Category: Fostering

This is SO cool. You know those days when you can’t get to a site and you’re all “WTF? Is it the site or the damn internet or ME?!”? Carrie sent me the link to this site:

Down for everyone or just me?

Bookmark it, y’all!

My plastic surgeon’s office called yesterday morning and gave me the good news – my whiny, heartfelt letter (or more likely better pictures of the loose skin on my abdomen) swayed someone at my insurance company and they approved me for surgery. My insurance company is paying for the panniculectomy part of the surgery and we’re paying for the remainder of the surgery – the “circumferential lower body lift and abdominoplasty”, also known as a lower body lift.

“When were you wanting to have it done?” she asked.

“The sooner the better!” I said.

Turned out someone had JUST canceled for next week. Next Thursday, to be exact. And now it’s mine!

I have to go have some bloodwork later today, then I have a preop appointment tomorrow, and then it’s just waitin’ time ’til next Thursday morning.

I am excited as hell, though I’m sure that come Thursday morning I’ll be nervous as hell.

GOODBYE LOOSE STOMACH SKIN! Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out!

I had to get groceries yesterday because I didn’t go Sunday ’cause (1) I didn’t wanna and (2) there was nothing we desperately needed right away. So before I left, I gave Kara her morning snack and then had to refill the water bowls. Every damn time I cracked the foster kitty room to look into the hallway, Mister Boogers was far too close to the door for my comfort, so I’d shoot the air at him and he’d run off.

I had the last bowl of water in my hand and was going into the foster kitty room when Mister Boogers ran up from out of nowhere, blew past me, and sauntered into the foster kitty room saying “Hey, bitches. Let me TELL YOU who the man is!”

Here’s a hint: Mister Boogers? Not the man. He got his ass kicked six ways to Sunday. Kara was on him immediately, and she flung his ass around the room. He was screaming, she was screaming, I tossed the bowl of water in the air and started screaming. I yelled “No! No! NOOO!” at the top of my lungs (why do I bother? It never works!), waded into the fray, and grabbed Kara. Once she stopped kicking his ass, Mister Boogers FLEW out the door, and I was able to get the door shut.

The kittens were TERRIFIED. Two of them flew into their teepee and hid at the very back. The other two were on the side of the teepee and just sat there, frozen. Once the door was shut, I soothed Kara (who basically said “That’s what I THOUGHT you’d say, you gray fucker! I bet you won’t be sniffing under the door again ANY TIME SOON!” and went back to eating.) and then picked each kitten up and petted him/ her until they stopped shaking.

Poor babies.

(flickr) The Booger fur left behind.

Once I was sure Kara and the babies were fine (the kittens, once soothed, went over to the amazing amount of gray Booger hair left behind in the fracas and sniffed at it), I went and found Mister Boogers, who was flopped at the bottom of the stairs, cleaning himself. He was perfectly fine, didn’t look the least disturbed, but I’ll note that I didn’t see him upstairs again the entire day.

Since everyone was safe and soothed, I left for the grocery store.

When I got back, I was walking toward the side stoop carrying three very heavy bags of groceries, and as I got to the stairs, a grackle ran out from under the stairs, through the fence, into the back yard. He couldn’t seem to take flight, so I went inside, set my groceries down, and headed for the back door with the intention of shooing him back out of the yard. I opened the back door, started down the back steps, and then Joe Bob flew across the yard and snatched that bird up. I ran over and tried to get Joe Bob to let the bird go, but the bird appeared to be dead already, so I went back inside and shut the door. I don’t care for dead birds in the house, personally.

For the next hour, Joe Bob, Tommy, and Newt sniffed at and played with the (clearly dead) bird. When I looked out the window and saw Joe Bob toss the bird up into the air and then smack at it a few times, I decided they’d had plenty of fun with it, weren’t going to eat it (why would they? They had two full bowls of cat food inside!) and it needed to leave my back yard so I didn’t have to look at it anymore.

When I went out back, Joe Bob picked the bird up and ran across the lawn, but then he was distracted by something and abandoned the bird, so I picked it up (by the leg, with a paper towel) and disposed of it.

