And Then She Ate Her Baby

Yum! Delicious kitten!

'

Momma likes to wrestle with the kitten, who is now three and a half weeks old. Momma can get pretty rough, but I haven't seen any blood yet and Baby doesn't seem to mind, so I guess it's ok.

What's NOT ok is that Momma came from the shelter with an added special feature, i.e., worms. Guh-rosss! It makes my skin crawl just thinking about it. I've got to go to the shelter after work and pick up worm meds for the both of them. Gross! (shiver.)

'

I've been busy baby-proofing the apartment, now that Baby is out and about. I put up a window screen across the doorway to the kitchen so she can't get in there, and I'm trying to block off any other spaces where she might get in a jam. Both cats love to scratch the carpeting, so I got a cat scratch post, but so far the carpeting is the far-preferred option. Sigh.

'

Momma is eating like there's no tomorrow, but I think the worms might be involved in that. Hopefully once I get her de-wormed, she'll no longer be eating FOUR CANS of cat food a day. Truly, it's amazing. She can polish off an entire (3 oz.) can in about sixty seconds. Baby licked some food off my finger the other night, but that's about the end of her interest in solid food so far.

'

So, other than the worm situation (gross) (shiver), all is well in foster land.

"Bye, Momma! See you later!"

'

They grow up so fast. (heh)

Jesus House

Last Friday, the Jesus House caught on fire, and it may have to be demolished. The Jesus House is a house in one of the worst parts of town. Its owner is evidently a very religious man, and he covered the front porch and side of the house in scripture. He also decorated with garlands, fake flowers, and tinsel. Last spring I took a bunch of photos of the house and made them into a collage.

Here's the side porch:



Here's the front porch:



He even painted the bricks in the sidewalk along the side of the building:




Needless to say, I love this house. And I feel so bad for the owner. I hope he had homeowner's insurance so he can afford to buy another house. And I hope he makes it as beautiful and original as this one was.

You Can't Make This Stuff Up

Yesterday, a maintenance guy came over to start hoeing out Jabba's apartment. We got to talking, and I asked him what happened to Jabba's cat. It turns out that Jabba's cat has quite a back story.

Originally, Jabba's cat belonged to a guy the next town over who lived in the same apartment building as Jabba. This guy, who was in his early twenties if memory serves, was beaten to death in what was evidently a drug deal gone bad. Then the perpetrator set his body on fire to try and cover up the crime. I remember when this happened, a couple of years ago. I guess it was the "setting the body on fire" part that made it memorable.

Anyhow, after that guy met his untimely demise, Jabba took the cat. Then he moved into the apartment building I live in. Then, a year later, he dropped dead, and the landlord, Jabba's son, left the cat in the apartment by itself for a week. Nice guy.

I asked where the cat was now, and the maintenance guy said he didn't know; he just knew that Joe (the landlord) had taken the cat.

I sure hope it finds a good home this time.

Finally

Jabba the Hutt died last Wednesday. Last night, over a week later, someone finally came by and got his cat.

That's right. The landlord, Jabba's son, who knew he had a pet cat, left it all by itself for over a week. Nice guy.

Because it was an indoor/outdoor cat, Jabba sometimes left his bathroom window open so the cat could go in and out. Luckily, the window was open when Jabba keeled over, so that I and the guys downstairs could leave food and water for the cat on the windowsill. I hate to think what would have happened otherwise.

I just don't understand some people. Although, the past week was probably like a vacation for that poor cat - no more LOUD NOISE and chain-smoking owner.

I wonder what will happen to her now.

Momma and Baby Update

Momma and Baby are doing fine. Momma is very small; she's hardly more than a kitten herself. She almost never meows, which surprises me, since Rocky was a meow-er and that's what I was used to, but she does purr on occasion. I don't know how much she had been around people before this, because she's very shy, and when you pick her up, she's all stiff and angle-y, like she doesn't know how to be held. Or maybe she just doesn't want to be held. She doesn't really seem to "get" cat toys, although she does like the catnip pillow. Although she took to the litterbox right away, she flung litter around very enthusiastically at first, as if she had never used one before. Hey, that's ok; that's what vacuum cleaners are for.

