Author: Robyn

Declan and Ciara, scoping out the situation and trying to determine whether it’s worth it to escape the McMao cave.

McMaos in the McMao cave.

Goofy babies, rolling around.

Maggie, chilling out away from the babies.

Fergus Simon, exploring (that’s my camera lens cap his front paw is on).

Finnegan, rolling around.

Cillian. Everything is absolute, stunningly amazing to this little guy.

Declan.

Fergus Simon, looking around. This one misses NOTHING.

“My paw smells funny.” (Declan)

Sweet Miz Poo.

Previously
2010: Five! How the hell did we even know we HAD cats with such a small number of them??
2009: Two long rows of tomatoes for two people. That’s not too much, is it?
2008: No entry.
2007: “Baby, I think someone in my comments just called me a complete idiot.”
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: So, to sum up: for almost a year, they’ve spent time staring up their property line, ostentatiously walked up and down it, yet it’s never occurred to them to come knock on the door and say “Hi, blah blah our side of the property line, blah blah, stop? Thanks!”
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: “If we manufactured bon-bons, I would have sent you a package of those. Instead, this package should assuage the pain and horror of not working while you lay on the couch and watch Oprah and the soaps.”

In case you missed it in yesterday’s comments, Cat let us know that the Extreme Coupon-ing “mustard lady” J’aime was committing fraud, and you can read more about it here. Innnnteresting. And like Aimee said, no WONDER J’aime was so nervous at the register!

It never occurred to me that you could commit fraud like that with coupons – and it amazes me that anyone thinks you can get away with anything EVER these days.

Yesterday I did a run to Sam’s to stock up on the many things we’ve run out of in the two months since I had surgery. I left the house at 6:45 am because I have the super-special-fancy “business” membership, and we “business” and “gold” members can go into a relatively deserted Sam’s Club and wander around for a full three hours before the regular “household” account-having peasants can get in. It is SO DAMN NICE to be able to go into Sam’s, get what I need, and get the hell out of there without having to dodge other people.

When I left Sam’s, I had to swing by Target to buy a few things, and I got there just as the store opened (I think. I’m assuming it still opens at 8.) I browsed a little, picked up a few things, put a few things back, and then stood in line to check out.

The cashier, to my dismay, was feeling super chatty. She commented on each and every item I bought, she asked how many cats we have (I was buying a couple of cat beds SHUT UP IT WAS A GOOD PRICE) and I lied and said we had three (I usually lie, because it’s nicer than telling the questioner that it’s none of their damn bidness, unless I’m caught off guard), then she started telling some long and involved story about how she had cats when she was growing up, but she was really more of a dog person and so she had two dogs and they were (some sort of breed I am unfamiliar with) and they like to (do something fascinating) and she likes to (laugh/ cry/ take pictures and send them to her friends) and I enjoy a nice chat with complete strangers and all, but it was getting on toward 8:45 and I was starting to get hungry, and all I wanted to do was check out and go home (which is a half hour drive) and eat breakfast.

What the voice in my brain really really wanted me to do was say “Lady, this has ceased to be interesting to me” and then walk away. And I was concentrating so hard on NOT saying or doing that, that I completely lost the thread of what she was yammering about, and the next thing I knew, she was smiling expectantly at me. All I could do was smile brightly, and say “Well! That sounds fun! You have a great day!” and turn and walk off.

This is the sort of thing that really worries me. When I’m 80 years old and I’ve lost the ability to stop the obnoxious stuff I’m thinking from falling out my mouth, people are either going to hate my guts (“Did you HEAR what that old lady said to me? What a rude bitch!”) or think I’m funny as shit (“Did you HEAR what that old lady said to me? What a hoot!”)

I am, of course, hoping for the latter.

Yesterday, for the first time in two and a half weeks, I vacuumed the foster room. The amount of loose cat hair in there was just appalling. I hadn’t vacuumed before yesterday because I didn’t want to traumatize the babies or Maggie. But I was getting desperate, so I figured it was time. It was pretty simple – I just went in, picked up the McMao cave, carried it into the closet (it’s a big closet). Maggie followed us in, I turned on the light, and then closed the door. It took me about ten minutes to vacuum the room, then I put the cave back where it belonged, Maggie followed me back out, and I closed the closet door again. Mission accomplished!

