Month: December 2010

Oh, it turned colllllld here on Sunday. I went outside as little as I could, which was made possible by the fact that Fred was home and could go out to check the water for the chickens, pigs, and dogs and make sure it hadn’t frozen over.

Today he’s back at work, so I have to trudge out there a couple of times today. You bet your ass I’ll be bundled up in my heaviest winter coat, hat, and gloves. I hate it when it gets this damn cold, but at least I have my space heater next to me, my electric throw on the couch in the front room, and an electric blanket on my bed. There’s a space heater in the kittens’ room (which turns off immediately if you so much as think about knocking it over) and they have a heating pad on the floor, too.

So we’re all staying warm, is what I’m saying. Except for Fred, of course, who likes to wander around the house in a pair of shorts, t-shirt, and long socks and bitch about how cold he is. But even he has an electric throw on his couch in the front room, so if he gets cold enough, he knows how to get warm again.

Because to put on more clothes would be lunacy, of course.

Friday afternoon we ran to Blockbuster to rent some movies (I love Netflix, but I hate that they don’t get new releases as soon as the video rental places do) because we knew the weather was supposed to be bad over the weekend.

Friday night, we watched about the first hour of Inception, and then Fred turned to me and said “What are your feelings on this movie?”

“I don’t give a shit about seeing the rest of it because it’s boring,” were my feelings, so we turned it off and watched some stuff on the DVR.

Saturday afternoon we watched Knight and Day and it probably shows what a non-highbrow type I am that I liked the movie. Cameron Diaz annoys me, but I usually like her movies. And I have no use for Tom Cruise, but I always enjoy his movies, too.

Is it just me, or does Cameron Diaz bear a striking resemblance to Kristin Chenoweth, especially when they smile?

Then we watched Splice and though it wasn’t at all my favorite movie and I found that my mind kept wandering, we did at least watch the whole thing. The ending was predictable, though.

So I would rank the movies as such, in order of how much I liked them (most to least): Knight and Day, Splice, Inception.

Somewhere, Roger Ebert is covering his eyes in horror.

I got GREAT news Saturday – after two and a half months, Melodie and Dodger were finally adopted. TOGETHER! I was starting to worry that no one was ever going to adopt those two (and when I saw them on Tuesday when I took Buster to be adopted, I was amazed at how big they’d gotten), so it’s like a Christmas miracle.

It sounds like adoptions have picked up a little, so hopefully a lot more cats will find forever homes soon. Fingers crossed!

The Brady Bunch are packing on the ounces. I weighed them mid-week last week, and found that Greg and Marcia have put on a pound each since the day we got them. The other kittens had put on a nice amount of weight (making up for the weight they lost when they weren’t feeling so hot) as well. Then on Saturday I had Fred re-weigh them all so we’d know the correct dose on the dewormer we were giving them, and it turned out that the only ones who weren’t over two pounds were Cindy and Bobby, who were only a few ounces below that weight.

So it looks like they’ll be ready for their spaying and neutering soon. I’ll weigh them mid-week to see where they are weight-wise, and either take them the end of this week or – more likely – next week.

They had their vaccination injections on Saturday. I held each of them while they were getting their shot, and not one of them stopped purring for a single second. They slept all day on Saturday and their injection sites were a little tender yesterday, but this morning they’re back to their wild little selves again.

Marcia watches the feather-on-a-stick toy and bides her time ’til it’s worth jumping for.

Lap o’ kittens.

Pack o’ kittens.

Vampire kitteh is feeling bitey.

::yawwwwwwwwwwwn::

Rhyme the smug monkey, proud of himself for claiming the kitchen cat platform. (Usually it’s Jake and Reacher up there.)

Pretty pretty pretty pretty Corbie.

