Author: Robyn

6/13/05

reading: Between Sisters, by Kristin Hannah. Finished over the weekend: Running With Scissors, by Augusten Burroughs. I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t overcome with hilarity and mirth like I’d expected to be. Maybe I just wasn’t in the right mood for it. Definitely worth reading, but don’t hurt yourself to get a copy.

* * *
So, after sitting in the cat room all fucking day long on Friday, that damn Mia didn’t poop at all. AT ALL. When 3:00 came and went, I said to Fred, “Fuck this” and we went out to a Mexican restaurant for dinner. When we came back there was still no poop, and I sat in the room for another ten minutes before I gave up, told Fred we’d just start her on the metronidazole, and I’d try again on Monday to get a sample, if she was still having diarrhea. She had diarrhea all weekend long (you weren’t eating, were you?), and what pisses me off the most about the diarrhea is that she uses the litter box, then she tromps through the pile of diarrhea, and then tracks it across the floor, shaking her shit-laden back legs the entire way. I’m surprised I haven’t had a stroke yet. Anyway, she had diarrhea all weekend long, so I resigned myself to hanging out in the cat room all day today in an attempt to get a sample, and I only had to wait about an hour. I got the sample (barf) and ran it to the vet. They said that they’d call if anything showed up, and if they didn’t call, there was nothing in the sample. They haven’t called yet, so I’m thinking there may have been nothing there. Or maybe there was something there, and the metronidazole killed it? Oh, I don’t fucking know. Fucking cats. After she’d tromped through her shit and tracked it all over the room – with me, right behind her, wiping it up as fast as I could – I had to leave the room because I was getting so fucking stressed out. I went into the bedroom, where Fred was reading, and I said “I love and adore those kittens, but I have NO USE for Mia. God, she’s a pain in the ass!” I do love those damn kittens, though. Except when Mia’s hunkered over pooping, and they try to STICK THEIR STUPID LITTLE HEADS DIRECTLY IN THE STREAM OF POO. Gives a whole new meaning to the term of endearment “Shithead”, doesn’t it?
* * *
I woke up this morning with a swollen left eyelid. It’s not as swollen now as it was when I first woke up, but it’s still painful to the touch. A little itchy from time to time, too. If it ain’t one thing, it’s a-fucking-nother.
* * *
Fred was gone all day Saturday, and I dug through the pile of crap (not literally, thankyou) on my desk to find the Netflix movies that had been sitting there for at least two weeks. I’d declared to him that I was going to spend all day watching movies, and I certainly did. First, I watched The Terminal – which did not suck as badly as people have been proclaiming. In fact, I have to say that I almost liked it. I don’t necessarily want to see it again, but I don’t resent the time spent watching it. Then, I watched Indecent Proposal, which I’ve seen before and wanted to see again. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t that good, either. I spent about half the movie reading a magazine and looking up to see what was going on from time to time. Lastly, I watched Fame. Just because. Shaddup. I had to play the part at the end where Montgomery Macneil sang his part of The Body Electric for Fred, because it cracks me up to no end that the same actor who played sensitive gay boy Montgomery also played hardass-with-a-deeply-buried-heart-of-gold Dr. Romano on ER. My only complaint about Fame is that there should have been more dancing. You know what would be cool? If they put Fame, the TV series, out on DVD. I’d be buying that so fast your head would spin. I loved that show like you wouldn’t believe. Then Sunday, Fred went out and picked up some movies. We watched about the first hour of The Life Aquatic with Steve Zisou before we turned it off because we were both falling asleep. Then we watched The Passion of the Jew – South Park always cracks us up – and Christian Rock Hard, which is on the same DVD. Last night, we watched Employee of the Month, which Fred had picked up on a whim. It was actually pretty good, though the twists at the end were a little annoying, because there were so many of them. Gotta love Steve Zahn. Tonight, we’ll probably watch last night’s episode of Entourage, and last week’s episode of House, with maybe a few episodes of Yes, Dear and/ or South Park tossed in there as well. Yes. Yes, Virginia, we ARE couch potatoes.
* * *
I took a Benadryl this morning before I left for the pet store, and so I wasn’t itchy at all while I was there, but it still made me a bit lightheaded, so perhaps next week I’ll cut the dose in half. When I got home, I went out into the back yard to fill the bird feeders – which have been empty for the last few weeks, because I’m a lazy-ass – and when I came back inside, I was itching like mad, mostly on my face. It’s mostly gone away, but for a while there it was driving me crazy. Clearly I’m allergic to something in the back yard, but I have no idea what it is. Perhaps the humidity? Because it is MIGHTY FUCKING HUMID out there. Humid? In the south? Go figure.
* * *
Over the weekend, I took Snoopy, Oy, and Peanut out of the cat room – not all at the same time – to “go visiting”. This consists of being held by me while they sniff our cats, then letting them crawl around on our bed. As of yet, Mister Boogers has not been impressed. He goes all dark-eyed and sniffs them thoroughly, but he makes me nervous when he gets dark-eyed like that, so I haven’t let him get too close. Miz Poo hissed at Peanut last night, and Peanut responded by hissing back at her. Neither of them was too impressed with the other. My current favorite kitten is Oy. I hope Oy is adopted by someone who appreciates what a sweet, feisty little guy he is. Mia and Flossie are quite interested in the laptop. Especially the mouse. Sleepy Snoopy. The expression on Oy’s face cracks me up. “How YOU doin’?” Oy stretches. The trick to getting a kitten to snuggle with you is to wait until he’s very, very sleepy, and then pick him up and snuggle him in your arms. “First they nurse all the damn time, then they fall asleep on me. Damn kittens.” ]]>

6/10/05

* * * Reason number 69,298,984 why I married that man: We were laying bed talking last night, and I said something of a sexual-innuendo nature, and waited for Fred to say something. There was a long, lengthy silence. I assumed he was looking for something smartass to say, and then I started to wonder if he’d fallen asleep. Finally, I turned to face him. “Are you there, Margaret?” I said. And with no hesitation whatsoever and a voice filled with wonder, he said “God?” That man sure can make me laugh.

* * *
Thirty minutes later, the goddamn cat still hasn’t shat. Every single other day of the week, she shits like every ten seconds. Today, she can’t be bothered. “Yeah, no, sorry. I don’t gotta go. Pardon me while I bite at the ears and belly of this feisty little shithead I birthed out of mine own body and who thinks he can kick my ass, mm’kay?” I love the little bastardly kitties, but they are ripping my legs to shreds. If she doesn’t poop AND SOON, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Send happy poopin’ thoughts this way, if you would.
* * *
I just got extremely excited by the fact that she went over to the litter box, but she only had to pee out that entire gallon of water she drank an hour ago. Psyche! Did you know that it’s correctly spelled “Psyche!” and not “Sike!”? No, I’m sorry, I don’t give a happy goddamn what Urban Dictionary says. It’s “psyche.” When you spell it “sike”, you make my eyes bleed.
* * *
1:00 pm and no shit. NO SHIT. I never thought I’d see the day when I was praying for shit. My butt hurts from sitting on the floor. I stretched out to take a nap but then Oy, who had been sleeping atop the condo with Edgar, came a-visitin’. And then Fred, who brought his car home at 10:30 so he could leave it in the driveway with the doors open in case there actually is a snake in there, so the snake could get out, called to see if it was raining here. It wasn’t, but about three minutes after he called the sky started looking nasty, so I scooped Oy up and took him downstairs and outside with me. He was very good, just sat on my shoulder and looked around. Miz Poo was sitting on the table when we came back inside, and I bent over so she and Oy could sniff each other. To my amazement, she did NOT hiss. What the hell is up with that? Perhaps it’s a sign that we need to keep Oy! (No, not really.)
* * *
I just ran downstairs to close the cat window (it started raining like hell) and uploaded a few kitten pictures so I can get this entry uploaded, and I hoped against hope that Mia had used the litterbox in the five minutes while I was gone, but NO HOPE, DAMNIT. Peanut’s trying to nurse and Mia keeps pushing him away. Heh. Poor Peanut! Don’t I wish I’d brought my camera back upstairs with me. Oh crap. Edgar just woke up peeping (which is what I call the little crying noise the kittens make, shaddup), and ran over to Mia, and then Flossie ran out of the carrier where she was sleeping, and Mia flopped over, and now Flossie, Edgar, and Peanut are wildly trying to nurse. Mia’s not happy, but she’s not fighting them off, either. Damn I wish I had my camera. Nobody but NOBODY uses the litterbox in Kitten Town without supervision. Sheriff Snoopy makes sure the law is enforced. They might be tiny little fangs, but they REALLY HURT when they’re being used on your fingers. Couldn’t you just squeeze him ’til his guts shot out his nose? Meester Fang strikes again. Mia checks the cleanliness of Oy’s butt. I think this is the cat version of your mother asking if you’re wearing clean underwear. Is it just me, or does he kinda look like a bat? I guess I’m going to go ahead and post this stupid entry. It’s 1:38 and Mia STILL HAS NOT POOPED, DAMNIT. Send happy poopin’ thoughts to North Alabama, if you would. I’ll see y’all on Monday.
* * *
Spot. He lurves the sun. ]]>

6/9/05

* * * Currently reading: Running with Scissors. I’ve heard good things about it. (And before you recommend Magical Thinking and Dry – I’ve already got them, I just haven’t read them yet. I read Sellevision a while back, and enjoyed it.) Finished last night: Sushi for Beginners. Am the only one who gets close to the end of the book and gets a little worried, thinking “There are only a few pages left; there’s NO WAY they’re going to wrap up all the storylines in that amount of space!”? Somehow they always do, and yet I still worry.

