Sights from around Crooked Acres. Nance and Rick sent me this mini rose bush after I had surgery (plastic surgery, maybe? I don’t remember!), and it has languished in a tiny pot and almost died, and finally I transplanted it into a big pot, and it’s never been happier. “You rang?” “You has food for … Continue reading “10/08/09 – Thursday”
Sights from around Crooked Acres.
Nance and Rick sent me this mini rose bush after I had surgery (plastic surgery, maybe? I don’t remember!), and it has languished in a tiny pot and almost died, and finally I transplanted it into a big pot, and it’s never been happier.
“You rang?”
“You has food for me?” (That’s food on his nose.)
These pigs all of a sudden got really, really long.
One of the way-too-many roosters we have.
Another rooster. Doesn’t it look like he’s twirling around and his skirt’s flying up in the air?
Yet another rooster. I can’t help it, the roosters are so pretty! This is Mr. Friendly.
Rooster – this is the one we call the Road Runner ’cause he’s so long-legged and goony looking.
Rooster. We call this one “the new guy” because he was one of a batch of chicks Fred sold back in the spring. He told the guy that if any of the birds turned out to be roosters, we’d take it back. This one turned out to be a rooster, so back he came.
We have a chicken or two.
Another rooster.
The turkeys, on top of the coop.
Sidling along the tree branch that touches the top of the coop…
Trying to get higher. We figure we’re going to go out one night and find them roosting 50 feet up in the tree.
Previously 2008: And since there’s not a lot going on around here (except that it’s raining for the first time in forever, yay!), here are some pictures from around Crooked Acres. 2007: Whither Tom-Tom goest, the Stank will follow.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: I’m just going to sit here and whine about being cold and thirsty, I suppose. Sounds like a plan! 2003: Just know that it was a little SKEERY. 2002: This is a mighty exciting entry, isn’t it? Could I be any more interesting? Should I do an entry about watching paint dry, or what? 2001: “Farm boy, fetch me some ice! Farm boy, fetch me a diet coke, chop-chop!”
2000: No entry.
(That’s from Jane‘s Holly. I’m going to save this letter and then when she becomes president, I am going to sell it on eBay for a MILLION DOLLARS.) Dear Holly, Thank you so much for sending Flat Holly to visit us. We had a lot of fun with her, and she’s awfully helpful … Continue reading “9/30/09 – Wednesday”
(That’s from Jane‘s Holly. I’m going to save this letter and then when she becomes president, I am going to sell it on eBay for a MILLION DOLLARS.)
Dear Holly,
Thank you so much for sending Flat Holly to visit us. We had a lot of fun with her, and she’s awfully helpful for a flat girl!
She arrived on a Saturday, and we put her right to work, scooping litter boxes. We have a lot of cats, Holly, maybe your Mom told you. We have a few of our own and we also foster kittens for a local cat shelter. This means that there are a lot of litter boxes that have to be scooped at the beginning and end of each day. Flat Holly pitched right in and scooped and scooped.
Tommy inspects the scooping.
It’s the Fall and though our garden is winding down, we still had some gardening to do. Flat Holly helped us pick tomatoes to make fried green tomatoes. She also hung out amongst the dried corn stalks and played hide and seek with one of our cats.
Flat Holly of the corn.
We grow a lot of hot peppers, and after we harvested the ripe cayenne and habanero peppers from the garden, Flat Holly helped me dry the cayennes and then grind them into powder. I had to fashion a makeshift mask for her face. One thing you do not want is to inhale cayenne powder because it makes you cough like crazy. She also helped me slice the tops off the habaneros and put them into a bag for the freezer. We did a quick habanero inventory, and it’s Flat Holly’s opinion that we have plenty of habaneros. She’s right!
Fresh cayennes.
Cayennes ready for the dehydrator.
Powdering dried cayennes.
Pouring out the cayenne powder.
Fresh habaneros, right from the garden.
Freezer full of habaneros!
Since we had so many habaneros, I asked Flat Holly if she was up for helping me make a test batch of strawberry-habanero jam. She was, so we did. She was particularly helpful when it came to supervising the cooling of the canned jam, and checked to make sure the jam had jelled (it had!). While we were canning things, we went ahead and made and canned some jalapeno jelly too. Flat Holly was in charge of watching the pot to make sure it didn’t boil over, and she did the job well. We rounded out the day of canning by making and canning caramel-apple jam, which was the only non-hot food we canned while she was here.
Strawberry-habanero test batch.
Jalapeno jelly.
Caramel-apple jam.
There was a lot of hanging out with cats, and luckily Flat Holly seemed to enjoy all the cats. We were glad she’s a cat lover because there were many, many trips to the vet. With so many cats, there’s always someone who needs a trip to the vet. We made seven trips to the vet’s office while Flat Holly was here, Holly. I’m not exaggerating. She was willing to sit near the cat carriers and keep the kittens entertained during the many trips, thank goodness. Those cats do not like going to the vet!
Nap time with the True Bloods.
Play time with the True Bloods.
Nap time with Miz Poo.
Vet time with the True Bloods.
We have chickens, pigs, and turkeys, so Flat Holly got to meet them all. There was a disturbing incident where a turkey thought Flat Holly was food. It grabbed her by the arm and ran off with her, but we rescued her quickly. She sat in a nest box and chatted with a friendly chicken, and then helped us gather eggs. It wasn’t all work for her, though. We suited her up in a rain coat (which looks a lot like a Ziploc bag) and let her go for a ride on one of the pigs. It wasn’t much of a ride, since the pig only ran over to the trough to eat, but she seemed to enjoy it. She also met our dog, George, and went for a ride on him as well.
Making pig cookies.
Feeding chickens.
