10-19-07
An acidic and hostile place: since 1999
* * * While I enjoyed Nance and Rick’s visit very much, there is one thing that happened, that I wish had not. Rick educated Fred in the ways of our new camera (the one we got last month), and now Fred knows (and as a consequence, so do I) that if you just hold down the button on the camera (the one you press when you want to take a picture. I fail to know the correct name for it.), the camera just keeps on snapping pictures, and so if there’s something of interest going on, like cats fighting, you just hold down the button and picture after picture is taken, and chances are good that you will capture one or two good pictures. Fred, however, does not ever ever ever clear pictures off the memory stick. I clear my pictures off almost immediately – the ones I want to save, I save to my hard drive and delete off the memory stick, the ones that suck I just delete altogether. So while Rick and Nance were here, Fred used the camera sometimes, and I used the camera sometimes and so I had to slog through thirty million pictures like this: and this: and also this: to get to the pictures I took, like such: I wish that Rick had NOT told Fred about that awesome feature, and instead only told me so that I alone could take picture after picture after picture, and Fred could just take one picture at a time. After I took my pictures off the memory stick, I took the memory stick over to Fred’s desk and copied the pictures from the memory stick to his hard drive so that when the time comes that he needs pictures like this: and this: and perhaps this: and also this: he’ll find them on his hard drive under “Memory Stick, October 18, 2007, Motherfucker.” YOU’RE WELCOME, BABY.
* * * So Nance and Rick have come and gone, and it’s back to the drudgery of regular everyday life. LE SIGH. We had SO much fun while they were here. We maxed out the Catchphrase game (we started getting words we’d already gotten), so we switched over to Taboo, which is like Catchphrase in that you have to get your teammate to guess a word, but there are a list of words you can’t use, and it’s kind of a stressful game, but also more fun than it sounds like. As always, after they left, Fred said to me “Having them here makes me wish we had (local) friends.” He tried to convince them that they should move to Alabama, but they were resistant since they have things like “jobs” and “family” and “a life” at home, so they didn’t want to move down here to provide us with entertainment. SELFISH. Nance and Rick got to experience what life at Crooked Acres is like, and I think they liked it. I don’t believe I’ve ever had overnight guests who weren’t related to me (except Liz), so I was worried it would be weird, but it was completely relaxed and fun. Fred enjoyed having Rick around to help him do manly men things, and I loved having someone around who would listen when I chattered instead of tuning me out (FRED). At one point, Fred and I were on our computers and Nance and Rick were on their laptops in the dining room, and it was like a total dork convention. Nance and Rick got to try Fred’s habanero jam, and Nance totally lied and said it wasn’t hot at all, even though I could see the flames shooting out of her mouth. For her treachery, I loaded them up with habanero jam and hot sauce and even some of Fred’s “too banana-y” (according to him) strawberry/ kiwi/ banana jam. They got pickles and salsa and watermelon preserves, too. We were practically chasing them down the road yelling “Take some green peppers!!!!” Nance got to experience the whole foster kitten thing, too, and I’m not sure she liked the part where we had to take the fosterbabies to the pet store and leave them in a cage. In a last-ditch attempt to get Nance to take her home, Patrice hid in the carrier and broke Nance’s heart. They left without a cat this time, though – perhaps Queen Maddy taught them a lesson! We had dinner last night, and then they got on the road headed home, and we came home to our boring, quiet house. Later, I have a hair appointment. Can you stand the excitement?
