Sights from around Crooked Acres. Nance and Rick sent me this mini rose bush after I had surgery (plastic surgery, maybe? I don’t remember!), and it has languished in a tiny pot and almost died, and finally I transplanted it into a big pot, and it’s never been happier. “You rang?” “You has food for … Continue reading “10/08/09 – Thursday”
Sights from around Crooked Acres.
Nance and Rick sent me this mini rose bush after I had surgery (plastic surgery, maybe? I don’t remember!), and it has languished in a tiny pot and almost died, and finally I transplanted it into a big pot, and it’s never been happier.
“You rang?”
“You has food for me?” (That’s food on his nose.)
These pigs all of a sudden got really, really long.
One of the way-too-many roosters we have.
Another rooster. Doesn’t it look like he’s twirling around and his skirt’s flying up in the air?
Yet another rooster. I can’t help it, the roosters are so pretty! This is Mr. Friendly.
Rooster – this is the one we call the Road Runner ’cause he’s so long-legged and goony looking.
Rooster. We call this one “the new guy” because he was one of a batch of chicks Fred sold back in the spring. He told the guy that if any of the birds turned out to be roosters, we’d take it back. This one turned out to be a rooster, so back he came.
We have a chicken or two.
Another rooster.
The turkeys, on top of the coop.
Sidling along the tree branch that touches the top of the coop…
Trying to get higher. We figure we’re going to go out one night and find them roosting 50 feet up in the tree.
Previously 2008: And since there’s not a lot going on around here (except that it’s raining for the first time in forever, yay!), here are some pictures from around Crooked Acres. 2007: Whither Tom-Tom goest, the Stank will follow.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: I’m just going to sit here and whine about being cold and thirsty, I suppose. Sounds like a plan! 2003: Just know that it was a little SKEERY. 2002: This is a mighty exciting entry, isn’t it? Could I be any more interesting? Should I do an entry about watching paint dry, or what? 2001: “Farm boy, fetch me some ice! Farm boy, fetch me a diet coke, chop-chop!”
2000: No entry.
A few weeks ago, I was trying to tell Fred about this little girl with schizophrenia. Her parents, in an attempt to protect her 18 month-old brother, traded in their apartment for two smaller apartments, and her parents will switch off taking care of her. I cannot begin to imagine what it’s like for them. … Continue reading “10/07/09 – Wednesday”
A few weeks ago, I was trying to tell Fred about this little girl with schizophrenia. Her parents, in an attempt to protect her 18 month-old brother, traded in their apartment for two smaller apartments, and her parents will switch off taking care of her.
I cannot begin to imagine what it’s like for them.
Anyway, I was telling him about her, and as part of the telling, I said “It’s apparently impossible to overstimulate her, her parents would have to take her out and do as much with her as possible, take her around people. You know how little kids get overstimulated if too much is thrown at them?”
“No,” Fred said, which I suppose is reasonable. He’s never spent much time around little kids – the spud was 8 when we moved down here.
“Yeah, they get overstimulated if they do too much, and… Well, when the spud was little, if we’d have her out too late or do too many things in the course of a day, she’d get overstimulated, and then it’d get to the point where she’d have to burst into tears before she could calm down. It didn’t happen a lot, but when it did, there was nothing you could do to calm her down – the tears would have to come, and then the calming down would begin. But this little girl who’s schizophrenic, there’s no such thing as too much stimulation for her.”
“That’s like me!” Fred said. “Maybe I’m schizophrenic! I always need stimulation!” Fred cannot just sit around and relax, he always has to be occupying his mind one way or the other. Even watching TV, he does Sudoku puzzles at the same time.
“Oh PLEASE,” I scoffed. “The doorbell rings with someone coming to buy eggs, that’s overstimulation for you.”
“And then I have to burst into tears before I can calm down,” he smirked.
A little while ago, Amy emailed me and said she really wanted to send me a box for the fosters. I emailed her back and said, in effect, “Oh, I’m not even going to pretend like I wouldn’t love that!”
And then I completely forgot.
The box arrived yesterday morning, and I looked at it and thought “Huh. Did I order something…?” I opened it, and looked in, and realized it was the box Amy had sent. I wanted to do a pictorial of the kittens “opening” the box and taking out the toys, but I had to run to Walmart first, so I put the box up on the counter.
Half an hour later when I got home, one of the big cats had pushed the box off the counter, and there’d been a free-for-all. I gathered the toys back into the box and called all the kittens into the kitchen so we could do it properly.
“Hey, look! A box! And toys!”
Ten seconds later, the toys are scattered everywhere, and Hoyt’s like “A box! I LOVE BOXES!” Note that Elwood’s right in the middle of everything. He truly believes he’s a True Blood.
Lafayette enjoys a good snootful of catnip. (These knit toys stuffed with catnip are VERY popular, as you can imagine!)
“Also, I love crinkly paper!” See the red ball to the left of the picture? It lights up, and the kittens think it’s very cool.
Elwood’s all “I LOVE TOYS! MINE!”
Chasing the flashing ball around. I don’t know which they like more – the fact that it flashes, or the sound it makes when it rolls along the hardwood floor.
Sam says “Crinkly paper and a feather toy! O joy!!!”
Bill, in a state of fluffy-toy rapture.
I also took several of the smaller toys in for the Wonkas to enjoy, and enjoying them they certainly are. I haven’t gotten a picture of the little ones playing, but trust me – I will!
The True Bloods, the Wonkas, Jake & Elwood and I think you are awesome Amy – thank you!!!
Tomorrow, the Wonkas are going to the vet for their Combo testing. I’ve never had fosters test positive, and I would really like it if that tradition continued. Y’all send a happy thought or two toward Alabama tomorrow morning, okay?
“I HAZ A COMPLAINT. IT IS MY TURN TO SIT IN YOUR LAP, AND VIOLET IS TAKING UP SPACE AND I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS TURN OF EVENTS.”
“My god, I am trapped in this cage, I will be trapped in this cage forever WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?!” (Note the wide-open door RIGHT THERE. Maybe not the brains of the operation, our wee Violet.)
“And now I have litter on my nose. Why, God, WHYYYYY?”
Prince Gus, sitting atop the stuffed Momma kitty.
I really need to get more pictures of Mike. He’s such a pretty boy. This is such a pretty litter. I can barely stop myself from squishing them.
Floofy Gus. I like to twist the hair on top of his fuzzy little head together and tell him he’s a troll doll.
“Lady, you gives me the bottle, and no one gets hurt. Promise!”
Previously 2008: And he likes the chickens, but I think if a hawk swooped down and snatched one up while he was watching, it would make his YEAR.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: 9. What is your biggest mistake? Immediately believing what I’m told without standing back and thinking about it. 2004: Reader requests. 2003: Why have kids if you aren’t going to make them do the scut work? 2002: You know, I don’t even have the words.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
Did I mention I’m selling jams and hot sauces? The Chunky Caramel-Apple Jam was popular enough that it sold out pretty quickly, leading me to believe that I need to add it to the supply permanently. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * … Continue reading “10/6/09 – Tuesday”
The Chunky Caramel-Apple Jam was popular enough that it sold out pretty quickly, leading me to believe that I need to add it to the supply permanently.
Jon Gosselin: not only a douchebag, but unable to run that super-complicated spell check.
“Penelty,” indeed. You’d think, knowing that the media would be all over that sign, he’d have thought about double-checking the spelling (or maybe having someone with half a brain double-check it for him while he was busy being douchey.)
I read in TV Guide last week that over the summer, the average person watched 32.2 hours of TV per week.
