Category: Fostering

6/19/07

* * * I stayed up later than usual last night, because Fred had picked two and a half pounds of green beans, and I didn’t get them all snapped before bedtime. So once he went off to bed, I settled in on the couch, watched Big Love, and snapped away. I really like Big Love, I have to say, even though the idea of polygamy (heh – I almost typed “polygamory”) and the idea that people could be happy in that lifestyle blows my mind. I’ll be honest, as someone who doesn’t share well with others, the idea of sharing my husband with other women (except for his Bitchez, of course) makes me cranky. I don’t get polygamy, and the two most smackable faces in all of Hollywood (Bill Paxton* and Chloe Sevigny) star in it, but I really, really like the show. Odd, no? *Just thinking about Bill Paxton in Twister howling “We’re going INNNNNNNN!” drives me right to the edge of a homicidal rage.

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Speaking of green beans and the snapping of such, I blanched and froze another two and a half pounds today. I think we’ve got five or so pounds in the freezer, in all. I also blanched and froze three pounds of summer squash. I wish my damn canning stuff would GET here. (Should be here tomorrow, according to the tracking number.)
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Hellew.
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They TAUNT me, do you see? With the rolling around looking so cute my head explodes? And then I reach out to pet them and they hop up and run away. They will be the death of me. I mean, COME ON! They walk up and sniff my knee, and then they won’t let me pet them? Is this FAIR? Disapproves of “this Koontz fellow.” “I are… about this tall. No, a little taller! No, that’s right. This tall. I are this tall!”
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Previously 2006: I hate that fucker. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: Then, I stopped and thought about it, which hurt a little. 2002: I was an errand-running fool today. 2001: You always know you’re going to have a nice, clean system the next day if you’ve eaten you a big ol’ helpin’ of okra. 2000: Oh, that’s right. That was my bright idea.]]>

6/18/07

I wanted to tell you to please let your readers know about heat stroke in animals. Yesterday I received a phone call from my 14 year old that one of our beloved dogs was dead. I raced home to see if I could figure out what had happened and was convinced that she was poisoned. We took her to the vet and they did a necropsy (sp) (autopsy on animals) and determined that it was heat stroke. She was healthy, had plenty of water, and was used to being outside. The temp outside was only about 85. The vet said she got over excited and couldn’t cool herself down. Here’s the bad part, if we had known something was wrong all we had to do was hose her down to cool her off. Please let your readers know about this silent killer due to the hot summer we are expected to have. The vet also said that heat stroke can kill in less than 20 min. FYI (information found here): In case of an emergency, it’s important to be able to identify the symptoms of heat stress caused by exposure to extreme temperatures. Check the animal for signs of heavy panting, glazed eyes, a rapid heartbeat, restlessness, excessive thirst, lethargy, fever, dizziness, lack of coordination, profuse salivation, vomiting, a deep red or purple tongue, and unconsciousness. If the animal shows symptoms of heatstroke, take steps to gradually lower her body temperature immediately. Follow these tips, and it could save her life: * Move the animal into the shade or an air-conditioned area. * Apply ice packs or cold towels to her head, neck, and chest or immerse her in cool (not cold) water. * Let her drink small amounts of cool water or lick ice cubes. * Take her directly to a veterinarian. And probably it goes without saying, but just in case: pleasepleaseplease don’t leave your pet in a closed-up vehicle, even if you just need to run inside a store for a minute. Cars heat up far faster than you’d expect, and you don’t want to come back to your car to find a suffering or (god forbid) dead animal.

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Yesterday being Father’s Day, I the cats ordered four of these candy bars for Fred (four because to just order one would have been silly with the price of shipping)(in retrospect, perhaps a selection of “exotic” candy bars would have been better, rather than four of the same kind? What can I say, they’re cats. This sort of thing doesn’t occur to them.). Fred gave one a try and gave me a bite of it, and I have to say – it’s weird, and not (in my opinion) a good weird. I think he had a good Father’s Day. He got to do stuff outside, he made a trip to Lowe’s, and we had roast, mashed potatoes, and baked squash. Me, aside from making dinner, doing dishes, paying bills, organizing my recipe box, vacuuming, and cleaning out litter boxes, I did a whole lot of nothing. A WHOLE lot of nothing. It was exhausting, so I took a nap in the afternoon and then went back to my nothing-doing. Except for the part where I got on my hands and knees and cleaned all the hardwood floors in the downstairs portion of the house, that is. Sundays are made for doing nothing, I think, especially when it’s the middle of the month and you’ve only read four books the entire month. Shameful. (Speaking of books, I read all of Blaze yesterday, and I loved it. LOVED IT. It has no supernatural/ horror aspects to it at all, and it’s an homage to Of Mice and Men (also very much worth reading if you haven’t already). I highly, highly recommend it.)
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Back at the beginning of the month, Jenn left a comment saying that she had a recipe for green tomato chili and to let her know if I wanted it. Since Fred loves the hell out of chili, I asked her for it, and on Saturday I made a batch. It was a big hit not only with Fred, but also with me. It was FABULOUS, and I highly recommend it – and considering we have approximately 10,000 green tomatoes, I’m sure we’ll be having it all summer long. Recipe is here.
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I was in Hallmark last week, and I saw this magnet. And I stared at it, and I read it, and I read it again, and I read it yet a third time. I don’t get it at ALL. Someone explain it to me?
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Mister Suspicious: Maryanne (Fred can’t remember her name, just calls her “Blue Eyes.”) This reminds me of George from Seinfeld, coming out after taking a nap under his desk. Always a laydee. “YEOW! Now, that was SOME catnip!”
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Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: All I heard on the other end was laughter. 2003: “Motherfucker. He never told People how he was soooooo in love with me when WE were together!” 2002: A world where smiley faces and “fuckity fuck-fuck-fuck!”s will abound. I can hardly wait! 2001: Why, just this morning I was thinking to myself Why is Ben Affleck stalking and following me dressed like a Frenchman? 2000: No entry.]]>

