Month: January 2011

Oh, you guys. I know, I know you want us to keep the three remaining Bookworms here, believe me I know it. But it’s not going to happen because we’re at our limit. If it was just a matter of keeping one of them, that would be one thing, but all three? No, we really can’t.

I especially want Rhyme to find a forever home, because he’s such a sweet, friendly boy who loves people, and I’m afraid that he doesn’t get enough attention. That is, I’d like to see him in a home with perhaps a FEW less cats vying for the attention of the humans. Reacher and Corbie are also sweet and friendly, but perhaps not quite as 24-hours-a-day-snuggly as Rhyme is.

I came to the realization that it’s not so much strange people that Reacher has a problem with as it is strange situations. Once he had a few minutes with the strangers on Sunday, he did relax, and he liked being petted and held. I think that being at the adoption center, with strange people coming and going all the time, is not something he could handle. Or maybe he could handle it, given enough time, but I know that he’d been at the adoption center for at least a few days when the day came that Lisa was doing adoptions and held him for a long time, and he shook and hid his head the entire time.

I actually think that Corbie will be okay at the adoption center, because he’s the kind of cat who takes his cues from the cats around him. Rhyme was perfectly fine for the time he was at the adoption center with Buster, and it was only because we were out running errands and I wanted to stop by and see them that we ended up bringing them home. (Fred can’t stand to see cats in cages, especially the ones we foster. Which is why he’s never the one to take them to Petsmart!)

So when room opens up at Petsmart, I’m going to give Corbie and Rhyme a chance. Maybe someone will come along who’ll fall in love with them, and maybe no one will. I’m not planning to leave them there forever, you know, I just want to give it a try for a while, in hopes that the perfect person will come along and fall in love with them.

I dropped the Bradys off at Petsmart yesterday morning, early. I don’t know that they could have been less scared or worried. There were a few tentative meows on the way, but no terrified howling. When we got into the cat room, I let them out to run around, and they explored the cat room, sniffed at the other cats, ran around some more, climbed the scratching post, drank some water, ate a little food, and ran around even more. When I was done getting their cages ready, they were all in one cage already, checking it out. I put Cindy and Jan in a small cage together (since they’re the two smallest), left the other four in the big cage, and shut the doors.

They just kept on playing, barely even noticed me when I left.

I went back by Petsmart two hours later and peeked around the corner at them, and they were perfectly fine. Not scared in the slightest, just hanging out, doing their thing. Cindy was very interested in watching people walk by, and Marcia was stretched across the big cage, grabbing the legs of her brothers as they went by. I really like it when kittens react so well to being at the adoption center -but jeez, Bradys. You could miss me a LITTLE, you know!

(PS: Marcia and Cindy were adopted last night! Not together, but that’s okay – I have a feeling those two will be just fine!)

There seems to be some sort of theme in the pictures I’m posting today, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is…

Good lord, if Jan developed the muscle control to flap those things, she could circle the Earth in no time flat.

“Waiter! There appears to be a kitten in my bed!”

Cindy: ::weak with laughter::
Greg: “I don’t get it.”
Bobby: ::looking to the heavens for help:: “Okay, Bobby, tell it ONE MORE TIME, maybe Greg will get it THIS time.”

“::giggle:: Okay, okay. ::giggle:: What’s br- (hehehe) what’s brown and sticky?”

“A STICK!” ::gigglesnort::
Greg (offscreen): “I… No, I still don’t get it.”

“He never was the brightest bulb.”

“Hey, quit! That tickles! I’m still trying to figure out what a “stick” is…”

“The basket is mine! THE BASKET IS MINE! Mine, mine, mine, and no one else can have it, ’cause I’m the best joke-teller EVER!”

“And the bed is too soft, and sometimes Marcia makes me share it with her, and it’s purple and I don’t like purple and I don’t know why you treat me so horribly, I don’t require much, I’m just a poor sweet bebbeh, and ALL I WANT IS WHAT I WANT.”

“That’s all I want, to be treated decently, DO YOU HEAR ME?”

“If ONE more kitten comes and tries to convince me that that joke is funny, I WILL BEGIN THE SMACKIN’ AND IT WON’T BE PRETTY.”

