Sam I Am

"What? You dare to impugn the integrity of my sister?"

"PREPARE TO DIE!"

Yeah, I'm bad.

So! Emergency root canal!

Yeah, that was fun. Or not.

And the thing is, it will (hopefully) stop the god-awful toothache I had over the weekend, but it's not gonna touch the underlying jaw pain. But with the tooth going south in a hurry, I really didn't feel like I had a choice.

Because you know how it is - when a tooth starts to pound, all of the sudden the dentist is your best friend. I practically cried on the phone yesterday morning when the receptionist said they could fit me in. (Oh! And my dentist had a girl! That makes four boys, two girls. So far.)

And OH MY GOD why is that root canal shit so expensive? By the time I get done with the permanent root canal and the post and the crown and the fittings and the blahblahblah, we're talking - and I almost hate to say it - two grand.

TWO GRAND! For a TOOTH! Oh, they woulda pulled it for ninety bucks, but "hillbilly" is not really the look I'm going for.

So! I bid two grand! Anybody wanna top it?

You know how ... Now with an update!

You know how your car can be making a funny noise, so you take the car to the mechanic, and then the car won't make the noise?

yeah. This morning, in desperation, I called my dentist's office. My jaw blew up over the weekend, and when I could no longer eat or brush, I realized it was time for help. Oh! But my regular dentist is out on maternity leave (Kid #6! Go doc!), so I had to schedule with another dentist in the practice.

And sure enough, after several days of dental pain, virtually as soon as I hung up the phone, the hurt abated.

I'm keeping the appointment anyway. In, let's see, half an hour. Let him poke and prod and piss my jaw off. It deserves it, the motherf*cker.

I'll let you know how I make out.

Updated to add: It turned out to be a tooth in need of a root canal. F*ck.

Look who came back for a visit

Remember back in October, when I was doing foster care? Well, the kittens got bigger, and restless, and they were no longer happy in my spare bedroom. Because the littlest one had not yet been leuk-tested, I couldn't let them out into the house and risk exposing Little Girl, and so they went back to the foster coordinator's home.

And then, well, Little Girl passed away. And the house was awfully, terribly quiet. Dumplin got adopted (yay!), but Samson and Delilah were still waiting for a placement. And so, until they find their forever home ...



... they're baaaaaaack!

Jeez, Deli, why so tense?:

Sammy says, "gaze into my eyes":

Welcome back, guys.

Pinched Ow

In what is perhaps a bit of karmic comedy, I, possibly the laziest person on the planet, have somehow managed to exercise my way into a pinched nerve in my back.

(Of course, at the first sign of pain, I'm all, like, "Oh my God, it's cancer!" Because once you have been a smoker, "cancer" will always be your first thought when something goes wrong, health-wise. Yet another reason to not smoke.)

But anyway, yeah, pretty sure it's a pinched nerve.

F*ck you, Jillian and your thirty-day shred. We're not friends anymore.

I have had pinched nerves before, and it is NO FUN. But they never lasted more than a few days, and I knew that when the pain started to migrate around, the worst was over.

This time, it's a week in and counting.

I am sure that some if not most of this is due to the stress I've been under. I'm tighter than a piano wire, and I CANNOT seem to relax enough to start things on the mend. Combine that with the weight-lifting exercises I had been doing (evidently, not doing CORRECTLY) (not kidding, Jillian - we are THROUGH), and I am basically screwed.

Badass Nature Girl was kind enough to give me some advice on OTHER exercises (not Jillian - dear God, not Jillian) I could do that may help, and I am giving them a shot.

In the meantime, I sure could use some good drugs, if anybody's got some to spare. (KIDDING.) (Okay, not really.) (Help meeeee.)

Ouch. Jillian, I'm going to put your DVD out in the front yard and set it on fire. We are OVER.

Anybody got an ice pack to spare?

Recently Read

First, thanks to all of you and your kind comments. The loss is great, but your nice thoughts are making it easier to get through.

