Bitchypoo – Page 74 – An acidic and hostile place: since 1999

8/13/09 – Thursday

As of today, I’ve lived in Alabama for 13 years. (Feels like 30.) That’s over 31% of my life! Still doesn’t make me a Southern Belle, though, does it? Damn Yankee that I am, adding vegetables to the chicken and dumplings and preferring sweet cornbread to the regular stuff and unable to stand the taste … Continue reading “8/13/09 – Thursday”

As of today, I’ve lived in Alabama for 13 years.

(Feels like 30.)

That’s over 31% of my life! Still doesn’t make me a Southern Belle, though, does it? Damn Yankee that I am, adding vegetables to the chicken and dumplings and preferring sweet cornbread to the regular stuff and unable to stand the taste of good ol’ iced tea.

Another 13 years, maybe I’ll take up tea drinking and swanning about with big Southern hair.

(Probably not, though.)

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So, the newish song by Katy Perry (aka Zooey Deschanel’s doppleganger) with the line “That’s what you get for waking up in Vegas.”

Did anyone hear “That’s what you get for waking up the baby” the first thirteen times they heard the song, or was it just me?

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We watched I Love You, Man the other night, and I have to say that it made me laugh out loud several times. The best part of the movie, though, is the gag reel. Paul Rudd and that chair, man. He cracks me UP.

I adore Jason Segel. I can’t wait for How I Met Your Mother to start up again in the Fall.

And speaking of TV shows, I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but in the desert wasteland that is summer TV, we’ve been taping and watching Two and a Half Men, and man. That show makes me laugh my ASS off.

Shaddup.

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Scenes from around Crooked Acres.

Spider web on the rearview mirror (don’t know where the spider was, though).

Copper Marans rooster. Check out his fancy feathered feet!

We’re pretty sure this is a Silver Speckled Hamburg. I think she’s shaped like a pigeon. We moved her out to the big chicken yard, but she was so persistent in escaping that yard and hanging around outside the maternity yard that we let her stay there – at least for the time being.

Muppet Momma and her babies.

Roosters always have somethin’ to say.

Young chickens, dust-bathing. Don’t they look guilty?

We call this chicken “One Eye” because, well, she only has one functioning eye (the other eye exists, she just can’t see out of it). She’s a good momma, and this is her second set of babies this year. Buff Orpingtons go broody at the drop of a hat, it seems.

The Maestro, before his hair cut.

And after.

This is the “broody breaker.” When a hen goes broody (ie, wants to sit on and hatch eggs), we put her in the cage for a day or so. Because she can’t get warmth underneath her, eventually the broodiness goes away. That’s the theory, anyway – if they’re still broody after a couple of days, we give up and let them sit on eggs. Basically, they can BE mothers, they just have to want it badly enough. (That black hen on top of the broody breaker is just checking things out – she’s not actually in that trap, she’s behind it. Fred put the trap up there to discourage the chickens from hanging out on top of the broody breaker, but sometimes they’re determined.)

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The kittens are now meeting me at the door. I guess they’ve learned the sounds that mean I’m walking down the hallway to their room, and there’s always at least four of them sitting there peering up at me when I open the door.

The other trick they’ve learned? Climbing up the back of my shirt to perch on my shoulder. Only Sam does it regularly, but every once in a while one of the other kittens will see him doing it and think “Hey! I can do that too!” and join him in the climbing.

It hurts to feel their needle-sharp little claws sink into the skin of my back, but they’re SO proud of themselves when they get to my shoulder that it’s pretty much worth the pain.

I have fallen head over heels for these little monkeys. I always do.

How can you not love that sweet little face?

Sweet Bill.

What I’m beginning to think is that Sam just likes to sleep with his elbow propped up.

Terry. Oh, how I have to fight not to squeeze the stuffin’ out of this little guy!

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The will to live has been sapped from poor sad Suggie. But keep in mind that when the collars are finally removed for good, he will be SO overjoyed that he’ll be bouncing off the walls (literally) for weeks and weeks. Don’t feel too sorry for him – he spends his days stretched across my desk. When I sit down at my computer, he creeps closer and closer until I scratch his neck, then he lays there and purrs and purrs. It’s a rough life.

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Previously
2008: In lieu of a real entry today, sights and scenes from around Crooked Acres.
2007: “It’s not a tumah,” he said, as is standard.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Give me time, I’ll have fifteen different versions of “Xanadu” in my music folder.
2003: MY ARM HURTS.
2002: I think no one ever told Billy Bob that if you ANNOUNCE you’re taking the high road, then you aren’t taking it.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

8/12/09 – Wednesday

Those of you who couldn’t see the Fiesta ware picture in yesterday’s entry, try looking again (maybe clear your cache first, too). I don’t know why it wasn’t showing up before, but it should be now. (And if you still can’t see it, let me know!) * * * * * * * * * … Continue reading “8/12/09 – Wednesday”

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I made chicken & dumplings for dinner last night, and it was goooood. It’s strange to me that true chicken and dumplings don’t have anything in them but chicken and dumplings (which shouldn’t surprise me, but somehow still does). It seems that it’s a dish that calls for vegetables to be added, so last night I chopped up a rib of celery and an onion and a few carrots, and it only made it better. I actually think it would be better with fewer dumplings, so I’m going to make a mental note to half the dumpling part of the recipe next time around.

With all the chicken processing that’s been going on lately, I think we need to step up our chicken consumption, but with only the two of us, every meal I make with chicken gives us at least one more meal of leftovers, and often two more meals. And then there’s the freezer full of pork. And vegetables.

It’s a rough life, but someone’s gotta live it, right?

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Thanks, you guys, for your podcast suggestions – I’ve got a nice long list of podcasts to listen to. Which, unfortunately, means I don’t have any excuses to skip doing housework or yardwork or garden work! Hmm, maybe I should have thought that one through more thoroughly…

I actually ended up not working in the garden yesterday because by the time I was ready to head out there, Fred had called the vet to make an appointment for Sugarbutt, and the appointment was at 8:30, which gave me time to shower, put Sugarbutt in the carrier, and head out. The garden can wait – it’ll be there another day, I’m pretty sure.

Sugarbutt’s toes have been looking awful. I’m sure I’ve mentioned recently that he was licking between some of his toes and wouldn’t stop, and they were bloody and nasty, necessitating our putting the victorian collar AND the bite-not collar on him. His toes were looking better over the weekend, and then Fred made the mistake of letting Sugarbutt out of his collars on Saturday (the poor cat looks SO miserable when he’s got those collars on, it’s like he’s given up on life and we feel bad for him), and Sugarbutt went directly for his toes while we weren’t paying attention, bloodied them up, and despite repeated spraying with an antibiotic spray, they weren’t getting any better.

The vet looked at his toes, cleaned them off, and then painted them with some blue stuff. (Actually, before that he looked at Sugarbutt’s records and said “When we put the blue stuff on his lip, it healed up pretty well, didn’t it?” I agreed that it healed up very well because Sugarbutt’s lip is just fine as far as I know, but to be honest? I do NOT REMEMBER any issue with Sugarbutt’s lip. Whatever they did to it worked, I’m guessing, since he doesn’t currently have a lip issue. I really need to start writing this shit down because my memory when it comes to the cats and their medical issues is NO good at all.) I don’t have any idea at all what the blue stuff is, the vet came into the room with a Dixie cup full of the blue stuff, which he proceeded to paint on Sugarbutt’s toes, and on the receipt it just said “Foot treatment”. So now I’m very curious what the hell that blue stuff is. I think I’m going to make Fred call and ask exactly WHAT it is.

