Pets – Page 110 – red paper boat

Instant Review: Harriet Brown Goes a-Visiting

December 1, 2005November 15, 2015 Shelly

Harriet likes to sit on the corner of the deck and look out over the neighboring fields. She’ll spend hours like that, sitting and watching. I think she may be channeling her namesake, Greta Garbo (Garbo used the name Harriet Brown as a pseudonym). Like Garbo, Harriet often wishes to be left alone.

Harriet had an exciting weekend. We went to visit my family, who live a couple of hours north of me. Harriet is a wonderful travelling companion, so I enjoy taking her places with me. She’s always eager to get into her car harness and settles down quickly in the car. While we’re in stop-and-go traffic, she stands up and presses her nose to the window, so that she can watch what’s going on. Once we’re on the highway, though, she curls up and goes to sleep. I mention this, because I think it’s interesting that the only thing I specifically wanted when I got her was a dog who enjoyed car rides. It’s funny how those sorts of things work out. Her previous owners never took her anywhere in the car, but as long as I’ve had her, she’s been a fabulous travelling companion.

Gabe playing with Harriet’s ears

She had a great time at my mom’s house. She always enjoys going there, and is nearly as relaxed there as she is at home. She even managed to do some kidney beaning and sassy woo-wooing, which she never does in front of anyone but me. She got to play with my brother’s kids, and got all sorts of attention from my brothers. She also got to eat all sorts of stuff she wouldn’t normally get to eat, and was entertaining in the process–there’s nothing quite like a kitchen full of people feeding green beans to a dog, who thinks they’re some sort of canine crack. I guess they’d never seen a dog eat green beans before. Harriet loves them, though.

This was the first time I’d taken the new car on a road trip. I was well pleased with it! As we reached Indy, the wind picked up, which was, um, exciting. It handled pretty well, though. Even though it’s much bigger and taller than my last car, it’s also much heavier, so it sticks to the road better. There were times in the Festiva when I’d crest a hill, and a strong gust of wind would nearly lift me off the ground. Talk about unsettling! That doesn’t happen in the Tracker. It’s just too damned large and heavy to go kiting. I did get pushed around quite a bit by the gusting wind, but it wasn’t all that bad.

Gas mileage was good, too. Even with all the wind, and running the AC because the windows kept fogging up, I only used a little over half a tank. I forgot to set the tripometer, but I’m guestimating that I used about 8 gallons over 250 miles, which would be around 31mpg–not bad at all for an SUV. Have I mentioned lately that I lovelovelove my Tracker?

Now, for the obligatory randomness:

I belong to umpty mail lists, most of them art-related. Artists don’t tend to be the most computer savvy folks on Urth, so I ought to cut them some slack. I draw the line at reading badly formatted messages, though. If there’s HTML coding, or if I have to hunt around to figure out which is new and which is quoted text, or if there is nothing but quoted text, I skip the message. I would think artists, being aesthetically sensitive, would take the time to make their messages look presentable, but apparently that’s not the case.
I’ve temporarily put my Netflix subscription on hold. Waaah! I’ll miss having good teevee to watch, but I just can’t justify spending money on it right now.
It snowed today. We were supposed to get two inches worth, then sleet and freezing rain, AKA Icy Death from Above[tm]. Welcome to winter in Indiana!
Christ died on a spruce tree for your sins. Wait, he didn’t? The use of evergreen trees during the winter holiday season dates back to at least Roman Saturnalia festival. Yeah, the Christians appropriated it, but the tree itself, along with its symbolism, is strictly pagan. So to complain about calling it a “holiday tree” instead of a “Christmas tree” is, I think, a little funny. But then, Mr. Falwell is a funny, funny man. And I don’t mean in the funny-ha-ha sense, either.
I don’t know why this should be surprising, but it was. It’s sad but true that all news really is just propaganda. From the administrator who was paid to promote No Child Left Behind, to “astroturf” (the opposite of grass roots) form letters sent to US newspapers, supposedly by local soldiers who supported the war, I think it’s a bad idea to believe anything that comes from or lends support to the current administration.
Firefox v.1.5 is out. If you’re using IE, I really recommend downloading Firefox and giving it a whirl. The tabbed browsing (ctrl-T) alone makes it worthwhile, but the lack of pop-ups and the ability to truly control text size (ctrl-mouse wheel up/down) are quite nice, too.
The Ebola virus has been traced to bats.