'

Momma is interested in the fish tank, and every day when I come home from work I expect to find it on the floor, but so far she has limited herself to watching the fish and sometimes sitting on the coffee table and batting at the tank with her paws. Overall, she is being amazingly good; no overturned houseplants or anything! Momma actually spends about 95% of her time under the couch with Baby, and jeezus, it's gotta be getting boring under there by now. I'd slip her a video game if I thought she'd play it. (If, that is, I had any video games, which I do not, because I am ancient. I would, however, happily buy her a video game, although I imagine that her lack of opposable thumbs might be a problem in that regard.)

'

On Sunday, while I was raking leaves, I happened to look up to my apartment, and Momma was sitting in a windowsill watching me. So I waved to her and called out, "Hey, Momma!", and then looked around to see if any of the neighbors saw me acting like an idiot.

'

Baby is now two and a half weeks old. Her ears have unfolded almost all the way, and while she still mostly crawls instead of walks, she is definitely getting stronger. She can hold her head up and track Momma with her eyes. I had the two of them out on the living room carpet last night, and Baby was crawling all over Momma and batting at Momma's head with her tiny little paws. I defy you to watch that and not go, "Awwwwww!" So, so cute. Instead of meowing, she goes "eeeee eeee EEEEEE", which for some reason cracks me up.

'

So! That's the Momma and Baby update. Oh, and the fish are doing fine, too. Poor fish. I'm afraid I've been giving them short shrift since the cats came to visit. Although I have been doing a fifty-percent water change EVERY SINGLE WEEK since tetrafish.com says I have to. Really? Every single week? But! I did buy a gravel vacuum for, like, seven bucks, and it is a miraculous little tool and also fun to use! Sigh. I guess my life is pretty boring when cleaning the fish tank is exciting.

'

In other news, according to my calendar, today is Administrative Professionals' Day. (And I think I may have put that apostrophe in the wrong place, which is either funny or sad, because I'm a secretary.) So if you work with a secretary or administrative assistant, take her out to lunch for Pete's sake, cause God knows she's earned it.

When a Window of Opportunity Opens .....

.... slam it shut, quick!

My town usually only does curbside leaf pick-up in the fall. However, last fall, it snowed (!) on a lot of the curb-side leaf piles before the town could pick them up, so the town announced that they would do another pick-up this spring. Even though I raked (and raked, and raked) last fall, a lot of leaves had accumulated along the back fence, so I decided yesterday to rake them up and get them to the curb.

The backyard had an amazing amount of blown-down branches in it, so I started hauling them to the curb first. It's at least a hundred feet from the backyard to the curb. The few few, even the first few dozen, trips aren't that bad, but after a while it gets kind of ..... tiring.

Anyway, I got enough branches up to start raking along the back fence. I have a "leaf sheet", which is actually just an old bed sheet, which I spread on the ground, rake the leaves onto, bundle up, sling over my shoulder, and haul out to the curb. Just like Santa! Except I have leaves instead of toys.

So, after I raked along the back fence, I decided I really should do the side garden, as well. Because who can resist the allure of a town-sponsored spring leaf pick-up? Not me!

You see where this is going, right? I raked the back fence, I raked the side garden, and then I decided to rake the other fence line. Then I raked out front, I raked by the parking area, I raked by the garbage cans ........ all the while intermittently picking up amazing amounts of downed branches. I picked up branches and raked leaves for five hours straight. And today I can't decide which hurt more, my arms or my legs.

But! The job is done! There is a huge pile of leaves by the curb, and an equally huge pile of branches. The woman across the street actually came over to exclaim over my giant piles of yardwork. (Well, actually, I think she mainly came over to get the scoop on the death of Jabba the Hutt. But as it turns out, she had as much info as I did, because she was actually home when all the commotion happened! Who knew that when you die, they send two ambulances? And two cop cars? And a sheriff's car? And several other unmarked cars? And we speculated as to why two ambulances were sent to the scene. I mean, granted, the guy was huge, but what did they think they were going to do? Don't answer that .........)

So today I am sunburned and sore. But all those leaves currently residing at the curb are leaves which I will not have to rake this fall, right? Right!

Playing Hooky

It's beautiful here today - sunny and in the seventies. After this past brutal winter, today is like a flippin' miracle.

The boss left for the weekend a little while ago, and as soon as I can get my desk cleared off, I'm taking off as well.

