Movie Review - "No Country For Old Men"

Disclaimer: I am a terrible movie reviewer. I have an attention span of, like, five minutes, and then I have to get up and go DO SOMETHING, so it can literally take me DAYS to watch a movie. And even when I'm actually WATCHING the movie, my mind tends to wander (Look! Something shiny!) so I end up watching some scenes over and over until they can sink into my wayward mind. So feel free to disregard this and any future movie reviews on this site, and feel free to disagree with my feeble opinions.

Warning: Minor spoilers may follow.


While I found this movie interesting, I don't think I'll be watching it again.


Although the blow-gun thing that the guy with the really bad haircut used was pretty cool.


I think this was based on a book by Cormac McCarthy, which explains some of the ...... weirdness. I have tried to like Cormac McCarthy, I really have; I just don't.


But! According to Netflix this movie is, like, two hours and twenty-odd minutes long. So I'm watching along, and watching, and bad haircut guy has a bone sticking out of his arm and buys a shirt from a kid, and then Tommy Lee Jones is talking about his dad, or maybe his grandpa, and then ........


The movie ended. Just ended. And the credits started rolling, and I'm all like whaaaaa? And I checked the DVD player and the movie had ended at almost two hours exactly.


So! When Netflix said it was two hours and twenty-odd minutes long, were they including the trailers? Or did I get some weird Reader-Digest-condensed-version of the movie, which would explain why it ended so suddenly?



I'm confused. As usual.

Headstones

On Saturday I went to a local cemetery.

I had heard that it had great views, and it did:

What are those house-thingies (see pic below) called? Are they crypts? Mausoleums?

And I wondered, who pays for them? Do you decide ahead of time and set aside money in your will to build a little housie for your bones? Do your kids do it in memory of you?

Some people take the simpler approach:

Some people accessorize. This grave had a very simple marker, plus several angels, elephants, a statue of Saint Francis, and a teeny-tiny horse and wagon (you can double-click on the pic to make it bigger):

Do you think she asked her friends to do this before she died? Or did they just go ahead and decorate? I think I'd be kind of pissed off if someone placed a bunch of crap on my marker ..... oh, no, wait; I wouldn't be pissed off ..........I'd be dead.

Gee, do you think this guy was a dolphins fan? This headstone really bothered me, for some reason. It just seemed so ...... tacky. And I couldn't figure out if the statue in front was a dog or a fox. I'm guessing dog, but I'm not sure.

Anyway, it was a neat place to spend some time.

Make Up My Mind, Will Ya?

Evil Momma and the kittens went back to the shelter for adoption on Wednesday. Now I have a decision to make:


1. I can adopt two of the kittens from this last litter. They are all adorable, and I fell particularly hard for The Runt.


Pluses: I would get to have two adorable kittens in my home, who would grow up to be beautiful, loving cats.


Minus: It means a big commitment, in time, in money, in emotion. Cats live a long time, and vet care is expensive, and it is very, very hard when they finally pass away.



2. I can continue doing foster care.


Pluses: Kittens are a ton of fun, and the work is very rewarding. I get to give a safe haven to momma cats and their young kittens who otherwise would be spending their formative weeks in a cage at the shelter, or, worse yet, be turned down by the shelter because they are out of room.


Minuses: They all go back to the shelter once they are old enough. And young kittens really aren't cuddly; they are too busy playing to want to be held. And, with the large litters, cat food gets expensive, especially when Momma is malnourished and is making up for lost time. The shelters do offer to help out with food, but I hate to ask, when they are already so strapped financially.


3. I can continue to do foster care, with the understanding that if the kittens who just went back fail to get adopted, I will adopt two of them. (Two is the max my landlord allows.)


Pluses: This seems like the most logical option.


Minuses: I would really, really miss The Runt, if he got adopted.



I talked to the foster coordinator, and she said that while they always need foster homes, they also need permanent homes. They have cats at the shelter right now who have grown up there, because no one adopted them as kittens.



So I just don't know what to do. I feel like any of these options would be a good one; I just don't know which one to choose. Help me!

The Unbearable Lightness of Being a Kitten

So long!

Farewell!

auf Wiedersehen!

Adieu!

And they're off! Off to loving homes and new adventures in the great big world.

Bye, guys! Stay as sweet as you are! Bye!

Bye!

Bye!

*Sob*

Oh No .........

The shelter called ......... they want their kittens back.

After a couple of false starts, Evil Momma and the kittens are supposedly going back to the shelter tonight.

This is gonna be tough.

This Never Woulda Happened When Rocky Was Alive, Part Two

I wrote earlier about the exploding rabbit population in my neighborhood, and how Rocky used to chase the rabbits off. All but ONE rabbit, that is ......

One night, several years ago, I was sleeping soundly. I had left the bathroom window open, as usual in the summer months, so Rocky could go in and out. So there I was, sound asleep, in the middle of the night, when I was rudely awakened by a sudden "thump" on my chest. I looked down to discover that Rocky had brought in a baby rabbit, jumped up on the bed with it, and dropped it right on top of me.

Well! Little baby bunny, who was very much alive, started screaming. Have you ever heard the screaming noise a rabbit makes? It's really quite impressive. And the rabbit shot off the bed, followed by Rocky, followed by me.

And everybody went tearing around the apartment, round and round and round, until I managed to grab a towel, throw him over Mr. Bunny, shut Rocky in the bedroom, get the rabbit downstairs, and let him go in the yard.

And that was the last time I left the bathroom window open at night.

I should reiterate, to my knowledge, Rocky never actually killed any wild animals, except for mice. The ones he didn't run off, he would bring into the apartment. Very much alive. Thanks, Rocky!

I miss you.

Quick Question(s)

I got to see my youngest grand-nephew, H., yesterday. He is just learning how to walk and was wearing the cutest pair of what appeared to be little teeny cross-trainers.

My first pair of baby shoes, which I actually unearthed a while back while looking for something else up in the attic, were RIGID. I mean, it was like they were made of steel or something, they were so inflexible. And they had these incredibly slick soles, with no traction whatsoever. I mean, even if you already KNEW how to walk, any attempt to walk in those shoes would be destined to end in FAIL. Did anybody else have baby shoes like that? Or were my parents sadists? Or am I just SO OLD that those baby shoes were actually de rigueur back in, like, medieval times? Or, wait, were they maybe just for show, and I had another, more comfy pair to actually walk in? I'm so confused.

ALSO. I thought I saw something on TV the other night about Dog the Bounty Hunter being back on the air. Is this even possible? Wasn't he exposed as a horrible racist who threw the n-word around in a phone conversation?

OK, that's all my questions for right now. Feel free to add some questions of your own in the comments! But only if you answer mine first. (Kidding!) (Sorta).

Evil Momma Says ......

I WARNED him that if he did that ONE MORE TIME he'd have to go in Time Out!!

This Never Woulda Happened When Rocky Was Alive

My neighborhood is experiencing a rabbit population explosion. I counted four in a neighbor's backyard the other night.

Now, I have nothing against rabbits. I really enjoy watching them hop around and play. And neither I nor any of my neighbors have vegetable gardens, so we don't have to worry about rabbit-inflicted food loss. But this summer is the first in many years that there have been rabbits in the area, and it finally hit me why: Rocky's not around to run them off anymore.

Now, Rocky never actually killed the rabbits. His policy regarding the local wildlife was very much "bring 'em back alive". Oh, except for mice. He would dissect mice with great pleasure, eating only the tasty bits, and leaving the guts and feet in tidy piles on the back porch for me to step in when I went out in the morning to get the newspaper. Aaahhh, memories.

The first live item he brought into the apartment was a chipmunk. A very frisky chipmunk, who scurried hither and yon for two days. I would hear the chipmunk in the bedroom, or the kitchen, or wherever, and I would pick Rocky up and take him to the chipmunk, and all Rocky would do is give the chipmunk an affectionate nudge. I think Rocky was looking for a pet. But then, of course, the chipmunk would go scurrying elsewhere, everywhere of course except the open front door.