* * *
Favorite song of the moment: Blake Shelton’s remake of Conway Twitty’s Goodbye Time. I’m not a huge Blake Shelton fan – though he’s certainly nice to look at (and I don’t usually much care for men with long hair) – but his version of this song is a heartbreaker.
* * *
From my comments: Hey Robyn, I was just surfing and found this cool quiz. It reminded me of you instantly. Hey after all those meme’s, you need a quiz break! EVIL. Now everybody go take it. …I began wondering if you had been quarry swimming yet this season. Then I wondered how the fish got INTO the quarry. Were they brought there by the park rangers? Were there streams feeding into the quarry? Were carp a natural American species or had they been planted or dumped by bored pond owners? Nope, we haven’t been to the quarry yet. It was kind of cool out up until about this time last week, so I have a feeling the quarry water is still pretty cold right now. Perhaps we’ll start going in a few weeks. As for the fish got into the quarry, I have no idea. Good question! Do you like Dean Koontz books? He’s very popular, but I don’t like his style. Yeah, we read Dean Koontz and like him. Right now Fred’s reading his latest (which I gave him for his birthday) and apparently it’s slow going at the beginning of the book, but will hopefully pick up. As I was watching “Momma Love” (which was adorable), it occurred to me – if the kitties at the pet store make you itchy, does playing with the kittens do the same thing? No, for some reason the kittens don’t make me itchy. I’m not sure why the pet store cats make me itchy but the kittens don’t. Maybe because I’m always cleaning in there and there isn’t that much dander and cat hair flying around? Or maybe kittens don’t have as much hair and dander as grown cats? Either way, I’m sure glad I don’t itch the way I do at the pet store! Which reminds me, I have about three weeks worth of pet store kitty pics to put up! Robyn, OMG! Did you watch Dancing With the Stars? So campy and yet, surprisingly, pretty good. When did Joey McIntyre become a guy? A man? And he’s still pretty hot. No, we missed that! Actually, I don’t think I could have talked Fred into watching that, and I didn’t think to tape it. We did catch Hit Me Baby One More Time last week, though. Good lord, was THAT ever a waste of time. Talk about your cheesefest. I did set up to tape that every week, though, because we SERIOUSLY want to see Vanilla Ice. Heh. BTW — have you seen the new Star Wars movie? Plan to? Haven’t seen it, but I’m sure I will at some point. I still haven’t watched the last one yet – rumor has it, it sucked – but I don’t think I missed much, and since I rarely have any idea what’s going on in these movies, I probably won’t go out of my way to watch #2 before I see this one. I SO want to come over and play with the kittens. Do they do the sideways/straight up in the air PING at each other when they play? They do now! It’s funny, when we first got them, they could only walk, and slowly at that. Now, they bounce around the room like little rubber balls, chase each other, and pounce on toys. They crack me up in a big way. Robyn, I love your hair colour. Do you know what they used? I have no idea. Something she mixed in the back room, is about all I can tell you! Have YOU tried the new diet coke that has SPLENDA in it? It taste like… well I cant think of anything witty and fun but it tastes B A D and I am not a pepsi fan but oddly I am digging the cherry diet pepsi and diet pepsi with lime. and Hey Robyn! Since I know you’re a Diet Coke lovin’ fiend like myself, I thought I’d tell you about the new Diet Coke with splenda that has recently come out. (If I’m telling you something you already know, please forgive me…) It tastes like real coke, and I’m loving it!!! I know Target was carrying it around here (outside Philadelphia, PA) and now I’m seeing it in my local grocery stores. Just thought I’d share the info with ya in case you’re interested. and a question: Have you tried the Diet Coke with Lime? And if so, what did you think? I was skeptical, on account of the fact that the Diet Coke with Lemon (and the Diet Pepsi with Lemon) were hideous, but I absolutely have fallen in love with the Diet Coke. Fred finally found one single, solitary bottle of Diet Coke with Splenda at the grocery store a couple of weeks ago. He poured a cup and brought it upstairs WHERE I WAS SLEEPING and gave it to me to try. It was good, but my LORD the aftertaste was a killer. I know that the regular Diet Coke has an aftertaste, but I’ve gotten so used to it that I don’t taste it anymore. The Splenda aftertaste was pretty unpleasant, but I’m sure that if I gave it a try and drank only Diet Coke with Splenda, I’d get used to the aftertaste. I haven’t decided whether I’m going to switch or not. I’m pretty attached to my regular Diet Coke. As for the Diet Coke with lime, Fred bought a bottle of it last weekend – maybe the weekend before – and I gave it a try, but didn’t really care for it. I guess I’m just a plain ol’ Diet Coke person, and not a Diet Coke with Lemon or Lime person. Hey Robyn, ever try soy ice cream? I find it tastes just like regular ice cream, but is much healthier. I especially like So Good chocolate, yummy!! Nope, I never have. Only because I’m supposed to stay away from soy products due to my thyroid issues. You do make it sound good, though! Robyn, I also have the Sony DSC-V1. It’s my first digital camera and I do like it, but I don’t think I have the hang of it yet. Do you change the settings when you’re taking certain pictures, or do you just leave all that alone? What do you have your settings on? I find the shutter lag frustrating because I’m so used to an SLR, but I think that’s par for the course with any digital camera. And suggestions/tips are greatly appreciated! The only setting I change on a regular basis is to use the “tulip” setting when I’m taking up-close pictures, and to turn the flash on and off. The shutter lag drives me crazy, too, and I’ve missed out on many a good picture due to it. The waiting for the flash to be ready drives me crazy as well, and the only thing I’ve figured out about that is that if you set the image size smaller (I use the largest possible image size), the flash “recovers” faster. Hope that helps. 🙂 How old is the Boog now? What about your other kitties? Oh lord, let me think, here… Spanky is going to be nine years old this Fall (Fred got him for me the first Christmas I was here), which seems impossible, because I remember when he was a tiny kitten with diarrhea, tromping through his litter box, getting poop on his back feet, and squalling at the top of his lungs when I tried to clean him off. Spot’s a few years older, so he’s 10 or 11 – probably 11. Miz Poo, I got the day before Thanksgiving the first year I had this journal, so that makes her… five and a half, six this Fall. Mister Boogers is about two, maybe a little older. Everytime I read about Mr. Boogers I think of my dad’s friend’s secretary who would answer the phone and if her boss couldn’t come to the phone she would say with a very thick accent, “Meeher Gomez, he beesy.” So when I read Mr. Boogers was nowhere to be found I instantly thought, “Meeher Booogers, he beesy.” I have actually taken to saying this, if you can believe it. If I call for Mister Boogers and he doesn’t come, I look at Miz Poo (who’s always RIGHT THERE) and say “Meeher Booogers, he beesy.” She doesn’t quite appreciate the humor. How strange is it that I dont really know you, except that I read your journal every day..but I saw something in a catalog the other day that made me think of you. I thought I would share. (Link) I think this really belongs in your house. Maybe get one for every room. I bet the cats would have a great time. I completely agree – I think we need at least one, if not several! I don’t know where we’d put them, though. There’s not a single surface in this house where the cats can’t get to, the little bastards.
* * *
The kitten section. I swear to god, I scooped five pounds of stuff out of the litter boxes this morning. I switched from clay litter to scoopable litter last weekend, because the kittens have stopped eating the litter and I find scoopable easier to deal with. It’s harder to vacuum up with the hand-held vacuum, but I can deal with that. Mia has diarrhea, and we originally thought it might be from caring for the babies (ugh). It hasn’t gone away even though the babies are using the litter box exclusively now, so I’m giving her deworming medication in case that’s what the problem is. But for now, every friggin’ time Mia goes into the litter box, Snoopy is RIGHT THERE. Apparently Mia’s not allowed to use the litter box without his supervision. And then, when she’s done, half the time he climbs into the litter box, tromps through what she’s left there, and stumbles out of the damn litter box with poop-covered back feet. I do my best to wipe him down with a baby wipe, but he doesn’t much care for that. Which doesn’t stop me, but it’s surprising how quickly a bastardly little kitten can wriggle away if he wants to. Yesterday, he had poop on his ear. I don’t even want to know how that happened. Today’s movie is here. It’s a fairly short one, but I inadvertently scared a kitten when I moved my leg, and got the reaction on tape – keep an eye on the right side of the movie for the last half, and you should see it. New movie tomorrow. No one’s allowed to use the litter box without supervision. IT’S THE LAW OF KITTYTOWN. Fred was following Edgar around, and Edgar was skeered, and so he hissed. Mean Fred. You know? I just don’t know. Perhaps he was reenacting his birth. Snoopy atop the platform thingy. He is the KING of the PLATFORM. Poor long-suffering Mia. Fred was following Flossie around, and FLOSSIE got skeered, so she hissed, too. I wonder if there’s anything LESS threatening than a hissing kitten. Snoopy in da condo. Oy reaches for a toy.
* * *
Da Boog. Hee! ]]>

