Author: Robyn

Hell’s Kitchen, starting tonight, and I’m looking forward to Tuesday Night Book Club tomorrow night. Hopefully it doesn’t suck. Oh! And if you haven’t checked out Meerkat Manor on Animal Planet yet, you really ought to. I love those damn meerkats.

* * * Reader Lisa sent me a link to this cat video on John Heffron’s site, and it is HILARIOUS. Go check it out. * * * Saturday morning, Fred and I left the house around 9:00 to venture into Huntsville and go for a hike. It was my idea to start hiking together two or three days a week, because next summer we plan to climb Mt. Katahdin together, and I figured it would be better to start sooner rather than later, because I’m not – I think I’ve mentioned – much of a hiker, and it’s probably going to take me a long, long time to be able to do anything approaching the strenuous hiking Fred does on a regular basis. Because I move much more slowly than Fred, he decided that we’d do half a hike together, then I could head off on a wimpy hike back to the car, and he could go off on a far more difficult hike and meet me at the car. The first part of the hike wasn’t bad, though I did find myself bitchily saying “WHY are we going uphill AGAIN?” We saw lots of squirrels and several chipmunks (which are just unbearably cute, and I WANT ONE as a pet), and even one teeny black snake (I actually spotted it; Fred walked over it without seeing it). Then we split off, and he went off on his difficult hike, and I followed a mostly flat, wide trail which would eventually lead me back to the parking lot and the car. The problem came as I was following the trail, and if I’d kept going straight, I would have been on the red trail, but if I went to the left, I would have been on the white trail, and I couldn’t remember at ALL whether Fred had told me what color trail to stay on. I was sure I’d asked, but if you ask Fred a question like that, what you get is a 15-minute lecture about where every single trail on the mountain goes, and he never ends up answering the question. I decided to follow the white trail, because I couldn’t remember him saying anything at all about the red trail, but he’d mentioned the white trail, at least in passing, at some point. Actually, what I tried to do first was to call him, but naturally – THANK YOU, T-MOBILE – I couldn’t get a signal. So I followed the white trail for ten or fifteen minutes, and it started to get pretty narrow. Since Fred had repeatedly told me that the trail I needed to follow back to the parking lot was “so wide you could drive a truck down it”, I got a little worried. I pulled the plastic baggy out of my bra, pulled my cell phone out of said baggy, and found that I was getting a cell signal. I called him, asked what trail I was supposed to be on, told him that if I’d kept going straight, as instructed, I would have ended up on the red trail. And then he went on about how if I’d gone on the red trail, that would have been okay, because it would have eventually gotten me back to the parking lot, but it would have meandered a bit. Anyway, long story short, I was on the right trail, and not 5 minutes after I hung up after talking to Fred, the trail widened out again, and I started seeing a lot more people out hiking, which I was fairly certain meant that I was getting close to the parking lot. And I was. I ended up getting back to the parking lot about 35 minutes after we split off to our separate hikes (I’d been hoping to do it in 25 minutes, because Fred estimated it was going to take me between 30 and 45 minutes, and I wanted to show HIM I wasn’t THAT slow. Guess I really showed him, huh?). I got into the car, started it up, got a bottle of water out of the cooler, and settled down to read while I waited for him to show up. About 20 minutes later he did, and we headed for home. Altogether, it took us about two and a half hours to do that hike, and for me, it was only about three miles! We did keep stopping though, because – have I mentioned? – I don’t really do much hill climbing, so I had to keep catching my breath. Maybe this time next year I’ll be talking about how we did a 17 mile hike in three hours. Probably not, but a girl can dream! * * * It was my intent to sleep in on Sunday, but the spud went off to work at 7, found out that she didn’t have to work until 1:00, and felt the need to call and tell Fred that she didn’t have to work until 1:00 instead of, you know, just coming home. Once the phone woke me up, I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I pulled a book off the bookcase and laid in bed for the next three hours, reading. Which I haven’t done in a LONG time, so it was a pretty nice start to the day. The spud’s employer called at 9:30 to ask her to come in at 11:00 instead of 1:00, so she got a few extra hours. Once I woke her up at 10:00 to get ready for work, I went into the laundry room to set up the new litter box system, scrub down the litter box, and fill it with clean litter. When I walked into the laundry room, I was extremely displeased to find that there was Tide all over the fucking place. See, I buy those big-ass containers of Tide, the ones with the spout on it, so I can put it up in the cupboard over the washing machine, and all you have to do is press down on the spout to fill the cup with Tide, put the Tide in the washing machine, and put the cup up next to the Tide container. Only, the fact that there was a spout never hit the spud’s consciousness, so she’s apparently been pulling the container of Tide down from the cupboard, and dumping Tide into the cup from the other end of the container (the end where you loosen the cap – or take it off, which is what I do – to make the flow of Tide faster). And Saturday night when she was doing laundry, she’d managed to pour Tide all down her back, all over the laundry room floor, and all over the wall above the dryer. Apparently she was under the impression that to clean laundry soap up all she had to do was to swipe at it with a cleaning rag or paper towel, and not worry about that pesky film it leaves behind. So I spent half an hour Sunday morning scrubbing Tide off the washer and dryer and off the floor. THEN I scrubbed out the litter box, put clean litter in it, and set up the new litter box system. Then I spent the next hour vacuuming the entire house, repotting a couple of plants, cleaning the kitchen, and yelling at Tommy to get the hell out of the repotted plants. He’s such a nosy little fucker. After that, it was almost noon, and as I headed upstairs to take a shower, Fred got home from his hike. He took his shower, then I took mine (but not before stepping into the shower, which was very slippery, and banging the holy hell out of my leg on the side of the shower (I think it’s going to leave a badass bruise, and I’ll be sure to take pictures of it once it gets really colorful)). Then I sat in the recliner in the corner of the bedroom and spent two hours answering the email I’ve been studiously ignoring for about the last month. But! Now my email is all answered, and it is my summer resolution to keep on top of my email. I don’t know that that’ll really happen, but it’s nice to think that it might. And then I spent the rest of the afternoon reading, dozing off for a while, and paying bills. Don’t I lead an exciting life? * * * The spud is leaving for California in less than a week. She’s been carefully putting money in savings to save for a down payment on a car, and I think she’s going to get really close to the amount we told her she has to have. Which means she and Fred might be shopping for a car when she gets home in July! And which means I’ll be able to use my car whenever I want and not have to worry about whether the spud wanted to use it or not. Hell, it feels like I’m the one who’ll be getting a new car instead of her! * * * Suggy in motion. I love his little old-man chin. All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: Wouldn’t it be funny if as soon as we put all the flyers out in the neighborhood, he came swishing home? 2002: “NO,” he said with great certainty. “That was YOU!” 2001: But look at that little face. How can you not see it and just grin like a fool? 2000: Which is better than it could have been – we were afraid his foot was slowly rotting off.]]>

Glory Road the other night, and the next morning I woke up with Marty Robbins bouncing around in my brain singing El Paso. Pretty easy to trace where that came from; most of the time when songs are bouncing around in my head, I can’t figure out why. Glory Road, by the way, was a pretty good movie in the way all those underdog feel-good sports movies are. Emily Deschanel was completely and utterly wasted in the role of the Loving Supportive Wife Who Holds Down the Fort At Home While Dad Shows the Big Boys What’s What. I don’t know why they even bothered to give her character a name; Interchangeable Supportive Wife would have explained all you needed to know. But that Josh Lucas; hubba hubba! We refer to him as “The Poor Man’s Matthew McConaughey”, but the older he gets, the less he resembles MM and the more he grows into his own looks. We watched Firewall Tuesday night, and it wasn’t bad – typical Harrison Ford fare – but has Harrison Ford gotten old all of a sudden, or what? I swear, he kept stumbling around like an old man and didn’t seem all that steady on his feet. Maybe Calista Flockhart’s keeping him off-balance with the hot, hot sex.

