I can't believe it's almost November. What happened to October? I feel like I blinked and it was gone. Or maybe it was that I was sick for at least half of it and I slept through it. Could be. Regardless, it's Halloween time and this year Scott and I are heading over to our friends Dave and Jen's place for a Quentin Taratino themed party. I'm not sure who Scott is going as (he said something about slicked back hair and a dark suit...that could be a few characters from a few movies). I am going as the Bride on her wedding day, pre-shoot up. Kind of a cop out I know, but hey, I get to wear my wedding veil again! I mean, besides to do the vacuuming.
In other news, Bossa continues to be a hateful little beast. She has figured out how to rush the baby gate at the top of our stairs (the one placed there so she would no longer have access to Samba, thereby removing daily opportunities to attempt to kill her). Bossa somehow managed to put all of her weight at the top of the gate, getting it to move out of place. She then hefts herself through the space between the gate and the banister. To stop her from doing this I bought a bungee type cord that I now hook through the top of the gate, around the banister and connect, making this impossible. I am willing to bet that before we see December she has either figured out another method of getting past the gate or my entire basement will be drenched in cat piss in retaliation. Anyone want a black, fur covered pie wagon?
Friday, October 28, 2005
Friday, October 21, 2005
Hot air enemas for all.
1. The furnace kicks on, signifying that Fall is really upon us (three cheers for Fall!).
2. Bossa takes her rightful place on top of the floor vent, months of hot air enemas ahead for her enjoyment.
Scott took this picture of Bossa this morning. It is a good photo, because she is only sitting on the vent. Once she lays her mammoth self down, she covers the entire vent so you can't even see it. This leads to conversations like "in theory, it would have made sense for the builder to put a vent in this room, but I can't find one" or "didn't there used to be a vent in this room?". These words fall on deaf cat ears though as Bossa merely looks at you like "I know you love giving money to the gas company to keep me comfortable". Too bad the rest of the room remains freezing just so she can be a fur heating pad. Bossa, one day we will install a gas fireplace in the family room, just for you. And you can lay in front of it and roast your insides until they are crisp. A vision, really.
Samba is much more sensitive to the needs of others in the household. She simply huddles over the vent (picture the Little Match Girl warming her hands by the fire). It is very sweet, and I would post a picture if I had one but she is a bit harder to catch in action. One would think that we were heating our home at just above slightly above freezing, but no, I have the thermostat programmed at 21 degrees during the times we are home and 17 degrees when we are at work/asleep. Seems reasonable to me, but Bossa and Samba are giving me a guilt complex about the whole thing. I guess this is retribution for all the times I complained about the heat as a kid. If I could I'd tell both these cats to "put a sweater on for chrissake".
I'm getting old.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Apples. How you like 'em?
They seemed to be moving in the same basic direction as me through the grocery store. I was curious to see what would happen in the soda aisle (would she cave to his Coke demands, or get her own case of Diet Coke? Skim milk or 2%? Tuna and soup preferences? White or whole wheat? The list of potential conflicts is endless, and that doesn't even include the pharmacy aisle (2 ply vs. 3 ply anyone?). I remember when Scott and started living together, the only thing I would not allow in our home was Hamburger Helper. He attempted to debate me on it, and quickly realized it was futile. We tend to eat meals together, which we jointly prepare. He seemed to have a hard time with all the vegetables I included and protested at first. The vegetables stayed put and again, he eventually gave in. He even sings the praises of my mixed green salads (rated "the best in the world" according to him). I liked Kraft dinner, he liked Shake and Bake chicken. Both still make appearances on occasion (that's the compromise part). Still no Hamburger Helper, and he knows better than to eat straight from the pot a la his days in university residence.
I'm not sure what the point of this post was. I guess I just got sentimental thinking that October 24th marks 7 years together. We are both taking the day off to lounge and relax together. I'm not sure what the date will entail, but I'm sure we'll find something we'll both enjoy (meaning no zombie movies or chick flicks, no Sports bars or Thai restaurants).
Sunday, October 09, 2005
Some things to be thankful for (and a few not so much).
I started writing this post as just some random thoughts and it ended up being kind of bitchy and negative (not really in the spirit of Thanksgiving). So, I decided to back up a bit and start with some nice, happy thoughts first, then I'll end with the other stuff (I figure it's good for a few laughs). Not a lot going on in the Fickle Feline household this weekend, though I am looking forward to going over to Scott's folks place for some turkey later today. Scott and I are (mostly "I") are going to bake and Apple Cake later today for the big event. I'll post a picture if we a) remember to take one and b) if it turns out photogenic in the least. Domestic Goddess always has these awesome pics on her blog and I have yet to figure out how she always gets her pics to look so good, I can actually smell and taste the subject.
