Crooked Acres – Page 12

3/9/09

So Nance and Rick left Saturday morning. That’s right, they got here late Wednesday and left early Saturday. Not NEARLY enough time, if you ask me. And Nance and I never did get around to making a video, either. Like I said – not long enough! Thursday we hung around the house in the morning … Continue reading “3/9/09”

So Nance and Rick left Saturday morning. That’s right, they got here late Wednesday and left early Saturday. Not NEARLY enough time, if you ask me.

And Nance and I never did get around to making a video, either. Like I said – not long enough!

Thursday we hung around the house in the morning (and could have made our video then, I suppose, but we are slackers and had better things to do. Like talk about the state of the nation. (Ha!)) and then went out to lunch at Logan’s Roadhouse. Then because I needed to pick up the paperwork for Rumba and Samba (who went to the pet store on Friday, see the last few pictures I took of Samba, here), we drove up to the shelter I volunteer for, and visited with the kittehs.

This is Ladybug. She looks a LOT like Nance and Rick’s cat Julie.

I don’t recall this one’s name, but he “sings” when he purrs. It’s very neat.

(Pics courtesy of Nance. I don’t think I took a single picture while they were here!)

By the time we got home, Fred was home from work. Nance knows how Fred is about being the one to show off the animals, so they’d kindly stayed away from the dogs and chickens and pigs so he could do so. George and Gracie were all “Woohoo! New best friends for us!” and the pigs were all “Where is the food, pls?” and the chickens were all “Whatevs.” You know, the usual.

We had Terry’s Pizza for dinner, and it was pretty damn good. We spent a good part of the evening playing Catchphrase (yes, we really do live it up!) and since Fred can hardly keep his eyes open past 8:00 these days, we were in bed by 10.

Fred took Friday off, and I don’t know what he spent Friday morning doing, but for the most part we all sat around for a few hours, each on our separate computers (we are dorks) and then I took the kittens to the pet store, and when I got home Nance and Rick were ready to go.

And Fred was all “We’re going somewhere?” It turned out that when we’d all been talking about going up into Tennessee the night before, while Nance and Rick and I thought we were making plans, Fred thought we were just talking.

So we went to Tennessee, stopping at several stores along the way. Nance and I went into a Factory Connection somewhere in Tennessee and got some really good deals. I got a hooded fleece jacket for $3.50 and a hooded sweater for $5. (Not that I was in particular desperate need of either, but a bargain like that, you really can’t pass up.)

We went to our favorite store in all of Tennessee, the Bodenham General Store, and then went down the road to another store that was jam-packed with stuff. So jam-packed, in fact, that Fred knocked over and broke a bowl. The woman who owns the store wouldn’t even hear of him paying for it, so in desperation we walked around the store looking for something to buy. We ended up buying a big-ass thermometer with a rooster on it that Fred put on the big coop (in case the chickens need to know the temperature, obviously), and I picked out a very old Coca Cola crate. One day, I’m going to get my ass in gear and sew a cat bed to go into the crate.

(Nance is laughing at me right now, I guarantee it.)

We got home mid-afternoon and hung out for a while, then headed to Decatur to have BBQ for dinner at Big Bob Gibson’s. (We always drag them to Big Bob Gibson’s when they visit and if they hate it, they’re too nice to say so. Big Bob Gibson’s is some really damn good BBQ, but I find it odd that they don’t have hushpuppies there.)

Nance and I were honestly planning, when we got home from dinner, to make a video, but Fred was all spazzy about playing games and “OMG! It’s almost 7, the night is almost over!”, so we just gave up the video idea and played a round of Taboo (which just isn’t as much fun as Catchphrase, because it’s kinda stressful), then played a few rounds of Catchphrase.

And early Saturday morning, they were up and gone, and the visit was over. It was like they were hardly even here and then they were gone! I could have used one more day, but I guess it’s a good thing they left Saturday, so they could take a leisurely drive home and not worry about having to get up early the next day for work.

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While Nance mocked my adorable new boots over on her site and pointed out that I’m a great big dork who tucked her jeans into her boots, what she failed to mention was the REASON I was tucking my jeans into my boots. I tucked my jeans into my boots because I was wearing ankle socks, and the tops of the boots were rubbing my legs and causing great irritation and pain. The next day I wore long socks and didn’t need to tuck my jeans in to protect my legs, but did she mention that? Noooooooo. Brat.

They’re adorable boots, are they not?

I had a credit at Zappos, and after I went out to the back forty in my crappy $8 Walmart boots last week and went slip-sliding all over the damn place (because $8 Walmart boots do not provide a great deal of traction, FYI), I decided I needed to invest in some decent boots. So after much hemming and hawing, I ordered a pair of the Gypsy Cowgirl Coll boots, and since shipping was free, they didn’t cost me a thing.

I love Zappos.

And so far, the boots are working out very well for me and they’re cute to boot (har!), so I call that win-win.

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Beginning on Friday and continuing through the weekend, the Crooked Acres chicken population jumped by 34 baby chickens. This time around, having read something on a message board, when Fred took the eggs off the turner on Wednesday, he put the eggs in egg cartons in the incubator. Usually he sets them on their side on the floor of the incubator.

At first it looked like we weren’t going to get a very high hatch rate, but slowly more and more eggs hatched, and by Sunday afternoon we only had two eggs that hadn’t hatched, and there was clear activity coming from those two eggs. Sunday evening, the last two eggs hatched.

Of the 35 eggs that Fred determined were fertile after 10 days in the incubator, all but one hatched (that one pipped and then died in the egg). That’s a phenomenal hatch rate.

Having such a high hatch rate means that now we have over 100 chickens. Number 101 happened to be an egg laid by a silkie (god only knows who the father is). S/he’s a smallish bird, but not terribly smaller than the other babies. Almost all the babies, except for the silkie cross and Sassy’s egg, turned out to be either yellow or reddish.

Silkie cross, freshly hatched.

Silkie cross, dry and fluffy.

They are, as baby chickens tend to be, unbearably cute.

A few of the baby chickens were having problems getting hatched, so Fred took the initiative to give Mother Nature a hand (you are NOT supposed to do this, by the way, you’re supposed to let what’s going to happen, happen. If you “help out” a chicken having a hard time getting out of the shell, you very well might end up with a chicken with Issues, and might have to end up putting it down). So far, they’re all doing well, though I won’t really relax until it’s been a few days.

Lucky the chicken (the first one Fred “helped”).

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Stinkerbelle always looks so angry, doesn’t she?

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: So when I reached down to pet his head, IT WASN’T HIS HEAD I GOT. ::shudder::
2005: Killing the messenger.
2004: Howling and hissing and growling and yowling ensued.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Gather ’round, younguns, and hear the heartbreaking tale of farts and betrayal…
2000: You still love me, though, right? Um, right?

3/3/09

Buff rooster, eating with his wimmins. Suddenly, an idea occurs to him… “Oh lord,” squawks wise Oscar the Hen, who has seen bright ideas come to roosters far too often in her two years of life. “Don’t make eye contact with him, girls! Pretend he’s not there!” Buff rooster begins to flap his impressive (at … Continue reading “3/3/09”

Buff rooster, eating with his wimmins.

Suddenly, an idea occurs to him…

“Oh lord,” squawks wise Oscar the Hen, who has seen bright ideas come to roosters far too often in her two years of life. “Don’t make eye contact with him, girls! Pretend he’s not there!”

Buff rooster begins to flap his impressive (at least, in his eyes) wings. He flaps and flaps and flaps, and then he crows “WHO WANTS SOME LOVIN’?!”

As the hens wisely avoid eye contact with Buff rooster, he flaps and flaps and flaps.

“LAYDEES,” he crows. “I SAY! CAN I GET SOME LOVIN’?”

