Monday, February 26, 2007
Ha, ha. Just kidding. I only took them a couple minutes ago.
I am hoping Cookie & Rhett will be ok. I am worried about that. I am also sore and everything from all the moving, running, and lifting shit I had to do today, on top of the fact that afterwards, I was stupid enough to try to do some stretches. Gah. I was doing all the running, jumping, and everything because our offices are moving at the end of the week, and I had to make sure everything was packed, labelled, and all that crap for the movers. And I did it all in ONE DAY. I am the rockingest. ;-)
I was trying to keep my whatzit muscle on my right leg right above my kneecap from spasming and hurting in class tonight, and it occurred to me that leg massages are cool, and they probably really work. I just usually don't pay much attention when I am in pain because it usually goes away eventually. Or after I take a couple of Mom's Tradol. I'm probably misspelling it, but whatever. Hopefully it will stop my feet, legs, back hips, and shoulders from hurting. Tomorrow will be fun. Whee.
This semester is practically halfway over, and I'm still not ready for it.
HELP! HELP! HELP!
Rhett & Cookie were so terrified when I dropped them off today (I am boarding them overnight, 'cos the couple of times I have made speuter appointments previously, I have been unable to keep them away from the food and water, and ended up having to cancel the appointment) that I started crying, and the ladies in Boarding (who love Squoosh to death!) let me come back and help put them in the cage, and so I got to hug them and try to calm them down. I just know they think that I have left them forever. I hope they don't die. I am trying to not worry about this. I miss them so much!
I saw Rhett's blue brother on the way home (I go by Eviljob almost every night to feed and water); he looks like a Russian Blue (growing up, I had two Russian Blues that my father bought for reasons that were never apparent to anyone but him, and Rhett sort of looks like a Russian Blue Tux, if there is such a thing), and Rhett's brother is SO BIG, just like Rhett.
And I just pulled up that link and read it, and then went to British Blue, and now am wondering if that may be the blue in Rhett's woodpile. :-) Rhett certainly is 'inclined towards obesity'. Lord, that's one porky cat...but he gives TONS of kitty kisses, and his little white chin goes pink when he is happy. He is so cute! If he is a BB, I will have to keep a close eye on his teeth and gums, in case he inherited that, as well. :-)
I will have to think of something that will get these cats at Eviljob trapped and speutered. Right now, I cannot do it; I have way too much. Maybe next semester will be lighter, but until then, it is all I can do to keep them fed and watered over there. Unless I run across some help, that is.
Okay; now I *am* getting sleepy.
but i just dropped Rhett and Cookie off for overnight boarding and
speuter, and i am CRYING. I am so sad. I want to go back and rescue
them...they are so unhappy... I hope everything will be ok, and they
know that i love them, and i will come back for them. I tried to tell
them, but we have a language barrier...
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Okay, I have to get in a quick update of sorts.
One, Lisa seems to be back in the rescue bidness. She has a new name, new flyers, and I phoned Chrissy and talked to her for a bit; Chrissy still has around fifty cats of Lisa’s, only now to take them back Lisa wants all of them to be tested and for Chrissy to buy $300 worth of building materials. Now, I personally think that is bullshit, but I am not Chrissy. So I offered to give her some of it, and help her raise some more. This really sucks.
Eviljob is the same as always. I haven’t seen Mehitabel recently, so I guess that means that she’s had her next litter. I just want to cry. Breakfast is so friendly…up to a point. Won’t let me near, though. Not that I know what I’d do if she did. Cry, probably.
I just wish I did not have all these other things going on. I realised that the other day; I am, in a couple major ways, doing what I want to be doing, and things are – in this one tiny corner of my life – perfect.
I have to get to sleep, but…things are ok. I am worried about the usual stuff: my upcoming trip, Ms Grammarian’s absence, the cats in the parking lot, and a bunch of other things that I can’t even remember most of the time. I am under this ginormous amount of stress, and I am getting forgetful…or maybe there just aren’t enough hours in the day.
School stuff is ok. Just ok. I am *doing* fine…it’s just that everything is moving so fast. I like having some free time to read and think and stuff, and this semester, I have *none*.
All my cats are great. Even Harry seems to be doing better after this last round of Clavamox and that pill, Whateveritwas.
My father came into town last week to see me, and I and guess it is because I had not been out to see him in a while, so…I guess we had fun. He brought my stepmother, and we went to her favourite seafood place in town. It was a pretty nice evening, though I guess it stressed me out; I went and bought earrings after. And I am still somehow fitting in time to go to the chiropractor, who is actually helping out tremendously with my headaches. Added to that is this other physical rehab thing I have entered, and, well…my dance card’s full. I am *tired*.
