Happy birthday to me!
What you see above is one of the few candid pictures of me that exists (Debbie took it when we were in Pigeon Forge). Probably because I’ve been fat my entire life, I have an uncanny awareness of who’s got a camera and when it’s pointed in my direction, so I can pose or make a funny face, or hide my bulk behind a pillow.
I don’t know if I was laughing or talking, but I was definitely having a good time! I don’t know that it’s a particularly flattering picture – Fred says he thinks it’s pretty good – but I like it.
(And on the other end of the spectrum, Nance used a picture of me in her shout-out that made me laugh so hard I thought I was going to pass out. Hee!)
* * *
Thanks for your nice comments about Jake. Jake is, no doubt about it, a good boy, and I’m sure he’ll be very happy in his new home.
It took us four hours to get to Meridian, Mississippi yesterday to meet the guy who was taking Jake. We only had to stop four times, but most of those times were because I had to pee, rather than Jake.
But here’s what dumbasses we are: about an hour into the trip, Jake sat up in the back of Fred’s car and did a little whining.
“Maybe he’s car sick,” one of us suggested.
“Or scared. He’s never been in a car going this fast.”
“Maybe he’s hungry.”
It wasn’t until about five minutes later that a light popped on over my head.
“Maybe he has to pee.”
Yep, he sure did! Duh.
I was a little concerned about the guy who was taking Jake, because I don’t hang out on the message board Fred hangs out on (I don’t hang out on any message board these days, really.) and so I didn’t know the guy.
“Does he seem like a good guy?” I asked.
“Yeah, as far as I can tell,” he said. “His posts are pretty level-headed and he seems pretty sensible.”
“Well, we’ve seen pictures of his dogs, and they look happy,” I said.
“Yeah.”
We pulled up to the gas station where the guy was waiting for us, and Fred tentatively waved at him to make sure he was the guy. He was.
He was one of those guys who’s very soft-spoken and doesn’t have much to say, but I watched him watching Jake (who was wildly sniffing at every blade of grass on the area next to the gas station) and I watched him talk to Fred, and I noticed that every time he looked at Jake, he smiled.
And not in a “You’ll taste mighty fine with a side of grits” way, either. No, this guy was definitely a dog person, and he liked Jake right away.
Fred’s traded a few private messages with him since we got home, and it appears that Jake is adjusting pretty well. He’s timid and submissive and feeling his way around. I suspect that in a few days when he relaxes into his new home and gets to really know his new siblings (why do I suspect there’s a lot of butt-sniffing going on right about now?), he’ll be thrilled.
By the way, Spot is fine. He was favoring his leg a bit yesterday, but today he seems completely back to normal. We didn’t take him to the vet (we decided to keep an eye on him instead to see how he did), but I’m still keeping an eye on him (and he looks at me like “WHY YOU KEEP LOOKING AT ME, LADY?”) just in case.
He’s also getting lots of love, lots of petting, and lots of brushing (have you ever noticed that the more you brush a cat, the more fur they produce? It’s like they don’t actually have any organs or blood and guts on their insides, just more cat hair).
I hadn’t noticed it while Jake was here, but last night I realized that except for Spot and Tommy, the cats had been hanging out exclusively upstairs. Last night they started coming back down, and in fact I think at one point we had all six of the cats in the living room with us, which doesn’t happen all that often.
So life is going back to normal, Jake’s in a good home. It’s all good.
* * *
While the whole thing with Jake was going on, someone I will refer to as That Jackass who posts on the board Fred hangs out on (yeah, I’m not providing a link) private messaged him, tried to get Fred to call him, and basically tried to pressure him into keeping the dog.
When Fred told him that he’d found someone to adopt Jake, the guy was unhappy to hear that (!) and sent a patronizing private message asking how long we’d been married, and lecturing him that “Marriages are give and take, not one person rules.”
Good god, what an asshole.
“Oh! And did he tell you that if I were A GOOD WIFE, I’d submit to your will?” I bellowed, after he’d read the private message to me (you’d think the man would know better). “WHAT A JACKASS.”
I love that That Jackass doesn’t know me except through what Fred has mentioned in passing, and has decided he knows that the problem is that I don’t understand that I need to shut up with all that stupid “I should have a say in this” bullshit and just submit.
SUBMIT, BITCH!
Yesterday morning when I woke up, I thought of That Jackass and what he’d said, and when Fred was about to step into the shower, I went into the bathroom.
“Please private message That Jackass and thank him. Tell him that your wife is so incredibly grateful that she’s married to YOU and not HIM that she promised you an extra special (sexual favor)*, and it’s the best (sexual favor) you’ve ever gotten in your life.”
Yesterday afternoon when we got home and were sitting in front of our respective computers and I went on the message board to read what people were saying, because I am a sucker for punishment, and That Jackass had a big old diatribe wherein he compared dogs to children and said something along the lines of “What if you brought a child home and it didn’t go well? Would you then turn around and take the child back?”
Good christ. What a fucking idiot. You’d think we’d taken the dog out back and tortured him before shooting him in the head instead of finding a really good home for him. IDIOT.
And now I’m going to stop thinking about That Jackass because it’s my birthday and jackasses have no place in My Special Day.
*You don’t need details. Hey, my KID reads this!
* * *
* * *
I should point out that though I refer to myself as “Not a dog person”, I love reading stories about dogs, looking at pictures of them, petting and hugging them when I see them. I just don’t necessarily want one living in my house, you know?
* * *
Last night we let the foster kitties out of their room for a few minutes. We’d like to be able to let them out to run around the house in the evenings, because as much time as I spend in there loving on them, I don’t feel like it’s enough time and I’d like them to be able to come hang out with us while we’re watching TV.