The offending turkey.
Doesn’t George look thrilled?
Gathering eggs.
Hanging with the hens.
Since we have so many animals, we often have to stock up on food for them. We ran to our local feed supply store and bought hundreds of pounds of chicken and swine feed. Flat Holly helped load and unload the truck – you wouldn’t think a flat girl could toss around fifty-pound bags of feed so easily, but she was surprisingly strong.
Her last day here, we were out running errands when Flat Holly pointed to a rocket standing proudly over Huntsville and asked what was over there. What was over there was the US Space and Rocket Center and Space Camp! We went over and wandered around for a little while, but the museum wasn’t open, so we didn’t go inside.
We’re returning Flat Holly to you relatively unscathed, though she might have nightmares about being abducted by that turkey. We hope she had a good time visiting us and she’s welcome to come back to visit any time, as are you.
Previously 2008: “Paul Newman is dead too! What are the chances that… Oh.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: I’m a badass, that’s right. 2004: I 2003: In adults, I am anti-”bye-bye”. 2002: Day in the life.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
Copper Black Marans rooster. I love how it looks like he’s wearing feather shoes.
The small coop (the first one Fred built for our original 12 chickens) is now the maternity ward for broody chickens. See the buckets on the floor of the coop? We bought those at the flea market last weekend. They originally held buttercream frosting, and still slightly smell like frosting. I like to think that the chickens are sitting on their eggs thinking “Why do I keep craving birthday cake…?”
Happy pigs.
Michelle the rooster. His two lone tail feathers crack me up.
Rhode Island Red rooster.
The turkeys have been moved to the back forty. They’re not sure how they feel about chickens.
Dancing rooster.
Amish rooster.
The Roadrunner. Isn’t he the gooniest looking thing? He’s all leg! (Fred’s pretty sure he’s a Cornish.)
Happy George.
Happy Gracie.
George comes to investigate the situation.
“Hey, lady! You has the snackin’ for us?!”
I think this is star jasmine – anyone know for sure? I trained it to go up the fence because I thought it was clematis, but it’s definitely not that.
I think this is a newly hatched batch of assassin bugs. They hung out on this leaf for two days before they scattered.
The kittens are continuing to do well. I spent a lot of time hanging out with them this weekend, and more than once I was pinned to the floor by six snoozing kittens. When a kitten falls asleep on you, it’s bad luck to wake them up. True story! All you can do is lay there and maybe snooze along with them.
::slurrrrrp::
::slurrrrp::
Hoping that feather toy comes low enough for him to grab…
Bill has such a serious little face. I always say to him, “Billy, don’t be a hero.” He doesn’t appreciate my humor.
Previously
2008: No entry. 2007: Pretty good for kittens I was absolutely positive would be unadoptable due to their feral nature when I first saw them, ain’t it? 2006: Say, any of you boys smithies? Or, if not smithies per se, were you otherwise trained in the metallurgic arts before straightened circumstances forced you into a life of aimless wanderin’? 2005: I didn’t get any pictures of it, but last night the stank coming off Rambo’s hindquarters was so strong that we finally gave in to the inevitable and gave him a bath.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry. 2001: IT’S NONE OF YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS WHO IT IS. 2000: Am I not an ass-kicking WalkAerobics diva?
As of today, I’ve lived in Alabama for 13 years. (Feels like 30.) That’s over 31% of my life! Still doesn’t make me a Southern Belle, though, does it? Damn Yankee that I am, adding vegetables to the chicken and dumplings and preferring sweet cornbread to the regular stuff and unable to stand the taste … Continue reading “8/13/09 – Thursday”
As of today, I’ve lived in Alabama for 13 years.
(Feels like 30.)
That’s over 31% of my life! Still doesn’t make me a Southern Belle, though, does it? Damn Yankee that I am, adding vegetables to the chicken and dumplings and preferring sweet cornbread to the regular stuff and unable to stand the taste of good ol’ iced tea.
Another 13 years, maybe I’ll take up tea drinking and swanning about with big Southern hair.
We watched I Love You, Man the other night, and I have to say that it made me laugh out loud several times. The best part of the movie, though, is the gag reel. Paul Rudd and that chair, man. He cracks me UP.
I adore Jason Segel. I can’t wait for How I Met Your Mother to start up again in the Fall.
And speaking of TV shows, I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but in the desert wasteland that is summer TV, we’ve been taping and watching Two and a Half Men, and man. That show makes me laugh my ASS off.
Spider web on the rearview mirror (don’t know where the spider was, though).
Copper Marans rooster. Check out his fancy feathered feet!
We’re pretty sure this is a Silver Speckled Hamburg. I think she’s shaped like a pigeon. We moved her out to the big chicken yard, but she was so persistent in escaping that yard and hanging around outside the maternity yard that we let her stay there – at least for the time being.
Muppet Momma and her babies.
Roosters always have somethin’ to say.
Young chickens, dust-bathing. Don’t they look guilty?
We call this chicken “One Eye” because, well, she only has one functioning eye (the other eye exists, she just can’t see out of it). She’s a good momma, and this is her second set of babies this year. Buff Orpingtons go broody at the drop of a hat, it seems.
The Maestro, before his hair cut.
And after.
This is the “broody breaker.” When a hen goes broody (ie, wants to sit on and hatch eggs), we put her in the cage for a day or so. Because she can’t get warmth underneath her, eventually the broodiness goes away. That’s the theory, anyway – if they’re still broody after a couple of days, we give up and let them sit on eggs. Basically, they can BE mothers, they just have to want it badly enough. (That black hen on top of the broody breaker is just checking things out – she’s not actually in that trap, she’s behind it. Fred put the trap up there to discourage the chickens from hanging out on top of the broody breaker, but sometimes they’re determined.)