6/8/05

Be Cool yesterday – after trying to return movies to the wrong movie store; talk about feeling like a dumbass – and we watched it last night. It was a good movie, though it felt a tad too long. I’m happy, though – I got to make my “Twinkle, twinkle, baby! Twinkle, twinkle!” wav and have it set up so that whenever I get email, it plays. I’m sure I’ll get tired of it at some point, but right now it makes me giggle like the fool I am. That girl who played Linda Moon – Christina Milian – is just cute as a button. I was positive she had to be a singer I had heard of before, but her name isn’t familiar to me. She has an awesome set of pipes, though. The Rock was hilarious, and when Fred was looking through the extras he found that there was an entire video of The Rock singing You Ain’t Woman Enough to Take My Man. Lordy, it was AWFUL, but funny as hell.

* * *
Fred is currently in the process of being approved for a security clearance, because apparently those in charge of your tax dollars feel that after he’s been doing the same job for 13 years, it’s time that they do a background check. He met with the background investigator yesterday and called to tell me that the investigator told him that he’d need to meet with me to ask me some questions. Apparently they usually forgo meeting with the spouse and family of the person being investigated, since obviously there’s some bias there, but they have to have a certain number of “social contacts” when they do an investigation, and since Fred’s daily social contacts outside of work consist of me, me, and – oh yeah! – me, the investigator needed to talk to me. I was on my way home from Sam’s when the investigator called on my cell phone, and we made plans to meet at the house at 2. I was just finishing lunch at 1:45 when he arrived. We sat down at the table, and he asked me questions for fifteen minutes or so and I answered them. The first question? How we met, and how our relationship progressed from then to now. And I suddenly got extremely nervous and began to sweat AND THEN COULDN’T REMEMBER OUR ANNIVERSARY FOR AN ENTIRE MINUTE. I did this frantic mental dance where I was all “Did we get married in March? June? December? WHEN? WHEN?” At some point – I think the question was about how reliable Fred is – I yammered on and on about how we’d been watching White Noise Saturday night, and Michael Keaton’s wife (character’s wife, that is) went out with a friend and midnight came and went and he was mildly concerned, and Fred turned to me and said “We must be weird. If you were, like, TEN minutes late, I’d be worried.” and I said “I’d be worried if YOU were ten minutes late, too.” Because he’s so good about letting me know where he is and when he’ll be home, you see. And I finished up the story with “Because he’s always where he says he’ll be, and if he’s going to be late, he calls.” By this time the investigator’s eyes had glazed over, and he was clearly thinking “This has WHAT to do with reliability?” and he pretended to write down what I’d said, but clearly was writing something like No wonder he has no other social contacts. His wife cannot be let out into polite society because she is clueless about how to answer a simple question, and so he must spend all his time keeping an eye on her stupid ass. But all in all, it wasn’t too traumatic, and he was only here for about fifteen minutes. At the end of the interview (“He’s fleein’ the interview!”), we had a short discussion about whether our neighbors would be home – they have to speak to our neighbors on either side of us, you see, the ones with whom we’ve traded about ten words total in the 3 1/2 years we’ve lived here – and I pointed to one side of the house and said “She might be home, I’m not sure what her schedule is like”, and he said “What’s her name?”, and I had to say “I have no idea.” I should have added, “But their dog’s name is Bruiser!”
* * *
So as I mentioned up there somewhere, I went to Sam’s yesterday. And did you feel the earth shift on it’s axis? Because for the FIRST TIME EVER, I walked out of there having spent less than $100. I’m still a little dazed and shocked. Who knew that you could get a bunch of bottled water, a big-ass box of Splenda, and a pack of sponges for less than $100? WHAT A BARGAIN.
* * *
The kitten section. You know why we’re not going to keep any of the foster kittens? Because there is NO WAY ON EARTH I could pick just one or even just two of them. Every time I think I’ve got a favorite, another one does something that just steals my heart. Today, my favorite is Oy. He comes over to me, bites my hand until I roll him over onto his back, and then kicks his legs while I rub his belly. He loves to pretend he hates the belly rubs, but he keeps on coming back for them. The other kittens have fur that feels like cotton balls, but Oy’s is soft and silky. Also, Oy is one of the two kittens (Snoopy being the other one) that has purred when I held him. He doesn’t purr every time, and he doesn’t purr for long, but he does purr. And then I see Flossie’s worried little face, and I think “She is just unbearably cute. SHE’s my favorite.” And so on. Peanut, doing the cute-n-cuddly thing. These kittens just adore my feet. I have no idea what’s up with that. Flossie, being chewed upon by Edgar. Oy, taken by surprise. Sleepy little Snoopy. Three seconds after I snapped this picture, he struggled out of my arms and bounced across the room to sink his teeth into Flossie’s belly. Oy. Everything surprises him. Oy, playing with his very favorite toy. These plastic rings were probably the best investment I’ve ever made. “Awww, Momma, come down! We’ll be good! I won’t bite your tail again, I promise!” Today’s movie is here. I call it “Momma Love.” There’s a weird jump in the middle where I screwed something up, but it’s hardly noticeable. I’m such an ace filmmaker. New movie up tomorrow.
* * *
Is there anything happier than a Spanky in the sunshine? I think NOT. ]]>

6/7/05

* * * You know, I have wondered in the past who Deep Throat was, and I was pretty excited when the story broke last week. But I have to say that I always hoped that the truth would be… well, a little more exciting than it’s turning out to be. Yawnsville.