So on the second day, I determined it was time to help reunite the chipmunk with his natural environment. I got the broom and the cat and tried to herd the chipmunk outside. Instead, the chipmunk went running into the bathroom and up into the tub. "Perfect!", I thought. "I'll just put the chipmunk in ........ something ........... and take him outside!"

I grabbed a plastic mixing bowl and a piece of cardboard for a cover and headed into the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind me so as to prevent the chipmunk from heading back out into the apartment. You know where this is going, right? I put the bowl over the chipmunk, slid the cardboard under the bowl, and picked up the whole kit and kaboodle, with one hand under the bowl and one hand on top of the cardboard. Then I went to open the door, and ....... yeah....... not so much. I had no way to turn the door handle, as both hands were occupied with chipmunk containment.

So! I did the only thing I could think of (which is usually the worst possible option, in any given situation, given my thought processes), and placed the covered bowl against my stomach, holding it in place with one hand and using the other to open up the door. Success! And I headed out the back door, down the stairs, and across the back yard with the chipmunk scrabbling wildly in the bowl. I set the bowl on the ground, took off the cardboard, and the chipmunk ran happily away, surely to tell his friends about his adventure.

And Rocky spent the next few days sniffing about the apartment, looking for his missing friend.

Coming soon: Rocky graduates from chipmunks to rabbits.

Rember When?

So, I'm reading this article about a new Alzheimer's drug named "Rember". Which is obviously a play on the word "remember", and pretty tasteless, if you ask me.


But now, every time I think about it, all I can think is, "Rember when that word had two more letters?" Heh.

Update!

So! I am back from the dentist. And I was there, having my teeth cleaned, and all was going fine (other than, of course, BEING AT THE DENTIST), and then the dentist came in and was checking my computer chart with the hygienist.


And they're talking about a wisdom tooth, and I'm thinking, "I had my wisdom teeth pulled when I was 18". And then they're talking about the molar that might need extracting, the one that they discussed with me before, and I'm thinking, "nobody said ANYTHING about pulling any of my teeth". And they just kept going on and on, and none of it sounded anything like me, and I finally said, "WHOSE CHART are you looking at?!"


Not mine! Folks, they were looking at the chart for ANOTHER PATIENT. The one who was coming in AFTER me. And I feel sorry for THAT patient, because it sounds like her teeth are in pretty bad shape.

Then! I get back to the office, and the shelter calls. It turns out that a nasty, often FATAL virus has been introduced to the shelter, possibly from an incoming stray. The shelter worker told me that the last time this virus made the rounds, last year, it killed eighteen kittens and four adult cats. Needless to say, I will be holding onto my fosters for at least a few more days (yay!), until things clear up at the shelter. Right now the shelter is on "lockdown" (no cats in, no cats out).

Oh! And it turns out that the hygienist has a daughter with the same first name as me. So that makes two of us. It's not that unusual of a first name; it's just that nobody seems to name their kids that. (No, it's not Bertha!)

Right now I'm just relieved that the dental torture is over (until next time). And the cats get to stay with me for a while longer. Bonus! And I'm thinking about all those cats in the shelter and hoping they all make it.

Updated to Add: Oh yeah! I forgot! The dentist informed me that I have "geographic tongue". Sounds like some kind of porn term, no? (Warning: Do NOT google that term. DO. NOT. Not unless you want to see a bunch of pictures of people with their tongues sticking waaaaayyy out. Gross.)

Getting Ready For A Bad Day

Tomorrow morning, I have to go to the dentist for my six-month cleaning. The last time I was at the dentist, bad things happened. As far as that goes, bad things happen pretty much every time I go to the dentist. My teeth have ached for two weeks now in anticipation of this visit.


Tomorrow after work, the foster cats* go back to the shelter. They are sending over a volunteer to "net" Evil Momma, because she is still not handle-able. I've got an ache in the pit of my stomach just thinking about those beautiful little guys and girls going back, but I know it's time they find permanent homes, now while they're still cute and small and adorable and people "ooooh" and "aaaaah" over them.


So it's gonna be a pretty bad day, tomorrow is. Time to square my shoulders. I just have to keep reminding myself that it's not the end of the world, that it could be worse, and that two days from now, it will all be over with.

*You know, I've been thinking about putting a disclaimer in the posts about the foster cats. Something along the lines of, "No, I did not let my cats breed indiscriminately. I do foster work for local animal shelters. I take in cats that OTHER PEOPLE let breed indiscriminately and take care of them and their kittens until the babies are weaned and they can find permanent homes." Because I would hate it if anyone thinks that I am one of those asshats who fail to neuter their pets, let the cat get preggers, and then dump her and the kittens at a shelter. The End.

Hmmm. Guess I'm a little sensitive today.

Friends

Fun With Alzheimer's!

I picked up my Mom the other day so we could go to the flea market, and she insisted on taking her bathrobe along, calling it her "coat".

I could have corrected her, but I didn't. I mean, it's the flea market, for Pete's sake! Even with a bathrobe, she's still not gonna look any stranger than 90% of the people already there.

One thing that flips some members of my family out, and I can't seem to get worked up over, are Mom's pants. She insists on wearing pants of the extreme high-water variety. If, by chance, she should happen to put on a pair of pants that are actually the correct length, that is, not showing several inches of ankle/shin, she rolls them up until she is sure that they are the correct length, i.e., "the flood's a comin'!"

As I said, I just can't get myself worked up over this. She's 84 years old, her husband's dead, and she's got Alzheimer's disease. Life's dealt her a pretty shitty hand lately, and if she wants to go out in public in pants so short that they're practically capris, that's ok by me. And besides, I've been noticing an awful lot of old ladies lately wearing pants that are way too short. Is it some kind of octogenarian fashion statement? I have no idea, but at least Mom's not alone in her fashion sense.

Art Appreciation

For the longest time, I couldn't figure out why the kittens seemed to be fascinated by the pictures on the walls. Then one day it hit me: They could see their moving reflections in the glass!

So it wasn't my amazing artistic talent after all.

The Hitchhiker

Last Tuesday, I went to Greenwood Park. A local summer camp was having a day program there, and so the lake was full of children. SCREAMING children.


Now, I have written before about screamers. Kids who are in serious need of a reset of their "on/off" switch. Imagine a whole lake full of them. Imagine that lake surrounded by lovely rolling hills which were echoing the sound. It was bedlam. And you know, I was thinking, "I'll bet the lifeguards are wearing earplugs", but then I realized that they probably are not allowed to wear earplugs, so that they can hear if a swimmer calls for help. And then I wondered how they would even hear anyone calling for help anyway, what with the decibel level of the screaming and all. And then I hiked further into the woods, to get away from the goddam screaming kids.


When I got back to my car, I found that I had gained a little friend:




This little bee, heavy with pollen, was resting comfortably on one of my hiking boots. I think he was trying to hitch a ride to get away from the screaming children. I gently shook him onto the grass. After all, if he wants to get away, all he needs to do is spread his wings and fly.

It's A Good Thing I Didn't Go Out For Lunch ......

......... because, apparently, the bottom hem of the back of my slip has been tucked into the (interior) waistband of my (somewhat sheer) dress since some time this morning.

Oooooops.

In my defense, YES I AM wearing underwear! and pantyhose! Which leads me to a question:

You know how pantyhose have those little ........ um ......... crotch panels in them? Are those crotch panels actually supposed to be, like, underwear? Are you not supposed to wear actual underwear when you are wearing pantyhose? Because I find that idea a little bit distressing. When I get dressed in the morning, first I put on underwear, then pantyhose. Have I been DOING IT WRONG all these years? Because even if I have, I am going to continue to do so. The idea of wearing pantyhose without underwear underneath is skeeving me out.

