Category: Life

10/12/10 – Tuesday

I’m about to head to the airport, on my way to Myrtle Beach. My parents have a timeshare there, and the last time I went – 2004, I think – the spud and I drove out there, stayed most of the week, and then drove back. This time, I’m flying out there, and then my … Continue reading “10/12/10 – Tuesday”

I’m about to head to the airport, on my way to Myrtle Beach. My parents have a timeshare there, and the last time I went – 2004, I think – the spud and I drove out there, stayed most of the week, and then drove back. This time, I’m flying out there, and then my parents and I are driving back this weekend.

I’m assuming there’ll be internet access while I’m there, but I’m also assuming that I’m not going to be spending that much time on my netbook, so this is going to be one of those weeks where I get a chance to clear off my hard drive.

In other words, lots of cat pictures and movies for the rest of the week. Lucky you!

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I’m sorry, how can you look at that smilin’ little face and not want to kiss it? I have kissed both these kittens so much, I have chapped lips.


“I HAZ TOES!”


Starsky has deep thoughts.


::chomp::


What’s cuter than a kitten standing on two legs? Nothing, am I right?

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Fred and I regularly argue over who’s more beautiful, Corbett or Reacher. I think there’s no contest, Corbett’s the most gorgeous creature ever, but Fred thinks I’m nuts. I mean, I’m not saying Reacher isn’t a pretty boy, but honestly. Look at Corbett. How can you possibly think he’s not the most beautiful cat in existence?


“I heard that, lady, and I’m insulted. Hmph!”


Reacher’s fang. (“Reacher’s Fang” would be an excellent band name.)

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Poor Tom. He goes up on top of the kitchen cabinets to get away from the other cats, but sometimes Stinkerbelle just can’t let him have his space. When a girl needs her love, she NEEDS her love and Tommy’s just gotta learn to live with that.

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Previously
2009: “He needs one of Lieutenant Dan’s magic legs,” I said.
2008: No entry.
2007: Robyn, why do you use so goddamn many exclamation points?! It makes my eyes hurt.
2006: “Dude, that’s gross,” I said to Spot, who didn’t care and gave me a nasty look as I picked it up and threw it away.
2005: I hate those stupid tests. I always think I’m going to find out some deep, hidden truth about myself, and then I get “Oh! You should be an artist! You’re the artistic type!” Bah.
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: TV talk.
2000: I’m about the laziest chick in the world, I think.
1999: Yeah. I’m a bitch.

10/11/10 – Monday

Saturday morning, I took the bucket of kitchen scraps out to the compost heap. I heard George and Gracie going nuts over something, so I glanced over to see what they were doing. They were both intent on something just outside the fence on the far side of the back forty that I couldn’t see, … Continue reading “10/11/10 – Monday”

Saturday morning, I took the bucket of kitchen scraps out to the compost heap. I heard George and Gracie going nuts over something, so I glanced over to see what they were doing. They were both intent on something just outside the fence on the far side of the back forty that I couldn’t see, so I walked a little further.

All I could see was a set of pointy ears and a snout that looked very much like it could be a coyote. I went back to the house, banged on the computer room window, and beckoned Fred outside. He came to the side stoop and I told him to get his shoes and a gun. He did, and we went out to where George and Gracie were and found…


Not a coyote.

He was a friendly little guy and though he had a collar on, there were no tags on it, so obviously we didn’t know who to call or where he’d come from. He came right over to be petted, and when Fred went into the chicken yard to get a bowl of dog food for him (Fred thought the puppy was on the thin side – I didn’t particularly think so, but then I’m also not a dog person, so what do I know?) the puppy tried to follow Fred into the chicken yard. Judging by how worked up George and Gracie were, I didn’t think that would be a good idea, so I held him by his collar.

He sniffed at the bowl of dog food but didn’t eat, and when Fred and I walked back to the house, he followed. He drank some of the water out of the bowl on the side stoop, and then was pretty sure he was coming inside when Fred walked into the house. Fred pushed him back and came inside, and the puppy sat on the side stoop and first he whined and then he howled, and then he went back to hang out near George and Gracie.

Given that he was in such good shape, we were pretty sure he’d wandered away from home rather than been dropped off. I went outside a few minutes later to see what he was doing. He saw me, and ran over to be petted.


Yes, that IS an eye booger on his cheek.

We had errands to run, so we printed out a picture of him and went to a few houses asking people if they knew who he belonged to. No one did, and we decided that when we got home we’d put an ad on the Craigslist lost & found section, and maybe run a printout of his picture up to the corner store.

He was napping near the chicken yard when we got home, and ran over to be petted when he saw us. For the next couple of hours, every time I checked on him he was hanging out near George and Gracie (who finally calmed down about his presence), and then when I went out around 2:00 to see if he wanted a piece of cheese (Fred had offered him several different dog treats, and he was completely uninterested, which blew us both away.) he was gone. We looked for him and called him, but he never reappeared.

I really think that he must belong to someone who lives around here, given that he was in such good shape, he was friendly, and he was wearing a collar. Obviously, if he shows up again we’ll stick him in the blue coop yard until we find out where he lives. I hope he made his way home, though.

Oh, and I’m thinking someone’s been working on training him already, because he knew “sit” and performed it beautifully several times.

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So, I managed to get a shot of Buster and Rhyme together:

(And yes, we DO call them “Busta Rhyme”!)

But then, Friday evening I got a call from the shelter manager. She said that the Friday night adoption counselors were concerned about Corbett, that he wasn’t eating and had lost weight, that he was lethargic and they thought he might be sick. I pondered for a moment, then told her that I’d take Rhyme up and bring Corbett home. After I hung up, I reconsidered and talked to Fred, and we decided to take Buster and Rhyme up and bring Corbett and Reacher home, since Rhyme and Reacher hadn’t seen each other in a month, and I was afraid that it would stress them both out.

Corbett, who is a skinny cat to begin with, had clearly lost weight. Neither he nor Reacher looked very happy, and they howled all the way home.

(Before I forget to mention it, Buster and Rhyme were not at ALL freaked out to be back at Petsmart. In fact, Buster climbed into the cage and began eating right away. That made me feel a lot better about leaving them there.)

When we got home, it was my intent to put Reacher and Corbett in the guest bedroom, give them some canned food, and spend a little time with them to see how they were acting. So Fred was in the guest bedroom with them, I went to get canned food, and when I opened the door, Corbett shot out into the house.

We ended up doing snack time for all the cats, and both Reacher and Corbett ate just fine. Corbett went over to Elwood and butted heads with him, and Corbett and Reacher slept with me all night long. Saturday morning when Fred opened the back door, Reacher and Corbett went right out into the back yard. Corbett’s been eating just fine and acting like himself, so I’m going to say he wasn’t sick, he was sad and scared and stressed out.

So I don’t know what’s going to happen when Buster and Rhyme are adopted and it’s time for Reacher and Corbett to go again. Maybe it would help if I went up to Petsmart every day and spent some time with them and helped them get adjusted to being there. I don’t know. To be honest, I’m just not going to think about it right now. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

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Starsky and Hutch are off the formula. They’re off the canned food, too, actually – neither of them are at all interested in any of the canned cat food I’ve offered them. They’re eating kibble just fine (though they do still have to kind of sit in the bowl while they’re eating) and they’re drinking water. Maybe they’re just kibble kitties – all I can tell you is that they’re happy, they’re healthy, and they’re gaining weight. You certainly can’t ask for more than that!

They’re also starting to climb – a couple of times when I’ve gone into the room, they’ve been on the small cat tree, and they always act all amazed when I ask them how they got up there, like they’re saying “I don’t KNOW how I got up here!” They’re able to get down just fine, too. They’re growing up!


Doesn’t he look like a sulky little monkey?


“And then I CLIMBED up onto the cat tree, and it was so cool! You could see ALL the way across the room from up there!”


Displeased Starsky.


Hutch in a bucket!

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“What?”

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2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: I was so concerned for their safety that I ran and got the camera. Ahem.
2006: But there’s no horn on the lawnmower!
2005: Did you feel the earth shake too?
2004: No entry.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: My breasts are strawberry scented.
1999: I was ambitious today.

10/8/10 – Friday

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open! Go buy jam and hot sauces here. (And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +   Of course, yesterday morning … Continue reading “10/8/10 – Friday”

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open!

Go buy jam and hot sauces here.

(And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.)

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Of course, yesterday morning when I got up I felt pretty close to normal. A little pain when I peed, but not nearly as bad as it had been. But I wasn’t being fooled by my body again and did NOT cancel the appointment. So, I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon and peed in a cup. Apparently there was “some” bacteria in my urine and a trace of blood, so they put me on antibiotics and are doing a culture.

I would like to never have a UTI again, please and thank you. (But the awesome thing is that my antibiotic was FREE! Yay!)

Last night Fred and I were laying in bed, and I said “I feel kind of high. What the hell?”, whereupon Fred reminded me that last month (remember the bout of digestive issues that I thought was food poisoning at first and ultimately caused me to lose 15 pounds in a week and a half and then put it all right back on?) when I was prescribed the same antibiotic, it made me feel super sleepy and high. At least this time around I only have to take it for three days.

