Author: Robyn

Full House in my purse to keep me occupied. The woman who cuts my hair didn’t care, though – she’s usually running a little late herself. For most of the time I was there, she and another hairdresser (beautician? what IS the politically correct term?) and I sat and talked about husbands (they talked about theirs, anyway – I just nodded sympathetically), kids, and the election. My pronouncement that Maine is only one of two states in the union to have an Independent governor was met with resounding silence. Did you vote? You’d better! Once I left there, I went to the post office, where I found waiting for me, from lovely reader Sarah in WI, some smiley-face paraphernalia:

Man, I swear to y’all, I have the coolest readers in the whole wide world – thanks, Sarah! Then, I was off to Target, because Fred doesn’t like the coffee pot at work – it drips all over the place – where I bought the same kind of coffee pot he has at home, and looked at the Sarah Michaels bath stuff for a few minutes before buying and bringing home a tube of Jasmine-and-something shower gel. After Target, it was time for a trip to Sam’s. Man, do I hate the drive to get to Sam’s, and as I passed the place where they’ll be building the new one, I thought “If it was already built, I’d be there!” Which reminded me of the signs you sometimes see outside apartment complexes that say “If you lived at (name of apartment complex) you’d be home now!” I’ve always wondered if those signs work – do people drive by, see the sign, and think “Holy cow, they’re right! I WOULD be home right now if I lived there! I must get me one of those apartments! I’m moving, so that when I get here, I’ll be home!” Also speaking of signs, driving up to the church to vote this morning, there were signs all OVER the place for the various politicians. I wonder if THAT works at all. Do people get to the voting booth, and say “Hm… You know, I really haven’t thought this through. Who SHOULD I vote for? Well, let me think. That Bob Riley sign was really quite pleasing to the eye, so I should probably vote for him…” ? I’m predicting that Don Siegelman’s going to win this one, and I hope we get the damn lottery in Alabama. Where was I? Oh yeah, Sam’s. So I was in and out of Sam’s pretty quickly, and can I just say that I LOVE that place? You have no idea how happy it makes me to know that I probably won’t have to buy another bar of soap for a year or so. Contact cleaner, either. If I had my druthers, I’d put up a shed in the backyard JUST to hold all the extra stuff from Sam’s. Then I could really go nuts… Ah, dreams. The only downside was that Sam’s had no Splenda. Whether they’re not carrying it anymore or it was just out of stock, I have no clue. Luckily, we have about 200 packets left from my last trip to Sam’s, so we’re covered for a while. From Sam’s, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up some salad, Wendy’s for lunch, and FINALLY home, where I spent forever and a day hauling everything I’d bought into the house. And did I mention that it was pouring the entire time I was running around doing all those errands? I swear, I don’t remember the last time we had a sunny day. Give me some sunshine, damnit! Attention, Evanovich lovers – not only is Full House (did you know that she used to write romance novels? ‘Tis true. Full House is one of those romance novels, with a little editing, I think) out, but Visions of Sugar Plums came out today as well. And it’s $2 less at Sam’s than at Target. Life is Evanovich-errific these days. Whoo! And while I’m thinking of it, this is a public service announcement for Christine: the movies that came out on video today are: The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys (want to see it, but didn’t want to go to the store), Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood (I’ve seen it already), The Powerpuffs Girls Movie (I’ll catch it on cable) and Pumpkin (want to see it, but didn’t want to add that to my mile-long list of errands. I’ll see it at some point in the future, I’m sure). I spent a good part of yesterday afternoon messing around with Movable Type, with the help of Himself. I’m setting up a blog to keep track of my daily food intake, since I’d rather have it as part of my site instead of over at Diaryland. What I’ve seen of it I like enough so that I might switch the journal part of my weight loss site over to Movable Type. I don’t think I’ll be doing that here, but I can’t guarantee it. Ya just never know with me. It’s a Poo! Inna bag! A bag full of Poo! What more could you want?]]>

