Category: Fostering

1/24/07

Or you can see a smaller (better) picture by going over to Fred’s site and downloading it off this page (the link’s toward the bottom).

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The spud (who, by the way, made it safely to California yesterday) informed me Monday night that she needs to get “one of those cards from the funeral” to bring back with her, to prove that she was gone at a funeral. They’re only allowed so many “parents notes” absences each year, apparently, and to not use up one of those allowed absences, she needs proof in the form of a funeral card. I think that’s a little crass on the school’s part, but probably they have a problem with kids claiming they’ve missed school for a funeral when really they were hanging at the mall.
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I think that y’all should know that there is nothing on this earth (aside from world peace (hee! I originally typed “world peach”!) of course) that I want more than an iPhone. Fred was all skeptical and pshaw-y about it until he took a good look at it, and now I think he wants one, too. I’d sell all the kitties into kitty slavery for an iPhone. And I will have one of my own by the end of the year, you mark my words, folks. Oh yes, I will.
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From my comments: Who did the picture above the fireplace? The brothers [Tommy and Sugarbutt] are so cute, do they tend to stick together when with all the other cats? That picture was done by Zhen-Huan Lu. I saw it when I was in Maine one summer and fell in love with it! Tommy and Sugarbutt sometimes cuddle up when the other cats are around, but then sometimes go for days acting like they’ve never seen each other before. I guess it depends on whether they’re in the mood for love or not!
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When Mister Boogers thinks about how much he hates us, is he thinking in a voice that sounds like Gollum from Lord of the Rings? Because that’s the voice I hear as I read his thoughts. In my head, he’s got a bit of the snooty French accent going on, but if you’d prefer to think of him sounding like Gollum, I can certainly see that, too!
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Robyn, you and Fred are doing such a great job on the Smallville house. When you get it all done – or to the move-in stage, you should do a whole page of before and after pictures – including the yard. It’s been quite a transformation already! We definitely intend to put up a “before and after” page when we’re done, probably before we start moving stuff in. I wish I’d taken more pictures of the yard before we moved in; I can only find a couple, and it looks HUGELY different than it did when we moved it!
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Oh my gosh! I didn’t think anyone else had even heard of “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas”!!! My husband thought I was making it up until I found it online and played it for him. Do you have this link? I didn’t have that link, but thanks to you, I do now! When I was in Pigeon Forge at Christmas, I kept cracking up my nephew by singing the song. Which reminds me, I need to send him that song in MP3, so he can drive his mother crazy with it…
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Hi robyn – are you going to leave your packages on the front step for the postman to pick up so you don’t have to stand in line behind the crazy at the post office this year? If so, please let us know how that goes? I love the commercials, but I have little faith in my postal worker. I didn’t leave my packages on the front step for the postman to pick up, because I really don’t trust that they’d actually get picked up. I actually sent my packages out via UPS this year, because it’s a lot less expensive, and you get that convenient step-by-step tracking, which I didn’t realize until my sister pointed it out to me.
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I love the purse picture telling what everything is! I have to ask..why so much tylenol though?! Just wondering – how many different kinds of Tylenol do you have?! I had, I think, three different types of Tylenol in my purse back when I took that picture of everything in my purse: regular Tylenol, fast-release Tylenol, and children’s Tylenol. I had the children’s Tylenol because I wasn’t sure how fast Tylenol would release into my system after surgery, and whether regular Tylenol would help at all. I determined that regular Tylenol does just fine, so currently I only carry a small bottle of regular Tylenol. The irony is that I need MAYBE one Tylenol a month (it’s okay to take very occasionally, according to my doctor), so I was carrying three years’ worth around with me!
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I suppose I should have asked you long ago, because I have you linked on my journal under “Journals I read” or some such list. So. Do you mind that I have you linked? I won’t be offended if you’d like me to remove your name/link from the list, just let me know. I absolutely don’t mind being linked by people who read me, and no one even needs to ask permission. The only thing that’s really pissed me off when someone links to me is the one person who linked to me under a list of links entitled “People who link to me.” Well, I don’t link to her; I don’t even read her, though I’ve heard of her. Oh look at me, getting all pissed off about it all over again! I want to email her and demand she take me off her list o’ lies, but I’m going to take a deep breath and get the hell over myself instead.
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Happy New Year, Robyn! Sounds like you all had a great time – boy, you sure can tell Brian and the Spud are related. Is it just the photos, or do they look enough alike to be brother and sister? They absolutely look enough alike to be brother and sister. When they’re together, people tend to assume they are brother and sister, actually, it’s funny how much they look alike.
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Will you be cleaning the paint off wooden stairs? If so, what works best? I have to clean up some myself. I’ve found that the best way to get paint off wooden stairs is the use of Windex, a scrubby sponge (with the green scrubby side) and one hell of a lot of elbow grease.
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When you’re ready to put in your new woodstove, are you going to consider a pellet stove? They make them to look just like wood stoves, and the type of heat radiation from the pellets is similar to wood heat, but they do not grossly pollute the air the way woodstove emmisions do. Word is that eventually there will be a ban on wood stoves, although I think the newer ones are less polluting (better catalytic conversion) and of course who knows how and when the EPA will actually put any type of ban into effect. I would like to consider a pellet stove, but word from Fred is that we won’t be considering them at this time. I’m interested in them, though – this might be a dumb question, but I assume that a pellet stove takes wooden pellets? Where does one get the wooden pellets to feed into the stove?
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Did you ever decide on the best sports bra? The best sports bra, at least in my opinion, is the Enell. They make me look barrel-chested and kind of funny, but when you put one of those babies on, your boobs do NOT move and that can only be a good thing!
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Did you get many duplicate cards? I’m always amazed that I only seem to get 1 or maybe 2 duplicates, though I get nowhere near the number you do. This year, I don’t think I got any duplicates at all! I don’t know if it’s because of a wider selection in the stores or because more of the cards I got were handmade, but no duplicates. Usually I get two of at least one card, but not this year!
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So the other day Fred and I were despairing because Moondance was spending all her time hiding in her room (even though the door was open) or under the spud’s bed, and that is just NO existence for a cat. Then Fred got the bright idea of carrying her downstairs to see what she’d do, both of us fully expecting her to haul tail back upstairs, only she looked around, settled on the couch a few feet from Fred, and decided this whole “downstairs” thing wasn’t too bad. She’s settled into a routine of spending most of the day upstairs – with the occasional foray downstairs to see what’s going on – and once Fred gets home from work, she follows him downstairs and hangs out, giving him the Eyes of Love and all the other cats the Eyes of You-Go-To-Hell. It works out pretty well. She likes to show her butt as much as Mister Boogers does, and if the two of them ever got within a foot of each other, I’m fairly certain there’d be a nuclear-like explosion and we’d be screaming for Jack Bauer to save us. “I hate you, and you, and you, and especially you!” JoeBob (FNKAMM*) is a plant eater, much to my displeasure. At least he doesn’t barf up the leaves he eats on the carpet or the couch. Or at least not YET. Mudderly love. “I am IN the box, but I do not LIKE IT.” “Hey, I think Mom’s in the box!” “Mom, you in the box? What you doing in the box, Mom?” “Mom’s in the box! Hey look guys, Mom’s in the box!” “Hush up, you little monsters. Alls I want is some peace and quiet.” All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. *Formerly Known As MoonMan.
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Self-portrait #15. “I’m sorry Healthy Back Bag, I swear I will NEVER toss you over for a Liz Claiborne Grandma purse again, I swear it! Forgive me?” Seriously, y’all. I’m two weeks into this daily self-portrait thing, and I’m out of ideas. How many damn ways can there be to take a picture of oneself? Give me some ideas to make it interesting, wouldya? (And skip the “We want to see full-body pictures of you in something that fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiits.” I’m holding off on that because I’ll be posting full-body pictures of me in something that fiiiiiiiiiiiits for my one-year Surgery anniversary next week.)
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Previously 2006: “Y’all shut UP. I don’t hear you complaining when you run around FARTING on everyone.” 2005: Letters. 2004: No entry. 2003: I swear, I have no control over my body sometimes. 2002: The shithole on Goddard Street. 2001: Lucky for her I’ve calmed down to a growling grumpiness, or it wouldn’t be a very good time to be the spud. 2000: We’re a pathetic lot, aren’t we?]]>