“All y’all, hush UP! Loony Jake needs his sleep!”

Previously
2010: Behold, I liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiive!!!!!
2009: Fred is, as I have mentioned before, an overexplainer.
2008: No entry.
2007: “Oh!” he said, with a big smile. “You’re pregnant!”
2006: A SHELL ON A STICK.
2005: Every movie and every show we watch, he’s in there deconstructing it.
2004: Memes.
2003: A day in the life of Spot J. And3rson.
2002: No entry.
2001: Blech.
2000: I now officially have too damn many books to read.

Vote for Moxie in the Bissell Most Valuable Pet contest!!!

I’ve got a busy week planned. I’ve got to go to South Huntsville to have my blood drawn (which I regularly have done for the hematologist), then I have my yearly physical, and then I’ll be taking the Bradys to Petsmart. Then tomorrow I’ll be scrubbing down the foster room, because it’s been a good long time since the room was scrubbed down, due to my lazy nature.

Actually, now that I think about it, it’s more that today’s going to be a busy day for me, the rest of the week isn’t going to be THAT busy. I just have something planned for each day. Pre-op appointment with the plastic surgeon on Friday! Friday’ll be three weeks ’til I have surgery, WOOT!

Anyway. It’s a banner week when I have to leave the house more than once (which isn’t to say that I don’t leave the house more than once in the course of the week, just that it’s unusual that I have more than one appointment in a week).

You know what? I’ve got nothin’. I’m going to finish up the entry with some cat talk and pictures, and call it good enough, howzaboutthat?

A really nice couple came to the house on Sunday to meet the three remaining Bookworms. They liked Corbett, and then when they found out that he had two brothers, they thought they might want to adopt two of them. I talked to them briefly on the phone, and then invited them to come out and meet the boys.

I put the boys in the upstairs foster room, and they were immediately suspicious and wanted right back out of that room. They sat at the door and put their arms under the door and tried to stick their faces under the door. I distracted them by giving them some canned cat food, and then slipped out of the room.

When the nice couple showed up, we took them upstairs to meet the boys, and I tell you what – it was embarrassing, how many cats went scattering as we walked through the house. The Bradys – who were given the run of the house during the day starting Friday – went running in all directions, Sugarbutt and Spanky went flying in another. I felt like I was maybe in an episode of Hoarders and perhaps Dr. Robin “Crazy Eyes” Zasio and Cranky Matt the organizer were going to be knocking on the door at any moment.

The boys were freaked out by the strangers and clustered around the door trying to get out, but they eventually relaxed and allowed themselves to be picked up and petted. I was actually surprised that Reacher didn’t freak out more than he did. After they left, Reacher and Rhyme eventually came slinking downstairs, and for a while we couldn’t find Corbie, then I found him under the couch. He came out shortly after and resumed sleeping on my desk, where he’d been before I snatched him up and locked him in the foster room.

Though I really liked the couple who’d come to meet the boys and they really liked the Bookworms, it unfortunately didn’t work out, which was disappointing. It doesn’t always work out, that’s just the way it goes. It means it just wasn’t meant to be, I think.

I did decide, though, to ask the shelter manager to put Rhyme and Corbie in the queue to go to the adoption center when there’s room. It won’t be soon – there are other cats ahead of them, including the Bradys – but I would really like to give them a decent shot at being adopted. I’d like to send Reacher, too, but he was so scared the last time he went that I can’t bring myself to put him through that again. I’m going to keep my fingers crossed that someone sees his picture on Petfinder or in the book in the adoption center and falls in love with him the way it happened for Buster.

Sweet Corbie McGee.

Reacher.

Rhyme and Loony Jake.

Rhyme again. Don’t the Bookworms have the prettiest eyes? I could look at ’em all day long.

I’ll be leaving here in a little while to take the Bradys to the adoption center. The six of them will be going, but Alice will be staying with us for a bit longer. She’s got some sort of congestion issue, so we need to get that cleared up before she’s ready to go. She was going to be going into a cage by herself, anyway – she gets along okay with the little ones, but if they get in her space for too long, she loses patience with them – so it won’t be a problem for her to wait a while.