6/15/07

Wait till you start finding stray dogs in your yard sitting looking for the owner to come back. Breaks your heart. We had one collie that sat a week in my neighbors yard and would not budge just looking and waiting for the owner to come get him. So sad. There’s something about country living that makes people think they can drop off their unwanted pets and they’ll find a good home. I wish I could find these idiots that do this and show them a picture of their pet looking so sad and abandoned. I hope this doesn’t happen to you, but if it does I know the strays will be in good hands till you find them homes. Oh Mary, don’t EVEN get me started. I don’t know if I wrote about this before or not – I meant to, but I don’t think I did – but when we moved into this house, we’d occasionally see two dogs roaming around together. They’d go across the back forty, sometimes drink water out of the pond, but if we called to them, they paid no attention to us at all. We thought perhaps they belonged to someone in the area and had travelling feet. One day I was going out to check the mail, and I glanced over at the church lawn (we live next door to a church), and one of the dogs was laying beside the road. I walked toward him, hoping he was just hurt and I could take him to the vet, but pretty quickly found that he was dead. It bothered me, having him lay there in the hot sun, and I said something to Fred about it. “Just wait,” he said. “Five bucks says when Wednesday comes along, someone will bury it.” Wednesday came along, the parking lot filled up, and at some point I glanced over to see that the dog was gone. Someone had dug a hole next to the dog, pushed him into it, and buried him. Not long after, a beagle showed up, and we’d occasionally see the other dog that ran around with the dog who’d been hit and killed (I assume he was hit and killed, given that he was laying right next to the road, anyway). When Fred went to talk to a neighbor about the beagle, he found out that the people who’d sold us this house? Those two dogs had belonged to them. When they left, they left the dogs behind. I cannot tell you how very much this infuriates me. I want to burst into tears, just thinking about it. These are the people, I have to add, who wouldn’t let us come to see the house on Sunday, what with it being The Lord’s Day and all. Which reminds me, last time I had a sit-down with The Lord, The Lord informed me that doing what might lead to business on Sunday is FORBIDDEN, but abandoning as many of His Creatures to fend for themselves and be hit by cars and lay dying on the side of the road is A-OK with Him! It’s in the Bible! Okay, look. Here’s the thing. People abandon their cats and dogs “in the country” because they think the dogs and cats will revert to their wild nature, and they’ll romp happily through the fields and catch mice and rabbits and live happily and die of old age. No. What’s more likely is that they’ll be so terrified at being dumped off in a strange place that they’ll hide in a ditch until they’re starving, chase a mouse across a road, be hit by a passing vehicle, and die by the side of the road in a great deal of pain. Or they’ll wander across the farm of someone who’s seen so many abandoned animals go after his farm animals that his response is to grab a rifle and shoot the animal you’ve abandoned. Or they’ll drink nasty, bug-infested water and they’ll die of dehydration caused by diarrhea. Or a coyote or raccoon will wound or kill them. Or they’ll just curl up in a ball in a wooded area and die because they WERE NOT RAISED AS WILD ANIMALS. They were raised as house pets, and they know how to kill a bowl of food, but there’s a shortage of bowls of food in the country, oddly enough. If they’re lucky, they might figure out the whole hunting thing. And then they have to watch out for coyotes, who will happily kill and eat them, or farmers who are sick of seeing abandoned animals on their land day after day, or any other myriad other things that could happen to them. If they’re very, very lucky they might end up on my front porch, where there’s cat food and water and people who won’t hurt them. People abandon their animals in the country because they think “at least he’ll have a chance! If I take him to the shelter, they’ll just put him to sleep!” Well, if you take him to the shelter, he’ll have a chance to be adopted by someone, and going to a safe home where he’ll be cared for. And if he isn’t adopted, yes. He’ll end up being put to sleep. Which is crueler – to take your animal to a place where he will be terrified for a few days, but might have a chance to be adopted, will have food and shelter, and in the end might be euthanized? Or to throw the animal who loves you out on the side of the road where he will be terrified, won’t know how to feed himself, won’t know how to find safe shelter, and very well might end up injured by a vehicle or wild animal, and will die in a great deal of pain? Make no mistake about it: if you dump your animal off in the country, you are a jerk. If you dump your animal off in the city, you are a jerk. If you stick your animal in a carrier and leave it by the side of the road so that a passing stranger stops to see what’s going on and finds a cat in a carrier that is so hot they can barely pick it up (this is how one of the cats ended up in the shelter I volunteer for), you are a jerk. Suck it up and take some responsibility and take your animal to a shelter. And HAVE YOUR CATS AND DOGS SPAYED AND NEUTERED. Millions of cats and dogs are euthanized every year. There’s no shortage of cats and kittens and dogs and puppies available. It’s not “better” for your female cat or dog to have a litter before you have them fixed. Being neutered doesn’t make your male dog or cat less of a male, for crying out loud. As much as I want to, I cannot give a loving home to every stray who will wander through my yard; and I think that irresponsible people who dump their animals should themselves be dumped out in a strange place and forced to fend for themselves.

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“Perhaps there is an escape route this way?” Tina Louise’s beauty mark (and scary claws!) up close. Tina Louise slumps against me, looking for some lurve. Interested… but still suspicious.
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Da Boogs, dead to the world.
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Previously 2006: Not to mention that I woke up three separate times with my tongue COMPLETELY DRY. 2005: Due to Poop Watch version 2.0, there is no entry for today. 2004: Damn weather! 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: It’s the wild monkey sex, I must confess. 2000: “It’s NOT a cult, Mom!”]]>

6/14/07

* * * Questions and comments: If you don’t mind my putting in a plea for another organization- Solar Hot Pots has been trying to get the UN interested in their products for Darfur for years. Women would not need to have to collect wood at all for these stoves. Of course I don’t mind at all – thanks for sharing the link.

