Saturday, September 29, 2007
Friday, September 28, 2007
Ozzy's BFF
We have a new cat. Her name is Zoe. She's kind of a bitch.
Last Sunday Calvin and I took a motorcycle ride to the local animal shelter. We'd been talking off and on for several weeks about getting a companion for Oz. I wanted a kitten, figuring Oz would acclimate more easily with one. Calvin wanted an adult so we wouldn't have to go through the hated "kitten stage". Let me clarify, he hates the kitten stage, specifically the "clawing of the furniture" stage.
So. Shelter. I'm going to tell you right off the bat, I HATE THAT PLACE. The feeling of utter despair completely permeates the place. It is the most depressing, most evil, most awful place on the face of this planet. Sam could totally return his recaptured souls there instead of the MVD.
We walked up and down all the lanes of cats and kittens, dogs and puppies. They all stared STRAIGHT INTO MY SOUL. Every one of them. And I positively knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that each and every one of those animals would make a fabulous family addition, and just about each and every one of those animals would never get adopted.
By the second lane of animals I was womanfully choking back tears. But the third lane of animals I gave it up as hopeless and just BAWLED. Dear fucking lord (sorry, that's way taking His name in vain), I HATE THAT PLACE. All those beautiful, sad, tragically hopeful animals.
Calvin discovered a kitten, a little orange guy, that had a super personality. So I coo'ed and snuggled him, fully expecting to take him home. Calvin said he'd just check beyond the door marked "more cats through here", then he'd come back and we'd make arrangements to take the little guy home. A few minutes later he poked his head back into the room I was in, and asked me to come check out a cat he found. So I handed the kitten back to the volunteer and followed Calvin.
He lead me to a cage that had a lone occupant. At first glance she looked startlingly like Ozzy. The information sheet posted outside of her cage said that she was approximately two years old, and upon handling her we discovered that she was declawed in both front and back feet. Which meant that she was also probably spayed, but the information sheet didn't say. They had no history on this animal - not even a name - just the fact that the owner "didn't want her on the property anymore" and turned her in on the 9th of September. That day was the 23rd.
We went to the administrative desk (I was still crying like a stupid stupidhead - this time feeling guilty about the orange kitten we'd changed our minds about. I know, though, that kittens have a MUCH better chance at adoption than adult cats), filled out forms and paid our fees, and requested that when she was checked for spaying that they also test her for feline leukemia. We were instructed to come pick her up on Wednesday.
We went to Chili's. I had a beer and a shot. I felt better.
On Monday I posted that whole long list of crap I had to get done. Immediately after that I checked the voicemail messages (someone beeped in while I was talking to Calvin) and found a message from the shelter - the cat turned out to be already spayed and she was ready to be picked up. SO! After several failed attempts to call them back (disconnections, no answers, GUH-ROWL) and find out if the leuk test came back negative, I decided to just drive up there. If she was tested and all was fine, I'd take her home. If she wasn't, I'd re-instruct them to test her and come back again to pick her up.
I stopped at PetSmart on the way to get a litter box and dishes and whatnot, then went to the shelter's clinic. I also HATE THAT PLACE. I was buzzed in and handed the carrier over to the technician on duty, and then sat there listening to the WAILING cats and dogs inside the clinic. I almost started crying again. I double checked with the technician when she returned with the cat, who confirmed that they had tested her for feline leukemia and the tests came back negative. I peeped into the carrier and said hi to the little girl, who gave me a very plaintive mew in return.
The technician told me that if she hadn't been adopted, she had been on the list to be euthanized on Friday. Which is today. I might start crying again.
Now, usually when I put Ozzy in the carrier to go to the vets or some such thing, he MROWLS at the top of his lungs like he's being killed. This little girl just kind of squeaked and pdddrrrt at me as I talked to her on the drive home. I got her home, put her in the workout room, arranged her food and water and litter box, then sat on the floor to get acquainted.
What a SWEET little cat she is. She climbed up into my lap, purred and purred and PURRED, "talked" up a storm, and kept butting at my hands if I paused in my petting. She looks VERY like Ozzy, especially around the head. She's a little darker, her hair is a little whispy-er, and she's SO SOFT.
I kept her shut in the room to let her get settled. When Calvin got home he, of course, wanted to see how she and Oz would interact with one another. So he opened the door between them.
Oz was all, "Hi! Who are you? Are you a person too? You look like me! Will you be my friend?"
The new cat (now named Zoe) was all, "GET YE GONE, YOU MINION OF SATAN."
Aaaaand that's how it's pretty much gone all week long. Zoe is wonderful and sweet and loving and craves attention from people, tolerates the dogs, and goes into a spastic fit every time she sees Oz. Oz alternates between hurt confusion, indifference, and "Fuck you bitch, you want to spat? I'll show you a spat!" There is much yowling and growling.
