Picture Entries – Page 4

11-27-08

It’s that time of year! If you want a holiday card from Crooked Acres, go here and follow the directions. I will absolutely send cards to other countries. If you’d like to send me a card (definitely not required, but always appreciated), you can send it to PO Box 565, Madison, Alabama, 35758. & & … Continue reading “11-27-08”

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Get yer calendars!!!

2009 Crooked Acres Calendar. ~~~~~ 2009 And3rson Kitties Calendar. ~~~ 2009 And3rson Foster Kitties Calendar.

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Thankful that someone will bring her inside and clean her behind. Also, that she’s not part of Thanksgiving dinner. (THIS year.)

Thankful that the humans found this pumpkin pie had too much nutmeg in it, so the chickens benefited.

Thankful for Reddi-Wip.

(Check out the little dollop of whipped cream on her head.)

Thankful for too-much-nutmeg pumpkin pie.

Happy Thanksgiving, y’all!!!!

(And Happy Thursday to the rest of you!!!)

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Previously
2007: Oprah hates gum-chewing, did you know that?
2006: I’m a bit of a pyromaniac (really, who isn’t?), so my eyes twirled and glittered like Beavis’, and I had to restrain the urge to yell “Fire! Fire! Fire!”
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: You were always what I needed. I thought you always would be.
2002: Then I snorted. “But *I* am not going to do ANYTHING with the turkey, ’cause it’s not MY job!”
2001: Thankyajeezus for hooking me up with a geek.
2000: I’m going crazy with wanting you, and crazier still to know that I can never have you.
1999: spud: Momma let her go into heat!

11-26-08

Get yer calendars!!! 2009 Crooked Acres Calendar. ~~~~~ 2009 And3rson Kitties Calendar. ~~~ 2009 And3rson Foster Kitties Calendar. & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & In my comments, the very suspicious Tyra said: Nobody else is suspicious of that … Continue reading “11-26-08”

Get yer calendars!!!

2009 Crooked Acres Calendar. ~~~~~ 2009 And3rson Kitties Calendar. ~~~ 2009 And3rson Foster Kitties Calendar.

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In my comments, the very suspicious Tyra said:

Nobody else is suspicious of that loaded sentence? “We stood around and Fred talked to the owner for quite a while, and we bought a few things before heading home.”

Whatjall buy? I think it was a potbelly, some ducks and Pyrenees.

We did not buy any potbellied pigs, nor any ducks, NOR any dogs. We bought Taste of the Wild cat food because I’m a lemming who jumps on anything new and shiny that I haven’t seen before. We also bought a “Fresh eggs” sign because Fred thinks his hand-lettered sign is cheesy. That’s about it, I think.

It seems like there might have been something else, though… Oh, right.

We might have bought a black Silkie, though. What? We didn’t want to just have ONE Silkie, and we thought that if we bought a black Silkie, we could name the white one Sookie and the black one Tara. (That’s a True Blood reference, for those not in the know.)

Except the black Silkie isn’t really pure black; she’s more black with some reddish-brown accents. It’s pretty hard to get a good picture of her, because she’s a bit skittish around us. I suspect that when she realizes we’re the source of food, she’ll get over that right quick.

So, yeah. New chicken. Same ol’ same ol’.

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Okay, I need to get cleaning so I can flop down on the couch and watch some TV without feeling guilty or worrying about the cleaning that needs to be done. So here are some pictures from around Crooked Acres to tide you over.

The little chickens are trying to figure out their places in the pecking order. Note here that the speckled chicken is pulling an impressive maneuver we like to call “umbrella neck.”

This rooster likes to follow me around. He lurks and peers at me from behind the corner of the coop and then he acts all super-casual like “Me? Following you? Nope, not me!”

Little rooster, keeping an eye on me.

Lurking and peering. I think he might have a crush on me.

This picture’s from a while ago – I think I took it about six weeks ago.

This picture’s from yesterday. I can’t believe how fast the pigs grew between the two pictures. (Note please that my stalker rooster is RIGHT THERE, as usual.)

Little Pig (only “little” in comparison to Big Pig) checks to see if I might have some food for her.

“HEY! You has food?”

“Food?”