Miz Poo, who went to the vet yesterday because she’s been overgrooming the fur on her stomach which led to a nasty rash and a couple of particularly nasty-looking sores, got a steroid injection. Hopefully that cures that issue until next Spring. Miz Poo, for those of you new to the site, is our money pit. She’s always got something going on with her – a couple of months ago, the rodent ulcer on her lip, which flares up a couple of times a year, flared up in a big way, which required a steroid shot. The steroids always work – and they’re the only thing that works reliably – but they’re not a good long-term solution. SIGH.

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Robyn, you may have mentioned this before, but what are the colors on the wall of your guest bedroom? I LOVE them! It’s just what I’ve been looking for.

This is the paint color on the top.
And this is the paint color on the bottom.

I think (though I’m not positive) that on the before-and-after tour page, there are links to the paint colors in all the rooms. I may have missed a room or two.

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I am moving soon to a city where backyard chickens are allowed. I am so excited! I want one or two, and I want a breed that’s both a cuddly pet and a good layer. Out of the breeds you’ve kept, which do you think fits the bill? And would you suggest keeping one or two?

Without a doubt, I highly recommend Buff Orpingtons. They’re the calmest, they’re excellent layers, and as long as you handle them lots when they’re little, they should be cuddly. Or at least put up with you cuddling them! (You’re probably not necessarily looking for them to hatch chicks, but if you were, they’re also really good mothers.)

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You probably know this already but just in case-they sell the stuff for UTI symptoms – the pills that make you pee the scary orange over the counter at the drugstore now. It really helps while you are waiting to get into the drs. for antibiotics.

I actually had some of that stuff in the medicine cabinet. The expiration date on it was 10/2008, but I still took a couple. And it really did help! That orange pee is super scary, though, isn’t it?

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What scent is that Yankee Candle in the bathroom?

Cinnamon & Sugar! I bought a ton of candles earlier this year when the Hallmark store in the mall was going out of business. First everything in the store was 30% off, so I bought a few Buttercream scented candles (my absolute favorite scent). Then everything in the store was 50% off, so I bought the rest of the Buttercream and a few Sparkling Lemon candles. THEN everything in the store was 75% off, so I bought every scent I even sorta-kinda liked.

Needless to say, I have a candle hoarding issue. (But I DO burn the hell out of them, and I do NOT keep the empty jars when the candle is gone. I SWEAR I DO NOT, DR. ROBIN ZASIO!)

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I have never seen walls like the ones in your house before — we have the typical lath-and-plaster New England house. Is it common to have wood paneling like that in the South, or did you manage to scoop a lovely antique before somebody covered it in sheet rock?

I had to ask Fred for the specific names, so now I can tell you that the walls in the hallway and bathroom are beadboard and the walls in the front room (at least some of the walls) are tongue and groove. I know that I’ve seen beadboard in other houses around here, so perhaps it is a Southern thing? Anyone else want to weigh in on this?

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I’m no cook. I can follow recipes and the stuff usually turns out. If I experiment, watch out. So I have a stupid question. In your Green Tomato Chili recipe, it calls for 10 medium tomatoes. Can you give me any idea how many pounds of tomato that would be? IT will save me a field trip to the store.

I’m going to be making this recipe with the little Roma tomatoes that are left after the killer frost hit this week. I had one tomato plant that was loaded with tomatos and I don’t want to let them go to waste. I almost have 2 large mixing bowls full of green tomatoes and alot of them are the size of a cat turd (sorry – I could not resist the comparison that you and I both know all too well!).

I can’t give you a pounds estimation, but I CAN give you a cup measurement estimation, if that helps! The last time I made a half batch of the green tomato chili, I used 8 cups of chopped green tomatoes. But keep in mind that you can’t really overdo it on the green tomatoes – I think that if they fit in the pot, there aren’t too many of them, because they cook down so much.

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I LOVE the ceiling in the guest bedroom. I don’t think I have ever seen natural wood on a ceiling, except maybe in a log house kind of thing. But that room is all finished out, and that ceiling is FAAAAANCY!

I love the hell out of that ceiling! The ceiling in the front room and in the dining room is the same way. I’m not sure, but I think that at one point in the past, that ceiling actually had wallpaper on it. Wallpaper covering up that gorgeous wood! Can you imagine?

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Do you leave your toilet lid up all the time, and if so do the cats not drink out of it/play in it/ throw toys in it?

I swear-the second anyone leaves it up in my house, it takes .2 seconds to have both cats throwing toy mice in it/drinking out of it/putting their paws into it with awe like ‘I have never felt water before’.

They ALWAYS have fresh water but for some reason they are toilet fanatics. (and don’t get me started on trying to brush my teeth or wash my face with a cat on each side of the sink, trying to stick their head under the tap and drink)

I do tend to leave the toilet lid up (unless I have very small kittens running around the house, in which case I keep the toilet lid down so they don’t fall in and drown. Wouldn’t that be a horrible thing to find?), and I try to clean the toilets every day or every other day, because yes, we have cats who love to drink out of the toilet. (If it’s been more than a couple of days since I cleaned the toilet, I keep the lid down.) ::SIGH:: And yes, our cats can barely go two feet without there being fresh water available to them in the form of cat water fountains and if they don’t like the water fountains there’s also a fresh bowl of water NEAR the water fountain, but still some of them HAVE to drink out of the toilet. Actually, the toilet that they drink out of is the one off the computer room, which gets very little human use – isn’t that weird, that I’ll get up and go to the bathroom down the hall rather than use the one that’s right there?

I’ve never found cat toys in the toilets, though, thank god. That would drive me nuts!

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How odd about the “unexplained weight loss” google. When I entered that phrase (along with a couple of other symptoms), I got everything BUT cancer. Guess what? I have cancer. Stupid google.

Stupid google is right!

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I fear I am going to be labeled a SKIMMAH, but have you always had a boy and a girl pig or are you planning on piglets this time around? And, question number two/SKIMMAH threat, why don’t you have any goats (again)?

and

I know this is a question you asked Robyn, but when pigs are raised for food rather than breeding purposes, the boys are castrated when they are little. So no little piggies!

We’ve had one boy and one girl pig before (I think), and we’ve had two boys a couple of times and two girls once. But like Maureen said, when we get boy pigs, they are already castrated by Egg the Pig Man. The sex of the pigs we get is determined by what Egg has available, though if I’m given the choice I’ll always choose girl pigs because I think they’re more personable.

If I have my way, we are NEVER going to breed pigs, though Fred would love to give it a try. I don’t think I could handle the stress of being worried that the momma pig will inadvertently roll over on her babies and “mash” them, as Egg puts it.

And we don’t have goats ’cause I don’t want goats and I don’t think we need any more animals. Fred CLAIMS he wants goats, but he hasn’t annoyed me to the point of giving in (yet), so I don’t think he wants them all that badly either.

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I LOVE your house tour. It amazes me that you can have little statues with all the cats. I have two cats and one of them regularly clears all surfaces. So I would think, percentage-wise, you should have at least one that would do the same!!

The only place I have statues is where the cats don’t go. If they really wanted to, they could jump up on top of that dresser, but they never (or rarely) do, so that’s one of the safe places in the house.

Of course, now that I said that, there’s going to be a rush of cats jumping up on that dresser, knocking figurines to and fro!

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Have you named any kitties after the Dexter characters?

I haven’t, but only because “Dexter” has been used in the past. That certainly would have been a good naming theme. Actually, “Dexter Morgan” hasn’t been used, so I may have to keep that in mind for the future!

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Those “cat lover” mugs in the photos in yesterday’s entry? Yesterday, I got my coffee served to me in one of ’em at a local diner. When the waitress brought it I cried “LOVE this mug!” She was relieved because she said some customers complain about it (wtf?).

I got those mugs at Old Time Pottery – aren’t they awesome?

I can’t imagine why on earth people would COMPLAIN about “cat lover” mugs – wtf is right!

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I’d be seriously interested in where Debbie saw that pattern that was so expensive. I want to stitch it! I tried googling it and didn’t find it.

She tried to find it again and had no luck, unfortunately! 🙁 Here it is!

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Click here for an interesting article about how long to keep food in the freezer. It says fruit has the longest “freezer life.” That surprised me!

How long can you freeze food?

Interesting link – thanks!

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Kitties in a cup reminds me of those signs you see in coffee shops: Unattended children will be given a free espresso and a kitten.

Can I steal the picture and make one?

Absolutely! And for the record, y’all, as long as you don’t try to pass off a picture I’ve taken as your own, or try to make money off it (good luck with that), please feel free to use any of my pictures. As long as they’re attributed to me, I’m happy!

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I’m assuming you have a backup generator just in case of a power outage — that’s a lot of stuff to lose if the freezers go down for a period of time.

We definitely have a generator – and fortunately, haven’t had to use it yet!

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Sorry about all the kitty drama. Carrying four cat carriers AND going under the house too? No one can accuse you of being a princess, Robyn. You are tough. I feel quite wussy compared to you!

