The artist's assistant

Faint praise, indeed

Yesterday, my boss told me I had done "a hell of a job" putting a complicated requisition together.

Anytime I hear anyone told that they're doing "a hell of a job", all I can think of is then-President Bush telling Micheal Brown, the head of FEMA, that he had done "a hell of a job, Brownie" handling Hurricane Katrina.  That, as people were drowning in their homes.

But!  I really did do a good job on that req.  The previous requisition had ended up in the weeds, so I had some cleanup to do.  A little backstory:  The boss was out of the country for the past month and a half.  And when he went, he just ... went.  He didn't bother to get his work in order before he left, he didn't inform most of our clientele that he was going, he just left.  And left behind one snot of a mess for me to try to sort out while he was gone.

We were in the middle of overseeing a major construction project with many contractors, a requisition (which my boss had prepared) in the works, and the out-of-town financing bank arbitrarily deciding that they were only going to pay the contractors (and us) 90%.  Just because. 

It was fun!

No, it wasn't.  It was terrible.  My boss left me in an awful position. It was a week before Christmas, and I was scrambling with the owner of the project and our local banker contact to get those contractors paid in full.  I've never worked so hard in my life.

But I learned a ton.  And I got those contractors paid.  And ...

I really don't want to work here anymore.

It's not just that the boss is racist, although of course that's a huge part of it.  It's also that the boss just doesn't seem to care anymore, and is in very poor health, and is already planning to swan off to the Continent again in March for a month or so.

If he doesn't care, why should I?

And one part of me says, oh hell, just stick it out.  The job is easy (well, most of the time), the pay is fair, the benefits are fine, why leave?  If and when the boss drops dead or pulls the plug on the company, at least that way I'll be eligible for six months' unemployment while I'm looking for my next gig.  If I quit, I won't get any unemployment.

ANOTHER part of me says, well, just start looking around.  I've updated my resume and references, dusted off my linked-in profile, and could just totter over to the local, state-run job service to see what's up.  Keep working here, but start sniffing around to see what's out there.  Because what if there's a great job, just waiting for me, except I don't know about it?

Look, I get it.  No job is perfect.  Work is work, after all.  And I know I've talked before about leaving here, but then stuck it out. But I'm increasingly wondering if it's time to take a look around.  Because I'm really, REALLY not looking forward to March.

Ay Caramba!

I had to go to the dermatologist for a (long overdue) check-up last week, and there was an area on my back that she wanted to freeze with liquid nitrogen.  "It'll only take a few seconds," she said.  "You'll feel a sensation of cold, and that's about it."  And she got to work.

Things it felt like:

- Being stung by a million tiny bees in a very concentrated spot.

- Being shot at point-blank range with the world's smallest buckshot.

- Being stabbed with teeny-tiny little-bitty knives, a whole bunch of them, all at once.

Things it did NOT feel like:

-"A sensation of cold".


Sheesh.

Pics from the weekend

I did an adoption event in a town about an hour away this past Saturday.  There are some interesting buildings along the way, so I put my camera in the front seat and did some not-dangerous-at-all, I-risked-only-myself picture-taking.

 Round barns are kind of a thing in the neck of the woods through which I was traveling.  Look how even the little entryway in the front is round!:

It was a very foggy morning.  Same barn, different angle:

A small-town jail, complete with turret:

The reason for the trip:

I stopped for coffee (and baklava!) with a friend afterward:

and more round barns:

Road trip complete.

Freaky Friday!

Yeah, I figured I'd do a few of these Freaky Fridays, until I forget to take more pictures again, which ought to happen by some time next week, so if you don't care for Freaky Friday, don't worry, it won't be long until I forget to do it.  Again.

So!  I posted a while back about the side-eye, eff-you frog that I got at a booth at the State Fair this past summer.  I LOVE that frog table!  And a few weeks ago, I was at a local antiques store when I saw the side-eye frog's cousin.

I almost didn't buy it, and in fact I DIDN'T buy it when I first saw it, because it was in kind of rough shape and they wanted twenty-five bucks for it, but I kept THINKING about it, and THINKING about it, which led to me finally rushing back to the antiques store before they closed up early on New Year's Eve, to see if the side-eye frog's cousin was still there.


AND HE WAS!