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So how do you find homes for your little foster cats? Do you usually take them to the pet store? Also how do you get little foster kitties? I think it would be cool to have little foster kitties, but I also wonder how hard it would be to give them up when the time comes. Well, occasionally someone will see a picture on here and fall in love and adopt the cat (only to get her home and find out she’s a hellbeast, mwahaha!), but that’s actually only happened once (because Nance is a suckerrrrrrrrrr). At this point, I take the cats to the pet store when they’re ready to be adopted out, and the shelter I volunteer for has adoption counselors who are careful to make sure that the cats will be properly loved and cared for. I get the foster kitties from the shelter I volunteer for – Chall3nger’s House – and they pay for the spaying/ neutering and shots and any medication the cats need. There’s (unfortunately) an endless supply of cats and kittens who need good homes, and I’m only one of many foster homes that volunteer for this shelter. It is very VERY hard to give up the kittens, I won’t lie. The first time I had to take a batch of kittens to the pet store, I got all teary-eyed and had to leave the store before I started full-out boohoo-ing. It’s always hard, but it helps to know that they’re going to very good homes and will be loved by good people. (Yeah, there are a lot I’ve seriously wanted to keep but couldn’t. I joke that Fred’s a bastard for not letting me have all the kittens I want, but thank god for him because if it were left up to me, I’d probably have 300 cats by now.) My concern right now is these four kittens I’m fostering now. Tina Louise will now let me pet her and even pick her up for a minute or two, and Spanky will grudgingly allow you to pet him for a few seconds, but the other two are just wild as hell and run if you try to touch them. ::sigh::
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So – what will happen if Joe Bob is still at the store? Come on – you live in the country and what’s one more kitty? You loved Joe Bob. I loved Joe Bob. We all loved Joe Bob. Poor kitty – who’d return such a sweetie? If Joe Bob is back at the store, I’ll pick him up, kiss him, love on him, clean out his cage, and leave. I do love Joe Bob – how can you not? – but I can’t keep every cat I’ve ever fostered or I’d end up on the news as one of those hoarders.
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i was just wondering — are you doing the kitten fostering in the attic-type room or do you have them in another room in the house? The kittens are in the room that was the guest bedroom. We moved the bed into the closet (and it ROCKS that the closet is big enough for us to put the bed in there (laying on the floor, not set up) and there’s nothing in the room itself now except a big dresser (where I keep kitten supplies), a few cat beds, and a thousand cat toys (plus the litter box and food, of course). When we’re watching TV at night, we can hear the kittens racing around like little wild things.
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I’ve ordered supplies for canning, because I am far too lazy to haul my ass to the store and actually buy the stuff I need in person. Fred got some advice from a woman on the forum where he hangs out as far as what we need, so once everything gets here, I’ll be ready to do some canning. And I hope the stuff gets here quickly, ’cause the beans are coming in fast. I’ve frozen at least four meals’ worth (yes, mother, I blanched them first) and we’ve eaten them for two meals in the last week. Rumor has it that canned beans stay fresh-tasting longer (according to the aforementioned gardening guru) and I need to get some canning practice in before the tomatoes start getting ripe. If we can stop plucking and eating the green tomatoes like this long enough to let some get ripe, that is. I intend to do lots of marinara sauces and canning of fresh tomatoes and stuff like that. When we die of botulism, you’ll know who to blame. The squash is ripening quickly, and we’ve had tons of oven-fried summer squash, stir-fried (in olive oil with onion and garlic) summer squash, and I’m going to make and freeze a batch of this stuff. This gardening stuff is a pain in the ass sometimes, but so far I’m liking the results.
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As you can see, Spanky is a deeply suspicious fellow. Maryanne and her pretty blue eyes. The kittens love them some camera strap, mmhmm.
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Tommy, dead to the world. If you look closely, you can see his tongue poking out of his mouth. Sugarbutt’s favorite place to sleep, on top of the refrigerator in the laundry room.
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Previously 2006: Do I know how to live large, or what? 2005: It took me a minute to get it. Duh. 2004: Have I mentioned that I have a big ol’ crush on Roland? Yeah. There’s me, being geeky again… 2003: Still no Fancypants. 2002: Well, did you feel the earth crack open? 2001: I guess not everyone is as much a wimp as I. 2000: I feel like I spent all day running around like a chicken with it’s head cut off and got nothing accomplished. ]]>

6/13/07

here.