Moondance and Moonman are the first foster cats we’ve had who didn’t start rushing the door after a few days. They’re curious about what’s on the other side, but perfectly happy looking out the window and being loved and petted several times a day. I opened the door to their room, and sat down on the floor outside their room, waiting to see what they’d do. Fred encouraged them to come out and do some looking around, and after a few moments, they did.
Naturally, Mister Boogers heard us talking to them, and came up to be a jerk. He growled and hissed at them, and scared them enough that they decided they wanted to just hang out in their room, thanks.
We’ll give it another try tonight and see how it goes. They sure are good kitties.
All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither.
* * *
All six cats on one bed. That NEVER happens!
* * *
Previously2006: Happy birthday to me!
2005: No entry.
2004: Happy birthday to me!
2003: Happy birthday to me!
2002: Happy birthday to me!
2001: Happy birthday to me!
2000: Happy birthday to me!]]>
Jake has found a new home.
I feel bad, because he is a good dog and I think he’ll make a really good pet. I’m simply unwilling to take the chance that he could do serious damage to one of the cats, and even before the incident with Spot, I wasn’t feeling a great amount of love for Jake.
When you read that a dog’s life expectancy is 10 years and after spending a few days with the dog in question you think to yourself He’s a year old, which means he’ll live for another 9 years. That’s not so long. I can handle that… right?, that might be a sign that you’re not heading in the right direction.
I’m not a dog person; I’m really not. It’s possible that the dog exists out there who will change that.
But it’s not Jake.
I understand that many of you will be disappointed, maybe angry at me, maybe in the mood to leave angry, hateful comments. It’s okay, I completely understand how you feel. But I won’t have Spot living in fear in his own home. I just won’t.
And in his new home he’ll have two dogs to play with – two dogs that are big, like him – and his new daddy is an affirmed “dog person.” I think he’s better off.
* * *
I’ve made Fred promise to wait, at the very least, six months before he does the “Can we get a dog, huh, can we can we can we?!” song and dance.
::sigh::
* * *
And for those of you who asked, yes. We did adopt a dog in 2001 and ended up taking her back (to a no-kill shelter). Here’s where we got her, and here’s an explanation for why we took her back.
* * *
At the groomer’s, bonding with a tomcat (who looks a lot like Sugarbutt from this angle).
Hanging out in the doorway between the computer room and dining room.
Tommy, not a fan.
Still, not so much a fan.
* * *
Moonman has seriously come out of his shell. When you go into the room, he comes right to you for a hug and pat.
“Yowza!”
* * *
Previously
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: How to celebrate Robyn’s birthday.
2003: How to celebrate Robyn’s birthday.
2002: How to celebrate Robyn’s birthday.
2001: One more day ’til my birthday! Whoo!
2000: No entry.]]>
Sunday
Fred: We could get a lab! Awww, look at this black lab. Isn’t he gorgeous? Oh, except labs are way too friendly…
Me: Yeah, they’d be all “Come on in! Let me show you where the china is!” And we don’t need a dog. WE ARE NOT GETTING A DOG.
Monday
Fred: Rottweilers would be good. You wouldn’t want a rottweiler coming at you, barking and growling, that’s for sure.
Me: Rottweilers are pretty. WE ARE NOT GETTING A DOG.
Tuesday
Fred: I’m reading up on the Belgian Malinois. They’re cool dogs. (Insert a bunch of stuff about the breed I didn’t listen to)
Me: Moto’s a Belgian Malinois. He’s a bit of a spaz. WE ARE NOT GETTING A DOG.
Wednesday
Fred: Maybe we don’t need a big dog. Maybe we just need one to act as kind of a burglar alarm. We could get a minpin! One of those would probably yap and yap and yap if a stranger came to the door.
Me: Minpins are cute. WE ARE NOT GETTING A DOG.
Thursday
Fred: Let’s just go to the pound and look at the dogs. Please, can we, please? Please? PLEASE? PLEASE? PLEASE? PLEASE?
Me: GodDAMN, shut UP, okay! We can go look at the dogs BUT WE ARE NOT GETTING A DOG. Do you understand me? NOT. We do not need a dog, I do not want a dog, NO DOG.
Fred: We’ll just look!
Meet Jake.
* * *
Needless to say, I am feeling very long-suffering and put-upon today. I’m have no doubt I’ll grow to love Jake, but damn. I AM NOT A DOG PERSON.
(He’s a Great Pyrenees and you can read more about him over on Fred’s site.)
* * *
Previously
2006: Home again, home again.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: How we met.
2000: And that’s all I have to say ’bout that.]]>
here.
Date I started addressing cards: I can’t guarantee it, but I think it was somewhere around December 3rd.
Date I finished: The day after I stopped taking addresses, so December 22nd.
Total cards sent out (not including family): 320.
States receiving 10 or more cards: California (21), Illinois (10), Maine (11), Michigan (14), North Carolina (16), Ohio (16), Pennsylvania (11), Texas (17), Virginia (16), Washington state (12).
States who don’t love me and didn’t want a card: Hawaii, Nevada, North Dakota, Rhode Island, Vermont, West Virginia, Wyoming, Washington DC.
Other countries receiving cards: Canada (16), New Zealand (2), Australia (9), United Kingdom (2), Sweden (2), Netherlands (1), Portugal (1), Germany (1), Finland (1), Scotland (3), Switzerland (1), France (1) and Israel (1).
Number of cards kicked back as undeliverable: Just one, because I’m a dumbass who forgot to put the stamp on the card. I put a stamp on the card and mailed it right back out; hopefully it got there before Christmas!
Percentage of probability that I accidentally sent out more than one card to at least one person: 96.837.
Was I terribly organized about my card sending this year?: Not terribly organized, not terribly disorganized. I’d like to say I was more organized than I expected to be, with the whole house thing going on and distracting me.
