"We don't NEED his help! Maybe he KNOWS that!"

Oh man, it's kind of cruel to laugh at crazy, but I was just now made aware of last week's episode of Kitchen Nightmares, and hahahahahaha.

I stopped watching that show a long time ago, mainly because I got tired of watching Gordon Ramsay scream at people, but dlisted clued me in about the Amy's Bakery episode that aired last Friday, and oh man, it's a doozy.

Click here for links to all of the insanity.

Basically, the lady and her husband were running a restaurant and claimed that "bloggers and Reddit and Yelp" were slamming the business unfairly.  She called in Kitchen Nightmares to salvage her reputation, and the rest is history.  And in a classic bored-at-work timesuck, the deeper you go, the crazier it gets - I knocked off about the time the commenters started talking about Afghans and money laundering.

Wanna kill a couple hours?  Click here.  You're welcome.




p.s. This should probably go without saying, but I was in no way compensated by dlisted or anyone else to put up this post.  I just wanted to share the insanity.

All worship at the foot of God

Actually, it was just a new cat toy.

They don't know the difference.

Yep, it was a Monday

Yesterday involved a sick boss coughing all over job files and then handing them to me (not cool, dude, not cool) a lost wallet (found by a cashier at Walmart (dear cashier, I hope you don't mind that I hugged you)), a smelly bedroom (decomposing mouse under the bed - oh HURL), a smelly cat (Soda's been digging in molehills again), and a diagnosis of one of the Spectacular Six with both tapeworms and Coccidiosis, which means they ALL have tapeworms and Coccidiosis (meds are on the way). 

Thank goodness it's Tuesday now.

Oakley-Doakley

Yesterday, after mowing and before going to visit my mom, I went to Oakley Corners.  (The visit with mom was, sadly, pretty awful.  I learned that she's becoming violent - she tried to brain one of my nieces with a can of beans, which would be funny if it wasn't terrible - and she's now in diapers.  Dear Flying Spaghetti Monster:  She's eighty-eight years old.  Her mind is gone.  She's trying to kill people.  She's hallucinating.  She's incontinent.  Can't you just, like, END THIS already?  I know that sounds awful, but man oh man, this sucks.)

But!  Oakley Corners was lovely, as usual.

The beavers are hard at work:

People have been busy making rock piles:

Look at the top of that one!:

This was at one of the trail crossings - is it supposed to be a sign?   Or maybe somebody was setting up a pine-cone campfire for the next passers-by.  Do pine cones even burn?  I do not know.

I don't find the deer bones - the deer bones find me:

Does anybody know the name of this flower?

I never realized how many different shades of purple there were until I started looking at wildflowers:

And the trillium is blooming!

How was everybody's Mother's Day?

Carpet of the sun

Half of the year, my back-backyard looks like this:

(The other half of the year, it's covered with snow. *sigh*)

But every spring, invaders appear:

See those spiky little things sticking up out of the lawn?

They turn into THIS:

The pictures don't do it justice - it's like a SEA of pinkish-purple flowers.  The cats LOVE to skulk around in there - last night they captured a garter snake, which I (gingerly) rescued and tossed into the woods.  And by the time the flowers die, the grass will be so high that I'll probably have to weedwhack it before I can mow, but I don't care.

It's beautiful.

Poser

Okay, first off, scroll down to an earlier post, where we're talking about movies.

Now.  Back?  Okay.

The rescue group has offered to reimburse my medical costs for Petey's bite.  It's a total of sixty bucks, for the doc copay and the prescription.

And a part of me is all, "No, no, it's a non-profit, consider it my contribution to the cause", and a part of me is, "You know what?  Money's really tight for me right now.  Thanks!"

And I wouldn't even CONSIDER taking the money, except it's a well-known fact that the founder of the group spends a some of the group's funds on ... well ... her own pets.  But two wrongs don't make a right, right?

And! Taking money from a non-profit?  Isn't that like taking candy from a baby?  And while money IS tight this month, it's not like I'm out scouring the sides of the highway picking up cans.

What if I took half?  Thirty bucks?  Split the difference, so to speak?  Or said keep the money, but how about if the rescue picks up some cat litter for the six foster kittens? 

I dunno.  What do you guys think?

Movies I haven't seen

A while back, somebody was blogging about popular movies they had somehow missed.  If I could remember who it was, I'd link to it, but I can't remember, so if it was you, feel free to chime in.

Anyway, me + movies = not so much.  I mean, I LIKE a good movie as much as the next person, but I just don't have the time or the patience to sit through two or three hours of movie.  It can take me two or three DAYS to get through one of my Netflix movies, one fifteen-minute chunk at a time.  And I think a movie kind of loses something when you're watching it piece-by-piece instead of all the way through.

So I got thinking about popular movies that I've never seen.

Ferris Bueller's Day Off - I have never liked Matthew Broderick.  EVER. I feel fairly confident in saying that I will never watch this movie.  I have nothing against the genre - I loved Fast Times at Ridgemont High, and even Dazed and Confused has grown on me over time, but Ferris?  Nah.

Avatar.  Every time I watch an animated movie, I feel somehow embarrassed, like I'm watching something that is supposed to be reserved for kids.  I did watch Wall-E, and The Iron Giant, and I think I even watched Finding Nemo once, and every time, I felt disgusted with myself.  I am not four.  I do not watch cartoons.  Sheesh.  (Although I did read the comics in the newspaper until well into middle age.  I don't know why.  It was just ... habit.  But once The Far Side and Calvin and Hobbes went away, I stopped reading them.  "Zits" and "Cathy" and "Crankshaft"?  no thanks.  Although I will admit to checking in with The Comics Curmudgeon on line.)

The Godfather.  Goodfellas.  Scarface.  Any mob movie ever.  Violent a**holes being violent?  Nope. 
Although I was faaaaascinated by Pulp Fiction, so go figure.

How bout you?  Any popular movies that you've missed?  Any popular movies that you've seen and then wished you HADN'T watched?

Survey SAYS ...

... tetanus shot.  Antibiotics.  Possible nerve damage to the index finger (it's both numb and tingly, like I slept on it), which may fade with time.

