In case you missed it over the weekend, Saturday I posted updated weights and pictures of the Noms, and Sunday was just all kinds of lazy. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Y’all have a good weekend? We … Continue reading “3/19/12 – Monday”
Y’all have a good weekend? We did. We celebrated St. Patrick’s Day by… doing nothing. Well, that’s not true, we did things. Just not in celebration of St. Patrick’s Day. Every year I make a New England Boiled Dinner because I love the hell out of corned beef. Fred always makes the gaggy face at the idea of a big pot of boiled meat and vegetables, and then when it comes time to eat said boiled meat and veggies, you better not get between him and his food or you’ll be sorry.
(Yes, I know many of you don’t like corned beef. That’s okay; unless you stop by around St. Patrick’s Day, chances are good I won’t try to force you to eat any. Also: MORE FOR ME.)
This year I made it for dinner Thursday instead of waiting until Saturday. This is how it starts, right? First you celebrate the holiday on the actual day, and then you celebrate a few days early. Another couple of years, we’ll all be eating green-tinted food for the entire month of March.
We had a pretty relaxing weekend. Fred did some mowing, I started my tomato and cucumber plants. Fred processed some chickens, I did housework. Fred’s feeling punky lately due to his allergies so he doesn’t feel like doing much. I don’t have the allergies excuse, so I guess the only reason I have for not wanting to do stuff is laziness!
Today, I clean the house. Maybe. If I can force myself to do so.
Cleaning house is borrrrrrrrrrrrrrring. But I guess those bathrooms won’t clean themselves. Why can’t I be independently wealthy and pay someone to clean my house, whyyyyy?
Hmm. Who’ll give me a million dollars for one of these kittens? They’re purebred Fluffenheinzers, y’know, the rarest breed on earth. No, really!
Sigh.
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One day last week I had a book to drop off at the post office, and so I went, y’know. To the post office. With my book. That I had to mail. Imagine my surprise when I walked through the front door and found a sign announcing that the post office was closed “due to termites.”
Well. What the fuck, I ask you? How’m I gonna mail the stupid book? I went back the next three days in a row, and it continued to be closed. Stupid tenacious termites. There appears to be SOME business going on there, because I’m getting my mail every day (unless they’re sorting at a different facility and then delivering from there? Maybe?), but I was unable to catch my mail carrier, mostly because I have no idea what time she’s going to be going by and I don’t particularly want to sit on the front porch and wait for her. I have better things to do. IMPORTANT things. Like sitting on my ass in front of the computer or staring at kittens.
I finally solved the problem by making a special trip to the post office where my PO Box is located (which is about 15 minutes away) and mailing it from there.
But still. What a pain in the ass. TERMITES.
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Speaking of crawling insects, I have two ant stories.
1. At the end of last Summer, Fred took the containers we use to start seeds in, stacked them up, and then put them in the wood shed (which is next to the garden), up high. We have a real ant issue over there in that anything you leave on the ground for longer than 30 seconds, the goddamn ants build a nest in it. But Fred figured that since he’d put the containers up high, we wouldn’t need to worry about it.
AU CONTRAIRE. When I started pulling the containers apart to fill them with potting mix, the fucking ants were all through them and started swarming like motherfuckers. I didn’t get bitten by any of the ants, but it startled the hell out of me.
2. I stayed up late Saturday night (into Sunday morning), because I was reading Catch Me by Lisa Gardner and I’d tell myself to PUT THE BOOK DOWN AND GO TO SLEEP, but I just couldn’t because I was dying to know how it ended. Sometime after midnight, I was still reading, when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I looked, and there was a HUGE carpenter ant moseying along the edge of my book. I smacked it off my book, and it landed on the floor where I squooshed it, then carried it into the bathroom and flushed it. (Pro tip: never put a bug, ESPECIALLY a bug you think is dead, in the trash can. It will come back to life and BOY will it be pissed off at YOU.)
Then, of course, I kept feeling like something was crawling on me, and after I finished the book and turned off the light, I jerked awake several times because I thought something was crawling on me.
FUN TIMES.
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Emmy and the Noms are doing just fine. The last few times I’ve gone into the room and she was out of the box, she kept an eye on me until I got down on the floor, but she was willing to stay out of the box. I even petted the kittens a few times without her running over to get into the box with them, so that’s pretty awesome!
They certainly do love their mama.
I love it when they pile up and sleep.
“What the- ?”
Fred thinks that the kitten right next to Emmy (I think it’s Razzie, but can’t swear to it) looks like Cartman whining “Mooooooom!”
“But Mooooooooom!”
It’s a three-kitten-pillow nap.
I snapped this through the foster room window. Is it just me or does that middle cloud look like a dog’s head?
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Poor Miz Poo, she’s just getting over being sick (an upper respiratory infection). She had to go to the vet TWICE in the past two weeks, and let us just say that she is NO fan of the vet. She’s finally getting back to her old self, including carrying a toy through the house keening at the top of her lungs the entire way.
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Previously
2011: No entry. 2010: Damn it, Jane, how am I supposed to depend on you to reliably answer my grammar and punctuation questions when you don’t know that derogative is, indeed, a word? 2009: Someone’s always fucking up the risotto, sending Chef Ramsay into apoplectic rages wherein he bellows at whichever hapless fuckup is in his crosshairs. 2008: That Pioneer Punk is a bad, bad influence. 2007: I am such a prize, I really am.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: “Have you noticed that it smells like the bodies of fifteen [gentlemen of Chinese descent] laying in a pile in the ditch, rotting?” 2003: Always something, you know? 2002: “I’m starving to death. Meh. STARVING, I’m STARVING. Meh.” 2001: My baby’s growing up!
2000: No entry.
Lazy Sunday. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ “Did you say it’s snack time?!” Old man Spanky’s always ready for a snack. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “3/18/12 – Sunday”
Lazy Sunday.
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“Did you say it’s snack time?!” Old man Spanky’s always ready for a snack.