Did I have a lot of fun shopping for funny cards?: I did not. What I did have a lot of fun doing was creating a personalized card this year that was AWESOME. I don’t know how on earth I’m ever going to top that card, I really don’t. For those of you who hate me and didn’t request a card, this is what it looked like:
(Inside: But he loves Santa. Happy freakin’ holidays.)
I actually ran out of cards, and about 40 of you ended up with handmade cards wherein I taped that picture to the front of a blank card and hand-wrote the message inside. Thank god for Walgreen’s and their willingness to print out 40 pictures in the space of a couple of hours.
What I’ll do differently next year: Order more cards, probably.
Number of cards I’ve received: As of today, 153. I had them taped to the back of the front door, the door between the hallway and kitchen, and the door to the garage. Next year I’ll have to come up with a better way of displaying them, methinks.
Thanks, you guys, for the awesome cards you sent. They always make me smile! It’s amazing how many names I recognize when I’m opening cards.
I took a picture of the cards I’ve received, and they’re here. I left the picture cards in the pictures I took, but blurred out all names. If your card is on that page and you don’t want it there, just say the word and I’ll blur the whole thing out, I promise.
* * *
When we were in Pigeon Forge, I think I mentioned that we did a lot of shopping. One of the things we did was to hit some of the factory outlets, and one of the factory outlets we hit was Harry & David. They had lot of stuff marked down to 50% off, and I saw some Christmas dishes I absolutely loved. I didn’t want to make an impulse purchase, though, so I decided to sleep on it.
When I woke up the next day, I decided I really wanted those damn plates. I mean, we’re planning on having Christmas (at least the morning part of Christmas) at our house next year, so we really needed Christmas plates, right?
I ended up getting not only the regular-sized plates I loved so much, but also appetizer plates that I fell in love with as well. And I ended up not having to pay anything for them, because my sister bought them for me, for my birthday!
My sister ROCKS.
The appetizer plates.
The dinner plates.
When we were in the Smoky Mountain Cat House, my mother saw some dessert plates she really liked, and she bought them. I don’t know if she bought them intending to give them to me next Christmas, or bought them for herself and decided it’d be too much of a pain in the ass to get them home unbroken or what, but she ended up giving them to me for my birthday (along with a Lowe’s gift card, which my parents decided would be funny to give me, ’cause I told them we got so many for Christmas that we would probably be able to finish out one bathroom with no cost to us!)
All in all, it was a very good birthday. And my birthday’s not ’til next Tuesday!
* * *
Tuesday night Fred and I were watching TV when the phone rang. He picked it up, looked at the caller ID, and handed it to me. It was the shelter manager, and I hoped she was calling to tell me she had some kittens for me. Instead, she asked if I was willing to take Moondance and Moonman – a couple of adult cats who’d been at the pet store for several weeks – for a couple of weeks. They’ve been in a cage together (they’re siblings), and it appears that they’re starting to get on each others’ nerves – something I noticed when I was at the pet store on Monday.
Of course I was willing to take them in for a couple of weeks, so yesterday morning I went to the pet store and got them. The boy – Moonman – was perfectly willing to get into the cat carrier, but the girl – Moondance – did NOT want to get into the carrier, and I had to chase her down and wrestle her into the carrier.
She’s got a very loud meow when she’s scared, and she howled all the way through the store, across the parking lot, and halfway home before she settled down.
At home, I let Mister Boogers and Sugarbutt sniff at them through the carrier doors (and Mister Boogers hissed and growled at them), then shooed them out of the room, set up the litter box and food and water bowls, and opened the doors to their carriers and left the room.
(I like to let the cats get a little acclimated to their surroundings before I get all up in their faces.)
About an hour and a half later, I went into the cat room, and Moonman was hiding in one of the hiding places (I don’t know what to call that thing. A pyramid?) and Moondance was sniffing around, and when I walked into the room, she froze. Now, they were always perfectly friendly at the pet store, so I expected them to come over and be petted, but instead they just stared at me and looked scared.
Moondance stood, frozen, in the middle of the room and stared at me. Now, here’s the thing about cats that I never really noticed before yesterday: when they want to look at something to the left of them, they move their whole heads, rather than just their eyes. Moondance, frozen in place, looked to the left of me by moving just her eyes instead of moving her whole head, and it was really kind of odd to see that happen.
I eventually sweet-talked her into coming over to be petted, and now she’s relaxed enough that if you go into the room she’ll freak out a little at first, then the lightbulb goes on over her head – “Oh, they pet me, and I likes to be petted!” – and she comes over for some lovin’. He, on the other hand, is a shy little monkey, and hides in his pyramid until he decides it’s safe to come out, whereupon he walks across the room, stretching, ends up in front of the food dish and casually says “Oh, look. It’s food! Why, I suppose I could have a bite to eat…” He’s only let me pet him a few times. Maybe it’ll take a couple of days for him to relax enough to come over and demand love the way she does.
Anyway, pictures!
Moondance (the girl).
Moonman (the boy, obviously).
I’ll try to get better pictures of them. The pictures don’t convey just how pretty they are!
* * *
Miz Poo has claimed the basket by the computer room window as her own. She’s spent the bulk of the last two days curled up in the basket. Tommy likes to sleep in the basket upstairs in my bedroom. I think the baskets are a hit!
* * *
Previously
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: Links.
2001: What sad, sad lives y’all must have led, to never experience the delight of whoopie pies.
2000: I’m feeling like total crap.]]>
* * *
I spent my personal Day of Mourning wearing black and drinking a toast to the late President Gerald Ford. (A toast of low-carb cocoa, that is. I don’t think Betty would appreciate an alcoholic drink on this occasion. Or maybe Betty doesn’t give a shit what I drink. I don’t know; Betty and me, we were never all that close. She always was a cold fish.)