I'm going to go home, set up a patio chair in the backyard, crack open a beer, and sit in the sun.

Ahhhhhhh.

Silence

Last night after work, I went home and puttered around in the back yard for a while. (And it was warm out! I wore shorts! IT FINALLY STOPPED SNOWING!!)

Then I went in to make dinner and started my usual noise-blocking routine. Turn on the radio. Turn on the TV. Turn on a fan. Turn on the white noise machine. All the things I'd been doing for over a year in a desperate attempt to block the LOUD LOUD NOISE coming from downstairs.

And then I realized, "wait a minute. I don't have to do that anymore". So I turned off the radio. Turned off the TV. Turned off the fan. Turned off the white noise machine. And here is what I DID NOT hear: Jabba the Hutt's TV, cranked to eleven. And here is what I heard: I heard cars going by. I heard birds singing. I heard the filter in the fish tank bubbling. I heard Baby cat mewing under the sofa.

And it was beautiful.

Breaking News

According to my sources, Jabba the Hutt, that fat bastard who's been making my life miserable since he moved into the building over a year ago, dropped dead yesterday morning.

And my first emotion was happiness. Yep, I was glad he was dead. And then I was relieved, because at least he didn't take the building along with him. (Jabba was on oxygen and was a chain-smoker, both at the same time. He had already started one fire in his apartment because of his careless smoking.)

But mostly, I am glad that I will not have to listen to that fat bastard's TV set blaring at three o'clock in the morning anymore.

I guess that makes me a bad person.

They're Baaaccckkk!!

The ospreys are back nesting at Montezuma. Click here for the live Osprey Cam. Right now they're building their nest. Woot!

I'll also leave the Osprey Cam link up on my sidebar (to the left) for future clicking.

My (Least) Favorite Things

Warning: Fairly graphic discussion of medical procedures to follow. You've been warned!


S0! This morning I had to go to the ob-gyn for my annual check-up. And while this is certainly not my favorite thing to do, while I was there, I was thinking, "well, at least I'm not at the dentist".

Because going to the dentist is absolutely my least favorite thing to do. Long story short, I avoided going to the dentist for way too many years because of previous bad experiences, so when I finally started going again, they had lots of work to do, and then things got screwed up and I got TMJD and was in pain for MONTHS because I went to the damn dentist, and then it seemed like everytime I went, something went wrong, even a stupid cleaning, and I don't give a shit what anybody tells you, going to the dentist is NOT painless, and that's my dentist story.


Now, going to the dermatologist for my yearly skin checkup is also not a lot of fun, mainly because my dermatologist is a creepy little guy who doesn't speak English very well, and I'm beginning to suspect he might not be a doctor at all but is instead impersonating a doctor, like that guy Leonardo DiCaprio played in the movie Catch Me If You Can. But a least going to the dermatologist is not painful, except of course when they have to remove moles, which is painful, but that's not part of the annual checkup.


Speaking of mole removal, this one time I had to have a mole removed right next to my bellybutton, and the doctor numbed me up and started cutting but I could FEEL him slicing into me, and I grimaced, and he numbed me up some more, and he started cutting again but I could still FEEL it, and he numbed me up some more and I grimaced some more because, yep, still FEELING the slicing and stitching, and finally he said he couldn't numb me any further because he was afraid the tissue surrounding the area would DIE and then I'd have really major problems, and I let him go ahead and finish the surgery, FEELING every single slice and stitch and yeah, that kind of sucked. Big time. And now I have a giant scar right next to my bellybutton, and every time I go to the ob-gyn (like this morning!) she asks if I had my gall bladder removed because THAT'S THE SIZE OF THE SCAR I HAVE thanks to a stupid mole removal procedure and ....... um .......... where was I?


Oh yeah. Going to the dentist is my least favorite thing to do. What's yours?

Everybody, this is Hannah .....

........ Hannah, this is ...... everybody!*

Here's Hannah, being held by my Mom:

Hannah opened her eyes for the first time on Saturday.

Here's Pammie (not Tammie, as I was erroneously lead to believe) -



Pammie is very shy. I had to lure her out from under the bed with a catnip toy. (Again, I DID NOT PICK THESE NAMES. They were named at the shelter. I have been calling them Momma and Baby. Because I'm original like that.)