So after we introduced the cats and they'd been spitting at one another for a while, we got another message from the animal shelter. They were SO SORRY, but the cat had in fact NOT been tested for feline leukemia, and we could bring her back, and blah blah blah, and DAMMIT.
I made an appointment with our vet for the next day. Oz and Zoe had already been introduced. If she was sick there was little we could do about it now. Fortunately, the result of the trip to the vets was a clean bill of health and a negative result on the leuk test. Still. The shelter can suck a bag of dicks. They could have gotten my Ozzy sick. The bastids.
I find the dispute between Oz and Zoe somewhat amusing - they can't hurt one another, and they're really just talking. They haven't gotten physical with one another. Calvin finds it very frustrating. He wants them to be BFF RIGHT NOW. I know the cats will find their own peace and their own positions in the household. Calvin wants to force them to be friends. Yeah, right. Forcing a cat to do anything is like pushing a rope. Currently, I am keeping the cats separated unless we are home to monitor them. Oz is enjoying taunting Zoe under the door, from his position out in the hallway. Zoe doesn't really care unless she physically sees him. The one who is most upset in the household is Calvin.
I don't think kitty treats work on him.
(Pictures forthcoming as soon as I get them off my camera.)
Last Sunday Calvin and I took a motorcycle ride to the local animal shelter. We'd been talking off and on for several weeks about getting a companion for Oz. I wanted a kitten, figuring Oz would acclimate more easily with one. Calvin wanted an adult so we wouldn't have to go through the hated "kitten stage". Let me clarify, he hates the kitten stage, specifically the "clawing of the furniture" stage.
So. Shelter. I'm going to tell you right off the bat, I HATE THAT PLACE. The feeling of utter despair completely permeates the place. It is the most depressing, most evil, most awful place on the face of this planet. Sam could totally return his recaptured souls there instead of the MVD.
We walked up and down all the lanes of cats and kittens, dogs and puppies. They all stared STRAIGHT INTO MY SOUL. Every one of them. And I positively knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that each and every one of those animals would make a fabulous family addition, and just about each and every one of those animals would never get adopted.
By the second lane of animals I was womanfully choking back tears. But the third lane of animals I gave it up as hopeless and just BAWLED. Dear fucking lord (sorry, that's way taking His name in vain), I HATE THAT PLACE. All those beautiful, sad, tragically hopeful animals.
Calvin discovered a kitten, a little orange guy, that had a super personality. So I coo'ed and snuggled him, fully expecting to take him home. Calvin said he'd just check beyond the door marked "more cats through here", then he'd come back and we'd make arrangements to take the little guy home. A few minutes later he poked his head back into the room I was in, and asked me to come check out a cat he found. So I handed the kitten back to the volunteer and followed Calvin.
He lead me to a cage that had a lone occupant. At first glance she looked startlingly like Ozzy. The information sheet posted outside of her cage said that she was approximately two years old, and upon handling her we discovered that she was declawed in both front and back feet. Which meant that she was also probably spayed, but the information sheet didn't say. They had no history on this animal - not even a name - just the fact that the owner "didn't want her on the property anymore" and turned her in on the 9th of September. That day was the 23rd.
We went to the administrative desk (I was still crying like a stupid stupidhead - this time feeling guilty about the orange kitten we'd changed our minds about. I know, though, that kittens have a MUCH better chance at adoption than adult cats), filled out forms and paid our fees, and requested that when she was checked for spaying that they also test her for feline leukemia. We were instructed to come pick her up on Wednesday.
We went to Chili's. I had a beer and a shot. I felt better.
On Monday I posted that whole long list of crap I had to get done. Immediately after that I checked the voicemail messages (someone beeped in while I was talking to Calvin) and found a message from the shelter - the cat turned out to be already spayed and she was ready to be picked up. SO! After several failed attempts to call them back (disconnections, no answers, GUH-ROWL) and find out if the leuk test came back negative, I decided to just drive up there. If she was tested and all was fine, I'd take her home. If she wasn't, I'd re-instruct them to test her and come back again to pick her up.
I stopped at PetSmart on the way to get a litter box and dishes and whatnot, then went to the shelter's clinic. I also HATE THAT PLACE. I was buzzed in and handed the carrier over to the technician on duty, and then sat there listening to the WAILING cats and dogs inside the clinic. I almost started crying again. I double checked with the technician when she returned with the cat, who confirmed that they had tested her for feline leukemia and the tests came back negative. I peeped into the carrier and said hi to the little girl, who gave me a very plaintive mew in return.
The technician told me that if she hadn't been adopted, she had been on the list to be euthanized on Friday. Which is today. I might start crying again.