I'm pretty sure that this one is supposed to be a cat?  Because of the whiskers?  He's pretty dinged up, and his tail is missing, but look!  He has drop-leaves on the sides!  (In the pic, his left drop-leaf is in the up position, and the right drop-leaf is down.  And I am pretty sure that he came from THE SAME BOOTH AT THE STATE FAIR, because the numbering system used on the underside to indicate which legs go where is the exact same sticker system as used on the side-eye frog.

So now I have a drop-leaf cat to go with the side-eye, eff-you frog.  Perfection.

Okay, YOU be the judge

Because I evidently can't let anything go, and this whole thing from last night is STILL upsetting me, here is the picture my sister (not Texas; another sister) (Alabama it was Alabama OF COURSE it was Alabama) posted to Facebook:

HOW is that not racist, exactly?  HOW?

I could not help myself.  That offensive pic showed up in MY FEED.  I commented:


"What the hell does that even mean? That the Obamas aren't "classy" because they're black? Jesus Christ."


When someone else commented that the picture wasn't racist, but was instead meant to be a commentary on Michelle Obama's table manners (HUH?), I said,
 

"If you post a pic of a bunch of rich white people in evening attire, calling them "classy", as a dig at the non-white people currently in the White House? Yeah, I'd call that racist. If you wanted to make a comment about their political leanings, you would have posted a policy paper or something."

Facebook:  Bringing those holiday dinnertable arguments with your racist relatives into the Modern Age.  *sigh*

And if there is anybody who can explain to me how that picture is NOT racist, I'd be more than happy to hear it.

 

Oh my God, f*cking facebook.

Okay, first of all, this post has some un-bleeped f-bombs.  Because, facebook, what the FUCK?  You've been warned.

Yes.  Facebook.  I'm on it, because a lot of the rescues I'm involved with have active fundraising pages, etc., there, and yeah, it is a good way to kill time and see how messed up other people are.  ha.

But sometimes it comes back to bite you in the ass.

Today, a rescue acquaintance I am "friends" with was posting about the heartbreaking decision to put her beloved cat, who had been ailing for the past year, to sleep today.  And while this is a woman with whom I never interacted on facebook, mainly because her political views are diametrically opposed to my own, I did post a couple of condolence comments on her posts.   Because I've been there, and I know how hard it is.

And THEN, I got home from work, and I was SO EXCITED because my little hibiscus tree, which I had almost given up on this past fall thanks to a dramatic full-leaf-drop, was blooming.  And I posted a pic of it on facebook, with a little backstory about how it almost didn't make it and I almost threw it out back in the fall, and the woman mentioned above, who NEVER comments on any of my posts, jumped in with "See?  U never gave up, and u kept it alive".

OH FUCK.

Maybe this is all in my head, and I SURE HOPE SO, but I'm afraid that she may have somehow (incorrectly) connected the decision to put her cat down with my (totally lighthearted) post about keeping an apparently-dying tree alive.

FUCK.

Here's the thing.  I am "friends" with a TON of people on facebook.  I get a mega-million posts in my feed every day.  If I started trying to tailor my own posts to avoid possibly saying something that might inadvertently upset someone reading MY stuff, I wouldn't be able to post ANYthing, which, frankly, would be just fine, but still.

what to do what to do

I replied to her comment,  saying that I probably SHOULD have thrown the tree out except I'm kind of a hoarder, haha.  And then I said that I was sorry for her loss, and that the last, best thing we can do for the cats in our care is help them when it's time for them to go, and that I hoped she'd take care of herself.

GOD.

So, yeah, massive facebook clunker, now I feel AWFUL.

but then!  BUT THEN!  It gets better.  Or, you know, WORSE.

Because right after THAT whole disaster, a post of a SISTER of mine (no, not Texas) shows up in my feed.  She'd posted a picture of the Bush family in evening attire, with the caption, "Remember when our presidents were classy?"

WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUCK

I commented.  I HAD TO.  "What the hell does that even mean?," I said.  "That the Obamas aren't "classy" because they're black?  Jesus Christ."

Oh my GOD.  Social media.  I gotta get offa there.  CHRIST.

But wait! Look!  My hibiscus:

At least I can post it here.

Random

There's a can of air freshener in the bathroom at work labeled as "country scent".  When I was a little kid and the family would go someplace in the car with Dad driving, whenever we'd pass someplace out in the country with distinct odor of cow manure, Dad would theatrically inhale and dramatically exclaim, "Ahhhh!  Smell that country air!," at which point we'd all burst out laughing.  So to me, "country scent" = "cow poop". 