Sunset Another Day

Clouds were just beginning to creep in from the southwest. They must have thickened overnight, because this morning, it started to spit freezing rain. We were supposed to get two inches of snow, then more freezing rain and sleet, but it was too warm for it to actually stick. It’s still gross and disgusting, though, in a way that only Winter in Indiana can be.

Pets, Photography

Happy Post-Turkey Day

November 25, 2005November 15, 2015 Shelly

Wednesday Sunset (top) and Friday morning frost (bottom)

It got relatively cold last night, with lows around 12F, so there was a good layer of frost on everything when I got up this morning. And, guess what? I still don’t have a window scraper! I don’t have a winter coat, either, so coming home from Thanksgiving dinner was a little brisk. I usually wear layers, instead of a coat, because I like being able to vary my outer-wear to suit the needs of the day. Indiana weather is so changeable that I always end up being too warm or too cold if I wear a coat. Last night’s freezing cold temperature took me by surprise, though. The weather guy kept saying “It’s gonna get really cold,” but he never got around to saying just how cold before I had to turn off the teevee and leave.

The Orphans’ Thanksgiving dinner was wonderful. D. brought Quorn cutlets, which are now my favorite meat substitute. Oh my, are they good. She put barbecue sauce on them, which I usually can’t stand, but they were so good that I didn’t mind. I brought a left-over one home with me, and they heat up well in the microwave. Often, veggie burgers will get texturally weird when re-nuked, so I was surprised at how well Quorn fared when re-heated.

I took Harriet along with me, which is always a little stressful. She doesn’t get along at all with the resident bitch, and can be tweaky in large groups of people. She did fairly well, though, and even sucked up to one of the guys, which surprised the hell out of me. She’s always been freaked out by strange men. It was wonderful to see her enjoying being around other people. Unfortunately, though, she got a little resource-guardy during dinner, which resulted in a big snark-fest. It wasn’t serious–no injuries–and consisted of a lot of snarling and posturing and no teeth-on-skin, but I think it was a little nerve wracking for the non-dog folks who were present.

Overall, she did pretty well, considering. She’s always going to be tweaked in the head, no matter what is done to desensitize her. She’s just hard-wired wrong.

And, poor dog, her weekend is going to get even more stressful, but in a good way. As always, she’s going with me to visit my family. She likes car rides, and loves visiting my mom and brothers, but no matter how enjoyable it is, it’s still stressful. She also has to have a bath today. She’s very good for baths, even though she can’t stand getting wet. Everyone in my family is allergic to cats and dogs, so I always bathe Harriet with Dr. Bronner’s castile soap the day before we visit, then wipe her down with Allerpet-D right before we leave. It works pretty well.

Now, off to wash the dog and clean out the car. It’s amazing how quickly I can fill a car up with junk. I’ve had it less than two months, and it’s already full of trash.

Pets, Photography

The Rainy Season

November 15, 2005November 15, 2015 Shelly

The rainy season has begun in Indiana. One might think spring time would be the wettest part of the year, but we always seem to get a stretch of rain in the fall that lingers and lingers and, without fail, makes me think I should begin building an ark. The rain started last night, along with periodic lightning and rolling thunder. We’re under a tornado watch until this evening, too, so the weather could get exciting.

Can you spot the dog? Harriet is, unsurprisingly, not amused about the onset of cooler weather. She insists on being covered up while she sleeps, and who can blame her? Right now, she’s in bed, curled up under a pile of blankets and comforters. That’s what one does on a cold, rainy day, right? Sleep? I know that’s what I want to do. In fact, a nap is sounding quite inviting.

Taken last Saturday just after sunset. There were thick clouds covering the entire sky, except the section just above the western horizon. It’s not a very good photo, but I liked the contrast of the large, dark area against the small window of light.

We had a blazing sunset last Wednesday. It was like looking at a lava flow and seeing the cooled, blackened crust breaking open to show the glowing, molten lava underneath. (Yeah, I watch way too much nature television.)

