Recently on Dinosaurs Can’t Eat Pizza, Nance and I made Tomato Bisque (that post will be up later today), and I made 88 Calorie Brownies.
In case you missed it over the weekend, I posted on Saturday and on Sunday as well, because who doesn’t want to stare at 300 pictures of wee baby kittens? (Also, Everett Peppers was adopted, yay!!!)
Yesterday, I had to go under the house again to run a cable from my computer to the magic box that brings internet from the outside world to my fingertips. Unlike last week’s trip under the house, this was a relatively short distance (thank god), and unlike last week’s trip, I brought the camera with me. I didn’t bring the big camera because it’s expensive and hard to handle when I’m wriggling around on my belly like a worm; I brought the smaller camera and shot some pictures.
WARNING: Under-house pictures below. Skip to the next section if you have no desire to see them!
The door that leads under the house. That cement wall to the right is where the well is located. (The well does not currently work. We’ve been meaning to have someone come out and make it so that it’ll work, but clearly that has not happened yet. Who knows if it ever will?)
The door, open. That black plastic covers most of the ground under there. There’s a large pile of bricks under there to the right.
I’m inside, wriggling on my belly. I can crawl on my hands and knees until I need to go under one of those silver air duct thingies. This is straight ahead from the door. The white pipes carry water; the silver things carry heat in the Winter, cool air in the Summer. It’s wicked dusty under here.
You can’t really see it in this picture but there’s a big ol’ spider web there coming down from that silver air duct.
See that upper silver air duct thingy, that’s going up to the floor? That’s where I’m headed. That covered grate on the brick wall looks out into the back yard.
Annnd, that’s kind of back behind me. If it wasn’t such a problem getting under here, that might be a good place to keep stuff. Like, canned stuff. But alas, I am not crawling my ass under the house every time I need a jar of applesauce.
I got to where I needed to go, only to find out that I was supposed to grab that blue cable and bring it with me. This was about, oh, 12 feet of crawling and wriggling that seemed like 12 miles.
After I grabbed the cable and pulled it back over to the original place I was, I had to stick it up through this hole. There are several cave crickets and one big, juicy spider. I had to stick my hand up there. Was fun. In fact, it took three tries before I could get the cable to go through the hole because it just barely fit.
Headed back to the door, I stopped and snapped a shot toward the front of the house. That was where I had to go last weekend. I was sad that I didn’t have to go back there again this time. NOT. (NOT sad, that is.)
And one last shot. Creepy times. I’m not claustrophobic, but every trip under the house makes me rethink that position.
I am now caught up on Revenge, and I have this to say: oh, good lord, it is just so delightfully BAD. How on earth are they going to stretch this show out past the first season?
Also, with every line he delivers, Conrad Grayson looks like he has a mouthful of peanut butter and he’s trying to push it out without using his tongue.
I just love the hell out of this show; it is so delightfully over the top with wooden actors and unbelievable situations and it makes me giggle gleefully at least once every show (the most recent one being in the flashback when Takeda and Nolan were looking meaningfully at each other. Emily turned to look suspiciously at Nolan, and he smiled and nodded at her. I had to watch it like six times, it make me giggle so much.)
After much time spent looking at kitten behinds yesterday afternoon, we are fairly certain that we’ve got three girls and one boy on our hands, Stripey1 being the one boy. Fred is pretty good at this sort of thing, so I’m pretty sure he’s right (but let me add that it’s always a possibility he’s wrong on one or more of the kittens).
Lesley, if you haven’t already, please check your email and get back to me regarding the naming of your kitten!
All continues to be well with the kittens. Every time I go into the room they’re either eating, sleeping, or preparing to do one or the other. Emmy is making sure that they’re fed and cleaned, and in turn we make sure that she’s well-fed and her litter box stays clean! It works well for all of us.
I’m pretty sure this is Stumpy. Such a sweet little face.
Sweet mama.
I love it when they curl up with her like this.
Charcoal loves her mama.
Stripey1.
Oh, look! Time to eat. That only happens constantly, we’re lucky I had the camera with me while it was happening.
Content mama.
Right to left, we’ve got Stumpy, Charcoal, Stripey2, and under Emmy’s arm, Stripey1.
Look at that baby, rolling around while nursing.
And rolling the other way. Also: TOES.
“What?”
You know, one thing that drives me crazy is how a cat will sleep almost exclusively in one or two places, and then suddenly they just STOP. Sugarbutt used to sleep in the bottom of this Room with a View cat house all the time. Then one day, he stopped. I couldn’t figure out why – had someone peed in it? (The amount of time I spend smelling things to see if they’ve been peed on, well, if I had that time back, I could cure cancer.) No one had peed in it, Sugarbutt just appeared to not want to be there any more. So I was happy to see Miz Poo hanging out in it the other day, and Spanky sleeping on top. The two oldest cats in the house, hanging out together, kind of. Awww.
Previously
2011: (Fred, by the way, is SO proud of Loony Jake and his huntin’ ways.)
2009: DAMNIT.
2008: Q. What is the last heavy item you lifted? A. Miz Poo!
2007: “Yeah, it’s really fleein’ the interview,” Fred said.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: You suppose they’d mind if I went over after dark and pressed my face up against the window to see what’s going on?
2003: Maybe I should go for the dreadlocks look…
2002: Any resemblance to persons living or dead are completely coincidental. I don’t fart.
2001: every Mulvaney shat gold upon command three times a day.
2000: Here at casa bitchypoo, we believe in extremely lazy Sundays.