Fostering – Page 23

6/10/11 – Friday

Is Clove the teeniest, tiniest little tabby girl you have ever seen? I know all the Spice Girls are wittle, but she looks tiny next to her litter mates even – aww! She’s pretty little – Coriander outweighs her by half a pound, and Cilantro a little less than that. I expect that both of … Continue reading “6/10/11 – Friday”

Is Clove the teeniest, tiniest little tabby girl you have ever seen? I know all the Spice Girls are wittle, but she looks tiny next to her litter mates even – aww!

She’s pretty little – Coriander outweighs her by half a pound, and Cilantro a little less than that. I expect that both of her sisters will hit two pounds a couple of weeks before she does, at the rate she’s gaining. On the other hand, I’ve had little ones who gain slowly at first, and then have a growth spurt, so it’s hard to tell. All I can say is that all three of them are the most kissable little girls you ever did see, and they all instantly purr as soon as they see me. I love that in a kitten!

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I just had a brilliant idea! Sleep away cat camp! I have been trying to find summer activities for my 10 and 8 year old daughters and they would just LOVE it. Throw in a little gardening camp too. Our local YMCA charges like 700 bucks a week per kid for sleep away camp. I am thinking you could make a mint.

I don’t know that that would work, because I don’t think I could come up with enough to do to keep kids entertained. On the other hand, if I make it a sleep away cat/ WORK camp for troubled kids, they could be rewarded for working hard (weeding the garden! Mowing the back yard! Scooping the litter boxes!) with kitten time. Hmmm. I must think about this a bit longer. 🙂

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Robyn, do you have a food dehydrator? I want to buy one to make duck cat treats and for backpacking trips. There are so many designs and price points–any experiences to share?

I do have a food dehydrator, it’s an Excalibur 2500 – which, of course, they don’t sell anymore! My only real suggestion is to go bigger than you think you’ll need, rather than smaller. When we got ours, I thought “There’s no way I’ll fill this thing up!”, but of course whatever you’re wanting to dehydrate starts out much larger than the end product. They do have a big footprint, which can be a pain sometimes.

I don’t really have any tips as far as dehydrators go (I don’t remember how we decided which one to get – I expect that Fred did a lot of looking around and then we discussed it and we got the Excalibur), but I KNOW someone out there probably does, so if you have any tips on the dehydrators, please share.

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Speaking of my mom – she had a favorite kitten a year or more ago – but she can’t remember the name and they aren’t on the foster page. Was there an orange kitten named Kringle? It’s making us both crazy trying to remember his name. 🙂

Kringle was one of the Christmas Kitties we had, but that wasn’t recent, it was in December of 2006. This is what he looked like:

He was brother to Jack Frost:

It’s entirely possible that I’ve mentioned Kringle in the last year or so, though, so maybe that’s where she saw him? (That picture of him and the one of Jack Frost are among my favorite kitten pics.)

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I’m so happy for Dorothy. Are they going to keep her name?

Yes, Dorothy will remain Dorothy. I’m sure she’ll pick up a nickname or two!

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Okay, nothing to do with today’s entry (though I am so happy that Dorothy loves her new home!) but have you seen this? It’s gone viral so you probably have but it’s soooo darn funny!

Oh, I’ve seen it, but I don’t know that I’ve shared it before (I may have on Facebook). The guy who did the dog’s voice did a GREAT job!

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I suppose Cranky Spanky wasn’t always so grumpy? Looking at your note from 2000 it seems he used to be quite the howler. At least that stopped, right?

You know, it wasn’t ’til I read this comment that I thought about it but yeah – Spanky hasn’t howled nearly as much in recent years. Every now and then he gets a wild hair and does some howling, but I can’t remember the last time I had to yell “SPANKY, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!” in the middle of the night.

Typing that made me think of the movie I made of him “talking” to me several years ago.

Silly boy.

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Speaking of marshmallow fluff, do you read From Away and did you see this recipe? I AM SO TRYING IT because they don’t sell the REAL Fluff in Arizona, just that jarred marshmallow crap. And I’m DYING for a peanut butter and Fluff sandwich.

I didn’t read From Away before, but I do now! I am for sure going to give making that marshmallow fluff a try – it looks so good!

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“This is a common misconception, and I’m here to set the record straight: kittens are actually made of silly putty covered in fur, and have heads filled with marshmallow fluff.”

It’s also common knowledge that cats have variable mass, wherein they can sound like a herd of elephants racing through a house, weigh a bloody ton when they don’t want to be moved, and be as light as a feather in the next moment. That and they are solar-powered fer sure.

Ain’t THAT the truth!

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The FEMA program reimbursing you 75% isn’t exactly true for all of us here. Homeowners can’t apply for it on their own. The counties that were hit here are apply for the grant and then certain homeowners can apply for the assistance via that grant. However, I believe there are certain income restrictions so if you make too much money you don’t get the assistance from FEMA. They are trying to push it through quickly so that it is in place for people whose homes were destroyed can include storm shelters in the rebuilding of their homes as it’s less expensive to do it at this phase vs. putting one into existing homes.

Thanks for clearing that up – I think we’re still planning to get a storm shelter, whether the cost is reimbursed or not.

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Which Spice Girl is the lap kitty? Or is it a Spice Girl you’re referencing there? I love lap kitties!

Clove is the lap kitty – she’s always the first one in my lap, and the last one to be lured away by the promise of a toy to play with or a tail to chase.

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That giant teacup is priceless! (How “giant” is it anyway?)

The tag on the bottom of the giant teacup says it’s 10″. It’s meant to be used as a planter, but of course as soon as I saw it, I envisioned kittens in it!

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Corbie is, of course, still a darling. Hi, Corbie. Any word from Rhyme or Bolitar’s forever families? Reacher’s forever mom has a livejournal. Heh. 🙂 For that matter, any word from Rufus’s people?

No word from Rhyme or Buster’s families, unfortunately, nor from Rufus’s family either, but I’m sure they’re doing just fine. Maybe we’ll get an update in the future. I did get an update (with pictures!) from the former Greg Brady, which I will post over the weekend.

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And doesn’t Clove look a lot like Corbie when he was a baby in that “luff you” pic?

I hadn’t noticed it before, but you ain’t kidding! That’s Clove on the left, Corbie on the right:

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Robyn, I gotta know – How long does it take you to do this blog every day? You put so much effort into covering all the questions, talking about all the kitties, and getting all the gorgeous pictures in with captions. You’re a superhero! I look forward to coming here every morning to read – it’s my very first stop because I’m always so eager to know what’s going on (which has been every day for a few years now)! Thanks for being so dedicated!

It’s really kind of hard to know, because I don’t sit down and do it all at once. I’ll look through my pictures and decide which ones to post, then wander off to do something. Come back and look through the pictures again, and name them for uploading at Flickr. Then I’ll write a little, wander off, come back eventually, write some more, wander off, etc. If I had to guess, I’d say it takes about an hour and a half, all told. Some days it takes more, of course, and some days less. It’s a labor of love, is what it is. 🙂

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Robyn, do you think Jake and Elwood might have some Russian Blue in them? They have that beautiful coat and goofy face.

I think they very well might! They don’t have the gorgeous super-green eyes of a Russian Blue, but they have the personality, and Jake (it’s hard to tell with Elwood, because he’s a big cat) has the body shape of a Russian Blue. I sure wish I knew where they came from and what their story was before they showed up on our stoop!

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How do you tell George and Gracie apart? I’ve been trying to figure it out, but to me they both look like big, furry, fluffy white dogs!

In person I have no problem telling who’s who because George is so much bigger than Gracie. In pictures I can usually tell who’s who because (to my eye) Gracie has a prettier face, and George has a big ol’ block head. But I certainly get why someone who doesn’t know them wouldn’t be able to tell them apart – sometimes I have to ask Fred who I’m looking at.

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Is that an antique three quarter size bed in your guest room? I have a similar one, (cherry wood, not as fancy) and have never really seen anyone else have one! I always thought it would be my bed forever, then I married a 6 foot tall guy.. oh well, it’s in my guest room now, lol

It’s an antique bed (Fred actually slept in it while he was growing up), but it’s a size Full, not a three-quarter (I had to look on Wikipedia to see what a three-quarter size bed is!) There’s a matching dresser to it, too – Fred’s father and stepmother bought it at an estate sale. It’s a little fancier than I usually prefer (I prefer the clean lines of Shaker furniture, myself), but it’s possibly the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in.

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(Oooo, someone’s a Stephen King fan I see!)