“Food?” (These last three pictures are from about a month ago.)

“FINE, I’ll just eat grass.”

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As we use our eggs, I rinse the egg shells off and keep them in a bowl until the bowl is full. Then I run them through the food processor and give them to the chickens. Eating egg shells ensures that the chickens will lay eggs with nice thick shells instead of the thin-shelled eggs you get from the grocery store.

(Yes, I cleaned the poo off that shell in the left of the food processor.)

I supplement the ground egg shells with oyster shell, because we use a lot of eggs, but we also have a lot of chickens, and the shells we have aren’t enough to keep them in calcium every day. The bag of ground oyster shell is sitting in the wood shed for some reason, and it’s gotten kinda messy in there. The wood doesn’t care, though. It’s not picky.

“IT IS THE LADY AND SHE HAS SOMETHING IN HER HANDS I THINK IT IS FOOD O HAPPY DAY!”

I put the oyster shell/ egg shells in this little feeder, though you can just sprinkle it on the ground.

Charlie (the white chicken to the left, with the twisted-up toes) thought it might be a good idea to try to perch on the side of the feeder. She knocked the feeder over, and the egg shells/ oyster shells went everywhere. Goddamn Charlie. Chickens are not known for their intelligenc. They’re not known for their pickiness either, luckily. They’re just as happy to eat the egg shell off the ground as from a feeder.

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Tommy is so rude. He goes into the kitten room, eats some of their food, digs through their toys, plays with some of their toys if he’s inclined to, and when they come over with the big hopeful eyes, wanting him to play with them, he gives them a dismissive look and ignores them as he ambles out of the room. Brat.

More pics over at L&H.

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Tommy jumped on Joe Bob and bit his neck as soon as I snapped this picture. I don’t know what it is about Joe Bob that brings out Tommy’s aggressive asshole side but I’M NOT LIKING THE BEHAVIOR.

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Previously
2007: Amazing how that works.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Just call me Grinchypoo.
2003: Survivor.
2002: If you think you can have too many smiley-face stickers, you are sadly mistaken.
2001: The phrase “anthrax in my pants” is FUCKING FUNNY when it’s spoken by a sixty-three year old woman.
2000: No entry.

11-5-08

I blame Joe Bob for my current visitors! I had a dream Monday afternoon (my husband works 3rd shift and we have a new baby, so I sleep during the day) that you had posted a blog entry about giving Joe Bob away due to his neurotic behavior. Monday evening we had THREE stray cats come up on our porch. We haven’t had strays around here since we moved in back in 2000. We live a couple hundred feet from a 70mph highway, and there was no way I could leave them out there…especially when I saw that one was declawed! So now we have 23 month old twins, a 3 month old, a (small) dog, 11 resident cats, and 3 temporary fosters while I search for non-kill alternatives. Is it a coincidence that Vistor #1 (I call him Joss) is grey and white? I think not! Anyone in Michigan looking to adopt some adult cats? Photos at my blog!

I blame Joe Bob, too. Everything’s his fault, the little bastard. (Good thing for him that deep down inside he’s really a good boy, I suppose!)

Michiganders? Need a cat or two or three? They’re awfully cute!

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Several weeks ago, I decided that the leaves in the side yard needed to be raked up and carried (via the tractor) to the compost heap. Fred brought the tractor around, and I scooped the leaves up into the tractor… scoop… thingy.

It was a pain in the ass, using my hands and the rake to scoop up those damn leaves.

Not long after, as if a sign directly from the Gods of Gardening, I happened to be leafing through a catalog – Gardener’s Supply Company, to be exact – and I came across an item that would surely make my life easier.

Leaf Scoops!

Big scoops that are made to fit over your hands, with which you can pick up leaves and debris! And they only cost $12.95. I KNEW I had to have them. I ordered them, and they arrived on my front porch lickety-split.

And then I ignored them. Because I’d already taken care of the pile of leaves and I felt no sudden urge to do any more raking. So they sat there on the dining room table. And sat there. And sat there. Then I moved them out to the garage, and they sat there. And sat there.