Text Twist that the parts of my brain that do other things are beginning to atrophy. Last night, reading a magazine before bed, I could not multiply 150 times 14. I had a pen and a piece of paper, and no matter what I did, I kept coming up with something like 1200. I knew that wasn’t right, because I know that 150 x 10 would be 1500 and so 150 x 14 wasn’t going to be LESS than that, but I finally had to give up in disgust. (It’s 2100, in case you were wondering) We spent most of the day yesterday moving furniture around and vacuuming up the ton and a half of cobwebs and dead bugs under where said furniture had been. We sold two dressers (this one and this one) and a wardrobe, all to the same woman, who came to pick them up yesterday. And then we moved a couple of INCREDIBLY heavy bookcases from the dining room to upstairs, putting one in the guest bedroom and one in the spud’s room. We moved the bookcase she’d had in her room to the wall at the top of the stairs, and then moved one of the remaining bookcases in the dining room down the wall and put the secretaire we got from Fred’s mother next to the bookcase. I absolutely love the way the secretaire looks, and in fact keep going to look at it. On it’s own it was really pretty (it’s over 150 years old, I’m told), but with a few items added to it, it really warms up the dining room.

The plant on the top was actually Fred’s idea, and it makes all the difference. And with some of the money we got from the sale of the dressers and wardrobe, we’re going shopping for a recliner for the corner of the computer room where the wardrobe was. Whee! We’re also talking about moving the table from the kitchen to the dining room, and putting barstools in the kitchen, at the bar. Fred’s worried that where the table is in the kitchen will look all weird and empty, though. The house is going to look so different that I’ll need to do a new virtual tour! Yeah, I’ll get right on that… On Saturday, we finally went to the corn maze that Fred’s been wanting to go to for months and months, whining and moaning and gnashing his teeth because they’re closing down on November 9th, which was rapidly approaching, and all he’d ever wanted in his ENTIRE life was to go to the corn maze, but whenever we had the time to go, it was always raining or crappy-looking outside (and for the record, I can’t remember the last time we had a day that was sunny from beginning to end). Finally, Saturday, it was cool but semi-sunny, and we got our asses up and out the door to see the damn thing. It was interesting, but I would have been happier to have the maze half the size it was, because about halfway through it I developed a killer headache and plodded along grumpily until we found our way out of the damn thing. Fred put some pictures up in his entry, but here are a couple he didn’t put up: He’s the corn cop! Hee! I would have loved to have a shirt like this, but I don’t think they were selling them. (That’s Fred on the other side of the corn cop, receiving instructions on how to shoot the corn cob gun (?)) Now, THAT is a church name! And after I left the pet store this morning, I saw that the trees in the parking lot are finally changing color. Fall comes to Alabama at last: Another sign of Fall – Fancypants snoozing inside, instead of wandering the backyard looking for small rodents and birds to kill.]]>

Damn, we’re a good team. Things we saw whilst driving to pick up our free-range chickens yesterday:

The current governor of Alabama is Don Siegelman, and Bob Riley’s running against him. Don Siegelman’s campaign strategy (you have GOT to listen to “The Phony Pony song”, over on the left-hand side, it’s funny as shit) is to say “Bob Riley is a millionaire who doesn’t pay his taxes, and he never shows up for work, and he screws his employees over given half a chance!” Bob Riley’s campaign strategy is to say “Nuh uh!” But all of Don Siegelman’s negative campaigning must pale next to what some anti-Riley person did to this sign. It’s got to hurt ol’ Bob’s feelings, really. “Homo”? Okay, maybe. But “creepy”? That’s really going over the line, there. Apparently the county where Hartselle is located is a dry one. Obviously that’s made a big impact on my life. Chickens eating bugs in the driveway. Chickens are so damn funny. Tasty, too. What fun would that be? I have a sneaking suspicion that they were talking about me. Damn gossiping horses. Kudzu! Damn but I love the kudzu. Two things. 1. “Exception” is spelled wrong (let me pause for a moment so that the grammar nazi and I can feel superior). 2. Do these people not know that when you order your checks, you specify what number they start at? If I were the shifty sort, prone to bouncing checks, I’d sure as shit have my checks start at number 975 or something. Which reminds me of the time I wrote a check at an office supply store and asked the woman if she needed my driver’s license. She looked at the check and said “You don’t get to check number 2104 by bouncing checks, so no, I don’t need to see it.” The funny thing being that it was only the 4th check I’d written on that account. Heh. Friday Five. 1. Were you raised in a particular religious faith? When I was growing up on various and sundry Air Force bases, we had two options: Catholic or Protestant. We’re Protestant. 2. Do you still practice that faith? Why or why not? No, I haven’t been to church since I was 15 or so, except the time I accompanied a friend to church (she’s Catholic) when I was 18 or so. I have no real reason why I don’t, except that most religions leave a bad taste in my mouth. I have a hard time believing that there’s one correct religion and anyone who doesn’t follow that religion is going straight to hell, do not pass go. And I’m not a fan of the whole “A woman’s place is wherever her man tells her to be” train of thought that most major religions subscribe to. 3. What do you think happens after death? I think that we are, in some way, reincarnated. 4. What is your favorite religious ritual (participating in or just observing)? It’s been so long that nothing comes to mind. 5. Do you believe people are basically good? I think that most people would like to be good, but their desire to be good is outweighed by their own self-centeredness. (My, didn’t I sound all preachy and self-righteous.)]]>