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Previously 2011: The waiting is the motherfucking hardest part, yo. 2010: Cat questions, answered. 2009: I don’t know what on earth ever made him think that my desire for plastic surgery has anything at all to do with the level of love he might feel for me, silly man, but bless his big bald pointed head for giving it the ol’ college try. 2008: Sadie’s like the older, tolerant sister who puts up with the brat.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: No doubt she wishes I’d leave her the hell alone and just let her SLEEP, GODDAMNIT. 2004: I’m known for my dumbassery, though. 2003: Get your cart OVER TO THE SIDE SO I CAN GET PAST YOUR STUPID ASS. 2002: Good riddance to boring characters, I say.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
Someone mentioned that the Emmy’s belly video was linked on Reddit recently, which I did know – the YouTube stats told me that – and I also found that a Japanese site, Hiroiro, linked it. Altogether, the Emmy’s belly video has gotten around 6,500 hits at this point, which is far more views than any … Continue reading “3/17/12 – Saturday”
Someone mentioned that the Emmy’s belly video was linked on Reddit recently, which I did know – the YouTube stats told me that – and I also found that a Japanese site, Hiroiro, linked it. Altogether, the Emmy’s belly video has gotten around 6,500 hits at this point, which is far more views than any other video I’ve posted has gotten.
I mean, it’s not MILLIONS of hits, but it does appear to have earned me about 51 cents in ad revenue on YouTube. SWEET.
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Kitten pictures and weights!
Darwin weighed in at 10 ounces.
Newbery also weighed in at 10 ounces.
Razzie weighed in at a not-much-smaller 9 7/8 ounces.
And Logie continues to be the hefty gal (“Wahhhh! She just called me fat!”) at 12 1/2 ounces.
Sleepy baby.
“Mama! That lady keeps taking my picture!”
“Just ignore her. She’ll go away eventually.”
In the middle of tussling, these kittens had to stop and see what their mama was doing.
Sugarbutt (who is clearly Irish) wishes y’all the happiest of St. Patrick’s Day. Don’t drink too much green beer!
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Previously 2011: I’ve lived in Alabama for 14 1/2 years now, and I’m sure this happens ALL the time, but it’s certainly the first time I’ve looked out the window… 2010: Awwww! Meet the baby Bookworms! 2009: Just imagine a great big bald head with Fred’s face on it, and you’ll get the picture. 2008: Guess who flew to Pennsylvania so she could eat cupcakes with Nance and Rick, snuggle the cutest dog on Earth, and reunite with Maddy?
2007: No entry. 2006: everyone’s Irish today, right? 2005: Guess it must run in the family. 2004: The cats are on my fucking NERVES. 2003: You KNOW you’re fascinated!
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry. 2000: The Big Butt Fairy visits us every year though. Just like clockwork.
I’ve had a lot of searches where people appear to be looking for the Emmy’s-alien-belly video that I shot the day before she gave birth. Here ’tis: ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Guess who was on Cute … Continue reading “3/16/12 – Friday”
I’ve had a lot of searches where people appear to be looking for the Emmy’s-alien-belly video that I shot the day before she gave birth. Here ’tis:
Awwww. I’ll be honest, it never occurred to me to send the picture to Cute Overload until Lisa told me to send it to them. I am nothing if not obedient, so I did! (Thanks, Lisa.)
Oooh, maybe Emmy will make it into the 2013 Cute Overload daily calendar, wouldn’t that be awesome? This picture of The Seven did:
I’ve got that page from the calendar hanging on my fridge, still. I need to frame it and hang it in the foster room or something.
Robyn, usually I have all kinds of trouble waking up in the morning. This morning, however, I bolted straight out of bed the instant the alarm rang for the very first time, and got up and directly got dressed and moving and energetic and stuff. The reason is that, in the split second before my alarm went off, I was dreaming that you and I were hanging out, wandering around one of the flea markets down here, and you spied an item (which I am not going to describe in any further detail) that was for sale in an, ahem, adult toy/marital aid stall. You said, “You know, that’s exactly like the one your mom told me she and your dad have. It’s pretty neat – now, the way it works is that THIS end here goes-” and then the alarm went off and I have never been so fucking happy to wake up at 5 A.M. in my entire LIFE. Don’t DO that to me, woman!
and
I was getting ready to politely laugh at your math, because I was born in 1968 and am 43. I was trying to think of how to do it without coming off as a COMPLETE asshole/bitch (a little bit is okay), when I realized that you’ve already had a birthday this year, whereas I won’t turn 44 until December 29th. I am envious of my friends who were born on January 1. (I have two friends and one ex-husband with that birthday.) I’m like you mentioned in an earlier post, remembering when I was a kid how I not only knew how old I was in years, but also in months and frequently DAYS, whereas now I have to stop and go, “Okay, 3 goes into 11, carry the 9, divide by pi, solve for x” every time someone asks my age.
***
I once dialed my friend Brian’s number (I may have told this story before; if so, sorry) and someone else answered the phone. I assumed it was his sister’s boyfriend, so I asked politely, “May I speak to Brian?” There was a pause and the boy said, “Um… okay, hold on.” Brian picked up the phone and said, “Hello?” I said, “Hey, what’s up?” He said, “Who is this?” I said, “It’s Elayne, dummy!” He said, “Elayne who?”
At this point I realized, “That’s actually not Brian’s voice; close, but not quite,” but I was so embarrassed that I didn’t know how to just say, “Sorry, wrong number,” so instead I tried to convince this stranger that we had met in the mall and he had given me this phone number to call him, and I just can’t BELIEVE he doesn’t remember, it hasn’t been THAT long, I was wearing a red shirt and he was wearing a blue polo, REMEMBER?
That poor guy. He was too polite to tell me I was out of my fucking gourd, so we wound up having like a half-hour conversation, ending with me giving him my number (16 year olds: SO DUMB, right?) and telling him if he ever “got his memory back” to call me.
About two months later, he called me because the mystery kept bugging at him. I finally fessed up that it had been a wrong number and I’d been too embarrassed/confused to admit it at the time. He said that what had puzzled him the most was that it was his friend’s phone number I’d called. He couldn’t figure out why he’d have given some strange girl a number that wasn’t his own. ALSO his name was Ryan, not Brian. So I dialed a wrong number where someone with a very similar name and voice just happened to be visiting and wound up making a world-class asshole out of myself. When I told the real Brian what had happened, he laughed until he cried.