That’s right! I’m a badass! 😀

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Hey Robyn, regarding that broken coffee maker on the dining room table: Throw that shit away!

You’re goddamn right, Laura! I read your comment on Friday, and then I immediately said to Fred “If you don’t fix that coffee maker this weekend, I’m throwing it away.” AND I DID.

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Love the house tour–I asked for it! (“You asked for it, you got it, the house tour.” Does anyone remember the scenes in the otherwise forgettable “Forget Paris” w/Debra Winger & Billy Crystal, where her father sings jingles under his breath & says “Toy-ota”??)

My favorite part of that movie is the part with Debra Winger and the pigeon when she walks into the vet’s office. I laugh until I cry every time I see that!

(I have to leave my piles of clean laundry in the bedroom behind a closed door. I can deal with a little cat hair from laundry being slept on in the basket, but leave it overnight and someone will decide to p*ss on the pile. Lovely.)

I left a pile of cat beds on the table just this week and one of them got sprayed. You’d think I’d learn, wouldn’t you?

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Where did you find purple reusable grocery bags??? I covet something fierce!

That is a Hannaford bag, and the Hannaford bags are still far and away my favorite!

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I have the golden key to growing the most perfect awesome tomato plats Ever. Ready???

Every year I plant four or so tomato plants that I faithfully dote over, read to, water diligently, and basically cater to their every need… including feeding organic… umm… stuff… that promises to make them the best plants ever. When something eats into the fruit or the branch gets funky, I would toss the useless tomato behind the plants. This year I gave up and didn’t plant any plants. Why bother, we barely get any decent produce from them. Well… this year, I have the most beautiful, huge plants you have ever seen. There are in excess of 20 plants all growing communally behind the garage that I had never even noticed until there were perfect blooms all over the place. They have provided hundreds of the sweetest cherry tomatoes you have even tasted. The big tomatoes didn’t turn out so well since the plants for those are heavy, the fruits are laying on the ground and there are often 4 tomatoes fused together. The plants have rerooted themselves from laying on the ground so they are the healthiest plants ever. There is not one yellow leaf anywhere. So, all of the tomatoes that have split or have inhabitants are getting tossed back in for next year. This partially infuriates me due to the investment I have made in prior years, but we are eating good so I am not really complaining.

Figures, doesn’t it? We have a volunteer squash plant on the side of the garden that looks happier than any of the squash plants we intentionally grew this year. I guess “neglect” is the most important ingredient!

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Someone asked (over at Love & Hisses) what Georgie guards.


George (back) and his sister Gracie are Great Pyrenees. They’re Livestock Guardian Dogs, and they guard…


the pigs…


..and the chickens! (But mostly the chickens. They can’t actually get into the pig yard, but they’re there to run off any predators who might come sniffing around the pigs.)

Some history – we moved our chickens out to the back forty (not really forty acres, that’s just what we call the three acre field at the back of our property) in the Fall of 2008. And then we started losing chickens, at the rate of about one a week. We discussed ways to protect the chickens. Fred was in favor of getting a donkey, but I thought dogs would be a better choice. Fred researched Great Pyr rescues, and found a few possibilities, but the problem was that first of all, they wanted $500 per dog and we couldn’t justify spending $1,000 on dogs to protect chickens that had cost $2 each. Second, none of the rescues wanted to adopt out Great Pyrs to act as livestock guardians, they were adopting them out as pets only. We happened across an ad in one of those free supermarket papers, and a week later, we brought George and Gracie home.

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They were four months old, they’d been around chickens, and they were super friendly puppies. A few days after we got them, I was out in the chicken yard gathering eggs, and someone stopped by. I didn’t hear him until he approached the fence of the chicken yard, and then I was startled to see him. When I jumped and said “Oh!”, George and Gracie reacted immediately. They put themselves between me and the guy at the fence, and barked their heads off at him. It appears that we’d found our protectors.

It took a while longer for them to bond with their flock, but they did. They live out in the chicken yard with the chickens, they’re always happy to see me coming (though that might very well be because I usually have a snack for them!) and they’re very happy pups.

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Climbing into my lap so he can bat at my hand and bite me seems to be just about Hutch’s favorite thing to do.


“HEY! HI! WHAT YOU DOIN’ OVER THERE?!”


Starsky, mildly floofed.

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Coltrane is curious if it might be snackin’ time.

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Previously
2009: Sights from around Crooked Acres.
2008: And since there’s not a lot going on around here (except that it’s raining for the first time in forever, yay!), here are some pictures from around Crooked Acres.
2007: Whither Tom-Tom goest, the Stank will follow.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I’m just going to sit here and whine about being cold and thirsty, I suppose. Sounds like a plan!
2003: Just know that it was a little SKEERY.
2002: This is a mighty exciting entry, isn’t it? Could I be any more interesting? Should I do an entry about watching paint dry, or what?
2001: “Farm boy, fetch me some ice! Farm boy, fetch me a diet coke, chop-chop!”
2000: No entry.

10/7/10 – Crooked Acres Thursday

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open! Go buy jam and hot sauces here. (And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +   This morning I’m running … Continue reading “10/7/10 – Crooked Acres Thursday”

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open!

Go buy jam and hot sauces here.

(And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.)

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This morning I’m running Miz Poo up to the vet and dropping her off because she’s been licking her stomach and now has a sore that she won’t leave alone.

And then I’m going to come home and spend the morning canning chicken while waiting for 1:15, whereupon I’ll be going to the doctor because I’m pretty sure I have a urinary tract infection.

The worst part is that I actually HAD a doctor’s appointment scheduled Tuesday afternoon, but Tuesday morning I woke up feeling a lot better due to the cranberry juice/ baking soda in water/ Vitamin C/ lots of water home cures. I thought I was getting over this ridiculous UTI nonsense, so called and cancelled the appointment. Dumbass.

Then of course Tuesday night it got worse, and when I called first thing yesterday morning, the soonest they could get me in was this afternoon, so I took the appointment. Right now, I’m having what feels exactly like menstrual cramps (which would be a neat trick given my lack of a uterus), so I’m sure I either have cancer or the alien baby is PISSED and trying to get out.

You know you wanna be me.

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The Crooked Acres Tour, Continued.


Standing in the doorway of the front room, looking down the hall. The first door on the left is the bathroom, the second is the stairs, and the third is the closet. The doorway on the right is to the guest bedroom.


The bathroom, obviously. This is the bathroom Fred uses (unless we have guests, in which case he moves all his stuff upstairs and shares my bathroom) because the shower’s a bit bigger.


Guest bedroom, from the doorway looking in.


And from the corner by the bed (Stinkerbelle is so disgusted by this picture-taking nonsense, she can’t even look at me).


Buster’s always got something to say. As you can see, when it’s not serving as a bed for weary visiting guests, it serves as a bed for weary cats.


The dresser might not be anything to look at, but it’s got a hell of a lot of drawer space.


Directly across from the guest bedroom doorway, the stairs. (In real life, the stairs are straight, not crooked. Can I possibly EVER take a straight picture, do you think?)


And last but not least, the closet. It’s okay if you’re horrified; I am. I did not straighten that closet one tiny iota before I snapped this picture. We keep the closet closed, because the hot water heater is back there, and when there are kittens running amok they like to get way back where we can’t reach them. Also, I can toss stuff in there and close the door and not have to look at it. Also also, YES. I keep my potatoes in the hall closet. It’s too warm in the kitchen most of the time.

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Scenes from around Crooked Acres.


Hummingbird, keeping an eye on the feeder.


New pigs!


Boy pig.


Girl pig.


It took them maybe five minutes to get into the wallow.

The many faces of Georgie:

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When the little ones whine, I always mock them by saying in a particularly whiny voice, “Wahhhhhh! I’m a BAYBEEE!” and then I laugh and laugh because I am evil.

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I love that Jake and Elwood (but especially Jake) love the kittens so much, even the mostly-grown kittens like Buster and Rhyme.

I need to get some more pictures of Rhyme, don’t I? Y’all are going to start thinking he’s just a figment of my imagination, what with all the pictures of Buster and NONE of Rhyme. I swear, he’s here, he’s the friendliest cat on earth, I don’t know why I never manage to get any pictures of him. I guess he’s just not around when I’ve got the camera in hand.

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Tommy would like you to know that he has retained his svelte kittenish figure, as proven by the fact that he can still cram his bulk into a canning jar flat.

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Previously
2009: “That’s like me!” Fred said. “Maybe I’m schizophrenic! I always need stimulation!”
2008: And he likes the chickens, but I think if a hawk swooped down and snatched one up while he was watching, it would make his YEAR.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: 9. What is your biggest mistake? Immediately believing what I’m told without standing back and thinking about it.
2004: Reader requests.
2003: Why have kids if you aren’t going to make them do the scut work?
2002: You know, I don’t even have the words.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

10/6/10 – Kitteh Wednesday

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open! Go buy jam and hot sauces here. (And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +   Good news! Martin was … Continue reading “10/6/10 – Kitteh Wednesday”

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open!

