Author: Robyn

Reacher, having heard the driveway alarm, is waiting to see if he needs to go hide from someone, or if it’s just the UPS guy.

I love that Corbie so.

SO GORGEOUS.

It’s Rhyme time!

Greg Brady in the sun.

All six kittens are actually represented here – you can see Peter’s whiskers at the bottom of the picture.

Stretchin’ Cindy.

I went upstairs to hang out with the kittens, and they heard me come up the stairs, so slowly wandered out of the foster room. They’d obviously been sleeping.

And then came Miz Poo (she’s usually upstairs when I let the kittens out in the morning, and I give her the choice of coming downstairs or staying with the kittens. She usually stays with the kittens, because she loves their room – when it’s sunny, all the cats love it in there.)

Notice that they’re all giving her a wide berth. I suspect she’s taught them that if they get too close, there WILL be smackin’.

Elwood really knows how to fill up a cat bed.

Previously
2009: CLEARLY I am filled with the Christmas spirit.
2008: It’s nice to have a clean house. I should probably try it more often!
2007: The eyes of a lover, the heart of a monster the world has never seen before.
2006: No entry.
2005: I have the best readers EVAH!
2004: Gotta love that Jack Bauer.
2003: When it’s such a noteworthy event that my child stops and stares in wonder, it’s possible I’m just not cleaning often enough, ya think?
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: That’s my girl!

If today’s pictures have a common theme, I think it would be “I haz a snuggle.”

Bobby and Cindy Brady.

Look at Bobby Brady, with the attitude, all squinty-eyed like an attitudinous little brat.

Such serious little faces.

Jan’s all “I haz a secret. My toes is dirty.”

“I cleans my toes.”

“See? All clean!” (Bobby, in the background, seems pretty unimpressed.)

“Okay, WHAT happened here? Last thing I remember…”

“…I was snorting some catnip…”

“..and when I woke up, HE was there, all stretched out and hogging the bed. I really need to cut down on the ‘nip.”

Tommy and Sugarbutt: brudderly love. (I LOVE that even at 5 1/2 years old, the brothers still snuggle from time to time.)

“You see what I put up with, here?”

Here they are from September 2005, when they were our fosters – back then, their names were Barrett (Tommy) and Sad Eyes (Sugarbutt). (They were named when they came to me.)

and later that same month:

Annnd with their brother Smitty (the orange one on the right, front – that’s Sugarbutt in the back with one eye closed), and their sister, Callie.

Okay, enough of the trip down memory lane. 🙂 Well, except for just ONE more.

Hi Robyn,

Kallee

(All pictures below are ©Kallee)

On the roof where they were born

The male kitten at home. His eye cleared up almost as soon as he was fed!

The scared little girl

Four months later: The beautiful mum

The boy, I named him Gene

Sweet sweet Annie, the little girl.

Previously
2009: Mike & Gus: Brudderly…. love?
2008: It was kind of a cooking-themed weekend for me.
2007: I expected to read “And after we had fabulous chocolate crepes for dessert, we moved on to Bob’s house for the key party to end the night on a high note.”
2006: It burns, Jane! The applique, IT BURRRRRRRRNS!
2005: I’m a creature of habit, what can I say?
2004: No shit, Matt. Ya think? Ya think she might like to eat?
2003: “You are NOT allowed in Maine!” I informed him.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Except for world peace and all that. Yadda, yadda.
1999: No entry.

I am just all kinds of scattered and unfocused right now, trying to get the house whipped into shape before Friday (half of Fred’s family is coming here in the morning for brunch and then we’re going to his Dad’s in the evening), so y’all are stuck with cat entries this week.

I know, I know “Really? Cat entries? From ROBYN? We are STUNNED and SHOCKED and AMAZED!”

Last week, it rained. And then the next day it was warm enough for the cats to go out into the back yard and then back into the house many many many times. I didn’t even bother to mop ’til the next day.

I love the alarmed look on Bobby’s face, like “I feel a paw on my shoulder, but NO ONE ELSE IS SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE HOUSE RIGHT NOW!”

Jean, this basket bed condo thingy look familiar? It is a favorite of the Bradys. Also, Jake is rather partial to it.

Corbie McGee and his thick, lush, raccoon-like tail.

An attempt to get a better picture of the not-a-heart on Cindy’s side. I’ll see if I can’t get a straight-on picture.