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Random Dog-related Ranting

November 13, 2005November 15, 2015 Shelly

Pitties. They’re Pit Bulls, or Pit Bull Terriers, not Pitties. It’s bad enough when people baby talk to small children, but doing it to other adults is inexcusable.
Pitt Bulls. No, they are not related to Brad.
Dalmation. It’s Dalmatian, like, from Dalmatia.
German Sheppard. They’re German Shepherd Dogs, because they, well, herd, whereas a Sheppard is a wingnut FOX “news” personality.
Shepherd. Is that German Shepherd Dog, Australian Shepherd, Belgian Shepherd Dog, Anatolian Shepherd Dog, Central Asian Shepherd Dog, or Pyrenean Shepherd
Spade/Spaded. It’s spayed, please. Unless, of course, you’ve whacked your dog over the head with a damned shovel, then you can call it a spade.
Furkids. O ick.
Skinkids. O ickier.
My dogs are like my children. Do yourself and your dogs a favor, and treat them like dogs. Children, hopefully, will one day grow up, leave home, and become useful members of human society. Dogs, not so much. (Yes, I know that many dogs are far more useful than certain humans could ever hope to be, but I think you understand my meaning.) By all means, enjoy them and spoil them rotten–the dogs, not the children–but do not forget that they are an alien species, and that they don’t necessarily understand or abide by our rules and customs.
Doodles. Please don’t get suckered into buying a high-priced mixed breed dog that you can get from the shelter for a paltry adoption fee. I have yet to see evidence that anyone breeding any sort of Poodle mixes are doing so responsibly, so why reward their irresponsible behavior with your hard-earned money? It is far better to obtain your next dog from a shelter or rescue group. You’ll be giving a dog a much needed home without giving crappy breeders incentive to continue churning out more pups for bucks.
Non-shedding. There is no such thing. If it has hair, it sheds. Furthermore, don’t assume that because it’s low-shedding, that you will not be allergic to it. People are commonly allergic to dog dander, which exists independent of how much the dog sheds.
Short-hair = Less shedding. True, many short haired dogs have single coats, which means they are easier to groom, but that does not mean they will not drop hair all over your furniture, clothes, carpet, car, etc. Worse, those short hairs that have glued themselves to every surface in your home are likely barbed, so that they work their way into fabric like a hook into a fish’s mouth. In other words, you cannot brush them off your furniture or clothes–they’re stuck there, like cockle burrs.
Getting rid of your dog because you’re moving. If you can have a dog where you currently live, then surely you can find similar accommodation in your new location.
My dog bit someone, so I need to find a new home for it. Who in their right minds thinks that’s a good idea? If the dog’s current owner cannot house it safely, then what makes them think that someone else can?
Free to good home, needs room to run in the country. That’s a spectacularly bad idea. Aside from the risk of being stolen or hit by cars, loose dogs are at risk of being shot or poisoned when they, inevitably, stray onto neighboring property. They are also at risk of being attacked by other dogs or wildlife. It’s never, ever a good idea to allow dogs to run loose. Never mind that “home with room to run in the country” is a myth made up to placate small children by parents who want to dump the family dog at the nearest shelter.
My lab is 100 lbs of pure muscle. If your Lab truly weighs that much, he’s either a draft horse or he’s morbidly obese.
My dog is overweight, even though I don’t over-feed him and he gets plenty of exercise. I’m sorry, but barring a medical condition, if your dog is overweight, it is either because he is not receiving enough exercise or because you are feeding him too much. It’s a simple math equation. One thing to keep in mind is that most dog food labels over state the amount of food you should give your dog. If your dog is overweight, try increasing exercise, decreasing the amount of food, and adding low calorie items for bulk (e.g. plain, canned pumpkin, frozen green beans, etc.).
My dog’s not fat, he’s just big boned. My ass. I’ve seen a lot of overweight dogs whose owners swear they are “just right.” And, how do they know their dogs aren’t overweight? Their vets have said they’re “okay” or they haven’t told them to put the dog on a diet. I’m sorry, but my experience is that many vets either don’t know what a fit dog looks like (they get used to seeing so many overweight dogs that they become acclimated to it) or they are afraid to tell their clients that their dog is a butterball. For example, when compared to the Purina weight chart that hangs in many vet offices, my dog would be underweight, verging on thin (she’s somewhere between 3 and 4). She’s in very good shape, though. If she weighed enough to look like the “ideal” dog, she’d be unhealthily overweight.
My dog is in heat and I want to breed her to your dog. Um, that’s not possible. And, if it were, I wouldn’t allow it. Besides, if you can’t tell the sex of a docked, short-haired dog, do you really think you have any business breeding?
My dog is friendly, so it’s okay if he says “Hi” to your dog. No, it’s not okay. My dog is not dog-friendly, and she does not appreciate strange dogs approaching her. Please keep your dog under control and out of my dog’s space.
My dog is clueless, so it’s okay if your dog kicks his butt. No, that’s not okay, either. It’s not my dog’s job to train your dog not to be a jerk. Please put your dog on a lead, and do whatever you have to to keep him from invading my dog’s space.
It’s okay if your dog jumps on me, I like it. No, that’s not okay, either. My dog is a Boxer, and the breed is notoriously difficult to train not to jump on people. Every time you allow or encourage her to put her feet on you, you undermine the training I’ve done to stop her from jumping on people. Please, knock it off.
If you didn’t want me to pet your dog, you shouldn’t have left your car window rolled down. Dude, if you don’t get your arm out of my car, I’m going to call the police. Lowered window or not, you’ve got no right to help yourself to my private property. And that goes double for my dog. Besides, what kind of a jackass sticks his arm into a car to pet a strange dog?
One little bite won’t hurt anything. Wanna bet? Unless you’re going to be the one stuck in a confined space with my dog, please, for the love of all that’s good in this world, do not give her a bite of your sauerkraut.