* * *
Meme, seen every-damn-where. 1. Are you happy today? I am. I love this crazy, tragic, sometimes almost magic, awful, beautiful life. 2. What is your occupation? Professional slacker. 3. What are you listening to right now? The traffic on the road behind our house, Miz Poo snoring, and the foster kittens racing around in the room over my head. You’d think they wouldn’t make much noise, since they’re so light, but they make a surprising amount of noise. 4. What was the last thing you ate? A tablespoon of Udo’s Choice Oil Blend. Before that, a small bowl of Cheerios. 5. Do you wish on stars? Rarely. I did when I was a kid. As I recall, I wanted to have the magic powers of Isis. Hasn’t happened yet, THAT I’M AWARE OF. 6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Bright yellow, of course. 7. How is the weather right now? It’s overcast and threatening to rain. I want my sunny days back! 8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Fred. 9. Do you like the person you stole this from? I don’t remember who I stole it from. Lynda, maybe? Yeah, I like Lynda. She’s a peach! 10. How old are you today? 37. I had to sit and stare into space for like fifteen seconds before I remembered. Gah. 11. Favorite drink? Diet Coke. Water. One or the other. 12. Favorite sport to watch? If I had to watch a sport, it’d be ice skating, but I don’t usually even bother to watch that. 13. Have you ever dyed your hair? Yeah, pretty regularly since I was in my mid-20s. If I were to let my hair grow out, I’d probably be more than half gray. I get my hair colored every six weeks. 14. Do you wear contacts? Yes. I want to get some colored contacts, though. I’d love to have blue eyes. 15. Pets? Bwah! Yeah, there are a FEW. Spot, Spanky, Miz Poo, Mister Boogers. Also, the fosterkitties. But they’re temporary. YES THEY ARE. God, I’m such a fucking dork for admitting this, but I had a dream that the shelter came and took the fosterkitties away because they were turning them over to another foster family so we wouldn’t get too attached (too late!), and I cried like a fucking baby. In the dream. Not in real life. I DID NOT WAKE UP TEARY-EYED. Shut up. 16. Favorite month? April or October. 17. Favorite food? Anything sugary. I’m surprised I don’t eat sugar straight, I’m such a sugar fiend. 18. What was the last movie you watched? We watched White Noise Saturday night. It was good, though a little bit stupid. We tried to watch Boogeyman after that, but it sucked so hard that we shut it off after 20 minutes. 19. Favorite day of the year? I don’t really have one. Maybe the day summer turns into Fall, and you walk outside and feel that crisp edge to the air. That always makes me feel nostalgic. 20. What do you do to vent anger? Swear extremely loudly. Fred’s never heard me do that. He thinks he has, but he hasn’t got a CLUE the volume I can reach when I’m really pissed off. 21. What was your favorite toy as a child? The only thing that comes to mind is a little Rudolph (the Red-Nosed Reindeer) toy that I had when I was very little. I loved that damn thing, but then one day we went shopping, and I left it somewhere and it was never seen again. ::sob!:: 22. Fall or spring? Both. 23. Hugs or kisses? Hugs. Definitely. 24. Cherry or Blueberry? Blueberry. I like the occasional cherry-flavored food, but I don’t like cherries themselves. I have no idea why. 25. Do you want your friends to email you back? I think so… why wouldn’t I? 26. When was the last time you cried? Watching the new LeAnn Rimes video, Probably Wouldn’t Be This Way. SHUT UP. I didn’t SOB or anything, I just got teary-eyed. SHUT UP, I say. 27. What is on the floor of your closet? Um. Carpet? Shoes? A hamper? Probably a cat or two. Mister Boogers likes to hang out in there. 28. Who is the friend you have had the longest nonstop? My sister, Debbie. We weren’t really friends when we were kids, but we are now! 29. What did you do last night? Watched TV. We watched Entourage (taped Sunday night), an episode of Yes, Dear (shaddup, we like it), and Hell’s Kitchen, which is an awesome show. I have to say, though, that when Gordon Ramsay says something nice it’s very disconcerting and disturbing. 30. Favorite smell? Cake. 31. What inspires you? Fuck this question. It’s too broad. 32. What are you afraid of? What I’m afraid of is so deep and wide and broad that I couldn’t possibly begin to create a list that encompasses them all. Fuck this question, too. 33. Plain, cheese or spicy hamburgers? Cheese. I like cheese on my hamburgers. Some freakish freaks do not, but I do. 34. Favorite car? I’m really liking the new Mustang, actually. And it comes in yellow! Maybe I should aim for that when it’s time for me to get a new car, eh? 35. Favorite dog breed? VINCE! 36. Number of keys on your key ring? Four. That surprises me, I thought I had more. The key to my car, the key to Fred’s, my PO Box key, and the house key. 37. Favorite time of the day? 6 pm. 38. Favorite musical artist, band or group? Del Amitri. 39. What kind of bagel do you usually get and what do you put on it? Usually blueberry, and I almost always have peanut butter on it. 40. Do you now or have you ever had braces? I had braces when I was in second or third grade. They tightened them up the DAY before Thanksgiving. Needless to say, I wasn’t eating much turkey that year. 41. What is your middle name? Leslie.
* * *
The kitty section. When will these little monsters let me snuggle them? WHEN? All they want is to play, to jump on and bite each other, to have me rub their bellies while they kick and bite at me. They love to attack my feet and bite my toes (my own fault for not wearing socks, I guess), but snuggling? No. Not unless I happen to go in when they’ve just woken up, and then they’ll drape themselves over my legs and let me pet them, and Snoopy will even let me pick him up and kiss him, but that’s only for a short amount of time. Hmph. I made an excellent purchase at Target yesterday. They had the Shark Cordless Mini Hand Sweeper on clearance for $12.37. Mia has been kicking some serious litter all over the room, which necessitates boxing Mia and the babies up and taking them out of the room so that I can vacuum in there almost every other day. I wanted something I could use with them actually in the room that wouldn’t be as loud as the Dyson. I bought the Shark yesterday thinking that I could give it a try and if it was a piece of shit I’d just return it. It’s a pretty good little vacuum – I mean, it’s not powerful by any means, but it’s pretty quiet (though the babies don’t much care for it, but it also doesn’t scare them) and it picks up litter very well. Two thumbs up to the Shark! Today’s movie is here. I call it “Smackdown.” The kittens were not terribly impressed by the camera, and Flossie and Edgar needed to show it who the boss was. There’s about five seconds of dead air after Edgar goes between the bag of litter and the bucket of litter. I didn’t realize that was there until after I’d created the movie, and I’m not knowledgeable enough to go back and edit it out. One of these days I’ll get out the book and really figure out how to use this software, I swear it. Anyway, enjoy. It’s a big one, so right-click and save it to your hard drive, if you would. There’ll be a new movie up tomorrow. Oh, and if I recall correctly, my feet make an appearance in this movie. I am AWARE that I have horribly ugly feet and desperately need a pedicure. I DON’T NEED TO HEAR IT, THANKS. Peanut regards his paw. Snoopy, trying again to get that damn toy Fred likes to hold just out of reach. Mia gets high off the catnip-filled mouse. The Snoopsta. Edgar pops up to see what’s going on. Snoopy’s about to bite Peanut’s foot. In case you were wondering what was going on. Edgar looks a little crazy, here. I think he’s about to go into belly-rub overload. When the kittens get to be too much, Mia escapes where they can’t get to her.
* * *
The boys would like to hang out in the sun in the guest bedroom LIKE THEY USED TO, but that room has now been taken over by little yummy-smelling kittens. Mister Boogers would like to get his paws on a baby kitten, but he’s been stymied. Perhaps one day… ]]>

6/6/05

logo. Well, not so much “new”, because I’ve used it before – in January – but it’s such a summery-looking banner that I wanted to use it again. Thanks again to talented reader Beth for creating it!

