Category: Picture Entries

I have shit to get done today, so I’m tossing up a meme and some pictures and calling it good enough!

Stolen from Ms. Darkstar.

Accent: I have none. Or I have a southern accent. Or I sound like I’m from the Midwest. Depends on who you ask! (Personally, I think I have none.)

Breakfast or no breakfast: Breakfast. Usually scrambled eggs and yogurt or scrambled eggs and whatever fruit’s around or scrambled eggs and toast. Are we sensing a theme here?

Chore I don’t care for: I’m not crazy about any of them, but I always put off dusting ’til someone’s about to come visit. I spent an hour and a half dusting yesterday, pulling everything off the shelves and wiping them down. This house is DUSTED.

Dog or Cat: Cats. But I do like my Georgie and my Gracie, though.

Essential Electronics: iPod (I have to have something to listen to when I’m in the kitchen or vacuuming or dusting). Cell phone, not that I use it all that much. My computer. My laptop

Favorite Perfume: I don’t really wear perfume these days, can’t remember the last time I did. My favorite smell these days is the scent of sun-dried clothes, does that count?

Gold or Silver: Silver or white gold. (I can’t really tell the difference between the two.)

Handbag I carry most often: It used to be the Ameribag (I have several different ones), but a few months ago I bought a Relic handbag at Kohl’s, and it’s working surprisingly well for me. (I’d link to it, but I don’t know the exact model, and I has no time for Googling. Did I mention I have shit to do?)

Insomnia: Never. I can’t remember the last time I couldn’t get to sleep.

Job Title: Head Jam-Maker and Egg-Packer at Cr00ked Acres.

Kids: One – the spud lives in Rhode Island with her father and stepmother. (She’s 20.) (The spud, that is, not the stepmother.)

Living Arrangements: One 80 year-old farm house, one 41 year-old husband, 10 cats of varying ages, two puppydogs, and too many chickens to count.

Most Admirable Trait: I DON’T KNOW. This makes me uncomfortable.

Naughtiest Childhood Behavior: Trying to get myself out of trouble by tattling on someone else about something completely unrelated so they’d get in trouble instead. (Never worked very well.)

Overnight hospital stays: Many. Tonsils, knee surgery, c-section, gastric bypass, lower body lift. Huh. I guess that’s not really that many, is it? (Y’all who’ve never had surgery are pale with horror at the idea that I consider that “not that many”, aren’t you?)

Phobias: I don’t know – I don’t think I have any, really. I used to be bug-phobic (specifically wasps and bees), but since we moved here have gotten pretty blase about killing them (bare-handed, if required) and tossing them out the door. Is being concerned that I’ll have to shoot someone who’s trying to break into the house and forgetting to disengage the safety a phobia? Oh no, I know – I don’t like to touch dead things, dead and cleaned chickens notwithstanding.

Quote: “Let. Me. TELL. You. A. Story.”

Reason to smile: Cats. Chickens. Dogs.

Siblings: Three; a sister and two brothers.

Time I wake up: Usually a little before 6, when Fred wakes me to say goodbye before he leaves for work. If left to my own devices, I’ll generally sleep ’til 7. (That gets earlier as the days get longer. Generally once the sun is up, I can’t get back to sleep.)

Unusual Talent or Skill: I can raise my left eyebrow, wiggle my ears, and roll my tongue. Fascinating, no?

Worst Habit: Chewing my fingernails, forgetting to put lotion on my hands with any kind of regularity, snapping at Fred when he overexplains.

X-rays: I don’t know; I don’t keep track of that shit.

Yummy Stuff: 88-Calorie brownies.

Zoo Animal I Like Most: Meerkats!

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Whoever said that they thought this bird (the one who nests in a hole in the pecan tree and pops his head out when I jiggle the branch) is a woodpecker was right – this is the first time I’ve seen the bit of red on his head (in the first picture). He appears to be a Downy Woodpecker.

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The baby chicks are now almost three weeks old!

I’m pretty sure this is the baby of one of the Featherheads. She’s got a little mohawk going on.

I love the little mohawk – she’s the Rock Star’s baby, crossed with one of the roosters (I don’t know which). I think she’s going to be as gorgeous as her mother.

I feel like I’m imposing. They’re all “What do YOU want?”

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I recently finished these cross-stitch pictures. They’re simple and quick (well, would have been if I’d worked on them every night instead of noodling around on the laptop) and I’ve had the patterns forever. I have some Kats by Kelly patterns I want to cross-stitch, but I’m forcing myself to do some of the stuff I’ve had for years before I’ll do the ones I really want to.

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Hail Stinky,
Full of Hate,
The Tom is with thee.
Hateful art thou among kittehs,
and frightened is the brunt
of thy doom, Joe Bob.

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Previously
2008: The pigs reported that he tasted “Too humany.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Dumbass things I did yesterday.
2004: I think I need to go back to high school.
2003: “Well, good luck to Daddy on that,” I said.
2002: (You just shut up)
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

Happy Chocolate Cake Day!

I’m not celebrating myself, so raise a fork for me, wouldya?

