Picture Entries – Page 6

5/15/07

I bought this t-shirt when I was in Hawaii a few years ago. I got it home to find that it wouldn’t fit, so I put it away. I rediscovered it last month, and have been wearing it a lot. When I first bought it, it smelled like chocolate (it was dyed with chocolate), but it no longer does. It’s actually about two sizes too big for me now, but that doesn’t stop me from wearing it! I think the shirt is broken, though. No one ever offers me chocolate!

* * *

Bad picture, but I think you can tell it’s a mother Robin on her nest, and there are a couple of hungry baby Robin beaks sticking up out of the nest. I don’t know how long this nest has been there, but Fred just noticed it yesterday – it’s in the magnolia tree, and we must have walked beneath it approximately ten thousand times without noticing it. * * *

The mantel in the front room. That’s a picture of the Sacre Coeur my mother bought in Paris and gave us as a Christmas present. On the mantel: egg cats (I’d link to where you can buy them, but Google isn’t giving me anything), and Willow Tree figurines. * * *

The spud got a laptop for graduation from us (a little early), so decided she didn’t really need her desk anymore. Since storage space in our bathroom is close to nonexistent, I took the opportunity to claim her desk to use as a vanity. It sits in a corner of my bedroom. I intended to get a mirror to hang on the wall, but forgot that the chair rail would make that difficult. It works out well for me. (By the way, I had no idea when I purchased that lamp shade that it was so shiny. I’ll be replacing that pretty quickly.) * * *

This is the first thing I hung up, a housewarming present from Nance and Rick soon after we bought this house. I LOVE it. That table Sugarbutt’s sitting on is now sitting next to the side door – we use the side door more often than the front door, now that we’ve moved the recliner so it’s no longer in the way. * * *

I didn’t actually intend to hang three pictures over the mantel in the dining room, but there were three nails there already, and I wanted to hang up the spud’s senior picture, so I dug through the pictures I had and found two others to go there as well. I’m thinking that the spud’s baby picture would go well where that picture of Miz Poo is, and maybe one of her other school pictures where the Tubby picture is. Or maybe I’ll just leave it like it is! * * *

I have no idea what this bird is. He reminds me of a finch, but I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a blue finch before. Whatever he is, he’s purty. (Edited to add: pretty sure that’s an Indigo Bunting.) * * *

Honeysuckle’s in bloom, and it smells DIVINE. * * *

* * *

::grumble::grumble:: “Come ON, Newt, time to follow the freaks around the back forty!” * * *

“Hellew.” * * *

Newt amongst the clover. * * *

We have a lot of cupboard space in the kitchen, but none of it is particularly conducive to being used as a pantry. We bought this pie safe from JC Penney to use as a pantry, and it works perfectly. At least until Fred decides he’s interested in woodworking and can build me something bigger! * * *

What the front porch looks like now. * * *

Newt admires the Gerbera daisies. * * *

Verbena. Maybe next year I’ll go wild and plant more than one kind of flower in each pot! * * *

Side steps. Those are impatients, which prefer shade, according to their little card. I obviously haven’t planted anything in the ground yet – maybe in the next month or so. I have to procrastinate for a while first, y’know. * * *

“Let. Me. OUT!” * * *

Note the new high score. I’m edging Fred off my high score board, slowly but surely! * * * All of the above pictures were uploaded here over at Flickr, in case you wanted to see them in a larger size. * * * Previously 2006: Mystery solved, I guess. 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: So far, I believe she’s ahead in the fart wars. 2002: That damn PTA. I will NOT be suckered in again by them, damnit! 2001: Realtors. 2000: New eyes, new hair – I’ll practically be a whole new woman!]]>

10/2/06

logo, this one created by the wonderful Carol! Thanks, Carol! And speaking of logos, I could use a Thanksgiving/ Turkey themed logo for next month, if anyone’s feeling creative.

* * * What I love the most about living in the country (though we’re not living there yet, and it’s not like middle-of-nowhere country) is the complete and utter randomness. I walked through the back yard yesterday, and I’d be walking along and then it would be like “Oh, look. A brick. Right there in the middle of nowhere, for no apparent reason. A brick.” Or a chunk of cement, or a golf ball – apparently the owner’s kids liked to hit golf balls into the back forty (why is it, I ask you, that it’s spelled “forty” and not “fourty”? That just doesn’t seem right, and every time I need to type it, I have to debate with myself the correct spelling) and they’re all over the place. Here are some pictures of randomness for you.

Random pile of bricks in the yard. What were they going to use them for? I don’t know. Maybe to finish off the driveway? Maybe to edge a flower garden? Make a walking path? It’s a mystery!

Frying pan in the front flower bed.

“Maaaa! What should I do with the roll of rusty wire fence and the cinder block?” “Put it by the magnolia tree of course!”

“I put a random brick by the wood pile, Ma.” “Perfect, son!”

Set of wheels by the wood pile. Maybe they were on the wood pile wagon and just fell off?

Not so random – they put these bricks here to step on when it rained very hard and the yard got a little swampy. We’re going to replace them with stepping stones at some point. * * * So, Friday afternoon Fred got home from work ready to head for the new house, only to find that I wasn’t up for a trip to the new house. Apparently something I’d eaten had disagreed with me, and I was laying on the couch, sleepy and nauseous and gassy (oh my!). Since the tractor was being delivered at 5 and the roof guy was supposed to meet him at the house at 4:30, he headed out there, and I said I’d come out if I started feeling better, knowing that probably wasn’t going to happen. Surprisingly enough when he called to check on me a few minutes before 5, I was feeling a great deal better, so I jumped into my brand-spanking-new car and headed out to the house. I arrived just as the tractor guy and his wife were getting there, so I went into the house to drop off a few things (a cooler of ice and some bottled water), looked around a little, did a “Ours! All ours!” dance, and went back out to watch the tractor guy instruct Fred in the finer points of tractoring. I made awkward small talk with the tractor guy’s wife (she said she’s more of a town girl than a country girl; I pointed out that we’re only about five minutes from one city large enough to support a Wal-Mart, Lowe’s and a thousand other stores, and about ten minutes from another, larger, city so we weren’t missing out on too many conveniences), and then the tractor guy and his wife headed out. It was really too dark for Fred to do anything with the tractor, so he spent about 45 minutes putting the various tractor implements away, put the tractor away, and we headed out for dinner. There’s a small restaurant not more than half a mile from the new house that we decided to try out. It ended up being REALLY good food and very inexpensive, so we’ll definitely be going back there. Saturday morning we were up and out of the house a little after 9 (with Maddy in a carrier at my feet – we were planning to be at the house all day, and I didn’t want to have to drive back to Madison to feed her and check on her. Luckily she’s portable, so I loaded her and her toys and litter box and food up and took her with us.). We’d intended to be at the house as soon as possible, but we needed to find a certain gas station that has diesel fuel, and GoogleMaps showed us the general direction of where it was located, but we couldn’t seem to find it and Fred’s car was running low on gas, so we turned around and went to the gas station by our house. Fred gassed up, got something to eat and a few sodas, and asked for directions to the place that sells diesel. Apparently if we’d kept going for another few hundred yards, we would have found the place. So Fred filled up the gas cans and we headed to the house. We unloaded everything into the house, and Fred went out to hook up the mower to the tractor, and I put Maddy in what will be Fred’s bedroom, shut the door, and started cleaning the upstairs bathroom. Seriously, I thought it might take me an hour, hour and a half, tops, to clean the bathroom. It took me three hours. THREE HOURS. Three hours and a ton of cleaning rags and half a bottle of Pine-Sol and toilet bowl cleaner and shower cleaner. I scrubbed every inch of that bathroom, and by the time I was done you could have eaten off any surface in that bathroom. When Fred came in to tell me something or see what I was doing, I said “I would really, really, REALLY like to pull down that plastic stuff around the bathtub and put up tile.” He looked at me as though I were brain damaged. “Well, yeah,” he said. “I thought we’d decided we were going to do that.” “Before we move in, though,” I said. “Yeah, of course.” Whew! The plastic stuff around the bathtub is just to protect the wall, and it’s pretty ugly. Not only ugly, but there was soap scum an inch thick on it. So basically I spent a lot of time scrubbing down a plastic wall that we’re going to be ripping down before we’ll have a chance to use the shower, anyway. Urgh. Also, the mildew was so bad that it’s gotten under the grout around the tub and as much scrubbing and digging as I did, I couldn’t get the damn stuff out. DAMNIT. The upstairs bathroom, after:

This cubbyhole, I think, would be perfect for a linen closet. I’d love to put a wall up here and build a linen closet from the hallway (on the other side of that right-side wall), but I’m sure I’m the only one who feels that way, and also it’s probably beyond our beginner’s skillz at this point. Once I was done with the bathroom (which will be the spud’s/ guest bathroom, by the way), Fred and I took a break and had lunch. I went out and admired the back forty, which he’d spent a couple of hours mowing. It had been bushhogged last week, but the idea at this point is to keep it mowed every couple of weeks so we won’t need to have it bushhogged again. When lunch was over, I headed back inside to feed Maddy and once she was done eating and I’d played with her for a little while, I put her back in the guest bedroom and went downstairs to start on the downstairs bathroom. And there went another two hours of my day. The master bathroom was, if possible, even dirtier than the upstairs bathroom, and I ended up having to scrub the shower down three times (yes, even the plastic walls, which we’ll be replacing with tile), and the outside of the tub was pretty bad, too. But like the upstairs bathroom, you can now eat off any surface in the bathroom without fear.

I took a break for a while when I was done with the master bathroom, went upstairs to see what Fred was doing (puttying holes in the guest bedroom) and told him I was ready to try driving the tractor. I went out toward the back forty so he could disconnect the mower from the tractor, and waited for him to bring the tractor to me.

And then I drove the tractor! It was a little confusing at first, but I got the hang of it pretty quickly, and drove all over the back forty while Fred watched and snapped some pictures.