Then one day, after Fred moved the littlest chickens from the brooder to the small chicken coop, we went out at dusk to herd them into their chicken coop. Little chickens are not born knowing that they’re supposed to go back into the coop when it starts to get dark, so it takes a few weeks of teaching them to go back in. They eventually get the idea and start going in on their own, but the two weeks of teaching them to go in the coop at dark is a killer.

Herding chickens is not so much fun, especially little chickens, because they’re tiny and can slip through the space between your hands before you’ve realized it.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

One evening, after too much time spent chasing the little chickens around and putting them in their coop, a light bulb went on over my head, and I thought “Hey. Those leaf scoops are kind of big. I wonder if they’d be any help?”

Yes INDEED they were helpful. They were VERY helpful. They were, as they say, the best thing since sliced bread. With the help of the leaf scoops (or, as I started calling them, SCOOP HANDS) we got those baby chickens herded and put away in no time flat.

So I present to you, dear readers, a pictorial to answer the burning question:

WHAT CAN YOU DO WITH SCOOP HANDS?!

As mentioned, you can herd the hell out of baby chickens with SCOOP HANDS!

You can ALSO herd ADULT chickens with SCOOP HANDS!

You really CAN scoop up leaves like a motherfucker with SCOOP HANDS!

You can swat at wasps that dive-bomb you with SCOOP HANDS!

You can scratch pigs behind the ears with SCOOP HANDS!

You can deflect Het Rays from stumpy little gray cats with SCOOP HANDS!

The SCOOP HANDS, as you can see, are multi-functional. They are inexpensive, they are light, they are AWESOME. They are not, however, perfect. There are many things you cannot do with SCOOP HANDS!

So with this incomplete list, I answer the burning question:

WHAT CAN YOU NOT DO WITH SCOOP HANDS!?

You cannot pick carrots with SCOOP HANDS!

You cannot pull a wagon with SCOOP HANDS!

You cannot help build a chicken coop with SCOOP HANDS!

You cannot open a gate with SCOOP HANDS!

You cannot stop yourself from getting smutz on the front of your shirt with SCOOP HANDS! SCOOP HANDS are not MAGIC, and if you are a klutz, you’ll be a klutz with or without SCOOP HANDS!

You cannot stop your husband from taking a picture of your ass unexpectedly with SCOOP HANDS! Well, you could if you knew he was going to do it, but SCOOP HANDS are not all-knowing. SCOOP HANDS have no intelligence of their own. If you want to protect your ass from unwanted pictures, you have to direct the SCOOP HANDS to cover your back end!

The list could go on (don’t groan and roll your eyes at me!), but the list of things you both can and cannot do with SCOOP HANDS is infinite. You could probably come up with a new thing to do and not do with SCOOP HANDS every day (Come back! I won’t. I promise!), but I think you should know this, without a doubt:

SCOOP HANDS rock!

(Though if you don’t rake leaves or herd chickens, they might not really be worth your time. They still rock, though!)

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We’ll discuss the Crooked Acres election results (and how one sheriff candidate is under investigation for locking the other in a CLOSET) tomorrow. Maybe Friday, depending.

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Previously
2007: I thought if the remote was lost, you were screwed.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Did you think I was writing this from The Great Beyond?
2003: Wonder if I appear too old and feeble to help with the loading of the groceries.
2002: That’s your trivia fact for the day. You’re welcome!
2001: Amish country.
2000: No entry.
1999: Hey, this is some exciting stuff, isn’t it? What will I talk about next, dryer lint? Woohoo, somebody stop me!

10-22-08

Squeeky the Cattle Herding Pig. Too cool. I can’t imagine our pigs being so light on their feet, and they’re a quarter the size of Squeeky! & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & Zack Scott has got some pretty awesome movies … Continue reading “10-22-08”

Squeeky the Cattle Herding Pig. Too cool. I can’t imagine our pigs being so light on their feet, and they’re a quarter the size of Squeeky!

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Zack Scott has got some pretty awesome movies on his YouTube page. Katherine sent me this one, and I watched it three times, each time laughing harder. You have GOT to watch it to the end. The looks they shoot each other are funny as hell.

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Bella’s got the tortured artist look down:

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Pictures from around Crooked Acres:

Sugarbutt peers around the monster tomato plant in the back yard (STILL producing!) to see what Joe Bob (on the other side) is doing.