Good ol’ Jerry Ford. Remember when he… pardoned Nixon? Yep, them were the days.
Oh! And remember when he… pardoned Nixon? Yeah, that was a good one.
And then he… pardoned Nixon. Can’t forget that one!
Hey, give me a break. I was six when it happened. All I know is that I wanted Carter to win the presidency (and he DID, setting into motion my life-long belief that what I wants, I gets) because I wanted something new. That’s another life-long thing, always rooting for the new guy ’cause I’m bored with the old guy. I wanted Reagan ’cause I was bored with Carter (I vividly remember sitting in a history class next to my friend Patty. She was rooting for Carter, and was so incensed that I was rooting for Reagan that she wrote me an angry note consisting of “REAGAN WILL BRING US TO WAR!”, and then wouldn’t talk to me for the rest of the day.).
Is it wrong that I just went and read the Wikipedia entry on Reagan and got all nostalgic for Iran-Contra? Oh Fawn Hall, where’d ya go?
Anyway. Ol’ Gerald Ford, we’ll miss you. You were so young! You died too soon! ::sob!:: Can we get another National Day of Mourning? I feel one day just isn’t enough to remember how he… Uh. Pardoned Nixon!
* * *
I spent most of the day out at the house yesterday. Fred went to the house early in the morning to let the electricians in, but while he was there waiting, the head electrician (?) called and told him that he’d been double-booked and yadda yadda yadda “You’re not as important as this other guy, so it’s going to be a few weeks before we can get to you, mm’kay?” It ended up being okay that they couldn’t come out though, because Fred rethought what he wanted the electrician to do, and we’re going to end up paying about half of what we were going to pay the other guy (though we’re also having a little less work done, too). The cool thing is that Fred told him how we’re going to finish out the top floor of the garage to use as a foster room, and the guy’s putting outlets and light receptacles up there FOR FREE because he has two cats he adopted from the shelter.
Anyway, I had to be at the house by 10:30 to let the chimney guy in. He was a little late – I figured he would be, because that’s the way we roll, us country folk – and he was also a Chatty Cathy, god help me. I did my best to listen to everything he had to say (the fireplace in the dining room is well-constructed, but too deep to give out heat the way it should, for one) while pulling up coves and quarter-round from the front room. He and his helper (coworker? assistant chimney sweep?) took about an hour and a half to inspect both chimneys, clean the one in the front room (the one in the dining room didn’t need cleaning), install caps on both chimneys, and remove the woodstove and take it away.
It ended up costing about $100 less than I was expecting to pay.
After he left, I finished pulling up the coves and quarter-round in the front room, painted the current door I’m working on* and ate lunch.
Fred showed up at the house around 3 and the electrician showed up a while later (see above re: the country and how we roll), and then the electrician was there FOREVER because he was also afflicted with Cathy Chattyism, apparently more common amongst the men of the south than you’d expect (I myself suffer from Shut-Up-And-Go-Away-itis). I replaced plugs and switches (from the ugly off-white to the pretty blinding white we prefer) until it got too dark to do so, and then I walked around picking up trash and throwing it away.
After that, it was a matter of eating dinner, painting the door again, pulling nails from the quarter-round and coves I’d pulled up while Fred puttied the front room, and then we left.
I think it’s safe to say that I did far more work on the house yesterday than Fred did, and he’s a big SLACKER.
*It’s funny that I’m spending so much time on these doors, because once we’re living in the house, I fully intend to take down each and every door (one at a time), strip them down to the wood and paint them so they look decent. Maybe I’ll get to that in the Spring or the Fall.**
**Please. Like THAT little project will ever get past the talking-about-it stage.
* * *
This is from one of the lights Fred took down in the front room. Do you see what happened here? Someone PAINTED the globe. With wall paint. Good lord.
The ditch running alongside (but doesn’t drain into) the pond. We had a bit of rain the other day.
The pond, which is as full as I’ve seen it yet. We’ll see if it stays this high.
* * *
Miz Poo in one of the baskets I brought home from Pigeon Forge. We visited the Smoky Mountain Cat House not once, but twice. I love the hell out of that store. I bought a ton of stuff, including this basket, and a bigger one. The cats are sniffing around it cautiously and haven’t quite decided whether they like it or not, but Miz Poo appeared to be enjoying it, at least for a few minutes.
* * *
Previously
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: My God, I love Sam’s, have I mentioned?
2002: Why, that’s almost as exciting as the fact that my birthday’s in less than a week!
2001: Fred, being the man, is legally required to deal with all car-related crap and I, being the woman, am legally required to bitch at him until he does so.
2000: So we apparently had a 2.8 earthquake today about which I knew nothing. ]]>
* * *
From my comments:
Last year you dropped the weight; this year why not eat a healthy diet so you can feel totally amazing too? How? RAW FOOD! Fresh fruit and veggies; the more raw the better.
Silly girl, I don’t know what gave you the impression that I’m already feeling anything less than amazing already – if I felt any better, it’d be illegal. I do eat raw foods, but for me, it’s not a matter of “the more the better” unless I want to spend the entire day in distress. Raw foods don’t go through me the way they did over the summer, but if I eat much more than an apple with breakfast and a salad with lunch, it’s not a pretty sight (I eat more vegetables than a salad with lunch, I must hasten to add; they just need to be cooked). Also, being a gastric bypass patient, my nutritionist and surgeon require me to eat at least 80 grams of protein per day (though I shoot for 100 grams per day, with their approval), and if I fill up on raw foods I might lose weight faster, but I’d probably feel like crap and start losing my hair again, and nobody wants that, believe me.