* * *
Apparently today is going to be a day of dumbassery for me. Dumbass things I have done today: * At 7:15 AM, in my car (which was located directly outside the bedroom window of the next door neighbor), I decided to wipe down my dusty dashboard, and when I reached for the farthest part of the dashboard, my boobs took it upon themselves to honk the horn. Really loudly. You better believe I threw that damn car into reverse and got the hell out of there. * Stepped on the tail of a most adorable kitten at the pet store. Talk about feeling like an asshole. * Smacked my head really, really hard on the corner of a cage at the pet store. That’s gonna leave a bruise. * Put Mister Boogers’ collar on him and opened the back door so the cats could go outside. Then opened the cat door. When I left the house to go to the pet store, I closed the back door, because I don’t like leaving the house with the door open. When I got home, I realized that although I’d opened the cat door, I hadn’t opened the window behind the cat door, which means that none of the cats who were outside could come inside. And further, the boy Fred called to mow and edge the lawn (for $23, and SO worth it) had arrived while I was gone, and while he was working on the lawn, left the gates open. Miz Poo was sitting frantically at the back door, eyes dark, and when she saw me she howled her fool head off. I ran to the cat door to open the window, and when I got back to the back door, Miz Poo had given up on me and was running wildly toward the shed. When I opened the door, she turned around and ran at me, howling all the while. A second later, Spanky came out from under the shed and hauled ass for the front door. I called for Mister Boogers, worried that he’d been so scared by the kid mowing the lawn that he’d jumped the fence, zap or no zap. Mister Boogers did not appear, and I put my shoes on to go check the other side of the shed, when he popped out from under the shed and ran as fast as his little legs could carry him. Poor terrorized kitties. Perhaps I need to just go the hell back to bed and call it a day before I trip over my own feet and crack my skull open on the floor and slowly bleed to death while the cats slurp up my blood, purring all the while.
* * *
Currently reading: Sushi for Beginners. Finished while Liz was here: The rest of the Margaret Maron Sigrid Harald books (I liked them – some of them more than others – but I have to say that I much prefer the Deborah Knott series), and Persepolis (good book, quick read – but I was surprised to find that it was a graphic autobiography. When I opened the book and found narrated drawings instead of text I rolled my eyes and thought “Oh, THIS is gonna suck…” but it was really well done).
* * *
So yes, Liz has come and gone. We had a good time while she was here, though she didn’t feel well a few nights. One night she went to bed at 8:00 and I didn’t see her again until noon the next day. I was just starting to wonder if she’d died in her sleep when she rolled out of bed. Tuesday, we drove to Nashville, attended the Grand Ole Opry, and spent the night. Quit rolling your eyes, goddamnit. It was a DAMN good show, and I hope to go back again. We also chose a pretty good hotel – the Radisson Opryland – and I highly recommend it. First, I’ll show you the pictures from the Grand Ole Opry, and then I’ll tell you a story that illustrates just what idiots Liz and I can be when we get together. Porter Wagoner. As Liz kept saying, “He’s old-school country!” Connie Smith. I had no idea who she was, and still don’t. She was a hoot and sang a bunch of songs I didn’t know. Shelly Fairchild wasn’t even listed in the program, so we weren’t expecting her. She totally kicked ass, though, and I’m thinking about buying her CD. When I saw Mel McDaniels’ name on the program, I said “Who the hell is that?”, but when he came out and started singing, I knew every single song he sang. Louisiana Saturday Night, Help Me Make it Through the Night, and – of course! – Baby’s Got Her Bluejeans On. He absolutely kicked ass. He rocked the house! Sherrie Austin is australian, did you know that? I had no idea. She’s also tiny, tiny, tiny. I had hoped she’d sing Jolene – which she recorded a few years back, and which I have on my very own computer – but she didn’t. She opted to sing Son of a Preacher Man instead, and I can’t complain. She kicked ASS. This cameraman spent the whole show wandering around the stage, and he was very distracting. Ignore the blurriness of this picture and note the fact that Darryl Worley is very clearly looking DIRECTLY AT ME, and he’s giving me A Look, the meaning of which escapes me. Perhaps the message he’s sending is “Are you going to stop taking blurry pictures and just enjoy the show, or what? Bitch?” Anyway, Darryl Worley – wait for it – ROCKED THE HOUSE. He sang the two songs he’s got out right now, Awful, Beautiful Life (love that song!), If Something Should Happen, and also Whistle Dixie, which is on his current album. If you ever happen to be in the Nashville area, I suggest you give the Grand Ole Opry a try. Sure, the average age of the attendees was about 73, but it was a truly awesome show. There are more Grand Ole Opry pictures here.
* * *
So, Liz and I got to our hotel around 4, checked in, and settled in to watch TV for a little while. The hotel provides a shuttle to the Grand Ole Opry show, which would pick us up around 6, so we had plenty of time to relax before we had to get ready to go. We headed down to the lobby a few minutes before 6, but before we went I noticed that we were extremely low on toilet paper, and had no replacement roll. “We need to call Housekeeping when we get back, and ask for more toilet paper,” I said to Liz. After the show, we had dinner at Applebee’s (I had my very first – and last – Cosmo ever. It tasted like cough syrup to me. I think perhaps I need to just accept the fact that I’m not a drinker, I don’t like the taste of any alcohol at ALL, and move on with my life.) and then walked back to our room. Naturally, as soon as we got back to the room, I had to pee, and used up the last of the toilet paper. “Hey, call down to Housekeeping and ask them for more toilet paper, will you?” I yelled to Liz. She did, and they said they’d send someone right up. We spent the next ten minutes giggling about how she should have said “We just had a big meal. We need that toilet paper STAT!” Housekeeping finally delivered our toilet paper, and I went into the bathroom and put it on the – what the fuck is that thing called? The roller thingy that you put the toilet paper roll on? Anyway, as I was setting up the toilet paper, I glanced into the toilet and saw a tissue sitting there. Since I can’t stand to have anything in the toilet, I hit the lever to flush. Only instead of flushing, the toilet water rose and rose and rose to the top of the toilet bowl, and then just kind of sat there, little pieces of tissue swirling around in the water. “Oh, Liz,” I said. “What did you DO?” “What?” she said immediately. “I didn’t do anything!” “The toilet’s plugged up! It was fine when I was in here earlier, and you’re the only one who’s used it since!” So I made her call housekeeping again and tell them that the toilet was clogged up. They sent someone up to fix it – I guess he snaked out the toilet, I was hiding in the corner with my face in a book so I wouldn’t have to see what was going on – and while he was in there fixing it, Liz hissed to me “At least there’s no poop in there!” Amen to that.
* * *
The section with the kittens. I forgot to mention this in my entry last week, but if you click on the “movie of the week” link over there in the sidebar under the “other” heading, there’s a short movie of the kittens playing. In addition, I’m going to put a movie up each day this week, but it’s only going to be up until I put the next movie up; once I put up a new movie, I’m taking the one from the day before down. Got it? Good. Go see today’s movie: Don’t Mess With Momma. It’s a longish one, so right-click and save it to your hard drive, mm’kay? In it, first Peanut and then Flossie take on Mia. The kittens are continuing to grow, as kittens do. We weighed them on Thursday, and to our surprise Snoopy’s now 1 pound, 9 ounces (he’s the heaviest, still), but Edgar’s the one who gained the most weight – he went from 15 1/4 ounces to 1 pound, 8 1/2 ounces. Oy’s still the smallest at 1 pound, 3 ounces, but he makes up for his lack of size by being a feisty little shit. They’re all feisty little shits, actually. If I want a few minutes of snuggling, I have to go in there when they’re all just waking up. Then Snoopy will let me hold him for a few minutes, and the other kittens snuggle up to my legs. Invariably, though, they start fighting and chasing each other around after a few minutes. If I could just bottle that energy… Poor Mia. She just wanted to hang out and be petted by me, but Peanut came wandering up to nurse, and Flossie climbed on top of her and rolled over. Snoopy, upon waking. Doesn’t he look sleepy? Yoga kitty! (Edgar) Flossie and Peanut get into it. Is it just me, or does Flossie look like a mouse here? She’s about to pounce, clearly. I have no idea what Peanut’s licking, here. Maybe the end of his tail? Hee! Look at the little Oy fangs!]]>

5/30/05

hushpuppies and it’s the first thing she wanted to have. It was practically dinner time, so we stopped and ate there, and she got her hushpuppy fix. We stopped at Sonic after that and got ice cream, and then we went home. I showed her the kittens – she wasn’t nearly as impressed as I was; she’s not much of a cat person, though she could certainly see the appeal of little meowing fuzzy round-bellied kittens – and then we sat on the couch for the rest of the evening and watched episodes of The Surreal Life, the one with Christopher “Peter Brady” Knight and Da Brat and Verne Troyer, and it was interesting in an I-can’t-take-my-eyes-off-this-trainwreck kind of way. Then Fred came in and sat down, and we spent the next few hours watching rerun episodes of Yes, Dear and South Park. At 9:00, Fred and I went upstairs and played with the kittens and then lay down and talked until about 10. Then he went off to bed, and I came back downstairs to spend time with Liz. We watched the Surreal Life 4 Reunion (and whoever did that makeover on Chyna sure did a good job – and she looked like she was off whatever drugs or alcohol she was on during the filming of The Surreal Life) ’til 11, and then went to bed. I was pretty tired for some reason, and knew I had to get up this morning to go to the pet store. I kept waking up through the night, and had a truly bizarre dream about being on Survivor and Jeff Probst and Julie Berry getting married, only she was half bird (?) and gave birth to a flock of birds (not seagulls, though.). Truly weird. I was up and out the door by 7:30, and then home again by 8:45. Once again, I forgot to take my Benadryl until I was about halfway to the pet store, and it didn’t really kick in until I’d been in the cat room for about half an hour. And when it kicked in, I got really sleepy. I ended up coming home and snoozing on the couch for almost an hour before I forced myself to get up and take a shower. Liz ended up sleeping ’til 11:30ish, and then we watched Britney & Kevin: Chaotic (or whatever the official title is). It was a… less than interesting show, I guess I’d say. Britney’s a little too into the making-faces thing which is funny once or a hundred times, but beyond that gets a little old. You can tell that she’s very, very young. We’ll leave it at that, shall we? I don’t know that I’m going to bother to watch the second show, but if I get bored enough, I might. After we watched that, Liz went and took her shower and we went back to Captain D’s, ate lunch, and then went to the movie store and grocery store. We rented some movies for this afternoon – which we didn’t actually watch, but they’re not due back ’til Sunday, so we’ve got plenty of time – and then we bought the stuff for Liz to make pork adobo (I don’t think her recipe is exactly like that one, but it’s similar) and bought a few more things (she was hungry last night, and we didn’t have a single damn thing to offer her. How embarrassing!), and then came home. We watched TV for a little while, and then she got a headache, so she went to lay down, and I went to clean the cat room. I know – we haven’t done much exciting stuff, but it’s nice to have someone to do stuff with, you know?