Having the Bradys run around the house during the day this weekend was pretty fun. They really liked the toys scattered throughout the house, and when they got tired, they’d pile up on one of the couches. I walked into the front room Friday evening while Fred was playing some game or another on the Xbox, and they were all laying on him in various stages of drowsiness.

Too cute.

The big cats have been very patient with the little ones, and as it turns out Jan Brady is a bit of a hussy. Saturday morning she climbed into a cat bed with Jake and kneaded on him for about 20 minutes before he got tired of it and stomped off. And then she climbed into the cat bed where Reacher was sleeping, and found a somewhat more receptive audience.

“That is correct. We are snuggling. What of it?”

“The young ladies have always had a particular liking for the Reacher Creature.”

::slurrrrrrp::

::slurrrrrrrrrrrp::

::slurp::

“Okay, little miss. Stop kneading on my belly and let’s take a nap.”

Okay, off I go with the Bradys. Don’t worry – you’ll be seeing pictures of them for at least the rest of the week. I still have a ton to share with you!

Keep your fingers crossed that these little monkeys get adopted quickly. I suspect they will!

Eight cats in one picture! From left: Reacher, Corbie, Rhyme, Elwood, Tommy, Jake, Sugarbutt, and (closest to the camera) Newt, keeping an eye on the birds.

Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: (Now that I’ve said that, you can expect an entry next week about how we adopted another cat, I’m sure.)
2007: Just call me Nicole Richie!
2006: I’d be a lobster, ’cause they are yummy, and I would be bringing joy to someone after I die a horrible boiling death.
2005: Saturday I spent at least two hours – conservative estimate – finding and downloading a ringtone that sounds exactly like the “internal call” ring on 24.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: I’m quite the stylin’ bitchypoo, I really am.
2000: It’s the period that never ennnnnnds! Yes, it goes on and on my friends!

Vote for Moxie in the Bissell Most Valuable Pet contest!!!

I think I’ve mentioned before that when our home phone rings, the phone will announce who’s calling. It doesn’t sound at all natural, the way the phone stiltedly announces “Call. From. Fred’s. Cell.” or whatever. My favorite thing is when Fred’s sister calls. She’s listed as “R. Herlastname”, and the phone pronounces it as “Arrrr Herlastname.” It always cracks me up, and last month I was messing around with the phone, and changed her name in our phone book (if the person calling isn’t in the phone phonebook, the phone will announce the name as listed with the phone company. This is particularly fun when “Out of Area” calls.)

So I changed her name in the phone book, and then she didn’t call for a long time.

The other day, I was hanging out on my bed with the Bradys, and the phone rang. I didn’t figure it was for me, so I didn’t bother to get up to answer it (Fred was downstairs). After the second ring, the phone announced who was calling.

“What the fuck?” I said to Cindy Brady. “Who’s calling? R McGee, is that what she said?”

Cindy Brady had no opinions on the matter, and I puzzled over it for a few seconds before I remembered changing the name in the phonebook.

“R. Matey” is what I changed it to, because the “Arrrr” sounded pirate-like, and why not go the whole hog, am I right?

And once I realized what the phone was saying, OH how I laughed and laughed.

I amuse myself so.

This weekend, I made a batch of Cinnabon-clone cinnamon rolls, using this recipe. I made them right up to the point where they needed to go in the oven, then put them in the refrigerator Friday night. Saturday morning, before we went to get groceries, I took them out to bring them to room temperature, and then when we got back, I baked them.

They were very very very very VERY DAMN good. The only down side was that Fred doesn’t much care for cream cheese on top of a cinnamon roll – he prefers a glaze – and I think I feel the same. Though, of course, that cream cheese didn’t stop me from shoving plenty of these rolls in my mouth, you understand.

Next time, I’ll try them with just a simple butter-sugar-vanilla glaze.

I’ve been giving the bread maker a workout lately, actually. Other than the cinnamon rolls, I happened across a recipe for oatmeal bread and it’s really good. So good that I made it twice in the space of a week. (Recipe is here.) It’s good to make sandwiches with (I had an open-faced egg salad sandwich) and also good just toasted with jam on it.

