Sunday, February 28, 2010

Just got back from Madelyn's baby shower. The top picture is Judy and Madelyn. The bottom is Madelyn and Steve, the parents to be. It's exciting, all these babies. I'm just glad as hell they're not mine. Like, really, really glad. I love babies. Lord knows I do. But I'm a girl who knows her limitations.

The cake was good. So was the chicken.

Frankly, I haven't been feeling myself lately. I've had a headache for days and days and yesterday morning I woke up with a sore ribcage, like I'd been kicked by a very unhappy mule. Which isn't likely, cause I don't recall any mulish encounters. I think my body has decided it's had enough of my shit. And my brain, my mind, is detaching itself. Almost like astral projection. Like I'm floating outside of myself, watching everything going on. I can hear myself talking and saying things and I'll think, "Janet. Shut the hell up, Janet. Why are you still talking? Why did she just say that? What is she even talking about? Somebody do something, already! Quickly! Before she says - shit... too late."

Friday, February 26, 2010

I'm making a Mexican/Fajita chicken soup for supper tonight. Mostly because I have an extra packet of Old El Paso fajita mix and a half a pound of raw chicken in my fridge. That's what makes it Mexican, by the way. The fajita mix. I love what Americans do to ethnic cuisine. Throw a packet of Old El Paso on something and suddenly we're all wearing sombreros. Add a couple dashes of soy sauce and you're in the far east. Anyway, it's snowing. Been snowing all day so I figured it would be a cozy environ if I made the soup.

I stopped by the Salvation Army this afternoon on the way home from work and found a whole lot of nothing until I browsed the books one by one and found a hardback copy of "A Reliable Wife" by Robert Goolrick. This was a mega-find, because last week I was at the grocery store and I spotted this book, so I wrote the name down and ordered it from the library. Been waiting on it ever since. Then I was over on Rapunzel's blog a few days later and she reviewed it and raved about it and that got me even more jacked up. So today, I bit the bullet and paid $5 for a used book. The Salvation Army has some effed up book prices. Whatever. I'm happy, dammit.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010


I don't hang out on Polyvore quite as much as I used to. Mostly because I get discouraged by all of the insanely talented women over there. So I mostly use it as a museum. When I need something pretty to look at, I check out Etteniotna's creations. There are days when I'd just like to cover my whole house in prints of her things. I chose the one above mostly because of the title.

I shoved de-wormer down the throats of my furry little beasties. Mae-Mae drooled it all out and Lenny looked stunned and violated and then promptly puked up everything he's ever eaten in his entire life. The smell was dee-lightful.

I've had a variation of the same headache since Friday afternoon. Probably tension and foot related. I need to start practicing Yoga. If anyone out there has any book or website or DVD recommendations as far as the Yoga is concerned, please, help a sistah out.

Sunday, February 21, 2010


Here's to the best cat that ever there was.

The Bandon

I posted more about my covetous longings over on Suhster Gurl.
These past two days, these weekend days, have been absolutely glorious weather-wise. It's windy, but the sun is shining and the snow is melting and the cats are in their element, chasing leaves and pouncing at pine cones.

Yesterday, we ate lunch at the golf course and then visited the baby who's just getting over a long, drawn out cold. Of course, in true John fashion, he's now convinced that he has a cold... and possibly pink eye. Who am I to convince him otherwise? I go into the bedroom periodically and coo and cluck over him. Offer him food and beverage and feel his forehead and poke at his lymph nodes. It appeases him and alays my conscience.

What I'm reading: re-reading "Savannah Blues" by Mary Kay Andrews. She's a kickass writer. Want a real re-creation of the city? Read this series and start with this book.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Do Re Mi, Indeed !

My mamacita and cohort Lynn emailed me this last night. Why the hell don't we do stuff like this in the US? What's the matter with us?

Friday, February 19, 2010

Y'all ever hear of the Sesamoid Bones? They're these two tiny pea sized little bones that are embedded inside a tendon in the bottom of your foot beneath your big toe... and one of mine is fractured. Which accounts for the tremendous amount of pain and bitching I do. Today I sat down with Dr. Scanlon and he brought in another hoof doctor and they consulted with one another and with me about the results of my MRI. Advanced arthritis? Yup. Nerve damage? Yup. Bone spurs, fractured sesamoid, and bone fragments floating around? Yup, yup and hell-to-the-yup. I got it all, baby. For a sick split second I felt validated. 'Ha! See, I TOLD you there's something wrong with me!' And then I just felt sick and pissed. Because this means another surgery. This sucks a duck on so many freaking levels.