Now, usually when I put Ozzy in the carrier to go to the vets or some such thing, he MROWLS at the top of his lungs like he's being killed. This little girl just kind of squeaked and pdddrrrt at me as I talked to her on the drive home. I got her home, put her in the workout room, arranged her food and water and litter box, then sat on the floor to get acquainted.
What a SWEET little cat she is. She climbed up into my lap, purred and purred and PURRED, "talked" up a storm, and kept butting at my hands if I paused in my petting. She looks VERY like Ozzy, especially around the head. She's a little darker, her hair is a little whispy-er, and she's SO SOFT.
I kept her shut in the room to let her get settled. When Calvin got home he, of course, wanted to see how she and Oz would interact with one another. So he opened the door between them.
Oz was all, "Hi! Who are you? Are you a person too? You look like me! Will you be my friend?"
The new cat (now named Zoe) was all, "GET YE GONE, YOU MINION OF SATAN."
Aaaaand that's how it's pretty much gone all week long. Zoe is wonderful and sweet and loving and craves attention from people, tolerates the dogs, and goes into a spastic fit every time she sees Oz. Oz alternates between hurt confusion, indifference, and "Fuck you bitch, you want to spat? I'll show you a spat!" There is much yowling and growling.
So after we introduced the cats and they'd been spitting at one another for a while, we got another message from the animal shelter. They were SO SORRY, but the cat had in fact NOT been tested for feline leukemia, and we could bring her back, and blah blah blah, and DAMMIT.
I made an appointment with our vet for the next day. Oz and Zoe had already been introduced. If she was sick there was little we could do about it now. Fortunately, the result of the trip to the vets was a clean bill of health and a negative result on the leuk test. Still. The shelter can suck a bag of dicks. They could have gotten my Ozzy sick. The bastids.
I find the dispute between Oz and Zoe somewhat amusing - they can't hurt one another, and they're really just talking. They haven't gotten physical with one another. Calvin finds it very frustrating. He wants them to be BFF RIGHT NOW. I know the cats will find their own peace and their own positions in the household. Calvin wants to force them to be friends. Yeah, right. Forcing a cat to do anything is like pushing a rope. Currently, I am keeping the cats separated unless we are home to monitor them. Oz is enjoying taunting Zoe under the door, from his position out in the hallway. Zoe doesn't really care unless she physically sees him. The one who is most upset in the household is Calvin.
I don't think kitty treats work on him.
(Pictures forthcoming as soon as I get them off my camera.)
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Call for recipes
Hi gang. The holidays are coming (and the British, too!), have you heard? Fifty-six days until Thanksgiving, eighty-nine days until Christmas. The cooler weather (hah, and today it's 96 here in the A to tha Zona) always inspires me to cook more. I have a bunch of tried and true recipes that I consistently cycle through, and a bunch more in my Grandmother's recipe book that I have yet to try out. But I always like to ask readers to share with me. So if you have any favorite recipes that you'd like to share, e-mail them to me. Thanks!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
A protestation of minor proportions.
So Calvin and I were watching the series premiere of Reaper last night (awesome show, by the way... I shall continue with the watching). During the course of the episode one character called another character...
an ASSHAT.
I yelled, "DUDE, he so STOLE THAT!" Calvin nodded sagely in that way that he has whenever we come across a Hollywood plagiarism of our common word and/or phrase usage.
I can't remember if "asshat" belongs to Amanda or Sherry. But it belongs to one of them, dammit, and the CW totally stole it!
an ASSHAT.
I yelled, "DUDE, he so STOLE THAT!" Calvin nodded sagely in that way that he has whenever we come across a Hollywood plagiarism of our common word and/or phrase usage.
I can't remember if "asshat" belongs to Amanda or Sherry. But it belongs to one of them, dammit, and the CW totally stole it!
Labels: TV
Monday, September 24, 2007
honeydew
- Work (natch).
- Fold last week's laundry.
- Wash this week's laundry.
- Spend approximately three hours cleaning the kitchen.
- Put away the twelve-foot pile of crap that is on top of my dresser, having been removed from top drawer of said dresser in our weekend search for the key to my motorcycle.
- Figure out dinner menus for the next week.
- Author a grocery shopping list of epic proportions.
- Go grocery shopping.
- Go to the pet store and purchase cat food, dog food, litter, litter box liners, new cat food dishes and a new litter box. We have a NEW ARRIVAL coming to live with us on Wednesday, at which point all you curious people will be regaled with the adoption story and pictures. It will bring tears to your eyes.
- Go to the bank.
- Work out - 40 minutes of cardio, and upper body weights.