He also gave Sugarbutt a steroid shot. Sugarbutt’s toes are looking better, and when Fred let him out of his collar last night, Sugarbutt groomed and groomed but didn’t even think of licking his toes. I’m going to guess that the blue stuff is some magical healing shit, and the steroid stopped the itching.

Fucking Sugarbutt and his skin issues. I just want his toes to heal up so we can let him out of those collars so he can resume his ass-on-fire ways. I’m hoping by the end of the weekend we’ll be able to do that.

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The kittens have gone from running to hide every time the door opens, to running over to sit at my feet and howl for lurve. As I walk around the room scooping litter boxes, they follow me around and howl at me until I sit down. They they crowd around me, climb up onto my legs, and demand that I pet them. Terry’s gotten to be a real little prince – he sits on my leg and demands that I pet him. If I pause for ONE moment, he meows a sad, demanding little meow. Oh, he’s so spoiled but he is SO sweet.

Sam loves to sleep like this.

Stretching and complaining.

“I HATES IT when she puts ointment in my eyes. HATES IT.”

Bill with the mink tail. They LOVE that thing.

Wild things.

“I said NO PAPARAZZI!”

“I am the little prince, and you must pet me.”

Terry’s wonky paw. It looks like he’s got an extra thumb going on over there, but actually there are three toes on the left and two on the right. He’s able to put the smack down with it quite well, thank you. (Note that he’s licking my finger. SO SWEET.)

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Sheriff Mama keeps an eye on her domain.

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Previously
2008: ”What are we going to do when we find out?” Fred asked. I still don’t know the answer to that. I just want to KNOW.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: Right now, Fred’s upstairs trying to snooze while Mister Boogers comforts him.
2004: Does she think she’s Paris Hilton?
2003: Me, earlier today: “I swear to god, I’m going to go on a shooting spree!”
2002: ME LOVE LOBSTER, have I mentioned?
2001: No entry.
2000: It sure is good to be home!

8/11/09 – Tuesday

I’ll be heading out to the garden here in a few minutes to work on the row of tomatoes. I started it on Sunday, pulled up all the tomato plants that weren’t producing, and pruned the cherry tomatoes to make it possible to actually get to all the tomatoes. As it was, the cherry tomato … Continue reading “8/11/09 – Tuesday”

I got the biggest row of tomatoes done Sunday, and I’ll get the second row done today.

Here’s where you come in – I have one podcast episode of Keith and the Girl to listen to, and then I’m out of stuff to entertain me while I’m doing boring shit. Tell me what podcasts you listen to that I should check out. I listen to Keith and the Girl and This American Life, but it’s just not enough listening time to get me through my daily tasks.

Help a sister out, won’tcha?

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Good god almighty.

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Check out all the awesome new Fiesta ware I got in Pennsylvania!

The little bowls that look like they’re blue, in front of the single-serve casserole dishes, are now in the foster room with kitten food in them (they’re also not blue – they’re dark purple). I ADORE my smiley face plate, and plan to eat every meal off it from here on out. I can’t wait to use the single-serve casserole dishes (eggplant lasagna, maybe?). The yellow bowl to the right with the pile of cream-colored plates on top? I got that stuff at Hall China, the price was too good. Now that I look closer at the little plates, they almost look like little pie plates, don’t they?

Oh, I love my Fiesta ware. The fun part is going to be finding a place to put it all! It may have to live on the counter ’til we get the new pantry inside, and I can make room in my cabinets.

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Last week I was looking for a lamp for the foster kitten room. Since I moved the dresser from the room into the closet, there’s nothing for a lamp to sit on. I was looking for a wall lamp when I stumbled across the concept of a ceiling swag lamp. This, for the uninformed, is a lamp you can plug into the wall, then hang from the ceiling.

So I did a Google search on “ceiling swag lamp” and I came across a site that said “blah blah blah for affordable ceiling swag lamps, check out this site!”, and I clicked on the link to see these “affordable ceiling swag lamps” and found that apparently “affordable” ceiling swag lamps run in the area of $140+.

That’s not affordable to ME. That’s the opposite of affordable, thank you very much.

I know what you’re thinking – you’re thinking “Robyn, you were about to buy a BOAT, you’re bitching about a $140 lamp?”

That boat was NOT the boat version of a $140 lamp, believe you me.

I ended up buying a simple, plain ceiling swag lamp off eBay for less than $50, shipping and all.

And I bet it works just as well as the $140 lamp.

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Someone noted in my comments yesterday that I can apparently tell Bill and Hoyt apart now. I actually spent a good part of the weekend staring back and forth between the two, and now I can’t believe there was ever a time I couldn’t tell them apart.

Now, kitten by kitten, meet them all.

This is Terry. He has a diamond on his nose, a hernia on his tummy (it’ll be fixed when he goes to be neutered and doesn’t bother him at all) and a wonky paw (I thought it was polydactyl, but it just formed so that he’s got three “fingers” on one side, and then two “fingers” on the other). He’s a mess, but he’s the sweetest little lover boy you’ll ever meet.

Lafayette. He has crossed eyes, and also is the only black kitten of the litter. He loves eating, and if anyone else gets too close to his food, he slaps down the Paw o’ Doom.

Sookie. I couldn’t get a good shot of her looking at me, because she’s got better things to do than be sitting around looking at me. That’s a mink tail she’s playing with. She LOVES it. She’s the only girl, and has a lot of white on her face, which is how I can tell who she is without looking at her back end.

(Regarding the mink tail – someone gave my sister a package of mink tails for her cats a few years back. Her cats were completely uninterested, so she gave them to me. I have yet to have a litter of kittens where at least one of them is not IN LOVE with the mink tail. Sometimes they get all possessive and growly when they’re carrying the mink tail around.)

Sam. At first, I got him mixed up with Sookie a lot, because they both have a lot of white around their nose. He’s got more, though, and that adorable little freckle. Also, her stripes are darker and more defined than his are. He’s a sweet little cuddler.

This is Hoyt. He’s the biggest of the bunch, has HUGE paws, and is the snuggliest snuggler there ever was. I can now tell him apart from Bill because Hoyt has just a wee bit of tan on his face, and only has one squinty eye.

This is Bill, who I couldn’t tell apart from Hoyt for the longest time. He’s got a lot more tan on his face than Hoyt does, and he’s got squinty eyes. Also, he’s cross-eyed. He’s a sweet thing, and despite the squinty, crossed eyes, he’s an observer. He watches his siblings closely.

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Say hello to my little turkey. We’ve named him “Hjonkie” (pronounced “He-yonky”) because he walks around saying “Hee-yonk. Hee-yonk.” He’s a friendly little guy and likes to climb up on Fred’s shoulder and hang out.

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Previously:
2008: For the record ~~Bill Phillips~~ emus are very violent when you offer them a cup of corn.
2007: No entry.
2006: “You pipple giffs me zee headache.”
2005: God, I love the internet.
2004: Three days into the school year, and I’m sick to death of bus issues.
2003: My weekend can be summed up thusly: long periods of mind-numbing tedium broken with a stretch of horrified disgust, with a soupcon of panic tossed in for good measure.
2002: Maine recap.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

8/10/09 – Monday

So, the boat. We saw the boat on Tuesday and put the deposit down on it (in cash, with a written receipt received) that same night. Wednesday, Matt – the seller – had to do something to the boat to finish fixing it. Thursday, Fred went over so that he and Matt could finish fixing … Continue reading “8/10/09 – Monday”

So, the boat.

We saw the boat on Tuesday and put the deposit down on it (in cash, with a written receipt received) that same night.