(flickr) Fred also made a batch of vanilla ice cream, and he and Rick had big pieces of birthday cake and Nance and I had small pieces, and it was FABULOUS. Rick, playing with my little camera, caught me doing the “Who ready for the snackin’?!” song. (flickr) By 7:00, Fred could barely contain himself, and he made everyone come into the living room and sit down so we could start playing Catch Phrase. We played for hours, and by the time we were done I could barely keep my eyes open, and I think it was actually after 11:00 before we finally went to bed. I slept like a rock until about 5:30, when the cats ran through the house with their asses on fire. All I could hear was ::thumpthumpTHUMP:: ::smack:: ::hiss:: ::thumpthumpTHUMP:: I managed to snooze on and off until after 7, and when I got up, everyone else was up. Nance and I sat and shot the shit for hours while Fred and Rick went off to work on Project: Thwart Mister “Douchebag” Boogers. Late morning, Fred came in and suggested we have a big breakfast, and he and Rick went off to get bacon, then Nance and I made pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs. Fred had already made Nance try some of his habanero jam and she liked it so much that I told her she was taking some of it home with her (along with some of his banana/ strawberry/ kiwi (non-habanero) jam, and I think I told her she was taking some pickles, too, whether she wants to or not). I should take a moment here, also, to mention that Nance has become oddly obsessed with our chickens, and I think I’d better check her car when they leave, just in case she decides to steal one of the buffs. She and Rick both agreed that the eggs are really good, too – not “too eggy” at all! I don’t remember what we did the rest of yesterday morning – I think we sat around on our respective computers (warning: dork convention!) and did some surfing, then Nance went off to take a nap, and at some point Fred and Rick were taking naps on the couches in the living room while I read magazines. It was a very relaxing Sunday afternoon, for sure – I don’t think Fred’s had that much downtime on a Sunday in many months. We had BBQ for dinner – you can’t come visit the south and not eat BBQ! – and then we headed home for more cake. Last night, we played CatchPhrase, and for a while it was Nance and Rick against Fred and I, then Nance and I against Fred and Rick, and then Rick and I teamed up, and we came to the very sad realization that Rick and I are the weakest links, because Fred and Nance kicked our ASSES all to hell and back, goddamnit. I got mine back, though, when we pulled out the Trivial Pursuit Totally ’80s, and I totally kicked ass. By the time the game was over (Fred and I won, wahoo), we were all more than ready for bed, so Fred and I spent a few minutes with the foster kittens, then went off to bed. Again, this morning I slept until about 5:30, then the cats started in with their damn racing through the house and I got up for a few minutes, then went back to bed and dozed on and off ’til 7:00. It being Monday morning, I had to do my thing at the pet store, and Nance offered to come with me. There were quite a few kittens there (I can’t believe it, but Billy Bumbler, Jake, and Eddie Dean have STILL not been adopted! Also, Felicia, Elle, Punki, and Skittles haven’t been adopted, either (but Dulcinea has!)). Nance kind of fell in love with a little female Tommy lookalike. (flickr) (flickr) Nance has also fallen in love with the foster kittens upstairs – Keith is just a little hellion, and all Chemda does is walk around purring so loud her little body shakes. I think Nance could do without Brolo chewing on her feet, though. After we left the pet store, we stopped at Publix for Wickles pickles* (I got Nance hooked on them), and another grocery store for Big Bob Gibson Bar-B-Q sauce, then we met up with Rick and Fred at Cracker Barrel for breakfast. After, Fred and Rick went off for another round of Project: Thwart Mister “Douchebag” Boogers and Nance and I went off to WalMart. I don’t know what we’ll be doing the rest of the day – Fred and Rick are going to watch some big loud BOY movie, and I’m sure there’ll be plenty of game-playing this evening. The only bad thing about Nance and Rick’s visit is that our cats just can’t stand them at all. At ALL. No, really. Sugarbutt, filled with anguish and hatred. (flickr) Mister Boogers cannot stand Rick. At ALL. Obviously. (flickr) Miz Poo, the love slut, has attached herself to Nance for the duration. (flickr) *I’ve looked high and low for a Wickles recipe so I could make my own, but having no luck. If anyone runs across a recipe, pass it this way, would you? These pickles are THE SHIT.
Nance is on her way here to Alabama AS I TYPE, and one of the things we’re going to do is a video podcast, and since the last time we did a podcast, we spent several minutes READING FROM A MAGAZINE to come up with topics because we’re just that lame, I’m looking to you, you fabulous people, to give us things to talk about. Suggest a topic, ask a question, make a comment you’d like our reaction to, anything goes! Either email me at mizrobyn (at) gmail [dot] com with “VidPodcast” in the subject, or post a comment, and I’ll print them all out, and when the video podcast has gotten to the “Hey, put Miz Poo in front of the camera! Smile at the camera, Miz Poo!” stage, we’ll break out your questions/ comments/ topic suggestions!
she’s here now.