32.2 hours? Are you fucking kidding me? THIRTY-TWO HOURS? That average has got to be thrown off by high school students who don’t have anything to do during the summer but watch TV, right? That can’t possibly people who have JOBS, for god’s sake. I don’t have a job, and I’m almost always two weeks behind in my regular TV-watching (with the exception of Grey’s Anatomy). I’ve been working my way through the second season of Gossip Girl for months now (mostly because I don’t watch it unless I’m traveling). I record every episode of Oprah on the DVR, but tend to delete the majority of them without watching because while some of them look like they could be interesting, I don’t want to take the time to watch them. I’ve given up on Jon & Kate Plus 8, because it got boring when Kate decided to stop showing her figurative ass and act like Happy Kate.
Fred and I generally watch about two hours of TV in the evening (and that’s a very generous number – most of the time it’s more like an hour and a half; Sunday night I whined about being tired, so we stopped watching TV at a little after 8, which gave us about an hour of TV time), we’ve lost interest in Survivor and The Amazing Race. We very rarely watch movies in the afternoon on a Saturday or Sunday IF it’s raining out and we have absolutely nothing else to do. I usually sit on the couch and watch TV for about three hours on Friday (and when I’m watching a Real Housewives show, I flip through magazines and half-watch the show). So I figure I’m getting, at the most, about 17 hours of TV in a week. And let me reiterate: I don’t have a job. I can’t imagine trying to cram 32.2 hours of TV into my week.
So roughly how many hours of TV do you watch per week? Thinking about my days, I could probably watch TV after Fred went to bed, or maybe watch TV in the afternoon instead of reading for an hour or so while warm purring kittens are piled atop me.
Yesterday morning, I got up and showered and dressed, and then headed downstairs to feed the Wonkas. I was going to get some baby food for the True Bloods, because even though they don’t particularly need it, I still give them some baby food as an early morning treat.
I spoil my fosters, y’know.
When I headed downstairs, one of the True Bloods (I’m pretty sure it was Sam) had his paw sticking out under the door. Elwood was in the hallway, sniffing at Sam’s paw.
I got downstairs, opened the back door to let our cats into the back yard, and started calling for Tom, so I could put his collar on him. When I couldn’t find him in the back part of the house, I decided to check upstairs for him. As I reached the bottom of the stairs, Sam came trotting down the stairs.
“Wha?” I said, wondering if somehow he’d been out of the foster room all night without my realizing it. Stranger things have happened.
And then Bill came trotting down the stairs, followed by Hoyt and Terry. I went upstairs and looked, and the door to the foster room was wide open.
I don’t know who or how, but either a True Blood or Elwood (or perhaps both, working as a team) had gotten the door open.
It didn’t happen this morning, so I’m thinking (hoping) it was a one-time thing. We’ll see about that! Maybe we’ve got some little Houdinis on our hands.
I’m pretty sure that Elwood thinks he’s a True Blood. He can usually be found in the middle of a bunch of them, playing. He is going to miss them in a big way when they’ve gone off to be adopted! (Please note Lafayette over to the side, complaining about something. Doesn’t he look like he’s in great emotional pain?)
Jake’s a fan of the True Bloods, too.
Terry and Sam, in the cat bed on the chair in my bedroom.
The Wonkas are doing well – I’ve seen them all eating Babycat crunchy food right from the dish as well as canned food, so I know they won’t starve to death. I should probably wean them off the bottle, but have I mentioned that I spoil my bratty fosters? They’re just so HAPPY when they’re sucking down their bottle, and they always look so hopeful when they see me coming into the room. And now that they’ve figured out that whole latching-on thing, they are so EASY to bottle-feed. I’m going to spoil them just a little while longer. DON’T JUDGE ME.
“Auntie Hyacinths says you HAVE to spoil me and give me the bottle whenever I want it!”
“I would be very sad if you stopped giving me the bottle, and the internets would call Kitty Protective Services on you!”
“I was just checking out my box, and I heard someone say there’s a bottle in the room?!”
“I am a wee starving kitteh, and I want my bah-bah!”
Pretty, pretty Gracie. (I know I don’t put up enough pictures of the dogs. Therefore, the rest of this week I’ll include dog pics at the end of the entry! You’re welcome.)
Previously 2008: Pretty batshit crazy, as it turns out.
2007: No entry. 2006: You all have my full permission to skip the boring stuff to get to the cute kitten stuff. 2005: I forsee a lot of spud-teasing this evening. 2004: Phil Hellmuth is a whiny little bitch. 2003: “And then he told me he likes to have sex with you in the break room every day at 11!” he lied.
2002: No entry. 2001: Recovery. 2000: No one ever said I had a long attention span!
Crooked Acres Jams and Hot Sauces are up for sale! Astute observers will note that the price has increased a bit since last January/ February. That’s because if I’m going to continue with this jam-making venture, we need to realize at least a small profit, rather than losing money. I don’t think the price is … Continue reading “10/5/09 – Monday”
Astute observers will note that the price has increased a bit since last January/ February. That’s because if I’m going to continue with this jam-making venture, we need to realize at least a small profit, rather than losing money. I don’t think the price is ridiculous (considering some of the prices I’ve seen at Etsy and Foodzie) and hope you’ll think it’s worth it, too.
I made one single batch of sugarfree jam with Splenda, and I can’t tell you how it is because I can’t eat the hot stuff, and Fred doesn’t like artificially flavored stuff (he does report that it’s “medium” heat, and the consistency is comparable to the sugarfree jams you can buy in the store). If there’s enough of a demand, obviously I’ll make more. It’s 50 cents more than the sugared stuff, due to the price of Splenda. You know how it goes.
So, there you go. Hot jams and hot sauces, and a bit of the non-hot stuff. Go check it out if you’re interested! They’ll be available ’til I run out of habaneros, whenever that might be. (And for the future, the link is over there in the left sidebar.)
You guys definitely get the Eagle Eye award. When I posted the picture of my canning cabinet on Friday, I half expected no one would even notice the “canned” baby chicks.
I think it took about ten seconds for the first person to spot them.
And then like a MILLION of you spotted it. I guess that picture wasn’t nearly as subtle as I thought it was.
For the record, in case you missed my response in the comments, no baby chicks were harmed in the making of that picture. Fred brought them in, we put them each in a jar, put the rings on the jars (but NOT the lids), and put them in the cabinet. From the time Fred picked them up in the maternity yard to the time he took them back was about three minutes altogether.
There was even enough time for a bit of a kitten-sniff.
The one thing I don’t like about this time of year is the proliferation of pumpkin-centered recipes. I like pumpkin in pumpkin pie, and that’s about the only place I like it. Don’t want pumpkin cookies, don’t want pumpkin bread, don’t want pumpkin anything.
A century ago, when I was a teen working at McDonald’s, they used to have pumpkin pies – like their apple pies – this time of year. Now, those things were fantastic. That was back when their pies were fried and not the crappy baked pies they have now. They also occasionally had blueberry pies, at least in Maine.
I also highly miss the cinnamon danish McDonald’s carried. Those little cinnamon things they sell these days aren’t even the slightest bit tempting.
::sigh::
Speaking of food, I finally sucked it up and made my own flour tortillas on Friday using this recipe. I just knew it was going to be a nightmarish experience, but for once I was wrong. They turned out pretty damn good, and we had scrambled eggs wrapped in homemade tortillas for dinner.
Speaking further of food, it seems that every so often, a rooster comes along who earns himself the name “The Asshole.” Whether he’s too rough with the hens, picks on the little chicks, or is just a pain in the ass to deal with, we start referring to him as “The Asshole”, and they’re always quick to be processed. We’ve got no room at Crooked Acres for roosters who are assholes.