Crankypantsing, Pets

The Afflicted

November 12, 2005October 4, 2015 Shelly

Did I mention that I’m fed up with being sick? Well, it’s true, I am. Yesterday morning I ate an entire 9ct package of Halls cough drops–the extra disgusting ones in the blue wrapper–and still couldn’t stop coughing. Not only was there no residual benefit, but they didn’t even stop me from coughing while I was sucking on them. Damn! Today, I can finally breathe for short periods of time without coughing. Or, I would be able to, if I could to breathe at all. And then there’s the fact that I feel like my head has been stuffed with a wool blanket, then shoved into a fish bowl. I can’t hear a thing, and every time I blow my nose, it gets worse. Living in a hilly area doesn’t help, either, because every time I drive up or down a hill, the pressure in my ears increases. Ow!

In convalescing cat news, Rory is doing swell. He woke me up in the middle of the night (or, he would’ve, if I hadn’t felt too crappy to sleep), digging furiously in his litter box. I got up to check on him, and found a nice little present waiting for me. Yay! He’s eating and drinking on his own, now, too, so I’m quite pleased with his progress.

I’ve had a difficult time, feeling like I have to justify to others why I would be “foolish” enough to spend a big chunk of money and lots of time and effort to save a feral (former) barn cat. When I called in to work one day last week to say that I wouldn’t be in because I had to take Rory in for surgery, the coworker who answered the phone told me “You need to put him to sleep.” Um, no, I need to do no such thing. It’s not like I was asking for sympathy or advice or any sort of input whatsoever. At no time have I invited her, or anyone else, to comment on whether or not I was making the right decision in pursuing treatment instead of putting him down. Hrmph. I wish some folks would learn to mind their own business. So, if any of y’all have ever felt the urge to say something similar, please do everyone a favor and reconsider. You likely have no idea what factors are involved, or how complex the issue is. Everything from the bond felt by the owner, to the chances for a good outcome, to the pre- and post-procedure quality of life, to monetary resources, are part of the equation. What seems like an obvious conclusion to one person may not be acceptable to another. My coworker felt that I was packing money down the proverbial rat hole. Monetary concerns are apparently at the top of her list of things to consider, which is perfectly valid. Cost was at the bottom of my list, though, so my “obvious conclusion” was the opposite of her “obvious conclusion.”