I turned the tractor back over to Fred – who was visibly itching to get back behind the driver’s seat – and went back inside to clean the last bathroom. The third bathroom – it’s just a half bath – off the computer room took me maybe half an hour to clean, since there’s not much to it. I thought about starting to clean the kitchen, but it was starting to get late, I was running out of cleaning rags (of the two 24-packs of rags I’d bought at Lowe’s last week, I’d used all but three or four on the bathrooms), and I just didn’t wanna clean anymore that day. So I went out and watched Fred clear up some of the brush around one of the trees in the back yard, snapped a few pictures, and went out on the front porch to sit in a rocker and read.

After I got bored with reading and rocking, I went upstairs and hung out with Maddy until Fred was ready to go. I packed her up in her carrier, we grabbed a bunch of stuff we needed to take home with us (trash, dirty cleaning rags that needed to be washed), and loaded up the car and headed for home. We unloaded the car at home, I threw the rags into the washer, put Maddy in her room, and then we headed out to eat dinner. We decided to try a “country cooking” restaurant not far from home, and while the food was very very good, there was only one waitress working, so we had to wait forever for our food. Not the waitress’s fault (we left a good tip; I ALWAYS leave a good tip. The one thing about working as a waitress for my very first job is that I will, for the rest of my life, leave good tips.), but I don’t know that we’re going to go back there real soon. Saturday evening we watched TV and were planning to stay up until 11 so we could make sure the spud got home okay, but I whined and bitched about how tired I was, so we went to bed and talked for a while, then said goodnight, and Fred went to wait for the spud and I went to sleep. I fell asleep pretty quickly, too – apparently the spud rolled in about ten minutes before 11 (which is almost unheard of – she tends to push it up to the last minute) and I didn’t even hear the garage door go up. Sunday morning I’d intended to sleep in a little, but I woke up a little after 7 and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I got up and did all my morning stuff (clean the litter box, do laundry, open the door to Maddy’s room and greet her, encourage her to follow me downstairs), then took a shower and was actually ready to go a little after 8. We left the house at about 9, Maddy in tow, and made a few stops. We stopped at Lowe’s for work gloves for me, Fred’s new favorite store for a couple of bird feeders (me), a hat (Fred), and some bird seed (the birds, obviously. DUH.). We got to the house, unloaded, and Fred went out and worked on getting the post-hole digger attached to the tractor, while I got Maddy settled and started cleaning the kitchen.

!!!!!! May I just say “OY”? That kitchen, I looked at it, and I swear to god, it looked perfectly clean, but once I started cleaning, it became apparent that it was going to be a whole-day thing. And it was. I spent all day cleaning out cupboards (things I found while cleaning out the cupboards: a “Sno-Motion” snow-cone machine, Magic Chef dehydrator, pizza (?) pans, a framed gardenia picture, a corn cutter & creamer, about a thousand straight pins, and a key to a GM vehicle), wiping down the front of the cupboards, crawling around on my hands and knees and cleaning the bottom cupboards (and wiping those down as well), pulling out the stove and cleaning behind it, and the side of the stove (nas-TAY), and at the very end, I Swiffered the floor four times before getting down on my hands and knees with a soapy bucket of hot water, a thousand cleaning rags, and scrubbed the entire floor twice. (Fred helpfully said “You didn’t really need to clean the floor, since we’re having them redone!” HE JUST DOESN’T GET IT. HMPH.) People, if you love me, you will go pull out your stove and clean behind it, and clean the side of the stove. Because that shit apparently gets quite nasty (who knew?!). Just call it your good deed for the day. Also, at one point I had to stop cleaning and go outside to help Fred dig a hole for the mailbox post. It’s a two-person job I guess, at least if you need to dig a hole straight down on a hilly area. Fred actually held the auger while I ran it (don’t ask me how I ran it; I just followed the directions he yelled at me). I noted that Fred likes to stand FAR too close to the tractor while I’m behind the wheel, making me want to yell “The tractor is a wild beast, mate! I canna control it! STAND BACK!” (I imagine yelling that in a Scottish accent, for some reason) When I accidentally (or should I say “accidentally”) run Fred over with the tractor next weekend because he’s standing too close, you can consider that above paragraph foreshadowing.

The second pass with the Swiffer. Just as dirty as the first.

Side of the stove. Ugh. I’m pretty sure it could have been much, much worse, though.

Clean kitchen.

More clean kitchen. When the kitchen was done, I told Fred (who was upstairs painting the guest bedroom with primer) not to walk across the kitchen. He was ready to take a break, so we met on the front porch and rocked for a little while. He said he was going to try to get the guest bedroom walls completely painted with primer before we left, so I told him I was going to get the bird feeders filled and hung up and then read for a little while. (I’m such a slacker compared to him!) I realized, as I wandered around the back yard looking for a place to hang the bird feeders, that I needed (a) a stepladder, because there were no low branches to hang the bird feeders from and (b) chains to hang the bird feeders on, because all the branches were very thick. I ended up hanging one bird feeder from the post that holds the laundry lines and the other on a stump of a branch sticking out of the side of the cedar tree. I sat and watched for a few minutes, but no birds showed any interest, so I went off to the front porch to watch traffic and read.

The back forty, after Fred cut it.

The black Momma cat we first saw about a month ago was back Friday night. I gave her food and water and she ate some, but didn’t appear to be starving. I’m afraid she might be pregnant again, because she’s not nearly as skinny as she was. Then again, maybe her kittens are weaned, and she’s just gained back some of the weight she’s lost. Anyway – does she look like a bat in this picture, or what?

The mailbox (the previous owners didn’t have a mailbox; they used a PO Box instead).

Magnolia tree.

Daddy longlegs on the door Saturday.

Daddy longlegs on the back of the house Sunday (probably not the same one, unless he got into a fight at some point between the two pictures and lost a few legs).

I didn’t know what this was, so asked Fred. He thinks it’s a Katydid. It’s kind of scary looking, if you ask me.

Home sweet home.

Front yard.

Probably wishes he had a less slackery wife.

I don’t know if I like these curtains or not. I just can’t decide!

Does leaving out cat food and water for the neighborhood cats (and possums, most likely) make me a crazy cat lady?

The cement slab where the dog run was. We were talking about putting a gazebo on it, and then we were talking about putting a hot tub on it, but I don’t know that we’d use a hot tub all that much, so we’re talking about putting a deck over it. We haven’t decided, though.

Cedar tree avec bird feeder. Too bad this tree’s coming down; I’m starting to like it more and more.

Yes, the laundry lines are going to need to be restrung.

Dirt Dauber? Wasp? I don’t know. Alls I know is that they SCARE me with their buzzing and their flying around.

Side doors leading to the computer room. I think we’re just going to put some simple steps there, unless I can talk Fred into a small deck. Today, muscles all over my body are hurting. My quads and hamstrings from balancing on one foot on the ladder in the kitchen for so long (I needed the ladder to get to the top shelves), my back from crawling around on the floor scrubbing, but what hurts most of all is my right forearm. My right arm is my scrubbin’ arm, and god knows I did a LOT of scrubbin’ this weekend! We’re not going out to the house tonight, because Fred needs to mow the lawn here, and then we’re going to Lowe’s to buy a refrigerator for the new house. The one we have here is too big and won’t fit in the space (we’re going to keep it and put it in the laundry room when we move, though), and we really need to have someplace to put our food while we’re working on the house for the next several months, so it’s off to Lowe’s we go. * * * First of all, I made a movie of Maddy. This movie illustrates why Fred calls Maddy “Miss Squeaks.” YouTube link. Secondly, Maddy is pretty much off the formula at this point and eating nothin’ but soft cat food. I’m such an enabler, though – ever since she started eating the soft cat food, she’d eat a little and then squeak at me, and I’d push the pile of cat food up into a little mountain so she could eat it more easily, and I’d say “Look, Maddy! Meat mountain! Meat mountain!” and tap on the plate, and she’d go over and eat some more. She was hungry this morning, though, and I was distracted, so when she squeaked at me I didn’t respond quickly enough, and know what she did? Did she sit there and starve? Why, no. She went over and ate the cat food that was NOT in a meat mountain shape. Apparently she’s able to eat non-mountainous cat food, she just wanted to put me through my paces. In a few more days I’ll start introducing her to dry cat food and water and see how that goes.

“What’s brown and sticky? Give up? A STICK! Bahahahahaha! Heeheehee! Hahahaha! Oh, boy, that joke ALWAYS gets me! Hee! Hee! Heh. Hmm.”

She’s gotten very talkative lately.

Princess Maddy. More pictures hither. * * * Reader yawny pet pics!

This is Gus, who belongs to Fran. Fran says, This is Gus, a Maine Coon Cat who is exiled in California. Sometimes he is too tired to yawn and meow separately so he combines it in a “meow-yawn” He has a very exhausting life. A me-yawn! Heh. Miz Poo does that, too, and it never fails to crack us up.

Sarabeth says, I’ve tried to catch my cat yawning. I’ve followed her around, watched her closely, camera nearby for a few days now and I’ve come to one conclusion. Cordie doesn’t yawn. She doesn’t yawn because SHE NEVER SLEEPS. She may close her eyes from time to time, but she’s really just plotting on how to shred and destroy something a little later on. These pictures should give you an idea. She may look innocent in the first one, but I had just caught her sinking her claws into that roll of paper towels that she had STOLEN FROM THE KITCHEN. The second picture shows her true nature. Why do cats love destroying paper towels? WHY? Probably because it makes such a mess, the little brats.

Jennifer says, Chloe is the yawning kitty, Izzy is the one staring at her like she’s sprouted two heads. Chloe’s 4 years old, and Izzy’s just a little over a year now. They get along, when Izzy isn’t trying to copy everything Chloe does. I love how Chloe’s white patch looks almost like it’s heart-shaped.

Alicia says, Here’s a couple pictures of Max! He doesn’t have quite the same piercing stare as Mister Boogers, but I think they share the same sassy attitude. Heh – I think you mean Max doesn’t look as EVIL as Mister Boogers! In that second picture, the look Max is giving you as he lays in the sink? I’ve seen that exact same expression on Tommy’s face a million times. I can’t decide whether it means “I love you” or “Come over here and let me rip your throat out while I purr madly.” I keep my distance, just in case.