Though this really cracked me up: $25 an hour?!? Not nearly enough!
I have a lot to write about, but I have to go to sleep.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
I'll have to go back and figure out at what point things stopped getting posted and do something about it...what I haven't figured out yet; I have neither the time nor the privacy to post any other way most of the time any more. And it is equally tricky to pull up my own page and check. Grr.
Today's news was that Breakfast was very happy to see me. So happy, in fact, that he did a little dance around me (just out of reach, of course) with his tail up.
And that is how I found out Breakfast is a girl.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
I am fine. Things are like, sucky-busy recently. I received a really nice email whose point was essentially that I seem out-of-sorts. I am. I hope to be back in-sorts soon. Basically, I am getting too little rest, and too much work; I am exhausted.
I have a vacation (a real one) coming up in less than a month, and I hope to catch up on sleep then. :-)
I had a pleasant surprise the other night as I left Eviljob; the remaining members of the Kittypants family (Rhett and Cookie’s litter) were at the feeding station. I guess the cold weather drew them out of hiding to get food asap. There was the black one who looks like Cookie, an all blue one that otherwise looks like Rhett, as well as Breakfast and Blacktoe. So the entire litter (except for one who vanished early and I could not find) seems to have made it. I guess that is good. I don’t know what I can do other than feed them; I haven’t had time to trap (there is no way on Earth I could get back within 24 hours to check the traps), I have nowhere to farm them out, and I cannot take them in – I have a full load myself, plus a FeLV-positive cat outside.
I was taken to task by someone else earlier for not bringing Harry indoors. I acknowledge that in some respects it may seem irresponsible. I explained that (1) in all bluntness, Harry is not my farking cat, and I have gone above-and-beyond for him in making a home for him, feeding him, getting him medical treatment, and vaccinating all MY cats for FeLV (well, almost all—Romeo was deemed too sickly to vaccinate), risking my kitties getting fibrosarcomas and such when another owner would have just taken Harry to Animal Services, where he would have been put down; (2) I have FIVE other cats that ARE my cats, and they are INDOOR cats. Bringing Harry in puts *my* cats at-risk; (3) Harry never goes anywhere other than my front door and the courtyard that surrounds my front door/front room area, and the courtyard has a brick wall with a gate around it. Sure, Harry could get out by going in-between the brick and the gate, or by jumping up on the wall and over (the same way he wandered into my courtyard)…BUT HE DOESN’T. Only rarely does he leave the courtyard area to walk down the path to the driveway to meet me at my car, and then he walks right back to the front door area with me. When he suns himself, it’s in the courtyard. When he poops, it’s in the courtyard. Other neighbouring cats and dogs don’t come into my courtyard, which is one big reason that I think Harry stays—he has food and water, and no one messes with him. When the weather is bad, he has protection from the rain and hot sun, and when it gets cold, he stays in this area that is right by my front door where I made a shelter for him complete with clean blankets and stuff, that I can (and have) put a heating lamp by if the weather gets cold enough. That area by my front door is a recessed concrete area (almost as if the architect had once intended there to be a second or different entryway) and the roof extends well beyond the front stoop area, so he has no wind, no rain, no sludge, no snow, no *anything*; the wind cannot blow anything of note into that recessed area, and when Harry is in the shelter, he is *fine*. I could put a folding chair and a card table in that recessed area and not be seen from the front of the house. When it has gotten very VERY bad, I put him in my garage (which he hates, by the way; he loves it in the courtyard. This week it is supposed to get bad enough that at some point he’s probably garage-bound, though).
So don’t worry about Harry. He’s out there as we speak full of Clavamox (yes, he’s back on it) and some other drug (I think it is a steroid, or a decongestant), with his heating lamp on; he has had a good dinner, and he is probably asleep by now. I need to see if I can find a home that takes in FeLV-positive cats, and as long as it passes my inspection (I will not just dump Harry off into some hellish cat nightmare where he gets locked in a cage for all eternity, fed ‘sometimes’, and cuddled NEVER. I’ll be damned if I’m going to see Harry on an episode of Animal Cops; if that’s the alternative, he’s staying right where he is), I will be more than willing to re-locate Harry and pay for his food and vet bills and whatnot. Sure, he’d be best off indoors. It’s just not going to be MY indoors, ‘cos I have *my* babies to worry about. Don’t be angry at me, be angry at Harry’s previous home, the one that let him get infected with FeLV and cast him off. I’m doing the best I can with what I’m dealt over here, and when added on to everything else I have to do, it’s a task to sterilise everything and launder constantly and wash myself and my clothes in-between petting Harry and going in to my cats. Plus, when I have had to totally clean – disassemble his shelter, clean it completely, do Harry’s laundry, clean the front stoop, walkway, and walls, and replace everything (I do this so that my front door/courtyard area isn’t teeming with virus) the past five to ten times over the past few weeks, it has been pretty damn cold. Plus, I am so very NOT brimming over with the time to do all this.