The most recent asshole was a Light Brahma rooster. He was proving to be a pain in the ass because he’d hide under the coop when it was getting dark rather than going into the coop like he was supposed to, or he’d stand in the doorway to the coop and act like an asshole so the little chicks would be too scared to go past him.
Last weekend Fred processed him, and told me that we should have roast it. After processing, The Asshole weighed in at just under 4 pounds, and Fred plucked rather than skinned it, so we could roast it and not end up with a dry mess.
Last night, we had roasted Asshole for dinner, and it was fantastic. And we showed our incredible maturity by saying many humorous things along the lines of “This Asshole is fabulous” and “You make a tasty Asshole” and so on.
One ear folded back is the cool new look for kittens, as modeled by Bill.
Pile o’ kittens (and one long-suffering Miz Poo.)
All six, sprawled across my desk and filing cabinet. They prefer to be in whichever room I’m in. If I’m cooking dinner, they’re in the kitchen. I’m at my computer, they’re on my desk. They lurve me!
Previously
2008: No entry. 2007: I had NO IDEA Red Lobster was such a den of heathenry. 2006: The rags used on that closet: ONE MEELLION. 2005: And then the last straw came along and broke the fat woman’s back. 2004: Because he’s a skinny bastard.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry. 2001: Day One. 2000: So obviously I don’t know nothing’ ’bout picking out no paint.
New month, new logo! This one was created by the wonderful Christine, isn’t it awesome? Aly also created an October-themed one, so I’ll put that up around mid-month. Thanks, Christine! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * … Continue reading “10/2/09 – Friday”
New month, new logo! This one was created by the wonderful Christine, isn’t it awesome?
Aly also created an October-themed one, so I’ll put that up around mid-month.
After spending all summer canning green beans and tomato sauce (not much tomato sauce, though – have I mentioned that the tomatoes were a bit of a disappointment this year?) and chicken and various other things, my canning cabinet is close to bursting.
(Yes, there are bottles of Ragu hiding behind the tomato sauce. Don’t judge me.)
I guess there’s still room for more.
Yesterday I spent several hours making jams. The day before, I made hot sauces. I have a few more batches of jam to make, and then there’ll be Crooked Acres jams and hot sauces up for sale soon, probably over the weekend. Those will be for sale ’til we run out of habaneros – and I froze a lot of habaneros over the summer (and they’re still growing!).
I was dead asleep last night at 11:30 when I was awakened by a banging noise. I turned over, took out my ear plug, and listened. More banging. I decided that it was coming from the foster kitten room. I hoped it would stop, but it didn’t, so I grabbed the can of compressed air sitting on my bedside table (you know, the can of compressed air you guys ALWAYS think is a can of whipped cream!) and went out into the hallway. Jake (or maybe Elwood) was sitting by the door to the foster room. They love to sit outside the room and stick their paws under the door. I figured there was a kitten on the other side of the door who’d decided he’d had enough of this being in one room nonsense and was determined to dig his way out.
I shot a blast of air at the door, and heard the thumping sound of a running cat. I waited, and didn’t hear any more banging, so went back to bed. Naturally, as soon as I sat down, the banging started again. I got up, shot a blast of air at the door, then went to the bathroom. The banging started up again, and I finally decided that I’d open the door and see if it was just one kitten (I suspected Hoyt) trying to get out, and if it was, I’d let him out into the house. I don’t want all six of them running around all night, because I value my sleep, but one kitten would probably be okay.
I opened the door, and Sugarbutt came slinking out.
Apparently when Fred gathered up the True Bloods to put them up, he hadn’t noticed that Sugarbutt was hanging out in the room, and so Sugarbutt got locked away with the babies. Kudos to Suggie for toughing it out for two and a half hours before frantically digging his way out.
Of course, when I opened the door and Sugarbutt came out, Elwood went running in because he has decided that the True Bloods are His People, and he always wants to go in their room at night. I let him stay in there.
Then at 4:23, I was awakened by Elwood’s very identifiable questioning meow. He’d had enough of this one-room nonsense and wanted out. I got up and let him out, and a few minutes later Fred got up, and we started our day, with the feeding of the baby cats and such.
I’d say it would be NICE to get a full night’s sleep every once in a while, but I usually sleep pretty well with few distractions, so I’m not going to complain.
I’ve been meaning to link to this for ages and ages – thanks for the reminder, Debra!
You might need to do a search for Challenger’s House in Alabama to get to the place where you vote for it. So, go vote for Challenger’s House, y’all!
Speaking of Challenger’s House, did y’all know that there’s a Facebook page for the shelter now? One of the other foster moms runs it – go friend Challenger’s House, she puts up lots of cute kitten pics (and there are pictures of Ike on there!)
I notice that you don’t have the recipe for the Caramel-Apple jam posted in Nom on This….is it available?
I got the recipe over at Suzanne McMinn’s site, in this post. I think the Caramel-Apple Jam is fantastic, but I prefer mine with small chunks of apple (as in the original recipe) rather than with apple puree. With apple puree, it’s more of an apple butter than jam. It all depends on what you prefer.
I was wondering if you ever had people that want to adopt the kitties you foster. Is or has that ever been a possibility?
I’ve had several people ask, recently, about adopting fosters. It is possible for readers to adopt them – Nance adopted Maddy a few years ago, and Katherine adopted River and Inara (now Nate and Dora) last summer. Anyone who’s interested in adopting any of the fosters will have to go through Challenger’s House – you can call and speak to Susan, the shelter manager. There’s a procedure that includes filling out paperwork, and there’s an adoption fee.
Do you wear men’s long sleeve T’s in the winter, for around the house? I’m looking for something reasonable have some spotted at gap, but are there any other suggestions.
I have a large collection of long-sleeved t-shirts I’ve picked up at various places (a few years ago when I visited Maine, we went to Reny’s (GOD I LOVE RENY’S) and I ended up buying some Life is Good t-shirts for $5 apiece. They didn’t have the design on the front, and some of them had weird dye marks on the front, but I was buying them just to wear around the house, so I didn’t mind how they looked.
I usually either wear one of those long-sleeved t-shirts around the house, or a short-sleeved t-shirt with a zip-up hoodie over it. I love my hooded sweatshirts, but the sleeves get in the way if I’m cooking or doing some intensive cleaning.
(HA HA HA “intensive cleaning.” As if I EVER do that.)
I don’t know if you like anchovies and garlic, but if you do, I cannot say enough about Nigella Lawson’s bagna cauda recipe. I don’t have it to hand, but from memory, you mince 15 anchovy filets and 8 garlic cloves, and cook in a quarter cup of olive oil until the anchovies melt (yes they do) and everything is all gorgeous. I know it sounds way over-the-top, but it’s delicious. (I believe Nigella’s recipe also calls for butter, but the authentic way has only anchovies, garlic, and oil – I am told.)
I ADORE garlic, but would you believe that I have never once had a single solitary anchovy? I’ve only ever heard of them being referred to in a joking manner, like something gross you’d find on a pizza. So, would I like anchovies? I like most fish and seafood. Readers? What say you?
Fred calls him Adolf. (Last night we were watching TV, and Fred said “Which kitten is it that looks like Hitler?”, because he can never keep their names straight.)
One of the kittens from our very first batch of fosters was a Kitler, too, little Flossie:
Though actually, I think that’s more of a Clark Gable ‘stache than a Hitler. I have no doubt that if she’d been a boy, Fred would have insisted on naming her Adolf.
I still use that picture as an avatar in a lot of places. And it’s the picture that’s been (as far as I know) most stolen and used without permission or attribution. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to send out copyright violation emails to have it removed. Everyone loves a Dr. Evil kitten pic, apparently.
