My computer is reformatted and it all went pretty smoothly, thank god. Except that I couldn’t get Quicken 2001 to install, so had to buy a version that isn’t 10 years old. Not a big deal, though – so far everything’s working well.
When I wasn’t fighting with my computer, Fred and I went out and finally got the vegetable garden planted. I ended up planting 45 tomato plants. Some of them very small plants, and I’m hoping like hell that the bad weather we’re expecting doesn’t destroy them. I also planted 35 jalapeno plants, and a mere 13 cucumber plants. Fred did all the other stuff, the zucchini and squash and corn and beans. Yesterday morning when I woke up, the backs of my thighs were screeeeeaming since I’d spent about 2 1/2 hours bent over in the garden on Sunday, but the pain lessened as the day went on.
I also planted my brussels sprouts and cauliflower seedlings in my fourth raised bed. Really, I feel like I’m way behind in the planting of those, and of the carrots (which are just starting to come up), romaine, spinach, radishes, and purslane, but maybe next year I’ll get to it earlier, since I won’t be recovering from surgery.
Friday I went into Huntsville to help set up for the Cat Tales benefit and spent a couple of hours lifting and unpacking boxes. Then I drove home, took a shower, and Fred and I went back for the actual benefit. Challenger’s House has this benefit every year, but this was the first time we’d actually attended. It was fun! There was music, lots of food, and lots of good company. The only downside was that Fred was cramping my desire to spend money (heh), so I didn’t bid on or buy nearly as much as I wanted to.
(Next year I’ll leave him at home!)
I got to meet the people who adopted Kaylee (one of Kara’s babies, all of whom turned three this year!), and they showed me some pictures of her. She has grown up to be absolutely beautiful. Did I think to ask them to email me a couple of pictures? I did not, of course. They clearly dote on her, and told me that they think Kaylee’s half spider monkey.
I’m so lame that I started yawning at 8:00, and by the time we got home at 9:30, we were so tired we went straight to bed.
We live the party life, yo.
I got a lot of stuff done around the house on Saturday, and at the end of the day I felt a sense of accomplishment, but I can’t remember a single thing I did.
On Sunday, between the formatting of my hard drive and the gardening, I made Fred help me move some heavy furniture around. We moved the bookcase that I was using for storage in the bathroom from the bathroom to my bedroom. Then we moved the cabinet I’d been using for storage in my bedroom from the bedroom to the computer room. THEN we moved the bookcase that had been in the computer room out to the garage. I wanted something with doors on it to put in the computer room, so we could store our shoes in the cabinet without fear that the cats would pee on them.
(Not that the cats have peed on them in the past, but it’s a risk here in Asshole Cat Central that if you leave something on the floor, it very well might get peed on as payback for your NERVE. Ask Nance, who had a sweatshirt peed upon during a visit here, but didn’t realize it ’til she got home. Or ask Liz, who left the door to the guest bedroom open for a brief moment while she grabbed something out of the bathroom, and had her entire suitcase peed on by the late Tubby, That Bastard. Aren’t you just DYING to come visit us?!)
The other heavy lifting I did over the weekend: I took a 42 pound bag of Fresh Step out of the garage, opened it up, and then dumped it (well, 40 pounds of it anyway) into one of the old Fresh Step buckets. Then I dumped it from that bucket into another bucket. Then I dumped it back into the first bucket. All told, I dumped 40 pounds of litter from one bucket to the other six times in an attempt to get rid of some of the dust. When I cleaned the litter boxes out and dumped the fresh new litter in, it didn’t really seem less dusty to me.
All that work for nothin’, damnit.
Can you believe the McMaos are THREE weeks old? Well, really, three and a HALF weeks old. They’re so mobile and fighty and licky and explore-y right now. Everything is utterly amazing to them (especially Cillian, who always looks like he’s just finished partaking of the catnip and is hiiiiiigh) and now when I walk into the room, they (especially Declan) start howling and walking across the room to me. When I pet them, they fall over onto their sides and lick their paws while I rub their bellies. They are the cutest little things on the face of the planet right now.
They’re spending very little time in the McMao cave and most of their time either piled up in the cat bed in front of the cave, or in various places on the rug. Maggie keeps a casual eye on them, though yesterday when Declan ended up behind the litter box and she could hear him moving around but couldn’t see him, she got pretty worried. Over the weekend, Ciara spotted Maggie across the room and got excited, ran over to her, and then started rooting around. Maggie was laying on her belly, and Ciara just could not figure out how to get to the milk. Maggie wasn’t inclined to move to allow her access, and after Ciara snuffled around for a minute, she gave up and ran off to bite one of her brothers.
“One…”
“..two…three…!”
“Hey, you guys, I haz THREE FEET, and you don’t got none! Ha ha ha!”
Pouty Princess is pouty.
“TOES. I haz them!”
“This isn’t going quite as I’d hoped.”
Fergus Simon (left) is staring in amazement at the ceiling fan.
“Whoa, y’all, it just. keeps. SPINNING!”
Grumpy doesn’t quite appreciate all the toes in his face.
They’re getting the hang of bathing themselves and each other.
Declan, in a brief non-exploring moment.
Rufus, hanging out on top of the kitchen cabinets. He looks like he’s hiding here, but he’s turned into a total lovebug. Sweet, friendly, playful – someone’s going to end up with one really awesome cat.
Jake keeps an eye on the goings-on.
Previously
2010: Yesterday I told Shelly (whose husband found work after 10 months, yay!) that I’m trying to embrace my inner frugal bitch.
2009: No entry.
2008: An impromptu Saturday entry to share cool links with y’all.
2007: (What I wanted to say: YOUR MOTHER. Now go to bed!)
2006: So, in essence, the fucking DVR TATTLED on me.
2005: E’gar goes into the shop.
2004: I must be mumbling or something today. Everyone I’ve spoken to has looked at me like I’m speaking French and they can’t understand what the hell I’m saying.
2003: No entry.
2002: Blah blah blah.
2001: No entry.
2000: “Um… you mean, she lies on your butt to muffle your farts?” he ventured.