- Line up the DVR schedule for ALL THE DAMNED TV WE WILL BE WATCHING THIS SEASON. Heroes, Grey's Anatomy, CSI, Criminal Minds, Bionic Woman, Carpoolers, Pushing Daisies, Private Practice, Two and a Half Men, How I Met Your Mother, Big Bang Theory, Dirty Sexy Money, Big Shots, Moonlight, Journeyman, BSG: Razor, and fifteen others that I can't think of right this second. Thank God for Ducky Does TV.
- Tonight, specifically - Heroes, Big Bang Theory, How I Met Your Mother, Two and a Half Men, and Journeyman. I think we need another DVR.
- Do all the night-time chores - cook dinner, feed the dogs, feed the lizards, get the coffee ready for tomorrow, get my lunch together for tomorrow, lay Calvin's work clothes out.
- Collapse in an exhausted heap.
Labels: best things, listy goodness, pets, TV
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Bee-yoo-tee-ful
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Can't. Look. Away.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Many things
First, let me (and Jen, nyah) say, THANK GOD.
Second, Calvin and Marie and I went to Kona Grill last night in celebration of Marie's birthday. Much food was eaten, and a good time was had by all. (I was going to write this entry yesterday but I promised Marie I would leave her "Happy Birthday" message up as the uppermost entry for the WHOLE DAY in her honor.)
Third, I got four inches cut off the length of my hair last Friday, and as a result I have the Best Hair In All The World.
Fourth, today is National Talk Like a Pirate day. Avast!
And now, the weekend.
So, Friday Lucy was tearing around her tank like a crazyperson lizard, running back and forth and scrabbling up on the sides and digging digging digging. So I took her out of her tank and into the living room, where I set her on the floor so she could run around. The cat was fascinated, and she kept running at him to check him out, at which point he would squint at her and flinch like he expected her to spit in his face or something, and then run off to the nearest hiding spot. Calvin and I were mightily amused by this.
Then suddenly Lucy squatted as if she was going to take a poo on the rug. Calvin warned me and I scooted her off the rug and onto the tile, the easier to clean up the impending mess. Except that instead of poo, out plooped... an egg!
We must have stared at it for a full minute before I exclaimed, "Hey! It's an egg!" Commence with the scrambling around as Calvin went off to Home Depot to secure some soil (for a laying box) while I called Pets Inc. to see if they knew where to purchase an incubator in a hurry. Calvin came back and we used a giant Rubbermaid storage container to put the soil in. I moistened it and packed it down so Lucy could dig a little cave to lay in. We put Lucy in and put a couple of screens over the top and rested a heat lamp on the screens. We watched expectantly.
She stared back up at us.
We stared back down at her.
She just sat there and didn't seem interested in digging a nest. So I dug what is called a "starter hole" to see if that would get her instincts to kick in. Nuthin. She totally had no idea what to do. She layed a half-dozen eggs (non-viable, which is common for a first clutch) on the surface, then spent a lot of time scrabbling up the sides of the box trying to get out.
Throughout the entire weekend she would lay an egg here, an egg there, an egg in the tub when I soaked her, an egg in her and Cheeto's tank after I put her back in it because I thought she was finally done with all of this nonsense (we have since separated them into their own individual tanks)... here it is Wednesday and I'm not entirely sure that she's done with the egg laying yet.
So! That was fun.
Friday night Calvin and I met a friend up at Iguana Mack's for some beer (and some more beer) and conversation. The weather, at least at night, is finally to the point where riding places on the motorcycle is comfortable again. I'm back to being a lightweight because I haven't been drinking very much at all, really, since we came back from the beer festival. So I got loopy and silly, as is my nature, and suffered a mild hangover the next morning. Phooey.
Saturday morning we watched "Invincible" on TV, and I drooled over Mark Wahlberg.
(pic courtesy of mark-wahlberg.org)
Being in a football frame of mind, Calvin secured tickets to the Arizona State/San Diego State college football game at Sun Devil Stadium. We left a couple of hours early in order to putter around Mill Avenue and the college district before the game. We ended up at House of Tricks (I once wrote an entry about it here). We sat at the bar and ordered drinks (whiskey and beer for Calvin, iced tea for me... stoopid hangover) and an appetizer, and just sat conversing and laughing and enjoying the cool-ish weather. We brought the camera with us and Calvin shot a few pics, then a nice man from across the bar came over and offered to take a picture of us together.
We left Tricks about a half-hour before the game started, and walked and walked and WALKED because we parked closer to the stadium than to the action-side of Mill. Now, I LOVE Sun Devil Stadium. I love the crowd, I love the college students, I love the atmosphere. I love the tributes to Pat Tillman, whom I was fortunate enough to see play when he was an ASU Sun Devil AND when he was a Cardinal.
