3/25/09

Thanks, y’all, for your comments on the idea of keeping vs. canceling one’s land line. I gave Fred the go-ahead to call and cancel the land line yesterday. And then we found that if we cancel our phone service, our damn internet goes up by $10 a month, so I dithered a bit more (did … Continue reading “3/25/09”

Thanks, y’all, for your comments on the idea of keeping vs. canceling one’s land line. I gave Fred the go-ahead to call and cancel the land line yesterday. And then we found that if we cancel our phone service, our damn internet goes up by $10 a month, so I dithered a bit more (did I mention I’m a master ditherer), and ultimately we decided that I’d switch my cell phone plan to the cheapest Virgin Mobile offers ($6.99 a month; 10 cents a minute) and we’ll keep the land line. Of course, I’m keeping my 1000 text messages a month for $5, too, ’cause you’ve gotta have priorities.

I also gave him the go-ahead to call and cancel HBO. Everything we watch on HBO (Entourage, Big Love, uh… I think there’s something else, isn’t there?) eventually comes out on DVD, it’ll just be a matter of seeing it after everyone else, big deal. It’s not like my Netflix queue isn’t 10,000 DVDs long, after all. I don’t think we’ll run out of stuff to watch. (I did make him wait ’til the season finale of Big Love aired, though!)

We talked about switching to the cheapest plan Dir3ctTV has, but would you believe that doesn’t include Bravo? Fred’s giving me a hard time for not wanting to go without Bravo, but MAN. I can’t get enough of those crazy-ass housewives! If there was a place online where I could watch the shows for free, I’d be there, but I haven’t been able to find a place, so the cable plan stays the same. At least ’til he can convince me that we don’t need to keep the more expensive plan just ’cause I want to watch those crazy-ass housewives (good luck to him on that!).

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Yesterday I finally got around to spackling the two small holes in the ceiling of the computer room, and primed over the stains on the computer room and laundry ceilings. Said holes and stains were caused by the roof leaking earlier this year (late last year?), and now that the roof is fixed, it’s well past time to cover the stains on the ceiling.

It wasn’t until AFTER I’d painted primer over the spackled holes in the computer room that Fred reminded me that I was supposed to sand before I primed.

DAMNIT.

So I guess today I’ll sand, re-prime, and if the ceiling in the laundry room (which I haven’t even looked at today) needs it, I’ll put a second coat of primer on that. If it doesn’t, I’ll paint it. I’m just hoping the ceiling paint matches what’s already on the ceiling (it should, it’s the same brand from the same store, but that doesn’t mean anything, of course). I’d hate to have to paint the entire fucking ceiling.

I’m sure I’ll have to, though. Ugh.

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Scenes from around Crooked Acres:

2009-03-25 (Pear Blossom)
Pear tree in bloom!

2009-03-25 (Peach Blossom)
Peach tree in bloom!

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The white Silkie. I think she’s beeeeautiful.

2009-03-25 (10)
Michelle keeps an eye on his wimmin.

2009-03-25 (9)
I don’t know what kind of rooster this is – we thought they might be Icelandic, but I’m really not sure about that – but we’ve got two of them. And they’re gorgeous, but they are ASSHOLES, and their days are numbered.

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Silkie cross. I love the way the tips of her wing feathers are white.

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The little bitty ones (now almost three weeks old) enjoy being outside. This one was so happy s/he decided to try out his/ her Matrix moves.

2009-03-25 (6)
Tommy and the Boogs try to figure out how to get their paws on those little snack-size chirpers. (They were unsuccessful, but not for lack of thinking long and hard about it.)

2009-03-25 (5)
“I bet I could totally fly!”
“Keep dreaming, dude.”

2009-03-25 (4)
“How about now?”
“Uh… nope. No egg.”
“Now?”
“Nope, nothing.”
“DARN IT!”

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“I’m flying! I’M FLYINGGGGGGGGG!”

2009-03-25 (2)

2009-03-25 (1)
Polish crosses. LOVE the mohawks!

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Oreo looks like he’s making a smartass comment, doesn’t he?

2009-03-25 (14)
Yes, please beware of the dogs…

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For they are fearsome creatures.

2009-03-25 (13)
“What?”

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2009-03-25 (21)
“I can has a snuggle?”

(More kitten pics over at L&H)

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2009-03-25 (23)
Being Sheriff Mama is TOUGH work.

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Previously
2008: “My flabby sections” would be an excellent band name.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: The spud is officially licensed.
2004: Ain’t it always the way that when you call someone names in your journal, secure in the knowledge that they’ll never see it, they always do?
2003: (And before you say it, yes. You shouldn’t give a shit what I think, either.)
2002: Is it just me?
2001: No entry.
2000: If you knew you’d get $341 million for being treated savagely and cruelly for 7 years, would you do it?

3/24/09

So I was cleaning the house last Thursday (or vacuuming, or something along those lines) and I was listening to my iPod, and then the KATG show I was listening to came to an end, and I glanced down at the screen, and it was blank with squiggly black lines across it. Nothing readable at … Continue reading “3/24/09”

So I was cleaning the house last Thursday (or vacuuming, or something along those lines) and I was listening to my iPod, and then the KATG show I was listening to came to an end, and I glanced down at the screen, and it was blank with squiggly black lines across it. Nothing readable at all. I flipped the hold switch back and forth, I synced it with my iTunes, I surrounded it in a verbal blanket of profanity, nothing worked.

I Googled around and decided that it needed a new LCD screen, found a place that would do it for a nominal fee (“nominal” meaning “costs less than buying a new goddamn iPod”), and sent it off.

Saturday, I got a call from the place I sent it to. They’d received it and turned it on, got the squiggly lines, synced it up with their iTunes, and the screen came on just fine.

Might be a battery issue; might be because the iPod hates me. Who the fuck knows? So now I’m waiting to hear from the diagnostic department.

If this iPod is hosed, I’m going with a much cheaper alternative next time around. Tell me what mp3 player you use and adore – the cheaper the better!

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We are considering what to do with our (phone) land line. Currently we pay $40 a month, which includes unlimited long distance. Which would be a good price if we ever talked on the phone, but we really don’t (and if there’s a long distance call to be made, we can always use our cell phones). We’ve discussed going with the cheapest plan from Vonage, which would save us almost $20 a month. We’ve also discussed going with the cheapest AT&T plan, which we like because it’s not tied to the internet line, so if internet were to go down, we’d still have a phone line.

We’ve also discussed just getting rid of the land line completely and using our cell phones. But the idea of not having a land line makes me a bit nervous. We’ve been talking about it for about a month now and can’t seem to come to a decision. I don’t knowwwwwwwwwww. You’d think it’s not such a big decision, but I AM a master ditherer, so dither I shall.

I think I didn’t mention that my contract with T-M0bile was up last month, so I switched to Virgin Mobile. Except for the fact that I got an email from Virgin Mobile every fucking day for the first week expressing their excitement that I’d signed up with them, it’s going well. I got the 1000 text messages for $5/ month option, AND I got a phone with a QWERTY keyboard, and I’ve gotta say, it sure does make texting a whole lot easier. 1000 text messages is far more than I need, but it’s nice to have the option.

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It’s Spring, which means that Miz Poo has started finding and “killing” a toy, then drags it through the house, keening all the while. It’s cute at first, I’ll give you that, but holy CRAP after a while it’s like someone’s driving a steel pick through my eardrums.

She’s SO pleased with herself after she’s delivered her kill to whoever’s around, though, that it’s hard to tell her to FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PLEASE STOP.

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2009-03-24 (2)

The kittens have been named! Check ’em out over at L&H. Also, there’s a short movie.

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2009-03-24 (15)
Something about the way that daffodil leaf (?) is bisecting Mister Boogers’ nose makes him look particularly nostril-y, and it’s making me laugh.

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Previously
2008: And then they tried to say that I was calling Rick’s feet “dainty”, so in one short day I managed to insult everyone in the house.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: I. Am. PISSED.
2004: “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t believe I quite understand. Could you explain this “spoonful” word to me via pantomime again?”
2003: That, or she’s a stalker-reader.
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: Some people just have a smack-me face, don’t they?

3/23/09

This one made me laugh ’til I cried: see more Lolcats and funny pictures * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *   First things first: I made two loaves of bread on Friday using the Amish White Bread recipe that … Continue reading “3/23/09”

This one made me laugh ’til I cried:

funny pictures of cats with captions
see more Lolcats and funny pictures

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First things first: I made two loaves of bread on Friday using the Amish White Bread recipe that Aimee sent me to (THANK YOU, AIMEE!!!), and I must say that that is some DAMN fine bread! And it couldn’t have possibly been any easier. I used the mixer right up to the point where it was time to put the dough in the bowl to rise, and I ate sandwiches all weekend long using the bread. SO GOOD.

It is a little sweeter than I’d like, though, so next time I’m going to use less sugar.

Which leads me to my question, bread baking gurus – if I reduce the amount of sugar that I use, do I need to adjust anything else in the recipe?

I very well might try making some of Angie’s beer bread next weekend.

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Saturday morning we ran out to do errands – mainly, to visit L0we’s and see if we couldn’t find a door mat to go by the computer room door. The one we had there wasn’t wide enough and I’ve been bitching about it for ages, so off to L0we’s we went. I ended up getting a small beige carpet that I’m already regretting – we track ten tons of shit in on our shoes and boots even after we wipe them on the outside door mat, and the beige shows every bit of the dirt that gets tracked in.

All I frickin’ want is a door mat that measures five feet long by, oh, four feet wide, that is dark and that can be vacuumed. Also, I don’t want to spend $100 for A GODDAMN DOOR MAT. Why is that so difficult to find? WHYYYYYY?

OH. I also got some storage bins – L0we’s sells 18-gallon storage bins made of 99% recycled material for less than $5 each. That’s a freakin’ BARGAIN, if you ask me.

So we came home and Fred went out to mow the lawn, and I came inside and started puttering around the house. I got all the humidifiers from all the parts of the house, cleaned them, then set them on the table on a towel to dry. When they’re dry I’ll pack them up in a storage container and put them upstairs in the garage until the Fall.

(Next Fall when I’m bitching about the lack of humidity, remind me they’re there, would you?)

