Author: Robyn

* * * When I read that the Supreme Court heard that they’re outlawing the sale of sex toys in Alabama, and they said “Um, yeah. Nah, we don’t think we’ll hear that case. In fact, we think it’s A-OK for the state to come right into the bedroom of any Alabaman and make sure that no sex is being performed in any position other than strict Missionary, and if no one feels any kind of pleasure while the sex is taking place, that’d be best, buh-bye.”, I was so very relieved. Because where I want my tax dollars to go is NOT to fight the horrifying meth problem eating alive the rural areas of this state, nor would I like to see some tax dollars maybe thrown toward, I don’t know, education. No, my number one concern is that a woman, somewhere in Alabama, might have purchased a device to ensure that she’s able to get off. A woman having an orgasm is an abomination in the eyes of The Lawd, you know. Well, The Lawd told me that he doesn’t actually give a shit what people do in the privacy of their own bedrooms – the exact quote would be “As long as it’s between two consenting adults of WHATEVER sex, I don’t give a shit what they do. Oral, anal, the braiding of each others’ pubic hair, go at it, just leave me the hell out of it, I’ve got better things to worry about. Floods, earthquakes, Phil Hellmuth acting like a big baby about the fact that he lost this hand. I have to go call Satan and make sure that Phil Hellmuth really isn’t his son, ’cause he certainly does a great big crybaby job of making me believe he IS, and I really kind of want to smite his ass.” – but some random men once wrote this book, claimed it was The Word straight from The Lawd*, and it says right there in Lemumblemumble verse sixty-six “Thou shalt not use any device to ensure the pleasure of any female in any sort of bedroom situation thou might encounter, especially if a male is not present, because the fact that a female could feel pleasure without a man’s direct involvement (and even WITH a man’s direct involvement, gigglegigglesnort) is an abomination in the eyes of The Lawd, go forth and buzz no more.” My issue with this law is this: Alabama’s anti-obscenity law, enacted in 1998, bans the distribution of “any device designed or marketed as useful primarily for the stimulation of human genital organs for anything of pecuniary value.” So, then, when they find out that women are, in droves, purchasing electric screwdrivers**, will they be adding to the law banning the sale of electric screwdrivers to women? And if they find, after that, that women have gone, shall we say, acoustic, will they then go around knocking on doors and amputating the fingers – nay, the entire hands – of all women, just in case? This is one of those times when I’m just so very pleased to be living in Alabama. *The Lawd said “Those guys? Please. I never could stand them, and now they’re all crowded around My house acting holier than ME, and I think I need to smite them, but I did too many shots the day they banded together and asked me to swear on the name of Me that I wouldn’t smite them, so I can’t because I’m not the King of Lies, that motherfucker Beelzebub is, and he can’t – WON’T – come up here and smite them for me, ’cause he’s a douchebag. Also, he plays a mean hand of poker, and that REALLY pisses Me off.” **As an extreme example, because ouch. I suspect that would hurt. Except for maybe one of the slow, cheap ones.

* * * I was on the phone with my mother yesterday when call waiting beeped. I looked to see who was calling, didn’t recognize the number, so continued talking to my mother. When we got off the phone twenty minutes later, I checked my voicemail to find that the volunteer who cleans at the pet store on Wednesday mornings wasn’t feeling well. Since I wasn’t doing anything that couldn’t wait, I happily took her place. Would you believe that none of my babies got adopted Tuesday night? DAMN IT. They all howled when they saw me, but they weren’t “Oh, woe is us! We have missed you horribly, please come give us love!” howls. No, they were “Let us out so we can go PLAY, lady we’ve never ever seen before!” howls. So I let them out to play, and I let another cage of kittens – three brown tabbies, one buff tabby; when I first saw them, I thought “Oh, they moved Susannah and the brown tabbies?”, until I saw that not a one of them has a full tail. A couple have short little stumps and a couple have longer stumps, but none of them are full-length tails – out to play, and it was like a circus in that cat room while I cleaned. Usually on Monday mornings when I go to clean, I feel rushed, because I have a thousand and ten errands to run and I want to get the cages cleaned before the pet store opens so people won’t walk by and stare at me, but yesterday I took my time, only got stared at once or twice, took plenty of time to love on the kitties, and left the store all relaxed, ran a few errands, and got home in time to watch some TV, clean the kitchen, and hang out with the new fosters before lunch time. I think I might start going in later on Mondays and just take all morning to get my cage-cleaning and errand-running done. I don’t know why I always feel so rushed on Mondays, but it’s ridiculous that I do, and it’s just a self-imposed rushed feeling. I could stay away from home for the entire day, it’s not like I need to be back by a particular time for anything! * * * Mister “Douchebag” Boogers has ruined – RUINED, I say! – it for everyone. Yes, the batteries in the collar are working – that’s the first thing we checked – and although Fred ran the electric fence far enough inside the perimeter of the yard that the cats shouldn’t be able to get close enough to the fence to jump up onto it, Mister “Douchebag” Boogers is still managing to do it. He behaved himself all day yesterday, until early evening, and then he just HAD to be outside the fence, and I glanced up from my computer to see him land on top of the gate over by the garden, and I yelled to Fred, who went out and tracked him down (he gets over by the garden, then can’t seem to decide where to go) and brought his ass in, and now all the goddamn cats are going to be inside for the foreseeable future, all because of that DOUCHEBAG. Grrrr. * * * I got a call from the shelter manager Tuesday morning asking if I could take some fosters, and of COURSE I was willing, since the Ka-Tet was going to Petsmart. I dropped them off, came home, cleaned the kitten room and got it ready for the new fosters, then after dinner I went back to Petsmart and got them. Their story is that they’re 5 sisters, about five months old, and they were, I believe, the kittens of a feral cat. They’re only staying with us for a little while, until there’s room at Petsmart. They’re a little timid, but they’re very, very sweet. They have short, silky fur, and they’re beautiful in an exotic way. I almost think they have a bit of some exotic breed – perhaps Abyssinian – in them. So, meet the five sisters: Felicia. I think she looks kind of like Felix the Cat, but obviously you can’t name a girl cat Felix (also, Felix had already been used), so I feminized it. Skittles. So named because she’s the scaredy-cat of the bunch, and ages ago when I was trying to come up with cat names for the fosters who ended up being Gilligan, Spanky, Maryann and Tina Louise, Kath suggested Skittles, and I think it’s a cute name, so Skittles it is! Punki. My sister has a dilute calico named Punki, and this one is dilute (but a torti rather than a calico), so I stole the name. Punki’s the most playful of the bunch – all you have to do is wave the feather-on-a-stick toy, and she’s across the room in a flash to smack at it. I was going to name her Reese, as in Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup (to follow the Skittles/ candy theme), but Reese made me think of Reese Witherspoon, which made me think of Elle, and I liked Elle better. So Elle she is. Dulcinea. My brother has a cat named Dulcinea, I like the name, so I stole it! Elle gives off the ‘tude. Dulcinea (left) and Skittles, hiding under the dresser. Punki keeps an eye on her sisters. Dulcinea shows off her coat. ******************************************** “Wh-what do you mean, we can’t go outside because Mister Boogers is a jerk who keeps outsmarting the electric fence around the back yard?!” * * * Previously 2006: The stinkin’ kitten is not so cute! 2005: Annnnnnnnd that’s just a little glimpse into the dorkiness that is my life. 2004: ARRRGH. 2003: No entry. 2002: Wow. Apparently I’ve been doing the pet store thing for three years now. 2001: Day Zero. 2000: I’m back!]]>

DON’T GO IN THERE! when that happens, so Self? Let’s not go in there. Let’s go call Fred.” I pulled the garage door closed and high-stepped it into the house, locking the door behind me. And I picked up the phone and called Fred. It was busy, so I hung up, watched the garage door for a few minutes, then tried calling again. Busy. And I ranted to the cats that IT’S ONLY EVER WHEN I FUCKING NEED HIM THAT HE’S ON THE PHONE, IF I WAS CALLING TO ASK HIM A STUPID QUESTION, HE’D PICK UP THE PHONE IMMEDIATELY, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, ARRRRRGH!, and the cats scattered. So I sat down and sent him an email asking if he’d worked out in the garage that morning. It would be unusual for him to work out in the garage then not lock the door behind him before coming back inside, because he not only locks the lock on the doorknob, he always locks the deadbolt as well, which always makes it a big pain in the ass for me to get into the garage in the morning, because my key doesn’t work well with the deadbolt. I figured, since he sits and reads his email when he’s on the phone with me, he might do the same with other people, so I sat and hit “refresh” three hundred times, and tried calling him again and got a busy signal, and so finally I sent him another email saying Since you’ll apparently be on the phone forgoddamnfuckingever, did you work out this morning? Did you leave the door ajar? Or do I need to worry about someone being in the goddamn garage? and then I sent him a text message saying “Check your email, pls.”, and then I picked up the phone again to try calling him, and the phone rang, and it was him. I explained what had happened, and he said “Take a gun.” Not “Don’t go in there!”, not “Call the police!”, not “Ask the guy next door to come look in the garage for you!”, no. He just wanted to make sure I took the gun with me when I went to see if anything had been stolen from the garage. So I went and got the gun from the bedroom (my gun, we call it.) and we had discussion about whether there was a safety on this gun (there is not), and then I took him with me via the phone while I went into the garage. I was a little shaky as I looked around the first floor of the garage, then I said “I have a gun and I’m coming up there!” and I went upstairs. And there was nothin’. No one was there, no vagabond laying asleep amongst our crap, no thief waiting to steal our 15 year-old vcr or exercise tapes or elliptical trainer, not even a troublesome squirrel. Not a damn thing. I was almost disappointed that I didn’t get to shoot anyone. This morning, I went upstairs to hang out with the kittens before I had to take them to the pet store. When I opened the door, kittens came shooting through the crack, and I bent down to halt them in their tracks, and I failed to take into account that there was a doorknob, and I hit that doorknob with the browbone over my right eye so hard I saw stars. I bellowed and staggered around, and then remembered that there were kittens on the loose, and I chased one down in the bathroom (they run out of the kitten room and directly into the bathroom every single time, I don’t know why) and the other in guest bedroom, and I carried them back into the kitten room, sternly telling them how very bad they were. I hung out with them for a few minutes, and then it dawned on me that there were only two brown tabbies in view rather than the usual three, so I went back out into the hallway and started looking. I saw no brown tabby anywhere upstairs, and so I went back into the kitten room to look, and still a brown tabby was missing. I finally heard the far-off sound of an irate Stinkerbelle, and when I followed the sound, I saw a little brown tabby running around happily, surrounded by every permanent resident in the house. Stinkerbelle looked very angry (I guess he’d gotten too close to her), but the other cats just looked puzzled, like they weren’t quite sure what they were looking at. I rescued the kitten, took him upstairs into the kitten room, and the kittens started acting like jerks, racing around, jumping on me, biting at me, just generally being pains, so I said “OKAY, I think I’m ready for you to go, brats!”, so I packed them up and drove them to the pet store. I gave them all the usual hugs and kisses, told them to get themselves adopted before Monday, and left. They watched me leave like, “Yeah, whatever. Buh-BYE, lady!”, and settled down for naps. Ingrates. *********************************** The kittens are at the pet store, as I mentioned, and so here are the last of their pictures. “I got the box and it’s all mine now, HA-HA!” Did I mention that they really like this thing? I can’t stand how gorgeous Billy Bumbler is. And what a sweetheart – the happiest, most laid-back cat, ever. I swear he looked like he was wandering around in a drugged-out daze most of the time. There it goes! Susannah in motion. Tommy liked this thing too, and thinks it’s unfair that those stupid kittens got to have it! *********************************** “Harrumph.”