(Fred toasted a piece of the bread and then got a jar of JAM FROM THE STORE out of the fridge. I was all “Are you fucking KIDDING ME? All the jam I’ve made, you want to eat JAM FROM THE STORE? I’ve got pineapple jam, I’ve got strawberry jam, I’ve got strawberry lemon marmalade and cherry jam. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.” I don’t even know where the hell that store jam came from (I mean, I KNOW. The STORE. DUH. But I don’t remember buying it, which means either it’s really old or SOMEONE ELSE bought it! The nerve! But that bastard ate that store jam on that piece of toast because he didn’t want to be WASTEFUL. Hmph.)

So my question to y’all – and I am SURE I asked this same damn question when we first got the bread maker – what’s your favorite bread maker recipe? I’m kind of enjoying using it lately!

Guess who’s going to the adoption center very very sooooon?

Back to front: Jan, Bobby, Peter.

Bobby, working on his “I’m a sweet, innocent baby, don’t you wanna adopt meeee?” look.

Another sweet look from Bobby.

Stretchin’ Jan.

Bobby’s all “There appears to be a Cindy FAR too close to me!”

Suggie, in the Sug cave.

Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: Even though I never did look ratty, and she’s a whore.
2007: An entry in pictures.
2006: I’m not germ-phobic or anything, but GAG ME.
2005: Stuff I Bought.
2004: No entry.
2003: Frequently asked questions.
2002: I love me some messing around with the camera.
2001: I was being subjected to porn without realizing it!
2000: Ben and me, we had sex in the back of a van.

I had my appointment with the gynecologist yesterday, and everything was fine (it was just the boring old yearly exam). She was a little like this:

when I told her I’d stopped using the estrogen patch because I didn’t think I needed it (I started cutting the patch in half, and things were fine, and then I forgot to switch out the patch when I was on vacation in July and I was fine, so I was all “Well shit, I don’t need this!” and never put another patch on again. Haven’t had a single hot flash, for the record.) She sent me over to the lab across the way to have blood drawn to have my estrogen level tested, and prescribed a mammogram, since it’s that time of the year again.

I scheduled the mammogram (the week after next, if you MUST know), then drove over to the lab, signed in, and took a seat in the waiting room.

A few minutes later a woman came in accompanied by a man and two small children. I was absorbed in playing Bookworm on my iPod (DAMN YOU, JEAN), so I didn’t look up at them or really pay much attention to them. The man sat down with the two small children and started gruffly telling them to behave if they squirmed or complained or wanted to turn the TV to cartoons. The woman sat down next to me, and settled in, then told her husband she was going to check in with someone, and pulled out her cell phone.

She got someone on the phone and told her “Colitis. Yeah, the colitis flared up again and blah blah prednisone. Well, he wanted to know who’d diagnosed me with the colitis and the scleroderma. He thinks I have Raynaud’s, he wants to test me for that. He really thinks I have Raynaud’s, he’s convinced that I do*. (Silence) Well, because I have abnormally small hands.”

Now, seriously. I thought I was going to have to actually PUT MY HANDS over my eyes to prevent myself from going all bug-eyed and whipping my head around to stare at her abnormally small hands. Her husband was sitting facing me, and I just KNEW that if I caaaasually glanced down to see these tiny infant-sized hands at the ends of her wrists, I was going to then have to caaaaasually glance at the man married to the woman with the monkey paws, and he was going to be sitting there glaring at me, and he was probably going to give me the narrowed eyes of I SEE YOU, YOU JUDGMENTAL FUCKING BITCH and then I’d go up in flames.

So I didn’t look. I didn’t glance. I didn’t stretch and look at the TV and smile at the kids and then cut my eyes to the side all super-quick like to get an eyeful. I didn’t. I kept my eyes glued to my game, and when they called my number, I picked up my purse and I turned away from Madame TinyPaws and I never even looked in her general direction.

(Now I’m really really wishing I’d looked, because I’m DYING to know just how tiny they were!)

