We have hit the part of my recovery where I am cranky as fuck and ready to get this shit over with. I hate the way EVERY damn part of my body that was operated on looks, I think I look horrible and I am positive I will look and feel like this FOREVER. (Knowing … Continue reading “3/2/11 – Alice Wednesday”
We have hit the part of my recovery where I am cranky as fuck and ready to get this shit over with. I hate the way EVERY damn part of my body that was operated on looks, I think I look horrible and I am positive I will look and feel like this FOREVER.
(Knowing that I’m being ridiculous somehow doesn’t make me feel any less that way, for the record.)
So I’m making today Alice Wednesday, and am forcing you to look at a million pictures of her little monkey face. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be less cranky.
(Don’t count on it, though!)
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Alice (who is most often called “The Princess” these days) was just hanging out on my desk with her tongue sticking out. Juuuust sitting there with it sticking out. We laughed and we snapped pictures, and she just sat there, all “Yes, my tongue is sticking out. What of it?” for the longest time.
Then, the very next day I was checking my email and looked over at her to find that she was sleeping with her tongue sticking out.
I particularly like the fangs.
Such a funny little monkey, this one.
Note how little room she’s taking up in that bed. Plenty of room for another cat, don’t you think?
I love the tiny beauty mark near her mouth.
I still can’t believe she can get on top of the dryer. Reacher, twice her size, had a hard time getting up there! She’s got springs on the bottoms of her feet, I think.
She was watching Fred fill the bird feeders. She spends a lot of time watching the birds, too. See that black spot in the middle of her orange tabby patch on her head? I tell her that’s where an angel kissed her.
Yeah, that Alice. I SUPPOSE we like her just a little bit. Good thing Fred twisted my arm and forced me to adopt her, isn’t it?
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Looky looky what I found on the memory stick of my point-and-shoot camera – a short video of Miz Poo and (most of) the Brady Bunch.
(Really, I discover new things on the memory sticks in my computers pretty regularly. I need to get a little more organized. One of these days.)
I like how, aside from Jan Brady, none of the cats are excited enough to actually get up and JUMP for the teaser toy.
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Previously 2010: Have you ever seen such miserable cats in your entire life? 2009: (reCOOPerating, HA HA!) 2008: Shea Butters would be an excellent stripper name.
2007: No entry. 2006: It was so friggin’ cute I made Fred listen to it, too. 2005: I have my finger on the pulse of pop culture, apparently. 2004: A day in the life. 2003: What makes me crazy.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry. 2000: Okay, enough of the wallowing.
New month, new banner! Christine – who’s done a LOT of banners for me lately – created this one, too. Just seeing those sweet little faces is making me itchy to have more wee fosters! Hey, I’m practically halfway through my six-week recovery period, aren’t I? Yay! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “3/1/11 – Tuesday”
New month, new banner!
Christine – who’s done a LOT of banners for me lately – created this one, too. Just seeing those sweet little faces is making me itchy to have more wee fosters! Hey, I’m practically halfway through my six-week recovery period, aren’t I? Yay!
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I don’t have a whole lot to write about, as you can imagine. I can tell you that I’m feeling pretty good these days, although yesterday I tried to put on sports bra that was tighter than the cheap ones I’ve been wearing from Walmart, and I made it maybe five minutes before I was ripping that damn bra off and getting another cheap bra out of the drawer.
I’m sleeping okay lately, with the help of painkillers. Fred is being absolutely spoiled, because more often than not lately, we’re off to bed by 8:30. I lay in bed and surf the internet on my netbook (LOVE that thing), and he’s probably sound asleep well before 9:00. I sleep propped up on pillows with a pillow on either side of me where I rest my arms. I’ve never been much of a back sleeper, but the couple of times I’ve attempted laying on my side, it hasn’t gone so well, so I’m a back sleeper for now.
Arizona Robin (who is not the same person as Arizona Robbins, if you were wondering) asked yesterday how difficult it is to brush my hair what with the scalp scabs. It’s not a problem, really – I’m careful not to brush too hard after my shower, and I don’t bother to spend much time styling my hair, because this is how it looks 23 1/2 hours of the day:
(Note the inside-out white t-shirt.)
The high point of my day is at 3:30, when I get to take that thing off my head, the Ace bandages off my arms, all my clothes off, and take a shower. Fred gets home just about the time I get out of the shower, and he wraps my arms for me and then puts the head garment back on me. (If pressed, I could probably do the Ace bandages on my arms, but I don’t think I could get that head thing back on.) That fifteen minutes or half hour of freedom is kind of glorious, and I look forward to the time when I won’t have to wear all that shit.
I’m watching a LOT of TV these days. I set up to tape episodes of House, and I’ve probably watched 15 – 20 episodes and have another 20-something on the DVR. Watching TV wasn’t an easy thing for me in the week and a half after surgery, because I kept falling asleep. It took me three tries to watch one particular episode of House because I slept through the entire thing the first try through, and then most of the way in the second attempt.
Yesterday, I watched an episode of Confessions of Animal Hoarders (or whatever the hell it’s called) and was so disturbed by the fact that these people with 80 cats were washing their dirty litter boxes IN THE KITCHEN SINK that I had to pause the show and go upstairs and take a nap. I mean, GAH. SHITTY LITTER BOXES DO NOT GET WASHED IN THE KITCHEN SINK, FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST, PEOPLE. Wash them outside with the hose, or in the utility sink (if you have one), or if you MUST, wash them in the shower and then sanitize the FUCK out of the shower.