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At 4:45 this morning, I woke to the sound of Fred walking into the bedroom. “What?” I said, taking out one ear plug. “We have a problem,” he said. Which is when I realized I heard faint cheeping. “Is that a bird?” I said. “It’s four tiny pink featherless baby birds in a nest that fell out of the chimney.” I pondered that for a moment. “It was in the house?” “Yeah.” “And the cats weren’t going nuts?” “No.” I sat up and turned the light on, and sure enough – he had a handful of nest and brand-spanking-new baby birds, squirming around and cheeping for their momma. “There’s no way these things are going to live,” he said. “I don’t want them to suffer. What the hell do we do?” “Why don’t you put the nest in the bush next to the porch?” I suggested. “The nest is broken,” he said. “They’ll just fall out.” We dithered about it for a few minutes, I said “GODDAMNIT!” many times, and finally I told him to just lay the nest on the front porch. Either the mother bird would find and care for them – not likely – or something would kill them, hopefully quickly. He went to work out, and I went back to sleep, whereupon I dreamed about raising baby birds who turned into kittens who jumped off furniture in an attempt to fly (one of them was a dead ringer for Sugarbutt as a baby). An hour later, Fred woke me so we could medicate the kittens before he left for work. “I think Newt got them,” he said. “When I came back to the house, Newt came from that direction, the nest had been moved about five feet, and it was empty.” Our country kitties: killing machines. If they’re not murdering little baby birds, they’re killing moles and leaving them on the cement pad out back. (Apparently we have a New York City-sized population of moles on our property, judging by how often we find dead ones on the cement pad.) Now. I KNOW y’all aren’t going to say that we should have tried to keep and raise the baby birds. I’ll repeat: they were brand-spanking-new, barely moving, and no. Just no. That would be lunacy. Still, I feel bad for the little guys, and the stupid momma bird who built a nest in the chimney. Also, I feel bad for us, for hiring chimney sweeps who can’t properly install a chimney cap. Stupid chimney sweeps. (Sorry, no pictures. For once, it didn’t occur to me!)
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I spent two hours weeding amongst the summer squash and zucchini plants yesterday and got about two-thirds of the row finished. This morning I finished the row of squash – note to 2008 Robyn and Fred: plant the squash and zucchini much further apart next time, dumbasses – weeded the row of whatever the hell’s growing next to the row of squash (black-eyed peas? black beans? Fuck if I know), and then went between the row of squash and whatever-it-is with the Dutch Hoe and chopped up the weeds between the rows. The squash plants are pretty much on top of each other – being as we’re first-time gardeners, we didn’t know they would get quite so big – so I had to climb in amongst the plants to weed. The plants were absolutely covered with bees investigating the squash blossoms, but they completely ignored me. If you had told my family, back when I was little and would run screaming “Beechies! Beechies!” every time I saw anything the slightest bit creepy-crawly, that I’d be working* in and amongst bees, that I’d look out my bedroom window every morning to see if the spiders who’ve set up webs right outside my windows have caught anything good, that I’ll see a spider web in the corner of my bedroom and leave it there (as long as the spider keeps it clean, that is), that I’d see a wasp and just smack it with a fly swatter rather than run screaming from the room, that I’d see a big nasty weird-looking bug and get as close as possible to shoot a picture of it, they’d have known you were on drugs. Nothing like living in the country to get you over your fear of bugs, I’m telling you. If I flew into a tizzy every time I saw a weird bug, I’d be in a permanent state of running around screaming, and the human body ain’t made to sustain that level of tizziness. *Possibly the “working” part of that would have shocked them more than anything.
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The kittens are doing well – they’re still little wild things when it comes to medicating them, but we’ve established a rhythm wherein Fred chases them down, picks them up by the nape of the neck, we wrap a small towel around them (to protect me from flailing claws), I squirt the medicine in their mouth, and then we put them down and let them run away, which they do while hissing the entire time. Poor monkeys. They forgive easily – at least Tina Louise does, since I have yet to get my hands on any of the other kittens. Yesterday I took a nap in the kitten room with them (a catnap, of course) and when I woke up, Maryanne was sitting about two feet away staring at me with hatred. It’s a start. That’s a very Mister Boogers look on her face. i has a taste “Dude. Seriously. All the freakin’ time with the DANCING. And not only dancing, but DISCO dancing. It’s no wonder I run around hissing all the damn time. ‘Left the cake out in the rain and now I’ll never have the recipe again’, my tail.” More kitten pics hither.
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“I yam a bird and I yam gonna fly! Cowabungaaaaaaaaaa!”
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Previously 2006: “I’d like to suggest, in the most non-harassing way possible, that we go for a hike after dinner.” 2005: Gives a whole new meaning to the term of endearment “Shithead”, doesn’t it? 2004: No entry. 2003: Still no Fancypants. 2002: What the FUCK is going on with Meg Ryan’s hair?! 2001: House hunting. 2000: Any way you slice it, it’s going to be one hell of a long drive.]]>

6/11/07

Sopranos spoilers; skip to the next section if you haven’t seen the final episode. I think that was a shitty final episode and I think David Chase is a flaming asshole. I think Tony needed to die and I especially think AJ needed to die a long, drawn-out, very painful death. I was glad to see Phil die (I kinda liked the over-the-top aspect of it) and I really wanted to see Tony die. I mean, really REALLY wanted to see him die, don’t ask me why. Ah well. At least Entourage will be back next week!

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When it comes to this whole Paris Hilton thing, I swing between feeling sorry for her (SHUT UP, I can’t help it. She’s such a fucking idiot that I feel sorry for her – to think you’re getting out of jail, only to find out they’re throwing you back in, well, it’s gotta suck in a big way) and wishing David Chase would kill HER off. I mean, did you KNOW that all you had to do to get out of jail is cry in your cell every night? I did not, but I’ll keep that in mind for next time I’m tossed in jail for driving without a license. Driving without a license not once, but twice, I mean. Oh wait, I mean driving without a license AND SPEEDING. Goddamn idiot. Like Mommy and Daddy can’t afford a driver for her? I guess you can tell how I’m feeling toward her right now, huh? And while I’m babbling about entertainment news, those Lindsay Lohan/ Vanessa Minnillo pictures? Those are supposed to be so horrifying that Nick Lachey is “standing by” Vanessa Minnillo? Seriously? Fucking yawnsville. Not much going on in celebrity news this week, obviously.
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I was cross and felt at loose ends yesterday. We went to Lowe’s and spent far too long there, looking for things on our list. When we got home, I ran to the grocery store, then made a loaf of zucchini bread and some potato salad and puttered around the house and did this and that and put clean sheets on my bed and Fred’s bed (which is the one and only thing you will ever hear me badmouth about having separate beds – it means you have to wash twice as many sheets. NOT FAIR.) and washed the dirty ones and hung them out to dry, and read a little and balanced the checkbook and set up the new bird baths, and all I could think was that there was something to do that I hadn’t done, but I never did figure out what that was. Saturday, we did a lot of driving around looking for a truck for Fred, and ended up getting one. It’s a nice, shiny truck that looks a lot better (and runs a lot better, too) than you’d expect a 14 year-old truck to look. The air conditioning runs really well, too. Now I’m trying to convince Fred that we should trade his main vehicle in for a yellow Volkswagen Beetle for me, and he can drive my Reno back and forth to work to save on gas. I don’t seem to be convincing him, though, damnit. Ah well. It took, basically, a matter of a couple of hours before That Bastard Tom Cullen was jumping the fence in the back yard. As long as we’re out there keeping an eye on him he behaves himself, but the instant you’re not paying attention, the shithead is over the fence. This means Fred will be running the electric fence just inside the fence, and we’ll be putting a collar on Tommy, and probably Mister Boogers as well. I don’t think we need to worry about Sugarbutt – he’s very skittish outside – and Spot can’t jump or climb that well due to his arthritis. Miz Poo seems to be happy to hang out in the back yard, and Spanky has hardly even gone out there. If we have to buy more collars we will, but hopefully Tommy and the Boog are the only ones we need to worry about. Maxi and Newt like to hang out in the back yard with our cats, and what’s funny is that at least once yesterday (we let them out while we were eating dinner – we eat dinner in the back yard a lot these days) Newt saw Tommy out of the corner of his eye, apparently thought he was Maxi, and rubbed up against him. At one point I think Mister Boogers mistook Newt for Sugarbutt, because he went over to him, stood over him (Newt was sprawled on the ground), and gave him the squinty-eyed “I’m about to show you who the boss is” look, and then seemed to realize that he wasn’t looking at Sugarbutt. Naturally Miz Poo showed her ass a few times, growling at Maxi, who just looked at her like “You want to try me, bitch?” Miz Poo is all talk, so she backed right off. Speaking of cats (and aren’t I always?), Tina Louise actually asked to be petted this morning. I was sitting on the floor and she came over and slumped against my knee, then let me pet her for the longest time. Little Spanky will let you pet him on the head for a few moments before he goes bounding off, but I’ll be darned if I can get my hands on Maryanne or Gilligan. They’re calmer about having me in the room than they were at first, at least. They’ll come out and play and occasionally come over to sniff at my feet before they go skittering off. And they’re so freakin’ cute, I am almost overcome with the need to pick them up and squeeze them, every time I go in that room. I haven’t yet, but I can only be strong for so long, people! “All full up on the petting for now, thanks.” Maryanne’s pretty markings. “You want WHAT? A snuggle? Oh, it is to LAAAAAUGH!” “Please, can it be adoption time now?” “I SAY, you want to adopt me now, RIGHT?” In ur internetz, plotting ur downfall. A ton more uploaded pictures, over at Flickr.
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“I think you does not unnerstand, lady. Ah HETS THEM KITTENS. HET.”
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Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: WAS IT REALLY FUCKING NECESSARY TO CLOSE THE POST OFFICE ALL DAY TODAY? 2003: Fancypants goes missing. 2002: Look! It’s PMSing South Park Robyn! 2001: Poor people are so funny, aren’t they? 2000: No entry.]]>

