Bitchypoo – Page 80 – An acidic and hostile place: since 1999

6/5/09

Ever see the movie Snatch? Maybe… is Snatch the movie where you can’t understand a fucking word they’re saying? Because I think we made it about ten minutes before we turned it off. & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & … Continue reading “6/5/09”

Ever see the movie Snatch?

Maybe… is Snatch the movie where you can’t understand a fucking word they’re saying? Because I think we made it about ten minutes before we turned it off.

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There was a man,convicted of many counts of murder,who killed prostitutes and fed some of them to his pigs, here in my province. It happened in a suburb of Vancouver, BC not too long ago. Google Robert “Willy” Picton

AGH.

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Robyn, surely someone has sent you this from CNN.

Our chickens really like donuts, too. But we don’t make ’em cross the road – we deliver!

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Did Beulah and Bessie get adopted yet?

I have been deliberately ignoring this question all week because I knew y’all would have a cow if you knew Beulah was sitting in a cage at the pet store.

Now I can announce that she has, in fact, been adopted – I guess she was adopted on Tuesday. Bessie, however, is still there (in fact, I’ll be seeing her in a little while when I go to clean cages at the pet store!). There seem to be a large number of black cats and kittens available right now, so it could be a little while before she’s adopted, unfortunately.

I can report that I saw both Beulah and Bessie last Friday when I cleaned cages, and they were both perfectly happy to be out and about, and they ran and played and let me snuggle with them.

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The guy in the cat yodeling video who holds the cats looks a LOT like Fred!

It’s that whole geeky engineer thing.

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I don’t know how you wash your bras but you aren’t sticking them in the dryer, are you?

Nope! I wash them in the washing machine on the “hand wash” setting, and then hang them up to dry. I suppose I should be actually washing them by hand if I’m really concerned about making them last, shouldn’t I?

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About your cart-stealing “person:” I’m surprised how people manage to get through life being so clueless. I would not have the nerve to take someone’s stuff out of their cart and throw it somewhere. Could they have, oh, I don’t know, gotten the cart when they first came in the store? It’s too bad you didn’t come out and catch her (him?) in the act. Now THAT would have been a great entry!

Oh, I’ve gone into stores and not gotten a cart when I first walked in, but instead of STEALING SOMEONE ELSE’S CART when I realize I need one, I haul my ass back to the front of the store and get one.

I’m getting steamed about the whole damn thing again – whoever stole my cart is just LUCKY that I didn’t walk out while they were stealing it, because I was so pissed about the whole bra-trying-on thing that I probably would have bitch-slapped them.

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Did you watch the I’m a celebrity get me out of here telehorror last night? We laughed our you know whats off. I think this might be my guilty pleasure this summer along with Wipeout.

I didn’t – I ought to check it out. I hear those annoying kids from The Hills were total whiny-bitch babies.

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i used to have cats all the time as a kid and they had kittens so i use to have cats and kittens, i just moved out to my aunts and she lives in a different provence than my mom and dad. she got her first cat not too long ago, it was a stray that was kind of thrust onto her or something. anywho she got a cat, its a small thing fully grown , and it goes in heat none stop more then a regular cat should , she does not have the money to get it fixed at the moment as she is a single mom with 2 teens and 1 kid . i came to help out but i don’t have the money eather at the moment anyway , the kids let the cat out when she was in heat about 3 weeks ago and i can tell she is prego , this is my aunts and her kids first pet minus the beta that they had that the cat ate on arriving here . and no one is happy about the joys of kittens , is there a way other then bringing her to the vet and waiting out the 64 days, to see if she is prego and how do i get my aunt and cuzs more cuddly to the idea and ready for them if she is.

I don’t know that there’s a way to find out for sure if she’s pregnant or not – I am married, after all, to a man who thought that Maxi was pregnant again, only to find out that he was apparently feeling her liver rather than a kitten’s head – so I’m going to throw this out to the readers. Anyone know?

As far as getting your Aunt and cousins cuddly to the idea and ready for them – well, I’m at a loss there, too. Readers? Help?

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Wow. Are these gardens and animals all at your house? Would you like a 10 year old for the summer? She is a hard worker and it would save me money on camp..she’d have a blast!

I would LOVE to have a 10 year-old helper – however, have you ever seen the way a very hungry kitten is when you try to take away her food? She gets all growly and hissy and smacks at you with her sharp little claws? That’s how Fred is about his farm chores. He does NOT like to share.

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Yes, what is that scary thing on the nest?

That’s a red wasp. Evil-looking, aren’t they?

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I know you guys have a lot of chickens but wow…when you see a bunch of them in the yard like that, that’s a lot of chickens!!

And that’s not even counting the approximately 50 chickens (mostly baby chicks) that are in the maternity yard!

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how the heck do you tell George and Gracie apart? Is one bigger than the other? They sure are purdy, love seeing pics of them on “duty”

George is quite a bit larger than Gracie. And in my opinion, Gracie’s way prettier than George – smarter, too. George is a great big loveable lunkhead – he’s the muscles of the operation, and Gracie’s the brains.

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What ever happened with the Copper Marans?

They’re mingling with the rest of the flock in the Maternity yard right now. Of the 40 eggs we started out with, we have 7. It was a complete balls-up and a waste of money, in my opinion. Fred’s offered them up for sale, but so far we’ve had no takers.

So many people have shown interest in Buff Orpingtons that I’ve tried to convince Fred that we should have a flock of Buffs, instead. Their eggs don’t sell for as much, but they’re a pretty popular breed of chicken.

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Have you ever thought of making Tomato Jam with your tomatoes?

I can’t say that I have – though now that you mention it, I feel like someone might have sent me a recipe for Tomato Jam (maybe it was green tomato jam??). I’ll have to dig through my recipe pile and see if I can’t find it!

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I have a request for you Miz Robyn. I need a little favor and you are just the person with the skills to meet my needs.
I am in need of a private go to rant/mantra that I can recite to myself, silently since I usually need it at work. The rant needs to be foul, aimed at the useless, talentless, asshat mother####### who make my life miserable through their stupidity. I could have used it 3 times this morning before 8 AM. I need your help Obi-Wan. You are my only hope!!!!!

Really, the only suggestion I have is the simplest: Fuck. You can make it short and concise as you mouth it to yourself: Fuck. Or you can drag it out: Fuuuuuuuuuuck. You can make a sentence out of it: Fucking fuck fuck FUCK. Start quiet (in your mind), go loud. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUUUUUUCK. I don’t think there are any other words in the English language that are as satisfying.

If someone has said something in particular, you can repeat what they’ve said to yourself, adding “fuck” as many times as possible. “Elaine, have you got the TPS Report? I need it by noon!” can become “I’ve got your fucking T(fucking)P(fucking)S Re-fucking-port right the fuck here, you fucking fuckface and you can go fuck yourself I’ll get it to your stupid fucking face when I fucking get around to it. Fucker. Fuck noon! Fuck yourself!”

Just be careful not to let it gain volume so that you end up saying it out loud.

Then you’d really be fucked!

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Robyn, could you handle taking a Vitamin B (complex) supplement? Vit B makes your blood smell and taste terrible to mosquitoes. I haven’t been bitten by a mosquito in about 20 years. And they used to LOVE me.

Thanks, all y’all, for your mosquito-repelling ideas. I do take a Vitamin B complex, but I’m kind of lackadaisical about it, so maybe I’ll step it up and see if that works. Also, I’m going to give the “Off” clip-on a try, and also the “Bounce” suggestion.

I say throw everything at the problem and see what sticks, eh?

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Also, why not sell your extra tomato sauce, like you did the HabJam?

‘Cause it’s frozen, not canned – and since tomato sauce has to be pressure canned, I can only can four jars at a time. AND making tomato sauce is a pain in the ass. I much prefer to cut up the tomatoes, dehydrate them, and use them for stir-fries, put them in lasagna and chili, stuff like that. Worry not – not one single tomato will go to waste, I’ll make sure of it!

It’s kind of funny, how much I’m looking forward to the tomatoes this year. I used to LOATHE tomatoes when I was a kid. Now I can’t get enough of ’em.

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What you need to know about Phyllis:

Girlfriend has got some LUNGS. And if you don’t do what she wants when she wants you to do it (ie, give her FOOD), she lets you know how displeased she is.