So, on Tuesday I called and made an appointment to take Lafayette, Sam, Hoyt, and Bill to the vet so that she could look at their eyes and determine whether they’re ready to go to Petsmart for adoption. I waited until about three minutes before I needed to be on the road, then snatched them up (they were all snoozing on my desk) and put them in the carrier.
(I really should have put them in two carriers, but I was also taking Sugarbutt with me, because the rodent ulcer on his upper lip was acting up again, requiring a shot of steroids. Two carriers, I could just about handle. Three? Not so much.)
We were within sight of the vet clinic, which is a 25 minute drive from here, when either Sam or Hoyt pulled a pungent maneuver known as “Had I known you were going to snatch me up and keep me confined for a long road trip, dear lady, I would have used the litterbox before we left.”
Good LORD, the smell.
But by happenstance, I had actually stopped for one moment and thought before I left the house. The last time I had the kittens in carriers, when I took them to the shelter for their vaccinations, Sam vomited on Hoyt. So just in case, I grabbed a handful of cleaning rags to take with me.
I pulled into the clinic parking lot, and went to the back seat to see just how bad the damage was.
Whoever’d pooped in the carrier had been kind enough to do it at the end where the door was, and he’d done it so neatly that the bed in the carrier was untouched.
(But good god, the STENCH.)
I used the cleaning rags to clean up the poop, and then I dug through my purse for a wet wipe, and cleaned it up some more.
Then I took all the dirty rags and shoved them into a plastic shopping bag and left it in the car.
(As you can imagine, when I came out and got into the car, I was very much wishing I’d thought of a better place to put the poopy rags. I immediately drove to McDonald’s and deposited the bag in one of their trash cans.)
The vet looked at the kittens first, picking up each of them and looking them over carefully. She said that she wished Bill and Lafayette’s grafts had taken a bit more before peeling off, but they all look really good. The goal of the surgery was not to make their eyes look perfect, but to make them more comfortable. If Bill’s anything to go by, they are definitely far more comfortable than they were before.
She said that, in her opinion, they’re ready to go. They should still have ointment in their eyes once or twice a day, and it wouldn’t hurt to send a tube of it home with whoever adopts each cat, to use as needed. The ones with the worse eyes – Bill and Lafayette – might need ointment on and off through their lives, it’s kind of a wait-and-see thing.
When I got home, I emailed the shelter manager and told her what the vet had said, but made sure to let her know that there is NO hurry as far as I’m concerned.
So that’s where we stand right now – when room comes available at Petsmart, the first four will be going.
(HOW HOW HOW am I going to give up my sweet Bill, who has quietly wormed his way into my heart?? AGH.)
I bought this SnooZzy Cat Cave because I’m a terrible impulse shopper, even when I’m shopping online. When it arrived, I took it out of the box and put it on the floor. Terry came over and flopped down on top of it, so I put him inside it. He loved it and stayed in it for a couple of hours. Since then, I can’t convince a single cat to stay inside. They all prefer to sleep on top of it.
The kittens check my groceries to see if there’s anything in there for them, while Hoyt supervises.
Hoyt’s complaint of the day: “I WAS LAYING HERE SOUND ASLEEP AND ALL OF A SUDDEN EVERYONE ELSE CLIMBED ON THIS BED WITH ME AND THEY’RE SQUISHING ME AND PINCHING MY TAIL AND I WANT THEM TO STOP!”
The Wonkas are doing well. Veruca had us worried earlier this week, because she wasn’t eating much at feeding time, and she’d actually lost the ounce and a half she’d gained since we got her. She seemed to spend most of her time in the meatloaf position, watching her brothers and sister play, and she just didn’t look right to us. Fred stopped and picked up some canned high-fat cat food on Wednesday, and when he got home we mixed it with formula. He fed it to her with a needleless syringe, and she seemed to like it quite a lot. She ate a bunch more on Thursday morning, and then when I went in later to hang out with them, I took a plate with the food (mixed with formula) on it, and she said “GET OUT OF MY WAY!”, and just about dove face-first into the plate, and ate every bit of that food.
She’s perkier, she’s running around and playing, she’s using the litter box like a champ (they all are!), she’s doing just fine. The only danger is that I might squeeze her to death because she is SO CUTE.
Veruca kills me with how CONCERNED she always looks.
Veruca demands to know just what the heck is going ON here.
“NO, this are MY belly rubbin’ time, you go away and wait your turn!”
Previously 2008: Mostly because that Bella girl is SO FRIGGIN’ ANNOYING. 2007: Crazy Eyes say, “I am a fearsome creature.” 2006: Frying pan in the front flower bed.
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.
Life is good. (I have a busy day ahead; I’ll do a real entry tomorrow, promise!) * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Previously 2008: How about that, genius? 2007: Except that seeing me … Continue reading “10/1/09 – Thursday”
Life is good.
(I have a busy day ahead; I’ll do a real entry tomorrow, promise!)
Previously 2008: How about that, genius? 2007: Except that seeing me so enraged the praying mantis that it took flight and flew at my head.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry. 2004: I could have done a faster job with a measuring spoon and my ass. 2003: She was stymied by her big butt, which wouldn’t fit under the shed. 2002: Here’s my question: It’s open 24-hours, so why the FUCKITY FUCK FUCK can’t they stock in the wee hours of the morning when NO ONE IS THERE? 2001: It’s funny how two people can look at the same thing and see it differently, isn’t it?
2000: No entry.
(That’s from Jane‘s Holly. I’m going to save this letter and then when she becomes president, I am going to sell it on eBay for a MILLION DOLLARS.) Dear Holly, Thank you so much for sending Flat Holly to visit us. We had a lot of fun with her, and she’s awfully helpful … Continue reading “9/30/09 – Wednesday”
(That’s from Jane‘s Holly. I’m going to save this letter and then when she becomes president, I am going to sell it on eBay for a MILLION DOLLARS.)
Dear Holly,
Thank you so much for sending Flat Holly to visit us. We had a lot of fun with her, and she’s awfully helpful for a flat girl!
She arrived on a Saturday, and we put her right to work, scooping litter boxes. We have a lot of cats, Holly, maybe your Mom told you. We have a few of our own and we also foster kittens for a local cat shelter. This means that there are a lot of litter boxes that have to be scooped at the beginning and end of each day. Flat Holly pitched right in and scooped and scooped.
Tommy inspects the scooping.
It’s the Fall and though our garden is winding down, we still had some gardening to do. Flat Holly helped us pick tomatoes to make fried green tomatoes. She also hung out amongst the dried corn stalks and played hide and seek with one of our cats.
Flat Holly of the corn.
We grow a lot of hot peppers, and after we harvested the ripe cayenne and habanero peppers from the garden, Flat Holly helped me dry the cayennes and then grind them into powder. I had to fashion a makeshift mask for her face. One thing you do not want is to inhale cayenne powder because it makes you cough like crazy. She also helped me slice the tops off the habaneros and put them into a bag for the freezer. We did a quick habanero inventory, and it’s Flat Holly’s opinion that we have plenty of habaneros. She’s right!
Fresh cayennes.
Cayennes ready for the dehydrator.
Powdering dried cayennes.
Pouring out the cayenne powder.
Fresh habaneros, right from the garden.
Freezer full of habaneros!
Since we had so many habaneros, I asked Flat Holly if she was up for helping me make a test batch of strawberry-habanero jam. She was, so we did. She was particularly helpful when it came to supervising the cooling of the canned jam, and checked to make sure the jam had jelled (it had!). While we were canning things, we went ahead and made and canned some jalapeno jelly too. Flat Holly was in charge of watching the pot to make sure it didn’t boil over, and she did the job well. We rounded out the day of canning by making and canning caramel-apple jam, which was the only non-hot food we canned while she was here.