Then I went into the laundry room, pulled everything down from atop the refrigerator and freezer, wiped them both down (the cat litter-caused dust up there was NASTY), then made a pile of stuff that needed to go into the garage for storage, and put the rest of the stuff back. I cleaned and organized the shelf unit in the laundry room, pulled everything out of the water heater closet, scrubbed the floor, and put everything back.

I was just at that point of my cleaning when the phone rang. It was the shelter manager asking if I wanted some kittens, and I was all “HELL YES!”, and she said she’d arrange it with the woman who had them and would call me back.

While I waited, I cleaned out the guest bedroom closet, carried a bunch of boxes upstairs to store in my closet, cleaned out both the closets in my room, cleaned out Fred’s closet, and was just getting the litter boxes set up in the kitten room (and shooing Newt out of the room – he’s taken to sleeping on the cat bed in there in the afternoons, lately) when the phone rang.

I left the house for the pet store, made it there in record time, and then the woman (another volunteer for the shelter) who’d picked up the kittens walked in a minute later.

You can go over to Love & Hisses to see the first pictures I got of them. They are SERIOUSLY cute – the only problem is that I always forget when they’re so small (they’re really just getting the hang of the litter box), you need to use regular clay litter for them (they tend to eat the litter at first because they are not known for their high intelligence), so I went over to the dollar store to buy litter.

Then I got the litter boxes switched over to smaller ones, and I sat and bonded with the kittens, and the little bitty runt was chewing and chewing and chewing on one piece of food for the longest time, and a lightbulb finally went off, and I realized that she didn’t yet have jaws strong enough to chew that stuff up. Luckily, I had some BabyCat (which is much smaller), and she was able to eat that. Then I gave them all some canned cat food, and they ate the hell out of that too.

Sunday morning I got up and hung out with the kittens for a while, and then made my grocery list and headed for Publix.

Honest to god, I wonder if anyone’s ever died from getting zapped by static electricity. I was in the cat food aisle and I happened to reach out and touch one of the shelves and the fucking zap HURT LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. I felt my fucking HAIR MOVE from the shock.

IT IS SPRING AND IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE HUMID, AND I STRENUOUSLY OBJECT TO GETTING ZAPPED BY STATIC ELECTRICITY IN MARCH IN ALABAMA.

So Publix annoyed the shit out of me because they had NO canned kitten food. NONE. I wasn’t even looking for the fancy stuff, ANYTHING that was geared toward kittens would have been fine with me, just to get me through a couple of days. But, nay.

I had to go to Wal-Mart to get some canned kitten food, and then I went home.

At some point, I realized that I was pretty much out of BabyCat, and I did some thinking and remembered that a new pet store – P3t Dep0t – just opened near Publix recently. I thought, surely, given that they’re a PET STORE, they’d have either BabyCat or something similar, right? After noon, when I was pretty sure they’d be open, I went up there to check.

I do not know why the fuck it surprises me when I walk into a P3t Dep0t and find that it SUCKS, because I’ve been in two of them before and – surprise! They sucked! So why I was surprised to find that they have one tiny little aisle of cat food which did NOT include BabyCat, I don’t know.

Frankly, I have yet to find any pet store that is as good and carries the range of cat food that P3tSmart does. Why I bother to go anywhere else, I don’t know.

(Well, I do know – it’s a half hour drive to P3tSmart and only a 10 minute drive to P3t Dep0t.)

So I decided I had enough BabyCat to get me through ’til this morning, and I’ll be headed to Huntsville to stock up on it here in a little while.

2009-03-23 (8)

Also, my new kittens? Cutest things EVER.

(See more kitten pics over at L&H)

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Actually the weekend was kind of babycentric, now that I think about it. I was going out to my car yesterday morning when I saw Newt looking with great interest at something tiny. I went to investigate, and found a wee baby mouse.

It didn’t look injured (and it certainly didn’t look like it was past the point of saving), so I picked it up (yes! Picked it up with my own two bare hands! On purpose!) and brought it inside. Fred found a container to put it in and then I assumed that he put it in a dark place so it could recover.

When I got back from the grocery store, I found that he’d taken the container (a plastic container with the lid set on top so that air could get in and out) and put it on the kitchen counter. You know, the kitchen counter where the cats like to hang out? You know, where all it’d take is a firm smack from a cat paw to send the container tumbling to the floor so the mouse would fall out and the cats could all gather around and take turns eating it?

I’m sure that in a parallel universe, that did happen (or the mouse escaped and is currently living somewhere in the house), but in this universe, THANKFULLY, the cats didn’t even notice that there was living food set out all nice for them, and Fred and I determined that it was time to free the mouse, so Fred went and set it free behind the chicken yard.

(Of course, he accidentally DROPPED it first, but we won’t talk about that.)

2009-03-23 (2) 2009-03-23 (1)

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Wanna see what it’s like around here at Snackin’! Time!?


Snackin’ Time March 2009. from Robyn Anderson on Vimeo.

Pardon the camera work. I’m no professional, obviously.

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2009-03-23 (9)
“Seriously? More kittens? SERIOUSLY? What, am I not enough for you?”

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No offers yet though, damnit.
2006: “Hookers and blow!” he crowed jubilantly.
2005: Also, there’s that whole pesky “dealing with people” thing, and I don’t like that sort of thing at ALL.
2004: The spud passed the test for her learner’s permit, THANKYAJEEZUS.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Fred and I chose the names of our future child/ren way before we ever met – Seth Forrest and Samantha Jayne.
2000: On the other hand, I was shopping in Wal-Mart, wasn’t I? What’d I expect, diamonds and furs?

3/20/09

Fred sent me the link to this article last week, and the things I find most amusing about it are (1) I make my own laundry detergent and use vinegar for fabric softener not because it’s cheaper, but because it’s better for the environment and (2) The breathless way they report that she cuts her … Continue reading “3/20/09”

Fred sent me the link to this article last week, and the things I find most amusing about it are (1) I make my own laundry detergent and use vinegar for fabric softener not because it’s cheaper, but because it’s better for the environment and (2) The breathless way they report that she cuts her lotion bottles in half to get the last bits of lotion out of there as if it’s the CRAZIEST, MOST FRUGAL thing they’ve ever heard of. I’ve been cutting my lotion bottles down for years to get the ten tons of lotion left in the bottle and have always just considered it a middle finger toward the lotion companies who think their customers will give up when they can’t easily get the leftover lotion out of the bottle.

I guess I was frugal (I was frugal!) when frugal wasn’t cooooooool.

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When Nance and Rick were here earlier this month, we played Catch Phrase, the game we LOVE (which we can thank Nance and Rick for introducing to us!). If you’ve never played the game, you get a word and have to give your teammates clues so they’ll guess what it is. It’s always a blast.

Anyway, I recorded one of our games, and if you want to know what it’s like when we play, you can hear it here, or right click on that link and download it to your hard drive, if you want. You’ll probably have to crank up your sound, I didn’t use any kind of fancy equipment. It’s me giving the clues first, then Rick, then Fred, then Nance, and so forth.

During one of the games, Rick got “Gene Roddenberry” but then he ran out of time. He shrugged and told Nance she wouldn’t have gotten it anyway, and when she found out it was Gene Roddenberry, she got annoyed (because, as she says, “I absolutely LOATHE nerds that act SUPERIOR about their NERDY ICONS.”). This is why Fred says she’s like a one-woman comedy show, because she was going off and we were all laughing our asses off at her. (She wants y’all to know it wasn’t real anger and not a fight, she just hates that shit.) Fred and I listened to it again last night, and were both laughing so hard we were crying. You can hear that here. (Again, sorry about the poor sound quality.)

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Michelle admitted:

I have, um *cough cough* 11. But I count your permanent AND your fosters, so you still beat me whenever you have fosters 😉

11 really is the maximum point for us. I think it just depends on the dynamic between the cats, personalities, how much open space you have for them to roam and stake as their territory, etc. They are not fighting, but we do have to break up little bickering-bullying sessions. I think it would be a little calmer if we only had 9 or 10, but when I try to think about who I would give away, it is just too difficult because each one of them adds a unique personality to the household (not to mention every last one of them is spoiled rotten).

As we currently do not have any fosters, Michelle’s got the Crazy Cat Blogger title for the time being!

I would really like to think that we’re going to stay at 10 cats, but I’ll never again say “This is it, we really can’t have more than X cats”, because it always comes back to bite me in the ass. The more cats you have when you add one more to the bunch, the longer the process takes, because the new cat has so many other cats to interact with, and some of them are more hysterical and hissy than others. I think I’ve said it before, but I really think it’s just in the past few months that Joe Bob has found his place in the tribe, which means it took about a year. I do think how nice it would be to have fewer cats sometimes (especially when they all feel the need to escort me from room to room), but I can’t say that I’d like to see any of the rotten little brats go, so I suppose we’re stuck.

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Before I started reading you, I had zero cats. Ever, in my life. And my husband hated cats. After reading you for a few years, now we have one cat and we love her, and maybe we might someday think about getting another one. So thank you for that!

You are ENTIRELY welcome, I’m glad to have suckered you in to the cat-owning world!

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And how does one pronounce bhut jolokia?

Myself I pronounce them “What’s the name of those really hot peppers you’re growing this summer, again?”, but according to a page I found on Google (and then closed), it’s pronounced Boot Joe Low Key Ah.

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Poor Fred! I’m surprised that he just didn’t leave the “spot” and use the opportunity to spin one of his hilarious stories about it.

He said he thought about taking a picture of it and putting it up on his site with “Goddamn it.” under the picture, but wasn’t sure anyone would get it!

I have worn my hair fairly short for years. Two years ago just before Christmas I went to a shop to get it trimmed. When I told the new hairdresser that she could cut it fairly short in the back, she picked up her electric shears and proceeded to buzz the back of my hair to the point that I couldn’t even get a hold of it! Too astonished to even say anything (what could be done, anyway), I paid for the cut and walked out. I chose to act as though it was precisely what I wanted and the looks and comments of my family at our Christmas get together were very amusing. It did give me the opportunity to stop coloring my hair since the back was mostly white and didn’t match the light beige blonde of the front and sides. Who knows how much longer I would have kept up the coloring? Always look on the bright side!

I told Fred that if I cut my hair really really short, I’d probably stop coloring it, at least for a while, and let the gray come in. (I’m a little relieved that he didn’t make a big stink about it when I backed out of cutting off my hair, to be honest. I’m not ready to go gray!)