* * * Yesterday ended up being a busy, busy day for me. I got up at 6:30 (I’ve been getting up at 6:30 most mornings, god help me, because the earlier I go out and walk, the less hot it tends to be. That’ll hold true for another couple of weeks, and then it’ll probably be so unbearably hot outside at 6:30 that I’ll have to start either getting up at 3 am or exercising inside), went for my walk, came home, cleaned the bathroom (and it’s only been a WEEK since I cleaned the bathroom! Holy crap!), vacuumed the entire upstairs, talked to my mother for twenty minutes or so, and then headed out to do errands (after I got dressed, of course. My purple nightgown is cute, but not really the thing for errand running). The first place I needed to stop was Target, so I did, and I bought two 35-pound boxes of Arm & Hammer litter (our litter of choice, because it clumps fast and hard and does the best job of reducing the litter box stank) and some bird seed. My main reason for stopping at Target was to get a big box to set the litter box inside of. See, we used to use a sweater box for a litter box, and then we’d put the litter box inside a bigger box, because Spanky – cute as he is – is a little bastard who adores peeing over the side of the litter box, and no matter what we’ve done we can’t get him to STOP FUCKING DOING THAT, and at some point if you can’t change a behavior and you don’t want to get rid of the cat, you’ve got to figure out how to deal with the behavior. So we dealt with it by putting the litter box inside a bigger box, then every time I’d clean out the litter box, I’d spray down the inside of the bigger box and wipe it down. Good lord, I must really love my cats. Who else would put up with this sort of bullshit? Anyway, one day I was in the pet store, and I stumbled across the covered litter boxes, and they have nice BIG covered litter boxes, and I thought “Self, what if I got a big covered litter box? That way, Spanky could still pee up the side to his heart’s content, and it would be less of a pain in the butt. Well. It turned out to be MORE of a pain in the butt, ’cause I’ve been having to take the cover off the litter box, spray down the inside of the cover, dump the litter into the other litter box (through the strainer), wipe down the inside of the cover, and put it all together. Plus, on the days when Spanky is particularly hydrated, he manages to pee up the side of the inside of the cover enough, that pee leaks out and makes a small puddle on the floor. So we’re going back to the litter box inside of a bigger box, and I’m going to get rid of the covers to the litter boxes, which is why I was at Target looking for a big storage box that the litter box would fit inside. Luckily, I measured the litter box before I left the house, so I’d know what size would work, and so there I was in Target, looking at EVERY storage box, only to find that none of them were big enough. I convinced Fred to make a trip to Lowe’s tomorrow morning after he gets groceries, so hopefully he’ll find something that’ll be just right. I left Target with my litter and bird seed and headed up University Drive to the Goodwill store, to see if I could find some jeans that I might fit into. The pants I’m wearing currently are too big for me, and I can’t find pants that I really like in a smaller size, so I thought I might go in the direction of jeans. And my brother told me that my sister-in-law bought jeans at thrift shops when she was losing weight, so I tried the thrift shops around here and found nothing, so I decided to check out the Goodwill store to see if I could find something. And I did not find a damn thing. I dug and dug and dug through the racks and racks of clothes, but didn’t find a thing in my size. Here’s an example of how I cannot, for the life of me, look at a piece of clothing and know whether it’s my size or not: I walked through the door of the Goodwill, and I saw a pair of jeans hanging on the end of a rack, and I thought “Oh, those look like they might fit me…” and when I checked, they were a size FOUR. Um, yeah – not so much! So I left Goodwill and went to Sam’s, where I stocked up on all the stuff we’ve been running out of lately – Tide, paper towels, shrimp, more bird seed (the stuff I bought at Target was Finch food), and bottled water – and once I loaded everything in my car, I called LoneStar to place an order for a Steakhouse salad (salad with bleu cheese crumbles, lettuce, tomato, red onions, and – surprisingly enough – steak). Then I headed over to TJ Maxx to look around for a few minutes, with the idea that I might find a comforter for the spud’s bed, but I decided pretty quickly that if I was going to get a comforter, I needed to have her with me to tell me what she did and didn’t like. From TJ Maxx, I went over to LoneStar to pick up my lunch, and headed home. I got home around 2:00 – three hours after I’d left the house. The car was PACKED, and it took me a good ten minutes to unload it, but I’d say we’re all set on paper towels, shrimp, and gum (the only kind of gum I chew – and I chew a lot of gum – is Trident White Wintergreen, and for the longest time Sam’s had stopped carrying it. Yesterday, they had it again, so I stocked up in a big way, just in case they stop carrying it again) for a long, long time. I put everything away, and then I sat down and ate my salad, and it was faaaaaaaaaaabulous. Well, at least while I was eating it, it was. A little later I turned into (sorry to be gross, but a reader over at OFB suggested this term, and it makes me giggle every time I think of it) a salad shooter. To continue the grossness, it AMAZES me that you can eat something and then see it again (IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, AND I THINK YOU DO) pretty much undigested 30 minutes later. Aren’t your intestines, like, long enough to reach to the moon and back? Are the raw veggies going through my intestines on the bullet train, or what? Okay, I’m done with the grossness. And that was my day! * * * Currently reading: Myths, Lies, and Downright Stupidity, by John Stossel. I generally like John Stossel, and I’m very much enjoying the book. Finished late, late, late the other night: Skinny Dip, by Carl Hiaasen. I just love Carl Hiaasen to death. I wish he’d stop putting out the damn kids’ books and write another one for adults, though! (Rumor has it he’ll have an adult book out early next year.) * * * Random pictures: This is what I made for Nance for her birthday. I loved making it – I love all the Dolly Mamas pictures – and it was fun making the picture and sending it off to her. The t-shirt I got in Maine ’cause I loved it so much, then couldn’t wear because it was too small for me. Now it fits! Whoo! Trying to get a decent picture of myself, because the picture I’m using over at MySpace is at least four years old, if not older. * * * And, cat pictures: Suddenly, Sugarbutt adores the Sug Cave and spends almost every evening here. SUCH a Tommy look he’s got on his face. Preparing to jump. All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: Teen labor: I highly recommend it. 2004: The quarry. 2003: You can’t tell I’m PMS-ing with a vengeance, can you, with all this talk of food? 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: So, have I mentioned that I’m an idiot?]]>

Vivitar digital camera I bought at the Unclaimed Baggage store when my parents were here and gave it a try. I think I mentioned that I got it for $20, with the sole intention of carrying it around in my purse in case I should come across something I wanted to take a picture of. Anyway, I snapped a few pictures to see how they’d come out. Apparently I’m high. And in desperate need of makeup. Spot, in the window. Open a window in the front of the house, and the cats are FASCINATED. So yeah, it doesn’t take gorgeous or particularly sharp pictures, but it’s certainly a good enough just-in-case camera to leave in my purse (I don’t like to carry my good camera around too much, because I really sling that purse around sometimes). At least good enough ’til I get one of those Razr phones I’m coveting. The Unclaimed Baggage store ROCKS. I should start checking it out every month or so; if nothing else, the book selection is pretty damn good.