Wednesday, Matt – the seller – had to do something to the boat to finish fixing it. Thursday, Fred went over so that he and Matt could finish fixing it (some part or something had to be replaced. I’m not clear on the details and don’t care to be) and then take it out on the water. He got home at 6, annoyed that they’d spent all that time working on the boat and never got a chance to get it out on the water.

Friday, Matt had to work both his jobs, so he and Fred made plans for Fred to come over to his house Saturday at 11, they’d spend a few hours on the water, and then the boat would be ours.

Saturday at 10:15, the phone rang. It was Matt, who asked for Fred. I went out and followed Fred around on his riding lawnmower for ten minutes until he finally saw that I was waving him down (I swear to god, when he’s on the fucking riding lawnmower and I need to get his attention, it’s certainly as though he’s doing everything in his power to not so much as glance my way. By the time I get his attention, I’m usually highly pissed off.).

Fred picked up the phone, and I went back in the house to finish cleaning the kitchen. I figured Matt had finished whatever he’d needed to do that morning and was calling to tell Fred that he could come over early if he wanted.

Fred walked into the house. “And just like that,” he said. “We don’t have a boat.”

Turns out Matt had babbled some shit about something being more wrong with the boat than he’d thought, and how the boat needed to be repaired, and it “wasn’t going to work out.” Meaning the sale wasn’t going to work out.

He was actually calling to ask if we banked at a particular credit union. We do, and he wanted to just transfer the money from his account to ours. Fred wasn’t about to give out our account information to him, so we ended up going to Matt’s house to get our deposit back. He told Fred that he’d taken the boat to a certain marina to have work done.

The garage where he keeps his boat was conveniently closed, and we couldn’t see into the garage.

Later, someone Fred works with, who knows boats, called to let Fred know that he’d stopped at the marina where Matt had claimed he’d taken the boat and there was no 1987 Sea Ray Seville waiting to be worked on there.

My guess? Either he decided he didn’t want to sell the boat or someone offered him more money.

Douchebag.

My low level of interest in owning a boat has flatlined. I’m only hoping that if I put Fred off long enough, he’ll lose interest too.

But I’m scared to find out what he sets his sights on next.

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5:40 Saturday morning found me digging frantically through the “Cats – Vet” folder in the filing cabinet next to my desk, searching to make sure everyone was up to date on his or her rabies shots.

In the back yard, under a bucket, an injured bat screeched angrily.

I’d been sound asleep when Fred woke me to tell me that the cats had gotten a bat. He didn’t know that any of them had actually come into contact with the bat – they were all kind of just huddled around it staring at it. He asked if I wanted to come look at it, and at first I didn’t want to get up, and then I decided I did want to see it (how often do you get a chance to see a bat close-up?), so I grabbed my glasses and trudged downstairs.

In the back yard, Joe Bob and Kara and Tommy were in meatloaf positions around the bucket, staring at it with some interest. We discussed what Fred should do, and ultimately decided that he’d carry the bat out to the back of the back forty, and leave it on the ground there so that either it could recover and fly off, or die in peace without one of our asshole cats trying to tangle with it.

Fred flipped the bucket up, and I stared down at the poor bat, who was on his back and flailing around angrily. Damn but bats are cute, even when they’re pissed off. Fred flipped it over onto its stomach (we both kind of hoped it would suddenly take flight and fly off with its bat family), and it lay there and screeched angrily. Fred leaned down to push it into the bucket, and I saw a dark shape swooping through the air at us. I yelled at him to leave the bat alone and back off, and he did. We waited for a moment, and the dark shape – another bat – swooped by again. When I determined that it was most likely not going to coming screeching through the air to attach itself to Fred’s face and suck out his brain through his eyeballs, I allowed him to push the bat into the bucket and carry it off.

Then I came inside and dug through the folder to be sure everyone was up on their rabies shots. Everyone except Maxi is up to date (she was supposed to get her rabies shot when she went to the vet the week before last, but she was running a fever at the time, so they couldn’t give her the shot) and she wasn’t around the bat, so I think we’re all good.

Famous last words, right?

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Fred processed five roosters on Saturday, in fact he was mostly done with the processing by the time I got up at 6:30, and of the five he processed, one was half Silkie.

Silkie chickens, for the record, have black meat. It’s considered a gourmet food in some Asian cultures, and it supposedly tastes just like chicken, but man – that is some nasty looking meat.

Since I know some of you out there are the delicate sort and have no desire to see a cleaned chicken, I’ve put the picture elsewhere. Anyone who wants to see the blue-gray meat of a half-Silkie chicken, you can see it here.

What I like most about that Wikipedia page about Silkies is that it claims they’re known for their “docile temperament.” HA. One of you guys once commented that they look like Muppets, and now we refer to the Silkies as Muppets, only we don’t just call them Muppets, we call them ANGRY Muppets. Because when I open the door to the nest boxes and there’s a Silkie in there, she sounds exactly like you’d imagine an angry Muppet would sound, all puffed-up and screechy and “I’M LAYING AN EGG HERE GODDAMN IT, LEAVE ME ALONE!!!”

Also according to the Wikipedia page, The breed is renowned for its broodiness and mothering abilities. Now that, I’ll agree with. The white Silkie is on her second batch of baby chicks, and she’s very VERY protective of her babies.

Muppet Momma.

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The thing is.

Well, the thing is.

Mondays? They’re exhausting.

(Hoyt)

(Sam and Lafayette)

(Terry)

(Lafayette and the top of Sam’s head)

(Bill)

(Terry)

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You take your cool places where you can find ’em. (Please note the CLASSY brown paper duct taped to the top of the fireplace to stop the crap from falling down into the fireplace. Time to replace that with fresh brown paper and duct tape, I’m thinking.)

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: six cats (permanently living in the house) are our limit. (Famous last words!)
2006: And you know when I’m saying it’s hot, it must be like burning in the flames of Hell.
2005: I’m going to kill my husband.
2004: “THIS IS NOT THE FRONT OF THE SCHOOL,” I said. “THIS IS THE SIDE.”
2003: No entry.
2002: Stop making those gagging noises.
2001: Is it just me, or does Mother Nature not like it when the spud or I fly?
2000: No entry.

8/7/09 – Friday

Yesterday morning, I met up with Katherine (I’ve mentioned her before as the lady who adopted Kara’s kittens (then River and Inara; now they’re Nate and Dora)) at her barn. For most of the summer we’ve been talking about doing a garden tour, and finally we got our schedules together so I could see her … Continue reading “8/7/09 – Friday”

I got some really good gardening ideas for next year – stuff that will really help save a lot of time in the garden next year – which was worth the trip alone. But THEN I saw her barn and learned some interesting stuff about horses. We waited to see if the horses would come back to the barn so I could meet them, but they were apparently enjoying their foray into the back of the field, so since the mountain(s) wouldn’t come to Mohammed(s), Mohammed(s) jumped on an ATV and went to the mountain(s).

I have never been on an ATV before in my life and holy CRAP was it fun!

We went out to the horses, and they came over and snorted at us and then when they realized we had no treats for them, they gave us the eyes of “Really? Are you kidding me?” and then went back to grazing. They sure were gorgeous.

I got to meet Sarge, Katherine’s sweet 25 year-old horse who recently came back to them. Did you ever imagine that horses can get sunburned? I had no idea! Sarge needed some sunblock smeared on his face, and he was such a sweet, patient guy while it was going on. But once the sunblock was applied and it was clear that we had no treats for him, he was like “WhatEVS. I have grazing to do. YOU ARE DISMISSED.”