* * * Previously 2006: He’s always a party pooper. 2005: If I hadn’ta covered my head with my hands, I might be DEAD right now! 2004: No entry. 2003: “No,” Fred said. “You’re the muffinhead. DID SHE STAND OVER YOU AND MAKE YOU INSTALL IT??” 2002: Spanky is the Lance Bass of our family. 2001: I guess if tomorrow’s Day Zero and Friday is Day One, that makes today Day Negative One. 2000: No entry.]]>

* * * I fucking HATE IT when my cell phone rings and I answer it, and there’s no one there because it was a machine who dialed the number to call me, and since I answered the call, they have to transfer the call to a real person, and there’s not always a real person immediately available, and it REALLY pisses me off, so I always hang up. Hope it wasn’t important. Also, yesterday my cell phone rang, and when I answered, a man with a thick Indian accent informed me that he needed to speak with “the person responsible for the company web page”, and when I said nothing, he repeated that he would like to speak with “the person responsible for the company web page”, and I thought of having to slog through a conversation with this man to explain to him that there IS no company attached to any of the three web pages I own, and I thought further about how with the language gap it would not be an easy conversation, and so rather than having to deal with the whole fucking mess, I just hung up on his ass. What I should have done was ask “Which web page, please?”, because since I recently paid for another couple of years for this page, chances are good the url and contact information rolled across some telemarketer’s desk, and it would be kind of funny to force a stranger to say “bitchypoo”. That, or register.com was going to harass me about paying for robynanderson.com, which is up for renewal in a few months, and register.com just adores harassing the motherfucking shit out of me for months before the site’s expiration date. I’m sure it’s not the last damn call I’ll be getting from them.

* * * Say goodbye to the kittens! The diarrhea is cured, the metronidazole has run its course, the eyes are healed, they’re ready to go forth and be adopted, and they better get their butts adopted before Monday, because I do NOT want to go in there and see them sitting all sad in their cage. A fellow volunteer bought this thing at Target, but her cats are too big for it, so she offered it to me. I have to say, it is a HUGE hit. I brought it into the house and left it in the hallway for a little while, and when I went to take it upstairs, Tommy was splayed across the top of it. When I took it into the kitten room, the kittens raced around like their tails were on fire, jumping onto it and then back off, racing around the room, climbing up the side, smacking at each other from various compartments inside it. They lurve it, and they of course knocked it over, so I solved that issue by putting the condo across part of the bottom so it would hold it in place, and it seems to work just fine. Crazy Eyes say, “I am a fearsome creature. Crazy Eyes say, “This are my bowl.” “MY bowl. Mine.” ::slurpslurp:: “MINE.” Crazy Eyes and Chompers McGee (aka Jake and Susannah) try to determine just who is the boss ’round these parts. Roland goes for the deep sniff. Susannah hiding under the bowl – fascinating to the other kittens, apparently. Susannah partakes of some fine kitty pot. * * * “ALLS I WANT IS A SNUGGLE! WHY WON’T YOU GIVE ME A SNUGGLE?!” “ZZZzzzzzzzz…” * * * Previously 2006: Frying pan in the front flower bed. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: She seems a little wishy-washy about it. I think she might secretly like the book. 2002: (He always calls when I’m in the shower or eating. I think he has a hidden camera somewhere in hopes of catching me with my non-existent luvah-on-the-side Juan.) 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry.]]>

New month, new logo! This one was created by the wonderful Kitty, who also created my Christmas logo last year. Thanks, Kitty – you rock! On a side note, Kitty is married to Tom Ryan, programmer extraordinaire, who created the code that runs the Kittenwar site. The Kittenwar book recently came out, and Kitty sent me a copy. I’m only about halfway through it, because I have to put it down and walk away after several pages or my teeth will rot right out of my head from the sheer cuteness of the book. I highly recommend Kittenwar, because it’s a book full of kitten pictures, and some very funny writing. How can you possibly go wrong with that? Answer: you cannot. Go buy it! Give it to your favorite cat lover for Christmas! Christmas is only like ten weeks away, you know. I bet my sister’s done with her Christmas shopping already. DAMN HER.

* * * PostSecret + LOLCats = Very fucking funny. * * * Yesterday I was standing in front of the house watering the bushes in the front flower bed. At the beginning of the summer I was diligent about watering the flower beds and the potted plants on the porch every other day. That was only fun for the first few months, though, and it’s gotten to the point where I slack until I see that the Million Bells in their hanging baskets are wilty and limp and all “Oh! For a drink of water! My Lawd, why have you forsaken me?”, then I go out and water everything and then ignore it all for several days. So I’d watered everything on the front porch and was standing in front of the flower beds watering the bushes one by one (and reflecting that we really needed to have a sprinkler or drip hose for the front flower beds, because standing there and drenching the bushes is boring as shit), and I heard Fred walk around the side of the house toward me. “Hey,” he said, and then yelled “Oh! Watch out!” I turned to see something very big flying at me. For an instant I thought it was a hummingbird, but it wasn’t shaped right and I couldn’t tell WHAT the fuck it was – it looked kind of prehistoric, like a little raptor flying at me – so I screamed in an alarmed hooting manner, and I ran across the lawn, and Fred stood and laughed and laughed like the motherfucker he is. When I determined that I was safe, I yelled “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” It appears that on his journey through the garden, after he’d pulled up the cucumber plants (and we giggled at how all the poor people would be starving without all three of those worm-laden cucumbers to sustain them), he spotted a praying mantis, and he thought I’d like to see it, and so he encouraged the praying mantis to climb onto his hand, which it did, and then he walked around to show me. Except that seeing me so enraged the praying mantis that it took flight and flew at my head. Luckily I am quick and nimble and avoided having it land on my head and suck out my brains (not that there’s a lot there to sustain a praying mantis) and it flew off to parts unknown. I’m an idiot, because until yesterday I had NO FUCKING CLUE that praying mantises could fly. “I guess I’m lucky you didn’t run out into traffic to get away from the scary praying mantis,” Fred said, laughing. Which is when I killed him and donated his body to the local food bank. * * * Saturday, as I was canning my second batch of jalapeño jelly of the day, I was listening to the radio. (I’d been listening to Keith and the Girl podcasts all day, but I was caught up and had to resort to the radio. I hate when that happens.) I generally listen to the country station, and I was only half-listening while I poured jelly into jars and screwed tops on. Then Steve Warriner’s I’m Already Taken came on, and I had to run across the room to turn it off, because that’s the creepiest goddamn song and should be subtitled The Ballad of Oedipus. First verse, little boy in third grade decides he’s in love with a little girl, and she’s all “Step off, sucka. I’m taken! Wait your turn!” Second verse, Junior High. He decides again that he’s in love with her, tells her, and she’s all “GodDAMN, sucka. Did I mention you snooze, you lose?” Third verse, they’re all grown up, and he outwaited all the other boys and the crack addiction, the stint through rehab, the relapse, the second relapse, the getting out of the car without wearing underwear and the inability to keep her knees together, okay now she’s totally sober, sometimes she likes go out dirty dancing with the girls, but he turns a blind eye to that, and then they have a little boy who – like his mother as a child – is blond. She’s putting the little boy to bed one night – “last night”, as a matter of fact – and as he (“I”) is lurking in the hallway while she tucks the little boy in bed because (as established in verses one and two) he’s a creepy stalker who’s afraid she’ll bolt at the first opportunity, he hears the little boy say “Mommy, will you marry me?” What does “Mommy” say? Why, Mommy says I’m already taken/ You spoke up too late/ I love your daddy son/ So you’ll just have to wait. And… I… huh? He.. he spoke up too late? When, exactly was he supposed to propose to Mommy? Before she met Daddy and they had the whole crack-addict-relapse-rehab-crotch-flashing drama and then he was conceived? Was he supposed to send an angel emissary down to tap on Mommy’s shoulder and say “Hey, look. This kid you’re going to give birth to – he’s going to want to marry you, so kick Daddy to the curb, wouldya?” And… you’ll just have to wait? Um, WHAT? What the fuck? Could it be that there were better things to say to the child than, basically, “You snooze, you lose. Once Daddy’s dead, I’ll be HAPPY to marry you, Oedipus. Night-night!”? Creepy song. Pretty music, but creepy just the same. * * * (flickr) Canned this weekend: two batches of jalapeño jelly (22 jars, I think). The first batch, I used twice as many jalapeños as the recipe called for, at Fred’s suggestion. The second batch, I did normally. When they were done, I opened one of the jars of double-jalapeño jelly and made Fred try it out, and he said it tasted perhaps more tart than the other stuff, but not hot at all. I gave it a try, and he was right – there might have been the very, very slightest suggestion of some heat, but I’m a great big wimp when it comes to spicy stuff and ultra-sensitive (I’m a delicate flower!) to it, so probably your average person wouldn’t have noticed anything. I also canned the habanero hot sauce I made for him a few weeks ago (I think I mentioned that it was super-hot and very thick, and realized after some looking around that it needed vinegar added to it; once I did that, Fred pronounced it perfect) and the habanero hot sauce he made himself last week (it starts with a can of peaches and he thinks it’s The Shit). He ordered a set of 5-oz Woozy bottles for the hot sauce, and so I canned it all – and 12 bottles was exactly right for the amount of hot sauce we had. Did I mention that he’s the only one in the house who uses hot sauce? Anyway, jalapeno jelly: canned. Habanero hot sauce: canned. Cucumber plants: pulled up. Corn: harvested and pulled up. The only things growing in the garden right now are okra (I can’t believe it’s still producing), black-eyed peas, and peppers. I actually did all my canning on Saturday and had time Sunday to balance the checkbook, run to the health food store for powdered Slippery Elm Bark (and catnip), grab some groceries, and do all the laundry so we started the week with closets and drawers full of clean clothes. ‘Twas a good weekend. * * * The kittens continue to do well. Since I was at the health food store yesterday and they sell herbs in bulk, I bought a bag of organic catnip and scattered some on the floor of the kitten room. I got no pictures, but rest assured: those kittens enjoyed themselves a good long sniff of catnip, and then raced around like their tails were on fire. The powdered Slippery Elm Bark I bought at the health food store was to hopefully help stem the tide of diarrhea. They’re still on metronidazole and FortiFlora, but the litterbox situation improved slightly and then got no better. I’ve tried Slippery Elm Bark in the past with good results, so I’m giving it a try with these guys. Obviously if nothing improves, I’ll lug another fecal sample to the vet, because that’s just how I roll. Crazy Eyes, he claims the box for his own self. Crazy Eyes struggles with a wee case of claustrophobia. Crazy Eyes say, “If you’re going to just leave that tail sitting right there, I’m going to have to grab at it with my needle-sharp claws. Tails require grabbing, so grab I shall.” Crazy Eyes say, “Keep it moving, move along. Nothing to see here!” “Hellew.” Crazy Eyes plays dead. “If I don’t look, you’re not there.” These kittens spend 24 hours a day chasing and biting each others’ tails. ********************************* Da Poo. * * * Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: I could have done a faster job with a measuring spoon and my ass. 2003: She was stymied by her big butt, which wouldn’t fit under the shed. 2002: Here’s my question: It’s open 24-hours, so why the FUCKITY FUCK FUCK can’t they stock in the wee hours of the morning when NO ONE IS THERE? 2001: It’s funny how two people can look at the same thing and see it differently, isn’t it? 2000: No entry.]]>