I made the mistake of giving the kittens Gerber chicken and gravy – yes, baby food; it’s like crack for kittens – and now they won’t touch any canned kitten food. I’m trying to fatten up Phyllis, who is TINY (she weighed 1 pound, 3 ounces on Sunday), and she’s not much interested in hard food, and she turns her nose up at canned food, so baby food it is.

Spoiled brat. But I really have no one but myself to blame!

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Previously
2008: I’m surprised the mail lady hasn’t demanded a color-and-consistency report.
2007: Y’all don’t fuck with Sheriff Twitty, now.
2006: Do not, if you’re going to be more than 5 minutes away from home, wear brand-new underwear shopping.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: Fred always says “You blame EVERYTHING on the fact that you’re about to have your period, having your period, or just HAD your period!” Well, duh.
2002: 26 things you may not know about me.
2001: No entry.
2000: Why, oh why, does writing snotty letters amuse me so?

6/4/09

Woohoo! New season of Burn Notice starts tonight! & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & I ended up getting up at 5:07 (what? I looked at the clock when I rolled out of bed. Like … Continue reading “6/4/09”

Woohoo! New season of Burn Notice starts tonight!

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I ended up getting up at 5:07 (what? I looked at the clock when I rolled out of bed. Like you don’t?) yesterday morning because the kittens heard Fred moving around downstairs and started howling for some love. So I got up, gave ’em some love, and then wandered aimlessly around the house. I finally got around to straightening up my room – I’ve been piling stuff on top of the dresser for ages now. When I was done clearing off the top of my dresser, I went ahead and started going through the clothes in my dresser, pulling out some stuff to stick in the closet ’til it’s cold again, and digging shorts out of the container they’re stored in, in the closet.

I swear, this state – one week it’s, like, 50 degrees out and I’m bitching about how cold I am, and the next week it’s 97 degrees (it was NINETY-SEVEN DEGREES on Monday!) The clothes I wore two weeks ago are too damn hot to wear now. Not that I’m complaining (much), I’d rather be hot than cold, I’m just saying I could use a more gradual lead-in from the 50s to the 90s.

I rearranged the closet, and then tried on some jeans I’d stuck on a shelf to see if I liked them any more than I had. I decided to bring two pairs of jeans out of retirement, and leave the third pair on the shelf. Maybe some day I’ll love them – more likely, in 15 years I’ll say “Why am I holding on to these?!” and donate them somewhere.

Then I rearranged the other closet, which is filled with shipping supplies – boxes, bubble wrap, styrofoam peanuts, stuff like that. Hey, I have to be prepared for when the Habaneros come in and I can resume making Habanero jam!

(I will most likely wait ’til the Fall to actually start making jam, actually. In case you were wondering.)

When I was done, I looked at the windows, thought about getting out the supplies to clean them, and decided I’d done quite enough of that nonsense for the day.

I had to run out to the shelter to get supplies for the kittens, so on the way I dropped off stuff at the recycling center, then ran by the post office to check for mail since I hadn’t done so in a couple of weeks. The person who previously had that PO Box was apparently a mother, because she (I suppose it could be a man, for that matter – they’re addressed to Micheal, so I don’t know how that’s pronounced. Like Michael, or like Michelle, or some third option I’m not thinking of?) receives three or four parenting magazines and Entrepreneur magazine every month. I’d forward them to him or her, but I have no forwarding address (and I made a mental note of his/ her name, but do you think, all these hours later, I can remember what the surname was? Swear to god, if I don’t write shit down, it’s lost forever in the recesses of my brain.).

What would y’all do if you were receiving someone else’s magazines, magazines that could not be less interesting to you?

(In the interest of full disclosure, if they were Rolling Stone or US or People or something along those lines, I’d likely bring them home and read them. Since they’re Parenting and Parents and Entrepreneur, I toss them in the recycling container.)

I s’pose I could start with remembering his/ her last name next time I get one and see if I can’t locate their physical address, but I’m not holding out a lot of hope that that’ll get me anywhere.

Nothing in the PO box was for me – WOE! – and I headed for the shelter. I got there in record time, checked out the kittens (there’s a little girl kitten who is a dead ringer for Dwight, complete with an astounding amount of energy), chatted with the shelter manager for a little while, got my supplies, and then came home.

We actually had a little rain late in the afternoon (Weatherman Fred announced that that makes two days in June when we had rain), but not a lot, and the garden kind of needed it.

But alas, it made the garden wet enough that it wouldn’t really make sense for me to go out there and weed. And I think that when I report to you that I counted 23 mosquito bites on the backs of my thighs from when I weeded on Sunday and Monday, you can imagine how heartbroken I am not to go out there and weed again this morning.

Speaking of mosquitos – tell me about your favorite mosquito repellent, whether it be homemade or something you buy in the stores. What works amazingly well for you? Because these bites are driving me NUTS and I’d like to prevent any more from happening, thank you.

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Such a pretty boy.

“Pipe down, Phyllis, this one is mine!”

LOVE his crooked little whiskers.

Dwight jumped over to the window sill and Creed does NOT approve.

I call this one “Princess Monkeybutt with Eye Boogers.”

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Sugarbutt was laying on the bed when Miz Poo came up and lay down right next to him. On PURPOSE. I was afraid to look directly at them because I’ve never seen such a thing.

(Sugarbutt’s collar is for the electric fence in the back yard – it keeps him from wandering. Miz Poo’s collar is to prevent her from overgrooming.)

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Previously
2008: I KNOW it’s just nature and instinct and all that, but it still PISSES ME OFF.
2007: That whole separating-laundry stuff is a line of bullshit perpetrated upon the American woman in an attempt to KEEP HER DOWN.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: Styrofoam peanuts = pure evil.
2003: It’s got to be the hormones in the air, that’s all I can guess.
2002: No entry.
2001: We call them the Naysayers.
2000: No entry.

6/3/09

Reader Jennifer has a cat-related question. I don’t have any advice for her, but I thought y’all might have some suggestions. I’m a long time reader of your blog and I am hoping that you could post this so that I could get some advice from yourself and some of your cat loving readers. I … Continue reading “6/3/09”

Reader Jennifer has a cat-related question. I don’t have any advice for her, but I thought y’all might have some suggestions.

I’m a long time reader of your blog and I am hoping that you could post this so that I could get some advice from yourself and some of your cat loving readers. I have a 14 year old male fixed cat named Tigger. He’s been healthy all of his life until about the last year or so when he started having bowel movements outside the litter box. At first it was only once in awhile and I thought it was because he was constipated, they were very hard and dry. I started giving him canned and dry food and that seemed to solve the problem. I also had taken him to the vet who gave him a physical, there was nothing wrong with him. Also I tried the Feliway infuser, I don’t think it made any difference. Then it started up again last fall, again it was only once in awhile so I wasn’t too upset about it. Then shortly after Xmas it started to be everyday and then I saw him urinating outside of the litter box. I took him to a different vet who did bloodwork and a physical and again nothing wrong with him. She gave me some suggestions about litter box retraining, I will make a long story short and say that I have done everything she suggested and it has not seemed to work. I don’t want to go back to her because she is pushing me to buy their brand of expensive vet food which I cannot afford. At this point we have him confined to a small area with a baby gate across the doorway, it is our main floor bathroom and laundry area. His food is in the bathroom and litter box in the hallway. He will use the litter boxes when he is confined but not when he is free to roam the house. I don’t want him to live like this, it is hardly fair to him to be confined to such a small area but I can’t let him out to eliminate outside of his litter box. We have a 9 month old baby girl who just started crawling and I can’t take the chance that she is going to get into cat waste. I suppose having the baby is what is causing his stress and that is why he is eliminating outside of the box. I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to put him down because of this. I’m hoping someone will have some suggestions for me. We are short on $$, I’m on maternity leave and my husband was off work for a few months. I can’t afford a lot of expensive vet bills. Any suggestions would be really appreciated. I’m afraid if we can’t solve his problem we are just going to have to leave him confined to the area he is in or put him down and no one wants that.

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When I read Elayne‘s comment from yesterday, I snickered and then I giggled and then I snorted.

I had a dream last night about you. You were doing a sort of video-entry (what’s the name for those?) where you had mounted a camera to your shoulder so it was as if we were peering over your shoulder as you went about your daily tasks. You were cleaning in the kitchen and then you said how much you love having a septic system because it makes laundry so easy – you just drop the towels right down the sink (and here you.. just dropped the towels right down the sink) and the septic tank gets them nice and clean. Then you went into the bathroom to clean in there, and you said that for sinks with small drains, such as in the bathrooms, it was easier to flush whatever dirty clothes you had down the toilet, and you demonstrated this with a pair of socks and a pair of jeans.