I think I like being at a college game better than being at a pro game. There just seems to be more energy - the chants, the band playing, the students bouncing a blow-up doll among the crowd:
Some more pics:
The Devils beat up San Diego with a final score of 34-13. We left at halftime, though, to go back down to Mill (walky walky walky) and hang out at a bar for an hour or so. We watched the culmination of the game from a place called Coconuts.
We rode home. We wrestled. We went to sleep.
The phone rang at 2:00 in the morning. Calvin rolled over and grunted into the receiver - it was Marie's boyfriend saying they had a fight and Marie said she was going to our house, and was Marie there? Calvin got up and checked... no Marie. The boyfriend was informed, we knew Marie would head to a friend's house first, and we went back to sleep.
The phone rang at 3:00 in the morning. Calvin rolled over and grunted into the receiver - it was Marie asking if we had called her. Calvin said no. Marie said she'd gotten a call from our home number. Calvin said it wasn't us. He got up and checked the house to see if maybe it had been Michael who had called. Michael was at his girlfriends. We deduced that Marie's boyfriend called from our house to see if he could get Marie to pick up, having let himself in.
That caused some consternation. Not a lot, because we know this kid and know he wouldn't do anything wrong or rash or mean. But still. We shared an "Oh no he DI-INT" moment with Marie, and went back to sleep.
(Later) Sunday morning we woke up and discovered Marie asleep on the couch. The rest of the day was spent talking with her, talking with Marie's boyfriend when he showed up, watching TV, and napping. Currently, the boyfriend has moved out of Marie's apartment, and Michael is considering moving in with her.
(Snoopy dance!)
So! That was the drama of last weekend. This weekend is shaping up to deliver some NICE weather (supposed to be 88 on Saturday), so I'll probably have more pics to share of whatever trouble Calvin and I can find to get ourselves into.
Second, Calvin and Marie and I went to Kona Grill last night in celebration of Marie's birthday. Much food was eaten, and a good time was had by all. (I was going to write this entry yesterday but I promised Marie I would leave her "Happy Birthday" message up as the uppermost entry for the WHOLE DAY in her honor.)
Third, I got four inches cut off the length of my hair last Friday, and as a result I have the Best Hair In All The World.
Fourth, today is National Talk Like a Pirate day. Avast!
And now, the weekend.
So, Friday Lucy was tearing around her tank like a crazy
Then suddenly Lucy squatted as if she was going to take a poo on the rug. Calvin warned me and I scooted her off the rug and onto the tile, the easier to clean up the impending mess. Except that instead of poo, out plooped... an egg!
We must have stared at it for a full minute before I exclaimed, "Hey! It's an egg!" Commence with the scrambling around as Calvin went off to Home Depot to secure some soil (for a laying box) while I called Pets Inc. to see if they knew where to purchase an incubator in a hurry. Calvin came back and we used a giant Rubbermaid storage container to put the soil in. I moistened it and packed it down so Lucy could dig a little cave to lay in. We put Lucy in and put a couple of screens over the top and rested a heat lamp on the screens. We watched expectantly.
She stared back up at us.
We stared back down at her.
She just sat there and didn't seem interested in digging a nest. So I dug what is called a "starter hole" to see if that would get her instincts to kick in. Nuthin. She totally had no idea what to do. She layed a half-dozen eggs (non-viable, which is common for a first clutch) on the surface, then spent a lot of time scrabbling up the sides of the box trying to get out.
Throughout the entire weekend she would lay an egg here, an egg there, an egg in the tub when I soaked her, an egg in her and Cheeto's tank after I put her back in it because I thought she was finally done with all of this nonsense (we have since separated them into their own individual tanks)... here it is Wednesday and I'm not entirely sure that she's done with the egg laying yet.
So! That was fun.
Friday night Calvin and I met a friend up at Iguana Mack's for some beer (and some more beer) and conversation. The weather, at least at night, is finally to the point where riding places on the motorcycle is comfortable again. I'm back to being a lightweight because I haven't been drinking very much at all, really, since we came back from the beer festival. So I got loopy and silly, as is my nature, and suffered a mild hangover the next morning. Phooey.
Saturday morning we watched "Invincible" on TV, and I drooled over Mark Wahlberg.
Being in a football frame of mind, Calvin secured tickets to the Arizona State/San Diego State college football game at Sun Devil Stadium. We left a couple of hours early in order to putter around Mill Avenue and the college district before the game. We ended up at House of Tricks (I once wrote an entry about it here). We sat at the bar and ordered drinks (whiskey and beer for Calvin, iced tea for me... stoopid hangover) and an appetizer, and just sat conversing and laughing and enjoying the cool-ish weather. We brought the camera with us and Calvin shot a few pics, then a nice man from across the bar came over and offered to take a picture of us together.