Do you and Fred still enjoy regular time on the front porch each evening as you did not long after the two of you moved in? OR has “farming” the crooked acres and canning it’s rewards taken up that time? We don’t actually spend much time on the front porch these days, I’m sad to say. The last time we were out there was the other night at bedtime, because Fred looked out and saw a bunch of cop cars parked along the road with their lights flashing, so we went out to see what was going on (just a license-and-insurance roadblock/ check, apparently). Before that, I can’t remember the last time we were out there! I find myself wanting to sit out on the patio in the evenings, but the table and chairs have chicken shit on them (grrr), so that doesn’t happen. Fred’s talking about doing a covered something-or-other over the cement pad – enclosed, so the chickens can’t get in, that is – so maybe this time next year I’ll be spending more time out there enjoying the weather!

* * * Ummm, Robyn – just FYI, nobody says “Hubba Hubba” anymore. I do. I think we should bring it back into common usage. Everyone, go forth and give me a “hubba hubba” in your blogs! * * * Are any of your cats declawed? My two older cats are and my kitten scratches everything up like crazy. I don’t really want to get her declawed, but I don’t know what to do to stop the scratching. The other cats seem fine and are happy and excellent hunters, but it seems kinda cruel. I didn’t even have to answer this one, ’cause Carol said: Robyn uses SoftPaws for her cats instead of declawing. We had a set of kittens that were scratchers and we ordered the softpaws on Robyn’s referral. Awesome product. They are little rubber sleeves that fit over the claw and adhere with super glue.. they don’t hurt the cat and they cannot scratch you or the furniture. They stay on very well and are easy to put on.. just get the cat in a wrestling hold position and it does go easier if you have help while you are putting them on for someone to fill the tip with the glue (it comes with a thing that fits down inside the tip so the glue is a piece of cake to put in it. Not to mention they are safer, easier and more humane to use than declawing… and a whole lot less expensive if you ask me. (Thanks, Carol!) The cat we had when I was a kid (I think I was 13 or 14 when we got her) was declawed, and she was a strange cat, but we can’t blame that on the declawing – she was kept in a cage with a rabbit before we brought her home, so she apparently thought she was a bunny. Carol’s got it right – we use SoftPaws on Tommy and Sugarbutt, though we’ve gotten lax on that lately. Since they were little when we started, they’ll let us put the caps on their claws without too much fuss. They don’t LIKE it, but they’ll put up with it. You can get SoftPaws at most pet stores, but I think it’s quite a bit cheaper on eBay – search on SoftPaws or SoftClaws (they’re the same thing). * * * I really liked Journeyman also, but did you notice that the sound was weird? During the scenes when he was in the past, the background music was louder than the voices of the actors and it was VERY annoying. At first I thought maybe my TV was messed up, but it happened continuously throughout the entire program! The scenes set in current time sounded fine, then the “journey” scenes were distorted. I even made my husband watch some of it just to make sure I wasn’t imagining it! Did anyone else notice that or am I some kinda freak? I absolutely noticed that; I was having the hardest time hearing what was going on. At one point we went back several times (it was when he came in with the shovel before he went outside, and he said something like “I’m not what you married” or “I’m not who you married” or something along those lines) and just couldn’t figure out what the hell he was saying. I told Fred that we should have watched with subtitles! I hope whatever the problem is is resolved before the next episode! * * * I really liked Journeyman.. kind of reminded me of Quantum Leap, which I adored. They need to give us some explanation of why he’s traveling in time, though. He just woke up one day and now has the power to time travel? What the heck is up with that? I thought it was awesome, but I need to know WHY it is happening. I didn’t miss something, did I? Nope, I don’t think you missed anything – hopefully they’re going to explain it to us in future shows. Toward the beginning he had a headache, and I’m going to bet that has something to do with how/ why/ when he “leaps”. * * * I love Lisa L[ampanelli]. She is so funny. Have you seen her stand up special where she’s dressed up in a June Cleaver dress? Pretty good stuff there. I haven’t seen her special, but I’ve added it to my Netflix queue. I think it’s no coincidence that the roasts we saw opened with Greg Giraldo and ended with Lisa Lampanelli – they were by far the strongest comedians at those roasts. And does Jeffrey Ross do anything but roasts? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him anywhere else! * * * Life is DVR’d, KVille, and Cane so I haven’t watched those yet.. have you? We tried the first episode of K-Ville, and didn’t really care for it – which is too bad, ’cause we like Anthony Anderson a lot. We haven’t watched/ didn’t DVR Cane or Life, so let me know if I should be watching them! * * * If we were planning a trip to Maine/New England, say in a year or so … do you think September is a good time to go? Where would you suggest as the most “authentic” New England experience. This is probably the dumbest question, but is there a lobster season? I think September is a great time to go – the nights are cool, but the days are still fairly warm (in fact, it’s been in the 80s up there this week!). There are a lot of small Maine towns along Route 1 that are worth visiting – I would recommend Boothbay Harbor or Bar Harbor – find a little bed and breakfast to stay at, take a boat out for a tour of the islands, and poke around the shops. If you’re into hiking, you might want to check out Acadia National Park. I haven’t been up that way in years, but I understand it’s a beautiful area. If you don’t want to go that far north, you could stay in the Portland area – Cape Elizabeth seems to be a really pretty area. I know I have readers in and around Maine – what do y’all recommend? As for a lobster season, I’ve always heard that they’re best after Labor Day. Whether they’re actually best after Labor Day or it’s just that there’s more lobster available since tourist season is over, I’m not sure! * * * I have never seen a black widow up close until y’all started finding them (and photographing them–thanks so much for the nightmares lol). Are they common in Alabama? Yeah, they’re pretty common. They like to hide under and around things, so a few weeks ago when Fred lifted up a piece of wood he expected to see at least one. If I never see another one in the house again, though, it’ll be too soon! * * * Have you guys ever thought about setting up a web cam in the kitty room so we can tune in and watch them run around and play? That’s one of the things we talk about every now and then – along with a chicken cam and a front porch cam – but have never taken any steps to actually do. I think a kitten cam would be way popular, and I’d love to do it! * * * I have a question… have you ever been offered to take your journal “public” (ie, making money off of it in any way; writing for a for-profit site, etc?) I feel as if I have a good sense of why you wouldn’t want to (and I’m glad; I like reading about real people and not products themselves) but I’m just curious if you’ve ever received any offers. No, I’ve never received any offers, and I’m not interested in that, anyway. The way it stands now, I can write about what I want, slap up as many cat pictures as I want, and take the occasional impromptu week off. If I went public and had to answer to someone, I wouldn’t like that at all. * * * What kind of person though would sign their child up for that show [Kid Nation]?! They paid them good money, obviously, but I’m not so sure that’s a wise parenting move. I hope they all get some good therapy after it’s done. Good question – I can’t imagine sending my kid off for more than a month, not knowing where she is or what she’s doing. On a side note, I’d kind of like to know what that kid Mike’s parents do for a living. Given his propensity for rah-rah speeches, I’m guessing there’s either a therapist or a motivational speaker in the house. * * * I have a question for your next round … my cat recently got out of the house without anyone knowing (she goes out on the screened porch but I’m afraid to let her outside completely because we live in the country and I don’t want her getting hurt by some wild animal). Anyway, she must have been outside about an hour before we realized it. She came right back in but every since she has been constantly crying wanting to go back outside. I guess my question is will this eventually stop? I feel bad like I’m letting her miss out on something fun but I really want her to remain an indoor kitty. Thanks. Yeah, it’ll eventually stop. It’ll probably take some time – and you might be driven crazy in the meantime – but eventually she’ll forget she was ever outside. I recommend you invest in some ear plugs! 🙂 * * * I thort you weren’t supposed to use ammonia in a house with cats, because it would make them want to pee everywhere? Is that true? I’ve never heard that – but now that you say it, it kind of makes sense! Anyone ever had an issue with the smell of ammonia making cats pee? Our cats have never done that (as far as I know – and given the smell of cat pee, I think I’d notice. I hope I would!), thank god. * * * I would imagine that as the days grow shorter, you will be using the light in the kitchen more, and thus be more visible standing at the sink looking out the window. Yeah, but we have blinds on those windows and we close them as soon as it gets dark out, so they won’t be able to see us. Besides, if it’s dark, I wouldn’t be looking out anyway, since I’d just see my own reflection in the window anyway. * * * Is feeding eggs to chickens promoting cannibalism? haha I actually had this discussion with my sister the other night. It would be like humans eating their own eggs. We decided that you’d probably have to have about 20 human eggs to even see them – a good omelet would be, what, 100 human eggs? Human eggs are just too damn expensive, I bet. * * * So, are you and Fred going to keep tryin’ for a rooster?! Pacer, we decided to let The Good Lawd bless us however He sees fit. I mean, sure it would be nice to have a rooster to dress up in overalls and play trucks with, but one must not question The Lawd. Besides, we love our Bitchez. A rooster’s a rooster ’til he takes him a wife, but a hen’s a hen all her life (and thus will remain true to her Momma and Daddy and not go running off for greener pastures), you know. (And the serious answer is that Fred wants to get a rooster so we can produce more chickens and raise them to eat, but I like the dynamics our Bitchez have going on right now, and I’ve always heard that roosters are assholes, and I don’t want some asshole chasing the Bitchez around trying to get some.) * * * I once read somewhere that if you have a flock of chickens without a rooster, often times one of the hens will take on the role of a rooster, sometimes even stopping laying eggs. Do you think Frick might be doing the acting-rooster thing (except for the egg laying part)? I’ve read that, too! Or maybe Fred told me, I don’t remember. Frick could very well be doing the acting-rooster thing – he seems to keep an eye on the other chickens and acts protective if the situation calls for it. There’s a speck (we call the black and white chickens “specks”) who tells Frick how it is from time to time, and he just lets her have her way, like a good man. * * * The grocery stores around here are beginning to offer certified humane eggs, but they sell for $2.99 a dozen, on sale. I’m only posting this part of a comment here to say that when I first read it, I thought it said “human eggs” and had to re-read it. I was going to say that $2.99 a dozen is an EXCELLENT deal on human eggs and you should stock up! * * * Just curious if Brian reads your page? I don’t think he does, at least not on a regular basis. He knows it’s here, and he knows I write in it, but he’s a pretty busy kid, and daily entries about my fascinating life are probably a wee bit less fascinating to a 16 year-old boy. For the record, my entire family now knows about and visits my page from time to time, apparently. * * * Just a quick check on e-bay showed that there are people selling jars of jalapeño jelly for $5, shipping and handling is about $5 so I think you’d have no problem selling them. Why don’t you get Fred to make up a little fruit/veg stand and put them out at the end of the driveway, do you think the honor system would work around there? The problem with trying to sell that stuff around here is that we’re in the country, and most people around here, if they want jalapeno jelly, make their own. And I think I mentioned that we don’t get a lot of through-traffic on this road, so people from other towns don’t go by here much. I did decide to make and sell some jars on eBay, so we’ll see how that goes (of course I’ll link when I’ve got them up for sale, in case anyone’s interested). * * * You’re watching “Tell Me You Love Me”, right? Are those the most sex havingest motherfuckers you have ever seen? I mean seriously! Who has that much sex past the hormonal lust of young love? Honestly! I don’t even think it’s particularly hot sex, sometimes I just fast forward through it because watching balls flap around is so very unsexy. I do not know, honest to god, how men walk around with those things. It seems like they’d get in the way, doesn’t it? ANYWAY. I don’t know if it’s so much that they have a lot of sex as it is that the show seems bound and determined to show us every single time they get it on. Well, plus whatstheirnames, the sous chef and the teacher, are still kind of in young-love stage (or were), and the other two, the funny-looking chick (something about her face bugs me) and the guy who looks like he’s 12 (Palek and Carolyn? Maybe?) are trying to conceive, so they have a lot of “I’m ovulating!” sex. Oh, except for the sex they snuck off from the dinner party to have. Is it just me, or were they kind of loud? I was all “Shhhh! His Mom is going to HEAR you!” My favorite couple, by far, would have to be Katie and David (you know, the ones who aren’t doing it at all), because they break my heart every single show (so far). Ally Walker is gorgeous and I just like watching her. * * * I have one of those ice cream makers, but have been disappointed with the results… Do you have a favorite recipe? After just a few batches of ice cream, I find I’m kind of ice cream’d out for the time being. We did figure out a pretty good recipe that we like – 4 bananas, 3 cups of whole milk, 1 cup of Splenda, 1 tsp of vanilla. Put it all in the blender, run it ’til it’s mostly smooth, then pour it in the ice cream maker, check it 20 – 25 minutes later, stick it in the freezer when it’s done. It’s really more ice milk than ice cream, but the ice cream we made following the recipe in the book (2 cups cream, 1 cup whole milk, sugar, vanilla) was way too rich and greasy. With the whole milk, splenda, and bananas, we get a flavor we like, and it makes a ton of ice cream. It melts a lot – A LOT – faster than the ice cream you buy in the store, but since I like my ice cream kind of liquidy anyway, I don’t mind. * * * I just have to ask, about the thigh lift…. I ask because I have been thinking about getting one myself… and a fanny lift (I’ve lost 135 lbs so far and have about 30 more to go)… I also would like the body lift thing too, but the thighs,I just gotta have… so much sagging skin, even in um, ‘that’ area and it isn’t pleasant. I wonder why people aren’t happy with the thigh lift??? any info would be greatly appreciated… there are some days when all this skin gets to me… If I recall correctly, it’s because there’s so much movement in the area that there’s an issue with the incisions not healing well (anytime you move – walk from one room to another or even just from your bed to a chair – you have to move the area to get anywhere, and moving around messes with the healing process), and I think that can cause a lot of scarring, as well. Anyone out there had a thigh lift they were or weren’t happy with? Tell us about it in the comments! * * * 1. I love Charlaine Harris’ vampire series, it’s a lot of fun, but I also didn’t care for the last one as much as the others. I do, however, really recommend her new series (she’s written 2 books for it so far) the Harper Connelly series about a woman who’s psychically able to find dead bodies. I just glanced at Amazon and noticed a third one in this series (coming out September 25th). Yay! I actually just finished Grave Surprise the other night, and liked it a lot. I think I’m going to have to go out and buy An Ice Cold Grave soon, because I reallyreallyreally want to know what’s going to happen in Harper’s personal (romantic) life. 2. ie mentioned that she didn’t know where her cat goes all day. Here’s a web site where a guy attached a camera to his cat’s collar to take pictures throughout the day. Fascinating (at least I thought so). Very cool. I think Maxi and Newt need collar cameras! * * * I have two kitties, mother (about 3 yo) and son (about 2y6mo). We suspect Mom was kicked out when she was pregnant (we rescued her from the park) and she remains extremely skittish. We can’t get her to the vet (I think the trauma of trying to actually get her there would do her in) and she’s very very skinny. So I have no idea if she has worms or what. I’m resigned to the fact that she’s not cuddly, but has taken to “deigning” to come inside twice a day to eat something. I have no idea where she goes all day. Oh hey, yeah so that was not a question at all! I guess it’s more of a “do you have any advice on handling her” sort of rambling. The only thing that comes to mind is drugging her food, knocking her out, and getting her to the vet, but I’m not sure how reasonable a suggestion that is! I think you’re right about the visit to the vet stressing her out too much. Will she let you pet her? I don’t know what to advise, honestly – I know there are readers out there who deal with feral cats. Suggestions? Second (legitimate question): I bought them a carpet scratchy post with enticing play toy on top of it and they have never shown the slightest interest in it. I think maybe they don’t know it’s ok for them to scratch on it. Any ideas on getting the idea through little kitty skulls? Are they interested in catnip? If so, maybe rub some catnip on the scratching post. Or if you feed them cat treats, leave some treats around the scratching post. You may have already done this, but if not – try moving the scratching post to an area where they like to hang out. And if the toy on top of the post has a bell in it, I’d recommend smacking it whenever you walk by, just to get their attention and maybe pique their interest. It may just be a matter of waiting until they decide they’re interested. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve brought home a toy or a kitty condo, waited a couple of months for the cats to show interest, decided they’re not interested, moved it, and had them act like it was the best! toy! ever! Gee we love this, Mom, where’d it COME from?! * * * Do you have to pay an adoption fee when you end up keeping one of the fosters? I didn’t know if you’d get a break b/c of your dedicated years of being a foster family. We don’t have to, but we usually do. The adoption fee offsets the cost of the spaying/ neutering, ID chip, and all the shots and medication they’ve needed, and we can afford it, so we usually go ahead and pay it. * * * Here is kind of a morbid question but hey I was wondering. Now that you and Fred are at your “forever” home will you set up an area to serve as a Pet Cemetery when your cats pass on? There is a commercial pet cemetery near the people one where my dad is buried. There was a man who wanted his dog buried with him in the people cemetery (I think he had saved the ashes in an urn when the dog died) and they would not allow it so he is buried with his dog in the pet cemetery. He is probably in better company there. You know, I haven’t thought about it at all. I think that chances are good we’ll probably go the cremation route and scatter their ashes – though when Tubby died, we had him cremated and buried him in the back yard at the old house (near the fence where he liked to hang out and peer through the hole into the back yard next door like some pervy little peeping Tubs), so… I don’t know! I suppose we could bury their ashes under our favorite tree in the back forty, or have a little graveyard with markers. We haven’t really discussed it, and hopefully we won’t have to think about it for years yet. * * * Have you ever taken a Myers-Briggs type test (it’s the one with the four letters I/E N/S T/F J/P)? If so, what are you? I just went and took it – here – and it told me that I’m an ISFJ. I went and read the description of an ISFJ – here – and some of it seems right, and some of it not so much. ISFJs are often unappreciated, at work, home, and play. See, baby? I TELL YOU AND TELL YOU YOU DON’T APPRECIATE ME, AND NOW RANDOM TESTS ON THE INTERNET BACK ME UP! * * * Ok-I’ll admit that I need to see the whole paper-towel-hanging thing. My 13 yr old “Puss” is constantly “over-peeing” his covered litterbox. It drives me nuts to empty it and find a huge puddle of pee to the side of the box. I often wonder if he piles up all the litter and then climbs to the top to pee! It’s a covered litter box, and I just put a piece of paper towel over the end, like such: (image) and then put the top on the litter box. Spanky pees up the back of the litter box, and the paper towel catches it so it doesn’t drip through onto the floor behind the litter box. Make sense? * * * So, my wife and I had to cancel camping plans because of her foot and the fact that, well, she can’t do much while camping. We were thinking of heading south west, and perhaps picking up a kitten…who may be named after a character on a show with a ship that’s not the Love Boat (which turned 30 this year!). So whatchu think? I think you missed the part where we adopted her for our own selves, is what I think. * * * It’s incredibly difficult to get the kittens to jump into this box and lay down. I have to actually bend down and put the box on the floor. God, I need a nap after all that hard work. Those are some awesome Crazy Eyes there on the left. “Lady, all I want to do is chew on your foot and maybe claw at your instep a little. I’m not going to make cute for the camera, so put me DOWN.” Bless those little bitty kittens. They’re awfully cute and entertaining and despite the fact that we shove pills down their throats in the morning and evening, they forgive easily. Fight! Fight! Talk about your come-hither looks! Such a pretty Eddie Dean. Stretch-and-yawn. I adore those stripes. ::thlurrrp:: ************************************** Is that a smug look, or what? Stinkerbelle seems to be finding her “voice” lately, god help us, and you can often hear her wandering through the house making bitchy little noises at the other cats. They’ve pretty much accepted her except for Sugarbutt, who always hisses at her, then she bitches at him, and sometimes she swats at him. She’s such a little bitch, but she cracks me up (I’m sure BECAUSE she’s such a little bitch). Full of the het. * * * Previously 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.]]>

* * * Jesus Christ, the Weeds theme song keeps bouncing around my head. MAKE IT STOP! I’ve adapted it to my particular circumstances, of course: Little kitties on my desk top, little kitties made of fur and hate, little kitties on the gatetop, little kitties, not the same. There’s a gray one and a black one and an orange one and a calico, and they’re all made out of fur and hate and they look not the same.