We were running errands looking for something (I’m not being coy, I don’t remember what we were looking for), and we wandered into Burke’s Outlet. We ended up in the pet section (as we always do), and Fred was impressed that these huge dog/ cat beds were only $9.99. He wanted to get one, so I let him pick out which one he wanted to get (I’m so generous!). The first day we brought it home, none of the cats so much as glanced at it, and he kept fretting, “They hate it! They’re never going to use it!” The second day, Reacher gave it a try, and then Newt, and then Maxi, and it hasn’t been empty for a moment since. In that picture, Maxi’s giving it a try.

Kara’s all “You about done in there?”

Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: The vet tech said that Stinkerbelle was a beautiful cat, and I could see Fred’s ego swell to twice its size.
2006: I think we’re making progress.
2005: It’s hard to resist a chunky little orange kitty.
2004: (I’m not that much of an asshole. But it sure is fun to imagine!)
2003: Yet another meme.
2002: But I’ll say this – if your kitten is suffering from anal leakage, y’all, TAKE IT TO THE VET.
2001: No entry.
2000: “Why does it smell lemony fresh down here?”
1999: Martha Stewart would take one look at my tree and sob loudly, I’m sure.

Grrr.

We are having internet issues. Hopefully they’ll be resolved today. I expect to be back tomorrow with a real entry, even if I have to drive to McDonald’s and connect to their wi-fi to upload it.

Here’s some cute to tide you over ’til then.

Rhyme, having perused the Godiva catalog, knows EXACTLY what to get his (foster) mom for Christmas! He’s a smart, smart boy.

Previously
2009: I HAVE THE SOLUTION FOR YOU!
2008: Fred laughed and laughed and laaaaaaaaughed, because it’s always funny when someone else is the idiot, isn’t it?
2007: Miss Stinky Seethes.
2006: No entry.
2005: It’s the little things that amuse us, obviously.
2004: Mister Boogers does his Donald Trump impression
2003: FUCKING spam.
2002: Are you an innie or an outie?
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: God, the smell.

Here’s a little back story for y’all. We bought this house in September of 2006. Before we closed on the house, we were here looking around and making plans for what we wanted to do to the inside and to the property. We were walking toward the back door when a little black cat showed up to greet us. She was clearly a momma cat who was still nursing, and after we closed on the house, we’d make sure there was always some food on the front porch for her.

That was Maxi.

We had no idea where she’d come from, so Fred asked the man next door, who pointed us to the lady on his other side. Fred talked to her, and she said that basically the little black cat was a stray, and that she wasn’t sure where she’d come from.

A little while longer, she started showing up with a buff tabby. That was Newt.

Newt wouldn’t let us touch him for a few weeks, and then he’d let us touch him for a moment or two before he skittered off. Maxi continued showing up, still clearly nursing kittens. We wondered where on earth the kittens were, but had no luck finding them.

One afternoon I was upstairs painting one of the rooms, and Fred came in and told me to come with him. I followed him out onto the front porch, and found Maxi, Newt, and four kittens.

Maxi had clearly decided we were trustworthy and brought her kittens around. The kittens were skittish around us, but when we were able to touch them, we grabbed them up and brought them inside.

We (really, Fred) named them Fezzik, Westley, Inigo, and Buttercup (names from The Princess Bride).

We fostered them for a short amount of time. They were fixed and got all their shots, and then went off to Petsmart. Maxi and Newt stayed here.

(The vet told me that she thought Newt was probably Maxi’s from a previous litter. We found out later through the previous owner of this house, that Maxi had belonged to her family. But that when it was time for them to move, they – and I quote – “Couldn’t get hold of her.” I won’t say what I’m thinking – but I believe you can just imagine.)

I tell you all of this to lead you into what happened this weekend (and last night), that will likely surprise a lot of you.

On Saturday, the shelter manager called. She said that she’d just talked to the woman who adopted Inigo (one of the black and white kittens), and she was interested in adopting one of my fosters.

I got a chance to think “Someone’s interested in adopting a Brady ALREADY?” and then she told me. The woman wasn’t interested in adopting a Brady. She was interested in adopting one of my OTHER fosters.

Buster, to be exact.

