Friday, March 30, 2012
I had to take out Ponyboy's hernia surgery stitches the other night. "Dissolvable", my ass. We were at three weeks, and I knew if I waited any longer, it was gonna be unpleasant. So I grabbed Pony, aka Mr. Wriggly, exposed his soft, soft tummy, and went in with the manicure scissors.
You know what? There are times when an extra person really does come in handy. I could have used someone to hold him down while I operated.
Oh, the sutures got removed, and I wish right now that I had dunked them into a glass of water to see how long they took to "dissolve", but whatever. Done is done.
The last time I can remember needing another person for backup was when Itty Bitty moved to another foster home. She was a REALLY un-handle-able cat, and I actually had backup on the way when she caved for some sliced ham and voluntarily went into the carrier.
Other than that? Things I can't do by myself? Well, I've got one wristwatch that I hardly ever wear because the clasp is hard to fasten one-handed. And, obv, there's some reproduction stuff that I would never be able to handle solo. And if my car transmission needs work or I need an eye exam, I'm gonna hire that stuff out.
But most of the day-to-day? I got it.
How about you? Anything you can't do alone?
Thursday, March 29, 2012
"So, what's up, my little minion?," I asked.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
I’m pretty sure I’ve ranted about this dude here before, but I’m too lazy to look it up right now. I’ve been thinking about switching insurance companies for a while. I finally got off my ass and called another company the other day, and guess what? They could save me three hundred bucks a year on my car insurance!
So, just for fun, I emailed my current insurance agent. “Guess what!” Haha, no, I didn’t actually say that. But I did let him know what the other company would charge, and asked if his company can match it.
And this dude, who lets DAYS go by without answering emails when I have a pesky question about my coverage, got back to me in, like, six nanoseconds.
“Good news!,” he wrote. “We have all kinds of new programs that took effect February 6, and I’m sure I can get you a better rate!”
Hmm … February 6. Which was, like, almost two months ago. That’s funny – I don’t remember a notice that my rates were going down. Gee, I guess he FORGOT TO MENTION IT.
So he emails me back a little later, and – SURPRISE! He can get me a lower rate. Lower, as in thirty-five percent lower than what I had been paying. Lower, as in three hundred and fifty bucks a year lower.
So I mailed him back. “Ed,” I said, “Would you be offering me this lower rate if I hadn’t told you I was thinking of switching companies?”
God, insurance agents are jerks.
Oh, but it gets better. He emailed me back, “state insurance law prohibits me from contacting you about better programs.”
Which is really, really funny, because later that day? When I stopped by his office? There was a gal in the back, going down a list of clients, calling and offering the new, improved program.
Okay, I could go on and on with this, but bottom line? I WAS paying $993.00, and I will now be paying $580.00 a year. For the same coverage.
I guess I can afford that rug after all.
Yeah, I bought it.
It's filthy dirty and the first pass with the steam cleaner resulted in water the color of mud, but it's gonna be beautiful. I may be a sucker, and the me-who-used-to-be-low-income is screaming that NO RUG is worth a hundred and fifty bucks, but it's mine now, dammit.
Monday, March 26, 2012
As I read it, I had to keep reassuring myself that it was only a book, only a book, only a book.
Holy motherF*CKER that was one mind-f*ck of a book.
Thank God it was short.
My stomach cramped every time I picked it up. I had to keep skimming a couple of pages ahead to make sure that what was surely, surely about to happen didn’t ACTUALLY happen. I had to keep taking breaks and switching to other books, to keep from getting overwhelmed.
And yet I had to keep reading. I had to. I had to find out what happened to the man and the little boy, even though I was pretty sure that I already knew.
Cormac McCarthy does not tend to write happy endings.
I took it with me to a doctor’s appointment and sat reading slack-jawed in the waiting room, hoping they didn’t call my name right away, and yet hoping that they did, so I could stop reading.
I read and I read and I read and I feel awful that I read it. This book really, really upset me. I actually felt angry at Mr. McCarthy for writing it, it shook me so much.
And here’s the thing: They made a movie out of this. I cannot wrap my head around that. I cannot imagine that anyone, having read the book, would want to see the movie. I cannot even imagine what the movie itself must be like. I don’t ever, ever want to know.
