Not Thunder

I caught lilbittyblackkitty tonight in the humane trap and called the other Pamela. Any worries I'd had about psychos looking to collect black kitties for Halloween ended when she sat down in the driveway in front of the trap for 20 minutes and talked to the kitty to reassure him. Her husband came over from work, and we locked the dogs in the house and took the trap into the breezeway. We let the kitty out, and he ran all over, trying to find a way out. After a few minutes, when he'd wedged himself onto the plant stand next to the window, he let Tim pet him and eventually pick him up. That was when we saw the white blaze on his tummy, which meant that he wasn't Thunder. However, he relaxed in Pamela's arms, and clung to her shirt with his front paws. After a few words and a lot of looks, the way you get with married couples, Tim told me they were adopting this little sweetie pie, even if it wasn't Thunder. They left, having promised to keep me posted via e-mail, and I went out to the garage, and picked up the empty plate.

I am going to miss talking to lilbittyblackkitty. *sigh*

Self Indulgence & Self Abuse

Self indulgence: Falling asleep under a 300 thread count, sateen-finished sheet; a fluffy, soft, light microfleece blanket; a puffy cotton comforter and a fuzzy acrylic throw, savoring the weight and warmth in a chilly bedroom.

Self abuse: Having to climb out from under the blankets when the alarm shrills in the frigid pre-dawn.

Self indulgence: Spending my tax refund on 230 flower bulbs.

Self abuse: Having to be outside on a fall morning when it's pouring rain and only managing to get sixty of the bulbs planted before my muscles scream that they hate me and want me to die, and waking up the next morning with a screaming back.

Self indulgence: A bubbly, frothy, warm bath full of Epsom salts and cinnamon-scented Lush goodness.

Self abuse: Slipping just slightly getting out of the tub and adding a painful hip bruise to the assorted aches from gardening.

Self indulgence: Having two big cuddly fuzzy dogs who love me and think I'm the best thing ever.

Self abuse: Trying to vacuum undercoat off the indoor/outdoor carpet in the breezeway.

Self indulgence: Singing to a restless puppymonster to sleep so he'll quit crying and settle down.

Self abuse: Then being unable to go to sleep myself, and lying in bed hating the snores emanating from said puppymonster.

Thunder

Evidently, lilblackkitty is quite the adventurer. I responded to an ad in the local paper, and a very sweet young couple came out to the house today to see the kitty. They live south of Akron, but they both work at the tv station up the street, and they're pretty sure it's their kitty who's been living in my yard since August. They think he hitched a ride in the bed of their pickup one day when they went to work, then hopped out and wandered off.

Unfortunately, he's a skittish little booger. Apparently, he was to start with, but after over a month in my yard, with dogs, groundhogs, traffic, Josh on the lawnmower and deer to startle him, he's exceptionally nervous now. So at the moment, there's an unset humane trap in the driveway, with a dish of food in it. Every day, I'm going to push the food a little farther back in the trap, and the minute I have the fugitive caught, I'm going to call his owner and send his little butt home. Well, not so little after a month of eating Kitten Chow. ;)

There are two odd things--first is that Thunder's name is so close to Bigfoot's real name, Thunderstorm. The second is that Thunder's owner and I have the same first name. Maybe he was meant to wind up here, I don't know. I just know I'm glad he'll be going home safely before Halloween and before the snow flies. :)

*contented purry noises*

Almost all of my stuff from Amazon is here, and I'm absolutely enjoying myself. Years ago, I read Sorcery and Cecelia and loved it. It's a wonderful book, written in the style of letters from one cousin to another. I was thrilled to find out that it had been re-released, and a sequel, The Grand Tour written. I ordered the latter, and have discovered that Kate and Cecy are still wonderful people to spend an evening with, even if they do lead rather exhausting lives! I absolutely want both Shang and Mallie to read these books. Unfortunately, poor Shang never gets time to read, and not only is Mallie about 60 books behind, but she's going to Toronto this weekend to buy books, and I've already gotten her three more for Christmas!