I was so shocked that I barely heard the other things the shelter manager told me, but I took the woman’s name and number, and hung up. Then I called and left a message for her.

To make a long story short, last night I took Buster to Petsmart to meet with her. I took Rhyme with us, just to give her a choice of a second cat if Buster didn’t strike her fancy.

Buster struck her fancy, all right – and she adopted him! So I left Petsmart with Rhyme, and she stayed and filled out the adoption paperwork.

I don’t doubt that a lot of you are probably very surprised that I was willing to let Buster go. I don’t think I was very secretive about the fact that he’s my favorite Bookworm. He’s gorgeous (well really, all my Bookworms are!), and he’s got a ton of personality, to boot. Fred told me last night that he was really surprised I didn’t suggest that we adopt Buster instead of allowing him to be adopted out.

This is the thing – I love Buster a great deal. But we’ve just got too many cats in this house! I felt it would be more fair to Buster to allow him to go to a good home where he’d be one of two cats and would get lots of attention from his new mom and dad than to insist that he stay here, where – let’s be honest – sometimes the cats get lost in the crowd.

Let’s say I love him enough to let him go, admit that I miss him A LOT, and be happy that at the age of 10 months, someone fell in love with his funny, gorgeous little face and wanted to bring him home.

“Hear that, suckahs? Someone BEGGED to be allowed to adopt me! Obviously someone with good taste!”

Sweet Buster Brown (he’s a clown. He gets around!) yesterday.

Baby Buster.

Previously
2009: This fucking horseshit sure is moving at a fucking snail’s pace.
2008: ::DESPAIR::
2007: Stinkerbelle: “I have put my stamp of love upon him, and now I shall lay here and seethe with hatred for those hussies who think they can have him. THEY CANNOT.”
2006: Newton (full name: Newton “Newtie” McNewterton, the salty country kitty) is pretty, yet aloof. It drives the wimmins CRAYZEE.
2005: “Us”? Who’s this “us” kemosabe?
2004: I suppose I need to actually start buying lottery tickets to make these dreams come true.
2003: And also because you Canadians are so cool that I want to canoodle with each and every one of you.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: God bless the internet and online merchants, god bless their little black hearts.
1999: More Christmas talk.

Thanks, all y’all, for your input on air purifiers. I think that, for now, I’ll wear a mask when I’m scooping (even though I don’t feel like I’m inhaling litter dust, I’m sure I must be), and see how that goes.

Those of you who are my Facebook friends know that I went to the post office in my pink Rudolph (I assume he’s Rudolph – he’s got a red nose. Well, actually, more like a dark pink nose – and he’s blue. But I’m pretty sure it’s Rudolph just the same) sleep pants yesterday. Those things are SO FREAKIN’ COMFORTABLE that I couldn’t bear to run upstairs (SUCH A LONG TRIP) to grab a pair of jeans. I gambled that there wouldn’t be anyone else in the post office, and as it turned out, that’s exactly how it was. But honestly, with some of the getups I’ve seen other people wear into that post office (one woman walked in in her bathrobe and slippers with curlers in her hair, I kid you not), it wouldn’t have been THAT horrifying if someone else had been around.

Jean asked, since I live across the street from the post office, if I walked over there. I did not – I drove. It was TOO FREAKIN’ COLD to walk (it’s not directly across the street, actually, it’s across the street and down. A pleasant walk when it’s not thirty degrees below zero).

I’d had no fewer than four people say to me, in the last few days when I’ve said something about the cold, “But you’re from Maine!”

I am from Maine – but I’ve lived here for 14 years now. My body’s gotten used to the warm weather, so this cold-ass shit (the high was just above freezing yesterday)(and yes, I’m aware that those of you in the Midwest and Northeast and all other areas of the country where it gets and stays truly COLD are weeping tears of sorrow for my sad, sad plight) is COLD.

