Life – Page 52 – Bitchypoo

5/26/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)

Happy birthday, Fred! New job = best birthday present ever, am I right?! * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * I’m pretty sure if he could figure out how to flap those things, he could totally take flight. * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= … Continue reading “5/26/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)”

Happy birthday, Fred!

New job = best birthday present ever, am I right?!

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I’m pretty sure if he could figure out how to flap those things, he could totally take flight.

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“Zip it. ZIP it. ZIP. IT.”

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Happy Sugs, looking guilty.

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Previously
2009: I HATE HAVING TO DEAL WITH STRANGERS, HAVE I MENTIONED THIS?
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: He’s such a liar.
2005: But by the time I was about three words in to the text message to the spud, I was using “u” and “2″ and “gd” with abandon, and it STILL took me 4-fckng-eva 2 get th gd msg typd n & snt.
2004: I started to answer her, when I realized to my horror that Fred was leaning forward, CUPPING HIS HAND TO HIS EAR to illustrate that he hadn’t heard what she said.
2003: “I breathe oxygen!”
“Me too!”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Our first trip to G’burg.

5/25/10 – Tuesday

Happy happy birthday, Nance!!! * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * LOST finale spoilers in this section. Skip to the next if you haven’t seen it yet! In an email this morning, I said: I cried and cried and then at the end I was … Continue reading “5/25/10 – Tuesday”

Happy happy birthday, Nance!!!

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LOST finale spoilers in this section. Skip to the next if you haven’t seen it yet!

In an email this morning, I said:

I cried and cried and then at the end I was like:

“Ohhhh.”

“….”

“…”

“Wait, what?”

Jin and Sun, especially, got me. So did Claire and Charlie. And Kate and Jack (though I was never a big Kate and Jack fan).

Then this morning I woke up with the burning desire to know just how the holy hell Lapidus explained to the tower at LAX (I assume that’s where they were heading) that “Hi, yeah, remember the survivors of Flight 815? Well, we were going to Guam, and the DARNEDEST thing happened. I mean, what are the chances, right? Now they’re the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815 AND Ajira Flight 316. Oh, and by the way, we have an extra or two.” And the PRESS. Now they need to have a follow-up series, LOST: Life After the Island.

This site did a pretty good job of explaining to me just what the hell happened.

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Fred had his first day yesterday, and it went pretty well. It was strange to have him gone all day, and at one point I actually called for him to come help me with something, and it was a long few moments before I remembered that he wasn’t here.

For those who asked, I’m not really looking for a job any more. I mean, if I run across a great job, I might send out my resume just to see, but I don’t really have a screaming desire to work and Fred’s okay with me not working, so I don’t intend to keep vigorously working.

Plus, he’s going to be doing some work-related traveling soon, so SOMEONE has to be around to take care of the farm, am I right?

A couple of people asked what Fred’s commute is like. It takes him about 20 minutes to get to and from work. Considering that it took him half an hour to get to and from work before, he’s pretty happy with 20 minutes.

Also, NO I didn’t get any pictures of him in his pretty new work clothes. He wouldn’t let me!

Now if you’ll pardon me, I have a row of tomatoes to weed and a bookcase to sand and stain.

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For those who asked, I wasn’t able to get a shot of Spanky’s acne area because he’s a skittish and wily one, and if you come toward him with a camera or a syringe of medicine or even nothing at all, his Spanky sensors send out a Warning! Warning! Attack is imminent! signal, and he’s gone like a cloud of smoke.

His acne isn’t quite as bad, but this is what it looks like.

We don’t have plastic dishes for the cats, they eat off of ceramic only and have for years – Miz Poo had acne a few years ago, and we switched to ceramic at that time. Had we known that it was acne that Spanky was suffering from, we likely wouldn’t have even taken him to the vet, just dealt with it here at home. We had no idea what was going on with his chin, and Fred suggested that it could be ringworm or a TUMOR, so off to the vet we went.

Next time (I’d like to think there’ll be no “next time”, but I think we all know there WILL) we’ll know what it is and won’t have to traumatize him by a visit to the vet.

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Reacher and Bolitar: Brudderly Love.

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I’m sorry if I worried any of you yesterday – upon a reread, I can see where you might think I was leading up to telling y’all that Sheila didn’t make it. Not only did she make it, she is THRIVING. She’s packing on the ounces, and when she gets going, her brothers don’t know which way is up.

I love that these four kittens came from three different places, but they almost immediately bonded and seem to think they’ve always been siblings. Franco and Garrity, especially, love to play together.

Sweet Sheila.

“I HAZ A COMPLAINT.”

::SMILE::

Is that a smug look, or what?

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Smilin’ Joe.

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Previously
2009: “Go get the ladder, Joe. GO GET THE LADDER. I’m a portly cat. A jump from here would kill me!”
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: Goofy cats.
2005: Grackles are kind of evil-looking and have great big beaks and I’m sure their bite is far, far worse than their bark.
2004: I sure am MIGHTY FUCKING TIRED of going to the FUCKING doctor’s office all the damn time.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

5/24/10 – Monday

Guess who has himself a shiny new job and is heading off for his first day of work as I type? That’s right, folks, after 7 weeks of unemployment, 99 resumes sent out, occasional calls from recruiters, head hunters, and various and sundry other people, Fred got himself three interviews, was deemed overqualified for the … Continue reading “5/24/10 – Monday”

Guess who has himself a shiny new job and is heading off for his first day of work as I type?

That’s right, folks, after 7 weeks of unemployment, 99 resumes sent out, occasional calls from recruiters, head hunters, and various and sundry other people, Fred got himself three interviews, was deemed overqualified for the first position he interviewed for, and was offered the other two. He’ll be working for a large company with room to advance, so here’s hoping he LIKES the job! He really, really likes the people at his new company, so that’s half the battle.

I have to say that in retrospect this 7 weeks went by a lot faster than I would have expected. We didn’t get nearly as much accomplished as we’d hoped to, but that’s the nature of time off, isn’t it? Hey, at least we got the pantry inside the damn house!

On Saturday we went to Kohl’s to buy Fred some new work duds. In his old job, he wore shorts to work every day (nice pleated dress shorts, but shorts nonetheless). The dress code at the new job is “business casual” which I am told consists of something in the khakis and button-down range. We got to Kohl’s right after it opened, and Fred went off toward the men’s section while I went to look at jeans and underwear. When I went looking for him about half an hour later, he had a pile of khakis and button-down shirts.

Oy. One thing y’all do not know about Fred And3rson is that when it comes toward clothing, he gravitates toward the bright, flamboyant colors. If left to his own devices, he’d have gone off to work on his first day dressed like so:

I convinced him to go for the more muted colors until he’s been at his job for a while.

After he’d chosen his clothes, we had to go over to the shoe section.

“You HAVE shoes!” I grumbled helpfully. And, “No one CARES if a MAN wears the same shoes every day! Are you afraid that the other geeks will say ‘Oh, he was wearing THOSE shoes yesterday!’?” And, “NO ONE CARES what you wear on your feet! Just get something comfortable!”

He found shoes he liked, grabbed some socks, and we were on our way.

Sunday, he started agitating to go up into Tennessee to the flea market. I couldn’t figure out why he wanted to go instead of waiting for Memorial Day weekend, which is when it’s really a big event, tons of people there selling stuff, and worth going. As it turned out, he decided that he needed a new wallet, because the wallet he had was falling apart.