Cindy is a multi-tasker who can grab for Peter’s tail AND bunny-kick my foot at the same time.

Oh, Bobby Brady, I lub you so.

The straight-on pictures of Peter Brady don’t really show the extra-long fur at the tips of his ears, but this one shows it pretty nicely.

::thlurrrp::

The basket bed condo thingy on its way to the kitten room. Tommy gave it two paws up.

Corbie McGee, peering around the corner. I love the way his tail is around the leg of the chair.

“MOM! You ever hear of KNOCKING FIRST?!”

Previously
2009: I was a baking motherfucker this weekend.
2008: No entry.
2007: Kismet! Match made in heaven! Fate!
2006: I said to Fred, “I know you think we have too many cats, but -”
2005: I imagine that when all three of our phones are in the same vicinity, we’ll get them confused and hijinx will ensue.
2004: Reader questions, answered.
2003: “Um, no,” I told Fred when he asked. “And not only no, but HELL no, and I’ll be out of the house whenever they come to interview you and tape you exercising and all that goofy-ass shit.”
2002: No entry.
2001: I guess he defines “tension” as “getting drunk and pawing every female in sight.”
2000: I practically woke up screaming, I tell you.
1999: Suddenly, it occurs to me that nestled next to my underwear is not the best place to put a bag of very potent catnip.

Fred worked so many hours Monday through Thursday last week, that he had enough time banked to take Friday off. So he did! And what’s even better is that he’s got a three-day weekend this weekend and next, as well. The company he works for is pretty awesome, and let their employees take Christmas Eve through New Year’s Day off. (Fred, however, thought ahead and asked if it’s allowable to bank the holiday time he doesn’t take, so he can use it during the year next year – and it’s allowable, so he’ll be taking Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve off from work, but working Monday through Friday.)

So we didn’t do much on Friday but hang out around the house. At one point we did go out into the blue coop (the one that will eventually be turned into a kitten coop) and took the nest boxes apart. He did the taking apart, and I hauled the wood away.

At some point Friday, he got an email at some point from his company – an email sent to all the employees – letting them know that the company had done so well through the year that everyone was getting a bonus.

Now, Fred really doesn’t spend money on himself. Everything he spends tends to be for the garden or something for the chickens or dogs. It was my opinion that he should use the bonus to buy something for himself. He’s been talking for a long time about buying a Wii or Xbox 360, and he hemmed and hawed about what to do with the money. Which is funny, because I could think of about 35 things to do, and I started listing them. “We could use the bonus to finish out the kitten coop.” and “We could use some of the bonus to buy a new garden wagon (since this one has shit the bed).” and “We could buy more wood to make platforms for the cats in the front room.” and so on.

Finally – probably to shut me the hell up – Fred declared that he wanted an Xbox 360. Saturday morning we got up earlyish, and headed for Walmart. He started browsing the games, and I wandered over to the book section, then the pet section, then to the craft section, and then back to check on Fred. He picked out several games, and I looked through them, but nothing looked terribly appealing to me. If there’d been a Super Mario Brothers, I would have been all over that (I kicked ASS at Super Mario Brothers on my ex-husband’s old Nintendo), or if there’d been Ms. Pac Man or Frogger, I would have gone for that. But nothing interested me, and so we just got some boring looking war game type games for Fred.

(I should add that the extent of my game-playing consists of playing a few games of Snood on my iPod before bed. I’ve never been much of a game player.)

So, we got the Xbox and the games, bought a Kitty Kube for the Bradys, and then headed for the grocery section of the store. We usually get our Saturday morning groceries at Publix, but since we were already at Walmart and didn’t need much, we grabbed what we needed.

I was having a sudden craving for Heavenly Hash ice cream, because Fred had just said something about it a few days earlier, and I walked slowly up the ice cream aisle looking for it. I didn’t see it, but I did see Rocky Road, so I grabbed that. Then I saw a carton of Heavenly Hash, but it was yogurt rather than ice cream. I was pretty sure that Heavenly Hash and Rocky Road were about the same flavor of ice cream, so I held the Breyer’s Rocky Road in one hand and grabbed the Purity Heavenly Hash in the other, to compare ingredients.