I have to get some sleep, but I will catch up on my stuff and all later. :-) I’ll deal with other emails and crap tomorrow, or something.
Friday, February 16, 2007
alive' days, one of those days where you want to go home and get
really drunk, or ragingly high, or take about 60 mg of Valium and just
watch tv and drool on the cat. No, seriously. It's vacation time. I
swear, it is not possible to pack one more ounce of stress into my
body. Or, rather, there's probably scads of room... I feel positively
deflated. And that, in its own way, is even more stressful.
Monday, February 12, 2007
As I Was Going To St. Ives
I stumbled on it whilst in class looking for St Ives' Hair Repair, and I swear -- I could *hear* John Cleese reading it.
Dinner last night was same as ever, I am still not finished with that writing crap, and I am having my routine all disrupted, and I'm angry. The pitifully few aspects of my life which I can form into a routine are, in my mind, inviolate. Or should be. For this semester, I spend my Mondays being worked into a philosophical froth, and my Tuesdays in a never-ending seminar with my HoD trying to regain my bearings.
And I pick up some luscious crab chowder and have it in class, too.
Now true: this is one drawback to dual-programming it, which I am to a large extent. The running joke in my (main) field is that when I am done, I'll have enough letters to make a whole new name. But I look forward to decompressing on Tuesdays, because this semester I have worked it where (class-wise) I am doing one program on Monday, another on Tuesday, and the rest of the week on this third thing that actually ends up being Job 2, but I'm not going to go explaining how that works out, 'cos it's not that simple. Job 2 is a real job, but I get credit for it in a roundabout way.
So tomorrow I am LOSING my cool seminar so that I can help make a film-like thing at Job 2 that illustrates how cool we are. That's neat, sure. But I will REALLY miss being in seminar, especially cos today was so damned stupid that i could just spit. I mentioned my unrepentant Phenomenologist (actually, I think I originally called him a Holist, but I can't help but be honest) in the Husserl - slash - My Little Pony sense.
No, I really cannot be serious one bleeding minute longer than I absolutely must. Cope.
Well, doesn't this all just drive me up a tree. Keeping my big mouth shut is one of the hardest things I have ever done. Bwaah. Today we were harping without end on behaviours that *I* attribute (bearing in mind that I am not a Behaviourist) to chaining and That Other Thing, Occam's Razor being what it is and all. Simple explanations will suffice, as long as they both describe and predict the behaviour reliably. No need to get fancy.
Well, it would seem that some people *like* fancy.
Whatever. I'm just staying quiet, and really don't give a rat's ass whether Otho and Ingmar make it to the museum, or not. I hope they get lost, jumped by a street gang, rolled, and sold into slavery. Both of them. I hope they end up on a boat to Taiwan for the NAMBLA convention. Otho and Ingmar can kiss my heinie. It is frustrating to not be able to make clear the difference between a thought experiment and an actual experiment, and it's even more frustrating when one is in a room full of people who don't understand why one is frustrated. And it is *most* frustrating when people think they are being clever by perverting thought experiments to quell a legitimate objection, like bringing up the possibility that a hypothetical dog running through a hypothetical forest might stop to take a nap, or some shit. That crap really pisses me off. Bwaah. What if Otho had a lobotomy?!? Wha...wha...we're talking about something that DOES NOT EXIST, probably would not actually occur, and was only brought up for illustrative purposes, as a canned situation! What if Otho had three dicks and a llama named Tyrone? Huh? What then?
Oh, I've learnt my lesson; this semester, I am staying quiet.
Oh, wait--I'm not done. It's *also* frustrating for someone to not acknowledge that a reflex is not the same as 'hard-wiring', and then attempt to refute an event that illustrates hard-wiring by listing off why this event isn't a reflex.
Why am I doing this? I know. That's the obvious question. There really is a point and purpose, I am just whining about the steps *to* that point and purpose. That's all. Humour me; I'm harmless. And I find cool free things. :-)
So now let's go back to whining about how I have to wake up in just a bit and go miss my favourite seminar (it's really hard to tell which I'll miss most -- the class, or the crab chowder), and be all unhappy. Well, unhappy-ish; I do get to get stuff accomplished, and hand out with my boss who is cool and intelligent, and all that jazz. But I don't get to vent this week. That's my point.