Yeah, we’re both Stephen King fans. Hey, I’m from Maine, after all – I actually met him once when he was signing books at a movie theater (I think “Christine” had just been released). I was too tongue-tied to say anything at all to him, just stared wide-eyed while he signed. Good thing my mother was with me, because he asked my name, and I said “Robyn”, and she stepped forward and said “Robyn with a ‘y’.”, because I was too starstruck to say it!

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I let Maggie in to visit with the Spice Girls a couple of times yesterday, and she mostly sniffed around for food, ate a few bites, and then asked to go back out. I have no intention of making her stay in there if she doesn’t want to (and both times, the girls sniffed at her, batted at her tail, then went off to play), so I’ll let her visit when she wants. She did lick Clove on top of the head a few times, and Coriander did this fantastic bit where she reared up on her back legs in front of Maggie, air boxed (never making contact with Maggie), and then ran off like her tail was on fire. Maggie was not terribly impressed.

Of course, no pictures again, but I’ll get some over the weekend. Promise!

I bought that big black and white stuffed cat to use as a pillow when I’m hanging out in the foster room and am overcome with exhaustion and MUST lay down. It’s a Pillow Pet, I believe, and very comfy. (Oh, look at that – it’s Ms. Sassy Cat! That’s fitting, no?)

I don’t know what’s in that bucket, but it’s clearly AMAZING.

I LOVE Clove’s pattern.

Left to right, Clove, Coriander, and Cilantro.

Is there anything cuter than kittens playing? I think not.

Playful Coriander.

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The McMaos are having a pretty good time exploring the house for several hours every day. They tend to migrate back to the guest bedroom around noon each day, and I close the door and give them some time to chill out. I have to put their food up where no one can get it when I open the door to let them roam, because otherwise Jake and Elwood will come in and eat all their kitten food. So I put their food down for them when I lock them in, then when I hear them moving around in the afternoon, I set them loose again and put their food up.

I love walking down the hall and seeing kittens racing in all directions.

Macushla on the stairs, watching the big cats go by.

And hanging out in the guest bedroom, guarding the litter box.

Sleepy Cillian.

Fergus Simon. I had this cat bed on the bed, and they’d knock it down and sleep on it. Then I’d put it back on the bed, and they’d knock it down again, and finally I just gave up. It’s not hurting anyone if they sleep in the cat bed under the bed, I figure.

“WHERE MY FOOD, LADY?”

Finnegan. I always want to call him Ferguson.

Cillian is such a sweet boy. When I go over to pet him, he throws himself on his back and waits for me to rub his belly.

Macushla with attitude.

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Miz Poo. She’s the sweetest girl on earth, but if she doesn’t stop waking me up by rubbing her nose on my hand, I’m going to… well, I guess I probably won’t do anything but be annoyed. How can I be mad at that face?

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Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: Spent the night in Dulles, finally arrived in Maine.
2008: “Well, I didn’t get the Clinique for YOU, princess,” I said, then handed him the tube and stomped back into the computer room.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: You are SO jealous of my life. I can tell.
2004: I’m going to drag myself kicking and screaming into this century if it’s the last thing I do, dagnabbit!
2003: “She was over there looking at stamps a minute ago. She did – she cut in line!” he said, and then tsked in disapproval.
2002: I am NOT picking that up, I thought definitely.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

6/9/11 – Crooked Acres Thursday

Sights from around Crooked Acres. Happy Gracie. George, keeping an eye out for trouble. You know how those chickens can be. There was a squirrel up in the tree, and Gracie wanted that squirrel to know that she was wise to his shenanigans. This is the “I see something. Should I be concerned?” watchful look. … Continue reading “6/9/11 – Crooked Acres Thursday”

Sights from around Crooked Acres.

Happy Gracie.

George, keeping an eye out for trouble. You know how those chickens can be.

There was a squirrel up in the tree, and Gracie wanted that squirrel to know that she was wise to his shenanigans.

This is the “I see something. Should I be concerned?” watchful look.

Sweet Miss Gracie. (Don’t worry, I gave her a kiss for all of you!)

Three broody hens, sitting on their eggs in the maternity coop.

Very young rooster, hanging out on the edge of the dogs’ watering bowl. It makes me nervous when they do this, but I’ve never seen one fall in.

Chicks, roosting on fallen branches in the pig yard. The little ones just LOVE the pig yard, for some reason, and all fifteen of them are almost always running around in there.

Some of our tomatoes got early blight, so I was spraying fungicide. I’m a fungicidal maniac.

As Fred’s been clearing pieces of the fallen tree from the chicken yard, he’s been putting some of the smaller pieces in the back yard for the cats to play on. Corbie thinks this will do nicely, thank you.

Elwood chasing Kara around the back yard. I think you can imagine how much she cared for this.

Kara highly disapproves of it when we’re out of the back yard. What if something happens and she can’t save us? BAD HUMANS.

I bought some of this fabric last week at Jo-Ann Fabrics. I think it’s utterly adorable.

Baby cucumber.

Baby zucchini.

Baby pattypan squash (I call them spaceships. “Go out to the garden and pick a couple of spaceships, will you?”)

Baby cherry tomatoes.

They’re pretty sure it’s time for the cookies.

“AH SMELL COOKIES!”

“GIVE US THE COOKIES!”

“COOOOOOOOOOKIES!”

Bold Pig gets her cookie.

Spunky Pigster gets her cookie.

And one for Hernia Girl.

Someone asked if the pigs are for sustenance. Yes, they are. They’ll be with us (and spoiled rotten) until around the end of September. Then Fred will load them up and take them off to camp. Then a few days later, in a completely unrelated incident, he’ll go out to run an errand and come home with boxes to fill up the freezer.

(We refer to it as “sending the pigs off to Freezer Camp.”)

They won’t all be going to camp in our freezer – one will be going to our freezer, and the other two will be going to freezers in other homes. One’s going to a former coworker of Fred’s and the other is going to be split between two of Fred’s current coworkers.

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So somehow I completely failed to mention in yesterday’s entry that the first thing Maggie did when we let her do some exploring around the house on Sunday was to start yowling and rubbing on the boy cats, and then doing the march-in-place “HERE I AMMMMMMM!” dance that cats who are going into heat do. It’s a special experience, really. She wasn’t constant with the yowling and the marching (seriously, I wish you could have seen the look of utter bewilderment on Corbie’s face when she was marching in front of him), just did it every couple of hours. I decided she wasn’t so much IN heat as headed in that direction, so Monday morning I called and made the appointment to have her spayed on Tuesday. I dropped her off first thing Tuesday morning, but they weren’t able to get to her ’til late in the afternoon, so she spent the night and I picked her up yesterday morning.

She was fine, she’s such a calm, laid-back girl that really nothing bothers her much. Her babies were happy enough to see her, but they didn’t crawl all over her and act like they’d been fading away from the sadness of missing her. Actually, judging by the way they ran around this house while she was gone, I don’t think they even realized she was gone.

Sleepy McMaos.

Princess Poutyface, off by herself.

“What you want, lady?”

Checking out Jake.

“What IS it?”
“I don’t know. BUT I DON’T LIKE IT.”

That’s Fergus Simon with the attitude.

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There are no pictures of this, to my dismay, so you’ll just have to imagine, in your head, how incredibly, amazingly wonderful it was to see. On Sunday evening, we let Maggie in to visit with the Spice Girls. We were curious what her reaction would be, would she growl and hiss and smack them? Would she ignore them? Would they be scared of her?

As it turned out, Maggie walked into the room, and Clove ran over to her. Maggie sniffed Clove’s head and then explored the room a little. Eventually, she flopped down on the floor by the door, and Clove – who was sitting in my lap – looked at her. I said “Go say hi!”, and picked Clove up and set her down near Maggie. Clove went over, and Maggie sniffed the top of her head again, then started washing her.

It was absolutely the sweetest thing, I wish I’d had the camera with me. Clove closed her eyes and raised her face to Maggie, and she looked so utterly happy and Maggie cleaned her, that I might have teared up a little bit. Cilantro eventually wandered over and was cleaned, too, but Coriander was mostly uninterested in what Maggie had to offer.

They snuggled for a few minutes, and then Clove nuzzled around and nursed – or tried to, I honestly don’t know if she actually got any milk – for a few minutes. Maggie finally stood up and walked over to the bowl of kitten food. Clove followed her over, and they ate together. Then Maggie stood by the door until I let her out.