I bought him a wallet at a leather outlet store in Boaz fourteen years ago, and he’s been using it ever since. I’ve been telling him for at least the past five years that he needed a new wallet, but he’s been resisting spending the money. It turns out that the idea of pulling out his old hoopty wallet in front of the other boys did not appeal to him.

Instead of going up into Tennessee, we went up to Walmart. He headed off for the wallet section, and I went over to the pet section. Fancy Feast canned cat food is on sale for 30 cents a can right now, which is a pretty great price, so I stocked up. Once I had what I needed, I went looking for him. They’re rearranging the whole friggin’ store, so he’d had to wander around to find the wallets, and then went looking for me.

I swear to god, whenever we go shopping together, I spend 95% of the time I’m in the store looking for him.

So he’s all set, he’s headed off to work in his pretty new clothes and fancy new wallet, and I have the house all to myself again.

I believe I’m going to celebrate by landing my ass on the couch and watching the final episode of Lost.

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I saw this advertisement on Facebook yesterday:

I don’t know who the hell that man is, but he is NOT Jack Reacher. Jack Reacher looks NOTHING like that, am I right?

(You’re saying, “Robyn, you stupidhead, that is clearly the man who READS the Jack Reacher books!” Well, this is what Dick Hill looks like, and I don’t think it’s the same guy, so shaddup.)

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So last Monday I brought the Rescuees home, and they were all perfectly fine, healthy, running around like their tails were on fire. Especially Sheila, who won me over with her wild ways at the vet. I weighed them all Monday night to see where they were.

As the week wore on, Sheila got quieter and quieter and stopped eating, and it got to the point where every time I walked into the room, I was carrying something to try to tempt her to eat. She seemed to rally Thursday – I got her to eat – but when I walked into the room a little later there was a large puddle of vomit. By Friday, she’d lost 4 ounces from a beginning weight of 1 pound, 6 ounces. She was seeming to rally again, she ate Friday morning, but then vomited again. She’d go over and sniff the bowl of food, but then walk away and sit there, hunched over, looking miserable. She clearly wanted to eat, but was nauseated by the smell of the food. We had an appointment for Spanky Friday afternoon, so I called the vet’s office to make sure it was okay to bring her with us. It was, so we did.

The vet looked her over, they did a fecal, and the vet offered up a couple of suggestions as far as what could be going on with her. She gave us a few things to give Sheila, and we were on our way home.

(Spanky, by the way, at the age of almost 14, has ACNE on his chin. He’s never had that issue before, but in his senior years he’s all acne’d up like a, well, a 14 year old boy, now that I think about it. He’ll be fine.)

So poor Sheila, all weekend long every time we went into the kitten room, we were putting medicine or PediaSorb into her mouth, and she was getting pretty tired of it, thank you. But she seemed to be doing better on Saturday, and last night she was back up to 1 pound, 4 1/2 ounces. The best thing, what really made us feel better, is that she was playing. She hadn’t really done any serious playing since Tuesday night, but yesterday she was chasing the boys around and showing them who the boss is.

(Hint: SHE is the boss.)

So she’s doing well – they all are – eating well, and now every time I walk into the room, they all howl at me because they got accustomed to my constantly bringing tasty food to tempt Sheila to eat.

Garrity, on the cat tree, where he’s safe from Sheila. Check out his gorgeous eyes – here’s a closeup:

How neat is it that the gold is spreading outward from his pupils like that? SO neat!

Gavin kicks some toy mouse butt. He’s got the really cool eyes, too:

Sheila, kicking some Garrity tail.

“I was just playin’ dead so she’d go away. When she’s not looking, I’m totally going to jump on her and bite her neck!”

::SMILE::

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The Bookworms are also doing well. They’re now in the house 24 hours a day instead of being locked up in the guest bedroom at night. I had planned to start letting them stay out all the time a few weeks ago, but ended up deciding to keep putting them in the guest bedroom as long as they didn’t fight it too hard. Friday, they fought it, and I decided we’d just leave them out and see how it went.

It’s going okay. At various times through the night, I wake up and have all the kittens in bed with me. There’s been the occasional Bookworm-Elwood/ Jake spat, and they LOVE to race through the house like a herd of elephants the instant all the lights are off, but I’ve been sleeping okay, so I’m not going to complain. Rhyme and Bolitar take turns sleeping curled up right next to me. They both purr constantly, and waking up to a sweet purring kitten curled up next to you is always a good thing.

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Kara in her favorite sleeping place.

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: One of the many things I don’t get: sour cream.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: WHERE’S THE SENSE?
2004: ”It’s HOT in the SOUTH in the SUMMER?! You don’t say!”
2003: No entry.
2002: I hope you’re planning on marking the occasion with style and panache, people.
2001: And so on until it’s lunchtime and I’m so excited at the thought of Lime Jello for dessert (it being Tuesday and all) that I hang up on her and go hobbling out to the lunchroom with all the other old people.
2000: Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

5/21/10 – Friday

Reader Heather told me that in California, the Berkeley-East Bay Humane Society had a fire yesterday: In the early morning of May 20, a major fire destroyed a large section of our shelter. We lost our entire cat sheltering area as well as laundry facilities and offices. We are currently without water, electricity and phone … Continue reading “5/21/10 – Friday”

Reader Heather told me that in California, the Berkeley-East Bay Humane Society had a fire yesterday:

In the early morning of May 20, a major fire destroyed a large section of our shelter. We lost our entire cat sheltering area as well as laundry facilities and offices. We are currently without water, electricity and phone service.

We lost 15 of our beautiful cats that were ready for adoption but all the dogs survived and are being cared for in our kennels and at a veterinary emergency service.

They desperately need donations, foster homes, and volunteers to help with the cleanup. If you’re in the area, you can contact them via email or phone – the information is on their web site.

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Wow – that Oca looks really cool! Which kind did you guys get? I wish I actually had more than just container gardens when I come across neat stuff like this!

We got our Oca tubers from Seeds of Change, here. It does say, on that page, that Oca also shows promise as a container plant for indoor cultivation. I’m hoping we end up with a decent harvest and that Oca is as good as it sounds!

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Someone may have asked this before….before you had many more chickens probably. But can you really tell them apart? Or are you able to tell just a couple of them apart? You mentioned the buffs being from the original eggs from 3 years ago so that’s why I wondered.

I would hope that if I had 20 black cats I’d be able to tell the difference between them – but I’m not sure I could do it.

Myself, I’m only able to tell a few of them apart. It’s Fred who told me that the Buff Orpingtons were from our original batch of 12. Buffs are good mothers, good layers, and pretty gentle, so we opted not to process any of them. When we have a large number of a certain kind of chicken (like the group of Light Brahmas we have), I can’t tell any of them apart.

When Maura was here and we had three black cats, it wrecked my nerves. I was forever letting Maxi out the side door and then worrying that I’d let Maura out, so I’d have to go find Maura to make sure I hadn’t. I can’t imagine having 20 black cats!