I had no idea, when Fred brought Joe Bob home back in January, that he was going to turn out to be such a hunter!

Damn him.

Kara and the kittens continue to do well. Inara has used the litter box several times. I haven’t seen anyone else use the litter box, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t, just that they didn’t put on a show for me. River and Kaylee like to get into the litter box and eat the litter, I don’t know why that is. I thought maybe it meant that they were ready to eat cat food, but when I put them in front of the dish of food, they look up at me like “Your point is…?” and wander off.

I did see Kaylee sniff the bowl of water, then lick the water off her nose and then sniff and lick again, so maybe she’s getting ready to try cat food. Who knows?

They’re growing up too fast! I want them to stay little forever!

Now when I go into the foster kitty room and sit down, River comes out of the teepee and climbs up into my lap and lets me pet him. Inara and Zoe eventually make their way over to me, as well. I sit Indian style (or whatever the politically correct term is these days), and they like to slide down into my lap and be petted and kick and bite at me. Yesterday, after a rousing game of kick-and-bite, Inara fell asleep laying on her back. These kittens are way too damn cute.

(flickr) ::urrrrrrp:: "Oh, ‘scuse me!" ::giggle::

(flickr) I YAM SCARY!”

(flickr) Cat. She’s a kittycat. And she dancedancedance and she dancedancedance.

TONS of cute kitten pics up over at Flickr.

(flickr) The mighty hunter.

Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Oh, it’s FUN to be a girl, ain’t it?
2004: Am I not stylin’?
2003: Like I repeatedly said to him yesterday, “I’m GLAD you’re ENJOYING my pain!”
2002: Momma don’t do food-related or cleaning-related stuff on Mother’s Day!
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

Survivor spoilers in this section; skip to the next if you didn’t see the season finale!

I really really really really am shocked and amazed that Parvati won; I think Amanda should have, and you could have knocked me over with a feather when we saw that Parvati won. I thought she’d get MAYBE two votes, but I expected Amanda to totally sweep the votes. I haven’t watched the reunion show yet, I’m going to watch it later this morning, but I’ll be interested to see who voted for who, and maybe why.

It’s possible that Amanda’s crying at the last tribal council turned some jury members off. We had to fast forward through Amanda sobbing about how she didn’t know whether to take Cirie or Parvati with her, because JESUS CHRIST, PEOPLE. Get some perspective. It’s not like you’re voting these people off to be executed! They’re gonna LIVE, they’re just not going to be millionaires!

I absolutely cringed through Ozzy’s speech, because was he not saying that Parvati should have played the game except when it came to HIM? And the whole declaration of his feelings for Amanda bit, ugh. Sweet, but there are better times and places for that.

This season was absolutely the best season since I can remember, I’m sad it’s over!

Eliza is the most annoying Survivor on earth. God, I can’t stand her. She and Jonny Fairplay need to go off and have annoying babies together.

I told Fred last night that the dream final three would have been Yau-Man, James, and Ozzy. We wouldn’t have known who to root for!

I have read you for many years, but I was in a car accident recently, and being able to read my favorite blogs went by the wayside. I have gone back through to read the posts I missed, but I have yet to see where you said Spud is. I don’t get to read about her anymore, so I assume she is in college, or off living her own life. But why don’t you mention her very often anymore?

The spud left for Rhode Island last July to live with her father and stepmother, and eventually attend college. I saw her at Christmas when I went to Maine – my mother, sister and I drove down to Rhode Island to spend the day with her. My original plan was to fly into Rhode Island, spend a couple of days with her, then drive to Maine, but due to the weather, that didn’t work out.

I don’t mention her very often anymore because in the past when I’ve mentioned her, it’s been in the context of my day-to-day life and interactions with her. Since she’s living in Rhode Island, my day-to-day interactions with her tend to be limited to the phone, text messages, and emails. Also, I think she deserves her privacy.

She’s getting ready to attend college in the Fall, has a serious boyfriend who’s in the military (and seems like a good guy), and has a job. That’s how and where the spud is. Rest assured that if anything big happens in her life, I’ll mention it.