Strawberry-habanero test batch.
Jalapeno jelly.
Caramel-apple jam.
There was a lot of hanging out with cats, and luckily Flat Holly seemed to enjoy all the cats. We were glad she’s a cat lover because there were many, many trips to the vet. With so many cats, there’s always someone who needs a trip to the vet. We made seven trips to the vet’s office while Flat Holly was here, Holly. I’m not exaggerating. She was willing to sit near the cat carriers and keep the kittens entertained during the many trips, thank goodness. Those cats do not like going to the vet!
Nap time with the True Bloods.
Play time with the True Bloods.
Nap time with Miz Poo.
Vet time with the True Bloods.
We have chickens, pigs, and turkeys, so Flat Holly got to meet them all. There was a disturbing incident where a turkey thought Flat Holly was food. It grabbed her by the arm and ran off with her, but we rescued her quickly. She sat in a nest box and chatted with a friendly chicken, and then helped us gather eggs. It wasn’t all work for her, though. We suited her up in a rain coat (which looks a lot like a Ziploc bag) and let her go for a ride on one of the pigs. It wasn’t much of a ride, since the pig only ran over to the trough to eat, but she seemed to enjoy it. She also met our dog, George, and went for a ride on him as well.
Making pig cookies.
Feeding chickens.
The offending turkey.
Doesn’t George look thrilled?
Gathering eggs.
Hanging with the hens.
Since we have so many animals, we often have to stock up on food for them. We ran to our local feed supply store and bought hundreds of pounds of chicken and swine feed. Flat Holly helped load and unload the truck – you wouldn’t think a flat girl could toss around fifty-pound bags of feed so easily, but she was surprisingly strong.
Her last day here, we were out running errands when Flat Holly pointed to a rocket standing proudly over Huntsville and asked what was over there. What was over there was the US Space and Rocket Center and Space Camp! We went over and wandered around for a little while, but the museum wasn’t open, so we didn’t go inside.
We’re returning Flat Holly to you relatively unscathed, though she might have nightmares about being abducted by that turkey. We hope she had a good time visiting us and she’s welcome to come back to visit any time, as are you.
Previously 2008: “Paul Newman is dead too! What are the chances that… Oh.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry. 2005: I’m a badass, that’s right. 2004: I 2003: In adults, I am anti-”bye-bye”. 2002: Day in the life.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
Yes ha ha HA, people, the Holy Cat Lady is NOT me. 1. I do not sport a mullet (I don’t have the patience to grow my hair out, or I’m sure I’d be totally mulletted up). 2. I have not broken the flannel out yet this year (actually, I’m not sure that I even … Continue reading “9/29/09 – Tuesday”
We had the most beautiful day yesterday. It was sunny and in the 70s. If you were in the sun, it was hot, but if you were in the shade it was just perfect.
Thank you, Mother Nature!
And now my favorite time of the year is coming, and will be gone far too quickly – the time of year when I can drag all my hoodies out of storage and wear them with jeans. I love short weather, but I REALLY love hoodie weather.
At the beginning of the summer, I went out and bought a 6-pack of men’s size large v-neck t-shirts, white ones, and then I dyed them different colors. They’re lightweight t-shirts, and all summer long I wore them around the house and they were just perfect. They show a bit more upper arm than I’d like (I prefer all my shirts to come all the way to the elbow so as not to traumatize anyone with my swinging arm flab), but they were the perfect size and weight, and I didn’t have to worry about getting them dirty or stained, because they were just cheap ol’ shirts.
They’re pretty well trashed now, so once I’m sure the weather isn’t going to turn warm again, I’ll turn them into cleaning rags and do it again next year!
Is it not amazing how the tiniest things can make the worst smells?
A few weeks ago, we had some broody hens sitting on eggs. Fred checked them to see which were growing and which were duds, and found one that was a dud. The hen had been sitting on it for a couple of weeks, so if he hadn’t taken it out from underneath her, it would likely have eventually exploded and made a huge mess.
He carried it out to the back forty when we went out to close up the big chicken coop.
“Listen,” he said. “Rotten eggs sound like firecrackers when they break!”
He tossed it into the pig yard, and he was right, it sounded just like a firecracker going off. The pigs ran over and nosed around the rotten egg, took a few bites, and then decided they weren’t interested.
And then the smell hit us. Rotten eggs, you may be surprised to learn, do not smell good. AT ALL. I was breathing through my mouth so I wouldn’t have to smell it, and I swear the smell was so thick I could TASTE it.
What’s worse is that we left the back forty and went into the back yard, and we could STILL smell it. It was nasty as hell. I don’t believe I’d ever smelled a rotten egg before, and I’d be just as glad to never smell one again.
Speaking of little things making big smells, I just cannot believe the SMELL that comes from a gassy kitten. Those damn things can clear a room! It’s just wrong to pick up a smiling, purring kitten, lean down to kiss them behind the ear, and then be assaulted by a stench from hell. AND THEY JUST KEEP ON PURRING AND SMILING UP AT YOU.
Don’t even get me started on the damn litter boxes. It’s all kinds of WRONG when you know which cat has just used the litter box because you recognize the smell (Sugarbutt has particularly pungent skunklike poops. Oh, sorry. Were you eating? Me too! Good thing about all this fostering, the nastiest things no longer phase me. Can I tell you how many cat asses I looked at yesterday? Actually, I can’t. I lost count.).
We’re getting close to the point where the True Bloods are almost ready to go to Petsmart and (hopefully) be adopted very quickly. Sam, Bill, Hoyt, and Lafayette have all lost their eyelips, and their eyes are looking really good. The biggest difference is in Bill – he used to sit around with his eyes squinched shut, but not you can actually see his eyes.
I’m going to call later and get an appointment with the vet, so she can look them over and decide whether their eyes need more tweaking, or are ready to go.
Speaking of their eyes – I was amazed yesterday when I looked at Terry. Now, I don’t know if I mentioned this in the past, but one of his eyes was cloudy and looked like there had been some damage to it. I figured it was going to end up being permanent damage, but that since he had the surgery, there’d be no more damage to the eye itself.
When I looked at him yesterday, that eye wasn’t cloudy. I think his eyes are getting BETTER.
That is just awesome.
“Lady, why would you need to reach your computer, when you can reach your Lafayette? Computers don’t purr! They also don’t bite and kick you when they’re feeling feisty, but that’s neither here nor there.”
Five of the six (Lafayette was laying over in front of my computer). My desk/ filing cabinet looks like this most of the time, with little brown tabbies piled up all over the place.
Six of the six!
Looky there – Bill has eyes!
Bill keeps an eye on the goings-on.
“Hey, guys! There’s a world out there! Come look!”
“EXCUSE ME, MY BED WAS MADE INCORRECTLY, I DIDN’T GET ANY FRESH TOWELS, AND I DIDN’T GET A CHOCOLATE ON MY PILLOW. WHAT KIND OF CUT-RATE PLACE ARE YOU RUNNING HERE?!”
“Really? You little brats knock the cat bed off the desk and that’s not enough for you? You have to sniff sniff SNIFF at my tail, too? Well, I’ve been patient, but I’ve had ENOUGH! Cut it out, squirt!”
Previously 2008: Did I mention SHADDUP, YOU?
2007: No entry. 2006: No need to send out the announcement that we’re freaks just yet, I suppose. 2005: What a fucking day, I tells ya. 2004: Which makes me think he’s out there talking shit about me, of course. 2003: I know I’ve lived in Alabama too long when 70 is a bit too cool for me.
