According to my sister, the products on this page kick ass (especially the cupcake lotion!), but I’m under orders not to order anything for myself, since she’s getting me some stuff for Christmas. So go forth, order, and smell good! I guess I’ll have to wait for Christmas to smell good! & & & & … Continue reading “10-23-08”
According to my sister, the products on this page kick ass (especially the cupcake lotion!), but I’m under orders not to order anything for myself, since she’s getting me some stuff for Christmas.
So go forth, order, and smell good! I guess I’ll have to wait for Christmas to smell good!
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I noticed before I posted my entry yesterday that in my entry from 9 years ago (!), I actually said But as I see it, more than 2 cats makes you a weird cat person. Am I wrong? Is it three, or some incredible number like ten?
Talk about your foreshadowing!
What’s even better is that my entry from 9 years ago today contains any essay by Fred. It is titled Why we don’t need another cat, by Fred.
And that’s when we had four cats and I was pushing for a fifth! Ha!
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So, the story of Kara coming back to live with us is a pretty straightforward one. When I took her to the pet store two weeks ago today, I hated leaving her there, hated it more than I’ve hated leaving any cats there in a long time. I hoped and prayed that someone would take one look at her and fall in love and adopt her, and she’d go off to be pampered and live in luxury for the rest of her life, the end.
Except that I kept waiting to hear that she’d been adopted, and she wasn’t… and she wasn’t… and she wasn’t. And then I went to the pet store last Thursday and she gave me the big dark eyes and when I took her out of her cage she clung to me. She hissed at the other cats and she didn’t want any of them around her, she just wanted me to hold and pet her. It was really hard to leave her there last Thursday, but I just KNEW she’d be adopted over the weekend.
Then on Sunday, Fred and I were talking for the umpteenth time about how we need a dog to watch over the chickens (his opinion, not mine), and he said “We could get goats and a dog, and I’d let you get Kara!”
(For the record, whenever I type in that we called her “Kara”, you should probably know that what we really said was “Upstairs Mama” or “Mama”, but in the interest of not confusing Kara with Maxi (“Outside Mama”), I call them by their proper names.)
I talked him down about the dog and the goats for perhaps the zillionth time (DO NOT WANT A DOG. DO NOT WANT GOATS. PERIOD.), and then later, something clicked in my mind and I said, oh-so-very-casually, “So you’re saying you want to adopt Kara?”
Fred wasn’t fooled. He wanted me to go get her right then and there. He’ll tell you that he “let” me get Kara, but the truth is that he always loves the female cats with the intense eyes and I’d say that he probably wanted her even more than I did.
“She could protect you at night!” he said gleefully. Over the past couple of nights, apparently realizing that Kara was no longer around to rule the upstairs with an iron paw, Miz Poo and Mister Boogers had taken to sleeping with me again, and unlike Kara (who would occasionally check on me, but spend most of the night at my feet, sleeping quietly and not tromping all over me like they do), they were waking me up many times a night with the tromping and the hissing and growling at each other.
I put him off on Sunday, telling him that if she didn’t get adopted by Thursday, my regular stint at the pet store, I’d bring her home with me.
Tuesday, I sent an email to the shelter manager, so very casually asking if anyone had shown any interest in adopting Kara. She said that as far as she knew, no one had, and I told her that if Kara was still there on Thursday, we wanted to adopt her, and she said that sounded good to her.
I made the mistake of calling Fred to tell him that no one had inquired about Kara, and he started up the “Go get her! Go get her! Go get her!” harassment. I was determined, though, that we’d wait until Thursday. And then I allowed that IF she wasn’t adopted Tuesday night and IF it was okay with shelter manager, it’d be okay with me if he stopped and picked Kara up on his way home Wednesday.
The harassment continued, with Fred pointing out that it was dumb to leave her there for another two nights and “She’ll forget us by Thursday! She won’t feel like she’s come home!” and so forth. I held strong and finally told him to hush up, and thought I’d heard the last of that, at least for the time being.
Tuesday afternoon, I was upstairs in the kitten room hanging out with the kittens, which is where I usually am when Fred gets home from work. I heard him come upstairs, and then he called to me.
“Are you coming in?” I asked, because he usually comes in to greet the kittens.
“No,” he said.
“What?” I said. “Why not?”
“Well… okay…” he said, and opened the door. And Kara leapt out of his arms, ran into the room, and saw the kittens. They hissed at her, she hissed at them, and then she ran back out.
It wasn’t until that moment that I realized just how much I’d missed having her around. Fred and I sat and talked to her, and she checked out the upstairs, and then we led her downstairs. I fully expected the other cats to hiss and growl at her, but every one of them looked at her as if to say “Oh, you’re back? I wondered where you were!” and went about their business.
She obviously remembers being here before, because she immediately took up hanging out in her favorite places – my bed, the window in the computer room, atop the washer in the laundry room – and the best part was that at night she settles down at the end of the bed, and I sleep like a charm.
We’re planning to rename her. Kara is a pretty name, but now that I know her, I want something a little more fitting. Fred has suggested Serendipity, with the nickname Sara, and I kind of like that. He’s suggested Annie, too, which I like too. At night we lay in bed and throw out names, even though we know in the end, chances are good we’ll keep on calling her Mama.
I suggested Mother McGee, which Fred didn’t like. He suggested Cat Sass, and I countered with Momma Sass. Mother Abigail? Maybe. Last night I suggested Miss Jingles (the mouse in The Green Mile was called Mr. Jingles), and when Fred and I went through our political names phase (“Hilary?” “No.” “Kara-boo Barbie?” “No.” “John McCain?” “I THINK NOT.”) I came up with Omama, and Fred countered with O’Mama.
Other names that have been suggested and discarded:
Cornbread (I don’t know why Fred thinks this is so funny, but he laughs himself into a coughing fit when he talks about it)
Weezy
Ouisa Boudreau
Delilah Magoo
Dierdre the Mad
Annie Wilkes
Stormy Llewellyn
Ma Kent
Moll Flanders
Octavia
Livia
Delilah
Sassy McGee is in the running. We both kind of like Ellie-Belly (which is what we called the last sweet brown tabby we had, back at the end of last year, beginning of this). I suggested names that shows she’s the cat in charge of making sure everyone behaves – Officer McGee, for one (yes, the last name “McGee” for a cat makes me laugh for some reason). Sheriff McGee. This morning I said “We should just call her “The Law”, since she’s the law ’round these parts.”
I don’t know. I’m sure we’ll come up with something that strikes us as just right and when we do, I’ll be sure to let you know!
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The monkeys are going to be spayed and neutered next Tuesday. I’m hoping that they don’t freak out too much (I’m sure they will, though, ’cause that’s just the way it is with skittish little monkeys) and that they forgive me for carting them off to the scary place.
Delmar is just the sweetest little lovebug. When his sister and brother have gotten enough love and go off to play (or nap), he flops down across my arm and purrs and falls asleep while I lay there and read. Yesterday he climbed up on my stomach and rolled around while I rubbed his tummy, and he got so happy he rolled right off me, and I swear he grinned up at me.
I know I say this about all our foster cats, but these guys? SO SWEET. They have the softest, silkiest fur and are so healthy looking. So many fosters have to have goop put in their eyes or be treated for one ailment or another from living outside that when we have a set of fosters who are in such good shape, it’s really kind of nice!
Claudette in the sun. I love that little white blotch by her mouth. LOVE IT.
I know this is so crass and rude, but I can’t help it, it makes me laugh. Newt doesn’t stand on ceremony – if his butt needs to be licked, he plops down any ol’ place and gets the job done!
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Previously 2007: Bless his fluffy little head, he’s not the brains of the outfit, for sure. 2006: “I don’t know, babe,” I said finally, hoping he wouldn’t go through another four or five possibilities. “It’s a fascinating mystery.”