There was a container of divinity on the clearance table in the Walmart bakery last weekend (divinity the candy, not divinity the state of being), and I bought it out of curiosity, as I'd never had it before.  Turns out it tastes a lot like marshmallow fluff.  Huh.  

I think that Drew Barrymore is a terrible actress.  I mean, she's cute as all get-out, but my God, she couldn't act her way out of a paper bag.  There, I said it.

Kate, aka Simply Kate, the Christmas card I sent you got returned - evidently you've moved again?  Rats!  I tried to send you one,  honest!  Hope you and the hubs and the new baby are doing super.

I'm always looking for new stuff to make for dinner, and I realized the other day that I'd never had Swedish meatballs.  So I looked up a recipe, made it, and ... meh.  Just tasted like meatballs in gravy to me.  But maybe I was doing it wrong.  Anybody have a knock-out Swedish meatball recipe that tastes like something other than meatballs in gravy?  Thanks.

The Christmas tree is down!  And the Foster Campers have moved into another foster home, so that I can take a little break.  The house seems empty now.  *sniff*

And!  Today is Ponyboy's (approximate) birthday!  Happy fifth birthday, old man!

Freaky Friday: Reliquary

Yaaaaay!  Time for Freaky Friday!


A while back, a contractor found the world's smallest shed snakeskin in my doorframe when he was replacing my front door..  I thought it was the coolest thing, and placed it in a little box.

A while after that, I got around to decorating the box.

A while after THAT, this past summer, I found an awesome shadow box at Hobby Lobby, and tucked it away to give to myself for Christmas.

This past weekend, things finally came together, and ... voila:

Reliquary for a snakeskin.  Only at my house, folks.  Only at my house.

Take the long way home

and this ain't even all of 'em

I FINALLY got around to a long-delayed project this past weekend ... the foster wall.

Before:

Pretty boring, right?  Just a list of the foster cats, and a framed photo enlargement.  That stuff came down:

And up went ... The Alumni:

It may not look like a lot, but some of those pics have several cats in them - there are two litters of six kittens, a litter of four, etc. 

And I still need to get Chloe, Watson, Apple Pie, Mikey, Auguste (formerly Frida), Georgia, Henri, Taffy, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Rowena, Perseus and (whew) Lyra up there!  Then it will be done. For now.  Ha.

Pics

It had been unseasonably warm here recently, and when I got home from work one night, the park next door looked like this:

All I could think of was that old Stephen King story, "The Mist".  *shudder*

Tinks says, "Hey, thanks, laydee, you got me a car for Christmas!":

Tinks LOVES to lie on the car when it's in the garage - probably because the hood is warm when I first pull it in.  He'll climb up on the roof, then slide down the windshield, leaving little smeared pawprints behind.  It's adorable.  He doesn't pay any attention at all to the car when it's in the driveway.

Tinks also likes to sprawl at my feet in the morning when I'm getting ready for work:

It's funny how much darker his coat as gotten as he's grown older.

Foster Camper Rowena says, "Hey!  No pics of my bare belleh!"

Yep, all the Foster Campers, and a bunch of the shelter cats (27 in all!) went and got tutored on Christmas Eve.  And in case you ever wonder why shelters are asking for money all the time, if the shelter had had to pay for all those operations (13 spays, 14 neuters), even at the cheapest vet's "rescue rate" it would have cost TWO GRAND.  Luckily, this round was covered under a grant offered by a local vet school, but most of the time, that money comes right out of the shelter's pocket.

*end of lecture, and THANK YOU to all the readers here who so generously contributed to the shelter this year!*

Oh!  But I do have a question!  When these fosters came back to me after spending a week in another foster home prior to their spay/neuter appointments, Sam Winchester had quite a severe case of diarrhea.  They actually couldn't neuter him with the other rescue cats because they said he was too dehydrated.  I had a stool sample tested and he was negative for all the usual culprits - worms, coccidia, etc.  The rescue suggested I try a grain-free diet for him, which I started on Friday, and since then the situation has been improving.  Now I'm wondering if grain-free food truly is better, and whether I should switch the perma-cats to grain-free.  Anybody have any experience in this area?  I'd appreciate your input.


Meanwhile, Permacat Sodapop insists that "I'M DA BAYBEE!  I'M DA ONLY BAYBEE CAT IN DIS HOUSE!":

Okay, Soda.  You're da baybee.