“I have to have sunblock smeared on my face AND you brought no snacks for me? What fresh hell is this?”

I didn’t drive the ATV this time around, but she’s promised that next time around I’m totally going to drive it!

(Yes, that shirt is two sizes too big for me. What’s your point?)

(We joked about dying in a tragic ATV accident and how Fred, upon hearing the news, would be saying “But I thought you were just going to look at a garden!”)

It was way too fun. I’ve told Fred we need another 20 acres so we can justify buying an ATV.

Barn cat, of course. This is Bonnie.

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I’ve never weeded a garden, so I take your word for it that it’s boring. I wear my ipod when I have a boring chore to do. Gets me motivated to do it, and keeps me motivated to FINISH it. I use the little band that holds the ipod that goes around your arm (same one I use to work out with) so both my hands are free to scrub the toilet, vacuum, chase down cat-hair tumbleweeds….whatevs. Maybe weeding would be less boring if set to music!

If I didn’t have my iPod to listen to while I was weeding, I would absolutely refuse to weed. I listen to podcasts while I’m weeding (or doing housework or canning), and it makes the task more bearable – but it’s still super boring!

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Every time I see pics of Nance, I can’t help thinking that she looks like a young Christine Baranski.

I can kinda see that!

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I was reading your entry from 8/3/2001 and you mentioned a reporter from Newsweek contacting you about your experience with Pirate’s Booty. What was that all about? Were you actually mentioned in a Newsweek article about Pirate’s Booty?

What happened was that the reporter emailed me, and then I gave her my number (or possibly I called her, I don’t remember) and we talked for about fifteen minutes. Then she called back a few weeks later to confirm a couple of things I’d said.

And then September 11th happened, and I don’t know if they didn’t run the article or if just missed it, or what. So it’s possible that there’s an article about Pirate’s Booty out there that quotes me, but if so I’m not aware of it!

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How is Maxi’s oozey ulcer doing?

Maxi’s nasty head wound seems to be completely healed. She finished her course of antibiotics, and the hole in her head (heh) has scabbed over and looks pretty good. Her face is no longer swollen around her eye, and she’s still got the flat, dead Tony Soprano eyes, she shows up at snack time and picks fights with Joe Bob, so I’d say she’s back to normal!

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I’ve always used “vice-a versa”. Please don’t hate.

I have a different set of expectations for people who misuse phrases in the course of their day to day life than I do for the people who are paid millions of dollars to come up with super-annoying commercials designed to convince me that I need to cram 1/3 pound of nasty-looking meat in my face. In other words, you I will not boycott. McDonalds? I boycotted them for an entire two days until I was driving by one, starving to death, and stopped for an ice cream cone. THAT SHOWED ‘EM.

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Hey Robyn, where’d you get that really cool peace sign/heart t? I love it.

The peace sign/ heart t-shirt I’m wearing in the Dumbversation videos, I got at Kennywood. Nance was looking for a t-shirt and just didn’t like any of the ones she saw, and then I saw the heart/ peace sign one and pointed it out to her. She snatched it out of my hands and ran off with it, but luckily I found another one. So now Nance and I BOTH own those shirts. Too bad she wasn’t wearing hers when we were making the videos, then we REALLY could have looked like the dorks we are.

(Oh, and I haven’t been able to find the t-shirts on the Kennywood page. I guess you have to go there if you want one!)

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I about peed when I saw the pic of the boat! As I said on Fred’s site, is it for when the back 40 floods so you can still access all your property? 🙂

Fred told me we should dig a moat around the back forty, so we can motor around it in the boat. Ha!

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New babies are too cute!!! HEY! Next time you get a batch of girls, you can start naming them after Housewives!!!

I’d love to do that, but someone’s already done it, and the shelter prefers that we use names that haven’t been used in the past. You’d think we’d run out of names, but so far we haven’t – though if I start naming the kittens “7348” and “9845”, you’ll know that we did.

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But to use the boat Fred is going to have to LEAVE Crooked Acres on his own free will. Can he DO that? 😉 Have a blast with it! Wish we had one this summer.

and

I’m totally jealous of the boat, but shocked (SHOCKED, I say!) that Fred would even consider a pastime that took him away from his precious Crooked Acres. What the hell is going to happen if y’all are out past dark??

Fred would like y’all to know that he leaves Crooked Acres sometimes! (And then I said “Yeah, to go to work!” and he had no good reply to that. Heh.)

I do not imagine we will ever be out on the boat after dark – most of the time I’m sure we’ll be using the boat on the weekends, leaving the house at the crack of dawn and coming home mid-afternoon. Although, I half expect his next declaration to be that we should extend the back forty to encompass the maternity yard so George and Gracie can protect those chickens as well, in case we’re out past dark.

He did say the other day that it would be neat “In a few years when the farm is under control” to drive down to Florida and put the boat in the ocean and spend a few days there. The problem is that I don’t know the farm will ever be “under control” as long as we keep adding animals to it. It would be cool, though!

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So, will we be seeing the cats with life saving vests on riding on the boat? Water skiing perhaps???

Fred has mentioned several times that it would be neat to have a cat to take out on the boat with us. I cannot imagine even our most laid-back cat (Tommy) putting up with that, though.

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Favorite all time ever boat name is OSIBAB. I thought it was a foreign word so tried to google it and found out it means “Oh Shit I Bought Another Boat”

LOVE IT.

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“So, hoist up the Stanley B’s sail/See how the mainsail sets/Send for the Captain ashore, let me go home!”

🙂 Honestly, it was the first thing I thought of!

Yeah, Fred’s been alternately singing and whistling that song since I declared that the boat was now the Stanley B.

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The cross-eyed cat is so cute, but its freaking me out. Will he grow out of it? How can he function like that, and I hope someone will adopt him. (i’m a worrin about the little fella)

I don’t know if he’ll grow out of it, but I can assure you that it’s not slowing him down at all. He’s able to see just fine, he runs around like his butt is on fire, and he doesn’t stumble or weave when he runs, either.

I suspect that he’ll be one of the first from his litter to be adopted – the crossed eyes just adds to his charm, and he’s pretty cute to start out with!

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I sure hope life jackets come with that new boat!!

But of course – along with a wake board, a tube, and a bunch of other stuff we won’t use. 🙂

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Thanks to a suggestion from misscrankypants, the kittens are now named! We went with a “True Blood” naming theme this time around, and we have Sookie (the girl, obviously), Lafayette (the black kitten), Terry (the kitten with the diamond shape on his nose), Sam (the biggest kitten), and Hoyt and Bill (the two brown tabbies I can’t tell apart!).

The kittens are ever so slowly warming up to me. Last night Terry let me hold and pet him for a long time, and he even purred for a little while. Lafayette came over and flopped down next to me and demanded a belly rub. The others aren’t actively seeking out being petted, but when I pet them as they run by, they don’t shy away from me, either.

Their eyes are slowly getting better each day – Hoyt and Bill’s eyes are the worst, but I’m treating them multiple times a day with ointment, and I expect by the end of the weekend they’ll be running around with big, bright eyes instead of squinting around with goopy eyes.

I suspect they’ll be glad when I’m no longer trying to put ointment in their eyes, too!

Lafayette. Look at that goofy little face – how can you not love him to bits?

Sam’s the laid-back sweetie pie of the bunch.

Sookie. She’s a bit skittish and she HATES it when I pick her up to put ointment in her eyes, but at least she’s not hiding under the chair all the time now.

“Did you hear that?”

“Banzai! This kitten condo will be MINE!”

I love how Lafayette’s trying to take the condo, and the other two are like “What is he doing?”