*The conversation might not have gone exactly like this. I know she definitely was having a colitis flare-up and I know that both Raynaud’s and Scleroderma were discussed at length, but I’m not seeing anything online that links tiny hands to either, so who the hell knows? I had my damn iPod there, I shoulda been transcribing it word for word!

If you’re Facebook friends with me, you may have already seen this, but if you aren’t, you may not have, and to miss this would be a sad, sad thing. This cracked me UP.

You should buy a herd of pygmy goats because that would be fun for us!

and

I wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment! And in fact, I can think of a lot of other things you should do because they would be fun for us. Pygmy goats, sheep, peacocks, perhaps an ostrich or two… I’ll get back to you and let you know when I expect you to get started, okay?

I’ll tell y’all what. Should such a day come that we win the lottery and can buy 100 acres, I will seriously consider not only buying a small herd of pygmy goats, but also letting y’all name them. How’s that?

I’m totally disagreeing with everyone. PF Changs is horrible. The sauces are way too heavy and they wouldn’t know a subtle flavor if it smacked them on the head, kicked them in the crotch, and cut off their left foot. It’s how I imagine Chinese food would taste if it was made by people who had never had actually eaten Chinese food and only had it described. I say, skip it.

Given my contrary nature, this makes me want to eat there more than anything anyone else has said. 🙂

But I do know if it’s a new book he’s working on then I won’t be able to resist reading it even though he’s done with it all. And that goes for both The Dark Tower and The Shining.

Oh, I’d never NOT read a Stephen King book, and no doubt I’d enjoy it too – but I’d still grumble and gripe about it!

I thought for sure you and Fred were going to bring home that baby llama. If she had been friendlier, do you think you would have?

Oh, hell NO. She was an adorable little thing, and I love the drama queen nature of grown llamas (they have such sass!), but I want a llama running around the back forty less than just about anything I can think of at the moment.

Oh, that sucks re: Fred’s site. I was going to get on him about his Phat Man story. I’ve been following you guys since 2002 or so and I would love to hear how Fred’s doing keeping his weight down, fitness level up, etc so on and so forth. Do you guys still work out? Or does maintaining Crooked Acres keep you in shape?

Fred works out – lifts weights, uses the elliptical, does a lot of outside stuff – but I haven’t seriously worked out in a long time. I keep saying I’m going to get back to it (especially lifting weights, because I do NOT want to be a doddering old lady, and old age is coming at me like a freight train), but it hasn’t happened yet. I like to think that lifting 40 pounds of litter at a time and working in the garden is keeping me fit (I’ve stayed right around the same weight for three years running now), but I really do need to get on an intentional exercise regimen.

Here’s another Wilfred Brimley cat.

Wilford Brimley Looks Like a Cat.

Love it!

I thought of you when I read this article:

Will Game-Playing Cats Now Dream of Electric Mice?

I actually knew that they were putting out games for cats, and I was telling Fred about it – about a blogger whose cats play on her iPad – and he got SERIOUSLY disapproving. Turned out, he thought she’d bought the iPad FOR the cat. Which she hadn’t. Heh.

I thought Alabama was supposed to be damned hot?

Other random question, did you plant winter veg? Did I miss you saying how it was going or gone or what?

Alabama’s damned hot in the summer, and we’re SUPPOSED to have relatively mild (though wet) winters, but this snow stuff is very much out of the norm for us. This entire area shut down for at least two days, and most of the schools in this area were closed for the entire week. Hell – we don’t even own a snow shovel! (I plan to buy a damn snow shovel – Fred shoveled the driveway with a coal shovel.)

I didn’t plant any winter vegetables, no. I did plant some Fall veggies – carrots and radishes in the raised beds and some cabbage in the big garden, but the cabbage never got any bigger than marbles (maybe I’ll try them in the raised bed next year), the carrots never really took off, and the radishes did really well, but the cold weather snuck up on me and froze the damn things before I harvested them. Had they been in the ground, it might have been a different story.

