According to the thermometer outside on the patio, it's 49 degrees.

Gypsy and Gadget, having been let out for the morning for their constitutional, are currently curled up in balls, cat-fashion, in a patch of sunlight. Zoe is warming my feet on the couch and occasionally butting my mouse-hand for attention, Oz is in the bed snuggling with Calvin (who Ozzy calls "The Daddy", what, can't your cat talk too?). Kali the snake is lounging across the length of one of the ledges in her vivarium, directly underneath the heat lamp. Cheeto and Lucy are in semi-brumation (a form of hibernation but not as deep) and nap most of the day, but deigned to stir this morning to chomp on some veggies. Portia is thumping around in the side yard in her usual destructive manner.

We have a lot of frickin' animals.

This house is a disaster. The kitchen is destroyed, there's clothes all over the bedroom, the stack of newspapers on the fireplace is threatening to topple, and there's clutter on the bar and on the kitchen table. Kali's pond is in desperate need of cleaning, the floors could use a good sweep/mop/vacuum, and the wind from yesterday blew in a metric ton of dust.

Obviously, I'd rather write about the condition of my house, rather than actually do something about it.

I will get to it today, I will. There's cooking to be done and decorating to begin (I am trying to do something about my Scrooge attitude, at least). Neither of those things can happen while the house is in the condition that it's in.

But first, I think I'll have another cup of coffee.

Labels: home, journal, pets

Posted by Laura at 9:32 AM | Permalink | Comments

I periodically like to record a "day in the life" entry. I like to go back and compare them and see what's the same, what's different, and what is proof positive that I am VERY FIRMLY set in my ways. (For instance, compare today's entry to this one, or this one.)

5:30 a.m. - Alarm goes off for Calvin. I grunt and roll over.

6:18 a.m. - Calvin's phone rings. And rings. He comes running in from the other room to answer it. I grunt and roll over.

6:25 a.m. - Calvin kisses me goodbye. I grunt and roll over.

6:36 a.m. - Zoe prrrrowts in my ear. And touches me on the face with her wet nose. And pat-pats me on my face with her paw. And reminds me of this entry. I scritch her and roll over.

6:40 a.m. - Oz jumps up on the bed. Zoe beats me to death trying to dive off the bed, and under it. Oz follows.

6:40:15 a.m. - Growl. Hiss. Growl.

6:40:25 a.m. - HISS. GROOOOWWWWLLL. SPAT!

6:40:30 a.m. - I holler at the cats and thump the headboard. One runs out, I don't see which but I assume it's Zoe.

6:50 a.m. - Zoe prrrrowts in my ear. And touches me on the face with her wet nose. And pat-pats me on my face with her paw. I squint at the clock, debate getting up 10 minutes early. Dismiss it as a bad idea.

7:05 a.m. - The alarm goes off again. I mutter something that sounds like, "This is bullshit." I turn off the alarm, start the shower.

7:05 - 7:15 a.m. - Wash face, shampoo, conditioner, wash body, rinse rinse rinse, dry. Pick out and put on clothes (blue jeans, white T, maroon zip-up hoodie, socks, sneakers).

7:15 - 7:20 a.m. - Acquire coffee. Coooooffffffeeeeee. Take vitamins and prescriptions.

7:20 - 7:40 a.m. - Hold conversation with Zoe (who likes to sit on the edge of the tub while I perform my ablutions) while moussing and combing out hair, moisturizing face, cleaning out ears, putting on deodorant, putting on makeup, drying and styling hair, brushing teeth.

7:40 - 7:55 a.m. - Put water in snake's tank, turn on waterfall and UV light. Put water in dog's dish outside, give them a cookie and pets all around. Put canned food in dish in Oz's closet, put canned food in Zoe's dish in the weight room. Fill up indoor water dish. Shred summer squash and tear up dandelion greens, put a handful in Cheeto's dish and a handful in Lucy's dish. Turn off A/C, lock bedroom doors, defrost two slices of spelt bread and slather with cream cheese, put in baggie and then in work bag. Take pork chops out of the freezer to thaw for dinner tonight. Grab bag, keys, badge, out the door and in the truck and on the way to work.

7:55 - 8:00 a.m. - Drive to work. Listen to one of the TUS mix CD's.