Was it a bad book? No. It was extremely well-written; Mr. McCarthy is a lyrical author. But the subject matter was so awful …
So. I wish I’d never read it. I’m sorry that I did. I finished it a little while ago, and I am actually crying as I write this, thinking about The Road. I wish I could take the reading of it back.
Oh, and ~~Silk, you said that this book was an allegory, which from what I understand means that the characters and the plot are actually stand-ins for something else. So I’m trying to figure out what this book is an allegory for, and I’m kind of stumped. I’m not sure. And I’m sure as F*CK not going to read it again to try and figure it out.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Friday, March 23, 2012
I’ve been slacking off on my workouts lately, as usual, so I got home from work the other day and popped in the Jillian DVD and starting warming up when my neighbor T. came over bearing cheesecake. And Jillian was history faster than you can say “pass me a fork.” Anybody who would pass over cheesecake for Jillian is crazier than Jillian is.
And T. was telling me about a small, friendly cat currently roaming the neighborhood whom no one had seen previously. The neighbors were worried that it was lost, so when I happened to see it in my yard later that evening, I ran out, checked its tag (yay for people who tag their animals), and called the phone number on the tag. Turns out the cat lives one street over, is allowed outside, and was not “lost” after all. Whew! I’m hoping that that cat and my cats can be friends, once (and if) mine start going outside.
And speaking of which, I am taking the whole “outside” thing very slowly. They love to get up on the dressers and cat condos and examine the outdoors, which is how they get their bearings. Right now I am trying to train them to harnesses, which is pretty much a fail, but I’m sure I can at least get them trained to leashes before their first forays outside. I am letting them out into the attached garage, as that will be their route for coming and going. And I’m going to crate them out in the yard for periods of time (supervised, natch) before actually letting them loose. And of course, if one or both of them decide that they'd rather be INSIDE cats, thankyouverymuch, that would also be fine with me. It's all about what makes them happy. (and please, please, if you want to get into a great big giant inside-vs.-outside debate, feel free to email me. I just don't have energy to deal with that here on the blog.)
Soon, Ponyboy, soon.
(Yes, that door IS disgusting. It is the back garage door and it takes a lot of abuse - so sue me.)
(And there is plastic sheeting attached to that opening, so the cats can SEE out but cannot GET out. When it is time for Grand Adventures, the plastic will be un-attached along the bottom so that the cats can nose it open to go in and out.)
And in the final neighborhood news, a guy up the street was MOWING HIS LAWN the other night. Dude. DUUUUUUUUUDE. STOP IT …
and oh my God one more thing - I was sitting drinking a beer and reading a book (The Outsiders - I've got to doublecheck) last night, minding my own business, NOT doing Jillian, when a Girl Scout showed up at the door. Selling cookies. She had a whole DISPLAY, like the dudes selling souvenirs at the circus. Poor Jillian - she's fighting a losing battle in MY house.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
She was adopted on Tuesday! To a home with no other cats, no dogs, and no children, which is PERFECT for Miss Molly. And just in case you're wondering, yes, there is a perfect home for every cat. I know that some people agonize about adopting just one cat from a shelter or rescue group, thinking that a cat would be lonely without other pets in the household, and a lot of the time that is true, but there are also cats like Molly out there, who really do best in a one-pet household and actually only need a human to open the cat food cans.
Good golly, Miss Molly, you've sure got a home.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
1. All Souls: A Family Story from Southie by Michael Patrick MacDonald – Memoir of a family living in poverty in South Boston in the seventies and eighties. Interesting and very good.
2. Bus Fare to Kentucky: The Autobiography of Skeeter Davis. Life of a country music star – interesting. Oh, and here’s a question: What’s the difference between an autobiography and a memoir? Just curious.
Let’s do a movie review! “The Help”. Meh.
3. We the Animals by Justin Torres – Novella about young brothers growing up. Very good until the end, which I didn’t like.
4. Creeker by Linda Scott DeRosier – Memoir (or maybe autobiography? I DON’T KNOW) about growing up in Appalachia in the sixties – interesting.