I had a really good weekend. Saturday, I got up and at ’em early with the intention of cleaning the house from top to bottom INCLUDING the bathrooms (which I usually avoid like the plague), and I was actually done with that by noon. It usually takes until early- to mid-afternoon, so I’m not sure why it went so quickly this time around. I even dusted the entire house!

The afternoon, I spent paying bills, balancing the checkbook, spending time with Kara and the babies, and just generally puttering around. It was a really good day, one of those days when I didn’t really do a lot, but accomplished everything I needed to, getting all those small, annoying tasks I’d been putting off done and over with.

We were supposed to get bad storms Saturday night. We got thunder and lightning and rain around 11ish, and Fred came downstairs at some point to check the online local news site to see what the weather was, but I was asleep by the time he came back upstairs. Thunder and lightning generally doesn’t keep me awake. We got a little rain, but nothing too terribly bad, and Sunday dawned fairly sunny and a little cool and all the trees were still standing, which is all we really ask for, most days.

Sunday, I intended to sleep in, but Mister Boogers had other ideas and started knocking stuff off my bedside table and dresser around 6:30. I ignored him for about 45 minutes, but finally gave up and got out of bed and told him he was an asshole (which he already knew). I got laundry started and then got to spend an hour wrestling with my computer. The black and white laser printer we’ve had FOREVER, and which is attached to my computer (rather than the color printer/ scanner, which is attached to Fred’s computer because he hardly ever prints anything out) is ancient and I had to get some special adapter cord to attach it to my new computer. Sometimes it prints shit out, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes if I reboot and then immediately try to print something out, it works. Other times, I reboot and immediately try to print something out, and the computer and printer decide they don’t like each other.

SO ANNOYING. I print shit out CONSTANTLY.

So we ordered some other something from New Egg (don’t ask me what the fuck it is, I neither know nor care) and then I told Fred I’d just use his printer until the whatever-it-is comes later this week, and I hooked up his printer to my computer, and then we spent forfuckingever getting the goddamn printer set up because of GODDAMN VISTA.

Anyway, now I can print shit out except that NATURALLY the ink level is low, so everything prints out too light and it annoys the shit out of me, so mental note: go to Staples and buy more goddamn ink, alrighty?

And then I hung laundry out to dry (very good clothes-drying day yesterday – coolish but very very windy, which made the clothes dry in about ten seconds flat) and did other shit that has slipped my mind, then I visited Kara and her babies and then lay in bed and read for a little while, then I was in the shower when Fred knocked on the door and asked if I wanted breakfast, and he made me French toast and sausage for breakfast under orders from Mister Boogers, who would have made me breakfast himself except that he has problems controlling the spatula what with the lack of opposable thumbs.

Breakfast = very good. Then I went out to the garage and did what I’d been putting off, which was breaking down the 3,000 cardboard boxes that have been piling up, so I could cart them to the recycling center, which I did in two trips.

Home again, I spent more time with Kara and the babies, read some more, cleaned the kitchen, ate lunch, then had a hissy fit when my mouse decided to stop working. I unplugged my mouse and keyboard (they’re wireless) and threw them across the room (HIGHLY satisfying) and stormed out to the garage to get the mouse and keyboard that had come with my computer and hooked them up and they worked just fine.

And… that was my weekend!

I asked Fred to put Kara and her babies in a carrier for me Friday night, because the cat hair had been building up on the carpet since I’d vacuumed the week before, so he did that, and I started vacuuming, and then I discovered that a little towel I’d left on the floor next to the padded teepee where the kittens have been sleeping was wet. I sniffed it (shut UP, how else am I going to know what it was wet from?), and it didn’t smell like anything at all, actually. I brought it downstairs and made Fred smell it, and he suggested that maybe bitty kitty pee doesn’t smell like regular cat pee, which is entirely possible, who the fuck knows? So I finished vacuuming and put more little towels down just in case the kittens were peeing, and kept in mind that I needed to buy some plain clay cat litter on Saturday.