* * * I have an appointment for a cut and color next week. I think I’m going to go about two inches shorter and two shades lighter. I want to stay with brown hair, just a bit lighter. Now that I protect my hair with a baseball cap when I go out walking, it doesn’t see much sun, so it doesn’t get light, the way it has in the past. Just watch – next thing you know, I’ll be going platinum blond! (No, not really…) * * * 2 Things (seen somewhere over at LiveJournal) Two names you go by: 1. Robyn 2. Bessie Two parts of your heritage: 1. Scottish 2. Cherokee Two things you are wearing right now: 1. A yellow t-shirt 2. Gray cotton pants Two things you want in a relationship: 1. Laughter (check!) 2. Communication (check!) Two of your favorite hobbies: 1. Reading, even though I don’t do as much as I used to. 2. Cross-stitching (ditto) Two things you want really badly at the moment: 1. One of the caramel nut brownies Fred made to take to his company picnic (but it’ll make me barf. ::sigh:: ) 2. A teeny tiny laptop Two pets you had/have: 1. My very first pet that belonged to me and me alone was a hamster named Laverne (my sister got Laverne’s sister, aptly named Shirley) 2. Not our first dog, but the one we had her entire life was our dog, Taffy. She was a good girl, Taffy, and it chaps my ass to see the stuff my parents’ current dog, Benji, gets away with that Taffy never did. For instance, Taffy was only allowed in the living room ONE DAY of the year, on Christmas morning. Benji, on the other hand, hangs out in the living room ALL the time. Spoiled rotten brat. Two things you did last night: 1. Took a very hot bath because I was FREEZING. 2. Got pissed off at the cats, who kept tromping over me as though I was a RUG or part of the FLOOR. I got them back, though – I sprayed them all with compressed air, and scared the bejesus out of them. Fuckers. Two favorite places to eat: 1. Lonestar 2. Graziano’s in Lisbon, Maine Two people that live in your house: 1. Fred 2. The spud Two things you ate today: 1. Shrimp (boiled, with home-made cocktail sauce: 2 T low-carb ketchup and a dab of horseradish) 2. A cheese omelet (not at the same meal) Two people you last talked to: 1. Fred 2. The spud (yeah, they’re the two I talk to most, can you tell?) Two things you’re doing tomorrow: 1. Visiting the Goodwill store in Huntsville 2. Going to Sam’s Two longest car rides: 1. We drove from Michigan to California when I was… 6? 7? I don’t remember much about it, though. 2. Driving from Rhode Island to Alabama seemed to take forEVER. Two favorite holidays: 1. Christmas. 2. My birthday. What? It’s a holiday to ME! * * * Currently reading: Skinny Dip, by Carl Hiaasen. I just love the hell out of Carl Hiaasen, and every time I read his books about the zany characters of south Florida, it makes me want to move down there. Recently finished: The Big Nap, by Ayelet Waldman. I’m really, REALLY liking this series, and I lucked out, because VERY cool reader Kimberly sent me the next three in the series, so I don’t have to go out and buy them. Kimberly ROCKS. * * * Yeah, I know. The entries are lacking a little in substance these days. What can I say? There’s just not much going on! If there’s anything specific you’d like me to write about, leave a comment and I’ll see what I can do. Don’t be asking about my sex life, though, or I’ll have to tell you all the story about how incredibly flexible I’ve become, and how I smacked Fred in the side of his head with my foot the other day because he was being rude during an intimate moment. And no one wants to hear about THAT. * * * Spanky poses. “How YOU doin’?” More Spanky posing. All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: By this time the investigator’s eyes had glazed over, and he was clearly thinking “This has WHAT to do with reliability?” 2004: When I was on the pier, the bream darted forward to partake of my delicious thighs, and I stomped across the pier as fast as I could, saying “STOP IT, YOU FUCKERS!” and I stomped up the steps to the top part of the pier, and waited for Fred to take his face out of the water. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: But. It. Was. Too. Far. From. Huntsville. 2000: Oh look, it’s Robyn, bitching. How unusual.]]>

* * * Pet store kitty pics from last week and this week are up here. There were tons of kittens – it was fun as hell to have all those little kittens running around like their butts were afire.

* * * New things around the house, a pictorial. I bought a ton of shoes last week, because my mother is a BAD INFLUENCE. I love these shoes – they look like they’re black in this picture, but they’re actually dark brown. Slip-on Skechers. Very comfy, and I think they’re cute. Yes, I got the same shoes in two different colors. Hey, they were buy one, get one half off, and these were less than $20 to start with! And they’re extremely comfortable. Fred and I went to the flea market on Sunday, and I saw these lighters (perfect for lighting candles!). They were only a buck apiece, so I bought four of them. More shoes – these are Clarks. I love, love, love the color. I don’t remember the name of this plant, but I saw it at Wal-Mart and had to buy it. As well as a cute pot to put it in. $30 Reebok Classics. The best shoes I’ve found to walk in. Who needs $100+ sneakers? Not me! These lilies kept waving at me every day when I walked by them, so I stopped and picked ’em. No, not out of someone’s yard – they were in a patch of weeds near a walkway. My parents bought us a swing for the back yard! They put it in the yard, but we moved it to the patio, because the chiggers are bad this year, and neither of us wanted to walk around with annoying chigger bites all over our legs. It’s a great swing; I just wish we didn’t get sun directly on the back yard in the evening, because it would be a great place to sit and read. When we were shopping at TJ Maxx, I saw this blue faux-Matelasse coverlet, and I HAD TO HAVE IT. Because the quilt I’d bought at Kohl’s the week before wasn’t really keeping me warm enough at night, so I thought I might pair the quilt with the coverlet, and perhaps that would work better than the quilt and the comforter. And I was right, and every time I look at the coverlet (FYI, the bed is usually more neatly made than this) I get a happy feeling. I’m just concerned, since it’s so light, that the cats will funk it up with their dirty paws, because I just CANNOT have ANYTHING nice. Fuckers. (That little quilt on the end of the bed is for the cats. My mother made it for them, actually, and it’s Tommy’s place to sleep at night.) * * * Tommy and his weird sleep positions… “Bwahaha! It’s good to be the Sugs!” “Nyeh.” Today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2005: She’s a bad influence, that one. 2004: I have faith in you! 2003: Things that sucked. 2002: Here’s the thing. If you get yourself involved with a man you know full well is married, a man who doesn’t file for divorce until 6 months after he’s met and started dating you, then you don’t get to play the victim. 2001: My very first House Anxiety dream! 2000: Ah, world traveler, me.]]>

OneFatBitchypoo. You’re welcome.