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry. 2003: I believe that might be a personal record, right there. 2002: My poor baby. 2001: it’s MY journal and I’ll exaggerate if I want to.
2000: No entry. 1999: Why we don’t need another cat, by Fred
Squeeky the Cattle Herding Pig. Too cool. I can’t imagine our pigs being so light on their feet, and they’re a quarter the size of Squeeky! & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & Zack Scott has got some pretty awesome movies … Continue reading “10-22-08”
Squeeky the Cattle Herding Pig. Too cool. I can’t imagine our pigs being so light on their feet, and they’re a quarter the size of Squeeky!
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Zack Scott has got some pretty awesome movies on his YouTube page. Katherine sent me this one, and I watched it three times, each time laughing harder. You have GOT to watch it to the end. The looks they shoot each other are funny as hell.
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Bella’s got the tortured artist look down:
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Pictures from around Crooked Acres:
Sugarbutt peers around the monster tomato plant in the back yard (STILL producing!) to see what Joe Bob (on the other side) is doing.
Michelle the rooster. Such a pretty rooster.
No-Tail does the move we refer to as “umbrella neck.” I’m not sure what exactly umbrella neck signifies – sometimes it seems to happen when the chicken feels there’s danger, sometimes the roosters do it as part of their mating dance. Yesterday, No-Tail was following me around and throwing me the umbrella neck, so I expected him to either start his mating dance or decide I was some sort of threat and attack me.
I’d expect such a pretty rooster to have a more impressive tail. I mean, I know he can’t help the size of his tail or anything, but still. You’d think McLovin’s sons would have prettier tails.
Her name is Lola. She is a show chick. (Someone mentioned in my comments that they think of “Copacabana” when they see the featherheads. I think of this one as Lola now (because she is SO BEAUTIFUL), and the other two (the black chickens with the spray of white feathers on their heads) as the featherheads.
The featherheads, taking dust baths along with some of their sisters.
Little bitty abandoned web in the fence.
Big Pig. (That’s a ball behind her head, not her cheek sticking out oddly.)
Little Pig, grazing like a cow.
Something’s got her excited. Maybe it’s time to eat?
No-Tail, up close. Pretty, pretty.
Scruffy little Amish chick.
I’m calling the Silkie “Princess” these days. C’mon, look at her. Doesn’t she LOOK like a “Princess”?
Big bowl of pecans. Fred filled up the bowl, and we had to start using an empty 40-pound litter bucket to put them in. I pity the fool who has to crack all those damn things…
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The foster kittens continue to relax. Claudette still isn’t approaching me to be petted or anything (though if I make the effort to reach out and pet the top of her head, she allows it. She’s a benevolent ruler.), but she’ll come down out of the cat tree and hang out on the floor with her siblings and I. That’s progress. Also, Delmar no longer runs for the cat tree when the door to the foster room opens. That’s progress, too! (Of course, the other three hightail it for the tree as soon as they hear the door handle turning.)
Every day, there’s a little more progress. I’m really enjoying watching these kittens come out of their shells and turn into friendly little purrbuckets.
Oh, speaking of… cats. I have news. About Kara. It seems she’s found a home.
We now have ten cats.
::sigh::
More about that tomorrow.
Clearly she’s thrilled about it.
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Boogie says, “If SHE’s staying, I’m OUTTA HERE!”
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Previously 2007: You snooze, you lose. That’s our motto at Crooked Acres.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: (We fat chicks love the buffet, don’tchaknow.) 2003: The gluttony, the sloth, the avarice! 2002: The kitties did not care for the tune, the unappreciative bastards. 2001: How to change a tire.
2000: No entry. 1999: But as I see it, more than 2 cats makes you a weird cat person. Am I wrong? Is it three, or some incredible number like ten?
I tried adding oil to the water when I made hard-boiled eggs (for egg salad) this past weekend, and it worked like a charm. And look – I put up a step-by-step guide to egg salad! Not that you really need it, but it amused me to do it, so there you go. Another recipe … Continue reading “10-21-08”
I tried adding oil to the water when I made hard-boiled eggs (for egg salad) this past weekend, and it worked like a charm. And look – I put up a step-by-step guide to egg salad! Not that you really need it, but it amused me to do it, so there you go.
Another recipe added – Jean’s Black Beans and Rice, sent to me by local reader Jean (thus the name. I named it myself. I know, I’m so creative!). We tried it last week and it was REALLY good. Like Fred says, you can’t have a recipe that includes black beans, sour cream, and cheese, and have it be BAD. Two thumbs up – it’s an instant favorite!
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Every day, at what seems like some random point during the day, Fred’s computer dings and bellows “VIRUS DATABASE HAS BEEN UPDATED!” at me, and it always scares the shit out of me.
Sometimes it’s in the morning, sometimes the afternoon, I don’t know why it’s so completely random but I AM DEALING WITH PREMENSTRUAL RAGE RIGHT NOW SO IT BETTER KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF.
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Did I mention I’m premenstrual? I see that I did. I am annoyed and prickly and my eye is goopy and areas of me are sore and tender, so I’m going to offer to you a picture essay and a paragraph about the foster babies, and calling it a day. And tomorrow will probably be an entry filled with pictures of sight around Crooked Acres so CONSIDER YOURSELVES WARNED.
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Let Me Out? No, Wait. Let Me In. IN, I MEANT.
Starring Miss Momma, aka Maxi.
(Special appearance by Newtles.)
“I…. would like out, please.”
“I think I want in.”
“Newtles can sleep his life away. I’ve got places to go, rodents to kill. Out, please.”
“Um, hi. If it wouldn’t be too much TROUBLE…?”
“I know you have SUCH A BUSY LIFE but I’ve been sitting here for a really long time. You want to move it?!”
“I am but a poor sad kitty who wants nothing but to come inside. Please? Oh, please? LET ME IN, WOMAN.”
::seething::
::sigh::
“I don’t think she’s going to let us out, Momma. She said ‘YOU GODDAMN CATS ALL YOU EVER WANT IS TO BE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR FROM WHERE YOU ARE YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY!’ and now she’s in the bathroom. I think she has a book in there.”
“Hush up, sonny.”
“If SHE can figure out how to open that door, surely I can, too. It can’t be that complicated. I just need some opposable thumbs…”
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The kittens, oh lord. I don’t know how on earth I am resisting picking them up and squeezing them to death, but so far they are completely alive. I walk into the room, I sit on the floor, and one by one they (and by “they” I mean Delmar, Lem and Marion. Claudette still doesn’t want much to do with me.) approach me, they purr loudly, they sit against me, and sometimes if I’m not quick enough with the petting, they meow sadly up at me. And for at least ten minutes, I pet. And I pet. And I pet. And I rub bellies. And I kiss fuzzy little heads. Eventually their love banks are topped up, and they move away from me to play with toys or each other, or just roll around in the sun.
But they always come back for love.
These kittens = exactly what a cranky woman needs.
Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: This is the month that makes the hell of summer in Alabama more than worth it. 2004: I need to win the lottery so I can hire someone to come to my house every day and style my hair while I read. 2003: Which is when Stanley thought “Hey! I shouldn’t just skulk back! I should run and leap! Into the air! Like a big mexican jumping Stanley-bean!” 2002: As if he was going to say to himself “By god, she’s RIGHT! I do not, in fact, reside here. What on earth was I thinking?” and run off.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry. 1999: “Well, she took that well,” I commented.
Holy cow, I added Tastespotting to my Google Reader list, and that site updates about 30 zillion times a day. I’ll think I’m all caught up on my reading, and I check Google Reader and find that I have like 30 unread items in the last hour. I’m not complaining. It just so happened that … Continue reading “10-20-08”
Holy cow, I added Tastespotting to my Google Reader list, and that site updates about 30 zillion times a day. I’ll think I’m all caught up on my reading, and I check Google Reader and find that I have like 30 unread items in the last hour.
