Category: New house

here.

* * * This afternoon, something apparently frightened Spot, because he flew from his cat bed on the recliner in the computer room (I was sitting at my computer balancing the checkbook), through the dining room, into the kitchen to parts unknown. Ten minutes later I was washing dishes in the kitchen when he came skulking back into the room, and he had fur hanging off him in every direction. It’s like he’s half porcupine, and when he’s frightened he releases hair all over the damn place. I got out the cat brush (he likes to be brushed, one of the few cats we have who do) and spent five minutes brushing him while he writhed and purred happily, and ended up with two huge handfuls of cat hair. There are piles of Spot hair all over the house, which figures – I did, after all, just vacuum the entire fucking house this morning. I love our hardwood floors, but they sure do show the dust and cat hair distressingly well. * * * I got home to Smallville (from Madison) last night to find that one of the fucking cats had barfed on my new comforter. Not only had they barfed, they’d barfed big, and they’d barfed early in the day, so that the liquid part of the barf soaked through the comforter into the top sheet below, and a little bit onto the fitted sheet below that. How long have I had the comforter, a week and a half? That’s a fucking record! Do you suppose I have one single set of sheets anywhere in this house in addition to the ones on my bed? Of course not – I have one set of purple sheets I bought through Amazon, and the extra set of blue sheets that go on my old bed (now Fred’s bed) are kept at the Madison house. I scrubbed at the spot on the fitted sheet and then put a towel over it and called it good enough. An hour later I was laying in bed watching last week’s Lost on the laptop, when Spot – who was sleeping at my feet – sat up, barfed ON MY BARE FEET and then took off for parts unknown. I think you can imagine how very fucking thrilled I was. * * * I’ve been playing Snood – on the “medium” level – like mad lately. It relaxes me, and lately I’m winning more games than I’m losing. I’ve considered moving up to the “hard” level, but I think I’m going to hang out in “medium” for a while longer so as to assauge my ego with all the mad winning I’ve been doing. I prefer, for some reason, to play it on the laptop rather than my main computer. I think I get too easily distracted on my main computer, which is in the computer room, in front of the windows looking into the back yard, because there are always birds flitting around or big fat bumblebees buzzing about. God knows I’ll probably NEVER get anything done once the chickens are back there and we get a couple of ducks. * * * Things in Smallville are in bloom: Things are in bloom. Spirea. Wisteria. It smells SO GOOD. Plum tree in bloom. Violets, I think. Hardening off the plants (tomatoes, spinach, cabbage, sugar snap peas) in preparation for planting. Euonymous. This looks so happy I might transplant it so that it’s over by the steps to the computer room (once they’re built, that is). Fricasee the escapee. * * * Previously 2006: It’s a little-known fact that the butt is the tenderest and most flavorful part of the cashew. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: I’d have to have a mind before I lost it, wouldn’t I? 2002: Luckily, I’ve perfected the mental art of putting my hands over my ears and humming very loudly should my mind ever try to wander in that direction. 2001: While we were on the way to the movie store this afternoon, she turned to me and said “For my birthday” which is in October, by the way, “Can I get another kind of pet?” 2000: Since then, Fred and I, predictably, have referred to smoking pot – when seen in movies – as “Smoking the wheat.”]]>