As it turned out, no. Buff rooster was not able to get some lovin’ that fine sunny afternoon. Poor Buff(oon) rooster.

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Puppies, keeping a watchful eye on their flock.

The threat.

The response.

Threat = gone. No match for SuperPuppies!

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“You has a snack for me?” Of course I do – I know better than to go out there without a snack for the pigs. They get PEEVED if you show up without an offering.

The striped one is the rootin’est pig I’ve ever seen. He’s always got his nose in the mud.

Pretty pig.

Check out that muddy nose.

Pig in motion.

“Snack? Snack? Snack?”

“Hellew.”

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Bad bad Joe Bob Brown, the baddest-ass cat in the whole damn town.

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2008: That, my friends, is a powerful stench. And it wasn’t a pleasant one.
2007: No entry.
2006: “MmmHMMM, I KNEW that was going to happen, the dumb bitch was lifting shit long before she was supposed to!”
2005: By the way, Erika: who watches your kids while you’re busy reading PEOPLE and firing off those indignant letters?
2004: Have I mentioned that I adore my DVR?
2003: Ah, you poor damn AOL users.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: See? I always say “Thank you” to the freaking servers at fast food places. Yet all I get in return is rudeness.

2/26/09

Fred sent me to John Cleese’s blog this morning so I could watch this video. LOVE IT. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * George and Mr. Friendly. (Note: Mr. Friendly did not actually get up on the dog … Continue reading “2/26/09”

Fred sent me to John Cleese’s blog this morning so I could watch this video.

LOVE IT.

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George and Mr. Friendly. (Note: Mr. Friendly did not actually get up on the dog himself, he was placed there.)

Mr. Friendly has better places to be, apparently.

The white Silkie. She is SO purty.

George is such a good boy – I walk through the gate, he runs over to greet me, and then he immediately sits, ’cause he knows that’s the way to get a treat. Gracie, on the other hand, has recently lost all memory of sitting – “What’s this ‘sit’ they keep saying to me?!” – and just looks at us like we’re idiots when we tell her to sit. She’s slowly re-learning it, though.

Head Rooster in Charge Michelle is keeping an eye on YOU.

Featherhead keeping an eye on me in case treats should suddenly appear.

Oscar (so named because she resembled an ostrich when she was little), one of our original 12.

One of the chickens we got from the flea market last Fall.

Rock star, just inside the coop – staying out of the wind, but taking some sun.

Giggling pup.

Bob chases off one of the young roosters. “Them’s MY WIMMIN!” says Bob.

Keeping an eye out for trouble.

The Buff rooster and one of his wimmin.

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Last night, after I played with the kittens in the foster room with the laser light, I went into my bedroom where Tommy and Sugarbutt were waiting for me, and I let them chase the laser light for a few minutes. Sheriff Mama (Kara) watched with quite some disapproval as they raced around after the light, and then Sugarbutt ran too close to Kara. She had had QUITE enough of this foolishness, so when he came within smackin’ reach, she reared up and boxed his ears. I laughed until I wheezed.

She has NO tolerance for foolishness.

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Previously
2008: “You (kick) are such (kickkick) an asshole (kickkickkick) get in that goddamn house!”
2007: Christ, what a weekend we had.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: God, why why WHY do women do this to themselves?
2003: A Day in the Life of Spanky.
2002: No entry.
2001: Saturday was my dumbass day.
2000: No entry.

2/25/09

There are a few jars of fruit-habanero jam left, if you’re interested! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * On Friday I noticed that my vanilla extract was getting low. I remembered recently reading a recipe to make your … Continue reading “2/25/09”

There are a few jars of fruit-habanero jam left, if you’re interested!

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On Friday I noticed that my vanilla extract was getting low. I remembered recently reading a recipe to make your own vanilla extract on Suzanne McMinn’s page, so I sent Fred an email asking him to pick up a small bottle of vodka and one of rum on his way home.

He did – alcohol’s much less expensive than I’d expected! I should totally take up drinking! (not) – and after a trip to the grocery store on Sunday, I made a double batch of vanilla extract in one of the (empty, never-used) hot sauce bottles we had laying around, and put it up in the cupboard, where it will sit and age for a few months before I start using it.

After I’d gotten the vanilla extract (to be) made, I said “We have all this rum and vodka left. We should do shots!”

Then I paused and thought about it for a moment.

“Do people DO vodka and rum in shots?”

He laughed and said “They do sometimes, I think.”

I have so much to learn.

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I’m looking for a good way to organize my recipes. Currently, I print them out on 4×6 recipe cards and keep them in a recipe box, but it’s a pain in the ass to dig through the recipe box to find recipes, and I can’t always fit the entire recipe on one side of the card (or I can, but I have to do it in tiny type, and I have aging eyes). I’m thinking of printing each recipe out on a full-size sheet of paper, then putting each recipe in a sheet protector (well, two in each sheet protector, one on each side), and organizing them in a three-ring binder by recipe type.

Alternately, I could print each recipe out and laminate them, then punch holes and organize them in a three-ring binder, but the laminating sheets are rather more expensive than the sheet protectors, and I’ve never been good at using that self-laminating stuff.

I don’t know. How do y’all organize your recipes?

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This little chicken – who we think is a Barred Rock – is about the friendliest chicken we’ve ever had. He came from the hatchery in our November batch, and he was friendly from the very beginning. These days, if we do something that startles the chickens, they all run away from us, except for this one, who runs toward us. He likes to stand between my feet when I toss out scratch for the chickens. When Fred sits on the bench out in the chicken yard, this little chicken approaches and wants to be picked up.

He – though I’ll admit we don’t know whether he’s male or female – has earned the name “Mr. Friendly.”

We’re actually talking about putting two or three chickens in the back yard because they’re pretty good at pest control and because we like seeing them run around the back yard. Mr. Friendly and the silkies might be turn into our backyard flock.

I don’t know, though – I’m not sure Kara can be trusted around the little chickens. She’s got the look of the killer about her.

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I got Rumba to snuggle with me, and she didn’t even try to pretend that she hated it! Her favorite place to be these days is in my room (when she’s not skulking around the downstairs, that is).

Peekaboo.

More kitten pics over at Love&Hisses.

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Sugarbutt looks just a little too pleased with himself, doesn’t he?

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Previously
2008: “Well,” I said. “You really hit the fuckup trifecta this weekend, didn’t you?”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: “That’s all she had to say! A simple ‘thank you’ would have made Doug as happy as a sissy with a dick in his mouth!”
2004: This DOES NOT STRIKE ME as a government that is staying the FUCK out of my face!
2003: A Day in the Life of Miz Poo.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Ahhh, sweet blessed Friday.

2/24/09

The Crooked Acres Jams are going fast (the hot sauces have already sold out!) – better jump on it if you’re interested! Like I said, once the stuff I have in stock is gone, that’ll be it ’til mid to late summer. * * * * * * * * * * * * * … Continue reading “2/24/09”

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Fred recently put an ad on Craigslist to sell some of our eggs for people interested in hatching them (he also put ads on eBay and… somewhere else, I don’t remember where all he put ads). He did this a couple of times last year, too, and it’s kind of interesting how many people bought fertile eggs from us to hatch in their incubators.

Since he put the ad on Craigslist, he’s had people email him because they’re interested in buying chickens from us. We don’t sell chickens (we did it once last year and then both felt so bad about it that we vowed to never do it again), and he told them all that much. One of the people who emailed him, though (she said she’d recently lost her rooster) had a web page for her farm, and after Fred went and looked at her web page, he directed me to it, and once we saw that they have free-range chickens and have a setup much like ours, we decided that we’d be willing to sell one of our roosters to her.