Michelle the rooster. Such a pretty rooster.

No-Tail does the move we refer to as “umbrella neck.” I’m not sure what exactly umbrella neck signifies – sometimes it seems to happen when the chicken feels there’s danger, sometimes the roosters do it as part of their mating dance. Yesterday, No-Tail was following me around and throwing me the umbrella neck, so I expected him to either start his mating dance or decide I was some sort of threat and attack me.

I’d expect such a pretty rooster to have a more impressive tail. I mean, I know he can’t help the size of his tail or anything, but still. You’d think McLovin’s sons would have prettier tails.

Her name is Lola. She is a show chick. (Someone mentioned in my comments that they think of “Copacabana” when they see the featherheads. I think of this one as Lola now (because she is SO BEAUTIFUL), and the other two (the black chickens with the spray of white feathers on their heads) as the featherheads.

The featherheads, taking dust baths along with some of their sisters.

Little bitty abandoned web in the fence.

Big Pig. (That’s a ball behind her head, not her cheek sticking out oddly.)

Little Pig, grazing like a cow.

Something’s got her excited. Maybe it’s time to eat?

No-Tail, up close. Pretty, pretty.

Scruffy little Amish chick.

I’m calling the Silkie “Princess” these days. C’mon, look at her. Doesn’t she LOOK like a “Princess”?

Big bowl of pecans. Fred filled up the bowl, and we had to start using an empty 40-pound litter bucket to put them in. I pity the fool who has to crack all those damn things…

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The foster kittens continue to relax. Claudette still isn’t approaching me to be petted or anything (though if I make the effort to reach out and pet the top of her head, she allows it. She’s a benevolent ruler.), but she’ll come down out of the cat tree and hang out on the floor with her siblings and I. That’s progress. Also, Delmar no longer runs for the cat tree when the door to the foster room opens. That’s progress, too! (Of course, the other three hightail it for the tree as soon as they hear the door handle turning.)

Every day, there’s a little more progress. I’m really enjoying watching these kittens come out of their shells and turn into friendly little purrbuckets.

“RUB MAH BELLEH!”

More kitten pictures over at Love & Hisses.

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Oh, speaking of… cats. I have news. About Kara. It seems she’s found a home.

We now have ten cats.

::sigh::

More about that tomorrow.

Clearly she’s thrilled about it.

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Boogie says, “If SHE’s staying, I’m OUTTA HERE!”

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Previously
2007: You snooze, you lose. That’s our motto at Crooked Acres.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: (We fat chicks love the buffet, don’tchaknow.)
2003: The gluttony, the sloth, the avarice!
2002: The kitties did not care for the tune, the unappreciative bastards.
2001: How to change a tire.
2000: No entry.
1999: But as I see it, more than 2 cats makes you a weird cat person. Am I wrong? Is it three, or some incredible number like ten?

10-21-08

I tried adding oil to the water when I made hard-boiled eggs (for egg salad) this past weekend, and it worked like a charm. And look – I put up a step-by-step guide to egg salad! Not that you really need it, but it amused me to do it, so there you go. Another recipe … Continue reading “10-21-08”

Another recipe added – Jean’s Black Beans and Rice, sent to me by local reader Jean (thus the name. I named it myself. I know, I’m so creative!). We tried it last week and it was REALLY good. Like Fred says, you can’t have a recipe that includes black beans, sour cream, and cheese, and have it be BAD. Two thumbs up – it’s an instant favorite!

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Every day, at what seems like some random point during the day, Fred’s computer dings and bellows “VIRUS DATABASE HAS BEEN UPDATED!” at me, and it always scares the shit out of me.

Sometimes it’s in the morning, sometimes the afternoon, I don’t know why it’s so completely random but I AM DEALING WITH PREMENSTRUAL RAGE RIGHT NOW SO IT BETTER KNOCK IT THE FUCK OFF.

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Did I mention I’m premenstrual? I see that I did. I am annoyed and prickly and my eye is goopy and areas of me are sore and tender, so I’m going to offer to you a picture essay and a paragraph about the foster babies, and calling it a day. And tomorrow will probably be an entry filled with pictures of sight around Crooked Acres so CONSIDER YOURSELVES WARNED.