Fred had to run some errands on Saturday, so he picked up plain clay cat litter for me, and I set up a couple of small litter boxes on either side of the teepee. The kittens took turns climbing into the litter boxes, and I took their little paws and moved them through the litter in a scratching motion, and then they looked at me like I was torturing them and cried, and climbed out and ran around and played.

A few hours later I happened to be in the room when Inara climbed into one litter box, scratched around, cried plaintively, climbed back out, went to the other litter box, scratched around, peed, and climbed back out.

CLEARLY A GENIUS.

She’s not using it every time, but I did see her use it a second time, on Sunday. I think those babies are certainly on their way to being litterbox trained. If I could just get them to stop trying to eat the litter, I’d be a little happier, though. They’re completely uninterested in regular kitten food, but considering that they’ve got warm milk on tap just about whenever they want it, can’t say as I blame them.

(Kittens tend to try to eat the litter at first, which is why you can’t litterbox train them with the clumping stuff. Plain clay litter won’t hurt them, but apparently the clumping stuff causes all manners of bad things to happen. Or so I’ve heard.)

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(pic) “Okay, lady, I do like the belly rub. But be careful. I don’t like when it tickles.”

(pic) “You unnerstand? Okay, good. Let the rubbing begin.”

(pic) ::giggle::

(pic) “::giggle:: Stop! Stop! No, don’t stop! Stop! No, don’t! It TICKLES!”

Ton o’ kitten pics over at Flickr.

(pic) “Hellew.”

Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: Where the hell did the year GO?
2005: If my nose is cold, the rest of me is cold.
2004: I guess this is what we get for living in the Bible Belt, isn’t it?
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Ah well. Maybe next life.

Things that give me the blerghs*:

1. Milk I can have milk ON things (like cereal) or IN things (like pudding), but if I were required to sit down and drink a cup of milk? No way. Probably comes from drinking milk with dinner every night when I was growing up. Anyone who’s had to drink half a cup of very warm milk (which got warm because I put off drinking it because GODDAMN MILK IS NASTY) can probably feel my pain.

2. Flies I literally cannot eat if there’s a fly buzzing around, anywhere in the room at all. It’s like I can see the waves of disease and destruction coming off them. Those goddamn things VOMIT on their food, did you know that? So if you have to shoo a fly away from your food IT HAS PROBABLY ALREADY VOMITED ON YOUR FOOD. You’re about to eat fly vomit! Tasty!

3. Kate and Jack on Lost I like the idea of strong, kick-ass Kate, but something about the execution of the character just annoys the everloving shit out of me. I like Jack, kinda (though I prefer Sawyer or Jin – MWROWR) but the idea of Jack and Kate together? Ugh. No. Zilch for chemistry between those two. In fact, can’t we get Kate killed off before the end of the season?

4. Too much mayo I like mayo. I like mayo mixed with things. I like egg salad with mayo, coleslaw, potato salad. I like sandwiches with mayo, but too much mayo? Blergh.

5. Ticks I hate goddamn ticks with their goddamn 6,000 legs. Fred brought Newt inside the other night because he saw a tick crawling on Newt and I had to grab the tick and pull it out of Newt’s fur and then I had to kill it, and the entire time I was dealing with it, my skin crawled right off my body and headed for less creepy crawly territory. For the record, I used a very sharp knife to cut that tick in half, then I flushed it down the drain. It BETTER NOT COME BACK FOR ME, is all I’ll say.

6. Dead things I just don’t like dead things. I’m okay with the fact that Newt and Miss Momma are overwhelmed with the urge to hunt and kill and eat. I just don’t want them to do it where I have to SEE the dead thing. And I don’t want them to leave dead things on my porch. And last week when I had to pick up a dead baby chick and remove it from the brooder? BLERGH.

7. Raw chicken I swear to god I can see the salmonella crawling around on raw chicken. I hate handling raw chicken, I hate putting the chicken-juice-covered packaging in my trash can, I hate the smell of raw chicken.

And yes, I’m aware that #6 and #7 are going to make chicken-slaughtering time a true blergh-fest.