5. Songs in Ordinary Time by Mary McGarry Morris – this was a huge book about a small town in Vermont in the early sixties. I basically hated all the main characters but couldn’t wait to find out what happened to them – I was hoping that the townspeople all banded together and beat Omar to death but – SPOILER ALERT – that didn’t happen. BOO. The book just kind of … stopped … which pissed me off.
6. A Stolen Life by Jaycee Dugard – Autobiography (memoir?) about the woman in California who was abducted as an eleven-year-old and help captive for eighteen years. WHOA. An uplifting, scary, and heartbreaking story.
And right now I am reading "The Road", which has got to be the most depressing book ever in the history of time. If there's a book more depressing than this one, I'd be surprised. I mean, I've read some of Mr. McCarthy's other stuff, so I knew it wasn't going to be a romantic comedy, but STILL ... honestly not sure I'm going to be able to finish it as this point.
How about you guys? Whatcha reading?
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Everybody had AWESOME suggestions, and Anonymous at 2:42 led off with Pony Boy, which I think I am in love with. From what I remember of the book (The Outsiders, which I LOVED as a teenager), it fits The Cat Currently Known as Goldie well, although I should probably do a quick re-read-through of the book to see if there's any skeletons I don't remember.
Now. I know I said I was pretty much set on keeping Coby Coby, but, well ... what if I named him Sodapop? I know that in the book, Sodapop was older than Ponyboy, and here in catlandia, Goldie is a few months older than Coby (are we all confused right now?), but seriously? Ponyboy and Sodapop? How cool would that be? And please, please - I am referencing the BOOK, not the movie, of which I was not a fan. Ralph Macchio? GAH.
Okay. Help a girl out here? Ponyboy and Sodapop? Game or lame? Or maybe something else entirely ...
Right now it looks like Coby may stay Coby. It just … fits him. I was leaning toward “Otter” for a while, because he likes to lie on his back with his little front paws folding against his chest, but then I thought of Otter from Animal House and … no. He’ll stay Coby for now, and maybe for good, unless I can think of something better. Wait … maybe Cody? Like Buffalo Bill Cody? Hmmm…
And Goldie? I … don’t think so. Mainly because to me, “Goldie” is a girls’ name (think Goldie Hawn), so I keep calling poor him a her. The orange one needs a new name.
I thought I had one all picked out. “Buddy”. Because he’s friendly and sunny and he loves his friend Coby. But Buddy just doesn’t seem to fit him. I don’t know why. I think maybe because it seems like Mac or Buster or something like that – a macho name. And the orange one, well, he’s not a fighter. He’s small and sweet and … yeah, I’m stuck.
So over the weekend I went for a nice long walk, and I kept running through names, and for whatever reason “Pecos Bill” kept coming to mind, mainly I guess because I thought it was funny. “I can call him Billy,” I thought. Except I’m not a big fan of giving animals human names. (Yes, I am aware that "Coby would be breaking this rule.) I would sound silly standing out in the backyard calling “Billy! Billy!” The neighbors would think I lost a KID or something.
So. Back to Square One. I need a name for a small, sweet, orange boy cat. I am, of course, considering the names you guys already threw into the ring. And any additional suggestions would be appreciated.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Sunday, March 18, 2012
So we were talking to people and showing the cats and handing out pamphlets when it happened. A dude down the aisle reached for some screws and somehow managed to stick his head into a display of giant wind chimes.
DONG DONG DONG CLANG CLANG CHIME CHIME CHIME DONG DONG DONG
And the poor bastard could not get his head out. I mean, these chimes were huge, like, four feet tall, and there was a whole bunch of them, and the guy got tangled in the support wires and
I WAS TRYING NOT TO LAUGH, and mostly succeeding, when one of the other volunteers? Lost it.
HAW HAW HAW HAW *snort* HAW HAW HAW HAW
and that was it. As employees rushed over to help the dude out and customers craned their necks to see what all that CHIMING was about, I turned away and laughed until I cried. And then I laughed some more.
And I hope that poor dude knows that whenever I think of him, and I am sure I will, it will be with laughter. Because I'm not sure I have ever witnessed a finer piece of public slapstick than I did yesterday.