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I have nothing exciting to say, and a folder of pictures to share with you, you lucky people. That’s right – another picture entry!

You know you love ’em.

“You has for us the snack?” (Note that George is sniffing my boot to see if there might be a snack located there.)

“I sense oncoming snacks!”

I’m pretty sure George was about to roll over onto his back, but it sure looks like something was scaring him, doesn’t it?

“Hallo, shweetheart.”

Gigglin’ Gracie.

::slurrrrrrrp::

Been rolling in leaves, have we?

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One of the Amish chickens peers through the fence at the pigs, all “Dude. What IS that?!”

Pretty, pretty rooster.

Michelle slurps water out of the puddle. Michelle, by the way, is the head rooster, and he spends lots of time letting the other roosters know that.

Another shot of the Buff Orpington/ Rhode Island Red rooster and some of his wimmin.

Sassy McGee has escaped the chicken yard and is headed to the small coop to lay her egg. She does this every day, and then she spends the rest of the day wandering around the property, kicking through the compost heap, keeping an eye on the cats. I considered clipping a wing so she couldn’t get over the fence, but she stays on the property and doesn’t make any problems, so she’ll remain our free-range chicken.

One of the young’uns. I think this is one of the ones Fred believes might be a Red Broiler.

Pretty little chickens.

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The pigs finally came out of their shelter yesterday and ate from the trough. Gracie’s response when she saw them was to bark and bark and bark, but by the time I got out to the yard to correct her, she’d stopped, and both dogs were just sitting and watching the pigs. When Fred got home from work, he removed the enclosure around the end of their shelter, which allowed them free range to the rest of the pig yard.

Big Pig.

Little Pig.

I’m pretty sure these pigs had never been on grass before. They seemed pretty interested in the grass, and before long, they were both eating grass.

Little Pig (on the right) has one blue eye and one brown-and-blue eye. I’d never seen a pig with a blue eye before, I thought they always had brown eyes. I’ve gotta be honest, the blue eye kind of freaks me out.

George says “What the -?”
The pigs say “What the -?”

Little Pig kinda looks like a smartass, like he’s always cracking a joke. Big Pig looks like the serious, thoughtful one.

The chickens say “What the -?”
The pig says “Nom nom nom NOM!”

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Sugarbutt’s ass is afire.

Matrix move #1.

Annnnd, Matrix move #2, a few moments later.

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: Fuck you, Lesley Stahl.
2005: Yes, I look like a dork.
2004: Better paranoid than hitchhiking across the country to meet some perv though, eh?
2003: No online presence in the day and age where every Joe Dork has a page? Inconceivable!
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Ooooh, lucky me, I got to go to the gynecologists’ today!

Randomness

1. The dogs love the spud. Have I mentioned that the dogs love the spud? Because the dogs? They love the spud.

1a. The dogs are also kind of fond of Fred. But secretly, I’m pretty sure that Miss Gracie prefers me. To Fred, that is. They both are passionately in love with the spud and would throw both Fred and I over for the spud without thinking about it twice.

2. The spud is a Twilight fan. O lord, where have I gone wrooooooooong?

3. The spud has pretty blue nails.

4. I actually think the spud looks more like her father than like me, but I take the comments y’all leave saying that she looks like me as a HUGE compliment, as I am an old hag and she is a young, um, non-hag.

5. It’s supposed to get super-cold Thursday (stay below freezing), so last night we made a practice run at putting Vaseline on the roosters’ combs and wattles. We have WAY TOO MANY little roosters – it’s getting close to time to cull the herd, I think. I felt very much like I was invading their space and being inappropriate with them.

Maybe greasing up c0cks could be a new career path for me!

6. I went to South Huntsville yesterday morning for my yearly appointment with the nutritionist. My appointment with the surgeon who performed my weight loss surgery is in another couple of weeks. The appointment went fine, and this is the first year I’m aware of where I weighed the same (within a pound and a half) at the end of the year as I did at the beginning. “Robyn,” you are saying. “Didn’t you have like ten pounds of fat and skin removed from your midsection? Shouldn’t you weigh less than you did last year?” Alls I can say is that the scale never reflected a loss of more than five pounds after surgery, and after three or four months, it went right back to where it was the day I went in for surgery (I had a lower-body lift in May, for those of you not in the know) and it stays within a three point range most of the time.

As part of my appointment with the nutritionist, I had an InBody scan, where you step on a scale-like thing and it analyzes your body fat in the different parts of your body. Muscle-wise, I’m right where I should be in all parts of my body except for my legs, which are close to where they should be (and somehow more muscular than they were a year ago despite the fact that I probably only lifted weights for a sum total of three weeks all year. Actually, despite my lack of weight-lifting, I apparently put muscle on all over my body, and put on an overall muscle weight of almost three pounds. Huh. I wonder what the hell that’s about? I wonder how reliable this thing is?). The scan recommends I lose twenty pounds of fat, given my body fat percentage, and could I stand to lose twenty pounds? Sure I could. But I’m pretty happy where I am right now.