I kind of wish I’d tried putting Maggie in with those little girls a week ago. Clove is such a tiny little thing and hasn’t been gaining weight as quickly as I’d like. She isn’t losing weight, and she’s eating fine and is bright-eyed and playful, but her sisters are several ounces heavier than she is, so of course I worry. Maybe she just misses her mama, and having a little time with Maggie is just what she needs.

I did let a couple of the McMao boys in to see how they’d react to the Spice Girls. They – Finnegan and Fergus Simon – sniffed around the room as though it was familiar to them, and when the Spice Girls approached them, they hissed and ran away.

Leapin’ Coriander! (LOVE the smile on her face!)

Coriander watching the feather teaser, while Cilantro smacks at her tail.

“I like frogs.”

Cori’s feelin’ sassy. (When she gives me this look, I call her “Sassafrass.”

Wee bunny Clove. (I call her “Little Bit.”)

v
Cori loves a good ear rub.

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Smilin’ Jake. Looks very smug, no?

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Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: Spending the night in Dulles. WHO’S A LUCKY GIRL???
2008: I suppose I appreciate the lack of drama, but damn.
2007: No entry.
2006: Who else would put up with this sort of bullshit?
2005: Teen labor: I highly recommend it.
2004: The quarry.
2003: You can’t tell I’m PMS-ing with a vengeance, can you, with all this talk of food?
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: So, have I mentioned that I’m an idiot?

6/8/11 – Wednesday

Leonore gave me an ‘Irresistibly Sweet Blogger’ award, and I wrote seven random things about myself (and in turn awarded it to seven other bloggers) over at Love & Hisses. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Cilantro in … Continue reading “6/8/11 – Wednesday”

Leonore gave me an ‘Irresistibly Sweet Blogger’ award, and I wrote seven random things about myself (and in turn awarded it to seven other bloggers) over at Love & Hisses.

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Cilantro in the cat tree.

Sweet smilin’ Coriander.

“What?”

Coriander and Clove.

Left to right, Cilantro, Coriander, and Clove. They refused to move closer together, the brats.

::thlurrrp::

“WHOA, whoa, wait. Whatchoo MEAN it’s not snack time yet?!”

Coriander. Don’t you want to just kiss her on her little nose? She’d bite your face off, though. Don’t be fooled by the sweet face.

Coriander in motion, and Cilantro’s all “What just happened here?”

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Over the weekend, we started giving Maggie and her babies some time to explore. We were worried at first that Maggie would see one of our cats growling or hissing at one of her kittens, and would rip them apart, so we kept a careful eye on her. And it’s been perfectly fine. At one point, Alice did hiss at one of the kittens, and Maggie went over and got in her face, and Alice backed right down. It’s been pretty calm, all in all.

Macushla saw Elwood and went ::FLOOF::

“HI MISTER, WHAT YOU DOIN’?” (Spanky’s sorry he ventured in to see what was going on, that’s for sure.)

One thing I like about having the McMaos in the guest bedroom is that there’s a bed where I can lay down and pet them, and they can climb all over me.

“HI MAMA WHEN YOU COMIN’ DOWN?”
“Not any time soon, child.”

So for the past few days what I do is let them out of the guest bedroom around 9 and let them run and play for a couple of hours. Between 11 and noon, they all tend to naturally wander back to the guest bedroom and curl up to sleep, so I shut the door so they can have some time away from our cats, and vice versa. Then, mid-afternoon, I open the door again, and they run around and play ’til 9:00, when we gather them up, put them back in the guest bedroom, and then shut them in for the night. It’s working out well, so far.

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Loony Jake sure does love his Tommy.

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Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: You know how it is when you have ten million errands to run, but all you want to do is get home?
2008: No entry.
2007: Today, no weeding for me.
2006: Apparently I’m high. And in desperate need of makeup.
2005: By this time the investigator’s eyes had glazed over, and he was clearly thinking “This has WHAT to do with reliability?”
2004: When I was on the pier, the bream darted forward to partake of my delicious thighs, and I stomped across the pier as fast as I could, saying “STOP IT, YOU FUCKERS!” and I stomped up the steps to the top part of the pier, and waited for Fred to take his face out of the water.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: But. It. Was. Too. Far. From. Huntsville.
2000: Oh look, it’s Robyn, bitching. How unusual.

6/7/11 – Tuesday

Okay, I have a football related question, but if you’re not caught up on the latest episode of Friday Night Lights, you need to skip down to the next section. My question is this: a few episodes ago, TMU had Luke come to their campus for a visit, and told him to bring friends. He … Continue reading “6/7/11 – Tuesday”

Okay, I have a football related question, but if you’re not caught up on the latest episode of Friday Night Lights, you need to skip down to the next section.

My question is this: a few episodes ago, TMU had Luke come to their campus for a visit, and told him to bring friends. He brought Vince, among others, and it was revealed that TMU was using Luke to get to Vince.

In last week’s episode, Vince and his father made a hush-hush visit to another campus (Oklahoma, I think?) and they had to make a big deal about how it was “unofficial” and hide the visit from Coach Taylor.

So why was the visit to TMU okay, but the other visit wasn’t? What am I missing?

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Also, the casting of that kid as Buddy Jr. is possibly the best casting job I’ve ever seen in my entire life. He is a DEAD RINGER for Buddy Garrity. Some casting director needs a bonus.

Also also, if Vince doesn’t stop starting sentences with “I mean” (ie, “How are you today, Vince?” “I mean, okay, you know.”), I will fly through the TV and throttle him. SO FUCKING ANNOYING.

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This whole internet thing is awesome and all, but there are times when I’m trying to do stuff, and I wish it had never been invented. Specifically, yesterday I was trying to order a new digital scale for weighing kittens on (the one I have is really just not working for me), and so I went to a site where I’ve ordered stuff before, and added the scale to my “cart” and went to check out.

The site was all “Oh, do pardon us, your street address is too long, could you please shorten it?”

So I changed my mailing address to something shorter* and hit the “submit” key, and the fucking program changed it back to the longer version. After two or three times, I let loose a stream of obscenities and stomped off to make lunch. Then I got back to my computer and tried again. Finally, after actually considering calling the company’s stupid 1-800 number and talking to a real live person (THE HORROR), I finally logged out of my account, pretended I was someone else who had never shopped there before, and entered the shorter mailing address. That went through.

BUT.

When I got the confirmation that my order had shipped? It was shipping to the too-long address. They figured out my wily scheme and knew what the correct address was.

Fuckers.

*I fucking HATE our address, it’s a huge fucking pain in the ass. Every time someone asks for it, I have to be all “3018 Southern – yes, Southern. No, we’re not done yet, that’s not the entire street name, because every time I move somewhere in this ridiculous godforsaken 100-degrees-at-the-beginning-of-June state, I end up moving to somewhere with a street name more complicated and convoluted than where we lived previously. So, 3018 Southern Smithenheimer** – S-M-I-T-H-E-N-H-E-I-M – no, just one word. S-M-I-T-H-E-N-H-E-I-M – oh, that’s too long for your program? Try it with “So.” instead of Southern. It doesn’t always work, but it usually does. Right, 3018. You know what? Never mind. CANCEL THE FUCKING ORDER I’LL MAKE MY OWN GODDAMN PIZZA.”

**Probably it goes without saying, but that’s not my real address. Though my house number DOES have four numbers in it. The second one might even be a zero.

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Maggie and the babies, at snack time.

Trapped! (Would you look at the size of those paws?)

::thlurrp::

“What doin’, lady? You layin’ down? You gonna take a nap? You want me to lay down with you, huh?”

I find it best not to ask any questions in cases like this.

Ciara and Cillian headed up the stairs to the bed.

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I have the hardest time not squeezing the stuffing out of her.

Hello, trouble.

“Stop lookin’ at me. I need some quiet time alone in my giant teacup.”

::thlurrp::

Always in my lap, this one.

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It’s a Newtie.

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Previously
2010: RIP, Roscoe and Charlie.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: Hey look, it’s been three years since we first met Stinkerbelle! (She was Maryann then.)
2006: Pictures.
2005: She’s a bad influence, that one.
2004: I have faith in you!
2003: Things that sucked.
2002: Here’s the thing. If you get yourself involved with a man you know full well is married, a man who doesn’t file for divorce until 6 months after he’s met and started dating you, then you don’t get to play the victim.
2001: My very first House Anxiety dream!
2000: Ah, world traveler, me.

6/6/11 – Monday

New month, new banner! Thank you once again to the awesome Christine!!! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Man, I don’t know about my gardening skillz. Actually, I guess it’s not my gardening skillz that are in question … Continue reading “6/6/11 – Monday”

New month, new banner!