Momma and Baby were supposedly found in someone's shed. I say "supposedly" because they explained at the shelter that people often bring in their own pets and say they "found" them somewhere. Yeah, like in your living room. Jeesh.

Anyway, Momma is pretty skittish, although she will let me pet her. And of course, Baby is just hanging out wherever Momma stashes her. In a basket in the bedroom, under the bed, under the living room couch ....... Momma likes to move around. And while she is litter box trained, she is better in the concept than in the execution.

Should be an interesting couple of months.

*Sorry, I never could resist a lame Sixteen Candles reference.

(Foster) Baby Momma!

SQUUEEEEE!! I just got my first "foster assignment" from one of the local animal shelters. Tonight after work I will pick up a momma cat and her week-old kitten, and I will keep them until the baby is nine weeks old, when they will go back to the shelter for adoption.

I wrote before about thinking about getting another cat. This situation is perfect for me - I can experience taking care of a cat again without worrying about it being a lifetime commitment.

So! Tonight I pick up Tammy and Hannah (hey, I didn't name them - don't blame me!) and the adventure begins. Admittedly, it's tinged with a little bit of sadness, but I think that helping other cats is a great way to honor Rocky's memory.

And I hope momma knows what she's doing, since it's been about 35 years since I was around a newborn kitten.

I Did Not Know This Existed

I was sorting through the office mail this morning, and came across a copy of Men's Vogue. Men's Vogue? Really? Who knew?

Weekend Wrapup

Why, yes, I AM referring to LAST weekend. Things have been pretty hectic around here, but I wanted to get this stuff down before I forgot about it.

My haircut insanity continues. This time I asked for it to be cut SO SHORT in the back that the hairdresser had to shave my neck. That felt kind of spooky and just ... wrong, but the cut looks good. And it's not that short all over, just in the back.

Oh! And there was this little kid (maybe ten years old or so) in the hair salon, and she brought in her two pet rats to show the hairdressers. (Why she did this, I have no idea.) She didn't even have them in a cage, just stuffed into her sweatshirt pockets. So she brings out the first rat, and everybody's trying to be ... well .... polite, seeing as how it's a RAT and all. (No, I'm not afraid of rats. I just don't have a whole lot of affection for them. Something about the tail.) And then the kid announces, "and my other rat is hairless!" And she whips the other rat out of her pocket, and sure enough, the thing's bald as a damn cue ball.

Now, I don't mean to be indelicate here, but, well ..... that thing had a rather large set of private parts. And the baldness just sort of ..... accentuated the whole situation. And when she pulled that damn thing out of her pocket, first a collective gasp went up, and then we all looked at each other, and we're all trying not to laugh, but somebody let out a snicker, and that was all it took. Hairdressers and clients were busting a gut over the big-nutted bald rat. Good times!

I managed to do my first 50% water change in the aquarium without killing either fish, so it looks like things are improving in the Black Death department.

I divided up my bleeding heart plant and gave some to my sister Ditzy. I couldn't find a pot to put it in, but I did, mysteriously, find an Easter basket in the shed. So I put the bleeding heart in the Easter basket and gave it to Ditzy. She said she would get it planted right away, but knowing Ditzy, I am sure it will sit in said Easter basket by the side of her garage until sometime this fall, when she stumbles upon it and, forgetting what was ever in there to begin with, tosses the whole thing out.

I finally got some of my spring clothes out of the attic, which means we are sure to get another foot or two of snow.

Oh, and I went for a walk at State Park, and everything is still all brown and depressing, and to assuage my depression I stopped for a frosty at Wendy's, negating any caloric benefit I may have gained from the walk, and I started working on a beat-up kitchen cabinet I picked up for fifteen bucks at a local antiques store/flea market, and I'm sure I did all kinds of other boring stuff that I can't remember now.

The end.

Oh, but one more thing - I've been having problems sleeping at night for a while now, so yesterday, I finally went and bought some Sominex and took two before I went to bed last night. And a couple of hours later, I woke myself up gasping and choking for air, because I had evidently .... forgotten to breathe. Um, I know the stuff is supposed to put you to sleep, but I didn't think they meant .... permanently.

Nick Was Having a Tough Night

Why does everything have to be so damn difficult?!