Now, let's do some Recently Read. Yeah, that's all I got. Skip it if you wanna.

1. Moll Flanders by Daniel DeFoe. This was supposedly one of the first "novels", and this dude really could have used an editor, because the sentences run on and on and ON. And it's boring - he couldn't even make a brother/sister incestuous relationship interesting. Hell, even V.C. Andrews knocked it out of the park with THAT subject matter. I didn't finish it.

2. The Bucolic Plague by Josh Kilmer-Purcell - Memoir about two hipster guys who buy a farm. It starts out funny, then turns into an ad for their business about a third of the way through. Then it gets better at the end. An okay read.

3. Fanny and Sue by Karen Stoltz. Novel about twins growing up during the Depression. Charming, full of period details, and G-rated. Give it to your grandma for Christmas - she'll love it. Very good.

4. Good Grief by Lolly Winston. Novel about a woman whose husband dies unexpectedly - meh. I gave up about halfway through.

Let's do a movie review! Burlesque with Cher and Christina whats-her-face. Frankly, I wasn't paying that much attention, but what I saw seemed awfully derivative of "Chicago", which was a much, much better movie. Watch that instead.

Another movie review! Ballou is a documentary about a high school marching band going for the championship - ahh, memories. Really good if you're into that sort of thing - which I am.

5. All About Lulu by Jonathan Evison - Novel about a teenage boy with a crush on his stepsister. It got good reviews but I didn't find it that interesting.

6. The Night Train by Clyde Edgerton. Novel about growing up in the sixties in the segregated South. A quick read.

7. In Zanesville - Novel about an adolescent girl growing up in the seventies. I could relate. Good book. The description of the slumber party - Well, I could have been there. Heck, maybe I was there.

Okay, anybody reading anything good?

The End of an Era

I first met The Runt and Little Girl when they were part of a foster placement I was taking care of for a local shelter. There were four kittens: Fluffy, Tuffy, Little Girl and The Runt:

Oh, and let's not forget their mom, Evil Momma:

When the kittens were old enough, I took the whole crew back to the shelter to be adopted out, and I accepted another foster assignment. There was just one small problem: I had fallen in love with The Runt and Little Girl. And so I adopted them.

There is, of course, more to the story. So much more.

Thanks for the memories, guys.

What happened

Thanks for all of your kind comments.


Little Girl died of heart failure, the same thing that got her brother. Evidently the medications were enough to give her a few more months, but not the years that the vets and I had wished for. She did get one more summer of hunting mice and chasing leaves.

I found her on Saturday afternoon in the backyard. It was a beautiful warm fall day, and she died with the sun in her fur and the grass under her paws.

Her neighborhood kitty friends all came to pay their respects on Sunday, and I am not even kidding. I had a backyard full of cats.

Goodbye, honey. You'll be forever young.

Little Girl

May 2008 - November 12, 2011.

Oh, honey.

I love you. Always.

Oh, man, I just can't let this go

So, I was talking to my boss yesterday about the whole Penn State scandal. And he was all, "Well, when Joe Paterno found out about it, he told his superiors, right? So why is he getting fired? I mean, legally, he's not responsible, right?"

Hoo boy.

And I'm getting that attitude from a LOT of people around here. (We're not that far from Penn State. Heck, my brother is a Penn State alum.) And let's not forget, those kids down in State College weren't overturning news vans because a coach is a pedophile and the University covered it up. They were rioting because their beloved JoePa got canned.

Here's the thing. If I had a neighbor who started a charitable organization to aid young men, and then one day I looked out my kitchen window and saw him giving a kid a hummer in his backyard, well ...

The shit would hit the fan.

I'd call the town cops. I'd call the county sheriff. I'd call the staties. I'd call the DA. I'd call the media. And then I'd head next door with a baseball bat. Hell, if I had a gun, I'd take that.

But here's everybody whining, "But JoePa TOLD his supervisors. He DID his duty."