Megan says, Here is my cat Jimmy, yawning and showing us his broken fang. We took Jimmy in a year ago on September 22nd. He was a stray that we became fond of and thought we’d give a home. I don’t believe I’ve mentioned how much I adore orange kitties, have I? I think the broken fang gives him a rakish air! Thank you to Fran, Sarabeth, Jennifer, Alicia, and Megan for sharing your pictures! * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: She seems a little wishy-washy about it. I think she might secretly like the book. 2002: (He always calls when I’m in the shower or eating. I think he has a hidden camera somewhere in hopes of catching me with my non-existent luvah-on-the-side Juan.) 2001: No entry. 2000: No entry.]]>

9/27/06

very annoying self-important neighbor)”,” I suggested. Fred laughed appreciatively. “That would be the ultimate in passive aggressive,” he said. Hey, we’ll only be living here for another six months or so. Let’s BURN THOSE BRIDGES!

* * * Several of you have asked whether the weight loss surgery could have caused the Primary Sclerosing Cholangitis. I’m pretty sure Fred asked Dr. GI that very same question, and Dr. GI danced around the question a little, but in the end said he didn’t think so. They don’t know what causes PSC, but it’s widely believed that it’s an autoimmune thing. In fact, it’s possible that a few years ago, when I first saw Dr. GI, when he tentatively diagnosed (is it just me, or is it scary how the older you get, the more you realize just how uncertain doctors can be? I want a FIRM diagnosis, a “I have no doubt that you have this, and this is how we’ll cure you, and you WILL live forever!”, but that doesn’t seem to happen all that often, at least not with ME.) me with a fatty liver and told me to come back in six months so he could monitor my numbers and perhaps get a liver biopsy if things hadn’t improved AND I FORGOT AND NEVER WENT BACK, that could have been the beginning of my PSC symptoms, only the symptoms of the onset of PSC are so subtle that it never occurred to me that there was a problem ’til I turned all Marge Simpson.

So no, we can’t blame weight loss surgery for the PSC. We CAN blame it for the gallbladder, though. Stupid weight loss surgery! (Yeah. At this point, I’d still do it again without even hesitating.) And on a side note, both Fred and reader Cristin sent me the link to this article. It certainly gives me even more hope that I might not be facing a liver transplant one day! * * * Saturday, I dropped off my prescription for Urs0 Forte, the medicine Dr. GI prescribed for me. The pharmacist told me they didn’t have that in stock, but she’d order it and it should be in on Monday. “Do you want me to see how much it’ll cost?” she asked. “Yeah,” I said, then remembered that Fred was waiting for me. “No, never mind. I need it no matter how much it costs, so just go ahead and fill it.” “Okay, see you Monday!” said the pharmacist. Saturday afternoon, as I was sitting in the kitten room feeding Maddy, Fred came to the door. “You need to call Pharmacist Chick,” he said. “She said the Urs0 Forte is very expensive, and with the generic version it could save you about a hundred bucks a month, so I can only imagine what the cost of it is!” I handed Maddy off to him and went to call the pharmacy. “Yeah, your prescription is going to run you about two hundred and thirty dollars a month,” she said. I made some sort of horrified sound that went a lot like “Yeek!” “But there’s a generic version,” she went on. “It only comes in 300 mg pills, though, so you’d have to take it three times a day instead of two, but it’ll save you about a hundred dollars. Would you like me to call your doctor and see if he’ll write a new prescription for the generic?” “Yes, please,” I squeaked, doing the math and figuring out that even the generic was going to cost $130ish a month. Good god. At least our insurance company covers 80% of generic drugs. Yesterday morning the pharmacist called to let me know that Dr. GI had okayed the generic, and I could pick up the prescription anytime after 2. With that $100 a month I’m SAVING by getting the generic (I call that Robynomics – Fredonomics would be where I’d point out that I could just not take the medication, put the money in a savings account every month, and my funeral would be paid for by the time my liver exploded) I think I should be allowed to go on a book-buying spree, don’t you? * * * I went to physical therapy yesterday to report to my physical therapist that I was having no back pain at all, and she – well, she and I together – decided it was time to discharge me. We spent most of the hour filling out the discharge report, and at one point she said “How long can you sit without back pain?”, and I said “I sat at my computer for three hours the other day and had no back pain at all.” Then I couldn’t just leave it at that, noooooooo. I had to open up my big fat mouth. “Well, if I sit in the recliner with the laptop on my lap, my tailbone starts to hurt after about an hour and a half, but that’s just because of all the cushioning I’ve lost back there!” And I laughed gaily. The physical therapist, on the other hand, did not. “Your tailbone shouldn’t ever be hurting,” she said sternly. “But it’s just when I sit in the recliner in the same position for a long time,” I said weakly. “It still shouldn’t hurt, no matter how much cushioning you’ve lost.” I sighed. “If we have time, I’ll take a look at it before you go,” she said. “But… it’s really not normal?” I said sadly. “No, not at all.” I immediately remembered something she’d told me the first time she was working on my back. Apparently a lot of people come in with hip problems that end up being tailbone issues, and if the tailbone is flexed outward (you don’t really think of your tailbone as being a flexible thing, do you?) they have to fix it by coming in from behind it. It involves gloves and lube. I didn’t want to do anything that involved gloves and lube with my physical therapist, thank you. I berated myself for opening my BIG FAT MOUTH, and hoped she’d forget about it. But of COURSE she didn’t, and I had to climb up on the Table of Doom so she could see (feel) what was going on with my tailbone. To my IMMENSE relief, it wasn’t flexed outward, it was just rotated to the left, and she worked on it for a while and swore it was back where it was supposed to be. I thought I could feel the difference for a while, but last night it pretty much felt like it always did. As far as I knew, anyway. I got a free t-shirt and a hug from the physical therapist, and I was out of there lickety-split, before she could change her mind about the gloves and the lube. I’m going to miss the hell out of those back massages, though. I might even have to suck it up and start going to a masseuse. Probably not, though. I still don’t much like being touched by strangers. * * * I am way way WAY too pleased to announce that last night a little after 9, while we were watching TV, Maddy (who had been alternately sleeping and playing all evening) started howling like she was starving to death. Never mind that I’d shoved three syringes of cat food down her throat not two hours earlier, AND about a tablespoon of formula to top it off, she was starving. STARVING. PEOPLE I AM STARVING, HOW CAN YOU STARVE SOMEONE THIS CUTE? HOW? So I got all determined that if she was hungry, by god, she was going to eat some soft food on her own, and I was NOT going to give her formula TOO. I went and put some cat food on a plate and warmed it up, then went into the living room and sat on the floor and called to her. And she climbed up on me, all whining and sad about how hungry she was – STARVING, I SAY! – and I pushed some food in her mouth, and she got even sadder like, “Why you hate me, lady? Why you not just give me food in my mouth that I only have to swallow? A LOT OF FOOD.” And Fred said “You’re not going to give her some through the syringe?”, like I was a BAD MOTHER, and I said “All right, go get me a syringe!” He did, and I filled it with food and put it in her mouth and squirted food into her mouth, and then she swallowed it, and I squirted more, and she swallowed it, and I was once again resolute. “If you’re hungry, Maddy, EAT!” I commanded. I held a finger with cat food on it up to her mouth, and she wailed and squirmed away. And so I grabbed a syringe and dabbed the end of it in the cat food and held it up to her mouth, and she licked the food off. “WHY won’t she eat off my finger, or off the plate if she’s so hungry?” I appealed to Fred. “I don’t know,” he said helpfully. Maddy squirmed and wailed some more, and so I held her in her favorite feeding position, where she stands with her back feet on the floor and her front paws wrapped around my hand, and put some cat food on the end of my fingers and held it up to her. She started eating it off my fingers, so I got more for her, and more, then showed her where the plate of food was. But she wailed and squirmed. “Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?” I wailed along with her. “Whyyyyyyyyy, Maddy?” “Wait,” Fred said. “Stand her back up and feed her like you were doing before.” I did, and Fred came over to us and crouched down. He grabbed the dish of cat food and held it up right under my fingers. “Now put your fingers on the dish,” he instructed. I did, and I’ll be darned if that cat didn’t start eating off the plate. Slowly, as she ate, we moved the plate to the floor, and I took my hands away from her, and she kept eating. She ate all the cat food on the plate, and then Fred went and got some more, and with a little help from me (I had to push the cat food up in little piles so it was easier for her to eat), she ate almost all the food he’d gotten for her. So Fred, he’s not only a handyman, he’s also a cat-feeding genius, that’s right. Now my next question, those of you who’ve dealt with kittens this small – when will she start drinking water? I keep a small bowl of water near her cage, but she shows no interest at all in it. Is there something I should be doing? I wouldn’t want her to get dehydrated.

I adore this picture. She looks like a little cartoon! More pictures hither. * * * Reader yawny pet pics!

Mary says, I know you love cats, but here is a picture of Nieko and Gracie. They have the same parents but were born a few years apart. Nieko really preferred being an only child! Gracie worships the ground he walks on, follows him everywhere and basically annoys him to no end! I LOVE this picture. It’s like, “I’m bad! I’m bad! I’m the baddest badass ever!” “Yeah, darlin’, sure you are. Whatever.”

Stephanie says Okay, so Ace isn’t yawning in these pics, but he would be if he didn’t have his face stuck in a glass and a canteloupe! I’m only amazed that I don’t have pictures of Sugarbutt with HIS face stuck in a glass. I better be careful – if he sees that picture of Ace, he might get ideas…

This sweet little fluffy cat is Kizmet, and she belongs to Shelly. She’s got some attitude going on, doesn’t she?

And Shelly says, here is Baxter, our dog. In one of the pics, he is actually singing (he howls along when you blow a harmonica). That reminds me of when I was a kid and my brother Randy would get our dog Taffy to “sing” with him. I love cats, but they’ll rarely sing with you. Well, Miz Poo will try, but she just ends up whining annoyingly instead.