I swear, I look at some of the things I do sometimes and wonder if I have Jello in my head instead of brains.
I am sure that somewhere out there, to this day, there’s a guy who tells that story from the other side!
Ha, I had seen that – that is one gorgeous, creepy, full-of-Het kitty!
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I don’t know if anyone will read this on an old entry, but does anyone find that the neutrogena body oil makes plastic disposable razors disintegrate in a week or two? I love the scent and the close shave but I’m spending more on razors now.
For those of you who don’t remember, I mentioned several months ago the idea of using Neutrogena body oil instead of shaving gel or cream when shaving your legs because it gives such a nice, smooth shave. I don’t use the disposable plastic razors (I use the Venus razor) – anyone out there who does, have you noticed this happening?
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Your hair looks so long! Can you show a bigger Robyn holding a kitty picture so we can see it? It looks wavy or curly too-is it? Mine is wavy.
Here’s a picture, though there’s no kitten involved:
I’ve been growing it out for over a year now, and that is definitely long for me. It’s kind of wavy and kind of frizzy and obviously I keep it tucked behind my ears most of the time. I don’t think I’m going to let it get much longer, I think this is as long as I want it to get. Of course, if it annoys me this Summer I may just go short again!
(In the interest of honesty, I must confess that I Photoshopped a zit off my right cheek.)
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Saw this Simon’s Cat cartoon and thought of your house… elder cats, younger ones, no manners – lessons delivered – splat…
HA – that is absolutely what it’s like when we’ve got little ones on the loose!
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Maybe Razzie can help her mama with the bathing!
Yesterday, Emmy was giving Razzie a bath… and Razzie was licking Emmy’s face! It was beyond sweet, I almost tipped over and died from the cute.
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So, I’ve wondered this for a while: What is up with kitten claws? Are they just really long/oversized for the paws? Are kittens not able to retract their claws? Do they just like to threaten you, Robyn? Those claws just seem so… out there. I’ve never dealt with kittens that are only a few days or weeks old, so if the question is ridiculous, please forgive me!
This is not a ridiculous question at all! Connie answered this one, complete with a link:
I always forget between newborn litters that kittens are born unable to retract their claws. It takes me by surprise every time, and then in the far distant reaches of my brain, the memory stumbles forth and I’m like “Oh, right. They aren’t retracting them because they can’t! Duh.”
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Have you seen this video? Has this ever happened to any of your cats?
As far as I know, the chickens have never gone after the cats, not even when the chickens were in the back yard. The cats also don’t go after the chickens (chickens are pretty big, and kind of scary when they cluck and flap their wings) – they lived a pretty peaceful coexistence, but that was also back before we had Kara. I’m not sure that Kara would take kindly to sharing the back yard with chickens – she’s quite the little hunter.
Also, because I love these pictures so very much, here are my favorite cat/ chicken pictures. That’s Sugarbutt and Frick, our favorite chicken ever. (Frick died unexpectedly a few years ago from being eggbound.) (I know what y’all are thinking, and no. We don’t eat our pets. Frick was assuredly a pet.)
I love these pictures because they look so oddly posed, like they came from a JC Penney catalog.
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Aren’t they the cutest thing ever? How do you differentiate Darwin from Newbery? I can’t tell them apart. So inconsiderate of them, not even having a white patch somewhere to act as a name tag! 😉
This is how: Newbery’s got more light brown around his nose than Darwin; her whole nose area is darker than his. Newbery’s forehead is lighter than Darwin’s is. Also, Newbery’s got kind of a darker “stripe” going down from the middle of his “M”, whereas she’s got a “splotch” in the middle of her forehead. It looks like Darwin’s got a black lower lip and Newbery doesn’t, but he actually does – his mouth was shut in that picture, though.
If all else fails, we turn them around and look at their back ends! 🙂
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Hate to be a nuffer, but you named a kitten for the Darwin Awards? I’m little concerned here. Does this doom them to a life of daredevil antics and “curiosity killed the cat” jokes?
Awww, I think it’s an adorable name. And I highly suspect that when wee Darwin is adopted, her new parents will change her name. 🙂
(For the record, Fred doesn’t like the naming theme or any of the kittens’ names, and I don’t think he cares for Emmy’s name, either, HMPH.)
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OMG, Logie is cracking me up! I take it she is the Princess Ciara of this family?
I think she is totally going to be the Princess Ciara! The other three are starting to be curious about me, they look up at me and they sniff my hand and they let me pet them (Newbery, especially, enjoys being petted), but Logie is totally “Meh. HUMAN.” and crawls to safety (ie, Emmy) as fast as she can. That’s how Ciara was, and she ended up being an awfully sweet and snuggly girl, so I’m hoping that’s how Logie turns out, too!
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Robyn, every cat link I see I have to show you. Linked from freekibblekat.com: Eco-beds for pampered pets.
And I appreciate that! 🙂
I told Kerry the other day that I like the bed made out of an old sweater, and that I may try making one of those out of an old hoodie (since I have no old sweaters laying around). Kerry pointed out that the sweatshirt material would likely be easier to keep clean than a sweater, anyway. Very true!
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Maxi’s put years of training into you guys, and finally, she is getting what she wants. Is she still ok with the permanents? no fighting or anything? and who did you think she was the possible mummy of?
Maxi may be Newt’s mother – when I took them in to be spayed and neutered (along with the litter of kittens Maxi had a few months before we bought this house), the vet suggested that it was a possibility that he could be her kitten from a previous litter. He is the ONLY cat she puts up with, and he absolutely loves her to death. In fact, I looked over at the side stoop the other day, and he was cleaning her face. Awww.