Someone asked in yesterday’s comments when the kittens’ ears will stand up on their heads. I did a quick glance back through Kara’s kittens’ pictures, and this was River (who is now Nate) at three weeks old:

So I’m going to guess that it should happen in the next week or so.

Someone else asked when it’ll be time to offer the kittens a slurry to help them wean. I’m going to start offering them canned kitten food around four to five weeks, since mothers generally starting weaning their kittens at five to six weeks. Maggie gets some canned kitten food in the morning and again in the evening, so if any of the kittens show interest before that, I’ll of course offer them some.

This right here is Declan. Declan is the explorer of the litter. When I walk into the room, he immediately comes to the “door” of the McMao cave, and sticks his head out. The threshhold of the doorway is just a bit too high for them to get out, but he tries. Then he looks sadly at me until I lift him out so that he can explore.

Explorer Declan discovers the pink feathered cat toy.

It smells purrrrty.

Fergus Simon and the belly rub.

“What you doin’, lady?”

I love how happy they get when they discover Maggie.

I wouldn’t ordinarily post this, as Jake’s just a blur, but the look on Tommy’s face is CRACKING ME UP.

The gray boys sure do love that Tommy.

Previously
2010: Today, I slack.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: “I’m not looking smug, I’m looking RUEFUL,” I said.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: “Bessie, Jayson Blair is black.”
2003: No entry.
2002: I hate it when there’s a web page touting some wonderful product, but you CANNOT place an online order.
2001: SIR! RECRUIT BITCHYPOO IS DONE WITH HER ENTRY AND READY TO POST IT, SIR!
2000: we watched the ultra-crappy End of Days last night

Sunday afternoon I was folding Fred’s laundry and putting it away, trying to get the chore done and over with so I could go upstairs and hang out with the McMaos, when the goddamn alarm went off. Our doors and windows are alarmed, and the alarm system is somehow tied into the smoke detectors so that when a smoke detector goes off, so does the whole house alarm.

So the alarm system went off and I was all “WTF?”, and went into the dining room to turn the alarm system off. It turned off, but the smoke alarm kept blaring, and I was all “Where the fucking FUCK is Fred?!”

Truly, I don’t know how on earth he does it, but every fucking time there’s something going on in the house where I can use his help, he is NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.

Then I thought “Well, crap. I hope that smoke alarm isn’t going off because, y’know, there’s a FIRE.” It was the one upstairs, so I ran up to make sure nothing was burning and to get the goddamn smoke alarm to shut the fuck up. As it turned out, I’d lit a candle in the bathroom, and it was smoking a tiny bit, but certainly nothing that should have set off the fucking smoke alarm. I blew out the candle and grabbed a towel and tried waving the towel at the smoke alarm, in hopes that it would cause any smoke around the alarm to dissipate and perhaps the alarm would shut itself off, but nay.

Do you suppose there’s anything at all in the upstairs of our house that I could drag under the smoke alarm so I could yank it out of its mooring and pull the batteries out? AGAIN I SAY NAY.

I ran downstairs and stepped onto the side stoop and bellowed “HEY!”, and because my bellow is a loud bellow, Fred popped up from the other side of the compost heap and was all “Wha?” I bellowed “Could you COME IN HERE PLEASE!”, and then I shut the door and went into the dining room and grabbed a chair and hauled it upstairs. Then I grabbed the goddamn smoke alarm and pullled both batteries out of it, and finally the ear-piercing scream of the smoke detector was silenced.

Then I carried the smoke detector, the batteries, and the dining room chair back downstairs, and as I reached the dining room, Fred finally moseyed through the door.

While I was bitching at him about the fact that when there’s some emergency requiring his presence inside the house, it would be much appreciated if he’d pick his pace up from a mosey to perhaps a saunter IF IT WOULDN’T BE TOO MUCH DIFFICULTY, I somehow failed to mention that it was the candle I’d been burning that set off the fucking thing in the first place.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

(And when I went in to check on the McMaos, sure that they’d be freaked out by all the noise, they were all sleepily rolling around with not a care in the world.)