I realized yesterday that I’ve lived in Alabama longer than I’ve ever lived anywhere. My father was in the Air Force when I was born, and retired when I was going into 6th grade. That’s when we settled in Lisbon Falls, which I consider my hometown. I was 21 or 22 when my first husband – the spud’s father – and I moved to Rhode Island for a couple of years (and then I moved back to Maine for a couple of years, then back to Rhode Island), so all in all I spent about 10 years in Maine.

Not that having lived here for 14 years makes me a Southerner by any stretch of the imagination – but I could probably pull off a credible “Bless her heart” if I needed to.

I spent the better part of yesterday morning dealing with kumquats. We bought citrus trees at Lowe’s this summer because they were marked way down. We harvested our satsuma oranges last month and they were REALLY good. Fred decided to go ahead and pick the kumquats last week because it was supposed to go below freezing overnight, and we ended up with a good-sized bowl. I looked around online and decided to make kumquat marmalade. I deseeded and chopped up the kumquats and two oranges, let them sit overnight, boiled everything Sunday morning, then decided I didn’t want to deal with it, so let it sit for one more night. Yesterday, I tossed the fruit in the food processor (I don’t like really big chunks of fruit in my marmalades or jam – which those of you who’ve bought jam from me may have noticed), let it whir for a few seconds, then added it back to the liquid, added the sugar, and let it start boiling.

Now, the motherfucking recipe said that I needed to let it boil until it reached “gel state”, and added that that would be when it reached 220 – 222ºF. I put the pot of fruit, liquid, and sugar on high, and let it boil. It boiled and boiled. It boiled some more. And then? More boiling. I stirred it frequently, and every ten minutes or so I checked the temperature with the candy thermometer (why do I own a candy thermometer? Fuck if I know). I don’t know exactly how long that stuff boiled, but it was well over an hour. By the time it finally reached the gel stage, I was ready to toss it out the back door and tell it to go fuck itself.

Patience is not my strong suit.

But finally it reached the correct temperature, and I poured it in jars and processed it. When Fred got home, he opened one of the jars and we both tried it. Ugh. It was almost the consistency of taffy. The flavor was good, but the consistency left a lot to be desired. Probably we could zap it in the microwave for a few seconds to partially liquefy it when we’re wanting to use it on biscuits or whatever, but we have SEVEN half-pints of the stuff, which I suspect we will never come close to using.

Once the marmalade was done, I looked at the half-bowl of kumquats I had left over, and consulted Google, that know-it-all bitch.

I ended up making one batch of candied kumquats

(halve and seed the kumquats, boil them in a syrup of sugar water (1:1 sugar and water) until they’re tender and the syrup is syrupy, put them in a half-pint jar, process like you’d process jam)

and one batch of a different kind of candied kumquats

(halve and seed the kumquats, cut the halves into two slices (you could go with wedges or slices, doesn’t matter), boil in sugar water (1:1 sugar and water) until they’re tender (15 minutes), drain, toss with granulated sugar, lay slices out on a piece of wax or parchment paper, let them cool, cover with plastic wrap and let them sit for 24 hours)

After we tried the marmalade when Fred got home, we tried the candied kumquats in syrup, and I’ve gotta say – that stuff’s pretty damn good, especially the consistency. Then we tried the sugared candied kumquats (even though they hadn’t been sitting for 24 hours yet), and they were very reminiscent of those orange slices you can buy in the candy section.

Which has got me thinking that candied lemon slices tossed in sugar might be kind of good. Doesn’t that sound tasty? Google informs me that my best bet would be to use Meyer lemons. Google further informs me that Meyer lemons should be in season right about now. I’ve never had a Meyer lemon in my life, but you’d better believe I’ll be looking for them at the grocery store!

Did I perhaps mention that the Brady Bunch like themselves some sunshine? They can always be found, mid-morning, on the cat tree platform. Yesterday morning I went out to check the mail, and as I walked back to the house, I looked up to see all six kittens staring down at me from the cat tree platform. Bobby, of course, was complaining. I wish I’d had the camera with me!