* * *
Speaking of my hair, it’s been looking particularly good lately, in my opinion. My sister told me to try some of that Clairol Conditioning mousse (it pouffs AND conditions!), and recommended Sunsilk Defrizz as well, so I bought some of each since she has such purty hair and always knows the good stuff*, and my hair has never looked better. I prefer my hair with a little bit of height to it, and since it’s mostly grown back in after the scary baldness after surgery (which a lot of people have to deal with), it’s been a bit flat. But with the mousse-defrizz one-two combo, there’s a little height to my ‘do and I’m happy with how it looks.
*I swear to god, the woman should get herself a job – or start a company! – as a personal shopper. If you called her up and said “Deb, I’m looking for a purple shirt with gold and silver sparklies on it, that spell out “I’ve got your high-five right HERE, bitch!”, and oh yeah, I need it to have fringies hanging off the arms, preferably with three-quarter sleeves (but I’m flexible), in the hard-to-find size 13 3/4, got any ideas where I could find something like that?”, she’d think for a minute or two and say “Oh, I saw that in Macy’s, misplaced in the men’s section behind some solid-color pocket tees**, next to the gray size large section. You want me to pick up a couple?”
**I don’t know if Macy’s would carry solid-color pocket tees in the men’s section. It’s just a guess. Don’t hurt me if I’m way off base. I don’t shop in Macy’s and I don’t know nothin’ ’bout no men’s section. Wait. Does Macy’s still exist, or did they get bought out? I can’t remember.
* * *
This entry would be longer, but I have to scoot out to the Smallville house to meet the chimney guy, who’s supposed to clean the chimneys, check the flue, put caps over both the chimneys, and take the wood stove with him (we’re getting a bigger wood stove). Fred let the electricians in this morning to do their thing (I’m sure one of us will mention that more in depth in a later entry), so I’m going to settle in a corner of one of the rooms and try to stay out of everyone’s way.
On a side note, I will sure as hell be glad when we get the inside of the house done. Every freakin’ day we work out there, I end up with a huge gash on my hand, or bruises or scrapes and it FUCKING HURTS. Yesterday I was prying quarter-round off the stairs (I’m going to clean where paint got on the stairs, then we’re replacing the quarter-round with freshly painted quarter-round so it’ll look better) and I ended up with a painful gash on the back of one of my fingers, and a big-ass bruise on the side of my hand.
But once we’re finished with the inside, it’ll be time to start doing things outside, and I’m sure THAT will lead to plenty of bruising and cuts and scrapes, too. ::sigh::
Still love the hell out of that house, though!
* * *
Sugar McBooger is the happiest, most content cat ever put on the face of the earth.
* * *
Previously
2006: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: Note to self
2002: (“Damn, Robyn sure is impressed with herself, isn’t she?”)
2001: Robyn’s Resolutions for 2001.
2000: Exciting, no?]]>
new logo! Thank you to reader Melissa (Melissa, don’t you have a site? Shoot me the url, please, so I can link you!), who created it a few months ago!
While I’m talking about logos, I desperately need one for February. I’d like a hearts-and-flowers type logo, but really anything will do! Help a sister out? And include your link, so I can link you!
* * *
So yes, I’m home again. In fact, I was having such a good time that I ended up staying ’til Saturday morning instead of coming home on Friday as I’d originally planned. Fred was happy to “let” me stay, so he could finish up the master bedroom, which he’d done as a surprise to me (the surprise being the color, that is), and I LOVE IT, especially the fact that I need to buy a new comforter to go with it (along, maybe, with new sheets!).
I ended up eating more crappy, sugary foods than I should have… and lost three pounds! I think the three-pound loss might be due more to the phenomenal amount of walking we did, rather than what I ate. We shopped our asses off, and thank god I drove there, because I filled the entire trunk area up with the stuff I bought. Just about everything was on sale, which made for some good shopping.
The day I got there – Christmas day, and you’d expect there wouldn’t be much traffic on the roads on Christmas day, but you’d be wrong – we had dinner at a buffet place, which was pretty good, and then my mother, sister, and I walked along the main drag in Pigeon Forge, walking off some of the food we’d eaten.
The day after Christmas, we went to use one of the gifts I’d given Brian for Christmas – a gift certificate to Flyaway Indoor Skydiving. Part of the gift was that I’d do it with him – and I did! It wasn’t quite what I expected, but it was pretty cool all the same. Brian brought up the idea of doing it again, and now I’m wishing we had, because it was definitely worth doing a second – and third – time.
We also talked about bungee jumping (there’s a place on the main drag in Pigeon Forge), but first Brian chickened out, and then I did. Now I’m wishing we’d done it, just so I could brag about it, but oh well. Maybe we can find a place in Maine, and we can go this summer when I visit.
We spent a day in Gatlinburg without my father (who was dealing with some stomach issues; something he’d eaten didn’t agree with him), and I drove since I’d been there before (but hadn’t driven!), and at one point we were on a hilly area with a steep dropoff on one side, and I pulled into someone’s driveway to turn around, and Debbie got a little overwhelmed and threw a fit, and at one point she said “I scared!” I thought she was just kind of making fun of herself, but a few minutes later (after we got turned around WITHOUT dying, might I add), she said she didn’t remember saying that at all, and I laughed so hard I thought I was going to pass out.
It was fun, vacationing as a family, and we came up with several inside jokes that will most likely live on for years.
It was very enjoyable.
Annnnd… I could do a day-by-day recap of the trip, but rather than doing that, I’m going to post some pictures, and call it good enough.
Brian in his new t-shirt, which cracked me UP.
I call this one “Bitchypoo and her wattle.”