This is my sister’s feisty little monkey, Punki. I LOVE pictures of cats with their tongues sticking out. They crack me up. Thanks for sharing your pictures, Mary, Stephanie, Shelly, and Debbie (though Debbie didn’t probably intend to share that picture of Punki with y’all – but I’m sure she doesn’t mind!)! * * *

“That screamy little kitten scares me.” * * * Previously 2005: Did I bring “a book” with me? HELL NO I didn’t bring “a book” with me – I brought FIVE books with me. 2004: No offense to you stoners out there, but the Warrens totally look stereotypical stoners. 2003: No entry. 2002: I think I’m going to start calling him The Todd. 2001: Does that kid’s face just scream “dilemmanated”, or what? 2000: No entry. ]]>

9/22/06

* * * Fred sent me this link earlier this week and it made me laugh like a goon.

* * * If I were manic-depressive (wait. Do they call it bipolar now? I haven’t kept up on my psychiatrically politically correct terms lately), I think I would have been considered to be in a manic state yesterday. I woke up a little after 5, got up to pee, and went back to bed. And I laid there, my mind racing, until I accepted that I wasn’t going to go back to sleep. So I got up, went into the bathroom, and started cleaning out drawers. We have three drawers in our bathroom, and they were crammed full of all kinds of shit, making it almost impossible to find anything in any of the drawers. Last week I went to Wal-Mart and bought a plastic single-drawer storage thingy (kind of like this, only blue; and it wasn’t a set of four, it was just the one) with the intention of putting it in the closet, putting the extra stuff in the drawer, and just keeping the stuff we use on a daily basis in the drawers by the sink. Only problem is that once I emptied out the bottom drawer (by the sink), the single-drawer storage thingy was packed with shampoo and hair stuff, and there was nowhere to put all the crap in the OTHER two drawers by the sink. So yesterday I went to Wal-Mart with the intention of buying another couple of drawers (they’re stackable), only when I got there, I found that there was a single piece with three drawers about the size of the one drawer I had at home (similar to this, only bigger), so I bought that and decided to use the single drawer I had at home to put in the kitten room because I had blankets and towels and shit strewn all over the kitten room floor and it was making me cranky to see how messy it was in there. Then I came home and manically wrote an entry, went through the house putting stuff away and thinking about how desperately I needed to vacuum (but not actually vacuuming), answered email, straightened up my desk, and then spent the afternoon running around unorganizedly in circles, trying to do a ton of stuff, but not really getting anything accomplished. I have a hard time focusing lately. Maybe I have ADD! This morning I got up right after Fred left for work, finished organizing the bathroom (the three-drawer unit works out quite nicely), did laundry, cleaned the kitchen, and now I’m sitting here thinking about how much I need to vacuum the house. But I so don’t wanna. * * * Maddy continues to do well. She was screaming to be let out of her cage last night, so I went up and got her around 7 and brought her downstairs to the living room with us while we were watching TV. She crawled around and explored, then I fed her (she continues to be mostly uninterested in the soft food – those of you who have dealt with this, is she going to just suddenly one day be very interested in the soft food and start eating it? Because she couldn’t be less interested right now.) and then handed her off to Fred. She climbed ended up curled up next to his leg, sound asleep. After I finished eating, I took her back upstairs and settled her in for the night – though I did have to give her her nightly dose of Albon, which kind of woke her back up again. This morning I let her wander around the room while I was organizing it (it looks so much better in there now that I have a place to pile the blankets and towels) and Tommy went in to check her out and hang out. She saw him and got ALL excited and ran over to him to sniff him. She’s starting to get a lot more curious, sniffing stuff, and actually starting to play with things. She continues to use the litter box to poop in, but I haven’t seen any pee yet, so I’ve still been stimulating her to pee at feeding time. Will she just start using the litter box to pee in, or what? Any advice those of you who’ve dealt with this have to offer, I’m all ears. She is just the SWEETEST THING ever, and I love how she’ll crawl up me and just lay on my chest with her front paws stretched out. She’s so cute it hurts, she really is.

Okay, how much do I love this kitten? I let her chew on my lower lip (didn’t hurt), even though she had cat food all over her face and mouth (bleh).

Sleepy kitten.

“I could eat you in one bite. Maybe two.”

“I needs me a snuggle.” All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. * * * Reader yawny pet pics!

This is Amy‘s Daisy. I just adore it when cats yawn so wide it looks like their teeth are sticking straight out!

This is Amy’s Chloe. I just love how clear the picture is. Check out all those whiskers!

Yawning Chloe with her sister, Zoe. They crack me up, these two.

Zoe’s turn to yawn! I love how Zoe’s all off yawning, and Chloe’s looking up like “Hey. You got food, lady?”

I’m not sure what cracks me up more, here. The yawn Zoe’s got going on, or the look on Chloe’s face, like she’s thinking “Dude. WHAT are you DOING?”

Maisey is GOING to suck your BLOOD! Amy takes some awesome pictures and occasionally puts them up in her journal (though not often enough!). Also, Amy is like a crack dealer, ’cause she said: I discovered a new blog called Birdchick blog and she doesn’t have cats but has a rabbit. Her photos of her rabbits past and present are hilarious. Often times I see photos of Mister Boogers and think he is disapproving as much as Sharon’s rabbits are. Or maybe Miz Poo is the more disapproving of the two. Anyway, check her out. And then I spent forever on Birdchick blog. This disapproving bunny picture is SUCH a Mister Boogers look I can barely stand it. Thanks for sharing the cat pics (and the links), Amy! * * *

A great big grasshopper got into the house. What else would you expect a bunch of cats to do? * * * Previously 2005: Never-ending. 2004: If you had any idea how much time I spent backspacing and retyping words when I write my entries, you’d burst into tears of sympathy. 2003: Who the fuck are Nikki and Paris Hilton, and why would I give a good goddamn what they’re wearing or doing or driving or fucking? 2002: No entry. 2001: You know you’re getting old when you have to ask a 12 year-old girl who’s on the TV. 2000: No entry.]]>

9/20/06

Say!!!

* * * I got up early this morning to take Fred to work, because I have an appointment this afternoon on the other side of Huntsville that I want him to go to with me, and I would prefer to just drive home together after the appointment rather than have to drop him off at his office to get his car, or drive home alone. So I used his car to drop him off at work then come home, and this afternoon I’ll pick him up at work, we’ll go to the appointment and drive home together. Convoluted enough for ya? Anyway, I got up early to take Fred to work. We left a little earlier than he usually does because he wanted to stop at Lowe’s for steel wool (I swear, he’s gone to Lowe’s every single day this week. He’s turning into such a GUY.) and to stop at his favorite coffee place to (can ya guess?) get coffee. I dropped him off and headed for home. At one of the many red lights I had to stop at on the way home, I looked around me and realized I was surrounded on all four sides by plumbing trucks. Apparently 7 am is when the plumbing trucks head from Huntsville toward Madison, and they were all around me. I suddenly felt like I was in an episode of The Sopranos, and the doors of all the trucks were about to fly open and I’d see a bunch of angry plumbing southern goombahs pointing silencer-laden guns at my head. But the light turned green and I breathed a sigh of relief. You really don’t want to fuck with the Plumbing Mafia. * * * I was in the grocery store the other day, and saw that there are a couple of new – “bold”, according to the packages – flavors of Tic T@cs. Since I’m always concerned about breathing bad breath on other people, I bought a pack of the “bold” fruit flavored Tic T@cs to carry around in my purse. When I got home I put the groceries away, and grabbed up the container of Tic T@cs to give them a try. They were AWFUL. Now, I’ve never actually tasted boiled ass myself, but the “bold” fruit flavored Tic T@cs were pretty much what I’d expect boiled ass to taste like. I spit out the one in my mouth… and immediately tried a second one to be sure it was as assy-tasting as the one I’d previously had in my mouth. It was. “Bold” Fruit Flavored Tic T@cs – two thumbs down. * * * When we were in Mennonite country last weekend, Fred held up a jar of apple butter and asked if I wanted to get it. I’m always willing to try just about any fruit-based thing that they sell up there – I LOVE their strawberry jam; I don’t eat much jam these days, but every now and then I’ll eat some – so I said he should buy it. That evening when we got home, he tried a spoonful of it out of the jar, and gave me a small spoonful of it. It was very, very good, which didn’t surprise me, since the ingredients were apples, apple butter, sugar, and… something else I don’t recall and am too lazy to go look. Monday evening I was hungry and wanted something to tide me over ’til snack time at 7. I looked through the refrigerator and saw the apple butter, and decided I wanted some of that. I didn’t want a spoonful of it, though – I wanted to eat it on something. I looked around for something to eat it on. Toast? No. I didn’t want that much. Half a bagel? No. I definitely didn’t want that much. I opened the pantry and looked around, and then I saw the box. Melba toast. Apple butter on melba toast sounds kinda good, right? I pulled the box out and looked at it, and that’s when I realized it wasn’t just any melba toast – it was onion melba toast. I started to put the box back, then stopped and reconsidered. I’ve been known to eat (light) strawberry cream cheese on onion bagels, and it is DAMN FINE (light cream cheese, low-carb bagels, don’t need any “should you be eating that” comments, thanks). So maybe apple butter on onion melba toast would be equally as DAMN FINE. I’m here to tell you, folks. It’s not damn fine. It’s not fine. It’s on the other side of the room from “fine”, curled up in a corner and sobbing for its Momma. It tastes, in fact, what I imagine boiled ass would taste like. Apple butter on its own? YUMMY. Two thumbs up! Apple butter on onion melba toast? Two thumbs down! * * * I am concerned about Maddy. She’s had several bouts of diarrhea, and she’s not been eating as much as she should. I consulted with the shelter manager, who suggested giving Maddy something called “Reb0und”, which has L-glutamine in it and helps to stop diarrhea. She also recommended starting Maddy on Alb0n, which treats diarrhea and coccidia. So I met up with her and got the Reb0und and the Alb0n. Last night, Maddy just flat-out didn’t want to drink that Reb0und. I tried and tried to get her to eat, but she wasn’t interested, and since she had just eaten a few hours earlier I gave up. Her urine was perfectly fine, and she had a little squirt of diarrhea, but she was bright-eyed and very interested in exploring, so I let her explore for a while, then put her up. I gave her her first dose of Alb0n. This morning I walked into the kitten room to find that she’d had a bout of diarrhea in the middle of the night, with a small amount of blood in it. That didn’t worry me so much, because bloody diarrhea can be a sign of coccidia, which I was already treating with the Alb0n. I pulled her out of the carrier and cleaned her up, then offered her the bottle of Reb0und. She flat-out refused to eat any of it, and after a while I came back downstairs and made her a bottle of formula, which I – after a LOT of coaxing – got her to eat 2/3 of a Tablespoon’s worth. She did a little bit of exploring and remained fairly bright-eyed and perky. My concern is that since Monday she’s lost almost half an ounce. I don’t know if that’s due to the diarrhea and once the Alb0n kicks in she’ll be okay, or what. Half an ounce is a lot for a little kitten to lose, and so I emailed the shelter manager about it and am waiting to hear back. It worries me that she ate less than a Tablespoon of food this morning, since her first morning feeding is when she usually eats the most, around 2 Tablespoons. So I keep peeking in at her (she’s laying in her cage snuggled with the stuffed monkey) and worrying about her, because that’s the way I am. I’m a worrywart. I’m sure she’ll be fine once the Alb0n kicks in, but if y’all want to send “Knock it off, Maddy, and stop worrying your Momma” thoughts in this general direction, maybe they’ll help.