2002: No entry. 2001: I swear, my work is NEVER done.
2000: No entry.
After all the excitement on Friday, things calmed down THANK GOD, though I didn’t really get much done the rest of the day. I ran to get my groceries (didn’t go to Wal-Mart, because after 10 that place is a nightmare, so I went to Publix instead), ate lunch, and then lay on the couch … Continue reading “9/28/09 – Monday”
After all the excitement on Friday, things calmed down THANK GOD, though I didn’t really get much done the rest of the day. I ran to get my groceries (didn’t go to Wal-Mart, because after 10 that place is a nightmare, so I went to Publix instead), ate lunch, and then lay on the couch and watched Grey’s Anatomy.
WARNING: GREY’S ANATOMY SPOILER IN THIS PARAGRAPH. SKIP TO THE NEXT IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THE SEASON PREMIERE. I don’t get what the big deal was about whether or not to donate George’s organs. George is dead, donate the goddamn things! Also, McSteamy cracked me up when he asked if George was hung, because George was a “dorky little dude” all the hot women were atwitter over. Also also, I can’t stand Izzy and wish she’d been the one to die YES I SAID IT.
It rained all day Friday. I’m trying not to complain about the rain because at least we’re not getting it as bad as Atlanta, and we didn’t get it as bad as we did in the Spring, and I know there were several times over the summer when we were wishing for rain. But DAMN it was making it hard to get laundry done. I kept putting off doing laundry, because I was hoping for a rainy day, and then Fred would say “Um, are you ever going to wash clothes again?” and I’d have to do a quick load of laundry so he wouldn’t have to go to work naked the next day, and use the dryer, which I hate to do.
Finally, on Saturday I gave up and did all the laundry in the house, and guess what? Sunday it was sunny as could be.
Mother Nature, you damn trickster.
Fred processed nine roosters Saturday morning, racing the rain, and managed to get them done, cleaned, and in the fridge about 20 minutes before it started raining like hell. We went out to do errands, and ended up going into Madison to visit the bookstore so Fred could buy some books he wanted (hey, if we had a Kindle, he could have just downloaded them without leaving the house!), we went over to Publix to buy Chrysanthemums for the front porch (Chrissie-anthemums! Anyone else remember that episode of Three’s Company?), then we picked up Chinese food for lunch and spent the rest of the day at home.
I figured Fred would be all antsy and pacing because he’s not usually a sit-and-relax kinda guy, but he actually spent most of the afternoon reading on the couch and petting kittens.
At one point Saturday, when he looked at my desk, which was loaded down with kittens, Fred said “I sure do love having all these kittens around. I think we could have fifty of them running around, and I’d be happy. I’d like to be like Scrooge McDuck, only instead of laying in a bed of money, I’d be laying in a bed of kittens.”
Which is when I told him that I’d answered the eternal question: How many cats have to be in residence before the house smells like litter box all the time? (Answer: 21, apparently.) He says it’s not that bad, but it seems like more often than not when I’m near the laundry room, there’s been recent usage of one of the litter boxes.
We must have cats with the healthiest and most active bowels on earth, I’m telling you.
After all those days and days of overcast, rainy days, Sunday dawned bright and sunny and BOY was it nice. We had to run to Lowe’s so I could buy some potting soil to repot the Chrysanthemums (Chrissie-anthemums!). While we were there Fred talked to the manager about the fact that the riding lawnmower that was delivered on Friday was incredibly difficult to steer. The manager told him to double-check and see if the cruise control (!) was engaged or something else would be going on that would impede steering, and if he was still having the problem, to call the store and they’d swap it out.
While I repotted my Chrysanthemums (Chrissie-anthemums!) and discovered that I hadn’t bought enough potting soil (damnit), Fred double-checked the riding lawnmower, found that it really was the lawnmower and not user error, and called the store. They had a new lawnmower out to the house by 11, and Fred spent the next few hours mowing the lawn while I puttered around the house and did laundry, cleaned, vacuumed. The usual fun stuff.
It was a good weekend but, as usual, went by far too quickly. I always feel like there’s a long list of stuff I need to do that just never gets done. Not enough hours in the day, you know?
I don’t know how on earth you people with actual jobs ever get anything done!
Lately, it’s been about the dip around here and I’m not talking about Fred HAR HAR HAR.
When I was in Publix on Friday, I tasted some of their imitation crab dip (I don’t remember the name of the stuff for certain, but I believe it might have been “Kajun Krab Dip” or something along those lines. I know they spelled it “krab”). That got me in the mood for some sort of dip, so I looked at the dips and spreads they had in their seafood section. I ended up buying a small container of lobster dip. Since it cost $2.99, likely the closest lobster got to it was when the guy who made it thought of lobster while he mixed it up, but it tasted like lobster to me, so I was happy. Then on Saturday, I made Hot Artichoke and Garlic Dip, and it was good. It was a little salty for our tastes, until I realized that it wasn’t the dip that was so salty, but rather the crackers we were eating it on. When I switched to pita chips, it became perfect. (Also, it’s just as good cold as it is hot!)
Fred thinks it would be good with a package of chopped spinach mixed in.
I’m in the mood for more dips and spreads – what’ve you got for me? Please, nothing with peppers or pimentos (the mere existence of pimentos offends me), and nothing too complicated.
Those Wonka kids are doing just fine. They seem to be losing interest in the bottle on their own and have all started showing some interest in baby food. My next step, I suppose, will be to mix the baby food with canned kitten food and transition them over to that. I put out a bowl of water and a small dish of Babycat on Sunday, and I’ll be damned if they didn’t all four at least give it a try. We’re still supplementing with the bottle, to get some fluid into them, and judging by the litter box, they’re getting enough food and fluid in. I weighed them this morning, and they’re all solidly over a pound (they gained from 1 1/2 ounces to 4 ounces since I weighed them on… Tuesday, I think?), running around with big bright eyes and play-fighting. They are killing me with the cute, I’m telling you.
We’re currently letting them out into the guest bedroom to run around during the day. The cage is still in there, and they seem to all understand where the litter box is. When they get tired, the boys always return to the cage to sleep (the girls tend to flop down on the condo or on the bed across the room). At night we put them in their cage and lock them in, and they don’t seem to mind. When they’re a little bigger, I guess we’ll just allow them full access to the room all the time. Right now they’re still little enough that they get lost in the corners of the room (“Oh WOE, I am lost, someone please save me!”), so we’ll keep them locked up at night.
Violet, Gus, and my knee (and foot).
“So, I’m WALKING ALONG, minding my own BUSINESS, and suddenly there’s this cage door! NOW what the heck am I supposed to do?!”
Gus requires a post-meal massage.
Even this little, they see a closed door and they’re determined to be on the other side of it.
Look who climbed up onto the condo all by her little tiny self! It’s Violet!
Mike followed, and she bit him on the butt for his trouble.
THERE’S A MONSTER IN THE BOX! STAND BACK! BILL WILL SAVE YOU!
First, Bill identifies the monster as being monstrous. “Yes, that is a monster. And it is in the box.”
Second, Bill names the monster. “That is a monster of the mean and bitey genre. Must be a Hoyt monster.”
Bill decides his strategy. “Stop flailing at me, mean and bitey monster. I am thinking here.”
Bill approaches the issue from another angle. “Ah, yes. The mean and bitey monster looks completely different from here!”
Bill taunts the monster. “Can’t get me now, CAN you?!”
And then Bill runs off because he thinks someone was maybe considering that it might possibly, in the next six hours or so, be snack time, and he doesn’t want to miss that.
