Author: Robyn

Man, there’s just nothing going on ’round these parts. I believe I’ll share some more kitty pics with you and then call it an entry. Mouseover the pictures for my commentary (though the pics are pretty much self-explanatory). Oh wait, I thought of something. We rented Hannibal and started watching it last night. So far I’m liking it, though to be honest, I don’t know that I care for Julianne Moore as Starling. Her accent tends to come and go, and she’s not nearly as intense as Jody Foster. Though, as Fred pointed out, Jody Foster’s intense in everything.]]>

you dumbass tone. “Who doesn’t?” “Do you ever order from Papa John’s?” he continued. “Yeah!” I said excitedly, as I saw the page of coupons in his hand, and remembered he’d said something about Customer Appreciation. “We do, sometimes!” Wave something free in front of me, and I’ll do backbends to make sure I tell you what you want to hear. He handed it to me and blah-blahed a little more. Hot dog! Coupons for free pizza! “…and we’re willing to give this to you – coupons worth two HUNDRED and twenty-five DOLLARS! – for only $19.95!” he said, aflutter with the thrill of it all. “Oh.” I said with a smile. “You’ll have to come back and talk to my husband about that!”, in my best dang, I can’t make no money decisions without the menfolk around, nuh-uh. Why, oh why, am I such a damn wimp? Why didn’t I just smile, say “No thanks!” and shut the door? Whyyyyyyy? Last week a couple of kids came by, wanting to save me from hell, and when I realized what they wanted, I suggest they come back and talk to my husband. Because he’s really the one in need of saving, I implied. They said they would, but never did. The week before, while Fred and the spud were out bike-riding after dinner, a girl came around trying to sell cookbooks or some such shit. When I suggested she come back to talk to my husband, she hit me with a free booklet and told me that my neighbors had been contributing $1 or $2 for the booklet, “to help with my school expenses.” I gave her $1, and where’d the book go? Why, in the trash, of course. She never came back to talk to Fred about the books, either. The pizza guy, though, came back. Fred dealt with him (hey, I was watching Everybody Loves Raymond) and then came into the living room. “Is there something you’d like to TELL me?” he said, tapping his foot in mock annoyance. Apparently the pizza guy had LIED, and said to Fred “Your wife says you order a LOT of pizza!” “Well, no,” Fred said. “I’ve lost 150 pounds and my wife has lost 125 pounds in the last year, so we don’t order pizza anymore. EVER.” One good lie deserves another, you know. He’s just better at telling people “no” than I am, I guess. When we were shopping for a vehicle for me (we ended up with the truck I had before I got the Jeep I have now), we visited a dealership, where the salesman was pushing hard for us to buy a Camry. “Blah-de-blah blah service!” he said cheerily. “Well, I feel like I’m being serviced alright,” Fred responded. Hee! I guess I need to just stop answering the door, lest a distant relative show up on my doorstep and ask if they can move in with us… —–]]>

here for a super-duper special birthday surprise. (Though I don’t know why I you’d really be surprised by this!) You have another birthday present coming, just something little, a few days late. Okay, probably more like a few WEEKS late. Happy birthday!! I think that the spud’s recent worries about my mother dying have entered my subconscious, because for the last two nights I’ve dreamt that Fred died. Both times I woke up frantic, saying to myself "Please tell me that was a dream, please tell me that was a dream…", and almost crying with relief when I realized that it was. I hate those damn dreams. Fred’s mom and stepdad came over Sunday to check out the new house, and they brought house-warming gifts with them – an adorable little wrought-iron hummingbird thingy that you hang outside and burn citronella candles in, some homegrown tomatoes, and Cardinal Vine and Four O’ Clock seeds. Here’s my question, southern gardeners – would it behoove me to plant them now, since we’ve still got a few months of warm weather left, or should I wait ’til next spring? Northern gardeners are more than welcome to make suggestions, too. I went to Sam’s today. Man, I love that store. Where else can you get 38 16.9 bottles of spring water for less than $6? And brand-new hardcover books for less than $15? You’d better believe that when the new Stephen King/ Peter Straub book comes out, I’ll be at Sam’s the moment it opens. Speaking of books, do y’all do this, or am I the only dumbass? Every time I read about a book or someone talks about a book they’re reading that’s really good, I get all excited and think "Oh, that sounds like a really good book!", and then I go to Amazon and add it to my wish list. Jeff Bezos called this morning and told me I needed to either buy stuff off my list or delete some things, ’cause it’s taking up too much server space at Amazon. The wish list that ate Amazon! I was reading one forum or another this weekend (maybe Hissyfit?) and someone mentioned that when s/he is asked for her/his phone number, s/he gives the area code, plus 867-5309. Hee! How hard must it be to do that with a straight face? I usually – I order online a lot, you know – either give out the cellphone number, which is turned off unless I’m using it, or give out (256)555-1212, which won’t get them far, since our number is unlisted. Thus the reason we never get telemarketing calls. I think I’m about to adopt the 867-5309 (I checked to make sure it’s not a working number), and I suggest you do the same. ]]>