Maxi, in the cat bed on the table in the front room. When she and Newt spend more time inside than out, you know it’s just about Winter!

Previously
2009: Guess who played Santa at Petsmart on Saturday?
2008: No entry.
2007: That’s approximately 100 pounds of litter every two weeks.
2006: “I LOOK LIKE SID VICIOUS!” I said.
2005: I AM SO HAPPY, YES I AM.
2004: (I never claimed not to be a dumbass)
2003: I would be ever so grateful if you would restrain yourself.
2002: No entry.
2001: I knew y’all were a hip and happenin’ bunch of readers!
2000: Stuff I’ve bought.
1999: And it tasted excellent, of course, which made the eggfart stenchiness more than worth it.

So, since y’all know a lot about a lot, tell me this: air purifiers. Are they worth it, or just a waste of money? The amount of dust that gets kicked up every time I scoop the litter boxes is appalling, and Fred’s convinced I’m going to die of lung cancer because of all the litter dust I inhale every day. If air purifiers do a decent job of, y’know, purifying the air, I’d put one in the laundry room and another one upstairs. But given that they’re pretty expensive, I’d rather hear what y’all have to say about them before I seriously consider bringing one or two of them home.

What I love about selling stuff on eBay (which I don’t do very often) is when you list something with a very reasonable “buy it now” price. And then someone thinks they can get it for less than the “buy it now”, so they start bidding at 99 cents. And then, in the end, the highest bid is invariably a buck or two more than the “buy it now” was. LOVE IT when that happens!

Over the weekend, we watched Top Gun, which was first released something like 24 years ago. If you were wondering, the movie doesn’t age all that well – the cocky pilots and navigators with their smart-ass comments comes across as incredibly cheesy these days. However, you get to see Tom Cruise, Val Kilmer, and many other young and hot Hollywood hunks running around without shirts on, and that’s always worth sitting through the cheesy dialogue and horrific 80s hair.

Speaking of hair, I do not believe that the Navy would have allowed one of their hotshot pilots to sport hair of this altitude. Seriously, how’d he get all that in the helmet? (But good GOD, wasn’t he young and pretty?)

The part of the movie I had forgotten about is after the accident, when Maverick is standing in the bathroom running his hand through the sink of water, and Viper comes in and is all “It happens. Get over it.” I was yelling “Yeah, Maverick, it’s been at LEAST a couple of hours! Stop wallowing in your grief! Get over it! Move on!” Jeez.

Also, I don’t get the Kelly McGillis appeal – but Meg Ryan, back before she got all that plastic surgery? ADORABLE.

Also also, I guess Hollywood actors went to veneers and super-brightening their teeth at some point AFTER Top Gun was released. Kelly McGillis’s teeth were kind of gray – and Tom Cruise had teeth that looked like teeth instead of big blocky square Chicklet teeth. Although, I don’t actually remember what Tom Cruise’s teeth look present day, at the moment – is he one of the few who hasn’t gone with veneers?

We also watched The Dark Half because Fred is rereading a lot of Stephen King lately, which makes him want to see movies that are based on the books. The Dark Half wasn’t bad. I’ve certainly seen worse – and of course I liked seeing Timothy Hutton and Amy Madigan looking 12 years old. (Fred dislikes Amy Madigan because he says she looks “mean.” ::rolling my eyes:: )

It’s only now, when the Brady Bunch kittens are constantly racing around like they’ve been slurping up those energy drinks instead of water, that I realize how poorly they must have been feeling last week and the week before. They’re actually playing, like the super-playful kittens they are, instead of wanting to just sit in my lap and be petted. Now, they make a petting pit stop for a few seconds before they’re off chasing each other around the room.

(Cindy, however, prefers to just sit in my lap and smack at the other cats as they race by. She cracks me UP.)

I was trying to get a shot of all six of them (except I don’t know where Bobby wandered off to). Left to right: Greg, Peter, Marcia, Cindy, Jan.)