1/23/07

here.

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After using the Liz Claiborne Grandma purse (’cause it looks like something your Grandma would carry, apparently, at least according to Debbie and Fred) (not that I care, obviously, since that didn’t stop me from buying it) for a week, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s not working for me. I’ve run back to my Healthy Back Bag and am begging for forgiveness. I’d sell my Liz Claiborne Grandma bag on eBay, but I’m a klutz and a dumbass (not necessarily in that order), and I got a splotch of white paint on it and can’t get it off, so it might end up on the Giveaway page one of these days.
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From my comments: Hey, I know you and Fred are considering chickens/ducks, and thought you’d both enjoy reading this blog. Fred and I both read that blog already, actually. I think someone sent me the link back when we first bought the Smallville house and I check it from time to time. Last week or the week before, Fred sent me an email with a link to the blog and said something like “Check it out, she’s got chickens!”, and I got to tell him that I’d sent the link to him months ago (he “discovered” it via Google).
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Okay, so how do you change out switches and plugs? I thought I needed professional help for that and low and behold Lil Robyn does it. Maybe you guys need a DIY blog. I would find it very useful. I intended to do an entry on this very thing this week, but didn’t get to take the pictures to do it over the weekend, so it’ll have to wait ’til after the floors are done!
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I think I might know why people think you’re pregnant, and it might not be as bad as you think. When you were heavier, you were heavier all over. You didn’t look pregnant, just fat. Now you have a thin face, thin arms and thin legs, so if your stomach looks pooched out even a little bit, it might make you look pregnant. How many times do we hear that some movie star looks pregnant, and they’re not? It doesn’t take much on a thin person. That’s why even though you’ve lost tons of weight, NOW is when you’re being called pregnant. That’s Fred’s opinion on the topic, and I think you’re both probably right! We went out to lunch Sunday afternoon, and I found that when I got up from the table, I was sucking my gut in as hard as I could, so the ultra-friendly owner of the restaurant wouldn’t come running over yelling “You’re pregnant!” Heh.
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Hey Robyn – you guys should get a sign for you door that says, “We do not accept solicitations.” It does deter a lot of folks. For those who chose to ignore it, you can always point to the sign and say, “I’m sorry, I have a firm policy of only doing business with people who know how the hell to read.” You can also put it on your voice mail: “This number does not accept solicitations, so please remove us from your call list immediately.” I’ve thought of that, and maybe we’ll do that, at least at the new house. I’ve also considered putting up a sign that says “No solicitation, no religion, no cookies, no candy, no strangers, no thanks. (But cats are always welcome)” I’m sure that would endear us to our neighbors!
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What?!? No mention of the Scrubs musical, the best half hour of television EVER?! Only because we hadn’t watched it yet! We watched it Friday night… and Saturday night. And Sunday, too. In fact, I’m going to see if I can Torrent it and burn it to DVD. It was SO AWESOME, and amazing how many musical numbers they were able to fit into a half hour show. If you’re not watching Scrubs, you’re missing out, is all I’m saying.
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What is cute Tommy wearing in that self-portait? (In this picture) Tommy’s wearing a collar that works with the electric fence out back, so he doesn’t go a-roaming. He, Sugarbutt, and Mister Boogers all wear them on days when we leave the cat door open (which we haven’t been doing a lot of lately because of the weather)
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Hi Robyn – I’m sure you’ve mentioned this a dozen times, but I can’t seem to find the answer! You take such great pictures, what kind of camera do you use? The camera I use is a Sony Cybershot DSC-P200. My only gripe is that it doesn’t have as much of a zoom as I’d like, but other than that, I LOVE it! We’ve always had Sony digital cameras, and have always liked them a lot.
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Old toilets are power flushers for megapoops and are the equivalent of gold to some people… you might want to rethink replacing them! Unfortunately, they’re not that old, just a few years old. They’re the cheap, crappy toilets with hardly any flushing power at all – and in the And3rson household, we need us some flushing power. We’re going to upgrade, though not to the $800 (!) toilets Fred’s stepmother was telling us about!
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I too have a thing for Bam [Margera]. I didn’t realize it until I watched a marathon of his reality show one weekend and I think he is completely hot now although I’m not sure exactly why. Steve-O is completely gross even when he tries to “clean up” which is basically never. There are certain people who just look like they never bathe. They could spend half an hour in the shower with a Brillo pad and a bar of soap, and step out and still look like they’re dirty. Steve-O’s one of them. (Matthew McConaughey, bless his heart, is another. But maybe that’s just because he doesn’t wear deodorant. Also, Cameron Diaz.)
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I love that shirt, where did Spud get it!?! I’m 99% sure she got it at Hot Topic; that where she does a lot of her shopping these days.
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I was wondering though, does the shelter you volunteer for have dogs for adoption as well? Maybe you could foster some dogs and get to know them a little better and at the same time, find one that might work better for you guys. Nope, they sure don’t – they’re solely a cat shelter. They do have a couple of dogs at the shelter that belong to the shelter manager, but not for adoption. (More readers’ questions and comments in tomorrow’s entry!)
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Self-portrait #14: Driving down 65 at 80 miles per hour. SO TALENTED.
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Joe Bob (formerly known as Moonman) continues to make himself at home. Tom and Sugarbutt get their hate on. His name was Tommy! He was a showcat! With his tail straight in the air and a gut hung down to there! At the Copa-Copacatbanaaaaaaaaaa! Music and pimped-out Toms are always in fashion! At the Copacatbana! They fell in love!
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Previously 2006: You can’t ride two horses with one ass. 2005: No entry. 2004: Damn Home Depot. 2003: Yep. READY FOR SPRING! 2002: Sam’s rocks. Just so you know. 2001: I don’t know how on earth I missed it the first time around. But I’m sure it was Fred’s fault. 2000: “Fred, is F-A-G a bad word?”]]>