8:00 - 8:10 a.m. - Get to desk, put down bag, dock and start up laptop, grab water cup and tea mug, rinse them out in the bathroom, head down to the cafeteria to fill up water cup and get hot water and honey for tea, head back to my desk, log into the network, put tea bag in hot water, settle down with my baggie 'o breakfast.

8:10 - 8:30 a.m. - Answer e-mails, eat breakfast.

8:30 - 9:00 a.m. - Start this journal entry and update with morning activities.

9:01 a.m. - Stop! Potty time!

9:05 a.m. - Start balancing checkbook and paying bills.

9:15 - 9:35 a.m. - Life is interrupted by an AcronymCo fire drill. Lights flashing! Alarms blaring! People filing out of the fire exits like lemmings! Lots of standing around in the parking lot while the building sweep is conducted. Then, more filing! More lemmings! Aaaaaand I'm back at my desk.

9:35 - 9:40 a.m. - Take a phone call and answer questions.

9:40 - 10:30 a.m. - Resume paying bills and balancing checkbook. Run a Quicken report to show Calvin how much money we spend on groceries and on going out to eat. Boggle a bit.

10:30 - 11:00 a.m. - Enough of that nonsense. Answer e-mails, place PO's, field phone calls (hi, Calvin!), get annoyed by a new cube neighbor moving into our territory, NOT OF OUR GROUP. Grr.

11:05 a.m. - Stop! Potty time!

11:07 - 11:15 a.m. - Go down to the cafeteria, procure a Caesar salad, stand in the LOOOOOONG line forever as the POS system dials out for each individual credit card transaction. Contemplate that the flow of purchases is faster with cash, in direct contradiction to the current Visa commercials.

11:15 - 11:25 a.m. - Back at my desk, start to eat, phone rings. Chat with Calvin. He tells me things about an FX 40 and a Niagra something and sensors and whatnot. I'm lost.

11:25 a.m. - 12:05 p.m. - Continue eating. Read Bitchypoo. Peruse ICHC. Read Dysfunction Junction. Read Chaos Theory. Check in on Laurell K. Hamilton. Read 6YearMed. Read Because I Said So. Read Crazy Aunt Purl. Read Miss Britt. Determine that I shall use the phrase, "What le fuck?" in the near future. Read Avitable. Read BurtsStache. Pry off my wedding ring, take off my watch, apply hand lotion. Put ring and watch back on. Read Sunday Undies. Update this entry.

12:05 - 12:25 p.m. - Turn, with a sigh, back to the 140 e-mails awaiting response, deletion, and/or categorization in my in-box. Method involves sorting e-mails by subject to group all of the FW's and RE:'s and RE:RE:RE's together to find the latest message in the string, and delete the others. Manage to weed e-mails down to 87 by using this method. Then I start back in chronological order, oldest first, and disseminate as appropriate.

12:25 - 12:30 p.m. - Recall something Calvin mentioned to me, and check Hotmail. See message from Maine Lobster Direct about a deal on live lobsters. Place our Christmas dinner order (6 1-1/4 pounders, 4 lbs of king crab legs) for nearly $80 less than I was expecting.

12:30 - 12:35 p.m. - Update this entry some more.

12:35 - 12:50 p.m. - Do work stuff: run consignment inventory usage report for the last 12 months for one of my suppliers; approve request for new part number to be added to inventory; set up new part number in the stockroom database.

12:50 - 12:55 p.m. - Stop! Potty time! Grab a piece of candy from the dish on the admin's desk on my way back.

12:55 - 1:40 p.m. - Do more work stuff: Check my queue for any purchase orders that need to be placed, find three and submit them; dig out iPod and headphones to combat the boredom ("I believe it's time for me to fly..."); take pain pills to combat the headache I've had since I woke up, curse being a woman; terminate a requisition; ("I've heard people say that... too much of anything is no good for you..."); weed through e-mails some more, enlist a CM's assistance for an issue with a non-responsive supplier; ("Tell me whatcha eat, I might cook for you..."); determine if a discontinued chemical is going to effect the factory; ("Spent my days with a woman unkind... smoked my stuff and drank all my wine..."); request a quote from a vendor for a needed part; ("Welcome to your life... there's no turning back..."); research a vendor payment issue and try to communicate clear instructions in a different way than the clear instructions I sent to them last week; curse Accounts Payable; ("Every time I look in the mirror, all these lines on my face getting clearer..."); ("You own the money, you control the witness..."); revise the prices on a purchase order; ("Now if you're feelin' kinda low 'bout the dues you been payin'..."); adjust part prices in stockroom database; ("You know what the midwest is? Young and restless...").