Thank you once again to the awesome Christine!!!

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Man, I don’t know about my gardening skillz. Actually, I guess it’s not my gardening skillz that are in question but WHY THE HOLY HELL is it hovering around 100 degrees at the beginning of June for the LOVE OF GOD. I ended up harvesting what was left of the romaine in my raised bed, yanked up the spinach (which was never happy to begin with), cut the purslane to the ground, and harvested a handful of radishes. I was able to get a couple of small cucumbers out of the big garden, and last night we had a baby romaine/ purslane/ radish/ cucumber salad with dinner, and a side of stir-fried purslane. It was good, but I don’t know that I’m too tempted to grow purslane again next year. We’ll see.

So now I have a raised bed of cauliflower and brussels sprouts growing (I don’t honestly expect much from them at this point), a bed of carrots (which will be harvestable in another month, assuming they make it that long), half a bed of radishes, and a bed and a half is empty. I’m thinking of transplanting the catnip and dill to one of the empty beds. Except for the catnip, none of my herbs look too happy, and I’m wondering if they’re getting too much sun and if I might want to move the pots to a spot where they’ll get some afternoon shade. I wish my garlic chives would PERK THE HELL UP.

On the up side, most of my tomato plants in the big garden look happy and have flowers (I even have some small tomatoes!). On the down side, the early blight has hit a few of the plants, so I spent Sunday spraying fungicide on all the tomatoes in hopes that the blight will go the fuck away.

Gardening, man. It’s harrrrrrrd.

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I’ve been craving Applebee’s (don’t judge me!) for ages now. We got an Applebee’s gift card for Christmas, and lately when Fred has asked, Saturday morning, what I want for lunch, I’ve suggested we go to Applebee’s. He’s no great fan of the restaurant, though, so we’ve always ended up going elsewhere.

The middle of last week, I decided I’d just call in a lunch order (the Oriental Chicken Salad is what I’ve been craving, specifically) and go pick it up, and thus my craving would be satisfied and I could move on with my life.

So around noon, I picked up the phone and dialed the number for their curbside service (or whatever the hell it’s called) and the person on the other end answered the phone and mumbled something. I could not understand one single solitary word she said, and I hesitated and opened my mouth to say “Pardon me?”, but then I was overcome with a wave of don’t-want-to-fucking-deal-with-this-itis, and I hung up the phone, cursed a blue streak, and had scrambled eggs for lunch instead.

This past Saturday, Fred started the what-do-you-want-for-lunch thing, and I wasn’t hungry so I didn’t care what we got one way or the other. He tried to get suggestions from me, but I am no fool because I knew that if I was like “I’d kind of like a chicken sandwich from McDonald’s”, he’d immediately want ANYTHING on earth that was NOT McDonald’s, because that’s the kind of pain in the ass he is.

So I was shocked when he said “Let’s just go to Applebee’s. You can get your chicken salad and we can use the gift card.”

We did go to Applebee’s and OF COURSE, because I am annoying to myself like that, I ended up getting the provolone stuffed meatballs instead of the chicken salad. But, I mean, come ON. You can’t show me a picture of cheese-stuffed meat and expect me to go for a salad.

I sure am craving a salad today, though…

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Hangin’ in the pile o’ beds by the back door.

Smilin’.

Such a sweet girl.

A few minutes before I unceremoniously stuffed her into a carrier. She was suspicious.

Miss Dorfy has gone to her forever home in… (drumroll) St. Louis! Andrea (who comments at Love & Hisses as Luanne) saw Dorothy and fell in love and emailed me to see if it was a possibility. St. Louis is – we were both surprised to discover – six hours or so from Alabama, which is a long drive but not insanely so. We met at the shelter Saturday afternoon, and Dorothy was all “What the what now?” as she met her new Mom, and then when she went into her fancy new carrier she was all “Um, what?”, but she is such a sweet girl that she didn’t howl all the way to St. Louis (which was what I feared), instead she was quiet most of the way and curious about what was going on.

She joins her new brothers Oliver and Teen Baby and her sister Luanne, and I suspect that it won’t be long before they’re all thick as thieves. It was really nice to be able to meet her new Mom (you know I don’t get to meet the adopters very often), and I have no doubt that she’s going to be one happy, spoiled girl! You can see pictures of Dorothy as time goes by over at Facebook or on Flickr. (There’s not a lot at Flickr, but Andrea promises that once things are settled down (she recently moved) she’ll do her best to live up to her New Mom obligations!)

(©andrea) Stopping in Paducah on the way home.

(©andrea) She’s a St. Louis girl now!

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The Spice Girls are doing well. They are three bright-eyed little monkeys, and every time I walk into the room, all three of them rush the door. Then they stop at the barrier (which is there specifically to stop the flow of kittens) and sniff around wildly. Luckily, there are only three of them and they’re small and easy to pick up at the same time.

They kill me with how cute they are!

Coriander snugglepants.

“Welcome to my home! Would you like a tour?” The girls like to sleep in the carrier most of the time – though sometimes they conk out in the middle of the floor.

(Cilantro) I find it endlessly fascinating to see the way their eyes change color, from the pupil outward.

“Do you SEE what I have to put up with?!”

Sweet Miss Clove.

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The McMaos got their vaccinations Friday afternoon, and they were sleepy for the rest of the day.

That Fergus Simon, he always gives me such attitude.

“GOD, Mom, I DID my homework! Stop buggin’ me!”

“I said I WILL CLEAN MY ROOM! LEAVE ME ALONE! GOD!”

“How RUDE.”

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Have I told you how beautiful you are, Corbie McGee?
“Not in the last ten minutes.”
SO beautiful.
“I know.”

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Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: For the record, Fred continues to like cheese, just not on a salad. Or burger.
2007: Mister Boogers wiggled frantically, slid through the hole, and ran off across the yard.
2006: HOW ABOUT SOME MOURNING, PAUL?
2005: Dumbass things I have done today.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Ass in the Past will be the name of my 14th novel.
2000: Ah, the heart warms.

6/3/11 – Friday

That second picture of Macushla makes me think of dear sweet Mister Boogers!!!! I can see that, actually. Macushla does have a bit of the Boogie ‘tude going on, doesn’t he? Good ol’ Boogie. Can you believe it’s been almost two years? This picture still makes me cackle every time I see it, Mister Boogers … Continue reading “6/3/11 – Friday”

That second picture of Macushla makes me think of dear sweet Mister Boogers!!!!

I can see that, actually. Macushla does have a bit of the Boogie ‘tude going on, doesn’t he?

Good ol’ Boogie. Can you believe it’s been almost two years? This picture still makes me cackle every time I see it, Mister Boogers doing his Donald Trump impression:

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Robyn, is that your stomach growling at the beginning of the Dorothy and Jake video or do you have a demon infestation?

That is, indeed, the nasty nasty sound of my stomach making its presence known. I don’t know why, all of a sudden, my stomach insists on being in the sound to every single video but I would like it to STOP NOW, PLZ. (I’m sure I had recently eaten lunch, and my lunch was “settling.” Or attempting to summon the dark forces, one or the other.)

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Well, add me to the list of Crooked Acres dreamers! Although, technically I didn’t dream about Crooked Acres, the PLACE, I dreamed about the inhabitants. Specifically Robyn (complete with adorable southern twang) and the cats. Don’t ask me why we were all in some upstairs penthouse type sprawling city apartment. I know I was particularly looking for and playing with the McMaos and I referred to them as such in the dream. My gawd, but there were cats everywhere!!

I guess it was a matter of time that this would happen given that I’ve been reading here for up to three? four? years and that I’ve had an Anderson kitty calendar for the last two.

I really feel like I need to cross-stitch a “My gawd, there are cats everywhere!” sampler. 🙂

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A little off topic….but are you and Fred aware that if you build a Storm Shelter FEMA will reimburse you 75% of the cost? Only 3% of the population who should have storm shelters actually do. After all the tornados this Spring, I bet that figure jumps drastically.

We received some help from FEMA last year due to some massive flooding here in the Midwest. I can tell you the quick and helpful response was impressive. Just thought I would mention this.

Thanks for the tip, and I’m posting this here so others in this area will learn about it, too! We definitely want to get a storm shelter, and knowing that we’ll be reimbursed part of the cost will probably get us moving on it that much faster.

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Do you do anything with the chicken feathers from your eatin’ chickens? And have you ever considered raising meat rabbits?