And, for what it’s worth, it’s not like I hadn’t considered all the options and weighed them carefully. I did. After talking to the vet, I decided that Rory’s chances of having an acceptable quality and length of life were reasonably good. Another thing I considered was Rory’s temperament. He’s been withdrawn and freaked out at the vet’s office, but at home, he’s been in good spirits. He’s always been relaxed and gregarious with me and the other animals, and that hasn’t changed with his illness. Even now, he clearly enjoys the life he has, and it’s important, I think, that he be able to enjoy more of it.

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

All About Asses

November 11, 2005October 4, 2015 Shelly

First, the Crankypantsing and Nitpicking:

It’s crapS shoot, not crap shoot. Shooting crap is what Kenny did, and if that’s what you’re suffering from, I suggest seeking medical attention ASAP.
I hope that whoever went a-Googling for “ejaculating your cat” found, um, help. Ew.
It’s not a good idea to drive down the highway in the pitch dark without headlights. I’m just sayin’. Even if it weren’t a safety issue, it tends to creep out people like me when you sneak up behind us. Asswagon.
I hope that whoever gave me the plague (respiratory, not crap-shooting) is enjoying my misery, because I’m sure as hell not. I’m tired of blowing my nose and sucking on cough drops. Enough, already!

This is the view from my front door, looking to the southeast. I got only a few photos of the foliage after it (finally!) turned color, but before it got blown to smithereens by last weekend’s storm. This was taken on the one nice, clear day we had during that interval.

Rory Update:

Rory had PU (Perineal Urethrostomy) surgery on Tuesday. Basically, it involves amputation of the penis and widening of the urethra. This was the last resort for him, as his urethra and bladder were in terrible shape from years of crystals and, we found, stones. He was a mass of inflamed scar tissue. Once we’re able to get the uroliths properly diagnosed, he can be put on a food that will inhibit their growth. The surgery will hopefully allow him to pass any stones or crystals that do develop.

The surgery went well, but he was stressed by being at the vet, so she recommended that I take him home ASAP. I picked him up Wednesday after work. He looked good, and seemed relatively comfortable and relaxed during the drive home. He stretched out in his carrier and chatted with me. I think he now understands that when I pick him up at the vet, it means he’s going home, home, home.

Physically and mentally, I think he’s doing well. His stitches look good, though he’s got the funniest baboon ass in captivity. It’s shaved and still dyed red from the antiseptic. I’ll try to get a photo of it (it’s truly special), if I can. He’s all about the sweet, sweet lovin’, though, so getting a photo of his back end will be difficult. He’s too busy having me scratch and rub his head and neck to turn around.

He’s not into the prescription food, unfortunately. I think part of the problem is that it’s canned, and he’s not a big fan of canned food. He usually takes a couple of bites and leaves the rest. The vet said that, since we’re waiting for urolith analysis, I can go ahead and feed him his old food for the time being. It took him awhile to get the knack of eating with the satellite dish around his head, but by late yesterday afternoon, he was getting pretty good at it. He’s still not drinking on his own, though, so I’m having to force water down him with a syringe. He’s not happy about it, but he’s got the attention span of a gnat, so as soon as I’m finished, he forgets that he hates me. It’s nice to have a cat who is incapable of holding a grudge.

He’s peeing like a champ, which is a huge relief–nice, big pools of it, too, instead of the little spots that were common when he’d start blocking or would get a UTI. I’m concerned that he’s not had a bowel movement, but I think the fact that he fasted for a few days accounts for that. He didn’t start eating well until later in the day yesterday, so it may take awhile for things to start, um, moving through him properly.

Meta, Pets, Photography

The face of Jesus in my soup…

October 27, 2005January 16, 2016 Shelly

Or, apparently, in a tree. Or here. He really is everywhere!

Yahoo is now giving unlimited space for photo storage. I haven’t been actively using my storage space there, because it’s problematic for non-Yahoo users to access, and, they used to have a 20mb storage limit. Twenty megabytes? It is for to laugh!