The kittens are now meeting me at the door. I guess they’ve learned the sounds that mean I’m walking down the hallway to their room, and there’s always at least four of them sitting there peering up at me when I open the door.
The other trick they’ve learned? Climbing up the back of my shirt to perch on my shoulder. Only Sam does it regularly, but every once in a while one of the other kittens will see him doing it and think “Hey! I can do that too!” and join him in the climbing.
It hurts to feel their needle-sharp little claws sink into the skin of my back, but they’re SO proud of themselves when they get to my shoulder that it’s pretty much worth the pain.
I have fallen head over heels for these little monkeys. I always do.
How can you not love that sweet little face?
Sweet Bill.
What I’m beginning to think is that Sam just likes to sleep with his elbow propped up.
Terry. Oh, how I have to fight not to squeeze the stuffin’ out of this little guy!
The will to live has been sapped from poor sad Suggie. But keep in mind that when the collars are finally removed for good, he will be SO overjoyed that he’ll be bouncing off the walls (literally) for weeks and weeks. Don’t feel too sorry for him – he spends his days stretched across my desk. When I sit down at my computer, he creeps closer and closer until I scratch his neck, then he lays there and purrs and purrs. It’s a rough life.
Previously 2008: In lieu of a real entry today, sights and scenes from around Crooked Acres. 2007: “It’s not a tumah,” he said, as is standard.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: Give me time, I’ll have fifteen different versions of “Xanadu” in my music folder. 2003: MY ARM HURTS. 2002: I think no one ever told Billy Bob that if you ANNOUNCE you’re taking the high road, then you aren’t taking it.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
Okay, I need to run to Walmart and the grocery store, and I want to get it over with early (before the hordes descend upon Walmart), so this’ll be a quick one! Someone asked about dehydrating zucchini slices in my comments yesterday. Because I am SO VERY helpful and needed journal filler, I have for … Continue reading “7/22/09 – Wednesday”
Okay, I need to run to Walmart and the grocery store, and I want to get it over with early (before the hordes descend upon Walmart), so this’ll be a quick one!
Someone asked about dehydrating zucchini slices in my comments yesterday. Because I am SO VERY helpful and needed journal filler, I have for you a quick step-by-step instructional pictorial on the dehydrating of zucchini slices (which can also be used for yellow and pattypan squash).
1. We use a dehydrator, bought it the year before last at someone’s suggestion. It’s an Excalibur 2500 (the price has actually dropped since I bought ours). It’s super-easy to use and super-easy to clean. Ours has five trays, which is just perfect for us – there are dehydrators with more trays, but it’s rare that we get so behind that produce sits and waits to be dehydrated – probably because I freeze quite a bit of it, too. It comes with a booklet, but really all the information you need is in the handy little chart near the temperature control.
(Ignore that pile of canning jars to the right. I’m using a lot more quart jars this year than pint, so the pint jars are sitting and waiting to be used.)
2. Slice your zucchini approximately 1/4 inch thick. You can go thinner or a bit thicker if you want – they don’t have to be exactly 1/4 inch thick, that’s just something to shoot for. It doesn’t have to be perfect.
2. Place your slices on your dehydrator trays. Now, you CAN buy sheets to put over the plastic bottom of these sheets, and they’re sized specifically to go on these trays. But all they are, these sheets, is heavy-duty parchment paper. I bought 100 of them directly from the people who make the Excalibur dehydrators, and not only are they handy to protect the bottoms of the trays if you’re dehydrating stuff that’s drippy (shredded zucchini) or sticky (cherry tomatoes). They’re reusable, and I reuse the hell out of them, but when they’re gone I’m going to most likely switch over to plain old parchment paper, cut to size. It’s cheaper.
(That said, I don’t use the protector sheets on the bottoms of these trays with zucchini or squash slices, because they’ll dry faster directly on the mesh plastic.)
ALSO, some places online will tell you to blanch your veggies before you dehydrate them. If you’d like to do that, you go right ahead. I refuse to do that because it’s a pain in the ass.
If you’re going to eat your zucchini as zucchini chips, you might want to experiment with different flavorings and spices to make things exciting. I haven’t done that because I came late to the realization that zucchini chips are yummy. Next summer, I’ll try different things – I’ll go sweet with a sprinkle of sugar and cinnamon on the slices before I dehydrate, and savory with some of the popcorn toppings Fred has bought in the past. I’m sure I’ll report how that works out for me.
3. Put your tray in the dehydrator. Turn the dehydrator on (the chart on the dehydrator tells me to dehydrate between 135 and 145, so I split the difference and turn it to 140).
4. I would tell you how long it takes to dehydrate zucchini slices, but I honestly don’t know. Usually if I put them in the dehydrator in the afternoon and leave it running overnight, they’re done when I get up the next morning.
You’ll know they’re done when they’re brittle and crispy. You don’t want them to be flexible at all, you want those things DRY. Turn the dehydrator off and let them sit for fifteen or twenty minutes. I don’t like to put them in a container while they’re warm.
5. Store them in an airtight container. I’m using big jars because they were on hand. You can use ziplock bags, plastic containers – really, whatever you have around that’s airtight. Keep an eye on your container for the rest of the day (or the next day) and make sure there’s no condensation showing – if there’s condensation, everything didn’t get completely dry. If you catch it quickly enough, you can lay everything back out on the trays and run the dehydrator for a while longer.
6. Bonus! Since I had a couple of larger zucchini, I shredded them to dehydrate. This winter I’ll toss them in stews or spaghetti, or rehydrate it and make zucchini bread or cake.
And there ya go. How I dehydrate zucchini and how I store it.