We visited Rainforest Adventures, and it was VERY cool. They put on a good show, let you touch some of the animals (here I am, about to hold a TARANTULA. And I didn’t die from the fright!), and are very entertaining. I highly recommend it.
And with a ball python around my neck. Fred about died from the jealousy.
Brian avec ball python.
I call this one “Bitchypoo, confused.”
Me and my bebbe sistah.
Getting ready to do some indoor skydiving.
Lemur, at Rainforest Adventures.
Brian bought a cowboy hat while in Gatlinburg. That boy is just so cute I could squeeze him to death.
Complete and utter asshole on 75S. Georgians, beware!
Thrilled beyond belief that their Momma is home.
There’ll be more pictures in upcoming days – there’ll be a series called “Animals of Gatlinburg” as well as one called “What I Didn’t Buy”, plus Debbie took a ton of pictures she’s going to burn to a cd and send to me, and I know there’ll be a lot of good ones in there – but that’s it for now.
Y’all have a good day!
(Today’s uploaded pictures are hither)
* * *
Previously
2006: No entry.
2005: Happy New Year!
2004: Happy New Year!
2003: Happy New Year!
2002: Happy New Year!
2001: No entry.
2000: Happy New Year.]]>
Christmas 2005.
Christmas 2006.
Merry Christmas, one and all!
I’m off to Gatlinburg in the morning and will be back on Friday. Don’t expect an entry ’til January 1st at the very soonest, though!
PS: The picture we managed to get wherein we all looked a tad addled:
(They might have been doing it on purpose, but I wasn’t!)
* * *
The Nebshit Game – Christmas Edition!
1. Do you have a favorite Christmas tradition? Back when I was living close to my parents, we’d have Chinese food for dinner on Christmas Eve. I kind of miss that.
2. When do you open gifts – Christmas Eve or Christmas morning? Fred and I open our gifts to each other on Christmas Eve and the rest of our gifts on Christmas morning. Because the spud gets so many gifts from her father and California grandparents, we let her open her gifts from them on Christmas Eve so we won’t be spending the entire day sitting and watching her open gifts.
3. What is your favorite Christmas cookie? I like those Kiss Surprise cookies, but I don’t know if they’re considered Christmas cookies. I also am fond of sugar cookies. There haven’t been many cookies in my life this holiday season. I’ll have to see if I can snag me a cookie at some point this weekend.
4. Real tree or fake? Fake fake fakety-fake. And that’s the way I like it! The less I have to deal with the tree, the better. At this point, all I’m doing is picking up ornaments in the morning and putting them back on the tree, but the cats are mostly leaving the tree alone.
5. Do you want something for Christmas that you know you will not get? A new laptop. A Sidekick. A video iPod. World peace.
6. What’s the worst gift you ever got at Christmas time? I don’t remember any particularly bad gifts, actually. I was never that crazy about getting clothes when I was a kid – and I’m still not. I prefer to pick out my own clothes.
7. Do you write thank you cards for Christmas gifts? It’s kind of spotty. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t.
8. Do you get a Christmas bonus at work? I NEVER get a Christmas bonus. I should quit!
9. How old were you when you found out the truth regarding Santa Claus? Embarrassingly old – like 12 or 13. And my cousin, who was a year younger, told me. I only believed in Santa so long because I was POSITIVE there was no way on earth my parents would spend that much money on us, so there had to be a Santa. Heh.
10. Do you buy your boss a Christmas gift? I have no boss. I am my own boss! Wait. I should totally buy my boss a laptop! Or world peace, whichever’s cheaper.
* * *
Wednesday, after I dropped the kittens off at the pet store, I went on a mission to find a sweater to wear on Christmas Eve. I used to wear the same blue turtleneck sweater every year, but it got too big for me. I thought about wearing the fleece shirt I wore on Thanksgiving, but I wanted to get something new. Fred said, more than once, “You should get you an appliqued sweatshirt with a teddy bear on front! Now that we’re moving to the country, you need to start dressing country!” and I would say to him “Oh, shut UP. Teddy bears aren’t my thing, and neither are appliqued sweatshirts.”
I checked out Target and found nothing that worked for me, so headed over to Dress Barn. I found a sweater there I really liked, but they didn’t have it in my size, so I headed over to The Avenue. They had sweaters I really liked, the same sweater in ten different colors, but despite the fact that it SAYS right on the store that they carry sizes 14 and up, I couldn’t find a single sweater in anything smaller than an 18/20. So I headed over to Goody’s, looked around for a long time, and finally found a couple of sweaters I liked. I couldn’t decide between the two, so I bought them both (they were extremely inexpensive) with the idea that Fred could choose which one I wore.
I was headed to the cash register when something caught my eye. I dithered for a few minutes, then grabbed it up and went to check out.
When Fred got home, I said “I got a present for you, but it’s something I wear!”
“Oh, REALLLLLLLY,” he said.
“Yeah, hold on…” I went into the hallway, took it out of the bag, and put it on.
And he laughed and laughed and laughed.
Jane?
It burns, Jane! The applique, IT BURRRRRRRRNS!
(Fred chose the blue sweater, which I expected he would. You’ll see pictures of it at some point, I’m sure.)
* * *
In my comments yesterday Ginny said, in part:
Do they make hypoallergenic cats???
I know you were just joking, but I present to you the kind of cat Fred’s been harassing me to get for years and years: The Sphynx. They’re incredibly ugly, and over my dead body will I let Fred get one, but I’m thinking a cat with no fur is a cat who won’t mess with your allergies.
Ooh and one more thing before I end this book of a comment. We have 3 dogs and in our state (Kansas), they have a stupid law that says if you own more than 2 dogs, you have to have a permit and pay $20.00 a year. Do they have a law like that for cats? Since you own 6 I was curious if they made you pay a yearly permit fee on them.
