relief!
I didn’t see the plastic surgeon yesterday, after all. Just about every school in this area was either canceled or let out early, and I decided I didn’t particularly want to drive to South Huntsville and end up sliding off the road in the pursuit of perky boobs. I called and rescheduled, and will be seeing him for real on December 29th.
My boobs and I can hardly wait.
Sights from around Crooked Acres.
What I love about this picture is the chicken in the background, all “Dude, you wanna move?”
I took cookies out to the pigs the other night, and THIS BASTARD chomped down on my finger. IT HURT A LOT. Fucking pig.
“You gotta move faster than that to escape the Chomping Jaws of a Hungry Pig, lady.”
Roosters are so damn pretty.
What I love about this picture is how it looks like George only has that one tooth on the top. (I swear, he’s got a full mouthful.)
“George is not a toothless hick, lady. George takes CARE of his teeth.”
“Hmmm.”
“What’s she DOING out there?”
“I’m doing YOUR job, George. I’m running off potential threats to the flock!”
That helicopter did NOT come any closer, believe you me!
::proud::
“Nothin’ gets hold of MY flock!”
Hello, gorgeous.
So, earlier this week I took the rug that was in the foster room, and I dragged it out to the garbage. And I replaced it with interlocking heavy-duty foam flooring. Because while it’s nice to have a rug in that room, it’s also really difficult to clean – also, not particularly easy to see little droplets of poop – and I got to the point where I would look at that rug and even though it had just been vacuumed and appeared to be clean, I felt like I could just SEE it crawling with germs.
The foam tiles can be vacuumed and cleaned, and won’t absorb the fluid you clean it with.
I’m a little concerned that the kittens’ claws will do some damage to them, but so far that hasn’t happened. So far, so good!
My only gripe is that the green is a bit brighter than I expected. I wanted the blue, but the blue was backordered, so I opted for the green instead.
The kittens don’t seem to mind.
Bobby believes in clean toes.
::thlurrrp::
::chomp::
Rhyme does not appreciate this cold weather nonsense.
Reacher prefers to stay warm inside with Tommy.
Newt in the sun. “Whatchoo want, lady? Let Newtie sleep. Newtie was out all night huntin’ mice. Newtles needs his snoozin’ time. You go away now.”
Previously
2009: That boy can BOUNCE.
2008: Hey, look! Cute cat pictures!
2007: I wonder why I wouldn’t want to take “an active role” in picking the rooster, given that I wanted it SO VERY MUCH.
2006: No entry.
2005: You know what I really fucking hate?
2004: I guess it really does pay to be in the right place at the right time, eh?
2003: No one cries alone when I’m around, I always say.
2002: Next week will be a lovely roller coaster ride of stressed-out PMS hormones gone wild.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: Have I mentioned that I sleep in the nude?