Fred feeds what’s left of the chickens (the feathers and, uh, you don’t need the specifics actually, do you?) to the pigs. When he processes chickens during a time when we don’t have pigs, he puts everything in a big bag and sticks it in the freezer for a time when we do have pigs. Didn’t know pigs would eat feathers, did you? Neither did I ’til I saw it for myself!

We haven’t considered raising meat rabbits because I am completely unadventurous when it comes to meat, and prefer to stick to pork, chicken, and beef (and, well, just about any kind of seafood that exists). I also don’t want to eat goat, no matter how much Fred mocks me for my refusal.

Also, bunnies are too damn cute, even when they’re grown.

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I was curious, do you only eat sweets on the weekend? That seems like a great idea, and I vaguely remember something about you and Fred having a “free” night, or something like that?

Years ago, we were doing the Body for Life way of eating, which allows you a “free” day every week to eat whatever junk your heart desires. These days, we mostly eat healthily during the week, and then on Saturday we eat out for lunch and maybe have ice cream or whatever. That’s also the day I tend to bake if I’m going to. I’m more willing to eat the occasional junk food during the week than Fred is, but we do try to keep it limited to the weekend.

Unless I’m on vacation, of course, in which case it’s OPEN SEASON ON WHOOPIE PIES.

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Every time you post pictures of Kara I always think she looks like a little wildcat. She looks like a mini-cougar in this entry’s picture.

and

I know I say this EVERY time you post a picture of Kara, but I’m doing it again anyway:

DIABEEEEETUS!

Just call her Kara Brimley.

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How the heck do you catch them in action. Like in the air? Great job!!!!!

I wait ’til they’re playing (or I entice them into playing with the feather teaser or some other toy) and then I snap picture after picture. Then I go through about 100 pictures to end up with 10 decent ones!

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Every time I see those mirrors on the wall in a picture, I think they are holes you cut in the walls so the cats can go to the next room. Then I say to myself, that’s right, they’re mirrors.

I would LOVE to have little windows cut in the door so that the cats in the foster room could look at the cats outside the room – and vice versa – wouldn’t that be cool? I’m afraid it’s beyond my skill set, though. And probably Fred would have a fit if I cut holes in the doors, because he is NO FUN.

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It seems like a lot of your fosters have been brown tabbies, especially recently. Good thing they’re so pretty. 😀

I’ve developed a whole new appreciation for brown tabbies. They’re so beautiful, aren’t they?

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I LOVE IT when kittens poof up like that!

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So what is the total cat count in the house up to now? It must be approaching critical mass. 🙂

Twenty-five, is what the total cat count is. Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? Twenty-five cats in one house! When we had the Cookies and the Wonkas, we had 21, and I was like “This is WAY too many cats.” Now, with 25, I’m like “Huh. I bet we could fit a cat in the bathroom if we needed to.”

It’s an illness, really.

(But I should point out that since it’s now summer, Maxi, Newt, and Coltrane spend 99% of their time outside.)

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Extreme cuteness warning:

SO SWEET.

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I can’t imagine Fred smoking. Does he?

He used to smoke, actually. He wasn’t a super-heavy smoker, never smoked more than a pack a day. In January 2001 he decided he wasn’t a smoker, and he stopped smoking immediately because he is a huge pain in the ass and he wants everyone who can’t quit smoking to hate him. He’s smoked one cigarette since then, but it was so nasty that he wasn’t tempted to start smoking.

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I love the hydrangea, is that a perennial for you? Ours never survives the winter, but I don’t mind buying one each year, they are so beautiful. Do you call those pansy that just start growing johnny jump ups? That is what my grandma used to call them, and I have some in my gravel driveway that show up each year. I just leave them they are so cute.

Yeah, the hydrangea is a perennial here – this year is the first year it’s really taken off like that, and I hope it just keeps getting bigger and prettier every year!

I had never heard them referred to as Johnny Jump Ups, but a look on Google tells me that if they’re not the same flower, they’re certainly kissing cousins. I’ve never been a fan of them in the past, but in the last few years I’ve started really liking them. They’re pretty, easy to care for flowers, and they pretty much grow year-round here.

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Are kittens really made of marshmallow covered in fur?

This is a common misconception, and I’m here to set the record straight: kittens are actually made of silly putty covered in fur, and have heads filled with marshmallow fluff.

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What do you mean by “volunteer tomatoes”? And besides tomaters, green beans, squash, and peppers, what else are you growing in your garden?

A volunteer is a plant that comes up on its own rather than being planted deliberately. The tomato plants that are growing on the compost heap and along the fence line weren’t planted, they just landed there somehow (I imagine that the tomato plants along the fence line came from seeds which first journeyed through chickens’ digestive systems) and began growing. I figure, what’s the harm in letting them grow? Worst case scenario, they don’t provide any tomatoes, and since I’m going to just ignore them and let them do their thing, it’s not any big deal if they just peter out.

I am mentally walking through the garden as I type this list, so if I forget anything, you can blame my faulty memory. We are growing: corn, green beans, peppers (cayennes, bell, jalapenos, tabasco and a couple of bhut jolokia), tomatoes, eggplant, okra, squash (zucchini, crookneck, straightneck, and pattypan), cantaloupe, watermelon, onions, and cucumbers. That’s in the big garden.

I also have a little raised-bed garden behind the back yard where I’m growing: brussels sprouts and cauliflower (I don’t honestly expect to get much from those plants, as it’s gotten so hot lately), radishes, carrots, purslane, and spinach (the spinach didn’t do anything this year, for some unknown reason). I’m experimenting with bale gardening this year, so I’ve got two tomato plants planted on a straw bale, and three watermelon plants on another. For herbs I have two pots of catnip (of course), lemon balm, lemon thyme, dill, cilantro, and some very unhappy garlic chives (stupid chives, I do NOT know what their problem is!). Also, there’s a little potted Meyer lemon tree that Fred bought at Lowe’s last weekend, and which we’ll move into the garage this winter, then back out when it warms up next spring.

Whew! I didn’t realize we were growing so much until I listed it out like that!

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What, exactly, is that tomato plant volunteering for? To go in a sandwich? To serve on the PTA? To sing a church solo on Sun?

To GET IN MAH BELLEH, of course!

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Do the piggies have names? Can I name one of them if I donate to Challenger’s House? Can I pick up Clove and stick my face in her belly fluff?

We don’t usually name the pigs, mostly because we tend toward calling them “Big Pig” and “Little Pig”, though that’s not going to work this time since we have three. At the moment, we’re calling them “Bold Pig”, “Hernia Girl”, and “The Other One. No, not the bold one. No, not Hernia Girl. The OTHER one.” If you would like to name one of them, Bean, you certainly may. 🙂

You know what Clove would do if you stuck your face in her belly fluff? She would stare up at you with love-filled eyes, and she would purr so loudly that The Other One would stop eating grass and lift her head to listen. Then Clove would bunny-kick you right in the eye and run off to jump on one of her sisters. But you wouldn’t mind being blinded by her sharp little claws, because she is the cutest thing on earth.

“Dat’s right. Come closer. Clove not hurt you. Clove LUFF YOU. Maybe hurt you little bit, okay? Okay.”

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Which McMao is in the sunlight in the first McMao picture? Amazing stripes! Soooo pretty!!! Did the “not so bright” piggy ever get her cookie? It looked like another piggy got it!

That’s Finnegan. He has the most well-defined stripes of the McMaos. Gorgeous, isn’t he?

What usually happens is that the bold pig grabs the first cookie, then runs off to eat it, and about half of it drops onto the ground where the other pig gobbles it up. They usually all get some cookie, if not an entire one.

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I love the solid blue cover for the Ham-mick…. where did you get it? I’ve looked at the site where they sell the Ham-micks, but all they ever have are busy print patterns that don’t blend well with my decor, but I’d reconsider for some solid color ones.

I made that my own self, actually, using the one that came with the Ham-mick as a pattern. If you look closely, you’ll see that I am no seamstress, but the cats don’t mind, and it works well enough.

I can’t speak for the lady who makes the Ham-micks, but I suspect that if you told her you were looking for something in a solid color, she might be willing to work with you.