And finally, I was finally able to get some cleaning done in the Foster Room the other day, and when I moved a dresser away from the wall, look what I found!:

Man, those cats really need to improve their ping-pong game.

The Apartment Files: The Naked Neighbor, Part III

Here it is ... the moment you've been waiting for ... THE REST OF THE STORY.

Let's see!  When I left off, I had just discovered that my neighbor had been BREAKING INTO MY APARTMENT to use my phone to call phone sex lines.  (Keep in mind, this was back before the days of internet porn.  Porn was not as easily available then as it is today.  Phone sex lines were totally a thing.)

Ewwwwww.

I called a locksmith.  I called the police.  I called the landlord.

The locksmith and the cops got there at about the same time, and let me tell you, that was a party right there.  The locksmith started work on replacing the lock that Corey had repeatedly forced open (and I had him replace all the other locks while he was there), and the cops went to talk to Corey.

Who denied everything.  Of course.

The cops came to talk to ME, and I gave them the whole story, and copies of the phone bill, and said that I wanted them press as many charges as possible.  The cops didn't even bother to dust for prints, which is typical of the cops in this town, who don't actually solve CRIMES so much as they sit around and discuss the chances of their favorite team making it to the playoffs, but they did say that charges would be filed.  They were also happy to share stories of Corey's past run-ins with the law, which, Jesus Christ, wasn't the damn landlord SCREENING these tenants?  (Answer:  No.)

And then the locksmith, who was still there, and the cops started discussing various break-and-enters they had been involved with, and hoo boy was THAT interesting.  And disgusting.  Turns out that, back in those pre-internet days, at least, it was NOT UNCOMMON for people to go into other people's homes to call phone sex lines.  And do OTHER STUFF while they were in the homes, which, EWWWWW, when the locksmith got to the part where he was advising me to throw out any open containers of MILK in the FRIDGE, that was when I think I stuck my fingers in my ears and started singing LA LA LAAAAAA because I would rather live in a world where I don't know that stuff, thankyouverymuch.

In the end, the locks got changed, Corey got kicked out of the building (although it took a few days for the landlord to get the proper paperwork in order to forcibly evict him) and charged with a couple of crimes (although I can't remember what, exactly - it was a long time ago), Corey threatened to KILL ME to my FACE before he moved out, to which I had some RATHER HARSH WORDS (oh you do not want to THREATEN me you F*CKWAD I WILL BURY YOU), his FRIENDS came to ask me to drop the charges because Corey was "going through a hard time" and I LAUGHED in their FACES, and it was all very entertaining.

And scary.

Yeah, it was pretty scary, too.

But that was a long time ago!  And now I live in a house!  With good locks!  Which I had changed right before I moved in because WHO KNOWS who has keys to ANY given lock (Let that be a lesson to all my kind readers!) and the only locks I trust now are the ones I see the locksmith install. (There actually wasn't anything faulty, per se, with the lock on the hallway door; it was just flimsy and was easily popped off the doorframe.) And while my neighbors here are CRAZY, some of them, at least they aren't breaking in to my place to use my phone.  BECAUSE I HAVE MOTHER-F*CKING DEADBOLTS YOU'RE DAMN STRAIGHT.  Ha.

Yay!

God bless good locks and God damn sh*tty neighbors.

The End.

The Apartment Files: The Naked Neighbor, Part II

Okay!  So!  I was telling you about my neighbor, who I found sitting on the back porch naked one night.

Weeks after that, I got a phone bill that was HUUUUUUUGE.  And it had all these calls on it to a 900 number.  I was mystified, because I never call 900 numbers.  Curious, I dialed the number, and

it was a phone sex line.

A PHONE SEX LINE.

I looked at the times of the calls, and it was all times when I was at work.

and then I remembered the lock on the hall door.

There was a door, at the end of my hallway, which opened into the building's mechanical room.  The apartment next to mine also had a door that opened into that room.  A while back, I had noticed that the hardware surrounding the lock on the door in my hallway was loose.  Almost as if someone had removed it, and then replaced it in a hurry.

You know where this is going, RIGHT?

COREY.

COREY had BROKEN INTO MY APARTMENT through the mechanical room while I was at work and used MY PHONE to call PHONE SEX LINES.  REPEATEDLY.

Well.

The first thing I did was call a locksmith.  Then I called the police.  Then I called the landlord.

and THEN ...



Okay, guys, you'll just have to wait to hear what happened next, because this thing is WAY too long already, again.  Stay tuned ...