I'm also excited because my Herbie Hancock CD, Possibilities, and I'm enjoying it. I bought the CD for the duet with John Mayer, "Stitched Up," but the other stuff is pretty good too. It does have the unfortunate side effect of winding me up a bit, which is not a good idea before bedtime. *bounce*

That difficulty could be cured with a hot bath--not only did the sweet and charming S-Des get me a goodie basket of Lush stuff, including a Green Day bubble bar, a Comforter bubble bar and an All That Jasmine bath bomb, but Amy got me two giant tubes full of bath bombs from a shop in Florida. I've got oodles of yummy smelling bath stuff, and ONE MORE WEEK before I can use it. Next Wednesday, I swear I am coming home, stripping, and getting straight into the tub!

Kinky Jammies

Tonight was the most fun I've had online in a while. After some frustration with MSN Messenger, Mallie and I managed to have a conversation on there. Then, I decided what we needed was a fourway with our two favorite quadrupeds. I wish I'd saved the conversation, as it was soooo much fun. I have noticed, though, if you suggest one little bitty fourway, people call you kinky. :p

It turns out that the alpaca is the only one who doesn't sing to his pets. However, he does dance surprisingly well for a white quadruped. Shang now has "Black Horse and a Cherry Tree" as its theme song, thanks to me, and confessed to singing "I like big fuzzy butts" to its dogs. Mallie sings to her cats, and I sing Jimmy Buffett's "Death of an Unpopular Poet" to Bigfoot and Sheryl Crowe's "You're My Favorite Mistake" to Littlefoot.

One of my boxes from Amazon arrived, the one that they said would be delivered on October 14th. Nice surprise. I've already dived in to Rose Daughter by Robin McKinley, and am looking forward to sending Capt.Spaulding his birthday present. More books and music should arrive on Wednesday, thus making me ecstatic.

Oh, and being back at work is okay, but I keep getting sore. *sigh* Gonna be a while healing, I guess. Nonetheless, life is pretty good.

Car-pooling

Mom was nice enough to drive me to & from work yesterday and today, and we managed to get in a little conversation on the way. As usual, we talked about everything from hydrangeas to politics and everything in between. On the way home today, we were talking about the internet and relationships, and I said that it was very funny that for all the times I've had to chat with Bookworm Mathgeek, there were many things I didn't learn about her until she started commenting on my blog.

Mom's response was, "She reads your blog?" in a surprised tone.

"Yes, Mom."

"That's awfully nice of her--have you thanked her?"

*giggle*

I must bore Mom's socks off now & again, that's the only way I can explain that reaction. She's right about manners, though, so thank you to each and every person who takes the time to read my silly little scribblings.

A change is as good as a rest?

I heard that saying somewhere, and I'm not sure if I believe it or not. I still don't like change.

Nevertheless, I'm taking a break from the message board where I post. It's ironic that as many times as I have defended the board and its members from accusations of cliquishness and smugness, I've recently seen two new posters savaged. I invited a friend to join the board, and the minute she expressed an honest opinion, she was the target of several personal attacks. Then yesterday, a newbie voiced a complaint that multiple "established" members of the board (myself included) have vented about, and was piled on. When I tried to remonstrate with the pilers-on, I was told people have been nicer to me than I deserve, and poked at with comments about drama.

Fine. I'll be the first to admit I'm a bit sensitive these days, so clearly, I need a break.

I'm also sore as hell after my first (half) day back at work, and OUT of new books to read. I ordered some things from Amazon on Wednesday, and was told that the expected arrival date is OCTOBER 13th. Aaargh. So much for Capt. Spaulding getting his birthday present anywhere near on time, although some of that is my fault for ordering it at the last moment.

The guest bedroom is filling up with Christmas presents. There's a box for Florida, one for Indiana, one for Texas and one for Columbus. As usual, my father will be the most difficult, because when he wants something, he goes out and buys it. He does this right up until Christmas Eve, leaving his spouse and children with no good gift ideas. Anyone who sees him in a Radio Shack between now and Christmas has my permission to tackle him, hog-tie him, and return him postage due to my mother.