That cat could BITE.

... and then he bit through the Kevlar.

Warning:  There is talk of injuries and blood ahead.  Human, not animal.  You've been warned!

There was an adoption at the rescue center Saturday morning.  We'll call him "Petey".  Petey was one of our hard cases.  He came in as a stray, and he wanted NOTHING TO DO with the adoption center, the other cats, or people.  He would stay in his cage, all pissed off, and he would LUNGE at anyone who tried to approach him.

A week ago, a couple came in who were interested in Petey.  They had recently lost a cat to kidney disease who looked a lot like Petey, and they were not put off by the fact that he was ... less than friendly.  They were willing to work with him, and Petey would actually eat treats out of the man's hand, although he still would not let them pet him.  It helped that he was an orange tabby - everybody loves orange tabbies.  We had them come in a couple of different times, to make sure they knew what they were getting into.  We knew that a lot of Petey's aggression was out of fear, but we didn't know how much he might settle down in a home environment.  We could offer no guarantees, and we made sure the couple understood that.  (With the hard cases, we try to make very sure that people go into the adoption with their eyes open.  We HATE returns, because it's awfully hard on the cat.)

So!  Saturday was Petey's big day.  Now ... we had to get him into a carrier for the trip home.  I had brought in one of my top-loading carriers, because they are much easier to use with resistant cats than the regular front-loaders.

The man who was adopting him worked with him for a while, trying to coax him out of his cage with treats.  No go.  It became obvious that Petey was getting agitated, and it was time to get it over with.

I volunteered.  Because I'm an idiot, and because I REALLY wanted to see Petey go home.  Some cats do better in the center with time, but Petey's behavior was actually regressing the longer he stayed  there.  That cat needed out.

So.  I put on a long-sleeved sweatshirt and donned the rescue gloves.  Rescue gloves are like work gloves, but they are made out of Kevlar - the same thing used in bulletproof vests.  Rescue gloves protect you from bites and scratches.

I started by trying to scruff Petey (the easiest way to handle an aggressive cat), and that is when the sh*t hit  the fan.  Petey lunged.  He bit, although all he was biting was the gloves.  He scratched.  He howled and yowled and got all the other cats in the center howling and yowling.  It was bedlam.

I finally managed to get him out of the cage and onto the floor of the center, where he went tearing around in crazy circles, trying to get away.  And then he started fear-pooping.  I am not even kidding you when I say there was poop ALL OVER.  That cat let loose.  And I COULD NOT get a firm grip on him - Every time I'd try to scruff him, he'd lunge and bite, or turn and kick.  I tried throwing a towel over him, but he'd just squirm out of it, fighting all the way.  Time was passing. 

And then.  And then.  I got a good grip around his shoulders, and he turned and bit my hand. 

Through the Kevlar.

That cat bit THROUGH Kevlar and sunk his teeth into my knuckles.

Now, most cats, when they bite, will bite and then retreat.  Petey?  Held on.  It was like having a flipping Pit Bull attached to my hand.  I swear to God, I could FEEL his teeth against my knucklebones.

But!  I had him.  I had ahold of Petey!  Or, you know, he had ahold of me.  Sensing my big chance, I flung my hand, with Petey attached, into the carrier, slammed the door down, and pulled my hand out, leaving Petey behind. 

Success!

And then?  It was time to assess the damage.  I pulled the glove off the hand that Petey had bitten, and blood started RUNNING down my arm.  I had three puncture wounds in the knuckles.  I wrapped the hand in a towel and headed for the bathroom,  where I started rinsing out the wounds, watching kind of woozily as the blood swirled down the drain.  Honestly, I was so jazzed about getting Petey that I wasn't as worried as I ordinarily would be over the fact that I had just had a hand shredded by a cat.

Once I got everything cleaned up and sterilized and bandaged, I headed back for the center, where Petey was residing calmly, if warily, in the carrier. 

We got an email from Petey's new parents on Saturday night, along about the time my hand FINALLY stopped bleeding.  He was residing calmly in their spare bedroom.  He let them touch his paws.  They were very happy.

Dontcha love a happy ending?  Now if the swelling and the pain would just go away ...

It's a hardship, I tell ya ...

... having all these kittens in the spare bedroom ...

... watching them make little dogpiles, er, CATpiles in the sun ...

... supervising as they practice their hugging skills at naptime ...

... heck, it's a tough job, but SOMEBODY's gotta do it.

*snicker*

Tommy

So, I went to the Sal on my lunch break yesterday because it was half-price Wednesday and I needed a pair of jeans.

I actually have several pairs of jeans, but most of them are not really ... presentable, and I need to wear jeans to the adoption center (see:  kitten claws), so I picked up a pair for three bucks.

Tommy Hilfiger jeans.

I am not a big aficionado of labels, per se, but these jeans fit me and they were better-looking than most of the jeans I own which are all frayed and hole-y, and hey, three bucks.  Thankfully, there was not a huge "Tommy" label embedded on the back of the waistband, which is what happens to most label-brand jeans, so I bought them.

And then I got to thinking about Tommy Hilfiger, who actually grew up not far from here, and why a grown man would call himself "Tommy".  The only other grown Tommy I could come up with off the top of my head was Tommy ... Shaw?  Is that the name?  The singer for Styx?  And he was kind of small and elf-ish, too, like Tommy Hilfiger, so I thought, well, maybe if you're named Thomas, and called Tommy as a child, and then you grow up, but you stay small, you just keep the Tommy?

I don't know.  My mind goes weird places.

And THEN I got thinking about a girl I went to high school with who was named Dolly.  Any other girl named Dolly probably would have been teased mercilessly, but this Dolly was gorgeous and popular and polite and really, really nice to everybody, so she was bulletproof.  I don't know why someone would name a child Dolly, really; I had a grandma Dolly but her real name was Edwina and her nickname was Dolly.  I don't know why anyone would name a child Edwina, either, but it happened to my grandma.  Maybe it was a family name; if so, it ended with her, because you can bet your *ss nobody else after her saddled their kid with "Edwina".  Or maybe her parents wanted a boy, and they were going to name it Edward, but it was a girl instead, and just to make sure she never, ever forgot that they REALLY wanted a BOY, they named her Edwina.  Take that, tiny child.  My apologies to any Edwinas out there.  At least they didn't nickname her "Winnie".  Great, now all I can think of is Frau Blucher.