Duty? Well, there's legal duty, and then there's moral responsibility, and sometimes those are the same and sometimes they aren't. But the fact remains that ol' Joe KNEW what was going on, even if he didn't actually witness it, and once he discovered that evidently the powers that be were going to cover it up, he went along. He went along, as young boys (probably) continued to be abused because he knew and he didn't do enough.

Oh, it wasn't just him. Evidently there's plenty of blame to spread around down in the ol' Happy Valley lately. LOTS of people knew what was going on, and said nothing, or told someone higher up and then let it drop.

Sometimes doing something isn't doing enough. And sometimes you have to up your game to make sure justice is done. Sometimes you have to go out on a limb, and say things that could cause you discomfort and unpopularity. Hell, maybe the crowd's going to turn on YOU. But sometimes you have to do it.

Because right is still right, and wrong is still wrong. The last time I checked, anyway.

Exercise your right to vote! Or, you know, stay home

On my way home from work on Tuesday, I stopped by my polling place to vote. I was number 200 for the day. There are 730-ish people in my voting district, so that's not a super turnout, but then again it was an off election year.

Although there was an important office up for grabs - Town Supervisor. For reasons related to the recent flooding and also some other issues, hello NEPOTISM, a lot of people (me included) really wanted to see the current supervisor booted out. So I made sure to stop and vote.

And yes, yes indeed, I am one of the sanctimonious jerks who stroll out of the polling place all, "I voted! I am a good citizen! Go me!" Yeah. Somebody give me a cookie.

I USED to be one of those annoying assholes who'd bug everybody to go vote on Election Day. But I don't do that anymore. For one thing, a lot of people are really alarmingly uninformed on the issues. I was talking to my boss, who lives in the same town I do, on Tuesday, and he wasn't even sure who was running. Then when I started listing the candidates and their platforms, he stopped me at "Shaeffer" and said, "Oh yeah! I think I voted for him!" So. My boss had ALREADY gone to the polls and voted, yet he wasn't sure who was running and he couldn't recall who he had actually voted for.

And then I was talking to a co-worker, who ALSO lives in my town. He asked where my polling place was, and when I told him, he said, "Okay, so that's where I go to vote, right?" I told him it depended on what voting district he lived in, and he was flummoxed. No idea. Sheesh.

Look, it's okay to be uninformed. Just stay home on Election night, okay? Leave it to the people who care. Don't just go blindly filling in little circles, because you could do some inadvertent damage.

Oh! And while I'm on a little rant, here, it's OKAY to cast a vote for some things and leave other things blank. For example, you can cast a vote for mayor and for alderman, but if you're really not sure who the best candidate for treasurer would be, just LEAVE IT BLANK. It's okay!

Ahhh. Rant over. I feel better now.

JoPa gets the bum's rush

So, it looks like Joe Paterno's gonna be out as head coach at Penn State. Turns out you can't let the people who work for you diddle little boys in the locker room and not report it to police. Geez, there's a shocker.

Oh! And now there's a big brouhaha about how Herman Cain's latest accuser is, for lack of a better term, a grifter. You know, I'm not sure that her past should necessarily have anything to do with what she's accusing Cain of doing. Then again, your past matters. Just ask Cain.

And in the whoa-now-THERE'S-a-big-surprise department, Mamma Duggar is preggers again. You know, at the age of 45, and with what she went through with the LAST kid, I'm not sure that this is the best decision, but it is, in the end, HER decision. I guess the only thing that nags at me about this is the REASON she keeps popping out kids, which is basically to provide an army for the upcoming war between the Christians and everybody else. Don't believe me? Check out the Quiverfull movement, of which she is an adherent.

Oh! And then! And then! They had a special episode of Nineteen Kids and Totally Insane on last night, where viewers got to ask the Duggars questions. And somebody asked Jim Bob how he could justify having so many children when the planet is already overpopulated.

And do you know what he said? Do you know what he said? Oh my God, this is priceless. Here is what Jim Bob said:

"The whole world's population could fit into the city limits of Jacksonville, Florida."

ahahahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA. Oh really, Jim Bob? REALLY?