I myself, actually, do not wash the litter boxes in any of those places. I prefer to spray down empty litter boxes with my favorite cleaning spray, then once they’re scrubbed cleaned I finish them with the spray bottle of 50/50 white vinegar and water. When they’re completely dry, I wipe down the lower third of the litter boxes with olive oil, let that soak in and dry, and then refill them with clean litter.
(I’m currently using 50% Precious Cat and 50% Fresh Step. The Precious Cat is good litter (and as dust-free as any I’ve seen), but doesn’t quite do the job of keeping down the smell that I’d hope for.)
The olive oil helps keep clumps from sticking to the litter box. If you were wondering.
Well. Wasn’t THAT a fascinating tangent?
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Have I ever mentioned that I can hardly stand how gorgeous Corbie is?
SO gorgeous. He knows it, too.
Corbie ear floof.
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Kara, enjoying the unseasonably warm weather we’ve had lately (NOT complaining!)
Miz Poo, doing the same.
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Previously 2010: I guess it’s March’s plan to come in like a lion
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry. 2007: Natalie Maines could use some wardrobe advice, though, and I hope I’m not trampling all over her Right to Freely Dress Like a Bag Lady when I say that. 2006: It was so friggin’ cute I made Fred listen to it, too. 2005: I have my finger on the pulse of pop culture, apparently. 2004: A day in the life. 2003: What makes me crazy.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry. 2000: Okay, enough of the wallowing.
Behold, I continue to live! I saw the plastic surgeon on Friday, and had all my stitches and staples out. The stitches weren’t too bad, and MOST of the staples weren’t too bad. The staples that were in my scalp, for instance, weren’t bad. A few of them hurt coming out, but only momentarily. The … Continue reading “2/28/11 – Monday”
Behold, I continue to live!
I saw the plastic surgeon on Friday, and had all my stitches and staples out. The stitches weren’t too bad, and MOST of the staples weren’t too bad. The staples that were in my scalp, for instance, weren’t bad. A few of them hurt coming out, but only momentarily. The staples that came out of my armpit, on the other hand, hurt so much as they were coming out that I about levitated up off the table. Like I told a few people, I wasn’t looking forward to having them taken out, but I was looking forward to having them gone. Now that they’re gone, I can say that the staples in my arm pits were responsible for about 75% of the pain I was having. It is NICE having the damn things gone, so that in the event that I move my arm or even THINK about moving my arm, there isn’t a warning pain from my armpit.
Since I still have swelling under my chin, I have to continue wearing the face compression garment. Since my ears have been hurting like crazy from rubbing the inside of the garment, Fred cut ear holes in the sides so that my ears stick out. It’s quite the fashion statement, I’m sure you can imagine. It’s probably a good thing that I have to continue wearing it, since there are scabs on my scalp (around where the staples were) and I cannot help myself but pick at them if I have access. With the garment on, I can’t get to the scabs, which can only be a good thing.
My arms are still swollen, so I have to keep them wrapped in Ace bandages (or rather, Fred has to wrap them for me) for a few more weeks.
The good thing is that since all my incisions are healed and not draining, we were able to stop with the daily antibacterial ointment-dressing with gauze thing, and go to using gauze only when I need to protect my incision lines, such as when I’m wearing a bra.
So naturally I said to him “So, should I start wearing a sports bra?”
He stopped, considered, and said “Sure, you can if you want to.”
I wondered later why the hell I was instructed to buy a sports bra if they weren’t going to tell me to start wearing the damn thing. Because not only did I buy a sports bra, I bought about 10 of them because I was so concerned about having one that would work for me.
After the nurse removed my staples and stitches, she rewrapped my arms.
“Is that too tight?” she asked.
“No, that’s just perfect,” I said. And at that moment it was. As we headed out of the exam room and waited to make my next appointment, I came to realize that the wrap on my right arm (which is more swollen than the left) was actually a bit too tight. Okay, maybe WAY TOO FUCKING TIGHT. By the time my appointment was made and we were in the car, my right hand was tingling and going numb. I ended up taking the wrap completely off for the ride home.
“I guess it was a little too tight,” I said to Fred.
“Well, she was practically hanging off you as she came to the end of the wrapping,” he said.
So I don’t see the surgeon again for two months, which I thought was odd, but they were quick to tell me that I could call the office if I had any questions or problems or thought I needed to see him again.
With the staples out, I’m having a lot less pain and have switched to Ibuprofen and Acetaminophen during the day, saving the narcotics for nighttime.
In the past couple of days, I’ve noticed that my forearms are hurting – if I touch them, they feel bruised. Luckily, I’ve done enough reading online to know that that’s normal and will go away in time.
After my shower Saturday morning, I put on a sports bra (one of the cheap ones I got from Walmart). It got to be uncomfortable, though, so I took it off after a couple of hours. After my shower Sunday, I pulled out a white t-shirt, turned it inside-out so the seams were on the outside, pulled that on, and then put the bra on over it. That turned out to be pretty comfortable, and so that’s how I plan to wear it from here on out.