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* * * I just spent six hours – SIX HOURS, PEOPLE! – taking down and washing every fucking light cover in the Madison house, and then getting on my hands and knees and scrubbing all the hardwood floors in the house and THEN getting on my hands and knees and scrubbing every inch of the kitchen and dining room with those damn Magic Sponges. I ain’t cleaning the fucking floors in this house ever again, goddamnit. Anyway, that’s why the entry is going up so late. Sorry ’bout that. * * * Sunday afternoon I am amazed that the goddamn lights we took down at the Smallville house – the ones we hate and at least five of you have offered to buy from us, which is why they’re sitting in the garage at the Madison house waiting to be boxed up and put on eBay – didn’t explode from the amount of hate I was shooting at them. Sunday was a weird day, starting with the cats letting me sleep in, and not in a “Let’s let Mom sleep in while we barf from one end of the house to the other and then kill each other!” way, in a “sincerely quiet so Mom could sleep” way. Very odd, and so I woke up a bit on edge. I puttered around the house, doing my morning chores – opening all the blinds, scooping out the litter box, giving the cats fresh water, checking on the chicks and giving them food and water – then took a shower and did some more stuff around the house before heading to Madison around noon. Once in Madison, I’d almost finished cleaning the windows in the downstairs (did I mention that I spent all day Friday cleaning? It took me the entire day to get the upstairs cleaned and straightened around, but when I was done, it looked AWESOME) when Fred, who’d been eyeing a dog who appeared to be wandering around the neighborhood, decided the dog was lost, so we gave him water, and I went to pick up dog food (because god forbid any animal ever feel the slightest twinge of hunger when we’re around). The dog – who appeared to be some kind of Greyhound, and after Googling around, I determined that he was probably an Italian Greyhound, and a pretty old one, at that – ate some food and drank some water, and started following me around. He was a cute little dog, and I entertained fantasies of being unable to find his owner and bringing him out to Smallville, where he’d follow me around some more and maybe chase a squirrel or something. Whatever dogs do. But because I had to at least make an attempt to find his owner, I made up a flyer with his picture on it and started driving around the neighborhood hanging them on Yield and Stop signs. I’d gotten six or seven of them hung up when Fred called to let me know that he (and his father, who had come over to help do some handyman stuff) had seen someone driving slowly through the cul-de-sac and they waved him down to ask if he was looking for a dog, and he was. Hmph. I’d already named him “Sammy” in my head. Dogs don’t like the flash, for some reason. He had a bit of an underbite. Too cute. (Yeah, shaddup. I don’t want a damn dog, but it’s a different story when they show up on your doorstep. And he was cute, though Fred discovered that he was 16 years old and I do believe that’s damn old for a dawg. No doubt if we’d ended up keeping him, it would have only been to shepherd him through his dyin’ years.) So after that, I separated out the lights from the Smallville house, measured the biggest ones, and headed over to Staples to find boxes to put them in. My intention was to clean them up a little (a VERY little), take pictures, box them up, and let Fred list them individually on eBay. Except that Staples didn’t have any boxes that were big enough, so I went to Lowe’s and found that they didn’t have any big-enough boxes either, and I was filled with a black hatred for the goddamn lights and my goddamn husband and every goddamn thing that ever was. I said to myself “Fuck it” and I said to myself “Fuck them” and I said to myself “Fuck him”, and I decided that I was goddamn good and done with the goddamned lights, and I was thisclose to loading the goddamn lights up in my car and taking them to Goodwill or possibly even the goddamn dump, and the only thing that stopped me was that deep down I knew I needed to take a deep breath and calm the fuck down and probably I’d end up with my ass divorced if I dumped the goddamn lights off at the goddamn dump and I flat-out don’t have the time or patience for a long, drawn-out custody battle for Tommy and Sugarbutt (who love me best, clearly). Thus I said to myself “I am going to play me some Snood and surf me some web, and I’ll think about the fucking lights tomorrow.” I sure am coming to hate that goddamn Madison house, is all I have left to say about that. * * * Friday night, after spending all day cleaning That Goddamn House and the evening watching TV with Fred, I got home to Smallville and I did my evening chores (which very much resemble my morning chores, only I close the blinds instead of opening them, and I do Snackin’ Time for the inside and outside kitties) and I settled on the couch and I listened to Delilah (DON’T JUDGE ME) and played 185 games of Snood, and then around 11:00 I got really, really lonely. I am not the sort of person who gets lonely, I hasten to tell you, I’ve never been a lonely kind of gal my entire life. I like being by myself and I am well able to entertain myself and the last time I remember being desperately lonely was on New Year’s Eve 1994, when the spud and I lived in Lisbon Falls with Debbie and Brian, and Debbie went out for the evening, and the kids were sound asleep long before midnight, and I watched Sleepless in Seattle, which ended right around midnight, and I was walking through the house turning off lights in preparation for bedtime, and I thought to myself, “I’m never going to be in love like that*”, was overwhelmed with a wave of melancholy, and collapsed against the hallway wall and sobbed until my face was swollen and red. I think strong waves of lonely melancholy arriving every twelve years or so is a pretty good track record, really. So I got really, really lonely and sad because I was in my dream house alone with six annoying cats and I wanted to NOT be alone, even if it was just having someone sleeping upstairs or hanging out in her room texting her boyfriend like mad. The only reason I didn’t get up, get into my car, and drive to Madison is because (1) I don’t have a key to the Madison house, I handed it over to the realtor and to get into the house I would have had to go through the garage, and I didn’t want the garage door opening to wake Fred up and (2) They were coming to deliver wood early Saturday morning and I needed to be there to pay them. I got over my sad wave of Woe-Is-Me in about an hour and a half, and then I slept like a baby. That Goddamn House cannot sell fast enough for me. *To which current-day Robyn says “In love like what? Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks’ characters didn’t even know each other, it was no great love story”, and then-Robyn replies “Shut up. In love like the love story that was getting ready to happen, you hateful bitch.” * * * Why does your realtor need your utility bills? Because when prospective buyers are considering a house, they like to see what the utility bills run through the different seasons of the year. That, or my realtor is just a nosy bastard. Will you talk more about the chicks? I think they are cute. I want to know what they are like. I want some, but am not sure about keeping them outside in Michigan. Plus silly husband says 8 animals is enough. 🙂 So far, they’re funny as hell, especially when they go running across the pool at top speed, flapping their wings, or when they start scratching at the pine shavings on the floor of the pool, looking for food. That’s all I can tell you so far, though – they’re fun to watch, very entertaining, and so cute I’m afraid I might squoosh them to death if I pick them up. They’re skittish and don’t much like being picked up, and I look forward to seeing them grow. Also, what do you think about all the goings-on on Grey’s Anatomy lately? GREY’S ANATOMY SPOILER ALERT. I’m disappointed that the writers made it happen. I don’t think George and Izzy should have ended up sleeping together, but I suspected, as soon as STUPID GEORGE basically said “Izzy? She’s way too hot. She’d never want me!” to HIS FUCKING WIFE, that that’s what was going to happen. It makes a little sense, Izzy’s hostility toward Callie, and Izzy is all OVER my fucking nerves. I don’t like her anymore, I’ve had it with her bitchy attitude toward Callie and her stupid “I get to say whatever I want and you have to love me anyway. I’m Izzy! I get to be like that!” I don’t think Izzy is hot at all – I guess I can see why people might think she’s pretty, but she’s boringly, blandly pretty in a bland, completely uninteresting way, and if white bread boring turns you on, go for it. This is how I suspect the rest of the season will go: longing looks between George and Izzy, culminating in Callie catching them making out in a fucking closet. Snoresville. Also, I think Meredith does not pull off dark or disturbed in any kind of interesting way. And yet I cannot take my stupid eyes off this show. I fucking love it. I hated Alex the first season, but he’s gotten interesting (another one everyone thinks is so hot, but I totally don’t see it) and I’m kind of liking him. Christina and Bailey remain my favorites, and I’ll be interested to see the new spinoff with Addison Montgomery and whether they’ll be able to pull it off. My question: Do the chickens smell up the house? Strangely enough, not at all. That was my major concern, that the house would stink like chicken poop, but even when I’m in the room with them, I don’t smell anything. Y’all might be saying “You’re just used to the smell!”, but nay. I’m very sensitive to the smells of my house, and if the chickens were stinking, I’d know it. I imagine as they get bigger they might start to stink, but they’ll be out of the house by then, so I’m not going to sweat it. Have you seen this site? It’s pretty out there cat furniture. Think you’d ever get some for your kitties? I think the day I spend hundreds of dollars on cat furniture (no matter how cool – and that stuff is really cool, I’ll admit) is the day I deservedly get my ass divorced. Sorry that I don’t know a thing about chickens – how long does it take before they’re big enough to go outside and live on their own? I didn’t know the answer to that, so I asked Fred and he unhelpfully said “When they’re done feathering out.” Turns out, when they’re five or six weeks old, but we’ll be moving them (pool and all) to the garage in the next little while. Have you named all the chooks yet? I’ve only named two of them so far – the suspected rooster, which I’ve named Fricasee, and the americauna that looks very much like him, whom I’ve named Flappy McGee. I probably won’t be naming the rest because the gold ones all look too much alike, and the black ones look too much like each other, as well. oh….is poor Spot settling in? I worry about him the most..your ‘sensitive’ guy. Spot is settling in surprisingly fine. He’s gotten into the routine of following me around the kitchen, squeaking for food – just like he did in Madison – and he knows that every night when I walk through the door it’s Snackin’ Time, and he squawks for food accordingly. He’s staked out his favorite daytime spot – the recliner in the computer room – and at night he sleeps in a cat bed at the foot of my bed. He’s doing just fine – the older he gets, the faster he acclimates to new situations. * * * Brudderly bookends. Sleepin’ Sugs. * * * Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: Another reason I love the man: he makes me laugh every day. 2003: I’ll tell you what, he’s lucky I didn’t go get the cleaver and chop that fucking finger right the fuck off. 2002: My mind is blank… 2001: It’s just the little things that get to me, y’know? 2000: Married people! Having sex in the middle of the day! What IS this world coming to?]]>

* * * Apparently, here in the country, it’s not unusual for a woman in a red truck to pull into your driveway and toot her horn. When you go out to see what the hell’s up with that, she’ll shoot a significant look at your trash pile at the end of the driveway and ask if you need anything hauled off. Unfortunately, you’ve probably already arranged to have someone come and haul off the pile over the weekend, so you have to turn her down. She’ll take it well, though, smile and wave and say she was just checking. Is it weird that I think that’s really cool?