(He even sent me flowers. Yellow ones! Hands off, ladies. You try to touch him, you’ll be drawing back a nub.) * * * Last night, I was almost asleep when I felt the light touch of a mosquito on my chin. You know those really big goony ones, with the long gangly legs? It felt like one of those, and so I jerked out of my almost-sleep to slap at it, because I didn’t relish the idea of walking around with a huge mosquito bite welt on my chin. I opened my eyes a moment after I slapped at the mosquito, to find Miz Poo laying on the pillow next to me, her eyes large and dark with concern for my mental well-being. Which is when I realized that hadn’t been a mosquito. It had been one of her whiskers brushing my chin. See, I sleep on my side facing the pillow she sleeps on, sometimes hugging the pillow when she’s not laying there. She had, without my realizing it, climbed up on the pillow and gotten as close to my face as possible, because she loooooooves her momma. Lucky, I guess, that I hadn’t hurt her when I slapped at the mosquito/ whisker. This isn’t the first time she’s startled me out of a sleep recently, either. A few weeks ago I was almost asleep when she was overcome with love for me, and had to reach her paw out and rest it on my neck. I jerked awake, which startled her, and it took some serious petting and snuggling to calm her down. I love my Poo Pie, have I mentioned? * * * Fred and I were watching Everybody Loves Raymond the other night, and I noticed that Ray Romano has a startling resemblance to… well, see for yourself: Call me mean if you want, but you can’t possibly deny the resemblance. * * * Cancel that paragraph at the beginning of the entry about how much I love my husband. I just found out that we’re doing Thanksgiving at our house this year. Maybe he’s just trying to give me a Halloween scare?]]>

this game. Damn those Fractious Timers for linking to it! I’ve gotten better since I first started playing it, but sometimes when I see all the words I missed getting, I want to throw myself eyeball-first onto a very sharp knife. Argh! Although Fred and I both do a lot better as a team than either of us does alone – last night, we got up to more than 27,000 points, which I think is pretty good. * * * Today makes the third day in a row that I’ve been out of bed before 7 am, which is just WRONG. I had to get up early Monday to help Fred out with the cats at the pet store, I got up early yesterday to follow Fred to Firestone to drop off my Jeep for new tires and a tune-up, and today I just couldn’t get back to sleep once I’d talked to Fred for a few minutes before he left. So I got up, changed the sheets on the bed, tossed the other sheets in the washer, vacuumed the upstairs, cleaned the litter box, exercised, took a shower, and made potato salad and coleslaw to have with dinner tonight. I think maybe I’m sick. I have to get up early tomorrow, too, since it’s my usual day for feeding and poop-scooping. I hope this whole getting-up-early thing doesn’t become a habit. I’d hate to become one of those psychos who rolls out of bed at 7 every morning, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. ::shudder:: * * * I am pee-my-pants excited about the fact that they’re building a Sam’s Club about three miles down the road from here. Once it’s built, I won’t have to drive all the way to the other side of Huntsville to buy my big-ass-sized packs of paper towels and splenda – in fact, it won’t be much further from home than Target is. Fred should probably just start having his paychecks made out directly to Sam’s Club, ’cause with it being so convenient, I’m sure my ass will be there, ALL the time. Whee! * * * Y’know, I think the whole Jennifer Lopez/ Ben Affleck is just a little too obvious. I don’t think they’re really in a relationship – I think that “relationship” is a cover for Ben and Matt Damon’s true love, or maybe Jennifer’s really back with Puff Diddly Daddly Doo and they’re keeping it mum because P. Diddle with the Fiddle is supposed to still be involved with Mother-of-his-child Kim Porter. It saddens me that I know the name of the mother of Puff Dorky’s kids without even having to double-check to be sure I’ve got it right. But I digress, kinda. I think that if the Jennifer Lopez/ Ben Affleck relationship is for real and they’re truly talking marriage, someone needs to slap the stupid out of Jennifer Lopez. Being on divorce #2 at the age of 32, you’d think she’d stop and think a minute before plunging into yet another marriage. But I don’t guess that introspection is the forte of that particular diva. I read in US Magazine the other day that Jennifer Lopez is wearing a $3.5 million ring these days. I had to stop and catch my breath, because THREE AND A HALF MILLION DOLLARS for a freakin’ piece of jewelry? I don’t care who you are, or how much money you have to throw away, that’s insanely idiotic. You could buy a country for that damn much money! Maybe it’s just me, maybe I’m just missing the love-of-jewelry gene, because to me anything more than a couple of thousand dollars on something you WEAR is nuts. I went to see Sweet Home Alabama with the spud at the beginning of the month, and the scene where Patrick Dempsey brings Reese Witherspoon into (I think) Tiffany’s, where he proposes to her and tells her she can have any ring in the place just left me cold. Big whoop. I can have a big-ass ring that I have to be nervous about wearing, lest I get mugged, or I hit my clumsy hand on something and the stone flies out? Big deal. Now, take me into a book store and tell me I can have anything I want, and you’ve got my heart. I’m such a geek.]]>