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I watched that video without my headphones on, so maybe I’m missing something with no sound, but that was CREEPY AS HELL.

Awww, it’s Julie through the glass! And her mother’s watching her grow up and you’re supposed to realize how fast they grow up and get all teary-eyed!

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The comment on the time your doctor spent with you caught my attention. My sister lives near Huntsville, and she and her husband have been seeing a family practice doctor for 20+ years; even their son went there. Anyway, the last few times they either had appointments, she said the doctor seemed like his @ss was on fire, only spent about 5 minutes total with them. AND even told her husband, when his B.P. was too high, just not to check it very often. Have no idea what’s up with that these days.

This is probably entirely sexist of me, but I’ve found that the female doctors I’ve seen are always willing to spend a little more time with me. Well. Actually, now that I said that, I’m recalling that my weight loss surgery surgeon (did I mention I do not like that guy?) spends more time in the exam room with me than I’d like. If he just popped his head in and said hi and then went along his way, I’d be perfectly happy. But for the most part, the females (my PCP and my gynecologist) will sit and actually look through the chart and ask questions, whereas the majority of the male doctors I see are all “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry.”

I can’t believe that a doctor would react to high blood pressure by telling a patient not to check it very often – that blows my mind!

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I seems like I read somewhere, and damned if I know where, that eventually, the loose skin will reabsorb. That it’ll take maybe a few years. Is that true? But where’s the fun in that…!

I think you may have read that on Fred’s site many years ago – I believe that’s what someone (the plastic surgeon? A dermatologist? I don’t remember!) told him. I don’t know that I believe it at all – though I suppose the only way to really disprove that is to stay the exact same weight for 7 years and see what happens skin-wise!

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Speaking of rude people — those that think it’s completely appropriate to come up to you and tell you how ugly they think your dog is. I mean, wtf? What can you say to that? “Um, thanks for sharing?”

You should totally say “Well, I guess you‘d know about ugly, wouldn’t you?”

Or is that too mean? (Or too subtle?)

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Here is a question for tomorrow, what did Fred’s coworkers think when he showed up to work bald & wearing a hat – which I’m guessing is out of the ordinary for him since he had to go buy some – did they think he had come down with a sudden illness or pulled a Britney?

He actually went into the offices of the two who would tend to mock him, took off his cap, and said “Get it over with now” then told them what had happened. They didn’t have much to say – what fun is it to mock someone when they’ve given you permission to do so?

Also I had a thought that amused me and thought I’d share, I even had to keep myself from giggling aloud and scaring my fellow bus passengers this morning. Fred didn’t have to shave the rest of his hair off, he could have just worn those sassy hats you occasionally put on the cats & take pictures of over the bald spot

I think it was sometime Tuesday that Fred called me and said “I just realized that I could have worn a cap to cover up the bald spot instead of shaving my whole head!” HEE. I would like to see him with the little pink straw hat on, personally.

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Robyn, all you have to do is look at your last year’s entry on your sister’s birthday, you always mention it : )

Ha – I do, don’t I? My mother pointed out that Debbie’s birthday is the easiest to remember, since she was born in 1970. Which I perfectly well know, but did it occur to me to think of it that way? Of course not!

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Is Mister Boogers ok with sleeping on a PINK bed? I suppose he would tolerate it while sighing and shooting hate rays.

Mister Boogers is secure in his masculinity and doesn’t mind sleeping on a pink bed – it’s no worse than the purple bed he was sleeping on, after all!

(Also, pink goes nicely with his pretty blue-gray fur.)

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As the main cook do you make things you hate but Fred loves to please him? I am selfish if I hate I don’t make it.

I do make some stuff that Fred likes, but I don’t do it often, and I make myself something else to eat while I’m doing it. Boiled okra is something he likes and that I can no longer stand (though oven-baked okra is fine with me), and I’ll boil him up a pot of it every so often.

I did make – and canned – quite a bit of salsa the summer before last, and it was all for him, because I don’t do hot salsa, and he doesn’t see the point in salsa that doesn’t singe the tastebuds right off your tongue.

I’ll make anything he wants me to make, really, all he has to do is request it, but when I put him on the spot – “What do you want to have for dinner next week?” when I’m making the grocery list – he never comes up with anything I won’t eat.

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the arborio rice is worth it and the store brand isn’t too expensive. i know wegmans and trader joes sell their own brand.

I really need to get me to Trader Joe’s, I have a list a mile long of stuff I want to buy from there!

And yes, you damn pretentious foodie freaks, I will try the Arborio rice just to see the difference. And then I’ll give it a try with a REAL (ie, not the microwave) risotto recipe and see how that goes. (I knew y’all were going to tell me I need to use Arborio rice, and I knew I’d cave almost immediately. I suspect I wanted to be convinced!)

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that unknown chicken looks kinda like an Ameraucana to me with the chin fluff and all.

Now that you mention it, Fred did come across a picture of an Americauna rooster that looked just like our unknown roosters. I’ll be interested to see what they look like when they get older (though I don’t believe they’re on the short list to be permanent residents, if y’know what I mean, given the large number of roosters we currently have).

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And, Fred thinks rice is pretentious? Is he southern? Growing up (in Georgia), we had rice and gravy every Sunday, and “xyz on rice” was the basis of, I’d say, at least half homemade meals. I actually tend to see things like tiny new potatoes as pretentious, since we hardly ever had them. Hee.

No, he thinks risotto is pretentious because it’s something they show on Hell’s Kitchen and it requires care and attention and you can’t just throw it on the stove and walk away and expect it to finish itself.

(Although the microwave version sure is easy to do.)

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Have you or anyone you know bought an Amazon gift card for themselves? I see things I want there but some items are only $2.99 & I don’t want to use a credit card for such a small sum. I know it’s a stupid question but I just wondered how other people managed to make small purchases.
I was considering buying a gift card for 40 dollars. What do you think?

I think it makes sense – I haven’t done that with an Amazon gift card (I can alllllways find more stuff to add to my order on Amazon!), but I do it with an iTunes gift card, because when I buy stuff at iTunes, it’s always one or two songs or a TV show, and I hate seeing the small charges come through on the debit card. With an iTunes card, it’s a one-time $25 expenditure, and I don’t have to see a $2 charge on my statement when I buy stuff from them.

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Males and those who have no interest in hearing about a cure for yeast infections (rather than the harsh chemicals you can get at the drugstore), look away.

Robyn, I was reading one of your old entries, from July 04, I believe (I am working the graveyard shift this week which is very boring and your journal has provided HOURS of giggly entertainment so far this week, so thanks for that btw!), in which you mentioned the horror of using Monistat for yeast infections. Maybe since then you’ve found something that works better, but I thought I’d share my home remedy that has proven to work BEAUTIFULLY. I fill a 10cc syringe (which I have easy access to since I’m a nurse at the hospital) with plain, unsweetened, unflavored yogurt, and “inject” it up in there. I have to inject it lying down, and then usually STAY lying down afterward, because once it heats up to my body temperature it gets very runny and likely spills out. So often times when I do this, it’s at night and I’m wearing underwear I care nothing about. The last couple times I did this, though, I inserted a tampon behind it to “plug it up,” and it seemed to do the trick! I even dared to venture out of the house like that, and had no spillage issues. The active cultures in the yogurt just eat up the yeast. I usually only have to give myself one treatment and the yeast infection is gone. Two treatments if it’s a particularly harsh infection. But, y’know, it’s way cheaper than the OTC crap (which DOES burn and inflame and irritate and itch), it’s easier, and it’s faster. I don’t often recommend inserting food into people’s body parts, but in this case it has a great medicinal effect! I read online somewhere about somebody recommending to freeze the yogurt in some sort of cylindrical shape (not sure what she used to do that) to make insertion easier, not to mention its lovely cooling effect. Haven’t tried that yet myself, but I’m keeping it in mind.

I once got caught visiting a friend out of town when a monster of a yeast infection came on. I had no syringes at my disposal, but I thought maybe the pharmacy would have some, so we went to a Kroger & I asked the pharmacist if he had any 10cc syringes. He said Yeah, I think so, and went off to look for some, and came back with 2 or 3, but before he handed them to me he asked if it was for giving my pet a medicine or something like that (I guess he wanted to make sure i wasn’t some sort of druggie) and I just looked him right in the eye and said “Oh, no, it’s for me, I’m having gynecological issues.” He kind of stammered “Oh–ok” and awkwardly handed me the syringes. Hee! I love how embarrassing people usually gets them to do whatever you want them to!

I don’t get yeast infections all that often unless antibiotics are involved, but I suspect that this tip will come in handy for one of y’all out there!

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2009-03-20 (1)
He’s a pretty, pretty Tom.

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Previously
2008: I am a peeing machine.
2007: That just screams “Monday”, doesn’t it?
2006: “I prefer ‘va-jay-jay’,” he said almost prissily.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: And why is it that I ALWAYS have my period when it’s time to leave on vacation? Why? Whyyyyyyyyy?
2002: I don’t want to have to think about Ozzy having a boner, thankyouverymuch.
2001: Fortunately, I have many more lazing-around-the-house-reading hours in the day than he does.
2000: I didn’t think cats did such things once they were fixed.

3/19/09

Happy, happy birthday to my baby sister, who turns 39 today! (This year, I had to subtract my birth year from the current year to figure out my own age, then subtract two years from that to come up with her age. Probably next year I’ll have to call someone and ask them what year … Continue reading “3/19/09”

2009-03-19 (1)

Happy, happy birthday to my baby sister, who turns 39 today!

(This year, I had to subtract my birth year from the current year to figure out my own age, then subtract two years from that to come up with her age. Probably next year I’ll have to call someone and ask them what year it is.)

Happy birthday, Deb! May you have a day that does not involve cat barf or poop in any way, shape or form!

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Fred and I watch Hell’s Kitchen every week, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that. One of the dishes they make regularly on Hell’s Kitchen that I’d never had before is risotto. Someone’s always fucking up the risotto, sending Chef Ramsay into apoplectic rages wherein he bellows at whichever hapless fuckup is in his crosshairs.

When I was reading a magazine last week, I came across a recipe for mushroom risotto that didn’t look too terribly difficult – in fact, it was made in the microwave. I asked Fred if he’d eat it if I made it, and he moaned and groaned and rolled his eyes, then said he’d try it.