He’s hanging on for dear life…

“I meant to do that.”

Sam and his Paw of I’m the Boss.

Hoyt or Bill. Check out the size of that paw!

Kitten pile-on.

Terry gives the Paw of I’m the Boss a try.

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The cats would like me to know it’s Snackin! Time! and I need to get my butt in there and fix them their snack, damnit. (This has been sitting on my hard drive for a while – if you look to the very left, you’ll see Mister Boogers’ angry little face.)

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Previously
2008: Ungrateful fuckers.
2007: Just because we CAN grow something doesn’t mean we SHOULD.
2006: Maine recap.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: Well, except that it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird and all that.
2002: No entry.
2001: I bet the cats are counting the minutes (if cats could count) until we have the yard fenced in and they can go out there.
2000: No entry.

8/6/09 – Thursday

New episode of Dumbversation is up! Nance titled this one “Robyn takes it to a new level of nasty”, and I have to say, she ain’t kiddin’. My only excuse is that it was late (which you can tell by looking at my squinched-closed eyes). * * * * * * * * * * … Continue reading “8/6/09 – Thursday”

New episode of Dumbversation is up!

Nance titled this one “Robyn takes it to a new level of nasty”, and I have to say, she ain’t kiddin’. My only excuse is that it was late (which you can tell by looking at my squinched-closed eyes).

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So yes, we have a boat.

We haven’t been out on the boat yet – Fred is going to pick it up tonight (I think) and get a lesson from the guy who’s selling it to us, and then we’ll take it out Friday and likely at some point (or points) over the weekend and when I don’t update on Monday it’ll be because we’re stranded somewhere on the river and I’m bellowing “Oh, you haaaaaaad to have a boat!” at Fred. That’s the plan at the moment, anyway, things could change.

I decreed that the boat’s name is going to be the Stanley B, which was one of Mister Boogers’ nicknames, and is more nautical and jaunty-sounding than “Mister Boogers” would be, but Fred has said that he doesn’t necessarily agree to that (he suggested the Sea Chicken or Sea Kitten).

I like how he thinks he has any choice in the matter.

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These kittens, oh. I can’t stand how cute they are. The worst part is that they have each other to play with, so they’re mostly uninterested in me, so they go running by me to jump on each other, and sometimes I have to grab them and force a snuggle. They are most unimpressed by the forced snuggles, let me tell you.

Probably once their eyes are improved and I don’t have to put terramycin in them three times a day, they might warm up to me a little. Something about seeing a tube of ointment poking at their eyes seems to put them off, go figure.

Yes, the little black kitten is cross-eyed, but it doesn’t slow him down in the least. To be honest, it makes him look even more adorable, if you ask me! (And, the black kitten is a boy – I sat and stared at the kittens for a long time yesterday, and except for two of them, I can tell them apart (since you’re curious, I know, we have “biggest kitten with lots of white on his face, girl kitten with almost as much white on her face as the biggest kitten, diamond-faced hernia boy, black kitten, and the two brown tabbies I can’t tell apart.” But I’m working on it!)

I got one of them to purr for a brief moment yesterday during a forced snuggle (and by “forced snuggle”, all I mean is that I pick them up, hold them against my chest, and pet them ’til they either meow sadly or try to turn around to jump down. I don’t try to hold them if they’re actively struggling against it, I promise), then he remembered that I don’t impress him much, and he squinted up at me and refused to purr any more.

Silly little brats – I will make you love me!

“YOWZA!”

They are all very fond of the Petmate water fountain.

Diamond-faced hernia boy gets a belly rub.

Wild things.

Kittens gone wild!

I brought some canned food into the kitten room yesterday morning, because I think it’s never too soon to start spoiling them and causing that “Lady brings us yummy food, therefore we LIKE the lady!” connection in their little brains. Most of them sniffed at the food and moved along to the solid food in the bowls. The little black one, though, climbed onto one of the plates of canned food and ate and ate and ate. He finished off that plate (which held 1/3 of a small can of cat food) and moved on to a second plate. I didn’t want him to get sick, so I let him have a little of that plate, then I took it away from him. He glared at me with his funny little cross-eyed glare, and then allowed me to rub his belly.

All heart, that one.

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Previously:
2008: Meet Michele the chicken!
2007: (Miz Poo, upon seeing me pick up a fly swatter and walk toward her, whines and runs away. Like I beat her spoiled ass on a regular basis! I don’t, but I oughta. She deserves it.)
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: The morning I wake up and find a cricket in bed with me is the day I start closing the cat door at night, believe you me.
2003: I HAVE THINGS TO DO THAT CANNOT BE ACCOMPLISHED WITH A PORTLY POO IN THE WAY.
2002: No entry.
2001: Yeah, like YOU don’t have a voice in your head that reads things to you…
2000: No entry.

8/5/09 – Wednesday

It happened quickly, as it so often does. One day, my marriage was complete and happy with just the two of us. The next day, Fred had fallen in love with a 22 year-old. What can a wife do? Down at the very core of me, I’m a realist. I struggled with it, but in … Continue reading “8/5/09 – Wednesday”

It happened quickly, as it so often does. One day, my marriage was complete and happy with just the two of us. The next day, Fred had fallen in love with a 22 year-old.

What can a wife do? Down at the very core of me, I’m a realist. I struggled with it, but in the end, I decided to learn to live with it.

Last night, we made the final plans. We’re bringing the 22 year-old into our home; Fred’s going to move her onto Crooked Acres, trailer and all. I don’t know that this great love affair of his is going to last for long – in fact, I expect it won’t, that this time next year she’ll be a faint memory. But I’ve committed to dealing with it. He works hard, he does very little for himself, I owe him this, don’t I?

Just call me Tennille.

(Read more about the homewrecker here.)

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Yesterday morning, I hit the ground running. I changed the sheets on both our beds, I washed the sheets and hung them out, I vacuumed the house, I canned green beans and pickled jalapeno slices for Fred.

But really, I was just waiting for the call, and late morning, I got it…

There are six of them – five boys, one girl. One black, five brown tabbies. They are pitiful little things with super-goopy eyes. I’m hitting them up several times a day with ointment in their eyes, and though I’ve had them less than a day, I can already see improvement in their eyes.

They’re not super friendly, but a couple of them have let me rub their bellies. It’s funny – when I’m in the room with them they’ll occasionally come by and allow me to pet them, but for the most part they ignore me. The instant I step out of the room, though, they line up at the doorway and meow pitifully, like “Where you go? What you doing? WHY WOULD YOU ABANDON US???”

I haven’t really started thinking of names – I can’t tell them apart at this point, though there are one or two that I can recognize by sight. The largest of the litter, for one, the one with a hernia (and a white diamond on his nose) and, of course, the little black one. The other three, though, are brown tabbies who look an awful lot alike. It’ll take me a day or two to tell the difference between them, I imagine, and then I’ll be amazed that there was ever a time when I couldn’t.

It’s so nice to have babies back in the house, I can’t even begin to tell you!

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So, yeah. Yesterday was an eventful day. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to haul Newt to the vet. It’s always something, isn’t it?

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Would you believe that even with the Victorian collar on, Sugarbutt was able to lick his toes? So we put the Bite-Not collar *and* the Victorian collar on, and it seems to have done the trick. Don’t feel too bad for him, he’s been getting oodles of extra love and treats and spending his time stretched across my desk getting belly rubs.