Look. I have no idea how many square miles are in Jacksonville, Florida - no wait. I just googled it. Answers vary, but evidently it's somewhere in the vicinity of 800 square miles. And good ol' Jim Bob says the entire population of the planet, which I understand to be around seven billion people, can fit into that space.

Okay, math majors, do your stuff. How many people would there be per square mile if seven billion people were living in 800 square miles? I'm guessing it would be a little, well, uncomfortable.

Oh! But wait! Maybe he only means Quiverfull people? Maybe he's talking about after the upcoming war between the Christians and the non-believers, and after all the non-believers are slain, the Quiverfull people all go to Jacksonville to live?

Oh, Jim Bob. You're so earnest. And insane.

Don't those damned things ever SLEEP?

At four o'clock this morning, a time with which I am intimately acquainted thanks to Little Girl's habit of bringing me live mice in the middle of the night (thank you very much, LG - now CUT IT OUT), there was a big ol' doe out in the front yard, not fifteen feet from the front door.

As I blearily prepared to live-release LG's latest gift (I DON'T EAT MICE, Little Girl), I noticed movement in the front yard. I switched on the porch light and there she was, a hundred pounds of venison on the hoof, and she wasn't moving. The brazen hussy just stood there and looked at me. She finally ambled off into the brush when I opened the screen door and started toward her.
Last weekend, I deer-netted the side garden and the part of the front garden that's closest to the brush line. But if the deer are going to start hanging out in the damn front yard, I'm gonna have to deer-net all the gardens, which will be a pain in the ass, but really it's my only option, because in case you didn't know, deer eat EVERYTHING.

There they are, down by the creek, in their happy little deer-world, all pretty and peaceful, surrounded by acres and acres of nom-worthy plants, and what do they do? They come eat my lilies, that's what they do. And my peonies and my hibiscuses and every other living thing they can get their soft little muzzles around.

And NOW, as it that wasn't bad enough, I evidently have insomniac deer in my neighborhood, coming to raid the proverbial fridge, i.e., my gardens, in the middle of the damn NIGHT.

Christ. Pour yourself a glass of warm milk and go back to sleep, freakin' deer. Leave my flowers alone.

The Closing Dress

So! A few weeks ago, I pulled a dress out of my closet. It's one that I only wear a couple of times a year, mainly because it's black (which says fall/winter) but also short and sleeveless (hello spring/summer).

I figured it was okay for a warm day in October, so there you go.

Oh! And it's The Closing Dress.

It's the dress I wore the day I bought my house, July 30, 2009. And every time I pull it out of the closet, I think of that day.

It's not the only item of clothing I own that I associate with one specific event. I have an old flannel shirt of my dad's that I always wear when I'm putting up/taking down the Christmas tree. And, of course, there are the lawn-mowing clothes - ratty old clothes that I wear when I'm mowing. And I have a pair of socks that I wore when ... when ... well, that's a post for another day.

So! Do you have a Closing Dress? An article of clothing that you associate with one day? (Other than your wedding gown, obv.) I hope I'm not alone, here.

Random

After years of pinching pennies until they squealed, I am finally beginning to be able to spend money on things that are not absolute necessities without going through a massive guilt trip. This is worrisome. I sure hope I don't end up at the track, blowing my life savings on the ponies.

Highly recommended: Hell on Heels by the Pistol Annies. Both the song and the CD. I'm no big fan of country, but this is ear worm material of the best kind.

I tried watching that new reality show, Long Island Medium, about the woman who supposedly talks to dead people, and ... I just can't. God knows I do love some reality TV, but to pretend to be talking to someone's dead Uncle Bob ("He wants you to go to the salon more often!") just seems cruel.

And speaking of reality TV, I was sad to learn that The Little Couple's surrogate mom had a miscarriage. The Little Husband seems like kind of a douche, but I was sorry for The Little Wife, who appears to be a sweetie-pie.