I don't know.  Names are funny things.  When I was baking, my older sisters were lobbying really, really hard for me to be named "Heather", which I actually love, but my mom named me Rocky* instead, which is an okay name, but honestly?  I like Heather better.

Yeah, I'm just hung up on names today.  What's your favorite name?






*not my actual name. ha.

How to save a f*ck-ton on flea meds

My cats are indoor-outdoor, so flea meds are a must.  I always used Advantage, then a new vet switched me to Frontline which did not work for sh*t  (Newsflash:  Frontline has lost its effectiveness in most areas of the country), so then I went back to Advantage.

Which works great, but at ten bucks a dose, it gets expensive when you have three cats.  And Revolution, the flea med used by most rescues because it also treats ear mites and roundworms, is even more expensive.

Then I started volunteering for rescue groups, and discovered their fantastic secret:

Buy large dog doses and split them up.

Important caveat:  DO NOT do this with Frontline or K-9 Advantix.  ONLY do this with Advantage, Advantage II or Revolution.  DO NOT do this with kittens under eight weeks of age.

It's pretty simple - The larger the animal, the larger the dose.  If you can buy a larger dose and split it down, it becomes much cheaper per dose.  You will need oral medication syringes (the kind withOUT a needle; you can get them at pet stores or in the infant aisle of drugstores).

Example:  Advantage II, which was costing me ten bucks per .8 ml dose.  You can buy large dog doses, at 2.5 ml, and split them into thirds for $3.33 a dose.  (This is for cats over 9 lbs., btw.) Just open the capsule, squirt the dose into a little dish, and suck up three, .8 ml doses, one at a time, with the medication syringe.

See also:  Revolution.  I like Revolution because it also kills roundworms and ear mites.  Here in the U.S., it's only available at your vet.  But!  You can buy it at Joe's Pet Meds online without a prescription.  God bless Australia!  You can buy 1 ml large dog (20 - 40 lb.) doses and split them into thirds for three, .33 ml doses.  It's a little less than the recommended over-9-lb.-cat dose of .375 ml, but my cats are just barely over the 9-lb. mark, so I feel comfortable giving them a slightly lower dose.  Again, open the dose, squirt it into a dish, and suck up three, .33 ml doses.  (Advantage and Revolution have different dosages.)

Again:  Do this ONLY with Advantage or Revolution.  DO NOT do this with Frontline or Advantix.  DO NOT give any topical flea meds to kittens under eight weeks of age.

I have been doing this for many moons now with no complications. 

You're welcome!

Step into the sun, step into the light

Yesterday, I decided to take a respite from kitten-wrangling.  The discovery that one of the six (Sparky, I'm looking at YOU) had created a "personal bathroom" behind the bed in the foster room was all I needed to talk myself into a little break.   Time to go for a hike.







Sometimes you just need to get a little fresh air.



Smoky has something to say



Smoky sez:



T! G! I!  EFFFFFFFFF!

I'm with you, Smokes.  I'm with you.



Recently Read

As usual,  skip it if you wanna.

1.  The Girl She Used to Be by David Cristofano.  Okay, first off, I never would have picked this up if I had known it was a "romance".  Second of all, this book, about a woman in the witness protection program, had a preposterous plot, an obnoxious heroine, and was poorly written.  Third of all, according to the back cover of the paperback, The New York Times Book Review called it "Something Special".  The only way in HELL that happened is if the reviewer was the author's dad.  'Nuff  said.

2. The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love by Oscar Hijuelos.  Man, those Latin authors.  I get it that their characters are supposed to be larger than life!  and fascinating!  and exuberant! and they experience things more deeeeeeeply than non-Latinos!  All I can think when I'm reading is "These people are all batsh*t crazy."  Guess it's just me.

3.  Movie Review!  "Girl Model" is a documentary about a fashion model recruiter (a former model herself) who is recruiting young Russian girls to model in Japan.  Pretty damn depressing.

4.  Mermaids on the Moon by Elizabeth Stuckey French - I think I'm going to come up with some shorthand for badly-written books.  Instead of TL;DR (too long; didn't read), as in blog posts, I'm going to label them TS;DF, for "too stupid; didn't finish".  Mermaids on the Moon?  TS;DF.

5.  Movie Review!  "Les Miserables", the 1998 one with Liam Neeson, Uma Thurman, and Clare Danes, NOT  the one that came out last year, because Netflix has a twisted sense of humor.  Thanks, Netflix!  ANYway, THIS version of Les Mis is non-musical and pretty good.  I never thought much of Clare Danes, but I will say she had a couple of scenes where it was obvious that she's got some acting chops.  On the other hand, I found  Uma Thurman's death scene unintentionally pretty funny.  Sorry, Uma.  Liam was Liam, and the whole thing was pretty good.

6.  True Sisters by Sandra Dallas.  Novel about Mormons in the 1850s heading for Utah.  Spoiler alert:  The vast majority of characters either dies or loses important body parts.  Man, I usually like Sanda Dallas' novels, but this one was pretty grim.

7.  Carolina Moon by Nora Roberts - I had never read this author before, and now I know why.  A reviewer on Amazon said it best:

"Her books are all copies of each other, with different character names and settings. They all follow a predictable pattern: a hurt, emotionally abused heroine goes back to her hometown or some other place to solve a mystery or murder from her past. She meets a gorgeous, oh-so-wonderful man who falls in love with her within two days (even though she treats him terribly). She acts like she wants nothing to do with him until two pages before the book ends. She then declares she is madly in love with him and cannot survive without him *snort* and they live happily ever after. Oh yeah, while they're "falling in love" (and by the way, Robert's love scenes are terrible; I usually end up laughing at the absurdity of most of them), they come with inane clues and try to solve the mystery/murder but the suspect always end up being someone who makes no sense at all. "

Yep. 

8.  The Quilter's Homecoming by Jennifer Chiaverini - Novel about a woman and her husband who move to California in the 1920s - A light, quick read.  I'll probably read more of her stuff.