Bob, to be exact. I like Bob, he’s a pretty rooster and he’s quite the stud, if his mating-flamenco-dance is anything to go by, but we’re getting to the point where we’re going to have too many roosters, and some of them need to be sent to freezer camp.

If we can find a happy home for Bob instead of eating him, I’m okay with that.

She and her husband were going to stop by and pick up Bob yesterday, but Fred noticed on Sunday that Bob had sneezed once or twice, and in the interest of full disclosure told the woman. She opted to not bring Bob home, but she may buy fertile eggs for us at some point in the future when her hens go broody.

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I finally got to the bottom of the bucket of laundry detergent that I made back at the end of October, using this recipe. Basically, I got a six month supply of laundry detergent for about $39.

That kicks ass.

I made a batch of the liquid stuff over the weekend – the powdered detergent works great, but I have to use warm water to dissolve the powder, and I prefer to wash clothes in cold water to avoid whatever extra it costs in electricity to heat the water to warm.

I do more laundry than you’d expect, given that it’s just the two of us. There’s always something that’s been peed on, or cat beds that have gotten dirty (I can’t stand the sight of a dirty cat bed), or dish towels that have piled up. I mean, I don’t do a TON of laundry, nothing approaching the loads of laundry those of you with kids at home must do, but still more than you’d expect, probably.

Speaking of dish towels, I usually keep out two dish towels (one by the sink, one by the stove) and one dish cloth. In the morning, right after I put the dishes in the dishwasher away, I toss the dish towels and cloth from the day before into the bucket of dirty laundry in the laundry room. It may sound wasteful, but it takes about a week for enough dish towels and cloths to build up into one load, and I like having clean stuff to use.

Is that weird?

(“Yes, Robyn, that’s very weird. Are you not the woman who allows her cats to tromp around on the kitchen counters at Snackin’! Time! ?” Um, shaddup. I always wipe down the counters once Snackin’! Time! is over. Also, did I mention shaddup?)

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I made cookies and a cake last Friday. When I asked Fred, Thursday night, if he had any baking requests for Friday, he suggested “A cake or something cake-y.”

That’s helpful.

Finally, I decided on a lemon pound cake that was pretty easy to make, and kind of tasty (though for the most part I’m not a huge pound cake fan), and best of all the pigs enjoyed the leftovers!

I also made chocolate chip cookies because I think I’ve mentioned in the past that these Cooking Light chocolate chip cookies are my favorites and I think they’re the best chocolate chip cookies EVER. But then I was reading BakingBlonde’s blog, and she was like “These are the BEST chocolate chip cookies EVEREVER!”, and of course that was a challenge to me and I had to make them so I could be all “Well, they’re okayyyy, but they ain’t ALL THAT!”

Except that they kinda ARE all that. They’re some damn fine chocolate chip cookies. I still slightly prefer the Cooking Light cookies, but these run a very, very close second. Also, they are magic pig-charming cookies, because for the first time ever, Fred lured a pig close enough to eat directly from his hand on the second day after we brought them home. That never happens!

Last thing I made was honey sugar cookies. Didn’t like ’em at all (the honey taste in a cookie did NOTHING for me), and Fred agreed. I didn’t even eat one entire cookie, and for me to not finish a cookie I’ve started eating, there’s got to be some serious dislike there. Luckily the pigs’ll still eat them!

If you’re a big honey fan and are dying for the recipe, leave a comment or email me, and I’ll rustle it up for you.

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Good LORD do the hens get peeved if you act like you’re going to reach under them and take their egg. They want you to back the fuck OFF, and when they’re ready to vacate the nest, then and ONLY then may you take the egg. You got it? Good. Today this pissed-off hen won’t peck your eyes out. Tomorrow, she won’t be so nice about it.

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Suggie appreciates that I made more room on and around my desk. Now he can really stretch out and take up TWO beds instead of one.

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Previously
2008: Every now and then the finch would flap his wings and squawk indignantly.
2007: No entry.
2006: I hate spoiled rotten princesses.
2005: “4.2 billion,” he said suddenly. “Not 4.7. Because a regular signed 32-bit integer only goes up just over 2.1 billion – that’s 2 to the 31st power – and an unsigned would be one more power of two onto that, so–”
2004: Is it easier to write bad poetry, or am I just naturally a bad poet (and didn’t know it)?
2003: Let’s see whether or not I can give Lisa what she wants!
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Have you noticed that I feel like an idiot a lot?

2/23/09

The last of the Crooked Acres jams and hot sauces have been made and are available at Crooked Acres. I used up every last habanero, and now there’s a wee bit of space in my freezer, thank god. When the jams that I have in stock are gone, that’ll be it ’til at least mid-summer, … Continue reading “2/23/09”

The last of the Crooked Acres jams and hot sauces have been made and are available at Crooked Acres. I used up every last habanero, and now there’s a wee bit of space in my freezer, thank god.

When the jams that I have in stock are gone, that’ll be it ’til at least mid-summer, when the habaneros start to come in again (though truth be told, I’m usually busy enough with canning and freezing in mid-summer that I may not get around to making more jams and hot sauces ’til early Fall). Just so you know!

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Saturday morning, I slept in ’til almost 7, then got up and puttered around the house for a bit ’til it was time to head out for a very important date.

I made sure to dress appropriately.

We drove up into Northern Alabama, very close to the Tennessee state line, down a lazy country road, and I wished that we could find about 30 acres of land in the area.

(And then Fred reminded me that we’d probably go stir-crazy out in the middle of nowhere. We consider ourselves to live in the country right now, but it takes us about 10 minutes to get to Wal-Mart, the grocery store, Lowe’s, the co-op. We’re in a very convenient location!)

We thought it was going to take 45 minutes to get to our destination, but it really took more like 30. That was okay with the man we were going to meet, though – he was ready for us.

Fred had told him that we wanted two small pigs, so he’d penned up three smallish ones. I really liked the smallest one because it was little and cute, but Fred said that he thought it’d be best if we got two pigs at least close to the same size, so I said that was okay with me.

The pig man caught the two piglets we’d decided upon, and Fred held the carrier. The piglets did not care for being put into a carrier, for the record.

And then Fred and the pig man stood and talked and talked and talked, so I walked around and snapped some pictures.

I do not like these birds. They are weird-looking and obnoxious.

The pig man told Fred that he didn’t think he could have pigs if it wasn’t for this dog, who is apparently a very good herder. He also told Fred that he accidentally ran over the dog with his truck the other day – both tires went over the dog – and he thought for sure the dog was a goner, but the dog is just fine. He was moving okay as far as I could see!

We got home in no time, took the pigs out to meet George and Gracie, who did not much approve.

“What the -?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.”

Then we let them go in the pig yard, and they explored and explored and explored. Fred tried to get them to take a cookie out of his hand, but they weren’t much up for that. George and Gracie chased the pigs around (with the pigs in the pig yard and the dogs outside the pig yard), but eventually gave up once they realized they couldn’t actually get to the pigs.

Yesterday, Fred went out and with some coaxing, got the black pig to take a cookie from him. He informed me several times that he’s NEVER gotten a pig to take a cookie from him on only the second day before.

It’s only just begun, little pigs. You have no idea how many cookies are in your future!

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The latest chicks are two weeks old, and the two born from eggs laid by either the Featherheads or the Rock Star (or some combination thereof) seem to be developing little baby mohawks.

I absolutely cannot wait to see what these babies look like when they’re grown up!

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As more time goes by, Samba and Rumba spend more and more time venturing forth throughout the house. Rumba’s the more adventurous of the two, but Samba makes it downstairs all the time now, too. I wish they didn’t get nervous and run back upstairs if I run into their general direction, like they think they’re in trouble. I am perfectly fine with having them explore the house!