9. Brains Brains belong in skulls. If brains come slipping out of skulls I DON’T NEED TO SEE THAT, THANKS, FILMMAKERS! Can’t we just show by the characters’ reactions that there was some brain visible? Like “Oh my god! Did you see his BRAIN?!”

10. Wasps Wasps mostly annoy me, and killing them with the fly-swatter or a rolled-up magazine or newspaper doesn’t bother me at all. But when there’s nothing else around and I have to grab the wasp with a piece of paper or tissue and I have to FEEL under my fingertips the hard wasp body and HEAR the crunch it makes as I squoosh it (yes, I could just toss it in the toilet, but really. I think we all know that wasps are evil enough to swim up from the depths of the septic system and seek their revenge.), it’s blerghsville all over the place.

*The blerghs: like the oogies, only with more shuddering.

(pic) Look who got an apron made by the hands of one Knucklehead Conventioneer (aka “Nance”)! (She did not, however, make that dorky look on my face. I did that all by myself!)

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SO much more “me” than the red one I’ve been using. I love it!

Kara and the babies continue to do well. The babies are starting to explore more – yesterday, River and Inara “discovered” the padded teepee located next to the box where they spend all their time. They aren’t going far, and they always end up back in the box – or in front of it – but I bet it won’t be long before they’re all the way across the room. I did a quick check of the room to make sure there was nothing they could hurt themselves on, and I think everything’s fine.

I have a couple of short movies to tide you over. I made them with my camera rather than the camcorder, so they’re horrible, but if you need to see some little bitty kitties, it should fit the bill.

The first one is River, nursing, when he was 12 days old:

The second is random kittens moving through the frame, and Inara stretching:

The last one is from last night. The kittens, at 20 days, nurse every 3.2 seconds. Hey, something’s got to keep those bellies big and round!

Sorry for the sucky quality, but y’know how it goes. Maybe there’ll be something a little better (and longer) tomorrow or Monday, we’ll see!

(pic) “Hey. Where’d THOSE come from?!”

(pic) I don’t know what was up yesterday, but the other kittens would NOT stop sniffing Zoe’s butt.

(pic) The most beautiful raccoon kitteh in the world!

More uploaded pictures over at Flickr.

(pic) Every now and then, when she’s hanging out on top of the kitchen cupboards, Stinkerbelle spots this dark spot on the ceiling and she gets all excited. I think she thinks it’s a bug. She races over to the end of the cupboard and stares and stares at it.

(pic) She hangs so far over the edge that it makes me nervous and I stand beneath her and say “Stinky, stop! Stinky, get back. YOU ARE GOING TO FALL!”

(pic) She just ignores me, though.

(pic) I’m sure that one day she’s going to be doing this, and I’m going to be trying to convince her to back up, and she’s going to slip and fall and land on my head, and next thing I’ll be motoring around the back forty in a breath-controlled wheelchair. Between Stinkerbelle and Fred, I think it’s just a matter of time before I get that wheelchair.

Previously
2007: Fred was PISSED because he’d been harboring a secret yen to stay in the Shalom in the Home trailer park, and he stomped off to sulk, thus making Nance and Rick uncomfortable and not in the mood to play Catch Phrase.
2006: I ran out the back door, yelling the entire way for Tommy to “Drop it! Drop it, Tommy! DROP IT!”
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: It’d certainly be interesting, at least until it came to blows, I’m sure.
2002: Of course, the mother of the bride is a total sobbing mess.
2001: My butt hurts.
2000: I meant to pick up the razors for Women with Big Asses.

Someone reminded me that I hadn’t mentioned the bird Joe Bob brought in the house after I said I’d left it in the plant pot on the front porch. Before I left for Wal-Mart, I glanced out, and it was bouncing across the front yard. It seemed to be having a little trouble flying, but it ended up in a patch of weeds under a tree, and when I got back from Wal-Mart it was nowhere to be seen.

I choose to believe it recovered and took flight.