1/22/07

Newt is anxious to see the new floors!

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Moonman has earned himself the nickname “Joe Bob” for no reason other than it’s a good nickname for him (also, I occasionally call him “Joseph Robert”). He’s integrated into the And3rson herd of cats pretty well (Mister Boogers continues to show his butt, but not nearly as often), and he does NOT like being put back into his room with Moondance at night. We continue to put him up at night because I value my sleep and don’t want to listen to Mister Boogers’ hysteria all night long. Moondance is a scaredy cat and either hangs out in their room all day (despite the fact that the door is open), or hides under the spud’s bed. She’s a sweet thing, but very, very timid. Poor baby. The Les Mis kitties are doing just fine. They came through the spaying and neutering with flying colors, no problems at all. The three females were pretty sleepy Friday evening and most of Saturday, but Javert was his usual energetic, mouthy self. If it wasn’t for the shaved back end, you’d never know he’d had himself some surgery. All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither.
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Self-portrait #13: I suffer from Severe BedHeaditis. Self-portrait #12 is here, and #11 is here.
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The spud’s paternal grandfather passed away over the weekend. He had prostate cancer, which went into remission for several years, then came back last year along with multiple myeloma. The spud’s going to California on Tuesday and staying until Sunday. She knew it was coming so at least it wasn’t a surprise, but I know she’s going to miss him an awful lot.
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Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: You don’t actually have to say the words “You’re a dumbass” to get the idea across, and thus when your wife is mad at you later and you so very innocently say “Are you mad about something?” and she says “YOU CALLED ME A DUMBASS!” and you say “I did NOT call you a dumbass!”, you are wrong and she is right and you’d best commence to begging for forgiveness, you fucker. 2003: Little bastard. 2002: I can’t believe I’m FUCKING FALLING DOWN. 2001: Oh, wait. I guess the worst part was actually the rectal exam. 2000: One thing you don’t particularly want to see is Tex running at you, let me tell ya.]]>

1/19/07

* * * Sorry folks, but it’s going to be a short one today – I’m dropping Fantine and the bebbes off at the vet, then spending the day at the Smallville house doing many things that I need to get done (door painting, closet painting, switching out switches and plugs), and just have no time for something longer. On the up side, since the floor guy will be working on the floors next week, I’ll have the whole week off (and believe you me, I’m looking forward to it!), and there should be updates in a timely manner alllll next week. ‘Til then, y’all have a good weekend! Self-portrait #10:

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Previously 2006: A SHELL ON A STICK. 2005: Every movie and every show we watch, he’s in there deconstructing it. 2004: Memes. 2003: A day in the life of Spot J. And3rson. 2002: No entry. 2001: Blech. 2000: I now officially have too damn many books to read. ]]>

1/18/07

hands picture, for one – I’ve used the Gorillapod Fred gave me for Christmas. This year, Fred I swore to each other that we were only buying each other one thing. He wanted a mug from me, and I wanted the Gorillapod from him. And I have to say – the Gorillapod is one of the best Christmas presents I got. The other best present is a tote bag from my sister. It looks like this: But the really cool thing is that it folds up, like so: and it fits very nicely in my purse. I carry one in my purse at all times, and I had her buy me another three, which I leave in my car and take into the store with me if I think I’ll need more than one bag. They’re very sturdy, and SO convenient. (And Debbie’s saying “All the stuff I gave you for Christmas and THAT’s your favorite??” What can I say? The simplest things are the best.)