Friday, March 16, 2012
But I’m not paranoid, I’m really not. I live near an area of the country with lots of gorges, and lots of hiking trails NEAR the gorges, and at least two or three times a year, THIS happens:
(From new reports) - “MONTOUR FALLS, N.Y. —
Authorities say they’ve recovered the body of a 20-year-old man who fell more than 100 feet into the gorge at Havana Glen Park in Montour Falls while hiking with friends.
Officials in Schuyler County haven’t confirmed the death, but they’ve told local media outlets that a rescue effort launched Wednesday turned into a “recovery” mission later that night.
A local fire chief said the body would be taken to Schuyler Hospital.
Friends of the man say he was taking a picture in Havana Glen Park around 6 p.m. Wednesday when he fell over a handrail and plunged into the gorge.
The Schuyler County Sheriff’s Office says no other information is being released Thursday morning."
Man, I can just PICTURE this. “Okay, guys, picture time! Shelly, you stand next to Kathy. Pete, you get behind them. Now everybody move to the right, so you’re in the center of the shot. Okay, now I need to take a couple of steps back …”
I’m not paranoid. I’m SMART.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
LEGGINGS ARE NOT PANTS.
that is all.
p.s. I am having a bitch of a time with Blogger right now. Posts may be sporadic until I figure this crap out, so please bear with me. I am trying.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
My boss is all, like, "We'll pay for it! Just get it all set up!" Which, you know, of course, make me do MORE WORK in addition to the whole work-from-home-AND-the-office thing.
So I call the cable company to add internet access to my cable service, and they tell me I've got to come pick up a "self-install kit", which, yeah, this whole thing is less appealing by the minute and has already canceled out the potential advantages of being able to play Penguin Diner in the comfort of my own home.
I go to the cable company office, which is like Dante's first circle of hell, with people standing in line all dead-eyed because they've been there forever, and the dude in line behind me has a cell phone that sounds like a f*cking weather siren going off every time it rings, making me jump out of my skin about twenty times (NOT FUNNY, MISTER), and I finally get to the head of the line and they hand me
a box the size of a freakin' Chrysler. Full of THIS:
yeah, I think I'm in trouble here. What the hell is that shit? I mean, the phone, I get, because I bundled my phone service in with the cable/internet package, but the rest of it? Huh? There's cables and boxes and I assume that big black thing is the router, which at least I know the name of it (maybe), but I have no idea what it's actually FOR. To ... route things?
Screw it, I'm gonna hire somebody to do the install. Life's too short.
And oh! Does anybody have any experience with Time Warner phone service? I've had Verizon for my land line for years, but now I'll be going with Time Warner. Pros? Cons? I mean, I know they're all horrible and awful, but I was just wondering what kind of special misery I may be in for now.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Friday, March 09, 2012
"Okay, first off, I had a call on my answering machine yesterday from the woman taking care of Goldie and Coby. (Yes, yes, I AM still taking name suggestions.) She said their neuters are scheduled for Thursday the twenty-first, which ... of COURSE. (Check your calendar to see why that's so funny, and also TYPICAL.) And! She said I could come pick them up on Saturday the twenty-fourth, which APPEARS to be an actual date, but ... seventeen days seems like an awfully long time."
But then I got distracted by fifty-buck busts and shoes and the Poultry Foundation, and that post never appeared. And then! Because EVERYTHING is fluid in cat-people land, I got a call last night. The vet had a couple of cancellations! Their surgeries would be today! They could come home - gulp - THIS WEEKEND!
Dudes. Duuuuudes. Of course, since I am now treading in cat-land, things could still change. But right now it is looking real good that within the next few days, Goldie and Coby* will be coming home. I hope Itty Bitty's ready for some roommates ...
and I will confess right now that as I got the news last night, I did a happy dance around my kitchen. Which included walking like an Egyptian. Because that's how I roll.
*New names? Anyone? PLEASE?