“They’re about the same thing,” I said. When it comes down to it, if I’m going to eat ice cream I want ice cream not frozen yogurt, so I was about to put the frozen yogurt back when the Purity guy who’d been stocking nearby stepped forward.

“That’s really good,” he said, indicating the frozen yogurt.

“Oh?” I said uncomfortably. I hate it when the representative for one company is standing there and I buy from another company altogether – and now that he was offering up an opinion, I was doubly uncomfortable. (If the Pepsi guy is stocking in the soda aisle, I’ll skip that aisle until I’ve done all my other shopping, and if he’s still there when I’m done with my other shopping, unless I’m down to my last bottle of Diet Coke, I’ll just put off buying Diet Coke for a later day. I feel like it sends the “I have tried your Pepsi, and find it – AND THUS, YOU – lacking” message. I know chances are good that they don’t CARE, or possibly they’ve learned to live with the pain, but I never claimed I wasn’t a neurotic weirdo.)

“Blah blah blah,” he said. (Not literally “blah blah blah”, but I don’t remember what words of praise he had for the frozen yogurt).

“Hmm,” I said, attempting to look like I was truly considering his words of wisdom. Then he turned away to answer his phone, I tossed the frozen yogurt back in the freezer, and hauled ass out of that aisle.

We headed for the checkout. By this point, the store had started to get pretty damn busy, and we started out standing in one line, and then moved to another. The line moved pretty quickly, fortunately (see: Fred And3rson, exceedingly impatient), and the cashier rang up our stuff. The checkout process ground to a halt when she rang up the Xbox, then stepped away from her register to grab something, and then swiped a card and then swiped it again.

“I don’t know what’s going on right now,” Fred said apologetically to the couple standing in line behind us. “I’m sorry.”

The woman laughed. “That’s okay, we’re not in a hurry!”

I glanced to see what they were buying, and saw a pile of Christmas candy, some paper cups and plates, plastic forks and spoons.

“You get a gift card with your purchase,” the cashier announced. She swiped the card one more time, and then handed it to Fred.

” I guess I can’t use that to pay for the Xbox?”

The cashier shook her head. “It’s for seventy-five dollars,” she added.

The woman standing in line behind us exclaimed appreciatively. “That’s nice!” she said. “You should pay for our stuff, too!” She winked at Fred so he would know she was kidding. Then she looked down at her pile of candy and felt constrained to add that she was buying it for her church.

“I’ll take that!” I said, grinning and snatching the card from Fred’s hand and putting it in my purse.

The cashier and the lady behind us laughed.

While the rest of our purchases were scanned and bagged, Fred and I had a quick discussion. Fred paid for our purchases. The cashier handed Fred his receipt and thanked him. Fred thanked her, and handed the receipt to me.

I handed him the gift card, he turned and gave it to the lady standing behind us, said “Merry Christmas!”, and we got the hell out of there before she could get all “I couldn’t!”

I glanced back once on our way out the door to see her standing there, staring after us, mouth hanging open.

Now, that? That, my friends, has put me in the Christmas spirit for realz.

The other things that have put me in the Christmas spirit: all the great cards I’ve gotten from y’all (pictures of them later this week, hopefully), the glass of eggnog I had yesterday (I drink 1 or 2 cups of (nonalcoholic) eggnog every year around this time, and I’m all set ’til the next year), and the cookies I baked on Thursday – I did a batch of Chocolate Peanut Butter sandwiches, a batch of Secret Kiss cookies, and a batch of Cooking Light Chocolate Chip cookies, only instead of chocolate chips, I used red and green M&Ms. They were all really good, but 99% of them went out in the mail as gifts. Those that didn’t go into MAH MOUTH, that is.

I need to make some more cookies this week for Fred’s mother and stepfather (we don’t exchange gifts with his parents, but his mother blindsided us last year with a tin of cookies, so THIS year we’re going to blindside HER with a tin of cookies AND some jars of jam. SO THERE. Then next year she’ll blindside us with a pony, and we’ll have to blindside her with a house, then she’ll blindside us with a small island, and we’ll have to give her a nation, etc etc. You know how it goes.) and get some cash from the bank for his niece and nephew (who are also getting jams from us – they like the hot stuff. Fred’s mother does not.), and I’ll be done.

Also putting me into the Christmas mood:

I can’t help it, I love the holy hell out of that song. And hippopotamuses like me toooooooooooooooooo!