Sex-y Fashions"; on the cover was a picture of Sarah Jessica Parker and whatshisname who plays Mr. Big. Please. Oh please, god in heaven, people, tell me that women in Manhattan do not strive to dress like SJP’s Carrie Bradshaw. Please? I love the show (yeah, I don’t give a shit if you think it’s gone downhill, I love the damn show, even though it’s getting a tad predictable, and I just couldn’t take Mighty Big TV’s snarky recaps of the show, because beyond all reason, I love the show and get a little happy feeling when I know it’s about to come on, so shut up.) but every FUCKING time I see SJP perk across the screen with some fucked-up ensemble on her little body, I go into seizures and wonder when the pain will stop. Have I ever seen her wear anything slightly normal? I mean, I KNOW I’m no fashion guru my(blackcottonpantsandoversizetshirtwearing)self, but JEEzus. Jeezus, jeezus, jeezus. And there’s this fucking magazine telling all and sundry how THEY TOO can get the Sex and the City look. Far be it from me to tell the people who dress the women who are supposedly on the cutting edge of fashion anything, but perhaps Carrie could set aside some of that cash she’s blowing on Manolo Blahniks (yeah, I KNEW what they were before the show ever existed, so shut up) and invest in, you know, some JEANS and a few T-SHIRTS? And I don’t mean jeans with big fucking flowers attached all over the place, and if she’s going to wear jeans, could she please not wear them with HEELS? If she wants the doofy flower, she can wear one on the shoulder of her t-shirt, I promise. And by the way, with taste as bad as hers, and a job as a columnist, should she be blowing all that money on Manolo Blahniks, anyway? Does she really make enough? Because personally, the day I spend more than, say, $40 on a pair of shoes (not including my New Balance walking shoes) is the day I have lost my fucking mind and need to be admitted to the psychiatric hospital, post-haste. I’ve for sure got better things to do with my money than spend $400+ of it on SHOES. Miranda would never spend $400 on a pair of shoes, would she? No, she’s far too (for the most part) sensible. Which is why she’s my favorite. You know, I have NO idea what my point is supposed to be. I think I’ll just call it an entry. Have a good weekend!]]>

diet journal): 16 miles. Yeah, baby! (Don’t I look all smug?) So, I went to the TV Guide site to make sure I was getting the name of Night Visions correct (my memory is like a sieve), and saw that they were advertising the new Ellen Degeneres show. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t there an Ellen Degeneres show just a few years back and they canceled it? If she couldn’t draw the viewers back then, what makes them think she can do it now? Anyone? The spud had another weepy evening last night because she was missing my mother; she threw down her fork and went running to sit on the bottom step to sob her little heart out. When asked what was wrong, she said "I miss grammy!" It was what I’d expected, but I was afraid there might be something going on at school we didn’t know about. After finishing eating and doing her chores, she called my mother and sobbed "I miss you!" at her. Later, Fred took her on a bike ride, which seemed to cheer her up a little, and she hasn’t been weepy today at all. Thankyagod. Fred doesn’t think he’s going to make it through her teenage years. Okay, that’s it for today. I’m tuckered out from all that walking, I have a sunburn, and I need to finish making dinner. ]]>