1:40 - 1:45 p.m. - Stop! Potty time! Then walk down to the windows and press my nose against the glass before returning to my desk. Contemplate the lack of Vitamin D in my life.

1:45 - 2:25 p.m. - Do more work stuff: ("I can play the guitar like a motherfuckin' riot."); adjust a purchase order; request tracking information for an overdue shipment from a supplier; ("She's a craze you'd endorse, she's a powerful force..."); complete a feedback survey for my manager; ("And she won't give up, cuz she's seventeen. She's a frozen fire..."); reconcile an on-time delivery report; ("Far four winds blow, there's trouble and it won't go..."); approve a Level 2 purchase order; ("I got the call today, didn't wanna hear, but I knew that it would come..."); make updates to yet another purchase order; look up status of requested order; ("And here's to you Mrs. Robinson, Jesus loves you more than you will know..."); make change to yet ANOTHER PO; ("Well I fight authority, authority always wins..."); research parts in inventory to see if we can share with another site in need; compile shipping memo to share parts; ("Oh what a night, late December back in '63..."); edit a form for a new part request.

2:25 p.m. - E-mail count is now down to 23, eleven of which are in "green flag" status (my code for "waiting for someone to get their thumb out of their butt and respond to me").

2:26 - 2:35 p.m. - Sigh heavily. Update this entry some more. Think about going home early, because, well, feh.

2:35 p.m. - Stop! Potty time! Which strangely coincided with fourteen other women's need to pee.

2:40 - 3:10 p.m. - Decide a mental break is in order. Read Draw the Girl. Read Body of Work. Check ICHC for new pics. Look at pictures of Chuck on Dooce. Go back to where I left off yesterday in my Colloquial archives.

3:10 - 3:15 p.m. - Talk to Calvin on the phone. He's mad at me because he wanted me to make ANOTHER phone call to the title company (we're still trying to get the "free and clear" title for Michael's motorcycle) to find out the status. I've mailed them once, faxed them twice, and had phone conversations with them FIVE different times. So today? I just... didn't. I don't know why, I just didn't do it.

3:15 - 3:45 p.m. - Talk to a manager at the Oregon AcronymCo plant. Discuss a training plan for a new buyer over there. Discuss plans with my manager. Decide upon a series of teleconferences rather than a face-to-face meeting.

3:45 p.m. - Close enough to 4:00. Shut down my computer, grab my stuff, and I'm outta here.

3:45 - 4:10 p.m. - Drive home, again listening to one of the TUS mix CD's. Arrive home, dump my bag on the bed, say hi to Calvin, get run over seven times by Portia saying "Hi! Hi! Hi there! Hi!" Change into comfy clothes.

4:11 p.m. - Lay down for "just a minute" on the very comfy bed.

5:14 p.m. - Wake up with a snort. Zoe prrrrowts in my ear. And touches me on the face with her wet nose. And pat-pats me on my face with her paw.

5:15 - 6:10 p.m. - Go out into the living room, sit on the couch and put Calvin's feet in my lap, tickle his feet while he naps. Watch last week's episode of Bones.

6:11 - 6:15 p.m. - Get a call from Marie about some "weird shape light thingy" lighting up on her dashboard. I have no idea.

6:15 - 7:35 p.m. - Ride the motorcycle over to DarkHorse with Calvin. Have some Moosedrool and some grub. Watch the Suns lose. Watch a couple of poker games going on in front of the bar. Get annoyed by the guy sitting next to us. Pay up and head home again.

7:35 - 9:00 p.m. - Hug Marie for cleaning the kitchen - a task I didn't look forward to doing when I got home. Be amused as she cannot stick with just washing the dishes, but also has to reorganize all of the cupboards and closets. Feed the dogs. Get the mail. Flip through "Cover and Bake" and "Baking Illustrated". Get the coffee ready for tomorrow. Change into my jammies. Sit on the couch typing this while half-watching "Let's Go To Prison". Shut down the snake's and beardies' tanks.