* * * So Fred came out to Smallville briefly on Wednesday. While he was there, I gave him our utility bills for the last year to give to the realtor, along with a copy of the survey we got when we bought the Madison house, and the appraisal. The realtor actually lives in our subdivision, and when Fred drove by his house on the way to ours, the realtor was out checking his mail, so Fred stopped and gave him everything. Then he told the realtor that as long as he told everyone that we were having the house repainted and recarpeted and that it was a big mess, he could go ahead and start showing the house. The spud spent Wednesday night in Smallville with me, and then we left from there, separately, she to go to Madison to get more clothes and to meet up with her boyfriend, and me to go into Huntsville to run some errands and then go to the Madison house for the evening. She called me after she left the Madison house to let me know that the painters were still there, and a realtor was there showing the house as well. Turns out, the house was shown twice yesterday. No offers yet though, damnit. I spent a couple of hours cleaning, and I must say – the kitchen looks pretty fabulous. I need to clean the glass in the corner cabinet and maybe wipe down the inside of the refrigerator (even though the refrigerator’s coming out to Smallville to live in the laundry room with the litter box and freezer, it doesn’t hurt to have it clean in case some nosy-ass bastard pokes their nose in to see what’s in there). I’m spending all day today cleaning the hell out of the rest of the house (aside from the bathrooms, I don’t think there’s a lot to be done, aside from windows and windowsills). I suspect there’ll be several showings over the weekend, and wouldn’t it be nice if I posted Monday morning to say we’d accepted an offer on the house? Not holding my breath, though. * * * Their evil chicken talons don’t poke holes in the kiddie pool? It’s funny you should ask that. Wednesday around midnight, I went upstairs to check on the chickens before bed, and found that the top section of the pool (it’s comprised of three blow-up sections) was almost completely deflated. No chicks had escaped, but I was sure it was only a matter of time. I went downstairs and called Fred (waking him from a really deep sleep, apparently), and he said not to worry about it. I checked the next morning and all chicks were accounted for, then I went upstairs a few hours later, and Fricasee had escaped from the pool, and when I walked into the room he was peering over the side into the pool, and he looked up at me as if to say “This is quite a predicament I’ve found myself in. Give a brother a helping wing?” I picked him up and put him back, then called Fred again. Ultimately, I blew up the top section of the pool, looked around it, and found a small puncture hole made by either an evil chicken talon or an evil chicken beak. I taped it up and so far things are okay, but I believe Fred’s going to buy a hard plastic pool so that doesn’t happen again. Wait…all those rooms that Fred painted last year in the Madison house are going to be RE-painted? Really? Are thinking that it will sell faster with more neutral colors? I guess that makes sense, but ALL that work. No wonder you decided to hire painters. Yeah, our idea was that a neutral color throughout the house would be more attractive to buyers. It does suck that he spent all that time last year painting the rooms, only to have the work undone, but if it makes our house sell faster, it’s worth it! Question – I also have six cats, and we just installed laminate flooring. Since shedding season is starting, how the hell do you control the cat hair tumbleweeds? I always found that developing a blind eye to the cat hair helped a LOT. But since moving into the Smallville house, I’ve discovered that it’s easier to ignore the cat hair wafting through the house when there was carpet there to catch it and make it less obvious. In the last week I’ve either vacuumed or Swiffered every day. It keeps it at a manageable level, but I’m thinking we really should just shave the freakin’ cats bald and be done with it. I came to read thru your comments to see if anyone had mentioned to you about the HUGE pet food recall. I’m sure you’ve seen the news.. but I wanted to let you know just in case! I saw that Publix brand was on the recall list and thought immediately of the And3rson kitties. I had definitely heard of the recall, but our cats don’t eat Publix brand cat food because they’re spoiled rotten. They eat the expensive stuff, of course – and the stuff I buy wasn’t on the list (thank god!), so I think we’re safe. Somebody probably already asked, but are you going to put up a Virtual Tour of the Smallville house? I lubs me them tours… I’ve actually got “after” pictures I’m going to put up side-by-side with the “before” pictures, but yes – once we’re all moved in, I’ll definitely be doing a house tour of the Smallville house! The new house looks great – I have a question, though. Do you ever get creeped out staying there by yourself at night? My husband works nights a lot of the time, and even though we have lived in our house for over 20 years (and we’re in a very safe area), there are those occasional odd times when my imagination takes over. Usually it’s because the cats are on “alert” – and I know it’s either gotta be a serial killer outside the window … or a moth. I was a little creeped out the first night, but after that, not at all. I’ve heard weird noises, and always look to the cats to see their reaction, and they haven’t been concerned yet. They’ll occasionally do the “Behind you! A serial killer!” look, but they don’t all do it at the same time, which is how I gauge whether or not I should be worried. (Of course, I’ll be found dead, hacked to bits, with my head in the freezer, and Miz Poo will be saying “I TRIED to tell her there was a serial killer behind her, but she just told me to shut up and kept playing Snood!” Flappy McGee? Does he do much flapping? She certainly does. She’s a flappin’ fool. (Flappy McGee) (Fricasee, the suspected rooster) * * * “Dude, you’re crowding me. STOP CROWDING ME!” * * * Previously 2006: “Hookers and blow!” he crowed jubilantly. 2005: Also, there’s that whole pesky “dealing with people” thing, and I don’t like that sort of thing at ALL. 2004: The spud passed the test for her learner’s permit, THANKYAJEEZUS. 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: Fred and I chose the names of our future child/ren way before we ever met – Seth Forrest and Samantha Jayne. 2000: On the other hand, I was shopping in Wal-Mart, wasn’t I? What’d I expect, diamonds and furs?]]>

* * * I am absolutely loving being in the Smallville house. I haven’t done much since I moved in aside from getting stuff put away and moved around. There are still things to be put away, but it’s looking very much like home. After spending a good part of the weekend in Smallville, Fred is eager to get the Madison house sold and move out here himself. He said that the living room section of the front room is very cozy and feels like home to him. I told Nance while she was visiting that I’ve never loved a house as much as I love this one. We’re going to sell the Madison house, and I won’t miss it for one moment. It never felt like home the way the Smallville house does, probably because we worked so hard making it the way we wanted. I’m so comfortable here and I can’t wait ’til Fred and the spud are here full-time, too. I need to get my ass in gear and start on the front flowerbed. Maybe once we’ve got the Madison house up for sale and I don’t have to worry about getting shit done over there, I can concentrate on the outside of the Smallville house. For sure I need to start hauling wood from the concrete pad in the back yard over to the wood shed. I need to get set up to strip the door that goes between the kitchen and laundry room. I need to get the weeds in the back yard mowed. The list is endless, but I don’t care – I love it!