I’ve still got a lot of swelling going on – I measured myself on Sunday just for shits and giggles, and determined that if I were shopping for a bra right now, I’d need a 34G.
“They don’t look like they’re a size G,” Fred said helpfully. As if HE’d know. A lot of the swelling is under my arms, too, which of course effects the measurement.
So, to recap: I’m still pretty swollen, I have to wear the head compression garment for the next little while AND keep my arms wrapped. I have a scabby scalp. I’m mostly off the narcotics. And I’m feeling very little pain now.
If you’re going to have any kind of plastic surgery, I have two bits of advice for you:
1. Keep the hell away from that scale for at least a month. I weighed myself last week and found that I was up TEN POUNDS from the day before surgery. I am fully aware that I haven’t gained real weight – that it’s due to all the swelling. And yet, seeing ten extra pounds on the scale was a nasty surprise.
2. Don’t look at yourself in the mirror for at least a month, preferably two. Before that, you just look like a big swollen beast, you’ll obsess over how your boobs DO NOT LOOK LIKE BOOBS and your arms OH MY GOD ARE STILL SO BIG and I STILL HAVE A DAMN DOUBLE CHIN, and really. No good can come of looking at yourself in the mirror. Trust me.
Oh, and a bonus third thing I just thought of:
3. Fiber is your friend. Stool softeners are your friend. ESPECIALLY if you’re on narcotics, because if you’re not on top of things, you will be a hurting unit, trust me. Get as much damn fiber down your throat as you possibly can, or you’ll be sad. Fred made a huge pot of red beans and rice for dinner yesterday, and there’s so much left over that we’ll both be eating it for lunches all this week.
Speaking of narcotics, Fred went digging in the cupboard in the kitchen where we keep some of the spillover from our medicine cabinet, and found not only a half-full bottle of Percoset left over from my hysterectomy last year, but also some from my gallbladder surgery 4 1/2 years ago. AND some Lorcet from…. I don’t remember. Maybe my lower body lift? We always tend to save the leftover pills “just in case”, and then they sit there for years.
We’re not very good druggies, I guess.
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Aw, look what I found on my hard drive!
Rhyme and Corbie, out exploring the back yard!
Good ol’ Rhyme. (And good ol’ Corbie, too, of course!)
Bath time for Corbie.
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I like how, despite the fact that there are two perfectly comfy, totally empty cat beds on the table, Newt has decided instead to flop across the table itself.
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Alice, trying to decide whether Loony Jake needs company (she ultimately decided that he didn’t, and went off to find more inviting places to sleep).
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Miz Poo, in the foster room.
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Previously
2010: No entry.
2009: No entry. 2008: Damn those cats and their Snackin’ Time. 2007: Who knew that Hellcats enjoy ripping eyeballs from your face and then batting them around the room? 2006: Yeah, one of those days. 2005: So sue me. 2004: Always. 2003: What keeps me sane.
2002: No entry. 2001: Plants. 2000: Translation: I’m going to get a gown that will cover your fat ass.
Poor sweet Muffin has a twisted paw that needs surgery ASAP. Please help out if you can, and if you can’t donate, help spread the word, would you? Muffin’s ChipIn page. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Hi, … Continue reading “2/22/11 – Still alive!”
Poor sweet Muffin has a twisted paw that needs surgery ASAP. Please help out if you can, and if you can’t donate, help spread the word, would you?
Hi, y’all. Just a quick one to let you know that I am, in fact, still alive. I’m just not spending much time in front of the computer. Right now, I’m spending 99% of my time in the recliner either watching TV or snoozing through a TV show. I’ve spent a lot of time snoozing through cooking shows, and I have to say that the only cooking show hostess I can remotely stand is Giada. Everyone else annoys me.
(Well really, Giada annoys me kind of too, but she annoys me the least of any of them.)
Why, you ask, am I spending so much time watching cooking shows if they annoy me? That is an excellent question, and I don’t know. Just ’cause, I guess. If I’m gonna be cranky anyway (and OH I am plenty cranky), why not have something to blame the crankiness on?
The pain is one million times better than it was last week. I’m keeping on top of my pain medication and yes, I’m icing my sore spots occasionally, but mostly I’m just in a state of stasis where I’m waiting to be past this ridiculous healing stage and back to life as normal.
I can unequivocally tell you that if I had just had the neck lift and the breast lift, I would likely be flitting around here like nothing had happened. The biggest part of the pain I’m feeling is coming from my arm pits. I don’t know that I mentioned it before, but my arm lift was an “extended” arm lift, and so the incision on each side goes from my elbow, up my arm, through my arm pit, and down to meet the incision under my breast. As I’m finding out, there are a LOT of damn nerves located in the arm pit, and between the zings of pain my arm pits are sending out and how swollen the tops of my arms are, that’s where I’m having the biggest issues.
There are several staples at the top of each arm that will be coming out Friday, and believe you me, I’ll be taking drugs before THAT appointment.
But on the good side, the pain medication is helping (though I had to call yesterday for one more refill, and didn’t I feel like the drug-seekingest drug seeker on the planet), I’ve been taking a shower every day (even though touching my incisions to clean them still ooks me out), and every day I move a little more easily.
I’ve been sleeping in my bed since, I think, Sunday night. Maybe Saturday. There seems to be a pattern where I have a decent night followed by a bad night, then another decent night, etc. Luckily I can make up for the bad nights by snoozing in the recliner.