* * * Kid Nation spoilers in this section. Are y’all watching Kid Nation? Because I was a little leery of the show, but the first two episodes have convinced me that it’s a show worth watching. At the end of last week’s show when little Jimmy wanted to leave and people were all “Don’t go, Jimmy!”, I was yelling “Don’t pressure him! Let him leave if he wants to!”, and I’m glad he stood up to them and just went ahead and left. Spending that much time away from your home and family when you’re eight years old is a BIT much, I think. That girl Taylor, though, god help me. That child needs a good, hard smack upside her princessy little head. I’m sorry, but beauty queens don’t do dishes? Are you fucking kidding me? Though of course, PRINCESS didn’t come up with that attitude all on her own, so I think we all know we can blame the PARENTS for that bullshit. I really like Laurel and Sophia the most – they seem like pretty smart kids. What I like the most about the show is that no one gets voted off at the end. I don’t like that who’s-gonna-get-voted-off? stress on Survivor, and if they were voting kids off, I don’t think I could handle it. Fred declared last night that if a 15 year-old kid could kill a chicken, by god, HE could too! I’m not sure I believe that. * * * We also watched Journeyman last night, and holy shit. That’s a good damn show! I hope it stays that good. We haven’t watched The Bionic Woman yet, but I suspect we’ll be doing that tonight before Survivor. I hope it’s good. * * * This is stunningly accurate: The Quick & Painless ENNEAGRAM Test Your Score: 9 – the Peacemaker you chose BX – your Enneagram type is NINE (aka “The Mediator”) “I am at peace” Peacemakers are receptive, good-natured, and supportive. They seek union with others and the world around them. How to Get Along with Me * If you want me to do something, how you ask is important. I especially don’t like expectations or pressure. * I like to listen and to be of service, but don’t take advantage of this. * Listen until I finish speaking, even though I meander a bit. * Give me time to finish things and make decisions. It’s OK to nudge me gently and nonjudgmentally. * Ask me questions to help me get clear. * Tell me when you like how I look. I’m not averse to flattery. * Hug me, show physical affection. It opens me up to my feelings. * I like a good discussion but not a confrontation. * Let me know you like what I’ve done or said. * Laugh with me and share in my enjoyment of life. What I Like About Being a NINE * being nonjudgmental and accepting * caring for and being concerned about others * being able to relax and have a good time * knowing that most people enjoy my company; I’m easy to be around * my ability to see many different sides of an issue and to be a good mediator and facilitator * my heightened awareness of sensations, aesthetics, and the here and now * being able to go with the flow and feel one with the universe What’s Hard About Being a NINE * being judged and misunderstood for being placid and/or indecisive * being critical of myself for lacking initiative and discipline * being too sensitive to criticism; taking every raised eyebrow and twitch of the mouth personally * being confused about what I really want * caring too much about what others will think of me * not being listened to or taken seriously NINEs as Children Often * feel ignored and that their wants, opinions, and feelings are unimportant * tune out a lot, especially when others argue * are “good” children: deny anger or keep it to themselves NINEs as Parents * are supportive, kind, and warm * are sometimes overly permissive or nondirective (Take the test here) If you want me to do something, how you ask is important. I especially don’t like expectations or pressure. is so, so true. It can be easy to bulldoze me if you do it with a little finesse, but if I’m being pushed or bullied, you’re never ever going to get what you want from me. It surprises people sometimes, I think, that I can’t be pushed or bullied – I think I give the impression that I’m a total pushover. * * * That second planting of corn? What a mistake. Someone told Fred that corn that comes ripe later in the summer tends to be buggy, and they were SO right. Fred picked corn yesterday and brought it in and left it on the kitchen counter. When I came downstairs and saw it there, I picked up an ear of corn, started husking it, and looked down to see a black widow charging across the counter at me. I slammed my hand down on it so fast that my mind was still saying “Is that a -?”; in fact, I slammed my hand down so hard that today it aches. God, I hate black widows. And how weird is it to have one on the corn? I was under the impression they liked to hide under things. I picked up all the corn, went out into the back yard, threw it all down on the ground in a very adult temper tantrum, then went to yell at Fred for almost killing me AND getting corn silk all over my goddamn floor. Once he was put in his place, I went over and picked up all the corn, and carried it to the table on the cement pad, and began shucking it. It was motherfucking Christmas time for those chickens. I spent the next half hour either picking bugs off the corn and feeding them to the chickens, or finding an ear of corn (I almost said “cob of corn” right there.) with too many bugs in it to save, so I’d toss it to the chickens. They were running around eating grubs and corn ’til they fell over in an uggggggh-I-ate-too-much heap. I ended up with a dozen or so ears of corn that were salvageable, but I don’t think we’re going to do a second planting next year. * * * Over the past few months, I don’t think I’ve slept past 6:00 during the week more than a handful of times. For someone who has always adored her sleep, this is a little distressing. Lately, Fred wakes me up a few minutes before 6:00 so we can medicate the kittens before he leaves, then I usually clean out their litter boxes, then since I’m upstairs already, I clean out the litter box in the bathroom, THEN since I’m cleaning litter boxes anyway, I clean out the litter boxes in the laundry room, then run all the bags o’ poo out to the garage (there’s a garbage can in there). Sometimes I try to go back to sleep, but I can’t remember the last time I was actually able to. After a few minutes I give up and either read or find something else to do. On the weekends I sometimes sleep past 7, but oftentimes I don’t. God help me, I better not be turning into a morning person. I’m a night owl, damnit! Of course, I’m probably reeling around in a total daze these days, too, since the majority of the time I stay up ’til close to midnight. You’d think I’d be getting a ton of reading done, but you’d be wrong – I’m still not reading as much as I did before we bought this house, and I’m not sure why that is. I’m busy with canning and stuff like that, but that’s no excuse. I’ve got tons of books to read – I need to get reading! * * * The kittens are doing well, still racing around like they’re on crack. Last night I took the kitchen scale and a bowl upstairs to weigh them and make sure I’m giving them the right dose of metronidazole, and I left the bowl in the room. At bedtime, when Fred and I went upstairs to hang out with them for a little while, he turned the bowl over on top of Susannah, and said she looked like a hermit crab, and then one single paw stretched out from under the bowl to grab at one of her brothers, and I laughed until I cried because she absolutely did look like a hermit crab. I’ll see if I can’t get some hermit kitten pictures later. “All right, all right, all RIGHT! I give up! You take the feather toy, it’s yours! Geez. You don’t gotta be so mean about it!” I love the stripes on this kitten. Sleepy girl. “This water tastes funny.” Brudderly love. *********************************** I am the meanest Momma in all the world. Twice today Sugarbutt was sitting in one of the cat beds on my desk (the one on the left, if you must know), and he sat up and started scratching his neck with his back paw, and so I reached over and pushed on him just a little to get his attention, and as I pushed, I said “STOP IT”, and both times I did it, I startled him, and he fell off the side of the desk and then ran off to lick the embarrassment off his tail. Stinkerbelle likes to sit and watch the hummingbirds flit back and forth to the feeder. Sometimes she loses it a little and stands on her back legs and smacks at the glass, and the hummingbird flies off and it drives her NUTS. “Ice cream meks me happy.” * * * Previously 2006: Hey, we’ll only be living here for another six months or so. Let’s BURN THOSE BRIDGES! 2005: Did I bring “a book” with me? HELL NO I didn’t bring “a book” with me – I brought FIVE books with me. 2004: No offense to you stoners out there, but the Warrens totally look stereotypical stoners. 2003: No entry. 2002: I think I’m going to start calling him The Todd. 2001: Does that kid’s face just scream “dilemmanated”, or what? 2000: No entry. ]]>

cleaning stuff and rags is generally more work than I like to do. I have to say that it’s always more rewarding to clean when it makes a big difference. That is, cleaning the floors every week wouldn’t be nearly as cool as doing it every three or four months (I think the last time I did it was on Father’s Day – but it might have been Mother’s Day, I don’t remember for sure), because when you do it every few months the difference is visible and you (I) actually feel like you’re (I’m) accomplishing something. I’d rather clean a nastydirty, horribly neglected, filled-with-trash house than one that just needed some dusting and vacuuming. Is that weird? (I should point out that I don’t usually wait ’til things get nastydirty around here before I clean. I do clean before it gets to the point of filth – but it’s just not as satisfying.)

* * * While I was in Maine, Fred happened to come across the Comedy Central Roast of Flavor Flav, and he thought the opening comic was funny enough that he recorded it so I could watch it, too. A few weeks ago we watched it, and I thought the opening comic – Greg Giraldo – was funny enough that I did a Netflix search on him, and ended up putting the Pamela Anderson roast in my queue because it looked like such a trainwreck, and then stumbled across the Denis Leary roast, so put that in my queue as well. Last weekend, we watched both of the roasts, and they were polar opposites. The Pamela Anderson roast was totally trainwreck, with every comic mentioning her huge v@gina and Tommy Lee’s huge c0ck, Courtney Love made an ass out of herself, and it was just mostly annoying and not particularly amusing. Then we watched Denis Leary’s roast, and it was funny, it was WAY less mean-spirited, and it was pretty much what I wanted to see. During the Flavor Flav roast, the majority of the comics referred to Brigitte Nielsen’s huge v@gina and during the Pamela Anderson roast, they did the same about hers. So am I getting this right – if you have nothing of substance to mock about a woman, you talk about her huge v@gina? Is that how that works? Because really, that’s kind of boring. If you’ve got nothing of substance to mock, then don’t even try it. “Huge v@gina” is really only funny the first thirty times. Greg Giraldo and Lisa Lampanelli were funny, though. And for that matter, Carrot Top was funnier than I expected. * * * Thank you, by the way, for all the suggestions y’all gave when I asked what I should plant outside the kitchen window to block the view from the kitchen window to the deck next door. We considered them all, and then we turned to the experts – Fred’s parents – and among their suggestions were butterfly bushes and rose of sharon bushes, and so we decided to go in that direction. Fred stopped on his way home and bought three butterfly bushes and two rose of sharons, and hopefully they’ll grow well and quickly so that the people next door won’t think I do nothing but stand at the sink and stare at them. Though to be honest, I’m not sure they can even see me standing there. When Fred was unloading the bushes from his car, he said he could barely see me standing there watching him like a stalker. I’ve been thinking about buying sheer curtains for the kitchen window (another good suggestion in my comments – did I mention y’all rock?), but I think a quick experiment is in order* to see if they can even SEE me standing there. It also might help to keep the blinds down – open, but down; I’ve been pulling them up partway because… I like seeing out! – to block the view of me standing there, looking all Mrs. Kravitz-y. I do need to get curtains for my bedroom windows, though. Sometimes the lights of cars going by shine in my windows, and it can be annoying at night. I’ll be in Huntsville later today, so I may check and see what Target’s got for curtains. Most likely what I’ll do is look, not see anything I like, and put it off for another six months. I’m a good procrastinator. *The experiment of which I speak would be Fred going out and seeing if he can see inside the house from a distance approximating where the deck next door is located. Though perhaps a more interesting experiment would be to stand nekkid in front of the window and see if the people next door cringe in horror. * * * “Believe it or not! I’m walking on air! I never thought I could feel so free-hee-hee! Flying away! On a wing and a prayer! Who could it be?! Believe it or not it’s just meeeeeeeeeee!” “You just talk to the paw, you hear me? TALK TO THE PAW. I’ve been sitting in line waiting for the snuggles for A REALLY LONG TIME, and if you think you’re just going to scoot in line and be all ‘Oh, I’m so cute! I’m all orange and fluffy! Don’t you want to cuddle me?’, you are very mistaken, Mister. VERY mistaken. Those snuggles have MY name all over them, so you just back off!” “Is it snackin’ time yet?” The kittens are doing well. They run around and around and around that kitten room so hard, I swear one day they’re going to come right through the floor. And they’ve gotten MEAN in the last week. They used to just climb on me and cuddle and purr, and now I go in, and they’re biting my toes, they’re climbing up my back, they’re eating my hair. I swear, they scratch me so much with those sharp little claws, I walk out of there, I look like I’ve been in a knife fight. They’re lucky they’re cute and have big ol’ potbellies. Who can resist a kitten with a potbelly? Not I. *************************************** “Iiiiiiiiii am the Staaaaaaaank of constant sorrowwwwwwww I’ve seen no snuggles in my day. Iiiiiiiiii bid fareweeeeeeeell to that old Boogiiiiiiiiiiee The one who taaaaaaught me all ’bout rage.” (“I taught her allllllll ’bout that Boogie rage.”) *************************************** “Tommy-o? Wherefore art thou, my Tommy-o?” Please note that the peachy-pink on her ears matches the laundry room wall nicely. Cats should always complement the decor. It makes for a cozier home environment. * * * Previously 2006: Sugarbutt lolled seductively on the counter, giving me his best “Hey Momma, what you got there for the Sugarman?” eyes. 2005: I’m sure I’ll get used to it, though, the way I got used to the neighborhood kids always running across our yard and always setting up shop in our driveway. 2004: No entry. 2003: Immediately, screaming like a little girl, Fred levitated across the room to the fireplace, where he began dancing a jig, slapping at his legs, and screaming intermittently. 2002: But it’s still tempting. 2001: J’accuse. 2000: No entry.]]>