Previously 2008: It’s a rough life, but someone’s gotta live it.
2007: No entry. 2006: Maine facts.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry. 2003: “Okay, first of all she wasn’t married to Frank Gifford, that was Kathie Lee, and secondly FRANK GIFFORD ISN’T DEAD!” 2002: “Hallo, Clarice,” he said.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
With Mister Boogers being gone for more than two weeks, there’s been a slow shift in the way the cats act toward each other and toward us. Stinkerbelle has come down from her perch atop the bookcase in the front room to demand love from Fred. Every evening when we watch TV, she slinks back … Continue reading “7/17/09 – Friday”
With Mister Boogers being gone for more than two weeks, there’s been a slow shift in the way the cats act toward each other and toward us. Stinkerbelle has come down from her perch atop the bookcase in the front room to demand love from Fred. Every evening when we watch TV, she slinks back and forth, jumps up on the couch, and rubs her face against him. He pets her for a few minutes (sometimes even only a few seconds), and then suddenly with no warning, she gets overwhelmed and bites him (sometimes even does that lovely move where she bites and then moves her head back, attempting to tear the flesh from his bones). It appears that she and Fred need to learn each others’ signals, or I’m going to wander into the front room one day to find that she’s torn out his throat and he’s bled to death while she sits there looking bitchy.
(She would likely allow me to pet her if I attempted it, but that cat scares the SHIT out of me. I might give her a quick pet in passing, but attempt nothing more in-depth.)
Spanky‘s gotten more vocal than he was. He goes off every morning around five, sitting in the upstairs bathroom or hallway just singing and singing and singing at the top of his lungs. I call it the “Spanky alarm”, and usually if I yell “Spanky! SHUT UP!”, he does. The other night Fred and I were laying in bed and Spanky started singing, then we heard the angry sound that Kara makes, and Spanky shut off in mid-song.
“She hit the snooze button on the Spanky alarm!” I said.
You should see it in this house at Snackin! Time! It used to be that Kara and Stinkerbelle would both get so excited that they’d each rub up against Mister Boogers (who would take it with rare good grace). Now with no Mister Boogers to rub against (and Tommy in his Snackin! Position! atop the counter), Kara just randomly slinks back and forth and Stinkerbelle goes and tries to start a fight with Spanky, who just sits there and looks at her.
Without Mister Boogers around, they’re trying to figure out who’s in charge, I guess.
On what I’m sure is a completely unrelated side note, we have not had one single incidence of random cat pee anywhere in the house in the past two weeks and two days. Now, THAT I do not miss at all.
I got some of the floors in the house cleaned yesterday, but I totally blew off the organizing of the bureau in the foster kitten room. I pickled some jalapenos for Fred and canned them, canned some green beans, and canned some gherkins for myself. We’ll see how those turn out.
I also sliced more pattypan squash and zucchini to dehydrate. By the time I’m done with the dehydrated and freezing of all this summer squash, pattypan, and zucchini, we should be all set for the next year. I think we’re about there, actually!
My God! Snake. (going back inside very quickly) Do you get a lot of them on Crooked Acres?
Actually, not really that many. I think I could count the number of snakes we’ve seen in the past two years on one hand (if you don’t count the water snakes Fred and my father rescued when we were having the pond filled in). I’m sure there are a lot more that wander across the property than we see, but luckily most of them tend not to come across the back yard, and thus we aren’t alerted to their presence by the cats.
What the hell were you thinking? Getting that close to a snake to take a picture is nuts! I hope you ran away fast after the picture was taken. That is scarrrryyyyy!!!!!!
I used the zoom. I was nowhere near that snake, I swear it!
Are black rat snakes good snakes (like gopher snakes, which keep the varmints down) or bad snakes (like rattlers)? Or are they generally good snakes that become bad snakes when they eat baby chicks and/or chicken eggs? (Yes, writing this is easier than hitting google. Don’t ask me why)
The snake that was in the back yard (I’m pretty sure it was a black ratsnake), according to this page, They feed almost exclusively on warm-blooded prey such as mice, rats, shrews, voles, squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, and birds. They have been known to raid bird nests and devour the eggs. I’m not too concerned about them going after baby chicks or chicken eggs, because I’m pretty sure the roosters, if not George and Gracie, would take care of them.
Now, I’m no farmer or rancher or chicken keeper. So I have to ask, Is glad trash bag the preferred method of chicken transport?
I have seen chickens transported in all sorts of things – usually when we go to the flea market, if people aren’t just carrying them around by their legs they’ve got them in pillowcases. Actually, I’ve seen more chickens in pillowcases than anything. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one carried around in a trash bag before, but I guess it’s okay for short distances. We prefer to transport our chickens in cat carriers, but I’ve also seen them in wire cages. The few chickens we’ve sold, we’ve offered cardboard boxes to the buyers to transport the chickens in.
Really, chickens aren’t terribly picky about what they’re carried around in. I don’t know that I’d recommend trash bags, though – that seems like you’re just asking for the chicken to peck through the plastic and escape, doesn’t it?
I am sooo glad that guy made a video about his experience…just wish I had the talent to do so everytime an airline screwed me over. Any response from United??
Apparently United customer service contacted Dave Carroll and have offered him some compensation. At this point he’s not looking for compensation, and has suggested that they donate the money that they’re offering him to a charity of their choice.
There is no love lost with me where Palin is concerned but that baby Father is a dumb one is he not? I think they follow him because he will say things like that. Someone does need to shut him the hell up.
I can’t believe the media is giving Levi Johnston (and it irks me that I know that boy’s name off the top of my head) any airtime at all. I highly doubt that Sarah Palin tends to give him any kind of inside information, and anything he has to say about what’s going on with ANYTHING comes, I do believe, directly from his ass.