But please tell me, oh Internet - am I DOING IT WRONG??

Ha! I Win.

Last night, I fixed my broken toilet using only a pair of needle-nose pliers and a twist tie.

Actually, the only reason I was attempting toilet repair is because I am desperately trying to forestall having the super send over a repairman until this latest load of foster cats is out of the house. I am fairly certain that the landlord would be a little, um ........ concerned if he discovered that I currently have FIVE cats (and three litterboxes!) in my apartment. (The per-apartment cat limit is two. But actually, now that I think about it, I mean, Evil Momma is ONE cat, and the kittens (all four of them!) count as ONE cat also, no? I mean, they're kittens, not full cats, no? No? Just like at the grocery store, if I get one jar of spaghetti sauce, one bag of apples, and ten cans of cat food, I can still go in the "eight-items-or-less" line, no? Because there's ONE jar of spaghetti sauce, and even though there's eight apples in the bag, it's ONE bag of apples, and the ten cans of cat food go under the "cat food" category, and thus count as ONE item, right?, so I only have THREE items, no? No? No. Yeah. I thought so. Seriously, I have never actually had the nerve to try this little stunt. I am afraid the people in line behind me might kill me.)

Movie Review - "The Little Girl Who Lives Down The Lane"

Wow. Now there's a grim little flick. Jodie Foster plays a creepy adolescent who's got a few too many secrets.

At first I thought that it was a made-for-TV movie, thanks mainly to the cheesy soundtrack, which was chock-full of that seventies' "wocka-wocka" music more common to porn films, but the scene with Martin Sheen and the hamster (no, not porn (heh)), made me think it was a theatrical release, cause I kinda doubt they would have shown that on TV back in the day.

Oh, and Jodie Foster's nude scene made me pretty uncomfortable. I mean, she was fourteen when she made the movie, and she was portraying a thirteen-year-old, and they had to put in a nude scene? But then I checked it out on IMDB, and it turns out that her older sister did the scene, because Jodie refused. Good for you, Jodie! But yo, older sister, what were you thinking? The character's thirteen, for pete's sake!

So! All in all it was interesting, even the over-the-top hamminess by the woman playing the landlady. (Alexis Smith, who, according to IMDB, was in, like, a billion movies. I wonder if she over-acted in all of them.) But if you're squeamish, look away when Martin Sheen picks up the hamster. A word to the wise.

Salt Springs State Park

Last Monday, I went to Salt Springs State Park. (After fielding the first emergency phone call from the office, which came in at 10 a.m. Sigh.) I had never been there before, and the driving directions on the web site would have had me going quite a bit out of my way, so I went to a local community web site, BC Voice, to ask for directions. Now, I did this with quite a bit of trepidation, as the bloggers on BC Voice can be absolutely vicious. I mean, you ask for driving directions, and someone will chime in with, "whatsa matter? you too stoopid to read a f**king map?" Seriously. If you want to check out some really mean people, check out BC Voice. I'm not going to link to it here, because they would probably hunt me down and kill me.

ANYhow, I got my directions (thank you, nice person!), and off I went. Which is always an adventure, because I am fully capable of getting lost at a 4-way intersection. But! I managed to make my way there, through some very pretty countryside and places I hadn't been to in years. Hi, Quaker Lake! Hi, Laurel Lake! Hi, Brackney! Although I am sad to report that the McMansionization of Quaker Lake is well under way. When I was a kid, Quaker Lake was surrounded by small family cottages. Now, there are houses the size of freaking hotels on the lake. Kind of sad.

So! I get to the park, pull in the parking area, and the first thing I see are some llamas:

Heck, I don't know why they were there! They just were!

There were waterfalls:

And salamanders:

(Or is this guy an eft? I always get my reptile terms mixed up.)

And there was bee balm:

I love bee balm. It looks like fireworks. (Now here's where someone chimes in and says, no, that's not bee balm, you idiot, that's (insert plant name here)).

So! This is a beautiful place, and I managed not to get (too) lost on the trails, and I'll definitely be going back again. If I can find it.

Dresses and Pantyhose and Heels, Oh My!

I spent last week in shorts and tank tops. About half of every day my feet were in hiking boots, and the rest of the time I went barefoot.


A good portion of the time, my feet and the rest of me were plunked down in the kiddy pool. Oh! There was an emergency on Sunday when the kiddy pool developed a leak, necessitating a quick trip to Crapmart for a replacement. Luckily they still had some in stock, although back-to-school stuff is already replacing a lot of the summer fun stuff.


Lots of time was spent down by the creek, eating blackberries and raspberries and splashing around in the cool water and digging up wildflowers for my gardens. (Nothing endangered! Just beach peas and crown vetch and daisies and monkey flowers, all of which get mowed down when the town comes to mow the floodwall.)


There's lots of birds down there:




But now, it's back to work. Time to earn a living. *sigh.*

Didja Miss Me?

Well, did ya? (It's ok - you can lie!)



Here's a quick pic:




That's Watkins Glen. You can get an idea of the scale by the people standing on the trail on the left and the person standing on the bridge in the middle. I'd been here before, but this time I took a guided tour up the gorge, which was interesting. Don't let me forget to tell you about the flip-flops! And the Aldi's bag!

Right now, I have to tackle the Giant Pile 'O Mail on my desk. Back soon!

Bye For Now!

In just a few short hours, I will leave the office. And I don't have to come back until ....... a week from Monday! Suh-WEET!

Now, since I don't have a computer at home (sob), and the local library keeps pretty funky summer hours, my internet access will be spotty (sob).

So! I'll try to check in when I can, and I'll be thinking of all of you, hard at work, while I am eating yummy things and drinking and sleeeeeeeping and hiking and drinking and attending summer festivals and reading books in the back yard and eating soft-serve ice cream and ................ ok, I'll stop now.

See you soon!

Gratuitous Cute Kitten Pics

Oh hai! (It cracks me up the way his tail is sticking out of the side of the box.)




Pile On Evil Momma:






All four in the same shot (that's getting harder and harder, as they become more independent):





Front to back: Little Girl (formerly Number Three), The Runt, Fluffy and Tuffy. Do you think they have enough toys?

Shark, Jumped

Actually, I don't think it can count as jumping the shark if the show sucked from the very beginning.

But hey! Did I call it or what?! I'm talking about "As the Wrench Turns", the new animated series on PBS featuring the guys from the NPR show "Car Talk".

Did anybody besides me attempt to watch this train wreck? No? I didn't think so. Actually, it was EVEN WORSE than I imagined, if that's even possible. Honestly, I could only watch a minute or two at a time before my head started to hurt and I had to change the channel. But then I kept switching BACK, like maybe a miracle had occurred in the last few minutes and the show suddenly got good. Nope, didn't happen.

But! I finally popped in a tape (I know, I KNOW! I am ancient!) of the series "Carrier", also presented by PBS. It's about life aboard the aircraft carrier USS Nimitz, and it is absolutely fascinating. THIS is the kind of interesting, in-depth thing PBS does extremely well.

So! I watched (as much as I could stand of) "As the Wrench Turns", so you don't have to, and I can confirm that it's truly, truly bad. And if you want to catch PBS at its best, check out "Carrier".

Oh! And don't let me forget to tell you about the time I auditioned for the Air Force Band. True story!

Ear Worm

If you are cold
Here, take my sweater

Here, take my sweater

Here, take my sweater
Here, take my sweater
Here, take my sweater Here, take my sweater Here, take my sweater Here take my sweater heretakemysweaterheretakemysweaterheretakemysweaterheretakemysweaterOHFORTHELOVEOFGODTAKETHEDAMNSWEATERSO
ICANGETHISSONGOUTOFMYHEADARRRRRGGGGHHHHHH

help me.

The Dude's Wearing Peds

(Uh-oh, here I go again, blogging instead of actually, say, WORKING. *Sigh*.)