It was no problem at all getting Sugarbutt into the cat carrier yesterday morning. I brought the carrier downstairs an hour or so before we had to leave, and Sugarbutt ran and hid on top of the cupboards in the kitchen, and then he forgot why he was scared and he came down and jumped up on Fred’s desk chair and went to sleep, so ten minutes before his appointment I walked over, picked him up, and put him in the carrier. I don’t think he was completely awake until we were halfway to the vet’s office.

The vet tech grinned when she said Sugarbutt’s name and said that they’d all been guessing why that was his name, so I told her the story (for you newbies: Sugarbutt and Tommy are from the same litter; I got them when they were itty bitty – here’s baby Sugarbutt – I guess they were close to 3 months old when I got them, and Sugarbutt was just a mess. He had worms, he had horrible diarrhea that scalded the fur off the backs of his hinds legs, he had what we thought was a prolapsed rectum, and when I said to the shelter manager “What do I DO?”, she said “Well, I’ve heard that if you put sugar on a damp cloth and hold it to his back end, it will help the swelling a little.” and so I did, and there was really nowhere to go from there but to name him Sugarbutt. His “official” name was “Sad Eyes”, but we never called him anything but Sugarbutt after that. Also, it turned out that he didn’t have a prolapsed rectum, he had impacted anal glands. Poor baby.) and it turns out they’d guessed right.

Sugarbutt did the frozen-in-horror thing so that the vet was able to look closely at his nasty toes, and he said he thought there’d been some trauma to his toe, and he had to clean out between and behind his toes (there was a lot of litter and dirt caked behind his toes) and they found a small cut. He prescribed an antibiotic ointment, and put the ointment on Sugarbutt’s foot and then bandaged it up and said that if we can keep the bandage on him, we could put more ointment and a new bandage on once a day, but if he pulled the bandage off, we’d need to put ointment on more often and spray bitter apple on his foot to stop him from licking.

Since he wasn’t up to date on his vaccinations, they gave him his shots, and then we were out of there, all in less than 20 minutes.

Rather than going straight home I had to stop by Wal-Mart to get new litter. If he doesn’t keep the bandage on, we have to keep him off clumping litter (it’ll just irritate the sore) and so I had hoped to find some of that Yesterday’s News litter. Wal-Mart didn’t have any of that, so I bought some Feline Pine litter (which some of you have recommended in the past) and I was in the car headed for home, when I started thinking about it, and I couldn’t quite remember, but doesn’t Feline Pine break down into sawdust or pinedust or something? If so, that was something I didn’t particularly want Sugarbutt to get between his toes, so I went up the road to K-Mart to see if THEY had some Yesterday’s News, and they did so I bought a couple of bags.

When I got home, I ran inside and changed out all three of the litter boxes quickly before I brought Sugarbutt in and set him free. When I told Fred that I’d had to switch litter for a little while, he sighed and said “Let the bed-peeing begin!”

I haven’t found any urine outside of the litter boxes yet, but the day is young! I can’t say that I’m all that terribly impressed with this litter. It doesn’t hold back The Stink at all and rather than absorb urine it seems to just kind of fall apart. I don’t know, it’s only for a few days, so I just hope the little bastards keep using the boxes and don’t decide to pee elsewhere.

Also, I have to keep the back door shut so Sugarbutt can’t go out into the back yard and get dirt in his sore toes, so every time I walk anywhere near the back of the house, Joe Bob comes along and gives me the hopeful eyes. It’s killing him not to be able to go outside, and Tommy and even Miz Poo are hanging out by the back door an awful lot. I gave up around 4:00 yesterday afternoon and let them all outside, including Sugarbutt. I let everyone BUT Sugarbutt outside, but he gave me such the sad eyes that I couldn’t stand it. Today, I’m determined not to let them outside, but they certainly are all up in my shit, gathered around and giving me Looks.

If the new litter doesn’t make them pee on furniture or a rug, I’m sure not being able to go outside will!