My cable TV remote has been on the blink for a while now. I called the cable company's customer service line, and they advised me to bring it in and get a new one. The old one had to be at least ten years old, so hey, it was time.

So I take in the old one, and the customer service gal gives me a new one, and of course it had nine million more bells and whistles on it than the old one. Technology marches on, and all that. BUT! It also came with approximately ten poorly-photocopied pages of instructions. And I noticed whoever had been running the copier was apparently not paying all that much attention, because the bottom two lines of type on each page had been cut off. So it was all, like, "enter your three-digit TV code number once the component LED......" and nothing. The rest was cut off.

So I pointed this out to the gal at the counter, who did not seem at all surprised. I don't know if it was because she hears it all the time, or she's never heard it before because nobody ever actually tried to read the instructions. She just said, "Oh, it's already programmed for our converter box. You're all ready to go!"

Yeah. I mean, no. I was not "all ready to go". I got home, and the remote would turn the system on and off. And that's it. No channel-changing, no volume control, nada.

So I monkeyed and monkeyed and tried to imagine what might be in those missing lines of type at the bottom of the pages, and I finally got the cable portion of the system to work, i.e, I could change the channels, access the setup menu, blah blah blah. But I could not get the TV portion to work, i.e., the all important volume control, because God forbid I have to get up off my lazy butt and walk over to the TV to adjust the volume.

I called customer service and got "Nick". Nick was obviously not enjoying his time at work last night. Nick was not a happy camper, and I guess I can best charitably describe him as "surly". Now peeps, I was just as polite to this guy as I could be. I explained my problem, and he started walking me through the TV setup system, the same setup system I had done all by my ownself before calling customer service. And I was kind of laughing and joking, and I could practically feel the frown vibes emanating through the phone from Nick. This dude was NOT HAPPY.

So! We tried A, we tried B, we tried C, and nothing worked. No volume control. I explained that the volume control had worked with my old remote. I asked if the age of my TV (fifteen years!) could be the problem. I asked if they could send out someone to look into the situation. Nick's answer was "No." No, the age of the TV shouldn't matter. No, they would not send out someone for a volume control problem. It was kind of one of those, "Well, you're shit out of luck - too bad about that" situations.

And really, I'm ok with that! It's just the flippin' volume control, for Pete's sake. I'll either get it figured out, or I won't. Although, for sixty-plus bucks a month for BASIC CABLE, I really think it would be nice if volume control was included.

But I wonder about Nick. I mean, I called, and I was all polite and pleasant and just had a stupid technical problem to try and work through. And I didn't even get upset when we couldn't fix the problem. And this dude sounded like he wanted to tear my damn head off and spit down my neck. I can't imagine what would have happened if the next caller was some irate jerk infuriated that the picture was snowy during "The Price is Right". Although I would have liked to have listened in on that particular conversation. Grudge match: Surly Nick vs. Irate Customer!

Wow, so that's it. My five thousand word essay on my TV remote. Sorry about that. Phew.

Night at the Museum

Last Friday, I checked out a local museum, as they have free admission on the first Friday night of every month. I am ashamed to admit that I hadn't been there in years. Please understand that I am in no way, shape or form what I consider to be a "cultured" person; I know much less about art, classical music, etc. than I'm sure I should, and that's entirely my fault. All I know is that this museum is the coolest place I've been to in a long, long time.

They had all kinds of neat paintings. I love portraits from the eighteen-hundreds, and they had lots of those. They also had some landscape tapestries that were made by a local mental hospital patient in the nineteen twenties, and those were exceedingly cool. They had some Dali sketches and some by Picasso. One of my favorite pieces was a wooden diorama of a goatman's cottage; the "goatman" in question was half goat, half man. There were some scary sculptures, and some stuff that I couldn't figure out exactly what it was.

Then it was on to the Audubon exhibit. They had lots of his prints, and corresponding stuffed animals by a local taxidermist. Frankly, a lot of the stuffed stuff looked like it had seen better days, but it was still cool to look at a print of a bald eagle and compare it to the real thing (well, as real as a stuffed thing can be, I mean). (And yes, I am aware that the bald eagle is an endangered species, and no, I have no idea where this local taxidermist got ahold of one to stuff. I am assuming that the museum researched this thorny little issue before they put it on display.)