When I started blogging, I used Hello (a Google-Picasa tie-in), then Flickr. Now, I use a combination of Flickr, my own web space, and Blogger’s photo storage. I’d totally forgotten about my Yahoo space until I got a courtesy reminder from them, telling me that if I did not access my photos at least once every six months, they would delete them. I took a quick look, just to make sure there wasn’t anything important stored there (nope), and saw this photo. The quality is crappy, and I have no idea when it was taken–at least a couple of years ago, I think–but it’s a typical “grazing cow dog” photo, so I thought I’d post it here. Harriet does like her fresh greens!

In other animal news, Rory has yet another UTI. There was a tiny amount of blood in his urine this morning, so I made an appointment to have him seen first thing tomorrow. I know he can’t be comfortable, and he really ought to be seen today, but I can’t face taking another animal back to the old vet. I managed to find another vet who is taking new clients (not as easy as one might think!), but they can’t see him until tomorrow morning.

On the bright side, I got more information and assistance, just from one phone call, than I ever got from the old vet’s office. I’m optimistic, both about the quality of care and the possibility that we may be able to finally get Rory’s crystal problem under control. Another plus is that they don’t usually keep animals overnight. They’re not staffed at night (most regular vets are not), and they feel that animals will be better off at home, where they have supervision and will be more comfortable. I tend to agree.

Today’s cool website contains a collection of black and white photographs, taken from long lost film found in old cameras.

And now, let’s have some fun with searching. The following are search strings used to arrive at either my website or blog:

tacky religious art
christian sationery
dog with a blue tongue
marble catholic sculptures
sleeping in curlers
scintillating scotoma (this one pops up about once or twice a month)
puggles (almost a daily occurrence)
unbleached waxed bag
silly shelly blog (well, duh!)
cigarette burns on children (another that pops up once or twice a month)
paris hilton porn
acupuncture mannequin

Pets, Photography

Stealth Brindle

October 26, 2005November 15, 2015 Shelly

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it before, but I was sold a pig in a poke. Well, not exactly sold. And, not exactly a pig. Or, a poke, either, for that matter. But! For years, I thought Harriet was fawn. Then, one day, I noticed that her coat looked a bit like tiger maple. I looked more closely, and saw that she had faint brindle striping along her shoulders and black stripes on the backs of her hind legs.

The funny thing is that I really prefer brindle to fawn. Some day, I’ll have a plain, dark brindle Boxer. Harriet has way too much flash for my tastes. Not that I don’t think she’s the prettiest dog EVAR, mind you. I’m just partial to less white. I also think that breeding for excess flash in Boxers is problematic, as it leads to more white (and potentially deaf) dogs being born. If flash weren’t so popular, and if it weren’t being actively bred for, there would likely be fewer deaf, white Boxers born. I just can’t get behind breeding practices that knowingly create dogs with potentially deadly health problems. (Deaf dogs are a challenge to train and are at higher risk of ending up being euthanized. It isn’t a trivial issue.)

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Autumn Musings

October 6, 2005November 15, 2015 Shelly

It’s been nice to be back on my own schedule this week, though reacclimating myself to waking up at 4am has been unpleasant. I’m also having to get used to having Wednesdays off instead of Fridays. It means giving up my three-day weekends, which isn’t ideal, but I can rearrange it if I end up hating it. Flex-time is a godsend.

I spent this morning doing a whole lot of nothing, and it felt wonderful. I did manage to make a crockpot full of green beans and potatoes. I’ve been craving them for days. They turned out beautifully. I don’t use ham or anything meaty in them, but a lots of garlic and onion, and few drops of liquid smoke, some tamari, and some liquid aminos makes a nice, rich broth.

The new car is just as delightful as I thought it would be. It handles beautifully. I’ve never been very interested in cars, but I’m finding that there are zillions of little things the new car has that make me very, very happy (like the CD player restarting at the same place in the song, instead at the beginning of the CD, or headlights that go on and off automagically). But, the biggest thing I’ve noticed is that I don’t hold my breath every time I stop at a light. I hadn’t realized just how habitually on edge I’d gotten, because the MPoD had been dying whenever I came to a stop. I also don’t have half my mind on searching for new noises and problems. I almost enjoy driving, now.