But seriously! I just noted that one of my male co-workers is wearing Peds with his sneakers. Do they even MAKE man Peds? Because if not, that means he's wearing WOMAN peds. WHY?

In other sartorial office news, Hack-Em-Up-Ed, he of the t-shirt with a cartoon squirrel and the caption "I'd like to put my nuts in your mouth" on it, is currently wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with the words "Got Wood?" in print about 10" high on the front. In his defense, there is a logo for a lumber company on the back, but STILL. Why the questionable t-shirts, Hack-Em-Up?

OK. Back to work, dammit.

Must ......... Get .......... Busy.............

Ok, so I have next week off, so that means there are nine thousand things I need to get done here at work before I go. And so far I have done approximately ...... none of them. And I'm sitting here blogging.

Wow. I don't even know what's wrong with me (I mean, other than the obvious). I am usually Johnny-on-the-spot, getting everything done waaaayy ahead of time, and here I am stalling. And stalling. And stalling. And the 941 needs to be filed, and notes have to be left for the temp, and I need to enter all of those invoice hours, and ....... yeah ........ not so much.

Oh! But I did watch a cute movie last night. "Lars and the Real Girl". It requires a real suspension of disbelief, but once you do that, it's a really enjoyable movie.

One more thing: Someday ME 2, are you out there? I see that you've pulled your blog, and I just wanted to make sure you're ok.

No crunch! Crunch is bad!

So! I've been thinking about all the tasty stuff I'm going to eat while I'm on vacation next week (woot!). Ok, technically I'm not actually going anyplace, other than doing some day trips, but I have the week off from work, so that counts as vaca, right? Right? Please tell me that it counts!

And I am going to make Alpo (a tasty, tasty sandwich spread which is not actually dog food but which does have a rather ...... um...... unfortunate appearance, thus leading my lovely dysfunctional family to give it the name Alpo), and crab dip, and I'm going to possibly bust my grill out of the shed and have a steak or two, and I may actually splurge and have a Subway sub.

Now, I don't usually go to Subway, because they cut their sub rolls the wrong damn way. The only CORRECT way to cut a sub roll is horizontally down the side, and Subway does this funky cut-it-down-from-the-top technique which is just NOT RIGHT, but I have been jonesing for a meatball sub (no cheese, though - also WRONG) for quite a while, and have been holding out due to my oh-my-holy-hell-gas-is-four-bucks-a-gallon budget. (Can-I-put-any-MORE-dashes-in-this-post? Let's-see!)

So! A relatively recent addition to the franchise market in this area is Quiznos. And I was thinking, maybe Quiznos instead? But then I seemed to recall a Quiznos TV commercial in which they talk about their TOASTED sub rolls and how the rolls are CRRRRUNCHY and oh no no no that is just WRONG.

Sub rolls should not crunch! Sub rolls need to be springy yummy white bread with no nutritional value and not much taste at all, so as not to distract from the delicious fillings inside. Seriously, the thought of biting into a sub and having the bread go CRRRUUNNCH is just wrong on so many levels I don't know how to deal with it. Besides which, the crumb factor has got to be out of sight.

So! How do you prefer your sub rolls? CRRUNNCHHY, or nice and soft and comforting, the way God intended?

Oh! And while you're answering my possibly insane question, please scroll down to the post below (unless you're squeamish about bugs) and help me out there, too. Please?

What the Hell IS This?!

Okay, first, a lovely bluebird, down by the creek. See it? Right there in the middle of the picture? Oh, I love bluebirds. And they are relatively uncommon in this area, so seeing them is always a treat. WARNING: Do not scroll past the bluebird if you are squeamish about bugs. You've been warned.




Next up: WHHHHHAAAATTTT??




Oh my gah, what the holy hell omfg IS THAT?? It's about an inch long, with an insect-like face and scrabbly thick legs and lacy WINGS and an OPEN WHITE SPOT on its back, like it's missing a piece of armor or something. Very slow to move - it just sat there and waved its legs around while I took pics.

Somebody please tell me what the hell that thing is, and that it's part of the natural order here on Earth, because it sure looks like some kind of funky alien species to me.

Now the Mailman Thinks I'm Suicidal

So, I was down by the creek last weekend, just rambling around (the blackberries are ripe! nom nom nom), and on the walk back I paused on the bridge over the creek to watch the fish in the water below.

I heard a vehicle pull over to the side of the road and a voice, laughing, saying, "Don't jump!". I turned around and it was my mailman in his postal truck, so I laughed and said "Don't worry - I won't!", and he waved and went on down the road.

And I was thinking, hmmm...... he's kind of cute ........... I wonder if he's single .......... oh, but wait...... he thinks I'm suicidal.

Oh well.

Aaahhh, the Glorious Fourth ......

....... when the car breaks down and the plumbing backs up.

Now the Saturn's just messing with my head. I was running errands on Friday, driving around, and I looked down to see that all of my dashboard gauges had flatlined. Gas? Zero. RPMs? Zero. Engine temp? Zero. And even though I was doing at least 30 at the time, according to the dashboard I was going ......... yep ....... zero.

So, I made a mental note to buy some gas, since I was pretty sure I had about half a tank, but I had no way to prove it, since the gauges were not cooperating, and to call the mechanic on Monday to have it looked at.

And then I hopped in the car on Saturday, started it up, and ..... everything was fine. All gauges working. And everything's been fine ever since.

WTF, Saturn?

Oh, and the plumbing thing? TOTALLY NOT MY FAULT. It was the guys DOWNSTAIRS who had sewage backing up into their bathtub, forcing the Roto Rooter guy to come out at 8 p.m. on the Fourth to unclog the main line. Not me!

How was your Fourth?

Who On Earth Thought That Was A Good Idea?

PBS, that's who. Next week, PBS will begin airing a prime-time cartoon following the "off-the-air lives" of Tom and Ray Magliozzi, those guys from NPR's "Car Talk" program.

Um ...... really? Is it aimed at little kids? At adults? Either scenario does not seem like it could possibly turn out well.


I predict this show's "jump the shark" moment will occur within the first thirty seconds of the first episode.


You know, I do listen to NPR and watch PBS, but in both cases, sometimes something will come on that is just so .... wrongly conceived .... that I think to myself, "this is what happens when you let the nerds run the show." And trust me, I was/am a nerd. So I know how these things can happen. I think they need to hire just one cool guy to poke his head in from time to time to say, "um.... guys? You might want to think that one over."

Note to Self

Wearing three-inch stilettos to work on a day that is going to involve a lot of inter-office walking is probably not the best idea in the world.

Just sayin'.

Detainees Breach Security Barricade

"Tear Down This Wall!", Fluffy demands.


AP - According to eyewitnesses, the security barricade restricting access to the kitchen was breached at approximately 6:35 p.m. last night. The charge was led by Fluffy, who was followed by Tuffy and The Runt. Number Three was asleep at the time and was not directly involved in the escape.

Despite several frantic attempts by Evil Momma, the insurgents refused to be brought back into custody. After several more border crossings were noted, the barricade (poster board and duct tape) was removed by Teh Human, allowing unrestricted access to the kitchen.

The insurgents reported that there would be no further action, as their demands had been met.

At press time, the only identifying photograph available was that of Tuffy, aka Marty Feldman:

No charges will be filed.

A Rare Sighting of the Elusive Evil Momma

As the shadow of doom (me) looms over her, she prepares to spring.

Seriously, I wish I could just give her a Xanax and get her to chill. Relax, Momma! Ain't nobody gonna hurt you here.

Best. Thing. Ever.

I was reading this article about a cruise ship that sank in the Antarctic. As they were loading the passengers into the lifeboats, a couple broke out singing "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" by Monty Python.

hahahahahahahahaha!!!!!

That's the coolest thing ever.

Cowabunga!

I won a toy cow slingshot over at flea's world!! How cool is that?! I am a sucker for weird kid's toys, so Cowabunga will have a loving home at my place.