Robyn, that color looks totally natural with your coloring – you have great skin and glowing eyes. You look quite Celtic! What is your ethnic heritage, btw? Oh man, I’ll never get my PhD in Bitchypoo at this rate! 🙁

I’m kind of a mutt – Irish, Scottish, British (I think), a touch of American Indian. There are others in there, I think, but that’s the bulk of it. 🙂

“mild expletive”

Mine usually come out like a Navy captain barking orders. Appropriate, I guess, since I’m the daughter of a sailor.

and

I’m with Adrith – I had to play it back to figure out where the cussword was.

I should probably have joined the Navy somewhere along the line…

When I’m startled or scared, I lose my words. 🙂

I made bolognese sauce over the weekend and as I was skinning the fat off the top all I could hear in my head was ‘SKIMMERS!’

Have I mentioned that I love it when I infiltrate your day-to-day lives?

As for snow…my father’s family was from Canada (Saint Ephrem) and they poured maple syrup over everything…I guess it would help that they had a maple syrup production facility on their property. Snow, eggs, bread…I love maple syrup but after my last visit there in high school, I couldn’t touch the stuff for months.

When I was in 5th and 6th grade, we lived in Aroostook County in very northern Maine. I made at least one trip to a maple sugaring facility (probably several) with school trips and Girl Scout trips and such, and my favorite part was always when they’d pour the syrup over fresh snow and let us eat it. I don’t eat a lot of maple syrup these days, but when I do, it always makes me think of that stuff.

Don’t know how it compares, pricewise, but I’ve tried a bunch of other cat litters and I can’t ever stand any of them and always go back to my old standby: Tidy Cat Scoop Breathe Easy (though Instant Action works in a pinch). I got lucky last week and found big huge tubs of it at the local grocery outlet.

I picked up a bucket of Tide Cat Scoop Breathe Easy and a container of Ever Clean when I was out running errands yesterday. I haven’t tried them yet (I’m going to wait until the litter boxes need to be emptied and cleaned), but I’ll try to remember to report back on how they worked for me. The Ever Clean is going to need to be some amazing stuff – a 20-lb (or thereabouts) box of it costs the same as a 40-lb bag of Precious Cat.

All I can see is how wide those cat asses are looking out the window. They don’t miss many meals do they??

Not if they can help it!

I have to say, though, that Jake (3rd from the left) and Corbie (5th from the left) are both very thin cats – you just can’t tell that from this particular angle and position.

Have you ever used this box or heard of it? I’m thinking about getting one for the two cats.

Since you have so many kitties I was just wonder what you thought about it.

and from Elayne:

Karen, I have two of them, the large and the medium. They work really well, but I found they were a bit small for my grown cats. Also, I prefer to use the crystal litter instead of clumping, and too much of the crystals were winding up in the disposal tray, so I went back to regular boxes. They were super easy to use, though – I have back trouble, and the constant bending, and/or staying bent over, gave me trouble. With the Omegas I could just flip them over with my foot and then bend over once to empty the tray.
I don’t know that they would help much with odor, though; if you’re cleaning your litter boxes every day (full-on cleaning?) and still noticing odor, you might need to try a different litter.

Should also clarify: “My grown cats” refer to my two oldest, both of whom are bigger than my other cats, and both of whom are #1 finicky about the litter box and #2 a bit on the portly side. My other cats are full grown and fit fine, but by that time I had decided I was wasting too much of the crystal litter. If your cats are, say, Maine Coon cats or are heavyset or demand a huge box, the Omegas might be small, but if your cats are normal-sized they should be okay.

What about the rest of y’all? Anyone try the Omega and have an opinion? Share!

Miss Alice, curled up in a cat bed inside a cat bed, on top of my bed.

Bobby Brady, with attitude.

Alice again, at the end of my bed. You’d think I turn my electric blanket on during the day so they can keep warm or something.

Sleepy Bradys (sweet Cindy Brady, making sure Jan stays clean.)

Tiny Cindy Brady. Oh, she makes me want to squeeze the stuffing out of her.

Cindy, flopped across my feet. Peter, sniffing my feet.

Greg and Marcia.

Two videos today, both of them Jake-centric. The Bradys are present in both videos, too. That Loony Jake sure can jump!

Rhyme and Tommy, keeping warm.