Only two slob days left

Today and tomorrow for slobbing around the house, and then I go back to work on Thursday. I'll work half days on Thursday and Friday, then full time again starting on Monday the 18th. I haven't done any of the things I thought I would do while I was off work. Lazybutt. I might manage to get my filing done today--it depends on whether I spend this afternoon on the phone with a friend or napping.

Rooter has been especially active the last day or so, probably running around feeding up for hibernation time. I've seen her gallumphing across the front yard and in the back, closer to the house than she usually gets. At a guess, she's twice the size of lilblackconnivingkitty, but she evidently needs to bulk up a bit more for the winter. The dogs are getting tremendously spoiled from having me home, and Bigfoot at least has taken to demanding things like water, dinner, and trips outside when he wants them and right then, by golly. He is going to be one sorry pup on Thursday.

"Night of the Darned" is finished and ready to go for the Halloween contest at Lit. It's the longest sock story yet at 4,400+ words, and although only one of the others has a convential happy ending, this one is definitely the darkest. I'm waiting for S-Des to repeat his "sick and twisted" comment via the public forum when it gets posted. *grin*

My oldest friend in the world (not that she's old, just that we've been friends for 35 years) visited Friday and brought me a bunch of books. I've read four, and I think I'll probably skip the rest. They're all very modern fiction, and while they were okay, I didn't find anything in there that made me want to keep them for re-reading. Instead, I've started re-reading a series that I am planning to give Mallie for Christmas, assuming she ever finishes any of the hundred-odd books she's got hanging around.

Plug for a friend, here:

My sister-in-law "Anabel" has a pal who makes beautiful earrings. I got to select two pairs for birthday and get well gifts. I would definitely recommend a visit to SuQ Designs!

I'm being played

This said with a wry grin and a roll of the eyes.

After feeding the dogs, I went out to the garage and put some cat food on the plate in the driveway. Because I've been overdoing it, I was a bit sore, so I sat down on a lawn chair to rest for a few minutes. Lilblackkitty ate dinner, but instead of running away, decided to settle down in the driveway for a bit. I stayed to talk and see if perhaps I could approach close enough to see if lilblackkitty is black or does have some brown patches.

I talked, the cat watched me, then sat up and looked into the garage where I leave the bag of food. Just then, a mouse scuttled past where the garage floor meets the driveway. The kitty ignored the mouse, looked at me, and walked over to the bag of food and meowed.

My guess is that kitty has a house somewhere, but is an outdoor kitty. He or she certainly wasn't feral enough to kill a mouse running two inches in front of it, or even to make a try at it.

*laughing at myself*

Once more, the big softie gets taken in.

Otters! Inna box!

I got up at 6:30 today, something I've gotten un-used to in the last week. I had a doctor's appointment at 8:45, and I was a bit worried because I'm still in a fair amount of pain. Apparently, though, something as simple as the teeny bit of weeding I did Tuesday night can increase pain by stressing the stomach muscles. I got a 'script for more Darvocet, permission to begin a full liquid diet (yay! Yogurt and tomato soup!) and found out I've lost seventeen pounds so far. The doc also said if someone else drives, I can go in for half-days next Thursday and Friday. He figures otherwise Monday the 18th will be too stressful for me to handle. You can bet the boss is excited about that! *grin* Me too, in terms of getting my normal life back.

On the way home, I stopped at the warehouse store for Prilosec, and noticed they have Disney "Premiere Princess" Halloween costumes for little girls on the rack now. My niece, Princess Bookworm, is very into Cinderella right now, so I looked at a costume for her. Yipes! Thirty bucks for a costume? Blow that out your fantasia, Disney, I ain't paying that! It did give me an idea to look at costumes at the drugstore, though, so when I picked up my Darvocet and some meds that are supposed to keep me from having killer gallstones, I got not one but two princess outfits. My Christmas present to her is going to be a whole box of dress-up stuff--dresses, gloves, jewelry and all I need to find are some shoes.