I’m not complaining. It just so happened that I clicked on the picture for Chocolate Chocolate Chip Banana Bread the other day, wondering how many bananas were called for for the recipe, and found that it required two bananas. And it just so happened that I HAD two bananas (more on that in the next section, if I remember) and I was going to get groceries yesterday morning so I picked up the bittersweet chocolate I didn’t have, and I made a loaf of the bread.
I don’t like bittersweet chocolate usually (milk chocolate is more my namby-pamby speed) and I tend not to like stuff that’s doubly chocolate, but I took a slurp of the batter before I baked it, and I was all
“HELLEW.”
That was some fabulous stuff, and after Fred and I split a piece of the bread after dinner, I had to quick wrap it up and freeze it so we wouldn’t eat it all (and there was no way the pigs were getting this stuff!).
I’ve been doing a lot of stuff in the kitchen lately, actually. Last Wednesday I made Smitten Kitchen’s Mom’s Apple Cake, because I figured like most fruit-based cakes, it would taste better after the flavors had a few days to mingle (and actually, she says it tastes better the second day). We cut it on Friday and Fred liked it a lot. I thought it was good, but one of the many things I forget about myself is that I don’t really like cake with chunks of anything in it, so one small piece was enough for me. We froze some of it, and gave the rest to the pigs.
On Friday, I made a batch of Sundry’s Cow Pat Cookies, only instead of making them with healthy walnuts, I opted for the less healthy peanut butter chips. It actually makes so many cookies that I did a couple of sheets of cookies for Fred and I, and a couple (which I deliberately baked for almost 20 minutes so they’d be sturdier) for the pigs. They were good on Friday, better on Saturday, and by Sunday I had to add the remainder of the cookies to the container of cookies for the pigs, or I would surely have eaten myself into a coma.
Saturday I thawed out the frozen chicken enchiladas I’d stuck in the freezer last time I made a batch of enchiladas (three weeks or so, I think it’s been), and I can report to you that if you make the chicken enchiladas up to the point where you put them in the oven and then freeze them, thaw them out at a later date, sprinkle cheese over them, and bake them, they are DAMN GOOD. I forgot to get anything out of the freezer, veggie-wise, so Fred went out to the garden and picked us a big bowl of romaine, and we had salads.
Sunday, after getting groceries in the morning, I made bacon and eggs for breakfast for both of us. When Fred went off to work on the new chicken coop, I made a batch of Caramel Apple Jam. I went with the recipe posted in Suzanne McMinn’s forum, because whenever I make something new I like to try the original recipe before I get all fancy, but I kind of wish I’d done it Suzanne’s way, because although the diced apple pieces were fully cooked when I put the jam in the jars, in the 10 minutes in the canner, they shrunk a little extra and floated to the top, leaving a liquid on the bottom. I’m sure they’ll taste just fine right to the very bottom of the jar, but they look kind of funny.
There was a little left over from that batch so I put it in a jar and stuck it in the fridge, and then Fred and I gave it a try, and HOLY COW that is some excellent stuff! I might have to try an experimental batch of the jam made with apple puree instead of apple pieces, but if I can get it to look as good as it tastes, I see something that would be GREAT to give as gifts. Two thumbs way WAY up!
Sunday afternoon I used up the rest of the apples I had (half a peck) and made chunky applesauce (I don’t add anything to our applesauce, just apples, cooked, mashed up, and canned) and the aforementioned Chocolate Chocolate Chip Banana Bread, and in between all that, I made a pork roast in the crock pot, which we had for dinner with spaghetti squash and kale, directly from our own garden.
Though I spent most of the day in the kitchen, it was still a pretty relaxed day (I got to take plenty of kitten breaks) and I ended the weekend with a clean house (Saturday, I did laundry and cleaned the bathrooms and vacuumed and got a lot of crap put away), and that’s always a good thing.
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So, the banana peels. I read in a magazine recently the following:
In mid-February, I begin saving banana peels in a bag in the freezer. When it’s time to plant tomatoes, I dig a ditch 2 inches deeper than required, lay the peels end to end and cover them with dirt. Then I plant the tomatoes as usual. My tomato vines reached 8 to 10 feet, and the fruits were very sweet.
Since we don’t really eat all that many bananas on a regular basis, I thought I’d go right ahead and start getting those banana peels stored away now. Of the many banana recipes and suggestions y’all gave me back in September was Maryanne’s banana bread. Since I had enough bananas, I made the recipe for two loaves and froze one.
(VERY good banana bread, by the way! I didn’t include pecans because I had none in the cupboard and the pecans we do have need to be shelled and I wasn’t up for shelling a buttload of pecans, thankyouverymuch.)
Which left me with two bananas, and I was thinking about making NZer’s suggestion of Edmond’s Banana Cake, when I was sidetracked by the aforementioned Chocolate Chocolate Chip Banana Bread.
Anyway. That explains why I had two bananas laying around AGAIN. Fascinating, no?
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When the foster kittens (or our cats, for that matter) are having litterbox issues that aren’t really optimal (that is, not diarrhea, but not quite what it should be), I like to try giving them some FortiFlora. I don’t know if it’s really the magic formula that it seems like, or if it just so happens that things clear up on their own after I start giving the FortiFlora, but I like to try it anyway. If it doesn’t really help, it also doesn’t hurt, and they tend to like the taste of the stuff.
Sometimes I mix it in a little plain yogurt, but not all cats have the best reaction to yogurt, so over the weekend I mixed a packet of FortiFlora with chicken baby food and brought it up into the foster room.
Not long after I entered the room, put the plate on the floor, and sat down, Lem decided he smelled something pretty fabulous. He came down, spotted the plate, rubbed against me, gave me the questioning “Is that for…. ME?” eyes, and then started eating. Marion heard him eating and immediately jumped down to investigate. Delmar was the third one down and eating, and then finally Claudette decided she could wait no longer to check out this treat, so down she came.
Fred was hanging out with the kittens Saturday night (he requests that I give him a little alone time with the kittens every evening before I go upstairs because sometimes the kittens get overwhelmed with both of us in there) and apparently Mister Boogers started sniffing around at the bottom of the door. Lem heard him sniffing, went over to investigate, and lost his MIND. He was hissing and growling and finally Fred turned around and pulled him away from the door. Lem ran across the room and to the top of the cat tree and arched his back and hissed, glaring at the door. His brother and sisters approached him to find out what his problem was, and he started growling and hissing at them, so they growled and hissed back at him.
I wasn’t privy to any of this, because I was still downstairs, and when I headed upstairs Mister Boogers was coming down the stairs looking completely relaxed and unimpressed. Lem refused to come back down off the tree, and his siblings were all pretty freaked out still, so after a little while we left them alone to calm down.
Next morning, they were back to their usual selves. I guess if we’re going to introduce them to our cats, we need to take it verrrrrry slow!
More pictures – and a movie! – over at Love & Hisses.
Previously
2007: No entry. 2006: Biscuits for everyone! 2005: Your fascinating tidbit for the day. 2004: More Myrtle Beach. 2003: It’s got to be early-onset Alzheimer’s, y’all.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry. 2000: I think back on the shit I pulled as a senior in high school, and I’m flat-out amazed that I managed to graduate. 1999: Just an all-around relaxing day.
Gas, WELL under three bucks a gallon! Woohoo! & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & So, I finally got around to uploading some chicken movies, if you’re interested. The first one is a movie of Michelle in action. In the … Continue reading “10-17-08”
Gas, WELL under three bucks a gallon! Woohoo!