9.  Woodswoman by Anne LaBastille - Memoir of a woman who lived alone in the Adironacks.  Interesting, if a little preachy toward the end.


How about you?  Read (or watched) anything good lately?

According to the Rocky Code ...

Okay, first off, I mowed for the first time this season last night, which is kind of a yay!/dammit occasion.  Yay! because the mower actually started, and dammit because here we go with six months' worth of lawn mowing.

So!  I was watching My Big Fat Gypsy Wedding last night (don't JUDGE) (hell, I don't care, go ahead and judge), and the narrator was talking in hushed tones about the "Gypsy Code".  It involved some elaborate bullsh*t about challenging an insulter of your honor to a fistfight or some such similar ridiculousness, but it got me thinking.  What would be included in the "Rocky Code"?

Hmmm.


Do not be the first person on your block to mow in the spring.  Also do not be the last.

It's okay to be an assh*le to some people (if they've screwed you over first), as long as you're nice to most people.

If you are an employer, it's acceptable to blow off Administrative Professionals Day (which is TODAY, by the way) (*cough*), as long as you treat your administrative professionals fairly and pay them a decent wage. 

If you are an old person, you should only expect to get the respect you have earned.  No more, no less.

Rinse off the dirty dishes when you put them in the sink.  Christ.  Similarly, put down the toilet lid.  Do not drink milk out of the carton, unless you live alone.  Do not put a container back in the fridge with one spoonful of food left in it.  We're not savages, here.

It's cool to dress eclectically.  It's not cool to dress like a circus clown, unless you actually ARE a circus clown.


Okay, guys, I am working on extreme sleep deprivation here (see:  six kittens.  I happened to glance in the bathroom mirror last night, and I was, like, is that MASCARA smeared under my eyes?  No, no, it was dark no-sleep circles.  Kittens are so much fun, but SO exHAUSTing), so how about you?  Any additions to the Code?

Mr. DeMille, we're ready for our close-ups now ...

Meet Bianca:

Boots:

Smoky:

Sweetie:

Buster:

and Sparky!:

Yeah, it's a little busy around my place this week.

Sweetie was originally going to be called "Sugar", but the higher-ups said that sounded like a prostitute's name (!), so Sweetie it is.  And the litter's owners were calling Sparky "Star", but I thought that sounded like a "girl cat" name (think "Star Jones"), so I chose "Spot", but the powers-that-be said that sounded like a dog name, so I went with "Sparky".  See how complicated this whole naming-thing is?  I'm still saving your excellent suggestions (I've got 'em a spreadsheet) for future litters. 

Oh, and in case you're wondering, Miley and Shy (now back to her original name of Hannah - "Shy" got nixed by the higher-ups.  GEEZ.) are currently the stars of the show at the adoption center.  Once they get adopted, which will be SOON (knock on wood), the Spectacular Six will start taking their turns as adoption center stars.  Until then?  It's six-kitten circus in my spare room.  Rock on, leetle kittens!







Six?! SIX!?

Meet Buster, Bianca, Sparky, Boots, Sweetie and Smoky.

I don't know how I get into these things.

And!  On another weekend note, on my way to pick up the Spectacular Six, I stopped at an antiques store and picked up a gorgeous rose-patterned tiffany-reproduction table lamp for ... drum roll please ... twenty-seven dollars and fifty cents. 

I can't figure out what's the better deal - one lamp or six (foster) kittens.  Hmmm ...

The difference between Boston and West

Boston:  Explosions.  Three dead, dozens wounded.  Nation's reaction:  Grief, wailing, rending of clothing, a Presidential appearance at a memorial service, "Boston Strong", moving renditions of The Star Spangled Banner.  (Amazing Grace and Hallelujah are, I'm sure, soon to follow.)


West, Texas:  Explosion.  At least five dead, dozens wounded.  Nation's reaction:  "Gee, there's some lousy luck right there.  Meh."


Is it because one was caused by *gasp* terrorists, and the other was (evidently) caused by some plant operator falling asleep at the switch?  Do lives lost to terrorism somehow mean more than lives lost to a fertilizer explosion?  Do they?


Can someone explain this to me?  I'm having a hard time understanding.

Don't Pull a Joe

Okay, so, I've got this co-worker - let's call him "Joe".  And Joe is ... prone to panic.  If the slightest hint of a possible problem wafts down the pike, Joe goes into full-on freak-out.

It's gotten so I postpone telling him about things like schedule changes or policy updates or ... anything that could possibly be upsetting to his equilibrium, because what other people shrug off, Joe turns into Chernobyl in his mind.

Cut to the other morning, when I'm reconciling our company bank accounts.   As I'm running the numbers, I realize that one of the accounts appears to be about three hundred bucks short.

As my heart starts to beat a little faster, I tell myself, "Don't pull a Joe."

As I start thinking about how I'm gonna have to pull all of my spreadsheets together and email them to our bank contact and get with her to figure out where that money went and holy sh*t they charge a lot of money for that and the boss is gonna be PISSED, I think, "Don't go all Joe on me, here.  Calm down."

And as I start to double check the numbers, and think about how the next step will be to check the spreadsheet formulas, because everything balanced out JUST FINE last month, dammit, I'm thinking, "You know how you hate it when Joe does this.  It's just an error, that's all.  You're going to find it.  Don't be Joe."

And then, five minutes later, as I find the error and correct it and TA-DA everything is fine with the world, I'm all, like, "SEE? I TOLD you not to pull a Joe."

And as I was thinking about it, about how I almost panicked, I thought how strange it was that money is the only thing that can elicit that kind of response in me.  Whether it's mine or the company's, a money error is really the only thing that can push my freak-out button.  But then I realized that it's not true.  You know what else will do that to me?  A toothache.

Because of my ongoing jaw problems, I never know if a toothache is just a ... toothache, or the start of months of root-canals and consults and agonizing pain.  I mean, I could have an ELBOW or something that felt like it was about to fall off, and I'd just shrug, take a couple of aspirin, and wait it out.  But a toothache?