They know the routine of bedtime, that’s for sure. Every night after we turn the TV off and go upstairs, the kittens run up ahead of me, and then run into the foster room when they see me coming. Sometimes they need to be coaxed into the foster room with the use of the laser light (Samba, especially, loves the laser light!), but most of the time they just run into the room and wait for me to shut the door.

I let them out first thing in the morning, as soon as I get up, and they’re always waiting for me to open the door.

Samba caught sight of herself in the mirror on my closet door the other day:

More kitten pics over at Love&Hisses.

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Outside Mama, glaring malevolently. She will mess you UP.

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: Seriously, I might be a bit lackadaisical in my housekeeping, but I wouldn’t let CAT POO sit around on the floor, let alone let it show up in a picture!
Previously
2006: Second of all, we both hate our voices and to release them forth into the world would be a cruelty beyond measure.
2005: Impromptu day off.
2004: I’m going to save a fortune on tampons, that’s for sure.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Damn that Sam’s.
2000: Heartless bastard.

February 20, 2009.

I can witness for Fred…. there was a discussion the other day on Kidd Kraddick in the Morning (KISS-FM here in Dallas) about the pros and cons of Snuggie vs. Slanket. I got a Snuggie for Christmas, and it is nice for curling up on the sofa on cold mornings. You’re right, though – a robe put on backwards would accomplish the same effect (though the Snuggie is a bit longer than a robe – good for tucking in around your feet). I actually thought Kidd was making up the “Slanket” (to me it sounds like a Saturday Night Live fake commercial product name) until I Googled it and yep, it’s a real thing.

Fred said that exact same thing, that he thought the Slanket was a joke. It does sound like an SNL commercial, doesn’t it?

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Was wondering if you or any readers can help with my cat. He’s had pooping and peeing outside of the litter box issues, anxiety related according to my vet. Those seem to be okay right now but now she thinks he has cat IBS. She wants me to buy the vet brand of cat food but I just don’t have the $$ for that. Does anyone’s cat have this problem and what do you feed it?

How about it, y’all – anyone have a cat or cats with IBS? Suggestions?

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Regarding feeding of cats – I began raw feeding after meeting Dr Tom Lonsdale. Not only have my cats got gorgeous shiny coats, but the only time they need to go to the vet is for a yearly checkup!! And, big bonus…..because they use all the nutrients from the raw meat diet, their poo is smell free!!! Check out his website for yourself…

We’ve actually discussed moving to a raw food diet for the cats since we have so many chickens!

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Your 2008 quote is priceless. Can you imagine if your current flock escaped their yard?! The chaos, not to mention George & Gracie’s response! LOL!

I still cannot for the life of me believe that a year ago we had 13 chickens and now we have… well, I don’t even know HOW many damn chickens we have! If the chickens ever found a way to escape the back forty, we’d be screwed!

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How the heck does Joe get up there?

He jumps from the floor to the counter, from the counter to the top of the fridge, and from there either to the top of the kitchen cabinets and then to the top of the bookcase or, if he’s feeling froggy, he’ll jump directly from the top of the fridge to the top of the bookcase.

Reminds me… My sister-in-law just finished up with a contractor who installed a kitty-sized set of wooden stairs running from their cellar to a cat door in their bedroom. This is in addition to a series of cat walks and ramps that traverse throughout the cellar. They have no children, and I was made executor of their wills, which include the instructions to not sell the house until all the (5 as of now) kitties have been placed in good homes. My husband can’t understand this.

I totally understand wanting to make sure that your pets are all placed in good homes if you die! So who wants which cat? Y’all claim ’em now, we could die in a car accident on the way to or from one of the flea markets we’ve been haunting on the weekends!

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The clown is creepy but cool. Did you not want it because of It? I bet Fred wanted it because it reminded him of that book. It’s probably my favorite after The Stand. Stephen King is my favorite author too. Have you read any of his sons’ stuff yet? I just saw that they are writing on a Stephen King forum on amazon a week or two ago.

I mostly didn’t want it because it was creepy – but we also don’t need more crap cluttering up the house! Damnit! (Now, if it had been something I wanted, I would have totally managed to find room for it. Y’know how it is.) I’ve read books by both Joe Hill (Heart-Shaped Box, 20th Century Ghosts – liked the former, wasn’t crazy about the latter) and Owen King (We’re All in this Together, which I really liked). The King boys are pretty talented, I’d say.

Did you try the goat cheese yet? I really like the tangy taste on a pizza.

I’ve tried both kinds that we bought, but they were both flavored goat cheese (one’s Tuscan and the other is.. Ranch, maybe?). I want to try just regular goat cheese, so I’m going to keep my eyes peeled for some!

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So Fred was scared of the roads, not the clown. I’ll write that down on my list titled ‘Weird Things About Fred.’ Right next to the fact that he likes cheese, just not on a salad. (Why is that fact still in my head?!)

EVERYONE knows that Fred likes cheese, just not on a salad. What everyone forgets is that he ALSO doesn’t like cheese on a burger. He’s such a weirdo.

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Zach and Miri was such a funny movie, wasn’t it? I saw it in the theater with friends and we laughed so hard! Have you seen Pineapple Express? I thought it was going to be funny too because “Zach” was in it, but I didn’t like that movie at all.

We both really enjoyed Zack and Miri, although when it comes to Kevin Smith movies, Clerks will always be my favorite, followed closely by Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back.

Seth Rogen’s laugh irritates Fred; I can see why, it’s kind of annoying.

We did watch Pineapple Express and I remember kind of enjoying it (while surfing the internet on my laptop!), but I’ll be damned if I can remember anything about it.

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Do you clean your walls and ceilings and if so, how and how often? And how often do you clean the blinds, and how do you do that? Your house is always so clean, I thought I would ask the expert.

I can’t say that I’ve ever cleaned the ceilings. It depends on the room as to whether the walls get cleaned. The walls in the foster kitten room get wiped down maybe three times a year, same with the laundry room, and I think I’ve done the kitchen walls twice since we moved in. I usually use my spray bottle of all-purpose cleaning spray, spray a small area at a time, then wipe it down with a cleaning rag. I think I’ve also used a bucket of hot water with a touch of ammonia in it, wet the rags, squeezed ’em out, and wiped the walls. It mostly depends on what I feel like using at the time.

I try to dust the blinds every few months, and I just use a dry rag and wipe along the slats of the blinds. Well, except for the blinds in the laundry room (which hang right behind the litter boxes), which I vacuum with the brush attachment on the Dyson whenever it occurs to me to do so.

Readers – got cleaning tips you want to share?

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It’s not always the cashier (although I suspect in this case it was). I’m an art student and use craploads of those foam paintbrushes. Normally they’re 39c, but every once in a while Joann’s or Michael’s will have them at 20 for $1, so I usually buy 80 or 100 when they do. In both places, can I tell them I have 100? NO! The registers won’t do that (cashiers have told me this in BOTH stores). They have to SCAN the brushes 100 times, and I get a receipt a mile long (because it has to print on one line that NORMALLY they’re 39c, and then another line to tell me that TODAY they’re 5c. EACH!

Do you tell them that they’re single-handedly killing the planet when they waste paper like that? 🙂

Yeah, I’ve had cashiers at the dollar store not be able to just hit a button on the register to show that I’m buying multiple items, but at Target I know they have that option, ’cause they do it for me all the time.

Now I’m getting irritated at that cashier all over again! It wasn’t so much the fact that she didn’t know what she was doing that got me – it was that she acted like I was trying to get away with something! Yeah, let me sneak these four (THERE WERE FOUR, LISA!) 28-pound buckets of litter out under my coat!

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Clearly, I’m behind. You got DOGS??? I thought you were not a dog person.