6/8/07

check out his pictures). We’ve decided that in the evenings after the indoor cats are indoors, we’ll open a couple of gates to the back yard so that Maxi and Newt can come and go at will. When I went out earlier to hang towels to dry, Newt came over, whined at me, and flopped onto his back for a belly rub. When I think of what a skittish guy he was last Fall, when he’d run away whenever we tried to approach, it gives me hope for the skittish kittens.

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Potential Sopranos spoilers below; skip if you haven’t seen the most recent episode. I hope AJ dies in the final episode, and I hope it’s particularly painful. He is one whiny, self-absorbed little bitch and I cannot stand him. If Paulie Walnuts makes it out alive, I’ll be happy. I don’t care who else dies, just leave Paulie alone, damnit!
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The brilliant Rose suggested in my comments for yesterday that I name the two unnamed kittens “Thurston” and “Lovey”, and I spit out my water when I read that, because that is PERFECT, but alas. Both those names have been used in the past, and since the idea is to use names that haven’t been used before, I can’t use them. Then I checked the used-names list, and do you KNOW what names haven’t been used in the past? GILLIGAN AND MARYANNE. Perfect! The kittens continue with their skittishness but last night I got Tina Louise to come over and sniff my hand. I touched her tail and the side of her little face before she skittered off, but they’re getting used to me. It helps that I sit in there and read and just ignore them (or at least pretend to) while they play. When Tina Louise came over to me last night, it was a so-very-casual stroll on her part, like “Oh. Hm. Look at these towels here. I think I’ll flop down on them. Why, looky here. There’s a person there! Color me surprised!” Maryanne disapproves. Water=good! Is that a face of disgust, or what? More kitteh pics, here.
* * *
For Fred’s birthday, I made a gigantic chocolate chip cookie and frosted it. Sugarbutt thought he should get some, too. (By the way, that bottle of “Move Free” is glucosamine and chondroitin, not a laxative. In case you were wondering.)
* * *
Previously 2006: Apparently I’m high. And in desperate need of makeup. 2005: By this time the investigator’s eyes had glazed over, and he was clearly thinking “This has WHAT to do with reliability?” 2004: When I was on the pier, the bream darted forward to partake of my delicious thighs, and I stomped across the pier as fast as I could, saying “STOP IT, YOU FUCKERS!” and I stomped up the steps to the top part of the pier, and waited for Fred to take his face out of the water. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: But. It. Was. Too. Far. From. Huntsville. 2000: Oh look, it’s Robyn, bitching. How unusual.]]>

6/7/07

* * * Another hour and a half of weeding this morning, and the onions are done. I also weeded the tomatoes, though I didn’t do a perfect job of it, just grabbed what I could. I also knocked about 6,000 little bitty cherry tomatoes off the vines while I was weeding (okay, maybe more like three) – it’s a good thing we have an entire row of tomatoes, I guess. Maxi and Newt like to keep me company while I weed. This morning they chased each other through the garden, then settled down for naps under the squash plants. The squash plants are now so big that if they’re under one of them, you can’t see them until you’re right up on them. Kinzie asked in yesterday’s comments: So will Maxi and Newt be disallowed from the backyard once the gate goes up? Or will they be climbing the fence to get in and out? If they do that, won’t MB and T try to follow them out? etc, etc. No, we’ll let them into the back yard as much as they want to be there. They’ve interacted with our (indoor) cats plenty by now, and though there’s the occasional hissing, they all get along fairly well. In fact, when we let our cats out to hang out in the back yard last weekend, Miz Poo and Maxi were within five feet of each other for several minutes and no one got hurt. Amazing! I don’t know if they’ll start climbing the fence to get in or out – so far, they seem a little confounded by the fence and I haven’t seen them climb it yet, but who knows what’ll happen once the last gate goes up? If Tommy and the Boog (sounds like a cartoon, doesn’t it?) start climbing the fence (and they are definitely the two who would do it, have no doubt), we (Fred) will run the electric fence around the yard and collar those bastards up. By the way, Fred has let Maxi in the house a few times. It goes pretty well, until Sugarbutt spots her. Right now, Maxi will come in and look around if Fred coaxes her (or picks her up and carries her inside), but she has no apparent desire to be in the house. The fact that she and Newt get along with our (inside) cats means that if the weather gets nasty this winter, we can bring them inside and not be too worried about them all killing each other.