You said that the septic tank had a sort of grid over the top of it, and the clothes got caught up on the grid, and the water and chemicals would wash over them from subsequent flushes/sink-drainings/etc. Then all you had to do was go out once a day, hoist the grid up, and let the clothes dry in the sunshine, and it was just the best thing ever. You said the only problem was when it was rainy and you had to haul the wet clothes into the house to dry, and I was yelling at my computer screen, “That’s the ONLY problem? The piss and shit and stuff that rushes over your clothes every time you flush a toilet, THAT doesn’t bother you in any way?!? Have you LOST YOUR MIND?” But it was the internet, you couldn’t hear me.

The worst part is, in the comments, people were saying what a fabulous idea that was and how they couldn’t believe they’d never thought of it, and several people said they were going to re-do their standard “city water” hookup and switch over to a septic tank system so they could do the same thing. Others said they’d also been doing it for years, and I resolved never to leave the house again lest I accidentally brush up against someone who washed their clothes this way.

You owe me several hours of sleep! (c:

Rereading my last sentence in the second paragraph, I’m LOLing:

On the internet, no one can hear you scream.

*snerk*

I don’t know why it made me laugh so much, except that it almost seems plausible that I could come up with something boneheaded like that, and then rave about how much easier it made my life while completely ignoring the down sides of my brilliant new idea.

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Scenes from around Crooked Acres:

Cucumber plants are blooming! Now that we’ve had some dry weather, the garden’s starting to take off. We had our first oven-fried summer squash last night.

Nest-building in the garden shed. Ugh.

Evidence of mice in the garden shed. Nice of them to leave the pecan shells behind, isn’t it? (I wish I could shell a pecan half as well!)

Brandywine. These tomatoes can’t grow fast enough to suit me!

Cherry tomatoes. Can’t wait to have these on a salad!

This Robin was hanging out on the tomato cages; I caught her in mid-flight.

Corn!

I tell Fred that this little chicken (one of the batch we got from the hatchery – we don’t know what kind it is) reminds me of a road runner, it’s so tall and lean.

Check out the stinkeye I’m getting from the chick, second from the left. “We are trying to ROOST here, please leave us ALONE.”

Yes, wee baby chicken, please roost with your butt hanging over the food. I think your brothers and sisters don’t get enough chicken poop in their daily diet.

I don’t remember intentionally hatching a part-Polish egg, but it appears we must have. Check out the mohawk!

Someone’s ALWAYS crowing.

“Heya, Georgie, howyadoin? Mind if I hang out up here for a bit?”

“There appears to be a distinct lack of food up here.”

“Seeya!”

Dry weather and sunshine = dust bath!

Watching Fred on the tractor.

The many faces of George.

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Phyllis: Always smiling.

Creed: Always looking for a cuddle.

Dwight: Always playing like a little wild thing.

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Disapproving of you.

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Previously
2008: I suggest that you expect entries to be incredibly light on content for the foreseeable future.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I need to invest in shirts that are low in the back so I can show off my badass scar.
2003: I’m about to enter the PMS Zone
2002: What I’ve done since Thursday
2001: No entry.
2000: God help me, I’m going to go upstairs and strangle Spanky if he doesn’t stop that infernal fucking howling.

6/2/09 (Tuesday)

In my comments yesterday, Paula K asked: Can you further discuss the pruning of the tomato plants? I’ve been the caretaker of the tomato plants for a couple of years now, but other than weeding and a few shots of Miracle Grow I don’t do much else, but if you advocate pruning then I can … Continue reading “6/2/09 (Tuesday)”

In my comments yesterday, Paula K asked:

Can you further discuss the pruning of the tomato plants? I’ve been the caretaker of the tomato plants for a couple of years now, but other than weeding and a few shots of Miracle Grow I don’t do much else, but if you advocate pruning then I can prune – I’d just like a primer because without one I’d likely hack off something important.

What I did was, I Googled for information on pruning tomato plants, and I read closely and extensively, particularly this page. And then I went out with a pair of sharp scissors, and I wildly hacked willy-nilly at the tomato plants.

I’ve actually never pruned tomato plants before, but the way there were branches laying on the ground last year annoyed me, so I made sure to cut off the lower branches of the tomato plants. And then I went through and I clipped the suckers off the plant (“suckers” basically being – you know how there are branches that go off to the side and directly above the branch there’s a much smaller branch with just a few leaves on it? That’s a sucker. It has no purpose, it just sits there and sucks energy that could better be spent by the plant toward making tasty tomatoes.) Once the lower branches and the suckers were gone, I just kind of looked over the plant, and hacked off any branches that looked like they had no purpose.

I have no clue whether I did a decent job, or if the tomato plants are all going to react to my hacking at them by tipping over and dying. We have two freakin’ rows of tomatoes, though (there are TWO of us, and I don’t intend to make tomato sauce this year, because the tomato sauce I made so carefully last year? Still sitting in the freezer. Apparently we really just don’t use tomato sauce. You’d think I’d have known that.), so if a few of them react poorly, I’m not going to cry too hard.

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And in my comments last Friday, Aimee said:

I was wondering if you knew of a home remedy for urinary tract infections in kitties. One of mine has been to the vet several times for having crystals in his urine – and now he’s on a med that supposed to sooth his bladder lining and make him relax enough to go potty – it worked for awhile and now he’s back to peeing like every 5 minutes – but he’s going, so he’s not blocked. I’m kind of tired of the – let’s go to the vet in case he’s blocked and then he’s not, but they keep him overnight and charge me $600. ::sigh::

I don’t know of a home remedy for feline UTIs, but I suspect that someone out there does. So howzaboutit, y’all, any suggestions for Aimee? Those $600 vet bills are THE SUCK.

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And lastly, in my comments yesterday, Elaine asked:

By the way, what is your opinion about the whole Jon and Kate disaster? I only knew about them from reading your blog. And watching The Soup.

When the stories first hit the news that Jon was hanging out in bars and groping co-eds, I just shrugged and figured we were seeing the tabloids do what they do when things are slow – making up stories where there are none. Then I saw the video of Jon leaving a bar and calling some girl “babe” and I began thinking, well, maybe there’s truth to the rumors. Then I heard the rumors that Kate was having an affair with her bodyguard and I rolled my eyes and stopped thinking about it at all.

This is what I think – are Jon and Kate having affairs? I don’t know. I don’t care. It seems pretty clear from last week’s episode that they’ve both checked out of the marriage.

I think Kate’s a douchebag for giving an interview to People Magazine.

I think Aunt Jodie and Uncle Kevin are douchebags for giving interviews pretty much to anyone who asks. Do they have a right to be concerned about their nieces and nephews? Absolutely. I’d understand it if their interviews were about that alone – but they’re also tossing out little tidbits about Jon and Kate’s marriage, about how the whole happy-family aspect of the show is a sham. For that, I think they’re douchebags (and could someone let Aunt Jodie know that that shade of lipstick is doing her no favors?).

I can see how they got sucked in by the money, because I imagine having that kind of money roll in is nice to see. And I actually don’t think that the kids were too adversely affected by the filming for the first few seasons. I think the kids just saw the film crew as more people around who were paying attention to them. But they’re older now, and they’re more aware of the world around them (“Look! It’s paparazzi!”), other kids are going to tell them what the world is saying about their parents (if they haven’t already), and I think it’s time to end the show.

I don’t know that Jon and Kate will voluntarily stop filming, though. There’s the money, and I think that her protestations to the contrary aside, Kate enjoys the fame. I’m sure she doesn’t like the negative things people are saying about her, but hey – take the bad with the good, right?

In retrospect, and I know my opinion wouldn’t matter to the Gosselins, I think what they should have done is maybe a yearly special the way the McCaughey Septuplets did (are they still doing those? I feel like it’s been a few years.) Of course, that wouldn’t have brought nearly the amount of fame and money the show is bringing them now, and it seems that that’s most important to Jon and Kate right now.

(Of course, that said – I’ll be watching every show they televise because I love the hell out of Leah and Aidan. I mean, I like all the little kids, but those two are my favorites.)

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And then Boo‘s comment cracked us all up!