Your story has touched my heart. Today, in memory of mr boogers and the 4 precious kitties that you took such loving care of, I took the largest bags of Purina Kitten and Dog food that I could find out to our Second Chance Rescue center. It was a small thing to do, but just my way of saying thank you to both you and Fred, for the loving care you give to your animals. You are an inspiration.
I think that’s an absolutely lovely way to remember Mister Boogers and Hamilton & Jefferson and their brothers. Thank you!
My friend did dialysis at home on her cat w/kidney failure for 18 mos. She lost her a few weeks back and said she may never replace her because of all the work/expense/emotional stress involved. I hope she changes her mind in time. They want to travel a little this summer and a sick in-law means more stress down the road. I don’t think there’s one right answer but I’d let the sick cat go and give a new cat a home. (I doubt we could afford the vet bills and I’m too squeamish to do IV treatment on anyone). What do you think? I do not make my friend feel judged nor she I. We respect each other’s difference of opinion.
and
My cat has had “terminal kidney failure” for 4 years. I’m really a wimp, and even I can give the cat fluids. It’s really not hard since you don’t have to hit a vein or anything. I’ve heard people say it’s cruel to the cat. The way we figure, he’s uncomfortable for about 5 minutes, and the next 47 hours and 55 minutes he feels great.
Giving cats fluids is one thing I’ve never done – YET. I’m sure it’s something I’ll have to do at some point in the future. I think that as long as the cat is happy and seems to be feeling good most of the time, I myself would likely keep on doing it as long as it needed to be done.
My cats do NOT stay off the counters or the flat top stove, so whenever I am done cooking I fill a pan of water and leave it on the burner until the burner is cool. I had to train my husband to do this as well. It works like a charm.
Since you love it when readers have Crooked Acres dreams I’ll tell you one I had a few months ago. I was napping on the couch and dreamed I was napping on the couch (I AM CREATIVE). I woke up (in my dream) because Tommy had walked up to the couch and was rubbing his face on mine. I was so happy to see him! And I was saying things to him like “Oh, it’s my Tommy Toms!” and giving him face kisses and telling him how happy I was to see him and what a beautiful boy he was. Then I woke up for real and wondered in that just woke up thinking about your dreams way why it was Tommy. Then I told myself indignantly “Of course it was Tommy! He’s the Ambassador! The Ambassador of Love!” Now whenever I see his picture, even in the sidebar, I whisper “It’s the Ambassador! The Ambassador of Love!” It made me smile to get a “visit” from M-O-O-N.
HA – he is totally the Ambassador of Love! I love that you dreamed about Tommy, it doesn’t surprise me that he visited you and gave you some Tommy Love. He’s a luvah, that one.
Just wanted to ask you a question about the picture with the squirrel in the suet container. Is that a mouse tail hanging at the bottom? It sure looks like one.
Nope, that’s a leaf. You can see the picture larger here.
Huh. Given the big “No dumping of household garbage” sign, I’d have thought that they were employees and they were getting the name of a particularly egregious offender, the better to send him/her a citation. My second thought, upon hearing that they were opening mail, was that someone had thrown away something very important and they were hoping against hope to find it. Sifting through discarded junk mail is probably only a fractionally more effective means of stealing someone’s identity than ringing someone’s doorbell and saying, “Hi, I’d like to steal your identity, can you fill out this handy form with all your personal information?”
No, they definitely weren’t employees – they eventually got into a car and drove away with a box of stuff they’d purloined from the dumpster (a couple of people suggested they were perhaps looking for coupons – which I think is the most likely possibility).
Those are some sort of stinging things ’cause your closeup is on a little hive! (and I don’t think they are makin honey!)
They pop up in all sorts of odd places on our little farm and then all of the sudden you’ll see a huge hive – and have to call the exterminator (not my husband!). Yesterday I found 4 wasps in a little hive – inside the passenger side door of my car.
Kill’em. Kill’em Dead, now, while you can.
I actually didn’t have to do anything – Mother Nature took care of ’em yesterday. It rained, the bucket got a few inches of water in it, and voila – dead floating stinging things!
Thanks, Mother Nature. You’re a pain in the ass sometimes, but occasionally you help a sister out!
Also on my hard drive, I found a couple of pictures of Mister Boogers, ones that I took a few months ago. I was saving them to use in a story wherein Stinkerbelle was a hard-hitting reporter who exposed Mister Boogers as being a poser who PRETENDED to hate everything, but secretly had a marshmallow-soft center of LOVE.
I’ll put them up here sized tiny so as not to upset anyone, and if you want to see the full-sized version, you can click on it and see more detail over at Flickr, ‘k?
Previously 2008: I repeat: GODDAMN CHICKENS. 2007: My day in motherfucking pictures.
2006: No motherfucking entry.
2005: No motherfucking entry.
2004: No motherfucking entry. 2003: The motherfucking shit fit continued unabated. 2002: I guess I’d better keep these motherfucking babies to myself. 2001: Ever found yourself being a total unreasonable motherfucking bitch for no good reason, and even though you know there’s no reason for the bitchiness, you can’t halt it, can’t stop it, just have to sit back and let it happen? 2000: ‘Cause that’s just the kinda lazy motherfucker I am.
For those of you who asked yesterday what that snake in the picture with Kara is, according to Fred it’s Probably an eastern kingsnake or eastern rat snake. (looking at the pictures, I think it’s the latter) In other words, not venomous – and a good thing too, because when Fred picked it up to … Continue reading “7/16/09 – Thursday”
For those of you who asked yesterday what that snake in the picture with Kara is, according to Fred it’s Probably an eastern kingsnake or eastern rat snake. (looking at the pictures, I think it’s the latter) In other words, not venomous – and a good thing too, because when Fred picked it up to take it out of the yard, it bit him.