(Hee. I love using that picture!)

Yeah, we got dogs back in December to protect the chickens from hawks and other predators. We are NOT dog people – we ARE George and Gracie people, though. But they’re working dogs, not pets.

Not pets! I mean it!

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Do both pups have speckled bellies?

and

Please explain the dog’s spotty belly. That is charming and so cute that I first thought it was a post-neuter band-aid (until I realized that immediately post-neuter, the dog wouldn’t want a belly rub).

Both dogs do indeed have speckled bellies, though George’s belly is more spotted and Gracie’s is more splotchy, like such:

George.

Gracie.

Y’all will have to tell me – is it usual for dogs to have bare bellies? Because both George and Gracie have bare bellies, and you’d think they’d get cold!

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Did you watch the Real Housewives OC Finale? Please say you did, because I’d like to know what you think about how Vicki acted over the little wallets Gretchen bought everyone. Also, please comment on all the other over the top shit that went on on the Finale. Wow. I hope you watched it.

Indeed I did, and I’ll cut and paste from a couple of emails I sent about it – but first I’ll say that I hate the way Vicki and Tamra act about Gretchen, like she’s trying to pull one over on them when she’s being nice. As far as I can tell (and yeah, I’ve never met Gretchen and this is a “reality” TV show), Gretchen seems like a sweet girl and I really like her!

Okay, now to the cutting and pasting:

I think it is HILARIOUS that Tamra made comments about Jeana’s boobs hanging out – pot, kettle, black!

I canNOT believe the balls on Vicki – what a thing to say about Gretchen. JEESUS. Do these women have any concept of the reality that when they say evil shit like that, the other women are going to hear it? I hope she gives ’em hell at the reunion next week. Granted, I found Gretchen occasionally annoying with the shrieking and the over-the-top guffawing, but she really seems like a sweetheart and I felt really bad for her.

Jo looked horrible with those bangs, and Slade Smiley (worst name ever – and you KNOW he came up with it himself. Maybe with copious amounts of pot involved!) is such a tool. Jo, when someone tells you you look like you’re 13, it’s not always a compliment!

I think that Vicki was probably right about this desire to join the Army being something that was caused by Brianna’s boyfriend breaking up with her. I noticed at the end that she’s put off joining the army and is exploring “other options”, at least. I could understand Vicki bugging out about Brianna joining the military, but I kind of understand Brianna’s desire to go off and explore the world too. I have to say, I was surprised to see that Michael actually graduated from college, doesn’t he strike you as the party-’til-he-drops-out sort?

I don’t like Jo’s hair like that at ALL, and Slade – UGH.

When Simon (is that right? Is Tamra’s husband Simon? I’m not getting mixed up, am I?) gave her the bracelet and then proceeded to tell her what the design was and what these stones were or whatever, she looked distinctly underwhelmed. When they had that stilted conversation about how they don’t spend a lot on gifts for each other EVERY year, I was thinking “Yeah, just on the years the camera is around!”

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Oh please! The belly rub and “hello gorgeous”? Those dogs are totally your PETS.

WORKING DOGS. NOT PETS. The dogs are no more pets than the chickens are.

For god’s sake, it’s not like we PET the chickens or Fred walks around with the friendly little speckled chicken on on his shoulder or anything, that would be CRAZY.

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When I moved into my first house and started landscaping the yard, my mom had one piece of advice: Don’t plant a sweet gum tree! She planted one 40 yrs ago because the nursery worker said it was fast growing and a great shade tree but he didn’t mention those “sticker balls”–she’s been cursing them ever since!

We have a couple of HUGE sweet gum trees, and we had a wind storm last week. With those fuckers raining down, I felt like I was in a war zone. I do NOT recommend any kind of gum tree at all. When I am old and frail, I will likely slip on the damn things and break my hip!

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George and Gracie do not seem to be getting much bigger. I was thinking that they would get really big. How big do you think that they’ll get?

They’re getting bigger, just now that they’re seven months old, they’re not growing quite as fast. Fred weighed George earlier this week, and found that he (George, that is) has gained 13 pounds in the past month. Male Pyrs usually weigh 100 – 160 pounds, and females usually weigh 85 – 125 pounds. It’s anyone’s guess right now how big they’re going to end up being, but I’m going to guess they’ll both likely be over 100 pounds.

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Hi Robyn – Wow your jam is delicious!!!! I made a plate with whipped cream cheese on the bottom and the strawberry habanero on top, to be eaten with crackers for the Daytona 500 party we went to! Wow – was it hot and yummy. The more our nose would run – the more we ate! Thank you!!! This weekend I am going to open up the raspberry jam! I bought the trio and yummy – it is worth the shipping costs – I recommend that everybody try it out!

Why, thank you! I always like hearing that you guys are enjoying the jam!

I’ve got one more day of jam-making to do, and then we’ll officially be out of habaneros ’til mid-summer! New jams and hot sauces will be available late Sunday/ early Monday. Maybe Saturday, depending.

(And as a side note, if you email me about placing an order and don’t hear back from me within 24 hours, I didn’t get your mail. Usually I email back within a few hours (depending on when you emailed me – if it’s the middle of the night, obviously I don’t get back to you ’til the next morning), so if you don’t get a response, email me again. And I’ll keep a closer eye on my spam folder, just in case!)

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Fred has an ex??

and

I’m with Becky…I didn’t know Fred had an ex either. I’ve been reading your blog for a number of years now but that one escaped me. Do tell.

and

Fred has a whackjob ex??? Details, please!

and

And, I’m echoing Becky, Jillybean, & Marilyn — “Fred has an ex?” Oh yeah, details could provide a good read in next journal entry.

Aw, you guys – I didn’t mean to get you excited! When I said “ex”, I meant ex-girlfriend, not ex-wife. There’s no real story there, Fred hasn’t heard from her since before I moved down here. He wrote about it five years ago, in this entry (skip down to the blue section).

I don’t know her, never met her, “talked” to her once or twice in passing (she liked to hang out in the IRC chatroom Fred ran back then), but I’d still kind of like to scratch her eyes out for the bullshit game-playing mindfuckery she pulled on Fred.

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Did you know that Mister Boogers has an opinion on Valentine’s Day?

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Previously
2008: About ten minutes after Lupe started her circuit of the kitchen, I heard her sing a happy little song and went into the kitchen to find that she’d docked herself and was happily recharging.
2007: “Hey,” I said despondently. “He’s dead.”
2006: But I’m afraid that now it’s tasted human blood, it’s going to require a periodic human sacrifice.
2005: No entry.
2004: The Bean appeared before me, eyes wide and dark, a sad little I’m a poor kitty who has lost his way look on his face.
2003: They freaked out.
2002: Um. In yesterday’s entry, I MEANT to link to Fred with the words “nice butt”, not MYSELF.
2001: We got proof today that we, in fact, do not have two gay hamsters.
2000: No entry.

2/19/09

Couples meme, stolen from Dooce. What are your middle names? Mine is Leslie. His, I’m not sharing because the idea of having his entire name out there creeps me out. (I’m only comfortable sharing my middle name ’cause y’all don’t know my maiden name!) How long have you been together? March 10th will mark 13 … Continue reading “2/19/09”

Couples meme, stolen from Dooce.

What are your middle names? Mine is Leslie. His, I’m not sharing because the idea of having his entire name out there creeps me out. (I’m only comfortable sharing my middle name ’cause y’all don’t know my maiden name!)

How long have you been together? March 10th will mark 13 years since the first time we met online; Memorial Day weekend will mark 13 years since we met in person, and August 13th marks 13 years since we’ve lived together. And last Halloween marked our 10th anniversary!

How long did you know each other before you started dating? We didn’t really date. Why pussyfoot around?