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So, I finally got around to uploading some chicken movies, if you’re interested. The first one is a movie of Michelle in action. In the morning after I let him out, he is IN THE MOOD FOR LOVE, and he’s not picky. If one hen outwits him, that’s fine, he just goes on to the next!
The second one is a movie of the little chickens, who were recently moved from the brooder in the garage to the little coop in the chicken yard, with their own little fenced-in yard. They get really happy when I let them out in the morning, as you’ll see.
And the last one would be of me teasing Michelle the rooster. I clearly have NO life.
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Am I the only one wondering if a maxi pad commercial come on the tv after the Newt Gingrich interview?
I’m actually not sure where Maxi’s name came from. It just kind of popped into my head and I went with it. I have to confess that I never ever call her Maxi except here in this journal. We always call her “Momma” or “Miss Momma” and while Kara was here, we’d call her “Outside Momma” (Kara was “Upstairs Momma”, which made Fred suggest that we call Kara “Uma” and Maxi “Oma.”)
I really appreciate that you’ll have a foster site. Your site is so great visually that my kids scamper over the second it is on and I have to make sure no “mild adult content” is visible. In fact, they are now clamoring for “the shows” (videos).
Yeah, I know lots of you like to show the kitten pics to your kids (and there will eventually be kitten movies as well, of course), so you can rest assured that Love & Hisses will always be as clean as I can keep it – occasionally an “ass” might slip through, but if you spot something like that, feel free to point it out. I’m committed to keeping it clean!
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My weblationship with you & Fred started with a quaint story about a farted walnut, and it’s only gotten better from there!
Also, someone was looking for the entry about, ahem, someone passing gas in Lowe’s and Fred getting blamed for it. That’s over at Fred’s site, he wrote about it, not me. He is also a great big lying liar. In case you were wondering.
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Totally random question: you once posted that Fred was driving you crazy, because he was reading a book about hour there were only 5, or seven, or whatever, fictional plots, and he kept referencing the book. What was the name of the book?
I don’t know if you watch MadTV…but here’s a link to a video that I thought was HILARIOUS. I’ve been spreading the word of Bon Qui Qui…
Is it weird that I kind of like the little rap she does toward the end?
I actually had no idea that MadTV was still on these days!
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I did not realize Tommy had so many white hairs. Guess I never saw a close up that showed them before.
Yeah, he’s got quite a sprinkle of them on his back that you don’t really see unless you see him up close. It’s one of my favorite things about him, that sprinkle of white hair.
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What did you have for breakfast? I can’t believe you didn’t at least make him pick something up for you.
I don’t remember, it was probably scrambled eggs and half a bagel when we got home. I thought about making him swing through the McDonald’s drive-thru for an Egg McMuffin, but I really wanted, like, a greasy omelet and home fries. I’m sure I was better off in the end, eating my usual breakfast, but it was NO FUN.
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That’s what happens when you run [Spanky] through the washer with a pair of red socks.
You know how Bruce Banner turns green when he gets angry (along with growing huge and muscley, of course)? Spanky turns pink when he gets all filled with love. No, really!
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I cook my bacon on a broiling rack with the bottom pan covered in foil for cleanup. I’m not sure if you’d lose too much brown sugar that way, but otherwise it’s by far my preferred method.
I need that broiling rack not only to make bacon, but also for when I make Un-Fried Chicken! I bet a rack like that is mighty handy to have around for any number of things. I’m adding it to the top of my mental “I need this” list!
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Did Fred try your bacon and want to switch?
Fred did try my bacon, but still preferred his with just salt and pepper on it. Hmph. UNADVENTUROUS.
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About the eggs…I was waiting to see if that would work. My method is mildly successful; I boiled 8 eggs last week and only two had tough shells. I was hoping yours would be foolproof, sorry that wasn’t the case. I use store-bought eggs, and I put them in a pot with cold water. (this is the trick, I believe). I put them on the stove on high, and then once they boil I set the timer for 12 minutes. When they’re done, I take them out with a slotted spoon and put them in an ice-water bath to cool them off. Then I peel them under running water, cracking the narrow tops first and working my way down. I used to start at the bottom but I found I was making more of a mess that way. The two that came out “bad” were ones I started at the bottoms. But hopefully people will have more suggestions because I hate the way an unperfectly peeled egg looks.
and
Peeling eggs :the easiest way is to add a splash of oil( maybe 1or2 tbs at most) to the water while it is boiling. The oil permeates the shell ( Remember in science class soaking the egg in oil til the shell was see through), the egg will not have any oil residue, but the shell will literally slide off.
and
Pop those eggs in your vegetable steamer (if you have one) for 20 minutes; eggs cooked to perfection, minimal boiling egg stank and when they cool, pretty easy to peel!
I’m totally going to have to try all these different methods – I’m going to make a batch of egg salad this weekend, and I think I’ll try adding oil to the water first, because that sounds pretty neat. I’ll report back on how it worked for me next week!
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Robyn, if you and Fred like butternut squash, you will *love* buttercup squash. It is absolutely the best for baking and then mashing with just a little butter. It’s hard to find in stores, but as easy to grow as any other squash. Highly recommended!
I’m adding buttercup squash to my “Fall squash to grow next year” list!
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Atlanta Housewives–if you think the first episode was way over the top, wait until you see the second!! Why do I watch this shit!?
I’ll be watching it later today! You watch this shit, if you’re like me, ’cause it’s total junk food for the brain. It’s not anything you have to pay close, close attention to, you can follow it even if you’re half asleep, and the LIFESTYLE these women lead and the self-inflicted drama is just completely alien to your life. Also, you can be all judgmental about them (“Bitch, PLEASE. Estate manager MY ASS!”) and not feel bad about it ’cause that’s what junk food for the brain is FOR.
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Egg salad recipe – please.
I don’t actually have a hard and fast recipe – this is how I make it (and if I think of it this weekend I’ll even take pictures a la Pioneer Woman!). Hard-boil 1 dozen eggs (12 minutes at a slow boil gets them done enough for me). Cool and peel them (I obviously don’t have the perfect method for this yet, but that might change after this weekend!). Mash them with whatever implement you prefer. I use this thing, for which I do not know the name.
Or this thing, which I believe is called a pastry doohickey.
You can use a fork if you prefer or, really, whatever works for you. I bet you could even run everything through a food processor. Anyway, mash it up good (some people like the whites left in little chunks; I don’t, so I mash the hell out of the eggs), add enough mayo to moisten (it’s a matter of personal preference – I don’t like too much mayo in the egg salad, especially if there are going to be leftovers, because it can get a little too liquidy if you over-mayo it) and then add two big spoonsful of sweet pickle relish. Salt and pepper to taste, and voila! Egg salad!
(It probably goes without saying, but not everyone likes pickle relish in their egg salad. We do – I use the sweet pickle relish I made and canned last year – and I have yet to get to the point where I’ve put too much pickle relish in the egg salad. Some people like chopped celery in their egg salad – I don’t, so I don’t add it. It’s all a matter of personal preference, right?)
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Please share your recipe for the Mashed Butternut squash. Or do you make it like mashed potatoes? (except no boiling – but roasting?) Do you suggest anything for acorn squash? Sorry to be annoying, but I have both sitting in the vegetable basket and I’m kind of bored with the traditional roast and eat methods. I need variety!
My mashed butternut recipe is pretty simple – cut the squash in half, remove the seeds, salt and pepper each half, put it in a baking dish (I use a 9 x 11 pyrex dish), put about 1/4 inch of water on the bottom of the baking dish, cover tightly with foil, bake for about 45 minutes at 400 farenheit (a bigger squash might have to cook longer), let cool for 10 minutes, scoop the squash out of the skin, mash it up, add salt, pepper, and butter (or Brummel and Brown, or whatever buttery-tasting addition you prefer) and eat. NOM.