* * *
I’ve been intermittently text-messaging with the spud since she left. Every time I type in “u” instead of “you”, I die a little inside.
* * *
The section about the kittens. In the past few days, those kittens have gotten WILD. They’re little playing machines. I walk in the room and they rush at me. If I don’t immediately sit down on the floor, they give me the sad kitten eyes and sit on my feet and wait impatiently for me to get my ass on the floor. When I finally sit down, they climb all over me, and kick and bite at me, and then they jump on each other, and then they run across the room with their ears back, and let me tell you – it is UNBEARABLY fucking cute. Flossie, especially, is turning into a real spitfire. She runs across the room and jumps on her brothers, she stalks them and jumps on them, and when they jump on her, she kicks their asses. When I pick her up to kiss her atop her fuzzy little head, she has been known to dig her needle-sharp claws into my cheeks and try to bite my lips. She’s also EXTREMELY possessive when it comes to her food. Fred has been bringing a small handful of Kitten Chow into the room with him at night – they have Science Diet kitten food available to them all the time, because that’s what they’ll be eating when they’re up for adoption at the pet store – and the kittens and Mia LOVE IT. Fred put a small pile down in front of Flossie, Edgar, and Oy, and when Edgar and Oy tried to eat some of the food, Flossie growled fiercely, and then PUT HER PAW on the pile of food so they couldn’t get to it. My god, it was cute. Yesterday, she was eating some food out of the food bowl – the Science Diet Kitten food – and Snoopy went running over to eat, too. He tried to eat out of the same bowl (we have three different bowls of food), and she growled and smacked her paw down over the food so he couldn’t get to it. I laughed my ASS off. Speaking of Snoopy, he’s getting to be a big one. I’m looking forward to deworming and weighing the kittens on Thursday so I can see how much he weighs now. He clearly weighs quite a bit more than the other kittens.
Edgar in the litter box. I swear – one day, they had no idea how to use the litter box, and the next day they did! Snuggled up in the cat bed. This picture was taken before the kittens all turned into devil kitties and started spending all their time jumping on Mia and biting her tail. A cat in the hand is worth two in the litter box. Is that the sweetest little face, or what? Serious little Snoopy. Snoopy in mid-run. Flossie, in mid-run. I love the one closed eye, like he’s taking aim. Little cat, great big tongue. Deceptively sweet-looking Peanut. Looks like Peanut’s having some deep thoughts, doesn’t it? Flossie stalking Snoopy. Oy (I think). Doesn’t she look sweet? She’s two seconds away from biting my toe. Fight! Fight!
As always, there are tons more kitty pics over at Flickr.
* * *
No idea when I’ll update again – it’ll happen when it happens, mm’kay?
* * *
]]>

5/27/05

The Right Jack. I got about fifty pages into Maneater, and decided to stop because I flat-out didn’t give a shit what happened in the book. I don’t care if the author IS married to Brian Grazer – being married to a big-time producer apparently doesn’t magically bestow upon you the ability to write an interesting book. I’m disappointed, though. I was hoping for some good Hollywood gossip.

* * *
At some point in the past year or so, I became aware that when the spud was washing her hair and then brushing it, instead of taking the loose strands of hair and putting them in the trash, she was putting them in the sink and running the water, so that the hair was going down the sink. Since her hair is about to the middle of her back and she sheds worse than a cat in spring, that’s a lot of fucking hair. I told her to stop washing her hair down the sink, and she promised to stop, but the sink in her bathroom was draining very, very slowly. Since Liz is going to be here on Sunday and she’ll be staying in the spud’s bedroom and using her bathroom, I knew that something needed to be done. I suggested to Fred that we might think about taking the pipe under her sink apart and pulling out any hair that was stuck in there. Last night I was eating dinner – sushi for dinner, YUM! – and was just about finished when he called down to me from upstairs. I went up to see what was going on, and I realized that as soon as I hit the top of the stairs, it smelled like a great big huge nasty stinky fart. “Look at this,” Fred said, indicating the spud’s under-sink area. I looked, and saw two pieces of pipe with a great mass of hair spilling out, covered in a sludgy, stinky mold-and-mildew mixture. “God, what an AWFUL SMELL!” I said, almost gagging. And we spent the next half hour pulling sludgy, nasty hair out of the pipes, cleaning the pipes with a very strong bathroom cleaner, and then putting it all back together. Then I text messaged the spud, told her what we’d done, and told her I’d beat her if I ever saw another hair in her sink again. She text messaged me back and said “At least my sink will drain now!” Brat. She’s just lucky she’s in California (“California! California! Caaaaaaaaaaaaaliforrrrrrniaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”) and not here where I can give her hell to her face. Giving her hell via text message isn’t quite as satisfying.
* * *
The week before last, I spent some time online looking for a new comforter for the spud. I just bought her a new one last year, but it wasn’t really one that she much liked, and she spends so much time sitting on her bed that her comforter was pretty grimy – plus, apparently every time she shaves her legs she seems to scrape off about a three-inch piece of skin, so there were plenty of blood spots on the comforter, too. I found several comforters that I thought she might like, sent her the links to them, and let her pick her favorite. I told her that if she didn’t like any of them I’d take her shopping for one, but she liked this one, so I ordered it and hoped it would arrive before Liz got here. I got notification that the comforter had shipped, and when I looked at the UPS tracking, saw that it was scheduled to arrive on Tuesday. Tuesday came, and in the evening I was sitting in the computer room and glanced up to see the UPS man walking back to his truck and leaving. I was puzzled that he hadn’t rang the doorbell, but when I went to the door to get the package, there was no package. I went and checked the garage in case by some chance he’d decided to leave it by the garage door, but there was nothing there either. I went to my computer, looked up the tracking number, and saw that according to UPS the package had been delivered. I puzzled over it, decided the UPS guy had delivered it to one of my neighbors by mistake, and put it out of my head for the time being. Because if he’d done that, surely whoever he’d mistakenly delivered it to would bring it by, or come over to let us know, right? Right. Riiiiiiight. Wednesday came and went, and I spent a good part of the day hoping to see someone walk to the door with a big box, but no one ever did. I didn’t worry about it too much, because I had a box of pillows from Overstock scheduled to be delivered – those for the spud’s bedroom, too, because she hasn’t had new pillows in as long as I can remember – and I figured I’d just catch him when he delivered that box and say, you know, “Yo, motherfucker, what the fuck?” Only that UPS man is a FAST MOTHERFUCKER, and I was in the kitchen making dinner when he showed up, and I ran for the door but by the time I got it open he was driving away up the street, and I wasn’t about to go chasing after him. So I sat down at my computer and went to the UPS page and was looking for the number, so I could call UPS headquarters and bitch about my missing comforter, when the doorbell rang. I looked out the window and saw a truck in the driveway, a man at our front door, and a box on the ground in front of him. It appears that UPS had delivered the box to a house with the same number, only on a street with a name that isn’t anything at all like our street name. It wasn’t even near our street. I have no idea what that UPS driver was smoking, but he’d fucked up in a big way. And this nice, nice, NICE man had gone out of his way to deliver the box to the right address. He said he’d thought about calling UPS, but didn’t think it’d be worth the hassle, that it would just be easier to bring it over himself. What an awesome guy. I thanked him profusely, he said it was nothing, I thanked him again, and he was on his way. I have renewed faith in my fellow man.
* * *
So, Liz is going to be here on Sunday. I have no idea what my schedule is going to be like next week and whether I’ll have the time or inclination to update. If I do I will and if not I’ll see you after she leaves. Fair enough?
* * *
The section about the kittens. I am pleased – nay, THRILLED – to announce that as of last night, every single kitten has used the litter box at least once. When Fred and I were in the room last night, I said “I haven’t seen Edgar or Oy use the litter box yet…” and as if he’d heard me and wanted to prove himself, Edgar went over to the corner and pooped in the litter box. And when he was on his way out of the litter box, Oy climbed in and pooped too! By god, I think they have the hang of it. They’re all eating kitten food now, too, and nursing as well. I’m sure Mia’s going to wean them in the next few weeks. They’re getting more playful, too, with the jumping and the running and the climbing. I need to find some stuff to take in there that they can climb on – maybe a scratching post – and maybe some small boxes they can hide in. This morning Edgar ran at Peanut, who reacted by humping up and running sideways. It was about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. By god I love these kittens, can you tell? Today’s pictures were all taken by Fred. You can tell, because they’re not BLURRY. Mia was feeling playful last night, and Fred rolled her onto her back. Miss Flossie, with her usual worried look. Peanut, creeping slowly over Fred’s leg. Snoopy gets a cleaning from Mia. Oy. That’s my leg in the picture – you can’t really tell from this picture, but my legs and arms have tons and tons of little scratches caused by these little monsters. Fred gives Edgar a belly rub. Edgar pretends not to enjoy it.
* * *
We moved this dresser out into the hallway – Fred didn’t want a bunch of little kittens scratching it up and peeing on it, go figure – and I set this blanket on top of it because I’d just taken it out of the dryer, when Miz Poo spotted it and settled in. I’d say she spends two or three hours of every day hanging out on that blanket, now. I guess I’m going to have to wash it again to get rid of the cat hair! ]]>