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You know, I’ve been wondering why the fuck people have been getting all excited about Harry Potter, what’s the big fucking deal? The last book was out ages ago, is there a new book coming out?
Turns out they released the latest movie yesterday. Um, duh.
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I’m still managing to keep busy – the more time goes by, the easier thinking about Mister Boogers and Hamilton & Jefferson becomes. I washed the blanket that smelled like Hamilton (that raw peanut smell that all kittens have) and put the baby blankets and stuffed animals away. I spent about an hour going through pictures of Mister Boogers yesterday, trying to choose a couple to frame, and a couple of them made me laugh out loud.
He sure was a character.
The fact that I’ve gotten two really good nights of sleep helps a lot, believe me.
I won’t lie – I’m itching to get another batch of fosters up in this here house. It’s so QUIET. But I’ve got a trip planned for next weekend, and it wouldn’t make sense to get a batch, then have to turn them over to another foster family for a few days, then get them back. (I try not to take fosters and then leave Fred in charge of them – he’s got plenty to do, and I know he wouldn’t have a chance to spend as much time with them as I do.)
I did almost everything on my list that I wanted to get done yesterday. Today, I’ll be organizing the bureau in the foster kitten room, organizing the secretaire in the dining room, washing the floors throughout the house, and then I think I’ll sit on my ass on the couch and catch up with that NJ Housewives “lost footage”!
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Tuesday, one of the things I did was to take all the recycling back to the recycling center. Instead of taking it back when I’ve got my trash can/ recycling bin full, these days I stuff everything into trash bags, stick it in the garage, and start filling up the recycling bin again. It had been three or four weeks since the last time I went, so I had a carload this time.
I got to the recycling center and started unloading (I empty everything out of the garbage bags into the correct bins, and then reuse the garbage bags. In case you were shaking your head at my wastefulness.), and there were these two women standing in front of the junk mail/ magazine bin digging through it. And lest you think they were just looking for magazines, they were looking at each and every goddamn piece of mail they came across. I even saw one of them OPEN a piece of junk mail and look at it.
I managed to surreptitiously snap a picture.
See those signs near them? Here, here’s a closeup:
Sure looked like they were dumpster diving to me. And I know there were recycling center employees inside the building, but did anyone come out and tell them to knock that shit off? They did not.
You better bet your ass I didn’t leave my junk mail at the recycling center. I brought it home to shred every last fucking piece of it. Not that they could have DONE anything with any of my junk mail, but still. It’s the principle. I don’t like the idea of them digging through my junk mail and being all “Wow. Robyn And3rson sure does get a lot of catalogs, doesn’t she?”.
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Fred put this empty litter container over one of the fence posts by the pig yard a few months ago, and there it sat. And sat. And sat. I happened to glance up into it and saw that some scary flying thing was building a nest. I pointed it out to Fred, and he took it down and set it outside the fence to the back forty (I suspect it’s going to begin making a slow journey toward the garage, where we have a stack of about 10 empty litter buckets, which we use for various things). The fact that the scary flying thing’s nest is now upside down doesn’t appear to have deterred it. It’s still working on it, and it’s slowly getting bigger.
I do not like scary flying things or their nests. For the record.
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When I put up garden pics last week (was it last week? Whenever the hell it was, anyway.), I neglected to include these pictures of our small watermelon patch. They’re growing up an arched hog panel, and so far we’ve had better luck getting watermelons growing than we have in the past.
We have to come up with some sort of sling to support the watermelons as they grow. I’ve got some flour sack towels that will do the job nicely, I think – we just need to actually get out here and get them attached. Maybe this weekend.
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I know squirrels are annoying rodents and everything, but DAMN are they cute. Also, amusing. ALSO they keep the cats entertained/ agitated for HOURS.
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Fat cat + huge squash = hilarity.
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Previously 2008: “LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M REFUSING TO LOOK AT YOU, YOU GRINNING MORONIC MOTHERFUCKER!” 2007: I can’t speak for Fred, but I know I was thinking “Jesusgodalmighty, I hope that scar on his head doesn’t pop out and his brain doesn’t come sproinging at me, because then I’d have to bat it like a volleyball and I never was very good at volleyball.”
2006: No entry. 2005: Off to Maine!
2004: No entry. 2003: “That is a child who does not fear her parents nearly enough.” 2002: It’s a Poo! Inna box! A Poo inna box! What more could you possibly hope for?
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
Dear STAR 99.1: I applaud your amazing attempt to play 991 songs in a row with NO commercial interruptions (which I only know you’re doing because you proudly announce it after each and every song), I’d probably be more impressed if I weren’t hearing the same songs over. And over. And over again. I don’t … Continue reading “7/15/09 – Wednesday”
I applaud your amazing attempt to play 991 songs in a row with NO commercial interruptions (which I only know you’re doing because you proudly announce it after each and every song), I’d probably be more impressed if I weren’t hearing the same songs over. And over. And over again. I don’t listen to the radio all that much, but somehow still managed to hear Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover* three times yesterday.
Let’s mix it up, shall we? Maybe play something from the 70s?
Sincerely,
A Sometime Listener (when I’m not listening to the country music station, that is.)
*Anyone else immediately think of Dylan and Kelly when they hear that song? Remember how Kelly LONGED for the sweet embrace of Dylan? Ah, 90210, I miss you so (don’t even try to tell me that the “new” 90210 is even worth watching). God, remember Brenda and her hippie chick phase? AND WHEN SHE WAS DOING THAT CHARACTER WHEN SHE WAS WAITRESSING AT THE PEACH PIT? God, what a cheeseball she was.