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From Maura’s mom, Kathy in Birmingham:

So to update everybody on Maura, since I suck at updating my own sites, Maura is doing AWESOME! She and Beau are good buddies. He’s so different with a little friend to play with. They are both getting excellent exercise, chasing each other up and down the stairs (between 2-6am only, of course!). Her litterbox issues seem resolved, her appetite is good, and she seems to be having lots of fun. The guest room which was her “acclimation chamber” is still her favorite hang-out spot, but she comes downstairs with Beau to greet us when we come in the front door, too cute! She seems to be a perfect fit. I’m sure it helps that she came from a busy house fulla kittens & cats! I’ll post a link with pics here once I get some more. Thanks again!

I told Kathy that I am tickled pink to hear that it’s working out so well with Maura. Not that I had any real doubts, but you never know ’til you know. You know?

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How does Fred feel about the sales of his kindle book, “No Limit” on Amazon.com? I left a review on his book and he is getting some other very good reviews and comments. I want to encourage everyone to check it out. Thanks for telling us about the free PC Kindle software to download for us without a Kindle. I didn’t realize that there are many free books on Amazon to download, too.

He’s happy that people are getting to read it now – and very much appreciates the reviews on Amazon. Thanks, reviewers!

I love that there are so many free Kindle downloads on Amazon, isn’t that awesome? If I didn’t have my Kindle, I might be tempted to download the PC Kindle software onto my laptop and use that as a reader.

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Survivor spoilers; skip this section if you haven’t seen the season finale yet. (What are you waiting for?!)

No one else has commented about Survivor yet. Russell is a douche bag! The previous season he pouted like a child because he did not win the game. We half expected it this time too but he was a little more grown up about it. He got the Sprint $100,000 award both times. I personally think it is absolutely delicious that he took Sandra to the end thinking it would give him a huge advantage and she wound up winning! He even told her several times through the season that she “won’t get a vote”. Well -he- didn’t get a vote! ha ha.

Russell is, indeed, a douche bag. I think that he did play an excellent game, but he fails to understand that it’s impossible to win the game if you don’t at least make an attempt at playing the social aspect of it. If the jury hates you, for the most part they’re NOT going to vote for you.

I think Parvati played the game better than Sandra did, but I like Sandra a lot and think it’s telling that she posed no physical threat to the other players, and still won the game twice. Which points up that if you’re not willing to play a social game, you’re screwing yourself.

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My question is where does one get a “ham-mick”? Since its so popular with your kitties I would love to give it a try with ours!

Get yer Ham-micks here! We have two of them, and they are super-popular (check out Sugarbutt at the end of the entry, enjoying the computer room Ham-mick).

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Strawberry Lemon Marmalade!!! Recipe please!!!!

As a side note, when I mentioned making strawberry lemon marmalade earlier this week, I said it wasn’t very lemony. I was wrong – it’s definitely lemony and it is SO good. Also, rather than crushing the strawberries, I throw them in the blender and, well, blend. I love strawberries, but don’t care for big chunks of them in my jam-type foods.

I got this on Facebook, from Cait.

From the Ball Complete Book of Home Preserves.

Makes seven 8-oz jars

1/4 cup thinly sliced lemon peel
water
4 cups crushed strawberries
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 package 1.75oz regular powdered pectin (I use yellow Sure-Jell)
6 cups granulated sugar

1. Prepare canner, jars & lids
2. In a small non-reactive saucepan, boil lemon peel in just enough water to cover it until softened, about 5 mins. Drain and discard liquid.
3. Add strawberries, peel and lemon juice to a large non-reactive saucepan and mix well. Whisk in pectin until dissolved. Bring to a boil over high heat, stirring constantly. Add sugar all at once and return to a full rolling boil, stirring constantly. Boil hard, still stirring, for 1 minute. Remove from heat and skim foam.
4. Ladle hot marmalade into hot jars, 1/4″ headspace, wipe rims, tighten lids down with bands.
5. Place jars in canner, covered 1″ with boiling water, process for 10 minutes, turn off heat and take off canner lid and let sit in water for 5 minutes, then remove jars, cool and store.

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Did I miss the part where you explained why Fred couldn’t take the tick off of his own arm? I don’t think he’s an amputee (that I know of; boy, am I gonna feel dumb if he is), and if he was pointing it out to you, he could obviously see it, so…???

He claims that he tried, but couldn’t do it, and didn’t know that I was in the middle of my peeing-and-progesteroning routine. LIKELY STORY.

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What’s up with the mirror site? Is that so someone can read your journal while at work?

Yep – some people have been unable to get to my site because of the domain name, so I thought I’d provide an alternative. It’s literally the exact same entry you see on Bitchypoo, just cut and pasted and published.

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I have been taking my dog hiking alot lately. I have put Frontline on her, but most people don’t realize that it doesn’t keep ticks from getting on your animal, or even from biting, it will only kill if they do bite.
Anyway, I hadn’t even considered her getting ticks because we had just started this new activity. One night we were laying in bed (yes, she sleeps with us) when I look over and see a tick in the bed! I jumped up, screamed hysterically, and then had a nervous breakdown because I found THREE MORE TICKS in the bed! Now we check for ticks after every walk.
Funny story: I was telling a friend about it and she said her husband got one on his “taint.” (If you don’t know what that is, it “taint” the pee-er and it “taint” the pooper, it’s the space in between!) Tell Fred he better be checking! haha!

UGH ticks. I loathe those things!!!

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Question for Friday-have any of the older cats gone looking and gotten upset when the fosters leave?

Not that I can tell, actually. They seem to realize that there’s something different, but don’t seem to know exactly what it is. I was afraid that Jake would be upset when the Wonkas and the Cookies went off to be adopted, but he really took it in stride. I think that if we only had two or three cats, they’d be more apt to notice the absence of kittens, but as it is they don’t seem to be terribly bothered.

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I am a skimmer when it comes to links (I seldom click on links after an unfortunate goatse related incident some years back), so forgive me if this is old news to you, but have you seen the Kittens in AutoTune video?

The guy is annoyingly douchey but I’ll forgive him.

I had not seen that – and that is HILARIOUS!

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We have one tortie and one orange cat… the orange cat clears the house each time he takes a poop. Also, he snores like a chainsaw. It’s a good thing he’s cute.

Sugarbutt snores like a chainsaw, too. It’s pretty funny when Fred and I are laying in bed at night talking, and Sugarbutt’s snoring up a storm over in his cat bed in the recliner.

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So tell me, did you like the Petpride cat litter, or did I steer ya wrong?

The Petpride litter isn’t bad, actually. I think it works better than Arm & Hammer, and not as good as Fresh Step. I knew going into it that it doesn’t clump as quickly as Fresh Step and didn’t think that would be an issue for me, but apparently it is. I’m thinking about mixing the Petpride and the Fresh Step together to get a decent litter hybrid that won’t break the bank.

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I keep meaning to leave you this tip (totally off subject, sorry!) about comparison shopping in the grocery store. The trick is to look at the price per unit for similar items and then make a decision. Obviously, this is only helpful if the items are being measured using the same unit (price per pound, for example). I don’t always buy the cheapest price per unit item, but it’s a good (& quick) place to start.

Most of the good grocery stores do that, but do you suppose I EVER think to look at that information? Of course NOT. I need to start doing it, damnit!

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I’m owned by 2 orange tabbies and oh Lawd! The Stank! I’m always amazed that such cute, cuddly fluffy beings can make the most heinous smells! And the breath! Stunning.