* * * The spud spent Tuesday and Wednesday night in Smallville with me. The painters were going to be at the Madison house bright and early, and I figured it’d be easier for her to just spend the night in Smallville rather than get up early and get out of their way. She slept pretty well, and the cats were thrilled to have someone else to sleep with. Apparently Mister Boogers and Miz Poo spent the evening shuttling between her bed and mine. She took a shower before bed, and I was sitting on the couch playing Snood for the 63 gazillionth time. She came running downstairs in nothing but a towel to report that there was a wasp in the bathroom, and Miz Poo was proving spectacularly unhelpful in disposing of it – maybe because Miz Poo’s reach is only about 3 feet high, and the wasp was hovering around the ceiling. I grabbed my trusty fly swatter and made short work of the wasp. The bugs in this house aren’t nearly what they were when we first bought the house. I’ve had to kill three or four wasps in the course of the last nine days, and countless stink bugs (but stink bugs don’t scare me at ALL. Wasps scare me a little, but I’m not prone to the screaming jeebies when I see them anymore. I guess having to deal with hundreds of them last fall broke me of the screaming jeebies, for the most part. I still don’t like it when they fly at my face, though.). Speaking of stink bugs, the day after I moved in, I looked at Sugarbutt and saw that he was FOAMING AT THE MOUTH. After much chasing him down and prying his mouth open, I found a couple of legs and determined that he’d eaten a stink bug. I suspect that’s a mistake he won’t be making again anytime soon. * * * Know what’s really weird? Being at the Madison house without the cats. I always walk through the door from the garage to the house and quickly close the door so Mister Boogers won’t try to escape. Except he’s not there. Also, there’s no one to harass me in the kitchen when I’m making my lunch. Very very strange. * * * Before we moved our stuff to Smallville, I had to clean out the workshop part of the shed so we could move all the tools and painting stuff out there. While I was sweeping the floor, I discovered that apparently the cement for the floor of the workshop was poured on August 24, 1967. Very cool. “Maybe she’ll forget I’m in here and I can spend some REAL quality time with those annoying little creatures!” * * * Previously 2006: Why do I feel like an ass all of a sudden? 2005: Damn. He saw through my wily scheme! 2004: She stood and let it sink in, then turned and flounced off. 2003: No entry. 2002: Cat pee, by the way, is the vilest-smelling stuff on this planet. 2001: Don’t you hate it when someone tries to be reasonable in the midst of your tightly choreographed hissy fit? 2000: “Of course they do, they like soft toilet paper. It’s the mafia, babe!”]]>

* * * Where’d you get the dragonfly shower curtain? I love it! I got it at Bed, Bath and Beyond. I was all pissed off, thinking I was going to have to get a fabric shower curtain and then have to get a liner too (what a fucking racket, that), when I looked down and saw the dragonfly shower curtain. I like it a lot, and I think it goes well in the bathroom. Sorry if I missed an explanation of this, but I thought you were going to wait until the Spud was out of school for the year to sell the Madison house. Is the Smallville house in the same school district? Or are they less anal there than they are here about moving to another district and staying at the same school. We’re thinking, assuming the Madison house sells quickly, that there’s no way we’ll be closing on it before the end of April. Given that the spud graduates in the middle of May, we’re talking about a time of a few weeks where we’ll be living in Smallville and she’ll be driving to Madison for school. We’re not going to go out of our way to tell the Administration of her school that we’ve moved, so before they can “catch” us, they have to figure it out. And I suspect that, since it’s only a few weeks, they’d be okay with it anyway. I wish you luck with the sale of your house. I have had mine on the market since Sept!!!! I sold two other houses in the past 4 years and both went so quick but the market today is just the shit I tell ya! I am about 4 hrs north of you in Southern Illinois, so hopefully your market is better! I think the market here is pretty good, because they recently closed a base (or part of a base?) in Washington, and there’s going to be an influx of people who are being transferred here. The realtor seems pretty confident that the house will sell quickly, and he’s told us that there’s a shortage of houses in that price range at the moment, so we’ll see. He sold the previous house for us in a matter of days, and the house that was for sale a few doors down just sold in about a week. Fingers crossed that ours goes just as quickly! Did you get a new car? Or did E’gar get a paint job? Or WAIT! Is this the mystery Fredmobile? I got a new car several months ago, ya damn skimmer – last Fall, maybe? I sold E’gar to the spud and got a Suzuki Reno. I kind of miss E’gar a little. I like the Reno (which I have dubbed DelMar), but not as much as I liked the Aerio. Sugarbutt and the kitchen cabinets are a match! How did he get up there? From the floor to the counter, from the counter to the top of the fridge, and from there to the top of the cupboards. Except for Spot, they’ve all gotten up there and looked around (Miz Poo whined at me until I put a chair by the cupboards so she could get up on the counter; spoiled rotten, our cats? NAHHHH!), but Sugarbutt and Tommy spend the most time up there. Tommy also likes to hang out in the hall closet, especially if someone startles him. I guess he feels safe back in the darkest part of the closet. I love the iron mug-holder paper towel hanger too! Where did you get it? Actually, I didn’t get it anywhere – it was already there, the previous owners asked if we wanted it, and we said yes. I wasn’t that crazy about it, but with the face mugs and my little salt & pepper collection on it, I think it’s rawwwther charming. Just had to tell you – I LOVE your kitchen cabinets! Thank you! I like them a LOT more than I did when we first bought the house. I switched the pulls from the white ceramic ones to the darker ones we have now, and it makes a HUGE difference. We might change the cabinets at some point in the future, but I have to say, the more I live with them, the more I like them. Are you painting before pulling up the carpet? Seems to be the better way to go, so as to not have to work so hard to keep the paint off the new carpet. Yep, painting will be done this week, and the carpet will be done next week. The guys who are coming to lay the carpet are the same ones who are pulling up the old carpet and pad, so painting will be done before they get here. (via email) I remember when Fred would be at the new house by himself and he thought the house was haunted. Have you had any ghost experiences now that you’re moved in? I haven’t had a single ghostly experience, and whether that’s because I just don’t really believe in ghosts or because there are no ghosts here, who knows? For the record, all the orbs that show up in our pictures that so many of you think are signs of a otherworldly presence, I prefer to think of as specks of dust on the camera lens. I’d love to be proven wrong by a benevolent ghostly presence but with a week and a couple of days down, that hasn’t happened yet. Are the NotYours cats okay with no longer being allowed inside the Smallville house? I know they have the condo of kitty luxury on your front porch, but I wasn’t sure if they’d have hard feelings since they can see the City Crew inside hanging out where they used to be allowed. I have to say that you have balls (figuratively) for transporting that many cats at once. You’re a braver person than I! Newt and Maxi seem okay with not being allowed in the house, at least so far. Honestly, they weren’t all that interested in coming inside much, anyway – we’d let them in, they’d sniff around, then howl mournfully until we let them out. I haven’t seen much of either of them since Saturday or Sunday, when Fred accidentally locked Maxi in the garage and went wandering off to Madison. It was just luck that I happened to hear Maxi yelling when I went out to my car to leave. I let her out of the garage and she’s been back briefly once or twice, but I think being locked in the garage made her nervous. what is the name of the color (actually there are 2 so I should say colors!) that you used in your new bedroom?! It is beautiful! Apparently the bottom is “pale purple” and the top is “silver smoke”. Pictures of the paint can labels are below, for reference. (Top) (Bottom)

* * * The last crocus bloomed. I’ve never been a big fan of crocuses (crocii?) before, but I’ve changed my tune. I may have to plant them in the bulb garden I’m going to get around to planning one day soon. “I don’t know, let me see… Uh, yep. Just as I suspected. It’s a foot.” Flappy McGee, in a rare still moment. * * * Previously 2006: Someone kill me now. NOW. 2005: And THEN in the car on the way to Mom and Dad’s, I was thinking “Well, THAT was rude, to tell her she was being too loud! 2004: No entry. 2003: Miz Poo has an infection. 2002: And if you unsubscribe from the notify list? A reason for the unsubscription is neither necessary, required, nor desired. Thanks so much. 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry.]]>

Note: In case you didn’t read her response in yesterday’s comments, Nance and Rick’s camera is a Nikon D70.