**Is it intentional, do you think, that when she sings Damn I wish I was your lover/ I’d rock you till the daylight comes it sounds like Damn I wish I was your lover/ I’d fuck you till the daylight comes? It’s not just me and my old ears, is it?
***Also, the line Tonight I’ll be your mother in a song entitled Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover? EWWW.
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date: Fri, Jul 10, 2009 at 4:13 PM
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Dear John Mark S*******:
What a pleasure to hear from you! I agree that the package wherein you would edit, design, and print 30 copies of my book for $2,940.30 is quite the bargain. I did have to get out my calculator (because I am mathematically challenged – damnit, Jim, I’m a writer, not a mathematician!) to discover that 30 books for $2940.30 comes out to $98.01 per book. Or, as the marketing types would probably put it, LESS than $100 per book!
The mind boggles, really.
So I’m all ready to sign on the dotted line, but I do have one small question. See, I didn’t actually know that I was writing a book – can you tell me what it’s about? Is it really good? I bet it’s really good, I mean OBVIOUSLY it’s really good or you wouldn’t be offering me this fantastic deal! Is it a mystery?
OOH! I bet it’s a mystery and it takes place on a farm and the whole book is written from the point of view of the detective BUT it isn’t until the end of the book that we learn that the detective (who of course solved the mystery lickety-split) is a CAT. Is that what it’s about?
Or! Is it about a cat who looks evil and hateful but is secretly a sweet marshmallow at his core, who is tragically killed by a marauding band of gypsies and then because he’s really, deep-down, a sweet guy, his cat soul ascends to Heaven, but then he looks around and he’s all “What’s this joy and happiness horseshit? I need some FUN!”, so he gets sent to Hell, and he kicks some Satan ass and ends up running the place? Is it called “BeelzeBoogs”?? Oh, that sounds like a FUN book.
No, wait! I bet I know! It’s a children’s book, isn’t it? It’s about a black hen named “Sassy McGee” who lives in the big, fancy coop out on lots of land, but every single day she leaves her fancy digs in the back forty and undergoes a wild and treacherous journey to her childhood home (“the green coop”), a one-room four-nesting-box cozy house on a tiny postage stamp of land. She arrives home, hangs out in a nesting box (third from the end) for a little while, and lays her egg. And then she makes the wild and treacherous journey BACK to her home in the back forty, dodging angry black cats and hungry buff tabbies on her way to safety. That’s it, isn’t it?
Really, I have to know what my future best-selling book is about, don’t I? Can’t you give me a hint? I mean, if it’s the mystery novel, I need to start brushing up on how to send starry-eyed gazes of love at Lee Child as we’re sitting on our Best Selling Author’s Panel together. If it’s the children’s book, I have to stock up on Xanax so I can deal with annoying small children at my wildly successful and fabulous all-the-rage tea party/ book readings.
I know you KNOW you’re supposed to be laying your eggs in one of these handy nesting boxes.
Thus, when you sneak behind the chicken wire which has been tacked there simply to keep you and your brethren from hanging out up there, it could take a while for us to discover that you’ve been sneakily sneaking up there and laying your eggs. Like 20 eggs’ worth of time.
You’ll note that the chicken wire has now been super attached so that you can’t sneak behind it and lay your egg. You have to lay your egg in the nest box like the GOOD hens do. Don’t make us send you to freezer camp to learn your lesson.
Yes, we have chickens. Yes, we sell chickens. Yes, it does appear that we’ve gotten the reputation for being the local chicken people. I don’t understand why it is that when you stop by during the day to ask about buying chickens and I tell you to come back after 3:30 and talk to my husband about buying chickens, you never show up again. I’m thinking maybe you’re not really THAT interested. Who knows?
So when a boy and his mother showed up on Monday and he told me that they live in a nearby trailer park and the manager of the park wouldn’t allow them to keep a chicken and asked if we’d take it, and I suggested they come back after 3:30 to talk to my husband about it (“Probably he’d be willing to take it, but he’s really the one who deals with the chickens,” I said) and then they didn’t show up Monday night, I figured they’d either found someone else to take it, or we’d wake up one morning to find the chicken in a box on our front porch.
Imagine my surprise last night when Fred walked in with a garbage bag. “Hold this,” he said. “I need to get some eggs.” I took the garbage bag, and it squawked at me.
“WHAT the-???”
Little did those people know that she looks so much like she could be one of our chickens that if they’d snuck onto our property in the middle of the night and put her into the back forty, chances are good we never would have even noticed that she was a new one.
Well, except that the alarm system would have gone off.
So yes, we will take your needing-a-home chickens. This one cost us three dozen eggs. I call that a bargain.
Previously 2008: “Huh. An armadillo. Weird. They don’t usually come this far north!”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: “Bessie,” he said. “That is CAT POOP, not kitty treats!”
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry. 2002: Our kitties, spoiled? Nah.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
If you don’t read Tess (and why the hell not?), you might have missed her post on Jon & Kate, an explanation of what a “flicker” is, and a discussion of “flickees”. I still think they’re both kind of douchebags, and of course I’ve felt sorry for Kate because she just looked SO devastated in … Continue reading “7/9/09 – Thursday”
If you don’t read Tess (and why the hell not?), you might have missed her post on Jon & Kate, an explanation of what a “flicker” is, and a discussion of “flickees”. I still think they’re both kind of douchebags, and of course I’ve felt sorry for Kate because she just looked SO devastated in the separation show, but Tess’s post did an awfully good job of explaining just why it is that Jon is ready to move on while Kate’s still trying to come to grips with the fact that her marriage is over.