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This is the name and brand of the color we used in the living room, for those who asked:
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We went out to the house yesterday afternoon and met up with Fred’s father, stepmother, and their friend. The friend has known Fred for years and she’s moved away from Alabama but comes back to visit from time to time. I guess Fred’s parents had told her all about the house, and she wanted to see it. We spent a long time showing them around the house, talking about what we’d done and what we had left to do. The funny thing is that when I’m in one of the rooms we’ve finished, I look around and see all the small flaws and they bother me – until I look at a picture of what it looked like before, and then I think “This place looks AWESOME.” Anyway, we got the quote from the blinds guy, talked about it, talked about it, talked about it some more, and then decided we’d try putting up blinds from Lowe’s in one of the upstairs bedrooms and see (1) how it looked and (2) how much of a pain in the ass it was, and decide from there whether to go with the professional or not. Later in the evening, after we’d gotten home, Fred opened his email to find a quote from the tile guy (for around the showers). It wasn’t bad – ’til we realized the quote was PER SHOWER rather than for the whole job, and Fred decided to give tiling around the shower a try himself. While we watched American Idol last night, he sat and leafed through his tiling book. I think if the tiling goes well, he should hire himself out on the weekends to make some extra money. Momma needs some bon-bons, don’tchaknow.
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Speaking of American Idol, did y’all see that really tall black woman? Here’s what I don’t get – they ask her how tall she is, she says “I’m 6’7″.” Simon says “In heels?” She says “Yes. I’m 6’4″ in flats.” Well, then. YOU’RE NOT 6’7″, ARE YOU?? NO YOU ARE NOT. IF YOU ARE 6’4″ IN FLATS, THAT IS HOW TALL YOU ARE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD; THOSE THREE INCHES ARE NOT HEIGHT INCHES THAT ARE YOURS, THEY ARE ONLY DUE TO YOUR HEELS AND YOU ARE NOT REALLY THAT HEIGHT. I turned to Fred and said “Well if we’re counting heel height, I guess I’m 5’7 1/2″. Hey! I should go stand on a ladder! If I use the tall one, I can claim I’m nine feet tall! I think that means I’m a little UNDERWEIGHT now, doesn’t it? Just call me Nicole Richie!” Good lord.
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Self-portrait #9:
“What you lookin’ at, lady?”
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In this section, pictures of stuff I didn’t buy when we were in Pigeon Forge, doing an amazing amount of shopping. Why didn’t I buy them? Because I have a limited amount of money and space. When I win the lottery and can buy a 30,000 square foot warehouse to put all my crap in, I’ll run right back to Pigeon Forge and snatch all this stuff up.
Money talks, but chocolate sings. Hike faster! I hear banjo music! (I actually did get this t-shirt for Fred) Sweet Lincoln’s mullet. (Debbie bought this at the Smoky Mountain Cat House) Why suffer in silence when I can moan, whimper, and complain? (My new motto!) Dull women have immaculate homes. Raising a teenager is like nailing Jello to a tree. I love you more today than yesterday. Yesterday you really pissed me off. I can’t remember if I’m the good sister or the evil one. Wrinkled was not one of the things I wanted to be when I grew up. The cops just pulled me over for carrying THESE GUNS. (This is very very “The Todd” from Scrubs, isn’t it?) Paddle faster! I hear banjo music! The nice part about living in a small town: When you don’t know what you’re doing, someone else always does. And my absolute favorite: It’s better to have loved and lost, than to live with a psycho for the rest of your life.
There are even more pictures of stuff I didn’t buy, here.
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The fosters are continuing to do well. Fantine and her babies have been around long enough to garner nicknames from Fred. He calls Fantine “Momma” (and cats who have ever delivered kittens become “Momma” to him – that’s what he still calls Maxi, even), Eponine is “Scaredy Cat” (for obvious reasons), Cosette is “Litter Maid” because of all the time she spent in the litter box with her UTI, and Javert is “Little Brother.” We’ve been letting Moonman and Moondance out of their room for several hours a day. Everyone except Mister Boogers is taking it quite well (Miz Poo and Spot are mostly excited when we open the door because that means there’s another bowl of food they can stick their faces in). Tommy is the gentleman of the bunch; he and Moonman have been seen touching noses several times. Moonman is such a sweet, friendly guy and he’s worming his way into Fred’s heart. (No, we’re not adopting him! But Fred’s going to be sad to see him go.) Moondance. The best pictures are the one you get accidentally, I’ve found. Javert, the squeaky, always-talking little monster. It’s tiring, being this damn cute. Fantine falls asleep with her tongue sticking out. I love the look on her face, like “Do you believe what I’ve got to put up with?” All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2006: I’d be a lobster, ’cause they are yummy, and I would be bringing joy to someone after I die a horrible boiling death. 2005: Saturday I spent at least two hours – conservative estimate – finding and downloading a ringtone that sounds exactly like the “internal call” ring on 24. 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: I’m quite the stylin’ bitchypoo, I really am. 2000: It’s the period that never ennnnnnds! Yes, it goes on and on my friends!]]>