There was an exhibit of landscape paintings of the area, and also an exhibit by a local artist, and an exhibit of masks, and lots more. At one point, I came to what appeared to be the end of a hallway, but I could see fancy sofas and stuff ahead. So I went on through, and I was inside an actual mansion that is attached to the museum. The staff has been restoring the mansion over the years, and parts of it are open to the public. This was so, so cool - you would not believe the stained glass windows in this place.

I realize that I've badly overused the word "cool" here, but I cannot emphasize enough how cool this museum is. And here's the thing - The entire time I was there, I only saw three other people. Here's this great museum, with all this fantastic stuff in it, and nobody's going there, even on nights when admission is free.

And at first I couldn't figure it out, until I realized that I myself hadn't been to this museum in AT LEAST twenty years. It just wasn't on my radar screen. So I think the museum needs to get a bigger advertising budget. Because this place is seriously cool. And I will be going back every first Friday that I can.

Oh! And they allow photography. I'll take pictures of the coolest stuff and post it here. Promise.

For the Love of God QUIT BITCHING!!

Not me. You.

Seriously, while I may use this blog to vent my frustrations about my job and my coworkers, I try to stay upbeat and positive while actually at work. However, E., one of said coworkers, is a bitcher. We are only two hours into the work week and already he is bitching and pissing and moaning about something the boss asked him to do.

And I swear I just want to take him by his shoulders and shake the shit out of him and scream "QUIT BITCHING!!" at him.

Because I'm an upbeat and positive person, don't you know.

Happy Monday!

Like a Swarm of Gnats ........

...... I feel like there is a cloud of SUCK swirling around my head. Regarding last night's agenda (just scroll down; I'm not going to put in a "link" to a post directly below the one I am writing, dammit):

1. They were sold out of the bookcase (well, duh; I called that one before I even got to the store).

2. The library does, indeed, hire part-time help; unfortunately, employees must be available to work all shifts, including weekdays. This makes NO SENSE to me, but whatevs.


3. I was not in the mood to divide the bleeding heart (sounds gory, doesn't it?) last night. It will have to wait for the weekend.


But! I had some perspective shaken in front of my face this morning.


Local authorities are still searching for a local 40-year-old mother of three who disappeared two nights ago from her rural home. She was last seen at 10 p.m. Tuesday at her home; she was wearing purple jammies. It is not clear from the news reports if her children were at home that night; she is divorced and has a joint-custody agreement with her ex. Five hours later, her neighbors reported hearing screams. She has not shown up at work, and her car, her purse, and her cell phone were left behind.

I may consider my life a big ball of suck right now, but at least I am NOT missing and feared dead. Not. Is good.

But then! Evidently not even bank tellers are safe from the Black Death (me). I had to do the company banking this morning. I handed the teller my stuff, she turned around to access another computer, and she tripped and went flying and hit her head on the way down and could not get back up and oh my God now I feel terrible all over again. Stay away from me, for your own safety.

Oh, but then in looking for stuff to do this weekend, I discovered that the local museum has free admission the first Friday evening of every month. So tonight after work I'll get to go see an exhibit of artwork by John James Audubon and whatever else the local museum has to offer. And tomorrow I am going to submit myself to my capable hairdresser's hands and see if she can make my hair look like something other than a train wreck. Wish her luck!

Oh, and Audrey (the bank teller)? I'm really, sincerely sorry. I hope you are feeling better real soon. Someone should have warned you about the Black Death.

Tonight's Agenda

1. Go to Target to look at bookcase on sale. Granted, this bookcase has been on sale at Target since last Sunday, which means they sold all two that they had in stock by 8:15 Sunday morning, but hey, a gal can dream, right?

2. Go to library to pick up book on reserve and ask (gulp) if they are accepting applications.** OH MY GOD I cannot believe I am actually going to do this, but if I am ever going to realize my dream of home ownership, I have got to have more income coming in. My last several brilliant money-making schemes all came to naught (just call me Lucy Ricardo), but this one could ACTUALLY WORK (stop laughing! STOP IT!). If I could pick up an evening or two and possibly a weekend day, it would put me much closer to a downpayment. Of course, I forgot until just now that the library is closed on weekends during the summer. OK, two evenings a week it is. I AM GOING TO DO THIS. I AM I AM IAMIAMIAMIAM. There. I said it on my blog, so it must be true. (Stop laughing).

