I must be completely back to normal physically (I’ve NEVER been normal mentally HAR HAR HAR ::wheeze:: ), because I am CRAAAAVING the Diet Coke. If you came sauntering across the room slurping on a Diet Coke right now, I would cut your throat and steal your Diet Coke as you fell to the floor. And then I’d feed you to the pigs. OH YES I WOULD.
I actually have bottles of Diet Coke in the refrigerator right now, but I’m trying to refrain from drinking any until this course of antibiotics is over and done with, as I am supposed to avoid caffeine.
Sunday morning will be a Diet Cokeapalooza ’round these parts, though, I tell you what.
I’ve gained back all but 4 of the pounds I lost, alas. I don’t know what form the loss took – I imagine it was mostly water weight with some muscle and maybe a little fat thrown in – but I can tell you that it’s all coming back as water weight. I’m practically sloshing when I walk right now. I guess it takes time for your body to rebalance after a quick loss-and-gain cycle like that. I’m eating normally and drinking lots of fluids, so things will work out.
My doctor’s office did call to let me know that I have an appointment with the gastroenterologist. On SEPTEMBER 30th. I’m glad things are back to normal, otherwise I might have gotten down to 98 pounds before then, for god’s sake. The nurse told me that if I felt like things were completely back to normal I could cancel the appointment. But I’m supposed to see him once a year so he can poke at my liver, order blood tests, and tell me everything is fine and I might have missed last year.
(For those of you newish to the site, I supposedly have Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis. I don’t particularly believe I have it, and the diagnosis only came through ruling out everything else, so whatever. Right now I take bile salts daily and see the doctor every so often.)
Scenes from around Crooked Acres.
Mother hen and babies. We have about 40 young chicks and babies right now. This was NOT supposed to happen, but those damn hens keep going broody!
“He likes it when I slip him the tongue.”
“I swear to you, if she doesn’t stop wearing those polka-dotted boots, I’m going to drown her in the wallow.”
“I hear you.”
Pigs are off to freezer camp on the 13th. They’re at about 300 pounds right now and it’s time for processing. We’ll have two more pigs the following weekend, we’ve already got it set up with Egg the Pig Man, our piglet provider.
Black Silkie taking a dust bath.
Evening snack time for George and Gracie. Gracie keeps her eye on the prize, but George looks like he’s about to go bounding off.
“I has a rawhide bone.”
“I lubs my rawhide bone.”
::slurrrrrrp::
“I need a pedicure.”
I don’t know what it is, but it’s dead.
Pecans! Hopefully we’ll get a good crop this year.
I think Morning Glories are about the prettiest flower in existence.
Wee eggplant.
The trip to the adoption center on Tuesday sucked. Of course it did – they always do. It didn’t help matters that about halfway there, Bolitar and Rhyme started howling like their little hearts were breaking. I almost turned around several times. I almost called Fred and told him I couldn’t do it a hundred times. But in the end, I got them there, I got them set up in their cages, and after much hugging and kissing and telling them I loved them, I left them.
I took heart in the fact that they didn’t immediately go into the litter box to hide. They were scared and nervous, but they had each other, and were snuggled up together when I left. Reports from the adoption counselor for Tuesday night were that they spent the evening hiding in the litter box.
It will take a few days for them to relax – it always does – and I know they’ll be okay.
But I miss their little faces, and it is SO much quieter around here without them!
Reacher and Corbett don’t really seem to notice that anything’s different. Corbett has maybe become a touch friendlier – he was never unfriendly, but also hasn’t been super-friendly either, but yesterday and today he’s been approaching me to be petted. He’s also putting up with being kissed a lot better than he did before.
Jake and Elwood are fine. They have Reacher and Corbett to hang out with, and if they get bored with that particular selection of kittens, they jump over the half-door upstairs and hang out with the upstairs kittens.
Bolitar and Rhyme, of course, haven’t been adopted yet, but I know they will be, soon. And you know I’ll let you know when that happens!
I snapped a few last pictures before we left for Petsmart.
See that collar? In his last few days here, not only did Bolitar spend a lot of time sneaking out into the back yard, he also managed somehow to get OUT of the back yard twice. We have an extra collar on hand (we have an electric fence around the back yard), and it worked very well to keep him from escaping.
Brudderly love.
Rhyme gets in a last snuggle with Jake.
Martin, Melodie, and Dodger are about to go be spayed and neutered. Since Moxie was already spayed, she gets to stay home and hang out with me for the day. Things are certainly going to be QUIET around here today.
Once they’re recovered from their surgery – probably this weekend – I’ll be opening the half-door in the hallway to allow them the run of the house. Martin has shown that he’s VERY ready to go exploring. I’ve been having to hold him back with one hand as I go through the half-door. Last night he slipped through and headed down the stairs with no hesitation whatsoever, like he had places to go and he was GOING. Without BolitarZilla around to hiss and smack at them, I think they’ll be okay.
We were hanging out on my bed, and heard the noise of a cat jumping over the half-door. Moxie and Martin ran to the end of the bed to see what was going on – no doubt they were worried that Bolitar was coming in!
It’s hard to see, but Moxie’s got her back leg hooked up behind her head. It was bath time.
“What?”
Maxi and Newt join me in the garden.
Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: For the next half hour, it sounded like a TB ward in our house as we tried to expel from our lungs the fine powder we’d stupidly breathed in.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: My god, has Bill O’Reilly always been such a pontificating blowhard?
2004: (No, he’s not going to remove her eye. Thank god.)
2003: The first time I did actually inhale was the last time I ever put a cigarette to my mouth.
2002: “What’s “porn”, Mama?” she would ask.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.