Who asked whom out? No one ever really asked anyone out. Fred asked if we could meet for Memorial Day, does that count?

How old are each of you? We’re both 41; he’ll be 42 in May.

Whose siblings do you see the most? His sister, I’d say – we always see her on Thanksgiving and at Christmas. Although now that I think about it, I didn’t see her at Thanksgiving OR Christmas this year but I did see my sister, so maybe it’s a draw.

Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple? The situation where I’d like to occasionally go away overnight and he’s terrified at the idea of leaving the chicken coop unlocked after dark. Even though we have two DOGS to protect the chickens. I guess you could say he’s a homebody and I’m a free spirit. ::snicker::

Did you go to the same school? Nope.

Are you from the same home town? Nope – he’s from Alabama, I’m from Maine.

Who is smarter? He thinks he is. He’s smarter at knowing how things work; I’m smarter at knowing how people are, most of the time.

Who is the most sensitive? Probably me. I’m a special, sensitive snowflake.

Where do you eat out most as a couple? We don’t really eat out much; when we do, it tends to be at a chain restaurant.

Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple? I guess the trip we took several years ago to Maryland/ Washington, DC.

Who has the craziest exes? He does. Well, just the one whackjob.

Who has the worst temper? I do, but at least when I’m pissed you can tell I’m pissed. And for the most part I get over it pretty quickly.

Who does the cooking? I do, because I love it so.

Who is the neat-freak? Neither of us. I’m more the clean freak than he is, though, and I’m not all THAT clean. A few weeks ago we were going somewhere and we took his car because the gas tank didn’t need to be filled, and when I saw the state of his car, I immediately made him swear that if I die first he’ll hire someone to come in and clean the house twice a month, because the idea of my house looking as bad as the inside of his car made me sad.

Who is more stubborn? Probably me; depends on the situation. If I feel someone’s playing games or attempting to manipulate or bully me, I’d probably set myself on fire before I’d give in to their bullshit.

Who hogs the bed? The cats. (My bed, at least. Cats aren’t allowed in HIS bed because he’s a PRINCESS who sleeps LIGHTLY and cannot have little cat feet tromping all over him at night.)

Who wakes up earlier? He does, by several hours. I know he’s up by at least 5 on the weekends, if not earlier.

Where was your first date? In a motel in Pennsylvania, I guess.

Who is more jealous? I don’t think either of us is particularly jealous, though we each have our flashes of jealousy.

How long did it take to get serious? It was serious pretty much immediately.

Who eats more? He can eat more in one sitting than I can; I could probably put away more in a day if I really tried.

Who does the laundry? It defaults to me, since I don’t have a job.

Who’s better with the computer? He is; I usually fuck mine up and then bitch at him ’til he fixes it.

Who drives when you are together? He does. I drive too slowly for his tastes. Ask me who got stopped for speeding most recently. (Hint: NOT ME.)

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Every evening when we go out to put the chickens up (ie, lock the coop) and hang out with the dogs, I stop at the pecan tree to see if this bird is in her nest. If she’s not sitting there looking down at me, I jiggle the branch a little, and she pops her head out. I kind of love her.

Sassy (our true free-range chicken who leaves the chicken yard every day to venture to her old childhood (chickhood?) coop to lay her egg, decided too do cleanup duty under the bird feeders. (Please note all the damn gumballs on the driveway behind her. I hate those freakin’ things.)

Gracie pulled a gumball out of her fur and spat it out; I snapped the picture right before she spat it.

George loves the belly rubs.

Hello, gorgeous.

Buff rooster looks for a hen to defile.

“If I don’t look at those annoying chickens, they’re not there.”

Michelle, appalled. (Or mid-crow. Whatever.)

“You tawkin’ to ME?”

“Where my food, lady?”

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The kittens are starting to venture further and further into the house during the day. This afternoon I walked into the kitchen to find Rumba sitting in front of the big bowl of (adult) cat food, eating like I’d been starving her. She had a look on her face like “Oh, so THIS is where they keep the good stuff!” She also went into the laundry room to check out the litter boxes (“They get the GOOD litter boxes!”).

Both girls spend most of their time during the day hanging out in my room – it’s kind of funny how all foster cats seem to really like hanging out in my room even though it doesn’t get half the sun that the foster room gets. This afternoon they were snuggled up in a cat bed on the recliner. When I sat down on my bed and spoke to them, Rumba actually came over to the bed to be petted. Samba was less interested in me, but I think that’s because she spotted a toy on the floor and had to show it who the boss was. (Hint: The toy is NOT the boss!)

So sweet, these girls. I probably haven’t mentioned that before, have I?

Poor Samba – she’s the bigger kitten, but Rumba always gets the best of her when it comes to kitten fightin’.

More kitten pics over at Love & Hisses.

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It’s a Spanky Pizza.

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Previously
2008: “And the next, you and Franklin are being chased across the back forty by a really pissed-off injured pig who has slop in her mouth and murder in her heart.”
2007: We’ll be spending all day at the house.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Bet I was a cold splash of water in HIS night.
2003: Poor Miz Poo.
2002: Give me a guy with a great smile any day.
2001: Yeah, I know, it’s goofy.
2000: No entry.

2/13/09

Happy Friday the 13th! Don’t let any black chickens cross your path… it’s totally bad luck, or so I hear. (They might leave you an egg, though, which probably negates any bad luck they bring.) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * … Continue reading “2/13/09”

Happy Friday the 13th!

Don’t let any black chickens cross your path… it’s totally bad luck, or so I hear. (They might leave you an egg, though, which probably negates any bad luck they bring.)

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Damnit, called out as a skimmer! Noooooooooo! (But shouldn’t that show you I’ve been reading long enough that I remember Fred being mysterious about his car FORFREAKINGEVER?)

That reminds me, I meant to put this up last week:

If it helps any, I don’t even remember what Fred was driving back when he refused to tell everyone what he drove. At one point he owned a Jeep Grand Cherokee, and then it was some sort of Suzuki SUV, and then another Suzuki SUV, then he went smaller when we moved out to the country and his drive in to work went from 10 minutes to 30.

I’m pretty sure his refusal to tell what he drove started as a joke, and the more people wanted to know, the more he wanted to torture them, because he’s a bastard that way!

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Keep warm? Why haven’t you joined the Cult of Snuggie?!

Because if I wanted to wear a backwards robe, I’d get my robe out of the closet and put it on backwards. 🙂

(I am told by Fred that the Slanket is much nicer and better than the Snuggie. I am too afraid to ask how he knows this. He CLAIMS that he heard a long discussion about it on the radio, but I’m skeptical.)

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A couple of getaway suggestions for the North Alabamians: Cloudland Canyon, GA
There’s a nice Inn in Monteagle, TN (it’s at the top of the big mountain you go over on I-24 on the way to Nashville) – if you’re the outdoorsy sort, there’s lots of hiking in that area.

I am totally going to try to get Fred to take me to that Inn. We always say “We should go away overnight” and then can’t come up with a place to go!

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Okay, seriously – Is the pig hernia operation without anesthesia a normal thing? Does the ASPCA know about this??

I honestly don’t know if it’s normal. We had a hard time finding a vet who was willing to operate on the pigs, so we don’t have another vet’s procedures to compare it to. I still can’t believe they’d do the operation without anesthesia, it’s just barbaric.

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I have been feeding Sensible Choice cat food to my cats for years. Now they discontinued making it and I have tried California Natural and (the cheaper) Costco Kirkland brand. The CA Natural was OK, but the Kirkland brand makes their poop stink to high heaven. Really, it is very bad and hangs around forever. What do you feed your cats?