* * * (From the move last week) I brought everyone but Mister Boogers in my car – Fred brought him. Miz Poo and Spot did a call-and-respond howling duo all the way to Smallville. 20 minutes seems a lot longer when cats are howling the entire way. * * * Yesterday morning at 4:30 found me standing buck nekkid in the bathroom with the light on, earplugs in my ears, cats milling about my feet watching me perform surgery on my pinky finger with a needle. Without glasses on or contacts in. That just screams “Monday”, doesn’t it? (For the record, at some point over the weekend I got a small splinter under my fingernail. I thought I’d gotten it out, but apparently not, because I woke up Monday morning with my finger throbbing. After cutting my fingernail as short as humanly possible and digging at the area just under my fingernail for a good fifteen minutes, I got the little fucker out. It’s sore today, but it feels 10,000 times better than it did.) * * * Y’all, this whole no-internet thing in Smallville just sucks like nothing you could imagine. No internet, no cable. IT’S LIKE LIVING IN THE GODDAMN 1800S! Yesterday I left Smallville at 7 to drive to Huntsville to clean cages at the pet store, and didn’t get home that night until after 8:00. That’s a long fucking day, and too long for the cats to be home alone. After I left the pet store I went to Target, filled up my gas tank at the cheap gas station, then went to the Madison house to hang out, write my entry, do some picking up, do some laundry, and do some web surfing. Etc etc etc. At 3:00, the lady from the carpet store came to measure the house and quote us a price for having the carpet replaced, and while it was more than we wanted to spend, I think the cost will be worth it when we don’t have to fork over a $5000 carpet allowance at closing. They’re coming to carpet the computer room and the entire upstairs next Wednesday. And the other guys are coming to paint the house this Wednesday or Thursday. That’s right, you heard me – we’re hiring professionals to paint the majority of the house. Because we? Are burned the fuck out on the painting. Fred’s back hurts when he uses the roller for too long, and Sunday afternoon I was stuck with painting the edges of the dining room, and I was filled with hatred like I have never felt before, I hated this goddamn house so fucking much that in retrospect I am amazed because my hatred should have set fire to the fucking thing. And my hatred spilled over to everyone in the vicinity and I stomped around and had a temper tantrum like a five year old and then had to go upstairs and lay down in a fetal position and do some lamaze breathing before I went on a killing spree. Then I suggested to Fred that I would offer him 2,000 sexual favors (hey, my kid reads this journal, I’m not going into details) if he would just fucking call a professional painter. And he did, and the guy came over and took a look around and quoted a price, and I fell to my knees and thanked god when Fred asked the guy how soon they could get the job done. And the paint guy said he’d do everything he could to get it all done by Saturday, HALLELUJAH. It’ll take a day or a day and a half to get the carpet put down, so at some point – possibly this weekend – I’m going to spend an entire day cleaning the bathrooms and scrubbing the floors, so I’m thinking that next Friday our house will be up for sale. I hope like hell it sells as fast as the house two doors down sold (a week), and I hope we make nearly what they did, though we’re planning to underprice it by a bit so it’ll sell faster. We’ll see. * * * Comments: That is just so cool — I’m glad y’all had such a good time and that the move to the Smallvill house is finally over. Now you get to unpack — whee! Now I get to unpack? What’s this “now”, kemosabe? I spent half the day Tuesday, all day Wednesday, and most of the day Thursday unpacking. There are maybe three boxes left to be unpacked, and I’ll get to those when I damn well please, because I am the boss of what gets unpacked when. Ha! Being a farm girl, I want to warn you not to let the cats near the baby chicks. They will eat them. Sad but true. I was going to squawk indignantly about how I’m NOT that dumb, but god knows I’ve done some dumbass shit in the past. For the record, the cats aren’t allowed unsupervised access to the chicks – I let them in to sniff around while I’m changing out the water or feeding the chicks, and they seem a little interested, but mostly scared by the chicks. I’d never let a cat hang out with the chicks if I weren’t around – we keep them in a room with the door shut so the cats can’t get in there. Unless they can figure out how to turn the doorknob, I’m not going to worry about it. Though Tommy IS an awfully smart little bastard. Who is putting up the joint podcast? I want to hear it. It’ll be up over on Nance’s site, once she gets home from SC and has a chance to have her kid edit it a little (or maybe she’ll just put it up unedited – I don’t think she’s decided yet). She’s going to be in SC for a few more days, so I don’t know when she’ll get a chance to do that. I’ll link to it once it’s up, I promise! Where the magic happened. What do the city cats think of the salty country cats? I thought there’d be a lot of hissing and growling, but for the most part the city cats don’t seem too interested in what Newt and Maxi are doing. They’ll sit on the cat tree and watch Maxi and Newt sometimes, but they’re more interested in the birds and the traffic. We did crack the front door and let someone – Mister Boogers, I think – sniff at Maxi through the crack and they both growled, but that’s about it so far. Sugarbutt’s favorite hiding place. Some questions: How is the house stuff going? How is Mr. Boogers? Does he still hate me? How are you and your family? Are you coming back to us? House stuff is going well – I think I need to get dark curtains for the master bedroom, and I still need to get the trim in the guest bedroom painted, and the entire house needs to have the floor scrubbed (we’ve had a lot of delivery people traipsing in and out lately), and the pipe to the showerhead in the downstairs bathroom cracked and needs to be replaced, so I’ve got to shower in the upstairs bathroom for the time being, and the “cold” knob in the upstairs shower keeps falling off, but other than that, it’s all okay. Mister Boogers makes himself at home. Mister Boogers has adjusted the best of all the cats – he seems to think this whole thing is quite the adventure – but, yes. He still hates you. But that’s fine, because I hate him back for you. He’s been waking me up at 5:30 every morning with his incessant howling, so I’m about ready to kick him out the damn door. I bet the country cats would kick his ass all over the yard, though. He talks a good game, but he’s really a wimpy little bastard. Fred, the spud, and I are fine, but I’ll be glad when the Madison house sells and we can all be under the same roof again. I’m coming back to you, my darlings. Though, fair warning: updating will undoubtedly be spotty for a little while. I’ll still write every day, Monday through Friday, but I may not be able to get them all posted on the day they’re written for, because there are going to be the occasional days when I stay in Smallville all day. So you might get a day or two of no entries, followed by multiple entries at a time. Once we have an accepted offer on the house, Fred promises we’ll get internet in Smallville. In fact, this might be the last entry posted until the end of the week. It all depends on the painters and when they decide to come, and how long it takes them to finish. Until then, I’ll play 63,000 games of Snood (I hadn’t played it in years, but when I was bored in Smallville and not in the mood to read, I realized I had Snood on the laptop, so I sat in the living room and played game after game after game. I’m getting better, thank god – I got so frustrated at how poorly I was doing that I turned the difficulty level to “child”, just so I could win one fucking game!), do chores around the house, read, and watch TV shows I’ve downloaded from iTunes. iTunes is THE SHIT, I tell you what. * * * My new bed – which I LOVE – and my new comforter. I’m not feeling the love for the comforter just yet, but it may grow on me. What I really wanted was something like this in aubergine because I adore the Matelasse bedspreads, but Bed, Bath and Beyond and Linens and Things and Target had nothing like that, so I went with something I thought would go well in the room. I haven’t completely discounted the Matelasse bedspread, though. Maybe I’ll get it in the future. I absolutely adore this bedspread I got for the guest bed, it’s too bad it doesn’t come in some shade of purple as well. What really rocks is that it lists on Amazon for $100 for the full/queen size, and I got it at TJ Maxx for $35. LOVE IT. The shower curtains I got for the downstairs bathroom. The problem with a suspended-rod bathtub/ shower is that the shower curtains have to be wider than the standard. And it’s close to impossible to find a wide-enough shower curtain in a pattern I like. I ended up getting two shower curtains and overlapping them a little, and you honestly can’t tell at all. Plus, I really like the dragonfly design, and I think it goes well with the bathroom color. Sleepy. “Hellew.” All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Previously 2006: “I prefer ‘va-jay-jay’,” he said almost prissily. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: And why is it that I ALWAYS have my period when it’s time to leave on vacation? Why? Whyyyyyyyyy? 2002: I don’t want to have to think about Ozzy having a boner, thankyouverymuch. 2001: Fortunately, I have many more lazing-around-the-house-reading hours in the day than he does. 2000: I didn’t think cats did such things once they were fixed.]]>