Can’t tell that I was wildly waving a cat toy over my head so they’d look in my direction, can you?

The best thing about this room: when it’s sunny, the sun comes in through the windows from about mid-morning to mid-afternoon. Here, all six of them were piled up on the cat tree platform, asleep in the sun.

You can’t necessarily see all their little faces, but trust me – all six are there!

Trying to figure out what I’m doing.

Bobby haz a complaint. Now there’s a shocker!

Note that Cindy’s had quite enough of this, and escapes through the hole in the platform.

Enough cats, you think? On the steps, Joe Bob and Newt. Next to the steps, Jake. Further out in the yard, Sugarbutt and Elwood.

Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: I’m a Grinch, and not only a Grinch, but a LAZY Grinch who doesn’t want to have to pick shit up all the time.
2006: I need a vacation, is what I need.
2005: When and if – and I mostly mean “when” – these two break up, I hope there’s a lot of interesting drama.
2004: It’s now my goal to make him CRY when he tries the next batch of chick peas.
2003: “What the FUCK? That is my BUTT you’re sniffing. And it TICKLES.”
2002: $4.49 for a freakin’ book? What the hell are they wrapping it with, gold?
2001: Is that a sex thing?
2000: Damn, isn’t Christmas here yet?
1999: Someone shoot me and put me out of my fucking misery, won’t you?

Thelma and Louise have Eyelid Agenesis (the same condition our sweet True Bloods had last year) and Forgotten Felines needs to raise funds for surgery. Pass the word?

Danielle sent me an email the other day, and I checked to be sure it was okay to share it (and the pictures she sent) with y’all.

I don’t know of anyone else with as much kitty experience as you so I was wondering if you (or your readers) have a clue about this. We adopted our newest kitten in July and she is now approximately 8 months old, though there was confusion because she’s very small. She’s got a bunch of extra toes but it’s not like other double-pawed cats I’ve seen because they are small and shoved in between her other toes, no more than two extras a foot. Her nails on these toes are a normal length. When the vet checked her out, he said that he might recommend declawing if they get in the way but so far she seems ok. The thing that’s weirding me out if that often, even when she’s resting, the claws on her back feet stay out, and they seem to be coming/staying WAY out, like I’ve never seen so much nail on a cat before. Maybe she just hasn’t learned how to properly retract them and it’s a kitten thing? I’m just worried that this might be an example of her creepy feet functioning abnormally. (One of the nubs on her back foot specifically doesn’t seem to have a lot of tissue connecting it to the rest of her foot and it like…dangles back and forth when you play with it.) So far, with frequent trimming, the toes haven’t been getting in the way of any of her activities, and she never seems to be in pain. But she never has this problem retracting her front nails.

Sorry that this is such a long question all about my cat’s toes. I wouldn’t feel right sending this to any other person, because it is so bizarre, but I have no problem emailing you! Weird? And I attached a picture, the best one I could get of the frankenfeet.

I told Danielle that I haven’t seen anything like that before (but how CUTE are those little paws!) – how about y’all? Ever seen anything like this before? (I suggested that perhaps the kitten was a twin and she ABSORBED her twin and perhaps will eventually grow an ear out of her back or something cool like that, but I was kidding. Even though that would be COOL.)

Scenes from around Crooked Acres.

I knew it’d only be a matter of time before Jake had company in his bed atop the kitchen. I got home from running errands to find that Rhyme had made himself at home. The Bookworms do love them some Jake.

The back forty and some scary clouds.

I love seeing the moon during the day, for some reason.

Da pig (I don’t know where the other one was – probably sleeping off a sugar high in the shelter.)

We got a ton of rain yesterday, and this is what the back of the property looked like when I woke up.

(Blue building: the original chicken coop, which will be converted to a kitten coop whenever we get our butts in gear and start working on it.)

(Green building: the chicken coop where all the chickens (and George and Gracie) live now.

(The wood shelter nearish to the cement pad: wood shed. The red building off in the distance: garden shed where most of the tractor implements live.)