1/16/07

finished the front room over the weekend. Fred spent most of Sunday working on the wood shed, and I spent all of Sunday painting and painting and… oh yeah! Painting. Because I love it so much, you see. On the way home we stopped at the grocery store and I got my ass (or, strictly speaking, my GUT) insulted. Hmph. We’d intended to make Monday a short working-on-the-house day, but I informed Fred that I very much wanted to have the two downstairs bathrooms painted and crown-moldinged before the guy came to do the floors (which he’ll be starting next Monday, woohoo!). Fred pulled the toilet and sink out of the small half bath off the computer room and started painting it. And it’s such a small room that he actually finished painting it, and could even have gone so far as to put up the crown molding except we didn’t want to stand around and wait for the paint to dry, so we left around mid-afternoon. Before we went to the grocery store on Saturday and I was practically told point-blank that I was FAT, we went to a supply store and looked at fencing. Basically, it ended up that we could get a Fred-installed field fence around the back yard for a quarter of what it would cost to have a professional install a chain-link fence, so I told Fred it was okay with me. And then I suggested that since we were saving so much money, we should hire a professional to replace the linoleum in the laundry room, the upstairs bathroom, and to tile the area around the bathtub/ showers in the two full bathrooms. And Fred agreed, and not only did he agree, he actually called and set up an appointment to have someone come out and give us a quote. Things are really coming together out there in Smallville, and I’m getting really excited about moving out there in a few months. On a side note, I should send the fence guy a thank you note for not bothering to show up and mark the yard for the fence we were hiring to have him put in. It gave us enough time to consider alternatives, and save a buttload of money. I just don’t get these service people who make appointments to give quotes or provide a service, then simply don’t bother to show up or ever call again. Because in the future, if someone in the area says “Hey Robyn, who do you recommend to put in a fence?”, I’ll be saying “I can tell you who I do NOT recommend, that’s for sure!” When Fred was removing the toilet and sink from the back bathroom, we decided to put the sink by the road so that if anyone driving by wanted to take it, they could. Less than half an hour later, someone knocked on the door and asked if it was okay that they take the sink. Not only did they take the sink, they took the toilet, and left their name and number for later this week when Fred removes the sink and toilet from the front bathroom. Recycling at its finest.

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I think it’s possible that Newt, who is Not Our Cat, might end up becoming an inside cat. Every time we go to Smallville and he’s hanging out on the front porch, he hauls ass for the front door. If we leave it open for longer than a few seconds, he moseys on in and wanders around the house, meowing in his high-pitched big-baby squeak. He’ll hang out with us for quite a while, usually until he gets on Fred’s nerves, and Fred tosses him back outside. Maxi likes to come in and wander around (Sunday, when Fred was working out back, he left the back door open, and the screen door doesn’t swing shut the way it should, so Maxi and Newt came right in, explored for a while, then went back outside. I suspect this behavior will not go over well with the ass-showing Mister Boogers. “I’m prettier than that cat on the bag, right? The bag of cheap cat food you only feed the cats you don’t love as much, right? MUCH PRETTIER! SAY IT! I’m the prettiest boy in the world!”
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Fred’s new obsession, now that we’ve done the dog thing, is chickens. Oh, how he wants chickens. He can’t WAIT to have chickens. Chickens and ducks. He has PLANZ for the chickens, people. He’s always talking about his mad planz for the chickens, how he’ll blah blah nesting boxes and blah blah fences and blah blah worried blah blah. The one idea he’s brought up and which I can 100 percent get behind is the idea of having the fenced area where the chickens will be right next to the fenced area where the cats will be. Not only will we have the entertainment of seeing the cats freaked out by the chickens (the cats will not be able to get out of the fenced area, don’t worry), but we can occasionally let the chickens into the back yard (when the cats have been locked into the house), where they can eat all the bugs their little hearts desire. Chickens I can live with easier than a dog, I think. Chickens won’t require all the time and attention dogs require, and as long as they’re fed, I can ignore them and not feel bad about it. (I don’t know who I think I’m kidding. I’ll probably end up like Haven Kimmel and her beloved pet chicken, with the damn thing riding around on my shoulder.)
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I think it only fair to tell y’all that I’m currently reading Marley and Me, by John Grogan, and though Marley sounded like a NIGHTMARE to live with, it’s making me want a dog in the worst way. It’ll go away eventually – probably right around the time I finish the book. But that John Grogan can tell one hell of a dog story, there’s no doubt about it. I keep cackling and reading bits aloud to Fred, also cackles.
* * *
The foster babies are doing well, though I have no pictures for you today. Moonman and Moondance have been spending a little more time outside their room in the evenings, though Mister Boogers is so adamant about showing his ass that he scares them, and they tend to spend most of their outside-the-room time hiding from him. In answer to a comment someone left last week, I don’t know how long they’ll be with us. The shelter manager asked if they could come stay with us for a few weeks, because they’d been in the cage at the pet store for so long that they were getting on each others’ nerves. They’re no bother and they’re both pretty sweet, so we don’t mind having them around. Fantine and her babies are doing well. They’re over their upper respiratory infection, so it’s time to have them spayed and neutered, which will be happening on Friday.
* * *
365 Self-Portrait Project; Portrait #7.
On particular days, I hold my hands before me and silently exalt their singular growth like they are the rigid-nylon of a yew’s bark, a thousand-years-old, here to witness my grandmother and her grandmother and her grandmother. I love the mini tree-rings of my fingertips, how I leave stump-marks everywhere I go like the imprints of galaxies, skimmings of the universe’s flesh and blood. I’ve lost 151 pounds, and though you’d think I’d spend time staring at myself in the mirror, looking at the places that once were fat and no longer are, the body part that has me most fascinated is my hands. I didn’t think I had chubby hands before, but I guess you don’t weigh more than 300 pounds and have slender fingers. My largest ring size was a 10; I’m now wearing a size 6. I’m not a graceful person, but there are times I look down at my fingers, and I see a flash of grace.
Saturday‘s self-portrait. Sunday’s. Monday’s.
* * *
If Sugarbutt’s the happiest cat in the world, I think Newt runs a very close second.
* * *
Previously 2006: Things you may not know about me. 2005: No entry. 2004: I put too much perfume on this morning and now I’m sitting here with the stank rays shooting off me in every direction. 2003: And on the way home, he recounted, word-for-word a conversation he, his doctor, and I had had, only he substituted the nurse for me, and had her saying what I’d said. 2002: Ever hear of “Shut up, Junior, that’s rude, and the next time you say it, you’re going to your room for the rest of the day”? 2001: I’m such a ditz sometimes 2000: I’ve turned into such an old lady.]]>

1/11/07

* * * Did I mention that I got a Keith and the Girl hoodie from Fred for my birthday? I did! And Patrice wasn’t kidding when she called it the most comfortable, warmest hoodie on the face of the earth. It’s AWESOME.