Maddy and Miz Poo come face-to-face over Tigger. And then Miz Poo ran away from the terrifying kitten.

“Are you my mother? You’re not my mother! You’re a Tigger!”

She’s more interested in biting than actually eating.

Maddy smiles. ‘Cause it’s warm under there, and there’s lots of bare skin to dig her claws into! All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Yawny reader pet pics!

This is reader Blair’s 5 month-old kitten, Gwen. Blair says, I DARE ANYONE TO BEAT THIS ONE IN CUTENESS! That’s quite a challenge – she’s awfully cute! She kind of looks like she’s yelling “Mom! I can’t believe you got me The Simpsons! It’s what I always wanted!”

This is Anne’s Mini. Anne says, When she’s not unhinging her jaw or being a pain in the ass, she kind of looks like a girly Sugarbutt. I see the resemblance. And Sugarbutt, too, very much enjoys being a pain in the ass. They’re soulmates!

This is Teresa’s Buddy. Teresa says, My almost 12 yr old cat Buddy yawns all the time, but I have never been able to catch him at it when holding my camera.

And, His almost 1yr old sister Reverb would get jealous if I didn’t show off her as well. Here she is in HUNT mode. Y’all have got some seriously cute cats. I love the pictures you guys share with me! Thanks for sharing, Blair, Anne, and Teresa! The rest of you – keep ’em coming. * * *

Sleepin’ Sugs. * * * Previously 2005: “GodDAMN you, Mister Boogers!” I yelled. 2004: “This book makes me want to have a baby!” I said to Fred when I was about halfway through the book. “Let’s have a baby!” 2003: No entry. 2002: Gag city. 2001: I think you know what I’m thinkin’. 2000: I’d like to return to my regularly scheduled life, please.]]>

9/18/06

reading: A Spot of Bother, by Mark Haddon. So far, I’m liking it quite a bit, though perhaps not as much as I liked The Curious Incident, etc. Recently finished: my bathroom book (took me two months to read it – you’d think I would have finished it in a couple of weeks at the most, given how much time I spend in there!), Now or Never, by Elizabeth Adler. Not a bad book – easy enough to keep up with if you’re only reading it in short spurts (HA!), anyway. I totally guessed the killer wrong, which is always a plus in my book.

* * * Two notable conversations took place while we were watching The Amazing Race last night. Conversation 1 On the TV: Father and daughter. Daughter says something. Father says something, then gets all choked up, tears in his eyes. We watch, baffled. And an instant later – before they say anything on TV – I know what the deal is. Me: Oh, she’s gay. Fred: That’s why he’s all choked up? Me: Yeah. On the TV: daughter says “I’m gay.” Me: (Trading a look of disbelief with Fred) Can you imagine EVER caring that much who your child is sleeping with?* Fred: I really can’t. *Of course I want my daughter to be in a relationship with someone who treats her well, isn’t a criminal, and is carrying no communicable diseases. But I flat-out do not care whether that person has a penis or a vagina. Conversation 2 Fred: Do you suppose Muslims have to ask people which way Mecca is? Robyn: I don’t know. Maybe they carry a little compass with them. Will Allah be mad if they intend to face the right way, but mess up? Fred: Maybe. Robyn: “Sa’eed, that’s ONE LESS VIRGIN for you!” “Aww, Allah! I’m already down to 53! I’m going to OWE you virgins if I don’t die soon!” Fred (a few minutes later): Oh Bessie, we’re so dumb! Robyn: Why’s that? Fred: The sun rises in the East and sets in the West. As long as you know that, you can figure out which way is North, South, whatever. Robyn: What about on cloudy days? Fred: You still can tell where the sun is coming from! Robyn: No you can’t, not if it’s behind the clouds. Besides, they’re visiting countries they’ve never been to, they don’t know which side of the hotel the sun usually comes up on in strange countries. And what about at night? Don’t they have to pray at night? Fred: Five times a day. Robyn: Well, there you go. How do they know the right direction if they’re running through the airport when it’s dark outside and it’s time to pray? Fred: I don’t know, Bessie. It’s a mystery. DO NOT READ THIS NEXT LINE IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED THE AMAZING RACE YET. I guess it’s also a moot point now, eh? * * * Saturday morning we left the house early once again, after I’d fed the kitten, and headed up toward Tennessee. A couple of weeks ago Fred mentioned the idea of attending an auction or two, so I found a few upcoming auctions that looked like they might have things we’d be interested in. Specifically, we’re looking for something to put in the master bathroom downstairs (in the new house, I mean) for storage, and something to put in the kitchen, also for storage. We figured, if nothing else, we’d hang around for a while and watch the people. The auction started at 10, and we got there just a few minutes before it started. We’d intended to get there half an hour or more before it started, but left the house late (story of our lives!) and so all the good spots in the shade had been taken before we got there.

We saw an orb weaver that I thought Fred was going to try to capture and bring home. He estimated it to be about four inches from end to end. It was HUGE. There ended up not being much that we were interested in, though we hung around for about an hour watching the auction and the people. We sat on a towel in the shade of a beat-up old car for a few minutes, then Fred’s back started hurting, so we headed out. We didn’t want to go home – we’ve really liked going out and doing things on Saturdays these past several weekends – so we headed for Mennonite country, aka Lawrenceburg. The thing about the Mennonites is that they scare me a little. They’re very serious-looking, and they have sometimes difficult to understand accents. It’s funny that I’d be scared of them, since they’re known for being so peaceful, and I’m sure they have plenty of laughter and joy in their lives, but they always seem really grim when we’re dealing with them, like they’d just as happily smack us as look at us. Maybe they think we‘re scary. After driving around and making a couple of stops, we ended up finding a family that sold exactly what we were looking for – rocking chairs. Big sturdy rocking chairs to go on the front porch of the new house, and only $60 plus tax. Naturally we hadn’t brought enough cash with us, so we had to drive out of the Mennonite community and find an ATM, then get back to where the chairs were. We didn’t think both chairs would fit in the back of Fred’s car, and discussed coming back next weekend with his stepfathe’s truck, but I suggested we just give it a try, and after some moving stuff around, Fred managed to make them both fit.

The sheaves. Which I didn’t have to bring in.

We made a few more stops so I could buy some baskets and we could pick up some apple pies and a few other things on the way home, and then stopped to have lunch. We stopped at a little Mexican restaurant, stupidly opted for the buffet (they close down the buffet at 2, and we got there right before 2, so everything was kind of old and dried-up. Like me!) and had some bad (tasting, that is) Mexican food. We finally made it home a little after 4:30, and I ran upstairs to feed the baby while Fred brought everything in. We had talked about going to an auction in Madison that started at 5, decided not to, and then decided we DID want to. So we left the house a little before 5 and got to the auction just a few minutes before it started. There was TONS of furniture there, and we eyeballed a dresser for the spud. This auction was WAY better than the one we’d attended in Tennessee. This auctioneer moved a lot faster than the one in Tennessee, and I quickly learned that if you hesitated just an instant too long, you’d lose out. We were sitting there watching a lamp being auctioned, and suddenly Fred raised his hand to bid on it. “What the hell are you doing?” I said to him, bug-eyed. “Bidding on the lamp,” he said. “That’s a good lamp for $7.50!” He wasn’t willing to pay $10, though, so was outbid. All in all, we got some excellent stuff. A gaming table came up for auction and we decided it would fit perfectly in a certain spot in the new house, so Fred bid on it, and we got it for $110. Then, of course, an even more perfect wall table came up, and we ended up getting that one for $100, too. We were willing to spend up to $250 on the dresser for the spud, a lovely old maple dresser. How much did we get it for? $110. We were absolutely floored at how low some of the furniture was going for. Like I said to Fred, “We are NEVER going into an antique store again!” Some of the stuff was going for less than $100, and there was no doubt in my mind it was going to show up in an antique store for $600 or more. On the other hand, we were amazed at how much some of the stuff was going for – there was a fast and furious bidding war on an old anvil, and we just looked at each other like “Why?” and shook our heads. Fred did get a jigsaw and a router for $10 each, though, which was cool. After we’d spent almost $350, Fred said “We’d better get out of here before we spend any more money!”, so we did. We packed the game table, the saw and router, and the wall table into the car, and decided we’d borrow Fred’s stepfather’s truck on Sunday and come back to get the dresser.

Wall table.

Game table, closed…

…halfway open…

… all the way open.

Spud’s new dresser. We got going around 9 Sunday morning to go over to Fred’s mom’s to borrow his stepfather’s truck. We got to the auction house, loaded up the dresser, and were home well before 10. I puttered around the house for the better part of the day, while Fred went out and stained the rocking chairs a nice light pecan color.

Fred’s mom and stepdad have an outside cat. He just showed up outside their back door one day and stayed around, so they make sure he gets fed and stays warm and gets his shots. He stays outside, though, because their house is really too small for another cat.

Bandit, the pampered indoor kitty.

