We just finished disc 4 of Heroes, season one, and tell me this: Is Niki’s horseshit “power” going to manifest itself as something more interesting EVER, or will she just continue to be a freakishly strong multiple personality? Because I like Ali Larter, but Niki’s “power” is BO. RING. (The other night when she broke a billy club in half, Fred said “I’d say that qualifies her as strong.” Indeed.) If Niki and Jessica manifested themselves in separate bodies so that other people could see both of them, that might be kind of impressive.
Holy mother of god, this is the SLOWEST DAY EVER. If this next 24 hours would just up and pass, I’d be eversograteful.
After poking around Flickr, I found that you can actually send a cameraphone picture to Flickr, which will in turn post it to your blog. Therefore, before I leave for the hospital tomorrow, I’ll set this page up so that several entries can be shown on the same page, and I will surely post a couple of times from the hospital while I’m waiting to go in for surgery. I’d show Fred how to do it so he could post from the waiting room, but he’s not into that sort of thing.
We have to be at the hospital at 6:30 tomorrow, which means we’ll need to leave, I’m guessing, around 5:45ish. Which means I’ll probably get up at 4:30 so I can scoop the litterboxes and take my shower and snuggle with the kittens before we go.
Odd thing, I’ve had this itchy patch of eczema on my arm that’s been driving me crazy for a week or so and it just wouldn’t go away. I used Dial Antibacterial for the past couple of days (instructions from the doctor, use antibacterial soap on the areas that will be operated on for three days before the day of surgery. Ordinarily, I use Dove in the shower.) and the patch hasn’t bothered me since. Hmmm.
Shirley asked in my comments yesterday if I’d still be able to play with the kittens after surgery. I don’t see that there’s any way I could stay away from those babies much past Friday. If I can’t get down on the floor, I’ll make Fred drag one of the recliners in there, and they can climb up into the recliner and snuggle with me. I can’t imagine being in the same house and not spending time with them, it would drive me crazy. As far as I’m concerned, my incisions will be covered with a binder/ corset sort of thing, so they can bite and scratch at me all they want, and if it gets to be too much, I’ll put them in timeout, the little brats.
Oh, and LeighC asked how long I’ll be in the hospital. It’ll be overnight, so I’ll be released Friday morning, probably first thing. It’s technically an “outpatient” procedure, which means I’ll be in the hospital 23 hours. Less hospital costs if it’s not “inpatient”, I guess.
Yummy things I have recently cooked:
Quick Shrimp Po’ Boys. I found this recipe in Real Simple magazine last summer and thought it looked good enough to try, so I ripped it out, stuck it in my pile of recipes-to-try, and forgot about it until recently. We had them for dinner Friday night, and they were really good. I haven’t had a lot of Po’ Boys in my time (which is kind of surprising to me, since I LOVE shrimp), so I don’t know what “real” Po’ Boys entail, but these were certainly good and worth having again. My only gripe is the amount of bread. I loathe a sandwich that doesn’t easily fit in your mouth (insert (HA HA) disgusting sexual innuendo here), and I think next time I’ll buy a baguette, remove a lot of the bread from the middle and see how that goes.
Monday night I decided to make pulled pork (also known as “Barbecue”, here in the south) because I’d recently seen this recipe. So I put the pork butt in the crock pot as soon as I got up Monday morning, ignored it until a little after 3:00, then pulled it out of the crock pot to shred it. I was dreading this part because I figured it was going to be a pain in the ass, but not SO, my friends. That stuff shredded very, very easily. It took me just a few minutes to shred it, I drained the fat from the crock pot*, mixed the shredded pork with Big Bob Gibson’s BBQ sauce, put it back into the crock pot, and Fred was so hungry an hour later that instead of having it with corn on the cob and yellow squash as I’d intended, we just made sandwiches with the stuff, and it was DIVINE.