He’s not a big fan of rice, and also I’m pretty sure he thinks it’s pretentious.

So yesterday I roasted a chicken, made vegetable medley (yellow summer squash sauteed with an onion and cherry tomatoes (the yellow squash and cherry tomatoes came from our garden last year and have been sitting in the freezer)), and made the risotto as well.

I have to say – that risotto is some DAMN good stuff. Even Fred said that it was really good, and he even got himself a small second helping.

The recipe is here.

I may toss some baby peas in next time I make it, because I do love peas (my friend Liz, on the other hand, regards peas as a personal insult when she comes across them).

Also, the recipe calls for “Arborio or long-grain rice.” Save yourself six bucks and buy the long-grain rice. I Googled Arborio rice and found that some people insist risotto just isn’t the same if you don’t use Arborio, but fuck if I’m going to spend that much on any kind of rice that doesn’t involve gold flakes.

Now if I could only find a super-simple recipe for Beef Wellington – that’s the other dish they always make on Hell’s Kitchen that I’ve never had and want to try.

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Nance will be SO proud of me (or will roll her eyes, more likely) because I finally FINALLY sat my ass down and used my sewing machine yesterday. A year after I got it, I finally made something on the damn thing.

What’d I make? Cat beds, of course. DUH.

2009-03-19 (4)
I picked up this basket a few months ago with the intention of putting a cat bed in the bottom, since the cats like to curl up in confined spaces. I made the bed and put it in the basket and thus far the cats have shown no interest, but it’s still early yet.

2009-03-19 (2)
I got these beds at Big Lots last year when I visited Nance and Rick, and the centers come out, but when you wash them the insides kind of get bunched to one side. So I made new inserts for the beds – two of them, anyway. I would have used purple if I’d had any purple fabric to use, but I didn’t, so I didn’t.

2009-03-19 (3)
Cat bed for the set of stairs Fred made to sit under one of the windows in the front room. The cats like to sleep there, but it’s been driving me crazy that none of the cat beds we had fit the space. So I finally made a bed for the space. It’s probably too floofy, none of the cats have shown any interest in sleeping there, but like I said – it’s early yet. Someone will give it a try sooner or later.

If I feel like it later, I may make some pee pads to put in the cats’ favorite places to pee (the washer gets sprayed every now and again I DO NOT KNOW WHY, and the baseboard in the computer room bathroom gets it now and then, too. UGH.). I currently put towels there to protect the surfaces, but I’d rather not use towels, even if they’re old and crappy ones. Also, I need to make a cat bed to put in the old Coca Cola crate we bought in Tennessee. I was going to make a bed for that yesterday, but decided to scrub the crate down first – it was pretty dirty – and now I want to let it dry before I bring it back in the house.

I’m not particularly good at sewing – I have an inability to sew a straight line, let alone cutting a straight line – but honestly, I’m making cat beds and pee pads, and who the hell is ever going to be close enough to critique my sewing technique, right?

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Scenes from around Crooked Acres:

2009-03-19 (5)
George regards his chewy.

2009-03-19 (6)
George makes sure no one’s coming to steal his chewy.

2009-03-19 (12)
“This are MY chewy, Lady.”

2009-03-19 (9)
The handing-out of the chewies. (Note Gracie’s green lower lip.)

2009-03-19 (7)
The chickens enjoy some leftover pasta.

2009-03-19 (10)
At almost 6 weeks old, this bunch has hit their gawky & goony stage. The two chicks in the middle with the tiny mohawks are half crested Polish and half who knows what. I can’t wait to see what they look like when they’re grown!

2009-03-19 (11)
The black silkie has gone broody. She is an angry, pecky little thing in the best of times. When she’s broody, she’s twice as angry, and she pecks HARD. She also gets super pissed-off when I pet her. Brat. I’m sure she’s got some rage going on right now – Fred put her in a cage to break her of the broodiness, and they always hate that.

2009-03-19 (13)
I don’t know what kind of chicken this is – it’s one of the November bunch we got from the hatchery, and that was just kind of a mishmash. We thought it might be a Wyandotte at first, but now we have no idea. Fred thinks this one’s a rooster, though we haven’t caught it in the act of crowing or getting some lovin’, so who knows?

2009-03-19 (14)
Michelle is such a good head rooster. He’s McLovin‘s son and he acts a lot like him, but he’s a lot less prone to clutching his pearls and running around in circles than McLovin was.

2009-03-19 (15)
Don’t know what this one is, either, but he’s definitely a rooster. He’s started up with attempting to crow. They’re always funny when they first start, they sound so rusty.

2009-03-19 (16)
Mr. Friendly isn’t as friendly as he used to be. I guess he’s growing up and has better things to do than being held by the humans.

2009-03-19 (17)
One of the chicks we hatched from Amish eggs at some point in the past (I don’t even remember where these chickens come from, half the time). He’s a rooster – they’re always the prettiest.

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2009-03-19 (18)
Joe Bob is all “No dude, I swear it! I had it by the tail and then it got away and ran over in that direction. It was HUGE, it was like the size of a kitten!”
And Newt is all “I do not believe you.”

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Previously
2008: That Pioneer Punk is a bad, bad influence.
2007: I am such a prize, I really am.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: “Have you noticed that it smells like the bodies of fifteen [gentlemen of Chinese descent] laying in a pile in the ditch, rotting?”
2003: Always something, you know?
2002: “I’m starving to death. Meh. STARVING, I’m STARVING. Meh.”
2001: My baby’s growing up!
2000: No entry.

3/18/09

Your comments yesterday killed me – people are just incredibly rude, aren’t they? I can’t imagine what people who are so rude must be thinking when they ask questions about things that are NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS. Aimee hit the nail on the head in her comment yesterday: I hate it when people are inquisitive … Continue reading “3/18/09”

Your comments yesterday killed me – people are just incredibly rude, aren’t they? I can’t imagine what people who are so rude must be thinking when they ask questions about things that are NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS.

Aimee hit the nail on the head in her comment yesterday:

I hate it when people are inquisitive to the point of being rude/cruel. I tend to err more on the side of not asking questions if I’m afraid the answer is something the person won’t want to talk about – probably to the point though where I seem like I’m uninterested. I read a quote in a book that was really fitting, “she probed beyond what was kind.”

This is absolutely me – my desire not to be rude or hurtful leads me to not ask questions, and probably makes it appear that I don’t care about what’s going on, when I either don’t know how to ask the question the right way, or am just afraid that my desire to know the answer will come across as plain rude.

The funny thing is that I’m pretty open to answering questions that are asked of me – I don’t know that I’ve ever been offended by someone who is genuinely curious and asked a straightforward question.

I suggest the following comeback when you’re faced with a rudely invasive question. This is what you do: you look confused for a moment, maybe even ask them to repeat their rude question, and then say “Oh. I’m so sorry, I don’t speak Rude Insensitive Asshole.” and then be on your way.

DO IT. Then come back and tell me all about it.

Actually, I thought that was a good comeback ’til I read Elayne’s comment, specifically:

May I suggest?
Stranger: What’s wrong with your foot?
Shirley: I’m struggling to keep it from kicking your rude, nosy ass.

(The rest of her comment, too, for that matter.)

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Monday afternoon, I had a follow up appointment with my plastic surgeon. The last time I saw him, two months after my lower body lift, he told me to come back in eight months. I originally had an appointment scheduled for the beginning of the month, but it happened to be the day Nance and Rick were arriving. Although I knew I’d have plenty of time to make my appointment and get home before they got here, I wasn’t looking forward to the appointment, so I called and rescheduled.

I especially wasn’t looking forward to the appointment this time, but I figured I’d just go to it and get it over with.

The main reason I wasn’t looking forward to the appointment was because it’s way on the other side of Huntsville and I hate the drive (especially the part that involves merging onto the Parkway, ugh), and the other reason I wasn’t looking forward it was because it was at 3:15 in the afternoon. Everyone on earth knows it’s best to schedule your doctor appointments for early in the day or right after lunch, but that’s what they had available, so that’s what I took.

I intended to stop on my way to the other side of Huntsville to get dog food, pick something up at Target (okay, UNDERWEAR if you must know), and buy some aida cloth and thread at Michael’s, but I left the house 15 minutes later than I’d meant to. So I swung by Michael’s, picked up the aida cloth and thread, and then booked it to my appointment.

I like to be on time, y’know.

So I sat in the waiting room for a few minutes and then they called me back to the exam room. The nurse/ assistant/ whatever told me to strip down, put on a pair of lovely paper underwear, and that they were going to get my “after” pictures since I’m almost a year out of surgery. I stripped down to my bra and socks (SEXY!), put on the paper underwear (DOUBLE SEXY!), covered up with the nice plush robe hanging on the back of the door, and sat on the exam table and waited for the nurse to come back. I waited. And I waited and waited. After a while, I grabbed my book which I had THANKFULLY thought to bring with me, and I sat and read. And read and read.

An HOUR after she’d brought me back to the exam room, the nurse came and told me to follow her to have my pictures taken. I did, and it took just a minute to get the pictures (from all angles, I’m sure they were QUITE flattering; I didn’t ask to see them), and then back into the exam room I went.

For another half hour.

I’ll admit, I was annoyed at first, and I even thought about claiming that I needed to leave because I had another appointment (this is the tactic I tried when the surgeon who did my weight loss surgery left me cooling my heels in the exam room for over an hour for a followup visit; if you’ll recall, he responded to my audacity by yanking out my gallbladder. I really do not like that guy. I do like my plastic surgeon, though.), but I just sighed and kept on reading my book.

The worst part was that I could hear him going into alllllll the exam rooms around mine. He’d go in, greeting the patient as he walked in, then he’d come back out and I’d hear him come out and I’d be Oh, okay, I’m sure I’m next!, but no. Off he’d go to another exam room. Somehow, there were like 300 exam rooms other than mine, and he went into every single one AROUND mine, but never came into mine. I wanted to fling the door open at one point and yell “No! You already WENT in there! Just get your ass in here and peer at my scar and tell me everything’s fine!”