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Let Me Out? No, Wait. Let Me In. IN, I MEANT.
Starring Miss Momma, aka Maxi.
(Special appearance by Newtles.)

“I…. would like out, please.”

“I think I want in.”

“Newtles can sleep his life away. I’ve got places to go, rodents to kill. Out, please.”

“Um, hi. If it wouldn’t be too much TROUBLE…?”

“I know you have SUCH A BUSY LIFE but I’ve been sitting here for a really long time. You want to move it?!”

“I am but a poor sad kitty who wants nothing but to come inside. Please? Oh, please? LET ME IN, WOMAN.”

::seething::

::sigh::

“I don’t think she’s going to let us out, Momma. She said ‘YOU GODDAMN CATS ALL YOU EVER WANT IS TO BE ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE DOOR FROM WHERE YOU ARE YOU’RE DRIVING ME CRAZY!’ and now she’s in the bathroom. I think she has a book in there.”
“Hush up, sonny.”

“If SHE can figure out how to open that door, surely I can, too. It can’t be that complicated. I just need some opposable thumbs…”

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The kittens, oh lord. I don’t know how on earth I am resisting picking them up and squeezing them to death, but so far they are completely alive. I walk into the room, I sit on the floor, and one by one they (and by “they” I mean Delmar, Lem and Marion. Claudette still doesn’t want much to do with me.) approach me, they purr loudly, they sit against me, and sometimes if I’m not quick enough with the petting, they meow sadly up at me. And for at least ten minutes, I pet. And I pet. And I pet. And I rub bellies. And I kiss fuzzy little heads. Eventually their love banks are topped up, and they move away from me to play with toys or each other, or just roll around in the sun.

But they always come back for love.

These kittens = exactly what a cranky woman needs.

More pictures over at Love & Hisses.

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Anita, your wish is my command:

Happiest! Cat! Ever!

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Previously
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: This is the month that makes the hell of summer in Alabama more than worth it.
2004: I need to win the lottery so I can hire someone to come to my house every day and style my hair while I read.
2003: Which is when Stanley thought “Hey! I shouldn’t just skulk back! I should run and leap! Into the air! Like a big mexican jumping Stanley-bean!”
2002: As if he was going to say to himself “By god, she’s RIGHT! I do not, in fact, reside here. What on earth was I thinking?” and run off.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
1999: “Well, she took that well,” I commented.

10-8-08

Okay, I have a new site up and running. It’s devoted exclusively to our foster cats and the pet store kitties. I wanted a place where I could go on and on and ON about our foster kitties and not feel like I was boring the shit out of anyone not interested, and I also … Continue reading “10-8-08”

Okay, I have a new site up and running.

It’s devoted exclusively to our foster cats and the pet store kitties. I wanted a place where I could go on and on and ON about our foster kitties and not feel like I was boring the shit out of anyone not interested, and I also wanted to have all that stuff in one place.

So I present to you:

Love & Hisses.

Oh, I’ll still talk about the fosters here on this page, though not to the extent I will over at Love & Hisses, and there’ll be a lot more pictures over there too. There’s a graphic link to the site over there in the left sidebar under the “misc” heading, and also one in the right sidebar under the “me, elsewhere” heading.

I’ve copied all the entries about Kara and her babies over there (they’re still here, but they’re also over there too) and I’m probably going to go back to the very first batch of fosters (Mia and her babies) and work forward from there. At some point, all the fosters will be represented over there.

If you have questions or issues with the site, let me know!

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And since there’s not a lot going on around here (except that it’s raining for the first time in forever, yay!), here are some pictures from around Crooked Acres.

Apparently it was a good idea to keep the hummingbird feeders up and filled. This little guy made several trips to the feeder yesterday, all day long. I’ll continue to leave the feeders up (and filled with fresh nectar) for the foreseeable future.

Newt lets his country roots show.

Tommy showed that leaf just who the boss is. (Hint: not the leaf!)

If you’ve already been over to Fred’s site, you know that he added on to the cat playground in the back yard by putting in another post, running a catwalk from one post to the other, and putting a perch on the end of the board. The cats LOVE IT.