5/26/05

baby! He insisted that I should get him nothing for his birthday, but please. As if! If he doesn’t know by now that that sort of thing doesn’t fly with me, he never will. Happy birthday, baby. You don’t look a day over 43! (Ha! That joke just neeeeever gets old!)

* * *
Currently reading: Maneater. I had no idea until I read the bit about the author on the backleaf that this was written by Brian Grazer’s wife. I’m not very far into the book, but so far it seems tolerable. The main character seems to be an all-surface-no-depth kind of gal, and so I suspect the whole book’s going to be very tongue-in-cheek. Sometimes that works; sometimes it doesn’t. I’m not sure which this one will be. Finished yesterday: Other People’s Dirt, which was sent to me by awesome reader Dawn. It’s not a bad book – it reads very fast – but I think I would have liked a bit more in-depth gossip about the people the writer cleans for. Worth a read, but I’d get it from the library, a second-hand store, or borrow it from a friend rather than going out and buying it new.
* * *
The spud is on her way to the O.C as I type. Actually, she just text messaged me that her plane had landed in Dallas. She has a 2-hour layover in Dallas, and then a three-hour flight to Orange County. Until now we’d forbidden her to use her phone for text messaging, because those babies cost 5 cents a message, and T-Mobile doesn’t appear to have a plan that includes unlimited text messaging (another reason we’re switching to Verizon at the end of the year – though the main reason is that Consumer Reports ranked it the highest, and I am ALL ABOUT the Consumer Reports these days. Even though they has NO USE for my kind of car. Fuck you, Consumer Reports! You don’t run my life!). But there is a 1000 text messages per month for $6.99, and since she’s going to be gone for just about the entire summer, I told her she could text message her friends – and me! – while she was gone. So we did a test run with text messaging while we were waiting for her plane to leave. I got her text message just fine, but when I tried to respond, the fucking predictive text input HORSESHIT made it impossible to figure out how to type in the message I wanted to. So I told her I’d check the book I got with the phone when I got home, and text message her while she was in the air. I did check the book when I got home, and I got all frustrated and swore at the phone, and then I figured out how to set it so that only what I typed in showed up (fucking pain in the ass phone), and I text messaged her. And here’s something you might not know about me – I hate it when people use “u” instead of “you”, “2” instead of “two”, “gd” instead of “goddamn”, etc. in email. Because there’s no reason for it! It really and truly and honestly does NOT take that much fucking longer to hit the extra keys. I just find it extremely annoying. 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. Then, after I’d sent the first message, I remembered that I hadn’t actually signed her up for the 1000 text messages per month, and I went online to do so, and realized that I didn’t know her password, so I had it sent to her phone, and went to text message her to let her know that she needed to send it to me so I could sign her up for the plan. And THEN I remembered what the password was, so I text messaged her AGAIN to tell her nevermind, and so when she landed in Dallas, she had three text messages from me and one from T-Mobile with her password, and I’m sure she was thinking “Oh, HELL NO. She’s not going to be doing THIS every fucking day, is she? Because I wanted the text messaging so I could send and receive text messages from my FRIENDS, not my clingy fucking mother. CUT THE CORD, WOMAN!” Oh, she just called. She thought it was funny that I’d text messaged her so many times. Heh. She found her gate with no problems, and actually asked a woman in a uniform for help. Now she has almost two hours to kill before her flight to the O.C. leaves. Another five hours, she should be in California (the theme song for The O.C. is playing in my head right now) and I can stop worrying!
* * *
I just spent half an hour text messaging with the spud. My last message to her was “K, call asa u r n cali. Luv u!” I think I’ve officially reached the highest level of dorkdom. Though a truly proficient text-er would have said “ca” instead of “cali”.
* * *
She flew out to California (“Califorrrrrnia! Califorrrrrrnia! Caaaaaaaaaaliforrrrniaaaaaaaaa!”) on American Airlines this time – Independence Air doesn’t fly to Orange County – and the agent who checked her in asked if I wanted to pay the $75 to have a flight attendant take her to her gate in Dallas. It was with great pleasure that I said no. Because the tickets were expensive enough – I had no desire to add $150 ($75 each way) to the total. I think the spud would have preferred me to pay the extra money; I know she was a little nervous about being responsible for finding her own gate. To be truthful, I think if she had her way I’d be paying the $75 ’til she’s 32, but I think she’s old enough and smart enough to figure it out on her own. And she did! Since she was traveling as an unaccompanied minor, I was able to get a pass to go to the gate with her. The security line wasn’t long at all, and we got through the metal detector pretty quickly, but apparently they felt the need to run my purse through the x-ray machine a second time (perhaps it was the bottle of Benadryl?), and people started piling up behind me while I was waiting for my purse, so I had to move to the end of table. Now, the whole process of putting my purse on a conveyer belt so that it can be x-rayed and then passed even further along a conveyer belt is something that fills me with a bit of anxiety. I don’t like being so far from my purse, and I especially don’t like the bit where my purse has to ride along the conveyer belt, because any yahoo could come along and distract me while someone else grabbed my purse and took off with it. I always have my cell phone, all my keys, and my wallet (which includes my driver’s license, credit cards, and – most importantly – my Gold Crown (Hallmark) card), so if I lost my purse I’d be a tad screwed. And I know security keeps an eye on things, but I haven’t got much confidence in them. Because I know things at the airport are SECURE and all, but let’s be honest – things have relaxed more than a little in the last 3 1/2 years. When Fred and I flew in the summer of 2002, they all but gave us enemas and analyzed (ha! ANALyzed!) the contents before they’d even let us through the metal detector. These days? Things are a bit more relaxed. I know it, you know it, and the terrorists know it. Thank god we have Jack Bauer to keep us safe! So I stood at the end of the table (which was next to the conveyer belt) and saw my purse come out of the x-ray machine, and I glanced up the conveyer belt, and I realized that there are in fact two sides to the conveyer belt, and so I walked along the back of the conveyer belt in hopes of grabbing my purse. Which is when Barney Fife popped up from his station behind the woman running the x-ray machine, and bellowed “MA’AM! PLEASE STEP AROUND TO THE FRONT OF THE CONVEYER BELT TO RETRIEVE YOUR ITEMS!” And then he put his hand on his skinny hip as though he might be required to pull a gun on me and shoot me three times in the gut and twice in each kneecap, just in case. I put my hands up, said “Oh! Okay!”, and backpedaled as fast as my stupid ass could move. Then I went around the front of the conveyer belt, elbowed my way to my purse, and grabbed it. Then I rolled my eyes, shook my head (BECAUSE I AM A REBEL) and pulled the spud toward the escalator. And yes, I felt as guilty as if I’d been planning to hijack the nearest plane. Because all you have to do if you are in a position of authority – or think you’re in a position of authority – is glance at me with some suspicion, and I’m ready to confess everything down to the time I was driving the riding lawnmower around the front yard and ran over some flowers in my mother’s front flowerbed (because I am a KLUTZ) and then pretended I had no idea how that had happened. SORRY, MOM!
* * *
The section about the kittens. Yesterday afternoon I was hanging out in the room with the kittens, rubbing bellies and kissing little heads and just generally having a good time, when Snoopy, who’d been attacking my feet (these cats have a real thing for feet and the attacking of) got a strange look on his face. He backed away from my foot, thought for a moment, and then walked toward the corner of the room which is located behind the door. And then DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID? He climbed INTO the small litter box which was located as close to that corner as I could get it, and he hunkered down, and he BEGAN TO POOP. Y’all, I was so proud, I about burst. Then I noticed that Snoopy was having some problems. I don’t know if he was constipated or what, but he climbed back out of the litter box and the poop didn’t stay behind IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. I watched him, and he wandered around with a somewhat pained look on his face, so I picked him up and put him in one of the big litter boxes and rubbed his belly, then squeezed him gently, in hopes that that would help coax the rest of the poop from his poor little system. What? WHAT? Oh, shut up. Constipation is hard enough if you’re an adult; if you’re a month-old kitten, I’m sure it’s about excruciating, because you don’t know WHAT THE FUCK is going on. I was just trying to help. Snoopy hunkered down again, and he gave me a look as if to say “What the holy fuck is going on here, woman?”, and then he started to climb out of the litter box, and I said “Momma, are you going to HELP THAT POOR BOY?”, and she looked at me disinterestedly, and I had to leave the room, because if I had to watch that poor baby walk around the room with an inch of poop sticking out, I don’t know what I would have done. When Fred got home from his hike half an hour later and headed upstairs to change his clothes, I asked him to look in on the kittens and let me know if there was poop everywhere, because I needed to know whether or not to take a bucket of warm water and lots of rags to clean up poop the next time I went in there. He reported back that there was no poop to be seen, and Snoopy had not a smidge of poop on him anywhere. After dinner, I went back up to do some more visiting. The kittens were wild last night, jumping on each other and biting, then jumping on me and biting, and running around and jumping some more. While I was holding Flossie (whom I have taken to calling “Miz Flossie”, big shock), I looked up to see Snoopy walking toward the litterbox with purpose in his step. He climbed into the litterbox, hunkered down, and pooped with no problem at all. While he was doing his business, Peanut climbed in next to him, looked him over, and I swear I saw a little lightbulb go on over his head. Ten minutes later, Peanut climbed into one of the big litterboxes, peed, ate a piece of litter, and climbed back out to attack one of his brothers. This morning, Flossie peed in the litterbox. It appears that they’re getting the hang of it, THANK GOD. Oy’s lookin’ a little wild. Edgar shows off one of his sharp little teeth. Flossie cracks me up when she eats. She always looks so intent. Eating is HARD WORK, PEOPLE! Peanut wishes he had a paper to read. Did I mention that the kitties love to attack feet? Flossie always looks worried, doesn’t she? “Somethin’s not right, but I don’t know what it is…” He is the POOPIN’ KING! Another yawn pic! King Oy looks down upon his subjects. And then he jumped on them and bit their tails. This picture makes me laugh until I snort. More – lots more – kitten pics over at Flickr, and there’ll be more going up later. Speaking of Flickr – can someone tell me what exactly a “set” is? Yeah, I know, I’m a dumbass. But should I be posting these fosterkitties pics to a set rather than using tags? Use small words and speak slowwwwly, if you would.
* * *
Apparently there’s a nest of young swallows around here somewhere, and every morning several of them like to hang out on the ledge directly outside the study room (the room upstairs where the spud’s computer is). They drive Mister Boogers cuh-ray-zee, because they’re SO CLOSE and yet so far.]]>