I was amazed, because this is the first time I’ve ever seen a squirrel in our yard. We do have the occasional squirrel in our subdivision, but they tend to hang out in the more wooded yards. Apparently Mr. Squirrel had sniffed out something he liked, though, and made a special trip to our yard. At one point, he was straddling the two mesh bags, but I wasn’t quick enough to get a picture. After doing some intense work, Mr. Squirrel managed to chew through the string holding that mesh bag up, and he and the bag landed on the ground. Once he was on the ground with the bag, he chewed various parts of the bag, trying to get it open. Since it’s a simple drawstring bag, he managed to get it open at the top. And then he scattered half the damn bag of seed all over the ground, in and amongst the weird plants that are growing from the birdseed that’s already been dropped on the ground by messy birds. He sat and ate seed for a good five minutes or so. After a while, he climbed up and hung from one of the bird feeders that was almost empty of the usual sunflower seed mix. I tried to get a picture, but wasn’t quick enough. After, he sat on the outside windowsill and cleaned himself, then headed off for parts unknown. I have no idea where the cats were during all this. Probably hiding under the bed, all freaked out. * * * I went to the post office yesterday to mail some packages for Fred and also to finally mail out the giveaway stuff from last week, and this time I remembered to bring the camera with me. You have to look really close, but I promise you, that field is absolutely covered with morning glories. Really! At least I got a good picture of a butterfly. And speaking of butterflies, when I got home from THAT trip, I glanced at my butterfly bush and saw several butterflies partaking of nectar. I’m glad it decided to finally start blooming. (Is it just me who always thinks of Billy Crystal in When Harry Met Sally saying “I would be pleased to partake of your pecan piiiiiiiiiiiiie” when I hear, say, or read the word “partake”?) * * * Tell me that doesn’t look JUST like a mug shot (Fred looked at it and pronounced it “Poo-J”). Notice Miz Poo’s strong resemblance to Elvis? If that ain’t a sneer, I don’t know what is. You’d have a sneer, too, if someone took a huge chunk out of your lip for a biopsy, believe me. She still looks oddly chinless from when they shaved her chin to treat the acne, too. Poor Miz Poo. * * * I was out cleaning the trash out of my Jeep yesterday, when I noticed a couple of snails going at it on the driveway. I assume they were going at it, anyway. Do snails do it doggy style? Or do dogs do it snail style? A question for the ages, that. * * * Spanky with Slipper. Spanky feels the loooooove.]]>