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Miss Dorothy has the most symmetrical coloring on her face I have ever seen. So pretty! I have recently acquired two kittens, a calico and a torby, from my grandma (my sister and I gave them to her for Mother’s Day, after her direct instructions to find her a calico kitten, then it became two kittens) but she is currently hospitalized and it is not yet know if she’ll be coming home :(. So the kittens are the sweetest pair I’ve ever met; I want to keep them, but I know I can’t: I already have three of my own, plus I feed the whole neighborhood of cats, which is about 7, one of which looks like she might be pregnant (yay, more mouths to feed). So, I guess I’m saying if anyone in the Western KY area is looking for a pair, I have em. I plan on keeping them long enough to fatten them up (they are tiny) and teach them some manners, I will indeed use the blowing in the face.

Western Kentuckyans, if you’re looking for kittens, let me know (or leave a comment) and I’ll pass you along to Becca!

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Jake really is made of awesome. Did Alice like him this much too?

Alice really doesn’t have a lot to do with Jake, actually. I think that if she were in the mood to cuddle with another cat, she very well might give him a snuggle, but on a day to day basis she doesn’t hang out with the other cats all that often. She did like Rufus – they played together a lot – and she snuggled with Reacher from time to time. Which is to say, I’m thinking that perhaps Alice has a “type.” We’ll have to test that theory next time we have a gray tabby!

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Could you possibly shoot Dorothy from above? — her markings look so beautiful in the vid.

It’s kind of hard to get a shot of Dorothy from above, because she mostly wants to look and see just what it is you’re doing. Here are the results of my attempt yesterday morning.

So there she is, kind of from all angles!

She’s off to her new home tomorrow (details on Monday!) and I couldn’t be more excited. I know she is going to be well loved and one happy little girl.

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“I KEEL YOU!”

“Whazzat?”
“Dunno….”

“But it sure makes me wanna DANCE!”

“I am a sweet little baby monkey. Suckah. Um, I mean… Mrowr?”

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So yesterday morning I walked into the guest bedroom to scoop the litter boxes, and was beset by an angry mob of hungry kittens, who told me ALL ABOUT the fact that someone took their food away the night before and they were STARVING and WHAT was I going to do about this tragedy?

I scooped and left the room, is what I did.

Then when I went in an hour later, there were McMaos flopped sleeping in the sun as far as the eye could see. In fact, two of them were sleeping IN the carrier, and it was ever so simple to scoop them up into carriers and close them in. Maggie stood and watched and made curious “What’s up with this?” sounds, but she didn’t freak out or anything, and the babies were mostly (sleepily) curious.

They didn’t cry very much on the trip to the clinic – this was their very first car trip, you know – but they were just a little freaked out as we weighed them and put collars on them so they’d be id chipped with the correct names. I had breakfast with friends, and then headed into Huntsville to run errands. I didn’t get home until after 1:00, and I worried that Maggie would have freaked out while I was gone, but when I walked into the room, she was sleeping on the bed. She supervised while I emptied, cleaned, and refilled a couple of the litter boxes and then vacuumed and wiped the dust off all the furniture. When I was done, that was one clean room and Maggie decided to take another nap.

When I picked the babies up last night, they were perfectly fine, if a little subdued. When I got them home and into the guest bedroom where Maggie was waiting, they swarmed out of the carriers, and she sniffed them and licked a couple of them. Ten minutes later, it was like they’d never been gone.

“What babies?”

Ciara (right) and Fergus Simon examine the bedside table.

I love the smile.

Finnegan and his whiskers.

Best! Water! Bowl! Ever! (They didn’t have a water fountain in the foster room due to limited outlets, so this was new to them.)

Ciara in the sun.

“HI MAMA!”

That’s a lonnnng way down for a little man.

(By the way, here’s a tip: looking for something to attach to your cat tree or scratching post for your cat or kittens to bat at? The drawstring from a sweatshirt is the best, most durable thing ever. Everything else I’ve used the staple gun to attach has been bitten off or shredded, but the drawstrings are standing (hanging!) strong after months and months.)

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“I see what you’re doing, and you stop it right now. RIGHT. NOW.” Spanky is the disapproving curmudgeon of the Crooked Acres gang.

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Previously
2010: I have none of the signs of leukemia and a history of low iron, so probably what it’ll end up being is lung cancer caused by litter dust inhalation.
2009: Sights from around Crooked Acres.
2008: I suggest that you expect entries to be incredibly light on content for the foreseeable future.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I need to invest in shirts that are low in the back so I can show off my badass scar.
2003: I’m about to enter the PMS Zone
2002: What I’ve done since Thursday
2001: No entry.
2000: God help me, I’m going to go upstairs and strangle Spanky if he doesn’t stop that infernal fucking howling.

6/2/11 – Crooked Acres Thursday

Sights from around Crooked Acres! Would you look at those lazy girlies, all piled up in their shelter, sound asleep in the middle of the day? I guess I can’t really point fingers on the topic; midday naps are pretty great. Since they know that humans usually mean food, they came out of their shelter … Continue reading “6/2/11 – Crooked Acres Thursday”

Sights from around Crooked Acres!

Would you look at those lazy girlies, all piled up in their shelter, sound asleep in the middle of the day? I guess I can’t really point fingers on the topic; midday naps are pretty great.

Since they know that humans usually mean food, they came out of their shelter pretty quick, and skedaddled over to the trough.

“Where’s our food, lady?”

“You has food?”

“This is the trough, and you is s’posed to put food in it. How many times I gotta ‘splain it to you?”

“What you mean it’s not eatin’ time yet? Izzat a trick statement? It’s ALWAYS eatin’ time!”

We made ’em happy later, though. They each get a cookie every evening, hand-fed by Fred. They’re still kind of getting the hang of it, and half the time the bravest pig grabs her cookie and runs off, and the littlest pig chases after her.

(That loud noise you can hear every now and again in the background is our neighbors setting off fireworks. It was Memorial Day – or possibly the day before. Our neighbors will seize upon any excuse to set off fireworks. I’m just grateful that they stop at a decent hour.)

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George’s “wink” is cracking me up.

Happy pups.

Here’s a short video with some chickens, and then George and Gracie DYING for their snack. They get very excited at snack time, can you tell?

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Robin sitting on her nest in the front yard.

Pretty, pretty eggs.

Rose of Sharon abloom in the back yard (we didn’t plant it there, in fact at one point shortly after we moved in, I cut down all the shrubbery in the back yard, but this popped back up at some point. There’s honeysuckle back there, too.)

Volunteer tomato plant at the back forty fence line. We’re going to leave it and see how it does.

The compost heap is nothing but volunteer tomatoes. They’re super happy, covered in flowers, and thriving. We talked about transplanting them, but decided in the end that we’d just leave them for the summer and see how they do (I suspect they’re going to do very well, given how happy they are already!)

Some kind of pepper. Cayenne, maybe?

This may also be a cayenne, I’m not sure. Some kind of pepper, in any case!

The beans are doing well. I’m hoping we’ll be able to eat some fresh beans, soon! Frozen beans are good, but they’re not a tenth as good as the freshly picked ones.

One of the volunteer tomatoes I transplanted from the compost heap (before I started just leaving the volunteers where they were) already has fruit. I can’t wait ’til we get our first ripe tomato!

Squash is coming…

Grow little squash plant! Groooooow!

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“Outta my way! I got places to go, sisters to bite!”

“Wait. This did NOT turn out the way it was supposed to!”

I love it so much when they climb up the cat tree. It makes me want to squeeze and kiss them ’til they cry.

It took two days for them to get the hang of snack time. Now they know EXACTLY when snack time is, and they gather at my feet and howl ’til I feed them.

I love how Cori’s reared back in preparation for chasing Cilantro.

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McMaos in motion.

Please note that the toy is hanging behind him, but Finnegan is chasing the shadow on the closet door.

That toy, hanging from a brace at the top of the closet door, is the BEST TOY EVER, as far as they’re concerned.

Ciara in the sun.

Dance, monkey. Dance!

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I love that Dorothy gets along so well with the other cats. EVEN Miz Poo!

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It’s a Newt! In a box! A Newt in a box! What more could you ask for? Newt loves that box – in fact, he spends almost every afternoon sprawled out in it, sound asleep.

And, your last movie for the day. This is Coltrane, hanging out near the pig yard (outside the fence). He always likes to join us when we go out there to see the dogs and give the pigs their evening cookie. He has a very nasal “voice”, I think.

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Previously
2010: Up close and personal with Franco.
2009: I think Aunt Jodie and Uncle Kevin are douchebags for giving interviews pretty much to anyone who asks.
2008: I assume if I were on the verge of death, someone would have come running in to save me.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: “I like cheese, just not on a salad.”
2003: Now, how motherfucking stupid does the man think I am?
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

6/1/11 – Kitteh Wednesday

Dorfy Doodle makes herself at home in the corner of the kitchen. Don’t you just love the little spotted belly? Someone asked if Dorothy is becoming a permanent resident. She is not becoming a permanent resident – she has a real Mom coming to adopt her on Saturday, and I’ll give you all the details … Continue reading “6/1/11 – Kitteh Wednesday”

Dorfy Doodle makes herself at home in the corner of the kitchen.