(The people next door brought home a dog around Christmas. They tied him or her outside, and that dog lives outside, chained up, 24/7, just a dog and his/her dog house. S/he likes to start barking at 3:00 every morning. Before surgery, I was able to sleep through it. Since surgery, since it’s directly outside my bedroom window for the most part, it wakes me up. Some mornings I just doze back off, and some mornings I fume. I don’t for the life of me understand the point of getting a dog if you’re going to just tie it outside, never take it for a walk, never let it off leash to run around. For god’s sake, it’s not like the dog could defend against home intruders or anything – anyone wanting to break into the house next door isn’t going to be stopped by that dog, since the dog can’t get even close to the house.)
Cara asked if the entirety of my neck lift was the incision under my chin. No, the incision under my chin is where the surgeon did liposuction (and now, a week and a half later, the skin at the bottom of my neck is still bruised, though it’s mostly gone). There’s an incision in front of my ears, seen here (okay, you have to look kind of close, I guess):
and then the incision goes around behind my ears, and off into my hairline, held closed by staples.
I’m still wearing the headgear on my head all the time unless I’m in the shower, and I’ll continue wearing that ’til I see the surgeon again on Friday.
I’ve got ace bandages around both of my upper arms.
I’m not wearing a sports bra at this point, but I expect that the surgeon will direct me to start wearing one when I see him on Friday.
So, that’s me. I’m healing, I’m snoozing, I’m doing fine. I don’t know when regular posting will resume again, but I would guess maybe next week, at least in a limited fashion.
Thanks, you guys, for your well wishes. They definitely help!
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Reacher and Corbie, before Reacher went home with Kathy.
So Reacher went to his new home, what, two weeks ago? Yeah, I guess tomorrow makes two weeks. I really and honestly thought that he’d be scared for a couple of days, and then overcome his fear because he’s always been such a lovebug.
It hasn’t quite happened like that. Kathy’s kept me updated on how Reacher’s been doing, and he’s proving a hard nut to crack. He is FINALLY letting her pet him in the past few days.
I feel so bad both for Reacher and for Kathy and her husband and their cat Beau (who is drop-dead gorgeous, by the way). I never thought it would take so long for Reacher to come around, but what I’m learning is that I know NOTHIN’. I’ve told Kathy repeatedly that Reacher will always have a home with us if it doesn’t work out, and I was starting to think that he needed to come back here, but now he seems to slowly thawing. I hope that he really does thaw, that he starts to love them and allows them to love him. That he shows them his real lovebug nature and realizes that hey – they’re pretty awesome people and he ended up in a really good situation!
Fingers crossed!
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I found a picture of Clairee and a picture of Drum on my memory stick this morning!
Silly Clairee.
Sweet Drum.
I forgot to tell y’all, but Clairee and Drum were adopted two weeks ago (the Tuesday before I had surgery) – together!!!
Yay, Drum and Clairee!
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Loony Jake and Corbie, taking advantage of the weather.
Gorgeous Corbs.
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Miss Alice, bird watching.
Can I just tell you that I think the addition of Alice to our permanent residents was a really good decision. She’s such a little character, and I know I’ve mentioned it before, but she really seems to have brought Miz Poo out of her shell. Every day, several times a day, I catch Miz Poo PLAYING with Alice. PLAYING. Miz Poo does NOT play with other cats, so you can imagine how amazed I am by this! And as often as not, it’s Miz Poo instigating the play!
Alice’s tiny size does not hold her back at ALL. She might be half the size of the other cats, but she can jump from the floor to the kitchen counters with no problem at all. Last week she discovered the walkway and the platforms in the kitchen, and she’s been spending plenty of time curled up in the cat bed on the platform. I’ve seen Stinkerbelle looking at Alice many times, as if she can’t quite decide what Alice’s deal is.
Alice is friendly enough to me, but there’s no doubt on earth that she’s a daddy’s girl. Every day, 10 minutes before Fred gets home from work, Alice wakes up, stretches, eats, uses the litter box, and then waits for her daddy to come home.
She lubs her daddy.
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Previously 2010: Until then, may all your tunes be loony.
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry. 2007: I’d hate for him to be able to CLIMB things. 2006: HOT MONKEY SEX, that’s what. 2005: I can tell you this – I’m not terribly fond of my mailman right now.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry. 2002: Not bad, since it’s been ten years or so since I read the play, eh? 2001: Resolutions for 2001. 2000: Well, apparently “coke” sounded like “coffee” to the Einstein taking my order.
Hi y’all! Just a quick post to let you know that I’m here, I’m alive, and I’m grumpy, cranky, and swollen. 2008 Robyn (who recovered from the lower body lift) might disagree, but I think the recovery from this surgery is harder than that one was. I’m having a hard time getting comfortable because so … Continue reading “2/18/11 – Hellooooooooo”
Hi y’all!