* * * Yesterday morning I let the cats out into the back yard, and I had to go chasing after Mister Boogers not once, but twice. Finally, I brought him inside and took off his collar and shut the door. Tommy and Sugarbutt were still outside, and when I heard Sugarbutt banging at the cat door, I went and let him in. Like a shot, Mister Boogers went flying by me, out the cat door, and into the yard. He was still collarless, and I thought about chasing him down, but finally I said “You know what, you fucking DOUCHEBAG, run away! See if I care! Asshole!” He wandered around the back yard for a little while, then came inside and took a nap. Maybe it’s not that he wants to go out of the back yard. Maybe it’s that he wants to be able to leave the back yard if he wants. Oh, who the fuck knows? Fred’s still got plans to make the back yard like Fort Knox, we’ll see how that goes.
* * * Further proof, in case you needed it, that I’m a dumbass. Sunday, Fred and I went to Lowe’s, and we bought a smoker, because he’s been talking about how good a smoked chicken would be, plus he’s been wanting to try his hand at smoking jalapenos and bell peppers. Then we stopped at the grocery store and picked up a couple of chickens and a roast. Yesterday, when I was at the pet store and doing some grocery shopping, he began the smoking process. In the morning, he smoked the chicken and the roast, and once those were done, cooled, and put in the fridge, he smoked a bunch of jalapenos and green bell peppers. I had a little bit of the chicken, and it was just as good as it smelled (ie, fabulous), and so we decided to have the chicken for dinner. Since we had fairly fresh eggplant and okra in the fridge, I decided to oven fry them, and while that stuff was cooking in the oven, Fred started talking about his smoked jalapenos. “They’re really good!” he enthused. “I ate a couple, and they have a smoky pepper flavor, but they’re not hot in the slightest. I think I’m going to experiment with them.” While he mused in silence about the smoked jalapeno experiments he might perform in the future, I went completely Dumbass, and I thought to myself that a smoked pepper sounded like it would be REALLY good. (And lest you forget, I don’t like hot things, and I also don’t like bell peppers, which are not hot in the slightest to me. Why I thought a smoked pepper would be appealing, I do not know.) So I went into the laundry room and pulled the container of smoked jalapenos from the fridge, and I popped one in my mouth. And my mouth burst into flames. Instead of doing what someone with half a brain might do and spit the goddamn thing out, I finished chewing it and then swallowed. My mouth burned. My tongue burned. And Fred said “Oh, you’re not EVEN going to tell me that that’s hot!” For the next ten minutes, I did all I could to stop the flames that were burning my mouth to a crisp – drank water, sucked on an ice cube, ate yogurt. I know the best way to stop the pain is to drink milk, but I don’t like the taste of milk, so I didn’t. (Later, it occurred to me that it wasn’t like I was going to be able to TASTE the milk through the taste of burning flesh, but I didn’t think of that at the time.) Eventually, the pain went away and I ate dinner and it was good, but I’ve gotta wonder – WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING?! Don’t like jalapenos, don’t like peppers, and yet I thought popping an entire jalapeno in my mouth was a good idea? Hopefully I’ll remember the pain next time I’m tempted to do such a dumbass thing, but I’m not counting on it. ********************************* So. New kittens! I spent the weekend Fall cleaning and getting stuff moved out of the kitten room closet because I’ve decided to use the closet to put the litter boxes in, so we can hang out in the kitten room itself without worry about sitting in litter. Yesterday afternoon I went and picked up the new bunch of fosters, freshly tested and neutered/ spayed. They’re about three months old, and they were a little nervous at first, but warmed up very quickly. I named them after the people of my favorite podcast, Keith and the Girl. Chemda. Keith, doing standup while Chemda gauges audience reaction. Khalili. Patrice. Brolo. I would have named one Spooky, but we didn’t have enough boys, so I’ll save that for a future litter. ********************************* And… I am supposed to sleep where, exactly? Brudderly love. Doesn’t it just melt your heart?