We can always tell when one of them takes a dump because we hear them digging for China (usually happens 15 mins. after we go to bed at night) and then they start up with a very mournful dirge. We think they’re grieving for the poo. Seriously nasty shit, but I love my boychiks.

The mournful dirge is cracking me UP. HEE.

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Since you mentioned George and Gracie, I’ve been wondering whether you’ve lost anymore chickens?

They look like the sweetest dogs!

Nope – since we got George and Gracie, we haven’t lost a single chicken. And they ARE the sweetest dogs. Now if I could just get George to stop touching his cold, wet nose to the back of my bare leg when I go out to visit them, the whole “dog” experience would be perfect!

“I can’t help it, it makes her jump and scream and that makes me laugh and laugh.”

Also, look who’s on the front page of PetsAdviser.com for today and through the weekend! (It’s this picture, in case you’re reading this at a later date.)

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Remember how I said the other day that Franco’s a talker? Apparently Franco passed on the talking torch to Gavin. I was awakened this morning by a VERY loud Gavin, who was howling sadly at the door to the foster room. Judging by the way Gavin was sticking his paws under the door last night, I’m guessing that he’d REALLY like out of the room. He’s going to have to wait, though. There’s another 10 days in solitary confinement for the Rescuees before we let them out into the house. I’m pretty sure that mayhem will ensue, once there are EIGHT kittens racing around the house, hissing and growling and smacking at each other.

I can’t wait!

“I couldn’t help it! I just wanted a snuggle and some canned food! I AM NOT a big baby! Okay, maybe I am. But I had to register my complaint, didn’t I?!”

I cannot seem to get a picture of Sheila that conveys exactly how adorable she is. I’ll keep trying, of course.

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Reacher.

Rhyme in the front and Corbett in the back.

Yes, Bolitar, that is an EXCELLENT idea. Let’s see if we can break that feed tray right off the printer, shall we?

“Hey! He’s fallin’! Someone HALP!”

“That’s okay, bro, see? I saved you! Well, I yelled for someone to save you. Same diff!”

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Suggie on the Ham-mick!

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Previously
2009: Is there anything less scary than a hissing kitten? I think not!
2008: These pigs, I’ve gotta say, are coming in handy as garbage disposals on legs.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: We’re off to Memphis.
2003: Possum #2.
2002: Mean mommy.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

5/20/10 – Thursday

Sights from around Crooked Acres. The garden, from the front left corner toward the back right corner. Like I said, there’s not much there yet. (That red building is the garden shed.) The garden, from the back toward the front (that house you see belongs to our next door neighbor. Our land is in kind … Continue reading “5/20/10 – Thursday”

Sights from around Crooked Acres.

The garden, from the front left corner toward the back right corner. Like I said, there’s not much there yet. (That red building is the garden shed.)

The garden, from the back toward the front (that house you see belongs to our next door neighbor. Our land is in kind of an “L” shape, so our garden is behind their house).

This year, we’re growing Oca. I’ve never grown or even eaten it before, so I hope it’s good!

The garden shed and the orchard. I use the word “orchard” lightly.

A baby pear growing on one of the pear trees (we also have peaches, apples, and plums. Maybe this year we’ll actually GET some fruit from those trees).

Muscadine vine. We originally had two muscadine plants – one died, this one’s thriving.

Baby muscadines!

“HEY! Quit lookin’ at the muscadines and come give me some pettin’!”

Poor ol’ Charlie, with the twisted-up toes.

Copper Marans rooster. Headed off to Freezer Camp one of these days.

Copper Marans rooster and his wimmins.

I don’t know what kind of rooster this is, but Fred’s decided we’ll be keeping him around for a while.

Three broody Buff Orpington hens, sitting on eggs. These three are from our original batch of 12, which we got three years ago.

This is the back side of the big coop out in the back forty. That little tan addition on the back side of the coop was meant to be a dog house where George and Gracie could get in out of the bad weather. However, the dogs used it ONCE, and never again no matter how much Fred begged, cajoled, and climbed in there to show them how super-fun it could be. It appears those two damn dogs enjoy them some bad weather. After much nagging from me, Fred finally turned it into a maternity coop. It is my goal – nay, my DREAM – to get all the goddamn chickens out in the same yard, so that those two dogs up there? They can do their jobs and protect ALL the chickens. In a perfect world, we’ll figure out how the hell to get the blue coop out there so that the broody hens and their babies can have a decent coop and a small fenced-in yard and still be protected by the dogs. Maybe someday we’ll be able to be away from the house at dusk without Fred worrying himself gray about the chickens.

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It’s funny – if I pick up and snuggle Miz Poo or Elwood and then pick up and snuggle a Bookworm, I practically end up accidentally tossing the Bookworm over my shoulder, they’re so light compared to the grown cat.

But if I pick up a Rescuee (that’s what I’m calling them, the Rescuees. Cydney, who’s another Challenger’s House foster mom as well as the sister of the woman who gave me sweet little Franco, suggested that name for the group – since they were also rescued from an engine block, behind a wall, and a cage at the vet’s, it fits pretty well, and it rolls off the tongue a lot more smoothly than “The 99s”!) and then pick up a Bookworm, I feel like I’m about to throw out my back, since the Rescuees weigh about 1/4 of what the Bookworms do.

Between the Rescuees and the Bookworms, my home is awash in sweet kittens. And I’d have it no other way!

Franco checks out the green tube.

Sheila keeps an eye on one of her brothers.

Franco looks like a wee bear cub, doesn’t he? And Gavin CLEARLY does not approve.

Gavin is killing me with that stink eye he’s shooting at Franco.

Gavin’s all “THIS ARE MY TOY YOU GO AWAY NOW PLEASE.”

Gavin examining the inside of the green tube, while Garrity checks out the toys.

Gavin’s aghast at the intrusion from Franco. “Sir, I am in MY PRIVATE ABODE, you cannot just PEER through the windows at me! Gendarme! Arrest this man for invasion of privacy!”

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“What doin’, lady?”

Rhyme, balanced on the end of my bed and staring up at the ceiling fan.

Rhyme, trying to decide where to go from here.

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Maxi, trying to look innocent.

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Previously
2009: Way to look ferocious and defend those chickens, puppies.
2008: And I’m sure there’ll be plenty o’ bitching.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: It is, in fact, a happy-go-lucky-shpadoinkle-dy daaaaaaaaaaaaay.
2004: First day with the new brain, you know.
2003: So, Fred got it into his head a few weeks ago that he wanted a kayak.
2002: And further, you don’t get to be indignant and hurt when they act pissed off and boo you off the stage.
2001: No entry.
2000: Yesterday, I sneezed twenty-three times in a row. Fucking allergies.

5/19/10 – Wednesday

The many faces of Gavin. “HA HA HA you guys! I’m in the condo on the top of the cat tree and it’s all mine and you can’t have it! HA HA!” “So there.” * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * The Bookworms live a … Continue reading “5/19/10 – Wednesday”

The many faces of Gavin.

“HA HA HA you guys! I’m in the condo on the top of the cat tree and it’s all mine and you can’t have it! HA HA!”

“So there.”

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The Bookworms live a sad and stress-filled life. NOT.

“HA HA HA, you guys! I get to snuggle with Jake, and YOU don’t have anyone to snuggle with!”

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Smilin’ Joe.