Just a quick post to let you know that I’m here, I’m alive, and I’m grumpy, cranky, and swollen. 2008 Robyn (who recovered from the lower body lift) might disagree, but I think the recovery from this surgery is harder than that one was. I’m having a hard time getting comfortable because so many body parts are involved this time around, and because I’m an absolute idiot, I thought it prudent to take myself off the narcotic painkillers earlier this week. By the time I realized that Tylenol and Advil weren’t doing the job, I had a hell of a time getting back in front of the pain with the narcotics, and then Tuesday night I developed lower back pain so severe that I actually woke Fred up and asked him to take me to the emergency room. He suggested I call and talk to the surgeon, and in the ten minutes the surgeon talked to me, the pain pretty much went away. It came back briefly a few times, but never as bad as it was, and as of Wednesday morning it’s been completely gone. I’m going to say that chances are good that it was caused by spending so much time in the recliner, which isn’t as comfortable as it oughta be. Putting a pillow behind my back helped some, but I spend a lot of time shifting because after an hour or so, my tail bone starts hurting.
Basically, my days look like this: snooze in the recliner in front of the TV for a while, get up and move around, take a pill every four hours, drink lots of water, settle back in the recliner, rinse and repeat.
Yesterday I showered and that was nice although it was so exhausting I required a nap afterward. I tried to sleep in my bed last night, but couldn’t get comfortable, so ended up back in the recliner. After a bad night, I tried the bed again after Fred went to work, and was able to doze for about 3 hours. That helped, but I am cranky and swollen and ready to feel better RIGHT NOW PLEASE.
I’m still not far enough out from surgery to know exactly how happy I’ll be with the results, but I suspect I’ll end up pretty happy. We took the dressing off from around my head Sunday (at the surgeon’s instructions) and I was able to see my neck. Despite the swelling, it looks good to me (ignore the Ed Grimley hair).
Higggggggggggggggggggh.
I saw the surgeon on Wednesday. He said everything looks good, and I had some stitches removed. I got me some fancy headgear that I need to wear for at least the next week so that my underchin area doesn’t swell up and stretch the skin. I’ve also got ace bandages around my upper arms. Nothing but dressing on my boobs, though, which surprised me. I had expected I’d be wearing a sports bra, but not yet (which had me a little relieved, actually, because I can’t stand the idea of pressure on them at this point.)
Speaking of my boobs, they are lower and further apart than I expected, but I believe my surgeon knows what he’s doing, so there you go. I haven’t taken a good look at everything, because due to the swelling and the stitches, nothing’s going to look like it will eventually, so why stress myself out?
This was me Wednesday. Aren’t I stylin’?
(That shirt is a men’s 5x, left over from Fred’s fat days. Thank god it’s so damn big, because I’ve got limited motion with my arms and I can’t fathom trying to put on a smaller shirt at the moment.)
The cats are being very sweet – I had to shake the can of compressed air at them a few times after I got home Saturday, but for the most part they’ve given me a wide berth. I think seeing me walking through the house with my arms held in front of me all zombie-like freaks ’em out a little. I did wake up to find Corbie nibbling gently on my finger tips the other morning.
Now if you’ll pardon me, I’m going to post this, take a pill, and get back into the recliner. I’ve got 20+ episodes of House on the DVR that are calling my name!
I don’t expect posting to resume anything soon – I’m spending very little time in front of the computer these days, though I check email and Twitter and Facebook every so often from my iPod – but that could change. Just wanted to let y’all know that things are fine (and I’m cranky and swollen and slightly miserable, but I know I’ll get through it okay.)
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Elwood would like you to know that he’s the king of the trash can!
“I’m the KING! OF! THE TRASH CAN!”
“King! Of! The! Trash! ::slip:: ”
“I meant to do that.”
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Previously 2010: Gone for a week and a day and THAT GODDAMN UTERUS is still makin’ my life difficult! 2009: I held up four fingers. “I. Have. A. TOTAL. Of. Four. Buckets. Of. Litter.” I said slowly. 2008: This is my “What the fuck am I supposed to do here with this board that isn’t as tall as the others?” face.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: Amazon is the Jonathan Baker of boyfriends. 2004: I could have crowned myself “The Queen of Fuck.” 2003: Because M&Ms rock, and so does my husband.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry. 2000: Have I mentioned that three-day weekends rock? They surely do.
The Goathouse Refuge has received a very generous offer for a matching grant if they can raise $10,000 by the end of March. Please donate if you can, and spread the word. Facebook, email, tweet, or even phone — however you can get the word out! Check it out here! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “2/11/11 – Friday”
I’m leaving here in a bit to go have all the droopy parts of my body relocated to their correct locations! AND ABOUT TIME, I SAY!
(Skimmers: I am about to have plastic surgery: neck lift, breast lift, upper arm lift. Resume skimming.)
I don’t have any idea when I’m going to feel like posting again – the upper arm lift may very well make it uncomfortable for me to spend much time at the computer. Then again, I may do nothing BUT sit at the computer. Who the hell knows?
Your best bet is to keep an eye on my Twitter – I imagine I’ll be posting there more than anywhere else. If I recall correctly, I posted on Twitter many times while I was recovering from my hysterectomy last year, and only stopped because my battery ran down. Here’s you a widget if you don’t want to haul yourself over to Twitter; you can just keep coming back here and checking.
I very well may post entries from the surgery center, too – I posted some with awful, blurry pictures last year via Flickr. If this overnight goes like the last two overnights-after-surgery that I’ve had, I’ll doze, wake up, Tweet, change the channel on the TV, doze, wake up, Tweet, watch TV, peer at the clock to see if it’s almost time to go home, see I was only dozing for five minutes, and so forth.