So? Has everyone been watching Extreme Couponing? I set the DVR to record it, and one day last weekend when we were looking for something to watch, Fred expressed some interest in watching that show, which surprised me. We watched a couple of episodes, and it was oddly fascinating.

I occasionally use coupons (though I tend not to go out of my way to get them), and have even once or twice scored some pretty awesome deals. I’d LOVE to spend $50 for $600 worth of groceries, but I just don’t have the patience to devote the amount of time to figuring out the deals the way some of the people on that show do. If I spend $30 at Publix and save (according to the receipt) $15 or more, I’m usually pretty happy with that.

I do follow blogs that figure out the deals for you – if you go to my links list, there’s a “frugal” section over there on the right – but I’m always so far behind in my blog reading that the majority of the time I glance at the post titles to see if there’s anything that grabs my attention, and then hit the “mark all as read” button without reading them.

I would usually vow to do better at figuring ways to save money, but given that we have freezers full of our own veggies and meat and don’t eat much canned stuff, I’m going to declare that I think we’re doing just fine.

(But given that we’re down to our last two rolls of toilet paper in the entire house, I’ll be dragging my ass to Sam’s soon. Y’all let me know if you run across any awesome deals on Scott Tissue toilet paper, would you?)

Comfy Rufus.

Rufus, fangin’ it.

Can you believe these babies are two weeks old?

First, the videos. In the first, Fergus Simon and one of his brothers (I’m not sure who) flail around and bite each other.

In the second, you can see how they get around. Not bad for two weeks old!

The amazed face over there on the right is cracking me UP.

Fergus Simon and his serious little face.

The pouty princess (Ciara) and Fergus Simon.

Cillian seems worried.

Macushla, giving me a bit of the ol’ attitude.

Finnegan, wandering.

Sweet Declan, wondering what’s going on.

The Anderson kitties (and Rufus) are nuts for ham.

Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: Kara’s birth story.
2007: I don’t know that I’ll know how to act when I’ve got internet whenever I want it, it’s been so damn long since I’ve had it!
2006: No entry.
2005: Taking the week off.
2004: No entry.
2003: Fred: That was a cowardly yellow-dog liberal DEMOCRAT thing to say.
2002: Things are getting back to normal.
2001: One of these days I’ll get my ass in gear; I just never know when that day will be.
2000: Squooshiness begets squooshiness, you know.

So, Maggie was just chilling… And I thought “Oh, I need to weigh the babies!”

Some of them were awake, and some of them were snoozing.

So I took them out and weighed them, and after I weighed them, I put them in this little purple cat bed. A couple of them got skeered.

“What is this place? Where is my MOMMY?!”

Maggie made her soothing mama noise to soothe them, and then some of them were all “TIME TO EAT!”

Maggie said “I need a bath.”

Then she thought about it.

She kissed a baby.

Then she cleaned a baby.

(To be continued tomorrow, because there were so many cute pictures I couldn’t fit them all in one day!)

Kara likes to go out into the back yard and jump up on the window sill and stare in at the computer room as if she’s thinking “That looks like a cool place to be. I sure wish I was THERE and not HERE.”

Previously
2010: I would almost welcome a flirty email with a “fuck me!” subtext from an ex-girlfriend when I’m snoring through his emails just to break up the tedium.
2009: Rude little brats.
2008: No entry.
2007: Feel free to cut and paste, assholes, though I fully understand if you prefer something with a few more misspellings.
2006: Must… resist… evil… urge…
2005: “Ah JEEZUS, here she goes again with the Gatlinburg! She goes for four days and talks about it for four weeks!”
2004: Oh. My. Eyes.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Entries I liked.
2000: No entry.

Those of you who asked, Fred’s book will also be available via Barnes and Noble in the next few days, in case you have a Nook instead of a Kindle. If you have neither, you can download Kindle for PC from Amazon and read it on your PC, or you can download Kindle for iPod Touch, and if you have a smartphone you can more than likely download the Kindle App for your smartphone. I myself have a Kindle, the Kindle app on my iPod Touch AND the Kindle App on my phone.