Maxi does not care for the other permanent residents, but as long as they leave her alone she’s fine. On the rare occasion we can get her to come inside the house these days, Loony Jake follows her around because he is weirdly fascinated by her, I don’t know why. When she settles in the cat bed on Fred’s desk, Jake will sit on the floor and look up at her. Eventually he’ll jump up to sniff at her, and she has a conniption and then demands to go back outside. She’s not a fighter, though – I’ve never seen her actually make contact with another cat, she most hisses and growls and makes a big fuss so they’re too scared to get any closer.
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That’s calmer??? Poor little drama queen Logie. Why are you so mean to her, Robyn? I expected reactions out of my cats when I played the video (once or twice… okay, five times). Not one of them even twitched an ear. Guess my big strong man cats aren’t exactly maternal. The dog? Charlie lost what’s left of his marbles looking for the poor baby kitten. That may or may not have been the reason I played the video the last couple of times 😉
Not a single one of my cats reacted in any way when I was playing that video on my computer. I wonder what George and Gracie would do if I took the camera out there and played it for them?
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And Poor little Logie… At least you know her lungs are healthy! For some reason, that video reminds me of this one:
Now wouldn’t that be a weird sound to hear coming from your foster room?!
Maybe it’s the ‘tear stain’ markings on Emmy’s, Razzie’s, Newberry’s and Darwin’s sweet faces that made me think of the wild kitten. Who knows?
Finally, if Ellie Bellie was pregnant, how many months along do you figure he’d be?
That wee baby Cheetah is SO freakin’ cute!!!
I imagine if Ellie Bellz was pregnant, he’d be having a huuuuuge litter (at least 10!), and is probably just about ready to pop! 🙂
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I am excited to tell y’all that I got a big show of trust from Emmy yesterday. So far, she’s only left the box where the kittens are a couple of times when I’m in the room. But I have to be NOT near the box, and I have to be laying down before she’s felt comfortable enough to do so. The couple of times she left the box while I was laying on the floor, she flopped down on the floor behind the box and the instant I sat up, she ran over and went right into the box.
Well, yesterday I was hanging out in the room and since the kittens were just sleeping, I stretched out on the floor (there’s a pillow in there) and started playing Words with Friends on my iPod Touch. I heard a noise, and looked over at the box, and Emmy walked out of the box and stretched out on the floor behind the box. She’s done that before, though, so I just went back to playing.
When I was caught up on all my games, I slowly sat up. Emmy opened her eyes and looked at me, so I just looked down at my iPod like I was still playing games, and she closed her eyes again. Over the next ten minutes, I scooted a bit closer to the box, then looked at my iPod for a few minutes, scooted a little closer, etc. She looked over at me a few times, but for the most part was pretty unconcerned about what I was doing. I finally got close enough to pet the kittens, who were still sleeping.
I got up to leave, and she got up and walked over to the front of the box. She looked in at the kittens, then watched me leave – but didn’t feel the need to go back in the box.
I know it doesn’t sound all that exciting, but I feel like it’s a definite big step forward for Emmy. I’m hoping that the next step will be the one where she doesn’t feel the need to run into the box when I walk into the room!
Also, she came out of the box to eat, which she’s done before.
Smug little face.
Man, she will just lay down right on top of those kittens any ol’ time.
They don’t seem any the worse for wear.
“I wub my mama.”
“Hi Mama! Hi!”
Smiley baby.
“Mama! That lady keeps taking my picture!”
Tomorrow, updated pictures of each of their little faces, and their current weights!
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This box, located in the middle of the kitchen, is Corbie’s safe place. When he gets a toy that he doesn’t want to share, off to the safe box he goes. If something scares him? Safe box. If it’s snack time, he would prefer that you put his snacks in the box, please. There’s a layer of brown paper on the bottom of the box, and he likes to have to “hunt” through it for his snacks.
I’m getting the ‘tude from Corbs because he thinks I might be coming in to move him. That’s my spot, you see, and where I lay and watch TV. I try to convince Corbie to snuggle with me while I watch TV, but he’s not a snuggler.
“The Corbs does not snuggle with humans.”
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Previously 2011: “Today’s not your day, and tomorrow’s not looking so hot, either.” 2010: “Wait and see” is my favorite move when it comes to feeling poorly. 2009: In an alternate reality I was bellowing “Well NO ONE INVITED YOU TO DINNER, PRINCESS!” and smacking her upside the head.
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry. 2006: It’s like I’ve never met myself before or something. “Yeah, I’ll let the spud take the car to school, and I’ll be stuck at home, thus NATURALLY I will feel compelled to do housework!” 2005: Old pictures. 2004: (Bwahaha! That’d be the shortest study in the history of mankind, eh?)
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry. 2001: Takes all kinds, I guess. 2000: A life of excitement, thrills and chills, lemme tell ya!
Sights from around Crooked Acres. Peach blossoms! Pear blossoms! Maybe this year we’ll get some fruit off our fruit trees. Wouldn’t that be nice? At the end of last Summer/ Fall, we left a few okra plants standing with the intention of harvesting the pods for seeds. We forgot about it and the birds ate … Continue reading “3/15/12 – Crooked Acres Thursday”
Sights from around Crooked Acres.
Peach blossoms!
Pear blossoms! Maybe this year we’ll get some fruit off our fruit trees. Wouldn’t that be nice?
At the end of last Summer/ Fall, we left a few okra plants standing with the intention of harvesting the pods for seeds. We forgot about it and the birds ate the seeds. That’s what we get for being slackers.
The Muscadine vine, getting ready to leaf out.
This is the end of the ditch/ stream that leads to the property next door (where there are horses). It was all blocked up (causing the ditch to flood out every time it rained), but Fred cleared it out a few months ago. Looks kind of inviting, no?
Brown Thrasher. I don’t know that we’ve seen one of these before.
Blue Bird.
Gracie, coming over to see just what I’m doing.
They spotted a threat and were off to protect their flock.
The threat vanquished, they come back to see if perhaps I have treats for them.
Happy pup.
Wait for it…
Wait for it…
Gracie grin!
Those boy ducks always have something to say.
Notice that both the boy ducks are talking. Talktalktalk, those two.
“OMG YOU GUYS HUSH UP! ::flapflap::” said one of the girls.