Help Aaron get to Disneyland!!!!

* * * Someone please tell me how it is that this child right here: (Flickr) is now legally able to drive? He passed his driving test yesterday and is now a licensed driver. How is that possible? He’s still a BABY! Someone please stop the movement of time, would you? Congratulations, Brian!!!!!!!!!! (Note: It’s actually not his birthday – he got his license yesterday!!!) * * * I forgot to link this in yesterday’s entry – this is the jalapeno jelly recipe I used. I thought about using Elise’s recipe (GOD I love that site. I printed out roughly 60,000 recipes from it last week), but I didn’t want to go out and buy apples to make the stuff, since I was really only making it to use up jalapenos and green peppers. As a side note, though the recipe doesn’t call for it, I think that next time I make a batch, I’ll skim the foamy stuff off the top before I add the pectin. * * * Fred mentioned in my comments yesterday that we’d tried selling eggs over the weekend. We had about three dozen, and since that’s more than we’d use in a few days, (and the chickens are producing at a pretty steady pace at this point), he said “We should try to sell eggs!” and I said “Go for it, just make it so I don’t have to deal with strangers knocking on the door. I got shit to do.” So he put a “fresh eggs” sign out, put two cartons of eggs in a cooler (with ice) and a coffee can with a sign on it, saying “Fresh eggs, two dollars per dozen, please leave money in the can (honor system). Enjoy the eggs!”, and put them both on chairs in the front yard, not far from the “fresh eggs” sign. A couple of hours later, just as I accidentally squeezed tomato guts all over the front of my shirt, the doorbell rang. Cursing under my breath, I went to the front door. When I opened the door, the man standing there asked, “Do you have any eggs left?” “If there are any in the cooler, we do,” I said, and pointed at the cooler. “If there aren’t any there, then we’re all out.” He looked at the chairs in the front yard, shifted back and forth, and said “I… do I pay someone?” “Just leave the money in the can,” I said, and pointed to the can. He went off across the front yard, and his wife got out of the car parked in the driveway. They stood and regarded the fancy folding-chairs cooler-and-coffee-can setup, and I called Fred, who was out working on the shed. “I think someone’s buying eggs,” I said, retreating into the house a little so they wouldn’t see me watching them. “Are they buying both dozen?” Fred asked excitedly. “No, just one.” “Well, it’s a start.” No one stopped to buy any more eggs that day, so Fred brought them in and took the sign down. Early Sunday morning, sure that he’d catch the eye of local churchgoers, he put the sign out, and set the cooler and coffee can up in front of the front door. He also put two dozen eggs out there, since the girls had produced enough eggs to make another complete dozen. Not one single person stopped to buy eggs that day. Fred’s father thinks that no one’s interested in buying the eggs because the people who live around here think that’s too much to pay. I think he might be right, and I think in addition since we don’t get a lot of through traffic on our road – that is, not a lot of people who don’t live in the area pass down our road – the only people who see our signs are locals. That’s okay, though – I’ll freeze a dozen eggs, and tonight we’re having scrambled eggs. Later this week, we’ll have quiche. If it comes right down to it, we can cook the eggs and feed them back to the chickens. Strangely enough, they think scrambled eggs are the shit. * * * Speaking of the chickens, remember Frick? Who Fred was dead certain was a rooster? He’s not. In fact, he lays a lovely light-blue egg. So far as we can tell at this point, they’re all girls. I still refer to Frick as “he”, though, because that’s a hard habit to break. * * * I also forgot to write, yesterday, about the fact that we visited the dump Saturday. Well, I say “dump”, but it’s actually a “transfer station.” For those of you who don’t know what a transfer station is, it’s apparently a place where you show up, dump all your trash in a pile on the ground, and big trucks scoop it up and transfer it to a landfill somewhere. Anyway, Fred had a lot of stuff to get rid of – stuff that couldn’t go in the compost pile or in the trash for regular pickup – so he loaded up the bed of the truck and we went to the transfer station. Imagine if a very industrious person took all the milk in the world, put it in one location, and let it spoil. That’s exactly what the transfer station smelled like. It was worse for Fred, I imagine, since he had to actually get out and breathe the stank, whereas I stayed in the truck (only the driver of the vehicle was allowed to get out, according to the signs) and breathed a filtered version of the stank. I don’t know that that’s particularly a trip I want to make again, but it’s good to know where it is and how it works if we need to go again, I suppose. (Flickr) * * * Look who’s back! At the pet store yesterday morning, I noticed that Billy Bumbler and Susannah had diarrhea. Since they’d been around the brown tabbies so much before they went to the pet store, I figured that chances were really good that they were struggling with giardia, too. Also, Billy’s eyes seemed to be getting red again, so he probably needed more eye ointment. I called the shelter manager (who is suffering from shingles, poor woman!) and let her know I was bringing them home, then boxed them up and did so. So far the brown tabbies seem to be accepting them, except for Roland, who keeps hissing at them. I imagine he’ll get over that in a few days. As soon as I got home, I started Susannah and Billy on metronidazole. If nothing else, I’m learning how to pill a cat on my own instead of having to wait ’til I have help. Don’t get me wrong – it’s easier with another person to hold the kitten, but if I have to, I can do it on my own. With these sweet little kittens, anyway. I have a feeling that I’d have more trouble with a more feral kitten (HELLEW, Stinkerbelle). With these two kittens and the three brown tabbies, it’s like a circus up in that room right now. They’re all just brimming over with energy, and if you’re in the front room you can hear them racing around up there. I’m not sure they ever sleep. ************************************************ “I ain’t skeered of you chickens.” Previously 2006: I blushed, even though he couldn’t see me, and no doubt as a GI he’s elbow-deep in shit the majority of the time. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: I’m sure my tendencies toward dumbassery has something to do with it. 2002: Sometimes when I’ve just finished doing my Firm tape, I feel like my brain is leaking out my ears. 2001: Maybe I should just shave my head. 2000: No entry.]]>

Keith and the Girl to listen on on my iPod this weekend – a weekend spent entirely in the damn kitchen – I might have gone a wee bit mad. Saturday, first thing, I made jalapeno jelly. Now, I know that I’ve mentioned many times that I don’t like jalapenos and I don’t like green peppers, and this jalapeno jelly has three green (bell) peppers in it and seven jalapenos. I made the jelly – it’s a fairly easy recipe – and I processed it in a water bath canner, and when the jars were cooling on the table, Fred could wait no longer, and he demanded that we open a jar, so we did. He tried a spoonful and made a considering face. “The vinegar gives it a zing,” he said. “Here, try it!” Reluctantly, I gave it a try, and I LOVED it. I got out the Ritz crackers and ate several of them with jalapeno jelly on top, and finally had to leave the kitchen lest I eat every last bit of the jar of jelly. We ended up with a dozen jelly jars of the stuff, and Saturday night talked about making a few more batches and selling ’em on eBay, but an in-depth discussion of the cost of buying jars and pectin and having to ship stuff showed that people would have to pay something like $10 per jar (including shipping) just to cover the costs of buying all the supplies, and that’s a lot to ask for a jelly jar of jalapeno jelly, so I don’t think we’re going to. (Flickr) Also on Saturday, I finally got around to adding vinegar to the habanero hot sauce, and Fred tested it, exclaimed “Now THAT’S what I’m talkin’ about!” and proclaimed it a success. We have – I shit you not – 26 habaneros in the refrigerator, and we talked about making and selling habanero hot sauce, but it’s another case of having to charge too much just to recoup the cost of making the stuff, so I don’t see that happening, either. I’m amazed at how many peppers are still coming in. I thought peppers really liked it hot, and it’s cooled down a bit lately, but the peppers are coming in like crazy. What else did I do on Saturday? Oh, right – I blanched and peeled a big-ass box of tomatoes (bought at a local produce stand, because our tomatoes are done for the year) and then let them simmer for several hours to make tomato sauce. I peeled and cored a big bag of apples – also bought at the produce stand – and made apple sauce. At some point in there, I threw together what we’ve taken to calling Tex-Mex for dinner, and I washed approximately one hundred and forty-three thousand dishes, wiped down the counter a thousand times, and yelled at Spot to go away ’cause I didn’t have any goddamn food for him. After dinner, I made a batch of ice cream with our new ice cream maker. We had banana ice cream (I made vanilla ice cream and added three ripe liquified bananas to it) and it was pretty good, but both Fred and I agreed that it was a little too greasy and in the future I think we’re going to try frozen yogurt instead, since that’s what we’re used to. Sunday I hit the ground running, taking my shower as soon as I got up, scooping out the litter boxes, and giving the kittens their medication (more on that in the next section), so I could get started on the shit I needed to get done in the kitchen. Once the usual morning chores were done (and the first load of laundry was washing), I chopped up cucumbers and green peppers and onion to make sweet pickle relish. I think I mentioned that Fred did a second planting of cucumbers, and the cucumbers started coming in with a vengeance, and I would surely like to go back a few months and kick my ASS for even suggesting that he do a second planting. What kind of fucking idiot AM I, anyway? (I informed him, yesterday, that he should feel free to pull up the cucumber plants, because I’ll shoot dead the next person who brings any cucumbers into my house.) Once the stuff for sweet pickle relish was chopped on left to soak, I got out the tomato sauce I’d made Saturday, put it on the stove, and threw a couple of packages of mushrooms, a few bay leaves, some Italian Seasoning, a couple of cans of tomato paste, and salt into the pot, and let it simmer for a few hours. I put the water bath canner on to boil, then went upstairs to put the kittens in the carrier, put them in the bathroom, and vacuumed the hell out of their room. I vacuumed it on Friday after two weeks of NOT vacuuming it, and I got up so much cat hair and dust and litter that I swore I’d never let it go that long again. Poor kittens, having to live in that filth. I mean, it wasn’t SO bad because I’d been getting the worst of it up with a hand vacuum, but a hand vacuum really can’t compare to a real vacuum. I put the kittens back in their room (when they exited the carrier, they did the something’s-different-what’s-different-something’s-different slink around the room, and I left them alone, and went off and vacuumed the rest of the house. I finished the vacuuming, saw that the water bath canner was pretty close to boiling, and put the applesauce on the stove to heat up. I ended up with one quart and one pint jar of applesauce, and given the cost of the apples, I’m thinking that applesauce from the store is cheaper. Also, less of a pain in the ass. (I’m going to make apple crisp and vanilla frozen yogurt for dessert next weekend. That’s my favorite thing about Fall, the apple crisp.) Once the applesauce was processing, I drained the cucumbers, etc for the sweet pickle relish, made that, and by the time the applesauce was done, the sweet pickle relish was made and in jars ready to be processed. Although the recipe told me I’d get about 8 half-pint jars of relish, I ended up with two pints of relish. How does that translate, I ask you? With the pickle relish processing, I decided the spaghetti sauce was ready to go, so put the pressure canner on to boil, did some dishes, cleaned up the kitchen, and then put the spaghetti sauce in jars, took the pickle relish out of the canner to cool, put the spaghetti sauce in the pressure canner to process, sliced eggplant into slices, sprinkled them with salt, and put them in the colander to drain. When the spaghetti sauce was done processing, I rinsed the eggplant off, breaded it, and put it in the oven to cook. When it was done, I let it cool off, bagged it up, and put it in the freezer. I feel like I never stopped doing shit this weekend, but I look in the refrigerator, and I want to shoot myself. Sitting there glaring expectantly is a metric ton of jalapenos, habaneros, and green peppers, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with the fucking things. (Flickr) (Flickr) Next year, I am told, he wants to “experiment” with “different peppers” and “different kinds of salsa”, and to that I say: you go right ahead, motherfucker. HAVE FUN.

