Category: Life

I love to watch the squirrels out the side window, especially when they’re going after this particular bird feeder.

Flexible.

Excellent balance.

Do you see the squirrel tongue action going on here? Let’s see a closeup.

SQUIRREL TONGUE.

“Oh, sweet bird seed, you make my heart sing. You warm the cockles of my heart and delight my tongue, I LOVE YOU SO.”

Sweet Opie in the sunshine.

“Can I come in and play?”
“I’m sorry, there’s no room for you in Cat Cottage. Check back tomorrow.”
“But you’re the only one in there, and there are like three other floors!”
“Right. No room. See ya!”

Tig would like you to know that manly mancats don’t mind playing with pink toys.

Three little tuxies, all in a row.

Jax and the crazy eyes.

Silly boy.

“What?”

Chuckles loves himself some Elwood.

LOVES.

Who can blame him?

It must feel like curling up with a huge water bottle!

Newtles is the king of chillaxin’.

It’s a rough life, is what it is.

“After all that yawning, I need another nap.”

Previously
2010: “Really? Cat entries? From ROBYN? We are STUNNED and SHOCKED and AMAZED!”
2009: I was a baking motherfucker this weekend.
2008: No entry.
2007: Kismet! Match made in heaven! Fate!
2006: I said to Fred, “I know you think we have too many cats, but -”
2005: I imagine that when all three of our phones are in the same vicinity, we’ll get them confused and hijinx will ensue.
2004: Reader questions, answered.
2003: “Um, no,” I told Fred when he asked. “And not only no, but HELL no, and I’ll be out of the house whenever they come to interview you and tape you exercising and all that goofy-ass shit.”
2002: No entry.
2001: I guess he defines “tension” as “getting drunk and pawing every female in sight.”
2000: I practically woke up screaming, I tell you.
1999: Suddenly, it occurs to me that nestled next to my underwear is not the best place to put a bag of very potent catnip.

You know you want a Crooked Acres holiday postcard. Last day to get your name and address to me! (And yes, of course I’m happy to send cards to other countries!) Send your name and mailing address to hollydays@gmail.com .

I’ll take names and addresses until midnight.

If you’d like to send me a card as well (never ever required, but always appreciated – I don’t keep track of who does and doesn’t send a card, I promise!), send it to: Robyn Anderson, PO Box 461, Athens, AL 35612 USA.

Recently, Fred discovered Fiverr.com, a site where you can pay $5 to have someone do just about anything (within reason). What he did, of course, was immediately commission a picture of one cat, and then from another artist altogether, he commissioned another.

Both artists did a pretty good job, but I think I kind of prefer the one that did Sugarbutt.

Randomness

Elaine sent me this link last week, and I’ve been meaning to share it ever since. Now THAT is a cat who enjoys yoga!

Anita sent me this one last week, and I found it really interesting. I usually have a hard time sitting and watching any videos longer than 90 seconds, but I watched every moment of this, and thought it was thought-provoking and well done.

Lately, Fred has about every other Friday off from work. He gets out of bed around 3:30 every morning (he’s a freak) and tends to get to work by 5, so he racks up plenty of extra time during the week so that he can either leave early on Friday or stay all day one Friday and take the next Friday off.

So he had last Friday off, and first he shocked me by coming upstairs when I was getting dressed after my shower to ask if I wanted to go out to breakfast. Not ONLY did we go out to breakfast, we went out to Cracker Barrel, which Fred is usually no fan of. After breakfast, we went to Publix to pick up milk, which is COMBINING ERRANDS (not that breakfast out is an errand, but you know what I mean), which Fred also really really hates to do.

AND. THEN.

Saturday morning we LEFT THE HOUSE – his suggestion!!! – and went to Books-A-Million, where we browsed for a very long time in the bargain book section and left with 13 books between us for the bargain price of $65.

I don’t know what’s going on, but to voluntarily leave the house – AT HIS SUGGESTION – twice in one weekend like that? UNHEARD OF.

Maybe it was an early birthday present?

In former foster news, the shelter manager told me that she saw the people who adopted Rufus last week. He’s doing well, is best friends with their dog, and he and the dog play and share toys. Awww.