Oh, and Flea? I, um, I think I e-mailed you my address, but my computer did something funky just as I hit "send", so if you don't receive it, just let me know and I'll send it again. Because I really, really love that cow! And evidently I have yet to learn how to e-mail. Sigh.

Should I Stay or Should I Go

Yesterday afternoon, the boss called me into his office. He informed me that he was thinking of moving the business to South Carolina, and wanted to know if I would consider relocating.

Ummmmmmmm...... HELLS, YEAH!!

The winters here in upstate New York are killing me. The older I get, the tougher it seems to be to spend several MONTHS of every year scraping ice off windshields and shoveling snow and putting on several layers of clothing before stepping out the door .........

I'm tired of it. It used to be that the warm summers and beautiful autumns offset the miserable winter months, but anymore? Not so much.

And we are taxed to DEATH here in the great state of New York. Taxes just keep going up, and up, and up. It's like the state and local governments aren't even TRYING to control costs anymore ...... and we taxpayers are getting screwed.

Reasons to stay? Um ......... there really aren't any. Yes, my mom is here, but with her decline into Alzheimer's, she's not really here, if you know what I mean. Two of my sisters are here, but one of them, TIB, is convinced I am the Antichrist, and the other one, Ditzy, just isn't a factor.

So! If the boss says pack up, I'm packing. Now, he has run this particular scenario up the flagpole before and nothing ever came of it, and I'm sure that is probably the case this time, but if he asks me to go? I'm gone.

Payback's a Bitch

One last post about the fosters, and that's it for a while, cat-wise. Pinky swear!

So, I picked up the kittens from the vet's last night and headed home, where I was greeted by a shit-smelling apartment. Yep, Evil Momma had taken her revenge (for this) by pooping and barfing all over the place.

After getting the kittens settled (which was hysterical; I opened up the carrier and they exploded out like popcorn) (no, the carrier's not too small, it's just that they have LOTS of ENERGY) and cleaning up Evil Momma's mess, I was sitting in the bedroom playing with the kitties when Evil Momma sauntered in, all, "I pwned you this morning, bitch. Kiss my evil ass." And then she circled around behind me and started sniffing my back. And I froze. It was like in some scary movie when the alien creature is right behind someone, and the person knows it, and they freeze, hoping that if they just stay absolutely still the alien will go away. And then the alien rips their head off.

Seriously, I was all, like, "what is she sniffing at?! Is it my kidneys? Is she going to rip out my kidneys?!" But then she strolled off, and the threat was over. But several times through the evening, she got within a few feet of me, which is kind of amazing, considering she has spent the last week and a half trying to stay as far away from me as physically possible.

And then early this morning, I started hearing a familiar sound. A familiar yowling sound.

Yep, Evil Momma's in heat. And now she wants to loooooovvvee me. And be my frieennnnndd. She actually stood at my feet this morning and meowed up at me.

Who's pwned now, Evil Momma?!

Discovery!

The work day goes by MUCH FASTER when you show up two and a half hours late.

Oh, and in case you thought I was exaggerating about Evil Momma cat, I just looked down and discovered to my dismay that I did not completely get the blood off my pants. The blood that dripped off my face and onto my pants after Evil Momma clawed me.

Momma Said Knock You Out

If you want to liven up your morning, try getting a feral, nursing momma cat into a cat carrier.

Today the cats were supposed to go to the vet. Supposed to. The kittens got there. Momma cat kicked my ass.

I tried the gentle approach first. Coaxing, tuna (that's still a good idea, Bridgett), etc. Nope. She backed herself into the furthest corner under the bed. Please keep in mind that I have fostered these guys for a week and a half now and Momma has not yet let me pet her; not a good sign. So I shut the bedroom door and tried to nudge her out from under the bed with a broom, at which point the shit hit the fan. I think she hit every single spot in that bedroom except the carrier, moving at about 90 miles an hour. She was literally running up the walls trying to get away.

At one point I got close enough to try and throw a towel over her, which is when she lunged past me and scratched the shit out of my FACE in the process.

So! The babies are at the vet's being tested (feline leukemia, distemper, etc.), which should give us a pretty good idea of Momma's health, since whatever Momma has, she passes on to the kittens. If the kittens test ok, they will come back home with me and Evil Momma for another three weeks, at which point they will go back to the shelter to be adopted and Momma will go to the shelter to be spayed.

And the shelter workers are going to come to my home that day with NETS to get Momma. Just like on Animal Precinct!

You know, I feel sorry for Momma, I really do. She's just trying to make her way in a world she doesn't understand, and unless she calms down after being spayed, her chances of adoption are very small.

But! There's always hope. Here's hoping.

What am I, the freaking MAID???

....... that's what I was mumbling to myself yesterday morning, as the kittens frolicked around me while I scrubbed their poop off the carpet. They need to acquire some mad litterbox skillz, STAT!

Oh, and the worker from the first shelter called me on Saturday to see if I could foster, and I had to break the news that since she hadn't gotten back to me after I fostered Momma and Baby, I had gone on the active list for the second shelter and was now doing a foster for them. She was very nice about it, but I still felt awful. Because I am two-timing the local shelters. In all fairness, I actually signed up for shelter #2 first, and when they didn't have a foster assignment for me, I signed up for shelter #1 (are you confused yet?) and did my first foster for them. I am an equal-opportunity two-timer.

In other news, Baby is now a celebrity. She was featured on an adoption segment on the local news last Wednesday. Unfortunately, she is STILL at the adoption center. They had a lot of calls about her, but no one met the adoption criteria. One family wanted to declaw her (NO - the shelter feels as strongly about this as I do), another woman did not drive and would not be able to take Baby to the vet, etc., etc.

So I went to visit Baby at the adoption center yesterday, and we had a high old time. It's just a shame that she hasn't found a new home yet.

Momma has been spayed (thank GOD - she wasn't fun to be around when she was in heat, to put it mildly) and is at the shelter waiting for adoption.

You know, it makes me feel bad that these guys haven't been adopted yet, and that they have to wait in cages for new homes after spending two months with me. But at least they got two months away from the shelter in a home environment. I'm just sort of conflicted about the whole thing right now. I mean, I really think I'm helping these mommas and kittens out; it's just hard when they have to go back. Sigh.

More Blurt

Hair
I didn't bother styling my hair this morning, and consequently I look like some poorly-drawn cartoon character.

Catnip
In an attempt to connect with Momma cat, I made a catnip pillow and tentatively (lest I lose a hand) pushed it toward her under the bed. At first she ignored it, but within a few minutes she was ripping into that thing like a lion tearing into an antelope. Maybe she was pretending it was me.

Oh, and Momma has a white tip on the end of her tail. I've had these fosters for a week now, and last night was the first time she revealed enough of herself for me to see the tip of her tail. Sigh.

Squash
Squash is one of those foods that taste totally disgusting, but in such a mild way that it's hard to get too pissed off about it. See also: Zucchini, Sweet Potatoes.

The Long Walk
So, watching "The Mist" got me thinking about my favorite Stephen King book. Which has to be "The Long Walk", hands down. Now technically I think it's a novella, and I think he wrote it under Richard Bachman. Oh, here it is. And this is not a "horror" novel (King's usual genre), so don't be put off by that. Second-favorite Stephen King? "The Stand".

Recently Seen
Sign by the side of the road: "Welders for Sale. Inquire Within." Hmmmmm........

Ramblin' On
I've got to stop posting these random, meandering entries. I'm starting to sound like Andy Rooney. Or Seinfeld. Or just a poorly written, ill-constructed blog. Heh.

I won!!! I WON!!!!!!

I won a Zune in a contest over at Confessions of a Pioneer Woman! There were over 10,000 entries and two winners, and I'm one of them! Woot!