I can’t quite wrap my mind around the fact that I’m now one of those eeevil SUV owners. But! It’s not a huge-assed SUV, it’s more of a smidgeon SUV-ette. It’s nowhere near as big as some of the monsters on the road. If it were, I wouldn’t be comfortable driving it. It is lots bigger than the MPoD, though. The little gravel patch that I park on, which was more than wide enough for the MPoD, isn’t quite wide enough for the new car. Hopefully, Ralph will dump some more gravel in my parking area the next time he re-gravels the driveway.

And now for gratuitous cute animal photos.

Harriet and I were lounging on the couch, watching teevee. I was trying to get a picture of her with her eyes closed, but every time she heard the camera focusing, she opened them. Still, it’s a pretty cute picture. I love the way she curls up her feet. Her back end is raised up because her far hind leg is tucked underneath her. She sleeps in the strangest positions.

Pandora, Queen of Bones. Or so she’d like everyone to believe. She occasionally curls up on the dog’s mat, with the her bones. They aren’t meaty or yummy, and even if they were, Pan hasn’t got any teeth to chew them with, so I don’t know what the attraction is. (Please ignore the layer of dust on the stereo cabinet. I certainly do! I figure that if I don’t pay attention to it, it might go away. Or, at least, it won’t bother me.)

As I was leaving home one morning last week, there was a beautiful layer of fog between the far stand of trees and the southeastern ridge. A week later, at about the same time of day, the sun was out and sparkling dazzingly on the fallow field behind my house. Despite the warm temperatures (highs in the mid-80s), you can tell that autumn is here. The back roads have brown leaves scuttling across them, which crunch satisfyingly when you drive over them. The walnut trees started losing their leaves weeks ago (I suspect the summer’s drought is to blame) and the leaves on the sassafras trees are turning scarlet.

You can really tell, in the bottom two photos, that the leaves are turning color. The first was taken on September 15, the second, on October 5. The closer, framing trees have dropped a lot of their leaves, the far, center tree has turned brown, and the mustard is no longer in flower.

It’s supposed to cool off quite a bit on Thursday. I’m a little torn. On the one hand, I love the cooler weather and turning leaves of fall, but I’m also not ready for truly cold weather to set in. Not that I don’t enjoy cold weather–I do!–but that I don’t want to have to invest in propane just yet. I don’t even want to think what a tankful will cost. I’m still planning on moving, but now I’m weighing the pros and cons of waiting a bit. On the bright side, I now have a car that will fit most everything I own!

It’s crankypantsing time!

1. Blogger. For the past few days, it’s been really unreliable, and seems to have just crashed again. This is the third time I’ve tried to upload this post, and the third time I’ve gotten a “Cannot find server” message. It looks like I’ll have to save this as a text file and upload it before work on Thursday. But hey, it’s free, right?

2. Models who have their own TeeVee shows. Has anyone seen the Tyra Banks show? I’ve watched a couple of episodes (I’m masochistic, that way), and was gobsmacked. She had on a couple who had requested a “free pass,” so that they could go out and see other people for 24 hours. WTF?! First, why do they need Tyra’s permission to see other people? Second, why on earth do people think that’s a good idea? The rationale seems to be that testing themselves with other people will show them whether or not their relationship is strong enough to take to the next level (presumably, marriage). I’m sorry, but if you’re even considering such a dumassed thing, then it seems pretty obvious to me that the relationship is in trouble.

3. My dryer, which died last week. I’m hesitant to replace it, because it may soon be redundant. Many of the houses and apartments I’ve looked at have washers, dryers, and dishwashers provided. But, air drying doesn’t remove lint and cat/dog hair. In the interim, I guess I could go to the laundromat, but that’s a time consuming pain in the ass.

4. My television antenna, which decided to stop working a couple of months ago. So now I can now only get two channels instead of three and a half. Hrmph! I can get FOX and PBS just fine, with the addition of a UHF booster, but I can’t get CBS and NBC, which means I’m missing Survivor and The Amazing Race. (This also explains why I was watching the Tyra Banks show.) I think I’ll put this in the pro Moving ASAP column.