Go buy jam and hot sauces here.

(And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.)

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Good news! Martin was adopted last night. I’m not surprised that he was the first to go, given that he’s FEARLESS.

And speaking of Martin, I found several more pictures of him on my hard drive, and so to celebrate that he’s found his forever home, today is Martin day!


Melodie, doing some heavy-duty flirting, is apparently annoying Martin.


“I SAID stop making the googly eyes at me, Melodie!”


“A mancat needs to stay clean, and I can’t concentrate on my cleaning with you staring at me!”


Helpful Melodie cleans the spot Martin missed.


“Hi! Hi! Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii!”


“Hey, Mister, you sure are purty.”


::smooch::


::::LOVE::::

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And while I was poking around my hard drive (which apparently I need to do a little more often!) I found a movie I made in mid-August of MMM&D. I turned the Ba-Da-Beam laser light on for them to see what they’d do. As you can see, three were interested, and Dodger was wary and kept his distance.

The kittens are usually interested in the Ba-Da-Beam for a while, but since it just has the same pattern they get eventually get bored. The FroliCat BOLT keeps them entertained longer. Between the two toys, they manage to be entertained!

I have the BOLT in the dining room, and when I turn it on, if Sugarbutt and Tommy are in the house, they come RUNNING. Usually a few minutes after I’ve turned it on, there’s a cluster of cats in the dining room. I’ll have to try to remember to get a movie of that one of these days.

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Previously
2009: I love me a good juicy Asshole.
2008: Pretty batshit crazy, as it turns out.
2007: No entry.
2006: You all have my full permission to skip the boring stuff to get to the cute kitten stuff.
2005: I forsee a lot of spud-teasing this evening.
2004: Phil Hellmuth is a whiny little bitch.
2003: “And then he told me he likes to have sex with you in the break room every day at 11!” he lied.
2002: No entry.
2001: Recovery.
2000: No one ever said I had a long attention span!

10/5/10 – Tuesday

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open! Go buy jam and hot sauces here. (And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +   Readers, some help? Does … Continue reading “10/5/10 – Tuesday”

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open!

Go buy jam and hot sauces here.

(And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.)

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Readers, some help? Does anyone recognize this cross-stitch picture and who the maker is? Debbie wants the pattern, but the only place she’s been able to find it is selling it for more than she wants to pay. She’s hoping to have more luck finding it if she can figure out who the maker is.


(Click on the picture for a slightly larger version.)

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This email from Fred first thing this morning made me laugh:

I heard an ad on the radio this morning for a local mortgage company, wherein they were bragging that they’d helped a local family get out from under an onerous mortgage. The family was struggling to make their payments, and also had SEVEN credit cards contributing to their bills. With a re-finance from this mortgage company, they lowered their monthly payment by $400, paid off their credit cards, and didn’t have to make mortgage payments for October or November. So what did they do? Did they save that money, to keep from getting in the same situation again?

OF COURSE NOT. THEY TOOK THEIR KIDS TO THE BEACH FOR A FALL VACATION.

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Have you ever noticed that if you Google “unexplained weight loss”, the ultimate answer seems to be “you’ve got cancer and will be dying any minute now but at least you’ll be skinny HA HA HA”, but if you Google “unexplained weight gain”, the ultimate answer is “You’re putting too much food in your fat face, fatty”?

(An unexplained two pound gain since yesterday morning – after an unexplained three pound loss over the weekend – made me think of the Googling on both topics I’ve done in the past.)

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Over the weekend, Fred opened the big freezer in the laundry room, and said “I feel like we’re pushing our luck, here. One day I’m going to open this door and the shelves are going to collapse under the weight of everything we’ve got piled on them.”

In that freezer was the entire half pig we just got back from the butcher, an entire summer’s worth of green beans, shredded zucchini, boiled and mashed summer squash, spaghetti squash, corn on the cob, and a million other things.

“I really need to cook and can some of the chicken in the chest freezer in the garage, and then we can move most of the pork out there,” I said. “I keep meaning to do that since we’ve used up all the canned chicken, but keep putting it off.”

“We’re some procrastinating motherfuckers,” he said.

“That’s right.”

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Sunday night, we went out to give the pigs their evening cookies and the dogs their evening treat. Fred herded one of the momma chickens in the maternity yard back into the small maternity coop along with her seven babies. As we walked through the chicken yard to the gate, he indicated the two roosts sitting in the middle of the chicken yard.

“I wonder if the seven chickens who have been sleeping outside are going to go into the coop tonight,” he said. “It’s supposed to get down into the 40s tonight.”

“I hope they’re smart enough to figure it out,” I said.

We said goodnight to the dogs and went back to the house.

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Monday morning, Fred came upstairs to say goodbye to me before he left for work. Even if I’m dead asleep, I hear him coming up the stairs and wake up. He hugged and kissed me, and then stood at the end of my bed, petting Miz Poo.

“Houston,” he said. “Our procrastinating chickens have come home to roost.”

“Oh, good!” I said. “Did they all go into the coop or just some of them?”

There was a confused pause. “I didn’t mean that literally,” he said.

Fred found, when he went through the laundry room, that the freezer was dripping water. Whether it was due to being overstuffed or was on the verge of breaking down, who the hell knows?

“Can you take a few boxes of pork out to the chest freezer?” he asked. “We may end up having to empty the freezer completely and unplug it to defrost it. Blah blah blah something about a hose.”

“Yeah,” I said. I got up and went to take my shower and get started on the day.

I showered, dressed, fed the kittens, posted my entry for yesterday, and then grabbed one of the boxes that Fred had left for me on the side stoop. 45 minutes and 10 trips from the laundry room to the chest freezer in the garage, the laundry room freezer was empty.

(I figured that since we might need to empty the freezer anyway, I’d just go ahead and do it. Which would let me see whether we’d be able to fit everything in the chest freezer in an emergency. And as it turned out, everything (just barely) fit in the two freezers we have in the garage.)

So I present to you:

NOTES TO PAST AND FUTURE ROBYN FROM PRESENT ROBYN.

1. Hey, hi, how’d that LABELING thing go? You know, where you CLEARLY LABEL the shit you put in the freezer with details such as WHAT THE FUCK IT IS and WHAT FUCKING DATE YOU PUT IT IN THE FREEZER? Remember that brilliant plan? The plan that seems to have vamoosed in mid-2009? I almost put two big blocks of mozzarella cheese over with the fat I’m intending to render into lard SOME DAY because I thought it was fat. Then some voice in the very back of my head pointed out that the OTHER pig fat we have in the freezer is not neatly made into a square, and then I remembered that we had bought a big-ass block of mozzarella from Sam’s club sometime in 2008 with the intention of eating it with cherry tomatoes. And then WE DID NOT CARE FOR THE TASTE OF THE MOZZARELLA SO WE PUT IT IN THE FREEZER. Brilliant move, me.

And hi, if we’re going to label, WE NEED TO BE CLEAR about what we write. Do I have any goddamn clue on god’s green earth what the fuck “r” on a processed chicken means? Does it mean “roaster”? Why no, it does not mean roaster, because a roaster would have skin, and these do not. Perhaps “rooster”? And why the fucking shit are we marking the roosters and not the hens? WHAT THE FUCK?

Why did we bother to write “Michelle” on the bag that contains Michelle, the rooster who was processed a year and a half ago? What the fuck am I supposed to do with Michelle NOW? Was that so I’d know it was Michelle, and Michelle was kind of old – as chickens go – and thus to be stewed? WHAT THE FUCK?

2. New rule: the only chickens that go into the freezer are the roasters. Every other chicken must be stewed, picked off the bones, and canned. How many chickens do we currently have in the freezer right now? I DON’T KNOW, I STOPPED COUNTING AT 22. And of course because NONE OF THEM are labeled (except for the ones with the date hastily scrawled on them, and of course the “r” chickens), even if we were willing to sell some chickens, I couldn’t in good conscience do so, because the buyer might end up with an old, tough, nasty chicken. Guess who’s going to be stewing, picking, and canning chickens ALL WEEK LONG? Is it me? I THINK IT MIGHT BE. (Not that YOU care, Past Robyn, you lazy whore.)

3. What the fucking fuck is up with THE CHEESE? Jesus christ, are we afraid there’s going to be a cheese shortage? How much cheese do we have? I don’t know, I STOPPED COUNTING AT 30. THIRTY FUCKING PACKAGES OF SHREDDED CHEESE, PLUS. No more cheese until the cheese we HAVE is used up. NO MORE CHEESE. Jesus christ.

4. No more perusing the Publix flyer on Wednesdays and running to the store to take advantage of the “buy one get one” sales. I mean, don’t get me wrong, some of those sales are AWESOME, but truly how many english muffins need to be sitting in the freezer for months until we’re in the mood for them again? I’ve gotten the okay from Fred (and you KNOW what a frugal bastard HE is) to actually go out and BUY a package of english muffins AT FULL PRICE if we run out! I know, right? THE LUNACY!