* * *
By the way, Maxi and Newt ate that rabbit down to the bone yesterday, then Maxi helpfully dragged the remains across the yard so they were sitting next to the steps. Gah. (And yeah, we’ll be deworming them soon. We do it every three months or so, just because the fact that they eat squirrels and rabbits and LITTLE BABY BIRDS means that they no doubt pick up worms. I’m on it, yo!)
* * *
Guess what? New fosters!!! Unfortunately, these kittens are the scaredest, skittish-est, hissingest cats on the face of this planet. I haven’t been able to pick them up and snuggle them – anytime you get even close, they hiss and run away to hide. I’ve only had them less than a day, though, so maybe they’ll improve. So far I’ve gone in and just sat and read so they could get used to having me around. Fred got them to play near him last night for a few minutes, but these aren’t kittens who are coming around asking to be petted, for sure. Two of them are named so far, and I still need to come up with names for the other two. Meet: Tina Louise, so named because of the “beauty mark” next to her nose (though to be honest, I haven’t gotten close enough to her to be able to tell for sure that it’s part of her coloring rather than some shmutz she hasn’t cleaned off yet), and “Ginger” was taken. She’s got some set of ears on her, huh? Spanky, named after our Spanky just because. He appears to be the bravest of the bunch, but if you get too close, he’ll hiss, too. I wanted to name this one “Spot” after our Spot, but that name’s been used before, so I’ll have to come up with something else. This one’s a male. No name on this one yet, either. This one’s a female, and the most skittish of the bunch. The story on this bunch is that their owner called the shelter and said she had three kittens and that they were inside and had been handled plenty. When she showed up at the shelter, she had four kittens, the mother cat, and a RABBIT with her. The truth came out that the kittens had been living behind a washer and dryer and hadn’t been handled at all. They’re about 10 weeks old, they’ve been fixed, and they use the litter box just fine. If I can tame them at least to the point where they don’t hiss like little wild things every time you look at them sideways, I’ll be happy.
* * *
I know I’ve mentioned this before, but the thing about buying a new house or refinancing the one you have is that your name is sold to various companies who then inundate the shit out of you, trying to get you to sign up for their bullshit mortgage protection programs. I fucking HATE THAT SHIT. Yesterday Fred got a letter from one of the companies who expressed that they were “concerned” that he hadn’t accepted their offer, and – reminder, Fred And3rson! – he only had until the end of July before the offer was null and void and no longer available to him. GODDAMN I HATE THAT BULLSHIT. So I typed up a letter that said “I understand your concern that I have not accepted your offer. However, I recommend that you learn to live with the pain that my nonacceptance causes you, as I remain uninterested. Had you spelled my name correctly, I might have been interested; alas, now we’ll never know. Please remove my name from your mailing list immediately.” and I forged Fred’s signature. And then I mailed it back to them in the prepaid envelope provided. FUCKERS.
* * *
Okay, I need to go hang out laundry (NO! I did NOT separate that shit out! So there!) and then bond with my hissy little babies. See ya!
* * *
“Ah hets kittens.”
* * *
Previously 2006: Pictures. 2005: She’s a bad influence, that one. 2004: I have faith in you! 2003: Things that sucked. 2002: Here’s the thing. If you get yourself involved with a man you know full well is married, a man who doesn’t file for divorce until 6 months after he’s met and started dating you, then you don’t get to play the victim. 2001: My very first House Anxiety dream! 2000: Ah, world traveler, me.]]>

3/2/07

poor kids in Enterprise, but we got nothing but wind and rain here. I hope that’s true in Smallville as well – I’m about to head out there to work and clean all day. Then I think I’ll come home and pack some boxes. Fun!