The first night was a little creepy, because it was my first night in the new house, the cats were freaked out, and I wasn’t accustomed to being in the house at night, and especially not at night by myself. All houses make noises at night, and the older the house the more it pops and settles. It was creepy being there alone that first night, and add to that the fact that the cats weren’t letting me sleep any more than 20 minutes at a stretch, and I wasn’t in the happiest of moods Wednesday morning. I made it through the day, though – went to the pet store early, because I’d traded with the Wednesday morning person, and just as I was about to leave for the pet store, Fred called to tell me that the post office had called to let him know that the chicks had arrived. He left work, brought the chicks home to Smallville, set up the brooder (you can read more about it at his site), and went back to work. I finished up at the pet store, went to Madison to check my email and do some vacuuming, and went home to Smallville. Wednesday night was a bit better than Tuesday – the cats let me sleep a little more, and I actually got a good night’s rest – and I woke up Thursday to do some more unpacking and wait for my Extra Special Guests to arrive. Yes, that’s right – Nance and Rick came to visit! I swear to god, the only thing getting me through the whole moving hell was the knowledge that Nance and Rick were coming and I could stop with the unpacking and the crazy running around like a chicken with its head cut off, and just hang out and babble at Nance and Rick and relax. The spud thinks Nance and Rick are funny. You guys, I had SUCH a good time. Friday Nance and I sat around and babbled and babbled and babbled some more. In fact, Friday morning we babbled for two hours, then Nance said “Okay, seriously. We need to do a damn podcast!”, and so we babbled on for another hour before Fred showed up, then we had to end the podcast because he didn’t want to be part of it (PARTY POOPER). Nance listened to it and swears we didn’t sound like complete idiots, but we’ll see about that. Sometime Friday night, Fred suggested that we play Trivial Pursuit. He dug out his ancient version of the game and we played, then I insisted that we run to Wal-Mart and get a version of Trivial Pursuit that wasn’t from the 1800s. We did that, and spent the evening playing a few more games. I don’t know who emerged the victor, although I do think that Fred and I won the first game and he’s such a poor sport that he danced around the room in victory. Nance and Rick won the next game (I think) and probably the one after that. By the time we were down to the last game it was late and we were all exhausted and I could barely keep my eyes open, but still didn’t want the evening to end. Me tired. By the way, I did try to insist that Nance and Rick stay with me in the Smallville house, and they were going to, except that I have no internet out there at all, and Rick needed internet for his schoolwork, so they stayed in a hotel. Saturday Fred was going to work on painting the Madison house so that would be done and then all we’d have to do is replace the carpet in the computer room and upstairs, and the house would require nothing more than a good cleaning before we put it on the market. Only, after doing some puttying and caulking, he said “Fuck it”, and came over to Smallville. We took Nance and Rick to Decatur for lunch at Penn’s, where they got to appreciate the hamburgers Fred thinks are the finest foods on the face of the earth and with which I am completely unimpressed. Nance and Rick claimed to like the burgers, but I think they have better taste than that and were just saying it to be nice. Ha! We ended up spending the better part of the afternoon playing this game called CatchPhrase, a game I didn’t think I was going to like, and DIDN’T like at first, but once I got over being self-conscious I decided I absolutely loved it. It’s this game where you have to give clues to your partner to guess a word or phrase, and if they guess it you hand the little handheld computer thingy off to the other team to do the same thing, and all the while there’s a timer beeping, and as time is running out, it beeps faster, and it’s all very nerve-racking, but in a cool way. We played several games of that, and then Nance and I hung around the house and babbled while Fred and Rick did A Project involving the chickens and a bigger place for them to run around in. We went out to dinner (where we were waited on by this kid who was a dead ringer for Willard from Footloose, bless his heart) then went back to Smallville and played about a thousand more games of CatchPhrase. Here’s how one part of the game went. Fred was trying to get me to guess the word “lucky.” Fred: A leprechaun brings you – ? Robyn: Joy! Fred: No. When you see a leprechaun you feel – ? Robyn: Joyful! Fred: NO. Someone who wins the lottery is – ? Robyn: Wealthy! Rich! Has lots of money! Happy! Fred: NO! I did finally get it, but damn. I’m going to be teased about that forEVER. Then there was the time, later in the evening, where I had to get Fred to guess “Jazz singer”, and it went thusly: Robyn: You hate this music! Fred: Country! Rap! Robyn: No! And then I, the least musical and most tone-deaf person on this entire planet, proceeded to SCAT. And Fred got it! Then we were laughing about it, and I took a drink of water and Rick said something that made me laugh just as the water entered my mouth and it went directly into my lungs and I made a complete ass out of myself by spitting water all over the front of me, and choking. I am such a prize, I really am. Also, two things of note: There was some journaller abuse going on, because when Fred gets excited he flails around a LOT, and he ended up kicking the holy hell out of poor Nance. Secondly, at one point Fred and Rick were on a team together and Fred was trying to get Rick to say “spread”, so he leaned back and spread his legs, and Nance whipped her head in the other direction so fast I think she gave herself whiplash because Fred was wearing shorts and she was afraid she’d see a little more of Fred than she’d bargained for. The entire time Nance and Rick visited, Miz Poo was ALL OVER them. Miz Poo LURVES Nance and even though Nance had allergies going on (since everything’s blooming down here) and the cat hair wasn’t helping, she patiently petted Miz Poo for hours. I think at one point Mister Boogers showed up for some love from Nance, and I know Tommy settled in with Nance, then kindly farted on her. Don’t you totally want to come visit us? Also, Nance had me drooling with envy over not only Little Lulu her laptop, but also over her cool-ass Nikon camera with the monster zoom lens. She insisted that I give it a try (I didn’t want to at first, ’cause I was afraid I was going to hurt it), and I fell in love. Fred got to use it, too, and took some awesome pictures. Except for the cats in the carriers and Spot in the litter box, all the pictures in this entry were taken with their Nikon. I think we need a camera like theirs. And I think Fred’s starting to agree with me! Mister Boogers doesn’t know what those chirpy things are, but he does NOT approve. They love to sit on the cat tree and watch what’s going on outside. We don’t have nearly enough cat toys. They can lay on the cat tree and watch what’s going on for HOURS. Did I mention I LOVE this freakin’ camera? Maxi doesn’t hate you… but she’s considering it. (Rick and Nance took some of the pictures, and Fred took some (I think he took the bird in flight one, fourth from the bottom), and I took a few, too. It was a collaborative effort! Go check Nance’s entry for the best picture ever taken of Tom Cullen.) They left Sunday morning, early, to head for South Carolina, and I missed them immediately. I don’t know when I’ve had so much damn fun, between the gossiping and the game-playing, and just generally hanging out, it was exactly what I needed, an interlude between the craziness of moving in, and the craziness of getting the Madison house ready to be put up for sale.