I do not know, and to be honest – I’m not going to check and find out, because if I know we’re supposed to pay a yearly permit fee for them, Fred will surely make me go down to city hall and pay the damn permit fee, and I think we pay enough in vet bills every year that we damn well shouldn’t have to pay extra for them. GODDAMN GOVERNMENT. WHAT BUSINESS IS IT OF THEIRS IF WE HAVE SIX CATS? THEY CAN ALL GO STRAIGHT TO HELL! I’LL PAY A PERMIT FEE FOR MY CATS WHEN THEY PRY THE MONEY OUT OF MY COLD, DEAD HAND.
Also in my comments, Rhys asked about Maddy. Maddy, as y’all know, was adopted by Nance, and you can see a current picture of Miss Thang right here. Isn’t the change amazing? She doesn’t even look like the same cat. Can you believe this cat and the cat on Nance’s page is the same one?
* * *
“What’s he doing? Doesn’t he know I have cooties??”
“I’ve got the litter-on-my-nose, needin-a-snack, my-brother’s-pickin-on-me, I-need-a-snuggle, please-stop-messing-with-my-fur…”
“…bluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuues!”
All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.
*******************************************
“Tell me ’bout how them stinkin’ kittens are never comin’ back, Momma.”
* * *
Previously2005: I’m a creature of habit, what can I say?
2004: No shit, Matt. Ya think? Ya think she might like to eat?
2003: “You are NOT allowed in Maine!” I informed him.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Except for world peace and all that. Yadda, yadda.
1999: No entry.]]>
hash brown casserole recipe is here. I must have made that a LONG time ago, because I don’t even remember eating it.)
* * *
If the person interested in the song sung by Chemda (of Keith and the Girl fame) wanted to email me, I might find my way clear to making a copy of the CD I bought off eBay and sending it your way (since it’s no longer available in the stores or anywhere online). You’ve gotta make at least a $5 donation to KATG in return, though, or buy something from their store.
I’m considering asking Fred to get me the KATG hoodie for my birthday.
* * *
I’ve been tagged by Denise.
The explanation:
Obligatory intro: According to the rules…Each player of this game starts with the ‘6 weird things about you’. People who get tagged need to write a BLOG of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave a comment that says ‘you are tagged’ in their comments and tell them to read your BLOG.1. I desperately want to use the word “frippery” in a casual conversation, but I just can’t seem to make it fit in any of the conversations I’ve had recently, damnit.
2. I love peas. I LOVE PEAS. There’s no casserole on earth that won’t be improved by the addition of peas – preferably baby peas. I know that not everyone loves peas – my friend Liz reacts to unexpected peas in casseroles as if they are a personal affront and I think she fully believes that wars should be launched over the existence of peas – but I do. LOVE THEM.
3. There’s blog I am aware of, but do not read, that lists me under a column entitled “People who link to me.” I have never linked to this person, and sometimes I absolutely FUME that she has listed me as linking to her when I NEVER HAVE. I have no idea why it pisses me off so much, but it really really does. (Note: I don’t dislike the blog or the person, I just don’t read her, because I’m chronically behind in the journal/ blog reading I already do and don’t have room in my life for another blog unless I absolutely adore it.) (Note also: I fume about it, but I don’t email the person and ask her to take me off her list, because I know how fucking petty it is that it bothers me so.)
4. I can wiggle my ears like nobody’s business. If my ears were a little bigger, I do not doubt I’d be the Incredible Flying Woman. And to prove my ear-wiggling prowess, I present to you a movie I like to call “What a freakin’ dork” (you can really only see the ear on the left side of the screen wiggling, but trust me – they’re both flapping back and forth to beat the band):
I was all amused by myself at the end because I got confused between wiggling my ears and raising my eyebrows. I’m a mental giant, is what I am.
(Direct link here)
5. It doesn’t matter how many books I have
Books I own and have not yet read.
I always want MORE. It’s an illness. (Nance can attest to this one)
6. When I’m concentrating on something – usually reading – I wiggle my toes and my lower lip at the same time. Toes go left, lower lip goes left. Toes go right, lower lip goes right. I’d offer up a movie of that, but I’m afraid I’ve blow my badass cred already with the ear-wiggling thing.
As far as tagging six people, well, if you’re reading this, consider yourself tagged! Or if you want me to tag you, let me know and I will. How’s that?
* * *
When I went to make that ear-wiggling movie above, I discovered that I had quite a bit of Maddy footage that I didn’t even realize I had. I edited it together (poorly) and here ’tis:
(Direct link here)
Damn, I miss that evil little brat.
* * *
A few months ago, after I posted this entry and said I will be so thrilled to see the ass end of him that I will most likely do the goddamn Cabbage Patch as he goes down the driveway., I got a couple of comments and some emails suggesting I post a movie or pictures of myself doing the Cabbage Patch.
I don’t currently have a movie to offer you, but rest assured that I haven’t forgotten the request.
* * *
I took the Christmas kittens to the pet store yesterday afternoon, and I was so proud of them. Unlike two weeks ago when I first got them, they were a little scared, but also very curious, so they didn’t huddle in the carrier and hiss at me. They wanted the hell OUT of that cage, of course, but they didn’t look terrified, and in the time I was there a lot of people stopped and exclaimed over how cute they were.
(Before I left the house, I had to use my manicure scissors to trim some of the fur from around Jack’s behind, because the thing about longhaired kittens is that they tend to get nasty stuff stuck in their fur, and there was some nasty stuff stuck in Jack’s hair that I couldn’t just pull out with a baby wipe. Poor Jack. I also took the cat brush into the room with me yesterday morning to see how they’d react to being brushed, and they LOVED IT, Jack especially.)