I don’t have any acorn squash recipes, but readers? Anyone got any acorn squash suggestions? For that matter, anything fun to do with butternut squash? I love it when you share your recipes with me!
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So is that why this link shows up on Fred’s site? Anyhow, I’ll bet your tomato sauce tastes better!
That was such a good book! It very well might be the last book Fred finished – the man hardly ever gets a chance to just sit down and read anymore.
My tomato sauce might taste better (though I can’t guarantee it), but it took so much time and effort to make that I’m willing to sacrifice a little taste and just buy the cheap stuff at Sam’s!
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How do you make the beds in your house with all those cats? I only have one cat around when I’m making my bed and OH MY GOD, he makes it impossible. Under the fitted sheet. On the fitted sheet. Under the top sheet. On the top sheet. Under the comforter. On the comforter. Skulking where the pillows go. Hiding underneath the bed and attacking my feet. Racing around like his back end is afire … HOW do you do it with MANY CATS?
It’s interesting, actually – during her reign, Kara made it clear to all our cats that the upstairs was HER territory and not to be intruded upon. Kara’s gone, and occasionally Tommy or Mister Boogers will come upstairs and look around, but they rarely come upstairs during the night, none of them ever sleeps with me, and it’s unusual that anyone’s tromping around on the bed while I’m trying to make it. On the rare occasion that someone’s on the bed while I’m trying to make it (usually Tommy) and refuses to stay off the bed even though I’ve put them on the floor a couple of times, all I have to do is pick up the can of compressed air and wave it at them. They’re so well-trained now (and hate having air blown at them) that all they need is to see the can, and off they go.
(Fred makes his bed when he gets up in the morning, but the cats haven’t been allowed in his room for quite some time due to a peeing spree on Mister Boogers’ part, so he has no annoying cats to deal with.)
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Hi Robyn, I got my first cat in almost 15 years this weekend. She is a long hair – Himalayan and (we think) and Siamese. She is the first ever long haired cat I’ve ever owned. I know you had one long-hair, Fancypants (?) before, is there a reason you don’t have one now? Just curious… and thanks
Yeah, Fancypants was the only long-haired cat we’ve ever had. That we don’t have a long-haired cat now is just the way it happened to work out. We’d happily have another long-hair, especially if it had the personality Fancypants had!
ChristineQ had some advice regarding long-haired cats (in case you didn’t see her response in the comments):
I have 2 longhaired cats (1 Himalayan and 1 Ragdoll). The Himalayan is the worst shedding cat I’ve ever owned in my life! Be prepared to wear few black clothes in the Spring!! A couple of things we do–get a Furminator. Himalayans have a tendency to get mattes in their fur and the Furminator works wonders for that. Also, we get both cats shaved into Lions in May/June. Their fur gets very thick over Winter and they feel soooo much better after they get shaved, as evidenced by the kitten play when they get home. As an aside, they look hilarious which is just a bonus (even our parrot laughed her ass of when she saw the cats). You can cut down on the shedding by brushing her a lot but unless you have time to brush her every day (and who does?) you will see a lot of fur spreading around. Himalayans are very sweet kitties and you will LOVE her! Good luck!
I second the Furminator love. We don’t have any long-haired kittens, but the Furminator worked wonders on Miz Poo the Incredible Shedding Machine, as well as Tommy, who I would have guessed never sheds at all – but I got a ton and a half of fur off him. Two thumbs up to the Furminator!
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Hey Robyn, at least Delmar didn’t say “Them sirens loved ‘im up and turned ‘im into a horny toad!” when he was lying on the floor with you. hee hee I couldn’t resist.
Reading that makes me want to watch O Brother Where Art Thou for the tenth time! I love the hell out of that movie.
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Delmar has SUCH pretty eyes! Have you bitten the end of your tongue off yet from Teh Cuteness?
I haven’t bitten my tongue off yet, but MAN my tongue hurts from all the biting I’ve been doing lately. I’m sure I’m going to end up with tongue cancer after all this tongue abuse.
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Here is a website I think is interesting and she finds and/or comes up with some pretty good stuff (and some not so appetizing, but we won’t dwell on that). She has made it her resolution to use the crockpot every day.
It never occurred to me to recommend crockpot recipes – what a great idea! Interesting site, too. I got a roasted garbanzo bean recipe off her site – I haven’t tried it yet, but I hope to soon!
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The kittens, as mentioned above, are about killing me with the cute. At this point I only have to go into the room and sit down, and Delmar’s off that cat tree like a flash, strolls over to me and demands love. He rolls around on his back, he climbs in my lap, he rubs his head against my cheek, he is just a little lovebug. Lem’s usually the second one off the tree, comes over and says “Hey. You have two hands, don’t you? Two hands, two cats, THE MATH ADDS UP. Get to petting!”
Marion is easily lured off the cat tree with toys, though it takes some time for her to warm up and allow me to pet her just the teensiest bit. Claudette actually came down off the cat tree yesterday afternoon. She didn’t want me to pet her – the food bowl was her goal – but she also didn’t shy away and run for the tree when I approached her, so she’s making definite progress.
I don’t know what the deal was, but once she got to the food and water bowls, she drank some water, and then she straddled the water bowl to get to the food bowl. I know she didn’t want to sit in front of the food bowl because that would have been too close to me, and she wanted to keep an eye on me, but why she didn’t go behind the food bowl, I don’t know. Silly girl.
This weekend, I plan to move them out of the foster kitten room for a little while (probably in carriers) so I can vacuum in there and change out their litter box, and possibly move the litter box into the closet. They aren’t hiding from us, so I’m not so worried about them going into the closet and hiding. If they do, I can always shoo them out of the closet and shut the door so they can’t do that anymore!
Last night we gave them deworming medicine. I was worried that they’d be freaked out by our shoving medicine down their throats, but they forgave us immediately. They’re such sweet monkeys.
Miss Momma in the sun. That cat adores rolling around in the dirt and getting dusty.
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Previously 2007: At one point, Fred and I were on our computers and Nance and Rick were on their laptops in the dining room, and it was like a total dork convention. 2006: And since I’ll be dead long before then from (1) PSC, (2) Weight Loss Surgery (3) Heart Murmur or (4) Throat Chewed Open By Crazy Wild Cats, I’m not going to worry too much about it. 2005: And I like Nicole Kidman and I loathe Sean Penn and didn’t want to see him rubbing his liver lips all over her.
2004: No entry. 2003: Poor Stanley. All he wants to do it play, and none of the big cats will play with him. 2002: That’s a lot of poop to scoop. 2001: “I don’t like it,” he said haughtily. “It’s not even REAL lemon juice. It’s citric acid!” 2000: Now I just have to decide what to spend it on. 1999: When I got to the top of the stairs I found Tubby huddled there soaking wet, and Mr. Fancypants circling him in a hostile manner.
It is certainly a good thing that I went out and bought myself a Dyson handheld vacuum last Christmas, because it has come in SO handy. First, it sat all charged and ready for action for months and months and I never ever used it, but then last week came the time for the handheld … Continue reading “10-16-08”
It is certainly a good thing that I went out and bought myself a Dyson handheld vacuum last Christmas, because it has come in SO handy. First, it sat all charged and ready for action for months and months and I never ever used it, but then last week came the time for the handheld to spring into action!
That’s right, it’s wasp season. Every day this week three or more wasps have made their way into the house and caught my attention by banging against the window, banging against the ceiling, or buzzing by my head and making me scream.
There’s little I hate in the insect world as much as I hate wasps. They’re just EVIL looking. Wasps and black widows are the bugs I hate the most, and luckily I haven’t seen many black widows lately. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen a black widow since I killed one with my bare hand last year.
(Now having said that, I’m sure I’ll wake up face-to-face with one tomorrow.)