See, here's the thing. I never win anything. Nada. And it's so funny, but I was actually thinking on my way to work this morning, "I wonder if I won the Zune contest?" And then I was all, like, "Why are you even thinking that? Why did it even cross your mind? You never win anything! And, plus, there's probably, like, ten thousand entries. What are the odds?"

As it turns out, the odds were very, very good.

I WON!!!!!!!!!!!!

Thanks, Pioneer Woman!

Oh, so then, I was trying to e-mail my contact info to her, and I was using Yahoo mail, which I almost never use, and I kept trying to "tab", which as it turns out is actually "send" in Yahoo mail, and ......... yeah ........... you get the picture. I sent the Pioneer Woman like twenty e-mails, accidently. Oooops!

The Blurt

Yum-MAY!
I picked wild strawberries out of the side yard to have with my ice cream last night. Hello, summer! Unfortunately, I then had to turn on the furnace. Because, hello, fifty degrees!

America's Got Talent
I know, I KNOW, I just caught a teeny portion whilst flipping channels, honest! Although I am not ashamed to admit that I may be watching vast swathes of this show later in the summer, because reruns of "Jon and Kate Plus Eight" get kind of tiresome after a while, although I am eagerly awaiting the "very special episode" when Jon pisses off Kate one time too many and she guts him like a fish.

OK, so back to the talent show. They had a couple of guys playing the violin, and all I could think of was that song from the movie 1776, "He Plays the Violin". I will admit to having a girl crush on Blythe Danner in that movie. Oh, and that movie! I loved that movie! Oh, and that song, Momma Look Sharp: "Momma, hey momma, come lookin' for me"....... (SOB). Sorry. If you've never seen it, you have NO IDEA what I'm talking about here.

Momma Cat
Momma is now giving me a baleful stink-eye, as opposed to cowering in abject terror, whenever I peer underneath the bed to talk to her. Progress?

Baby Cats
One of them made it almost to the top of the scratching post last night. Another developmental milestone!

FAIL!
My doctor called yesterday - I flunked the bone density test. The easiest test in the entire world, and I flunked it. The good news is, instead of going to summer school, I just have to double up on my calcium.

"God! I think they're attracted to the light!"
Really?! Really?! Thanks, Einstein! They are GIANT INSECTS, after all!

I watched "The Mist" last night. If you haven't seen it yet, please do. I enjoyed the shit out of this movie. (Don't worry: No spoilers ahead. And please don't leave any spoilers in the comments; my other reader (heh) may not have seen it yet.) Even though the special effects were sometimes laughable and the plot had more holes than swiss cheese, I found this movie oddly compelling. I just couldn't stop watching. It was based on an old short story by Stephen King, back when he could actually write a damn fine story instead of going over the same boring ground (famous author in peril! Oh noes!) over and over again.

ANYWAY! Even if you don't like it, although I think you will, please, please stick with it till the end. The ending of this movie will kick your butt. Seriously. Must see. I can't remember the last time the ending of a movie ......... ok, stopping there. Watch it. Trust me.

SO! That's what's going on in my neck of the woods. What's up with you?

Oh. Mah. Gah.

During my lunch time yesterday, I got into a fight with a K-Mart cashier. Awesome!

Dear Marge at the Binghamton K-Mart:

The sales flyer said the shampoo was "Buy One Get One Free". It did not say "Buy One Get One Half Off". I know that that's the way it rang up, but did you really have to get all pissy when I pointed out the mistake? There was a time when I would have let it slide, but now that the economy has basically screwed the pooch, I can't afford to let it slide anymore.

Because there was a line of people behind me, I asked you to please just ring me up, so that I could go to customer service and get it straightened out. BUT NO. You insisted that you had to go to the pharmacy counter (WTF? It wasn't prescription shampoo, just plain ol' L'Oreal) to get a price check.

Then you came back from the pharmacy (WTF?) and said that I had purchased the wrong shampoo. I showed you the sales flyer, which pictured the exact shampoo I had purchased, in the size and style I had purchased, undermeath the header "Buy One Get One Free". Then you gave me an eye-roll and a heavy sigh, and said you'd have to get a manager. Oh sweet baby jeezus. I took this opportunity to apologize to the people in line behind me.

Oh, and the reason I took the sales flyer with me to the store? It's because this crap happens all the freaking time at K-Mart. You need to take the flyer with you, so that when stuff rings up wrong, you can show them the price as advertised in the flyer. This is why I almost never shop at K-Mart. After this latest go-round, make it, "This is why I never shop at K-Mart".

So! You came back with the manager, who took a look at the flyer, got out her little key, and overrode the computer so that I would get the correct, advertised price, i.e., "Buy One Get One Fucking Free, Marge, you pissy old bitch."

Now. I know it was not your fault the computer rang it up wrong. But I also know that it was not necessary to give me a metric ton of shit when I pointed it out. I was polite throughout this whole unpleasant encounter. You were not. And as I was leaving, I heard you start to bitch at the lady in line behind me because the pair of shoes she was purchasing did not have a valid UPC code.

Marge, Marge, Marge. I know you've been working at K-Mart forever, and I know it must suck to be ninety-five and still be wearing a K-Mart smock. But when you took the flyer I had showed you to point out the sale price and crumpled it up and threw it on the floor, then shoved my receipt at me, I kind of lost any sympathy I had for you.

Oh, and that receipt you shoved at me? It had a computerized note on the bottom stating "K-Mart Values Your Feedback", asking me to visit their website and "tell us about your experience".

Ohhhhh, you betcha, Marge. I told them allllll about my experience. Several paragraphs worth, actually.

Oh, and to all those people in line behind me? Let me apologize once again. I'm really, really sorry. I know you were all standing there cursing me out in your head, and I totally understand.

Meet the New Kids!

Since Momma has declined to hide them in a secret undisclosed location, the kittens have been hanging out in the carrier while Momma hides under the bed. Momma is wild (as in "feral", not as in "let's party"), and for some reason she shows little interest in the babies other than to nurse them (thank God for that) and clean them. She also comes out to eat, drink, and use the litterbox, but other than that, it's Underbed City for Momma. So I took the door off the carrier, and that's where the babies prefer to hang out.

And yes, I am a little worried, especially since I have to take them for a vet visit later this week, and I have no idea how I'm gonna get Momma out from under that bed. She's one bad ass cat, and I'd hate to lose a hand or something in the process. I guess I'll just keep spending lots of quality time in the bedroom (heh), playing with the kittens and peering under the bed trying to connect with Momma.

But! Kittens! Adorable kitttens! The shelter volunteer said they were four to five weeks, but judging by their size and crawling-around skills (or lack thereof), I'd put them at closer to three-and-a-half weeks. And they are extremely friendly and show no fear of me whatsoever, which is very cool. Very often when I peek into the carrier to see how they're doing (most of the time they're sleeping all piled up together), one of them will open up its eyes, see me, and come tumbling out, and then the others are like, "hey look! the human!" and they all come out to play.

Good times!

Beep.........beep............beep............

That's the sound of the kitten truck backing up!

I am going to the shelter after work tonight to pick up a Momma cat and her four kittens. The babies are approximately 4 - 5 weeks old, so it's gonna be nice and lively around my place!

Wish me luck!

Juno

So I finally got around to watching "Juno" the other night, long after everybody else in the free world had already seen it.

Meh.

I mean, it was alright, it was funny and touching and blah blah blah, but I just didn't think it was the BEST MOVIE EVER, like a lot of other people seem to think.

It's kind of like when Napoleon (sp?) Dynamite came out, and everybody was raving about it and quoting chunks of dialogue and the whole nine yards, and I went and saw it and just thought, well, that was ok.

Is it just me? Did anybody else see Juno and go, "meh"? Are there movies that you don't like that everybody else loves? Please, let me know!

Hot Damn!

I took my car to the skeevy part of town yesterday to get the broken AC looked at. (Why are radiator/AC shops always in the skeevy part of town?)

Diagnosis? There was a loose connection to the unit, and the system needed a recharge.