And then I have to go out with Mummers tomorrow night, which means that I will miss trivia (yet another hallowed tradition shot to hell). And Valentine's Day is coming up, which means that the Holiday Season is over.
There is no justice.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
I had to talk Harry into feeding the Eviljob cats today, as I am trying to get something urgent written, but without all the information -- you know, kind of as-usual?
And I have to get done in less than three hours; I'm supposed to have dinner with my father tonight. It doesn't look promising, though.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
*finally* managed to make some really huge progress on one project at
Job 2, and that is just beyond fabulous. So i took some crap to read
through and went to see my doctor (just routine stuff). I figure that
i'm justified in taking off a couple hours early, at least for today.
Plus, my GP is like a small-town doctor, and there's always tons of
waiting, so since i'd be reading work stuff, it's not like i'm talking
about totally slacking off. Right? Right! Butsoanyway. So i am
sitting outside, peacefully reading my crap (i figure outside is
healthier than inside with sick people sneezing snot all over me, and
my doctor or his office girl know to yell outside for some of us, so i
must not be alone in my belief), and i get *propositioned*.
Graphically. I get 'hit on', sure; that's not the novelty. What had
me in stunned silence was that i haven't been propositioned that
graphically since a confuzzled man mistook my being in a sex club for
*participating*, and did everything short of drawing freaking diagrams
on a napkin to convince me that he was a good...ummm...bet. Today, we
had started out in a normal enough conversation, and after my brain
caught up, i went inside to wait in the waiting room and get snotted
on. Once i got inside, i looked to make sure i wasn't being followed,
and Mr Weird went into an office across the parking lot. Weirdness.
Maybe he takes an afternoon break every day to make obscene phone
calls, and someone was using the phone today. :-D Even weirder is
that he is not bad-looking... WTF is he doing acting like that in a
professional plaza parking lot kind of place? The world may never
know, cos i am sure not going back out to ask. Not a good time to hit
on me anyway, what with Anna Nicole dying today, thus bringing the
list of women i'd forsake boys for down to three. Sheesh. It's all
about *timing*, guys. ;-)
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
I have a lot to say. I mean, I could really literally write a freaking *book* at this point, but there just isn't enough time. I am going nuts; I feel as if I haven't slept in a year. I have more to do than I will ever accomplish in this *lifetime*.
I did get depressed yesterday, and it is sticking with me a little bit. I was messaged by an old friend who has asked me on and off for a long time now if I wanted to hear about So-and-So, an other old friend (of sorts) whom I left on iffy-at-best terms. Each time, I said no. Yesterday afternoon, I said yes. Well, actually, I said, 'Fine. What?'
Well, it turns out that he's dead.
This actually has made me pretty...something. Hurt, depressed, bereft of hope...something. Sad. Very sad.
I had always thought that eventually I would get around to seeing him again. I guess I should have come off my Attitude Pedestal a little earlier. And I'm going to quit this paragraph before I start quoting Fire and Rain.
I really have to break out of this...this thing I am in. This rut. Or whatever. It is only getting worse, and I am going batshit.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
matinee of a travelling Broadway play, and raced to make it to BW3,
the site of this year's QB1 Superbowl game (for our QB1-playing
group). This halftime show is probably going to suck. Unless there
are a lot of shots of Dr Fink...assuming he's even there, which i
doubt. Is he still even in the lineup? And i still haven't managed
to get any work done. And i looked ok at the play, but as far as BW3
goes, i look like a goof. I should have brought something to change
into, but i didn't think about it before now. Sigh.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
normal. :-) The weather is really sucky, and he is *hungry*. At
least he can keep pretty warm at Eviljob; the way the place is set up,
the back and one side stay heated, so i'm not too worried about him
getting cold. But the fussing at me was cute. He's a tiny tiger with
Thursday, February 01, 2007
I deal with Really Stupid Questions whenever I am in Eviljob--questions which, if I misinterpret them, could have severe repercussions. Job 2 I sit alone in a dark, locked basement (I haven't gotten to see my office in *weeks*), listening to 'BZZT! BZZT! WARNING! BZZT! BZZT! WARNING! BZZT! BZZT!...' coming out of headsets at barely-audible levels (hence my ability to hear ice cream vans eight hundred miles away), while a battery of Dell XPSs (or whatever they are) glow Demonic Red in the dark. And then I step out into the world to take a break, and meteorologically, it's like The Day After Tomorrow out there.
And I keep forgetting to go to class until about ten minutes before class starts.
Thanks for the good wishes and all. :-*