* * * So I’m chiming in late on this whole Paul McCartney/ Heather Mills thing, and I don’t have a lot to say about it, except that I was pissed when he got married to a much younger woman after he and Linda had their GREAT LOVE STORY and spent only like 11 days apart during their entire marriage, then two years later he’s getting married again. HOW ABOUT SOME MOURNING, PAUL? (Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I read it, too – people who were very happily married and lost a spouse tend to remarry much more quickly than someone in an unhappy marriage. I don’t CARE. Mourn a little, you fucker!) Also, the refusal to sign a prenup is one of the big all-time boneheaded moves in Paul McCartney history, I think. Yeah, I believe in everlasting love and all that, but to be worth that much money and not sign a prenup? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Hell, I signed a prenup – in fact, it was my idea, to shut up a relative of Fred’s, who insisted that I was marrying Fred for his money (let’s forget all about the fact that I’m the ONLY one who encouraged him to leave the job he had and start a company where he’s making three times as much, shall we? Bitter? Me? NAH.), and neither of us had much at all. Next time (oh, you KNOW there’ll be a next time), maybe Paul will give the idea of a prenup a second thought. Probably not, though. * * * I taped the Dateline NBC special with Mary Kay Letourneau and Vili Fualaau Friday night, and watched it Saturday afternoon. I swear to god, those two just give me the screaming creepies. If she doesn’t have herself a pair of crazy, twirling eyes, I don’t know who does. She just really strikes me as someone who isn’t all there. I mean, honestly – how “all there” can you be, to have a sexual relationship with a thirteen year-old when you’re thirty-four? And her soft little voice, and the way she always defers to him when they talk gives me the creeps, too. And he, he’s got the eyes of a serial killer. Gah. * * * I was walking outside one day last week, when I passed a car parked on the street. It was a purple Firebird, and I glanced at the license plate, and saw that, appropriately enough, the tags were personalized. Heh! * * * Meme, stolen from Whitters. I AM: Wondering if I need to get a pillow to sit on. My ass appears to be shrinking and there are… bones under there? Can that be right? I SAID: “She’s stronger than she knows. I wish she knew it.” I WANT: To be floating in the ocean with a froufy drink in one hand. I WISH: I could fly. Literally. That would be so badass. I HATE: The heat. Well. The heat above 95, in direct sunlight, to be exact. I MISS: The ocean. I FEAR: Things flying at my face. I HEAR: The dishwasher, and Sugarbutt snoring. I WONDER: What I want to be when I grow up. I REGRET: Less than you would imagine. I AM NOT: having a good week. The PMS monster has reared her ugly head and I want to eat everything in sight. I DANCE: Never. Trust me – the world is better off without my Elaine Benes gyrations. I SING: Horribly, but with heart, depending on the song. I AM NOT ALWAYS: Gung-ho. I MADE: Something for Nance for her birthday, which I still haven’t sent out. I’ll take a picture of it and post it once she’s gotten it. It cracks me the hell up. (I’ll mail your box o’ birthday stuff out in the next few days, Nance!) I WRITE: When the spirit moves me. I CONFUSE: Gavin de Becker and Gavin DeGraw. Also, the Bills – Pullman and Paxton. Not to mention Julia Stiles and Erika Christensen. I NEED: To find a drink I love as much as I loved Diet Coke. Nothing I’ve tried has come close. I SHOULD: Get up and put medicine on the rash on my arm. I START: Early in the morning. Once the cats wake me up around 6:15ish with their howler monkey ways, I can’t get back to sleep, as much as I try. I FINISH: Early at night. In bed by 10 most nights. I swear to god, I used to be a night owl. I BELIEVE: We are all stronger than we know. I KNOW: I’m not going to want to get up and walk tomorrow. I also know that I will. I CAN: Wiggle my ears, roll my tongue, and raise my left eyebrow. Also, I’m told I do a pretty good Cartman voice. I CAN’T: Sing worth a damn, but that never stops me. I SEE: Sugarbutt to the left of me, Poo to the right, and Tommy Tubs’ hot little body draped across my arms. I BLOG: I don’t blog. I journal. I READ: Less than I used to before the surgery. I used to do the majority of my reading between 9:45 and midnight every night, but now by the time 9:45 rolls around, I’m ready to go to sleep and so there’s that much less reading. I AM AROUSED BY: A sense of humor, someone who’s willing to smile and gets my jokes, and muscle-y arms and shoulders. IT PISSES ME OFF: When someone objects to an interracial couple by claiming that they’re only concerned about “the kids.” My fucking ass you’re concerned about the kids. I FIND: Change on the ground at least twice a week. And I always pick it up, whether it’s face-up or not. I LIKE: My life. I LOVE: My husband, my daughter, my family, my cats. * * * I fail to see how this could be comfortable, but he stayed like this for a good, long time. * * * Previously 2005: Dumbass things I have done today. 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: Ass in the Past will be the name of my 14th novel. 2000: Ah, the heart warms.]]>

new logo! This one was done by the lovely and talented Sarah. Thanks, Sarah! I’m out of logos; this was the last one I had in the queue. Anyone wants to design a new logo for me in the months ahead (I’d love summer-themed logos for the next couple of months), have at it!