* * *
I am feeling oddly scattered today, so cannot solidify my thoughts into an entry (but if I could, it’d taste exactly like cinnamon!), so I’m going to post my 2nd self-portrait (only 363 more to go!), put up some cat pictures and call it good enough!
* * *
Do you feel lucky, punk? Well, do you? (With staple gun (and fancy ear protectors) at the Smallville house.)
* * *
After two days of Amoxicillin, Cosette is still spending way too much time in the litter box straining to pee, so I’m taking her to the vet this afternoon, where she’ll stay overnight and see the vet tomorrow morning. Hopefully they’ll be able to figure out what’s going on with her. Poor Cosette – she runs from us now because almost every time we go into the kitten room, we grab her up and shoot stuff down her throat. That Javert, what a pretty boy. I don’t know how it is that his sisters and mother all have the Goopy Eye and he doesn’t. Lucky boy. They adore standing at the window looking out. They’re our own personal security system! Now if we could only train them to bark when an intruder comes near… Eponine the scaredy cat. Cosette and Eponine. Javert’s not too old to hang out with his mama. Javert from above.  
* * *
Previously 2006: Oh, how I love my books. 2005: I need a nap. 2004: Stuff I bought in Maine. 2003: No entry. 2002: Firsts. 2001: You rock, maaaaaaaan! 2000: I’m blue.]]>

1/10/07

reading list for 2006, I only read 129 books in 2006. In 2005 I read 191, and in 2004 I read 195. I read 62 books less in 2006 than the year before. What the hell have I been spending all my time doing? Ah well – 129 books in a year isn’t a bad total. I’d like to bring it up for 2007, maybe closer to 200, but considering that it’s January 10th and I haven’t finished the only book I started this month, it’s not looking good! No wonder my bookcase is stuffed so full of books. Well, less reading combined with the fact that I won’t stop buying the damn things, anyway. Maybe once we move into the new house and life settles down, I’ll get back to reading the way I used to. Maybe not, though – there’ll be chickens to feed and gardens to hoe!

* * *
I was catching up on some of my blog/ journal reading over the weekend, and I stumbled across the fact that Mac is doing a 365 self-portraits project, and I looked at her pictures, and I thought to myself “Self, wouldn’t it be kind of neat to do the same sort of thing to chronicle my 40th year?” And my Self said “Wow, that sounds like a pain in the ass.” And I said “Yes it does, and I know I can never take a picture nearly as good as this one that Mac took for I have not the Mad Skillz, but it would still be neat to look back upon when I am one hundred years old.” (For the record, this is my favorite Mac self-portrait.) And my Self said “WhatEVERRRRR. God. You’re such a pain in the ass.” And I said “Shut up.” So I was using the self-timer to take a picture of myself when my parents called to wish me a happy birthday, and I kept taking pictures of myself, and I think I got a very “me” picture.
(I wasn’t rolling my eyes; I was talking and in the process of moving my gaze from the camera to something off to the side, and that’s when the camera snapped the picture OF COURSE.) This should be an interesting project, no? I’m thinking I’ll get about 10 days in when y’all will say “GODDAMN woman, enough with the self-portraits!”
* * *
Thanks for all your birthday wishes yesterday. I had a very nice, very relaxing day wherein I did not much at all, just sat on my ass in front of the computer, ran a few errands, and then went out to dinner at Outback with Fred and the spud. Rather than order a cake from the good bakery in Huntsville, we had the spud go to the grocery store and pick up some cupcakes and ice cream and called it good enough. Well, except that the cupcakes were completely tasteless. The ice cream wasn’t bad, though! I’m thinking for my 40th, I should do something a little more exciting, like spend a week traveling around New Zealand. Hey. We should all do it! Who’s up for the Bitchypoo tour of New Zealand??
* * *
At someone’s request, I created a 2007 calendar (pay no attention to the fact that we’re practically halfway through the first month of 2007, ‘k?). I included pictures of all our cats (except Maxi, because I couldn’t find a picture I liked well enough to put in the calendar)(also, Maxi is not our cat), a couple of Maddy pictures, and some foster kitten pics. Anyway, you can get it here, if you’re interested, and I’ll leave the link up in the sidebar until the end of the month. Or until I remember to take it down, whichever happens first.
* * *
Over the weekend, Fred and I were watching TV when the phone rang. He checked the caller ID and handed the phone to me. It was the shelter manager, calling to see how Moonman and Moondance were doing, and then to ask me if I could take a mother cat and her three kittens. They all had crusty eyes and upper respiratory infections, so she was keeping them in the bathroom to keep them away from the other cats. I had the option of picking them up that day (Saturday) or waiting until Monday ’til they’d been tested at the vet’s. I covered the phone, told Fred what was going on, and told the manager I’d pick them up Monday afternoon. We originally planned to move Moondance and Moonman to the other house, but we’re not out there every day, and I preferred to keep them here, where I could go up and hang out with them several times a day, rather than having to drive twenty minutes to get to them. Sunday, Fred and I moved the bed out of the guest bedroom and moved Moondance and Moonman into the guest bedroom. They’re very sweet, well-behaved cats and I knew that the spud wouldn’t have any problems with them (her computer is in there; I imagine when we move to Smallville and she gets to have her computer in her own room, it’ll be like Christmas for her). Monday, in a kind of convoluted way home (we stopped in Smallville to check out a leak in the ceiling of the computer room and (the real reason we stopped) leave a snack for Maxi and Newt, who hadn’t been around on Sunday, so hadn’t gotten a snack and THEY MIGHT STARVE) then drove to the shelter, then from the shelter home) we stopped by the shelter and picked up the mom and her kittens. The kittens are about three months old and slated to be spayed and neutered on Friday. They all have upper respiratory infections (though they already sound better than they did the first night) and all but one have crusty eyes, requiring the application of an ointment to their eyes three days a week. In addition, I’m pretty sure one has – or had – a urinary tract infection, because she’d get in the litter box and squat there for several minutes, eventually producing only a tiny bit of pee (I started her on amoxicillin yesterday and she seems already like she might be getting better). My hands are practically raw from all the hand-washing I’ve done since we got them (we’re hoping not to spread the upper respiratory infection to our cats). The mom is very, very sweet. A little feisty, too, but mostly sweet, and very friendly. Like all the momma cats we’ve had, she’s taken to Fred and seems to regard him as her property. Oh, and the best thing – she has a little three-inch stump of a tail that she wags, just like Mister Boogers. There are two female kittens and one male. The females are very skittish; the male is less so. He’s a bit of a Chatty Cathy and loves to walk around the room making little peeping noises for no apparent reason. I laid down on the floor for a few minutes this morning, and he curled up against me and went to sleep. He doesn’t like to be picked up, but he’ll tolerate it for a minute or two. Because I named the last batch of kittens (the Christmas kittens), Fred was given free reign to name this bunch. I actually kind of like the names he came up with. Fantine, the mom. Fantine again. She’s a tiny thing. Javert. Cosette (left) and Eponine. Cosette (standing), Eponine (brown tabby), and Javert. Yesterday afternoon I emailed Fred and said That Javert, he’s a talker. He emailed me back with “Valjean! At last, we see each other plain. M’sieur LeMeow, you’ll wear a doggie chaaaaaaaaaaaain!” Make sure you keep him away from water. Ha! (Those names are from Les Miserables, for those of you in the dark.) All of today’s uploaded pictures are here.    
* * *
Previously 2006: “I had a double serving of beans last night/ and I’ve got some hard gas going on/ Pull my finger, baby.” 2005: Back from Maine! 2004: My parents’ Christmas decorations. 2003: And yet, show me a zit and I’m on it in two seconds flat. 2002: “IF YOU WERE THAT FUCKING INTERESTED IN HOW MUCH EVERYTHING COST, YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN PAYING ATTENTION WHEN SHE WAS RINGING IT ALL UP!” 2001: My body gave me two birthday presents yesterday – my period (a day early) AND a mild return case of conjunctivitis. 2000: In his narcotic cough syrup-induced haze, he nodded sympathetically and hacked a big green chunk of lung onto his plate.]]>