I satellite shop all the time because people are stupid and wander around in a daze with their carts akimbo so it’s quicker for me to stash my cart and zoom off to get whatever and bring it back. The only trouble I’ve ever had is when I forget where I’ve parked the cart; no one has ever taken it. That said, one day I was shopping at Sam’s Club and doing the satellite thing but when I came back, the cart was gone. I knew I had parked it RIGHT THERE! but no cart. Then I noticed some ‘fucking assfaced motherfucker’ wheeling around with a cart that had my two or three things in it. I stalked her cart steeling butt until she wasn’t looking, then I thieved my cart back! Ha!

When I caught up with my husband, I was all “I’m a rebel! Bitch thought she could thieve my cart but I DON’T THINK SO!… … …Uh…babe? Why do you have a cart with my stuff in it too?” Turns out my husband took the cart without telling me and some poor lady had put exactly the same two items in her cart as I had in mine. Whoops.

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Speaking of the Gosselins, here’s a little tidbit even Fred doesn’t know – Kara (Upstairs Momma) is actually named after Cara Gosselin. When I was trying to come up with a name for her, I thought about Maddy and I thought “Huh. We’ve used the name Maddy, I should use the name Cara now!” Except that Cara had been used in the past by the shelter, so Kara it was.

I actually was going to name Kara’s kittens after various Gosselin kids, but most of them had been used, and then someone suggested names from Firefly, so I went that way instead.

Your bit of trivia for the day!

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Annnnnd speaking of Kara….

Would you believe that this little cutie:

Grew up to be this beauty:

And would you believe this sweet little charmer:

Grew up to be this stunner:

And this little sweetie-pie:

Grew up to be this camera-shy cutie:

That first cat is Kaylee, Kara’s kitten from last year. We referred to her as “the raccoon” because, well, she looked like a little raccoon. The people who adopted her sent a picture to the shelter manager, who forwarded it on to me.

The second cat – Mr. Gorgeous – is Nate (he was “River” back then) and the camera-shy cutie is Dora (“Inara” back then), both of whom Katherine adopted last year.

I showed Kara the pictures so she could see how pretty her babies grew up. She yawned and asked if it was snack time yet.

I know that, inside, she’s deeply proud of them, though!

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(Please ignore the hair. I’m in desperate need of a hair cut.)

Phyllis and Creed love to climb up onto my shoulders. And then they just sit there. Well, Phyllis sits there – Creed usually jumps down after a few minutes and goes to find something to play with (usually Dwight).

But Phyllis just sits there.

And sits there.

Then sometimes I have to put her on the floor to go do something, and Phyllis? She is not pleased. And she gives me the sad eyes.

(So I just pick her up again. Whatever it was I had to do, it can wait!)

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Spanky studiously does NOT look at me when I’m holding the camera. I think he’s hoping I’ll just go away.

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Previously
2008: I assume if I were on the verge of death, someone would have come running in to save me.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: “I like cheese, just not on a salad.”
2003: Now, how motherfucking stupid does the man think I am?
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

6/1/09 – Monday

Holy crap, how’d it get to be June already??? New month, new banner! This one was created by the lovely Christine, who was kind enough to give poor Aly a break. Thanks, Christine – you rock! (And of course, anyone who’s feeling creative and wants to make a banner and send it this way, I’m … Continue reading “6/1/09 – Monday”

Holy crap, how’d it get to be June already???

New month, new banner! This one was created by the lovely Christine, who was kind enough to give poor Aly a break.

Thanks, Christine – you rock!

(And of course, anyone who’s feeling creative and wants to make a banner and send it this way, I’m always appreciative!)

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Friday morning, after I was done cleaning cages at the pet store, I stopped by Target to pick up a few things, and then I headed into Madison to visit Kohl’s. I am finding that I really have very little in the way of decent looking clothes to get me through the summer. I don’t have a job, so my daily uniform tends to be along the lines of shorts and oversized t-shirts, but I’d like to have one or two outfits that I can throw on and wear when we’re running errands or whatever, without worrying that I have a big stain down the front of my shirt, or that I look like a slob in my shorts.

Kohl’s has a large selection of clothes, so I thought it might take me a while, but surely I could find something that would work, right?

I dove right in, walking through and picking up pants to try on, and then trying them on. Interestingly enough, I only had to try on about six pairs of capris to come to the conclusion that Dockers brand pants in Curvy fit are the ones that work for me. I didn’t stop there – I probably tried on another ten or so pairs of pants and capris before I narrowed it down to three capris and one dark-blue pair of pants.

And then, I decided to go try on bras. I have lately had an issue with my bras, in that they are FUCKING UNCOMFORTABLE and I think the reason they’re so goddamn uncomfortable is because I only wear my bras once before washing them, and such wearing, washing, and drying tends to make a bra break down more quickly than you’d think.

(That’s my thesis, anyway.)

So I decided I’d try on a bunch of bras and see if I couldn’t find one that would work for me. I wandered through the bra section, and I dug through the bras, and would you believe that 36DDD bras are not a common in-stock bra size? Somehow, that still manages to surprise me, I know not why. I managed to find about six bras in varying sizes to try on, and then I went around the corner to the maternity section, and I parked my shopping cart next to the changing room doorway, and I took the bras and my purse into the changing room, and I began the laborious and unhappy task of trying on bras.

None of the bras worked for me – which is about what I expected – and so I got dressed again and grabbed my purse, left the bras on the “dressing room items” rack, and reached for my cart.

And it wasn’t there.

My immediate reaction was that a diligent Kohl’s worker had come along, straightening up the Maternity section, and taken my cart away. Then I looked around and saw that the capris and pants that had been in the cart had been tossed over a nearby rack.

Some fucking assfaced motherfucker could not be bothered to haul her fucking ass to the front of the store (an arduous 30-second hike), saw my cart sitting there, tossed my items on a nearby rack, and hustled off.

I was ENRAGED. If there had been any way on earth I could tell WHICH assfaced motherfucker had taken my cart, I would have stomped over to her and I would have pulled that fucking cart away from her, and I would have given her WHAT FOR.

GODDAMN THAT PISSES ME OFF. I spend ten minutes struggling in and out of bras that DO NOT FIT, I glare at myself in the mirror and feel fatter and flabbier and more hideous by the moment, and then I come out of the dressing room to find that some assfaced motherfucker has STOLEN MY CART.

This is why it’s a good thing I’m not licensed to carry a gun.

(Later, when I said that to Fred, he said “You wouldn’t have done anything. You would have just quietly seethed.” And I said “Apparently you’ve never had to go shopping for bras. You have no idea how close to the surface the rage was. Is.”)

So I grabbed my capris and pants, and I went and checked out and went home, fuming all the way.

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Saturday morning, Fred and I got up and got going early. We headed for Madison to attend the Rummage Sale to benefit the Madison Animal Rescue Foundation. There was a TON of stuff there (and we got there just after it started, and there were a ton of people already there, too!). We ended up getting a bunch of hardcover books, an “as seen on TV” dryer lint removal kit, a basket that will become a cat bed when I get around to making a cushion to go inside it, and… I think that’s it. All for less than $10!

There was a lot of furniture there, including couches and love seats. If we’d had any place to put another couch, I would have wanted to buy one of them, it was in such good shape! I had hoped to see a nice comfy chair that I could put in the kitten room (since anyone who goes in there now has to sit on the floor), but there was nothing. Ah well – that just gives me something to look for in the future when we drive past yard sales, right?

We ran home, got the truck, and went to the dump. Stopped at Tractor Supply and the grocery store on the way home, and then Fred spent the day working outside and I…. do not recall what on earth I did.

I’m sure it was fascinating.

Yesterday morning I got up before 6:00, as I was awakened by the Tom Cullen alarm clock. Most mornings Tommy leaves me alone and lets me sleep, but some mornings he is apparently filled with the spirit and has to come tell me how much he loves me. This takes the form of stomping around on the bed, kneading vigorously on the bed, and eventually kneading vigorously on my arm with his entire body weight behind each and every knead (and Tommy is NOT a small cat), with his claws fully extended.

When I respond to his advances by reaching out to pet him, his immediate reaction is fall over flat on his back with all four legs straight up in the air. Yesterday morning, he looked exactly like a dead and bloated armadillo laying there, and I laughed so hard at the thought that there was no way I was going to be able to get back to sleep.