* * * I still have not begun to slog through my email. Tonight or tomorrow, I promise! * * * Okay, before I forget – like Nance, I too have a MySpace page, and if you want to friend me, I’ll friend you back. There’s nothing there, and I don’t intend to ever start blogging over there, just so you know, but I suppose things could change in the future. And while I’m thinking of it, I’m RobynAnderson on LiveJournal and robynanderson on Flickr. I am so kewl. * * * So, my parents are gone. I realized, long about Thursday afternoon, that if I’d been thinking straight, my father and I could have done some hardwooding in the house last week, instead of just hanging out, watching TV, and reading. He hardwooded the floor in my parents’ basement (I haven’t seen it yet, but I hear it looks AWESOME). Also, we could have replaced the hideously tacky gold and silver fixtures in the bathroom that drive me absolutely crazy and which I hate SO SO SO much. I told my mother they should come back in the fall just for such a reason, and she laughed. But I wasn’t kidding! (Fred says, at the thought of hardwooding the computer room floor and the “study”/ cat room upstairs, that we’re selling the house in a year. I say, that’s a year of being driven crazy by the nastydirty carpet and uglyuglyugly gold & silver bathroom fixtures.) (Also, if you have any suggestions on how to clean the fucking water spots off uglyuglyugly bathroom faucets, have at it in the comments) Anyways, bits and pieces about their visit: * My father put the dishes in the dishwasher away almost every morning. Which makes me want to fly them down here every so often, because I HATE putting the dishes in the dishwasher away. * One night – I think it was Memorial Day evening, actually – my sister called while my parents and Fred and I were watching Batman Begins. Since I’ve seen it before, I was happy to go outside and talk on the phone to Debbie while they watched the movie. I think we were on the phone for about 45 minutes, and I ended up in the back yard, talking to her, watching fireflies, when the people in the next subdivision over started setting off fireworks, and it was like they were putting on a show just for me. Quite lovely, really. * Fred is, as I might have mentioned, a bit of a coffee snob. He likes to buy the flavored coffee from Coffee & Co in Gatlinburg. He was more than willing to share his froufy coffee with my parents, but they didn’t want to use up all his coffee (despite his reassurances that he had a ton in the freezer), and went out and bought a container of Folger’s. I think Fred wants to throw away the coffee maker, since it’s been contaminated by cheap, generic coffee. * A note to the wise: Do not, if you’re going to be more than 5 minutes away from home, wear brand-new underwear shopping. Because it might not be all that comfortable, and if you’re spending the whole day shopping, you can’t really say “My underwear keeps climbing up my ass. We need to go home.”, and you will be miserable. * We were on our way home from the movies Friday afternoon (The Break-Up, which I really liked. My mother liked the great chemistry Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn have, but personally I think the chemistry between Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau was the chemistry worth remarking upon (and I don’t mean that in a gay way, though I’ll say that Vince Vaughn strongly strikes me as gay. Jon Favreau, however, does not. I don’t have the strongest gaydar in the world, though.) * We were watching Transamerica, and Sugarbutt and Tommy started grooming each other in the middle of the living room. My father made a crack about them paying too much attention to the movie, and Fred said “You should have seen them when we watched Brokeback Mountain!” Which my father enjoyed so much he almost fell on the floor. * We watched several episodes of Scrubs, season 3, while my parents were here; they appeared to enjoy it. * * * The gray squirrel sits on the fence. Eyeballs Tommy. Eyeballs the food on the ground. Comes to a decision. Food is important, and the squirrel is pretty sure he’s faster than Tommy Tubs. The food – so close, yet so far. The squirrel is unconcerned with how close Tommy is. Annnnnd… the food has been reached! (The picture I didn’t get: Tommy running after the squirrel, getting too close to the fence, and getting zapped. The squirrel ran across the fence to the tree and laughed his little squirrel butt off at Tommy.) Good thing I keep that bird bath (relatively) clean. Tons more cat pictures, here. * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: Fred always says “You blame EVERYTHING on the fact that you’re about to have your period, having your period, or just HAD your period!” Well, duh. 2002: 26 things you may not know about me. 2001: No entry. 2000: Why, oh why, does writing snotty letters amuse me so?]]>

Queensryche when she was a kid (and very well may still be a big fan). I wish like hell I’d brought the camcorder with me. Of the surviving kids from my father’s family, the one who was pushing the hardest for the family reunion – and his son – ended up not showing up at all. Which pissed off his siblings, and there was much shit talk at the reunion. Maybe he’ll make the next one. There do exist, of course, many pictures from the reunion, but y’all know I can’t show them to you, since they involve other people, and all that. I’m sure you understand.

* * * So, my parents got back from Tuscaloosa early Sunday afternoon, and we basically hung around the house, reading (my father), napping (my mother), and making dinner (me). We sat down to watch TV at the usual time, and since we didn’t have anything to watch, we watched the Desperate Housewives season finale, which I’d Tivo’d the week before. My mother and I are both fans, and so my father and Fred had to suffer through it (though Fred admitted later that he kept getting caught up in the show and it wasn’t a bad show. Well, DUH). Monday, Fred took my father hiking. I think they were gone about FOUR HOURS, and we later found out that my father had slipped and fallen on the hike, and twisted his leg a bit. I yelled at Fred for that, since I’d given him strict instructions to not KILL MY FATHER, but Tuesday morning my father woke up with no pain in his leg, so I guess it’s all good. For most of Monday my mother and I hung around the house, and finally I got bored enough to ask her if she wanted to run over to Kohl’s with me. I needed to buy a blanket for my bed (I’ve come to the conclusion that I’d rather wake up warm in the middle of the night than freezing fucking cold, curled up in a fetal position, shivering and begging through blue lips for death so that the flames of Hell will warm me up. Plus, if you’re too warm in a 30-below-zero house, you can just kick off one of the blankets.) and new towels for the bathroom. She, of course, is always willing to go shopping, and so we went to Kohl’s, where I found a cheap “hand-stitched” quilt for the bed and towels I liked. Tuesday, I got up a little before 7, went for my walk, came home, showered, and did some laundry. A little after 10:00, we left the house, headed for Scottsboro and the Unclaimed Baggage Center. I don’t think I mentioned that my father bought himself a $500 GPS, specifically for this trip. Which is all well and good – it’s great to always know where you are, and how many chain restaurants are within a two-mile radius – except that he ARGUES with the fucking thing. And it’s VERY BOSSY, with the “Left turn coming up” and “In 500 yards, turn left” and “Turn left here” and then, if you don’t turn, “TURN LEFT HERE OR I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL.” So we got to Scottsboro, and the annoying, bossy GPS lady was suspiciously silent, and my father said “Now, where the hell is this place?” and I said “I don’t know, I’ve never been there. I THOUGHT YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAS GOING TO TELL US HOW TO GET THERE”, and then the bossy bitch was all “Oh, right. Turn left in 500 yards. HA! You need me! Don’t forget that, fuckers!” So anyway, we got to the Unclaimed Baggage Center, where we spent an hour and a half looking around. I, personally, ended up buying a $20 digital camera (new in the box! And it sells for $50 on eBay! Perfect for my purse!), a bunch of books, and… well, I think that’s about it. My mother bought herself a blouse for $4, and the spud a couple of skirts for $6 and $8, or something like that. By the time we left that place it was after 1:00, and my father started naming off the places to eat in the area, ’cause apparently we were going out to eat for lunch. Which I figured we would, but eating out still makes me nervous, ’cause I have a hard time counting protein and calories in that kind of situation. When he named off Ruby Tuesday, I suggested we go there, since I knew they had a low-carb menu. I ended up with a small steak and a ton of broccoli, and it was surprisingly good. And it didn’t make me gassy! Yay! We got home around 3:00, and I told the spud that I was going to run some errands (post office, framing store, Wal-Mart, produce stand), and my mother heard “Wal-Mart” and got all bright-eyed, because she is ADDICTED to those sugar-filled Weight Watchers snack cakes (don’t get all up in arms, Weight Watchers lovers, because it’s true – the first ingredient on the ingredient list is sugar, which means there’s more sugar than anything else in those cakes), and she knows where to find them in Wal-Mart. So we ran the errands, which somehow ended up taking two hours, and we got home in time for me to slice up some tomatoes, warm up some grilled chicken, and serve dinner. And last night we watched Transamerica, which Fred whined and moaned and bitched about, but that’s just too damn bad, ’cause I don’t think I should have to watch Dick movies every fucking night of my life, personally. Also, there were many penii to be seen, which always the sign of a good movie. Today, we’re doing some heavy-duty shopping. We’re hitting the mall, among other places, and I’m finally going to use the Yankee Candles gift card the spud gave me, and get some new bras (since the old ones are already too big, and I only got them like a month ago), and perhaps I’ll find some sandals I can wear this summer. A gal can hope. * * * I need advice on an easy-to-use 35mm, decent quality camera that I can get for the spud. I bought her one at Wal-Mart yesterday, but it’s a piece of crap. Flash, focus, and auto-advance are mandatory. A link would be good, too. I’d like to spend no more than around $50 for it, but nothing too cheap – the one I got at the Mart yesterday was $17 and, like I said, a piece o’ crap. I know y’all have advice; hand it over! * * * I have a metric shitload of email I haven’t even begun to slog through. If you’ve emailed me in the last week and a half and I haven’t answered, fear not. I’ll get to it when my parents leave – I promise! * * * Could that squirrel look any less concerned about how close Mister Boogers is? More kitty pics, here. * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: It was like being in a flying SUV. 2003: No entry. 2002: It was a stank that coated the inside of my nostrils, and was so thick and noxious that I could actually TASTE it. 2001: A buncha links. 2000: Something about that rictus grin just gives me nightmares.]]>