The last of the Crooked Acres House Tour!

This is the upstairs bathroom, across from my bedroom, which is usually referred to as my bathroom. It’s where I shower and bathe kitties – not usually at the same time. I like the color, but let me point out that the purple isn’t quite as eye-searing as it looks here. Or, okay, maybe it is and I’ve just gotten accustomed to it.

To the right of the doorway is this little nook, perfect for a litter box or two.

And, to the left of the doorway (behind the door, really.)

The kitten room. That rug will be going away, because it’s had so much damn kitten poop on it that it’s practically visibly crawling with germs. I’m getting some foam flooring to put there instead. The chair will also be going, too – kittens have been peeing on it, and I can’t stand it anymore.

From the windows, looking back toward the hallway, obviously.

The closet where the litter boxes and cat supplies live.

Kitten supplies, toys, bedding. I hate the way this stuff is, it’s so hard to find anything. I want to get a dresser to put in there – found a couple of candidates on Craigslist last weekend – but Fred put me off ’cause he wasn’t in the mood for dealing with strangers. (I need a doormat that says “Husband don’t take too kindly to strangers.”)

Annnd, back down the hall. That’s the bathroom on the left, my room on the right, and Fred’s room straight ahead.

Are y’all dying to see the garage?

Jan and Bobby are continuing to improve. I let them stay out of their cage for most of the day and didn’t find too many unwelcome surprises when I went to check on them. I did put them back in the cage overnight – just to be safe – and haven’t been in there yet this morning. If their level of playfulness is anything to go by, they are definitely on the mend. Jan, especially, is THE most playful thing. It didn’t hurt, I suspect, that yesterday was a lovely, sunny day and they were able to spend some time soaking up the sun.

Sweet miss Marcia.

Oh, I’m sorry. Am I BOTHERING you, brats?

Marcia’s by far the biggest Brady.

Bobby? He haz a complaint. He haz lots of complaints. Often. He’s a complaining little brat, is what I’m saying.

Corbie on the couch.

Rhyme on the couch.

Corbie in the guest bedroom. (He IS SO BEAUTIFUL I CANNOT STAND IT. His long legs and skinny, lanky grace reminds me a lot of his half-brother Gus.)

Corbie in the guest bedroom again. I love this picture so much that I made it my desktop background.

I feel like he’s looking judgmentally at the icons on my desktop, like he’s thinking “Really? Weren’t you in Myrtle Beach, like, MONTHS ago? You still haven’t moved those pictures to the permanent pictures folder? Really? Corbie’s not calling you a slacker but, well. I’ll let you draw your own conclusions from my judgy face.”

Spanky lurves his purple bed. This is where he spends his days, on the cat bed in the computer room. He spends his evenings perched by Fred on the couch, smacking any other cat who gets too close. He lives the life, our Spanky.

Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: Pics from around Crooked Acres.
2007: Forbidden Love.
2006: No entry.
2005: Ha on her! I DO have a kid! AND a husband! AND 6,000 cats! Look at me, I’ve got it ALLLLLLLLL!
2004: The internet just ROCKS, doesn’t it?
2003: Her date (”But not a DATE date!”) was more dressed-up than she.
2002: I did mention that I have airhead tendencies, did I not?
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: I am obviously not one to wallow.

New month, new banner!

Thanks once again to the awesome Christine for making the perfect banner! You rock, Christine, perhaps I’ve mentioned? 🙂

Hey, remember Starsky and Hutch? Of course you do, it’s only been a week and a half since they went off to their new home! I got an update email from their new mom and… brother, I guess you’d call him – along with pictures! Yay! (Starsky is now Jack, and Hutch is now Percy.)

Just wanted to touch base with you and let you know how the sweet monkeys are faring in Indiana. After a week at home with them, they have really come alive and out of their shell – – oh wait – – they were always out of their shell and just biding their time to cause mayhem.