We left Tricks about a half-hour before the game started, and walked and walked and WALKED because we parked closer to the stadium than to the action-side of Mill. Now, I LOVE Sun Devil Stadium. I love the crowd, I love the college students, I love the atmosphere. I love the tributes to Pat Tillman, whom I was fortunate enough to see play when he was an ASU Sun Devil AND when he was a Cardinal.
I think I like being at a college game better than being at a pro game. There just seems to be more energy - the chants, the band playing, the students bouncing a blow-up doll among the crowd:
Some more pics:
The Devils beat up San Diego with a final score of 34-13. We left at halftime, though, to go back down to Mill (walky walky walky) and hang out at a bar for an hour or so. We watched the culmination of the game from a place called Coconuts.
We rode home. We wrestled. We went to sleep.
The phone rang at 2:00 in the morning. Calvin rolled over and grunted into the receiver - it was Marie's boyfriend saying they had a fight and Marie said she was going to our house, and was Marie there? Calvin got up and checked... no Marie. The boyfriend was informed, we knew Marie would head to a friend's house first, and we went back to sleep.
The phone rang at 3:00 in the morning. Calvin rolled over and grunted into the receiver - it was Marie asking if we had called her. Calvin said no. Marie said she'd gotten a call from our home number. Calvin said it wasn't us. He got up and checked the house to see if maybe it had been Michael who had called. Michael was at his girlfriends. We deduced that Marie's boyfriend called from our house to see if he could get Marie to pick up, having let himself in.
That caused some consternation. Not a lot, because we know this kid and know he wouldn't do anything wrong or rash or mean. But still. We shared an "Oh no he DI-INT" moment with Marie, and went back to sleep.
(Later) Sunday morning we woke up and discovered Marie asleep on the couch. The rest of the day was spent talking with her, talking with Marie's boyfriend when he showed up, watching TV, and napping. Currently, the boyfriend has moved out of Marie's apartment, and Michael is considering moving in with her.
(Snoopy dance!)
So! That was the drama of last weekend. This weekend is shaping up to deliver some NICE weather (supposed to be 88 on Saturday), so I'll probably have more pics to share of whatever trouble Calvin and I can find to get ourselves into.
Labels: booze, journal, kids, lizards, photography
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
A lovely girl with sunlight in her hair
Happy nineteenth birthday, Marie!!!
Venus, if you will
Please send a little girl for me to thrill
A girl who wants my kisses and my arms
A girl with all the charms of you
Venus, make her fair
A lovely girl with sunlight in her hair
And take the brightest stars up in the skies
And place them in her eyes for me
Venus, goddess of love that you are
Surely the things I ask
Can't be too great a task
Venus, if you do
I promise that I always will be true
I'll give her all the love I have to give
As long as we both shall live
Venus, goddess of love that you are
Surely the things I ask
Can't be too great a task
Venus if you do
I promise that I always will be true
I'll give her all the love I have to give
As long as we both shall live
Hey, Venus
Oh, Venus
Make my wish come true
Venus, if you will
Please send a little girl for me to thrill
A girl who wants my kisses and my arms
A girl with all the charms of you
Venus, make her fair
A lovely girl with sunlight in her hair
And take the brightest stars up in the skies
And place them in her eyes for me
Venus, goddess of love that you are
Surely the things I ask
Can't be too great a task
Venus, if you do
I promise that I always will be true
I'll give her all the love I have to give
As long as we both shall live
Venus, goddess of love that you are
Surely the things I ask
Can't be too great a task
Venus if you do
I promise that I always will be true
I'll give her all the love I have to give
As long as we both shall live
Hey, Venus
Oh, Venus
Make my wish come true
Labels: kids
Monday, September 17, 2007
classics
Where is it hot?
cured
An antidote to the video link I posted in my last entry. Thanks to Jen who forwarded me the link, knowing how much I adore Seth Green. And who blames me for ever introducing her to Chris Crocker. I, in turn, blame Calvin, who in turn blames Howard Stern. This is how evil spreads, people.
Labels: video
Thursday, September 13, 2007
blink
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Not helping my homesickness at all.
Courtesy of MSN Live Search, and Avitable made me do it. I did a search of the house I live in now in Arizona, but that was boring. This is a shot of Grandma's house in Maine, click on it to see full size and the commenty tag-like things I put in it.
Labels: Maine, photography
wall hitting
Gah, I'm tired. I've had an obnoxious amount of energy during the day for the past week or so, and now it seems I have hit the wall. That, or the 214 parts that I had to deactivate, one at a time, in the AcronymCo database, turned me in to a zombie.
I bet that's it.