9:00 - 10:00 p.m. - Watch miscellaneous TV. Get Calvin's clothes together for work tomorrow. Put my breakfast and lunch together for tomorrow. Set the alarm. Go to bed.

Labels: home, journal, listy goodness, meme, misc, pets, work

Posted by Laura at 9:00 PM | Permalink | Comments

Marie and I just got back from going to Pets Inc for "critters for the critters" (a medium rat and three dozen superworms), then to the grocery store for people food. She volunteered to go with me, and we gabbed and ooh'ed at the lizards and spiders and snakes, and impulse-bought food (at the grocery store) we didn't need. It's nice to have her back around the house again.

So right now the snake is writhing around on the floor of her vivarium, and the tail of the rat has just disappeared like a string of spaghetti into her mouth. A gape to re-hinge her jaw, and lunch is over. It's fascinating, in a totally gross kind of way.

I really had to push myself to stay on the elliptical this morning, and still only finished 35 minutes of my allotted 45-minute workout. I start negotiating with myself after about 20 minutes... "Okay, that's probably enough. Well, no, after the end of this song. Okay, the next song... five more minutes. Thirty minutes is long enough, right? Okay, dammit, thirty-five is close enough."

I appeased my guilt at shortening my workout by spending the next hour cleaning. I'm sure I killed more than enough calories that way.

Oz and Zoe are re-enacting WWII's Battle of the Bulge. Zoe is backed into the weight room and Oz is holding territory beyond the hallway. Volleys of hissing and spitting sail back and forth approximately every three minutes. In the end, Zoe will lose and go back to hide under the bed and sulk.

Labels: journal, Op:Goddess, pets

Posted by Laura at 2:51 PM | Permalink | Comments

After a night spent with Zoe being a CONSTANT BOTHER to me and Calvin last night, it was funny to see this in Robyn's post today:

Labels: pets, video

Posted by Laura at 9:46 AM | Permalink | Comments

Ahhhh. The summer, she is finally over. It was in the 70's and 80's all weekend long, and this morning it's 60 degrees. We rode around on Calvin's motorcycle Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. I can't on the offhand recall where we went on Friday, but Saturday we went to Mill Avenue for the MOST AWESOME-EST cheeseburgers EVAR, and on Sunday we went for a ride through the foothills before hitting Rock Bottom for a couple of beers and appetizers.

Zoe and Oz are driving me BATSHIT this morning. They want to be together, but they don't. I have this (marvellous) routine in the morning where I lock Zoe in the weight room so she can eat and poo in peace without Oz all, "Whatcha doin? Are you my friend yet?" I feed Oz, per usual, in his dish in the "cat closet". He eats three bites (if that), then hightails it (heh) back to the weight room door to talk to Zoe under the crack, rattle the handle (like I said, I have to LOCK the door so he doesn't open it), come in my room where I am steadfastly working (or, you know, writing an entry), fuss at me to LEEEEEET him IIIIINNNNN, then when I finally open the door so she can come out/he can go in, instead of acting like long-separated lovers they FIT at each other for the rest of the day. Oz just follows Zoe around from hiding place to hiding place. Occasionally they can stand to be in the same space (sitting in front of the screen door, hanging out on/in the bathtub) for about five minutes, then suddenly Zoe will look at Oz like he's grown horns and gets all, "WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!?" And she fits, and hisses, and growls, and Oz is all, "Geez, woman, PMS is a bitch, innit?"

Plus, you know how Marie is moving back in? Well, so is her dog. In the past two weeks we added another cat AND another dog as permanent additions to the household. Current count for those of you playing at home is two cats, three dogs, two bearded dragons, and a snake. All of whom I get to take care of. I am not kidding, nor am I exaggerating, when I say that I spend a total of probably two hours a day, split between morning and evening, taking care of the animals. AND it seems I will have to take Cheeto to the vet, as the poor dear is constipated. We can't have a constipated lizard on our hands, now can we?

Yeesh. At this point I am SO qualified to be a vet.

