No really. They do. BLAM. That fast.
***warning - this post is pretty disjointed since I'm typing as I'm thinking***
I woke up this morning being sued for $4.6 majillion canolis and I'll be going to bed owing zip.
Well, technically, I owe $2,000 paid in $200 monthly installments at 10% interest, secured by our house, and $10,000 due when/if we ever refinance or sell our house (if there's even that for a profit).
That's it.
Today was mediation day between us and the 'plaintiffs', along with their dicklicker San Fran attorney. Lemme tell y'all . . . he was in prime dicklicker mode too.
It was very awkward to meet all these people for the very first time, but you do what'cha gotta do.
It was a very long and draining afternoon.
These people's attorney must have painted a huge financial picture based on smoke and mirrors for the last 3.5 years, but today was his 'come to Jesus' time.
We don't have any money. At all. We never did. My FIL has done well in his life, but his money ain't ours.
This jerk lawyer had done zero research about me or The Mike. If he had, he would have seen that our house mortgage is $168,000 and the market is in the toilet for sellers. If he had, he would have noted that I earn less than $50,000/year and my husband has been unemployed for pretty much half of our married life. Our house is the only 'real' property we own outside of our two vehicles, both of which have zero equity between them.
We'd have to borrow two nickels in order to rub them together. We're so po' we can't even afford the 'or'!!
My husband, our attorney and myself sat at a large table while the other party was sequestered in another room together. They came to the table and sat down with their attorney. The mediator did introductions. Their attorney, decedent's elderly mother, his 36 y.o. daughter and her husband of 11 years, his 38 y.o. son (who was so very angry that you could tell as soon as he sat down) and his wife, then The Mike, my attorney, and ending with me.
They all talked about the decedent a little bit, and then I talked about how sorry I was for their loss (yadayada without getting into details and without discussing 'fault' on the advice of the mediator) and then Mike did the same. Then we were separated again.
Lots of sitting around and wondering what the hell the day was going to bring.
So, the first settlement offer was presented and it was $3,500 and a written apology letter from me, stating full responsibility for the accident. A *public apology* too, whatever the hell that means.
Nope. Not doing it. I didn't cause the crash. I have zero 'guilt' about the accident. I was not the one 'who had been drinking' and I was not the one 'wearing a fake helmet' and I was not the one that decided to pass a vehicle that had their left-turn indicator activated. I also was not the one who had a 'broken headlight at dusk' that day.
Round one was shot down.
I have to say, from almost the beginning, the mediator was very friendly to our party. He was not disrespectful of the other party by any means, but he was VERY clear in his dislike for Mr. Marin County Big Mouth DickLicker Attorney, Esq. and figured out immediately that the attorney was really the problem.
There was alot of sitting around on our end. The mediator spent the majority of the day with the plaintiffs. From what he said, and what he alluded to, he felt they just needed the opportunity to get it all out of their system - have their *day* as it were. He let us know that he explained to them the risk they'd be taking if they really wanted to go to court. He also let us know that he felt we had an excellent chance of winning our case in court.
But there we go again with the 'poor' thing. It cost us $10,000 to get our attorney on retainer. Borrowed money that we are repaying. That we can really not afford to pay back, but we have to because we know it's the right thing to do. To continue this case we would have to come up with another $5,000 to retain expert witnesses and professionals. We don't have it. We're one house payment from foreclosure as it is.
Towards the end of the long afternoon, I asked the mediator if he felt the family would benefit from knowing that I stayed with Mr. XX the whole time and he was never alone. He was given comfort and Someone (even if that someone is hated by everyone) Was With Him. He felt they should hear that and he called us all back together at the table. He spoke and then had me speak. I told them everything from the beginning to the end and as I finished, Mr. Bluffing Ambulance Chaser DickLicker, Esq. interrupted me to ask an obscenely rude and insulting question. Even the mediator jumped to his feet, let alone my attorney. We were asked to go back to our room and I could hear the mediator chewing out their lawyer. As I walked past the wife and son, I told them I was 'sorry' but I so wanted to finish that sentence and say 'that you have that man for your attorney', but for once I didn't 'say it like it is'. It just wasn't necessary. Those poor people got screwed royally when they hired that piece 'o shit.
So when it was all finally hammered out at 5pm, their attorney advised them to demand $12,000 that we don't have and they know we don't have. We made it very clear, via the mediator, that we will be persuing bankruptcy and/or foreclosure on our house.
If we do any of those things, it makes this settlement void.
They get nothing.
For three and 1/2 years, this shyster scmuck fuck has been selling them a bill of fake goods and today they finally saw him for who he is. An ambulance chaser who took them for a ride.
What a long strange fucking day it's been.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Quick Pics:
You're my boy, Blue!
("Blue" being a female grey cat . . . I know . . . )
A Little WIP action
The S.E.X. haul the other day
More to come later (but probably not tomorrow!)
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
We Have A Verdict:
Dr. D. let us know that Freckles is suffering from
feline cystitis,which is totally treatable.