Previously
2008: No entry. 2007: I do not know, honest to god, how men walk around with those things. 2006: YOU’RE WELCOME. 2005: Phear my l33t fotograffic skillz. 2004: Dear Stephen King: Stop defending what you did, and just write the goddamn story. 2003: Meet Gizmo.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.
You know how you wake up in the morning and you think your day is going to go one way, and it becomes obvious from pretty early on that the day has plans of its own? I woke up this morning and my plan was to get my entry up and written, run to Wal-Mart … Continue reading “9/25/09 – Friday”
You know how you wake up in the morning and you think your day is going to go one way, and it becomes obvious from pretty early on that the day has plans of its own?
I woke up this morning and my plan was to get my entry up and written, run to Wal-Mart to buy everything on my extensive list, get home before 8, get some baking done, maybe make a batch or two of jam. Instead, as I was looking through pictures trying to decide which ones to post, Fred called from work. We had a lengthy discussion about the riding lawnmower he recently bought from L0we’s, which he’s only used a few times and which has already broken. I reminded him that he’d gotten the extended warranty, and since the thing was broken, it was time to call L0we’s and see what they were going to do about it.
He asked me to scan the receipt for the riding lawnmower purchase, so I did that, then went back to looking at pictures. A few minutes later he called back to report that they were going to replace the mower. Good news, right?
Except guess who had to go out and push the riding lawnmower out into the driveway so they could come get it?
I did that, put all the booklets and spare parts that came with the damn thing out there with it, and then came back inside to work on my entry some more. Fred told me that the manager told him that it would be about an hour and a half, and that they’d call first.
So I was working on my entry, and Sookie was laying in a cat bed on my desk, and she decided she needed to be on the other side of the desk. I shit you not, I had JUST typed the part about how the True Bloods are pretty good about staying off my keyboard (you’ll get to it eventually if I ever get this fucking thing posted) when she reached one little paw out and hit a key that made everything go black. I was pretty sure she hit the “sleep” key, so after some fiddling around, I got everything turned back on and began working on the entry again.
And then I realized I had no motherfucking internet. I fucked around with that, ran a diagnostic whateverthefuck, and the computer threw up its (figurative) arms and said “Fuck if I know.” I called Fred and growled at him, told him what had happened, said I was this close to tossing my computer out the door, and found out that he’d gotten himself the blue screen of death on his own work computer not ten seconds before. He told me to reboot the router, and told me how to do so. I did, and since our internet provider also provides our phone service, the phone went dead.
Somehow, I managed to not throw the phone against the wall.
I rebooted my computer three times, and on the last time it connected to the internet.
I began working on my entry YET AGAIN when the driveway alarm went off. I hadn’t received a call from L0we’s, but then again the phone had been down for a few minutes, so maybe they’d tried. I went out, and they had backed the truck into the driveway and were lowering the lift. I pointed out the old mower to them.
“What’s it been doing?” they asked.
I shrugged. “I have no idea. You’d have to ask my husband.” I’m sure Fred told me what was going on with it, but it had gone in one ear and out the other. I’m sure I wouldn’t have understood it even if I could remember what he’d said.
One of the guys started the mower and drove it up to the truck. He drove it onto the lift – the back tires hanging off the lift, and the other guy hit the button to raise the lift.
That, I thought to myself, does not look very safe. But I guess they know what they’re doing.
One instant later, with the lift halfway raised to the back of the truck, THE GODDAMN MOWER FELL BACKWARDS OFF THE LIFT.
WITH THE GUY STILL ON IT.
FELL.
OFF.
THE.
LIFT.
I reacted as I always do in an emergency. First, I gasped loudly, and then I raised my hands to my cheeks, and stood there staring in horror, my mouth hanging open. The other guy ran over and started pulling the mower (which was resting on its back end and had leaned backward so that the guy on the mower was kind of pinned), and after a long, long moment of not being able to think of what to do, I first ran a few steps toward the house to get the phone and call 911, and then stopped and ran up the driveway to help pull the mower off the guy.
By the time I reached them, the other guy had pulled the mower up enough so that the other guy could roll off it and get to his feet, and he stood there, shaking his head and brushing dirt off his pants. I was SURE he had to be hurt – at least a broken leg! – but he assured the other guy that he was fine.
“I braced myself when it started falling,” he said. (I don’t care what that man says, he’s going to be HURTING tomorrow morning.)
“JESUS,” I said, hand to my chest.
They pushed the mower onto the lift, and the other guy (the one who hadn’t been on the mower) held it on the lift while the lift raised, and then they pushed the mower onto the truck.
They left, assuring me that they’d be back with the new lawnmower and the paperwork (“Don’t forget the worker’s comp paperwork!” I wanted to say.), and now I wait. I wonder if I’ll be able to get my entry finished and posted before they show up? That would be too bad. I’d have to write a whole other entry about how they unloaded the lawnmower and one of them was crushed to death by it.
Edited to add: They just showed up and delivered the new lawnmower, and as far as I can tell, no one was crushed in the process (though I also haven’t looked at the driveway. I’d just rather not know.) Now I can’t go run my errands because the babies will need to be fed in about half an hour. DAMN YOU FRED ANDERS0N THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.
Of COURSE after I said yesterday that I hadn’t had a midday slump since the iron infusion, I spent a good hour snoozing on the couch in front of the TV. Figures, doesn’t it? It might have something to do with that whole getting up at 4:30 thing.
I worked my way through my recorded episodes of Oprah yesterday afternoon. I don’t know the last time I watched an entire episode of that show, I usually fast forward through until I see what I want to see, then delete it. I did end up watching almost the entire episode with Mackenzie Phillips.
If you’re not up on the gossip, Mackenzie Phillips has written a book. In the book, she alleges that she was raped by her father and that it eventually turned into a 10-year “consensual” sexual relationship. I didn’t watch the show because I wanted the details about that – I’d read enough online about it already – but because I was most interested to know what her siblings thought of the allegations. Oprah didn’t ask that particular question until almost the end of the show, and the answer seems to be that they have an issue with it.
Two of her stepmothers have denied the allegations, but I actually think that Michelle Phillips’ denial lends credence to what Mackenzie Phillips says. Michelle Phillips says that in 1997 Mackenzie told everyone in their extended family about the sexual relationship, then called her the next day and said “You know I was just kidding, right?” Sounds like she got a taste of what the fallout from sharing that secret was going to be, and it made her back off for a long time.
I have no idea if Mackenzie Phillips is lying. It’s an odd thing to lie about, and it’s certainly not something that makes her look better to anyone – that it went on for so long is disturbing.
I don’t know if Mackenzie Phillips is telling the truth or if she’s so damaged from so many years of drug use that she doesn’t know what the truth is. Most of the time when a quasi-celebrity puts out a tell-all, it annoys the hell out of me because they’re so clearly desperately looking for a piece of the limelight. (I tend to leaf through celebrity autobiographies at the store to check out the pictures, but don’t buy them.) But Mackenzie Phillips claims she’s sharing her story because if it happened to her, she can’t possibly be the only one, and she wants to bring light to the topic. That actually seems believable to me.
Who knows?
It surprises me that I’m willing to believe Mackenzie Phillips, actually, because I don’t really like her. Her interview with Oprah didn’t change that – she was twitchy and weird and off-putting (which, to be fair, I’m sure being on Oprah and talking about her book can’t have been stress-free).
I guess I’m not sure what my point is, here. I guess I hope that whatever peace Mackenzie Phillips is looking for, she finds. I don’t know that writing a tell-all book and then promoting it on Oprah is so much the way to go, but good luck to her.