Future me won’t listen, though. Present me always thinks that if I know something at a certain point in time, I will ALWAYS know it, and thus cryptic notes like an “r” scribbled on the bag holding a chicken will absolutely mean something to me.

Past, present and future me are all dumbasses.

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There are two things that has pretty much convinced me that Bolitar (who I’ll be calling “Buster” from here on out, because that’s what I call him in real life, and it’s too difficult for me to call him “Bolitar” when I never do!) and Rhyme remember living here.

The first was that on Friday afternoon, at Snackin’! Time!, I gave the cats their snacks, and then I walked down the hallway to the guest bedroom to go in and see Starsky and Hutch (this was before I moved them upstairs). I just so happened to have a plate in my hand, and Rhyme came FLYING down the hall after me and tried to lead me into the guest bedroom. Back when all four Bookworms were here, I gave the four of them their snack in the guest bedroom, and he clearly remembered.

The second was when, not an hour later, I looked out the back door and saw Buster and Rhyme frolicking in the back yard with Jake and Elwood.

And I guess I should add a third: yesterday morning I glanced out the side door to see that Buster had climbed over the fence and was in the side yard. I coaxed him inside and put a collar on him (for those who don’t know, we have an invisible fence around the back yard and the problem cats wear collars to deter them from getting too close to the non-invisible fence, so they can’t escape the back yard), and he hasn’t escaped since. Brat.


I’m not quite sure what Rhyme was doing here, but it kind of looks like a seductive dance, doesn’t it? There needs to be a feather boa involved.

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Starsky and Hutch have now hit one pound. Hutch is one and a half ounces larger than Starsky, and that one and a half ounces is all in his big round belly. I told Fred that we should have named him Waddles McGee, because he waddles so when he walks – which is the MOST adorable thing to witness. (Yes, it could very well be due to worms – they’re both on dewormer – but they’re also at that age where they’re tiny and round little things. In a few weeks, they’ll start to lengthen and thin out, I suppose, so I have to enjoy the round stage for as long as it lasts!)


Detective Starsky detects.

Small enough to put in coffee cups, big enough to escape them. I love this age!

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Loony Jake is loony.

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Previously
2009: We are far too amused by ourselves.
2008: No entry.
2007: I had NO IDEA Red Lobster was such a den of heathenry.
2006: The rags used on that closet: ONE MEELLION.
2005: And then the last straw came along and broke the fat woman’s back.
2004: Because he’s a skinny bastard.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Day One.
2000: So obviously I don’t know nothing’ ’bout picking out no paint.

10/4/10 – Monday

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open! Go buy jam and hot sauces here. (And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +   (Pardon the yammering about … Continue reading “10/4/10 – Monday”

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open!

Go buy jam and hot sauces here.

(And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.)

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

 

(Pardon the yammering about the jams and hot sauces being available. I’ll likely do that for the rest of the week so that the SKIMMAHS will see it and not ask me in three months when I’m going to have jam available. BUT YOU KNOW THEY WILL. Oh skimmers, why can’t I quit you?)

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Fred installed Linux on my computer last week, but couldn’t get it to connect to the network. I have a wireless thingy that allows me to connect to the internet and Windows was dealing okay with it, but Linux is apparently a PRINCESS and wouldn’t play along. So Fred ordered a cable from Amazon so that we could connect my computer to the router (that might not be what it’s called. I don’t pay much attention to the particulars. There’s a magic box that Fred’s computer is connected to so he doesn’t have to rely on the smoke and mirrors of the wireless thingy like I do. Said wireless thingy is a bit princessy itself, and if I had a nickel for every time I bellowed “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T SEE A WIRELESS NETWORK IT’S FIVE FUCKING FEET FROM YOU, YOU STUPID GODDAMN PIECE OF SHIT!” at my computer, I’d be able to afford a personal assistant to Google everything for me and print out the information I require, so that I might peruse it at my convenience whilst being hand-fed grapes by the pool boy who also does all the litterbox scooping.) The cord came this week, and yesterday I decreed that it was time to hook that motherfucker up.

Only…. we weren’t going to run the cable across the room, because that’s just asking for trouble. Either Fred would trip over it every time he entered the room, or a cat would chew through it, or there are any myriad* things that could go wrong with having a cable run across the middle of the room.

What we were going to do, instead, was drill a hole through the floor by where the internet connecting thingy was located, then a hole near where my computer is, and then someone was going to have to go under the house and take the cable from one hole, crawl to the other hole, and feed the cable back up through. Fred has been under the house many times (well a couple, anyway) and really does not care for it at all, so I told him I’d do it.

I suited up in an old pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and gloves, and climbed through the door to the under-house area. After hearing about the horror of being under the house many times, I expected it to be a horrifying experience, with cave crickets jumping in all directions, mice coming to sniff at me, and perhaps a raccoon or feral dog running out to occasionally bite me in the face.

Of course, after all that dreading, it wasn’t bad. I mean, I didn’t LOVE it – there were spider webs everywhere, and I killed a great big juicy spider the size of my thumb near the door, but mostly the spider webs had been abandoned. I crawled from the door to where I expected the hole to be, and there it was. I was displeased to see a cluster of cave crickets (if you’re lucky enough to not have cave crickets – also known as camel crickets – in your area, you’re not missing much. They have the legs of a spider and the jumpy spazziness of a cricket and they are hideous looking, but they won’t hurt you.) near the hole, and made Fred feed the cable down far enough that I wouldn’t have to actually touch any cave crickets. (Cave crickets are very springy and they generally jump at your face, making you jump and scream like a big baby, and I prefer not to get too close to them.)

I got the cable, and then couldn’t for the life of me find the hole where I was supposed to poke it back up through even though Fred was shining a flashlight into the hole. I finally found it, couldn’t get the damn cable to go through the hole (the hole being only slightly bigger than the end of the cable) and ended up having to lay on my back on the ground and push the cable with both hands.

Then I crawled back to the door, and it was done. Not one-tenth as bad as I’d expected it to be, either. But then, I’m smaller than Fred and am also not in the least bit claustrophobic. It’s not something I’d want to do on a daily basis, but once or twice a year, I could handle it.


That little wooden door is the door I came through (Fred closed it after me so Maxi or Newt didn’t get it into their heads to follow me in), and that cement thing to the left is the well.

*When I was taking college classes at New Hampshire College (on the Navy base in Brunswick) back in the days when I thought I might actually get my college degree someday, I took an English course (the title of which escapes me at the moment). The professor was fond of the word “myriad” and used it at least a couple of times each class. Toward the end of the semester, it came out that one of the other students thought that she had MADE THE WORD UP and he was amazed to find it in the dictionary. This was the same professor who thought my writing skillz were so awesome that I had to have gone to Catholic school. Heh.

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So last night we were upstairs in the foster room hanging out with Starsky and Hutch. They needed to be medicated (dewormer), so Fred held each of them while I shot the medicine in their little mouths. When he put the second one down, we both noticed that one of the kittens had drooled a drop of medicine on Fred’s hand. I grabbed a piece of paper towel and as I held it out to Fred, he put his hand down and WIPED THE GODDAMN MEDICINE ON THE CARPET.

My question to you: how deep do I have to bury him so that the dogs won’t dig up the body?

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So Friday morning, I decided to leave the house bright and early to take the kittens to Petsmart. I had originally intended to take them later in the morning so as not to get in the way when the Friday morning volunteer showed up to clean cages. But the night before, Fred and I had put Moxie, Melodie, and Dodger in the foster room so that Friday morning I’d be able to get my hands on them and put them in carriers. (We left Martin out because he’s very easy to get hold of. You say “Marty, come here” and he’s pretty sure you’re going to give him a snack.)

Melodie and Dodger have a gift for knowing when I’m about to do something to them they won’t care for, and they vanish. I was afraid they’d vanish or I’d end up chasing them around and be unable to catch them. Friday morning, they were ready to be OUT of that room, and they were howling and banging on the door. Which led me to the decision to take them to Petsmart before the Friday morning volunteer showed up instead of after.

So I grabbed Martin and put him in one carrier. Then I thought I’d be SMART, because I knew there was a good chance the kittens would be able to get past me if I opened the door with carriers in my hands. I closed my bedroom door and the bathroom door, and then I put the half door across the end of the hallway so if anyone got past me, they could only go into the hallway, and it would be easy enough to catch them there.

I opened the door, and went in holding the carriers in front of me. That blocked Melodie and Dodger, who backed away from the doorway, but Moxie would not be denied, and she jumped over the carriers and ran past me. I knew I didn’t have anything to worry about, though, right? Because she could only go into the hallway?

Except that before I even had a chance to turn around and look at her, Moxie had climbed over the half door at the end of the hallway and taken off for parts unknown.

I got Melodie and Dodger in one carrier (they were NOT thrilled to go into the carrier, if you were wondering) and then I went downstairs and started looking for Moxie. I found her huddled under the couch, but when I reached for her, she scampered away and went under the other couch. I stopped and thought for a moment, and then I went into the kitchen.