mah baby!!!!

* * * Wednesday morning, Fred sent me an email, suggesting that we go for a hike up on Monte Sano. I responded with a “HELL NO” and a bitch about how hot and humid it was outside. He p’shawed the idea that 85 degrees and 10,000% humidity was too hot and humid, pointed out that it was cooler in the woods, and just to SHUT HIM THE HELL UP I agreed to go. God help me. He called when he was leaving work, and I ran upstairs and put my Coolmax shorts and shirt on, then came downstairs to put band-aids on the backs of my feet (I have two huge, nasty, raw-looking blisters on the backs of my heels, due to new sneakers that caused me no problems the first time I wore them, then blistered me up the second time. STUPID SHOES.). “Why are you walking funny?” Fred asked. “What?” I said – nay, snarled – at him. “You’re walking like Vito,” he said. Vito, for those of you not in the know, is the fat guy from The Sopranos who lost a lot of weight, but has quite a ways to go. He walks like a duck due to, I guess, hip issues. And my dear, beloved husband was comparing me to Vito. I get nothin’ but compliments. “I HAVE BLISTERS ON THE BACKS OF MY FEET AND MY HEEL HURTS BECAUSE OF THE PLANTAR FASCIITIS,” I said, telling him what I’d told him a thousand times before. “Oh, right.” I was in a pissy mood until we were about halfway to the mountain, and then I lightened up a little, listening to Fred tell me how this wasn’t a bad hike at all, and he knew I’d have no problems at all. He’s such a liar. The first part of the hike wasn’t bad, except for the fucking BUGS buzzing all around me in the woods. Bugs in the woods. Who the fuck would have thought? You’d think the guy who hikes ALL THE DAMN TIME would have expected the bugs and would have possibly brought along some bug spray, but nay. No bug spray, but plenty of bugs. Anyway, like I said, the first part of the hike wasn’t bad. It was downhill a ways, and it made me nervous due to the fact that if we were starting out going downhill, chances were pretty damn good we’d have to go uphill on the way back to the car. And then, all of a sudden, the trail started going uphill. And uphill. And uphill some more. And I had to stop and rest a THOUSAND times on the uphill part, because apparently walking on a fairly flat surface 5 days a week (even if it IS 4.16 miles) doesn’t prepare one for an uphill climb. Fred kept reassuring me that we didn’t have much further to go, but I decided pretty quickly that he was a great big liar, and I stopped believing him. And then finally, we got to the Stone Cuts (the Stone Cuts were formed when “the capstone got exposed and then split”, according to Fred). They were quite cool, and we spent quite some time looking around and trekking through the Stone Cuts and the covered Stone Cuts (pictures in a minute). Not long after, it was time to head back to the car, and we got about halfway back, when Fred offered me an alternative. I could accompany him on the rest of the hike – an all-uphill climb – back to the car, or I could take the “easy” route out to Bankhead Parkway, and he could climb back to the car, then drive down to Bankhead Parkway. From where we were standing, I could see the “easy” route, and it looked like a nice, flat, wide trail. So, being the wimp that I am, I opted for the easy trail. In a usual-for-me entry, I’d get just out of sight and sound of Fred, to find that the trail was six miles of uphill climbing. Luckily, that didn’t happen, and the trail stayed mostly wide and flat and easy the entire way out to the old Bankhead Parkway road, and I was a little ways down that when Fred came walking up to meet me, my bottle of water in his hand. Altogether, not a bad hike. But I suspect I’m never ever going to turn into one of those people who LIKES to hike. I might tolerate it just to spend time with Fred, doing what he likes to do, but I don’t imagine a future wherein I wake up and think “Hey! I’d really like to go for a hike!” Stranger things have happened, though, I suppose. The trail, before it got hard. Us, sitting at the top of the trail, next to the Stone Cuts. Note that I am drenched in sweat, and Fred’s not sweating at ALL. Trees growing between the Stone Cuts. Things growing out of rocks fascinates me, for some reason. It seemed to be about ten degrees cooler in here. This stuff is native honeysuckle. The stuff you usually think of as being honeysuckle, that grows all over the place, was actually brought over from… China? Japan? One of those. The sun shining through the trees. Any ideas what this flower is? Now, THAT is what I call a trail. This is also my kinda trail. (It’s not really a trail, it’s the old Bankhead Parkway.) You can see all of the uploaded hiking pictures here. * * * Y’all, I am going to say this clearly and in caps so you don’t get all freaky – MY PARENTS ARE GOING TO BE HERE ALL NEXT WEEK AND I DON’T KNOW IF I’LL BE UPDATING. I MIGHT, BUT ASSUME I WON’T. Okay? Y’all were sweet to worry, though. Mwah! * * * “Run and hide or snooze in the grass? Snooze in the grass or run and hide? I CANNOT DECIDE!” Talk about your evil eye. Talk about your look o’ love. “Who, me? No, I’m not drinking out of the bird bath. What are you talking about, crazy lady?” “You cannot see me… you doooo nooooot seeee meeeeeee….” (If you look closely, you’ll see water droplets on his chin.) All of today’s uploaded pictures (including a bunch of a dancing Tommy) are here. * * * Previously 2005: But by the time I was about three words in to the text message to the spud, I was using “u” and “2″ and “gd” with abandon, and it STILL took me 4-fckng-eva 2 get th gd msg typd n & snt. 2004: I started to answer her, when I realized to my horror that Fred was leaning forward, CUPPING HIS HAND TO HIS EAR to illustrate that he hadn’t heard what she said. 2003: “I breathe oxygen!” “Me too!” 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: Our first trip to G’burg.]]>

Nance!!!!