The Apartment Files: The Naked Neighbor

I'm not sure how many tales I've told here about the various weird neighbors I had back when I lived in an apartment building.  I know I talked about the old dude downstairs who cranked his TV volume; he, and the guy who moved into that apartment after the old dude died, were the main impetus for me buying a house and GETTING THE HELL OUT OF APARTMENT LIVING.

But I don't know if I ever told you guys about Corey.

Corey was a young dude who moved into the apartment next to mine.  After he moved in, a couple of people warned me about him; they said he'd been in trouble with the law, had mistreated a girlfriend, etc. (hey, it's a small town; everybody knows everybody), but I hadn't had any trouble with him in our limited interactions, which mainly involved crossing paths in the parking lot or on the back porch.

Well, there was that one night, where Rocky had brought in a live baby bunny through the bathroom window and thoughtfully deposited on me in the middle of the night while I slept.  I woke up with a start, the bunny started screaming and went flying through the house with Rocky hot on its heels, and I ended up having to shut Rocky in the bathroom so I could scoop up the bunny and run it out into the backyard to set it loose.  All I had on was a t-shirt and sleep shorts, so I was pretty embarrassed when I headed back up the stairs to my apartment and saw my neighbor sitting on the shared back porch, but then I realized that he was sitting there NAKED and then I wasn't embarrassed for myself any more, just kind of weirded out, but that was the only real incident I had with the dude, until weeks later when I got a phone bill.  A really BIG phone bill.



And now this is waaaaay too long, so tune in next time for Part II of The Naked Neighbor.

Merry Christmas from the cats!

Cats past and present ...

... Would like to wish you a Merry Christmas!

Exciting! Blogger! News!

You guys!  The reader who comments here as Domestic Kate, and has a blog named Simply Kate,  had her baby!  And he's adorable!  Go see the pics!

Congratulations, Kate!

Recently Read

1.  As Cool as I Am by Pete Fromm - Novel about a girl struggling with adolescence and her mother's struggle with aging.  Meh.  Didn't finish.

2.  Last Bus to Wisdom by Ivan Doig - Novel about a boy and an old man on a Greyhound bus trip in the 1950s.  Good.

3.  Burnt Toast Makes You Sing Good by Kathleen Flinn - Described on the flyleaf as "a family history with recipes", this memoir of growing up in the fifties was very good.

4.  Arctic Homestead by Norma Cobb and Charles W. Sasser - Memoir about a woman who homesteaded in Alaska with her husband and five young children in the seventies.  I love, love, LOVE reading about people roughing it in Alaska, maybe because it is the last thing in the world I would ever want to do myself, and unlike a lot of people who embark on such an endeavor after years of planning, Ms. Cobb and her family, broke and underemployed in their lives before Alaska, basically half-assed the project and learned as they went.  Very interesting.

5.  $2.00 a Day:  Living on Almost Nothing in America  by Kathryn Edin and H. Luke Shaefer.  An absorbing look at several families trying to get by on very little.  Very interesting.  America's a great place to live, unless you're really poor, and then it sucks worse than a lot of other countries with better social safety nets.

6.  All We Had by Annie Weatherwax - Novel about a teen who gets moved around a lot by her shiftless mom.  Okay, but not memorable.

7.  The Final Frontiersman by James Campbell - Nonfiction account of Heimo Korth, who is raising a family in a mostly uninhabited area of Alaska.  He was featured on the show "The Last Alaskans".  As mentioned above, I LOVE books about people living in Alaska, and this one was very good.

8.  Like Family:  Growing Up in Other People's Houses by Paula McLain - Memoir from a woman who grew up in the foster system with her sisters.  Good.


So!  That's what I've been reading lately.  How about you?

Let's hear your most hilarious/horrific wedding stories

So, I got talking on Facebook the other day about how I don't like the Cake Boss, and that led to a discussion about wedding cakes, and I remembered when I was planning my own wedding, back in the Dark Ages.

I had gone to the best bakery in town to look at cakes.  When the staff learned that I was getting married, they took me into a super-posh room with music playing, beautiful furnishings, art on the walls, the whole nine yards.  The woman in charge of wedding cakes started discussing tier layouts, flavor combos, etc., etc., until I explained that I was really just looking for a sheet cake.

*insert sound of needle being screeched across a record here*

I got hustled out of that room faster than you can believe and was given an old binder of sheet-cake pictures and a folding chair to sit in while looking through the binder.