Now I need to go look for “Do They Know it’s Christmas”, because it’s not truly Christmas time ’til I hear Bono’s overwrought “Well, tonight thank god it’s them instead of youuuuuuuu!”

“Lady, hey. Lady. LADY! Pet me?”

“Is Greg Brady gonna have to cut a bitch?”

Sweet miss Marcia.

Pretty, pretty Peter.

I had hoped to get the Bradys in for their spaying and neutering this week, but Cindy refuses to get her tiny little butt over the two pound mark, so I’m going to put it off ’til next week. There’s not any rush to get them done right now, anyway.

Saturday afternoon, we closed the half-door across the end of the hallway and let the Bradys free to roam down the hallway into the bathroom and my bedroom. They think it’s pretty neat to have all that room to run. Even better, Jake and Elwood can jump over the door to visit. Elwood’s mostly interested in eating their food, but Jake likes little kittens. And the little kittens seem to like them, too. Miz Poo seems to find them somewhat entertaining – she stayed upstairs after I closed the door, and the several times I asked her if she wanted out of the upstairs, she just ignored me. Corbie, Reacher, and Rhyme all visited with the little ones, as well.

Jake was drinking out of their water bowl Sunday morning, and Jan spotted him. She crawled over to him on her belly, then rolled onto her back and gave him the Eyes of Love until he walked away. He mostly ignored her, but I know a kitten in love when I see one!

Hello, sweet Corbie McGee.

Rhyme just has no fear. He sees a cat, he climbs in for a snuggle. Hard to believe Miz Poo put up with this – it’s always a photo opportunity when Miz Poo allows another cat within five inches of her. Rhyme’s no dummy – he waited ’til she was sound asleep to climb in.

Keeping an eye on Sugarbutt, who looked like he might be up for some kitten smackin’.

Smilin’ Joe keeps an eye on Sugarbutt, who tries to figure out WHY there are so many pairs of shoes on the bookcase. (Answer: because that’s where I put them to keep them up off the floor and out of the way. STOP JUDGING ME, SUGGIE.)

Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: (Also, I loves me some environment and cares tons about the world I leave behind for my child and grandchildren blah blah blah.)
2006: I wonder how often dental patients go into a screaming rage and get violent with dental hygienists, because I certainly feel the impulse every time I have my teeth cleaned.
2005: Also, if Hollabackness is a desired state of being, how do I go about achieving it?
2004: Apparently she’s a princess now.
2003: Three things.
2002: My shit list.
2001: Emailing gets me all excited.
2000: I sure whine about the weather a lot, don’t I?
1999: Disaster averted!

“Come ON, guys, it’s PICTURE time again, what a SHOCK. Cindy, get out from behind Marcia and let’s get this over with!”

“Wait. Perhaps now would be the ideal time to let you know that I HAZ A COMPLAINT. And my complaint is that my nose is dirty. You feed me canned food mixed with pumpkin, and then you want to take my picture?”

“My nose is dirty and I DON’T LIKE IT.”

::pout::

“I DON’T LIKE IT, you hear me?”

Jan says, “Oh, there’s a surprise. Pipsqueak Bobby has a complaint. I have eye boogers, but do you hear ME complaining? NO. It just adds to my charm.”

Peter says, “I have no complaints. I look absolutely smashingly perfect and everyone who sees me wants to kiss me on top of my adorable head.”

“Ehn! Ehn! Let me through! I want to be in the picture, too!”

Greg adds, “I have a little food on my nose, too. I’m saving it for later.”

Cindy pipes in with “I could be covered in food from head to toe, and I’d still be unbearably adorable.”

“Maybe one day you’ll learn to use that flash right, lady, and all the good pictures won’t come out too dark!”

Everyone’s a critic.

You can’t tell from this angle, but Kara’s actually a very small cat. Not the most slimming angle – or position, I guess.

Previously
2009: “My shower was more sparkly than Edward Cullen in the sunlight at high noon!”
2008: It’s not been a good time to be a finger on the hand of Robyn And3rson lately.
2007: When one has to peck the ground for bugs and worms, one gets mud on one’s beak.
2006: So that’s the story of my search for the perfect bra, and how I found it.
2005: I probably have a brain tumor.
2004: I swear, my Grinchly heart grew three sizes right then and there.
2003: A tree with glass ornaments? In a house with five cats?
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: I told Fred we should hire her out to the local police agencies and she could tell them when someone looks like a “drug person.”
1999: Fred and I came to an agreement last night. The end of March, I’m going off the birth control, and we’re going to start trying to get pregnant. (HahahahahahaHAHA! My, how times have changed!)