I'm tired of this shit. I want some happy news.

I want a kitchen with heart of pine floors and a sub-zero refrigerator and a sink so deep you could bathe a toddler in it.

What I'm reading: Just finished "The Old Fox Deceived" by Martha Grimes. Number two in the Richard Jury series. Really good stuff, these books. I'll probably be picking up number three this weekend. Also re-read "Blue Christmas" by Mary Kay Andrews, in honor of my favorite city. Read an article about Ramadan in a "High Lights" magazine at the doctors office. Read the atlas at lunch today.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

A Revision Of Plans

Oh, I am most bereft. Most saddened with longing and despair and disappointment. After crunching our finances and juggling bills and working myself up into a hot frenzied mess, John and I have decided to forego our little jaunt to Savannah this trip. I am pained. I am distraught. No sweet little BnB's and no smothered shrimp and no Bonaventure. Instead, we'll save the money and enjoy a little something extra while we're chilling with Bob and Carolyn. Or, you know what? Maybe this means I can afford that tattoo I've been telling myself I'm too broke to get. See, there's my light at the end of that dark, Spanish moss covered tunnel.

My sister Angie and her family live in Kure Beach, NC about three blocks from the ocean. It's rather disgusting because they're all tan and they all surf and if you call my sister any time between 5:30am and 8:00pm she'll talk to you while she's walking on the beach. That's why I'm pleased as punch that they got hit by the snow storm this past week. Take that! How you like me now, dawg? Seriously though, they made this surfer snow-dude, which is pretty cool and I'd still think so even if they weren't family.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Tiger Lily

Wanted to share this story I read on Paw Nation. I love that she wrote the date down in her Bible. That part makes me tear up a bit.

Ingrid Kerger holds long lost cat named Tiger. Credit: Boris Minkevich, Winnipeg Free Press

Fourteen years after her cat, Tiger Lily, disappeared, Ingrid Kerker of Winnipeg, Canada was stunned to receive a phone call from a veterinary clinic, asking if she had ever owned an orange tabby. The clinic had found a feline with an identification code tattooed in its right ear that led to Kerker's old address, reports the Winnipeg Free Press.

"I was just shocked," Kerker tells Paw Nation. "Tiger Lily disappeared on October 12, 1996. I remember because I wrote the date down in my Bible."

At the time, Kerker and her two young sons put up posters looking for their cat, but they never found her. "Over the years, we wondered what happened to her and she would come up in conversation periodically." Tiger Lily had once been a stray that Kerker adopted and had spayed and tattooed. "In Canada, every animal that is spayed or neutered has to be microchipped or tattooed," Kerker explains. "Back then, they didn't have microchipping, so I had Tiger Lily tattooed."

After getting the call from the veterinary clinic, Kerker quickly called her sons, both now in their twenties. "My younger son Rick [now 23] couldn't wait to go out and get her." Rick took along a photo of himself at eight years old, sleeping with Tiger Lily.

"She was very friendly right away," Kerker tells Paw Nation about reuniting with Tiger Lily. "She just cuddled up on my chest and it was like we hadn't skipped a bit." Except, of course, that Tiger Lily was much older. "The animal clinic examined her and we think she's actually 19 years old," Kerker says. The family has no idea what Tiger Lily was doing these past 14 years. All they know is that when the staffer at the animal clinic rescued her, the cat was thin and smelled of diesel fuel.

Tiger Lily is as affectionate as always and loves to hug cheek to cheek. It took her about three days to get used to the two other cats in Kerker's household, though the dog is another story "All three of the cats line up and eat out of the same bowl," Kerker says. "But Tiger Lily's still a little uncertain about the dog."

I got my annual Valentine's Toblerone. Ernie decided to guard it for me.

Happy Valentine's Day, Of Course!