As soon as a tooth starts to twinge, the thinking goes, "Oh my GOD I am NOT having another root canal I will let them PULL the damn tooth first I cannot AFFORD any more dental work" ... oops, I guess that circles right back to money again, doesn't it?

But at least I have Joe to bring me back to earth.  Screw that "Keep Calm and Carry On" sh*t.  I'm gonna embroider "Don't Pull a Joe" on a pillow.

How about you?  Anything that pulls your panic chain?

Snaaaaaaaaaakes!

Warning:  Snake pic ahead.


I mean it!  There's a pic of a snake coming up!  You've been warned!









Every spring, this is what shows up in my garage:

A bunch of teeny,  tiny snakes.  These guys are only about five inches long, but I'll tell you what, if you put your hand down near them, they'll strike at ya.  With a bigger snake, it would be terrifying, but a teeny-tiny pencil-sized snake rearing up at you?  ADORABULS.

After a little research, I think they're milk snakes.  That's the only species native to this neck of the woods that looks like these guys.  I wonder where their momma is - the only ones I ever see are these leetle baby snakes.  Supposedly they hatch in August, so I'm guessing these are last year's crew. 

I always transport them out to the gardens when they show up.  I put a flower pot upside-down on top of 'em, slide a piece of cardboard under the pot, and off we go.  I hope they eat lots of slugs, because God knows there's plenty at my place.  Bon appetit, leetle snakes!

And the names are ...

... none of the ones you guys suggested.

*ducks*

Seriously, those are all GREAT names, and I plan on using them for future fosters (there are three more in the pipeline right now ... ), but I had an idea for these two.

I was doing to name them Miley and Hannah, for, well, Miley Cyrus and Hannah Montana, and TRUST ME, I can see your eye-rolls from HERE, but hear me out.  Kittens with names that appeal to the tween demographic actually tend to get adopted faster than cats with "regular" names.  And with Kitten Season nigh upon us (see the afore-mentioned cats in the pipeline), we need to move some cats, to put it bluntly.

So ANYway, I was thinking Miley and Hannah.  And the white-pawed cat is DEFINITELY a Miley, and by that, no, I do not mean that she is doing age-inappropriate things and sending the cell-phone pics to her friends, but just that she (the kitten) is outgoing and friendly.  But Kitten No. 2?  Miss gray paws?  Not a Hannah.  Not a performer.  Just shy, shy, shy.

So I'm going to call her Shy.  Miley and Shy.

*ducks*

And I would LOVE to tell you all the story of picking up Miley and Shy yesterday, and the ... house they were living in, but I cannot.  Let's just say that this family has a BUNCH of cats, and kittens, and dogs, and no plans to get anybody spayed or neutered, which, just .... GRRR.  And the environment was ... not ideal.  I mean, this morning, when I was finally able to pick up Shy and get a good look at her, I discovered that she has a solid mass of scabs on her throat - the area is not tender and seems to be healing well, but I was all, "What on earth happened to this CAT?", when I remembered the family laughing as they told me about how their DOGS liked to pick up the kittens in their MOUTHS and carry them around.  Hahahahahaha ... BAD IDEA.

So ... Miley and Shy.  Welcome, babies!

And oh! oh!  One more thing!  I'm sure they are missing their momma, and Miley mews and mews and MEWS, including when she EATS, which sounds like, "Meewmppppph mew mew mewmppppph" and the cute is TOO MUCH.

That is all.

Name! Those! Kittens!

I had to go pick up a couple of foster kittens today.  And they need names!

Kitten One is outgoing and friendly, with gorgeous markings and pretty white paws:

Kitten Two is shy, but is trying to be friendly:

They are both girls.  Because they are fresh off the boat, so to speak, I really don't have a handle on their personalities yet, but I really need to call them something besides "A" and "B".

Ladies and Gentlemen, name! those! kittens!



Desperate times and all that

A few weeks ago, I set up the deer netting in the gardens.  Last weekend, I monkeyed with elevating the netting, because the bastid deer had figured out that if they stepped on the netting, they could eat the plants through the netting.

Well, the deer were still managing to get to the plants.  So the other night I went to the dolla store and bought laundry baskets - the plastic kind with the holes in them.  I took them home, wrapped them in deer netting (to keep rabbits from squeezing through the holes, doncha know), and plopped them upside down over the plants. 

So far, so good.  My gardens look like the front yard of a trailer, but the plants are safe.  If the deer can figure this one out, I'm gonna cede the war.

Next battle?  The people who are letting their dogs run loose in the no-dogs-allowed park next door.   Dear a**holes:  I DO NOT APPRECIATE your dogs coming to "visit" my yard, leaving giant "presents".  I understand that your dog needs to run.  However, if you wanted a f*cking border collie, you shoulda fenced your yard.  Or, you know, BOUGHT A GOT-DAM LEASH.  Exercising with your pets is fun!  Try it some time!


Coming soon:   How to save a f*ck-ton on flea meds!

Survivor: Torture Porn

Okay, so, right now on Survivor, the immunity challenge involves self-imposed waterboarding.

Maybe it's just me, but I don't find this "entertaining" at all.

"We'll know the panic is coming when the legs start to move," Jeff is saying.

Oh, yuck.

Let's talk about the headlines. Now with updates!

Okay, first, Margaret Thatcher died.  And until now, I didn't know that she was a really polarizing presence in England - people either loved her or hated her.  I was still in high school when she first got became Prime Minister, so maybe that's why I was a little clueless on this one.  I can't keep up with everything, people.  (And yes, I'm aware that that's a p*ss-poor excuse.)

And how hilarious is that whole "Holy cow, Cher is dead?!" thing.  Oh man, I sure hope Cher's getting a good laugh out of it.

Next, and this is breaking right now, evidently some dude stabbed fourteen people on a college campus in Texas.  I'd like to think that if some maniac was coming after me with a knife, I'd run faster than Jesse freaking Owens, so I'm guessing that maybe he went into a sleep lab or something, or else there is something else at play here.

Finally, in the "The Emperor Has No Clothes" department, how hilarious/depressing is this whole Brad Paisley/LL Cool J "Accidental Racist" thing?  Did no one, NO ONE, out of all of these two's handlers, step forward to say, "This is a really sh*tty idea?"  Evidently not.