3. Separate the bleeding heart bush. This particular plant has grown over the course of the last ten years from a teeny teeny baby to a giant behemoth that has taken over my garden. While I love it dearly, it is taking up too much room. I divided it once before with fine results, so I will try again. I seem to remember that the last time I divided it, the operation required a hand spade and a shovel and a steak knife and a saw (in that order), plus an inordinate amount of cursing, so I might have to save this particular project for the weekend. When the temp will supposedly be above freezing! Such excitement! Oh my God fifty degrees!! I may faint.

Such are my plans for this evening.

**Unless one of the high school interns is working the desk. Asking someone who is thirty years younger than me if they are accepting applications is something I will not do. Yet.

One-Trick Pony

I was listening to the local pop music station on the radio while running errands today. I hardly ever listen to this station, because they play the same songs over and over and over. Basically, if you listen to this station for a couple of hours every six months or so, you're all caught up on the pop music scene.

Anyhow, they were playing a (presumably somewhat) new song by Melissa Etheridge, and she is still hewing to her same theme, i.e., "she doesn't love you like I love you." And I thought, wow, that's pretty amazing, Melissa has crafted an entire, highly successful career out of singing the same basic song, "she doesn't love you like I love you", over and over.

And then I thought, well, there's lots of artists like that. Evanescence comes immediately to mind ("you broke my heart and I hate you"), as well as Jack Johnson ("I've got sand between my toes and it's all good"). And of course, there's the all-time champeen of recycling the same song over and over - ZZTop. ("Wimmin and cars").

Not too shabby. All you have to do is come up with one catchy song, and just keep slightly modifying it for eternity. You, too, can be a pop star!

Oh! After the Melissa Etheridge song, a song by Chris Daughtry (sp?) came on, and I was surprised to find that it was actually ...... listenable. I mean, it wasn't great by any means, or even very good, but it didn't have me lunging for the console to shut off the radio. Hmm. Wasn't he on American Idol?

Oh, and speaking of American Idol, am I mistaken, or have the costumers actually dressed that poor Asian girl in bizarre, incredibly high-waisted, formal shorts for two weeks in a row? What is up with that?

You Can't Make This Shit Up

Just as I thought my life could not get any more confusing, I find myself accidentally embroiled in an animal rights controversy.

After my one platy kicked the bucket Saturday night, the remaining platy was acting kind of lonely, so I decided to get another fish Monday after work. I wrote earlier about some really cool-looking fish at the pet store - fish with polka dots and stripes and heart-shaped marks. So I went to that store (yes, yes, the same one that sold me the overpriced heater that DID NOT WORK), and it turns out that the neat looking fish are called "Tattoo Mollies". Folks, I swear it NEVER CROSSED MY MIND that these fish might actually be TATTOOED. I swear, I thought it was just the name of the fish. Maybe they are called that because the markings LOOK like tattoos.

So! I got Miss Molly home, got her (or him, as the case may be; I forgot to ask) settled into the tank, and (s)he seems to be doing fine, and the platy also seems calmer with another fish in the tank.

And I went on line this morning to see if I could find some good pictures of tattoo mollies, because the ones I took myself last night didn't turn out so hot. And I discovered the Great Tattoo Molly Controversy, because it turns out THE FISH ARE ACTUALLY TATTOOED. I shit you not, over in Thailand (land of the strange and the highly illegal), they take regular mollies, sedate them (supposedly), and TATTOO stuff on their sides. And of course, the animal rights people are all up in arms over this, and vowing to boycott pet stores that sell tattoo mollies, and oh holy god now I feel like an ax murderer because I bought a damn fish.

So here's the fish in question. It's the white one in the center of the picture, with the orange polka dots and the (oh holy shit I swear I did not know) TATTOOED blue heart on her side. Now that I think about it, it looks like those polka dots might be tattooed on as well. (I plead ignorance!) You can see the orange platy behind her. They are actually about the same size; the molly looks bigger because of the camera angle.




Oh Miss Molly, I'm so sorry. I had no idea that by purchasing you, I was supporting the fish-tattooing industry in Thailand. Please forgive me.

(P.S. - In case you checked the date on this post and are thinking this is all an elaborate April Fool's joke - I WISH.)