I took out a stack of plates and rattled them, which is the sound that alerts all the cats in the house to snack time. When I was done rattling the plates, I turned to see a group of cats running toward me, Moxie in the lead. I scooped her up and popped her into the carrier with Martin. Then I grabbed Reacher, who was standing right there hoping to get a snack, and I put him in a third carrier. Then I looked out back and did the snack time call to Corbett, who was chilling under the tree. When he came inside, I popped him into the fourth carrier.

And then we were on our way to Petsmart. The kittens had apparently had a prior discussion about what to do if put into carriers and then into the car, because they began coordinating their howling so that someone was always howling. The entire 35 minute drive to Petsmart, someone was always howling. Sometimes more than one was howling, and several times I’m pretty sure all six were howling, but at all times at least one of them was howling.

(Reminder to self: bring ear plugs next time!)

I got to Petsmart, and instead of going in and getting a cart, then piling the carriers in the cart, I somehow got it in my head that I could carry all four carriers in. I was actually able to do so, but by the time I got to the cat room, I felt like I was hauling 100 pounds of cat. The manager let me into the cat room, and I let Bolitar and Rhyme out of their cage, cleaned it, and got it set up for Reacher and Corbett. I did all the things I needed to do to get the cats all set up, and then I sat on the floor and told them all that I loved them (Melodie, for one, didn’t believe me for one single second), and then I put Moxie, Melodie, Dodger, and Martin in one cage, and Reacher and Corbett in another.

Melodie wasted no time – she went into the litter box and meowed sadly. The others seemed more curious than scared, so I told them one last time that I loved them, and then I put Bolitar and Rhyme in carriers, and left.

None of my babies were adopted over the weekend, and the word is that MMM&D were okay, if nervous, but Corbett was hiding in the litter box, and Reacher was freaked OUT. They’re always scared the first few days, so I know they’ll be okay. I have to go into Huntsville later today, so I may stop by and spend a little time with them.

When I got Bolitar and Rhyme home, I took them directly upstairs to the foster room, shut the door, and let them out of their carriers. They started slinking around the room, growling and hissing and smacking at each other. I spent some time with them, and then left them alone to get used to their new surroundings.

It was my intention to keep them in the room for at least a day, until they relaxed a little. But Fred got home and went up to see them, and when he opened the door they ran over to him and he made the decision to let them out into the house. There was drama queen behavior on both their parts, they hissed and growled and smacked the permanent residents (I’m sure you can imagine how THAT went over), but by Sunday afternoon they were settled in like they’d never been gone.

I meant to share the last of the MMM&D and Reacher & Corbett pics I had over the weekend, but got busy and never got around to it, so here they are!


I think I threw a stick, and cats ran from all corners of the yard to check it out.


Pretty Moxie.


I came home from running errands one day to find this going on. I guess Martin wanted a little Spanky love!


Marty in the sun.


Corbett, peering out the door.


Rhyme, just after we got home.


“What?”


Bolitar, keeping an eye on things.

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Saturday morning, I scrubbed down the upstairs foster room, and then I moved Starsky and Hutch up there. They weren’t sure what to think at first, but they seem to like the toys and the brighter room. Especially the toys!

(These pics are from before I moved them.)


Hutch enjoys a good belly rub.


Starsky, having caught sight of Hutch, goes insta-floof.

Friday afternoon, when Bolitar and Rhyme were running around the house hissing at everyone like the drama queens they are, I opened the door to the guest bedroom to go in and see Starsky and Hutch. Now, the guest bedroom is where the Bookworms were pretty much raised – they were in there from the time we got them, and even when they were allowed out in the house, they spent their nights in that room. It stands to reason that Bolitar and Rhyme would consider that room theirs. So when I opened the door, they went running in, and there was an awful lot of hissing and growling and floofing up from all four cats. (Is there anything cuter than a floofed-up baby kitten?) I grabbed Bolitar and Rhyme and put them out of the room, and then had to spend ten minutes reassuring Starsky and Hutch. Poor babies.

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“Kittens again? FABULOUS.” Maxi always loves the kittens. NOT.

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: No, my number one concern is that a woman, somewhere in Alabama, might have purchased a device to ensure that she’s able to get off.
2006: The stinkin’ kitten is not so cute!
2005: Annnnnnnnd that’s just a little glimpse into the dorkiness that is my life.
2004: ARRRGH.
2003: No entry.
2002: Wow. Apparently I’ve been doing the pet store thing for three years now.
2001: Day Zero.
2000: I’m back!

10/1/10 – Friday

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open! Go buy jam and hot sauces here. (And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.) + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +   New month, new banner! … Continue reading “10/1/10 – Friday”

The Crooked Acres jam (and hot sauce) shop is now open!

Go buy jam and hot sauces here.

(And there’s a permanent link in the left sidebar, for future reference.)

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New month, new banner!

Christine hits another one out of the park- Joe Bob in the alien mask is KILLING ME.

Thanks, Christine! You rock!

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I am envious of everyone with the techie husband/boyfriends. We know almost nothing and get a friend to help us!

Much like the cobbler’s children who go without shoes, we significant others of those who deal with computers have to beg and plead and limp along on crappy computers before the computer geniuses in our lives fix whatever is ailing our stupid computer. I have had to whine and plead a MILLION times to get Fred to fix shit on my computer. Is that fair, I ask you? I THINK NOT.

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I was going to recommend that instead of using olive oil PAM, you might want to check out the pump-type oil sprayers they have on Amazon (since you’re already shopping for a blender) or the one I picked up at Williams-Sonoma years ago for about $10 and still use all the time. You just add your favorite oil, pump, and spray—and without any added chemicals/preservatives, etc.
Have a great weekend!!!!

Oh, I have a pump sprayer, and I love it! I especially love to use it when my recipe calls for tossing something in olive oil before baking it. Instead of tossing whatever it is with oil, I spray a light coating of oil on the food, and it’s a lot less messy. I got mine at TJ Maxx for only a few bucks, and it was so worth it!

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I was just thinking about this when I woke up this morning, how we really need to get some kind of external storage dealie. Do you or your readers have any recommendations for that?

I couldn’t tell you what kind of USB external drive we have, but I can tell you that it’s always hooked up to my computer, and that’s where I save all my pictures. It was on sale when we got it and it’s super easy to use.

(Okay, how lazy AM I? I went and looked. It’s a Seagate FreeAgent external drive. I don’t know how much storage it has on it, but it easily holds my 40 GB of pictures and movies (is that a lot?), and some of Fred’s crap, too.)

Someone did have a suggestion, though:

Western Digital My Passport USB powered HD’s are awesome. I have 4 of them. They’re around $100, depends on the size of them really. I think you can get a 2Tb one for about 130-ish and a 500Gig for about 75 or so.

Readers? Any other suggestions?

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Switch to Windows 7. It’s not bloated, just big boned.

This made me laugh out loud. I have the Windows 7 disc sitting on my desk, and will be upgrading this weekend. (Thanks again, Susan!)

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Pet Monster Hat

I can only assume that one day this lady’s cats will stage some sort of coup.

That is IT. I have GOT to learn to crochet!

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My Grandfather had this poem/limerick? he used to say, “Mr. Nickels made some pickels on a rainy day. Mr Martin came a fartin’ and blew them all away.” It keeps popping back in to my head when I see Martin pictures. Is Martin a gassy cat by any chance?

Martin’s a bit of a gas bag, but not any gassier than the other cats. I particularly appreciate his gassiness when he’s curled up around my head in the middle of the night, as you can imagine.

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Have you ever thought of doing Xmas postcards? Less postage to send. And I’m glad you’re doing a card this year, I always request one for my mom and it always freaks her out (who sent this to us, how do we know Robyn and Fred, whose cat is this? – oh, it’s at least an hour of fun).

You know, I feel like an idiot. It NEVER occurred to me to do Xmas postcards – but that’s what I’m doing this year! I ordered 500 (!) postcards from VistaPrint for less than the two packs of 50 blank cards I got at Michael’s (and then I returned the blank cards to Michael’s!). How awesome is that? THANK YOU!

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Totally off subject, but it is September and once again I’m here asking for your cats family calendars. It makes the perfect Christmas gift to myself. Please make it include a donation to Challengers House. Thankyouverymuch.

I promise you that before Halloween rolls around, those calendars will be available! I’d like to say they’ll be ready by the 15th, but I have a lot of pictures to slog through, so I’m giving myself a little extra time.

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“While we waited for Fred to back up the trailer, Egg told me that he was still “down” in his back and that the doctors were going to put a needle in his back and inject Super Glue. At least, that’s what he thought they said, but now that he thought about it, they probably meant silicone.”

No, it’s a bone cement, and the procedure he’s probably talking about a kyphoplasty. They inject bone cement into a fractured vertebra to stabilize it.

“Poor ol’ Egg – not only does he have a bad back, he also has an aneurysm (he pointed vaguely to his lower abdomen, so I’m not sure where the aneurysm was located) and a kidney stone.”