This was Rufus, in case you don’t remember – he showed up in our yard suddenly one day earlier this year, and I was so worried that he was a pregnant female (he had a big round belly) that I insisted Fred go out and trap him:

And in other former foster news, the people who adopted Ciara and Coriander together this summer stopped by Petsmart, and I heard that they just love those girls to death, and the girls get along great with their Lab.

Ciara and Coriander when they were here with us.

I’m always glad to hear about my former fosters going to homes with dogs, and adjusting well. Since they’re not exposed to dogs around here, it’s something I worry about, but given how many well-adjusted stories I’m hearing, I’m going to stop worrying!

Patty and Charlie are doing well – they still don’t quite understand why they’re not allowed in the foster room any more, but last night they stood in the hallway outside the room and hissed under the door at the Sons, so I’m not in any hurry to let them in to visit!

This shows the amazing green of Patty’s eyes.

Charlie, getting ready to complain.

Patty, showing off her claws.

I think I forgot to mention that on Saturday, I opened the closet off the foster room, and moved the litter boxes in there so that the boys would have more room to run around. They seem to like it quite a bit – when I’m downstairs, I can hear them thundering around from the room to the closet and back again.

Opie and Jax.

Clay and Tig.

I don’t know what’s going on over there, but it’s certainly got Opie’s attention.

Pretty boy Jax.

You know you wanna rub Opie’s belly (whether or not he’ll let you is another matter altogether).

Mister Innocent.

Thus far, I can tell you that Clay is the kitten most likely to climb into your lap – and then sink his claws into your thigh when you’re least expecting it (on the list for all the Sons: claw trimming!). Opie’s the kitten most likely to bite your big toe. Jax is the kitten most likely to sit just out of your reach, look up at you with his big, big eyes, and squeak sadly as though you’re breaking his heart. Tig is the most skittish one who runs and hides if you make any sudden movements – and will protest if you pick him up and hold him like a baby. But he only protests for a few seconds before he decides that, hey. This isn’t so bad!

Spanky snoozing.

“LADY, I AM TRYING TO NAP. STOP TAKING PICTURES OF ME!”

Previously
2010: “Hmm,” I said, attempting to look like I was truly considering his words of wisdom.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: (Also, I loves me some environment and cares tons about the world I leave behind for my child and grandchildren blah blah blah.)
2006: I wonder how often dental patients go into a screaming rage and get violent with dental hygienists, because I certainly feel the impulse every time I have my teeth cleaned.
2005: Also, if Hollabackness is a desired state of being, how do I go about achieving it?
2004: Apparently she’s a princess now.
2003: Three things.
2002: My shit list.
2001: Emailing gets me all excited.
2000: I sure whine about the weather a lot, don’t I?
1999: Disaster averted!

You know you want a Crooked Acres holiday postcard. One more day! Get to it! (And yes, of course I’m happy to send cards to other countries!) Send your name and mailing address to hollydays@gmail.com .

I’ll take names and addresses until midnight tomorrow.

If you’d like to send me a card as well (never ever required, but always appreciated – I don’t keep track of who does and doesn’t send a card, I promise!), send it to: Robyn Anderson, PO Box 461, Athens, AL 35612 USA.

In case you missed it over the weekend: Saturday was a repost of an entry from two years ago. Sunday was Spanky speaking (or refusing to), Clay wiggling his invisible tail, and a video from almost four years ago, where I harassed the cats by continually asking what they were doing.

Customer service: the good and the meh.

The good. Last year at Christmas time, we bought a Room with a View from Jeffers Pet when they were having their 12 Days of Christmas promotion. I got it half price, and the cats liked the one we got the previous year so much that I decided to get one for the foster room. So, it arrived, I stuck it out in the garage because I had big plans (BIG PLANZ) to polyurethane it before Fred put it together in case it got peed on, in which case I could just wipe it off and not worry about the pee soaking into the wood. Then I was like “Meh. Don’t wanna. Would you just put it together for me?” and Fred was all “Yeah, one day I will” and then we stuck it in the back of the garage and ignored it for what’s now been a year.

So last weekend I was like “Your task is to put the Room with a View together before the end of the weekend.” I find that if Fred is given his list of what he must accomplish at the beginning of the weekend, it works out better. FOR ME. Because he invariably forgets until I so-very-casually say Sunday morning “When are you going to do that task I gave you?” and then he’s all “Oh, shit!” and has to rush to do it.