So the Dyson handheld, if you’re considering purchasing one for yourself, is very much NOT all that and unless you have a LOT of little spills (of the dry variety) that need to be cleaned up, I don’t think it’s worth the price. The suction is lacking, I hear tell that when fully charged it only lasts for a few minutes, and really when it gets down to it, I don’t actually NEED a handheld vacuum. I’ve honestly only gotten it off the charger a few times in the several months since I bought it, and it’s almost always to suck up a bug.
The suction, let me reiterate, is very much lacking. I actually have to have the end of the vacuum covering the wasp before it gets sucked into the vacuum. With the Dyson upright, if I wave the hose in the general direction of the wasp, it sucks it up.
Also, the trip into the handheld doesn’t kill the wasps, and I can hear several them in the canister of the handheld right now (over in the corner of the room), buzzing angrily. Which leaves me with a dilemma – I mean, I don’t want the evil fucking things to SUFFER and die slow and painful deaths, but if I take the canister off to toss them outside, they will take flight and team up to land on my fucking FACE and sting me directly in the eyeballs.
O lord, what is a wimpy hater of wasps to do?
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I realized the other day, after I’d traded some emails with a reader (hello, Neca!), that I hadn’t told y’all that I’m currently using a powdered laundry detergent instead of the liquid stuff. The liquid stuff gets kind of annoyingly semi-solid, which makes it a pain to pour out of the old vinegar jug I’d been storing it in, and I stumbled across a recipe for powdered laundry detergent, and decided to give it a try.
It makes a TON of detergent – the recipe is here – and I keep mine stored in an old 40-pound Fresh Step scoopable litter container (which I cleaned first, of course). So far it’s working really well for me. It’s been almost two months since I made this batch, and I easily have at least four more months’ worth of detergent, if not six.
If you don’t like the liquid stuff, you might want to give the powdered stuff a try. You could probably halve the recipe (or even quarter it?) if you don’t want to make so much at once.
And while I’m sharing recipes I’ve recently posted on my recipe blog for non-food items, I stumbled across a recipe to make your own freezer bag (like those you use in a cooler to keep your food cool), and I haven’t tried it yet, but I wanted to have it in a place where I’d be able to find it easily, so into the blog it went! See the recipe here.
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That little Delmar is just a lovebug. He’s gotten to the point now where if I go into the room and sit down, he slowly makes his way over to me, meowing sadly the entire way like I’m forcing him to make a long and arduous journey to receive the love that is his due. I pet him and pet him and pet him, and he never gets tired of it. I lay on the floor and he snuggles up to me and drapes himself across my arm and sometimes he naps, draped over my arm.
Lem no longer runs for the cat tree when I enter the room. He also doesn’t necessarily come right over to me, but he comes over eventually. He likes to be petted and to lay on me and he purrs SO loud.
Marion can be lured over with toys – she’s the nosiest, I totally should have named her Gladys Kravitz, and the most playful of the bunch – and so I gather up all the toys and roll them around the room and toss them into the plastic basket in the middle of the room, and she can’thelp it, she HAS to come down and bat some toys around and see what I was tossing in the basket.
Claudette will not be lured. She’ll allow you to pet her, and she’ll let you hold her for a good long time, and she’ll even purr very loudly, but as far as HER approaching YOU? Darling, I think not. At one point yesterday I was laying on the floor reading, Delmar draped over my arm, and she walked around the edge of the room to get to the food dish. She kept an eye on me, but that she’d come down off the tree and move around with me in there? I think it’s only a matter of time before she’s laying on her back in my lap, informing me that I better rub her belly and make it SNAPPY.
Delmar, next to a 20-ounce bottle of water. He’s a teeny thing!
“Sunshiiiiiiine on a Boogie’s face gives him the squinty eye!”
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Previously
2007: No entry. 2006: It’s like when you’re in the car and you smell something, so you turn down the radio and sniff harder.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry. 2003: “That’s because it fucking HURTS!” I yelled. 2002: TV talk. 2001: Is it just Fred and I that immediately think “Chrissie-anthemums”, or did y’all see that episode of Three’s Company as well? 2000: The Spider Dance.
At Sam’s Club yesterday, I discovered that you can buy a 105-ounce can of tomato sauce for ONE DOLLAR AND SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS. Given the amount of time and effort expended on the pints of tomato sauce I ended up with, made from tomatoes grown in our own garden, by all rights tomato sauce should cost … Continue reading “10-15-08”
At Sam’s Club yesterday, I discovered that you can buy a 105-ounce can of tomato sauce for ONE DOLLAR AND SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS.
Given the amount of time and effort expended on the pints of tomato sauce I ended up with, made from tomatoes grown in our own garden, by all rights tomato sauce should cost at LEAST one hundred and seventy-five dollars for 105 ounces.
If I can go to Sam’s and buy that much tomato sauce for that little cash, you can bet your Aunt Fanny that I will NEVER make my own tomato sauce again. EVER. Because my time is valuable (to me, at least) and that is just some bullshit.
I don’t even CARE how those tomatoes were treated, they could have been factory-raised in substandard soil and sprayed with poison that was subsequently only brushed off before processing, they could have been mocked and abused and called names and cried silent tears of terror every night at bedtime and chomped upon by all manner of bugs before they were mercifully slaughtered and put out of their misery, for ONE DOLLAR AND SEVENTY-FIVE CENTS for a huge-ass can, I am THERE, I am buying that shit.
Which is not to say that I’m not raising tomatoes next year – you bet your ass I am, and I’ll even can them diced or crushed or even whole, but I’m totally not bothering with trying to make my own tomato sauce. My time is valuable, yo!
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So, speaking of Sam’s, I don’t think I’ve mentioned the fact that, ten years after I first got my membership (through Fred’s company, which is where I was working at the time; I still get a membership through his business) I discovered that my membership is a “Gold Key” membership. You’d think that if I have a Gold Key membership that “Gold Key” would be printed somewhere on the card, but apparently not. Apparently any membership attained through a business is considered a Gold Key membership, and you’re just supposed to know that sort of thing.
What are the advantages, you might ask, to a Gold Key membership? So far as I can tell, the one and only advantage is that Gold Key members get extended shopping hours. While the commoners have to wait until 10:00 during the week to shop at Sam’s, we high-and-mighty Gold Keyers get to begin our warehouse shopping at 7:00 if we wish. Take that, unwashed masses!
I mock, but to tell the truth, it’s pretty nice being able to go into Sam’s and shop for what I need before it gets packed and busy with people snatching up the $1.75 cans of tomato sauce and getting in my way. What’s especially nice is knowing that on Thursdays, after I’m done at the pet store, I can run over to Sam’s and get whatever I need, without having to wait until 10:00, like I’ve thought I had to do, all these years.
Sam’s might be the ruination of this nation, but GODDAMN do I love that store.
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Someone asked in my comments whether I’ve checked out the new “Real Housewives” series, this one set in Atlanta. But of course! So far I’ve caught the first episode, and I actually sent an email out about it yesterday that I’m just going to cut and paste here:
Holy COW, I finally watched the Housewives of Atlanta and I just don’t even know where to begin!
NeNe is annoying in that kind of over-the-top shrieky way, but she so didn’t deserve the embarrassment of being kicked out of a party she didn’t belong to!
Sheree is kind of super-intense in a weirdly controlled way. Which is to say that one day, that woman is going to snap, and it’s going to be NASTY. And anyone who is THAT stressed about her birthday party, when she’s supposedly got like five people who are supposed to be in charge of the details is just too much. I mean, I get that she wanted to have a good birthday party, but to apparently have SO much riding on it? What a freak. (I don’t know why she even bothered to invite NeNe, given her utter disdain for the woman!)
I agree that Kim looks a lot like Lori from OC. I suspect that her high-profile boyfriend is probably someone we’ve NEVER heard of and I bet he’s married, too, especially considering the fact that some of her girlfriends have never even met him and don’t know who he is. I like that she was loyal to NeNe and left the party with her, though.