HA.

I still remember that.  Wagner's Bakery.  I don't think they're around anymore.

So yeah, that's my funny wedding story.  What's yours?

In the local paper

Local guy, who I'm pretty sure last got laid ... never.

Yes, evidently that's supposed to be a Star Wars costume.  According to the story, he has several.

How's that workin' out for ya, dude?

At least I'm not the only one who's wondering

A couple of weeks ago, I posted about the mass killing in my little town, which it seemed everyone had forgotten about.

Turns out, I'm not the only one.  Check it out.

Huh.

Shirtsleeves

The weather forecast was calling for temps in the SIXTIES yesterday.  I had SO MUCH that had to get done yesterday, but I was bound and DETERMINED to get outside.

So I got up before the sun, ran errands (Pro tip:  Walmart is deserted at seven a.m.) and decorated the tree and wrapped packages like a MANIAC, and by one-thirty, I was out in the woods.

No ice on the creek at all:

Not sure if birds had been going after bugs, or if the bucks had been leaving their marks on this dead  tree:

Look!  How cute!  Out in the middle of the forest:

I had to stop and visit the old chimney:

Shirtsleeves?  Did I mention I was hiking in shirtsleeves?  Yippee!  But pretty soon the sun was lowering and it was time to head for home.

Dear Weather:  I love you.  Never change, okay?  Smooches!

Home strange home, indeed

Some of you may remember that I used to do Freaky Friday posts, when every Friday I'd highlight some weird-ass thing that I had around my house.  I stopped doing them a while back; not because I'd run out of weird stuff, but I just kept forgetting to take more pics. 

I was in the Foster Room with the kittens this morning, flipping through the TV channels, when I came across a show on HGTV called "Home Strange Home".

HOME STRANGE HOME

Um, hello?  HGTV?  HAVE I GOT A HOUSE FOR YOU.

COME ON OVER.

Random

Okay, first and most important, many thanks to Laura, who sent a fine donation for the kitties of Little Mews!

Laura, your gift is very much appreciated.  I'm sorry I'm not better at sign-making. :)

Now, some random:

I finally, FINALLY got around to canceling my Netflix account the other day.  I was on the DVD plan, and seeing as how the last time I sat down and watched an entire movie was ... a long, looooong time ago, it was time to pull the plug.  Phew.  (and no, I'm not saying that I'm *better* than anyone else by not watching movies.  Lord knows I watch enough crap TV.  I just do not have the time OR the attention span to sit still for two hours these days. *sigh*)

and OH MY GOD CRAP TV YOU GUYS!  AMAZING RACE!  LAST WEEK!  I thought the Green Team was finally gonna bite it, and I was CHEERING for that other girl to GET THAT DAMN FISH DAMN YOU! GOOOOOOOO!  And then Green Team guy started to CRY, and I was kind of GLAD because he's sort of jerk-ish, but then I felt BAD for feeling GLAD because he really IS a student of the game, and ... yeah, can you tell I get way too invested in this stuff?

I managed to put the outside lights up without incident over the weekend.  Yay! A friend and I have decided to become "peril pals" on facebook; if one of us is about to do something potentially life-threatening (which, for me, includes anything at all involving a ladder, ha), we PM the other before we start and once we finish.  If one of us gets the FIRST message and not the SECOND, well, it's time sound the alarm.  Hopefully it'll never be necessary.

I actually almost said screw it with the lights this year and bought one of those star-shooter things.  But I wasn't sure how bright the lights from that would actually be, and I didn't want to cough up forty bucks for something I wasn't happy with.  The main problem with my regular lights, which I lay along the garden edging out front, is that if we get a year with a lot of snow (LIKE LAST YEAR I'M LOOKING AT YOU, YOU MISERABLE, ENDLESS WINTER), I'm out there digging the lights out a few times a week and it's a pain in the butt.  So I dunno; maybe next year I'll try the star-shooter.  Does anybody you know have one?  Do they like it?

I never realized how many people around here are actually from Jersey until I started doing the events at the Tractor Supply nearest to the rescue.  I swear, every other person is a Jersey transplant.  Most of them came up here after they retired.  When *I* retire, I ain't sticking around here, I'll tell you what.  I'm heading SOUTH.