Tommy got a wee bit klutzy on his descent down the stairs. He’s just like his Momma!

Tommy on the perch.

Joe Bob on the catwalk.

Fred harvested our first teeny-weeny carrot the other day. Not surprisingly, it tasted… just like carrot! They sure do grow slowly.

Cardinal in the side yard (trust me, it looks much better this small. I took it through the window.)

I got this bird bath/ waterer recently because it’s been so dry out, and I wanted to have a bird bath, but I didn’t want to have to clean it out every day. This one works out really well – I clean it and refill it a couple of times a week, and the birds and squirrels appreciate it.

I’m pretty sure this is an assassin bug, a very young one (the pictures don’t really show you their true size, but trust me when I say they are NOT big bugs). I don’t know if this is the time of year for assassin bugs to hatch or what, but I’m finding them everywhere. I rescued one in my bathroom one day last week (scooped it up on a piece of paper and put it outside on the window ledge). A few days ago, the one in the first picture up there was hanging out near the ceiling in the computer room. I couldn’t reach him, so I left him alone, and he eventually showed up on my computer speaker (the second picture). I scooped him up on a piece of paper and took him outside. Rumor has it that assassin bug bites are painful, BUT they eat flies, which means they’re aces with me!

Bee on the Mexican Heather, on the front porch.

Sugarbutt on the platform one day last week, before Fred added the catwalk.

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Previously
2007: Whither Tom-Tom goest, the Stank will follow.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I’m just going to sit here and whine about being cold and thirsty, I suppose. Sounds like a plan!
2003: Just know that it was a little SKEERY.
2002: This is a mighty exciting entry, isn’t it? Could I be any more interesting? Should I do an entry about watching paint dry, or what?
2001: “Farm boy, fetch me some ice! Farm boy, fetch me a diet coke, chop-chop!”
2000: No entry.

9/17/08

The talented Aly, who has created many of my wonderful Bitchypoo banners, has entered a scrapbooking contest. Go check out her layout and click on that “Vote for me” button, would you? It’s simple and just takes a second! + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + … Continue reading “9/17/08”

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We have nine kittens and we desperately need to find homes for them. All nine are white/light tan striped with blue eyes. We live near Athens Ga. If any of your readers are nearby please send me an email. We have loved on these kittens from day one but we can not keep them as we already have five cats and four dogs. Thank you Robyn for passing this along to your readers!

If anyone in the area is interested, email me and I’ll pass your email along to Lisa!

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The ~~Godfather~~ Catmother

“A month ago, he bought the movie rights to this book. A best seller – and the main character, it’s a guy just like me, I, uh, I wouldn’t even have to act, just be myself. Oh, Catmother, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

“You can act like a man! What’s the matter with you? Is this how you turned out? A Hollywood finocchio that cries like a woman. ‘Wahhhhhhh! What can I do! What can I do!'”

“What is that nonsense. Ridiculous. You spend time with your family?”

“Sure I do.”

“Good. ‘Cause a man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man. Come here…You look terrible. I want you to eat. I want you to rest a while. And in a month from now, this Hollywood bigshot’s gonna give you what you want.”

“It’s too late, they start shooting in a week.”

“I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

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Sights from around Crooked Acres.

I know this picture is horribly grainy, but I took it as proof that the hummingbirds are still moving through. I need a pet hummingbird. They kill me with the cute.

Nothin’ happier than a chicken taking a dust bath.

This young rooster is gorgeous. He’s not acting at all like a rooster, though – not trying to crow, not trying to get him some lovin’. We’re not sure what’s going on with him.

Rock star. Have I mentioned I think she’s one of our prettiest chickens?

This baby’s not a baby anymore!

Gathering ’round the water bowl.

We call this rooster “No-tail” for obvious reasons. He was keeping an eye on some of the dust-bathing women when he froze and looked skyward. I expected to see a hawk circling in the sky, but saw nothing at all.

“I has no tail.”

I think No-tail is awfully pretty. I especially like his black “eyebrows.”

Michele would like everyone to know that up in these here parts, he is now the man. You will note just how impressed the wimminfolk are.

YouTube link

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Brudderly love lives on.