* * * Why can’t cats just jump up and lay the fuck down when they want to lay up against you? Why do they have to stand with their ass in your face for twenty minutes before settling down? * * * So, the brown tabbies – Roland, Eddie Dean, Jake – were supposed to go to the pet store on Friday. Friday morning I decided that there was no way they were going because they all had diarrhea. It had improved a few days after I picked them up on Saturday, then got worse. I let the shelter manager know they wouldn’t be going to the pet store, then called the vet to see if I could get an appointment. The woman I spoke to suggested that I just bring a fecal sample in rather than having to cart all the kittens up there, so I headed up to the kitten room with a snack (to stimulate their bowels, hopefully), and a disposable ziploc container. The snack worked quite well, and I scooped (gag) up a sample, put it in the bowl, and headed downstairs. Which is when the phone rang OF COURSE with Fred telling me that the guy who was scheduled to service our air conditioner unit had had a cancellation and was on the way. I ended up tossing the fecal sample in the trash, fuming, because the lady at the vet’s office had said that it needed to be from within the hour, and it’s a half-hour drive to the office. The air conditioner guy came, opened up the air conditioning unit, showed me the incredibly nasty amount of crap clogging up the filter, sprayed that stuff off the filter, checked the freon level, and was on his way. I headed up to the kitten room again, with another snack, another disposable ziploc container, and this time I had a spoon to hopefully catch the sample in, rather than having to scoop it up with the litter scoop. After the kittens finished their second snack of the day (and it not even 11:00 yet), I sat and cuddled with them, then started putting them in the litter box, hoping one of them would think “Huh. Litter box. Yeah, I suppose I could go.” Roland and Eddie Dean looked at me like “What did we do wrong? Why are you making us come in here? Why do you hate us, lady?”, but Jake gave me a considering look and then began to squat. And that spoon came in very handy in that it caught what I needed before it hit the litter, and I dropped it into the container, went downstairs, threw that spoon away (seriously, you thought I was going to keep it?), and headed for the vet’s. Whereupon I discovered that the three boys have giardia and too much of the bad bacteria in their little systems. I got some FortiFlora from the vet, stopped by the shelter to pick up some metronidazole for the kittens, and came home. So the boys will be here for another week or so, hopefully recovering from giardia, and I have to say, I’m not sad to see them staying for a little while. They’re awfully sweet. *************************************************** “How about now? Is it time for the snuggle now?” “NO.” * * * Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: Of course, it’s not like she gets much of an example on how to socialize from Fred and Robyn The Cranky Shut-Ins. 2003: SHE HAD TO BE KIDDING BECAUSE NO ONE IS THAT STUPID. 2002: A lemon hat! So cute. 2001: Damn cats. 2000: No update.]]>

This blog is to help her get to Disneyland. You guys, how awesome would it be if we could help raise enough money to send Aaron to Disneyland? You realize that every little bit helps, I hope – if you can spare some money, pleasepleaseplease go donate!