Sunday morning, when he’d been reminded and went out to the garage to do it, he discovered that the hardware for putting the Room together had gone missing. I’m entirely sure that it came with the Room, but at some point I took it all out of the box so I could take the box to the recycling center, and the hardware took a hike without either of us realizing it (I don’t think I left it in the box, but who knows?)

Fred looked around online to find the company that makes the Room with a View, and he emailed and asked if it would be possible for us to buy a replacement set of hardware. Within 24 hours he’d heard back from them, all they needed was our address, and they’d send a replacement set for free. Less than a week later, we had the hardware in our possession – they sent it via FedEx, even.

Now THAT is customer service! (Don’t ask me if Fred put the Room with a View together, though.)

The meh. I have a tiny bit of an addiction to Jolly Ranchers. Not just any Jolly Ranchers, though, the Wild Berry Jolly Ranchers that I buy in bulk directly from Amazon once or twice a year. When I say I have an addiction, I don’t mean that I chow down on them constantly – when I’m at home, I may have one a day, but I also go days without eating any of them. But when I do a lot of errand-running, I tend to consume two or three of them. I don’t know what it is about driving that makes me need to have something in my mouth constantly – if it’s not a Jolly Rancher, it’s gum – which I am constantly refreshing as soon as the flavor is gone.

So anyway, a couple of weeks ago, I reached into my desk drawer and found that I had no Jolly Ranchers in the usual place. So I reached into another drawer where I store the bags of Jolly Ranchers. I opened the bag, dumped the Jolly Ranchers into the top left drawer, and went about my business.

The next day, I reached into the drawer for a Jolly Rancher, grabbed one, and started to open it. Then I glanced down at it.

There were ants embedded in my Jolly Rancher. I opened the desk drawer all the way to see if perhaps ants had gotten into the desk drawer, but there were no ants to be seen. I looked through the candy that had come out of the same bag to see if there were ants in any of the other pieces of candy, and nada.

I looked around online to find the customer service email for the company that makes Jolly Ranchers (which is Hershey, if you’ve ever wondered) and filled out the form online to alert them that, hey. There appear to be ants in my Jolly Rancher, motherfuckers.

(I didn’t say “motherfucker.” But I thought it.)

Four days later, I was vacuuming when I heard the phone ring. I didn’t recognize the number, so I kept vacuuming, and when I was done, I listened to the message. It was someone at Hershey leaving a message asking me to call back so they could determine what “the foreign object” in my candy was. (Me, listening to the message: “It’s ANT, you fuckers. Did you not READ the email?”)

When Fred got home from work, I asked him to call them because I hate talking on the phone and I didn’t want to deal with it. Although he offered at least three times to send her high-resolution pictures so that she could see what it was for herself, the lady he spoke to wasn’t interested in all that. She told him that often times, people mistake burnt sugar for bugs.

She wasn’t buying it. She told him that she’d send a postage-paid envelope so that we could send the piece of candy to the company so that they could determine what it was, and they’d also send coupons for free product.

“Determine what it was my ASS,” I said to Fred when he’d hung up the phone. “They’re going to destroy the evidence!”

They’re so unconcerned about all this that a week and a half later, we have seen no mail from them. Probably they’re right, I’m sure that it’s not actually ANTS in the candy. Surely it’s burnt sugar. It’s not like we can see individual legs and antennae and can count all six of those ants or anything.

(Do feel free to go over to Flickr and check out the large or even original-sized pictures. You can see one poor ant over there to the left who was clearly attempting to swim his way to freedom.

Patty Peppers, you make me wanna kiss you.

Check out that gigantic back foot she’s got going on there.

The Sons are turning into great big lovebugs. Now when I walk into the room, instead of running and hiding, they all come over to me. Clay immediately climbs into my lap and smacks at the other kittens when they walk by. Opie will also climb into my lap when Clay moves along, and Tig and Jax like to sit near me and squeak at me.

They are way too cute, these guys.

Left to right: Clay, Tig, Opie, Jax.

Sweet monkey Clay.

Oh, is Jax pretty? I hadn’t noticed.

I love Opie’s whiskers in the sun.

Honestly, that scratcher is one of the best things I’ve ever bought. They LOVE it.