At 4:45, the surgeon came in accompanied by – fuck if I know what her job was. Nurse? Medical assistant? I don’t know, but honestly I also don’t care. Female physician’s companion, let’s say. Anyway, he was in the room for – AND I AM BEING GENEROUS WITH THIS GUESSTIMATION – three minutes. Looked at my scar, asked if I was happy, told me to come back if there were any issues, but I didn’t need to have anymore follow-up visits, and bade me good day.

So I don’t need to go back again ’til I’m ready for the consult for my upper body (boobs and chins) done, and I don’t know when that’ll be. Originally I thought I’d have it done early this year so I’d be all healed up by the time planting season came around. And then I decided I’d have it done this Fall so I’d have the winter to heal. But honestly, with [reverb] THE ECONOMY [/reverb] going the way it is, I’ve put the plastic surgery on the back burner for now. It seems wrong-minded to spend that much money on something that’s really just about vanity (I’m so vain! I bet I think this blog is about me, don’t I? Don’t I? Don’t IIIIIIIIIIIIIII?), when the world economy could collapse at any moment and we could be killing and eating cats to stay alive this time next year.

(Mister Boogers will be the first one to go. We could feed off that hetred for months.)

For the record, it was my decision to wait on the plastic surgery, not Fred’s – though he didn’t fight me on it, either.

“Well, if it helps any, I love you the same whether you ever have the plastic surgery or not,” he said helpfully.

I don’t know what on earth ever made him think that my desire for plastic surgery has anything at all to do with the level of love he might feel for me, silly man, but bless his big bald pointed head for giving it the ol’ college try.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

So after I left the plastic surgeon’s office, I decided to go to the Target and PetSmart on that side of Huntsville (that way I could just hop onto the highway to get most of the way home afterward), and when I got out of the car to go into Petsmart, I smelled it.

The Bradford Pear trees are in bloom. And I know I’ve mentioned it 33 times before, but holy GOD do those things reek.

I’ve said in the past that they smell like bodies rotting, but actually I think they smell like something infected. Like I imagine a gangrenous foot would smell.

It’s too bad they stink up the world in the spring, because they really are pretty trees and they have a nice shape and all (though they tend to fall apart once they get past a certain height), but the smell is just horrific.

Not surprisingly, I don’t believe I’ve seen Bradford Pear Trees anywhere in Smallville. I guess they’re too pansy-ass to survive in the country.

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2009-03-18 (1)
When it’s snack time, Sugarbutt and Kara get a little overexcited and sometimes a little too close to each other…

2009-03-18 (2)
Which always leads to hissing and a smack or two.

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Previously
2008: Sadie’s like the older, tolerant sister who puts up with the brat.
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No doubt she wishes I’d leave her the hell alone and just let her SLEEP, GODDAMNIT.
2004: I’m known for my dumbassery, though.
2003: Get your cart OVER TO THE SIDE SO I CAN GET PAST YOUR STUPID ASS.
2002: Good riddance to boring characters, I say.
2001: No entry.
2000: No entry.

3/17/09

I’m a great-aunt! My nephew (Chris, the 21 year-old son of my oldest brother, not Brian, who’s the 17 year-old son of my sister) and his girlfriend had a baby yesterday; his name is Jordan. This makes my brother a grandfather, which makes me giggle because it seems so ludicrous. Isn’t he, like, 30? Aren’t … Continue reading “3/17/09”

I’m a great-aunt! My nephew (Chris, the 21 year-old son of my oldest brother, not Brian, who’s the 17 year-old son of my sister) and his girlfriend had a baby yesterday; his name is Jordan.

This makes my brother a grandfather, which makes me giggle because it seems so ludicrous. Isn’t he, like, 30? Aren’t I in my mid-20s? How can he possibly be old enough to have a grandchild?

I’ve actually only seen Chris a few times in his life – I first saw him when he was only about a month old (I was 19). Tracy and his then-wife came to Maine to visit for Christmas, and it was really the first time I’d spent any real time around a baby. I LOVED him, he was the cutest little thing, and when Tracy and his wife left, I tried to convince them to leave Chris behind, but they wouldn’t go for it.

So unreasonable.

(It’s probably no coincidence that I was pregnant with the spud less than a month later.)

A few years later, when Chris was around 2, he and his mother came to stay with my parents while Tracy was… Well, I don’t remember where he was. In officer’s school or something? Something military-related, I can tell you that. He was, well, he was two years old: sweet and rambunctious and always saying stuff that made us laugh.

After that, I didn’t see him again until a few years ago (four years ago, perhaps?), and he’d turned into a super-quiet (seriously, I don’t think I heard him say more than three words), observant teenager. You think they grow fast when they’re your own, but let me tell you – when you don’t see them very much, they seem to grow in an instant.

Now he’s a father. How amazing is that?

(Shaddup. I love the hell out of that commercial.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Those of you who asked for a picture of Fred’s bald head are going to be left wanting, I’m afraid. Fred would no sooner let me take a picture of him when he thinks he looks horrible than Mister Boogers would spread sunshine and happiness wherever he glared.

Just imagine a great big bald head with Fred’s face on it, and you’ll get the picture.

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It’s good to know that I’m not alone in my hatred of having the cashier comment when you’re buying something. Do you ever notice that they don’t comment on the salad or carrots you’re buying, but the stuff that’s not good for you? Fred says it always makes him want to bellow “ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?!”

Some of the comments that made me laugh:

I hate it when checkers comment on what I’m buying, except the time we bought bread and ice cream and he asked if we were making ice cream sandwiches.

I just don’t get the lack of filter on these kid’s mouths. Biting your tongue is or WAS a big part of working with the public. Last year I was on a line minding my own business when a cashier pulled me over to open a new line. He must have acted without authority because the front end person came over to tell him to shut down. He turned to me and started to tell me how lucky I was he was helping me. I was frigging PISSED and I started to rip into him “YOU called ME over here-I was on line minding my own business!” I must have looked all menapausal scary because he apologized immediately. But really I’m going to sound old but did you EVER address an adult the way they talk to us? A good slap might teach them something.

My husband eats a bag of chips in one sitting so I have to buy lots if I expect to get any over the next 2 weeks or so. Also I just happened to be doing a very big grocery shop and my cupboards were bare. The cashier, not a teen, says “oh you must have a teenager at home.” I’m like “No. Just a big husband.” Then instead of shutting her trap right then she says “Wow, is this food for a whole month!?” To which I reply seethingly “I don’t really know. I shop sporadically.” What I really wanted to say was “No. My husband and I are a couple of fat lazy couch potatos! Now shut your pie hole and finish ringing me up!” This is why I usually use the self check-out.

Precisely why, no matter how many groceries I have, I always use the self check-out. Deep down, I’d love to have the guts to say ‘Mind your own f**king business!’

As for chatty cashiers…after placing an order at Taco Bell for what must have seemed like an ungodly amount of food for two people (my husband and me), the cashier said, “Whooo!! Is that to go??” Um, no. That’s for here. As in, the two fat-ass pigs in front of you are going to eat it ALL, bitch!”

Fred and I were talking about it last night, and of course he has this need to be REASONABLE (god I hate that!) and he said “Well, you know, the cashiers are just trying to make conversation…” and I suppose I get that, but how about a comment about the weather instead? I don’t need a complete stranger commenting on the food I’m buying.

Next time I go in to the grocery store, I’m going to buy a container of laxative suppositories (the BIG one), lube, the big pack of toilet paper and a big-ass bag of candy, and then I’m going to DARE the cashier to say something.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Thanks for the bread comments and suggestions, as well. The recipe I attempted using was this one – and let me stress that I’m sure it was user error on my part (since I’ve never made a loaf of bread by hand in my LIFE) that was the problem, not the recipe.

I used all-purpose flour, since that’s what the recipe called for, but I do keep bread flour on hand, so maybe I should try that?

Actually what I’m probably going to try next is the Amish white bread Aimee linked to.

I did try using the mixer, but when I kept adding flour and it kept being way too sticky, I gave up. I think if I had it to do over again, I would have seen if it would rise, and then I’d have punched it down and tossed it in the oven to see what happened. Even if it came out a big heavy doughy lump of crap, I could have fed it to the pigs and chickens – tossing the dough in the trash was such a waste.

I should really be chronicling this whole breadmaking thing in pictures, shouldn’t I? Bitchypoo’s Adventures in Breadmaking!

I’m sure it’d be just as exciting as it sounds.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

2009-03-17
Newt McNewtles wishes you all a Happy St. Patrick’s Day! (“She’s not going to make corned beef, is she? I hate that stuff. It’s gross. EWWWW.”)

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Previously
2008: Guess who flew to Pennsylvania so she could eat cupcakes with Nance and Rick, snuggle the cutest dog on Earth, and reunite with Maddy?
2007: No entry.
2006: everyone’s Irish today, right?
2005: Guess it must run in the family.
2004: The cats are on my fucking NERVES.
2003: You KNOW you’re fascinated!
2002: No entry.
2001: No entry.
2000: The Big Butt Fairy visits us every year though. Just like clockwork.

3/16/09

I was driving to the grocery store yesterday when my cell phone rang. “Hey,” said Fred. “I was cutting my hair*, and the guard fell off, and now I have a big bald spot on the top of my head. Can you buy me some eyeliner or something?” After some discussion, it turned out that … Continue reading “3/16/09”

I was driving to the grocery store yesterday when my cell phone rang.

“Hey,” said Fred. “I was cutting my hair*, and the guard fell off, and now I have a big bald spot on the top of my head. Can you buy me some eyeliner or something?”

After some discussion, it turned out that what he really wanted was mascara (“The stuff with the brush”) to color in the bald spot, Fred’s version of spray-on hair. I had my doubts as to how well that would work, but I bought him some cheap dark-brown mascara.

When I got home, he showed me his bald spot, and I had STRONG doubts that he was going to be able to cover it with mascara, but he gave it the ol’ college try and sure enough, that wasn’t going to fool anyone.

“On the up side, the only way anyone would see it is if you deliberately tried to show them, or they were taller than you,” I said. Fred glared at me and went off to shave his head.

Then he whined about how he looked so stupid and how he has a weirdly shaped head and how he needed a ball cap. We ended up going to the dollar store to buy him a cap that fit, and then continued on to Tractor Supply to buy a few more, since he apparently plans to wear caps all the time until his hair grows back to the 1/2″ length he prefers.

“How about I cut my hair in solidarity?” I offered.