5/25/05

Nance, who turns 53 today! Doesn’t look a day over 48, does she? (I KID. She’s actually turning THE BIG 4-0.)

* * *
This morning after I was showered and dressed, I headed down the stairs. I could hear blinds clattering in either the dining room or living room. Mister Boogers smacks at the blinds when he is displeased about any random thing. “Mister BOOGERS!” I yelled, as I stepped into the foyer. “Cut it OUT!” My eye was caught by something nasty-looking on the wall by the front door. At first I thought it was a dead bug that someone had killed and left there, but then I took a closer look and decided it must be from a cat barfing up some grass he or she had eaten outside. Our cats adore taking turns going outside, eating a ton of grass, and then coming inside to barf it up in a nasty rug-staining puddle. “How the fuck did it get so high?” I wondered. Because this little bit of black-green nastiness was at eye level. I theorized that at the end of his or her barf cycle, the cat had shaken his head and sent the grass-barf flying. I began looking on the floor for the rest of the barf pile. Mister Boogers rattled the blinds some more. “Mister BOOGERS!” I bellowed. “STOP! IT! NOW!” More blind-rattling. And then I heard a fluttering noise. And then I understood. I walked into the dining room to see Mister Boogers, crouched on the floor, his eyes wide and dark. On the other side of the room, Spot was doing the same. Against the window fluttered a HUGE grackle. He could see the outdoors, he could SMELL the outdoors – he just couldn’t GET to the outdoors, and it was driving him nuts. “SPUD!” I yelled up the stairs. “Bring down your hamper!” Did I mention that this was a huge fucking grackle? Grackles are kind of evil-looking and have great big beaks and I’m sure their bite is far, far worse than their bark. The spud brought down her hamper, and I yanked the cord so that the blinds were out of the way. The grackle flew into the window and fluttered his wings. I held the hamper up so that the open end was around the grackle, and the grackle fluttered some more. I had no idea what to do. “I need… something,” I said, with the half-formed idea that I’d put a magazine over the top of the hamper and carry it to the back door, two rooms away. “Why don’t you just open the window and push the screen out?” the spud suggested. Since it was an excellent idea – go, spud! – I did just that. When Mister Boogers saw me open the window, he knew what was going to happen next, and he ran out the cat door to sniff at the bird through the screen. I pushed a corner of the screen out, and the bird flew into the screen and grabbed on for dear life. “No, dumbass. Go. Go out THERE, buddy!” I said. I pushed at him a little bit, and he caught sight of freedom, and flew off. Mister Boogers ran after him, but wasn’t even close to catching him. The interesting question is how the grackle got into the house. Did a cat catch him and bring him in, or did he come through the cat door on his own? I almost believe it’s the latter, because he was a big fucking bird and Mister Boogers didn’t seem too inclined to grab at him when he was fluttering against the window. The funny thing is that just last night Fred’s mother and stepfather came over to check out the kittens (and bring us a loaf of sourdough bread, aka MANNA FROM HEAVEN), and his stepfather asked if we’d had any possums in the house this spring, and Fred indicated that we had not, and I said “We haven’t had any birds in the house, either!” Famous last words.
* * *
This is the section about the kittens. Thanks, y’all, for your advice about the kittens. I got some advice from the lady who runs the shelter, too, and basically all I did was put out more litter boxes – in the corners where a few of them peed – and covered the spot behind the door (where a litter box won’t fit) with a towel so that if they pee, at least it won’t go on the rug. We have officially named all the kittens. Meet: Edgar. Flossie. Oy. Peanut. Snoopy. Mia. Yes, that would be two names – Oy and Mia – from the Dark Tower books. Just be glad we didn’t name one of them Roland of Gilead. I finally figured out how to tell Edgar and Oy – the black and white kittens – apart. Edgar. Oy. Edgar’s white stripe, in the middle of his face, is narrower than the white stripe Oy has. Also, the black comes down farther on the right side of Edgar’s face than it does on Oy’s. Also, Edgar has a little freckle under his chin, but that doesn’t usually show in the pictures I take. We weighed and dewormed the kittens last night. Snoopy is the heaviest, at 1 pound, 1 ounce – which is appropo, since we named him after Tubby (“Snoopy” being Tubby’s “real” name). The smallest cat is Oy, at 12 1/2 ounces. I almost wish we’d weighed them when we first got them so I could have some idea of how much they’ve grown in the last week, but it never occurred to me. They’re definitely bigger, though – they’re growing so fast you can practically see it. Peanut has learned, in the last day, to jump. He jumps! from one spot to another. He jumps! over my ankle. He jumps! onto his brother. Jump!Jump! Jump! I need to remember to take the camcorder upstairs with me one of these days.
* * *
“Those stupid kittens can have their stupid room. I have MY DADDY.”]]>