After all the excitement on Friday, things calmed down THANK GOD, though I didn’t really get much done the rest of the day. I ran to get my groceries (didn’t go to Wal-Mart, because after 10 that place is a nightmare, so I went to Publix instead), ate lunch, and then lay on the couch and watched Grey’s Anatomy.
WARNING: GREY’S ANATOMY SPOILER IN THIS PARAGRAPH. SKIP TO THE NEXT IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE SEASON PREMIERE. I don’t get what the big deal was about whether or not to donate George’s organs. George is dead, donate the goddamn things! Also, McSteamy cracked me up when he asked if George was hung, because George was a “dorky little dude” all the hot women were atwitter over. Also also, I can’t stand Izzy and wish she’d been the one to die YES I SAID IT.
It rained all day Friday. I’m trying not to complain about the rain because at least we’re not getting it as bad as Atlanta, and we didn’t get it as bad as we did in the Spring, and I know there were several times over the summer when we were wishing for rain. But DAMN it was making it hard to get laundry done. I kept putting off doing laundry, because I was hoping for a rainy day, and then Fred would say “Um, are you ever going to wash clothes again?” and I’d have to do a quick load of laundry so he wouldn’t have to go to work naked the next day, and use the dryer, which I hate to do.
Finally, on Saturday I gave up and did all the laundry in the house, and guess what? Sunday it was sunny as could be.
Mother Nature, you damn trickster.
Fred processed nine roosters Saturday morning, racing the rain, and managed to get them done, cleaned, and in the fridge about 20 minutes before it started raining like hell. We went out to do errands, and ended up going into Madison to visit the bookstore so Fred could buy some books he wanted (hey, if we had a Kindle, he could have just downloaded them without leaving the house!), we went over to Publix to buy Chrysanthemums for the front porch (Chrissie-anthemums! Anyone else remember that episode of Three’s Company?), then we picked up Chinese food for lunch and spent the rest of the day at home.
I figured Fred would be all antsy and pacing because he’s not usually a sit-and-relax kinda guy, but he actually spent most of the afternoon reading on the couch and petting kittens.
At one point Saturday, when he looked at my desk, which was loaded down with kittens, Fred said “I sure do love having all these kittens around. I think we could have fifty of them running around, and I’d be happy. I’d like to be like Scrooge McDuck, only instead of laying in a bed of money, I’d be laying in a bed of kittens.”
Which is when I told him that I’d answered the eternal question: How many cats have to be in residence before the house smells like litter box all the time? (Answer: 21, apparently.) He says it’s not that bad, but it seems like more often than not when I’m near the laundry room, there’s been recent usage of one of the litter boxes.
We must have cats with the healthiest and most active bowels on earth, I’m telling you.
After all those days and days of overcast, rainy days, Sunday dawned bright and sunny and BOY was it nice. We had to run to Lowe’s so I could buy some potting soil to repot the Chrysanthemums (Chrissie-anthemums!). While we were there Fred talked to the manager about the fact that the riding lawnmower that was delivered on Friday was incredibly difficult to steer. The manager told him to double-check and see if the cruise control (!) was engaged or something else would be going on that would impede steering, and if he was still having the problem, to call the store and they’d swap it out.
While I repotted my Chrysanthemums (Chrissie-anthemums!) and discovered that I hadn’t bought enough potting soil (damnit), Fred double-checked the riding lawnmower, found that it really was the lawnmower and not user error, and called the store. They had a new lawnmower out to the house by 11, and Fred spent the next few hours mowing the lawn while I puttered around the house and did laundry, cleaned, vacuumed. The usual fun stuff.
It was a good weekend but, as usual, went by far too quickly. I always feel like there’s a long list of stuff I need to do that just never gets done. Not enough hours in the day, you know?
I don’t know how on earth you people with actual jobs ever get anything done!
Lately, it’s been about the dip around here and I’m not talking about Fred HAR HAR HAR.
When I was in Publix on Friday, I tasted some of their imitation crab dip (I don’t remember the name of the stuff for certain, but I believe it might have been “Kajun Krab Dip” or something along those lines. I know they spelled it “krab”). That got me in the mood for some sort of dip, so I looked at the dips and spreads they had in their seafood section. I ended up buying a small container of lobster dip. Since it cost $2.99, likely the closest lobster got to it was when the guy who made it thought of lobster while he mixed it up, but it tasted like lobster to me, so I was happy. Then on Saturday, I made Hot Artichoke and Garlic Dip, and it was good. It was a little salty for our tastes, until I realized that it wasn’t the dip that was so salty, but rather the crackers we were eating it on. When I switched to pita chips, it became perfect. (Also, it’s just as good cold as it is hot!)
Fred thinks it would be good with a package of chopped spinach mixed in.
I’m in the mood for more dips and spreads – what’ve you got for me? Please, nothing with peppers or pimentos (the mere existence of pimentos offends me), and nothing too complicated.
Share your favorite dip/ spread recipe with me!
Those Wonka kids are doing just fine. They seem to be losing interest in the bottle on their own and have all started showing some interest in baby food. My next step, I suppose, will be to mix the baby food with canned kitten food and transition them over to that. I put out a bowl of water and a small dish of Babycat on Sunday, and I’ll be damned if they didn’t all four at least give it a try. We’re still supplementing with the bottle, to get some fluid into them, and judging by the litter box, they’re getting enough food and fluid in. I weighed them this morning, and they’re all solidly over a pound (they gained from 1 1/2 ounces to 4 ounces since I weighed them on… Tuesday, I think?), running around with big bright eyes and play-fighting. They are killing me with the cute, I’m telling you.
We’re currently letting them out into the guest bedroom to run around during the day. The cage is still in there, and they seem to all understand where the litter box is. When they get tired, the boys always return to the cage to sleep (the girls tend to flop down on the condo or on the bed across the room). At night we put them in their cage and lock them in, and they don’t seem to mind. When they’re a little bigger, I guess we’ll just allow them full access to the room all the time. Right now they’re still little enough that they get lost in the corners of the room (“Oh WOE, I am lost, someone please save me!”), so we’ll keep them locked up at night.
Violet, Gus, and my knee (and foot).
“So, I’m WALKING ALONG, minding my own BUSINESS, and suddenly there’s this cage door! NOW what the heck am I supposed to do?!”
Gus requires a post-meal massage.
Even this little, they see a closed door and they’re determined to be on the other side of it.
Look who climbed up onto the condo all by her little tiny self! It’s Violet!
Mike followed, and she bit him on the butt for his trouble.
THERE’S A MONSTER IN THE BOX! STAND BACK! BILL WILL SAVE YOU!
First, Bill identifies the monster as being monstrous. “Yes, that is a monster. And it is in the box.”
Second, Bill names the monster. “That is a monster of the mean and bitey genre. Must be a Hoyt monster.”
Bill decides his strategy. “Stop flailing at me, mean and bitey monster. I am thinking here.”
Bill approaches the issue from another angle. “Ah, yes. The mean and bitey monster looks completely different from here!”
Bill taunts the monster. “Can’t get me now, CAN you?!”
And then Bill runs off because he thinks someone was maybe considering that it might possibly, in the next six hours or so, be snack time, and he doesn’t want to miss that.
When I see pictures of Stinkerbelle from two years ago…
And then from now…
It’s hard to believe she’s the same cat, isn’t it? She got so dark!
(Still gorgeous, though.)
Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: I do not know, honest to god, how men walk around with those things.
2006: YOU’RE WELCOME.
2005: Phear my l33t fotograffic skillz.
2004: Dear Stephen King: Stop defending what you did, and just write the goddamn story.
2003: Meet Gizmo.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.