“You’d shave your head?” he said.

“Well. No. I’d have you use the clippers and the longest guard to cut my hair.”

“That’s not solidarity. Solidarity would be shaving your head,” he objected.

“And if your head was shaved due to circumstances beyond your control like ILLNESS or an attack by a wild animal, then I’d be willing to shave my head. I think letting you cut my hair to 1″ all over is PLENTY of solidarity.”

But really, I have no intention of letting him cut my hair to 1″ long. If he had a 3″ guard, I might be willing, but 1″? I don’t think so. I think it’s enough that I made the offer and shouldn’t have to follow through on it, right? Right?

If he goes bald due to illness or a wild animal attack, though, I’ve got his back.

*He’s been growing out his hair for the past few months, and finally decided that having to actually comb his hair when he gets out of the shower was more effort than he wanted to expend in the hair section of his life, so he decided to go back to using his electric razor to cut it to 1/2″ long.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

I attempted to make a loaf of bread by hand on Saturday. It didn’t go so well. When I’d added twice as much flour as the recipe called for (DOES THIS SOUND FAMILIAR?) and the dough was still super-sticky, Fred came in to see what I was doing.

Fuming, is what I was doing.

“I want to drive to (state where recipe-providing person lives) and kick (person) in the throat!” I bellowed.

“Bessie,” he said in that ultra-reasonable tone that makes me want to kick him in the throat and scratch his eyes out. “Why -”

“FUCK YOU!” I bellowed.

He laughed.

“We have a perfectly good -”

“FUCK YOU!” I bellowed.

“And we hardly ever eat -”

“FUCK YOU!” I bellowed.

“So don’t make the bread?” he suggested.

I turned and lobbed the sticky lump of dough into the trash can.

“You should have put that in the pig bucket,” Fred said.

“Oh, shut up and get out of my way. I need a scone.”

At least the scones – the recipe for which I got here, and then adapted (ie, used Ghiardelli chocolate chips instead of dried cherries) for my own nefarious uses (ie, shoving in my face) – came out really damn good.

Too good, really.

But truthfully, why do I keep trying to make bread? What’s the point? We DO have a perfectly good bread machine that makes okay bread. Which is beside the point, because we don’t hardly ever eat bread! It takes us like three weeks to go through a loaf of bread!

(I still might give that no-knead bread a try, though. Shaddup.)

I finished off the weekend by making a batch of Cooking Light Chocolate Chip cookies (my sister’s birthday is this week, so I made a batch of cookies for Brian. He’s a growing boy and he likes cookies!) and then a double batch of Piggerdoodles. We ran out of pig cookies Saturday night and they each only got one and a half cookies and O THE HUMANITY HOW COULD WE LET THEM STARVE LIKE THAT????? I finally realized that the easiest way to keep Fred and I out of the cookies is to toss the egg into the recipe shell and all. There’s not much I hate more than biting down on a piece of eggshell, so I am never ever tempted to eat one of the cookies meant for the pigs. And the pigs don’t mind the egg shells at all, so I call that win-win.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

When I was getting groceries yesterday, what with Tuesday being St. Patrick’s Day, I bought a corned beef brisket and all the stuff that goes with it for a New England Boiled Dinner (cabbage, turnips, potatoes, carrots). The cashier was one of those who comments on everything you’re buying.

“Oh, going to do some baking!” as she rang up the chocolate chips I was buying, and “Getting ready for Easter!” as I was buying some Easter candy and so on. When she got to the brisket, she said “Ready for St. Patrick’s Day, I see!” and I smiled and nodded or shrugged or whatever the hell I was doing. The bagger, a teenage girl, was apparently no big fan of corned beef. She made a face and picked up the bag by her thumb and forefinger and held it as far from her body as she could before she turned and placed it in the bag, apparently concerned that she might get some corned beefiness upon her person.

“I don’t like that stuff,” she informed me when she saw me watching her. “It’s so gross. Yuck.” I was surprised she didn’t illustrate her point by gagging and possibly throwing up a little.

In an alternate reality I was bellowing “Well NO ONE INVITED YOU TO DINNER, PRINCESS!” and smacking her upside the head.

In this reality, I just smiled and swiped my debit card.

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2009-03-16 (2)
Stinkerbelle, high on catnip.

2009-03-16
Check out the catnip-crazy eyes on Tommy – and the claws!

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Previously
2008: No entry.
2007: No entry.
2006: It’s like I’ve never met myself before or something. “Yeah, I’ll let the spud take the car to school, and I’ll be stuck at home, thus NATURALLY I will feel compelled to do housework!”
2005: Old pictures.
2004: (Bwahaha! That’d be the shortest study in the history of mankind, eh?)
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: Takes all kinds, I guess.
2000: A life of excitement, thrills and chills, lemme tell ya!

3/13/09

Hey, guys! Help a student out? It’ll just take a few minutes of your time, and you could win an Amazon gift card! My name is Lanna Lee Maheux-Quinn, and I am a Sociology and Mathematics student from the University of Southern Maine. I am conducting an anonymous survey about happiness and subjective well-being with … Continue reading “3/13/09”

Hey, guys! Help a student out? It’ll just take a few minutes of your time, and you could win an Amazon gift card!

My name is Lanna Lee Maheux-Quinn, and I am a Sociology and Mathematics student from the University of Southern Maine. I am conducting an anonymous survey about happiness and subjective well-being with adults 18 years or older.

Would you help me spread the word? The survey is located here: http://www.gotthink.com/survey/

This anonymous, online survey is voluntary and will take 5-10 minutes to complete. It will be open until Thursday, March 26th, 2009.

There are no known benefits to participating in this survey; nor are there any known risks for participating in this survey.

As a special incentive, those who complete this survey have an opportunity to participate in a sweepstakes for one of two $25 Amazon.com gift certificates. Those who wish to participate, when they complete the survey will be given an option to go to a separate survey that will collect their email address. Winners will be informed via email when the data collection is completed, on Thursday, March 26th, 2009.

I have chosen to ask you to help with getting the word out because I know that your blog is visited daily by a variety of people. By using my online connections, I hope to get a more diverse set of respondents than I would if I were only to use my friends and family.

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So Fred was going to go to work yesterday morning, and I heard him get out of bed and move around a little after 5:00, then I went back to sleep. Some time later, he came into my room and sat on the edge of the bed.

Turned out he’d had the worst night ever, the night before. He was freezing and he couldn’t get to sleep, and when he finally got up and took his temperature, it turned out that he had a temperature of 101.

He called in sick (or rather, I guess you’d call it emailing in sick) and made an appointment with his doctor. I went with him and cooled my heels in the waiting room while the nurse practitioner looked him over and stuck a long q-tip up his nose.

He has the flu.

She gave him a prescription for Relenza and told him I should call my doctor to get a prescription for the same as a preventative. When he told me that, I told him my medical records were still at the same office where he goes (long story short: my doctor has opened her own practice; I consider her my doctor, but haven’t needed to visit the doctor since she left the practice with Fred’s doctor, so Fred’s doctor still has my records.), so we went back in and got a prescription for me.

If I’d known it was going to cost $57 for my prescription, I would have just taken my chances. Gah.

Fred spent a good part of yesterday snoozing on the couch while I caught up on TV* (and Tommy tromped all over him repeatedly). He’s staying home today, too, and hopefully by the time the weekend is over, he’ll feel a lot better.

Spanky is doing perfectly fine – but to be honest, he was acting perfectly fine before we took him to the vet, too. We give him the wet food we got from the vet once in the morning and once in the evening, and he likes it. We give it to him on a plate in the small bathroom in the computer room so we can keep an eye on him – so that none of the other cats can elbow him out of the way and hog up the food – and he eats what we give him, and he’s happy about it.

He’s such a happy cat, nothing really bothers him (except that he knows when I’ve picked up a can of compressed air from, I swear to god, three rooms away. DOES NOT LIKE the can of air.) I know I’ve said it before, but our orange kitties – Sugarbutt, Newt, and Spanky – are absolutely the happiest cats we have. They’re so laid-back and sweet.

I sure do love my orange kittehs.

*How is it that I watched every episode of Big Love last season and never realized that Selma Green is a woman? I thought she and Hollis were brothers!

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Warning: It’s a super-sized Comment! Answering! Extravaganza! this week – and I know some of them are questions you were asking of Nance and I, but since we never got around to making a video, I’m going to go ahead and answer them myself.

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I’ve been sending messages over the ocean to tell Spanky he has to live for ever.

If happiness helps to prolong one’s life – and I think that the happier you are, the longer you tend to live – then Spanky surely will live forever because he is one HAPPY kitteh.

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I do love to see a photo of a cat on a worktop…..it makes me feel better about my house 😉

Oh, we never allow our cats on the counters or the table. Never! That was a one-time thing. Really!!! Ignore that cat bed on the dining room table…

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About the vole — a stray cat arrived at our farm (probably dropped) and she was truly a killer kitty. Nearly every morning she’d present a dead vole at my backdoor, minus head. She had an addiction to biting off the heads, though I never saw her devour the remainder of the vole. I’d see her patrolling the perimeter of the property early every morning, watching the ground for voles.

For a time, she stayed in the barn and would also kill mice. OF COURSE, I ended up taking Bitty Kitty into the house with my other cats. DH was upset, since he said she was his rodent/vole death squad. He didn’t want mice in the barn, since they might get into horse feed (though most of it was kept in metal barrels).

Is it wrong that I adore the idea of a kitty death squad? It was actually the first time we stepped onto the front porch and found pieces of a vole waiting for us that we knew Maxi and Newt had truly adopted us.

(I’m curious now why they eat the voles and moles and birds instead of offering them to us…? Hmm. I’ll say that I do prefer it that way, though!)

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I think Suggie just better ship those Reese’s peanut butter eggs to me RIGHT NOW and no blood will be shed! I love those things. I always purchase 1 bag of spice jelly beans and 1 package of the pb eggs around Easter. So far, the jelly beans have been purchased and eaten – yum.

My favorite part of this time of the year is the Reese’s peanut butter eggs. I actually had a hard time finding them this year, which made me cranky.

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And Suggie has knives. Lots of knives.

And he knows how to use ’em!

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Sugarbutt blends in perfectly with your cabinets and kitchen decor. He is a beautiful countertop decoration!