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Previously:
2008: Yeah, I don’t believe me either.
2007: No entry.
2006: The man KNOWS romantic conversation, doesn’t he?
2005: That Jane, she’s a smart and wily one.
2004: No, there are no current plans for Fredbyn offspring.
2003: I think we’re going to change Miz Poo’s name to Miz Money Pit.
2002: No entry.
2001: Picture entry.
2000: The word of the day is shopping.

8/4/09 – Tuesday

I’m glad you guys are enjoying Dumbversation – Nance has more to post in the future (we were up late that night!), and we’ve come up with a way to continue it even though we live so far apart. You’ll note that 9/10ths of the time, Nance is the one being funny and outrageous, and … Continue reading “8/4/09 – Tuesday”

I’m glad you guys are enjoying Dumbversation – Nance has more to post in the future (we were up late that night!), and we’ve come up with a way to continue it even though we live so far apart.

You’ll note that 9/10ths of the time, Nance is the one being funny and outrageous, and I’m just sitting there reacting to her. I’m totally her Ed McMahon.

And yes, I’ll add a link in the sidebar one day soon so y’all will be reminded that it exists!

Oh, and I should add here that though I said my mother and I didn’t talk about sex, she did try to bring it up several times when I was a kid, whereupon I maturely screamed “GROSS!” and ran away.

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I went to Sam’s Club yesterday, y’all, and I will be goddamned if I didn’t ONCE AGAIN leave that place having spent LESS than $100! I honestly never thought it was possible, and now I’ve done it three times in a row.

I deserve a Nobel peace prize or something.

It helps that I’ve been sticking to the list (well, except for the rawhide treats I got for the dogs. PRIORITIES, people!) and the good thing about Sam’s is that I can go there starving to death, but I’ll never buy snack food. While I MIGHT buy a single candy bar or donut or something at the grocery store if I’m really hungry, at Sam’s if you want a candy bar you have to buy like 300 of them, and well – that ain’t gonna happen.

My favorite part of shopping at Sam’s is that I have my membership through Fred’s company, thus I have a “business membership” and so I can go into the store between 7 and 10 (as well as during regular hours), before the unwashed public is allowed in. It’s a lot less busy before 10, as you can imagine, and I can go in, sail through there, load up my cart, and get out in about twenty minutes.

It’s surprising how many people don’t realize that they don’t have the super-special business membership – at least three people were turned away when I was going through the door at 9:00, and they were completely surprised that they weren’t allowed in.

After Sam’s, I went to Michael’s to look at picture frames and debate on what kind of crafty supplies I thought I should buy. I don’t know what the hell it is about that store, but I come up with these brilliant ideas while I’m in the store, and then I get home and think “Now, what was I going to do with this calligraphy pen, double-sided tape, basket, and pinking shears, again?”

I went over to Target, which was jam-packed with mothers and kids buying stuff for school, which I believe is going to be starting again soon. I poked around the store, looked for things on my list, loaded up my cart, checked out, and then headed for home.

I made a quick stop at Kohl’s and ended up buying frames there. I’d looked at frames at Michael’s, but they were so expensive and not what I wanted, that I hadn’t bought any there. The frames at Kohl’s were on sale (which, don’t get your panties in a bunch, everything’s always on sale at Kohl’s, it’s just everything starts out at three times the normal price you could find for the same item in any other store, then when they mark it 50% off, you feel like you’re getting a SUPER bargain. I’m wise to your ways, Kohl’s, yet helpless to resist your 50% off!!!! signs.), so I bought several of them.

THEN I headed home. I was about ten minutes from home when I had to call Fred and bitch to him about the fact that I’d just heard a McDonald’s commercial for their new 1/3-lb Angus burger (or whatever it’s called), and they used the phrase “vice versa”, only they didn’t use the phrase “vice versa.” They used the phrase “vice-a versa”, which is NOT A PHRASE AND DOES NOT EXIST AND YOU WOULD THINK ONE OF THE FUCKBRAINS AT THE ADVERTISING COMPANY WOULD HAVE CAUGHT THAT ONE GAH I AM GOING TO BOYCOTT MCDONALDS UNTIL SUCH A TIME THAT I AM IN DESPERATE NEED OF AN EGG MCMUFFIN GODDAMNIT.

By the time I got home, it was almost 1:00, so I went out and checked on the turkeys (Fred was concerned that they’d have all died for no reason in the 4 hours since I left to go do my errands). The turkeys ran over to the fence and looked expectantly at me. I tossed them a handful of scratch, and in unison they looked at the scratch and then looked at me expectantly again. I tossed them a handful of cat food (since we don’t leave a full bowl of cat food on the front porch anymore, we have leftover cheap cat food that I don’t feed our cats, and it’s a good source of protein for the birds) and they looked at the cat food and then turned again to me, looking expectant.

I don’t know what they were expecting, but it wasn’t scratch or cat food, I can tell you that.

I spent a good part of the afternoon going through old foster kitty pics, choosing ones to print out so that I can hang them on the wall in the foster kitten room. It was surprising to me that there were actually some fosters I didn’t remember very well, but they were mostly the ones who came and went in a matter of days.

I had a really hard time choosing pictures of Kara and her kittens because I took over 1,400 of them, for god’s sake. But I narrowed down the total pictures printed out to 99 (in addition to the 20 or so I ordered and got last week), and when they arrive next week, I’ll get to work taping them to the big-ass canvas I bought at Michael’s today for just that purpose.

I also sent off some pictures of Mister Boogers, Spot, Tubby and Fancypants to be printed (I use Shutterfly). I bought a picture frame that will hold two pictures of each of them, and I think it’ll look nice once all the pictures are in the frame and it’s hung on the wall. Our own little memorial.

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Poor Suggie. We’ve come to realize that using the Bite Not collar on him doesn’t work because he’s a smart little fucker and he’s figured out that if he streeeeetches his leg just so, he can reach it, and still lick his toes raw. This has been going on for far too fucking long, so we dug out the victorian collar yesterday afternoon and put it on him, and he went from his usual super-happy ass-on-fire self to super-depressed and sad and “Why you hate me???”

If we can just get his toes to heal up, we can take the fucking collar off him, and he can go back to being the happy Sugs we know and love so much.

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Previously
2008: This is MY SITE.
2007: No entry.
2006: I reflected for a moment that I wasn’t hovering over him in the dead of night, so I didn’t know how I could have possibly scared him.
2005: See that? I made a thinly veiled joke about his age! I am SO FUNNY!
2004: As for where the odd socks go – the bad ones go to hell, don’t they?
2003: Oui, I am back! Let the rejoicing begin!
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: So we were at the beach this morning by 10.

8/3/09 – Monday

So, over at her site, Nance has been taunting everyone about the super-secret project she’s been working on. It’s something we started last year when I visited the weekend after Thanksgiving, and then we let it lay ignored for months and months. When I visited last weekend, we finally got our asses in gear, worked … Continue reading “8/3/09 – Monday”

(I did a little bit of fiddling around with the site itself, too.)

We’re proud (? embarrassed? horrified? amused?) to announce the launch of Dumbversation.com:

Check it out here.

Let us know if you’re having any problems seeing anything. Just keep in mind that it was late at night after a very active day, following a very active weekend, and we were both very very tired and not terribly coherent.

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New month, new banner! This was created by the wonderful Aly, who’s created so many of my banners in the past. Considering how much time I’ve spent in the garden lately, it’s perfect.

Thanks, Aly!

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Happy birthday, Jane!!!!

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So, this weekend was a pretty good one, if not terribly productive. Fred decided to take Friday off, and we spent part of the day pondering what the hell to do. He ended up mowing the lawn, then we went to the co-op so he could buy the supplies to make the yard where the turkeys are a bit bigger, and then… I don’t know. I think we got some groceries, and went by Lowe’s to look for a wall lamp for the foster kittens’ room (we didn’t find one, unfortunately), and he looked at riding lawnmowers, and ended up buying a part for the lawnmower we already own.