So, in summary: off I go, I’ll see you when I see you, and I’ll be 347% perkier!
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Is it my imagination or is Fred’s hair longer and/or darker in that picture?
It’s longer, but the color hasn’t changed since then. It was from a picture taken a few years ago. This one, to be exact (which explains the smug look on Fred’s face) :
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Awesome video for you. Hope you haven’t already seen it!
I hadn’t – and I love it!
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Is Miz Poo still your favorite cat?
Of course she is! She’s my BABY. Speaking of Miz Poo, I don’t know what’s going on with her lately, but she appears to be feeling GOOD. She’s running around playing, she’s jumping up on counters and other high places (she’s never been much of a jumper), she’s dragging toys through the house keening at the top of her lungs. It’s like she’s hit her second kittenhood!
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You do realize that you now have 13 permanent residents. I’m not a particularly superstitious person but, I think this may give you the ammunition you need to make Corbie a permanent resident too :-). Fourteen just sounds sooo much better. Enjoy your new girl!
I’m not going to argue that we need to keep Corbie – but I will say that we don’t see Coltrane all that often. He’ll spend the night inside if it’s particularly cold out, but for the most part we only see him for a little while in the afternoon and evening. I don’t think he necessarily TRULY belongs in the “Permanent Residents” category, but if he showed up at the door with one eyeball hanging out, we’d take him to the vet. So if feeding him, letting him in the house, and taking him to the vet when necessary makes him permanent, I guess he is. (But he really isn’t.)
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One of my cats looks astonishingly like Stinkerbelle – and my cat is a frightfully hefty young lady. She has a little tiny delicate head, pretty petite princess paws, but when she walks down the hallway her gut swings from side to side, and when she sits in the position Stinkerbelle is in, her hind feet have to be sprawled to accommodate the belleh. She has never been fed any more or any different from the other cats, and I don’t see her spending all that much time at the trough.
I had another cat (years and years ago) who also started out nearly completely white and grew into her soft, smoky colors as she got older, and also with the lovely blue eyes, and that cat too was a massive beast. I mean, like, she had her own gravitational pull, she was so fat.
All of which leads me to wonder: Is Stinkerbelle on the plus-size-side too (she kind of looks like it in that picture but it could just be the angle) and if so, do you think it could be linked somehow to that particular type of coloration? Anyone have any more data points?
Stinkerbelle is actually not a fat cat – she’s rather small in stature, and I think her weight fits her size just about right. These pics were taken in the last week or two.
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I have something interesting I learned today and was hoping you would share with your readers. Long story short, due to my husband’s illness this year (throat cancer) he had a g-tube (stomach tube for feeding liquid food through. He weaned himself off the tube YAY! and is eating by mouth again. So what to do with the 300 + cans of Jevity 1.2 that were left? We called Hospice, the hospital and Doctor’s office (That stuff is EXPENSIVE!) and we couldn’t return it to the home medical supply store. Hospice took some, the hospital took some but they directed us to the local humane society! Apparently they feed the liquid nutrition food to puppies or kitties and nursing mothers! Who would have thunk it! (This is NOT the Ensure or similar type drinks you buy on a shelf at a pharmacy or Target, this is usually from a home medical care supply facility filled by script.)
Not that I wish ill on any of your readers or their loved ones or their neighbors or friends, but people get sick, have stomach tubes and then get better or pass on and loved ones are stuck trying to figure out what to do with all the leftover stuff (Hospice took all the other sealed medical supplies btw). So, that might help both the animal babies and people trying to do the right thing. Because it usually expires within 6 months or so, many medical facilities cannot use it quick enough and if someone is unlucky as we are to wind up with so many extra cans (he, thank goodness, recovered quicker than anticipated!) they might could do the same. So, we were able to share with people and animals today! Just a thought that I thought your readers might tuck away in case they ever were in a position to need to know something like that.
I’m glad to hear that your husband is doing well – and thanks for the tip, I’m glad to share!
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I figured it out (before the giveaways in the comments, heh), but I have to admit it’s a little bit of a let down. Not that I didn’t figure it would happen and not that I’m not happy for y’all and for Alice, but… well, with all those exclamation points, I honest to God was looking oh-so-carefully at the books listed in your Goodreads section, and checking out every link in the “me, elsewhere.” I was certain you’d gotten a book deal of some sort and had been keeping it hush-hush until it was in print, and it had debuted on Friday and made the NYT Bestseller List over the weekend. Or that now that she’s got her own network, Oprah decided to do a reality show about animal foster parents, and you had signed a contract for a minimum of 30 episodes (Oprah having paid you significantly more than the other cast members, because you could also bring in those viewers with an interest in cooking, WLS, the necessary surgical touchups after WLS, and chickens).
I’m still HAPPY and all, it’s just… the NYT Bestseller list! and Oprah! There is a bit of mindset-adjustment that needs to happen before I can be properly excited, is all.
From your mouth to god’s – uh, I mean OPRAH’s – ear! 🙂
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NO!!!!!!! I wanted Alice! Damn. Now I have to be all jealous every time you post a new picture. I know…she’s better off there, etc. etc., but I can still be sad. Congratulations. humph.