so be stealing that Six Flags t-shirt when I can fit into it), but that leaves NINETEEN new shirts. And most of them with matching shorts. And some dresses. And all this after I took the child to Wal-Mart (oh, shut UP. Wal-Mart clothes are PERFECTLY FINE SO SHUT THE HELL UP) and bought her an ass load of new shorts to go with her 2,349 t-shirts. And then Monday the spud started 7th grade, and we walked to the end of the street, and the ladies standing there with their little kiddies said "Oh! I think that was her bus that went by just a minute ago!" And I sighed and looked at the spud and said "Let’s just walk to the school, it’ll only take a few minutes." So we started walking, and as we walked, we saw a small crowd of middle school-aged kids standing around as if waiting for a bus, and I said "Oh, I bet that was the high school bus that went by, not the middle school bus. We’d better walk back to the end of our street so the bus driver will know to stop there each day." We walked back to the end of our street and were discussing with the mothers standing there the bus that had gone by, and had just determined that that had been the high school bus ("I don’t know, the older kids all look alike to me! I can’t tell if they’re in high school or middle school!" Thanks, Helpful McDumbass.) when I looked to my right and saw the spud’s bus (right number and all) come out of a nearby street and turn AWAY from us to pick up the crowd of kids down the road, and then continued on with nary a look in our direction. "Sheeit," I said. "Let’s get the Jeep and I’ll drive you." On the way to the middle school, I said "Just get on the right number bus this afternoon, and get off where he picked up all those kids and walk home." I repeated this several times, because the spud is generally pretty quiet and you’re not sure what’s sinking in and what isn’t. After I exercised and showered and chatted with my mother, we went off to the mall. I need a new comforter for my bed (YES I DO, Fred!) and wanted company while I looked. I didn’t find anything I liked (I’ll be checking out Bed, Bath and Beyond when it opens in a few weeks), but while we were in JC Penney, we found a cat canister set that I just loved, it was so funny-looking, and I dithered about buying it even though it was on sale. I had just about decided to buy it when my mother said "I could buy it for you for a Christmas present!" You’d better believe I jumped on that. "Yeah, you could!" So she bought me not only the canister set: (it’s in 3 sections, ain’t it cute?!), but also the matching salt and pepper set: I love them, they’re so cute and goofy-looking! And you know how much I love things that are cute and goofy-looking… She told me that I had to put them away until Christmas, and when I just said "Okay, I will!", she changed her tune and told me I didn’t have to wait. Hee! She also took me out to lunch. Have I ever mentioned that my affections can be bought? The spud’s school lets out at 3. Since it was raining, we took the Jeep and parked by where all the kids had been waiting, and around 3:15, here came the bus. It stopped and one child got off. That child was not the spud. But we could see the spud on the bus, and were frantically waving to her. "Where the hell’s she GOING?" I said, then pulled out behind the bus, deciding maybe she hadn’t recognized the street. We followed the bus around several streets and out of the subdivision onto a main road. We thought perhaps she was going to just ride back to the school, or maybe she’d forgotten we moved. Anything’s possible with the spud! But then the bus pulled back into the subdivision and stopped at the end of our road, where she got off. The bus driver asked her, when she got on the bus, where she needed to be dropped off, and she’d told him. Oh. And speaking of the spud, she had her hair cut the day before she flew home: It’s pretty cute, and also easier for her to take care of. Like her mother, she doesn’t usually fuss with her hair. Monday evening, the spud started getting all kinds of weepy, I’m sure because my mother was going to be leaving soon. Tuesday morning, she said her stomach hurt, and I first told her she could stay home, and then changed my mind and told her she was going to school. She boo-hooed all over the place, but there was just no way she was staying home on the second day of school when she obviously wasn’t really sick. Yeah I know, mean mommy. Oddly, the school didn’t call to have me come pick her up ’cause she was sick, either. We didn’t do much Tuesday, except run to the grocery store for a few things (we’ve been going through milk like it’s going out of style) and the drugstore, then my mother FORCED me to let her take me out to lunch. Of course I let her; after all, it’s only polite to let your guests do what they’d like when they’re visiting… I actually checked the spud out of school to go to the airport with us this morning. My mom’s flight was at 11, and they started boarding at 10:30. We were going to hang around to watch the plane take off, but what’s the point? It’s not like she knew whether we were watching or not, so we left. I dropped the spud off at school, ran a few errands, and came home to have the house to myself for the first time since Friday. And to do laundry. The excitement never stops around here, no sir…]]>