* * * I sent out this card recently to someone, but I had to scan it first because it made me laugh (one of the things I like about going to Maine is that we almost always go to this little shop in Bath called Magnolia and they have THE most awesome cards.) Front: Inside: The Mik Wright cards always crack me UP. And on a side note, I just went over to Fred’s computer to scan that card because the printer/ scanner is hooked up to his computer (I have a black and white printer, which makes more sense, because I print out WAY more stuff than he does). I scanned the front and the inside, and used his Gmail account to send it to myself. As soon as I sent it to myself, I turned around, walked to my computer, sat down, clicked on Gmail… and was SURPRISED to see an email from him in my inbox. You know. The email I’d sent myself not ten seconds before? I think I need more sleep. * * * It’s Friday, so let the comment-answering extravaganza begin! On November 10th we’ll be going to see Phantom of the Opera in Chicago. Will we come away from it singing like a bunch of loons? You very well might. I find that even if I see a musical that I don’t absolutely love, I still end up humming songs from it for a week or so afterward. I like Phantom of the Opera, but it’s not one of my favorites – my favorites being Jesus Christ Superstar and Les Miserables – but still I was all “Think of me! Think of me fondly, when we’ve said goodbyyyyyyye!” all over the place after we saw it in Birmingham a few years ago. And I’ve only seen Hairspray twice – once on stage, once at the movies – but from time to time I’ll belt out a line or two of “Good Morning, Baltimooooooooooore!” Musicals fuck with your head, man. Speaking of Phantom, has Fred and/or you ever seen the youtube mixing of Phantom and Star Wars? I had already seen it, and I’m SURE Fred’s already seen it (he’s probably the one who sent me the link in the first place), but in the interest of sharing: * * * I have not one but -two- indoor / outdoor thermometers. Actually more weather station type deals that have lots of other information on them as well. My house faces North so the back is on the South and it is always warmer as it gets full sun while the front is pretty much in the shade. I have one sensor north and the other south and it’s interesting to check the temperatures as they are almost never the same. Also another thing I have noticed is when the Weather Channel says it’s 101 my thermometer usually says 95 or 96. If mine says 100 or over it’s hot! Makes you wonder where they put the “official” thermometer. The thermometer I have is supposed to be expandable, so I could buy a couple more sensors for various outdoor spots, and I haven’t bought them yet – but I really want to! For one, how hot DOES it get in the garage during the day? And how much warmer IS it in the sun than in the shade? This is stuff I’m really interested in knowing! * * * I’m so glad you spell out “Mister” in Mister Boogers because “Mr. Boogers” is just wrong, isn’t it? Still the best picture ever! I’d like to take credit for that, but a couple of years ago Fred insisted that I spell it out when referring to Mister Boogers, and now it just doesn’t look right to me otherwise! * * * Warning: Weeds spoilers in this section. Questions for Friday (about “Weeds,” of course, because I can’t stop obsessing): Do you think Agent Wonder Bread is REALLY dead? And doesn’t that Deschanel sister (Zooey?) have some of the craziest twirling eyes ever? I suspect that we’re supposed to think he’s really dead, but he’ll pop back up mid-season to give us all a jolt. If he IS still alive, I really hope they show how the hell he got away – those guys really had him dead to rights, it would have taken some ninja moves on his part to get away. Martin Donovan has a little of the psycho about him, doesn’t he? (Also, I adore the nickname Agent Wonder Bread. It makes me giggle.) Speaking of Martin Donovan, am I the only one who sees the resemblance here? Zooey Deschanel has such crazy twirling eyes that it makes me a little dizzy to look at her. Crazy and twirly in a fun way, though. I bet she (or at least her character) would be fun to hang out with – you’d get into a lot of trouble, but MAN the stories you’d have afterward! * * * I seem to remember you dealing with one of your cats who would always pee over the side of the litter box, and I’m facing the same problem now. Almost every day when I go in to scoop the litter, there is a puddle of pee outside of, or underneath, one or both of the litter boxes. The fuckers. 🙂 I’m thinking about getting a couple of boxes with covers on them (you know what I mean – they have the opening in the front, but the sides and back are solid), but wondered how you dealt with it. Do those work? Or did something else work for you? Spanky is a rat bastard who pees over the side of the litter box, but he’s a model And3rson cat in all other regards, so I let him live. For the longest time I was dealing with the issue by putting the litter box in a bigger plastic box. The bigger plastic box had a “doorway” cut into it so that the cats could get to the litter box. Every morning when I’d clean out the litter box, I’d spray cleaning stuff on the bottom of the bigger plastic box and wipe up the pee. This, as you can imagine, got kind of old, so I bought a big covered litter box. Spanky will pee up the back of the inside of the litter box (I have NO idea what his issue is, goddamn cat) and I was having a problem with the pee dripping through the crack where the top and bottom of the litter box meet until I thought to start laying a single sheet of paper towel there. Now, he pees up the back of the litter box, the paper towel absorbs it, no pee gets outside the litter box, and we’re all happy. I just throw the paper towel away when I clean out the litter box in the morning, and replace it. (If any of this doesn’t make sense, let me know and I’ll take pictures for you!) * * * I don’t SKIP showers. I just don’t take them every day. Whatever you say, Stanky. I KID! Obviously, I kid. I don’t think I particularly need to take a shower every morning, but I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t. * * * Big Love spoilers in this section! So now that Big Love is over for the season, what do you think is going to happen in the next one? I am so hooked on that show, and I can’t wait! I asked my husband if he wanted more than one wife, and he gave me this look and said, “Enough problems come with having one wife. I don’t need any more!” Then, of course, he said he loves me. I don’t remember, but did you ever ask Fred his feelings on polygamy? Big Love has me SO STRESSED OUT! The first season, it was all about hush-hush, keep it quiet, no one can know we’re polygamists, don’t tell anyone! And now Barb’s running around telling every damn body about it, what the FUCK?! Isn’t it still supposed to be a secret? Bill still owns the big wholesome family store and if the news reports that he’s a polygamist, won’t his business suffer and won’t there be a problem? Why’s everyone running around spreading the news? That makes me nervous! God knows what the next season is going to bring – I want to see what happens with Barb’s kids, now that they’re old enough to make their own decisions. It’s obvious Barb doesn’t want her kids to live “The Principle”, but how does she handle the hypocrisy of that? I cannot EVEN believe Roman got arrested and that slimebag Alby got away with it. The actor who play Alby must be one hell of an actor, because he absolutely gives me the willies. I don’t know that I’ve ever asked Fred about his feelings on polygamy before, so I just now called and read your question to him. When I read what your husband said to you, he laughed and said “My feelings are: what HE said!” (And like most things, Fred doesn’t give a shit if other people practice it, but he’s not interested in it personally. Which is a good thing ’cause he knows I don’t share my toys well with others.) * * * “the usual underwear.” Okay, this begs the question, do you change your underwear? The usual underwear implies that you have just one pair. (*seriously big grin!*) No, smartass, I just didn’t want to have to do the “beige panties and beige Olga’s Perfect Fit Bra” description because it is SO BORING. I think next time I’m going to claim to be wearing a Victoria’s Secret thong and Victoria’s Secret push-up bra (under my t-shirt and shorts) just to see if anyone’s paying attention. * * * Is Fred jealous of Stinkerbelle’s apparent crush on Tommy? Since Fred was allowed to bring a new kitten into your household, will you be doing the same also? Billy Bumbler is so cute 😉 he looks like Sugarbutt. Fred’s not so much jealous of Stinkerbelle’s crush on Tommy – Tommy’s one of Fred favorites, too – as annoyed that he can’t get her to snuggle with him the way she snuggles – or wants to, anyway – with Tommy. She’s still so skittish that if we approach her, she’s just as apt to run away from us as let us pet her. If you approach her slowly enough, she’ll let you pet her, and might even insist that you scratch her ears, but that doesn’t happen a lot. Obviously she’s very much improved over how she was when we first got her, but I suspect that she’s always going to be skittish. Spot’s in his teen years, and he still runs off if we walk in his direction (unless, of course, we have food). There are no plans to bring another kitten into the house on a permanent basis, but I do like having the “Oh, you HAD to have Stinkerbelle!” to hold over Fred’s head in the future, in case I need it. * * * Is it wrong to find a serial killer so attractive, do you think? Heh. Nah. Everyone loves a bad boy. At least he’s using his psychopathic nature for the common good! * * * Do you give your cats baths? Why or why not? If so, how often do you bathe them? (Just curious) The only time I’ve – we’ve – ever given a cat a bath it’s because he got into something (usually of a fecal nature) and can’t seem to clean it off himself. Examples: Fancypants, being a long-hair, once got poop stuck in his fur, and we had to give him a bath (and that, believe you me, was a real TREAT). Sugarbutt, when he was a kitten and having his poop issues, had to have a bath almost every day for the first few weeks. Other than that, I don’t really remember any cat-bathing. I know there are people who bathe their cats on a regular basis, but I was always told that cats keep themselves clean and don’t need to be bathed. So far as I can tell, they do a pretty good job of keeping clean, so I’ve never felt the need to bathe them. Which is FINE with me – cats don’t much care for being bathed, surprisingly enough. * * * I think you should put a couple of jars of your canned goods on Ebay! I am sure a couple of your readers would bid on them! I know I would – I would love some fresh canned salsa – or jalapeno or whatever you are willing to put on there!!!! Pleazze think about it?!?! The problem with selling canned goods on eBay is that (1) Then I have to worry about shipping glass jars through the mail, and doesn’t THAT sound like fun, (2) This is my first year of canning, and I fear that round about mid-December, everything I’ve canned will decide I did it WRONG and will begin botulism-izing, (3) I know Fred likes the salsa I make, but not everyone would, and (4) If I go selling that stuff on eBay, what are we supposed to eat this winter? (However, I might end up with so much jalapeno jelly that I’ll give a few jars away. Stay tuned on that.) * * * Clearly you do not have enough cat beds in your house. I can still see several feet of free space in those pictures. Oh the shame you must feel! You have no idea how hard it is for me NOT to buy a couple more cat beds every single time I go into the pet store. I don’t because, honestly, there’s just nowhere else to put the damn things! I think we probably have at least two cat beds for every damn cat in the house, and the ungrateful bastards never have to go more than two feet to find a place to sleep. * * * I have a question for your next question day. (I thought of it because you mentioned loose skin now that you’ve lost weight.) Are you going to have a tummy tuck or any other plastic surgery? The reason I wonder is because I had a tummy tuck almost a year ago and prior to that when I was doing all my research and looking at MILLIONS of before and after pictures, all I heard was how painful the surgery was going to be. I heard over and over that a tummy tuck was one of the most painful surgeries there is. I am absolutely going to get, at the very least, a tummy tuck. I’d prefer to actually get a lower-body lift (that’s where they cut all the way around so you end up with a sexy belt-like scar), but we’ll have to see how much that’ll cost versus the “after” shots I see. In addition to a tummy tuck (or lower body lift), I am absolutely going to get a breast lift (NOT implants – I’ve had big boobs my entire life and I am OVER them, thanks) and a chin.. tuck? Whatever the hell they have to do to get rid of my damn wattle, that’s what I want. Those are the plastic surgeries I’m absolutely going to be getting. In addition, I might get a thigh lift and an upper arm lift, but I don’t know that I’ve heard one single person say that they were glad they got a thigh lift, so I’m not married to the idea. And while I’d like to get an upper arm lift, I’m not married to that, either. I don’t wear sleeveless shirts, and I doubt that even if I did have an upper arm lift I’d suddenly start, so why bother? We’ll see. * * * Rescue Me spoilers in this section. In any event, anyone who loves him [Denis Leary] and that show [Rescue Me], is aces with me. So…what did you think of the season finale? These season finales are going to be the death of me. At least there was no cliff-hanger like in previous seasons, but seeing Tommy sitting at the ball game with his dead father made me tear up like a motherfucker. * * * Dear Robyn, You never answer any of my questions and it’s starting to hurt my feelings. And don’t say it’s because I never submit any. That’s no excuse! Love, Catie And I was TOTALLY going to come up with answers to Catie’s unasked questions, but then Elayne jumped in with: Catie, Never fear, I will answer your questions! Yes, four, Nebraska, NEVER (you pervert), and orange. And really, what could I possibly add to that? I myself would have said Oklahoma, but that’s really a subjective question anyway, and there’s not really a wrong answer. * * * Are you doing anything for Halloween? Do you celebrate it? What’s your favorite costume? I’m doing nothing for Halloween except buying candy, turning the front porch light on, and seeing if anyone shows up. There aren’t a lot of kids around here so I’m going to suspect that no one’s going to ring the doorbell, but we’ll see. My favorite Halloween costume would have to be one of these: That’s me on the left, the spud on the right. Oh, you know what? One year I celebrated Halloween by getting married, so you’d think that Halloween would be a big day o’ celebratin’ for us, but not so much. We’re boring stick-in-the-mud homebodies, so no big fancy dinners out or anything. I might get out of cooking that day, though, if I’m lucky! * * * 1. Have you read the new Charlaine Harris/ Sookie Stackhouse (too lazy to look up the title) book yet? If so what do you think of the series at this point? I just finished reading All Together Dead the other night, actually – stayed up ’til after 1 am to get to the end. I still like the series, but this last book (WARNING: POSSIBLE SPOILERS) kind of tested me a bit. There are times when I couldn’t remember who the fuck was who; when there are so many characters in a book and it’s hard to keep them straight, it makes the story less enjoyable because you’re spending so much time trying to remember who’s who. And at this point, it seems like we’re headed for Sookie to become a vampire, maybe bit-by-bit but I think that’s going to be the final result. I will, of course, keep reading, because I want to know what happens! 2. You used to mention driving around to various stores a lot – Sam’s, etc. etc. Do you do less of that now that you are out in Smallville? I don’t really think I visit those stores any less. I still visit Target every Monday morning after my stint at the pet store, and I often end up stopping by there another time during the week. I still put off going to Sam’s until we’re completely out of something I need. The difference now is that I don’t run to Target at the drop of a hat – it’s more like “I have to go to the pet store, and I need this thing at Target, and since I’ll be going right by it, I should stop by the post office, and then I can swing by Publix and pick up this other thing and let me see if Kohl’s has that thing I was thinking about getting…” and so on. So no more quick runs to Target, but I don’t think I’m there any less than I ever was. In fact, I need to run to either Kohl’s or Target later because I need to get a blender, and since I’m headed out that way, I might as well swing by the pet store and see who – if anyone – has been adopted, and pick up some cat food because we’re almost out, and I need to pick up cat snacks while I’m at it, and I might as well check the post office box while I’m at it. And that’s generally how it goes. * * * Do you end up paying the vet bills for the foster kitties, or does the shelter do it? I admire you for taking in the homeless, but man, that’s gotta get expensive after awhile. The shelter pays the vet bills. Fred is a tolerant man, but if I approached him with the idea of not only bringing foster kittens into the house but also paying their vet bills, I suspect he’d have me committed. Before any shelter cat is adopted out, it’s brought up to date on its shots, it’s spayed or neutered, and it has an ID chip implanted. In addition to that, it seems like 9/10s of all cats turned into the shelter have diarrhea and/ or goopy eyes, and so they need to be treated for that. The adoption fee for the cats is $100, and when I was at the pet store leaving Jake, Roland, and Eddie Dean (last week, before they developed diarrhea and had to come back here), a woman asked how much the adoption fee was. When I told her it was $100, she said “And what does that include?” I said “They’re spayed or neutered, up to date on their shots, and have an ID chip.” She looked at me as if to say “And what else?”, like she thought maybe there was a free year of cat food thrown in for that $100, and I wanted to snap “It includes the CAT, lady! You get a healthy cat who won’t birth you a litter of kittens and if it runs away and someone finds it, they’ll call you! What more do you want for $100?”, but I just smiled and went back to what I was doing. The $100 adoption fee offsets the cost of all that, but oftentimes I think it probably doesn’t come close to covering the costs of getting the cat healthy. The shelter relies on donations from individuals and businesses to help cover it the rest of the way. ************************************** Fightin’ siblings. Jake’s got the crazy eyes going on. He’s a total sweetheart (when he’s not biting my toes, that is). Trying his paws at mind control. I… want… to… give… him… snacks… Again with the crazy orangutan arms. Did I get a defective bunch of kittens? Eddie Dean, pretty boy. ************************************** Tommy tries out his Matrix moves. Four of the seven (nine). * * * Previously 2006: Photographic proof that I met a (Not So)Scary Internet Person and lived to tell the tale! 2005: I mean, it’s not bad enough the man has road rage, he’s got to have fucking walking-through-the-house rage too? 2004: “No, this is real time!” Fred sighed. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: Written by hand. 2000: No entry.]]>