1/8/07

Jake has found a new home. I feel bad, because he is a good dog and I think he’ll make a really good pet. I’m simply unwilling to take the chance that he could do serious damage to one of the cats, and even before the incident with Spot, I wasn’t feeling a great amount of love for Jake. When you read that a dog’s life expectancy is 10 years and after spending a few days with the dog in question you think to yourself He’s a year old, which means he’ll live for another 9 years. That’s not so long. I can handle that… right?, that might be a sign that you’re not heading in the right direction. I’m not a dog person; I’m really not. It’s possible that the dog exists out there who will change that. But it’s not Jake. I understand that many of you will be disappointed, maybe angry at me, maybe in the mood to leave angry, hateful comments. It’s okay, I completely understand how you feel. But I won’t have Spot living in fear in his own home. I just won’t. And in his new home he’ll have two dogs to play with – two dogs that are big, like him – and his new daddy is an affirmed “dog person.” I think he’s better off.

* * *
I’ve made Fred promise to wait, at the very least, six months before he does the “Can we get a dog, huh, can we can we can we?!” song and dance. ::sigh::
* * *
And for those of you who asked, yes. We did adopt a dog in 2001 and ended up taking her back (to a no-kill shelter). Here’s where we got her, and here’s an explanation for why we took her back.
* * *
At the groomer’s, bonding with a tomcat (who looks a lot like Sugarbutt from this angle). Hanging out in the doorway between the computer room and dining room. Tommy, not a fan. Still, not so much a fan.
* * *
Moonman has seriously come out of his shell. When you go into the room, he comes right to you for a hug and pat.   “Yowza!”    
* * *
Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: How to celebrate Robyn’s birthday. 2003: How to celebrate Robyn’s birthday. 2002: How to celebrate Robyn’s birthday. 2001: One more day ’til my birthday! Whoo! 2000: No entry.]]>

1/4/07

here. Date I started addressing cards: I can’t guarantee it, but I think it was somewhere around December 3rd. Date I finished: The day after I stopped taking addresses, so December 22nd. Total cards sent out (not including family): 320. States receiving 10 or more cards: California (21), Illinois (10), Maine (11), Michigan (14), North Carolina (16), Ohio (16), Pennsylvania (11), Texas (17), Virginia (16), Washington state (12). States who don’t love me and didn’t want a card: Hawaii, Nevada, North Dakota, Rhode Island, Vermont, West Virginia, Wyoming, Washington DC. Other countries receiving cards: Canada (16), New Zealand (2), Australia (9), United Kingdom (2), Sweden (2), Netherlands (1), Portugal (1), Germany (1), Finland (1), Scotland (3), Switzerland (1), France (1) and Israel (1). Number of cards kicked back as undeliverable: Just one, because I’m a dumbass who forgot to put the stamp on the card. I put a stamp on the card and mailed it right back out; hopefully it got there before Christmas! Percentage of probability that I accidentally sent out more than one card to at least one person: 96.837. Was I terribly organized about my card sending this year?: Not terribly organized, not terribly disorganized. I’d like to say I was more organized than I expected to be, with the whole house thing going on and distracting me. Did I have a lot of fun shopping for funny cards?: I did not. What I did have a lot of fun doing was creating a personalized card this year that was AWESOME. I don’t know how on earth I’m ever going to top that card, I really don’t. For those of you who hate me and didn’t request a card, this is what it looked like:

(Inside: But he loves Santa. Happy freakin’ holidays.)
I actually ran out of cards, and about 40 of you ended up with handmade cards wherein I taped that picture to the front of a blank card and hand-wrote the message inside. Thank god for Walgreen’s and their willingness to print out 40 pictures in the space of a couple of hours. What I’ll do differently next year: Order more cards, probably. Number of cards I’ve received: As of today, 153. I had them taped to the back of the front door, the door between the hallway and kitchen, and the door to the garage. Next year I’ll have to come up with a better way of displaying them, methinks. Thanks, you guys, for the awesome cards you sent. They always make me smile! It’s amazing how many names I recognize when I’m opening cards. I took a picture of the cards I’ve received, and they’re here. I left the picture cards in the pictures I took, but blurred out all names. If your card is on that page and you don’t want it there, just say the word and I’ll blur the whole thing out, I promise.
* * *
When we were in Pigeon Forge, I think I mentioned that we did a lot of shopping. One of the things we did was to hit some of the factory outlets, and one of the factory outlets we hit was Harry & David. They had lot of stuff marked down to 50% off, and I saw some Christmas dishes I absolutely loved. I didn’t want to make an impulse purchase, though, so I decided to sleep on it. When I woke up the next day, I decided I really wanted those damn plates. I mean, we’re planning on having Christmas (at least the morning part of Christmas) at our house next year, so we really needed Christmas plates, right? I ended up getting not only the regular-sized plates I loved so much, but also appetizer plates that I fell in love with as well. And I ended up not having to pay anything for them, because my sister bought them for me, for my birthday! My sister ROCKS.
The appetizer plates. The dinner plates.
When we were in the Smoky Mountain Cat House, my mother saw some dessert plates she really liked, and she bought them. I don’t know if she bought them intending to give them to me next Christmas, or bought them for herself and decided it’d be too much of a pain in the ass to get them home unbroken or what, but she ended up giving them to me for my birthday (along with a Lowe’s gift card, which my parents decided would be funny to give me, ’cause I told them we got so many for Christmas that we would probably be able to finish out one bathroom with no cost to us!)
All in all, it was a very good birthday. And my birthday’s not ’til next Tuesday!
* * *
Tuesday night Fred and I were watching TV when the phone rang. He picked it up, looked at the caller ID, and handed it to me. It was the shelter manager, and I hoped she was calling to tell me she had some kittens for me. Instead, she asked if I was willing to take Moondance and Moonman – a couple of adult cats who’d been at the pet store for several weeks – for a couple of weeks. They’ve been in a cage together (they’re siblings), and it appears that they’re starting to get on each others’ nerves – something I noticed when I was at the pet store on Monday. Of course I was willing to take them in for a couple of weeks, so yesterday morning I went to the pet store and got them. The boy – Moonman – was perfectly willing to get into the cat carrier, but the girl – Moondance – did NOT want to get into the carrier, and I had to chase her down and wrestle her into the carrier. She’s got a very loud meow when she’s scared, and she howled all the way through the store, across the parking lot, and halfway home before she settled down. At home, I let Mister Boogers and Sugarbutt sniff at them through the carrier doors (and Mister Boogers hissed and growled at them), then shooed them out of the room, set up the litter box and food and water bowls, and opened the doors to their carriers and left the room. (I like to let the cats get a little acclimated to their surroundings before I get all up in their faces.) About an hour and a half later, I went into the cat room, and Moonman was hiding in one of the hiding places (I don’t know what to call that thing. A pyramid?) and Moondance was sniffing around, and when I walked into the room, she froze. Now, they were always perfectly friendly at the pet store, so I expected them to come over and be petted, but instead they just stared at me and looked scared. Moondance stood, frozen, in the middle of the room and stared at me. Now, here’s the thing about cats that I never really noticed before yesterday: when they want to look at something to the left of them, they move their whole heads, rather than just their eyes. Moondance, frozen in place, looked to the left of me by moving just her eyes instead of moving her whole head, and it was really kind of odd to see that happen. I eventually sweet-talked her into coming over to be petted, and now she’s relaxed enough that if you go into the room she’ll freak out a little at first, then the lightbulb goes on over her head – “Oh, they pet me, and I likes to be petted!” – and she comes over for some lovin’. He, on the other hand, is a shy little monkey, and hides in his pyramid until he decides it’s safe to come out, whereupon he walks across the room, stretching, ends up in front of the food dish and casually says “Oh, look. It’s food! Why, I suppose I could have a bite to eat…” He’s only let me pet him a few times. Maybe it’ll take a couple of days for him to relax enough to come over and demand love the way she does. Anyway, pictures! Moondance (the girl). Moonman (the boy, obviously). I’ll try to get better pictures of them. The pictures don’t convey just how pretty they are!    
* * *
Miz Poo has claimed the basket by the computer room window as her own. She’s spent the bulk of the last two days curled up in the basket. Tommy likes to sleep in the basket upstairs in my bedroom. I think the baskets are a hit!
* * *
Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: No entry. 2002: Links. 2001: What sad, sad lives y’all must have led, to never experience the delight of whoopie pies. 2000: I’m feeling like total crap.]]>