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Previously
2007: I don’t know what you do to surprise your husband – lingerie, or a gift from the local “adult” store, perhaps – but I know the direct way to Fred’s heart, and mowing the lawn so he was free to come home and work on his shed instead of having to mow the lawn made him one happy man.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: How’d you like to wake up in the dark and see the Baldwin noggin coming toward you? I bet your life would flash in front of your eyes.
2003: “Freakass freak” is two words.
2002: As I pointed out to Fred this afternoon, it makes me uncomfortable when Dr. Phil is nice.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

9/10/08

Torturing the Toms If we could bottle that level of resigned hatred, we could rule the WORLD. Or blow it up. The best part of this experience was the part I didn’t catch on film. Fred put Tommy down on the table with the purple braids still on his head, and Tommy tossed his head … Continue reading “9/10/08”

Torturing the Toms

If we could bottle that level of resigned hatred, we could rule the WORLD. Or blow it up.

The best part of this experience was the part I didn’t catch on film. Fred put Tommy down on the table with the purple braids still on his head, and Tommy tossed his head back and forth like a headbanger at a concert. I thought I was going to pass out, I was laughing so hard.

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Death of a Watermelon

Watermelon, about to go off to be sacrificed to the chickens.

“WHERE OUR FOOD?!”

“WE CAIN’T EAT NO WALLAMELLA LIKE THAT!”

10:07 AM: Let the nomming begin.

11:07 AM: The nomming continues.

1:07 PM: Not much left to eat, but they’re giving it the ol’ chicken try!

3:30 PM: Nothing left but the rind. They’ll continue to pick at the rind until there’s nothing left but the skin. And then they’ll continue to pick at the skin ’til it’s either eaten or someone (ie, Fred) comes along and picks it up and tosses it on the compost heap.

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Pics from around Crooked Acres

Hummingbird in the mimosa tree.

“Hey! You has food for us?!”

The little bitty newborn chickens are cute, but it’s when they get a little bigger that I have a hard time not picking them up and squeezing them with the fangers. (It’s not that hard to resist, since the little bastards run from me.)

Mother and children.

The babies are getting brave, venturing into the back yard.

It makes the Mommas nervous when the babies go through the fence into the back yard. Can’t say as I blame them.

Teeny web in the fence, covered in dew.

Big-ass web, built between the end of the house and the fence. I never did see the spider responsible.

I’m confused – are these crocuses? And do crocuses (crocii?) normally bloom in the late summer/ early fall? I thought they were a spring flower!

Fred put the baby chickens out in a “playpen”, because they like being outside. Maxi was watching them. She watches the chickens all the time and we’ve never had a problem. Five minutes later, Fred found her with a dead baby Rhode Island Red chick. Grrr.

Can’t really blame her, since she was just doing what cats do, but I’m not really thrilled with her right now. (We’ll be keeping a closer eye on her from here on out, and probably putting the “playpen” in the chicken yard from here on out.)

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“I would never kill and eat a baby chicken. I am a good girl.”

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Previously
2007: Google is THE SHIT.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: “Fuck it!” I said.
2002: “Stinky?” I said.
2001: I stole this survey from Noreen, but I’ve seen it all over the place recently, and god knows how much I love to be one of the cool kids!
2000: Look! It’s nay-chuh!

9-3-08

Quick entry, mostly pictures. I’m on a cleaning spree this week, for some reason, and I want to go with it. When the cleaning bug strikes, you don’t ask questions! Maxi hangs out under Fred’s truck and keeps an eye on the chickens. The back part of the chicken yard (the chicken yard is shaped … Continue reading “9-3-08”

Quick entry, mostly pictures. I’m on a cleaning spree this week, for some reason, and I want to go with it. When the cleaning bug strikes, you don’t ask questions!

Maxi hangs out under Fred’s truck and keeps an eye on the chickens.

The back part of the chicken yard (the chicken yard is shaped like an L and wraps around two sides of our back yard). The mother chickens like to hang out in this part of the yard in the afternoon. This is where the pond used to be, the one we had filled in last year.

That mass of greenery is the Sungold tomato plant that popped up (in what used to be the chicken yard area of the yard). I’ve never seen a happier tomato plant, but we did nothing to keep it contained or pruned back, and it’s kind of taking over. Tommy and Sugarbutt like to hang out under there.