I got up, got dressed, gave the kittens their morning dose of Slippery Elm Bark (kitten diarrhea is the bane of my existence. They get here, they’re perfectly fine, then four or five days later they start up with the diarrhea. It’s just as fun as it sounds, complete with having to give them baths because they ALWAYS tromp through it. Why? WHY????), gave them some love, and then headed out to do some weeding.

I weeded for an hour and got about a third of the second row of tomatoes weeded before Fred came out to tell me it was 7:30. I pruned a couple of tomato plants, then went inside to shower and get dressed. Lowe’s opens at 8 on Sundays, and Fred likes to get there right when they open. We went to Lowe’s, bought a new cat fence transformer (the one we had wasn’t working right), bought a new grill (the old one was rusted through), and a few gardening supplies for me. We swung by the grocery store to pick up some salad and potatoes, and then came home.

Fred worked outside all day, I puttered around the house, spent time with the kittens, and puttered around some more.

It was a really nice weekend – sunny and warm (got up well into the 80s yesterday!), and things are finally starting to dry out around here. Today’s supposed to be sunny and warm again, so I’m headed out to do some more weeding, and after that perhaps I’ll do some laundry!

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“This fuzzy-ball-on-a-spring toy is mine. Do you hear me, MINE!” (She looks so earnest!)

The thing about Dwight that I love the most (aside from the fact that he’s always bouncing around playing like a wild thing) is that his ears tip forward just slightly at the end. ADORABLE.

Look at the little smile on her face!

Dancing monkey.

“Hey! Get away! It’s MY turn to pick on him!”

Dance, monkey, dance!

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Cat, she’s a kittycat. And she dancedancedance and she dancedancedance.

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: Damn gardeners, always laying down on the job.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: It’s just a good thing the air traffic controller didn’t start talking about the plane’s phalanges.
2003: Anatomy of a Smackdown
2002: No entry.
2001: Lovely ‘do, eh?
2000: I don’t want to sound like a nosy know-it-all.

5/29/09 (Friday)

It looks like we might have a rain-free weekend. I’m not counting on it, but I sure am hoping like hell that it happens! My plans for this weekend? Cleaning the house (including the bathrooms, ugh) and doing some laundry. That’s about as exciting as it’ll get, I’m afraid. What are your plans for this … Continue reading “5/29/09 (Friday)”

It looks like we might have a rain-free weekend. I’m not counting on it, but I sure am hoping like hell that it happens!

My plans for this weekend? Cleaning the house (including the bathrooms, ugh) and doing some laundry. That’s about as exciting as it’ll get, I’m afraid.

What are your plans for this weekend? Tell me – I want to live vicariously through you.

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Ha, in the last photo I thought Suggs was telling YOU not to sniff his HRBL and I was all like what!!! Then I realized you ment him to be talking to Kara, it is Kara on the left, right?

Trust me, I stay as far away from the cats’ HRBLs as possible. I have no desire to get anywhere near them!

That is Kara, but the orange cat is actually Newt, not Sugarbutt. Sugarbutt’s so laid-back, he’d probably let just about anyone sniff his harbl.

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What is a harbl?

It’s internet speak for one’s private area.

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I love Jill and Bethenny but Alex doesn’t get enough credit for being smart, articulate and genuine. She and Simon definitely have their own drummer, but I think there’s more to them than what the show wants to portray.

I couldn’t stand Alex and Simon the first season, but I have to admit that they’re actually starting to grow on me. I still find Simon a wee creepy, but he managed to amuse me several times this season. The fact that he was such a good sport about playing against Ramona and Mario (the sweatband killed me!) really said a lot. Their taste in, well, ANYTHING might not be something I’d go for, but bless ’em for knowing what they want and going for it.

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OK, is it just my cats who are totally offended by closed doors? That goes hand-in-hand with not being able to use the bathroom unescorted. It’s amusing to close a door just to see their lil furry paws reach under it like they’re gonna touch something (OK, that’s not too smart, but I’ll give them A for effort.) Serious trauma if we close our bedroom door. There’s something about the way they slam their bodies against the door over and over makes it a difficult to sleep. They are single-minded in their intensity. That whole lack of attention span goes out the door when they encounter a closed door, at least for a good long while. Smart little critters. I can’t imagine not being owned by a cat or ten.

Oh, it’s definitely not just you – cats always want to be on whatever side of the door they’re not on. They’re inside? They want out. Won’t let them into a certain room? They MUST get in there! I’m forever seeing little furry paws slide under the bathroom door (that’s right, I kick the cats out of the bathroom when I need to go – who the hell wants an audience??). I think they’re under the mistaken impression that they can force the door open with one paw and the force of their desire to be in the room with me.

Fred sleeps with his bedroom door closed and at this point – two years later – the cats have pretty much adjusted to not being able to go into his room. Sometimes one of them will dig at the door, but for the most part they stay away from it. But in the morning when they know he’s up and about to come out the door? Kara and Tommy linger outside his door, and more often than not, Kara goes hauling ass in there. I don’t know why she has such a strong desire to get into his room, but it’s her lifelong dream to have free access to Fred’s room.

Good luck to her, I say.

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It really is okay to remove those tags from items once you decide to keep them. None of that “Do not remove under penalty of law crap.” Besides, who would turn you in? Nance? Just sayin’.

It was more because I hadn’t noticed the tag was there ’til I saw the picture than out of a desire to remain unarrested. Plus, I always tend to tear the seam when I rip the tag off, and I hate it when that happens.

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Oh, one more thing – It didn’t take Beulah long to grow into herself, did it?

It certainly didn’t!

First picture taken around April 10th; second picture on May 15th.

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Oh my god, how in the HELL did that guy keep a straight face in that video??? I just laughed until I wheezed!!!

That is an excellent question – every time I so much as THINK about making my cats yodel, it makes me grin like an idiot. The guys in that video are very good at keeping a straight face, aren’t they? Though Fred did point out – we don’t know how many takes it took to get the final product!

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I actually think that “Whack a Kitty” is mean! 🙁

Do you really? Is it because you think the kittens are getting hurt? Because I’m pretty sure they’re being very gentle with the kittens, and the kittens seem more confused about what’s going on than scared or hurt.

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Hey Robyn, I have to comment since I have been baking professionally for so many years and I have experimented with so many different ways to bake, yes you can freeze dough. You can also refrigerate it to slow down the fermentation until you have the time to pull it out, bring it back up to temp and proceed. With frozen dough just pull it, thaw it, shape it if you didn’t prior to freezing, and let it rise before baking. King Arthur Flour has some great recipes for different types of dough on their site.

Thanks, Tammy – I should have just asked you in the first place, I know you’re a professional baker!

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Speaking of geeks, may I just mention how delighted I was when I read “fewer chickens” and not “less chickens”? I prefer to think I’m not so much a geek as I am a person who takes pleasure in the small things.

I have to admit that I originally typed “less chickens”, then the alarm in my brain went off and I realized it wasn’t right. Geeks, unite! 🙂

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I don’t know if anyone else mentioned this or not, because I do not always read the comments. On the season finale episode of Criminal Minds, the unsub was killing people, chopping them up and feeding them to their pigs. Anyway, I thought of you and your pigs and was wondering if pigs would really eat “anything”. What do you think?

I am about 95% certain that if someone chopped up a human and tossed him in the pig yard, the pigs would eat every last scrap. After he processes chickens, Fred feeds the heads and feet to the pigs, and they don’t hesitate to finish every last bit of it.

Didn’t they feed people to pigs on Deadwood, or am I wrong about that? (I never watched the show.)

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Oh the new kitties! Are they long haired-they look quite fluffy!

No, they’re short-haired. It’s been a long time since we had any long-haired kittens, hasn’t it? And they’re always so cute, long-haired kittens.

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My cat had licked his stomach until he had a huge bald spot and some sores.The vet gave him a steroid shot a few weeks ago and it was like magic. No more licking. The sores healed and the hair is growing back. I tried that collar thing. He was still able to lick his damn self. WTH?

Yeah, I took Miz Poo to the vet and they gave her a steroid shot, but it didn’t stop her for one moment. I’ve started to think that it’s really a behavioral thing, and we’re trying to break the behavior pattern. If things don’t improve in the next week or so, I’ll take her to the vet.

When we had the collar on Sugarbutt, he was laying on my desk, and he oh-so-casually lifted his foot to his mouth and started licking vigorously. Fred tightened the collar, and he wasn’t able to reach anymore. I guess it all depends on how determined and how flexible they are!