Boy, I’m so glad I never had a cat that pulled the TP off the roll. I have one that occasionally needs a bite of TP – must be low on fiber, but he just takes a bite and runs away. He runs because he knows if I can reach him, I will take the paper out of his mouth.
Is it wrong that the image of a cat running up to a roll of toilet paper, frantically grabbing a bite and then running off to chew it makes me laugh and laugh?
Hi Robyn! I never see you blog about it, but do you ever have problems with the older, established cats and improper elimination? (aka pooping and peeing outside the litter box). My cat has been pooping next to or close to her litter box every day for months now. I have tried everything – new litter, cleaning more often, extra praise, you name it. I am now trying Feliway. Nothing has changed and she only pees outside the box occasionally. Any advice?
We had a problem with Mister Boogers peeing outside the litter box, and let me tell you – I miss the hell out of that cat, but I surely do not miss the peeing outside the litter box. If I had to guess, maybe there’s something about the litter box itself that she’s not liking. Is it a covered litter box? Some cats don’t like those. Is the litter deep enough for her? I know you’re cleaning more often, so I’m guessing cleanliness isn’t an issue. Is she the only cat, or could she be objecting to sharing a litter box with another cat? Have you tried Cat Attract litter at all? (I’ve never tried Cat Attract myself, so don’t know for sure whether it’d help or not). Does she have any problems getting in and out of the litter box? If she’s older, it’s possible she’s developing joint issues that you may or may not already know about.
Those are the only things that come to mind – readers, feel free to jump in here!
I’m pretty sure that’s Jake. What I love about Jake is that he really looks like such a little lunatic sometimes. He’s got the crazy eyes down pat, for sure!
Debra, I have pondered this comment from every direction, and I swear I don’t understand what you mean. I thought at first you meant the number of fosters in the house, but there are 10 of them now. And then I thought, well, you meant the number of KITTENS in the house (Jake and Elwood still being kittens), but that only comes up to 12. With the other permanent residents added in, that makes (gulp) 21 cats on the premises, so I’m at a loss. Did you miscount or am I missing something?
I just counted 21 cats that you have in residence right now. Can that be right?? I don’t know whether to be scared or jealous… LOL!
Be very very frightened. Heh. Actually, it’s really pretty neat to have so many of them running around (well, to be fair only 17 of them are running around – the little ones are contained in a cage most of the time). Fred has really warmed up to the True Bloods now that they climb all over him and flop over and beg for love, and he doesn’t have to go upstairs to spend time with them.
Last night, he had six cats on the couch with him, and I had three with me. The others were off racing around. As long as they don’t tromp on my keyboard (which they’ve been pretty good about, knock wood), I really like having them out and about.
My only objection is that Terry flopped down on Fred’s lap last night, when there was PLENTY of room on my lap. And then Bill went over and curled up against Fred. What the hell? They’re supposed to love ME most of all, damnit!
I woke up with a baby spider crawling down my comforter and it was oh, so much more effective than an alarm clock in getting me UP.
The day after the spider crawling down my face woke me up, I was making my bed and found a dead baby cave cricket RIGHT WHERE I HAD BEEN SLEEPING. What the fuck is up with all these bugs in my BED all of a sudden??
And, how is The Hour I First Believed? I’m getting it from the library and was wondering if it’s worth it.
The first half of the book was very good. And then it just kind of dissolved into a mishmash that I like to call “I’ve been working on this goddamn book for 9 years and just want to get the fucking thing done.” I recommend the book for the first half, but don’t recommend the second half (though of course you have to wade through the bullshit to find out what HAPPENS).
I think Wally Lamb, bless his heart, has hit the level of fame where his editors aren’t editing him enough any more.
That’s just my opinion, of course. I know a bunch of you have read the book, what did you think of it?
Robyn, lots of people all over the world have had their iPod hard drives corrupted after installing the new iTunes version. There’s a forum discussion on the Apple Support home page but people aren’t getting responses from Apple or if they call support, they are being told to just buy a new one if theirs is out of warranty. All report theirs were FINE before installing new iTunes version. Same here. Now mine makes clicking noises, says there is NO MUSIC, no nothing and people who have restored theirs say it doesn’t work. Please ask your readers if this has happened to them and, if not, tell them not to install the new iTunes version especially if they have an iPod Classic. My 160GB bought just over a year ago is DEAD. I’ve had 5 different sorts of iPods and nothing like this has ever happened.
I haven’t connected my iPod to my computer in about a week and a half, I think, and now I can’t remember whether iTunes has updated itself recently or not. I can tell you that if my iPod dies, it’s going to be the last goddamn iPod I ever own. I really, really like being able to watch TV shows on my iPod, but the majority of the time, I use it to listen to podcasts, and it doesn’t need to be an Apple product for that.
I was wondering if you own a Kindle? I know you are a big fan of Amazon and such an avid reader. I really want one but am torn about it for some reason. I would be interested in your opinion of it whether you have one or not. Thanks.
I don’t own a Kindle, but I’ve played around with Nance’s Kindle and I liked it quite a bit. Fred and I were recently discussing buying a Kindle, actually. He doesn’t like the fact that books are so expensive (and you can’t buy them used!), but I did point out to him that a Kindle isn’t a replacement for real books, but rather a supplement. It would be super handy to have when I’m traveling and to keep in my purse for when I’m stuck in line somewhere, but I imagine I’d still trade books at Bookmooch and browse through book stores.
Maybe I’ll see if I can’t talk Fred into buying a Kindle as our Christmas present to each other this year.
The Wonkas are doing well. They’ve all been using the litter box because they are BRILLIANT. None of them but Gus are much interested in food versus formula from the bottle at this point. We’ll give it a little more time before we get pushy about making them eat food.
Fred is amazed at how quickly they’ve adjusted to us. Mike will still spit at us, but even he comes over to be petted occasionally. They’re all purring for us, and Gus has turned into such a love bug. This morning I held him like a baby and rubbed his belly for a long, long time.
I bought a cat condo (with a shelf!) at Petsmart ’cause I didn’t think we had enough cat furniture. ::snort::
Mike approves of the condo.
Something’s got Gus disturbed.
Miss Veruca’s got something to say (and in the background, Gus is all “You tell her!”).
Three of the four (Mike is off to the left, snuggled up under that big stuffed Momma cat).
“What you MEAN ‘no more belly rubs’?!”
“Rub mah belleh, or I will mess you UP with these little needle-sharp claws!”
The True Bloods are living the life, having the run of the house from about 7 am ’til 9 pm, racing around, falling down in a heap of kitten cuteness to snooze the day away, then getting up to do it all again.
They have no complaints (well, except for Hoyt. Who ALWAYS has something to say!).
There are literally six kittens on my desk right now (including our Jake and Elwood), and Lafayette and Terry are in my lap. I just tossed a pen across the room to see if they’d run over to check it out and let me get this entry posted without interference, and they sent an investigator (Bill) to see what it was. He went over, sniffed at it, and then announced “Just a pen, guys, nothing to worry about.” and climbed back up on my desk.
They love to hang out under the couch and smack at each other.
Well, of course. There ARE only 200 cat beds in the house. Why not snuggle up to the boots to sleep, Sookie?
Previously
2008: No entry. 2007: Imagine if a very industrious person took all the milk in the world, put it in one location, and let it spoil. 2006: I blushed, even though he couldn’t see me, and no doubt as a GI he’s elbow-deep in shit the majority of the time.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry. 2003: I’m sure my tendencies toward dumbassery has something to do with it. 2002: Sometimes when I’ve just finished doing my Firm tape, I feel like my brain is leaking out my ears. 2001: Maybe I should just shave my head.
2000: No entry.