Update:  And now I see that a woman is suing Hooters because they cut her hours when she refused to wear a wig to cover her brain-surgeried bald and sutured head.  I realize that this is gonna be a touchy one, but for f*ck's sake, Hooters can refuse to hire you if you're fat.  They can refuse to hire you if you're flat-chested.  They can refuse to hire you if you're ugly.  But this woman thinks she can sue them for cutting her hours because she wouldn't wear a wig?  Isn't that kinda like suing Disneyworld because you were fired for refusing to wear the Mickey costume?  I'm ... missing something here.

You know it's spring when ...

... the cats come in with muddy paws. 

... the buds start swelling on the lilac bushes.

... there are spiders in the bathtub. *shudder*

... you start thinking about weekend road trips.

... it smells like mud outside.

... you put the snow shovels back in the shed.

... kids start playing in the park next door again. 

... it gets harder and harder to stay at the office on sunny afternoons.

... you wake up in the night to the sounds of rain and spring peepers.  Peeeeeeepers!

Stuff I did this weekend

Bought a brand-new pair of shoes!   Brand new!  Not from the thrift store!  (Disclaimer:  They were on final clearance and cost me all of four bucks.  But they're brand new!)

Spent a few hours at the adoption center, which included showing a cat to Ken and Barbie.  Seriously, this young couple came in who were impossibly good-looking.  I'm used to seeing pretty women, but this dude was model material.  Whoooo-eeeee.  And all I could think of was, "If I was dating someone that good-looking, I'd be constantly wondering if he was cheating on me."  But I guess when two members of a couple are equally stunning, it ... negates the beauty?  I don't know.

Went on a couple of long-ass walks, the second of which kicked my butt.  Which kind of confirms my theory that the only thing the Jillian workouts prepare you for are the Jillian workouts themselves.

Emptied the garage gas can into the car, then filled up the can with fresh gas for the season.  Lawn-mowing time is coming, folks.  *shudder*

Put my winter clothes up in the attic, which pretty much guarantees a snowstorm some time in the next few days.

Monkeyed with the deer netting. Those a**hole deer have figured out that if they step on the netting, they can eat the plants through the mesh.  Dear Deer:  I hate you.

Chatted on the phone with my brother. 

Put out the garden statuary, including the plastic deer and lamb planters, which go out by the mailbox.  I'm pretty sure my neighbors think I'm mentally disabled.

Ran around the back yard dragging willow branches for the cats to chase.  Yeah, mentally disabled it is.

Watched the cats wrassle.  It's all fun and games until somebody starts yowling.

Oh lord, I skipped "Sixty Minutes" in order to watch "Welcome to Myrtle Manor."  There is no redemption for that, I fear.



How about you guys?  Any big doings this past weekend?

Tinks, Destroyer of Worlds

Whether it's undergarments:

"What?  What'd I do?":

The newspaper:

"What?  What'd I do?":

Or anything he can get his teeth on, really, Tinks is glad to destroy your stuff.  And then flash you the ol' baby blues.

Works every time.





Best thing I've seen all day

Blake Shelton dressed in a chicken suit and cluck-singing that ridiculous Lumineers song (Hey Ho or whatever the hell it's called) while blushing furiously.

You won't see Toby Keith doing THAT sh*t.

Four

It was four years ago today that I quit smoking.  You can read about it here, and here, and here.

Number of cigarettes I would have smoked between April 3, 2009 and today, had I not stopped smoking on that date: 43,800.00. (!)

Amount of money saved:  $7,811.00. (Just to clarify: I smoked cheap cigs I bought on line. Had I been buying name-brand smokes at the 7-11, that number would have easily been double. And using today's cost-per-pack, you could almost triple that amount).  I used a figure of $3.56 a pack, since that's what my cigs cost at the time I quit.

Gosh, has it really been four years already?  My, time does fly.

Seriously, NRA? Seriously?

After the Newtown shootings, NRA head Wayne LaPierre's most publicized quote was probably, "The only way to stop a bad guy with a gun is with a good guy with a gun."

Hmmm ... that DA in Texas, Mike McLelland, you know the one?  The one who just got slaughtered in his own home, along with his wife?  HAD guns.  HAD guns in his home.  But evidently he was surprised by his assailants, and died trying to GET to his gun.

So.  Mr. LaPierre?  Is the only solution to "bad guys with guns" having everyone be armed, all the time?  Just in case, so to speak?  And if that knock on the door happens  to be a Girl Scout instead of a member  of the Aryan Nation, and you get startled and shoot anyway, well, hell, collateral damage happens, am  I right?

And oh freaking lord,  let's not forget about the the "School Security Plan" the NRA busted out with today.  Let's put MORE guns in the flipping schools!

I just  ... this level of insanity makes me tired.  What we need, what our children need, is LESS guns, not more.  It's simple flipping  math.  The less guns, the less deaths.

And let's not pretend that it's not about money.  The NRA is heavily, heavily subsidized by gun manufacturers.  And money talks.

Want to know the truth of a situation?  Follow the money.  And man oh man, I hope Wayne LaPierre goes hunting with Dick Cheney real soon, because ... well, just because.

What I wished I'd said

So, a woman came to the adoption center last weekend looking for advice.  She had fourteen cats (!), and her latest rescued cat was the problem.

This cat, a stray, had been hit by a car.  She fixed him up and got him vaccinated.  He had evidently belonged to someone at some point, because he had already been neutered.  He was friendly with her, but he haaaaaaaated her other cats.  She was keeping him in a spare bedroom, and every time she tried to introduce him to the rest of her crew, within a few minutes, the fur was flying. He was extremely aggressive toward her cats.  She was at the end of her rope - it had been seven months with no progress.  She didn't want to surrender him to a shelter because she was afraid that he'd be euthanized because of his behavioral ... erm ... issues.  Did I have any advice?