We rented movies at Blockbuster on Friday – I mentioned them yesterday – and they were due back yesterday morning. So after I got up and did all my usual morning stuff, I decided that since I had to go up into town anyway, I’d go by the post office and then swing by Publix and get all the stuff on my grocery list. I also had a couple of packages to drop off at the local post office, which I planned to do on my way home from the other errands.

I’d gotten all my morning chores done by 7, but since the local post office doesn’t open until 8:30, I didn’t want to leave the house that early. I puttered around for an hour, and then finally left the house.

I got my mail at the post office, then headed for Publix which is on the other end of town from the post office OF COURSE, but traffic wasn’t bad, and I got there pretty quickly. I had a huge list of stuff to get, because I’m going to be making a lot of Christmas cookies later this week, and I was running low on everything.

I had gotten just about everything on my list, when I glanced at the bottom.

**MOVIES** I’d written, all in caps, with stars on either side.

Fucking jesus christ almighty fucking fucking FUCK.

I’d forgotten the movies. Had it occurred to me to GET the movies last night and put them in my purse or near my keys? OF COURSE NOT. Instead, I helpfully put them on the grocery list so I wouldn’t forget. Except I hadn’t looked at the grocery list before I left the house. So I was going to have to go home, unload the groceries, and then go ALL THE FUCKING WAY back to town to return the movies.

Fucking fuck fuck fuck.

I hate it when I do that flighty-brained shit. I mean, it’s not like it’s a great long trek from our house to Blockbuster – 15 minutes or so each way – but it’s the principle of the matter. I wasn’t going to even GO into town yesterday, but I figured since I HAD to go to town to return the movies, I’d get everything done at once.

CLEARLY THAT DID NOT WORK OUT.

It wasn’t so bad, in the end. I got home, unloaded my groceries, ate breakfast, hung out with the kittens, and then moseyed back into town with the movies, which is conveniently located across the street from The Dollar Tree, which I’d been meaning to visit. Several months ago, I happened across some microcloth cleaning cloths there. They were intended to be used for cleaning, but they were so soft that I knew instantly that the cats would love them. It wasn’t that annoying microcloth that sticks to your hands all creepy-like, either – they’re so, so soft. I bought ten of them (they were $1 each), and I was right – the cats LOVE them. I use them to line the cat beds on my desk, so I can just grab ’em and wash them every so often instead of having to clean the whole bed. I went back to the Dollar Tree about a month later, and of course they didn’t have them any more. I’ve been meaning to stop by ever since, just in case they got more in stock.

They didn’t have any yesterday, either. If the ones I bought had tags on them, I’d locate them online somewhere and buy a zillion of them, but I missed my window on that.

Oh well – it’s not like the cats will suffer once the ones I have are all beaten and threadbare, I’ll just find something else to put in the cat beds, right?

Then I moseyed on home and made a batch of corn chowder to have for lunch all this week. In and among my errand-running and kitten snuggling and dollar store shopping, I had to lug a buckets of boiling water out to the chicken yard every two hours. With the wind chill, it was well below freezing all day, and the chickens and dogs and pigs don’t have water heaters because IT NEVER GETS THAT COLD IN ALABAMA HA HA HA. I’d boil a big pot of water, dump it into the bucket, lug it out to the chicken yard and pour enough hot water into each chicken waterer, dog water dish, and the pig water trough to melt the layer of ice and keep more ice from forming for a while.

I hear that tomorrow it’s supposed to get back above freezing, but we might get some freezing rain. I guess I better drive safely on my way to South Huntsville!

It’s been almost three years since I had my lower body lift, and it’s time for a breast lift. Those of you who haven’t been reading long, here’s the scoop: in January 2006, I had RNY gastric bypass weight loss surgery and subsequently lost 145ish pounds (or, if you prefer, almost 200 pounds from my very highest weight), which is documented here. In April 2008, I had a lower body lift, which is also documented at that site. (I am very very very happy with the results of the lower body lift, btw.)