You gotta move faster than that if you want a Crooked Acres kitty! May I offer you Elwood as a consolation prize?
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Clearly you are a saint because I almost crucified the Bunny for pissing/shitting in the dog’s bed last night. If he starts spraying, I may actually get out my tiny hammer and my tiny cat-paw-nails out! *Gives evil eye to ancient pain-in-the-ass old cat!* There are few things in this forsaken world I hate more than the laundromat, and I had to spend the whole morning there, washing a goldang dog bed. You are a saint for not murdering Spanky on the spot when you saw him saunter up and lift his tail. If I see the slightest tail twitch, I’m hollering and stamping my feet like a lunatic.
Gah! I hate cat piss!!!
I am no fan of cat pee, but with the ungodly amounts we were dealing with, I figured I’d better learn to sigh, clean it up, and move on or I’d have a stroke.
(I really thought I was going to have a stroke when Spanky peed RIGHT IN FUCKING FRONT OF ME.)
Following a couple of suggestions last week, I put a litter box back in the guest bedroom, and I put calming collars on Joe Bob and Spanky. The amount of spraying has dropped considerably. I’m going to put calming collars on Sugarbutt and Elwood (I don’t know that Elwood’s one of the offenders, but he’s been picking on Kara and just generally acting like an asshole, so I figured a collar probably wouldn’t hurt) and hopefully between the collars, the litter box, and the Feli-Way, the spraying will stop. Fingers crossed!
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Stephen King had some comments about the news of the big screen version of The Stand:
Have you guys started mentally casting it? I don’t get casting older men for Trashcan Man; I always pictured him to be fairly young, as in less than 25!
I thought Matt Frewer was a decent Trashcan Man, but you’re right, he needs to be younger.
We have not begun our casting sessions as of yet. But did you hear that Javier Bardem was offered the role of Roland of Gilead? I’m actually okay with that casting – and I also think Viggo Mortensen would have been a good choice as well!
Miz Poo is hoping she’s up to play Musty in The Dark Tower.
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My cat, Kiefer, loves my fleece blankets. I now have two throws that I use to sleep in my recliner. Don’t ask why I sleep in a chair!! Anyway, he makes biscuits and does unmentionable things to the blankets even while I’m under them! I saw a fleece snuggle sack at Petsmart and I bought it immediately.
Problem: All the cats totally ignore it. I tried spraying catnip on it. The fleece is exactly like my blankets. I’m going to sleep with the sack next to my body tonight thinking it just doesn’t smell right.
Anyone have any ideas how I can entice Kiefer to make his biscuits on the snuggle sack?
Do you have any catnip – not the spray, the dry crumbly herb? I’d try sprinkling that on it just to get them to give it a try, and I think your idea of sleeping with it next to you is a good one. It may just take time – sometimes when I bring something new home, the cats act like I’ve brought home some sort of torture device, and they won’t go near it. Then time goes by and all of a sudden they all LOVE it.
How about it, readers – anyone got suggestions for encouraging Kiefer to do his kneading on the snuggle sack?
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She only really counts as half a cat right? Since she is so tiny:) One of my 3 is a teeny cat too, about 5 pounds and 6 yrs old, and she rules the roost here.
and
Alice is a fractional cat, so if you round down….
Alice is a fractional cat, and Coltrane’s only here a fractional amount of time – between the two of them, they make one cat. Which means we really only have 12 permanent residents? No? 🙂
Seriously, with Reacher and Rhyme gone, it’s ridiculously quiet around here. It’s been almost a year since Fred brought home the Bookworms (mid-March is when that happened), and so for the better part of the year, we’ve had at least the four Bookworms plus whatever other fosters we had. At the moment, we’re at the lowest number of cats in residence in almost a year.
And it’s QUIET.
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Kara would like me to know that she’s got her eye on that smug little princess brat.
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Previously 2010: I always forget how much I enjoy Roseanne. 2009: I expect to see Jack Bauer sidling across the background wearing his man purse. 2008: We watched as fucko stopped, picked something up, and went back to his own property.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: Why she felt the need to ostentatiously walk up and down the property line so many times instead of just coming over and talking to Fred, I have no idea. 2004: Interesting how that works, no? 2002: Woulda made a good picture.
2001: No entry. 2000: Have you ever noticed that if you read or say the same word over and over, it ceases to make any kind of sense?
The Goathouse Refuge has received a very generous offer for a matching grant if they can raise $10,000 by the end of March. Please donate if you can, and spread the word. Facebook, email, tweet, or even phone — however you can get the word out! Check it out here! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “2/10/11 – Thursday”
Yesterday was apparently my heavy lifting day. I went up into town and stocked up on bird seed, and then I stocked up on Diet Coke, and then I stocked up on cat food. That won’t get us all the way through the next six weeks ’til I can lift all that heavy stuff again, but it should buy us a few weeks.
Every time I go in for surgery or am going to Maine (or Pennsylvania), I get into this kind of obsessive mindset and decide that there’s one thing that I ABSOLUTELY MUST HAVE RIGHT NOW.
This time around, that one thing was a travel pillow – you know, those u-shaped pillows that support your head when you’re sleeping upright? Well, I’ll be sleeping in the recliner for at least a while, so I absolutely HAD TO HAVE one of those pillows. Tuesday when I was on my way home from the recycling center, I stopped by Walmart to see if they had any. They had one, a memory foam pillow, but it was in a box I couldn’t open without breaking the tape, and I wanted to try it on for size and make sure it wouldn’t be too tight around my neck or bother my ears or anything.