Anyway. Last week's drama is calming down a bit, but I still have anxiety up the wazoo. Marie was having troubles with her ex-boyfriend that resulted in us having to ride to her rescue in the middle of a work day. She'd moved all of his belongings - i.e. all of the furniture (she is apparently a strong black woman trapped in that teeny white girl's body) - out onto the patio of her apartment. Ex-BF was blowing up her phone with threats and angst, she called us. We showed up, then HE showed up with his brother to get his stuff. Argument ensued during which he and his brother got all up in Calvin's face.

Ahem.

SO! Calvin deterred that shit right there, then phoned the police. Who very promptly showed up to supervise the removal of the furniture and belay comments thrown from the Ex-BF in Marie's general direction. In the meantime the Ex-BF's mom showed up, and we got to witness first hand where her son got his charming personality. They left, the police left, we left, then went down to the court house to get proceedings started on a restraining order.

So, that was fun.

AAAAAANNNNNNNND then I discovered fraudulent charges against my checking account. It seems that Calvin's debit card number has been compromised. So I got to deal with that last week. On top of the refrigerator dying, buying a new refrigerator, waiting around for said refrigerator to be delivered, spending $300 on groceries to replace those lost, dealing with Marie's ex-BF, dealing with New Pet Issues, and everything else that normal life dishes up when one has a full time job and a more-than-full-time life.

Current tally: angsty shit - 10, Laura's ability to cope - 0.

BUT! Calvin and I are going to see Jersey Boys again tomorrow with Calvin's sister and her husband. I am looking forward to that like nobody's business - probably even more than I was looking forward to seeing it the first time, and despite the fact that I have had "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" firmly entrenched in my brain for, like, ever.

(baaa DA baaa DA baaa da DA da da...) "I love you baby..."

Labels: headspace, home, journal, kids, motorcycle, pets

Posted by Laura at 8:46 AM | Permalink | Comments

Hover over the pics for captions.

Labels: pets, photography

Posted by Laura at 12:30 PM | Permalink | Comments

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.)

Labels: home, journal, pets

Posted by Laura at 9:11 AM | Permalink | Comments

1. Work (natch).


2. Fold last week's laundry.


3. Wash this week's laundry.


4. Spend approximately three hours cleaning the kitchen.


5. 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.


6. Figure out dinner menus for the next week.


7. Author a grocery shopping list of epic proportions.


8. Go grocery shopping.


9. 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.


10. Go to the bank.


11. Work out - 40 minutes of cardio, and upper body weights.


12. 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.


13. Tonight, specifically - Heroes, Big Bang Theory, How I Met Your Mother, Two and a Half Men, and Journeyman. I think we need another DVR.


14. 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.


15. Collapse in an exhausted heap.

Labels: best things, listy goodness, pets, TV

Posted by Laura at 10:02 AM | Permalink | Comments

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.

Labels: home, journal, pets

Posted by Laura at 3:05 PM | Permalink | Comments

New pictures, none of which are of the lizards having sex.

Labels: Calvin, home, pets, photography

Posted by Laura at 10:59 AM | Permalink | Comments

There is a definite feeling of satisfaction that I get when I'm caring for my animals. However, I have had MORE than enough of cleaning/rearranging/messing with the lizards tanks and vivarium. Last Monday I completely changed out the bedding (rabbit pellets) in the beardies' tank and cleaned all of their "furnishings", and wiped it off inside and out. Marie helped me to move the tank into the bedroom from the dining room where it's been residing since Calvin and I went to Maine. And then there was the messing with the lights and heat sources since I had to unplug them all and plug them in again. While I was doing this I stuck Cheeto and Lucy in the bathtub to hang out.

I also cleaned out the water dragon's vivarium (who also hung out in the bathtub... not at the same time as the beardies), which includes dragging the shop vac out of the garage, sucking all of the water out of the pond, filling the pond back up, sucking out the water again, filling it up again... seven or eight times until the water runs clear, then filling it up to the top. I usually have to empty out the shop vac once or twice in the process. I also vacuum out all of the misplaced bedding and poo, and wipe off the three-sided plexiglass walls of the enclosure - inside and out. Finally, I refill the water in the humidifier used to keep the environment tropical inside the vivarium. All in all, cleaning the vivarium takes me over an hour - both of them combined was a good two hours.