I had hoped to have a breast lift last January, but with the possibility that Fred might be about to lose his job, I put it off. Now I’m going tomorrow for a consultation. I’m more than a little tired of the lemons-in-a-tube-sock look. We’ve been saving for this (though I should add that Fred would LOVE IT if I didn’t have surgery. He says supportive things like “They don’t bother me!”, and I think it’s sweet that he thinks my desire to have them hoisted up to a reasonable position on my body has anything to do with whether they bother him or not. I should add here that I’m talking about a breast LIFT, and there will not be any implants involved. Having big boobehs for the first half of my life has made me long for small perky ones.)

Anyway, that’s why I’ll be braving the potential freezing rain tomorrow! I’m sure if the cost is in line with what we’ve saved, I’ll be scheduling that surgery as soon as possible.

And then I’ve promised Fred that there will be NO MORE SURGERY.

(I can feel my appendix taking that as a challenge.)

Last week I checked at Publix and found no Meyer lemons. Then I checked at Sam’s and found no Meyer lemons. Then I shot off an email to local ReaderFriend Jean and was all “WTF? Have you ever seen Meyer lemons around here? I’m starting to take this as a challenge!”

Because she is AWESOME, Jean apparently checked at every store in Huntsville and found me some Meyer lemons! Fred got them from her yesterday (Jean works near where Fred works), and these things smell AMAZING. I haven’t used them yet – I’m going to candy some of them, and possibly make lemon curd from the rest), but I can’t wait!

(Thanks again, Jean. You rock!)

You know how yesterday I said that Cindy and Bobby were “just under” two pounds, as reported by Fred, who’d gone upstairs to weigh them?

Last night when we were hanging out with the kittens before bed, I grabbed up Cindy (who’s the smallest) and went to weigh her to see how close she was to two pounds.

One pound, ten ounces. Now, I ask you – how is that “just under” two pounds? That’s “just over” a pound and a half, if you ask me!

I mean, not that it matters that much. At least she’s gaining weight – just not quite as quickly as I thought!

“Halllp. Meeeee.”

Okay.

Poking wee Cindy Brady so she’ll flail around and look adorable?

Probably not a good idea. But I can’t help it. She cracks me up!

“You poke ME, you’re gonna lose that finger, lady. You get me?”

Reacher was on the couch in the living room, and I was trying to get a good low-light picture of him (ie, I was messing around with the camera settings without a clue as to what I was doing, and then snapping pictures to see what would happen). I was kneeling in the hallway, and I guess there were cats gathering behind me, and it disturbed Reacher.

Doesn’t he look disturbed? I’m disturbed, too – I have no clue what settings I had the camera on.

Corbie, snoozing on my bed.

Corbie, in the blue basket in the kitchen. (That is not, I hasten to assure you, a bucket of chocolate buttercream icing behind him. It once held chocolate buttercream frosting, but when I purchased it at the flea market, it was empty. It currently holds all-purpose flour. I buy the big bag at Sam’s, and needed a big place to store it. That bucket is perfect.)

Miz Poo, in my bedroom window, in the sun. Sweet, sweet girl.

Previously
2009: WTF with these people and the “keep going”?!
2008: No entry.
2007: Well, I don’t “always” say it. In fact, that would be the first time I’ve ever said it. But I’ll say it more in the future!
2006: “MY BABY IS IN PAIN, MAKE IT STOP!”
2005: I’m impressed with myself, if you couldn’t tell.
2004: It is in the 20s here today, IS IT OKAY FOR ME TO BE COLD NOW?
2003: (”Thanks, me! I’m so thoughtful!”)
2002: No entry.
2001: Trust me, it was far more horrifying-looking in person.
2000: Babbling.
1999: No entry.

Oh, it turned colllllld here on Sunday. I went outside as little as I could, which was made possible by the fact that Fred was home and could go out to check the water for the chickens, pigs, and dogs and make sure it hadn’t frozen over.

Today he’s back at work, so I have to trudge out there a couple of times today. You bet your ass I’ll be bundled up in my heaviest winter coat, hat, and gloves. I hate it when it gets this damn cold, but at least I have my space heater next to me, my electric throw on the couch in the front room, and an electric blanket on my bed. There’s a space heater in the kittens’ room (which turns off immediately if you so much as think about knocking it over) and they have a heating pad on the floor, too.