HOWEVER, I’ll be taking another InBody scan next year as part of my regular appointment, and I’d really like to see what happens when I get into (and STICK TO) a regular weight-lifting routine, so I’m going to start lifting weights again and hopefully keep it up so I can blow that In-Body scan away. It’s not my goal to lose weight, but it is my goal to gain strength and to see what the scan says this time next year.

I’m going to start lifting weights… next week. This weekend will be spent cleaning and rearranging the garage to make that possible.

7. Because I arrived early in South Huntsville for my appointment, I went over to TJ Maxx to look around, and ended up buying a set of (NON-Fiestaware) bowls. They’re adorable, they have roosters on them. In fact, I couldn’t figure out why the roosters looked so familiar ’til I got home and realized that the canister where we keep our Splenda is the same design.

8. After my appointment, I went to Sam’s, whereupon I loaded a BUTTLOAD of kitty litter into my cart. And then, because I was pushing a cart that weighed more than me, I came way too close to wiping out a little kid who went wandering in front of my cart. Attention, Sam’s Club shoppers: Don’t assume that woman pushing a cart holding 240 pounds of Fresh Step cat litter can actually control the damn thing. (Attention, me: You’re a dumbass. Don’t fill a cart so full you can’t control the fucking thing.)

I can’t imagine why people keep asking how many cats I have…

9. After Sam’s, I went to the pet store where I found to my dismay that Lem and Delmar have still not been adopted. On the up side, they looked bored, but not scared. Lem was actually tracking a small fly around his cage. Delmar was sound asleep. Well – given that Delmar was sound asleep, I can’t actually say that he wasn’t scared, I guess. I’m extrapolating.

(Delmar’s asleep in that cubby thing behind Lem.)

10. George and Gracie are being spayed and neutered and ID chipped today. Fred drove the truck up to the vet’s office and I followed in his car. Once the dogs were at the vet’s, Fred drove his car to work and I drove the truck home. I hate driving big vehicles and I don’t have any desire to ever drive that truck again, for the record. We were worried that the dogs would be scared, but when we got them into the vet’s office, they were completely curious. A little nervous, maybe, but mostly curious. George weighed 65 pounds this morning, which means he’s gained 12 pounds in the three weeks since he got his rabies shot. Gracie weighed 49 pounds, which gives her a gain of 6 pounds.

We’ll go this evening to pick them up. If dogs are anything like cats after being spayed and neutered, George will be bouncing around like nothing happened, and Gracie will spend all night conked out in the dog house.

11. We had this very broody hen, I believe I mentioned to y’all, and Fred was all “Weeeee neeed baby chickens!” and finally I was all “What the fuck ever, put eggs under her and shut up about it!” So he did, and she’d sit on her nest and occasionally she’d get up and go get something to eat and while she was gone from her nest one day, another chicken got into that nest to lay an egg, and when Broody Hen came back to get on her nest, there was a chicken there, so Broody Hen got on another nest. And then the hen on the nest of Broody Hen’s eggs went wandering off, and the dogs came wandering in, and ate all of Broody Hen’s eggs.

Fred has since made it impossible for the dogs to get their heads in the nest boxes. Also, he filled some eggs with a combination of Bitter Apple and cayenne, put the eggs back in the nest boxes (before he made it so they couldn’t get their heads in the nest boxes), and they ate two of the three eggs. I think they may have been broken from the eating-eggs behavior. Fred put Broody Hen in a cage for a few days to break her from the broodiness, and now she’s released and acting fairly unbroody. Hopefully she’ll go broody again in a few months, and we can let her have some babies.

12. About the phone: I mostly only really want the G1 because it’s new and shiny and the spud keeps adding cool applications to her phone which only makes me want it more. Given that I am rarely more than half an hour from home, I really don’t need a phone with internet on it and all kinds of cool applications. Want? Yes. Need? Not really. Maybe in a few years when the monthly cost goes down, I’ll reconsider. As it is now, my contract with T-Mobile expires next month, and I will likely go with Virgin Mobile and see how that works for me.

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President-Elect Thomas J. Cullen has a rare moment of relaxation before wading back into the fray.

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: If nothing else describes me, “Morally strong, with waffly ways” does.
2005: Who loves their readers more than me? That’s right, NO ONE.
2004: Let us go forth and speak of this no more.
2003: But one of these days he’s going to wake me up, and I’m going to pull his arm off and beat him about the head with it.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

Okay, I have shit to do – I’m going to the mall today and stopping by Kohl’s, among a million other places – so I’m skipping today’s entry. I’ll be back tomorrow.

Hey, look! Cute cat pictures!

I think it’s safe to say that Tommy is the Crooked Acres snuggle slut.

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Previously
2007: I wonder why I wouldn’t want to take “an active role” in picking the rooster, given that I wanted it SO VERY MUCH.
2006: No entry.
2005: You know what I really fucking hate?
2004: I guess it really does pay to be in the right place at the right time, eh?
2003: No one cries alone when I’m around, I always say.
2002: Next week will be a lovely roller coaster ride of stressed-out PMS hormones gone wild.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: Have I mentioned that I sleep in the nude?