Today we are preparing to move Marie's ball python, Kali, into the vivarium. We have decided we want to keep Kali ourselves and have therefore snake-napped her, in a manner of speaking, in that Marie didn't take her with her when she moved out. So now she is ours, and she's getting a more spacious home. Meanwhile the water dragon, who is tiny, is trading spaces with her into a much more size-appropriate tank. This tank will sit on the stand underneath the tank holding the beardies.

This tank swapping business means that I have to completely sterilize the vivarium and Kali's tank, because the detritus of different reptile species do not mix well with one another. Kali and the water dragon could get sick from one another's cooties if I just put them in each other's tanks without cleaning them first. Today I shop-vac'ed much of the bedding out of the vivarium, sucked out all of the water and removed the rocks from the pond, scrubbed the pond basin with soap and water, rinsed and cleaned the rocks and replaced them, vacuumed out the nooks and crannies of the bark lining the back of the vivarium, scrubbed off the three "rock" shelves, and wiped down the interior and exterior plexiglass.

Finally I sprayed the interior down with disinfectant. This of course means that the tank has to sit open for a while to air out. Which, in turn, means that I had to deal with some logistics in order to make the water dragon comfy. He (she? we still don't know) couldn't very well stay in the bathtub all day. SO! I had to set up an interim tank in the bedroom. This involved dragging the tank that was hanging around out back into the bedroom, cleaning it inside and out, dumping some bark in the bottom, finding a pan and filling it with water and putting it in the bottom, arranging various furnishings and silk plants, finding covers, a UV lamp, and a heat lamp and arranging those, then soaking everything down in order to create enough humidity before finally putting the water dragon in it.

This evening Calvin and I are going to the pet store to buy a few more things that we need, then we'll put Kali in her new home. THEN I get to remove all of the bedding in Kali's tank, clean and disinfect it, put the water dragon in the bathtub, move all of the stuff from the temporary tank to the permanent one, set the wrought-iron stand up in the bedroom with the water dragon's new tank on bottom and the beardies' tank on top, and FINALLY put the water dragon back in her (his?) new home.

At which point all of the animals in this house had BETTER be damned happy.

Labels: home, lizards, pets

Posted by Laura at 2:04 PM | Permalink | Comments

I am starting to get quite jealous of Fred and Robyn's garden. Lookit this picture! And this one!

Life just can't be as difficult as it has lately, for crying out loud. Calvin and I are in one hell of a slump, mood-wise. No motivation or general cheeryness to speak of. Just... none. We're even starting to be not-nice to each other, which is the red flag of red flags. Because generally we're on the same side, but lately we're just nitpicking at each other. Plus I haven't been feeling well, which I'm sick of, and which Calvin is sick of, and for Pete's sake, can I not just be HEALTHY?!? I take care of myself, I take my medicine, and it just seems like every time I go to the doc's there's something else wrong with me. Allergies. Asthma. Pancreatitis. Gallstones. Kidney cysts. Acid Reflux. Hyperthyroidism. I don't even want to wonder what might be next.

Just shoot me now.

So how does one swing this pervasive mood around, when there is just nothing but WORK WORK WORK to look forward to? Working at jobs we dislike, working on the house to get it ready to sell it, whenever we're ready for that. Working to reduce our debt and not add to it. Working to keep ourselves and each other happy, content, satisfied, amused. What have you.

Feh, I'm just in a crummy mood today. My morning didn't start out well, with tummy troubles that I will forgo the TMI on. And WHY does the cat have to know what I'm doing when I use the commode, I ask you? He should just mind his own business. I don't poke my head in his business when he's scratching and thumping away in the litter box, after all.

Gadget and Gypsy went to the vet (well, I took them... I'd like to see Gadget try to reach the gas while Gypsy steers...) yesterday. Gadget still has a bad case of kennel cough courtesy of Marie's puppy (who is just the cutest sweetest thing and I PROMISE, Heather, I will take pictures of her the next time she visits and post them!), and Gypsy has a milder case, PLUS infections in both ears. PLUS some kind of growth in her mouth that she'll need surgery to remove. They're walking (panting) petri dishes, for crying out loud. So it's drops in Gypsy's ears twice a day, antibiotics for both of them twice a day, and cough medicine (which I'm picking up from Walgreens today) for Gadget every six hours.