“I can’t believe she told us to be quiet. The NERVE.”
“I know, right? She could learn to communicate a little better, you ask me.”
::Pretending to know how to be quiet::
Last week, all four ducks managed to escape the back forty. They were hanging out near the ditch, which has water in it. When Fred went out to herd them back into the back forty, they CLIMBED INTO THE DITCH AND STARTED SWIMMING AWAY to escape him. Luckily, we were able to get them back where they belonged, and Fred fixed the area of fence where he suspected they were getting out.
The Rock Star needs her head feathers trimmed back a bit.
“PLACES TO GO PEOPLE TO SEE, OUT MY WAY, DUCKS!”
Fred put a bunch of straw down around the coop because it’s been pretty muddy. The chickens think it’s absolutely fabulous.
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“Halp! Halp! I’m being kittennapped by this lady! MAMA! SAVE ME!”
Emmy, clearly concerned. She never shows the slightest bit of worry when I’m holding one of her babies, even if they’re screaming their little heads off. As long as she can see them, she’s okay.
“Am sleepin’. You go ‘way.”
I think Emmy’s tongue is longer than the kittens are.
Kittens make good pillows.
“Psst! Lady! You come closer.”
“Closer. I want to poke your eyes out.”
The kittens seem to be deciding that this “petting” thing isn’t so bad after all.
They’re two weeks old! I’ll try to get weights and face pictures of each of them tonight or tomorrow and post them this weekend.
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No Joe Bob pics today (what can I say? He’s camera shy!), so here’s Kara instead!
It’s really hard to get pictures of Kara because she prefers to be standing at your feet scolding you about being outside when the only SAFE place for you to be is inside.
Silly girl.
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Previously 2011: I’m going to tempt fate by announcing that most of the time, I’m luck that I don’t have any problems falling asleep or staying asleep. 2010: “GIVE TO ME THE PREGNANT CAT!”
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry. 2006: Mad Boog disease! 2005: MY BOX! 2004: (”He sighed at me, your honor, and then I had to kill him.” “Case dismissed!”)
2003: No entry. 2002: Bastards. 2001: You’re thinking If you had a clue how to tell which hamsters are girls and which are boys, you wouldn’t have this problem in the first place! 2000: Yes, I’m a goober, I think we all know that.
Poor Emmy. Yesterday morning was particularly busy for her. When the kittens weren’t eating, they were requiring pottying. And the bigger they get, the more they potty. “Ohhhh….” “I’m gonna barf.” “No, seriously. I think I’m gonna barf.” “Okay, phew, that passed. Bath time for me, now. ::thlurp::thlurp::thlurp:: So, if they’re almost two weeks old … Continue reading “3/14/12 – Kitteh Wednesday”
Poor Emmy. Yesterday morning was particularly busy for her. When the kittens weren’t eating, they were requiring pottying. And the bigger they get, the more they potty.
“Ohhhh….”
“I’m gonna barf.”
“No, seriously. I think I’m gonna barf.”
“Okay, phew, that passed. Bath time for me, now. ::thlurp::thlurp::thlurp:: So, if they’re almost two weeks old now… and I have to keep doing this for another two weeks at LEAST… That’s fourteen – well, let’s round up to twenty days, just to be safe.”
“And there are four of them, and they have to potty, let’s say, six times a day. Four kittens times six times a day is twenty-four times a day, and then twenty-four times twenty days, that comes out to…”
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Okay, y’all wanted to hear Princess Logie complaining. She’s actually gotten a bit calmer the last few times I’ve picked her up, but I made a video just the same.
Don’t you want to just kiss her ’til the marshmallow fluff comes out her ears?
And today’s other video: while Emmy is giving one of the other babies a bath, Razzie decides it’s time to figure out how to give herself her OWN bath. So cuuuuuute.
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Elwood, hanging out.
He loooooves his Ham-mick.
He’s also fond of the cat tree in the guest bedroom.
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Previously 2011: My week in cats. 2010: True Blood updates.
2009: No entry. 2008: I sound, if I might be frank, like a blithering idiot, especially when I ask Newt if he’s alive. “Are yew ‘laaaaaaahv?”
2007: No entry. 2006: They are SO pretty to look at, but my GOD do they stink. 2005: Questions answered.
2004: No entry. 2003: Yeah, don’t look at me. I have no idea what goes on his head, either. 2002: I think I could kick her ass, personally, and I’d be happy to do it. Bitch. 2001: “That’s okay,” I said cheerfully. “Those things are a pain in the big butt, aren’t they?” 2000: Fred sings again.
Sunday night I stayed up after Fred went to bed, and I watched the Footloose remake. Oh. Just. No. No no no. I’m sure it’s because I’m ancient and set in my old-lady ways, but ugh. Just no. I’m going to have to watch the original (which I saw like 15 times in the theater) … Continue reading “3/13/12 – Tuesday”
Sunday night I stayed up after Fred went to bed, and I watched the Footloose remake.
Oh. Just. No. No no no. I’m sure it’s because I’m ancient and set in my old-lady ways, but ugh. Just no. I’m going to have to watch the original (which I saw like 15 times in the theater) to wash the remake off my eyeballs.
I’ve never been a fan of Lori Singer, but I think she was the better Ariel (though Julianne Hough is adorable). And why did they have that tall skinny boy as Willard? For the love of god, Willard’s supposed to be a big burly bullish lunkhead, not some skinny boy who couldn’t hold his own in a fight.
I wanted to like Dennis Quaid as Reverend Moore, but I find Dennis Quaid extra annoying lately (“Hi, I’m all charming and DEVILISH! Let me unleash my devilish smile at you!”) so I wasn’t able to get past that, even though he was perfectly fine. Andie MacDowell was fine, I was pleased to see Ray McKinnon (who played the delightfully odd Lincoln Potter in the most recent season of Sons of Anarchy) as Uncle whatshisface, I liked seeing Kim Dickens (born and raised in Huntsville, AL!) as Aunt whozits.