Probably an abdominal aortic aneurysm, Triple-A. The aorta extends vertically down the length of the torso, before splitting off to supply the femoral arteries. It can bulge, but typically a pulmonary surgeon tracks the size of the bulge until it reaches a certain diameter, then they go in and repair the site. Of course, if it goes, it is unlikely the patient will survive unless they immediately get to a hospital. Dad’s was monitored twice a year for many years, and never reached the threshold where repair was considered.

The older I get, the more this medical stuff amazes me. When I was a kid, I thought that if they found a tumor, they’d rush you right to the emergency room and remove it before you could think twice. But nooooo, apparently they’ll wait weeks and WEEKS like it’s NO BIG DEAL. And now I find out that there are people walking around with aneurysms that are never repaired? MY MIND IS BLOWN! When I think of an aneurysm, I think of life and death, for god’s sake!

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I would like to apply to work on “I Will Throw All Your Shit Away.” When my g-ma died last year at her assisted living home, we needed to get her stuff out fast, as we didn’t want to pay for an empty room. I instructed my mom to bring trash bags, & if I do say so myself, I did a great job. My mom kept wanting to keep stuff, like broken pencils & almost-empty aspirin bottle, but I kept her on task, & we left with a minimum of things. Thank you for your consideration.

and

Robyn, I would really like to be part of “I Will Throw All Your Shit Away.” I had some kind of hoarding tendencies when I was younger and scared the hell out of myself. Now I’m a merciless junk-tosser. (That sounds like some kind of euphemism.) And while I don’t necessarily condone mocking the mentally ill in a public forum like reality TV, the psychotic meltdowns these people would have as we threw their shit away would be the real draw. I think this show would be a huge hit. It’d also be completely cruel. I look forward to viewing and hope I can guest-star one day! 😀

I look forward to pitching this idea to TLC. Or Bravo. Maybe A&E?

The companion show to I Will Throw All Your Shit Away will be called Pick Up This Fucking Garbage, You Nasty Asshole. The hoarding is one thing – the fucking GARBAGE is what gets me every time. People SHITTING IN BAGS and tossing it in the corner! Did y’all see the woman who had THIRTEEN dead cats in her house? And when Matt showed her, she blamed her BROTHER because he put the TV in that corner or some shit. AGH.

Tell me the truth, you guys. When you watch Hoarders, do you ever find yourself holding your breath so that the stank from the hoarder’s house doesn’t come through the TV and make you gag? Or is it just me?

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BTW, the kitty room looks so CLEAN. It always does, but I especially noticed now since we’ve been discussing the Hoarders and their filth around here lately. You run a tight ship, obviously.

I find that there’s very little in the way of possessions that I’m not willing to toss. I mean, there are certain things I like, but it would take very little for me to get rid of just about anything sitting around. I rarely keep any of the books I read, I don’t have a lot of tchotchkes. Really, the only things that clutter up the house are cat toys (it’s my intention, one of these days, to make a couple of wooden boxes to toss the cat toys into) and the fucking dining room table, which attracts every last piece of “I’ll deal with this later” in the house. I mean, seriously, look at this shit:

Laundry that needs to be folded and put away, a coffee maker that died (that Fred intends to attempt to fix), Fred’s clothes fucking hanging on the fucking chairs (he doesn’t like to go into the guest bedroom because that’s where the kittens are in their cage, and he doesn’t want to set them off because their shrieky little meows make his ears bleed), empty boxes that THE CATS MIGHT LIKE TO PLAY IN. Just, ugh.

(In my defense, after I snapped the picture, I folded the laundry and put it away…. and there’s already another fucking pile of laundry that needs to be folded and put away. I need to just stop doing the goddamn laundry, is what it is.)

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I just watched the Hoarders show this week where the water wasn’t working in the house and the people had started pooping in bags and throwing them in the corner. In my mind I’m sort of chanting to myself, *shit in a bag, shit in a bag, eeeewww.* The idea was just so nasty! Then the guy Matt (with the truck) said he couldn’t shovel it out because the bags would break so he had to pick it all up by hand! DO NOT try to eat lunch while watching this show. . .

I have no idea what Matt makes, but there’s no way it’s enough. NO WAY. Is there enough money on earth to convince me to spend HOURS picking up bags of shit, one by one? There is not. No fucking way. Can you imagine the nightmares that man has?

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If Newt and Maxie like the side porch, why not move the house there?

Mostly because there isn’t enough room there. We’ve been brainstorming a way where Fred could put an addition to the side stoop that would hold a shelter for the cats – and maybe make it not really attached to the side stoop, far enough away that they’d have to jump a little bit to get to it. We’ve got possums and other wild animals around, and I’d hate to have a possum or raccoon go into the cat shelter and corner a cat.

To be honest, though, that’s not a priority. My priority this winter is getting a covered porch on the back of the house, and the blue coop converted into a cat coop. (That might not be Fred’s priority, but it’s certainly mine!)

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What on earth is that green tube thingie by the front door?! I’m guessing a cat toy of some kind.

That is, in fact, a toy.

It’s a Bergan Turbo Track cat toy – we bought several of them, tossed the elevated sections (the balls kept getting stuck in the elevated sections) and joined them all together. The cats love them – my only gripe is that the sections come apart a little too easily, and every once in a while, I’ll hear the track ball go rolling across the floor because the cats have disconnected the track and stolen the ball!

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Was that a Feliway dispenser I saw plugged in near the cat tree? If it was, do you think they work?

It is a Feliway dispenser, but I have to admit that it’s empty. I’m terrible about replacing it when it’s empty. I used it for a couple of months and while I might have noticed a slight difference in their behavior, said slight difference could also have been due to a troublesome foster cat leaving the house. So… maybe it works, and maybe it doesn’t. 🙂

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It amazes me that someone could throw a kitten out of a car…. I’d like to throw their ass out of a moving vehicle and leave them on the side of the road to die!!!

It is absolutely infuriating and I don’t understand how anyone could do it and live with themselves.

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I showed the man one of your pix & asked him what kind of wood your cabinets are made of. After making a lewd comment (I expect nothing less), he said “I don’t know, why don’t you ask her!” They’re really pretty, what is it?

I’m assuming you mean the cabinets in the kitchen? I had to ask Fred, who said he thinks they’re probably walnut. It’s funny, I LOATHED those cabinets when we first moved in, but as soon as I changed the cabinet pulls from the horrendous white ceramic pulls the previous owners had to something darker, I liked them one hell of a lot better.

(I’d still like to gut the kitchen and start from scratch. Maybe after we win the lottery!)

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I don’t know if you read xkcd on a regular basis, but I saw today’s comic and thought of you 🙂

LOVE xkcd!!!

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Do you plant your vegetables from seed or from little plants (baby plants?) from the nursery? I am finally getting a little vegetable garden plot and I want to plant a few items, like okra, zucchini, tomatoes and maybe an eggplant and corn? As you can tell, I’ve never planted before so I thought I’d ask since you’ve seemed to have great success with your garden. Thanks!

It mostly depends on the vegetable – we buy tomato plants from the local high school most years and also start our own from seed (in small pots, then transplant to the garden when they’re big enough), but everything else, we sow directly into the ground. (When I say “we”, I mean “Fred,” of course.) Ashleas had some good advice, too:

I’m no expert so please take this little bit of advice with a grain of salt. I’ve just read our Gardening 1-2-3 book like 3 times through while working the Outside Garden register this summer.

Depending on where you live, you may want to start from seeds or baby plants inside and then transplant them outside. If you’re north or have a late last-frost date, you can do this so the plants have a head start and you can get the most out of a growing season. Also starting inside allows you to start from seed if you wish, which can be cheaper than the baby plants.
Robyn’s so far south that either method, either transplanting or starting from seed outside probably works for her.
What say you, Robyn?

I agree! 🙂

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Okay, I have a million pictures of MMM&D, and Reacher and Corbett. I’ll share some of them today, and then maybe the rest over the weekend.


Reacher and Jake.


Pretty pretty Corbett.


In this picture, I can absolutely see what Martin will look like when he’s grown up.


“What, lady? What you want?”


Moxie, Melodie, and Martin, hanging out in the guest bedroom.


Adopted before the weekend is out. GUARANTEED! (I hope.)


Reacher ADORES snoozing in the reusable grocery bag.


Kittens love an empty box. Shocking, right?


One couch, six cats.


Jake sure does like to tease Martin with his tail.

Okay, I’m going to leave with Martin, Melodie, Moxie, Dodger, Reacher, and Corbett in a few minutes. I refuse to be sad, because this is the next step toward their forever home, and I have a good feeling about this weekend. Hopefully at least a couple of them will be adopted this weekend (please please PLEASE) and go to loving homes.

So send good thoughts this way, would you?

(I sure am going to miss these guys!)

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Starsky and Hutch, hanging out on the heating pad.


Houston, we has a complainer.

Starsky and Hutch are doing well. Yesterday, they both lapped formula off a shallow plate without crawling through it, and I didn’t have to supplement with a bottle or syringe at all. It was amazingly easy – Monday, they wouldn’t even look at the plate with the formula on it. Yesterday, they both bellied up to the plate. Today, I begin the messy job of offering them canned food mixed with formula. I don’t think it’s going to be too much of a problem – I think I mentioned that I put a bowl of Babycat kibble in their cage, and several times when I went into the room, Starsky was bellied up to the bowl. I don’t know how much he actually ate, but there’s definitely some interest there.