I was pawing through a bathroom cabinet this morning, looking for ... something, I forget what, and I found SEVERAL make-up items that I never use.  Some old hair gel, a half-full tube of foundation that I didn't like, and some old eye make-up.  And I actually had a hard time throwing it out! I have to watch myself, there ... evidently the hoarding instinct is strong in me.  Anybody else have a hard time chucking stuff that they *might* use some day?

I've discovered a great website for cheap me:  Gasbuddy.com.  You just type in your address, and it gives you the gas prices at nearby stations.  The stations around here can be as much as twelve cents a gallon apart, so it's nice to know who's got the cheap stuff.

So that's it!  My random for today. Got any random yourself?

Georgia update!

You may remember Georgia, one of my most recent foster campers.  I posted about her here.  She was my little special-needs kitten; due to suspected neurological deficits, she pranced when she walked, and she had balance issues.  But she was a little sweetie and cute as a button, and when a local college professor wanted to adopt her and one of the other rescue cats at one of our events, I was very happy.  I spent quite some time with the adopter, making sure she knew all about Georgia's issues, and she was eager to help Georgia reach her full potential, whatever that may be.

And I'm fairly certain that Georgia was relieved to leave Foster Camp. She never really was a fan of hats.

We always ask that adopters send us updates on how their new pets are doing, but they rarely do.  I understand; people get busy, and the world moves on.  But it IS difficult, sometimes, to send all these cats out into the great wide beyond and never know how they're making out.

So needless to say, I was very happy when Georgia's new family sent pics.

 Here she is, with one of her new playmates:

Gee, I dunno, she looks kind of stressed.  NOT:

Here is Henrietta, the other rescue cat who was adopted with Georgia, and she looks similarly stressed in her new digs:

Happy endings. I love 'em.

... and more thanks are in order! - Now with updates!

Thank you, Ginny (James P.) for your donation to Little Mews!

The UPS man may hate you (that's a 38 pound box of litter, there) but the Little Mews kittens (and I) are thankful for your donation!

(and yes, I picked THAT pic because it had the back end of a foster kitten in it, which seemed, er, appropriate.)

I'll be going to the rescue tomorrow, and I know they'll be glad to see your present!

Thank you for helping make the holidays merry for the cats and kittens!

Updated to add:  Ginny, Package #2 arrived today!  THANK YOU!  Medications always put a strain on a rescue's budget because they are so expensive, so thank you for your help!

Okay, I'll admit it, I just don't get it

So! Another day, another mass shooting.  Yaaaaawn.

It's not going to stop until guns (and ammunition) are more tightly regulated, but nobody wants to hear my opinion. 

What I'm wondering about is, back in 2009, we had our very own mass shooting, right here in my little town.  You can read about it here:  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Binghamton_shootings

And for approximately half a day, there was pretty intense news coverage.  After a day or two, a brief mention every once in a while.  After that? Zip.

Cut to this week, when a gunman opened fire at an office party in San Bernadino.

Non-stop coverage.  There has been nothing BUT coverage of this incident on the news.  All San Bernadino, all the time.  All week long.

And I can't help but wonder, why?  Is it because the shooter this week is (presumably) Muslim, and "our" shooter was Vietnamese?  Is it because it happened in OMG California, where the rich people live, and not LOL Upstate New York, which is poverty-riddled?  Is it because the victims were middle-class, professional people, and not poor immigrants taking ESL classes?

I don't know.  But I wonder.

Say my name, say my name

Cats I have fostered:

Pammie and Hannah
Evil Mama, The Runt, Little Girl, Fluffy and Tuffy (I ended up adopting The Runt and Little Girl)
Samson, Delilah and Dumplin
Romeo and Mouse
Betty Sue
Molly
Itty Bitty
Tinks (I ended up adopting Tinks - still got 'im!)
Jacob, Rachael, Zilpah, Bilpah and Leah
Panko, Ponza, Chobani, Kikko and Princess Kamiko
Leo and Lilly
Wanders
Moses, Aaron and Hobo
Virginia, Vinnie and Violet
Allie
Buddy
Miley and Hannah
Buster, Bianca, Sparky, Boots, Sweetie and Smoky
Callie and Bindi
Puff, BearyCat and 12 kittens
Talon
Honey, Big Red, Little Red, Raffles and Ruffian
Apple Pie, Chloe, Watson and Mikelle (Mikey)
Henri, Georgia, Auguste (Gus) and Taffy
Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Rowena, Perseus and Lyra


Holy Macaroni, that's a lotta cats!