* * * Okay, that’s it for today. Tomorrow, another hundred and thirty thousand pictures! All of today’s uploaded pictures can be seen here. * * * Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: “Have you noticed that it smells like the bodies of fifteen [gentlemen of Chinese descent] laying in a pile in the ditch, rotting?” 2003: Always something, you know? 2002: “I’m starving to death. Meh. STARVING, I’m STARVING. Meh.” 2001: My baby’s growing up! 2000: No entry.]]>

Check out Donna’s kitties, grooming each other. Sugarbutt and Tom Cullen still love to groom each other like that, though they get too worked up and start fighting about ten seconds in to the lurve session.

* * * Yes, it was River Phoenix my sister was thinking of at Christmas time. I don’t know why we all have this mental link between River Phoenix and Christian Slater – possibly because they kind of resemble each other. I think they were about the same age, so there’s that, and maybe they ran around with the same crowd. Who knows? I’m just glad I’m not the only one who knew immediately who she was talking about. (Faith, you cracked me up with your Jack Nicholson guess!) Can you believe it’s been 14 years since River Phoenix died? * * * Saturday we went to the house early – I’ve been getting up around 6 because Mister Boogers invariably starts acting an ass right on the dot of 6 am for some reason (I call him my “Boogie alarm”) – stopping on the way for breakfast at our favorite little country restaurant. The place where two people can eat a very filling breakfast for about $10. We won’t be going back there anytime soon, I think. Not only was there a roachlike insect on the table when we sat down, there was another one crawling across the floor behind Fred. I managed to put it out of my mind and not think about it while I was eating breakfast, but I don’t know that I’m going to go out of my way to go back there (not that it’s out of the way – it’s only 2 minutes from the Smallville house and we drive by there to get to the house, but you get my point). We worked in the house for about an hour – we moved a bunch of stuff from the house to the shed and the burn pile, then Fred went upstairs and did some caulking in the bathroom and on the stairs* while I started moving stuff out of the dining room so I could clean the walls and paint the trim (I did that in the computer room and half bath on Friday). We left the house a while later and stopped by a carpet store to order a piece of carpet and padding for the spud’s bedroom. Her room is located directly above mine, and she stays up way later than I do, usually. Whatever we can do to muffle the sounds of her moving around in her room, we’re going to do. After the carpet store, we stopped by a lighting store. We were having issues with the bathroom light in the upstairs bathroom (the light over the mirror hangs down too far, so that it’s impossible to open the medicine cabinet, and that’s not acceptable as far as I’m concerned), so talked to a woman at the lighting store, who pointed out that we could turn the light the other way to make it work. We hadn’t even thought of that, so thanked her and left. From there, we went to several different furniture stores to look for a bed. The bed I’m currently sleeping in is just too damn high. I really really hate having to climb into my bed every night, and so we decided that Fred would take my bed, we’d get me a new bed, and we’d get rid of (probably Freecycle) his king-size bed. None of the stores we went into had anything I liked, though they all had beds that Fred liked. I like really simple, straight furniture with clean lines, and he likes the ugliest, most ornate furniture god ever put on this planet. Since we were shopping for me, I got to veto the ugly, ornate stuff. We didn’t find anything we like, so we went back to the house and did some more work. I don’t remember what Fred did – caulked and hung stuff and worked on a door from the spud’s closet to the attic, I think. I finally got the dining room walls wiped down, cleared off the mantel, and cleaned out the fireplace before I painted the trim around the bottom of the room. Once I was done with that, I painted the doors in the computer room (leading to outside), thought about staining the quarter-round we’re putting in the guest bedroom closet and the spud’s closet, couldn’t find the stain, and then we left. We stopped on the way home at one last furniture store, and there I found a sleigh bed that I really like, so we ordered that in the queen-size version (there was another I liked that had drawers underneath it, but it was WAY too expensive) along with a mattess and boxspring. The only issue with the bed is that it might or might not be delivered before we move my stuff into the house, so I might be sleeping on the couch for a few nights. We’ll see how THAT goes. It’s funny – Fred said “I feel like I accomplished a lot today!” and I said “I feel like I accomplished NOTHING!” At Lowe’s, we were in the parking lot and Fred said “Oh look, it’s Guy.” Guy used to work for Fred’s company when I worked there (for those of you new to the Bitchypoo chronicles, I was the office manager for Fred’s company for several years, then quit to fulfill my lifelong dream of sitting on my ass. It’s worked out well for me.), and I haaaaaaaated him. I found him a pompous know-it-all pain in the ass and was thrilled to never have to deal with him again. Anyway. I said, “Guy?” And Fred said “Yeah, who used to work for us?” “Oh, HIM,” I said. I looked him over as he took his kid’s hand and headed for the store. “He’s lost a lot of hair, huh?” “Yeah,” Fred said. Then Guy turned so his back was to us, and I said “Wow. He’s lost a LOT of hair.” “Yeah, it’s really fleein’ the interview,” Fred said. Just as I started laughing, Guy turned around, saw Fred, and waved. Fred waved back. I just sat and looked like a snooty bitch BECAUSE I CAN. *This led to many hilarious moments ie, “Your caulk is getting all over the stairs!”, “Your caulk is dribbling all over the stairs!” and “I like to fill up cracks with my caulk.” * * * We got out to Smallville around 8 on Sunday, and set immediately to work. After three hours of wiping down walls and baseboards, puttying, and painting trim, I stomped downstairs to the laundry room (where the only comfortable piece of furniture (a recliner) is located) and slurped down a bottle of water while fuming. Then I dragged Fred out to the front porch (it’s our “thing” when one or the other of us is tired of doing whatever we’re doing, or at a stopping point, to declare “Let’s take five!” and sit on the front porch in the rocking chairs and talk or just watch the traffic go by) and said “It’s 11:21 and I am officially BURNT OUT!” He tried to point out that we were so close to being done and I said “I don’t care! I’m tired of it! I don’t want to putty or caulk or paint! I don’t want to scrub floors or walls or baseboards! I don’t want to carry shit out of the house and empty the garbage can twice a day! I don’t want to paint! I want to just sit around and do nothing AND I AM NEVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO DO THAT AGAIN!” “It’s almost over,” he pointed out. “IT WILL NEVER BE OVER!” I bellowed. Then I threw a little more of a hissy fit, and I felt better. I finished painting the trim in the spud’s bedroom, puttied the holes in the upstairs bathroom, then we hung the door in the downstairs bathroom and Fred hung blinds in the spud’s bedroom while I transplanted sugar snap peas from the little bitty containers the seeds were planted in, to slightly bigger peat pots (everything we’ve planted is growing, but the sugar snap peas are growing like mad), vacuumed, Swiffered, and mopped the floor in the spud’s bedroom, and then got on my hands and knees with cleaning rags and sprayed and wiped down every inch of the spud’s bedroom floor. Rooms that are now completely done (except for curtains): The half bath (except for the cap things that need to be put on the screws holding the toilet down), the computer room (though I really need to put another coat of paint on the doors), and the spud’s bedroom. Still to be done: The rest of the fucking house. See what I mean about it never being done? UGH. * * * Saturday night, while Fred lolled about in the bathtub reading and singing to the cats** I started packing up the master bedroom. I didn’t get too terribly far – just the bookcase and the stuff in the closet – but may I say that I just have too damn many books? The bookcase in the bedroom holds all the “I haven’t read these yet” books, and I filled up five boxes with books. Today, in and amongst all the cooking I’ll be doing to get us through the rest of the week, I intend to get Fred’s bedroom packed up (we store a lot of stuff in there), along with the rest of the master bedroom, whatever’s in the guest bedroom that needs to go, and probably I’ll toss all the stuff in the foster cat room into a box while I’m at it. Oh yeah, and the hall closet. UGH. **Last weekend I wasn’t feeling well and went upstairs to lay on the bed and take a nap. Fred was in the bathtub and didn’t know I was in the bedroom. He sang to the cats, and sang to the cats, and sang some more. I fell asleep and woke fifteen minutes later, and he was still singing. That musical episode of Scrubs? That’s his fantasy world. He would ADORE living in a world where people sang to each other all the time. * * * Sugarbutt does his Popeye impression. He cracks me up when he sits around with one eye open. “Hey! You! GUYYYYYYYYYS!” Such a sweet boy. * * * Previously 2006: No entry. 2005: No entry. 2004: You suppose they’d mind if I went over after dark and pressed my face up against the window to see what’s going on? 2003: Maybe I should go for the dreadlocks look… 2002: Any resemblance to persons living or dead are completely coincidental. I don’t fart. 2001: every Mulvaney shat gold upon command three times a day. 2000: Here at casa bitchypoo, we believe in extremely lazy Sundays.]]>