* * * We’re selling a few things on eBay, if you’re interested. Yes, the shipping on the puzzles is expensive. That’s ’cause the damn box weighs 17 pounds! * * * Currently reading: The Prize Winner of Defiance, Ohio, by Terry Ryan. Finished last night: The Hard Way, by Lee Child. Excellent book – I think I’m a little in love with Jack Reacher. How can you not be? Finished before that: Nursery Crimes, by Ayelet Waldman. I enjoyed it a great deal – it was a light, easy read, and it kept me entertained. I have the next one in the series, and I added the other four to my wish list (which is so damn big it’s the Wish List That Ate the Internet, but how is that possible, considering that my bookcase is jam-packed with books I have yet to read, I ask you?). * * * So, my parents left for Tuscaloosa yesterday morning. I did think about doing an entry, but I had errands to run, and I just generally needed a mental health day. I’m sure you understand. They’re coming back Sunday (I’m coming back with them after spending the night at my father’s sister’s house, after the family reunion on Saturday.)) My main concern was that my mother would want to eat out all the time and I really wanted to watch what I’m eating, since weigh in is… oh, look. It was today! (Another 11 pounds gone, for a total of 85. Entry about that, here.) Anyway, I made a point of telling them with plenty of advance warning what we were planning to have for dinner each night (Sunday night I made General Tsao’s chicken for everyone else and a cheese omelet for me since I can’t eat chicken (and Tuesday night when I made a comment about not being able to eat chicken, my father did a big, exaggerated double-take and frowned and said “You can’t eat CHICKEN?” Um, HELLEW, were you not listening when I yammered about not being able to eat chicken Sunday night, Fadder?), and then Tuesday night we had hamburgers, coleslaw, and three-bean salad). Monday, when I got back from my 4.16 (that’s right! Not just 4 miles, but also .16 miles! Fear me!) mile walk and was heading upstairs to take my shower, my mother said they thought they’d take me out to lunch, and did I think I could eat something at Applebee’s? I told her I could get something off the Weight Watcher’s menu, and we picked the spud up from school (she had half a day, due to finals), and we all went to Applebee’s. Where I ordered the Teriyaki Steak and Shrimp skewers, and it was all very good, but I swear, ten seconds after the steamed broccoli hit my stomach, I started having the scary, rumbly gas. Sunday morning, Fred took my father for a hike, and actually went so slowly that he (Fred) didn’t even break a sweat (taking it easy on the old man – isn’t he nice?), and Fred actually ended up going for another hike in the afternoon so he could do some sweating (though he told my father that he was working off the pizza he’d had for lunch). Monday evening, we loaded up the kayaks and headed for Decatur, stopping on the way at Subway to pick up dinner, and then we went to Point Mallard Park (which was pretty deserted, because the water park doesn’t actually open ’til this weekend), and we ate dinner at a picnic table, and my father and Fred went out kayaking while my mother, the spud, and I sat and talked. I think Fred and my father were out on the water for close to an hour, but my father didn’t look like he was ready to keel over or anything, so I guess Fred took it easy on him. We didn’t really go shopping during the three days they were here – actually, they went shopping on Tuesday, but I needed to be home when the spud got home, so I could give her a couple of signed checks for her trip to the dentist for her six-month cleaning. So they went shopping and I stayed home and cleared off the DVR a little. One thing I’ll say about my parents – they are open to ANYTHING. Want to go to the mall? Sure! Want to go out to eat? Sure! Movies? Sure! Underwear shopping? Sure! In fact, we have plans to hit the Unclaimed Baggage Center in Scottsboro next week, since I’ve never been there, Fred has no desire to see it, and I’d like to check it out. Also, we may or may not hit the movies once or twice, and I know we’ll be at the mall at least once next week. Also, they are really and truly charmed by our cats (or at least they pretend really well!) – especially Tommy, who wasn’t scared of them for one single second, and in fact sat in my mother’s lap a few times, and Miz Poo, who is scared of NO ONE who will give her belly rubs. The other cats responded with varying degrees of freakitude. Spot made an appearance, finally, for a few minutes Tuesday afternoon, only because we were eating hamburgers and he wanted some handouts. Spanky hid for a few days, then came out and acted like he’d never been scared. Mister Boogers avoided my parents for the most part, except for the time my father was sitting out back reading, and Mister Boogers came along and rubbed on him… until he realized it was my father and not Fred, and then he ran off like the dork he is. Sugarbutt was pretty freaked out by my parents, but by yesterday morning he would flop down on his back near my father, but run like the wind if my father tried to pet him. Goofy cats. Now we have a few days of breathing room before the family reunion on Saturday, which will take a little more than two hours to get to, and it’s supposed to be hot as hell in Tuscaloosa on Saturday (also, there might be scattered showers. LOVELY.). At some point in the afternoon, Fred and the spud will come home, and I’ll stay in Tuscaloosa with my parents at my aunt’s house, we’ll get up Sunday, have breakfast, and head back here. Them’s the plans, anyway. * * * Pet store kitty pics from Monday are here. * * * Something has displeased the Boog. Tommy waits fearfully for the day when the Sug of Damocles falls upon him. Something has spooked the Spot. I need a camera that will take better pictures of a black cat in a fairly well-lit room. Any suggestions? All uploaded pictures for today are hither. * * * Previously 2005: Grackles are kind of evil-looking and have great big beaks and I’m sure their bite is far, far worse than their bark. 2004: I sure am MIGHTY FUCKING TIRED of going to the FUCKING doctor’s office all the damn time. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry.]]>

Bitchypoo will go to jail for … Celebrating nude day ‘What sexual activity will you go to jail for?’ at QuizUniverse.com

Robyn will go to jail for … Making sweet love to a religious symbol ‘What sexual activity will you go to jail for?’ at QuizUniverse.com