All in all, it was a very, very good weekend. And what’s even better? We close on the new house in less than two weeks! Woohoo! * * * Maddy continues to do well. Last Wednesday (the morning after I brought her home), she weighed in at 10 ounces. This morning, she weighed in at 13 ounces. I worry about her not getting enough to eat – for two feedings yesterday she barely drank half a tablespoon of formula at each – but she’s still gaining weight, so apparently she’s getting enough. I think she’s teething – she’s been chewing on stuff a lot lately, and I see tooth nubs in her mouth, but I don’t think any of them have popped through yet. She’s been doing a lot of “exploring” lately, venturing further and further from me, but then if she gets too far from me she gets nervous and runs back. It’s seriously cute.

What I saw when I went upstairs to feed Maddy yesterday.

“Oh! Yes! RIGHT THERE!” Maddy loves the belly rubs.

You have no idea how very, very, very much these little claws hurt. I finally went out and bought some work gloves to wear while feeding Maddy, because she digs in so hard with them. Good for her she’s so cute! All of today’s uploaded pictures are here. * * * Yawny reader pet pics!

This is Lola, reader Melinda’s Beagle. Melinda says, This is Lola, my 4 yr old beagle. When I snapped this picture last spring I thought of your yawning kitties so it is only appropriate to share. What a cutie! Almost makes me want a dog. 🙂

Look! It’s a Sugarbutt lookalike! (A Sugalike!) This is reader Leanne’s cat Basil (and that looks like a disapproving Boogalike over there on the left!). I don’t think I’ve mentioned that I love orange kitties, have I?

These two are Pita (on the left) and Pepper (the yawner). They belong to Donna, and if you want to see some cute cat pictures, you should check out Donna’s site, ’cause she puts up some really good ones. Thanks, Melinda, Leanne, and Donna, for sharing. The rest of you, keep ’em coming ’til the end of the month! * * *

The price of gas this morning. I wonder if it’s going to get below $2 a gallon before it starts bouncing back up? * * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: Dirk is a happy, happy man. Dirk is very close to orange. 2002: Instead of finding it cute and amusing, I am, instead, bitter that I’ll never get that 94 minutes of my life back. 2001: (he’s a dumbass, she’s a dumbass, they’re dumbasses, wouldn’t you like to BE a dumbass too?!) 2000: No entry.]]>

9/15/06

you still cross stitching? Yes and no – I have a ton of kits to do, and I keep intending to cross-stitch while I watch TV in the evenings, but I haven’t actually done any cross-stitching in a couple of months. I tend to cross-stitch every night for months and months, and then not a single stitch for a few months before picking it up again.

* * * Why 6 months before you sell your house? Will it be that long before you move? Because the spud wants to graduate from her current high school and there’s nothing in place so that we could live in Smallville and she could drive to Madison every morning (Fred has talked to the superintendent – I don’t know if it’s because we’re moving to another county, or what). So we decided to buy the new house, work on it for the next six months, then put this house up for sale. In February we’ll probably do something where we move a bunch of stuff to the new house, then Fred (and the cats) sleep there nights (well, the cats will be there full-time) while the spud and I sleep here. That way the spud can make her five-minute drive to school and work until she graduates, and we can recarpet this house, since the cats won’t be around to barf all over the new carpets the minute my back is turned. * * * Hi Robyn – I have a question for you. I’ve read Bitchypoo a long time and I’ve been searching for something you wrote a while back. Here’s the thing — I started walking for exercise and I get a tense feeling in my shoulder blades and neck and shoulders. And I thought you had mentioned that you had that happen to you as well but I’ve looked back in your archives and can’t find anything about it. Please help me solve this mystery – was it you this happened to? Oh and don’t worry – I’m not looking for any miracle cure by Dr. Robyn – I know to see a doctor if I’m really worried – however I thought I remember you talking about some solutions or causes or something and if so I wanted to go back and read it. I was having some back pain in my thoracic spine region – mostly directly under my left shoulder blade. I switched from a regular bra to an Enell, which basically pulls your boobs back against your chest so there’s no jiggling and wiggling of the boobs, and that helped. I would also stretch while I was walking – stretching my left arm across the front of my body helped – but really, what’s helped the most is that I’ve been seeing physical therapists for about a month, and they gave me exercises, new ways to sit, and stretches, and that along with the time I took off from most all physical activity after I had my gallbladder out seems to have fixed the back pain issues. * * * Didn’t I read that you had plantar fasciitis? How has it been since your weight loss? I did! And I haven’t seen hide nor hair of it in months and months. In fact, I’d completely forgotten all about it. Another happy side effect of the weight loss! * * * I know you’ve looked into (or will) the possible complications of removing skin and various lifts, but have you seen The Shrinking Woman on Discovery Health? The episode about a Tennessee woman aired on Monday night, I think. Granted, she started out much larger than you ever were (over 600 lbs), but the complications and recovery of her multiple surgeries were scary. She also pushed herself, and had surgeries before allowing herself to recover fully, I think. Anyway, just be careful. (I know you will.) I haven’t seen that yet, but every so often I go through the Discovery Health programs and set up to record everything that looks interesting; I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for that! I will, of course, be careful. I think the fact that I’m pretty healthy, overall (don’t tell my liver!) will be a big plus when I’m ready to go for plastic surgery. * * * Re: cats. And now it’s official. I have 6 cats in a 1300 sq. ft. home (and 2 outside cats who are slightly feral, both from an irresponsible neighbor). Have I lost my mind? We took in 3 kittens, found a home for one, and probably scared off any potential adopters of the remaining two. Sorry, I don’t apologize for screening people. Good thing I have a Dyson. So I am crazy cat lady, but not a hoarder (yet). Someone told me that you were a hoarder only if you couldn’t afford them all. Not there yet, I hope. 6 cats in a 1300 square foot home is LESS THAN one cat per 200 square feet. I think, personally, you don’t actually have ENOUGH cats. Wait. I think I don’t have enough cats, either. I think the rule of thumb (which I just completely made up) is that you need one cat per 100 square feet of housing space (you should include closets in this calculation). I think this means you need at least another six cats – and I need another (doing the math…) 19! Seriously, though, I really don’t think you become a hoarder until you can’t move through your house because there are so many cats, you can’t possibly take care of them all (I hate it when the Animal Cops discover a hoarder who has cats who are living in their own filth. Drives me NUTS. If you are unable to care for your cats properly, you need to find a new home for them.), you can’t afford to take care of them all, and you refuse to consider finding homes where people can take proper care of them. And good for you for screening the hell out of potential adopters! * * * I’ve read you journal for years and have watched the spud grow from a kid into a beautiful young adult. She is gorgeous. I love both pictures but the one with her glasses on and that warm bubbly smile really is my favorite. Plus she’s lost some weight hasn’t she?

Yeah, I really love that picture of her. Her best friend went with her when she was having her picture done, and in that picture where she has the great, natural smile, her best friend was making her laugh. I don’t know if she’s so much lost weight as gotten taller, actually. But I agree – she looks good! * * * You should get your results soon since the test was done in a hospital (at least that was my experience). I hope you only get good news. When do you see your GI again? Actually, the GI told me it’d probably take about two weeks, because they send the tests off to California (yeah, probably California, INDIA) to be read. I don’t have another appointment with him, but he’s going to call when he gets the test results and let me know what they found out. * * * Maddy is adorable. So tiny! How hard will it be to let this one go, Robyn? and how in the hell are you going to give that baby up after you have bottle fed her? Yikes! She’s too cute and I’m a sucker. But then again, so are you! I’m absolutely going to have to suck it up and let her go, because if I don’t? There is NO WAY Fred will ever let me foster again. I’m sure it’ll be hard – it was hard as hell with the other fosters – but knowing that she’s going to go to a good home helps a lot. * * * Aww, poor kitty! How did she ever get seperated from her momma and siblings? I don’t know what her story is yet – I need to ask the shelter manager! * * * I’ve been meaning to ask you since you are moving out to the farm, do you guys think you will ever try a dog again? I remember when you guys adopted one, but then it tried to bite Fred or something. Can’t remember exactly. If you do, I would suggest a basset hound. They are the BEST dogs and wouldn’t dream of biting a person. They could even hunt rabbits for you. The dog we adopted several years ago didn’t work out because she was pretty aggressive toward the spud and I and just flat-out wouldn’t listen to anyone but Fred. The final straw came the day Fred and the spud were out in the back yard, and the dog pretty much went out of her way to run over the spud, knocking her back and putting a gash on her forehead. Honestly, we’ve talked about having a dog when we move into the new house – it just seems like a farm needs a dog, y’know? – but when it comes down to it, we really aren’t dog people. Nothing personal to dog people – I like pictures of dogs, I like your dog stories, but as far as wanting one of my own? Not so much. * * * do you knit? I don’t, and I’ve thought about taking it up, but I did knit for a bit when I was a teenager, and it kind of made me twitchy, so just thinking of taking it up makes me twitchy. In fact, thinking of all the damage the fucking cats would do when they discovered my yarn stash (AND YOU KNOW THEY WOULD) makes me twitchy. Besides, I’d take up quilting before I’d take up knitting, because I can always use more quilts! Maybe I’ll take up knitting in my old age when I’ve learned patience. * * * There’s quite a discrepancy in that hospital bill, who paid the rest of it? You: $150, insurance $3K+, leaves a little over $19K left. Factoring in that I’m more than a half a moron when it comes to this insurance business not having had it most of my life. The hospital writes off that $19,000. Basically they say to the insurance company “This is what we’re charging” and the insurance company says “Too bad. We’re only paying this much.” and the hospital says “Um. Okay! We’ll just go harass some uninsured people and make them pay the total amount they owe us. For you, since you’re a big insurance company and we want the business of the people you insure, we’ll just pretend we didn’t need that entire amount anyway. Mmm’kay?” * * * Just in case you don’t know, (and what makes it all the more poignant) is that Tiffanie DeBartolo based Jacob Grace on Jeff Buckley. I did NOT know that (or if I found out about it after I read the book, I’ve since forgotten and it’s all new to me!) and I’m surprised I didn’t. I LOVE Jeff Buckley’s music. * * * I can’t believe it’s Friday, and I haven’t written about what we did last Saturday, yet, and put up the pictures. I guess this has been a kind of busy week for me, what with the hating on the floor guy and sitting around waiting for him to never show up and bringing home a bitty baby kitten. Anyway, we left the house early last Saturday because we wanted to visit some tractor stores and get prices and flyers and maybe sit on a few tractors, so Fred could dither back and forth about which one he wanted to buy and fret about how expensive they are and all that. We ended up visiting three different tractor stores. We visited the Massey-Ferguson tractor store first, and I snapped a few pictures.