Cost? Twenty bucks!*

Suh-weeeeet!



*I tried to slip the guy an extra five, and he wouldn't take it. He told me to put it in the gas tank. I think I want to marry him.

Jeezus CHRIST!

So! I got home from work yesterday, and I went to remove the screens from the living room windows so I could close the windows and turn on the AC. (There are no foster cats in the house right now; otherwise OF COURSE I would leave the AC on all day.) I reached for one of the window screens to remove it, and

there was a fucking BAT staring back at me with its beady little fucking eyes. It was on the outside of the screen and and had wedged itself, upside down, up into the corner of the outside window jamb. I saw that bat, and I lost. my. shit.

Now, some of you may be wondering if I exaggerate the events of my life for entertainment value here on my blog.

Um ......... no. I actually TAME STUFF DOWN for the blog. About thirty percent of the bizarre crap that happens to me on a daily basis never even makes it here, mostly due to time constraints. I have been going through some ....... stuff right now that I haven't been discussing here, in addition to everything I HAVE been discussing here. Basically, my life is nuts, despite my best efforts to CALM THINGS DOWN ALREADY. So, when I saw that FUCKING bat ........

oh hell no. Noooooooooooo!

Now, I have not always been anti-bat. There are lots of bats in my neighborhood, and I used to enjoy watching them swoop through the night air. I'd throw popcorn off the deck, just to watch them dive down to investigate. I've had a few get into my apartment over the years, and I'd just open all the windows and the door, turn off the light, and go back to sleep. They'd always be gone in the morning.

But then one day I went into the shed, and there was a bat roosting on the ceiling light fixture. I went to get a closer look, and that bat opened up its beady eyes, curled his lip so I could see all his pointy little bat teeth, and fucking hissed at me. I do not know if you have ever seen a bat up close, but they are ugly little fuckers (wow, do you think I'm using the f-word enough here? Maybe I should throw in a few more.) And ever since that little bastard hissed at me, I have not been a bat fan. Call it a visceral reaction.

Oh, and all bats are "he"s. That's right, they're all MEN. There are no girl bats. FACT. (not)

So, extremely long story short, I got a cake slicer (hey! That's what was lying around!) and poked at the bat and he flew away. But when it came to the moment of truth, when it was time to actually POKE THE BAT? Oh dear God, honestly, I just wanted to fall into a quivering heap on my living room floor. I DID NOT WANT to have to poke that bat. I'm shuddering just writing this here.

Oh! So then, of course, I wondered if my Frankenfoot was caused by a bat bite. And now I have rabies and am going to foam at the mouth and die! Because that bat was roosting outside in broad daylight and folks, that just ain't right. But then I was talking to my sister Texas last night, and she reassured me that no, it was not a bat bite, it was probably a brown recluse or black widow spider bite, and I might want to go to the doctor because people die from that stuff, you know!

Thanks, sis.

My Left Fooooooooot

Oh my fucking GOD, you should see my fooooot! Waaaa! I'm calling it Frankenfoot. Seriously, it looks like someone took a baseball bat to my foot. The ball of the foot is swollen to at least twice its normal size, and the side of the foot is all different shades of black and blue and purple and red. I have pictures! I can prove it! I was going to post one here, until I realized that looking at the pictures MYSELF was making me kinda pukey-feeling, and I don't want to gross anybody else out unnecessarily.

So! Here's a pretty peony:

And below is a picture of the booth next to mine at Saturday's festival. This dude, who looked like freaking Quasimodo, was selling "redneck wind chimes" ( beer cans hung from a piece of wood (how hilarious!)) and "rubber band shooters" (pieces of PVC pipe screwed together (how quaint!)), and HE DID MORE BUSINESS THAN I DID. (Waaaay more, seeing as how I sold nothing.) Sigh.

By the end of the day, I wanted to take that flippin' ET and stomp on it until it exploded. Because look! He totally looks like he's giving me the finger (look at the left hand)!

But! Back to my foot! Because this is MY BLOG, dammit, and I'll talk about my Frankenfoot if I want to!

I tend to be a little, um, dramatic (REALLY?!!), so when my foot first turned black and blue FOR NO REASON, I was all, "oh noes, maybe it's that flesh-eating disease and the black and blue will start to spread and the doctors will have to TAKE OFF MY FOOT and then I'll be an amputee and waaaaaaaa......"

And then I remember what my Mom used to say to me when I was a kid and became convinced that I was dying of whatever dread disease was on that week's episode of "Emergency!". She'd say, "If you actually HAD (insert dread disease here), you'd KNOW it." In other words, cut it, little drama queen.

So! I guess I'm going to live. But my question is, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY FOOT?? I went to bed Sunday night and it was fine. I woke up Monday morning and my foot was grievously injured. I DID NOT overindulge in alcohol this weekend, so it's not like I took a baseball bat to my own foot in a drunken stupor. And if I had gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, I'm pretty sure I would have remembered if I had somehow stumbled against/over something hard enough to leave a gigantic BRUISE and copious swelling.

Anybody got any ideas?

Recently Read

Oh, this is gonna be a long list. I'm mostly just putting this up here to keep track of my reading, so feel free to skip it.

Cruddy by Lynda Barry - An illustrated novel about a girl with the most brutal childhood imaginable. Horrifying, but an incredibly good read.

A Day No Pigs Would Die by Robert Newton Peck - Technically a kid's book, but I really enjoyed it! Heh.

Skels by Magge Dubris - Fact-based novel about an EMT in NYC in the 70s - interesting.

The Children of Santa Clara by Elizabeth Marek - Nonfiction - About a young woman who works for a year at a treatment center for disturbed children - good.

My Life in Orange by Tim Guest - Nonfiction - Memoir about a kid growing up in a cult - it got good reviews, but I found it boring and didn't finish it.

The Women Who Raised Me by Victoria Rowell - Nonfiction - Let's face it, I just picked this one up because she played Dru on Y&R - Memoir about her upbringing in foster care - This started out interesting, but I lost interest once she grew up and quit about 20 pages from the end.

Charity Girl by Michael Lowenthal - Novel about a woman sent to a camp for "bad girls" during World War I - Based in fact - good.

The Girl Who Stopped Swimming by Joshilyn Jackson - About the aftermath of a girl's death - very good - I really enjoyed this one.

Hope's Boy by Andrew Bridge - Nonfiction - About a boy in the foster care system. Interesting, but sad.

A Lesson Before Dying by Ernest J. Gaines - I thought I had read this one before, but I hadn't. About race relations in the South in the 40s - very good.

A Snowflake in My Hand by Samantha Mooney - Nonfiction about a woman who works in a vet clinic and the terminal cancer cats she cared for - It may have been a little too soon for me to read this one. I found it sad, but good.

Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen by Susan Gregg Gilmore - About a preacher's daughter trying to make her own way. Enjoyable.

From Our House by Lee Martin - Memoir of growing up with a disabled, violent father. Interesting.

Three Little Words by Ashley Rhodes-Courter - Memoir about growing up in foster care - interesting. I'm starting to think I'm reading too many foster care stories right about now.

Stop-Time by Frank Conroy - Memoir. This was highly praised, and I found it interesting, but this guy has a chip on his shoulder the size of a boulder about his teenage years. Maybe deservedly so, but still.

Summer of Night by Dan Simmons - Oh! I really wanted to read this one, as it came highly recommended, but the print was so damn small that even with my reading glasses on, I would get a headache after just a few pages. Damn this aging process!

The Tender Land by Kathleen Finneran - About the recovery of a family after their teenage son kills himself. Depressing as all hell (understandably so).

The Known World by Edward Jones - Pulitzer-prize winning novel about slavery after the Civil War. It was okay.

The Lemon Jelly Cake by Madeline Smith - Novel about a small town in the early 1900s. Corny as all get out, but still a light, fun read.

SO! That's what I've been reading over the past couple of months. How about you?