(I tried to convince him that we need a zero-turn mower because the mower we have has to be serviced, I shit you not, at least twice a month, and I think at this point that it’s such a money pit that we should just get a new one. He’s not willing to give up on it yet, though.)

Near the end of the day, he went out to dig holes to put fence posts in, and discovered that the alternator (I think) on his tractor had gone south. It seemed to fix itself for a bit, and then un-fixed itself. We ended up having to make a run to the tractor place to get a new alternator before they closed.

Saturday, we left the house and went to the flea market at Lacon. This time, we didn’t really even try to pretend that we were there for any reason other than looking at livestock. We parked and made a beeline for the people who were selling poultry, and found to Fred’s profound dismay that no one was selling turkeys. So we went home, and he worked outside and I puttered around inside, until mid-afternoon when he asked if I’d go out and pick tomatoes and green beans.

It was while I was picking tomatoes that I decided tomorrow morning (I have plans for today already) I’m going to haul my ass out to the garden and yank up some of the tomato plants. They’re so huge and bushy that it’s impossible to properly pick tomatoes – you can’t get in there to get them, and they end up rotting on the vine. And next year, we need to plant those fucking things about twice as far apart as we did this year.

I was picking green beans when it started raining, and so we came inside, ate dinner, and started watching TV early.

Sunday morning, it was raining when I woke up, so I assumed we wouldn’t be going anywhere.

I assumed wrong.

We went to Dog Days, the flea market up in Tennessee, with the intention of looking for turkeys around the age of ours (6 – 7 weeks old). We had three (started out with four, but Fred had to put one down while I was in Pennsylvania), but someone who is not me decided that three turkeys? Not enough.

We could have gotten 7 baby turkeys for $25, but Fred wanted to get ones that were closer to the age of ours, so we ended up getting three that were a little larger than ours. And home we went, with turkeys in carriers in the back of the car.

I wondered how the introduction of the new turkeys to the resident turkeys was going to go, and it went just fine. The biggest of the three we already had did a little dance to show who was the head turkey in charge, the new guys looked less than impressed, and then they all went in search of bugs and grass to eat.

(I think I forgot to mention that Fred got the turkey yard enlarged on Saturday. They now have a yard three times larger than the yard they had before. When we move them in with the chickens in the back forty, we’ll be able to take down the fence between the maternity yard, which will make the maternity yard about twice the size it is now. We believe in letting our chickens have plenty of space to roam!)

The best part came when we went out around 8 last night to lock the chickens and turkeys away. We’ve had to pick up the turkeys and put them in the coop before we lock the coop every night since we got the turkeys two or three weeks ago. They just didn’t seem to understand that when it got dark it was time to go into the coop. Last night, all six of the turkeys were in the coop. Apparently we got some smart ones who taught the old guys that dark = time to roost!

Fred finished mowing whatever he’d been mowing when it started raining on Saturday, then he spent some time in the garden picking things for me to deal with.

And then I took a bunch of the green tomatoes I picked while I was pruning the tomato plants last week, and I made fried green tomatoes. I mean REAL fried green tomatoes, fried in oil in a pan, not the oven-fried green tomatoes. And lo, they were fantastic.

Last night for dinner: pork roast and fried green tomatoes, all grown by us and all tasty as could be.

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Stuff I baked over the weekend:

Friday, I made Chocolate Zucchini Cake. And once it was made, I said to myself “There is nothing on this earth I want to eat LESS than this Chocolate Zucchini Cake.” So the pigs got it all.

Then on Saturday I made the Best Birthday Cake, because with a name like that, you really are forced to give it a try, aren’t you? I mean, that sounds like a challenge – you HAVE to try the recipe so you know, right? I made the cake and the frosting, and I have to say that the cake is really, really good. I mean REALLY good. I will definitely make that cake again in the future. The frosting, however, was not my thing. It’s got sour cream in it, and it tastes like it’s got sour cream in it, and I just didn’t care for it.

In the future, however, I’ll likely make the cake and use a chocolate buttercream frosting instead.

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: Questions answered.
2006: I’m sorry, but my Aunt Fanny am I a size 40C.
2005: I suspect people as beautiful as Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt have to be a little bit nuts, anyway.
2004: WONDERFUL.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: A Day in the Life of a Bitchypoo.
2000: Maine recap.

7/31/09 – Friday

So, it being the last of the month, did anyone notice that the banner at the top of the page has changed throughout the month? (Thanks again, Jean!) There’ll be a new banner up over the weekend (Aly, I’m using the one you sent me back in June!), but if anyone is feeling creative and … Continue reading “7/31/09 – Friday”

So, it being the last of the month, did anyone notice that the banner at the top of the page has changed throughout the month?

(Thanks again, Jean!)

There’ll be a new banner up over the weekend (Aly, I’m using the one you sent me back in June!), but if anyone is feeling creative and wants to send me one for future use, feel free to!

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Yesterday morning, I went out to the garden. Fred’s been complaining for some time that he can’t even walk between the two rows of tomatoes, and Wednesday morning he outright asked if I’d get off my lazy ass and get out there and prune the tomato plants (well, not in so many words, but he got the point across). I told him I would, so yesterday morning I rubbed a Bounce fabric softener sheet over my arms and legs (to repel mosquitoes – and it worked GREAT, I didn’t get bitten one single time!) and headed out there.

At the beginning of every summer, it’s my intent to keep a close eye on the weeds, to work in the garden for some time every morning and help keep it under control. That usually lasts about three days before I hit the “fuck it” wall, and stop going out there.

(Weeding is BO-RING.)

So yesterday morning, I went out there, and I carefully stood back from each tomato plant, and I regarded it closely before carefully pruning what needed to be pruned.

That lasted about ten minutes. Then I started just randomly hacking at the plants, and an hour and a half later, I’d made multiple trips to the mulch pile (where I was stacking the tomato vines I’d pruned away), gotten a bushel full of decent green tomatoes (the cracked and split tomatoes I tossed to the chickens and pigs, and then onto the mulch pile because there were a LOT of fucking cracked and split tomatoes), and it was possible to move between the two rows of tomatoes. I knocked a shit ton of cherry tomatoes onto the ground between the two rows, and I have to say that stepping on green cherry tomatoes feels kind of like stepping on bubble wrap – you get that same cool popping sensation under your feet.

(Really, I should have taken before and after pictures, because the difference is amazing. Didn’t think of it, though!)

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Fred had to take Sugarbutt and Maxi to the vet yesterday. Someone’s been leaving blood-covered poops in the litter box, and it wasn’t until yesterday morning that Fred discovered Sugarbutt was the culprit. And Wednesday night I’d been petting Maxi and realized she had a nasty-feeling spot on the top of her head. She didn’t like having it touched, and when we looked at her straight-on, we could see that the area around one of her eyes was swollen.

It’s her M.O. to come inside in the morning to get something to eat, then disappear for the day. She disappeared yesterday morning, and then I got nervous that she wouldn’t come around again in time to go to the vet, so I’d periodically go outside and call for her. She didn’t show up and didn’t show up, then about 20 minutes before Fred got home from work, I went into the back yard to brush Tommy (he hates the Furminator, but I can usually get a good swipe or two in before he grabs my arm and sinks his claws in (as long as I don’t pull away, I don’t get injured, and he lets go pretty quickly)), and Maxi was hanging out right outside the fence. I coaxed her into the yard and brushed her, and she put up with quite a lot of brushing with the Furminator before she ran off and rolled around in the grass.