Odd Thomas, I was a little sad, so I went looking for a hug. Fred was in the kitchen making jam, so I walked in and demanded “Give me a hug!” He complied – he’s very obedient – and I demanded “Tighter!”, and so he tightened his grip just to the point of pain, and I thought I’d be funny, so I threw one leg around his waist and suspended all my weight from my arms, which were around his neck. He screamed in surprise and tightened his grip, staggering around the kitchen, and I screamed in response, then felt something pull in my back, and I put my leg down, and he let go of me, and we reeled around the kitchen, him grabbing his gimpy shoulder and I holding my pulled back muscle. “We are so fucking old and crippled,” he said, laughing. I had to go lay down and read some more, ’til my back stopped hurting.
Give up and let those frickin’ cats run, Forrest, Run! They won’t go further than their own self-imposed territories and will alway come back in bad weather and for chow. They really never run away unless they totally hate you! and I must admit, I’ve been rooting for Mister “Douchebag” Boogers. I know that y’all are concerned about him getting himself hurt, but it seems he’s happiest roaming. I didn’t say anything back when it happened, but I was a little sad to hear the story that ended up with Boog rolling around in the dirt drooling because he was being zapped. I really couldn’t get it out of my head (and I mean it in a totally non-judgmental way — I own 4 cats myself and I can see how much you lurve and care for all of them). My 4th cat, Barnabas J. Barnkitten (of whom I’m DYING to share a pic — he’s a tuxedo cat & just the cutest, cuddliest boy you ever saw in your life), came to me as a stray — just showed up in our post pile one day. He’d be heartbroken if we didn’t allow him to roam and loves to go on walks out to the “back 40” with me and my dog, Lola — he also likes to mew pitifully at my sliding glass door at 3 in the morning so he can come snuuuggle with me on my piiiiillow. I’m not sure where I’m going with this — maybe just to ask you to consider letting the Boogs roam. I live on a busy road and none of my cats have ever been interested in it. The problems here are that Mister Boogers isn’t as tough as he likes to think he is, there are strange dogs who run across the property from time to time, and there are also coyotes in the area – and he doesn’t seem to understand the idea of keeping away from traffic. I’d absolutely hate to give up on keeping him in the yard only to have his stupid ass run out in traffic (we’re pretty close to the road here, and some cars go by really fast) or to have him venture into the back forty to be set upon by a coyote or six, or a stray dog. In the other house, we were unable to keep Fancypants contained, and he disappeared. (It’s been four years since Fancypants disappeared, by the way. Hard to believe – I still occasionally dream about him coming home!) I really want to do my best to keep him contained just to keep his stupid ass safe. OK, here’s my “real” Friday question, prefaced by some ass-kissing (sincere, but ass-kissing nonetheless): I really admire you guys for living your lives exactly the way you want to — you seem to not let anyone dissuade you from staying home, taking care of cats, etc. (end ass-kissing). Do you ever feel like you want to be doing something different? Are you ever dissatisfied with your life? You seem remarkably angst-free and I’m just wondering if we never see it, or if you really are this serene about your life. If the latter, I’m jealous! I have to say – and y’all might want to get out the barf bags, here – I really, really like my life. I like not working, I like being able to spend my day doing what I want to do, I like having time to can 63 million cans of green beans if I need to, and I like having the flexibility to drop everything and run to the pet store to cover for another volunteer if need be. I think Fred likes having me home, too – if he needs something, he just has to call and ask (which isn’t to say that I don’t act like a big baby and get pissy if he interrupts me, because I DO, I’m only human, y’know). Some people might get bored staying home, but I honestly can’t remember the last time I got bored; there’s always something to do; just sitting here right now, I can think of ten things that need to be done. Any angst I might feel is fairly temporary and usually hormone-driven. My only complaint is that I’m not a terribly organized person, and I can often end up wasting time that could be spent doing something more productive. There are about ten million things I’d like to have accomplished by now, six months after I moved into this house, that I haven’t even started. I am extremely lucky that Fred’s job pays well enough that I don’t have to work, and I’m completely aware of how lucky I am that he’s intelligent and accomplished and people are willing to pay him very well for what he does. Obviously, if circumstances changed and I needed to go back to work, I would and I wouldn’t bitch (much) about it, but yeah – I love my life!