I've been weirdly nesting over the last couple of weeks, too (no, I'm not pregnant, stop it). I cleaned the whole house on Friday afternoon and have been doing my best to keep it that way. I've been finding myself looking forward to the colder weather so I can make soups and stews and bake things. I've even found myself looking forward to Thanksgiving, of all things, because I enjoy cooking up the feast. Of course, half-way through the process, every year, I always wonder why it was I volunteered to do this nonsense. But looking at it from this end of things I've forgotten the pain of laboring in my kitchen and just fondly recall it as a fun afternoon stirring and chopping and baking.
Clearly, I am insane.
I invited my cousin and her husband out for Thanksgiving - they live in Maine and would bring a little piece of it with them should they accept our invitation. I really hope they do - they're good people. I have a feeling we would all get into a LOT of trouble during their visit.
I am determined to have all of my Christmas shopping DONE before Thanksgiving. Yea verily, I have spoken.
I bet that's it.
I've been weirdly nesting over the last couple of weeks, too (no, I'm not pregnant, stop it). I cleaned the whole house on Friday afternoon and have been doing my best to keep it that way. I've been finding myself looking forward to the colder weather so I can make soups and stews and bake things. I've even found myself looking forward to Thanksgiving, of all things, because I enjoy cooking up the feast. Of course, half-way through the process, every year, I always wonder why it was I volunteered to do this nonsense. But looking at it from this end of things I've forgotten the pain of laboring in my kitchen and just fondly recall it as a fun afternoon stirring and chopping and baking.
Clearly, I am insane.
I invited my cousin and her husband out for Thanksgiving - they live in Maine and would bring a little piece of it with them should they accept our invitation. I really hope they do - they're good people. I have a feeling we would all get into a LOT of trouble during their visit.
I am determined to have all of my Christmas shopping DONE before Thanksgiving. Yea verily, I have spoken.
Labels: journal
Monday, September 10, 2007
Aaaaaaand I'm up.
It's 3:28 in the ay-em. I'm working from home today, otherwise I'd be pissed that insomnia has struck again.
It's amazing the number of things I can do in the total darkness. For instance, just now I went potty (natch), found my clothes, turned both pants and shirt right-side out, dressed, took my huffer (asthma is SO 1997), found the exact book I wanted from the row of books on top of my dresser, un-plugged my laptop (currently 2:29 remaining of battery power and falling) (spot the rather vague reference), and came out into the living room. All without waking Calvin up. I'm pretty sure.
An insomniac's mad skillz.
Calvin painted my toenails yesterday while we were watching TV - a very pretty shade of red. I pestered him into it but he was very good natured about it. He did a much better job than I would have, I must say. Unhappy feelings have blown over and we managed to have a rather warm-fuzzy weekend. An occasional argument doesn't kill us, but I sure do hate 'em. We just aren't good at staying mad at each other, which is certainly a skill I don't wish to improve upon.
I am homesick in a totally retarded way. So much so that I called my Uncle Fred on Friday just because I knew he was at Grandma's (now his) house and I could at least talk to someone that was hoooooome. And I actually did feel better. He and I haven't always gotten along, but time and distance have improved upon our relationship. He's really quite a much mellower version of the man that used to intimidate the bejeezus out of me when I was little.
Wouldn't it be nice if we could expect everyone to get nicer as they get older. Including ourselves.
Okay. I'm going to go poke around the internet for a while.
It's amazing the number of things I can do in the total darkness. For instance, just now I went potty (natch), found my clothes, turned both pants and shirt right-side out, dressed, took my huffer (asthma is SO 1997), found the exact book I wanted from the row of books on top of my dresser, un-plugged my laptop (currently 2:29 remaining of battery power and falling) (spot the rather vague reference), and came out into the living room. All without waking Calvin up. I'm pretty sure.
An insomniac's mad skillz.
Calvin painted my toenails yesterday while we were watching TV - a very pretty shade of red. I pestered him into it but he was very good natured about it. He did a much better job than I would have, I must say. Unhappy feelings have blown over and we managed to have a rather warm-fuzzy weekend. An occasional argument doesn't kill us, but I sure do hate 'em. We just aren't good at staying mad at each other, which is certainly a skill I don't wish to improve upon.
I am homesick in a totally retarded way. So much so that I called my Uncle Fred on Friday just because I knew he was at Grandma's (now his) house and I could at least talk to someone that was hoooooome. And I actually did feel better. He and I haven't always gotten along, but time and distance have improved upon our relationship. He's really quite a much mellower version of the man that used to intimidate the bejeezus out of me when I was little.
Wouldn't it be nice if we could expect everyone to get nicer as they get older. Including ourselves.
Okay. I'm going to go poke around the internet for a while.
Labels: insomnia
Saturday, September 08, 2007
Friday, September 07, 2007
Stressy
I'm not having the best of days.