I guess I’d say that if I hadn’t seen the original, I would have rated this one “Meh, okay”, but there were too many things I missed from the original. For one, Ariel’s poem, which I can mostly recite from memory (I sing to you of Silver Swans/ Of Kingdoms and Carillons/ I sing to you of bodies intertwined/ Underneath an innocent sky)(I am not proud that’s taking up space in my brain, by the way), Uncle whatshisface picking up the rock and yelling “Burn in Hell? This says ‘Burn in Hell!'” and Ren and Chuck playing chicken with the tractors. What’s this race track horseshit?
I love a good dance movie, and so I would have watched the remake regardless. I don’t recommend it, though – the original’s available on Blu-Ray, go get it. I’m going to!
On second thought, I think I’m going to get the Blu-Ray from Netflix. I’ll probably buy the movie eventually, but no hurry right?
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Along with assorted other dumbassery that makes up being me is the inability to tell where, on a processed chicken, the breast is located. I can hold up the chicken, I can tell where the damn legs are (I’m not an IDIOT)(yes I am), I know where the wings are, but when it comes to figuring out which side is the breast and which is the back, I don’t fucking know. I can hold the chicken up in a rough approximation of the position it would be in if it were alive and marching across the back forty, but it just doesn’t translate in my brain. I can’t figure it out. It’s like MATH, except that MATH is less complicated. What the FUCK? Every time I want to cook a chicken (I made a chicken in the crock pot yesterday), I have to call Fred and say “Drumsticks on the top or the bottom if I want to cook this chicken breast-side down?” Then he gets all EXPLAIN-Y and I have to say “For fuck’s sake, I don’t need a monologue about the evolution of chickens and debate which came first, DRUMSTICKS ON THE TOP OR BOTTOM? IF THEY’RE ON THE BOTTOM, IS THE CHICKEN BREAST SIDE DOWN?”
And because I made a chicken yesterday, I currently possess the knowledge that it needs to be drumsticks on the bottom, but I can feel the knowledge leaking out of my ears as I type. By this time tomorrow, I won’t be able to remember and the whole vicious cycle will begin anew.
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“Mmmm?”
“Yeah, they’re sleeping again.”
“Shhh. If you wake them up, I will cut you.”
I don’t know that I’ve taken a picture of the whole box before now, it’s usually close-ups of Emmy and the kittens. Fred made this a few years ago with the idea that perhaps cats would like to hang out in it as well as on top of it. Until now, the only cat who has shown any interest has been Miz Poo, who likes to hang out in the foster room when there aren’t kittens confined in there.
We actually put that box in the room as an option for Maggie to use last year. It was really too small for Maggie, and though she did start laboring in the box, she actually gave birth in the kennel across the room and that’s where her babies stayed. The box is 18 inches wide, two feet, deep, and 18 inches high, if that gives you any idea of Emmy’s size. We had to tape that piece of cardboard across the front because the day the babies were born, I went upstairs to find one of them out of the box looking lost and Emmy wasn’t paying attention. Perhaps before we have our next pregnant cat, we need to rethink the birthing box options.
Eyes are open on all the babies now – some more than others.
That baby in the middle, laying on her back, kills me dead with the toes and the stripes.
Bath time.
More bath time.
“MOMMA, I HAZ A COMPLAINT AND MY COMPLAINT IS THAT I AM CLEAN SO STOP LICKING ME!”
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Over the past year or so, Maxi has stopped wanting to come into the house. Well, she acts like she wants to come into the house, she sits there at the door and looks longingly at us. When we open the door to invite her inside, she looks past us and says “Ugh. Are there kittens in that house?” and stomps away.
Instead, she wants to spend time in the garage. And it’s not like there’s anything in the garage she can hurt or that can hurt her, so we’ve taken to letting her go inside when she wants to. We set up a litter box (which she uses) and bowls of food and water. She spends her time upstairs on a pile of old bedding or stretched out on the floor, and we check on her every now and then and ask if she wants to go outside. Sometimes she does (on those occasions you can hear her hitting the floor, and she’ll usually call out so you know she’s on her way to the stairs) and otherwise she just ignores us. So basically, we’re crammed into this house with two humans and 12 permanent residents and a rotating cast of fosters, and Maxi gets that entire garage to herself.
Spoiled rotten.
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Previously
2011: No entry.
2010: No entry. 2009: Oh, we never allow our cats on the counters or the table. Never! 2008: What you don’t know is that there are moments of pure glamour interspersed with all the drudgery.
2007: No entry. 2006: That is an amazing and scintillating fact, right there.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry. 2003: Y’know, sometimes I wonder how I make it through the world, clueless as I am. 2002: Her portly butt probably cut off the circulation to something important. 2001: I should have her arrested. 2000: Work was just heavenly today.
In case you missed it over the weekend, on Saturday there were cute kitty pics and an answer to a question, and on Sunday I announced that SALLY PEPPERS HAS BEEN ADOPTED (WOOT!) and there were more cute kitty pics along with the kittens’ weights and a picture of each of their little monkey faces. … Continue reading “3/12/12 – Monday”
In case you missed it over the weekend, on Saturday there were cute kitty pics and an answer to a question, and on Sunday I announced that SALLY PEPPERS HAS BEEN ADOPTED (WOOT!) and there were more cute kitty pics along with the kittens’ weights and a picture of each of their little monkey faces.
1. I was in Publix last Wednesday (I have to stop going to Publix on Wednesday – it’s the day the new sales flyer comes out as well as Senior Discount Day, so it is PACKED from the minute the doors open) and I had forgotten to ask Fred if there was anything he needed. So I got out my cell phone and dialed his number (I have not yet educated myself on how to use the “contacts” list or the speed dial function for making calls because I rarely make calls on my cell). The phone rang a few times and I was about to hang up because if he doesn’t answer his phone after two rings, that means he’s not at his desk and thus won’t be answering. But before I could hang up, the phone was picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hey,” I said. “I’m at Publix. Do you need anything?”
There was a long, long silence. I was on the verge of impatience when he said “Well, I don’t think so. My wife was going to head to the store later on, I’m sure she can pick something up if I need it.”