little shop in Gatlinburg, and he placed a recent order. Which got him wanting to visit Gatlinburg again. We’re going for Labor Day weekend, woohoo! He keeps saying he wants to retire to Gatlinburg; I don’t know if he’s serious. The blinds guy came to put up brand-spankin’-new blinds in our computer room, library, and the study upstairs. Oh, and the back door. I’ve hated being on the computer when it’s dark, ’cause it feels like the entire neighborhood is starting at me. Hopefully they have better things to do, but you know I think the world revolves around me. I think I’m going to cut this short, ’cause I have laundry left to do, and dirty mop water to dump out. You know, the exciting stuff. I don’t know what updating’s going to be like while my mother’s here. I feel that it would be rude to sit in front of the computer for hours as usual, so updating may be sporadic. And of course, if you’re on the notify list you’ll know when I’ve updated, anyway.]]>

I was a kid, I’d never have dared to slump into the room where my mother was and whine "I’m so boooooored", because she’d sure as shit find something for me to do, and believe you me, it would have been something like cleaning the bathroom or vacuuming. Speaking of kids, our neighbors have 3 young boys, and the youngest is, well, very young (I’m not very good at telling the approximate age of young children). Young enough to still be on the occasional bottle, in any case, and he’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. I saw him a few days after we moved in as I was getting the mail, and he gave me the cutest, flirty little smile. Right now, the boys next door have friends over, and they’re riding their bikes around the cul-de-sac (except for the littlest boy), and he’s trying to be helpful by picking up the cones they were riding their bikes around. Heh, it just started raining, and the kiddies are milling about in panic, screaming at the top of their lungs. Thankyajeezus that it didn’t start raining while I was walking 15 miles this morn. So I was in the bathroom this morning after my shower, and I caught sight of an old People magazine sitting on the toilet tank. (Yeah riiiight, like you don’t read in the bathroom… My current bathroom read is a Danielle Steel novel, which is about where it belongs, I think. Okay, that was rude. I actually like the book, god help me, even though I gave up reading Danielle Steel novels years ago because her editors seem to be scared to, y’know, EDIT her. But I digress) This particular issue was the one where it says at the top something like "Harrison Ford reunites with wife!", and I got a little happy feeling and thought "Good, I’m glad he did." I’m odd in that when someone gets married, whether they’re famous or not, I’m sincerely happy for them and hope they stay married forever and ever. When I hear that a couple is splitting up, I’m disappointed and wish they could work it out. Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman? Damn, I thought they’d be together forever. Meg Ryan and Dennis Quaid? I thought for sure they would have worked it out! Pamela And3rson and Tommy Lee? I was looking forward to seeing them still together in their sixties. Seriously! And don’t even get me started on Julia and Ben. And yet, when a couple breaks up, I’m absolutely consumed with curiosity to know why. Why did Tom and Nicole break up? Just tell us, Tom! Was it because you had the hots for Penelope Cruz, because you’re gay, because Nicole cheated on you, some other reason? Personally, I think the "Nicole knows why I filed for divorce", coupled with the almost instant Penelope Cruz fling is a cover for something else. That, or Nicole had an affair and the Penelope Cruz thing is an "in your face" thing to hurt her back. Why oh why am I so desperate to know the truth? Why would I KILL to have Julia Roberts call me up and say "Look, we broke up because I caught him wearing my underwear, and not the sexy, slinky underwear, but the big ol’ saggy-ass stained granny underwear, and every time I looked at him after that, all I could see was the saggy-ass underwear hanging down to his knees and that he was, y’know, all HANGING out of it, and it was too much, alright? Is THAT what you wanted to know, you nosy bitch?!" It’s not that I’m taking pleasure in the pain of others, GOD no, it’s just that I want to know WHY they broke up, and I’m not sure why. Of course, probably part of the reason why I read so many journals is because I have an insatiable need to know the details of the lives of others, and I hate it, OH how I hate it when they hint at something that’s going on in their lives and never say what it is. Drives me nuts! I think it should be the law that everyone has to share the private details of their life with me, and when I’m queen of the world, I shall make it so. "What? You bought a comforter and didn’t tell me that you were considering doing so?! OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!" I will also seize possession of Vince, oh yes…]]>