When I got home from errands, I had just changed into something comfy when the doorbell rang. I got to the door just in time to see the back of the UPS guy as he walked to his truck (nice buns!). Outside was a very large package, which I lifted with some care, having hurt myself bringing in the 100 daff bulbs from White Flower Farm. This one, though, was light as air, and when I'd gotten it into the breezeway, I started turning it this way and that to see the return address. Turns out it's from my buddy the wool-bearing quadruped down there in Georgia, and inside were two of the cutest sea otters ever!



I'm sure I squealed like a kid on Christmas morning, and then I scooped up my otters and headed inside. There was a Jaws-like moment when I felt a tugging on the otter, and looked down to see Stormdog with the otter's tail in his mouth. I yelled "NO" in my best alpha bitch tone, and followed it up with the injunction that these are MY otters, and no fuzzybutts had better get any evil ideas.

All in all, a very good day, even if I do still hurt from trying to do too much.

The decision has been made.

Although it was pretty much a foregone conclusion. Anguished meditations aside, I shall continue to feed the feral black kitty living in my hydrangea bush. While it is possible that if I stopped feeding him or her, he or she might move on to a new and better living situation, it's also possible that the kitty would cross the high traffic street and wind up roadkill, or wind up someplace where there are no big dumb softies to feed feral cats.

This means that very soon, I will need to face a day with no pain meds so I can zip over to the grocery store and get some more cat food. I've been trying to cut down on the pain meds because I'd like to spend a larger portion of my day awake, but the aches that ensue when I skip a dose make me long for oblivion. Having counted, I know I have enough pills to get me through until Thursday, when I see the doc again. Hopefully, by then the pain will be minimal.

I just realized I'm not eligible for the Halloween contest, thanks to the third place win in Lit's How To contest. Still, I think "Night of the Darned" is pretty good sock horror, and it will be submitted with the other contest entries. Given that some people have upwards of ten stories to submit, I'm sort of glad I'm not eligible to win...gives me an automatic out.

This is going to be one boring blog until I stop taking the Darvocet. Or until I start writing down the weird dreams this stuff is giving me...

Fair-skinned and Heparin, bruises abound*

*sung to the tune of "Incense and Peppermints*

Fair-skinned and Heparin, bruises abound.
It's your fault 'cos you're fat, dumbass cow.
Look at yourself, look at yourself,
Yeah, yeah.
Look at yourself, look at yourself,
Yeah, yeah,
Yeah, yeah.

Okay, so that's not the world's best lyrical parody. It's still pretty good for someone loaded to the gills with Darvocet and Phenergan. Almost all of my nurses were pleasant, professional and courteous. The one who wasn't only bothered me because she layered a veil of fake sympathy over her inner contempt for fat people with difficult veins. After she pulled my IV because she said it was about to infiltrate, 6 nurses stuck me 12 times to try to restart it. And every time Cathy, the bitchy nurse, was in my room after that, she was full of the fake soothing stuff. I wanted to bite her or kick her or something.

My surgery, which was supposed to begin at 12:30, didn't start until well after 2, which led to my mom calling the hospital at 4 wanting to know what was going on. You go, Mom! :-D She came to see me in Recovery, and then headed home. She was really great about calling my online friends and notifying them of my status (after she called my brothers, of course).

When they sprung me, Dad was the one who came and got me, and then went into the drug store for my prescriptions. I sat in the parking lot and people-watched, and wondered why some women wear their hair so close to their heads it looks like a yarmulke, only to have it spring into a fringe of curls at the ends. It's really inexpressibly hideous. Of course, so is the fact that my insurance didn't cover the meds and Dad had to pay cash, but at least he got my Darvocet. My preciousssssss. *cradles bottle*

I'm still very sore, and thanks to all the IV attempts, I look like something from a Stephen King novel, but I'm glad to be home. Of course, Mother Nature is a complete bitch who decided that what I needed as a welcome-home gift was my period. Ack. I sleep, look at the computer, let the dogs out and in, and then sleep some more.

Because my life ALWAYS arranges itself in the worst possible fashion, I've just been notified that my 100 daffodil bulbs from White Flower Farm are on the way now. Ducky. I'll have to make space in the fridge and hope they can survive until I can dig.