Well, first of all, I explained that our rescue does not euthanize except when medically necessary.  However, it takes much, MUCH longer to find homes for cats who cannot tolerate other pets, and we probably did not have the space to take in another long-term cat right at this time.  (Out of the six spaces at the adoption center, two are currently occupied by cats who cannot tolerate other cats, dogs, or, frankly, people.) I asked her if she would be willing to "foster" the cat while we tried to find it a home.  I asked her if she had spoken with her veterinarian about the problem, and she said yes, but the vet didn't have any answers.  (This is typical, and it really pisses me off.  A lot of vets just shrug off behavioral problems, when that is a big reason that cats end up in shelters.)  I suggested that she call her vet and ask about, well, drugs.  Something to ... smooth out the edges.  The stray had sustained a head injury when it was hit by the car, which may have scrambled his marbles, so to speak. 

Next I suggested Feliway.  I've never seen much of a difference with it, but a lot of people swear by it.  When she explained that the Feliway system was out of her budget, I pointed toward another, lower-cost pheromone spray. 

Out of suggestions, I wished her luck and sent her on her way.  But I've been thinking about it.  About how the cat is friendly with her, and will actually howl until she comes and spends time with him, but will not tolerate her other cats.  And I'm thinking a little behavior modification may be in order.

I wish I'd told her to take one of her other cats, preferably an old, mellow girl, crate her, cover the crate with a blanket, and take her into the stray's room.  Then put the crated cat off in a corner, and slather the stray with love and attention.  Start off with just a few minutes at first, until you could see how the stray was going to react.  If the stray headed for the crate and started acting aggressive, blow in his face or spray him with compressed air to get him to associate an unpleasant sensation with aggressive behavior.  Reward him with treats or petting when he is able to get close to the crated cat without going berserk.  The first day, only have the crated cat in the room for a few minutes.  Over a period of days, have the crated cat in the room for longer periods of time, and start to remove the blanket from the crate so that more of the crated cat is visible.  If at any time the stray totally loses his marbles, go right back to square one.  Once he gets used to having one cat in his room, install a screen door, so that he can see the other cats in the house, but cannot attack them.  Start feeding a few of the cats in the area of the door, so he gets used to having them near.  If he reacts okay to this, put most of the rest of the crew in another bedroom, then let him explore areas of the house where just a few cats are.  Take it slow ...

I feel like she was maybe just plopping the stray down in the middle of her herd (unless you live in a mansion and have a full-time cat-attention-payer on your staff, fourteen cats is probably too many, btw), and the stray was completely overwhelmed.   I wish I'd told her what I just told you guys, and I wish she'd tried it and let me know if it worked.  I wish I wish I wish ....

I dunno guys, whadda ya think?  Ever had any luck with this method?  I've seen it work on that cat whisperer TV show, but I'd be interested to see how it would pan out in real life.

New Kid On The Block

Meet Buddy.

Buddy is an adoption center cat.  He was found as a stray.  He was neutered on Thursday and then came to my place for a couple of days for a little R&R.  On Saturday, reluctantly, I took him back to the adoption center so he would find a new family.

He's a typical orange boy - laid-back and sweet.  I hope you enjoyed your visit, Budster.

Time for a pop quiz!

Planet Zella has memed me with the most dastardly, time consuming challenge EVER.  Thanks, Zell!  :) 

Okay, here we go. *rolling neck* *cracking knuckles*

First off, I am to share eleven random facts about me.  Hmmmm ...

1.  I was blond as a child, but as I've gotten older, my hair has gotten browner.  Dammit.

2.  I loathe cold weather.

3.  I almost joined the Air Force straight outta high school.

4.  I have never traveled outside the country.

5.  I was married.  Once.

6.  I am a Notary Public.  It actually has much less practical application than you'd think.

7.  I am a cat person, not a dog person.  Dogs are pains in the asses.

8.  I do not eat beets.  Or liver.  Or kale. 

9.  I never went to college, unless you count vo-tech as college, which I do not.

10.  I used to be able to play piano.  And flute.  And piccolo.  And drums.  I have forgotten all of it.

11.  I watch a lot of crap TV.



Okay.  Part Two.  Dammit, Zella, this is hard! 

I have to answer the following questions:

1. If you could gather three known persons (celebrities, politicians, artists, etc.) for dinner with you, who would they be?  I am assuming they have to be currently alive.  Let's see ... Barack Obama, Bruce Springsteen, and Stephen King.  Wouldn't that be awesome?

2. You are told that you will have to go back to school and study a new profession; what will you study?  Medicine. 

3. The classic question: you will be sent to live on a deserted island for six months -- which five things will you take with you ? Not allowed: cell phone, computers, radio, other people.  A house, a fully-stocked grocery store, a library, a swimming pool (I don't care for ocean swimming), and a bicycle so I can tool around the island.  (Is that answer "cheating"?  Tough.  This sh*t is HARD, y'all.)

4. Sexiest song you know?  Father Figure by George Michael. I KNOW it's kind of skeevy, but it gets me every time.

5. What makes you cry?  Oh boy, you name it.  I cry at sad TV commercials, for Pete's sake.

6. Apple or Microsoft?  Microsoft. 

7. You have to leave your country of birth (or the country you're currently living in) -- which country would you move to and why?  Oooh, someplace warm ... but well, civilized.  I don't want to get murdered in some violent uprising or something.  British Virgin Islands, maybe?

8. Four toppings on your pizza, what are they?  Easy-peasy.  Pepperoni, sausage, onions, green peppers.

9. If you were forced to have a piercing, where would you have it?  I would LOVE to have pierced ears.  Sadly, my ears will have none of it.

10. What are you proud of ?  Working hard enough that I was able to buy a home.

11. If you could change anything about yourself, what would it be ? Physically or personality/qualities..make your pick.  Oh man, I wish I wasn't such a know-it-all. I have tried and TRIED to work on this.  Hopefully I'm getting better. 



Okay, next up.  (Zella, I thought you LIKED me!)  I have to come up with eleven questions for other bloggers.