Recipes I have tried lately and consider worth sharing with you:

Friday for dinner, I made Pioneer Woman’s Marlboro Man’s Favorite Sandwich. I did NOT use as much butter as the recipe called for because, well, I thought I could get away with using less. And I did and I could and it worked out just fine! Basically, it’s just a steak and onion sandwich, and it is GOOD (though cutting the cube steak was a big pain in the ass – next time, I’ll leave the steak a little bit frozen for easier cutting) and she’s right, it would be good with mushrooms and (not for me, since I don’t like them) maybe peppers. I put cheese on mine and it was divine. Also, we used left over roasted red onion mayo and it was fabulous.

We enjoyed the sandwiches so much that we had them again for lunch on Saturday, and then again on Sunday and they were better each time.

Definitely recommended!

For dessert on Friday, I made Paula Deen’s Gooey Butter Cake. It was fairly easy to make, and while it was good, it wasn’t the kind of good that will require me to ever make it again in the future. It reminded me a lot of a caramel cake that we’ve gotten at the grocery store before. I had a piece and I enjoyed it, but if I never have it again I won’t be sorry.

AND THEN.

So we each ate what we wanted from the cake, and we put the rest in the refrigerator to feed to the pigs, and then next morning Fred broke off a piece and tried it and then he made me try it, and holy COW that stuff was good! Something about sitting in the refrigerator, I don’t know if it was just the flavors mingling or the act of being cold, or what, but man. REALLY GOOD.

(The pigs liked it a lot, too!)

The other day when I whined about my uuuuuugly feet, a few of you recommended the Ped Egg. I’d never heard of the Ped Egg and didn’t know what it was, but I went and checked out the web site and thought that maybe I’d see about getting one of them, and then I completely forgot about it.

Then, Monday at Wal-Mart I was getting ready to check out and at the end of the checkout lane was, whattayaknow, a Ped Egg. I looked at it, considered the price, and tossed it in my cart.

(I’m the worst kind of impulse buyer, I know.)

I bought it, and then I drove by a CVS, and there was a sign advertising the Ped Egg, and I was all “Okay, I’m fine, I bought one, I get the idea!”, and THEN I drove by Walgreen’s, and there too was a sign advertising the Ped Egg and I was all “I GET IT! I need a Ped Egg! I got one! Jeez, stop harassing me!”

I haven’t used it yet, but I have high hopes for the deuglification of my ugly, ugly feet.

Fred and I started watching Heroes the other night. We watched the first episode of it when it originally came on two years ago (or whenever the hell it started, I don’t remember), and after the one episode, we ended up deciding not to watch any more. Now, with nothing else to watch, we decided to give it a try again.

We’ve watched the first two episodes, and I think we’re going to keep on going. About halfway through episode 2, Greg Grunberg showed up.

“It’s Greg Grunberg!” I said excitedly. I love that guy.

“Who’s that?” Fred said.

“From Felicity!” I said. “The one-balled Jewish guy?” Fred never watched Felicity with me, but he wandered through the living room often enough to know that Sean had had a testicle removed and he was Jewish, so he began referring to him as the “One-balled Jewish guy” of course.

Fred considered the TV and said in confusion, “He… doesn’t look bald.”

One-balled, one bald. I SUPPOSE they sound alike.

I would tell you how Kara and the bebbes are doing, but they’re doing just fine and I have no stories to share with you – except that I spent a long time in the foster kitten room yesterday bonding with Zoe while the other kittens slept and Kara snoozed in the middle of the room. Zoe and I had not spent much one-on-one time, and I’m pleased to announce that she is sweet and adorable and her belly feels like silk and she enjoys a good belly rub.

(pic) Inara.

(pic) Kaylee.

(pic) Zoe.

(pic) River. Best. Picture. EVER.

Tons of pictures up over at Flickr.

Previously
2007: “GodDAMN I’m good-looking. Why am I taking orders from this old hag? Am I making enough money to put up with this over-polite shit*? I think NOT. GodDAMN I’m good-looking.”
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Questions answered, and a meme.
2003: Once again, pot-kettle-black.
2002: You can imagine the temper tantrum that followed.
2001: I would have preferred a candy bar, but unfortunately, we don’t got none o’ them ’round these parts.
2000: No entry.