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Previously
2009: Sights from around Crooked Acres.
2008: With my bionic legs and arms I’ll just be able to prove it much more easily.
2007: No entry.
2006: And we might have expected Mommy/ Whatever to tell the Little Prince “no” and, well, we can’t have THAT.
2005: We’re foster parents.
2004: Because WHY HAD IT NOT OCCURRED TO ME TO THROW MYSELF DOWN THE MOUNTAIN TO AVOID THE CONCERT???
2003: The words “ass ugly” were invented to describe these shoes.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: She hasn’t claimed boredom since.

5/17/10 – Monday

Readers, Grace needs some help: I do the flea – advantix, whatevs – stuff on the cats. I do not like them going out but hubs does let them out “with supervision.” Which today? There are a zillion mosquitoes (big rain = mosquitoes). And while the critters do not bother ME, because I have Cutter … Continue reading “5/17/10 – Monday”

Readers, Grace needs some help:

I do the flea – advantix, whatevs – stuff on the cats. I do not like them going out but hubs does let them out “with supervision.” Which today? There are a zillion mosquitoes (big rain = mosquitoes). And while the critters do not bother ME, because I have Cutter on, they are buzzing around the kittles. Is there any treatment you know of to keep mosquitoes from them, that you can put on them like the flea stuff? (Which does not keep fleas OFF, but does kill relatively fast?) We do spray the cutter stuff monthly and use yard guard etc. (OK, bad environmental policy, but to me? Better Living Through Chemistry, sorry y’all.)

Also? When we lived in H’ville they sprayed for mosquitoes, also they did in NO. They don’t here in the Houston Suburbs. Which means LOTS of mosquitoes. Seriously, lots. They do not care about West Nile AT ALL. In fact they told us in March to quit bringing birds, that Yes, there was West Nile and DEAL WITH IT HERE ARE THE SYMPTOMS.

Help from you and readers really appreciated.

I don’t know of any treatment to keep mosquitoes off of cats, hopefully someone else will have some good advice.

I do know that Bounce fabric softener sheets do amazingly well at keeping mosquitoes away – on the rare occasion I work in the garden, I tuck a sheet of Bounce in the waistband of my shorts, and the mosquitoes stay far away. Maybe you could make bandannas for the cats out of fabric softener sheets? (I’m mostly kidding. But if you do that, send pics!)

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Saturday night, bedtime. Fred was in bed, waiting for me. He always ends up in bed before me, waiting for me to brush my teeth, take out my contacts, and pee one last time before I join him. Probably if I didn’t spend the time he spends getting ready for bed in front of the computer surfing aimlessly, we’d end up going to bed at the same time.

But, y’know, something might happen on the internet, and I’d hate to miss it.

I was sitting on the toilet, about to pee. In my left hand was a dose of progesterone, which I was about to rub into the skin of my inner left arm. It’s the last thing I do before I head for bed, and I always pee and progesterone at the same time. It makes me feel efficient.

Fred appeared suddenly in the doorway, and I sat and stared at him like a deer in the headlights. He gave me a bug-eyed look and then held his arm out to me.

“GET THIS TICK OFF OF ME RIGHT NOW!” he said. I stood up and peered down at his arm. (PEERED, Jean. PEERED. I did not pee on his arm. Slow down with that reading!)

“Where?”

“RIGHT THERE, GET IT, GET IT!” he said, gesturing. I had to squint to see the tiniest little bitty tick on his arm, moving ever-so-slowly around in his arm hair. Given the way he was acting, you’d think it was the Speedy Gonzales of ticks, racing to and fro, avoiding capture.

I squeezed the tiny thing between two finger nails, and Fred walked out of the bathroom. I stood there, a tick in one hand and a blop of progesterone in the other, and waited for him to come back. I heard the sound of the bedroom floor creaking for a few moments, then the sound of him getting back in bed.

“Douchebag,” I grumbled. I wiped the progesterone onto the cap of the progesterone container, and grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol, put the wee baby tick down on the side of the sink, and dumped a generous amount of rubbing alcohol over the tick. The tick swam around merrily.

“Rubbing alcohol doesn’t kill a tick,” I said informatively after a few seconds.

“No, it doesn’t,” Fred called from the bedroom. “Crumpling it up in a piece of toilet paper and flushing it down the toilet kills it!”

I got a piece of toilet paper, and then envisioned the wee baby tick swimming merrily around in the septic tank for the next several months, until it got to be the size of a Buick, whereupon it would swim back up the pipes into the toilet and attack me at an unfortunate moment.

I squashed the wee baby tick with the side of the progesterone container, then crumpled it in a piece of toilet paper and tossed it in the toilet.

Then I peed and put the progesterone on my inner arm, and went to bed.

Whereupon I told Fred what a douchebag he is.

Fucker.

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Saying “Speedy Gonzales” up there in that section reminds me that on Friday, Fred and I went up into Tennessee to Amish country just to get the hell out of the house, and after we drove aimlessly around the Mennonite settlement and bought a few pepper plants, we stopped for lunch at a Mexican restaurant. When Fred’s order came, the guy delivering his food held out the plate and said “The Speedy Gonzales?” Fred had ordered his food by the combination number, so he hadn’t realized it was called The Speedy Gonzales until then. As the server walked away from the table, Fred pursed his lips in mock disapproval and said “THAT’s an awfully racist name.”

A misleading name, too, for that matter. There was nothing speedy about THAT meal.

Seriously, the food was really good (I had a shrimp quesadilla), but it was the slowest service we’ve ever had in a Mexican restaurant. Usually the food comes in an amount of time that can be measured in seconds, but this time around we had to wait at least ten minutes.

I know! Except for that big bowl of tortilla chips we were cramming in our tortilla-holes, we might have starved to death!

(Seriously, spell-check, you don’t recognize “quesadilla”, but you have no issues with “tortilla-holes”?)

When we watch Kitchen Nightmares, it always boggles my mind when the voice-over guy says “An HOUR into service, and no one has received their appetizers yet!”, because hello? If I had to wait an HOUR for my fucking appetizer, I’d be out of there. An hour after I’ve first walked through the door of a restaurant, I want to be at home on the couch, sleeping off the carb coma, not gnawing on my fingernails and wondering which circle of Hell I’m occupying.

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Let’s see, my weekend:

Friday: Amish country. Home by 2:30, napped on the couch. First baby chicks of the Spring were finally born. The hens started going broody awfully late in the season this year for some reason. Fred caught a mole and killed it. I reflected that it was funny that on Thursday we did everything we could to save one rodent (the squirrel) and on Friday we (he) did everything we (he) could to catch and kill another. (I’m assuming moles are rodents.)

Saturday: Woke up with a million things to do, but that all went out the window when Egg the Pig Man called to let us know we could come get our pigs. Left here at 9, got the pigs, talked to Egg for half an hour, home at 11. Got the pigs set up in their new home (they seem to be under the impression they’re cows – they didn’t touch the pig food in the trough, instead spent the day eating grass). Vacuumed. Cleaned the kitchen. Napped on the couch. Puttered around, accomplished approximately zip.

Sunday: Made Strawberry Lemon Marmalade (it looks and tastes just like strawberry jam to me, but Fred says he can taste the faintest taste of lemon). Intended to sand and stain the bookcase in the garage so I can get the damn thing into the house, but didn’t. I don’t know what the hell I did on Sunday, but it sure went by quickly!