It was the funniest thing; Miz Poo was standing there, slowly shifting her weight from one back leg to the other, almost like a little dance. Come to find out, there was a gray neighborhood cat sitting outside the window hissing at she and Tubby. I went out to see if he’d come to me, but he wouldn’t, and after Spanky and Fancypants caught sight of him and set to howling, I had to go out and run him off for the sake of my sanity. From that same window this afternoon, I saw a huge flock of birds gathered around the bird feeders. I don’t think we EVER had so many birds at the old house.

There were a ton more on the other side of the yard, but one camera can only do so much. If I’d thought of it (and were a tad more talented with the Paintshop Pro), I could have made a panoramic picture. The majority of these birds, according to Fred’s father, are cowbirds, and are very common. I bet the cats are counting the minutes (if cats could count) until we have the yard fenced in and they can go out there. I feel for their lives when such an event occurs, ’cause they’ll be easily outnumbered, and no doubt we’ll glance out the window to see Tubby flying by, carried by 98 birds. And since I’m sharing pictures, check out Fred’s current footwear: He’s wearing my yellow slippers (this picture doesn’t really do justice to how fluorescent they are) because the tiled and hardwood floors have been hurting his knees. They’re just on loan until his slippers come from Land’s End later this week, though. Which is good, ’cause I need them back. I keep a pair of slippers upstairs and a pair downstairs (because yes, I am that lazy), and he’s hijacked my upstairs slippers, the bastard.

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With five cats in the house, it’s no surprise that no matter where you go, there are piles of kitties everywhere. Here, Tubby and Spanky are enjoying the morning sun. Spanky was rolling back and forth in ecstasy until I had the nerve to get the camera out. More piles of kitties. Here, Fancypants looks up from his perusal of Shape magazine to see why Fred is snapping his fingers and trying to get him to look at me. Fred termed this picture "Little Lord Tubbleroy". Hee! Spanky and Miz Poo are on bird watch. Tubby is cooling his stomach on the nice cool hardwood floor. Speaking of birds, these birds seem to be adult-sized, but they were begging for food from another bird, who was feeding them. Maybe it’s a mating thing? I dunno, but it was kind of cool to watch. Spanky’s new favorite place to sleep is under my desk. Which means there’s nowhere for my feet to go, and upon occasion I accidentally kick him, but he’s the forgiving sort, and simply stands up, turns around in a circle and settles down in the exact same position. Miz Poo’s favorite place to sleep continues to be on her pillow on the top of my desk, amongst the piles of crap. I hope for her sake that the phone doesn’t suddenly ring. Another Poo pic. I don’t know why I adore taking pictures of her from above so, but it just cracks me up. From my desk in the computer room, I can look through the library window and see the sunset every night. This picture doesn’t really do it justice. This picture came out a tad better, but I had to go outside to take it. And the cool clouds that show up as the sun is going down. I love me some cool pink and blue sky, yessir. Don’t I look like I could use a nap? I had just finished Tae Bo-ing (the instructional tape). Damn, my hair gets light between colorings. And I need a professional to help me out with those eyebrows, I think. Here, I was trying to get a picture of Miz Poo and I together. Miz Poo was NOT cooperating, and this was the best of the bunch. Okay, I think those pictures will hold y’all for a while. I didn’t manage to get any pictures of Spot, but only because he’s still hiding under the bed most of the time. The rest of the cats have pretty much adjusted, even Fancypants. Thank god. ]]>