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Actually I think the Polish crested looks like a TV evangelist. White suit and all.

I can see that, too!

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“We decided that what had happened is that Baby George had wandered out of the chicken yard at just the wrong time, and a cat had come along and scooped him up, and that was all she wrote.”

Robyn, when you write “a cat,” are you referring to one of your cats? I thought your cats were accustomed to the chickens. Do you ever worry about the cats killing the chicks/chickens?

We’ve actually had a Siamese cat hanging around our property lately. I don’t know if he’s feral or not, but if we try to approach him, he takes off. He seems to spend a lot of time hanging around the chicken yard (at least that’s where he hangs out until we go outside and scare him off), so it seemed like a possibility that he could have scooped up a chick.

Our cats definitely leave the bigger chickens alone – they usually leave the baby chicks alone, too. If they show too much interest in the little chicks, we chase them away from the fence, and when I know there are little ones who are able to get out of the chicken yard, I try to keep a closer eye on them. It’s only happened once or twice that Maxi’s gotten hold of a little chick, and really you can’t blame her – she’s an animal, after all, and she’s just following her instincts. I don’t have to like it (and I don’t!), but I can understand it.

We’ve just about gotten to the point where the littlest chicks can no longer get out of the chicken yard, luckily. Fred went through and reinforced the chicken wire along the inside of the chicken yard, and blocked off a hole near the gate where they were slipping through.

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Great pic of Maxi too. I am assuming that the old kittens and the new kittens are kept separated, is that right?

Yeah, we keep the fosters separate from our cats for at least two weeks after we get them, just to be safe. Then we give them more freedom, a little at a time. First they get the run of their room and the bathroom as well, then the run of the entire upstairs. Then, if that seems to be going well, after a few days we let them out into the rest of the house. These guys will probably only be around for two weeks total, so I don’t think they’ll be mingling with our cats.

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Creed says, “Pardon me, ma’am, may I have an ear scratch?”

Look at Phyllis, pretending to be a sweet little thing instead of the hellion she really is. “I am just a wee baby kitten and I need kisses!”

Dwight’s all “Who, me? What? Just playing!”

“Hewwo.”

He really does look like a Precious Moments character, doesn’t he?

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Joe Bob, meowing his creepy, quiet, high-pitched meow. He sounds like a ghost.

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: What the hell do people who aren’t readers DO?
2002: Oh, don’t give me that disapproving look.
2001: Have I mentioned that we lead a charmed life?
2000: Tomorrow, we’ll return to your usual rambling bitchypoo.

5/28/09 (Thursday)

So yes, I made a rude cross-stitched picture for Nance’s birthday. The worst part of it is that the email exchange (wherein she said something wise and then I said “You’re a smart motherfucker, that’s right” and then she said I should cross-stitch that for her) happened back in November but when did I start … Continue reading “5/28/09 (Thursday)”

First I had to look through my cross-stitch pattern books to find an appropriate border (and ended up going with hearts because they’re simple and I couldn’t quite get the small butterflies to work for me) and then I had to choose a letter type. I have a really hard time cross-stitching without a pattern to follow – some people can free-hand it; I cannot – so I cross-stitched it once (took a couple of hours), then used Excel to create a pattern, which helped me figure out the centering and exactly how the border should go, and then I cross-stitched it for real.

Cross-stitching it for real took three evenings, not because it was so complicated (it really wasn’t), but because we’d started letting Beulah and Bessie out all day long and into the evening, and every time I started cross-stitching, one of them would appear out of thin air, flying at me, yelling “OH BOY LOOK, IT’S STRING FOR ME TO PLAY WITH!”, and I’d have to hide it so they’d go away and leave me alone.

All in all, I think it came out pretty well. I traumatized Fred by telling him I was going to have it professionally framed. I’m sure he was having visions of the police coming to arrest me for subjecting poor innocent framers to naughty words before I told him I was just kidding. I had one hell of a time wrestling that fucking thing into the frame, but I persevered and it worked out pretty well.

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I know I’ve mentioned that I told Fred that the tomatoes are mine to take care of this year because something about the way he cared for them annoyed me last year. So when we brought tomato plants home, I was the one who had to plant them. And it’s been so rainy (and I’ve been so lazy) that I haven’t weeded around them at all. Yesterday morning I decided it was time to suck it up and get my ass out into the garden, so shortly before 7, I went out, found some gardening gloves and the hand cultivator, grabbed a stool out of the garage, and set to weeding.

First I weeded around each tomato plant by hand (and godDAMN were there a lot of weeds around the plants), tossing all the weeds into a bucket so I could dump them away from the garden. I think I ended up dumping about 10 bucket loads of weeds. Then I took the scuffle hoe and went back through the row of tomatoes and got the weeds I’d missed. When I was done, my legs felt like rubber and I walked into the house expecting to find I’d been out there for an hour.

It was 9:30. I’d spent two and a half hours weeding and only got one row of tomatoes done. I have another entire row to do!

I guess I’d better keep on top of the weeding, ’cause this weeding for two and a half hours at a time is for the birds!

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Hey, look! It’s a bluebird! I guess the one that cats killed (grrrr) wasn’t the only one hanging around here.

This little finch (it’s a finch, right?) drives Sugarbutt NUTS.

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Phyllis is always ready for a fight. She was sitting there and Dwight went zooming by, and she fell over on her side and waited for him to jump on her – but he ignored her!

Phyllis and her cute little nub of a tail.

Oh, how they love to chomp on these plastic rings.

Getting ready to pounce. (That’s a little sprinkle of catnip to the left, not dirt. These kittens do not yet appreciate catnip, apparently. They completely ignored it.)

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When we’re outside and Maxi sees us, she likes to come over to us, meowing her husky little meow the entire way. Also, she’s a very solid, heavy little thing, thus the reason her theme song goes “Porking along, singing her song; it’s Out! Side! Momma!”

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Previously
2008: Now that I have only the one drain, which will be tucked under my clothes, I don’t have to worry about the kittens puncturing anything and blood spurting all over the place.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: Today I’m still burning with curiosity, and I wish I’d asked anyway.
2002: So yes, the vacation rocked.
2001: If vacation pictures aren’t your thing, I’ll see ya tomorrow.
2000: I’m so so SO glad to be home.

5/27/09

This here is George the chicken: (Not to be confused with George the dog.) George went broody some time ago, so we put her in the coop on a few eggs, and she sat on her eggs and sat on them, and glared angrily at anyone who got too close. Two of her eggs hatched, … Continue reading “5/27/09”

This here is George the chicken:

(Not to be confused with George the dog.)

George went broody some time ago, so we put her in the coop on a few eggs, and she sat on her eggs and sat on them, and glared angrily at anyone who got too close. Two of her eggs hatched, and we were all “Woo! Go, George, you wonderful Momma, you!”

Then one of George’s babies wandered into the nest box of another Momma who was not her own, and that Momma responded by pecking George’s baby to death. So George was left with one little yellow baby, and she seemed to take her mothering duties to heart. If anyone so much as looked sideways at her baby, George would rush at them, all a-squawk, and peck at them, and send them running.

Then George’s baby got older, as happens, and he started exploring the world a little more, and didn’t spend all his time right underneath George. Sometimes we’d see him wandering outside the fenceline, but he always went back into the Maternity yard after a little time exploring.

Saturday night, George was being particularly obnoxious. At bedtime (bedtime for the chickens, that is, not bedtime for the humans. We stay up a whole hour later than the chickens, thank you very much), George stood in the doorway to the coop and made annoying honking noises, which scared the other chickens and it was hard to convince them that it was time to go into the coop.

Finally we got them all herded inside and Fred went inside to turn the light off, and he looked around at the chickens, and he realized that George’s baby was nowhere to be seen. He poked underneath all the other Mommas, who looked askance at his forwardness, and sent me outside to make sure Baby George wasn’t under the coop. No baby under the coop, no baby chicken making the distinct “I AM SKEERED OH PLEASE HELP ME” sound. We checked in the smallest coop to be sure Baby George hadn’t wandered into their yard and gotten shooed into the coop with the eight who go in that coop. No baby.

We decided that what had happened is that Baby George had wandered out of the chicken yard at just the wrong time, and a cat had come along and scooped him up, and that was all she wrote.

“I hope George didn’t witness her baby being eaten by a cat,” I fretted.