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The Bookworms had their last vaccination Saturday afternoon, so for the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday, they moped around, slept a lot, and occasionally whined at me for no reason.

Today, they’re back to normal, of course.

Until Saturday, I was giving the kittens their snack in the guest bedroom so that they wouldn’t have to fight off the bigger cats to get food. They’ve essentially been trained to come running when I call “Little bitty kitties!”, and so Friday night I was standing in the guest bedroom calling and calling, and Reacher, Rhyme, and Bolitar were dancing around my feet. But there was no Corbett, no matter how much I called. Fred went looking for him, and found him.

Apparently Corbett WANTED to get down, but Stinkerbelle was sitting there glaring at him, and he was too skeered. We rescued him and fed him, and all was well.

Rhyme in the sun.

Corbett.

Rhyme and Reacher were tussling, and Jake had to get in the middle of it.

Rhyme.

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I don’t know what the issue is, but Spanky absolutely loathes Joe Bob, and so he often follows Joe Bob around and stares creepily at him. We call him “Creepy Cousin Spanky” when he does it. This picture makes me guffaw every time I look at it. It’s the quintessential “Creepy Cousin Spanky” picture.

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Previously
2009: No entry.
2008: No entry.
2007: “Goddamn!” I said. “I’m going to have them haul your ass away to the nursing home! YOU WERE THERE WITH ME AND PICKED OUT THE GODDAMN SKIRT FOR ME!”
2006: Sorry, no real entry today.
2005: Fucking cats. They sure are a money pit.
2004: Oh, look. It must be a day that ends in “y.”
2003: No entry.
2002: You know, this whole band shit drives me nuts.
2001: The spud’s band is having another concert tonight.
2000: I would put a sign announcing the name of the house: Horseshit Alley.

5/14/10 – Friday

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You can read Fred’s entry about his book and how it ended up on Kindle, here.

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Until June 30th, Kaye is donating 20% of sales to the Red Cross for Nashville Flood Relief. If you mention that you came from Bitchypoo, she’ll add another 5% for a total of 25%!

So go check out her Artfire and Etsy sites and buy buy buyyyyyy! (Don’t forget to mention that you came from Bitchypoo!)

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We had a sad incident yesterday morning (we’re fine, the cats, dogs, and chickens are fine, before you start worrying). I glanced out the window and saw that Newt had a squirrel in his jaws. The squirrel was fighting pretty hard, so I told Fred what was going on. He went out to get the squirrel, and of course as soon as Newt saw Fred, he started running. Fred eventually caught up to him, and took the squirrel away, then waved through the window at me to get a box.

The squirrel was hardly moving, and we were pretty sure that it was going to die, but we wanted to give it a chance, so we ended up putting it on a soft blanket in a cat carrier, and put the carrier out in Fred’s workshop. Fred checked on it regularly, and then suggested that we try giving it some kitten formula to perhaps give it energy. Fred syringed some formula into its mouth, and it swallowed a little. Then I got out a bottle, and he tried giving it some more. She swallowed some more, but she also didn’t seem to have any control over her limbs. He put it back in the carrier, and I headed off to run errands.

He told me, when I got home a few hours later, that he’d ended up putting her down. She clearly couldn’t move, and when he went out to check on her at one point, she had chewed one of the toes on her front paw completely off. He surmised that she was probably paralyzed and couldn’t feel anything, so opted to put her down.

And I know someone’s going to ask, so this is how we put small animals (voles, chicks, squirrels) down when they’re critically injured:

Soak several paper towels in ether, which is commercially available as diesel or gasoline engine starter at any auto parts store. Put the paper towels into a sealed container large enough to hold the animal, and leave them for several minutes. This lets the fumes build up to lethal levels. Put some dry paper towels down over the wet ones, and lay the injured animal on them (probably you would want to make sure you didn’t inhale any fumes). Reseal the container. In very short order, the animal will go to sleep, then die quietly. Make sure you leave the animal in there long enough for the ether to do its job.

(Copied from one of Fred’s entries.)

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Is Jake more into kittens (or, these current ones anyway) than Elwood? I got to thinking, and realized I never really see pictures of Elwood with them.

Elwood tolerates the kittens, but Jake really LIKES them. And for that matter, the kittens really LIKE Jake, too. Elwood will allow a kitten to snuggle up to him, but Jake encourages it. So yeah, to answer the question, Jake likes kittens more than Elwood does. Elwood’s mostly interested in where the next snack is coming from. I tried to get a shot of Jake and Elwood together, but Jake was having none of it. Elwood is HUGE compared to Jake, it’s absolutely amazing to me, the difference in their sizes.

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I haven’t read all comments, so I don’t know if it’s been mentioned, but I have you looked into Bio-identical compounded HRT? I have been on compounded BI HRT for more than a year and a half. I feel it saved my sanity and my life, and I actually think it helped me LOSE weight. My ovaries were doing a whole lot of nothing at age 43, and I have never felt better since I started my compounded prescription. I got it from a hormone specialist at my OB/Gyn office. My insurance doesn’t pay for it, so I gladly pay out of pocket for it!

I’ve considered it, and at some point I’ll likely broach the subject with my Gynecologist, but so far it looks like switching to a half-dose on my estrogen halted and reversed the weight gain.

A couple of people suggested that the weight gain could be due to stress. I don’t feel particularly stressed out, but that doesn’t mean I’m not, right?

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I wish you good luck with finding a job! I’ve been trying for months to find ANY p/t job…. like at Lowes, Home Depot, CVS, Walgreens, Staples any damn place….. apparently no one is hiring!!!! What are we in some kind of recession or something?

and

My opinion about employment is if you are not asking anyone else for financial assistance then it is none of their business. I’m not surprised that you are looking some too. I hope Fred can find a great new position and you find something good too if you want/need to. Good Luck!

I should take a moment here to confess to y’all that I don’t really WANT to get a job. But with Fred out of work, I thought that if I got a job, it would at least slow the rate at which our savings are being spent, which would mean we could go longer with him out of work, if necessary. So I decided to make a good faith effort at applying for any jobs I’d be qualified for, but let’s be honest – I haven’t worked in 10 years. I doubt my resume is getting a second glance. I’ve talked about going back to college once Fred’s employed again, just to have some schoolin’ under my belt (haven’t had any learnin’ in 15+ years) and to put on my resume, and there’s a community college conveniently located not ten minutes down the road. We’ll see.

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Dear cat lovers,

I have a dilemma. So almost every evening I go jogging on this pretty tree-lined path in the middle of Phoenix, AZ (yes, there are trees in Phoenix). And the past three times I have jogged, there is this cute young cat who hangs out near the path. Tonight she followed me part of the way as I was jogging. She has no collar, is kind of dusty from being outside but otherwise looks like she is well fed. I want to take this cat home and turn her into my sweet baby kitty. But what if she has an owner? I don’t want to kidnap this cat and take her away from her family. On the other hand, this beautiful tree-lined path is adjacent to a very busy road. In fact, I saw her attempt to cross the road a couple of times. It is a situation where this cat could get hit by a car very easily. What should I do? I fear for the cat’s safety but I certainly don’t want to cat-nap her from her owners if she has them?