And because I seemingly cannot STOP speaking about reality TV, am I the only one who thinks Nineteen Kids and Totally Insane would be a much better show if they would just lose Jim Bob? Just ... drive him out into the woods and drop him off or something.

Coming trends: Mermaids. Barn swallows. Trapper hats. Trust me.

For two cents I'd skip putting up a Christmas tree this year. But I can't. I'm trapped by societal norms. *sob*

Did I tell you guys about coming home one day to find a bunch of pickup trucks in my backyard? No? This was courtesy of my neighbor B., he of driveway fame. He was trying to mow out in his backyard and got his riding lawnmower stuck. So he called one of his sons, who drove across MY yard to get to his dad's lawnmower in order to tow it out. Unfortunately, his son got his TRUCK stuck, so he called his brother, who brought over HIS pickup and drove it down my side yard. By the time I got home from work that day it looked like a mud-bog rally in my backyard. And they STILL haven't fixed the damage.

I think it's time for a new front door. The old one is starting to bug me.

Oh, man, one of my co-workers just walked in with a birthday cake his girlfriend made for him. It's red velvet. Gotta run.

How about you? Do you have any random to share?

Hoo boy

Evidently, somebody talked my neighbor L. into doing one of those neighborhood "stop cancer" letter-writing campaigns. You know, where people stuff their neighbors' mailboxes (illegal) with requests for money to go to a certain charity?

I mean, it's pretty harmless, and once or twice a year I get a form letter from one neighbor or another asking for money for the American Cancer Society or the Red Cross, which I promptly toss. I prefer to pick my own charities, thankyouverymuch.

Except L.'s recent request for money caught my eye. Mainly because on the form letter she had crossed out about three different names before she wrote in mine, making me pretty sure I'm not real high on her begging priority list, which is excellent.

So I brought the letter in to work and ran the charity through Charity Navigator, which gave it a very low rating. And the reviews were equally damning, with stories of elderly people being given the hard sell to donate.

And I have to wonder - there are so many good, needy charities out there - why is L. shilling for a "charity" that is the equivalent of a Nigerian bank collapse e-mail scam?

It's a mystery. Maybe I'll ask her.

Then again, judging by all the names she crossed out on the letter before she wrote in mine, evidently she's not real sure who I am, so maybe I'll just leave well enough alone.

She's still got it

Even though it was her brother who was (justifiably) famous for catnip-plate dancing, Little Girl wants you to know that she's no slouch, either.

Here she is, finishing off the catnip:



Just getting warmed up:



Go, Little Girl, Go!



Yeah, she still likes to party. Rock on, Little Girl.

I don't know why I let blogworld get to me like this

A while back, I wrote about a fairly popular blogger who begged for money on her blog (nothing wrong with that, I guess, if you've got the balls to do it), and THEN she wrote about how she spent a bunch of money on bullshit (nothing wrong with THAT, either, unless you want to piss off a bunch of people who believed you when you said you needed money to pay your mortgage).

I'm not going to give the name of the blog here, because I don't think she needs any more attention, but let's just say that it rhymes with "my, my, my", and leave it at that. (Oh, and email me if you can't figure it out.)

So, after the whole give-me-money-so-I-can-buy-garden-gnomes thing, I almost stopped reading her. But I didn't.

A few months ago, she got a couple of kittens. Because God knows that when you're broke as a joke, adding more pets to the household is always a good idea. So she got the kittens. And then, a few days ago, she writes about hearing a ruckus in the backyard. As it turns out, one of her now-grown kittens was out there impregnating a neighbor's cat.

Yep. She didn't have the cats neutered. And she let them go outside. And now there are going to be a bunch of unwanted kittens, who knows how many litters' worth, in her neighborhood.

And she thinks it's funny. She's writing about her cat "sexing up the neighborhood", about how he's looking for "hot chicks", like it's a f*cking joke.

That's it. I'm done. Bookmark deleted.

Some things aren't funny.