“I hope she did, so she has closure,” Fred rebutted.

We stood and dithered about what to do, and finally decided that we’d put George in the big coop so that she wouldn’t have to spend her time in her nest box sadly missing her baby. While I went inside to get ready for bed, Fred took her out to the big coop and put her on the roost, and there were no problems, George settled right in.

Fred came inside and climbed into bed to wait for me (it always takes me twice as long to get ready for bed. Is that fair, I ask you?).

“Did she say ‘NOT WITHOUT MY DAUGHTER!!!’?” I asked.

Fred laughed. “No, she settled right in.”

“Did she say ‘A dingo got my bay-bee?’?” I asked in what I thought was a pretty good Australian accent.

Fred laughed “Have you been up here thinking those up?”

“No,” I said. “They just came to me!” (Total lie. I practiced my Australian accent while I was brushing my teeth.)

The next morning, Fred told me to check my email. I did, to find a picture of George… and her baby.

“What happened???” I said excitedly.

“I don’t know – the baby was there all of a sudden! All the Mommas had their babies gathered around them, and I saw a yellow chick all by itself, so I went out and got George and brought her back to the maternity yard, and the baby ran over to her, and George didn’t peck at it!”

I’d like to say that the reunited mother and child had a Hollywood moment and spent all day telling each other that they LOVED each other and would NEVER leave each others’ side again, except that George pretty much ignored the baby all day (though I did see her cluck at him to show him a piece of corn), and at bedtime George was up on a roost, and the baby was on a roost as far from her as he could get, and well – we decided that George had pretty much cut the apron strings and was ready to let that baby finish raising his own damn self.

So we moved George back out to the big coop, and George’s baby could not possibly care less, he’s staying up late and making prank phone calls and eyeballing the girl baby chickens, and I think he’s going to be nothing but trouble.

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We have new babies!!!

Meet…

Creed.

Dwight.

Phyllis.

The names, in case you’re not a TV watcher, or at least not a watcher of this particular show, come from characters on The Office. Obviously Michael, Pam and Jim have been used in the past, or we would have used those names!

These guys are very, very sweet. They’re about seven weeks old and were bottle raised. When you walk into the kitten room, they climb into your lap. Phyllis doesn’t particularly care to be picked up, but if you start petting her she’ll flop over onto her back and play-kick at your hand. She’s got an instant-on purr, too.

You can’t tell from these pictures, but Phyllis only has the tiniest nub of a tail (I’ll obviously try to get better pictures – she was super sleepy when I was snapping pictures last night). Dwight has a longer tail – it’s a few inches long – and Creed’s tail is normal length, with a dab of white on the end.

These guys won’t be around as long as the previous bunch – they’ll likely be ready for spaying and neutering within a couple of weeks. I think Creed is actually big enough now, but the other two aren’t, so Creed can wait for them to catch up with him.

Aren’t they sweet?

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Sugarbutt was licking at his toe ’til it bled (an issue we had this time last year, so I’m thinking it’s a seasonal issue), so we slapped the BiteNot collar on him for a few days (he can’t reach his toes to lick them with the collar on) and he hated us at first, then he got used to the collar, and then his toe got better so we took the collar off. You’ve never seen such a happy cat as Sugarbutt when we took the collar off, let me tell you. His butt’s been on fire ever since!

Now Miz Poo is wearing the collar in an attempt to break her of the overgrooming problem. ::sigh:: Why is it always my favorites who have the issues*?

*Trick question! I love all my cats equally!

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: I have renewed faith in my fellow man.
2004: No entry.
2003: “AT LEAST THEY KNOW I DON’T HAVE A BOMB IN MY SUITCASE!”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: The man is full of compliments, ain’t he?

5/26/09

Happy birthday, baby! & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & Friday night a man and his daughter or granddaughter stopped by to buy some eggs and ask about buying chickens. We have recently begun … Continue reading “5/26/09”

Happy birthday, baby!

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Friday night a man and his daughter or granddaughter stopped by to buy some eggs and ask about buying chickens. We have recently begun talking about selling chickens because have I mentioned we have something like 150 chickens and more hens going broody every day? So Friday evening we put out a “chickens for sale” sign. By the time these people stopped by, we’d brought the signs in and Fred was in the shower when they knocked on the door.

I HATE HAVING TO DEAL WITH STRANGERS, HAVE I MENTIONED THIS? When the knock on the door came, I ran into the bathroom and hissed at him to MOVE HIS ASS, but he apparently felt the need to take a long and luxurious shower, so I answered the door. The daughter/ granddaughter was the English-speaker, and she asked for two dozen eggs. I went and got them, handed them over, and then she asked for another dozen. When I brought that dozen out, she handed over the money and then asked about chickens for sale. I told her to hold on, that I’d get my husband, and then I went into the bathroom where Fred was STILL NOT DONE WITH HIS SHOWER and I hissed “Good christ, what are you, a teenage girl? GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE SHOWER AND GO DEAL WITH THESE PEOPLE!”

It turned out that the older gentleman wanted a chicken for stewing, he and Fred (with the daughter/ granddaughter translating) discussed what we had available, and left it that he’d stop by Sunday morning around 8 to get one of the roosters.

We had a pretty relaxing, uneventful weekend, which is just the way we like it. The people who came and bought eggs for hatching and the rooster from us last week had an incident involving a cat and the eggs breaking, so they came back and bought another dozen (at a discount). A few days later, she emailed Fred and told him that the rooster (who they’ve named Furlough, since if they hadn’t bought him, he was headed for freezer camp this weekend) had come up on their porch. She heard him out there, and opened the door to see what he was doing – and he strutted inside the house and hopped up on her husband’s lap!

Fred, being a freak, began worrying that the rooster was lonely (they have hens, but they’re being responsible chicken owners (unlike US) and keeping him separate from their hens for a few weeks just in case), and in the end he offered them a couple of our hens in exchange for a couple of cuttings from their weeping willow tree.

They agreed, and made plans to stop by Saturday morning.

Before I got up Saturday morning, Fred went out and chose two hens, then put them in the back yard so they’d be easy to catch when Marty and Loretta (not their real names) showed up. Now, I know y’all know that the cats have access to our back yard through the cat door. And longtime readers will remember that our original 12 chickens started off with regular access to the back yard, so our cats had been around chickens, and those chickens had been around the cats.

These hens, however, had never been around the cats and Kara had never been around chickens. The hens reaction to Kara was pretty much the same as Kara’s reaction to the hens – “What the hell is THAT?”

Marty and Loretta showed up just as I was sitting down to breakfast, so I ate and then went out to chat. Fred had already caught the hens and they’d put them in a box (I missed the show on that, so I’m not sure how much trouble the hens gave Fred. I prefer to believe he had to chase them around a lot.) We stood around and chatted for half an hour or so, and at one point the conversation lagged, and it was a comfortable silence as we all stood and gazed at the momma chickens and their babies in the maternity chicken yard.

“Heh,” Fred said suddenly. “This is one of those long, uncomfortable silences, huh?”

We stared at him.

“Not really,” I finally said, “I think we were all just watching the chickens…”

He babbled something about how silences make him uncomfortable so he feels the need to fill them with talk. Or something. I don’t know exactly what he said, I was watching the chickens.

We talked a while longer, and then they headed home with their new hens and we puttered around the house.

Around noon, Fred asked if I wanted to go to the movies, and I had my boots on and was in the car before the sentence was completely out of his mouth. I like to go to the movies – Fred rarely does. In fact, we usually go see about one movie a year together, and I figured this would be it.

We decided to go see Terminator Salvation, but after some consideration (and given that Terminator Salvation had just opened and thus was guaranteed to be packed), we decided to go see Star Trek instead. Since we had some time to kill, we stopped by the bakery thrift store to pick up some bread ($1.30 a loaf for whole wheat bread!), swung by Walgreen’s to pick up some candy for the movie, and then went to the mall. We basically walked from one end of the mall to the other and back again, just killing time ’til it was almost time for the movie to start.

When Fred was getting our tickets, the lady behind the counter asked if we had a Gold Crown Membership (or whatever the hell it’s called) and Fred said no, but then I said “Yes we do! Wait!” and dug it out of my purse. My membership card got us a free small popcorn, so despite Fred rolling his eyes at my excitement, we got the small popcorn and went into the theater.