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Check out this cool link, sent to me by awesome reader Pam. We should totally do that in the foster kitty room once we get it built, dontchathink?
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The other night we were watching TV (Deal or No Deal, our new addiction – Anya is my favorite model, I think she’s just button cute) and I decided that I was a little hungry, so I went and dug through the pantry to see what little snack-type thing I could find to eat. In the very back was a little packet of walnuts, and I decided that would fit the bill quite nicely. So I put them on a little plate (I hate having to dig to the bottom of a little plastic bag to get the remnants of food) and sat down on the couch and resumed watching TV. I tossed several pieces of walnut in my mouth and began chewing. And then Fred laughed and said “What’s that face for?” Since the walnuts had pretty much liquified in my mouth, I had no choice but to swallow. “UGH,” I said. “I think these walnuts are REALLY FUCKING OLD. I think they’ve gone rancid!” “That bad, huh?” “Yes, they’re AWFUL. They taste like my grandmother’s attic*!” Fred guffawed “I thought you were going to say they tasted like your grandmother’s ass.” Needless to say, I tossed the rest of the walnuts in the trash. *Actually, they tasted like my grandmother’s basement smelled. You know that antique store smell? These walnuts tasted exactly like that smell. I like the antique store smell, but the taste leaves a lot to be desired.
* * *
At Christmas time, when I was in Pigeon Forge with my family, my sister and I were watching TV in our bedroom one evening, and I think that some “news” show was on E! I don’t remember what they were talking about, but they said something about Christian Slater. “Christian Slater,” Debbie said. “Isn’t he dead?” “No,” I said. “You’re thinking of ————–.” “That’s right! How the hell did you know who I was thinking of?” she asked, amazed. “I don’t know, I just did!” I said. A few weeks later, I told Fred of the conversation, leaving out the name of the celebrity she’d been thinking of. I asked if he knew who she was thinking of, and he knew immediately. So my question here is, how many of you know which celebrity she was thinking of? Leave a comment if you knew immediately. I’m just curious.
* * *
You’ve got questions! I would also like to know what all the caulk is for. I’m worried that I’m missing out on caulk that I didn’t know I needed. and What exactly are you caulking for all this time? I’ve been caulking at the point where the baseboards and the shoe molding meet. Also, in some places I’ve been caulking the place where the coves and the baseboards meet. In addition to that, I’m caulking the cracks around the doorways and windows. I haven’t even really touched the caulking that needs to be done, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to let some of it go, or we won’t be moving into the house for another six months.
* * *
So I guess the Smallville house now has both caulk and balls? Ho ho, it does! ::snicker::
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ok, i am so addicted to the jewelry site!! i’ve already ordered 4 things. not sure how you can go there and NOT order anything Robyn. I adore that jewelry site. I leave the site open all the time, and when something new goes up, there’s a little musical chime sound that plays, and I always click over there as fast as I can. I’ve actually ordered a ring and a pair of earrings (don’t tell Fred!!!!) and am waiting for them to arrive. I have one hell of a time not ordering EVERYTHING, but I really don’t wear that much jewelry, so it would be pointless.
* * *
How long is the commute from one house to the other? 20 minutes from one door to the other, depending on traffic and such.
* * *
So is the lady on the iams multicat food commercial right? She says that “Cats are like potato chips and you can’t have just one.” I think I’d find it easier to eat just one potato chip than to have just one cat. I find it pretty rare that anyone has just one cat; most people who have cats seem to have two or more.
* * *
Why are you moving to Smallville before Fred and Spud? Because we need to get as much furniture as possible – and all the cats – out of the Madison house so we can touch-up paint and recarpet it. We wanted the spud to be able to stay in Madison as long as possible, so she won’t have that drive from Smallville, and the cats and our belongings can’t really stay in Smallville alone. Originally, Fred was going to move to Smallville and the spud and I were going to stay in Madison, but it makes more sense for Fred to stay in Madison, since it’s closer to work for him. On the weekends we’ll probably occasionally switch, with him staying in Smallville and me staying in Madison.
* * *
Can we have a Maddy update? Also, do you think the recipe requiring the tortillas would be just as good with whole wheat tortillas? Maddy’s a hellion who’s making life miserable for everyone she comes into contact with, I hear – Nance puts up pictures of her all the time, you can see them on her site. Probably the recipe requiring the tortillas would be fine with whole wheat tortillas. What I like about that recipe is that the tortillas take on an almost cheesy texture when you cook them.
* * *
I have to admit, I got a little teary-eyed when I read about Joe Bob going off to the pet store to be adopted. Maybe I’m hormonal, I’m not sure. But I really don’t know how you can stand to spend all that time loving on those cats and then let someone else have them. Too bad you can’t get all your readers to adopt your fosters, like Nance and Rick did! It’s hard to give them up, I won’t deny that – but keeping in mind that they will undoubtedly go to a really good home (the adoption counselors for the shelter are very careful about who they allow to adopt the cats) helps a lot. As does the admonition from Fred that if we ever adopt another foster cat we’ll never be able to foster cats again!
* * *
Have you ever used one of the Super Suppers, Let’s Dish or Dream Dinners? There’s a Super Suppers in Huntsville, and I’ve eyeballed their web site many times, but never actually gotten anything from them. Mostly, it’s a lazy thing – I don’t want to drive all the way to Huntsville and pick up the meals. Also, it’s a money thing – it’s far cheaper to do it at home, even if it’s a pain in the ass and takes up most of the day.
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I’m going to miss all the Joe Bob pictures. Has his sister found a home yet? and Did Princess Screecher (Joe Bob’s sister) get adopted? Myrtle hadn’t been adopted as of Monday. I still have hope for her, though – people definitely look at her, and she’s such a sweetheart that I have a feeling she’ll eventually be adopted. Sometimes it just takes time – Fantine was a total sweetheart, but it still took a month before she got adopted.
* * *
‘god willing and the creek don’t rise’…..? Yes, we don’t want the creek to rise because… it would flood out the road and make life difficult? I guess? I don’t know, it’s a saying I picked up somewhere, I don’t question it.
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Are you and Fred gonna give a name to your new home? Kinda like in the old Southern Plantation Tradition? (forgive me, I watched “Gone With The Wind” yesterday and I have “Tara” on the brain….) We’ve considered “Horseshit Alley” (I always said that if I won the lottery, I was going to buy a huge mansion and name it Horseshit Alley to horrify the neighbors), but at this point we haven’t really decided if we’re going to name it. I guess chances are good we’ll just call it “home.”
* * *
When I buy a new house, will you and Fred come to Texas to help me fix it up before I move in? I’ll… um… I’ll… let you take pictures of my kitties! I would be SO TERRIFIED to try to do anything to anyone else’s home, afraid that I’d fuck it up. I’d have to make you sign a contract absolving me of any damage done, I suppose, but hell! Sure, I’ll come to Texas! I’ve never been there!
* * *
Are the hinges on your cabinet doors adjustable? Ours (European style hinges) have little adjustment screws to raise and lower and move them in and out so they can be perfectly aligned. As far as I can tell, they’re not adjustable, but I’ll have to look closer when I’m actually out there. That would rock, if they were!
* * *
Robyn, I need your cat advice. I haven’t raised a kitten in twenty years, and I seriously do not remember the last one being half so naughty as this little black monster. He’s about in his catly teens – say, ten months old? (I’d have to count on my fingers, but that’s close.) But SUCH a hellion! I’m really ready for the ankle biting and the leaping and grabbing to stop already. Your air-can trick worked wonders with the Christmas tree, but the three of us can hardly carry those around with us in holsters in case he zooms around the corner to accost our knees. Or faces, in Seamus’ case, which I do not find amusing. Please tell me it’s just a phase… It’s just a phase! Okay, I don’t know that, but it sounds like it’s probably just a phase. Young cats are of The Debil and always run around like their asses are on fire. What I would advise you to do is teach the little hellion what “no” means. I started working on it with Maddy before Nance and Rick whisked her away from me. She was a biter even back then (I tried to warn them!). Anyway, she’d go to bite me, I’d flick her on the end of her ear (cats HATE that) and either say “no” or do the “uh UH” noise. She was starting to “get” it – I swear she was! – but it’s something you really have to be consistent with. I’d teach your hellion what “no” means and after a certain point he’ll understand the word. I don’t know how realistic that advice is, though, if he stalks you and attacks you when you’re not expecting it. Maybe snatch him up when he does it, flick his ear, and say “NO” very sternly? I bet he’ll start to calm down in a few months, though. I hope for Seamus’s sake he does! Also, if he jumps on you guys and digs his claws in, I’d recommend you either go with SoftPaws or trim his claws.
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I’ve been playing a LOT of diner dash and diner dash 2 lately and I was struck by how much you look like Flo in the pictures included in this entry. Crazy!! I didn’t know who this Flo was, so I Googled her up, and I have to say, I can see a resemblance! I think it’s the sideways smile, mostly.
* * *
Best picture of Spanky, EVER.
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Previously 2006: I call him Bob. 2005: Bouncing like that just can’t be a good thing. 2004: “DAMN it’s cold in here, give me some ass!” 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: Let’s just hope she wasn’t preparing him for the slaughter. 2000: No entry. ]]>