The truth of the matter is that about 68% of the time I feel like poking John's eyeballs out. This isn't unusual. I feel like poking everyones eyeballs out. However, the caveat to this is that for the remaining 32% of the time I love, love, love him. We're talking ♥LOVE♥ here people. He totally makes me laugh all the time. Even when I hate him and secretly wish he'd disintegrate before my very eyes, I still love him and think he's the funniest, smartest and most amazingly gifted man I have ever, ever known. I am lucky to have found him and even luckier that he loves me as much as I love him.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

I'm not naming names or anything, but my landlord is weird as hell. Not just a little bit strange, and not odd in an interesting sort of way, just flat-out, straight-up weird as hell. It's not charming, this weirdness. It's mostly infuriating and all-consuming, so that over time I've learned to just ignore him. If I didn't, I would've long ago snapped and got up in his face and "showed my tail" as my mama would say. Honestly, I've lived here nine years and I can count on one hand the number of conversations I've had with him. And he lives in our backyard. Or we live in his front yard. I can literally look out my window right now and see straight into his kitchen. But I haven't seen him in months. See what I mean? Weird. He and John get along swimmingly. John visits him nearly every day and they call and check up on each other. So most of my knowledge of said landlord comes second-hand. That's about five hands too close for my personal comfort. I know this is all vague and shit. I could relate a few stories that would prove my point and both amuse and frustrate everyone, but then you'd also feel sorry for me. But you see, I don't want your sympathy. I just want to know that y'all know. You know?

On another note entirely: I've lost ten pounds since starting Biggest Loser. Yay, me!

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

The Post Where-in I Cry About My Foot... Again

Last Friday I met with foot doctor #1 for the first time since I had my bunion surgery. He x-rayed. Told me that yes, my foot looked swollen, but that there was nothing unusual on the x-ray. That the foot looks fine. I said, "Dude, I'm here to tell you, that this is not a fine foot and if you don't do something about it I'm seriously gonna naw the fucking thing off." Alright, I may not have called him 'dude'. But I definitely used the F-word. Apparently my accent is more pronounced when I swear because he laughed and asked me which Carolina I was from. So he shot me up with the cortisone again to try and reduce the swelling and all that jazz and now... Thursday I have to go for an MRI. See, this is what I knew was gonna happen once I started going back to doctors.

Tomorrow it's supposed to snow. I'm gonna need a hover-craft to get out of my driveway.

Happy thoughts? I worked out for an hour tonight and for half an hour last night. I made reservations at theSavannah BnB for me and the man. Four more weeks. I get to Savannah I'm changing my name to Anastasia Von Beaverhausen, socialite and undercover CIA operative.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

I just did a new post over on suhster gurl but I feel like I need to link This Incredible Photographer here as well. Her handle on flickr is Linda Yvonne. Oh God... the Carmel-by-the-Sea pictures are the stuff of dreams.

Happy Birthday to Norman Rockwell. Also, Happy Anniversary to my sweet loving man. Nine years ago yesterday I moved to this god forsaken frozen yankee-land just to be with him. It's ironic that today is Mr. Rockwell's birthday, because during our first year of courting, John took me to the NR-Museum in Stockbridge, Mass. He was trying to impress me. Trying to wow me over. It's impossible to get any more New Englandy than Stockbridge. He also took me to Concord, Mass which is, duh, the home of Louisa Mae Alcott and Thoreau and that whole lot. We were surprised to discover that Rockwell had painted Jo March and Professor Bhaer in the above picture. Sometimes things just fit together like puzzle pieces.

Monday, February 1, 2010

This chick is my latest YouTube find. I am absolutely enthralled with her voice and I make John listen to at least one of her uploads every day. Her handle over on the Tube is Kennedy Productions. Go have a listen.

Apart from that, here's the latest. We woke up this morning and it was 48 degrees in the living room. Some thing's wrong with our thermostat and even though the heater guy came and replaced something and even though it's supposed to be working right now- it's not. I'm not literally freezing to death. It only feels that way. Haven't been posting lately because my attitude is funk-ass rotten. The j-o-b's got me down. The winter chill's got me down. I'm mostly just working out a lot and trying not to eat too much crap.

What I'm reading: "Death of Riley" by Rhyss Bowen. What I've watched: "Twilight". I've told y'all I'm about three years behind on all the trends. Which probably accounts for my recent discovery of Lady Gaga. I think she might be evil because I can't stop listening to her.