Truly, I always recommend matching your cats to your decor. Suggie matches the cabinets well; Spanky’s pretty green eyes go well in the living room; Newt’s buff orange goes nicely with the peach walls in the laundry room, and Mister Boogers goes well with whatever room he enters. Hetred goes with everything!

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what do you do with the egg shells?

Whenever I use eggs, I collect the egg shells ’til I have a bowlful, then I let them dry in the oven, crush them, and feed them back to the chickens. The calcium in the shells helps to give the shells on the eggs they lay harder. The harder the shell, the better! (We also give them crushed oyster shell for the same reason.)

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I was reading your blog while watching American Idol and I read “and a couple of months before we met in prison”. That shocked me…until I read the words again…”in person”.

I wouldn’t have held it against you if you had met in prison, but I might have been a “little” scared.

It would certainly have been a more interesting story!

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I really hate that you have spring already. Can I tell you to fuck off? North Bay lost almost 2 feet of it’s snow… and… I’m up by Thunder Bay now, we’re getting 40cms of snow.

Bet you miss living here, eh? Like, a lot??

Of course you can tell me to fuck off. You have my deepest sympathy with the snow and the cold. The older I get and the longer I live in the South, the more certain I am that there’s just no way on earth I could ever move back to Maine. The cold would KILL me. I can barely stand the three and a half minutes of cold weather we get here every year!

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What does “pipped and died in the egg” mean?

The hatching process consists of the three stages – first the chick “pips”, which means that they poke their beak through the shell in one spot. Then, they “zip”, which means they poke all the way around the shell so they can pop the top off the egg. Lastly, they hatch by pushing the top off the egg and squirming their way out.

(Nance would probably tell you that the fourth stage of hatching consists of the chicks collapsing as though they’re dead.)

You can see pictures of the zipping and hatching part of the process here. (Next time we hatch eggs, I’ll see if I can’t remember to get a picture of each stage!)

In this case, the chick pipped – poked the hole through the egg shell – but died before it got any further along in the process.

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Your 2001 entry is one of the funniest ever!

Fred and I both use the line “It smells kinda… chemical!” all these years later and then laugh like goons.

This is the first time I am so sad to see kittens leave. I know it’s totally necessary and the right thing to do. If you kept them all you’d have to stop fostering. Does letting them go get easier with time? Or does it depend on how much each kitten tugged at your heartstrings like Samba did with mine? I’m sure they will both find great homes.

It really depends on the kittens – some kittens are easier to leave at the pet store than others, but it’s certainly never easy. When I put a kitten in a cage and they don’t immediately go hide in the litter box, I feel better about leaving them there. On the other hand, when they do go immediately hide in the litter box, I feel horrible.

What really sucks is that you can’t explain to them that this is for the best, that someone will hopefully adopt them quickly and love them forever and ever. If there was a way to make them understand that, I think it might make leaving them there a little easier.

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I think Stinkerbelle looks angry because the dark lines on her forehead make her look like she is frowning.

I think Stinkerbelle looks angry because she’s a mean and hateful brat. She was laying on the bed in the guest bedroom the other day and I was petting her and she seemed to be enjoying it, then suddenly FOR NO APPARENT REASON she smacked at me AND IT HURT.

Brat.

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I saw this and thought of you!

Obviously nine cats is NOT enough. I need to make a shirt with a picture of each of our cats on it, that says “Currently at ten. GOD KNOWS how many cats we’ll have next year!”

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Mr. Boogers, why do you hates me?

Boogie say “It not personal, stupid. I hets everyone.”

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Oh yeah, didn’t you wind up getting the SideSwipe blade thingie for the KitchenAid Mixer? I don’t recall hearing how that worked out for you. I am really interested in getting one myself… provided it works worth a damn. I am just concerned that too much of the batter/dough would stick to it and be ridiculously difficult to salvage.

I did get the SideSwipe blade, and I like it a lot. Dough does stick to it, but I don’t find it any more difficult to scrape off the SideSwipe than the regular flat blade. My only gripe is that one of the little fins tore recently, and I ended up having to pull it off so it wouldn’t end up in the cookies I was making. Even with one little fin missing, it still did a good job of mixing. So I’m saying I recommend it!

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We still have not received the testimonial of the ScamWow.

Would you believe that after I HAD to have the freakin’ ShamWow(s), I still haven’t used a single damn one of them?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

My question is about Jane; are y’all still friends and if so, can you please tell her to start writing again, mmmkay. (I kid; just wondered why she isn’t as prevalent on yours and Nance’s sites – y’all seemed like you were tight at one time.)

Yeah, I still consider Jane a friend, although we don’t email as often because she has a stupid JOB and she wants to do a GOOD job and she fails to understand that her whole reason for existing is to entertain me. Damn her.

(I would never tell Jane to start writing again ’cause she’d snatch me baldheaded and rightly so. She’ll write when she wants to/ has time to, and we can just consider it a lovely surprise when she does.)

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What was the breed of large dog that you had in the house that didn’t work out?

Jake was a Great Pyrenees, just like George and Gracie are. I think Jake would be a fabulous watchdog for the chicken yard, he was just the right dog at the wrong time. If we’d found him two years later, he’d be out in the back forty guarding the chickens right now.

(Though I’ll admit that I’m glad we have two dogs out there instead of one. I like knowing that G&G have each other to play and snuggle with.)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

What happened to SCOOPHANDS? Couldn’t they have caught the roosters? Mighty nice shootin’, though, Fred!

SCOOP HANDS would have been plenty helpful when we were trying to catch those goddamn roosters – I don’t know why it never occurred to me to grab them, but you can bet I’ll keep them in mind for next time!

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Robyn, I would love to hear/see you read aloud one of your “best of” entries, particularly one where you go on a cussing rampage. Your voice sounds so sweet and kind that I think it would be hilarious to hear you say “Fuck” 837 times.

I’ll have to keep that in mind for the future – I don’t know that I’d be comfortable reading an entry on video, but I’m sure I could make a wav or mp3 file of whatever entry y’all want to hear!

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I should really pick up my cross stitching again. I have one that I finished over a year ago, but I have to do the topstitching still. It’s my first one, so I am a little unsure of how to do this. Any advice???

I have no real advice – I think you just kind of have to dive in and do the best you can. Readers? Any long-time cross-stitchers have advice?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

I’ve done that exact same cross stitch of the cow but I’m currently “working” on a baby announcement of when my youngest son was born–I started it 5 years ago:)

I tend to cross-stitch and cross-stitch and cross-stitch and then all of a sudden I just STOP and don’t cross-stitch for weeks or months. Once upon a time I was making a picture for my sister’s birthday, this one:

and then for some reason I put it down and didn’t touch it – or ANY cross-stitching – for SEVEN years. When I finally finished it, it had a damn stain on it that wouldn’t come out, and I ended up selling it on eBay. (Yes, the person who bought it knew that it had a stain on it!)

Speaking of cross-stitching, when I was looking for the picture above, I found this that I cross-stitched for Fred back in 2002.

I think he hung it up in his office, but I don’t know for sure. I also made one for him that said “I need what it don’t be”; Fred once got an email from someone who was trying to ask him something about a program Fred had designed, and in frustration, the person (English was not this person’s first language) said “I need what it don’t be”, and Fred and I were so captivated by the phrase that I had to cross-stitch it.

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And: “my Georgie and my Gracie” – also Dogs! amongst the “things that make me smile.” Oh no, they are not pets, they are work dogs. And when they quit laying eggs, then Fred will process them.

🙂

Please take the above as an affectionate little tease. I know the dogs have their place and do a good job. The pics of them protecting the chickens from the hawk were wonderful.

I have no affection for those dogs. None! At all! No, really!

(Ha!)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Oh, I love that hampshire looking pig. Actually I love them both! They are adorable. I noticed their tails aren’t docked, I wonder if you don’t have to worry about that when they are outside. They have so much other stuff to do, besides chew on each other tails.

That’s a good question – if I recall correctly, none of the pigs at the farm where we got these two had docked tails, so I imagine that when they have room to roam and dirt and grass to root through, they don’t go after each others’ tails.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

So, do you notice any difference in personality with these pigs as opposed to the other ones you’ve had? Friendlier? They look cuddly… like, I’d want to go give them a great big pig hug!

They’re not really friendly, per se, but they aren’t afraid of us at ALL. They learned very quickly that when they see us it means there are snacks on the way, so they come right over to the gate and wait for us. (They learned more quickly than the other pigs we had, for sure, so maybe they’re smarter. Or just hungrier!) If we take too long to get over to the gate, they squeal and grunt and all but call us motherfuckers. They are spoiled ROTTEN, but they’re so cute about it that I can’t help but laugh at them.

You would want to go give them a great big pig hug right up until you got a whiff of the pig stank, trust me. Although maybe that’s not really fair – it isn’t so much the pigs that stink as the pig yard. They tend to use the corner of the pig yard closest to the chicken coop as their toilet, so as you approach the pig yard, it stinks to high heaven. Thank GOD the house isn’t downwind from the pig yard!

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Are you going to break down and finally name your piggies Cocoa and Oreo? They are, after all, your cutest. pigs. yet.

Sure, why not? I don’t know that we’ll ever call them by their names, but I see no reason we can’t declare their names to officially be Cocoa and Oreo!

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I was wondering how the dogs were doing with the hawks. Do the hawks make noise that attract the dogs’ attention or do the dogs just have a sense for when there are hawks around?

I honestly don’t know how it is that the dogs know there are hawks up there, whether the hawks make noise that I just don’t hear, or if the dogs just happen to glance up and see them there. Whatever the case, I think George and Gracie are doing a really good job of keeping the chickens safe. The funny thing is that apparently Pyrs don’t really hit their stride as far as bonding to and guarding their flock until they’re about 18 months of age, so I look forward to seeing them get serious about their job this winter.

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We went to the Fiery Foods show this weekend. (The guy from Man vs. Food was there!!) Anyhow, there was someone giving samples of Lethal Injection hot sauce, which has bhut jolokia peppers in it. I was too scared to try it, especially after watching my boyfriend and his best friend suffer for 10 minutes. My boyfriend said he’d never tasted anything so hot in his life — he eats habanero peppers like they’re fruit!