My plan is to put Bolitar and Rhyme in the foster room upstairs when I get home from Petsmart and then slowly reintroduce them to the rest of the house. Once they’re acclimated to being out and about, I’ll move Starsky and Hutch upstairs.

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Coltrane, chilling in the back yard.

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Previously
2009: Life is good.
2008: How about that, genius?
2007: Except that seeing me so enraged the praying mantis that it took flight and flew at my head.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I could have done a faster job with a measuring spoon and my ass.
2003: She was stymied by her big butt, which wouldn’t fit under the shed.
2002: Here’s my question: It’s open 24-hours, so why the FUCKITY FUCK FUCK can’t they stock in the wee hours of the morning when NO ONE IS THERE?
2001: It’s funny how two people can look at the same thing and see it differently, isn’t it?
2000: No entry.

9/30/10 – Crooked Acres Thursday

The first part of the house tour! The front of the house from across the street. And the front of the house, from closer. The upstairs windows are the foster room. The downstairs windows are the front room. Resident greeter Maxi would like you to know that she disapproves of this “house tour” nonsense. Front … Continue reading “9/30/10 – Crooked Acres Thursday”

The first part of the house tour!


The front of the house from across the street.


And the front of the house, from closer. The upstairs windows are the foster room. The downstairs windows are the front room.


Resident greeter Maxi would like you to know that she disapproves of this “house tour” nonsense.


Front door, plant stand, the house Fred made for Maxi and Newt so they wouldn’t freeze to death in the winter. They used it the first winter, and then decided they’d rather huddle in misery on the side porch than snooze in luxury on the front.


The right side of the porch. Yes, this is a lovely place to sit and talk – but we never sit out here.


Left side of the porch. I sit in that swing and stalk the hummingbirds.


Standing just inside the front door. After living here for 3 1/2 years, I finally got pictures hung on that wall. Which I’ve been planning to do… for about 3 1/2 years.


The right side of the front room. That table to the far right of the picture is where my sewing machine sits, ignored. On the bookcase is all my material and sewing supplies. Those are also ignored.


Left side of the front room – the living room section, if you will. Where we spend most of our evenings.


Same side of the room, from the hallway. The couch under the windows is Fred’s; the other one is mine. Yes, we COULD share a couch, but I like to lay down and stretch out while we’re watching TV. And there are usually 43 cats on the couch with Fred. These couches used to belong to Fred’s father and stepmother, and they are the MOST comfortable couches ever. Fred’s couch, you might have noticed, has a slipcover on it. I need to order one for my couch (I just ordered the one to make sure it was going to work out before I ordered a second). These couches are TORN UP. Stupid cats.


And from the hallway, to the left.


Another shot of the TV area. The table next to Fred’s couch (over there in the corner) drives me NUTS because it’s always got a ton of shit piled up on it.


Dodger, atop the bookcase in the front room.

That’s it for the tour for this week. NEXT week, we’ll go down the hallway and see the bathroom and guest bedroom! Can you stand the excitement?

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Scenes from around Crooked Acres.


Do you see what those fucking chickens did to my little herb garden? They hollowed out beds and took dust baths and fucked it all up. Fuckers. Now that I’ve made it so they can’t get out of the back forty, I pulled up the herbs, added some soil, and planted radishes in this bed, and carrots in the bed next to it. Then I covered the beds with chicken wire so Maxi and Newt can’t dig in the beds and use them as a litter box.


Come on, habaneros, ripen! I’m running out!


Baby bell peppers.


Grrr.


Have I mentioned my love for Morning Glories?


The okra are just about done for the season. Fred is sad (but I have two bags of sliced okra in the freezer, so we’ll have plenty of roasted okra between now and next summer!).


Volunteer squash plants. I don’t know that we’ll actually get anything from these, but it’ll be interesting to see.


Autumn Clematis.


I was surprised to find a Rose of Sharon growing among the shrubbery in the back yard. Purty.


One of the chickens, back when they were able to wander out of the back forty. They always came running when I was picking tomatoes. There’s nothing chickens love as much as tomatoes!


Okay, Georgie’s looking at me. Gracie, look at me! Over here, Gracie. Graaaacie! Gracie?


Damnit, George, look at ME, not over there! George!


Good Georgie! Good boy. Ugh. GRACIE! Everyone look at ME.


You guys, come on. AT me, I said! AT ME. Not away from me!


UGH. Brats. Well, at least they’re both looking at me!

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The Reacher creature.


Reacher, sneaking in the cat door before I spot him and yell at him.


He has such gorgeous eyes. All my Bookworms do.


Oh, how Marty loves the Skinneeez teaser.

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These kittens have the prettiest markings.


I love the two light brown stripes down Hutch’s back.


Hutch, skeptical.


I don’t know what Starsky’s looking at, but it appears to be pretty amazing.


Starsky. Who does little Starsky remind me of? He reminds me SO MUCH of Bolitar, not only in looks, but also in temperament.

Bolitar, back in March:

Anyway, here’s the story behind Starsky and Hutch. I got a call from the shelter manager Sunday evening. Another Challenger’s House foster mom had gotten these two little kittens from a friend who found them. They’d been tossed out of a car along with a third kitten. The third kitten was in such bad shape and hurt so badly that there was nothing that could be done for it, and it had to be euthanized.

Since all my little guys are going to Petsmart on Friday, I knew I’d have the room, so I was more than willing to take them.

These two were LOADED with fleas when I got them, and so the first night we bedded them down in a big carrier in the blue coop with a heating pad.

On a side note, I have been REALLY lucky as far as fleas go. The only time I ever spotted fleas on fosters is when we got the Cookies last Fall, and they only had a few fleas. When I say these two were loaded with fleas, I’m not kidding. They had fleas crawling in their eyes. It was awful.

By mid-day Monday, the fleas were eradicated, and I bathed them and set them up in a cage in the guest bedroom.

They’re doing well and are pretty healthy. They’re a little bony, but they’re both eating well and putting on the ounces. They’ve been using the litter box I put in their cage, Starsky has been eating a little of the bowl of Babycat kibble I left in their cage, and last night Hutch lapped some formula off a plate.

They’re sweet and snuggly and friendly. They’re at that age I love so much, where they’re just figuring out how to play with toys and how to play-fight with each other, where everything is AMAZING, and their favorite thing to do is climb into my lap, purring and kneading.

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VERY MUCH do Kara, Sugarbutt and Tommy disapprove when we have the nerve to leave the back yard. Look at the judgmental faces on those three!

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Previously
2009: Flat Holly
2008: “Paul Newman is dead too! What are the chances that… Oh.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: I’m a badass, that’s right.
2004: I
2003: In adults, I am anti-”bye-bye”.
2002: Day in the life.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

9/29/10 – Kitteh Wednesday

Donna, Love & Hisses does, in fact, still exist. It’s located here, and there’s a link in the left sidebar, under “misc.” It’s updated every day that Bitchypoo is, which means most weeks it’s updated Monday through Friday. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + … Continue reading “9/29/10 – Kitteh Wednesday”

Donna, Love & Hisses does, in fact, still exist. It’s located here, and there’s a link in the left sidebar, under “misc.” It’s updated every day that Bitchypoo is, which means most weeks it’s updated Monday through Friday.

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Martin and Jake: it’s a love-hate-love-hate relationship.


“What do you MEAN I have a big butt and you cannot lie?”


“That’s right, right there. That’s the spot!”


“What do you MEAN you can’t stand the way I purr?!”


“Just SMILE for the stupid picture so she’ll go away. I’ll deal with YOU later, mister!”


“I know, I know, I’m sorry, too.”


A blissful moment.


“You’re kind of getting on my nerves, with the hovering. I need my space.”


“Do you always have to be RIGHT NEXT TO ME?”


“Oh my god, STOP BREATHING SO LOUD!”


“YOU ARE DRIVING ME CRAAAAAAAAZY!”

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Okay, they’re named!

Meet Starsky:

and Hutch:


Put ’em up!

Y’all had some REALLY good suggestions, thanks for those. I liked Frasier and Niles, too, but couldn’t talk Fred into it. I thought Axl and Slash were good names, but couldn’t talk Fred into that, either. After some negotiation, we settled on Starsky and Hutch. I’ve saved all your name suggestions, though, for future fosters!

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Miz Poo would like you to know that TODAY it’s a Poo cave, not a Suggie cave or a Spanky cave. In case you were wondering.

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Previously
2009: Is it not amazing how the tiniest things can make the worst smells?
2008: Did I mention SHADDUP, YOU?
2007: No entry.
2006: No need to send out the announcement that we’re freaks just yet, I suppose.
2005: What a fucking day, I tells ya.
2004: Which makes me think he’s out there talking shit about me, of course.
2003: I know I’ve lived in Alabama too long when 70 is a bit too cool for me.
2002: No entry.
2001: I swear, my work is NEVER done.
2000: No entry.