I was all “?” for a long few seconds before I realized what was going on, that I had dialed the wrong number, and that the guy sounded just enough like Fred that I hadn’t noticed it wasn’t him.
I mumbled an apology and then hung up.
Now just wait: one day the phone’s going to ring and it’s going to be that guy, asking if I could pick up some milk for them while I’m out.
2. Last week, I bought a chocolate-covered marshmallow at the store – actually, it was probably the same trip mentioned above. I like the chocolate-covered marshmallows available this time of year, and usually have a few while they’re around. When I got home, I put it in my desk drawer with plans to have it at some point during the day. After dinner, when I opened my desk drawer, it was gone. GONE!
Oh, I fumed. Because there are two people in this house, and the cats lack the strength to open that desk drawer and THAT BASTARD HAD STOLEN AND EATEN MY CHOCOLATE COVERED MARSHMALLOW. MINE. I stomped around, I hmphed and sighed. Oh, I was a joy to be around as I fumed silently.
An hour later I opened a different desk drawer (I’m sure you see where this is going) and there it was.
I was an idiot for even suspecting him, because guess what Fred Anderson hates, loathes and despises? That’s right, marshmallows.
(He has no taste.)
3. I was opening the refrigerator to grab my bottle of Diet Coke off the door to pour my morning cup (shut up and drink your coffee, motherfuckers), and as I reached to grab the bottle, my eyes fell upon a bottle of Clavamox which was sitting on the top shelf (Corbie’s got a UTI). In my mind, I thought for some reason of how hard you have to shake the bottle before you can measure it out so that you can be sure it’s well-mixed, and as I thought that thought, I SHOOK THE FRIGGIN BOTTLE OF DIET COKE AS HARD AS I COULD as if I were shaking the bottle of Clavamox. I ask you: what the fuck?
(That bottle of soda went back in the fridge for a couple of days to recover from being shaken so.)
4. It came to my attention, more than two months after my birthday, that I am 44, not 43. This came to my attention when I was looking at the year (which, I’m sorry, 2012 does NOT seem like it could possibly be the current year. Just about every time I write it down, I have to question myself “No, really, it’s 2012? That’s some futuristic shit, right there.”) and I thought “Huh. It seems odd that in an even year, I’m the odd age of 43. Usually when it’s an even year, I’m an even age. Did something weird happen with the years?”
No, seriously. I thought maybe we had a leap year and I forgot about it.
Then I thought and thought and thought some more (okay, really I only thought about it for like 10 seconds, but that seems like a long time, no?) and apparently the simple math part of my brain is still intact, because I was able to subtract 1968 from 2012 (seriously? It’s 2012?) and I felt an honest moment of surprise to discover that I am, in fact, 44.
I know, I know, what a fascinating never-before-done topic, “OMG, am old!”. But seriously – 44! How the hell did that happen?
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Emmy and the squirming mass o’ babies. Look at Razzie’s little stumpy tail and skinny, stripey legs there in the front. SO CUTE.
“I like to get as close to Mama’s face as possible. It’s more comfy up here.”
“Dude, I know, right?”
When one needs to get higher and can’t quite pull oneself up, stepping on ones sibling’s face is always acceptable.
Do you see Logie there on top, crawling across her siblings? Apparently Her Majesty’s toes are too precious to touch fabric.
“Ah, yes, this bed made of my brother and sisters will do nicely.”
“HEY! I went to sleep on a pile of kittens and woke up on this stupid pink thing! I WOULD LIKE TO LODGE A COMPLAINT, PLEASE CALL THE MANAGER.”
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More than a year after Fred put up the walkway and the corner platform in the kitchen, Stinkerbelle has finally ventured forth to check it out (until now, she’s always stuck to the other side of the kitchen, getting up there by jumping from the floor to the top of the fridge and then to the top of the cupboards, and reversing the process to get down to the floor). She’s been spending a LOT of time hanging out on the walkway and on the corner platform.
Pretty girl.
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Previously
2011: No entry. 2010: LOOK how hard they work every single day, protecting those chickens! 2009: And then I realize that baby wasps grow up to be adult wasps, and I electrocute the shit out of those fuckers. 2008: “You realize,” I said to Fred as I watched Tommy diligently lick the top of Miss Stank’s head, “Even if we wanted to, we could never get a divorce.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: I’m a total freak. 2003: She’s home! 2002: Of course, my sympathy for him will only last until he poos in the hallway instead of the litter box again. 2001: I am the dumbest dumbass in the whole wide world, I really am. 2000: Sometimes, they lay on the floor and perform for us.
First, the good news: SALLY PEPPERS GOT HERSELF ADOPTED YESTERDAY!!!!!!!!! I feel like I can relax now, knowing that all my Peppers are now in their forever homes. Yay Sally! She went to a home with two kids and a cat already in residence – a solid white female. I bet when the two cats … Continue reading “3/11/12 – Sunday”
I feel like I can relax now, knowing that all my Peppers are now in their forever homes. Yay Sally! She went to a home with two kids and a cat already in residence – a solid white female. I bet when the two cats become friends (which they WILL), those are going to make for some stunning pictures.
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Luckily, there’s no “bad news” to balance that good news. It’s all good! Emmy and the babies are doing well. We took pictures of the kittens and weighed them yesterday. Since Fred took the kittens out of the box on Friday to replace the pink bed with a clean one, and then took them out and weighed them, then held them so I could snap a few pictures, I think it’s safe to say that Emmy is pretty much over one Fred Anderson. She swiped at him a couple of times yesterday when he was petting the kittens, but by last night she seemed to have forgiven him, mostly.
The weight on the kittens: Razzie’s the lightest at 7 1/4 ounces, Newbery’s 7 1/2 ounces, and Darwin’s at 7 3/4 ounces. Big baby Logie is the largest (no surprise there) at a solid 9 ounces. It’s amazing how much difference an ounce can make at this age – you don’t even have to pick her up to see that she’s the biggest one!
And the babies at 9 days old:
Darwin (the kitten formerly known as Stripey2)
Newbery (the kitten formerly known as Stripey1, the only male)
Logie, da big baby.