2/27/07

Dinyel has gotten me completely and totally hooked on this site. I haven’t ordered anything (yet!), but I lovelovelove looking at the jewelry. They have some really pretty stuff, and I always think about ordering anything with a topaz in it (such a pretty stone!), but have held strong, so far. I saw some really pretty earrings I liked, but they had the wire back on them rather than the straight pin with the back, and I can’t wear wire-backed earrings, because the end of the wire gives me a rash under my ear. It’s only in the last few years that I’ve come to realize I prefer silver over gold – though I do own jewelry in both, and even wear them together sometimes. Not that I wear much jewelry, but when I do, I don’t hesitate to mix gold and silver. I wear white after Labor Day, too. Life’s too short to stress that shit, don’tchathink?

* * *
What I spent yesterday doing: Cooking, cooking, cooking… and cooking! Since I’m spending today and tomorrow out in Smallville, I don’t want to have to worry about cooking dinner before I leave, so I made Tex-Mex, Taco Beef stuff, Chicken and Rice Casserole, and then pork chops and sweet potato crack for dinner last night. I packaged all of the three first meals into single-serving containers, froze some, refrigerated some, and god willing and the creek don’t rise, I won’t have to cook again for the rest of the week, except for vegetables to go with the meals. I also made a CORE Salsa Meatloaf and a spaghetti squash, so for the next few weeks I’ll be eating meatloaf with a side of spaghetti squash for lunch most days. Just call me Betty Homemaker. I wasn’t thrilled to spend such a large part of the day cooking, but I was able to watch TV while I cooked (potential problem in Smallville: Can’t see the TV from the kitchen!) and get several shows erased off the DVR. Plus, I won’t have to cook again for the rest of the week, so that kinda makes the time spent now worth not having to spend time doing it in the future, if that makes any sense.
* * *
I’ll be leaving Smallville around 4 this afternoon to drive to Madison, pick up Joe Bob, and take him to the pet store. Yes, after he’s been with us for something like two months, it’s time for him to go and possibly be adopted. He’s adapted really well to life here and he’s such a sweet boy, but I really think that seven cats is just too many for us to have on a permanent basis. Six really feels like the right number for us – add a seventh, and I feel like there are cats every three inches, and I’m always stepping on or kicking one of them (by accident, you understand). Also, I was told by a hateful man that if we adopted Joe Bob, I’d never be allowed to foster again, ever, so off Joe Bob goes. Another woman who fosters for the same shelter once told me, basically, “I love the hell out of them while I’ve got them, and then when it’s time, I pass them along for someone else to love. It’s never easy.” She’s right, it’s never easy – but I know someone’s going to love the hell out of Joe Bob, and now that he’s healthy it’s time for him to go be where they can find him.
* * *
What kind of improvements need to be made to the foster kitty area above the garage? Are you going to move in before you fix it up? Basically, the foster kitty area above the garage needs to be completely built. There’s nothing on the upper floor of the garage except a floor. We need to drywall the walls, put in insulation, replace the windows, put in a heating/ air conditioning window unit, and build the room. We’re only using about half the upper floor as a foster cat room (the other half will be for storage), so we need to put up walls to define the room. So it’s not going to happen real soon. There are other things that need to happen first – the small deck/ steps off the computer room door to the outside, the chicken coop, the backyard fenced in, the big shed Fred wants to build – before the cat room becomes a priority. For the time being, I’ll be using the guest bedroom as a cat foster room (when I get more fosters, that is), until we get the room over the garage built.
* * *
I will expect, however, some seriously funny posts about how the cats are adjusting to the move. I do hope your house sells fast – you kitties NEED their mommy there at night – they need a body to drape upon, walk over, knead (poor suggie) and otherwise pester. I hope you are gearing up for some pitiful looks and Look O’ Hate ™ (from Mr. Boog) when you get to Smallville in the mornings. Actually, the kitties will have their mommy there at night – we were originally going to have Fred move to Smallville and stay out there nights, while I stayed in Madison with the spud. But really, it makes more sense to have him stay in Madison with the spud, since it’s closer to work for him. So I’ll be sleeping out in Smallville with the cats and spending part of the day there, then driving to Madison to hang out with Fred and the spud, make dinner, and make sure the house is presentable for any buyers who want to check it out. And some days they’ll come out to Smallville and hang out (though there won’t be any cable or internet connection in Smallville until we’re all living there). All the driving back and forth won’t be fun, but I think we’ll deal with it okay. Hopefully we’ll get the house sold quickly!
* * *
“See yas. I’m off to find a home where they don’t yell at me for pulling food out of the garbage can. That’s what it’s THERE FOR, people! What am I SUPPOSED to do when I want a snack?”
* * *
Previously 2006: I swear to god, I have NO CONTROL over what comes out of my mouth sometimes. 2005: No entry. 2004: Dude, what the fuck? I don’t talk for 20 to 30 minutes on the phone to people I know and LIKE, let alone some strange man from the CDC! 2003: A Day in the Life of Mr. Fancypants. 2002: No entry. 2001: But I kinda like the irritability. 2000: My heart stopped, my jaw dropped, and I whispered “Oh, shiiiiiiiiiiit!”]]>