I honestly don’t get why anyone would desire to eat something that causes them actual physical pain. WHY? It makes no sense to me! The day I popped a roasted jalapeno pepper in my mouth and then complained about my mouth burning for an hour afterward, Fred thought I was crazy. Hot food loving people are The Crazy.

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BTW – Because of you and Fred I’m starting a vegetable garden. I’ve been breaking my back clearing an area in the backyard for it. Ya’ll are also the reason we think it’s perfectly OK and normal to have “only” 4 cats. See what you are doing to the world?! 🙂

I wonder how many cats have been adopted because people could use the “At least we don’t have as many as Robyn and Fred” justification? 🙂 (That would be 2 of ours)

Y’all, ‘fess up. How many of you have said “We can get another cat – we still won’t have as many as Fred and Robyn!” to justify getting another cat?

I know Michelle used to comfort herself with the thought that she had fewer cats than we did annnnnd… how many cats DO you have now, Michelle? 🙂

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Bottom line–instinct and experience makes good bread, so keep at it and one day you’ll just “get it.”

That’s what I figured, it’s just going to be a matter of doing it ’til I figure out what I’m doing. I told Nance last week that my next goal is to do a decent loaf of bread without using the bread machine (yes, I have weird goals) and then I want to try my hand at pie crusts!

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Yum! Pecans! Not sure if you like peanut brittle….but I saw this episode of Peter Perfect (which is actually kind of cute) and he was helping a woman get her business back on track….the business? Pecan brittle! And apparently everyone they met on the streets thought it was much better than peanut brittle. Might be something to try.

Oddly enough, Fred and I discussed the idea of pecan brittle. I’ve checked out a few recipes, and it doesn’t look too terribly difficult. We have so many pecans, why not give it a try, right?

(I toasted a pan of pecans earlier this week, then when they were cool I put them in a bowl on the counter, and every time I go by the bowl, I grab a couple. They are SO DAMN GOOD.)

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Did the chickens come out in the snow much?

The chickens didn’t really know what to make of the snow – most of them stayed in the coop (which they tend to do when it’s cold out), and the ones that came outside didn’t pay much attention to the snow at all. I’d like to see their reaction if we got three or four feet of the stuff, though!

(Which is not to say that I want three or four feet of snow, just that I’m curious what the chickens would do!)

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OMG – that is seriously the first time I have heard your voice Robyn. You sound just like a CNN journalist. Or maybe a guest on Martha Stewart. Actually you sound just like a Mum (Mom) on any American sitcom I have ever seen! Sorry – Australian here. I lurve your accent. BTW – goats cheese is unnatural and wrong. It tastes just like the smell of goats. Bleugh. But each to their own. I am biased because I grew up on a farm on which the livestock included goats. I can’t stand the smell of them.

and

And I know I’ve said it before, but your voice is always so different from how I voice you in my head, as I’m reading you. Love the slices of life that you show us, it’s very interesting and fun.

Everyone always says that I sound differently than they expect. Which begs the question, of course – what did you expect I’d sound like?

I know some people expect a Southern accent and some people expect a Maine accent, but I really kind of grew up all over (my father was in the Air Force ’til I was 12, and I was born in Maine, my sister was born on a base in Canada, we lived in Indiana, Michigan, Guam, and very Northern Maine. We settled in Maine (about 40 minutes north of Portland) when I was 12. My father’s from Alabama and my mother’s from Maine. My father does have a southern accent, but my mother doesn’t really have a Maine accent (after meeting my parents for the first time, Fred said “Your mother doesn’t really have an accent most of the time, ’til she says something like ‘CAH’!”). When I worked taking orders at LL B3an one winter, a caller told me I sounded like I was from the Midwest.

But tell the truth – y’all expected me to sound like Marge Simpson’s sisters, didn’t you?

If you have a burning desire to hear my voice – and Fred’s – you can actually go to last year’s entry, scroll down, and listen to us reading the newspaper article about Flappy McGee laying her monster egg. There’s even a blooper reel!

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Vodka makes a good cleaner on tile, bathtubs, kitchen surfaces and the like. Also makes a good room deodorizer spray mixed with your favorite essential oil.

That sounds like something I need to make – I have a little bottle of lemon essential oil, and it’s impossible to find lemon-scented deodorizer spray in the stores. I think I’m going to try making my own; it would certainly put the vodka to good use, otherwise the bottle of vodka would just sit in the cupboard for years and years!

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OK, so I was buying seed potatoes and onions at southern states today so I thought I’d ask: What are y’all growing, food-wise, this year? TELL ME ALL ABOUT YOUR GARDEN! 🙂

Fred can add to this list, but I believe our garden this year is going to include the following: tomatoes (sungold, Golden Jubilee Heirloom Orange, Brandywine, Better Boys), peppers (habaneros, jalapenos, bell peppers, bhut jolokia peppers), yellow, scalloped, and zucchini squash, eggplant, cabbage, romaine lettuce, corn, okra, green beans, potatoes, cucumbers, melons (haven’t decided what kind just yet), acorn and spaghetti squash. I’m talking about doing a couple of raised beds behind the back yard where I can grow carrots and onions this year, and possibly a small herb bed. In addition to the garden, we’ve got 10 apple trees, 11 peach trees, 5 plum trees, 2 pear trees, 4 cherry trees, 2 fig trees, and some muscadine grape vines. (I don’t expect all the trees will bear fruit this year, but I’m hoping at least several of them do!)

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Miz Poo and Tommy were playing with catnip toys, and Tommy got a little too close to Miz Poo. So she boxed his ears. You can imagine how pleased he was at being schooled by a portly Poo.

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Previously
2008: What you don’t know is that there are moments of pure glamour interspersed with all the drudgery.
2007: No entry.
2006: That is an amazing and scintillating fact, right there.
2005: No entry.
2004: No entry.
2003: Y’know, sometimes I wonder how I make it through the world, clueless as I am.
2002: Her portly butt probably cut off the circulation to something important.
2001: I should have her arrested.
2000: Work was just heavenly today.

3/12/09

Robyn’s recipe for toasted pecans: put pecans on a baking sheet, spread out. Put in preheated 300º oven. Remind yourself not to forget about the pecans. Immediately forget about the pecans. Some time later (possibly 20, but I honestly have no idea), while you’re doing something else in the kitchen think to yourself “Huh. What’s … Continue reading “3/12/09”

Robyn’s recipe for toasted pecans: put pecans on a baking sheet, spread out. Put in preheated 300º oven. Remind yourself not to forget about the pecans.

Immediately forget about the pecans.

Some time later (possibly 20, but I honestly have no idea), while you’re doing something else in the kitchen think to yourself “Huh. What’s that smell? It kind of smells like… oh, shit!” Open the oven, take out the dark brown pecans.

Let them cool.

They are fucking fabulous.

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Y’all are some mouse-hating weirdos. How can you hate things that are SO CUTE? (That’s rhetorical.)

For the record, I’ve lived in this house for two years now and we’ve never had a single mouse wander into the house. I mean, it would have to be a particularly suicidal mouse to wander into the Den o’ Killers. Of course, it’s entirely possible that mice HAVE wandered into the house only to be immediately eaten, but while I don’t particularly endeavor to have a mouse in the house, I probably wouldn’t scream and clutch my pearls, either.

Well, wait. That’s not true. I’m sure I WOULD scream and clutch my pearls when one of the cats pounced upon the mouse and bit its head off. I’d much rather deal with a live rodent than a dead one with a missing head.

That’s just me, though.

Generally speaking, if one of the cats has caught something and I think it can be saved, I save it – whether it’s a mouse, a squirrel, or a bird. If it’s past the point of no return, I chalk it up to the cirrrrrrrrrrcle of life. Joe Bob caught a mourning dove yesterday and ate it in the back yard, but by the time I saw him chomping away, the dove was past the point of being helped.

Damnit. I kinda like doves, too. Stupid Joe Bob.

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Speaking of signs of Spring and things that make people shudder, the influx of wasps has begun. Luckily, at the end of Wasp Season last year, I purchased a bug vacuum off eBay.

This bug vacuum not only sucks bugs into it, it also has a “high voltage grid” inside, so it sucks the wasp inside and then electrocutes it.

The wasps that are coming inside are small ones, ones that I would consider to be baby wasps. So far I’ve had to kill about ten of them (and Wasp Season hasn’t really even begun in earnest), and to tell the truth I feel sorry for the poor baby things.

And then I realize that baby wasps grow up to be adult wasps, and I electrocute the shit out of those fuckers.

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We’ve had a bluebird hanging around lately – I’m hoping he’s looking for a ladyfriend and will make a home in one of the bird houses, ’cause I think we need some baby blue birds ’round here.

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We call this “Somethin’ done killed the dawg!”

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We took Spanky to the vet yesterday morning. For the past little while, I’ve been noticing diarrhea in the litter box. Of course, there was no way to know who was leaving it, and we talked about setting up the webcam to see if we couldn’t figure it out. When Nance was here, she happened to walk into the laundry room at just the right time, and reported that Spanky was the diarrhea bandit.

Add to that that he’s been vomiting a little more often lately (he’s always had a sensitive stomach) and Fred thought he’d lost a little weight, and it was clearly time to take him to the vet.

A physical exam turned up nothing obvious, so they had to do bloodwork on him.

As it turns out, he’s having issues with his kidneys – his BUN and creatinine levels are elevated, necessitating some medicine and a change in diet for the next month at least. It won’t hurt him to have a bite or two of the other cats’ food, but we’re going to start giving him some special canned food in the morning and evening (and we’ll have to watch over him while he eats, because Mister Boogers is an ass and more than interested in Spanky’s special food). We gave him some of the food last night, and he’s giving it two paws up, so that’s good.

He’s 12 1/2 years old, so no doubt it’s time for him to start having issues, anyway. He’s hardly ever given us any trouble except for a urinary tract infection several years ago.

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He’s a good skittyboo.

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Previously
2008: “You realize,” I said to Fred as I watched Tommy diligently lick the top of Miss Stank’s head, “Even if we wanted to, we could never get a divorce.”
2007: No entry.
2006: No entry.
2005: No entry.
2004: I’m a total freak.
2003: She’s home!
2002: Of course, my sympathy for him will only last until he poos in the hallway instead of the litter box again.
2001: I am the dumbest dumbass in the whole wide world, I really am.
2000: Sometimes, they lay on the floor and perform for us.