She had to stay the night for observation, so The Mike is mopey but he'll live.
We can get both of them tomorrow.
Blue was going to be a 'mama' cat,we realized just before her spay date, but that cat ain't Catholic and neither are we, so she's coming home empty-titted and fixed.
If she'd been our cat from the beginning, she'da been fixed.
feline cystitis,which is totally treatable.
She had to stay the night for observation, so The Mike is mopey but he'll live.
We can get both of them tomorrow.
Blue was going to be a 'mama' cat,we realized just before her spay date, but that cat ain't Catholic and neither are we, so she's coming home empty-titted and fixed.
If she'd been our cat from the beginning, she'da been fixed.
Oh, And:
Blue is at the vet's getting her girly parts cauterized and Freckles is at the vet under *observation*.
And by *observation* I mean they're waiting for her to pee so they can get a sample.
That's all I know. I'll keep you posted.
Tomorrow.
:rolls eyes: Yeah, right.
And by *observation* I mean they're waiting for her to pee so they can get a sample.
That's all I know. I'll keep you posted.
Tomorrow.
:rolls eyes: Yeah, right.
Why To Never Set A Date:
Every so often, I read some of my older posts, and I continue to catch myself in lie after lie.
I'm a big fat stink'n LIAR people!!
Next time I write "tomorrow I'll get some pictures up of . . . " or "tomorrow I'll post about . . . "?
Apparently, I'm lying my pants right off.
I never get back to that shit.
So, right here, right now I'm not gonna promise jack crap. If I get to it, I get to it, although know that I really DO want to do those things I've promised (and probably will, but sure as shit it won't be 'tomorrow').
Saturday I was a busy bee and blogged about it.
Sunday, I woke up feeling sick - like cold or flu sick. I dutifully went back up to Kaweah Lake (thank you Jollyewe for the spell-check on that one) to finish out day two of the Team Tournament weigh in, and then to Rack 'M Out for the ceremony and picture taking part. Done and Done. Now I just gotta blog it all up over on that site. Tomorrow? I ain't promising nothing. The rest of my day was spent lounging on the couch trying to either a) get warm or b) stop sweating.
Monday was The Dreaded Day of Doom with the depositions and I woke up feeling definately flu-ish.
Depos were so much worse than I had anticipated, given that I didn't know really WHAT to anticipate. How many people have been deposed that you know? Not too damn many if any.
The *plaintiff's* attorney was absolutely an ass. An ASS. He was condescending and arrogant and at one point down-right nasty calling our attorney at 'sleazeball' and a 'snake'. ON RECORD, PEOPLE.
I went first and it was relatively okay. I've been through alot in my life, and to me this is just 'one more thing' and that mind-set pretty much gets me through the hard times. I really only got upset/annoyed when he kept on me saying 'so you chose not the contact Mrs. XXX to personally offer your condolences' and I kept reiterating that *I* personally made the decision to participate in my family's order of a plant and a card to convey all of our condolences for her loss. He even said 'so you didn't think it might help Mrs. XXX for you to call her personally?'. For Pete'sFuckSake, I didn't even KNOW this lady OR the man I was in the accident with! Who am I to call a complete stranger and offer condolences? I finally told the attorney that 'unfortunately there is not some book to read to learn how people expect you to handle situations such as these'.
Sheesh.
I got most annoyed about 1/2 way through The Mike's deposition. There was some pretty particular stuff brought up that I don't feel comfortable divulging, regarding the man's property found at the scene of the accident (of which my husband gave to the man's family when they arrived at my in-law's house the day after the accident), but this attorney insinuated that my husband STOLE MONEY that was 'blowing around' the scene of the accident. I was so pissed. My husband is as honest as the day is long and 1) there was no wallet at the scene and 2) *I* was the person at the scene until paramedics and police officers showed up. My husband didn't show up until then and never went over to the man or the actual 'scene' until him and my FIL helped some officers gather up (by aid of flashlight because it was dark by then, I might add) the debris that we figured was the man's. My husband asked the officers if they needed what was found for investigative purposes and the OFFICERS said no. My husband didn't pocket anything, and in fact handed over everything found the very next day to the man's own kin.
Grrrrrrr.
The other thing this attorney did that just bugged the hell out of me, was start using "y'all" on my husband and my FIL. This guy's an attorney out of Marin County/San Fran and apparently he decided my husband and his dad are just a bunch of Good 'ol Boys from the country and started talking down to them in the vernacular he assumed they use. They're from the Central Valley of California, people! Not the deep South!
I'm from freak'n Louisiana so I am the biggest "y'all"er there is. I don't speak like that in adult serious conversation of course, so he had no clue that I wasn't as learned and articulate as he assumed. He never once threw out a "y'all" or "youse guys" or any other hick colloquialism my direction.
Fuck him. Fuck him in his overblown ego stroking ass, y'all.