So, things to be thankful for. Well, this past year has been a doozey, but here we are, a year older, wiser, still standing, and stronger for it. Health, check. Happy, check. Roof over head not leaking, check. Place to go to work on Monday, check. Bossa no longer attempting to kill Samba on a daily basis, check. Family situation good, check. Christmas shopping started, check (I'm not kidding, I have already bought a present and decorations). Friends doing well, check. Children of friends doing well, check. New friend getting through the year as best she can, check. See, a lot of good things.
Onto the cranky (and a bit of a non-sequitur)...
I was all ready to settle in for a kickass evening of Thursday night TV, but the show that gets me started was pre-empted for effing baseball. Baseball! Can you believe it? Glamorous hot young sexy things got bumped for a bunch of quasi-athletes in their pajamas running around a big field. Gimme a break. I am not happy. So, this killed my evening as I really had no good excuse to hang out and wait for ER to start at 10pm. So, instead, I taped ER and went to bed. Exciting. At least Football has the decency to keep to Sundays and Monday nights - that I can handle (also, Scott explains all the different plays to me and I am endlessly entertained watching him hike pillows, block the coffee table, and tackle the lazy boy - he is nothing if not passionate about his football). Between hockey being back and now baseball playoffs I feel like my cozy fall evenings are now falling prey to these stupid games. Note, I don't include basketball in my complaints because I like basketball. Fickle I know.
While I'm bitching, let me also complain about all of the nasty goddamn smokers who like to congregate with their little cancer sticks directly outside my office's entry way. Oh how I love to walk through your nasty ass smoke as I enter my place of work. I seriously can't wait until smoking in public ANYWHERE is completely outlawed, and then, the only way you will be able to smoke is to dig a hole in your backyard and go sit in it, cover yourself up with dirt and smoke to what is left of your clogged heart's content. Can't wait. Until then, have some fucking courtesy and step away from the doorway. Not everyone wants to inhale poison just to get into their office. Note to my friends who smoke: I like you, but I hate your cigarettes, so don't be all pissed off at me, just go smoke somewhere else.
So, things to be thankful for. Well, this past year has been a doozey, but here we are, a year older, wiser, still standing, and stronger for it. Health, check. Happy, check. Roof over head not leaking, check. Place to go to work on Monday, check. Bossa no longer attempting to kill Samba on a daily basis, check. Family situation good, check. Christmas shopping started, check (I'm not kidding, I have already bought a present and decorations). Friends doing well, check. Children of friends doing well, check. New friend getting through the year as best she can, check. See, a lot of good things.
Onto the cranky (and a bit of a non-sequitur)...
I was all ready to settle in for a kickass evening of Thursday night TV, but the show that gets me started was pre-empted for effing baseball. Baseball! Can you believe it? Glamorous hot young sexy things got bumped for a bunch of quasi-athletes in their pajamas running around a big field. Gimme a break. I am not happy. So, this killed my evening as I really had no good excuse to hang out and wait for ER to start at 10pm. So, instead, I taped ER and went to bed. Exciting. At least Football has the decency to keep to Sundays and Monday nights - that I can handle (also, Scott explains all the different plays to me and I am endlessly entertained watching him hike pillows, block the coffee table, and tackle the lazy boy - he is nothing if not passionate about his football). Between hockey being back and now baseball playoffs I feel like my cozy fall evenings are now falling prey to these stupid games. Note, I don't include basketball in my complaints because I like basketball. Fickle I know.
While I'm bitching, let me also complain about all of the nasty goddamn smokers who like to congregate with their little cancer sticks directly outside my office's entry way. Oh how I love to walk through your nasty ass smoke as I enter my place of work. I seriously can't wait until smoking in public ANYWHERE is completely outlawed, and then, the only way you will be able to smoke is to dig a hole in your backyard and go sit in it, cover yourself up with dirt and smoke to what is left of your clogged heart's content. Can't wait. Until then, have some fucking courtesy and step away from the doorway. Not everyone wants to inhale poison just to get into their office. Note to my friends who smoke: I like you, but I hate your cigarettes, so don't be all pissed off at me, just go smoke somewhere else.
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