I carried her inside and shut the door so she couldn’t disappear again, and she seemed to think there was nothing strange about that – she ate, then went and sat patiently by the door for me to let her out.

Fred arrived home, boxed up Maxi and Sugarbutt, and headed off to the vet (I stayed home and fed the pigs, which is usually what he does when he gets home from work).

An hour later he came home. Sugarbutt’s fine, just needs antibiotics – go figure, since I’d already decided he had cancer and was going to spend the next several months wasting away.

Maxi, on the other hand, had a raging abscess on top of her head. Fred said that when the vet started shaving her head, pus started coming out of the abscess, and kept coming and kept coming. We theorize that she got into a tussle with another animal, and it got her on top of the head and near her eye. We have to give her antibiotics twice a day, put ointment in the hole on her head twice a day, and put some stuff in her eye two or three times a day.

She was so freaked out by the whole vet thing that she peed in her carrier several times on the way home.

Poor Maxi.

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Last Thursday, I downloaded the second season of Gossip Girl from iTunes so that I’d have something to keep me entertained on the trip to and from Pennsylvania. I paid for it with my debit card.

(Aside: Is it just me, or could Serena and Nate practically be twins? Sleeping together was pure narcissism on their part.)

Over the weekend, Fred bought a new driveway alarm from Amazon and used a Bank of America card to pay for it.

Tuesday morning, when I checked my email before we left for the airport, I had an email from Bank of America, saying that there was potentially fraudulent activity on the card, and Fred needed to log on to the website. I forwarded the email to him and asked him to see what was going on. When I landed in Detroit, I had a text message from him, telling me that the charges were from iTunes, and had I used the BoA card to pay for iTunes purchases?

I had not, so I texted him back “Absolutely not.”

Turns out those several iTunes charges had been made from another country, in foreign funds. Fred notified the BoA people, who shut down the account and are sending us new cards.

Wednesday and Thursday morning and afternoon, we got automated calls from BoA, attempting to locate Fred and alert him to the fraudulent activity. At the end of the call, after they’ve given the number for Fred to call ASAP, they say “If you’ve already logged onto the web site or talked to customer service, please disregard this call.”

How about “If you’ve already dealt with this shit, hit “8”, and we’ll stop harassing you”? How about that, Bank of America?

I’m not really complaining, though – I suppose I’d rather be alerted too many times as opposed to not at all.

I just think it’s weird that I downloaded stuff from iTunes, and then a few days later fraudulent charges were attempted at iTunes, using a card I have never used there. What are the chances?

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Do you prefer the food in Maine – restaurants and stuff – to the food in Alabama?

There are certain foods – lobster, whoopie pies, Italians from the Kitty Korner – that I like a lot and have to have every time I visit Maine, but for the most part I find that most of the food I eat in both places is pretty similar. Plus, I can always get lobster and whoopie pies if I miss them that much. (Not the Italians from the Kitty Korner, though. Those are a Maine-only thing!)

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I love Nance’s kittehs. How do you not abduct them when you leave? Julie and Waldo anyway. Ungrateful Maddy would have to come around to you a bit more!

Oh, are you kidding? Julie would DIE without her DADDY. Our assholes would pick on Waldo. And Maxi, Kara, and Stinkerbelle provide plenty of evil – if we added Maddy to the house, I’m pretty sure it would burn down late one night, and we’d all perish in the flames o’ hatred.

(Did I mention that Maddy allowed me to pet her, though? Could have knocked me over with a feather!)

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I don’t receive the notifies anymore… Any idea why?

I responded to Stephanie directly on this, but I’m posting the question just to say that I don’t really mess with the notify lists, so if you suddenly stop receiving your notify email, it’s probably either bouncing or going into your spam folder. If neither of those is what’s going on, then I just don’t know. Sometimes unsubscribing and resubscribing can make it work again (kind of like pounding on the side of the TV when it’s messing up.).

And anyone who wants to join the notify list, you can find instructions here.

Alternately, I do not gaze lovingly upon the list of subscribers to my notify list daily, I don’t get notified when someone joins, and I don’t get notified if someone leaves. I really have no idea who’s subscribed to the notify list and who isn’t, so you’ll never receive an email from me asking why the hell you’re not on the notify list. If you’re receiving a notify and it’s become a pain in the ass to you, go ahead and unsubscribe. You won’t hurt my feelings, I promise!

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Did you think to buy some Trader Joe snacks to take home to Fred? I’m thinking he’d like the Snap pea crisps. Just wondering if you bring him a care package after your trips. 🙂

I did not buy any Trader Joe snacks to bring home, because there’s a Trader Joe up near Nashville that I keep intending to drive to, just haven’t gotten around to it. (Also, I only brought one small suitcase with me and didn’t have room to stuff bags of snacks in there.) I don’t generally bring home anything for Fred from my trips unless I stumble across something (usually a t-shirt) that I think he’ll really like; I didn’t this time around.

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Completely off topic but couldn’t help think of you when I got my latest cross stitch catalog. Do you get the Stitchery catalog? I thought you needed the Picasso rooster. T63-752 I saw a million kitty ones too I would get you if I had extra money floating around.

I don’t get the Stitchery catalog anymore because I haven’t ordered from there in a long time. I do still have some of their old catalogs laying around with about a billion pages dogeared to mark the patterns I love, though! I’m currently in a downswing as far as the cross stitching goes – I stopped about halfway through a picture I was working on, and haven’t had the get up and go to pick it up again, even though it’s sitting on the couch glaring at me every night.

(That said, I really like this one and this one and this one… So many cross stitches, so little time and motivation!)

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Have you seen Drop Dead Diva on Lifetime? I planned on hating it due to the conceit that anyone who woke up in a chubby body would be horrified even though the body belongs to a funny, talented and smart person. But dang it I like this show.

I have not. What’s the consensus, everyone? Do I want to give it a try? I taped More to Love this week, but haven’t watched it yet and am not sure whether I want to.

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I’m slightly disturbed by the fact that you hadn’t had a chili dog prior to turning 40. Also – you bought tiny plates and don’t know what to do with them? Hello?! Tiny kitty mouths to feed.

Yeah, Fred’s weirded out by the fact that I’d never had a chili dog before. To be fair, I didn’t even know I liked chili ’til I moved to Alabama, so I never would have even thought to give a chili dog a try before!

And the tiny kitty mouths have 10,000 plates to eat from already.

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That looks like you all had enormous fun. Poor old Fred, left at home to mind the menagerie!

Oh, please. Don’t cry for him, Argentina. He’d be miserable if I made him leave the farm for longer than a few hours!

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I am so jealous of how perfectly Nance rocked that hat! That is not any easy style to wear-I used to be a major hat person and could never pull that off. How does Nance eat the stuff she does and stay so thin? You would NEVER know she was ever heavy if someone didn’t tell you.

Doesn’t that hat look perfect on her? She actually tried on another hat that looked even better, but the picture came out blurry.

As far as how she stays so thin – she really doesn’t eat that crap all the time. We just eat a lot of junk when we’re together, because we let our inner fat chicks out to play. 🙂

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“Did not enjoy the trip to the vet, THANK YOU.”

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Previously
2008: Getting the crap ball rolling, so to speak.
2007: Pictures from around Crooked Acres.
2006: But I’ve been secretly calling it hepatootis to myself.
2005: No entry.
2004: Hawaii recap.
2003: No entry.
2002: Around the neighborhood.
2001: “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” I yelled.
2000: All hail Dumbass Bitchypoo.