Opie and Tig. I love Tig’s wide-eyed look of horror. “WHO knocked that scoop onto the FLOOR?” Gee, I wonder.

Remember when I said that Jax keeps a close eye on Clay? I wasn’t kidding. This picture cracks me up.

Tom Cullen makes himself comfy no matter where he lands.

(He’s a big cat, but he’s not quite as huge as this particular angle makes him look.)

“How YOU doin’?”

Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry.
2008: I’m sure the world shifted on its axis a bit when I left the house in jeans instead!
2007: I believe the phrase “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” were bellowed in my car about sixteen different times.
2006: I think my favorite part of the video is at the end when the boys are eating and Miz Poo is so intent on getting a snootful of Booger ass that she is uninterested in Snack Time.
2005: I’m sure that if Rachel McAdams knew that pictures of her nipples were going to be splashed all over the internet she would have yanked out the hairs just to spare the Dork Brigade the sheer horror of having to be aware of the fact that she’s a living, breathing human and exists for purposes beyond serving as an image for them to jerk off to.
2004: I’d swear to never use Amazon again, but it’s so FREAKING convenient I just can’t help myself.
2003: Clearly we were in the presence of REALLY important people.
2002: Because I’m just that good.
2001: That’s right, damnit, I’m a chick magnet!
2000: We’re standing strong in the face of those two snowflakes.
1999: Though I guess “substance” would be a matter of opinion.

You know you want a Crooked Acres holiday postcard. You better hurry up, the deadline is Tuesday at midnight! (And yes, of course I’m happy to send cards to other countries!) Send your name and mailing address to hollydays@gmail.com .

I’ll take names and addresses until December 20th.

If you’d like to send me a card as well (never ever required, but always appreciated – I don’t keep track of who does and doesn’t send a card, I promise!), send it to: Robyn Anderson, PO Box 461, Athens, AL 35612 USA.

Today, two videos for you!

The first, a short one of Clay laying on the floor being petted. You can hear him purring (though you can also hear the camera focusing), and at about 10 seconds in he starts waving his invisible tail. Also, Tig passes by and stops to watch for a moment.

The second, I was attempting to get Spanky to “talk” to me, and didn’t have much luck. I think he looks particularly pretty in this video, though, despite his refusal to perform on cue. (Also, it kind of looks like his tongue is sticking out, but that’s actually his lower lip.)

Also, if you’re interested (it’s 2 1/2 minutes long) here’s a video I shot almost four years ago wherein I walked around and harassed all the cats, asking them what they were doing. It starts with someone who’s no longer around (Mister Boogers) and ends with someone who’s no longer around (McLovin’, our very first rooster).

“Hey.”
“What?”
“What are you doing in there?”
“Sitting in my box.”

“Just… sitting? Sitting there in that box?”
“YES, just sitting. Sitting in MY box.”

“M’kay. Well, I’m just going to sit here. And stare at you. And you can’t do anything because I? I am not. touching. you.”

Works every time.

Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: Uterii are known for being ultra-reasonable, after all.
2008: It is NOT raining!
2007: I would never condone entering a grocery store and opening fire with a machine gun, but I certainly understand the impulse.
2006: I think that we all know that it’s more likely that Sugarbutt will whisk Miz Poo into a perky waltz about the living room before I actually get off my dead ass and sand down the trim so that I don’t have to look at the drippy bits.
2005: No entry.
2004: He yawned his ears right off his head.
2003: “Well,” he said, all smug and certain of his facts. “If you didn’t have DIARRHEA, then it was NOT the flu! It’s just a cold!”
2002: But is Christmas shopping ever really done?
2001: The usual excitement
2000: Grandma’s other concerns were whether the fire was going out (it wasn’t) and how much Fred and Becky were eating.
1999: When did Toronto become part of the United States, again?

You know you want a Crooked Acres holiday postcard. You better hurry up, the deadline is Tuesday at midnight! (And yes, of course I’m happy to send cards to other countries!) Send your name and mailing address to hollydays@gmail.com .

I’ll take names and addresses until December 20th.

If you’d like to send me a card as well (never ever required, but always appreciated – I don’t keep track of who does and doesn’t send a card, I promise!), send it to: Robyn Anderson, PO Box 461, Athens, AL 35612 USA.