(I’m going to have incisions around my ears, and I imagine that having a pillow squeeze on those would be annoyingly painful.)
Yesterday, I ran to Kohl’s to see if THEY had one of those pillows. They’re renovating the store, so I wandered around the pillow section for a while. I had just decided they didn’t have any of the travel pillows and was about to walk out the door when it hit me that – dur – I should maybe look in the section with the suitcases and such. I did, and they did have a couple, so I bought one.
NOW what’m I gonna obsess about ’til tomorrow morning?
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Okay, so, the story on Reacher.
First, I have to tell you a sad back story. Do you remember Maura? We had her about a year ago, got her while I was recovering from my hysterectomy. We thought she was pregnant, but as it turned out, she was never pregnant, was just a bit tubby and enjoying the attention and extra food she was getting from we morons who thought for sure she was going to drop those babies ANY moment.
Kathy adopted Maura in May and took her home to Birmingham. Maura settled in quickly, and things were going just fine (Maura was a total lovebug). And then, sadly, Maura passed away unexpectedly while I was in Maine last July. I got the email from Kathy while I was in Maine, and I intended to write about her when I got home, but I never did.
So that is very sad news, but it does lead to good news: Kathy and her husband decided that they were ready to adopt again, and I suggested Reacher because I fully believe that once he’s past his fear of being in a new home, he will reveal his sweet loving nature – like I’ve told Kathy repeatedly, Reacher is a lover of people AND cats; not surprising, since he’s grown up in this house where kittens come and go regularly. Kathy has a boy cat, Beau, who needs a friend, and I think that once things have settled down they’ll end up the best of friends.
And, of course, if for any reason it doesn’t work out, Reacher will always have a home with us.
The good thing about this, of course, is that I can harass Kathy for updates on how Reacher’s doing! And you know I’ll be sure to pass it along to y’all.
Kathy arrived around 7:30 last night to pick up Reacher. As soon as she stepped through the door, Reacher vamoosed. I sent Fred upstairs with the carrier to get him while Kathy signed the adoption papers. We talked for a few moments, and in that time Reacher went from trying to dig his way out of the carrier to laying down and looking fairly relaxed.
I missed him as soon as he was gone, but I know he’s going to a great home and I think he’s going to be very happy.
I snapped a few last pictures of him, of course.
A last snuggle with the princess.
Tommy makes sure he’s spiffied up for his new mom.
Snuggling with Tom.
And an absolutely terrible picture I snapped, right before they left.
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And then there was one (Bookworm). Corbie wonders if this means he gets Reacher’s snackin’?
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Princess Alice of Smugonia, hoggin’ the Permanent Residents section of the posts. Smugly.
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Previously 2010: GOODBYE, ORGAN THAT SHALL NOT BE NAMED! DON’T LET THE CERVIX HIT YOU IN THE TUBES (?) ON YOUR WAY OUT! 2009: Usually, Fred’s Ross and I’m Chandler. Or Joey. Except that I’m kinda ditzy like Phoebe. I am an amalgam of Friends characters!
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry. 2006: Unless maybe it’s a magic leotard and the source of all her powers? 2005: “Life’s too fucking short to read books that suck.” 2004: Damn you, DVR! I WANT to love you, but you’re toying with my emotions!
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry. 2000: I’m not sure what effect, if any, it had on her.
The Goathouse Refuge has received a very generous offer for a matching grant if they can raise $10,000 by the end of March. Please donate if you can, and spread the word. Facebook, email, tweet, or even phone — however you can get the word out! Check it out here! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ … Continue reading “2/9/11 – Wednesday”
“Is THAT my Mama? Oh. No, that’s the dog who lives next door. Where’s my Mama?”
“My Mama is NOT behind this bucket.”
“My Mama is NOT over in that corner of the yard chattering at squirrels. That’s Corbie.”
“My Mama is not IN the bucket!”
“Dude! She’s not up here!”
“I’ll take a nap while I’m waiting. Then I need to get gussied up in my finest finery!”
“Hm. This seems a little small. Perhaps I’ve gained a little weight since I had my special going-home outfit commissioned!”
“Maybe I need to eat a little and let my super-special going-home vest stretch a bit.”
“I just don’t get this high-fashion nonsense. Is it supposed to fit like this? I guess so…”
“Okay, Mama! I’m ready for you!”
Patience, Reacher-Creature. She’ll be here before the end of the day, weather willing!
I forgot to mention that Reacher and Corbie turned one yesterday. Happy birthday, sweet boys!
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“I don’t know who his Mama is, but he can’t have MY DADDY.”
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Previously 2010: The worst part of having surgery is having to wait for it to be time to HAVE the surgery. 2009: “They’re rejects from the nursery!”
2008: No entry. 2007: Beach Roses (fiction). 2006: Giggling like that is EXACTLY something Fred would do. 2005: Taking the day off. 2004: I don’t believe I mentioned that the Bean has tapeworms.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry. 2001: And I yelled “Any fucking thing else?!”, addressing, I guess, God. 2000: Okay, so I don’t have much to say today.