Old blue tractor. I think it’s purty.

Whenever Fred sees a big-ass tractor like this, he always says “Now, THAT is what we need!” I ought to rent one and park it in the driveway at the new house and tell him I bought it for him, just to freak him out. There were no animals at the Massey-Ferguson store. I count that as a strike against Massey-Ferguson, personally. Next, we went to the Kubota store.

“Lady, please. Don’t make me rip out your throat. I have a store to protect and a fuzzy blue bed to keep warm.” One cute little (but not terribly friendly) dachsund in the Kubota store – that’s a plus in the Kubota column, as far as I’m concerned. Next, we went to the Agco store. We went out to look at the tractors and I said “Get on the tractor and let me take your picture!” He wouldn’t, so I gave him the camera and told him to take my picture.

He interpreted “Take my picture” to mean “Wait until I look as dorky as humanly possible, then snap my picture, please. Oh, and if I’m in the middle of a blink, so much the better!”

“Lady, please. Don’t make me rip out your throat. I have a store to protect.”

“Shit. Did she believe me? I don’t remember how to rip throats out. Pull, then bite? No, that doesn’t make sense. Bite, then pull, then what? Am I supposed to eat the throat I rip out? Do I spit it out and then pee on it? Crap. If I don’t look at her, she’ll think I’m mysterious and scary. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.”

“Hello. You got food for me?”

A Tommy lookalike greeted us as we left the Agco store. That’s three animals at the Agco store. Three checks in the Agco column, as far as I’m concerned. But I get no say in the purchase of the tractor, so Fred will probably decide on the no-animals-having Massey-Ferguson. Bastard. From the last tractor store, we had to drive back into Madison. The owner had planned to leave us a key to the new house in our Super Sekrit Hiding Spot, but she hadn’t had a chance, so she sent the key to work with her husband, who works in Madison. So we went to his place of business to pick up the key, and I sat in the car and watched Fred chat it up with him. I’d thought to bring a book with me, but naturally it was way in the back of the car, and I kept thinking Fred was going to come out annnnnny minute now, so I didn’t go back and get the book. Fred finally came out, and we headed to the house. There was, honestly, not anything we needed to do at the house. We just wanted to walk through it and hang out in it for a little while and look over the land. Fred wanted to check out the attic, so we swung by home to pick up a flashlight. At the house, we walked through again (I asked Fred to toss the dead mouse in the laundry room out into the yard, because it was bugging me), and then we went out to the pond to see Mister Duck, and Fred tossed some poultry feed out to him.

On a side note, Fred actually had the idea to go to a Trade Days this weekend and get Mister Duck a girlfriend. When he called the owner to find out if they planned to leave Mister Duck at the house, he heard the sad news that something had killed Mister Duck on Saturday. Rest in peace, Mister Duck. So after the duck had been fed Fred went into the house to poke around in the attic, and I walked around the back yard and took a few pictures.

One of the numerous pecan trees in the back yard. I think it’s gorgeous – I love big old trees.

Red maple. It’s looking a little rough due to our dry summer, but hopefully it’ll recover nicely this fall and winter. I was sitting on the back steps when I heard Fred call me from upstairs. “What?” I said. “Come up here,” he said in that special you’ll-want-to-see-this tone. I went inside and up the stairs. He was standing outside the bathroom. When he saw me, he gestured for me to walk into the bathroom. “What?” I said, walking into the bathroom. He pointed at the toilet, and I walked over, half expecting to see a dead mouse floating around. It wasn’t a mouse, and it wasn’t dead.

The Southern North American Toilet Frog. “Is it real?” I said, peering down at it. The picture doesn’t do justice to just how bright green the frog was. “It is.” “And he was just sitting there when you walked into the bathroom?” I asked. “I walked into the bathroom and lifted up the toilet seat, and he was sitting there.” “The toilet seat was DOWN?” “Yes.” “How the hell did it get in there?” “I imagine it swam up the pipes.” I regarded the frog. It regarded me back. “I sure am glad this isn’t MY toilet,” I said. “And I hope the spud doesn’t come screaming bare-assed down the stairs one day with a bright green frog stuck to her ass.” “I second that,” Fred said. “Are you going to take it out back?” “Yeah, I just wanted you to see it.” Fred leaned down to pick up the frog. He had it in his hand and was starting to stand up when, with an almost audible ::SPROINNNNNNG:: the frog leapt out of his hand, hit the wall, and stuck there.

“I don’t think he wants to go,” I said. “Well, we can’t leave him in here. He’ll starve!” “Can’t he swim back down the pipes?” “Maybe. Maybe not. Frogs aren’t known for their overwhelming brilliance.” Fred leaned down and reached for the frog. He shifted position and eyed Fred with bright-eye malevolence. “He’s going to end up stuck to your face,” I predicted. Fred looked around the bathroom, then picked up a toilet brush and poked at the frog with it. The frog blinked, considered, and decided that a toilet brush would be a fine place to sit.

Fred carried the Toilet Frog down to the pond and left him near the water. Hopefully whatever got the duck didn’t get the frog as well. Or maybe the FROG got the duck! I’m sure if the frog ::SPROINNNNNG::-ed onto the duck’s face, the duck would have dropped dead from a heart attack. * * * Maddy’s doing well – she actually stopped sneezing, so maybe it was a matter of just being in a new environment that was making her sneeze, I don’t know. I was a little worried because I didn’t get a poo from her yesterday, but then she gave one up this afternoon, so I’m happy. I never thought a little poo would make me so happy. Maddy isn’t to the “playful” stage yet, but she does like to play a game. When she’s done eating and peeing, she wants me to put her down. Then she wants to tunnel somewhere. If I don’t use a baby blanket to make her a tunnel, she’ll butt her little head against my leg until I lift it or she’s able to tunnel underneath. Most of the time I make a tunnel for her out of a baby blanket, and she goes through it, then is SO proud of herself she has to flop over for a belly rub. It’s excruciatingly cute.

All of today’s uploaded pictures are hither. Also, for those of you who requested Maddy movies, there are two. In the first, Maddy sniffs around and then meows her little meow. In the second, she’s just crawling around. Neither movie is all that great – I need to take the movie camera upstairs – but you get an idea of the cuteness that is Maddy. YouTube link. YouTube link. * * * Reader yawny cat pics!

This is Zoey. She belongs to reader Hulda in Indiana. I love the attitude she’s got going on.

Hulda’s Zoey again. I swear, when I first glanced at the picture, between the black cat, the red collar and the cat chewing on something it shouldn’t, I thought it was Tommy! What a cutie pie.

Leo the mighty lion roars! Leo belongs to Hulda’s mother, who lives in Iceland.

Leo again. Now THAT is a hard-sleeping cat.

Leo’s sister, Krista. I love how sweet and soft she looks. Thanks for sharing, Hulda! The rest of you – keep ’em coming! * * * Previously 2005: Maybe I just like to bitch, y’think? 2004: Waiting for Ivan. 2003: No more Benifer. How sad. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: Speaking of N Sync – that Lance Bass is a cutie, but I get the distinct feeling that although the lights are on, no one’s home. ]]>

8/21/06

Can you ask your all-knowing readers what they can recommend for a camcorder? We’re about to have our first baby and since we live halfway across the country from any family, we need one so we can fully share the love. I don’t mind spending the money on one as long as it’s decent. Our only requirements (so far) are that we don’t want to have to use tapes and we want something that will be compatible with Macs (we don’t have one now but probably will in the next year or so). I know you guys can help out – leave a comment at the bottom of the entry or email me, and I’ll pass your suggestion on to Shelly. I made the MOST fabulous dinner last night. We had hamburgers made on the George Foreman grill, and I sauteed mushrooms, onions, and garlic to go on top of the burgers. I put a slice of American cheese on my burger, topped it with sauteed mushrooms, onions, and garlic, and it was both filling and very, very, VERY tasty.I imagine it would be good on a hamburger bun, as well. We’re having a run of really good food lately, it seems. We went out to the new house Saturday and spent close to three hours walking around the house and property making extensive lists of what we wanted to do to the rooms (pretty much yank down the crown molding, repair and repaint, put up new crown molding that better works on those rooms, and replace all the light fixtures, in every room. Not to mention refinishing many of the floors.) and to the property. We actually walked to the very back of the property, since we hadn’t done that, and neither of us picked up ticks or snakes or anything particularly scary, so I consider it a good trip. Pictures, you ask? Why of COURSE I have pictures. The owners of the house we’re buying are very religious. I didn’t actually roll my eyes when I saw the Roy M00re sticker. But I WANTED to. The view off the porch to the left. Note the ceiling fan. The view off the porch to the right. Note ceiling fan #2. Next year there’ll be plants hanging off the porch roof to attract hummingbirds. The view off the front porch, straight ahead. I think that lawn needs a nice big bulb garden for next year, don’t you? The house comes with a chicken coop. It’s like a sign, between the chicken coop and the kittens. Inside of the chicken coop, which needs to be cleaned. One of the several pecan trees on the property. We’re going to have SO many pecans we’ll probably have to set up a little stand and sell them. Mimosa tree. Fred hates them; I think they’re pretty. Toward the back of our property, this is a shot from one side to the other. Eek! Mice don’t scare me, snakes don’t (much) scare me, but wasps scare the FUCK out of me. First order of business: getting the pest control people out to the property. Our new house and property has no shortage of bugs. From the back of the property, looking across to the other corner. The shed is on what will be our property (but isn’t ours), and to the right you can see a flash of white. That’s the house. Another shot from the back of the property. The house is in the middle of the picture. Tree to the right (if you’re facing it) of the house. I love how huge it is. A peek into the creepy crawl space. Mouse skeleton, found under the creepy crawl space. The pond in the back yard. We’ve had a seriously dry summer, so it’s close to dry, and the catfish have all died. We’re talking about filling it in and digging out a pond further back (and deeper, too). The bonus room over the garage, which will eventually become half foster kitten room, half storage. Down the stairs from the bonus room. These stairs seriously need a handrail. We’re not crazy about the light fixtures. They go well with the house, but we’re not big fans of tin, so we’ll be replacing these. Now we come to the section I like to call “Identify this bush, tree, or plant, please”. If anyone knows, leave a comment. I’ll label each picture so we don’t get confused. Tree #1 (back of property). Any idea what this tree is? It looks like it could be some sort of fruit tree, but we know nothing about this sort of thing. Plant #1. Any idea what these things growing are? Fred suggested perhaps they were watermelons (due to the markings), but we’re not sure. See the big picture for a better look. Bush #1. (Left side of porch) Bush #1 (closeup). Bush #2 (left side of porch). Bush #2 (closeup). Bush #3 (left of front part of porch). Tree #2 (middle of front lawn). Momma Dixie, giving us a bit of the attitude. She keeps an eye on us when we’re around her babies. She’s such a tiny little thing. A pile o’ sleepy kittens (Dixie moved them from the corner of the garage to a more comfortable spot on a blanket in a plastic box). The kittens start to wake up (helped in no small part by the fact that I couldn’t keep my paws off them) and root around for some food. Hungry baby. (BEST PICTURE EVER) We talked to the owner about the kittens while we were out there on Saturday. We told her that we (I) volunteer for the no-kill cat shelter, and Fred made a point of saying that we know it’s a good place, that they spay and neuter all cats before they adopt them out (and the owner shamefacedly said “Yeah, we need to get Dixie fixed…”), and she said “If I can’t find homes for them, can I give you a call?”, because we mentioned the idea of fostering them, and I said that of course she could.So I’m glad knowing that she knows that she’s got somewhere to turn if they can’t find homes for the kittens. But they’re so unbearably cute, I’m not sure how difficult it’ll be for her to find a home for them!