Random Weekend Stuff

I sat in the sun, in 92-degree heat, for five hours on Saturday at the festival and did not sell one blessed photograph. Throwing in the towel, I am.

On the plus side, I put up a poster with Momma and Baby and their adoption info, and that drew lots of interest. More interest than my photos did. Ha!

My peonies are blooming! Likewise the iris, and the poppies, and the columbine. I think the heat prompted everything to pop at once.

My mother's cat, Tinker, passed away. He was 15. My mom (who has Alzheimer's) informed me that my sister TIB killed him. Possible? Oh yes. Likely? Not very. (Oh, and Listie, if you're reading, we went to Pete's Legacy Diner on Old Vestal Road on Sunday. Do you ever go there? Hint: avoid the Greek omelet. Also, see the comments down below in the Kool-Aid Pie post for the location of the Parkway Diner.)

I woke up this morning with a huge bruise on the bottom of my foot. You'd think an incident that could inspire such a bruise would be memorable, but I have no idea how I got that bruise. Whaaaa?

Oh, and the AC in the car conked out yesterday. Don't ever buy a Saturn .......

The Mere Sound of My Name Makes People Swear

The other day at lunchtime I dropped off my wool winter coat at the dry cleaners. Procrastinating, you say? Not really. Because you don't want to dry clean your winter stuff until it stops snowing, and around here? If you want to be safe, you'd darn well better wait until June.

So, this place is run by Koreans. And the gal who usually works the counter was pressing clothes, so this other dude came up to the counter to help me. And he started filling out the ticket, and he asked for my last name.

Now, my last name is a very common, six-letter last name. And I said it to him, and he turned around and said something to the girl in Korean. First he said my last name, and then evidently, he said, "how do you spell that?", because she said the first letter, said the second letter, and then snapped. She went off on this guy in a torrent of Korean, and I am guessing by the tone and the volume that lots of swearing was involved. Then she stomped off.

So the guy turns back to me, with a kind of resigned look on his face, like this happens all the time. And I spelled my last name for him, and he gave me my ticket, and I left.

I mean, WTF?! The only thing I can think of is that my last name (which, incidentally, is a very anglo last name, along the lines of "Smith" or "Jones") is actually a swear word in Korean. Like, maybe my name means something like "motherf**ker" in Korean, and she got two letters into spelling it out, realized what she was spelling, thought the dude was playing a trick on her, and got pissed off.

That's all I can come up with, anyway.

And if my name actually does mean "motherf**ker" in Korean, that's pretty funny.

NOW You Tell Me!?

I PROMISE that this blog is not going to be all foster cats, all the time, but first ....... I need to get this off my chest.

A little background: When I first starting looking into the whole foster care process, I went to the local shelter and filled out a several-page application. Then, one of the workers explained the process to me. She said that there were four main situations when they needed foster care-ers:

1. Orphaned kittens who needed to be bottle-fed.
2. Non-orphaned kittens who needed to stay with their mothers until they were weaned and old enough to be adopted.
3. Cats who were recovering from illness or surgery and needed a quiet place to stay.
4. Cats who were at the end of their lives and needed a place to, well, pass away, in a non-shelter setting.

And she asked which I would be interested in. And I said, well, everything but the last situation. I explained that Rocky, my beloved cat companion of fifteen years, had passed away just a few months before, and I did not feel ready to go through that again. And she said, fine, we'll start you with kittens!

SO! Flash-forward to this morning, when I returned Momma and Baby to the shelter after their two month stay with me. I took them in and put them in their carrier on the counter. This is the conversation that followed:

Shelter worker: "Wow! I can't believe how good they look! They're so big! We didn't think they'd make it, you know."

Me: "Whaaaaa?"

Shelter worker: "Yeah, the night they came in (note: this would be the night before the day they called me and asked me to come pick them up THAT DAY), the kitten was so tiny, and the mother was so malnourished, we really didn't think they had much of a chance."

Me: ---------

Seriously? After I had specifically explained that I was not ready to face any "end-of-life issues", they sent me home with two cats whom they thought were about to drop dead.

Now granted, all's well that ends well, but still.

I Did Not Cry .....

.... and I don't know whether I should feel proud of myself, or ashamed.

Going .......... Going ...............

'

Momma and Baby are going back to the shelter in the morning to find their new homes. Unless, of course, someone here in local Blogland (i.e., upstate New York) would like to add a coupla cool cats to their household. Just thought I'd give you guys first crack at it .....

'

(and no, by the way, for those of you who may just be stopping by, I am not giving away my own cats. I do foster work for local animal shelters; I am just a temporary home for cats who need one. Then they go back to the shelter so they can be adopted into permanent homes. Just wanted to make that clear!)

Slow News Day

One of the headlines on the Yahoo home page yesterday was "Jewel has bizarre dream about Bob Dylan."

I wonder if anyone other than Jewel (and possibly Bob Dylan, though somehow I kind of doubt he checks Yahoo) clicked on that link.

Rich and Famous

First off, let me say this: I am glad that they were able to operate on Ted Kennedy's brain tumor. I hope he makes a full recovery, or at the least is able to enjoy a longer life span than he would have otherwise.

That being said, I was at the hospital yesterday for tests (just routine stuff*), and I was in the waiting room watching CNN, and they were talking about his surgery.

And I was confused, because I did not think that his type of tumor was operable, but evidently they decided to go for it. And then I wondered who got bumped down on the surgery list because a *Kennedy* needed surgery pronto.

And then I found her.

I mean, I know, technically, it wasn't her, specifically. But still. And this stuff happens every single day in this country. Don't tell me that the system isn't fucked up, because it is. Big time.



*I love, love, love bone density tests. You get to lay down for them! And they're totally painless! Why can't all tests be that way?

Kool-Aid Pie

So! I tried kool-aid pie over the weekend, and it was just ........ yuck. Just wrong on so many levels. I mean, the concept sounded innocuous enough - cool whip, condensed milk, and kool-aid for flavor, in a graham cracker crust. There's not much that a graham cracker crust can't make good. But this pie just tasted blech. Nuff said.

But! I have made a new food discovery, and I am in love. I took my Mom out for lunch at a local diner (oh diners! how I love you!) a few weeks back, and they had a Monte Cristo sandwich on the menu. I had never heard of this before (I don't get out much, obviously), and so I ordered one (because that's how I roll. Never heard of it? Order it! Heh.) and oh my it was the best sandwich I'd had in a long time. Now I make them at home all the time.

Now, this is a sandwich where, if you just look at the ingredient list, you're all, ewwww. But trust me, this is one fine sandwich. Here's how you make one (not that you asked, of course): Make some french toast, or buy some frozen french toast and heat it up if you're that fricken' lazy. Take some thin-sliced ham, and some thin-sliced turkey or chicken, and layer it on top of the french toast. Put some swiss cheese on top (I use smoked swiss, because it is gooooood), and nuke it in the microwave until the cheese is gooey. Folks, I swear, it's better than ..... well, insert your particular favorite vice here.

Oh! And because I don't get out much, I had quesadillas fajitas* whatever those folded-over Mexican thingies are for the first time the other weekend. I don't normally like Mexican food (beans and rice = gross), but those suckers were just chicken and onions and green peppers and salsa in fajita shells, and yum!

So! Has anybody else tried any great new foods lately? Or any terrible new foods? (Kool-aid pie, anyone?)



*The power of strikethrough compels you. Heh.

Shhhhh!!! Baby's Sleeping!

I promise that I have lots of stuff to talk about. Jack-in-the-pulpits! Snakes! Kool-aid pie!(which ohmyGod is so disgusting.) "The Family Stone"! (I wanted to like it, but I can't stand Dianne Keaton. Or Sarah Jessica Parker. Yuck.) Bone density tests! But, for now, here are some gratuitous cute kitten pics:










When Baby sleeps, she sleeps hard.