That woman – was it DeShawn? – who hired the “estate manager” to run interference so DeShawn and her husband would never have to deal with the hired help directly just made me roll my eyes. Could you imagine if someone was coming to visit and stay with you, and the ESTATE MANAGER called them and said “Is there anything special you’d like to have available to you?” Hell, I’d be all “Yes, please make sure that I have seven pillows and some extra blankets and also THREE TINY LITTLE FLUFFY PURRING KITTENS, thank you! Also, one million dollars in cash, thanks!”
These houses are just absolutely insane. And the way these women spend money makes me worry for them, I mean it’s their money and all, but I’m thinking “NO, put the thousand-dollar pants back, you don’t need those! The money won’t last forever, girls!”
I love the way the Atlanta wives are just way over the top. I’m going to enjoy watching this show and seeing their crazy drama unfold!!!
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I was sitting on the floor of the kitten room yesterday and I leaned way over to kiss a kitten atop his head (a kitten that was in my lap, by the way!), and I got something that felt very much like a charley horse in my abdomen and I thought I was going to DIE. I had to breathe shallowly and gasp “Ohgod ohgod ohgod” very quietly so I wouldn’t alarm the kittens, and after some breathing and stretching, the muscle let up and I felt perfectly fine.
It sure did hurt like a motherfucker while it lasted, though.
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I broke the monkeys! The boys, at least. When I went into the kitten room yesterday, I’d go over and pet each of them just a little bit, and then I’d go across the room and sit on the floor and talk to them. The girls would just ignore me, but the boys would look at me and meow like “Come back here!” I’d talk and talk to them, then when they’d start to settle down, I’d go back and pet each of them juuuuust a little, just until they were starting to like it, and then off I’d go to the other side of the room.
Lem jumped down off the tree onto the condo (which is right next to the tree) and he hung out next to the condo and eyeballed me and thought about it, but refused to come any closer.
Finally, Delmar was like “FINE!” and jumped down and came over to be petted. After some petting, he and I stretched out on the floor, face-to-face, and he purred and slept a little, and then eventually Lem was like “Hmmm. He seems to be safe over there with her. Maybe I would be safe, too!”, so he came over for petting, though he didn’t stay for long.
My tongue is absolutely in shreds from my biting it so I won’t squeeze them to death. They are SERIOUSLY cute and sweet, these kittens.
Delmar lay next to me on the floor for a long time yesterday afternoon. I said, “You’re going to break my heart, aren’t you?” and he said “That’s my plan, ma’am.”
Previously 2007: if you set foot in Crooked Acres, the law is that you admire not only the And3rson kitties, but also the And3rson fosters.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: Pretty beach pictures! 2003: I’m afraid Miz Poo’s reign as Queen Shit may be coming to a close. 2002: Elvis sneer, zits, weird wiry hair. What next, I ask you? 2001: Cheater entry.
2000: No entry. 1999: Fascinating, isn’t it?!
So yeah, as some of you pointed out yesterday, despite the fact that I’d written about them over on Love & Hisses, I hadn’t mentioned anything here about no foster kittens. We have foster kittens! You can read more about them at Love & Hisses, starting here and I’ll update the sidebar here at some … Continue reading “10-14-08”
So yeah, as some of you pointed out yesterday, despite the fact that I’d written about them over on Love & Hisses, I hadn’t mentioned anything here about no foster kittens.
We have foster kittens!
You can read more about them at Love & Hisses, starting here and I’ll update the sidebar here at some point today. Despite their scaredy-cat nature when we first got them, they have chilled out a little, and we’ve gotten all four of them to purr. They don’t particularly care for being held – YET – but they also don’t freak out too much if we pick them up, as long as we don’t go too far from the cat tree.
Speaking of Love & Hisses, I got my entries from our very first set of fosters back in May – July 2005 pasted over there. You can read a little about Mia and her babies, and follow the link on that page to see the entries about them.
We’ve had a LOT of foster kittens in the past three and a half years; I couldn’t even begin to guess what the number is.
It’ll take me a while to balance writing here about the fosters and writing there about them and what goes where and how. Be patient, I’ll get it figured out!
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Christy in KS mentioned in my comments last week that they like to take their bacon, dredge it through brown sugar and put it under the broiler for 7 minutes. Yesterday, I got out a package of 4 slices of bacon (I thawed and repackaged one of the big packages of bacon a few weeks ago, because there are only two of us, after all) and told Fred I was going to make bacon and eggs for breakfast. He requested just salt and pepper on his bacon – unadventurous bastard – so I salt and peppered his two pieces and rubbed brown sugar, salt, and pepper on my two pieces.
Ho. Ly. GOD. That is some FABULOUS stuff right there. Not only is it fabulous, but making it in the oven on a foil-lined cookie sheet was so much easier and less messy than frying it in the pan that that’s how I’m making my bacon from here on out!
Thank you, Christy – you rock!
And speaking of food, for dinner on Sunday (and Monday!) I took a pork shoulder from the freezer, rubbed spices all over it, let it cook all day in the crock pot, took it out of the crock pot, drained the fat off (into the pig bucket, actually, shaddup), shredded the meat and put it back in the crock pot with barbecue sauce for a couple more hours.
It was SO good. It would have been better if I’d used our standby barbecue sauce – Gibson’s – but I tried something new that I ended up not liking as much. Still good, just not AS good. I also roasted a butternut squash (not one we grew ourselves, one I picked up at a local farm stand, but I think we need to keep butternut squash in mind for next year!) and mashed it, and we had green beans too.
I also made a big bunch of egg salad Sunday afternoon, and Fred and I had egg salad sandwiches Sunday and Monday.
I think it’s safe to say that growing our own food is working out pretty well for us.
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Speaking of hard-boiling eggs (which I used for egg salad), I tried hard-boiling fresh eggs rather than older ones to see if slow-boiling them for 12 minutes then soaking them in ice water plus baking soda would make peeling fresh eggs easier, the way it worked for the older eggs I made deviled eggs with a few weeks ago.
Not so much.
I mean, probably less egg stuck to the shell than would have done so if I hadn’t added the baking soda to the water, but still far too much egg came off with the shell. We probably could have gotten three meals of egg salad sandwiches from a dozen hard-boiled eggs if so much egg hadn’t stuck to the shell instead of the two (plus a little more) we did get.
In case you were curious.
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Last night (though I got no pictures of the momentous occasion), we got the kittens down off the cat tree. The boys stayed down on the floor with us for the longest time, rubbing back and forth and purring like crazy. In what I considered a giant step forward, Delmar got back up on the cat tree, saw Lem purring and rubbing on Fred, and then jumped down off the cat tree and came over for some more love.
Marion had no desire to be off the cat tree. Fred picked her up and walked across the room to hand her to me, and she ran back to the cat tree and shot him dirty looks. Claudette, on the other hand, stayed in my arms for several minutes, purring and watching her brothers ask to be petted.
Both Lem and Delmar have meowed at us, Delmar the most. You know how you pet a kitten and then you stop and the kitten meows at you like “Why’d you STOP?!”? That’s how he was meowing.
These kittens are adorable. Now I’d like to see them come down off the cat tree of their own accord, and then I’d like to see them play!
Look at Delmar over there on the right, giving me the sass as if he doesn’t fling himself onto his back at the slightest touch.
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Such a good boy, our Spanky. (He’s not usually pink, for the record.)
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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: “M-O-O-N!” Fred said. “That spells Tom Cullen!”
2004: No entry. 2003: I’m pretty certain “Never going to fucking go hiking with him EVER A-FUCKING-GAIN” crossed my mind at least once. 2002: Hotel room so big/ roomy, spacious, perfect. Butt/ is what it smells like.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry. 1999: Don’t get your bippies in an uproar, though; we’re not trying to get pregnant.