Calvin and I had a big ol' argument last night, which is extremely rare and never fun. I am left with a general feeling of anxiety and unhappiness. I'm not sure of the resolution.
School continues to be a concern, as AcronymCo pulled their support of the school I was going to, and subsequently I have to transfer to an approved school if I want to continue to get tuition reimbursement. I may or may not have to take my SAT's. At 33. The very idea.
I am working quite hard to get fit and lose weight, and yet the scale persists in its stubborn refusal to move. Though it is not moving UP, it is also not moving DOWN. This angers me.
Work is work and although nothing BAD is happening there to upset me, I am completely bored in a disconcertingly mind-numbing way.
Hellooooo depression. You motherfucker.
Calvin and I had a big ol' argument last night, which is extremely rare and never fun. I am left with a general feeling of anxiety and unhappiness. I'm not sure of the resolution.
School continues to be a concern, as AcronymCo pulled their support of the school I was going to, and subsequently I have to transfer to an approved school if I want to continue to get tuition reimbursement. I may or may not have to take my SAT's. At 33. The very idea.
I am working quite hard to get fit and lose weight, and yet the scale persists in its stubborn refusal to move. Though it is not moving UP, it is also not moving DOWN. This angers me.
Work is work and although nothing BAD is happening there to upset me, I am completely bored in a disconcertingly mind-numbing way.
Hellooooo depression. You motherfucker.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Bedroom: Clean. Laura: Dirty!
I spent two and a half hours cleaning my bedroom today. I practically put myself into anaphylactic shock with all the dust I kicked up. Calvin's shoes were EVERYWHERE. Now they are in two places, neatly arranged. A metric ton (or thereabouts) of clutter and crap has been moved to The Storage Room Formerly Known As Marie's (five trips up and down the stairs). The laundry explosion has settled and everything is folded and hung up. I love my Dyson, and so does my carpet. I also love the Swiffer, though I went through three dusters in the course of my attack.
The speakers have been uncovered from the piles that surrounded them. The bed can be (and has been) made now that the footboard is no longer housing fifty pairs of jeans. Who needs as many pairs of jeans as we own, I ask you?
The water dragon is not adapting well to his new home, mostly because it is on cat-level and Oz delights in fucking with the lizard. Just that one. He doesn't mess with the beardies, and I think he's a little bit afraid of the snake. But the water dragon he taunts constantly. So, I put newspaper all along the outside of the tank. Oz has been thwarted, and is decidedly grumpy at me about it. You may ask how I can tell if he's grumpy, and how I can tell that said grumpiness is directed specifically at me:
1. Brodies that pinnacle up onto the (formerly) folded pile of laundry, thereby scattering said laundry to the floor.
2. A game of "Bite the toes from under the dust ruffle" as I walk around the bed while making it.
3. Glaring balefully at the newspaper-sided tank, then glaring equally balefully at me.
4. Refusing to get out of the (now empty) laundry basket so I can put it away.
5. Mrowing at me in a very disapproving way from under the (now overturned) laundry basket.
Perhaps I should address overhaul-type cleaning as a weekly goal that is focused on a single room. Then by the time the last room is clean, it will be time to start over again. God knows I'm looking for any kind of method or system to motivate myself with, here. This house is a disaster.
But! My room is clean.
The speakers have been uncovered from the piles that surrounded them. The bed can be (and has been) made now that the footboard is no longer housing fifty pairs of jeans. Who needs as many pairs of jeans as we own, I ask you?
The water dragon is not adapting well to his new home, mostly because it is on cat-level and Oz delights in fucking with the lizard. Just that one. He doesn't mess with the beardies, and I think he's a little bit afraid of the snake. But the water dragon he taunts constantly. So, I put newspaper all along the outside of the tank. Oz has been thwarted, and is decidedly grumpy at me about it. You may ask how I can tell if he's grumpy, and how I can tell that said grumpiness is directed specifically at me:
1. Brodies that pinnacle up onto the (formerly) folded pile of laundry, thereby scattering said laundry to the floor.
2. A game of "Bite the toes from under the dust ruffle" as I walk around the bed while making it.
3. Glaring balefully at the newspaper-sided tank, then glaring equally balefully at me.
4. Refusing to get out of the (now empty) laundry basket so I can put it away.
5. Mrowing at me in a very disapproving way from under the (now overturned) laundry basket.
Perhaps I should address overhaul-type cleaning as a weekly goal that is focused on a single room. Then by the time the last room is clean, it will be time to start over again. God knows I'm looking for any kind of method or system to motivate myself with, here. This house is a disaster.
But! My room is clean.
Saturday, September 01, 2007
I don't know how to feel about this.
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