(And I still have a bookcase full of real live books and hadn’t touched my Kindle in about two months ’til Fred wanted to see what No Limit looks like on the Kindle, whereupon I had to charge it because it died from heartbreak over being ignored for months on end..)

Anyway, No Limit on the Kindle is here, it’s in the sidebar to the right, and when it’s available on Barnes & Noble, I’ll share that with you, too!

I’m all about the service, y’know.

I got my raised bed veggies planted yesterday, but when Fred went out to till the garden, he reported that it was still way too wet, and he wasn’t going to be able to till it. So I moved the box of seed onions and garlic off the bookcase in the computer room where the smell has been driving me nuts (they smell really really good – I love me some onions and garlic!) and put it in the hall closet. Maybe next weekend I’ll be able to get them planted. I hope so, anyway.

Yesterday was a crappy day where I dropped every damn thing I touched. Twice. I killed off five eggs while trying to scramble two for my breakfast (picked up two, dropped them. Picked up two more, dropped them. Picked up two more, dropped one. GRRRR.) and another couple while trying to crack one open for Alice (she likes egg yolks, but I wouldn’t let her slurp up the ones I dropped, because with the way my day was going, she’d have slurped up an eggshell fragment and choked to death on it).

I meant to do some organizing – the closets in this house desperately need some attention – but in the end, all I could manage for the day was to watch the season premiere of the NYC Housewives, spent a lot of time watching the kittens alternately sleep and squirm around, and lay on my bed and read for a while.

It was the kittens that made me feel better. They always do, even if I don’t touch them (if they’re sleeping soundly, I try not to touch them, because it gets ’em all riled up) and just sit and watch them sleep.

Today’s dumb question regards grill pans. Do they really cook food any differently than cooking it in a flat pan? Because I’m trying to determine whether I want to put my energy into desperately wanting a grill pan or not.

What say ye?

The movies. First, Fergus Simon McMao enjoys a belly rub, oh yes he does.

And second, your daily dose of McMao squirming and wide-eyed amazement.

“Don’t judge me.”

The feet up in the air will forever kill me dead.

The princess always sleeps hard.

Considering what to do next.

COMPLAINT: acquired. SHARING OF COMPLAINT: in progress.

That girl is always right in the middle of the pack. The better to rule her kingdom from, I suppose.

Last night I took the kittens out of the McMao Cave to weigh them. The heaviest McMao is Declan at 9 1/2 ounces. The lightest is Macushla at 8 3/4 ounces.

When I see what these kittens weigh at 9 days old, it gives a new spin to the fact that when we got Beulah, who was (I believe) 4 or 5 weeks old, she only weighed 8 ounces.

That’s her on the far left there, next to her normal-sized siblings.

Kind of amazing, isn’t it?

And a bonus: my favorite picture of her litter, with Beulah in the middle:

Note to self: when the McMaos are eating solid food, be sure to get a shot like this!

Newt in the cat bed (well, DOG bed really) on my bed. I had forgotten that when the weather gets warm (and it’s been in the 80s recently), Newt likes to spend his days sleeping on my bed, and his nights roaming.

Previously
2010: (We call him “Creepy Cousin Spanky” when he acts like that.)
2009: No entry.
2008: If you see my bottle of Feliway, please send it home. Thankyew.
2007: “If a fluffy black cat prances across the yard, goes upstairs and shits on the carpet, could you give us a call?”
2006: “Hmm,” I said, like that meant something to me.
2005: Just because the fuckers are talking to me doesn’t mean I’m obligated to listen to their bullshit, does it?
2004: Hey, you know how I always say Ben Affleck has a humongous noggin?
2003: No entry.
2002: Apparently the Committee for Deciding Who is Hellbound was meeting in the waiting room.
2001: “Jesus has arrived in Madison,” he said nonchalantly.
2000: Now that, my friends, is wickedly fast.