Hope all is well there and take care!
Kiefer, Jen, Newman, Bird, Percy, Willie, and Jack

(Thanks again for the update, Jen and Keifer – we love seeing them so happy and hearing that they’re doing so well!!!)

I think we’ve turned the corner, at least with Bobby. His poor swollen behind looks about a million times better this morning, and I didn’t even have to give him a bath! Jan’s back end still looks bad, but she actually started with the bad diarrhea and the dripping a day or so after Bobby did, so hopefully she’ll follow suit and heal up in the next day or two.

All the kittens still have diarrhea, but it’s not as watery as it’s been (and they’re MAKING IT TO THE LITTER BOX), so I’m hoping this means they’re all on the mend.

The one kitten I have not had one single solitary problem with? That would be wee little Cindy Brady. No diarrhea for our little miss, no feeling poorly, no dripping, no nothing. She’s had solid poo from the very first day, she’s eaten well every single day, and she couldn’t be happier. She must have a digestive system made of Teflon®.

(More pictures from last week.)

“So I was like “Doug, I don’t CARE if you’re the big man on campus! Something suddenly came up!””

“Marcia Brady! You can’t dump Big Man on Campus Doug Simpson! What will Joe Namath say when he stops by to see how we Bradys are doing? You’ll get a reputation!”

Marcia’s not hearing that.

But she’s brought up short when she spots something groovy. “Oooo! A straw!”

“Straws are the best!”

“I love straws!”

“MY straw!”
Jan says, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. YOUR straw. Of course. ALL straws are for Marcia. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!”

::poke::

“Hey, what’s that toy Greg has? That looks way better than my straw!”

(You might have missed that particular Very Special episode of The Brady Bunch.)

Please note that Rhyme is sitting in the back yard, minding his own business, and here comes Tommy.
“Oh, good!” Rhyme thinks. “Tommy’s coming to visit with me! I like Tommy! I should put on a pot of tea!”

But it all goes terribly wrong. Tommy’s in a butt-kicking mood.

And then it all goes terribly wrong – FOR TOMMY. Rhyme, you see, has been working out. If this were a movie, you’d see a montage of Rhyme running up a thousand steps with the Rocky theme playing in the background. You’d see him lifting weights. You’d see him making mincemeat out of a punching bag. Rhyme is rough, tough, and ready to kick some tail of his own.

All Tommy can do is run for his life.

Running.

Still running.

Little more running. (This is the part of the movie moviegoers refer to as “That godawful REALLY LONG running sequence. What was the point of that? He was running – WE GET IT!”)

Buster’s all “I’m glad I’m not involved in whatever’s going on over THERE.”

More running. Kara’s all “What the -?”

Sadly, Rhyme didn’t run quite fast enough. Tommy, it seems, has reached the Cement Pad of Safety. There’s no butt-kicking allowed on the cement pad. It’s against the rules!

Rhyme makes one final leap…

And then flops down for a roll in the sun.

Next time, Rhyme. Next time you’ll catch him and show him who’s boss! That’ll probably happen in the sequel.

Elwood loves his Tommy. Tommy… puts up with his Elwood.

“What? I LOVE him!”
I’m amazed the bed can contain that much cat.

Previously
2009: I’m trying to convince Fred that we should take a vacation in the Spring and visit Polyface Farms.
2008: Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe the caramel popcorn is calling my name. It’s what’s for breakfast!
2007: Where Muh Daddy?! Starring Fricasee “Frick” And3rson
2006: You know, Maxi and Newt. The cats who AREN’T OURS.
2005: “Vivacious! Tell her she’s VIVACIOUS, Dr. Phil!”
2004: I eat too much of the wrong kind of food and am lazy.
2003: “IT’S JESUS DYING ON THE CROSS! HOW CAN THAT POSSIBLY BE CONFUSING YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKERS?”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Here’s a tip: If they’re your own children, it’s NEVER “babysitting.”
1999: I’m feeling incredibly lazy today (like that’s something new).