Tubby’s hoping I won’t put that hair clip on his tail. Spanky’s annoyed with me, because I made a kissy noise at him, and woke him up out of a doze. * * * Friday Five. 1. What is your favorite scary movie? I don’t know that I have a favorite, but I liked The Sixth Sense, if only because the ending startled me so badly. The Freddie Krueger movies hold a place in my heart, too – at least the first 25 or so of them… 2. What is your favorite Halloween treat? I like it all – the more the merrier! 3. Do you dress up for Halloween? If so, describe your best Halloween costume. No, I haven’t since I was 18 or so. My best Halloween costume would probably be this one: 4. Do you enjoy going to haunted houses or other spooky events? Sometimes. Actually, that’s a lie. I’m a big wimp about the haunted houses where people come flying out at you. I think we’re going to a cornfield maze this weekend, though, which should be sufficiently spooky. 5. Will you dress up for Halloween this year? Nope. I’m a party pooper, I guess.]]>

here. For the record Olivia (the bobtail), Sassy (with the cool fur) and Magnolia (the little scaredy cat) have all been adopted since Monday, and Apple – who is male, but has the most demanding, feminine meow I’ve heard, second only to that of the Fancypants – is spoken for. Cicely, who not only resembles Miz Poo, but also kicks ass like she does, absolutely cracks me up, because she’s in the same cage as Mimosa, and she spends all her time kicking his ass. When I pick her up, though, she’s not feisty at all, and instead snuggles up to me and lays there calmly purring. And you think Birch looks like Fancypants? When I walked into the cat room this morning, I thought I was looking at Fancypants – there’s another cat who’s a dead ringer for him, and he’s about Fancypants’ size, though perhaps a little heavier. His eyes are more of a green than Fancypants’, but he has the exact same high-pitched meow. Unreal. * * * Today was a very VERY good mail day (except for the fact that I forgot to take the camera with me, and thus couldn’t get a picture of the empty field next to the post office, which is covered with morning glories of all sizes and colors, and looks incredibly cool) for me. I received the following: From Miz Joley, a bar of citrus-scented smiley-face soap! As I said via email to Jolene, “I don’t understand. Smiley faces make you think of me…?” Hee! From reader Leslie in California, a smiley-face postcard! And the smiley face is a sticker I can take off and stick somewhere! Very cute. From Teresa, How to Shit in the Woods. Teresa read this entry, and thought I could use this book. Which I certainly can! And from reader Marisa, Bitch, which I am very much looking forward to reading. * * * We watched The Exorcist last night, because Fred was in a mood to watch it. I’ve never seen it before – though I’ve seen parts, and also read the book – and since it’s been digitally remastered and all, Fred wanted to be sure I saw it. It wasn’t a bad movie, although the lovey-dovey Mom/ Regan parts at the beginning put me into sugar shock, and there were parts of the movie that seemed kind of disjointed to us. The only part that creeped me out was when Regan came skittering down the stairs backwards and upside-down. DAMN creepy. Once Fred went to bed last night, I watched The Bachelor – which I’d taped – and I would swear upon all that is holy that when Aaron and Heather were in the pool, and he got that spacey, blissful look on his face, that there was a little SOMETHING going on that we weren’t seeing. If you know what I mean. Because Aaron said “I think Heather wanted to get more intimate and romantic than I did”, and I think that we all know that Creepy Bachelors say “Intimate and romantic” when what they really mean is “She was giving me a handjob under the water, and I didn’t stop her, even though I’m not attracted to her, BECAUSE I AM ONLY HUMAN.” Gah. I really liked Heather, so it was hard to see her talking about how she was falling for him, and they had a definite connection one second, and then in the next second, he was talking about how he didn’t feel the chemistry, underwater handjob aside. (No, he didn’t say anything about there being a handjob. That was my version of the story.) What I want to know is how the hell these women are falling so hard, so fast for Aaron the Creepy Kiss-Everyone Bachelor. I mean it’s been, what? Three weeks, if that? And only a few of them have been on one-on-one dates with him, so altogether they’ve each spent MAYBE several hours in his presence, if you count the time he spent whisking them off one-by-one to stick his tongue down their throats? How can you even think about falling that hard for someone you’ve spent such a small amount of time with? I’m predicting that it comes down to Gwen and Helene. Sorry, non-The Bachelor-watchers. I didn’t mean to yammer on about the show for so long. Tonight, Survivor! Whoo! I hope like hell that Robb gets his ass kicked off. A girl can dream, can’t she? The cocked head of curiosity. The bitchy meow. (I have no idea why he appears to be slightly blue in these pictures)]]>