Thanks to all of you who participated in the kitten pool. The money you donated will cover leukemia/aids testing, spaying or neutering, & rabies shots for all 6 kittens plus a bit left over. I am always amazed at the response Robyn gets from her readers and I appreciate that most of you probably have local organizations that you support. We are lucky to have so many generous animal lovers who jump in to support the cause. And I love the name Fergus Simon. Thanks, Lori, and congratulations on being the name-the-baby winner.

Sincerely, Susan B., Shelter Manager

First, the movies!

I changed out the bedding in the McMao cave, then put the kittens back in, and they weren’t sure what to think.

This second movie, I have to warn you: these kittens are OUT OF CONTROL.

Yesterday afternoon, I was picking up and cuddling kittens. I realized, as I was holding Fergus Simon, that one of his eyes had started to open. I was surprised – I honestly didn’t think that would start happening for several more days – and when Fred and I went in to hang out with Maggie and the babies before bed, I picked up Fergus Simon to show Fred the little bit of eye, and found that in the few hours since I’d last seen him, the little guy had opened BOTH eyes!

Clearly he’s a prodigy.

This is what he looked like only two days before.

I can see the slightest bit of eye here and there on the other kittens, so I suspect it won’t be long before they’ve all got their eyes open.

They don’t fit quite so easily in the palm of my hand any more. The babies are growing up!

Pink Nose looks inquisitive, no?

It’s a rough life, isn’t it?

(That’s a yawn over there to the right, not a hiss.)

More yawning.

Maggie, hanging out as far from those babies as possible. But when they call…

She comes a-running.

I wuv you, Dark Nose.

And you, Dark Nose with Pink Splotch.

At last night’s weigh-in, the heaviest kitten was Dark Nose with Pink Splotch, at a hefty 7 7/8 oz. The lightest was a three-way tie between Black Nose, Pink Nose, and White Face. It’s funny how heavy they seem compared to a week ago.

Fred took another look last night, and he’s pretty sure that the two kittens whose sex he’d been unable to determine earlier in the week are both boys. So it looks like we’ve got 5 boys and 1 lone little White Face girl.

She is so going rule that litter with an iron paw.

Corbie would like it known that he, too, can lay on his back and snooze and look adorable!

Previously
2010: I think I’ve decided she doesn’t have a sense of humor, because I still haven’t heard anything back, and HMPH TO HER.
2009: So, the great freedom-letting has begun!
2008: Now if I can just convince him to get going on that closet for the corner of the computer room….
2007: “What the fuck did you DO?” I accused Sugarbutt, who looked up at me with the most innocent face in existence.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Stupid Steven Cojocaru.
2003: I think I speak for most Alabamans in this area when I say “Uh, what the FUCK?!”
2002: sights from my walk
2001: I am SO PISSED OFF.
2000: It’s not stealing if I give them credit, right? Uh… right?

Good lord – those of you who weren’t reading back then should go back to March of 2008 and read about the excitement we had when the late Flappy McGee laid an egg inside an egg. There’s even a recording of us reading the newspaper article (I’m sorry, did I mention it made the FRONT PAGE of the newspaper?) and making ourselves sound like total hicks. We listened to it last night and laughed ourselves silly.

I’m in the process of moving Love & Hisses to a new web host. I won’t badmouth my current web host until I’ve got all my sites moved to the new host (AND THEN WILL BADMOUTH THEM PLENTY), but I will say that I find it SUPER interesting that it wasn’t until after they debuted their new “VPS Service” on April 1st – that would cost me $50 a month in hosting fees (not gonna happen) – that they had any issues with the amount of bandwidth I was using.

Fuckers. Is what I’m sayin’.

This weekend, I will be planting my onions and garlic and my carrots and radishes and purslane and romaine and brussels sprouts and cauliflower! I can’t wait to get this stuff planted, I’m ready for my fresh from the garden veggies to come rolling in!

I need to get my herbs planted, too, but I plan to plant those in containers rather than raised beds (because all my raised bed space will be growing other stuff) so it can wait a bit.

That’s what I’m doing this weekend when I’m not sitting and staring at baby kittens, that is. What do YOU have planned?

First, the movies.

This is the really long one I warned you about. It’s just kittens sleeping and squirming, squirming and sleeping. It’s very relaxing to watch, I can tell you that!