I know I’ve said it before, but I really do think it’s probably time for the show to end. The constant filming and the paparazzi presence is doing those kids no good at all.
That said, you know I’ll watch every episode of that damn show and look forward to the Very Special Episode wherein one of the twins comes home and announces that she’s pregnant by her 45 year-old teacher and oh yeah, did she mention she’s addicted to meth?
Yesterday afternoon, I finished reading Happens Every Day, by Isabel Gillies about the end of her marriage. It’s one of those books that’s technically well-written, but the dialogue is kind of stilted and she really seems kind of obsessed with appearances. That said, I have to say that it’s a really good book, honest and raw and heart-breaking, and I couldn’t put it down.
My only quibble (well, aside from the stilted dialogue and the obsession with appearances) is that she’s currently married to the love of her life – and we don’t get so much as one short stinkin’ chapter about how they met and fell in love. Just that he’s the love of her life and they’re married.
I imagine she’s saving that for her next book.
(Also, love is blind. I’m not seeing model good looks here (that’s her ex), just vague, kind of boring handsomeness. Maybe he’s better looking in person. He looks like Woody Harrelson to me.)
Okay, I’ve got shit to do and I know you’ve been DYING for more pictures of George and Gracie, so howzabout I slap up a million of them, and I’ll see you tomorrow!
George hears something and gets all alert.
Seeing a rabbit hippity-hopping outside the fence, George and Gracie go over to let it know that they are ON THE JOB and there’ll be no stealing of THEIR chickens by any dastardly bunny.
George guesses he told THAT bunny what was what.
Racing to the back of the back forty to make sure there are no more chicken-stealing bunnies around (there aren’t).
Annnd racing back to the front of the back forty just ’cause they can.
George LOVES to grab onto Gracie’s tail. It drives her nuts.
You can really see the size difference between the two, here.
George, grabbing for Gracie’s tail again.
You might think this is the dog version of a hug. You’d be wrong. She’s actually trying to push him over, but he’s too damn heavy for that.
There’s just so much going on in this picture. Gracie’s tongue and the baleful look she’s giving George. George’s bared teeth and his back paw on Gracie’s front leg, pushing her away.
Grinning pups.
Water break.
This is what happens when you drink water and then go bury something in dirt so your brother won’t find it.
Joe Bob takes a moment out of his busy frog-killing schedule (seriously, I’ve found three dead frogs by the back door. ENOUGH PRESENTS, Joe!) to ensure that he is properly groomed.
Previously 2008: It just means our boobs have different needs, is all. 2007: It was quite a way to start the day, lemmetellya.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: I am smooth like a Barbie doll, and as far as I’m concerned, everyone else in the world is lacking nipples and sexual organs. 2003: Although, my father used to say to me ‘Nando, don’t be a shnook. It’s not how you feel, it’s how you look! And roo look mahvelous! 2002: Because, my friends, I am a squeezer. 2001: Any excuse to hold up the Laziest Gal in the South title.
2000: No entry.
New month, new logo (finally)! This one was created by reader Jean, and considering the garden pics you’ll be looking at in a minute, it’s quite appropriate! Thanks, Jean! & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & … Continue reading “7/8/09 – Wednesday”
New month, new logo (finally)! This one was created by reader Jean, and considering the garden pics you’ll be looking at in a minute, it’s quite appropriate!
These pictures are from last week – someone requested garden pics, and I went out on Tuesday and snapped a bunch of pictures, and then with the whole Mister Boogers thing, the entry got delayed.
So the garden kinda looks like this, but it’s grown more. Imagine it looking less weedy, too.
We’re growing a bumper crop of Pigweed. The stuff at the other end of the row is taller than Fred. The pigs LOVE this stuff.
Bees in a squash blossom.
Fred thought the first crop of corn he planted wasn’t going to amount to much due to all the rain, so he planted more. That’s the pigweed to the left, okra to the right.
Wee okra. It’s been surprisingly mild lately, and okra prefers the heat, so we haven’t gotten much yet.
For god’s sake, tomatoes – RIPEN ALREADY, wouldya?
At least we’re getting plenty of cherry tomatoes.
Peppers in the back, cantaloupe in the front.
j
Habaneros. Helloooooo habanero jam!
Japanese Eggplant. I’m not really a fan of the eggplant.
Summer Squash. Ten minutes later it was three feet long.
I got word yesterday that there’s room at the pet store for Creed, Dwight & Phyllis. I’ll be taking them down Friday morning and leaving them there, hopefully to get adopted very quickly. These three are such total love bugs and I hope their personality shines through to potential adopters!
Someone asked a few weeks ago how I could possibly let kittens go. It’s always hard, and I always tear up when I leave them in a cage (it’s especially hard when they give me the betrayed “How COULD you??” look). But I know that they’ll go to good homes, and really – I can’t keep all of them, can I? I know that they’ll go to good homes, and I know that they’ll have each other to snuggle up with and play with until they’re adopted. It certainly could be a lot worse – they could be living on the street instead of safe and fed and cared for in a cage.
I never like having to leave them at the pet store, though, that’s for sure.
I could not find Creed ANYWHERE, and started to worry that he’d gotten out of the house somehow. Then I spotted him, curled up in this bag in a corner of the kitchen. He slept there for hours.
I am annoying her. Or Dwight’s snoring is annoying her. One or the other!
Previously 2008: Boneheaded things I have recently done
2007: No entry. 2006: Just a quick picture to let y’all know what we did with our Saturday morning. 2005: I turned and gave her the Bug-Eyed Look of Annoyance*, to no avail. 2004: “Agh!” I yelled. “I hate you kitties! I hate you all!” 2003: Do motherfuckers retain water? 2002: “Your cheatin’ heeeeeart…”
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