Thursday, March 08, 2012
But I was busy doing paperwork and he was just kind of droning on and on and ON and all of a sudden he's talking about the Poultry Foundation, and I'm kind of, "eh? Poultry Foundation? How cute! A foundation for chickens! I wonder if they have, like, fundraisers and stuff? Poultry education? But ... why is Garrison talking about the Poultry Foundation? Is he tying something into Prairie Home Companion? ...."
And of course, it was right about that time that it hit me. POETRY FOUNDATION. He was talking about a POETRY Foundation. Which makes much more sense, and goes to prove that I really should have my first cup of coffee a leeeeeetle earlier in the morning.
But! You know what? There really IS a Poultry Foundation. That is awesome! I wonder if they're accepting new members ...
and Oh! Oh! Last night's Survivor! Is there anyone besides me who wants to hop on a plane RIGHT NOW to wherever that show is being filmed and kick Colton right in the nuts? "Our housekeeper was black ...." There are NO WORDS. And then Tarzan, who's all, like, "We have a black President! Isn't that ENOUGH?" Tarzan, you're next in line for a nut-kicking. Jeezus Christ.
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
I saw these shoes at a thrift store a while ago, and they were five bucks, which is more than I would normally pay for used shoes, but they were so damn cute, I said to myself, "If they fit, I'm gonna spend the five bucks," and lo and behold they fit, so I spent five bucks on used shoes.
I think they make me look like somebody on The Waltons. Or, you know, somebody-on-The- Waltons' feet. At least, I hope they do. And I hope it's not Jim Bob.
See what a fifty-dollar account bust does to you? It makes you post pics of five-dollar shoes on line and pretend you're on The Waltons.
Oh wait, maybe that's just me.
Tuesday, March 06, 2012
If your washing machine starts to smell a little, well, musty, run some Oxyclean through with a few loads. It'll get rid of the smell.
If your vacuum cleaner stops picking up dirt, it's probably got a broken belt. A new belt, which takes about one minute to install, costs less than five bucks; a new vacuum cleaner costs ... well, you know what you paid for your last one.
If you're buying a new lawn mower, go ahead and splurge on an electric start. It'll be the best extra fifty bucks you've ever spent. F*ck that pull-cord sh*t.
Those sound-effects clocks, the ones with a bird singing or a train whistle blowing every hour? They go through batteries like poop through a goose.
If you ring someone's doorbell and don't hear the doorbell ring inside the house, it's probably broken. Knock instead.
So! That's what I got. How about you? Any helpful household tips?
Saturday, March 03, 2012
Coby is supposedly about six months old. He has one cloudy eye that was scratched up in a fight with another trailer pet. The rescue group's vet says that while it will probably never improve, it shouldn't get worse, and he's learned to compensate for it.
And Goldie loves him, and that's that, and once they've been neutered and had all their shots, hopefully in about two weeks, they'll be coming home with me. And the floor is now open for suggestions on new names.
Friday, March 02, 2012
Guess who called me last night?
So tomorrow afternoon I will be traveling out to West F*cktard to look at a couple of cats*. Finally. I can only hope that this rescue group is not actually a front for an ax-wielding serial killer hillbilly, although I'm pretty sure I can rule that out, because a serial killer would be FAR MORE ORGANIZED than these dipshits are.
I don't really think anything is going to come of this, for various reasons, mainly because I have my doubts that any of these people could get their heads out of their asses long enough to actually complete an adoption, but, well .... open mind, and open heart, and I'm off to East Bumf*ck tomorrow.
I'll let you know what happens ...
*One of whom is reportedly six months old, and one of whom is reportedly one year old. Except you can add AT LEAST six months to both of those ages, because rescue people lie like rugs. And neither one of whom has been neutered yet, because ... what. the. f*ck. And one of them has an eye infection that the Pennsyltucky vet reportedly cannot figure out, because ... of course.
Thursday, March 01, 2012
Daffodils. The daffodils are up! Little bits of ACTUAL GREEN, poking up out of the ground.
Spring is surely on its way.
Now I've gotta check the bleeding hearts. If the daffodils are up, the bleeding hearts can't be too far behind.
(oh, and for you non-gardeners, "bleeding hearts" are PLANTS, NOT the remains of something that I buried in my garden.) (ha.)