Aww, they're just like Mama, falling apart at the seams.

Straight unsweetened organic cranberry juice is NAS-TAY. You remember that episode of Tweety and Sylvester where Tweety fed Sylvester alum, and Sylvester's mouth puckered up to the dimension of a straw, through which he tried to suck Tweety? Yeah, well, that's what this cranberry juice is doing to me. The things I do to try to stay (get?) healthy.

Feh again. Baaaaaaad mood.

Labels: blogs, health, journal, pets

Posted by Laura at 12:03 PM | Permalink | Comments

loloz! My take on the lolcats.

Labels: blogthings, humor, pets, photography

Posted by Laura at 1:40 PM | Permalink | Comments

Labels: pets, photography

Posted by Laura at 6:14 PM | Permalink | Comments

My day is NOT starting off well. I slept like crap last night because my back is killing me, and when the alarm went off the first thought that entered my mind was, "Oh, this is bullshit." So I got up to get situated on the couch with my laptop, and when I went to look for the ice pack in the freezer to help alleviate my back pain, it was gone. Which doesn't surprise me, since lately it seems like every time I go to look for something to end some sort of misery I'm in, it's been taken. Last week it was my allergy medication, a couple of weeks ago it was cookies, this morning it's the ice pack.

I really, REALLY can't wait until the occupancy of this household is decreased. It is one child in particular that is ALWAYS taking things, and I'm really sick of it. That's all I'm saying.

Every morning my boss meets with the folks from manufacturing and then sends an e-mail to the folks in my group with all of the help needed for the day. Invariably my name is always all over the thing. Because I'm special that way. Well, he did say during my review that he wants me to become the "go-to" person. Guess he got his wish... not exactly mine, though. There's nothing like a half-dozen or more "gotta have it NOW" things shot at you first thing in the morning to get your day started off right!

Then Calvin just called me, and the guy that was responsible for hiring him into his company just resigned. It doesn't mean that much will change for Calvin's job, but this was one of the "good guys" and things will just be a little more of the suck now that he's leaving. Which got us talking along the lines of what we want to do and how we want to make our lives happier, which THEN got us down the conversational thread of how much we don't like what we're doing with our lives right now.

AND the cat is about to get murdered because he's just PISSING ME OFF. If I don't feed him as soon as my feet hit the floor when I get up in the morning, he starts looking for things to that will get him in trouble. His hope is that since I'm up to chase him away from whatever badness he's doing (because yelling at him SO doesn't work), I'll just go ahead and feed him since I'm up already. And the fucker is right. I've had to yell at him (again, ineffectually) for jumping up at the water dragon, trying to paw a soda can down off of the half-wall, messing with the wiring behind the TV, scuffling around under the couch, and jumping up on the kitchen counter. The little asshole.

I've got an MRI scheduled for 11:30, then a girly-doctor appointment for 3:30. Since going to the doctors has now become my least favorite thing to do, this double-appointment day is not helping things.

Feh. It's just going to be a bad day. At 9:30, I can just tell.

Labels: Calvin, headspace, health, journal, kids, pets, work

Posted by Laura at 8:42 AM | Permalink | Comments

Sadness. I had to put one of the Water Dragons to sleep this morning. He wasn't using his hind end, going to the bathroom, eating or drinking. I feared it may be Metabolic Bone Disease, but it turned out to be something genetic. That offered at least a little comfort, knowing that my husbandry skills are just fine and I didn't contribute to his illness.

I know I'm not as attached to the lizards as I am to, say, Oz and the dogs. But I'm still quite fond of them, and I ended up blubbering away at the vet's as the doctor offered me tissues and a euthanasia consent form. Bleh, I hate this part of owning pets.

So, goodbye, big kid. You were a good little guy.

I took the other Water Dragon as well, just to make sure she was healthy. She's "a fine specimen" according to the vet, in good health and raising hell trying to get out of the carrying bag and explore. I think the vivarium is going to seem big to her for a while - it seems she's looking for her brother. We'll get her another friend when we can find another Water Dragon of similar age/size.

I'm sad today.

Labels: lizards, pets

Posted by Laura at 1:48 PM | Permalink | Comments