We had it again last night, and I said to Fred, “Next year, we can have shredded pork made with OUR OWN PIGS, and we can serve it with coleslaw made from OUR OWN CABBAGE and maybe with a side of bread made in OUR OWN BREADMAKER!” We’re having it again tonight, and I don’t doubt that Fred will have it again for dinner tomorrow night. It makes a LOT, is what I’m saying.
I think this stuff is best saved for Fridays for us, though. I hadn’t realized just how fatty pork butt is (the obvious escapes me sometimes) and I did scrape off all the fat I could see when I was shredding the pork, and I did drain the fat out of the crock pot, but it was so damn good that there must have been 63,000 grams of fat per bite of the stuff. SO GOOD.
And while I’m talking about food, a few weeks ago I made a batch of Not Yo’ Momma’s Banana Pudding, and instead of slicing the bananas, I cut them up in small pieces (like small cubes), and it was really good that way. Next time, I’m going to break the graham crackers up into smaller pieces, too.
*The liquefied fat from the crock pot went into a bowl, and when Fred got home, he dumped it over some leftover moldy bread and fed it to the pigs and they LOVED it. These pigs, I’ve gotta say, are coming in handy as garbage disposals on legs.
That goddamn mother chicken, I swear to god. She is the dumbest, least caring mother on the face of this goddamn earth, or at least on Crooked Acres, and since I have the BEST MOTHER EVER upstairs in the kitten room who will fuck you UP if you mess with her babies, I know whereof I speak.
The chicks are itty bitty and as such, can easily hop through the fence to the other side. This is generally not an issue, because Momma Chicken clucks as she moves along, and the babies hear her and stay with her and if any protecting needs to be done, she does it.
So yesterday morning I was outside filling up the bird feeders, and as always, when the flock o’ chickens saw me, they ran over to the fence and looked hopefully at me, because after I fill up the bird feeders, I give the chickens a scoop of bird seed and they pick out what they like and leave the rest for whatever birds come along.
(pic)
As I filled up the bird feeders, I glanced over and saw that the baby chickens had gone through the fence between the chicken yard and the back yard. Momma Chicken, rather than GIVING A SHIT about her babies was acting like what she is – ie, a stomach on legs – and was standing looking at me and hoping that bird seed would be forthcoming and she was nowhere near her babies.
I looked over in the clump of dead daffodils, which is where Joe Bob likes to hang out, and noted that he wasn’t looking at the baby chickens, was instead looking at the entire other side of the back yard.
I finished filling up one bird feeder and walked toward another, and glanced into the back yard again and realized to my horror that Joe Bob had seen the baby chickens and was low, crawling toward them, and moving fast.
“Joseph!” I said in a stern voice. “No!”
He acted like he couldn’t hear me, a favorite trick all the cats have perfected, and he kept on going. Momma Chicken didn’t even glance toward her babies.
“Joe, NO!” I yelled, and started running toward him. He kept going. “JOE! NO!” I bellowed, and I threw the bird seed scoop at him. It landed near him, he ran off, and the baby chickens stood there and looked confused. FINALLY, Momma Chicken remembered she had babies, and she clucked at them and they ran back into the chicken yard.
I recovered the bird seed scoop and tossed a scoop of bird seed into the chicken yard, all the time swearing up a storm and telling Momma Chicken what a useless dumbass she was.
She didn’t seem to much care about my opinion of her, though. Grrrr.
Fucking chickens.
(pic)
Yesterday morning I went into the kitten room to hang out with them before I cleaned out their litter boxes (since the plain clay litter just falls apart when it’s peed upon, I find it easiest to just dump out the litter every morning and replace it with fresh), and as I sat there in my nightgown, River took it upon himself to climb up the sleeve of my nightgown.
I imagine that in the operating room, the surgeon’s going to say “Why is she covered in small cuts [I originally typo’d “small cats“. HA!] from head to toe?”
(pic) Is it just me, or is there an element of “IN YO FACE!” in this picture?
Today’s uploaded kitten pics can be seen hither.
On the table, the dining room table, the Suggie sleeps toniiiiiiiiiight!
Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: We’re off to Memphis.
2003: Possum #2.
2002: Mean mommy.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.