This one’s much shorter, and it’s got wee hissing kittens in it (actually, I think it’s Fergus Simon doing the hissing both times). If time is of the essence for you, forward to 38 seconds and watch Little White Face have a conniption because I BARELY TOUCHED HER. She’s a drama queen in the making, that one.

Let me see if I can remember the questions I wanted to answer that some of you asked.

Regarding what our cats think of the peeps coming from the foster room: they don’t seem to think anything. We have a little temporary wall up about a foot from the door (I’ll try to get a picture of it, it’s quite the sight) so that our cats can’t get to the foster door and sniff around and get Maggie all riled up. The very first set of fosters we had were Mia and her babies – the babies were only a few weeks old when I brought them home – and Mia was super protective and lost her MIND when she saw one of our cats near the door. Since then, whenever we have a momma cat, we’re sure to put up something so that she can’t see our other cats. I mean, I’m sure Maggie knows they’re out there – god knows Miz Poo is fond of walking through the house with a toy in her mouth, howling, it’s hard to miss that – but she hasn’t actually seen any of them and so has been pretty relaxed.

This is what Miz Poo does every day, many many times a day:

(That was made at our previous house.)

Regarding Maggie’s belly, it looks less like a deflated balloon than you’d think. She’s still not a thin cat (though I swear she looks smaller every day – while the kittens get bigger every day. Funny how that works, no?), and she’s got a bit of a sway to her when she walks, but I imagine that in time her belly will snap back to something resembling normal – it certainly worked that way for Kara.

Rufus’s hiding place: Nope, still haven’t figured it out. I’m going to set up the camera in the laundry room (since I’m pretty sure that’s where it is) this weekend and start vacuuming and we’ll see if we get it figured out!

Sarah, White Face says she’d love to move to New Zealand as long as I have visitation rights. 🙂

Jessica, thank you for thinking that I have a soothing voice. When I hear it, I mostly find it annoying and weird and lispy.

Y’all check out this EXCELLENT cat video over at D-Listed.

Elayne, Rufus is very soft and velvety and an all-around pleasure to pet!

Elizabeth in NC said: “Susan sexed the babies.” Perhaps someone like that shouldn’t really be working around helpless animals. which made me laugh out loud. I hated, when Maggie was pregnant, mentioning the size of her nipples because it made me feel like such a pervert. (But I felt it needed to be shared. What WOULD you all have done if you didn’t know that Maggie’s nipples were prominent?!)

Okay, I think I covered everything. Let me know if you have a burning question and I’ll do my best to answer it!

Six days old! Today, those babies are six days old. Can you believe that? Tomorrow they will be ONE FULL WEEK OLD. In the next week, their eyes should start opening, and they should start hearing. The part where they start hearing? I highly suspect that that will lead to much hissing in my direction from them. I’ll do my best to catch that on video!

Thank you all for your name suggestions. I’ve got some favorites in mind, and I plan to formally introduce them all by name in Monday’s entry.

Maggie takes some time away from the babies to get just a little high on the KONG catnip kicker toy. She works hard, you know. She deserves a little time to herself!

Paws in the AIR like he just don’t CARE!

Truly, could you not just kiss that little pink mouth?

The legs flailing on the right side of the picture crack me UP.

Now begins the yawnapalooza.

Yawny White Face.

Yawny Pink Nose.

Annnnd they’re out again.

That look on her face makes me laugh.

Joe Bob in a box.

Plenty big enough, obviously.

He loved that box with a deep and abiding passion. And then someone peed in it, and we had to throw it away and there’s never been another box as perfect. The end.

Previously
2010: “A pineapple tree,” I said.
2009: Y’all are some grumpy motherfuckers, aren’t you?
2008: Detective Boogerton, the grizzled, cranky veteran detective who has seen it all, is disgruntled that his day off has been interrupted.
2007: No entry.
2006: FYI.
2005: Meme.
2004: Lime green would work.
2003: I called Fred at one point and said “Maybe it’s SARS!”
2002: Well, you can just bite my coconut-scented, soft, smooth, butt.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.