My suggestion would be to bring her home, and then put up flyers in the area. That way, if she has owners, they can get in touch with you, and no harm is done. If she doesn’t, well, then you have a sweet baby kitty! (And please let us know what happens!!!)

Anyone else have suggestions?

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Our indoor cat Lola is a little over one year old. She is fixed and is not declawed. The problem is that she is stalking the door now and whenever we open it, she runs outside and hides under the neighbor’s car, or in the bushes or under our deck, etc. I’m so afraid she is going to get lost one of these days. What should we do? If she got away, would she find her way home?

My suggestion would be to keep something by the door to scare her away – I’d use a can of compressed air or a spray bottle of water. You could scare her away, then get out the door without her escaping.

I imagine that if she were to get away, she’d probably hang around in the area and you’d be able to catch her later, but there’s no guarantee – and I’m concerned that if she gets out once and finds out how AWESOME it is out there, she’ll just redouble her efforts to get out.

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I was having dinner with friends last week and talking about selling my late father’s house, splitting the money with my sister, and buying myself a small house with a yard. (I’m currently in a small condo with no patio or balcony, but near the beach.) One friend asked why I wanted to move after 30 years in the condo. (I’m 57, and most people my age are going from houses to condos, not the other way around.) I said so no one could tell me how many cats I could have. He said, appalled, “You want more than TWO cats????”

I doubt he could even imagine the Robyn/Fred household! 🙂

By the time I am 57, we will have won the lottery, of course, and we will buy a small island in a warm place, and we will have a sweet little cabin, and the cats will roam free and I will call it SWEET PUSSY ISLAND. Oh, yes I will.

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YOU, Miz Ander$on are TROUBLE! We went to the SPCA this weekend to pick up a replacement cat buddy for my husband and the 21 year old cat and we ended up with TWO kittens. This here DOG person, blames you and your house of cats. If you can have 20 and still be sort of sane, surely we can handle 3 cats for awhile.

No word yet on how the dog introduction is going to go. I suspect there will be some unhappiness on the part of the cats. For now, everyone is sequestered.

Oh sure, eeeeeveryone blames the pusher. Hey, man, I’m just here to encourage you tryyyyyy the drug. If you get addicted, well, that’s not MY fault! 🙂

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I work in a hair salon, and I’ve learned that if you use fabric sheets, they create a layer of waxy buildup on the towels, making them less absorbent.

I knew that, actually, and I don’t use fabric softener on the towels or cleaning rags. Actually, I don’t use fabric softener on anything but cat beds, now that I think about it. I do use straight white vinegar as a fabric softener, but there shouldn’t be any build-up from that… right?

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Okay, I am owned by ten cats. It’s a work hazard from being an employee at an animal shelter. Anyway, I have an orange feline, inappropriately named Blossom. Now I’m wondering…do orange cats make stinkier stinks?

Okay, orange cat owners, weigh in on this topic! I can tell you that Sugarbutt could peel the paint off the wall. Spanky’s not too bad (but he’s not all orange either), and I can’t really vouch for Newt, since I think he usually uses the great outdoors as his litter box.

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Robyn: I was bored so I started reading your posts from years back. On this date in 2003 you posted the following:

“The best part of the zoo, my friends, were the baby pygmy goats. My god in heaven, they were the most adorable things I’ve ever seen. Seriously, I was this close to snatching one up and tossing it in the Jeep. I said to Fred “Someday, if we have a house on enough land, promise me we’ll get some pygmy goats!” He wouldn’t, though, damn him.”

Now that you have Crooked Acres I was just wondering where those pygmy goats are???

Shhhh. I’m older and wiser and I know that I don’t want goats! Fred wants to get goats to eat, and I AM NOT GONNA EAT GOAT (don’t waste your breath, I’m just NOT GONNA), so don’t go putting ideas in his head.

(It would be awfully cute to have a couple of pygmies out there running around, though, wouldn’t it?)

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The pictures and videos of Jake are fantastic.The meowing one cracked me up and that boy has some large paws in the second video. Is it the angle or is he gifted in the foot department? He appears to be a major piece of work.

It must be the angle – Jake is actually a pretty small cat, but of course all cats have big ol’ rabbit feet (the better to haul ass when need be, I guess!), and his are comparable to the rest of the cats.

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Friday question/request: Are you growing veggies etc this year, and where are the pic’s of them, woman! 🙂

We are, of course, though there’s not much to see at the moment. I’ll try to get a picture this weekend to share – but nothing’s very big. I’m dying for my first tomato of the season, so hopefully the cold weather is gone and the hot weather will encourage the garden to grow!

(Pictures of the garden and part of the “orchard” will be up in Monday’s entry!)

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Where’s Elwood? I never see any pix of him….is he camera shy??

He’s not really camera shy, he just tends not to be around when I’ve got the camera out. He’s a solitary creature, our Elwood. I did get a few shots of him, though!

“Hey, I can do the crazy eyes, too!”

Trying to get a shot of Jake and Elwood together (that’s Elwood laying down), but Jake would have none of it.

He really likes to hang out in the kitchen in hopes that food might be accidentally spilled.

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I have accused my KIDS of pooping in the litter boxes because of both the stink and the size. They deny involvement.

Oddly enough, this reminds me of my favorite George Clooney story, which I read in a magazine years ago:

“Richard [Kind] had this cat that he loved and adored,” Ben Weiss tells me. “So George would go in the bathroom, and that’s where the litter box was. And there would be cat shit in there, so George would clean it up and flush it down the toilet. Then Richard would go in there and say, ‘God, it’s so weird. My cat hasn’t taken a shit in forever.’

“George went along with that, and kept cleaning the box for a few days. Richard went to the vet to get some kind of thing to make the cat go to the bathroom. The poor cat. The cat’s shitting, and George is still cleaning it up. And then finally George stood over the cat box and took a giant shit. And finally Richard goes in there and says, “Oh, my God! Kitty!” (Source)

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Miss Maura is doing well in her new home with Kathy in Birmingham!

Poor Kathy got to see first-hand what Maura is like when you try to do something to her she doesn’t like. That cat is one of the hardest cats we’ve ever had to pill – and it’s stunning to see Miss Quiet and Laid-back fight for her life when you’re trying to pill her. She might be quiet, but she knows how to stand up for herself!

Things have cleared up for her, so now she’s been let out to explore the house and meet her brother Beau. Kathy said that Maura is submissive, but stands her ground. Beau gets all wound up, then runs away. I suspect that as a little time passes, Beau and Maura will ultimately be good friends.

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“What?”

This is Bolitar. Doesn’t he look like his name should be “Buster”? He totally looks like a Buster to me.

“WHAT YOU WANT, LADY???”

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When Kathy came to get Maura, she traded this cat bed for Maura’s favorite cat bed (so Maura would have her bed and not feel nervous in her new home), and I left it on the table – temporarily, I thought, ’til I could decide where to put it. Miz Poo located it, and declared it hers. I guess that’s where the bed will stay!

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Previously
2009: I swear to god that if I had a brain, I’d be dangerous.
a href=”http://www.bitchypoo.com/date/2008/05/14″>2008: The hetred will never steer you wrong.
2007: Ugly, but somehow oddly appealing to me.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Memeriffic.
2003: “One of the cats brought in a baby possum and it appears to be dying.”
2002: A mother can dream, can’t she?
2001: I almost shot a red bean out of my nose, I was laughing so hard.
2000: No entry.