Myself, I feed our spoiled rotten cats three different kinds of food (four if you include Snackin’! Time!). In one container I mix Nutro Natural Choice Senior and Purina Veterinary Diets UR. In the other container, I have Taste of the Wild. We have two bowls of each food available, and they seem to all go down at about the same rate. (Snackin’! Time! involves cans of Fancy Feast Elegant Medleys food. It’s about the only canned food that doesn’t make the more sensitive-stomached cats barf on a regular basis.)

I’ve heard that Dick Van Patten’s Natural Balance cat food is good for reducing both the volume and the smell of litter box leavings.

Readers? Suggestions?

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Also wondering if you and Fred ever watch The Big Bang Theory. Now THAT’S some high-quality geek humor. Four nerds sitting around playing Klingon Boggle. Gotta love it. The hubby and I DVR it every week and it’s hilarious.

I’d like to give it a try (I’ve loved Johnny Galecki ever since his days on Roseanne) and I’ve downloaded the first several shows, but I haven’t gotten around to actually watching it yet!

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Hi, I’m a longtime lurker/reader… had to laugh about you telling Fred you would kill him if you got pig poop on you. When I watched you and Nancy do those video podcasts, you were really laid back. I honestly can’t see you saying half the things you say you said to Fred in a violent manner. Hope things work out with the pigs! BTW, I also think it’s hilarious when you talk about how much you love Publix. We don’t have Publix where we live in SC, but my husband is from GA and loves the store. He wants them to come up here so badly!

I’m usually laid back, but I have my moments, as Fred can tell you. I usually get over it pretty quickly, though, and most of the time Fred just laughs at me.

Publix is the BEST grocery store ever, and I hope they spread out across the entire country. I bet Nance would agree that Publix rocks – she was pretty impressed last summer when she and Trey visited!

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Those baby chicks are soooo cute. I used to see chicks hatch at my grandmas .They were the fluffy yellow chicks. Do they even still have those? When I had my own chicks,they were brown babies like yours.

We did have one single little yellow chick, but unfortunately that’s the one who died unexpectedly! Poor thing.

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I got more eggs from my brother this weekend. I dropped a few, so decided to make scrambled eggs. Only this one, didn’t want to open. I was able to peel the entire shell away from the membrane and then had to use a fork to pierce the membrane. My brother admits he has fed them too much oyster shell in the last month or two, but come on. I’m trying to talk him into letting me document his incubating/hatching, but he’s pretty sure he’s just going to mail order chicks again, this year.

That egg is just freaky! I’ve had eggs that are hard to crack before, but nothing like that.

And incubating/ hatching eggs is just a really neat experience (despite the sad and unexpected deaths). Watching the chicks hatch and then watching them grow (our babies are starting to feather out!) is just amazing.

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Be careful with your pig buying if you go back to the same fella — hernias are genetic in hogs.

The pigs with the hernias were available because they had hernias – they were culls from a commercial pig farming place – the guy we’ll most likely be getting our next pigs from is the guy who sold us our first set of pigs last year, and those pigs were hernia-free, thank god.

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And just HOW did Miz Poo end up without a bed?? I can’t believe she didn’t put the smack-down on one of the boys and take his bed.

I’m sure she was coming up with her smackdown strategy as I took that picture – I believe that just a few minutes later she sniffed at Mister Boogers, who responded by lifting up his head and grumping at her, and then she smacked him until he gave up and stomped off for friendlier pastures.

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Everyone should have a oven thermometer. I found that out big time. At my last apartment the oven was 100 degrees higher then what the dial said. Meaning instead of 350 degrees it would be 450 degrees! At first I thought my baking skills had gone to hell! Pun intended. 😉 Now at my new digs the oven is only 25 degrees higher. Check your ovens girls! It just might not be your fault you can’t bake worth a darn. Hee!

I actually bought an oven thermometer yesterday. Imagine my surprise when I opened the preheated oven to put dinner in the oven, and found that the thermometer read exactly what it was supposed to. I guess I can’t blame my cookie failure last weekend on the oven. More like operator error, I guess!

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Have you ever had a runt of the litter and did you notice a difference in their personality? My male is a runt and he is a total whack job!! Small-ish and so odd in his hot and cold need for affection and in his general lack of confidence in climbing/jumping.

Sugarbutt was the runt of his litter. He does run very hot and cold in his need for love – if he wants love HE MUST HAVE IT NOW, but if he doesn’t, then you’d best just not even bother ’cause he’ll have none of it.

He’s not lacking in confidence when it comes to climbing and jumping, though. He’s a jumping fool!

Do you have a momma-clinger? Which I guess has been answered with that photo! I wondered because my female was totally velcroed to my side yesterday even meowing to be held. She does the “let me sit here on this paper you are reading” thing all the time too.

Miz Poo is VERY clingy. The only reason she doesn’t spend all her time in front of me when I’m in front of the computer is because I won’t allow it (oh, don’t give me that look, I am NOT abusive!). That doesn’t stop her from trying 63 times a day, though. When I’m sitting and watching TV, she’s on my lap. If I’m laying down watching TV, she’s curled up against me. When I go to bed, she’s right there either on me or up against me. She LOVES HER MOMMA.

Actually, she loves everyone. I just happen to be the one who’s around most often.

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“Something about the sunshine makes them friendly, and they’ll come over to me to be petted.” Why, they’re solar powered, of course!

Why do I always forget that? Nothing makes cats happier than sunshine!

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I was wondering if there was chance that nosy neighbor would see your fruit trees and instead of thinking “barrier,” he would think “free fruit” and help himself?

Oh, it’s entirely possible – but I imagine there’ll be so much fruit we won’t notice if some of it goes missing!

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I think the neighbor’s son is checking Fred out–not looking at what he’s doing!! (assuming we’re talking about an adult and not a child!!)

Yeah, he’s an adult. And his living at his Mom’s seems to be a mostly seasonal thing – he’s around in the Spring and Summer, disappears at some point in the Fall, and shows up every now and then through the winter.

He very well might be checking Fred out – I did mention that Fred has a nice butt, didn’t I?

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Kara certainly is a pretty girl!

She is! I have to admit that I’ve not been all that impressed with brown tabbies in the past – I mean, I’ve liked them, but always preferred orange tabbies – but Kara is so pretty that I’ve gained a new appreciation for them. I love the white around her mouth and her caramel-colored belly, and her gorgeous green eyes!

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Did you watch the dog show? I cheered for the Great Pyrenees, thinking of you guys. Cats were not impressed with the whole thing, at all.

No, we don’t usually watch the dog show, but if I’d known there were Pyrs there, I might have insisted!

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Cannot wait to see pics of the old house. (OF COURSE, you’re going to scan the pictures. Ahem.)

Absolutely I am! I can’t wait to see those pictures, and I know y’all will want to see them too!

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When my brother and I were young, on the way home from the babysitters, we’d usually ask what was for dinner. My mother usually answered with “Shit on a stick.” I always loved that and use it frequently now myself.

and

We also got the ‘shit on a stick’ response to ‘what’s for dinner’ when growing up! 🙂 I also HATE that question with fire of a thousand suns!! My kids pretty much have stopped asking it but my response is either ‘food’ or ‘poop…poop on a stick’ (as my kids are 12, 7 and 2…the older one will get the ‘shit on a stick’ response! *G*) I guess my mom DIDN’T make up the ‘shit on a stick’ response!

Dee and Christine, out of curiosity, where did y’all grow up? Or rather I guess I should ask what part of the country your mothers grew up in – I’m wondering if it’s a regional thing. I can’t say that I’ve ever heard “shit on a stick” as a “What’s for dinner” response – but I’m intrigued!

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Suggestion re: dinner. If the menu is planned out, maybe you could write it down on the fridge. That way, all you’d have to do is point.