Don’t you just love the little spotted belly?

Someone asked if Dorothy is becoming a permanent resident. She is not becoming a permanent resident – she has a real Mom coming to adopt her on Saturday, and I’ll give you all the details (well, the general overview anyway) once the adoption is done and over with.

Here’s a Dorfy movie for you!

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Tomorrow, the McMaos (except for Maggie) are going to be spayed and neutered. I haven’t told them they’re going or what’ll be done to them, because I’m pretty sure that ignorance is bliss when it comes to this sort of thing. Tomorrow evening, they’ll be back home, bellied up to Maggie, and will likely have forgotten anything at all happened to them. That’s the benefit of spaying and neutering when they’re this small, after all.

Let’s do a bit of the then-and-now, shall we? The first picture of each kitten was taken when they were about three days old, and the second was taken within the last week.

Macushla.

Cillian.

Declan.

Fergus Simon.

Ciara.

Finnegan.

Eight weeks old. Time sure does fly!

I’m not sure what Macushla was looking at here, but it was apparently quite fascinating.

They knocked the cat bed onto the floor, then curled up for a nap.

Declan and Fergus Simon, snuggled up for a nap.

And here’s a McMao movie for you. Kittens, you might be amazed to hear, can be some bitey little creatures. Some people tap them on the nose when they bite, but I tend to have both hands full at the crucial moment (usually a kitten in one hand, a camera in the other), so I blow in their face to stop them. About 90% of the kittens I’ve tried it on get the point pretty quickly because they haaaaate it (the other 10 percent don’t have any reaction at all). Here’s Declan being taught that “We don’t bite!”

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Coriander – Fred calls this her Glamour Shots pose.

Cilantro, looking annoyed.

Clove, playing. It’s exceptionally hard to get a good shot of Clove, because she prefers to be in my lap or right up in my face.

Last night Fred said “The brown tabby?” I said “Clove.” He said “She’s very sweet, isn’t she?”

Now, for Fred to notice that a kitten is particularly sweet means she must be sweeter than any kitten on the face of the earth, because Fred usually finds kittens this age kind of boring (he likes them the age that the McMaos are, or older). So there you have it: Clove is one sweet little girl and just as snuggly as can be.

Coriander is an excellent soccer player.

Just a tad wild.

Coriander keeps a watchful eye on her sisters.

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Maxi will allow you to hold her like a baby for a few seconds before she struggles to get down because she needs to go smack one of the other cats. She has no use for other cats, but she’ll put up with Newt as long as he doesn’t get in her face too often.

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Previously
2010: I guess SOMEONE will have to go back by the recycling center and steal more newspaper from the bin.
2009: This is why it’s a good thing I’m not licensed to carry a gun.
2008: No entry.
2007: Damn gardeners, always laying down on the job.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: It’s just a good thing the air traffic controller didn’t start talking about the plane’s phalanges.
2003: Anatomy of a Smackdown
2002: No entry.
2001: Lovely ‘do, eh?
2000: I don’t want to sound like a nosy know-it-all.

5/31/11 – Tuesday

Since I did nothing of interest yesterday (worked in the garden, vacuumed, did laundry, cleaned the kitchen, snorrrrre) and need to clear off my hard drive before I go through the ten million pictures on my camera’s memory stick, I present nothin’ but kitty pics to you. THOU ART WELCOME. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “5/31/11 – Tuesday”

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Miss Dorfy loves her some Jake.

She’s so happy, she’s making biscuits on the back of his neck.

Did I mention that pile of cat beds? I took them off the guest bedroom and tossed them near the back door, which is by the washer and dryer, intending to wash them at some point. Before I could wash them, the cats discovered them, and there’s been at least one cat on that pile of beds at all times. Usually it’s Dorothy, sometimes it’s Alice, occasionally Jake’s there, too. Had I realized what a huge hit that pile of beds would be, I’d have put some there long ago.

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The Spice Girls are settling in nicely. We’re having some litterbox issues, which really is a theme for us – we get kittens who have perfectly perfect litterbox leavings, and after a few days things get soft and messy. These girls – at least one of them, probably all of them – have roundworms and are currently being treated. It’s not slowing them down any, though.

Cilantro and Clove.

Clove at the water bowl.

I don’t know what it is about this scratcher, but all the kittens who have entered the foster room like to sniff this corner while they’re considering their next move.

Sweet Cilantro, perfecting the look of innocence (don’t be fooled).

Coriander, relaxing…

::maniacal laughter::

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The McMaos, before I moved them to the guest bedroom.

Declan, sniffing the stuffed parrot whilst considering his next move.

Cillian in motion.

Declan, watching whatever it is that’s going on over there.

Finnegan surrenders. “Ya gots me, copper!”

Fergus Simon’s spotted belly just kills me dead. He is such a beautiful boy.

My favorite part of this picture is Declan over there to the right with the green plastic ring in his mouth, all “Eh? What’s he doin’?”

I’m pretty sure that all kittens are 89% insane, as illustrated by Macushla. If those aren’t crazy eyes, I don’t know what is (are?)

“Up or down? Climb up so I can throw myself off the top platform, or down so I can kick my brother’s tail? Oh, the dilemma!”

This is totally like that episode of Friends where they were trying to poke Ugly Naked Guy to make sure he was still alive, no?

Like mother…

…like daughter. ‘Nipheads, both of ’em!

Thanks to reader Cyndi, the McMaos are undergoing rigorous box training. Here we see Cillian doing his best to get his daily intake of cardboard.

I suspect when I’m not around, Fergus Simon gives up all pretense and actually walks around on his hind feet all the time. Then it’s like “Oh, here comes the human!” and he drops to all fours.

::leap::

I’m not sure what caused it, but Declan was feeling a bit floofy.

I love how Macushla’s all frantically “No! Stop! Don’t!” and Declan’s not even aware Mac is there.

Ciara in motion.

Cillian’s got the crazies.

::chompchompchomp:: “This stuff is almost tasty. I hope it really does help me grow up big and strong!”

“You want to feed me. Youuuuu waaaaaant to feeeed meeeee…”

“I’m IN the box. NOW what?”

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Sheriff Kara keeps an eye on things. Who’s misbehaving? Or rather, I should ask: who ISN’T misbehaving?

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Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: The thing I hate about canisters is that that goddamn canister is always in the way.
2006: “TURN LEFT HERE OR I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL.”
2005: No entry.
2004: It was like being in a flying SUV.
2003: No entry.
2002: It was a stank that coated the inside of my nostrils, and was so thick and noxious that I could actually TASTE it.
2001: A buncha links.
2000: Something about that rictus grin just gives me nightmares.

5/30/11 – Monday

Saturday morning I got up before I wanted to, not only because Miz Poo was wheezing her usual death-rattle in my face (that cat wheezes like she’s been smoking three packs a day every single day of her 11+ years; in the course of one of her many surgeries, there was some scarring to the tissue at the back of her throat, and spit or phlegm gets caught there every once in a while, and she wheezes raspily until it annoys her (which is long after it’s annoying to everyone else in the vicinity) and she coughs and clears her throat), and not only because there was a mourning dove mourning in the tree outside my window, but also because the alarm clock in the back of my brain sounded because I knew Fred wanted to go somewhere bright and early.

So I got up and got dressed, and we headed for Decatur. Every year on Memorial Day Weekend, they have something called Jubilee, which is a hot air balloon “classic” (according to the web site), and a million (est’d) hot air balloons go up into the air. Fred remembered that it was going on, and wanted to go see the balloons go up.

I have to admit, it was pretty neat. Once they’re up, the balloons actually go a lot faster than you’d expect.

After we stood and watched the balloons for a while, we headed toward home, which is actually in the same directions that the hot air balloons were headed. We saw a couple land, and later a few went over our property, spurring George and Gracie to bark their fool heads off in defense of their chickens.

Reflection in a ditch.

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When we got home, we worked in the garden for a while. Then I hung out with the kittens and did some housework and laundry ’til Lisa stopped by to visit with the McMaos and The Spice Girls (and me!), and at one point she had Clove laying asleep in the bottom of her shirt, and it was so adorable that I was silently cursing my failure to bring a camera into the room with us.

