2012 calendars. —————–>
Over the weekend, Fred dug up one of his old entries and posted it over at Goodreads.
Still makes me laugh!
I haven’t heard anything about who won the Greenies Healthy Smile contest (the one I harassed you guys to vote for for weeks, which you did because you are WONDERFUL, and thank you again!) I feel like I remember that today (the 7th) was the day the winner was to be announced, but I’m not seeing anything on the Greenies site and haven’t heard anything, so I don’t know. If I hear anything, I will definitely pass it along.
Sunday morning I woke up around the same time I’ve been waking up lately (6:30), only due to the time change, it was only 5:30, so I got up and let Tommy out of my room and went back to sleep. I finally rolled out of bed around 6:45, and was getting dressed in preparation for scooping the litter boxes and all that fun morning stuff, when Fred yelled up to me.
“What?” I yelled back.
“Are you up?”
“Yes.”
“Chickens are here!” he said. It was his plan to get up and process roosters first thing in the morning, something he’s been needing to do for a while now, but – understandably – he tends to procrastinate. This weekend, though, he decided it was time to get it done and over with, and so he set up his processing station Saturday night. I expected he’d be done with the processing by the time I got up, because he likes to do it as early as possible.
I didn’t know what he expected me to do – I was up and getting dressed, after all – so I just called down “Well, I’m up!” and continued getting dressed. I went around the house and scooped all the litter boxes, then opened the side door (he was cleaning up his processing station in the driveway) and said “What did you want me to do?”
“Huh?”
“You said the chickens are here, was there something special you wanted me to do?”
It turned out he was just letting me know that he was done with the chickens and it was my turn to take over and do my thing (bag them, put them in the fridge to age for a couple of days, and then put them all in the freezer).
I walked into the laundry room to fill the cats’ food bowls, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elwood run across the kitchen counter with what looked like a piece of ham in his mouth.
Where the hell did he get a piece of ham? I wondered, and went back into the kitchen for a closer look. It wasn’t a piece of ham – it was a piece of a chicken breast, and he hunkered down and started eating it, while Alice sat nearby and watched him closely.
After some investigation, I went to the side door and said “How about next time, instead of saying ‘The chickens are here,’ you say ‘The chicken pieces are in bowls in the sink in a perfect location for Elwood to steal a piece’? I assumed you’d put the chickens in the fridge.”
I went back into the kitchen and took the piece of chicken away from Elwood, then cut it up and put it on a plate for him. Sure, I could have rinsed it off and put it with the rest of the chicken but, um, no. I wasn’t going to eat chicken that had had cat slobber all over it, thank you very much. There wasn’t a lot of chicken there, maybe an ounce, so I gave it to Elwood. (In retrospect I’m sure that I just rewarded the food-stealing behavior and probably he’ll skulk around the kitchen counters constantly in hopes that he can “catch” some food and be rewarded by me allowing him to eat it.) Once he ate as much as he wanted, I put the plate on the floor.
Here’s where it got kind of interesting – all the big Peppers came through the kitchen and sniffed at the plate then kept moving, but Charlie and Patty both bellied right up to the plate and licked it clean.
“I guess you can tell who lived under a trailer and who was born into a home where they were fed regularly, can’t you?” said Fred.
Indeed.
I’m aware that I sound like a shrieking harpy in this video, but it has to be shared. It makes both of us laugh and laugh. (Warning: not safe for work or little ears or anyone who shouldn’t hear me saying “goddamn.”)
The video ended before he could complete his reasonable suggestion, but he was saying “Well, why don’t you TELL me when you’re recording?”
So, we finally got around to watching last week’s The Walking Dead.
First, I have to register a complaint – I’m sorry, but “herd” of zombies? Really? That is possibly the least imaginative, least creative descriptive they could have come up with. I’d like to submit for your consideration:
A shuffle of zombies.
Thankya. Thankyaverymuch.
IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN LAST WEEK’S EPISODE OF THE WALKING DEAD (THE ONE WITH SHANE AND OTIS IN THE SCHOOL), SKIP TO THE NEXT SECTION.
Okay, so we watched last week’s episodes of The Walking Dead.
Unfortunately, I had inadvertently read in a recap what happened at the end of that episode so I basically waited the entire episode for it to happen. Fred, on the other hand, had no idea at all what was coming down the pike, so his gasp of surprise was oddly gratifying to me.
I don’t like Shane at all, but I was still surprised that he’d pull a cowardly move like that. I mean, I guess I can KIND OF understand it – they’re surrounded by zombies, he’s got the supplies that can help save Carl, it’s the only way he can think of to get away – but, man. COLD.
I guess that’s all I really have to say ’bout that. Except that I don’t like Shane. AT ALL. I think he and Lori are the perfect pair because I also don’t much care for her. They should go off and be assholes together.
I read somewhere that Merle will be back, but a perusal of IMDB doesn’t show that he’s listen in any 2011/ 2012 episodes, so maybe not. I have loved the hell out of Michael Rooker since he was Earle in Bastard out of Carolina. Fred and I watched that together, and we spent the whole damn movie saying “Earle would not put up with this shit. Someone tell Earle what’s going on!” and when the time finally came that someone said “Go get Earle,” we cheered loudly. Ever since, every time we see his name, we get excited because WE LOVE US SOME EARLE.
Charlie and Patty are going on Thursday for their spaying and neutering!
“Say what?”
Um, nothing.
Poor Miz Poo. They just CLIMB right into the bed with her. As much a needy little lovemuffin as she is, you’d think she’d welcome the intrusion, but she has no use for other cats, she’s strictly human-only when it comes to giving the love. If she’s feeling sassy or if they get right up in her face, she’ll smack ’em. Otherwise, she just looks the other way and pretends they don’t exist.
I sure wish Charlie could relax.
He’s a ball of stress, is what he is.
Patty, too. Super stressed!
(Her eyes are not that blue, it’s just ’cause of the blanket she’s laying on.)
Molly’s wondering why I’m all the way over here, pointing that camera at her, when I could be over there, petting her.
Oh, this drives me crazy. Everett had a jaunty white whisker on either side of his face. And THEN one of his crazy whisker-eating sisters (I think Sally’s the culprit) chewed one of them off. He’s off-balance now!
Harlan noms on some tasty cardboard.
The table is where I put stuff when I’m too lazy to put it away. The cats and kittens find it endlessly fascinating (and okay, there ARE beds for them there, after all).
Sheriff Mama sees what you’re doing and thinks you’d better knock it off NOW before she gets serious on your behind.
Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: This ‘n that.
2007: I nominate Fred to do all the slaughtering himself.
2006: Questions answered.
2005: This makes me want to wrap my child in bubble wrap and lock her in her room until she’s 35.
2004: No entry.
2003: Meme.
2002: “How fucking much is that goddamn bread? A dollar ninety-fucking-five? Okay, put a couple of the motherfuckers in my cart, would you, fuckwad?”
2001: I briefly considered making a citizen’s arrest.
2000: (ie, “It’s all the fault of that fat bitch you married!”)
1999: I woke this morning at 2:30ish, feeling something wasn’t quite right.