(I only ate a few bites of the popcorn and brought the rest home for the pigs and they thought it was the best! thing! ever! But then, they have that opinion on just about every food in existence.)

The movie, I’ve gotta say, was pretty good. Just before it started, a row of geeks sat down in the row right behind us and snickered inappropriately through the entire movie (I say “inappropriately”, but I guess they were likely snickering at dorky inside jokes), but it was still a good movie and I recommend it, even if you’re not a Star Trek fan (I’m not).

When the movie was over, we decided to go for dinner at Chili’s. I realized, glancing at my phone, that I’d missed three calls, and since that’s more calls than I usually get on my cell phone in the course of two hours, I called and listened to the voice mails. It was the shelter manager – her first call was to ask if I could possibly take four newborn baby kittens (their mother basically gave birth and then got hit by a car, I think), her second call was to let me know that she’d found someone else to take them (I shook my fist at the sky and howled “Nooooooo!” when I heard that one), and her third call was to ask me to give her a call.

I called her, and she reiterated that someone else was taking the newborns, but she had some older kittens that needed a foster home and would I be interested? I told her I could take them, and she said she’d let me know, but that likely I could pick them up at the vet on Tuesday after they were tested. So later today, we may have more fosters!

We came home and settled down in front of the TV for the evening and that was about it for Saturday.

We did even less on Sunday. It was raining again – I’m not complaining about the rain, though, because at least it’s not been constant, and it’s not torrential like it was for most of March and April and part of May – so Fred sat around bored and I made some blueberry oat bran muffins and cleaned and organized the kitchen. Fred had gone out to the big coop at 5:30, grabbed up the rooster that the guy who’d stopped by Friday evening was going to buy, and put him in a cage so he wouldn’t have to chase him down when the guy stopped by.

8:00 came and went, 9:00 came and went, and when the guy who was supposedly going to buy the rooster hadn’t shown up by 10:00, Fred set the rooster free, and we went to the feed store where we buy some of our cat food. We took a leisurely drive home, then when we got home I did more rearranging of the kitchen and went through the house putting stuff away.

At one point in the afternoon, the rain stopped and the sun came out, so Fred went out and started cleaning out the brooder in the garage, then asked if I could come out and give him a hand when I was done with what I was doing. I went out a few minutes later, and we rearranged a lot of the crap in the upstairs of the garage, then he got the brooder up there.

Now that the littlest chickens are out of the garage (they’ve been moved to the smallest coop) and the brooder is cleaned and put away, Fred really has no excuse to not start staining the cabinet we had made for the kitchen. I sure would like to get the damn thing inside the house.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY, NOW GO STAIN THE GODDAMN CABINET!

I don’t think we got any real rain Monday morning, though it was gray and overcast. I slept in ’til after 7 (!), and then Fred and I decided to get out of the house to go to the flea market in Tennessee. We took my car instead of the truck, knowing that if we took the truck we’d buy something we didn’t need (“Oh look, more chickens! Don’t we need chickens?”), and we also deliberately didn’t take any animal carriers with us either, despite the fact that Fred thinks we need turkeys.

(We do plan to get turkeys at some point, just not until we have a lot fewer chickens.)

We were gone for a couple of hours, and on the way home we stopped to get a few groceries and hit the movie store. The pickings were slim at the movie store, but we found a few things to rent, and headed home.

Naturally, since we were both prepared to pile up on the couch and watch TV for the rest of the day, the weather turned nice. Fred puttered around outside, worked in the garden, and did other things I didn’t pay attention to. I puttered around the house, did laundry, cleaned the kitchen, and cleaned out and straightened the pantry in preparation for the day when the cabinet will be stained and in its rightful place in my kitchen.

The weather worsened mid-afternoon, so Fred came inside and we were both sitting at our computers when we heard what sounded like a shotgun blast. A bolt of lightning hit very close to the house and fried the cat fence – we were going toward the back door to see if any trees had been hit when I spied a small piece of the transformer laying in the middle of the laundry room next to a bottle of soda. That thing came apart so hard that it knocked over a full two-liter bottle of soda when the piece of the transformer went flying.

Luckily, we happened to have a replacement for it, so Fred got it up and running, then I shut down my computer and unplugged it, and made him shut his down too (he scoffed “Lightning’s not going to strike twice!”, but I haven’t backed my shit up in ages, so I wasn’t willing to take the chance).

While the storm finished up, we went into the living room and watched Awkward Emo Girls with Stilted Dialogue and the Tortured Not-All-That-Good-Looking (really, what the hell are those teenage girls going ON about?) Is-That-Sweat-Oh-I-See-You’re-Glittering-in-The-Sun-Who-Was-In-Charge-Of-Special-Effects-THAT-Day? Vampires Who Love Them Twilight.

I went into the movie knowing it would be no great tour de force, and I was right, but I’ve gotta say – we tried watching Choke earlier in the day, got 45 minutes in, and turned it off. At least I was able to sit through all of Twilight, even if it was just ’cause I was waiting for certain things to happen (the stopping of the runaway vehicle, the glittering, the baseball game. Fred would like to know – if the vampires could run fast enough to catch a ball like half a mile away, why are they bothering with a regulation-size field?).

A little while into the movie, we decided that the storm was over, so Fred plugged all his computer-related stuff back in so he could look at the cast list, which is when we discovered the the wireless router had gotten fried in the same lightning blast that killed the cat fence transformer. We watched the movie ’til almost 8, went out and put the chickens up, then went to Wal-Mart and got a new router. I finished watching Twilight while Fred hooked up the router and then he joined me for about the last ten minutes of the movie.

He took today off, but the weather looks like it’ll be gray and overcast all day and we rented Rob Roy, so I suspect most of the day will be spent puttering around the house before we end up on the couch to watch the movie.

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: He’s such a liar.
2005: But by the time I was about three words in to the text message to the spud, I was using “u” and “2″ and “gd” with abandon, and it STILL took me 4-fckng-eva 2 get th gd msg typd n & snt.
2004: I started to answer her, when I realized to my horror that Fred was leaning forward, CUPPING HIS HAND TO HIS EAR to illustrate that he hadn’t heard what she said.
2003: “I breathe oxygen!”
“Me too!”
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Our first trip to G’burg.

5/25/09

Happy birthday, Nance!!! & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & & In the interest of clearing out my “post these someday” folder, I’ve got three picture-only entries for you guys this week. Well, maybe four, we’ll see. Or maybe … Continue reading “5/25/09”

Happy birthday, Nance!!!

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In the interest of clearing out my “post these someday” folder, I’ve got three picture-only entries for you guys this week. Well, maybe four, we’ll see. Or maybe I’ll save some of those for next week. Stay tuned!

These pictures were actually taken in March of 2008 and have been languishing on my hard drive ever since. What I find most interesting about the pictures is how different it looks back there in just a little over a year – in these pictures, the back forty isn’t fenced in, and the big coop hasn’t been built (the pig yard is there, though, you can see the fence to the side). Also, the cat tree and platform hasn’t been built yet. Funny how you forget the way things used to be, isn’t it?

“No, Boogie, I am the king of the world! Not you! See how I’m at the top and you are NOT?”

“Sure is a long way down…”

“Seeya, dude. I got places to go.”

“Go get the ladder, Joe. GO GET THE LADDER. I’m a portly cat. A jump from here would kill me!”
“Really? You pick on me all the time, you want me to do you a favor? GOOD LUCK WITH THAT.”

“I am so going to break a leg jumping from here…”

“Get the ladder, Suggie. GO GET THE LADDER!”
“I don’t see that happening, dude. You get stuck up there, I get your snack. WORKS FOR ME.”

“That’s cold, dude.”

“Toms away!”

“I was stuck up there for HOURS, everyone was like “Don’t jump, Tommy! Don’t! You’ll hurt yourself! Stay there ’til Momma comes to rescue you!”, but it was almost SNACK TIME, and I was so hungry! I had to jump, even though I’m a portly cat and could have hurt myself seriously. But I’m fine! Well, my leg hurts a little when it rains and I’m in excruciating pain all the time, but I’ll be fine! I’m okay! They’re saying I might get a medal from the President for my bravery!”

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Sheriff Momma and her security force.

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: Goofy cats.
2005: Grackles are kind of evil-looking and have great big beaks and I’m sure their bite is far, far worse than their bark.
2004: I sure am MIGHTY FUCKING TIRED of going to the FUCKING doctor’s office all the damn time.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.