One of our compost piles. A green bean plant popped up, along with a couple of tomato plants. Instead of turning over the pile we left the plants as they are, to see what happens. Have you ever seen a happier bean plant?

Charlie (or George, I can’t tell which is which without seeing their feet) takes a dust bath.

Fred cut down a small tree not long after we bought the house, and this greenery started growing. We never cut it back, and the chickens have taken to hang out under there (and roosting on the lower branches), so I suppose it’ll stay that way.

The back of the chicken yard (where the pond was), from the other side. Lots of Mommas and babies.

Buff Momma and her three babies. I love the color selection, here.

This spider was weaving her web outside Fred’s workshop. Is she not the biggest, scariest spider EVER? The way the flash glinted off her EYES gives me the willies.

Fred cut a tree down (a couple of trees, actually) in the back yard and this stuff started growing. I was going to cut it back, but the cats adore hanging out there (Tommy and Joe, especially), so I’m going to leave it ’til later this Fall. Or forever. Whichever.

In this trash can, I had my no-waste bird seed mix. The pantry moths invaded and made a big nasty mess of it (my own fault for not being more diligent about keeping the can tightly covered, I’m sure). When the last four inches of bird seed was nothing but a solid mess of NASTY, I finally dumped it out in the chicken yard (the chickens were very appreciative!) and cleaned the trash can out. I left it in the back yard to dry, and of course Miz Poo claimed it as her own. (Unlike the greenery, the trash can won’t be staying!)

Do you see what those monsters have done to the cat tree in the foster room? I’ve ordered some Brazilian sisal rope off eBay, and I’ll be rewinding the rope around that one leg, and replacing what they’ve torn off. Hopefully I can salvage another year or so out of this tree!

Praying Mantis, next to the side door. I wanted to get closer, to get a really good picture, but I was afraid that it would fly at my head and pop my eyes out and eat them like grapes, so I kept my distance and used the zoom. Praying Mantii scare me more than a little.

Kitteh aerobics!

The quintessential Zoe look.

“‘Sup?”

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Previously
2007: Bob Goodlatte fights the good fight against his opponent Joan Badespresso.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: “She looks… she looks.. she looks like a PIRATE!” he gasped. I started giggling.
2003: I guess Spike TV really IS television for men.
2002: When married characters are that cruel to each other, all you can think is, “Why the hell are they married if they hate each other so much?”
2001: Gatlinburg pictures!
2000: No entry.

8/28/08

We’re still posting about the words that annoy us over in the comments to Monday’s entry, if you’re interested. Who knew we’re such cranky motherfuckers? (I kind of suspected.) I had forgotten how crazy “come with” drives me – but I’ve also never heard it in person, only read it in books and online. The … Continue reading “8/28/08”

We’re still posting about the words that annoy us over in the comments to Monday’s entry, if you’re interested. Who knew we’re such cranky motherfuckers?

(I kind of suspected.)

I had forgotten how crazy “come with” drives me – but I’ve also never heard it in person, only read it in books and online. The first time I ever read it was in a book, and I marked it up to a typo the first time, but after that I realized it was probably a regional thing.

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(Please note that that black head you see? That’s Maxi, and she’s RIGHT THERE on the stoop. Outside. Mere feet away from the bravest (or stupidest?) squirrel in the neighborhood.)

“Is this such a good idea, hanging out here under the bird feeders, with that cat RIGHT THERE?” he wonders.

::Pondering::

::Scampering::

::Considering:: (In the end, he ran up the tree and chattered angrily at Maxi.)

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Previously
2007: I can see you, and you can stop searching, Randy. They’re gone. Thanks for that.
2006: And I thought Fucker, at least they don’t leave me to cool my heels for over an hour without bothering to let me know they’re running late.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: These kids need someone to come organize their lives is what they need.
2002: “What the hell?” I said, amazed. How far could the fucking thing have gone?
2001: Gah. I’ve got that unsettling panic-causing “waiting for the other shoe to drop” feeling, and I don’t know why.
2000: “An E-scort. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of those. I wonder if they’re new.”