Edited to add, 5:30 pm central time: We’re fine. The tornado that hit was a couple of hours south of us, and last I heard, the really bad weather’s expected to go around us. I hope it does! Edited to add, 9:00 pm central time: Still no bad weather – just wind and rain – and it looks like the bad weather’s done for the night. I’m amazed that Survivor wasn’t pre-empted by the weather coverage, because I swear to god, every time we have bad weather it’s on a Thursday and Survivor gets fucked up!

* * * New month, new logo! This one was created by talented reader Aly. Every time I look at it, it makes me giggle. Thanks, Aly!!! * * * This page cracked me UP. Thanks for sharing, Andrea! * * * I watched Shut Up and Sing the other day (Monday, in fact, while I spent the entire day cooking dinners so I’d not have to cook again this week. I’m an excellent multi-tasker, and got lots of TV watching in while I was cooking.). I actually liked the movie, enough that I might want to watch it again in the future. I’ve always liked the Dixie Chicks’ music, and I LOVE Not Ready to Make Nice. Natalie Maines could use some wardrobe advice, though, and I hope I’m not trampling all over her Right to Freely Dress Like a Bag Lady when I say that. (“Robyn,” you are saying right now. “Just what exactly are YOU wearing, that you feel secure in putting down the way Natalie Maines dresses?” And to you I say: “Shaddup.”*) One of the weirdly interesting parts of the movie was when the husbands would show up for a minute or two. Natalie’s married to Adrian Pasdar (the guy from Heroes – but don’t ask me what role he plays in the show, I haven’t watched it since the first episode, which is something we might remedy when it comes out on DVD this Summer/ Fall) and he was around a few different times. Emily’s married to Charlie Robison, who sings El Cerrito Place, which is a song I adore (Emily is, correct me if I’m wrong, the one who’s got the dark hair) and he was in there a couple of times. Martie’s married to some guy I don’t know, and he showed up a couple of times, but since he’s not anyone I’ve ever heard of, I have nothing to say about him. He seemed nice, though, how’s that? Anyway, good movie, I liked it, check it out. *Gray cotton pants, a gray long-sleeved Myrtle Beach t-shirt, and very warm blue socks. Did I mention “Shaddup”? * * * I spent all day Tuesday and all day Wednesday out at the house, puttying and caulking*. I hate caulking**. Cannot stand the caulk***. Don’t ever want to see any more caulk**** again, as long as I live. At least it’s mostly done. Not only did I caulk, I found that a couple of pieces of quarter-round hadn’t been nailed down (Fred measures for the quarter round, cuts the quarter-round, then nails down all but the end pieces of the quarter-round so I can paint the ends), so I got me the nail gun and nailed those suckers down. I can guarantee you, back before we closed on this house it never would have occurred to me that I could use the nail gun my own self to nail down quarter-round. I would have waited for Fred to do it. I’ve done a lot of things in this house I couldn’t have imagined last Fall: painting the entire upstairs bathroom, painted the majority of the trim in the house, caulked*****, puttied, switched out outlets and switches, created a brush pile and helped burn it down, kept a fire going in the big fireplace, tried to convince Fred we need a pellet stove, burned piles and piles of leaves, cleaned out an entire overgrown ditch. I’m sure there are other things, I’m just too damn tired to try to think of them. What else did I do? Oh, right – I stained the ends of the quarter-round for the stairs, then worried that the ends looked too dark, so instead of putting polyurethane on them, I left them so Fred could inspect them (he decided they looked fine, so I polyurethaned them before I left), and caulked***** my closet so now all that needs to be done in there, is the trim around the doorway needs to be painted, and a couple of shelves hung. I had no idea the closet was going to take so damn long to get done, but it’s a FINE looking closet and one I’m happy with, and considering I’m going from a walk-in closet to a much smaller one, that’s an amazing thing. We are so very close to being done with the house, which means of course that the worst weather ever is headed our way. I’m sure that when I head out to the house tomorrow morning for another all-day work session, I’ll find that the huge-ass tree we love so much has landed on the house, crushing the holy hell out of it, and rendering the house a complete and utter loss. Good times! *Hee! **::giggle:: ***::snort:: ****::smirk:: ****::g r i n:: *****::snicker:: * * * Pictures from around the house: The gum trees that are dropping gum balls all over the place. Someone said that pruning back the trees would result in less gum balls, but I don’t know that that’s an option for us, since they’re so big. They’re pretty, but the gum balls are a little bit on my nerves. Between the shed and garage. Behind the garage. One of the things I love about our new house is that there are random daffodils growing all over the place. Daffodils being my favorite flower, I think this is a good sign. I cannot recommend enough the lovely, citrusy scent of winter honeysuckle. I love to sit on the porch and sniff the air. This stuff smells amazing. * * * “Hey, lady! How many times you going to flash that thing at me?” Smackdown Stage 1: The Taunting. (ie, “Newt’s mouth writes a check his butt can’t back up.”) Smackdown Stage 2: The Butt-Kicking. (ie,”Momma always was stronger, faster, and meaner than Newt realized.”) Smackdown Stage 3: Confusion. (ie, “Wha’ happa’?”) Previously 2006: It was so friggin’ cute I made Fred listen to it, too. 2005: I have my finger on the pulse of pop culture, apparently. 2004: A day in the life. 2003: What makes me crazy. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: Okay, enough of the wallowing.]]>