Previously
2010: So, random pictures. For you. Try not to be too excited.
2009: George and Gracie are home from the spaying and the neutering.
2008: Negative. Good news or sad news, I wonder?
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Y’all rock.
2004: So many books, so little time.
2003: Ah, good times.
2002: So, you know what I hate?
2001: No entry.
2000: I was a tad peeved.

Bobby Brady, hanging out atop the cat tree.

Peter Brady approaches.

Almost a year ago, I got an email from Lita, who wanted to send something for the cats. I gave her my mailing address, and she sent it, but it never arrived. We figured it’d gotten lost along the way.

AND THEN

When I was checking the PO Box at the end of December, I got a notice that there was a package too large for the box. I went and stood in line, and they handed over this package from Australia.

I looked at it, and saw that the date “2/12/10” was written on it in black marker, which is what they do when they leave a notice in your PO Box. I pointed it out to the postal worker, and she basically shrugged and offered that perhaps it had been misboxed.

So it’s a mystery where it’s been all these months, but the important thing is that it arrived!

And what, you may be wondering, did the package contain?

“What’s this? This for us?”

Marcia and Cindy, investigating.

Cindy, pulling the cube over on top of herself.

Two cubes! Attached!

Bobby finds this very tasty.

Hello, Crazy Eyes.

They even hold up nicely under the weight of a kitten!

All the kittens are quite fond of these cubes. Reacher LOVES to get in and roll around in them, and in the evening when it’s time for the Bradys to go to sleep, we have to wrestle Reacher out of the cube to remove him from the room. (There’s a second package of the cubes, which I believe I’ll set up outside the kitten room so Reacher can cube-sit to his heart’s content.)

So Lita, Sam, Niles and Zorro, thank you so much for the gift. It’s been very much appreciated, as you can see!

Today’s movies are Brady-centric, of course. The first is Peter Brady, playing with a toy he found.

The second is from back in November, shortly after we got the Bradys. They’re so TINY! It ends kind of abruptly, sorry about that – a talented videographer I am not.

With the snow outside, Coltrane is perfectly happy to spend all his time inside. On the heated bed, thank you.

Previously
2010: I live to serve, is what I’m saying.
2009: My mother and Nance are all about feeding the addiction, obviously.
2008: No entry.
2007: I don’t know what it is about Lowe’s that makes me so gassy.
2006: Right now, Fred’s thanking his lucky stars that I don’t have this much Christmas stuff, because it would drive him NUTS.
2005: (YES, GODDAMNIT! I HAVE CONFIRMED THAT YOU CAN, IN FACT, BEGIN WRITING THE FUCKING CHECK BEFORE YOU ACTUALLY HEAR WHAT THE TOTAL IS, YOU IN-MY-WAY MOTHERFUCKER!)
2004: I need to go crack open a beer, watch the game, scratch my balls, and think about what this means.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: “Yeah, so you‘ll be the one with the big head blocking everyone else’s view.”
2000: No, I’m not on any drugs, why do you ask?

So, yesterday Fred told me that Stephen King is working on another Dark Tower book, The Wind Through the Keyhole. And then I read (at that same link) that he’s also considering a sequel to The Shining.

Now, y’all know I love me some Stephen King. I love the HELL out of Stephen King, and I’ve read just about everything he’s written.

(Disclaimer: I have no fucking use for those graphic novels/ comic books he’s putting out, though.)

But can we agree that it’s well past fucking time for him to stop flogging the goddamn Dark Tower stuff? And what the fuck is up with The Shining requiring a sequel? IT DOESN’T.

I actually said to Fred yesterday, “You know, I think maybe it’s time for him to retire if he’s going to keep revisiting the same old shit over and over again.”

(Not seriously, Stephen King. Don’t retire, okay?)

So, happy birthday to me! (And thank you to those of you who wished me a happy birthday!) Yesterday I turned 43. I don’t feel a day over 43, but I’m sure I look it. Whatevs.

On Saturday, we went to our favorite feed store where we usually stop if we’re going up toward Tennessee, because we saw the owner in Walmart when we were buying groceries for the week and he informed us that they had a baby llama running around the store because they were bottle feeding it.

Around mid-morning, we headed up to the feed store, and that was one seriously adorable baby llama.