1.  What is one thing you failed at?

2.  What is your favorite season?

3.  Do you ever wish you were someone else?  If so, who?

4.  Is one of your children your favorite?

5.  How often do you change your sheets?  (Hey, I'm just curious ...)

6.  If you won a hundred million dollars, what's the first thing you'd do?  (Besides call a lawyer, obv.)

7.  What is one thing you're afraid of?

8.  Do you have a family member you argue with?  Other than the spouse/kids?

9.  Have you ever intentionally physically hurt someone?

10.  Ever broken someone's heart?

11.  What do you regard as the happiest moment of your life?



Almoooooost dooooooone.  Oh, Zella, you are pure evil, you are. :)  Now, I am supposed to tag three bloggers to take on this challenge.  I tag ... EVERYBODY.  If you don't want to participate, you don't have to.  If you wanna, go ahead and take this on.    You need to:

1.  Link to this blog.  (Or not.  I'm easy. Just let me know if you're going to do it, so I can read your answers.)
2.  Share eleven random facts about yourself.
3.  Answer the eleven questions above.  (NOT the ones I answered; the ones below that.)
aaaaaaaaand
4.  Make up eleven questions for other bloggers to answer, and tag three people.

Ready?  Set?  Go!  (If you wanna.)  And Zella, don't think I'm gonna forget about this any time soon. :)

Maybe I'm overthinking this

Okay, so, there's a quote going around right now, sometimes attributed to Katie Couric, but I think it originally came from Madeleine Albright, which says,

"There's a special place in hell for women who don't help other women."

And at first I was all, "YEAH!  Girl power!  Booya!"

But then I was all, like, "Um ... ALL women?  Do I have to help a person just because she's a woman?"  Because there are some women out there that I do not care for all that much, personally.  Sarah Palin springs immediately to mind.  Do I have to help out Sarah Palin because I'm a woman and so is she?

And THEN I was all, like, "What if the quote said, "There's a special place in hell for white people who don't help other white people"?   Is that okay?  But wait, white people are generally considered to be not in need of help.  Okay, so, what if the quote was, "There's a special place in hell for disabled people who don't help other disabled people"?

Again, not ALL disabled people are nice people.  Do other disabled people have to help THEM, just because they're in the same boat, so to speak?  And hell?  Really?  If I decline to help another woman (or disabled person, or whatever), I'm going to HELL?  That seems a little ... harsh.

I don't know, guys, maybe I'm reading this completely wrong.  What do you think?

Misguided Product Review

(Yes, Zella, I AM working on your dastardly challenge.  I should be done ... sometime.  Maybe tomorrow.)


Okay, time for an entry in the "Dubious Products" division:

"Vaseline Spray & Go Moisturizer"

Yeah, I can see how this made it into the marketplace.  The ads show a woman aiming the moisturizer spray squarely between her shoulder blades, the one area we dry-skinned women have the hardest area reaching.

But.  When I put on my moisturizer, it's first thing in the morning, right after I towel off from the shower.  And I'm really not awake yet then.  So I can totally see myself mis-aiming a squirt and hitting the back of my hair, or even worse, the floor, so that I would then slip and fall and sue Vaseline for a million dollars ...

... oh wait ... did I call this a misguided product?  I was just kidding.  Vaseline,  send me a case right now, okay?

I didn't even know he HAD a sense of humor

First off, I may be absent for a few days.  Zella has handed me a devilishly time-consuming meme, so I'm currently working on that.  Thanks, Zella!


Okay, so, I was listening to some show on NPR the other weekend, and Huey Lewis was the guest.  (Oh, come on, you remember ... Huey Lewis and the News?)

So anyway, somebody asked him what it was like to participate in the recording session for "We are the World", and he was like, "Oh, it was amazing!  I was at the food service table standing in between Ray Charles and Diana Ross, and then later I was chatting with Bob Dylan about golf, and at one point Paul Simon said, "If a bomb goes off in here right now, John Denver's back on top.""

HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA I always thought that Paul Simon was kind of an insufferable prick, but now?  He's okay in my book.

How is that even possible?

Okay, so, I realize I may be a little late to the party on this one, but I was just listening to this thing on the radio about the hunger strike at Guantanamo.   And I thought I heard the reporter say something about how some of the detainees had been held for eleven years without a trial.

Eleven years.

"That can't be right," I thought.  A little on-line digging did not reveal the eleven-year figure, but it did show that Guantanamo opened in 2002, eleven years ago.  And that the prisoners are being held there without even being charged with anything.  FOR YEARS. 

And nobody even knows how many people are in there.  Or who they are. 

Am ... am I the only one who finds this a little ... troubling?

Look.  Some, if not most, of them are terrorists.  Bad guys.  I get that.  But unless and until the legal system can come up with enough evidence against them to bring them to trial, produce some concrete charges, how on earth can they be held for years and years and years?  How is that okay?

I'm really hoping one of you guys can explain this to me, 'cause I ain't getting it.

what? NO, I'm not making it UP!

Dudes.  Duuuuudes.

As you may know, I've been doing Jillian workouts since December.  I strive for three workouts a week, and sometimes I actually make it. 

I haven't really seen any big transformation, other than that I can (usually) now get to the end of a workout without collapsing onto the floor.  My arm muscles (biceps?  it that the name?  I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THEY ARE CALLED, oh my God I am lame) are a little firmer.  I actually snort when, during one workout, Jillian barks, "If you're on Week 3, you should be seeing a six-pack right about now!", because the only six-pack I'm gonna see is in my fridge.

and then ... and then ... the other day, I got out of the shower, and I was toweling off, and I happened to look in the mirror, and ...

my stomach looked ... different.  There was ... a definite area of difference in the middle of my stomach.

guys.  I think I'm growing my very own six-pack.

Oh, it's still pretty doughy, and while I've got some vertical ... indents ... going on, I CERTAINLY do not yet have the horizontal ... creases ... that mark a true six-pack, but holy sh*t you guys IT'S WORKING.  THE JILLIAN WORKOUT IS WORKING.

I have to say I never saw that coming, given my half-assed approach to the workouts and the fact that I still drink a lot of beer (maybe the six-pack is just osmosing from the inside to the outside?), but I am inordinately pleased to actually see some results from my efforts, which honestly tends not to be the case in a lot of areas of my life.

Dudes.  I HAVE A SIX-PACK.  What can I say?  Call me Jillian.

Holy CRAP that was a helluva night

 

 

 

Dude knows how to party