Razzie (the kitten formerly known as Stumpy)
I’ve been meaning to mention this – with the birth of Emmy’s babies, that brings us up to foster #174. We’re almost even with Ted and Martha at 50Kittens, who are on #175. I went back and looked at my list (which is just an Excel spreadsheet) and we fostered 31 kittens last year (okay, that’s kind of misleading – we got the Brady Bunch in the Fall of 2010, but they were actually in residence until early 2011), and since I took about a month and a half off from fostering due to surgery last year, I think it’s a strong possibility that we could maybe get to #200 this year. Wouldn’t that be neat?
And on a side note, of the 174 kittens fostered so far, we’ve had 91 males and 83 females.
Poor Emmy. Those kittens REALLY like to hang around under her tail.
This picture cracks me up so much – that back foot sticking up in the air? That belongs to the kitten nursing. Why she feels the need to sit in that particular position, I’m not sure. She was like that for a long time.
“You touch me, I scream. Mama doesn’t like it when I scream. She’ll mess you up. So no touching, you get me?”
Sweet sleepy baby.
The whole family.
“I lubs my mama.”
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I always worry that Tommy’s going to roll off that platform atop the cat tree. He hasn’t yet, but there’s always a first time!
Silly boy.
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Previously 2011: 13 months without a uterus as of yesterday, MOTHAFUCKASAYWOOHOO! 2010: YOU don’t have a trash can laying in your back yard for the cats to hang out in? 2009: (Nance calls it “Fredding.” HA.) 2008: “The chickens are here!” he said.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: OR MAYBE I JUST NEED A NEW COMPUTER. 2003: So, there. That’s my day so far. 2002: I’m a total calendar-having fool.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
Today marks 16 years since Fred and I first met. We celebrated by discussing how it seems like it’s been both longer and shorter because HOLY SHIT did that time go by fast, and also HOLY SHIT 16 years is a long, long time, and then we went out and ran errands. Tonight we’ll watch … Continue reading “3/10/12 – Saturday”
Today marks 16 years since Fred and I first met. We celebrated by discussing how it seems like it’s been both longer and shorter because HOLY SHIT did that time go by fast, and also HOLY SHIT 16 years is a long, long time, and then we went out and ran errands. Tonight we’ll watch TV and probably will both doze off about 10 minutes into the movie, only waking long enough to stumble upstairs to bed.
You wish you had my party lifestyle.
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Warning: Litterbox-type talk in this section! Skip to the next section for the cute pics and non-gross talk about the babies!
In yesterday’s comments, sourpuss asked:
Not to be gross, but how is it that the pink mat in the box is still so clean? Don’t the babies have accidents?
The babies don’t have accidents because for the first 3 – 4 weeks of their life, their lucky mama gets to take care of their urine and feces. She does this by stimulating them to poop and/ or pee by licking their back ends, and then she ingests the results.
I know, right? Mama cats do NOT get paid enough!
When we have bottle babies, I have to stimulate the kittens to pee and poop by using a wet wipe or a piece of paper towel, not my tongue (thank god). Also, said poop and pee goes into the trash.
I bet Emmy wishes she had a stack of paper towels and opposable thumbs!
That aspect of watching a mother cat take care of her babies is, well, I feel sorry for Emmy because I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but at the same time, the look on her face afterward is hilarious. It’s a cross between “I’m going to throw up” and “So, this is my life. Fantastic.”
When the kittens are around 3 weeks old, I’ll put small litter boxes that they can climb into in the corners of the room and fill them with clay litter (as opposed to scoopable litter; kittens will often eat a little of the litter at first, and scoopable can cause blockages, or so I’ve heard) and they tend to get the picture pretty quickly.
So that’s why the pink pad has stayed so clean! But scroll on down for more info about the pink pad.
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Fred put the pink pad in the box under the kittens and Emmy last Thursday (I think?), and it’s stayed relatively clean, but yesterday Fred noticed that she’d tracked litter into the box, so we decided that it was time to do a change. I just don’t like the idea of babies rolling around in litter, even though it wasn’t that much, and I’m sure they’d have been fine.
So Fred took the babies out of the box and carefully placed each of them in a basket. Emmy was less than thrilled by this, but wasn’t willing to come out of the box while we were both in there, so he gently scruffed her, pulled her out of the box, quickly replaced the pink pad with a clean one, and then put her back in the box and put the babies back in with her.
All told, it took less than a minute – possibly even less than 30 seconds – and the first time Fred went into the room after that, Emmy hissed at him, then let him rub her belly.
Look at Razzie, there in the front, with her little stumpy tail!
Everyone’s eyes are slowly opening, but the only one with completely open eyes at this point is Razzie, who is also the calmest when being held. And along those lines, big baby Logie was the last of the four to start opening her eyes, and is a great big drama queen from the moment you pick her up.
Emmy loves da babies.
They sure do seem to be spending a lot of time climbing up on top of her to snooze. And she doesn’t seem to mind one little bit.
Emmy needs some lotion for her toes, don’t you think?
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Alice Mo has decided to hibernate ’til June or so, thank you.
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Previously 2011: I can’t wait to start downloading ringtones! 2010: “Please tell this strange man to stop SMELLING ME, if you please.” 2009: I felt SO OLD then, but 28 sounds impossibly young to me now. 2008: We had a little weirdness on Friday in the form of a super-mega-mutant egg.
2007: No entry. 2006: Today’s the 10th anniversary of the day Fred and I met. 2005: I met Fred nine years ago today. 2004: Eight years ago today, I entered the IRC Undernet channel #!Fredsplace and met the geek who owned and ran the channel, who would eventually become the love of my life. (Complete with mush!) 2003: Sick Poo.
2002: No entry. 2001: Five years ago today, I was on IRC and I wandered into the Undernet channel #!Fredsplace, and I met the love of my life. (More mush!) 2000: Four years ago today, I wandered into the IRC Undernet channel #!Fredsplace, thus setting into motion a chain of events which would echo down through the years.