I actually used to do that (and the spud dearly loved crossing off each night’s dinner after we’d eaten, she’s a dork like her momma), and I should start doing it again, but I’m not sure it’d stop Fred from asking.

What I REALLY ought to do is post it at the top of each entry, in bold!

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Dee – have you ever had “Shit on a Shingle”? Usually some beef in gravy served over toast. We had it sometimes as kids, my dad would say they served it when he was in the Army.

I don’t know about Dee, but we certainly had it! (My father was in the Air Force.) We didn’t call it “Shit on a Shingle”, though, it was S.O.S, but I remember always knowing what the initials stood for.

I loved that stuff!

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Ok, I love Kara and am thrilled that you have adopted her, AND I read you daily – can you point to the place where you discuss adopting her. For some reason I don’t remember this.

(Hee! I kid!)

I mentioned it in passing on October 22nd, and then wrote about it for real on October 23rd. (I find it funny that in that entry, I said DO NOT WANT A DOG. Ha!) (Also, we never did rename her – we call her “Upstairs Mama” or just “Mama”, and I often call her Kara.)

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Just curious, but don’t the dogs get kind of…um….well….covered in chicken shit?? Living in with the chickens and all, I mean. How do you keep them clean? Do they get brushed and taken on walks ever?

They do get chicken shit on them – though not as much as you’d imagine – but their fur seems to be made of Teflon or something. They’ll have chicken shit on them when I go out in the morning, for instance, but by the time I go out at noon to check for eggs, the chicken shit is gone. Stuff doesn’t seem to stick to their fur for long. They actually get more covered in leaves and grass than anything.

Fred went out and brushed them both several times yesterday with the Furminator, and got quite a bit of loose fur off them. We’re going into the part of the year where they’ll start shedding, so they’ll need to be brushed regularly over the next few months to prevent matting.

They don’t get taken on walks except around the back 40. They’re working dogs, not pets. They have chickens to protect, and they will rarely leave their territory.

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Rumba and Samba are home from their spaying. As I mentioned I was going to, I put Rumba in the guest bedroom and Samba in the kitten foster room. The difference in their attitudes from before was like night and day. Before, Samba wouldn’t even come over to be petted (unless I was sitting in a patch of sunlight, and even then she was very skittish about it). When I walked into the room after she’d been in there alone for about ten minutes, she ran over and was like “Where have you BEEN? I need LOVE, and I need it NOW, please!” Then she spent the entire time I was in the room rubbing up against me, purring loudly, flopping in my lap.

It’s absolutely stunning what separating a couple of skittish kittens will do to their personality. It’s not the first time I’ve done it (or the first time I’ve seen the amazing instant switch in how they act), but it’s still incredible every time.

I’m likely going to keep them separated through the weekend and then let them out and see how that goes.

(Sorry, I have no pictures of them to share. I will by Monday, I promise!)

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Previously
2008: “We wouldn’t want to detract from the beauty of the muddy cat footprints on the counters. But you don’t need to worry. That’s not a maggot.”
2007: I need a nap.
2006: Mystery solved. Just call me Nancy Drew.
2005: No entry.
2004: Molasses runs in her veins, I swear to god.
2003: No entry.
2002: My life? Complete again.
2001: Do I want to go sit through an eternal PTA meeting, listen to endless amounts of people babble endlessly? Um, no.
2000: No entry.

2/12/09

Here’s something I do that is very annoying and should annoy the shit out of Fred, but it doesn’t seem to bother him too terribly much. When we’re going somewhere, he’ll say to me “Are you ready?” And I will invariably say “Yes.” So he will get up and he will get his shoes on, … Continue reading “2/12/09”

Here’s something I do that is very annoying and should annoy the shit out of Fred, but it doesn’t seem to bother him too terribly much.

When we’re going somewhere, he’ll say to me “Are you ready?”

And I will invariably say “Yes.”

So he will get up and he will get his shoes on, and he will wait by the door.

“Oh, I have to pee,” I say, because I’m always afraid we’ll get halfway to where we’re going and have to pee, even if it’s like two minutes away.

Fred stands patiently by the door.

“Oh, I need to fill my water bottle,” I say, because I don’t want to get thirsty, do I? WHAT IF I GET THIRSTY? WHATEVER WOULD WE DO?!

Fred stands patiently by the door.

“Oh, I need to get gum,” I say, because I’m a gum-chewing motherfucker and am always running out of gum.

Fred stands patiently by the door.

You get the idea. It takes me five to seven minutes, on average, to actually BE ready to walk out the door. If it were me standing there and waiting by the door, I would be SERIOUSLY annoyed at having to wait for someone who claimed she was ready to leave. Fred will sometimes go outside to wait for me but usually waits by the door, because we almost always take my car, and if he takes my keys and goes out to the car, I’ll have no house key with which to lock the door.

Probably what Fred needs to start doing is asking me five minutes before he’s ready to go if I’m ready to go, so that I’ll have five minutes to get all my shit done and my ass ready to walk out the door before he actually goes and gets his shoes on.

Except that I’d probably be annoyed at having to wait for him to get his shoes on.

There’s really no winning with me, is there?

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Speaking of no winning with me, I have a question for y’all – how many goddamn times a day do you have to answer “What’s for dinner?”

Before the spud moved to Rhode Island*, every day she’d get home from school and ask “What’s for dinner?”

I’d tell her.

Fred would get home from work and ask “What’s for dinner?”

I’d tell him.

Sometimes directly after dinner, the spud would say “What’s for dinner tomorrow night?”

I’d tell her.

Then she’d come home from school and say “What’s for dinner?”

I’d tell her.

And on and on.

(Sometimes if I’d already answered the question the night before, I’d refuse to answer it again. I AM NOT THE DINNER ORACLE.)

These days, there’s one less person in the house, but I seem to answer the question with the same frequency.

Yesterday, Fred got home from work. “Are we having enchiladas for dinner?” he asked.

“No, we’re having chicken pot pie,” I said. “Well, unless you’d rather have enchiladas. Both the enchiladas and pot pie are ready to be put in the oven, we could have pot pie tomorrow night instead.”

“Pot pie’s fine, I just couldn’t remember.” (From the conversation about dinner we’d had the night before, that is.)

We ate dinner. Fred went into the kitchen to do the dishes and put the leftovers away.

“Are we having pot pie again tomorrow night?” he asked.

“No, we’re having it Friday,” I said.

In a most puzzled manner, he said “Then what are we having tomorrow night?”

“ENCHILADAS.”

I AM NOT THE DINNER ORACLE. If he asks when he gets home from work, I will beat him over the head with the dish of enchiladas, I swear it.

*She moved to Rhode Island to live with her father and go to college. She is currently taking the semester off. (I only say this because every time I mention the child, someone searches on “Why did the spud move to Rhode Island?”)

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It cracks me up when I look out the window and see the dogs laying on the ground in front of the coop, dead to the world.

Poor exhausted pups.

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From left to right, a regular egg from one of our chickens (most of our eggs look like this; I have no way of knowing who laid it); an egg from either a Featherhead or the Rock Star; and a Silkie egg.

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I don’t know what freaked Kara out, but she raced in from the back yard through the cat door, through the house, and didn’t stop ’til she was on the landing. See the puffed-out tail? It stayed puffed-out like that for several minutes before she calmed down.

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Previously
2008: “I’ve lost Joe, and Fred is going to kill me,” I informed Mister Boogers, who glared at me and went back to sleep.
2007: I do NOT know why the fuck I’m such an idiot.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Sounds like corporate logic, to me – cable guys having to service DVRs when they don’t know anything at all about them.
2003: Uninspired.
2002: Dude, what the fuck? They don’t have mirrors on Boston Public?
2001: My husband, Narcissus.
2000: No entry.