Lisa left, and I did a little (very little) more housework before I landed on the couch and took a nice long nap.

Really, I’m pretty sure they only invented weekends so everyone could take Saturday and Sunday afternoon naps. I hope y’all got yours in!

Sunday morning I was up and dressed by 6:30, and we were out working in the garden by 7. Fred came back inside to do something, and I weeded the compost heap (there are so many volunteer tomato plants growing on the compost heap that we’ve decided to let them be and just pick the tomatoes they offer all summer long. But there was so much Amaranthus and Bermuda growing alongside the tomato plants that it was getting difficult to even see the tomato plants, so I yanked up the non-tomato stuff, tossed it in the cart, and then pulled the cart out to the pig yard. I tossed everything I’d yanked up into the pig yard and called to the pigs, and they ambled out of their shelter, where they’d been snoozing (I swear, these little girl pigs are the laziest pigs we’ve ever had. They’re always piled up in their shelter sleeping!) and the spotted the pile of greens and acted like it was the best treat EVER.

Then I finally planted my three watermelon seeds in the bale in my little raised-bed garden (I’m experimenting with limited bale gardening this year – two tomato plants on one bale, and three watermelon plants on another), and finally got the soaker hose run to all my various raised beds and bales and pots of herbs, tested it to make sure it would work (it does!). I then spent about 45 minutes raking up the leaves and random detritus in the side yard and carting it all out to the spot where we decided to start the new compost heap. Then I was done – DONE – working outside for the day, because it was after 9, and already hot, and I refuse to work outside past 9:00 during the summer.

After I ate breakfast, we went up into town to Tractor Supply and bought a yard sweeper. It was a big one, one that could be pulled by the riding lawnmower. Fred mowed the back forty on Saturday, and we had decided that we’re going to put weed-blocking fabric in the garden so that he doesn’t have to spend all his spare time weeding the damn garden. But we needed to put something down on top of the fabric, and I’ve been lobbying for years now to put grass clippings down on the weed fabric, and he apparently decided that that would work.

So we got the yard sweeper, and when we got home Fred started putting it together, and wouldn’t you figure? The fucking thing wouldn’t go together right no matter what he did, and Fred was ready to drive directly to the company that makes the yard sweeper and burn it down (figuratively speaking, of course), but in the end we simply returned the goddamn thing. We’re still talking about what we’re going to do. SIGH. I’m up for doing whatever it takes in the garden that will require the least amount of work, long-term. It’s too damn hot here for him to come home from work and spend time weeding in the garden, and honestly? I have no desire to do it either, buh-leave me.

We’ll see.

While he was out working on getting that piece of shit put together, I was inside making cookies. I’ve been seeing the recipe for OMG THESE ARE THE BEST CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES EVER for ages now, and finally I decided to give ’em a try. I made the dough on Friday and then let it sit for 36 hours in the fridge, and on Sunday I scooped the dough out and sprinkled it with sea salt and baked them, and after much careful consideration, here’s my opinion:

Meh.

The Cooking Light Chocolate Chip Cookies are still far and away my favorite cookies and the best chocolate chip cookies ever AND you don’t have to use cake flour and bread flour and let the dough sit in the fridge forever and a day and then carefully scoop out dough and ask Your Lord and Savior to help these cookies rise and tiptoe around the house and kiss each kitten twice on the nose and once behind each ear and caaaaarefully remove the cookies from the oven only to be completely disappointed by the spectacular unspectacularness of the damn things.

But that’s just my opinion.

And while I’m talking about baking, I made a chocolate cake with whipped cream icing as a belated birthday cake for Fred (since his birthday was on Thursday and we don’t eat that stuff during the week) on Saturday, and again I say: meh. I should have just made a damn Black Forest Torte because THAT, my friends, is something to write home about.

There was another nap on Sunday afternoon, and lots of snuggling with kittens, and the best part is that Fred has today off. I don’t know what we’re going to do (my prediction: nothing much), but I’m sure there’ll be a nap involved!

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Someone asked the other day, Someone else asked, and I was wondering too actually… what will happen to the lovely Maggie?

Once her babies are spayed and neutered and have gone off to Petsmart to be adopted immediately (fingers crossed!), Maggie will stay here with us. I’ll wait about a week to be sure her milk has dried up, and then I’ll have her spayed (id chipped, rabies shots, all that) and she’ll hang out here with us until room opens up at Petsmart for her, whereupon she will go to Petsmart (and hopefully be immediately adopted!).

I will tell y’all, I would really like to release the McMaos to explore the rest of the house, but I’m worried that Maggie’s protective instincts will kick in. Jake was so desperate to get into the guest bedroom Saturday that we let him in to see what would happen. What happened is that he bellied up to the kitten food and ate while growling at any kittens who came near, and then Maggie went ::FLOOF:: and started chasing him in a threatening manner around the room, so we ushered him out of the room. I’m tempted to let just Maggie out into the house to meet the other cats (without the kittens around for her to feel protective over) and see how that goes.

“I’m flying! I’M FLYIIIIIIING!”
“Holy cow! He’s flying!”

“So then I was all ‘You want yerself a real man, you know where to find me!’ She’ll call, right?”
“Sure she will, bro. Sure she will.”

“I’ve got it! I’VE GOT IT!”

I don’t know what kitten tails taste like, but they must be really tasty given all the chewing that goes on.

Attitudinous little brat.

I have this cheap little rechargeable sweeper that I use in the foster room when the floor has gotten so bad I can’t stand it, and don’t want to put all the kittens into carriers and bring them out of the room. It’s fairly quiet, as that sort of thing goes, so I’m not too worried about scaring the heck out of the kittens the way a real plug-in vacuum would. However, the McMaos are not the bravest of kittens, and last time I used the sweeper in the room, they all ran to the closet and hid from me.

“That is SKEERY, lady!”

“I don’t like it. I tried to cram myself in this old baby wipe container, but I wouldn’t fit all the way.”

“We was ALL skeered, even Fergus Simon the hellion.”

“Ferguson tried to get into the wipes container with me, but I told him ‘Bro, if I won’t fit, we’re not BOTH going to fit, and this is MY safe place!'”

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Since there’s been such a lot of interest in Dorothy lately, I’ll break my usual don’t-want-to-jinx-anything stance on the topic and let y’all know that Dorothy has a forever home, and she’ll be going there this weekend. I won’t give you details ’til after the adoption is done (see above about not wanting to jinx anything), but I think she’s going to be very happy in her new home!

Dorothy and Alice, hanging out in the sun.

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The Spice Girls are doing very well. They’re healthy and happy, and in the evenings when we’re watching TV, we can hear them running around like little wild things, playing. Jake really wanted into the foster room on Sunday, so I let him in. He walked to the middle of the room, looked at the girl kitties, and then walked out. They, in turn, were interested in Jake, but a little leery of him as well. They all floofed up a bit, but weren’t terribly freaked out.

Cilantro, trying to decide in which direction to run.

Clove. I love her markings.

Coriander, considering.

Snoozin’ Coriander.

They sure do love that scratcher.

Clove demonstrates that these girls are well-trained in the litterbox arts.

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Coltrane, hanging out near the pig yard. One day last week, I was out checking on the pigs or feeding them, and I heard George bark, and looked up to see he and Gracie running full-tilt toward the far back corner of the back forty. My heart almost stopped when I saw that they were running toward Coltrane, and I thought I was about to see some carnage (I yelled for the dogs to stop, but they didn’t seem to hear me), but as it turned out (it’s hard to tell from a distance), Coltrane was outside the fence. George and Gracie stopped short of the fence, seemed to recognize Coltrane, and turned and ran back toward me.

(For the record, I really don’t think G&G would have killed Coltrane, but I also can’t swear that they wouldn’t – it’s possible they would have seen him as a threat to their flock.)

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Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: I always forget what bitey little brats they are at this age. They’re so MEAN.
2007: “I’m so happy,” he said. “That if this were a movie, in the next scene you’d be raped or killed.”
2006: No entry.
2005: Every time I type in “u” instead of “you”, I die a little inside.
2004: No entry.
2003: What happens if you put a box on the floor?
2002: “Where was it, Bessie?” he asked, trying to draw me into the trap with him, so he could perhaps trip me and then run away, leaving me there for her to latch onto.
2001: What do you s’pose a realtor’s house looks like? I always assumed it’d be a real showplace, with everything just so, all appliances gleaming and so on.
2000: Every time I blow-dry my hair, it sounds like the phone is ringing.