Okay, I have a new site up and running. It’s devoted exclusively to our foster cats and the pet store kitties. I wanted a place where I could go on and on and ON about our foster kitties and not feel like I was boring the shit out of anyone not interested, and I also … Continue reading “10-8-08”
Okay, I have a new site up and running.
It’s devoted exclusively to our foster cats and the pet store kitties. I wanted a place where I could go on and on and ON about our foster kitties and not feel like I was boring the shit out of anyone not interested, and I also wanted to have all that stuff in one place.
Oh, I’ll still talk about the fosters here on this page, though not to the extent I will over at Love & Hisses, and there’ll be a lot more pictures over there too. There’s a graphic link to the site over there in the left sidebar under the “misc” heading, and also one in the right sidebar under the “me, elsewhere” heading.
I’ve copied all the entries about Kara and her babies over there (they’re still here, but they’re also over there too) and I’m probably going to go back to the very first batch of fosters (Mia and her babies) and work forward from there. At some point, all the fosters will be represented over there.
If you have questions or issues with the site, let me know!
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And since there’s not a lot going on around here (except that it’s raining for the first time in forever, yay!), here are some pictures from around Crooked Acres.
Apparently it was a good idea to keep the hummingbird feeders up and filled. This little guy made several trips to the feeder yesterday, all day long. I’ll continue to leave the feeders up (and filled with fresh nectar) for the foreseeable future.
Newt lets his country roots show.
Tommy showed that leaf just who the boss is. (Hint: not the leaf!)
If you’ve already been over to Fred’s site, you know that he added on to the cat playground in the back yard by putting in another post, running a catwalk from one post to the other, and putting a perch on the end of the board. The cats LOVE IT.
Tommy got a wee bit klutzy on his descent down the stairs. He’s just like his Momma!
Tommy on the perch.
Joe Bob on the catwalk.
Fred harvested our first teeny-weeny carrot the other day. Not surprisingly, it tasted… just like carrot! They sure do grow slowly.
Cardinal in the side yard (trust me, it looks much better this small. I took it through the window.)
I got this bird bath/ waterer recently because it’s been so dry out, and I wanted to have a bird bath, but I didn’t want to have to clean it out every day. This one works out really well – I clean it and refill it a couple of times a week, and the birds and squirrels appreciate it.
I’m pretty sure this is an assassin bug, a very young one (the pictures don’t really show you their true size, but trust me when I say they are NOT big bugs). I don’t know if this is the time of year for assassin bugs to hatch or what, but I’m finding them everywhere. I rescued one in my bathroom one day last week (scooped it up on a piece of paper and put it outside on the window ledge). A few days ago, the one in the first picture up there was hanging out near the ceiling in the computer room. I couldn’t reach him, so I left him alone, and he eventually showed up on my computer speaker (the second picture). I scooped him up on a piece of paper and took him outside. Rumor has it that assassin bug bites are painful, BUT they eat flies, which means they’re aces with me!
Sugarbutt on the platform one day last week, before Fred added the catwalk.
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Previously 2007: Whither Tom-Tom goest, the Stank will follow.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: I’m just going to sit here and whine about being cold and thirsty, I suppose. Sounds like a plan! 2003: Just know that it was a little SKEERY. 2002: This is a mighty exciting entry, isn’t it? Could I be any more interesting? Should I do an entry about watching paint dry, or what? 2001: “Farm boy, fetch me some ice! Farm boy, fetch me a diet coke, chop-chop!”
2000: No entry.
This past weekend – I think it was Saturday morning – I was out by the chicken yard, tossing them leftover scrambled eggs from breakfast. Fred came out to check on the chicks, who were in their little “playpen” by the garage (he usually lets them stay outside all day on the weekends, then puts … Continue reading “10-7-08”
This past weekend – I think it was Saturday morning – I was out by the chicken yard, tossing them leftover scrambled eggs from breakfast. Fred came out to check on the chicks, who were in their little “playpen” by the garage (he usually lets them stay outside all day on the weekends, then puts them outside when he gets home from work during the week. It’s been especially gorgeous lately, since we haven’t seen a lick of rain in forever.). He was just giving me hell for not giving the chicks when the chickens, all of a sudden, started clucking in alarm and moved faster than I’ve ever seen them move. They ran as a giant wave of panicked chickens for the coop (under the coop is their safe place) and with a giant cartoon question mark hanging over my head, I looked up and said “Wha -?”
And a goddamn hawk swooped through the chicken yard, perhaps six feet from the ground. I shouted in alarm and then began running along the fenceline (I was actually outside the chicken yard), and I raised my arm to throw the plate at the hawk, then he seemed to think better of grabbing himself a chicken, and he flew up into a tree at the edge of the property.
Fred had managed not to see any of it – though to be fair, on Saturday morning when there are a lot of cars going by, it’s kind of loud out there.
The chickens were all either in or under the chicken coop, and Fred and I stood in the chicken yard and stared up at the trees to see if the hawk would reappear, but he (or she) didn’t. After a few minutes, Fred went and got a cup of cracked corn and tossed it out, and I accused him of trying to get the hawk to come back so he could see it (“baiting the trap” is what I accused him of) and he tried to pretend like he was doing no such thing, and he made a special point to toss the cracked corn close to the coop, but please. I know my husband. He totally wanted that hawk to come back.
And he likes the chickens, but I think if a hawk swooped down and snatched one up while he was watching, it would make his YEAR.
So, I haven’t mentioned it, but Fred mentioned it over on his site that he’s started fencing in the back forty, because we’ve decided to move the chickens back there and let them have some REAL room to roam (also, if they have a ton of space, why would we ever have to stop getting new chickens? It’s an illness, I tell ya.). And after Saturday’s experience with the hawk, I’ve started having fucking NIGHTMARES about hawks swooping down and grabbing chickens. Last night I had a nightmare that seemed to last ALL NIGHT LONG wherein hawks were circling the chicken yard and I was shooting at them with the rifle (yes, it’s illegal to shoot hawks; they’re federally protected. IT WAS A DREAM.) (also, I’ve fired that rifle exactly once in my life, and it had such a kick on it that I immediately dropped it and have refused to fire it since).
We’re going to cut down on the wide-open spaces that allow the hawks to just kind of swoop down and grab chickens by planting a couple of trees in the back forty and Fred’s going to put a couple of shade shelters up, but still. I’ll be worrying about those goddamn hawks all the time, I’m sure.
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Now that all her babies have been adopted, Kara will be going to the pet store on Thursday, hopefully to be adopted quickly.
She’s really integrated into the family in the past few weeks – her happiest time is at bedtime when Fred and I go upstairs. She considers the upstairs her domain, and she loves to climb on the bed with us and be petted vigorously, then run off to do her rounds of the other rooms to make sure all is secure, back for another bout of petting, and so forth.
She’s such a sweet thing, I really hope someone falls in love with her quickly and brings her home.
Yes, I feel bad about taking her.
No, we’re not keeping her. (Y’all never believe me when I say that, do you?)
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Three of the most recent little chicks – not the ones we hatched ourselves or bought at the flea market, but the ones that were hatched by Momma chickens – are still small enough to squeeze under the gate between the chicken yard and the front yard. It’s not really a problem, because they don’t venture too far from the chicken yard (they go up to the front corner of the house and no further, usually) and they like to hang out under the bird feeders and eat the seed the wild birds knock onto the ground.
I see this sight from the computer room a lot.
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It’s a rough life out there for a Newtles.
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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: 9. What is your biggest mistake? Immediately believing what I’m told without standing back and thinking about it. 2004: Reader requests. 2003: Why have kids if you aren’t going to make them do the scut work? 2002: You know, I don’t even have the words.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