* * * Meme, seen in multiple places. Accent: I have NO ACCENT. None, you hear me? Okay, I suppose I have a half-Maine, half-Southern accent. I should record myself reading something, and y’all could tell me what kind of accent I have. Booze: I have yet to find any kind of alcohol I can stand the taste of. Even those drinks that people are all “Oh, taste this! You TOTALLY can’t taste the alcohol in it!”, I can taste the alcohol. And I don’t like the taste. Chore I hate: The list would be shorter if it was “Chore I love.” Actually, that one would have to be blank. The chore I hate the most would either be cleaning out the litter box, or mopping the floors. Dog or cat: Cat. Duh. Essential electronics: BobPod, my computer, and the laptop (which I don’t use often, but it definitely comes in handy sometimes). Favourite cologne(s): Sand & Sable and Body by Victoria. I have more perfume than that, but those are the two I wear regularly. Gold or silver: I like both, but I think the majority of my jewelry (which I never wear) is gold. Hometown: Born in Bangor, Maine – raised (mostly) in Lisbon Falls, Maine. Insomnia: Almost never, THANK GOD. I really like my sleep. Job title: Professional Couch Potato. Kids: One 17 year-old daughter. Living arrangements: Big house, one husband, one child, six cats. My own bedroom! Most admirable trait: Fred says it’s my sense of humor. (Though his first answer was “Your husband.”) Number of sexual partners: I am uncomfortable with this question. Overnight hospital stays: Three – no, four. Once when I had my tonsils out, once when I had the tumor removed from my right knee, once when I gave birth via c-section, and once when I had weight loss surgery. Phobias: I’m not crazy about anything creepy-crawly, and I can’t stand watching operations on TV. Quote: “She is too fond of books, and it has addled her brain.” – Louisa May Alcott. Also, “How nice to do nothing then rest afterward.” (I don’t know who coined that one) Religion: A non-practicing Protestant. Siblings: Two older brudders, one younger sister. Time I wake up: Depends on the day – today I got up a little before 8:00. Unusual talent or skill: I can wiggle my ears, roll my tongue, and raise my left eyebrow. I also do a pretty good Cartman imitation, or so I’m told. Vegetable I refuse to eat: Peppers, of any color. Worst habit: Ignoring the fact that I have to pee until I’m about to wet my pants, and then I dance to the bathroom. X-rays: Too many to count. Also, I’m sure I couldn’t remember them all. Yummy foods I make: Shrimp with garlic and onions (spray a pan with Olive Oil Pam, add as much garlic and onions and you’d like (along with a couple of tablespoons of water, so they don’t stick to the pan), sautee until they’re softened, add raw shrimp to the pan, push around with a spatula until the shrimp are pink and ready to eat. YUMMY. Zodiac sign: Capricorn. Capricorns are supposedly Earth signs, but I think something got screwed up, ’cause I’m CLEARLY a water sign. * * * Tuesday Friday Three List three things you do that tend to irritate those around you: 1) Fart. I’m sorry, I CANNOT HELP IT, if you hold in a fart you can EXPLODE, also it hurts, and since I had the surgery, if I eat the wrong thing, I am a complete and utter fart machine. You’d think, given the amount of enjoyment Fred gets from his own farts, he’d think it was funny, right? SO WRONG. He takes it as a personal affront. 2) Jump to conclusions. 3) Get pissy and bitchy for no apparent reason. List three things those around you tend to do that irritates you: 1) Loud belches from out of nowhere, with no warning, SPUD I AM LOOKING AT YOU. 2) Fart. FRED I AM LOOKING AT YOU. 3) Springboard across my body 63 times in a row when I am trying to sleep. CATS I AM LOOKING AT YOU. If you could ask one question each to any three people, living or dead, who would the three people be and what question would you ask each one? Assume the answer would be 100% true. 1) My grandmother. “Were you happy?” 2) Tom Cruise. “Tell me the truth about what happened with Nicole.” I MUST KNOW. 3) Moira. “What the hell happened? You just disappeared.” * * * From my comments: Hey Robyn, I meant to ask before but keep forgetting…do you still watch American Idol, and if so, are you rooting for the Alabama boy, Taylor Hicks? I do, and I am. When I watch American Idol, it’s always on the DVR, and I only fast-forward to watch each of the songs. I really like Taylor – Fred and I liked him way back in the auditions – so I’m rooting for him, but I was really disappointed to see Chris go, because I liked him a lot, as well. I do like Katherine, though, because I think she’s just cute as a button (she has a little to learn when it comes to dressing herself, though, because I swear to GOD every shirt she wears makes her look pregnant, so she needs a little help in that area), but I don’t think she’s as good a singer as Taylor is. JUST MY OPINION, FOLKS. Robyn, I’m reading your archives from last year when you had all the little kittens (awwww!) I wondered if you had any experience and/or advice for something that our kittens are doing. They’re about 12 weeks old, and they’re perfectly well litter trained, but sometimes they play in the litter boxes, pouncing on the litter or digging frantically even though they don’t have to go. Any thoughts? I’m guessing it’s normal, but I have to admit that it stresses me out a bit. They sometimes just lounge in there, too. Weird! It’s totally normal. All of our foster kitties did that very same thing (Tommy LOVED to hang out in the litter box. I think he even fell asleep in it at one point), and they all grew out of it. I’m sure your babies will grow out of it, too. It stressed me out a little, too, because – well – it’s nas-TAY for little kittens to hang out where they poop and pee. I don’t know what the attraction is, but like I said, I’m sure they’ll grow out of it. * * * Fred and I went back to Brahan Spring Park in Huntsville yesterday because the weather was pretty nice – though a little windy – and he had a yen to do some more fishing. I sat in the car for a while, then he called me from his cell phone and told me I should come keep him company, so I did. While I sat with him – about ten or fifteen minutes – he caught three bream. They were small, so he threw them back, but it was nice to see him catching something. While he was fishing, a mother and her son (I assume – I guess she could have been an aunt or babysitter or nanny) came along. The kid was, I don’t know, maybe five or six years old. And as we stood there, Fred OBVIOUSLY fishing, the kid picked up rocks and started throwing them at the bobber attached to Fred’s hook. After the first rock, Fred and I gave each other A Look, and I glanced over at the mother/ aunt/ babysitter/ nanny, who was very carefully not looking in our direction at all. And then the little shit threw another rock. And another one. And another one. And Fred and I gave each other “Do you fucking believe this?” looks, and I so very much wanted to yell at the mother/ whatever “Are you FUCKING kidding me? This big lake, and your evil spawn has to throw rocks RIGHT HERE?”, but of course I didn’t, and Fred didn’t say anything to her, because of course if either of us had, we would have been the ones who looked like assholes. And we might have expected Mommy/ Whatever to tell the Little Prince “no” and, well, we can’t have THAT. People drive me fucking NUTS sometimes. * * * I’ve been trying to get the house ready for my parents’ arrival tomorrow. I spent – I shit you not – two hours tossing shit out of the dining room. I had no IDEA we had so much crap in there, and I ended up tossing about three garbage bags full of stuff. It looks better, but it doesn’t look TWO HOURS OF WORK better, I’ll tell you that. I’m planning to take it easy today – clean out the refrigerator, the microwave, under the kitchen sink, and possibly the pantry – and then tomorrow I need to scrub down the spud’s bathroom, replace her shower liner, and get the guest bedroom ready for my parents (ie: make the bed, toss the old, crappy, barfed-upon blankets that are on the bed, move the luggage out of the closet so they can use it, and clean up around the spud’s computer). I had thought that I wanted to use the steam cleaner on the carpet upstairs and in the computer room, but I’m just NOT that motivated. I don’t know what the situation will be like as far as entries next week. I’ll try to get at least short ones up most days, but I may not be able to. I’ll do my best, and as usual, the notify list will be the first to know! * * * Fight! FIGHT! Mister Boogers gets the upper paw. Is it just me, or does Sugarbutt look a little like a cow here? All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Previously 2005: We’re foster parents. 2004: Because WHY HAD IT NOT OCCURRED TO ME TO THROW MYSELF DOWN THE MOUNTAIN TO AVOID THE CONCERT??? 2003: The words “ass ugly” were invented to describe these shoes. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: She hasn’t claimed boredom since. ]]>