She (we think it’s a she) was four weeks old. She had the softest fur, and while she let us pet her, she wasn’t crazy about the petting, and didn’t come when we called or made kissy noises at her. In fact, she just went wherever she wanted, and if there were people there to pet her, she’d put up with it for a minute or two before wandering off.

She was all legs and ears and big ol’ eyes with lush, thick eyelashes. What a cutie. But there were other babies there, as well, outside with their mamas…

Baby pygmy goats all over the place – the one above was less than an hour old.

More babies, snuggled up against the big llama (who may or may not have been the mother to the baby llama who was in the store).

Also, there was a donkey or two there – adults, not babies. They were very soft and liked being petted.

After we left the feed store, we headed to Decatur for lunch. It being the day before my birthday, Fred told me we could go anywhere I wanted (with some limitations, that is – he didn’t want to go all the way to Huntsville for PF Chang’s because “We can get Chinese food closer to home!” Well, I’ve never been to PF Chang’s, which is why I wanted to give it a try, but I can see his point.) We discussed many different places, and finally I decided we’d go to Decatur to this little country cooking restaurant we’ve passed many times. It claims to be the “home” of the fried green tomato, and it’s always packed at breakfast time on the weekends, and I enjoy some good country cooking, so off we went.

In the end, though I’d decided beforehand that I wanted breakfast for lunch (they serve breakfast all day), I decided I was in the mood for a burger, and it ended up being pretty good. Nothing fancy, but certainly good, filling food. And we did get fried green tomatoes, and they were very good.

Then we came home, and Fred killed zombies on the Xbox, and I hung out with the kittens and puttered around the house. Then, around 2:00, Fred said “Oh, shit! I’m supposed to make your cake!” and I said “Oh, shit! You are! I forgot!” and he NOT ONLY made my birthday cake (a Black Forest Torte which is TO DIE FOR), but he ALSO cleaned up the kitchen afterward, which might be the best birthday present EVER.

(Once again, the torte recipe is hither.)

We hung around the house for the rest of the evening, settled down in front of the TV around 7, and watched a couple of shows on Netflix (World’s Most Dangerous Drug and World’s Most Dangerous Gang, both reported by Lisa Ling, whom I lurve.

(That woman either completely lacks the fear gene, or fakes it really well. She’s amazing.)

Sunday morning I got up before I really wanted to, because I had to pee, and after walking through the 64-degree upstairs, sitting on a cold toilet seat, and walking back to my not-warm-enough bed, I was wide awake.

We didn’t really do much except peer out the window every ten minutes to see if the snow had started. At noon I made Fred pick up Chinese food for me for lunch (“It’s my biiiiiiirthday!”) and I made a frittata for dinner, and yeah. Not an exciting birthday, but I kinda like it like that.

I cleared off my FlipCam disc over the weekend, so I’ll be sharing a couple of videos a day ’til they’ve all been shared. First, one from back in November, when Buster and Starsky were still here.

And the second is a very short one, up close and personal with Bobby Brady:

Jake loves to hang out with the babies.

Last night I could hear the sound of kittens running back and forth and back and forth upstairs. I went upstairs and went into the kitten room, and didn’t see a single one. I picked up a jingly toy and shook it back and forth, and the sound of galloping kittens came closer, until Jake ran into the room, all six Bradys surrounding him. It was seriously cute.

Previously
2010: I told them I loved ‘em and to stop being drama queens, and then left.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: And my Self said “Wow, that sounds like a pain in the ass.”
2006: “I had a double serving of beans last night/ and I’ve got some hard gas going on/ Pull my finger, baby.”
2005: Back from Maine!
2004: My parents’ Christmas decorations.
2003: And yet, show me a zit and I’m on it in two seconds flat.
2002: “IF YOU WERE THAT FUCKING INTERESTED IN HOW MUCH EVERYTHING COST, YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION WHEN SHE WAS RINGING IT ALL UP!”
2001: My body gave me two birthday presents yesterday – my period (a day early) AND a mild return case of conjunctivitis.
2000: In his narcotic cough syrup-induced haze, he nodded sympathetically and hacked a big green chunk of lung onto his plate.