5/13/10 – Thursday

Last week I was at Sam’s (and in fact, I’ll be leaving to go to Sam’s in a few minutes, because I forgot a few things last week, and I need to get out of the house), and I was in line behind this woman who was buying two huge-ass boxes of adult diapers. I … Continue reading “5/13/10 – Thursday”

I realized a moment later that I was eyeballing her behind to see if she was actually wearing adult diapers (I couldn’t tell).

Tell me you’d do that too. You would, right? Not that I was JUDGING (I figure I’m about 18 months away from adult diapers myself), I was just curious. Nosy, I guess.

DON’T JUDGE ME.

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There’s a lot of poop talk in this section. Skip it if you’re eating or have a weak stomach.

I know that I’ve mentioned before that the air flow in our house is kind of weird. Like, if a cat pees near the fireplace in the front room, you tend to not smell it when you’re in the front room, but you can totally smell it in the guest bedroom doorway. This makes for a SUPER-fun game of “I SMELL CAT PEE DO YOU SMELL CAT PEE? CAT PEE CAT PEE, WHERE THE FUCK’S THE CAT PEE?”, where we walk around, sniffing wildly. Of course, if it’s dark or near dark, I can wander around with the black light and sometimes I find the offending pee and sometimes I don’t and I lose my mind.

Anyway, the air flow upstairs is odd also. At the end of the hallway is Fred’s room, and then next to his room is mine, which is across the hallway and down a little from the bathroom. The doorway to the bathroom and the doorway to my bedroom are nowhere near each other, and there are two litter boxes in the nook in my bathroom.

Every fucking time a cat goes into the bathroom and uses the litter box, the smell somehow ends up hovering over the head of my bed. The stink goes OUT of the litter box (stink, like heat, rises. In case you were wondering. Actually, more like bread dough. It’s like a big loaf of stink, rising and expanding to fill all available space.), around the corner into the hallway, DOWN the hallway, and then through the doorway into my room, across the room, then hovers malevolently there until I chase it out with air freshener.

More than once I’ve woken in the middle of the night, positive that a cat has taken a great big dump on the pillow next to me. I’ve gotten up, turned on the light, looked all over the room, and ended up tracking the smell down the hall to the litter box. Last night, when I went upstairs at bedtime, Fred was peering under the bed, looking for the source of the smell. I had to clue him in that the smell had traveled over a great distance to torture us.

It is, as I’m sure you can imagine, DELIGHTFUL.

Last night, Fred and I came in from putting the chickens to bed (you’re imagining us tucking them into little beds, aren’t you? No, we just close up the blue coop, then go to the back forty to give the dogs their evening snack, hang out with them for a little while, and then check out the garden), and as I walked through the back door, I saw that Sugarbutt was in one of the litter boxes.

Now, I don’t much care for having to look at cat poop, but it is my unfortunate duty as the caretaker of what feels like a thousand cats to make sure that no one’s got anything untoward going on in the poop category. “Untoward” meaning diarrhea, blood, obvious worms, anything along those lines.

So when I walked through the door and saw Sugarbutt in the litter box, I thought “Oh good, I can see if all is well.”

(When I was 10 years old and thinking about becoming a vet (idea discarded due to the amount of schoolin’ involved), I had no idea the amount of time I’d spend peering at poop or how JOYFUL I’d be at the sight of a well-formed poop. For the record.)

By the time I got my boots off and got to the litter box, Sugarbutt had vamoosed. I headed for a look anyway, and was about a foot from the litter box when I thought “Oh, I guess he was just peeing, I don’t smell -”

Then the smell hit me in the face. You know how in Alien, that face-hugger flies out of nowhere to attach itself to peoples’ faces and implants an embryo in their chest? It was like that. It was like a living thing. The smell was so thick that I could TASTE IT. I’d say that Sugarbutt’s digestive system must detour through the gates of Hell, but I’m pretty sure that the smell of fire and brimstone would be a more soothing and pleasant odor.

“AGH!” I howled, and covered my mouth and nose with my hand. Which is like closing the barn door after the horse has gotten out, I know, but it was a reflex.

In the kitchen, Fred turned and looked at me. He gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sugarbutt?”

“GOD JESUS YES I THINK I’M DYING,” I yelled.

He laughed.

On the up side, Sugarbutt’s poop, as I determined after leaning down and peering into the litter box, was perfectly fine.

Except for the smell.

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Fred is determined to torture me with crappy movies lately, it appears. First, over the weekend we watched Every Which Way But Loose, and then on Tuesday we started the sequel, Any Which Way You Can. He read somewhere that the sequel was better than the original, and since he didn’t think the original was all that bad, he put the sequel at the top of the Netflix list.

(I rue the day I ever gave him the Netflix password.)

As soon as the movie started, I said “That’s not the same Clyde, is it?” Clyde being the orangutan who plays Clint Eastwood’s sidekick.

“You don’t think so?” Fred said.

“He’s not orange enough, and he doesn’t have that potbellied old-man walk the first Clyde did.”

After about ten minutes, I said “He lacks the subtle charm of the original Clyde.” Seriously, Clyde v2 was all about the Bronx cheers and the shitting in cruisers and big over-acted kissing. (And Wikipedia tells me I’m right about it not being the same orangutan.)

After another ten minutes, I said “Sondra Locke lacks the subtle charm of a MACK TRUCK.” Honest to god, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Sondra Locke in anything else, but in the Every Which Way movies, she overacts horribly and appears to be doing a really really bad Marilyn Monroe impression.

I suffered through Sondra Locke singing (GIVE that woman some Auto-Tune!) and then gave up and read magazines for the rest of the evening.

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All four in one picture! Too bad they’re not looking anywhere near the camera.

Going…

Gone! Zzzzzzz….

Pretty Rhyme.

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“Mooooooom! The couch is eating kittens again!!!”

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Previously
2009: In self-defense, I had to do the unthinkable.
2008: Here’s a hint: Mister Boogers? Not the man.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Oh, it’s FUN to be a girl, ain’t it?
2004: Am I not stylin’?
2003: Like I repeatedly said to him yesterday, “I’m GLAD you’re ENJOYING my pain!”
2002: Momma don’t do food-related or cleaning-related stuff on Mother’s Day!
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

5/12/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)

The many faces of Loony Jake. And then two movies featuring Jake. It’s a Jakeapalooza! His crazy little face KILLS ME DEAD. * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * =^..^= * Movies for you, today! First, the fightin’. And then the lovin’. * =^..^= * =^..^= … Continue reading “5/12/10 – Wednesday (kittehs!)”

The many faces of Loony Jake. And then two movies featuring Jake. It’s a Jakeapalooza!

His crazy little face KILLS ME DEAD.

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Movies for you, today!

First, the fightin’.

And then the lovin’.

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ACK! The dishwasher kittens are back. We just sprayed for them two weeks ago! I’ve never seen an infestation this bad. I guess it’s a bad year for dishwasher kittens.

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Previously
2009: And when the wily snugglicious runt has determined that no smackdown is coming her way, what does she do?
2008: And… that was my weekend!
2007: No entry.
2006: Where the hell did the year GO?
2005: If my nose is cold, the rest of me is cold.
2004: I guess this is what we get for living in the Bible Belt, isn’t it?
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Ah well. Maybe next life.