Funnily enough, the antenna stopped working the same day Elliott died. I’d been out mowing and weed whacking earlier that day, so at first, I assumed I’d accidentally cut the antenna line. I don’t know what’s wrong with it–I’m scared to death of heights, so I’m not about to climb up there to investigate. Ralph said he’d come take a look at it, but I’m not holding my breath.

5. The phrase “scan in.” There is no in, out, up, or down–it’s just scanning. Period. Also, I can’t stand it when people add an extraneous “the” in front of words that do not need it.

6. E-mail forwards. You may think it’s the funniest damned thing since the invention of humor, but please, for the love of all that’s good in this world, don’t send it to me. I love Teh Funni, but I’m afraid that e-mail forwards do not make the cut. Also, do not cross-post it to all your mail lists. It’s sure to be off-topic and sharing it with everyone will not make you popular. Worse, if the recipients have multiple lists in common with you, they will receive it multiple times, thus multiplying your unpopularity. yOu hAv3 b33n wArn3d.

Crankypantsing, Pets, Photography

Happy Monday

September 26, 2005November 15, 2015 Shelly

I’ve been trying to remember to take photos of the sun shining on the dewy fence. It’s all grown up and, ahem, “rustic” looking right now, which is kind of picturesque. I’m not a big fan of yardwork, at the best of times, and with the uncertainty of my living situation, I’m feeling even less motivated than I normally do. My other excuse is that we’ve been getting an unholy amount of rain recently. It finally cleared up today, after 24 solid hours of rain, but it’s hot and humid and there’s no way the grass is going to dry any time this century.

The previous day had started with pea soup fog–dangerous, but beautiful in a spooky sort of way.

And now for the gratuitous dogblogging. That’s the lovely and talented Miss Brown, doing a canine headstand. She props herself against me, then inverts herself until she’s standing on her head. She started to slide out of position when I got up to get the camera, because her support was gone. I had to act quickly, in order to get this picture, so it’s a little blurry. But I think you can get the general idea–top of head on couch, butt in air, much funny to be had by all.

Oh, and note the glowy, non-photo blue eyes. They’re proof positive that she is eeevil.

In other news, I stayed home from work today to do some more car shopping. It looks like I may end up with a Ford Taurus wagon. It’s bigger than I want, but at this point, I’ll take anything with wheels and an engine that doesn’t hemorrhage oil. Oh, and a hatchback. I found plenty of smaller cars, but none were a closer fit than the Taurus. I went ahead and got my financing sorted out, so that I can pretty much just go in and pick it up on Wednesday after co-op delivery.

I’ve also been checking out rentals in Bloomington, and am pleasantly surprised at how many ads there are for pet-friendly housing, most all well within my price range. Whew! And it’s a good thing, too, because my landfolks are really starting to make me uncomfortable.

Ralph came over on Saturday (he showed up while the SBC guy was fixing my phone line), and told me that when Katrina left, she’d broken all the windows and toilets in their old place, and had burned all his clothes. Sweet fancy Jeebus! I can’t even imagine doing something like that, no matter how pissed off I was. That’s just seriously uncool. And, according to him, the property is his. He’s supposedly coming over this weekend to fix things. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Then, this afternoon, Katrina called. She says the property is hers, and that she still wants me to sign a lease. Ostensibly, it’s to protect me. Hell, NO. I have no intention of getting in the middle of their little shitfit! I told her I didn’t think it would protect me, as leases aren’t transferable. She disagreed. I told her I didn’t want to sign anything right now, but thanks anyway. She seems to think Ralph will kick me out. So what? I don’t think he will. I like Ralph, we’ve always gotten along just fine, and I don’t think it would be in his best interests to kick me out–if he does, no biggie, I’ll just move. Then Katrina told me that she’d called Ralph and told him I didn’t want him bothering me. As in, he’s not supposed to talk to me about anything related to the property or my living here. Not only did I say nothing of the sort, but what the hell business is it of hers?! The only thing I told Ralph is that I don’t want to be in the middle of their drama. I told him I was perfectly happy to deal with him instead of her, in fact, I’d prefer it. At no time did I tell him or Katrina that I didn’t want Ralph to “bother me.”