So we’re all staying warm, is what I’m saying. Except for Fred, of course, who likes to wander around the house in a pair of shorts, t-shirt, and long socks and bitch about how cold he is. But even he has an electric throw on his couch in the front room, so if he gets cold enough, he knows how to get warm again.

Because to put on more clothes would be lunacy, of course.

Friday afternoon we ran to Blockbuster to rent some movies (I love Netflix, but I hate that they don’t get new releases as soon as the video rental places do) because we knew the weather was supposed to be bad over the weekend.

Friday night, we watched about the first hour of Inception, and then Fred turned to me and said “What are your feelings on this movie?”

“I don’t give a shit about seeing the rest of it because it’s boring,” were my feelings, so we turned it off and watched some stuff on the DVR.

Saturday afternoon we watched Knight and Day and it probably shows what a non-highbrow type I am that I liked the movie. Cameron Diaz annoys me, but I usually like her movies. And I have no use for Tom Cruise, but I always enjoy his movies, too.

Is it just me, or does Cameron Diaz bear a striking resemblance to Kristin Chenoweth, especially when they smile?

Then we watched Splice and though it wasn’t at all my favorite movie and I found that my mind kept wandering, we did at least watch the whole thing. The ending was predictable, though.

So I would rank the movies as such, in order of how much I liked them (most to least): Knight and Day, Splice, Inception.

Somewhere, Roger Ebert is covering his eyes in horror.

I got GREAT news Saturday – after two and a half months, Melodie and Dodger were finally adopted. TOGETHER! I was starting to worry that no one was ever going to adopt those two (and when I saw them on Tuesday when I took Buster to be adopted, I was amazed at how big they’d gotten), so it’s like a Christmas miracle.

It sounds like adoptions have picked up a little, so hopefully a lot more cats will find forever homes soon. Fingers crossed!

The Brady Bunch are packing on the ounces. I weighed them mid-week last week, and found that Greg and Marcia have put on a pound each since the day we got them. The other kittens had put on a nice amount of weight (making up for the weight they lost when they weren’t feeling so hot) as well. Then on Saturday I had Fred re-weigh them all so we’d know the correct dose on the dewormer we were giving them, and it turned out that the only ones who weren’t over two pounds were Cindy and Bobby, who were only a few ounces below that weight.

So it looks like they’ll be ready for their spaying and neutering soon. I’ll weigh them mid-week to see where they are weight-wise, and either take them the end of this week or – more likely – next week.

They had their vaccination injections on Saturday. I held each of them while they were getting their shot, and not one of them stopped purring for a single second. They slept all day on Saturday and their injection sites were a little tender yesterday, but this morning they’re back to their wild little selves again.

Marcia watches the feather-on-a-stick toy and bides her time ’til it’s worth jumping for.

Lap o’ kittens.

Pack o’ kittens.

Vampire kitteh is feeling bitey.

::yawwwwwwwwwwwn::

Rhyme the smug monkey, proud of himself for claiming the kitchen cat platform. (Usually it’s Jake and Reacher up there.)

Pretty pretty pretty pretty Corbie.

We were running errands looking for something (I’m not being coy, I don’t remember what we were looking for), and we wandered into Burke’s Outlet. We ended up in the pet section (as we always do), and Fred was impressed that these huge dog/ cat beds were only $9.99. He wanted to get one, so I let him pick out which one he wanted to get (I’m so generous!). The first day we brought it home, none of the cats so much as glanced at it, and he kept fretting, “They hate it! They’re never going to use it!” The second day, Reacher gave it a try, and then Newt, and then Maxi, and it hasn’t been empty for a moment since. In that picture, Maxi’s giving it a try.

Kara’s all “You about done in there?”

Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: The vet tech said that Stinkerbelle was a beautiful cat, and I could see Fred’s ego swell to twice its size.
2006: I think we’re making progress.
2005: It’s hard to resist a chunky little orange kitty.
2004: (I’m not that much of an asshole. But it sure is fun to imagine!)
2003: Yet another meme.
2002: But I’ll say this – if your kitten is suffering from anal leakage, y’all, TAKE IT TO THE VET.
2001: No entry.
2000: “Why does it smell lemony fresh down here?”
1999: Martha Stewart would take one look at my tree and sob loudly, I’m sure.