* * * Things I bought in Maine, part 1 of a series, I’m sure:

Bookland in Cook’s Corner in Brunswick has THE BEST post-it notes. I could have spent an hour looking at all of them.

I don’t remember where I bought this shirt – maybe when we were shopping in Bath – but I love how simple it is. * * * Previously: 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: You say tomato, I say fuck you. 2002: “Cats don’t have lips, you freak.” 2001: “…and we’re willing to give this to you – coupons worth two HUNDRED and twenty-five DOLLARS! – for only $19.95!” he said, aflutter with the thrill of it all. 2000: Does the phrase “Through a lovely laxative effect” strike fear into your heart?]]>

7/10/06

Tigers for Tomorrow in Attalla (not that I knew where THAT was) that rescued exotic animals, specializing in exotic cats. I knew right away that I HAD to take Fred to this place, and when I got home I looked up their web page and found that you can schedule tours of the place during the week, but they’re open to the public on Saturdays from 9 to 4. My intention was to keep secret from Fred where we were going, to ask him to just trust me, and tell him that it was something he’d absolutely love. When he got home, I told him I wanted to take him somewhere on Saturday, and he looked skeptically at me, but agreed that he’d go. Then he hassled me until I showed him the article. He was VERY excited at the idea. So Saturday came, and we left the house around 8. Google Maps had said that it was a trip that would take about two hours, but we made pretty good time and pulled into the parking lot at about 9:45. Since Fred had been mainlining coffee the entire way there, we stopped at the port-a-potty so each of us could pee, and while I was peeing, I could hear him talking to someone. When I walked out, his eyes were absolutely twirling with excitement and he was thisclose to hyperventilating. “She said that we could pay $200 and PLAY WITH ONE OF THE TIGER CUBS!” It’s very unusual for Tigers for Tomorrow to have tiger cubs on the premises. They’d recently done a rescue and ended up with four tiger cubs, who are currently about eight weeks old. On the drive to Tigers for Tomorrow, we’d both said that it was too bad we couldn’t actually touch a tiger, but we also both wanted to keep all our limbs intact and unmauled. We all but ran to the entrance tent, and Fred paid the $20 entrance fee ($10 for each of us), then said to the volunteers that he’d heard you could have an “encounter” with the tiger cubs. Not only did the $200 buy us an encounter with the cubs, it bought us an almost two-hour tour with a volunteer, who knew just about everything there was to know about all the animals. Wolves are one of the exotic animals they rescue. The guide told us that the male of this duo is extremely dominant and sometimes it sounds like he’s killing her, but he’s just asserting his dominance. “I’m not coming out, and YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!” An unfriendly black leopard. The guide told us that she has black skin, black fur, and black spots. Very cool. Tiger. The guide did her best to explain the difference between Bengal and Siberian tigers, but I’ll be damned if I could see any obvious difference. I had no idea, but tigers ADORE playing in water. When the guide went and got the hose, the tiger got extremely excited. Young tigers. I can’t remember how old they are – three months? Six? – but they were very playful and fun to watch. Coatimundi. They’re adorable and look like they need to be snuggled, but the guide told us that they will rip you UP with those claws. “Aww, c’mon. Don’tcha wanna snuggle?” Another wolf. As you can see, he was quite excited to see us. Cougar. There were a male and female cougar in the same cage. Tigers for Tomorrow is a non-breeding facility, so they usually neuter the males, since it’s a less invasive procedure than spaying a female would be. In this couple, the male is neutered and the female isn’t spayed, so she goes into heat, goes looking for some love, and the male is like “What? What do you want? Get me a beer and let me watch the game!” and she has a temper tantrum. Not catlike at all, huh? Mr. Lion didn’t feel like being sociable. This tiger – Blake – got himself a new pool. We were there when they let him back into his cage, and I think it took about six seconds for him to get into the water and just stay there. And then… time to play with the babies! I love the look on his little face. They’ve imprinted on the lady who runs Tigers for Tomorrow as their Mama, so they’d hear her voice and try to get her to come to them. “Where my Mama go?” “Mama!” I never knew this until today, but tigers have white spots on the backs of their ears, and they keep them all their lives. They’re used when they’re little so their mothers can identify them. Fred’s was more playful than mine. Mine just wanted his Mama to come back. “Mama, I killed Eeyore!” Poor dead Eeyore. She nuzzled my ear and licked my cheek. I thought I was going to die from the utter thrill. Check out those paws! On our way out of Tigers for Tomorrow, we stopped by the petting zoo. When these tortoises (turtles? I know not the difference.) saw us, they started moving in our direction. I said to Fred, “It’s a stampede!” and he said “Yeah, and it’s going to take five years for them to get to us. Run!” Does this face crack you up as much as it cracks me up? “Kiss me, darling.” That was, without a doubt, one of the coolest experiences I’ve ever had in my LIFE. If you’re in Alabama and you want to love on some baby tigers, you’d better move fast. They’re only letting the cub encounters go on for a few more weeks, and then the cubs will be too big (and could maul you!) for contact with the public. I have to say that I was extremely impressed with Tigers for Tomorrow. The place did NOT smell zoo-y at all, and the guide explained to us that state guidelines say that they only have to clean out the enclosures once a week; but who wants to let a cat live in its own waste for a week? They clean out the enclosures every single day. The animals all looked very healthy and happy, and while of course in a perfect world they’d all get to roam free in the countries they were born in, that’s obviously not an option. They get the best care possible, and if you have any money to spare, I know they could always use a donation. If you want to see any of the above pictures in the full-size version, go to the Flickr set, click on the picture, and then click on the “all sizes” link at the top. Also, Fred put up his own entries about the experience, broken into two parts, because he likes to drag EVERYTHING out. That begins here.

* * * Previously 2005: No entry. 2004: No entry. 2003: How to kick a sock’s ass. If it had an ass. 2002: “What’s your name?” he asked. 2001: No entry. 2000: Leave it to me to have sex dreams about the gay guy, huh?]]>

5/5/06

“Hey, Boogie!” “What?” “I wanna dance!” “Motherfucker say WHAT? You wanna prance?” “Dance! I want to dance!” “You wanna go to France?” “NO, Boogie, not motherfucking go to France! I want to dance! I got the music in me, and I. MUST. DANCE!” You’ve got a cute way of talking You got the better of me Just snap your fingers and I’m walking Like a dog hanging on your lead “Go, Tommy!” I’m in a spin you know Shaking on a string you know You make me feel like dancing I’m gonna dance the night away You make me feel like dancing I’m gonna dance the night away You make feel like dancing I feel like dancing dancing – dance the night away “Oh, crap. I can’t resist motherfucking Leo Sayer!” I feel like dancing dancing ahhh Quarter to four in the morning I ain’t feeling tired no no no no no Just hold me tight and leave on the light Cause I don’t want to go home You put a spell on me I’m right where you want me to be You make me feel like dancing I want to dance the night away You make me feel like dancing I want to dance the night away You make feel like dancing I feel like dancing dancing dance the night away I feel like dancing dancing You take me higher I’m gonna catch on fire cause You make me feel like dancing I wanna dance the night away You make me feel like dancing I’m gonna dance my life away I feel like dancing dancing dance the night away I feel like dancing dancing dance the night away You really slipped me a potion I can’t get off of the floor All this perpetual motion You gotta give me some more You gotta give me some more And if youll let me stay we’ll dance our lives away You make me feel like dancing I wanna dance my life away You make me feel like dancing I wanna dance my life away You make me feel like dancing I wanna dance my life away You make me feel like dancing I wanna dance my life away You make me feel like dancing I wanna dance my life away You make me feel like dancing I wanna dance my life away You make me feel like dancing I wanna dance my life away “Hey guys, where ya goin’? Let’s dance some more! I feel like DANCIN! Come on, guys, come back!”

* * * Previously 2005: Did you know you could use it to relieve muscle soreness, as a plant fertilizer, and as a laxative? 2004: Okay, girlfriend? Just how fucking stupid ARE you? 2003: No entry. 2002: No entry. 2001: No entry. 2000: God, please tell me when I was 19 I didn’t sound that much like an airhead…]]>