Glenda pointed out the ACME Portable FURnace post I had two years ago on the 9th, and since I know that some of you haven’t been reading that long, I thought I’d republish it today. Those of you who missed out on when the Cookies were here, oh you missed OUT. Between the Cookies and the Wonkas, it was complete insanity around here that Christmas.

Anyway, here it is. It was originally posted on December 9, 2009.

Finished your Christmas shopping yet? Are you STUMPED trying to come up with the perfect gift for one of those hard to buy for relatives or friends? Do you kinda wanna punch them in the nose when they shrug and say “Oh, just get me any ol’ thing!”?

LOOK NO FURTHER.

In these cold and gray days of winter, all anyone wants to do is bundle up in front of the fire and not move ’til Spring, am I right?

But unfortunately, there are things like “jobs” that are even more unfortunately not located near fires where you can bundle up and keep warm.

What is a cold person to do? What oh what?

I HAVE THE SOLUTION FOR YOU!

The ACME Portable FURnace is here to save the day! You just take this super-warm little ball of fluff, put it on your shoulder, and although it has a head that is stuffed with marshmallow fluff, it SENSES where the warmth is needed the most, and it will settle there!

NO difficult and messy settings, no annoying electric cords! You put the ACME Portable FURnace on, and forget it’s there!

You can place it on your shoulder for easy kissing access, or you can place it on the back of your neck for maximum warmth! A little rub between the FURnace’s shoulder blades turns on the vibrating massage function!

You’re taking phone calls! You’re filling out reports! You’re even attending meetings! AND NO ONE KNOWS IT’S THERE, KEEPING YOU WARM! If you weren’t so toasty and warm, you’d hardly know it was there yourself! It runs so smoothly it purrs!

SET IT AND FORGET IT!

The ACME Portable FURnace recharges itself AS YOU USE IT! Give it a bowl of food and some water, empty it occasionally in the nearest litter box, let it stretch its legs while YOU sleep, and it’s ready to go again the next morning!

OPERATORS ARE STANDING BY!

Call 1-800-FLUF-HED and place your order today! Act now, and for a short time only, you can get TWO FOR THE PRICE OF ONE! One can keep you warm while the other one is off whining about how hungry it is despite the fact that it JUST ATE!

Don’t delay! Order now for Christmas delivery!

Disclaimer: ACME Portable FURnaces are guaranteed to be as adorable as the one pictured above, but may not be as well-behaved; some FURnaces occasionally emit fountains of vomit down your back with no warning and for no particular reason; FURnaces are sometimes known to walk through their own feces and track it all over the place, leading one to sniff and say “Does it smell like butt in here to you?; FURnaces need to have their claws trimmed regularly or may shred your clothing in an attempt to keep their claws sharp; wearing loose clothing is unadvised, as the FURnace may take it as an invitation to go exploring and then pop its head out the front of your shirt to see what’s going on; FURnaces may regard hair as an attractive snack; FURnaces sometimes sneeze and get snot all over the nearest surface (which could be the back of your head); FURnaces will sometimes develop the habit of sitting an inch from your face in the middle of the night and howling “MAO? MAO? MAO?” until your brains leak out your ears; FURnaces are self-cleaning and may interrupt important meetings making smacking noises as they loudly clean their nether regions; though self-cleaning, FURnaces might need the occasional bath (see above regarding walking through their own feces) – use gentle shampoo and the warmest and fluffiest of towels when bathing the FURnace; do not shake the FURnace; do not let the FURnace get cold; speak kindly and gently to the FURnace; do not yell or scream at, shake, fold, spindle or mutilate the FURnace.

Previously
2010: Admire my sweet Suggie.
2009: I think what I’m saying is that we Robyn Andersons? We’re a ditzy bunch.
2008: Yes, we only currently have about three beds for each cat. What’s your point?
2007: He really is a pretty chicken, and I look forward to seeing what his babies look like.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Fred leaned down and SNIFFED MEESTER BOOGERS’ ASS AGAIN.
2003: And then we got to stand around while the woman, clearly not the sort who can walk and chew gum at the same time, fumbled with her credit card, NEVER ONCE PAUSING IN HER INCREDIBLY IMPORTANT CONVERSATION.
2002: Tell me, for I am clueless when it comes to these things.
2001: Like I said, if you’re going to mix lights, go all the way, people.
2000: No entry.