The volunteer who was there to clean the cages and I got to talking, and I discovered that she has fourteen cats. FOURTEEN.
I said to Fred, “I know you think we have too many cats, but -”
Fred said, “Whatever you’re about to say, keep in mind that I’m STILL going to think we have too many cats.”
I said, “But (the volunteer) has fourteen cats. FOURTEEN.”
“And we still have too many cats.”
“Compared to her, though, we barely have any cats at ALL.”
“And that’s still too many.”
Hmph.
When you give little kittens a lovely little snack before you brutally snatch them up and put them in a carrier to leave them in a cage where strangers will peer at them and exclaim over their loveliness, do not be surprised if they are so taken with the yumminess of said snack that they do the following:
(A little bit of plain yogurt, and they were licking their lips for 45 minutes.)
“Oh NO SHE DI’INT!”
“Bob! Bob!! BOB! Dude, I need me some of that primo catnip like you gave me last ni- What? YES it’s already gone. There are five of us, you think I’m not going to share? Okay well, maybe I didn’t WANT to share, but I didn’t have a choice. Those girls held me down and threatened to kiss me if I didn’t share, and I do believe you’re aware that all females are infested with cooties, yes? I need the strongest ‘nip you have, my fine man. Stat!”
“::Urrrp!:: Oh! ‘Scuse me. I’m still a little buzzed from last night. I think I got high and chased Kringle around and told him I was going to give him a slammin’ case of the cooties if he didn’t share, I can’t quite remember. It’s a bit of a blur.”
Merry “Addled” Kitten is the new poster kitten for the upcoming “Just Say No” program.
All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither.
PS: I swung by the pet store this morning and Merry and Noelle had been adopted. Kringle, Jack Frost, and Faith were hanging out calmly in their cage, looking not scared at ALL. I thought about popping in for a quick cuddle, but thought that might get them worked up and sad, so I didn’t.
* * *
Previously2005: I imagine that when all three of our phones are in the same vicinity, we’ll get them confused and hijinx will ensue.
2004: Reader questions, answered.
2003: “Um, no,” I told Fred when he asked. “And not only no, but HELL no, and I’ll be out of the house whenever they come to interview you and tape you exercising and all that goofy-ass shit.”
2002: No entry.
2001: I guess he defines “tension” as “getting drunk and pawing every female in sight.”
2000: I practically woke up screaming, I tell you.
1999: Suddenly, it occurs to me that nestled next to my underwear is not the best place to put a bag of very potent catnip.]]>
Happy birthday to me!
What you see above is one of the few candid pictures of me that exists (Debbie took it when we were in Pigeon Forge). Probably because I’ve been fat my entire life, I have an uncanny awareness of who’s got a camera and when it’s pointed in my direction, so I can pose or make a funny face, or hide my bulk behind a pillow.
I don’t know if I was laughing or talking, but I was definitely having a good time! I don’t know that it’s a particularly flattering picture – Fred says he thinks it’s pretty good – but I like it.
(And on the other end of the spectrum, Nance used a picture of me in her shout-out that made me laugh so hard I thought I was going to pass out. Hee!)
All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither.
All six cats on one bed. That NEVER happens!
At the groomer’s, bonding with a tomcat (who looks a lot like Sugarbutt from this angle).
Hanging out in the doorway between the computer room and dining room.
Tommy, not a fan.
Still, not so much a fan.
Moonman has seriously come out of his shell. When you go into the room, he comes right to you for a hug and pat.
“Yowza!”
Meet Jake.
(Inside: But he loves Santa. Happy freakin’ holidays.)
The appetizer plates.
The dinner plates.
Miz Poo has claimed the basket by the computer room window as her own. She’s spent the bulk of the last two days curled up in the basket. Tommy likes to sleep in the basket upstairs in my bedroom. I think the baskets are a hit!
Brian in his new t-shirt, which cracked me UP.
I call this one “Bitchypoo and her wattle.”
We visited 
And with a ball python around my neck. Fred about died from the jealousy.
Brian avec ball python.
I call this one “Bitchypoo, confused.”
Me and my bebbe sistah.
Getting ready to do some indoor skydiving.
Lemur, at Rainforest Adventures.
Brian bought a cowboy hat while in Gatlinburg. That boy is just so cute I could squeeze him to death.
Complete and utter asshole on 75S. Georgians, beware!
Thrilled beyond belief that their Momma is home.
Christmas 2005.
Christmas 2006.
Merry Christmas, one and all!
I’m off to Gatlinburg in the morning and will be back on Friday. Don’t expect an entry ’til January 1st at the very soonest, though!
PS: The picture we managed to get wherein we all looked a tad addled:
(They might have been doing it on purpose, but I wasn’t!)
It burns, Jane! The applique, IT BURRRRRRRRNS!
“Tell me ’bout how them stinkin’ kittens are never comin’ back, Momma.”
(A little bit of plain yogurt, and they were licking their lips for 45 minutes.)
“Oh NO SHE DI’INT!”
“Bob! Bob!! BOB! Dude, I need me some of that primo catnip like you gave me last ni- What? YES it’s already gone. There are five of us, you think I’m not going to share? Okay well, maybe I didn’t WANT to share, but I didn’t have a choice. Those girls held me down and threatened to kiss me if I didn’t share, and I do believe you’re aware that all females are infested with cooties, yes? I need the strongest ‘nip you have, my fine man. Stat!”
“::Urrrp!:: Oh! ‘Scuse me. I’m still a little buzzed from last night. I think I got high and chased Kringle around and told him I was going to give him a slammin’ case of the cooties if he didn’t share, I can’t quite remember. It’s a bit of a blur.”
Merry “Addled” Kitten is the new poster kitten for the upcoming “Just Say No” program.
All of today’s uploaded pictures are