So of course, me, being me, used my best Minnie Pearl voice and told the stenographer and videographer (in front of him) "THANKS Y'ALL!!!" as we walked out the door.
I'm probably the only one that got a big chuckle out of it, LOL.
Maybe I should've named my blog "so me, being me . . . "
I'm a big fat stink'n LIAR people!!
Next time I write "tomorrow I'll get some pictures up of . . . " or "tomorrow I'll post about . . . "?
Apparently, I'm lying my pants right off.
I never get back to that shit.
So, right here, right now I'm not gonna promise jack crap. If I get to it, I get to it, although know that I really DO want to do those things I've promised (and probably will, but sure as shit it won't be 'tomorrow').
Saturday I was a busy bee and blogged about it.
Sunday, I woke up feeling sick - like cold or flu sick. I dutifully went back up to Kaweah Lake (thank you Jollyewe for the spell-check on that one) to finish out day two of the Team Tournament weigh in, and then to Rack 'M Out for the ceremony and picture taking part. Done and Done. Now I just gotta blog it all up over on that site. Tomorrow? I ain't promising nothing. The rest of my day was spent lounging on the couch trying to either a) get warm or b) stop sweating.
Monday was The Dreaded Day of Doom with the depositions and I woke up feeling definately flu-ish.
Depos were so much worse than I had anticipated, given that I didn't know really WHAT to anticipate. How many people have been deposed that you know? Not too damn many if any.
The *plaintiff's* attorney was absolutely an ass. An ASS. He was condescending and arrogant and at one point down-right nasty calling our attorney at 'sleazeball' and a 'snake'. ON RECORD, PEOPLE.
I went first and it was relatively okay. I've been through alot in my life, and to me this is just 'one more thing' and that mind-set pretty much gets me through the hard times. I really only got upset/annoyed when he kept on me saying 'so you chose not the contact Mrs. XXX to personally offer your condolences' and I kept reiterating that *I* personally made the decision to participate in my family's order of a plant and a card to convey all of our condolences for her loss. He even said 'so you didn't think it might help Mrs. XXX for you to call her personally?'. For Pete'sFuckSake, I didn't even KNOW this lady OR the man I was in the accident with! Who am I to call a complete stranger and offer condolences? I finally told the attorney that 'unfortunately there is not some book to read to learn how people expect you to handle situations such as these'.
Sheesh.
I got most annoyed about 1/2 way through The Mike's deposition. There was some pretty particular stuff brought up that I don't feel comfortable divulging, regarding the man's property found at the scene of the accident (of which my husband gave to the man's family when they arrived at my in-law's house the day after the accident), but this attorney insinuated that my husband STOLE MONEY that was 'blowing around' the scene of the accident. I was so pissed. My husband is as honest as the day is long and 1) there was no wallet at the scene and 2) *I* was the person at the scene until paramedics and police officers showed up. My husband didn't show up until then and never went over to the man or the actual 'scene' until him and my FIL helped some officers gather up (by aid of flashlight because it was dark by then, I might add) the debris that we figured was the man's. My husband asked the officers if they needed what was found for investigative purposes and the OFFICERS said no. My husband didn't pocket anything, and in fact handed over everything found the very next day to the man's own kin.
Grrrrrrr.
The other thing this attorney did that just bugged the hell out of me, was start using "y'all" on my husband and my FIL. This guy's an attorney out of Marin County/San Fran and apparently he decided my husband and his dad are just a bunch of Good 'ol Boys from the country and started talking down to them in the vernacular he assumed they use. They're from the Central Valley of California, people! Not the deep South!
I'm from freak'n Louisiana so I am the biggest "y'all"er there is. I don't speak like that in adult serious conversation of course, so he had no clue that I wasn't as learned and articulate as he assumed. He never once threw out a "y'all" or "youse guys" or any other hick colloquialism my direction.
Fuck him. Fuck him in his overblown ego stroking ass, y'all.
So of course, me, being me, used my best Minnie Pearl voice and told the stenographer and videographer (in front of him) "THANKS Y'ALL!!!" as we walked out the door.
I'm probably the only one that got a big chuckle out of it, LOL.
Maybe I should've named my blog "so me, being me . . . "
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Quick Stuff Including SEX:
LOL - made ya look!
My knitta sistahs know that S.E.X. does not mean the exchange of body fluids.
It's all about the Stash Enhancement Experiences!
It's too bad I didn't know about this until today, but Creekside Yarns in Three Rivers had a kick-fucking-ass sale and just ended.
The sale was 35% to 100% off of your total purchase.
Ayup. 100%. FREE YARN, PEOPLE!
The owner hung paper stars from the ceiling and each star had a "% off" amount hidden inside. One of the stars was designated 100%. How cool is THAT?? There was only one and it had been picked yesterday. What a lucky duck!
I didn't even freak'n know there was a sale going on so it was a doubly good event.
Anywhoo . . .
The Bass club has a tourney going on over at Lake Kaweah* this weekend and since I run the club's blog, I needed to be in attendance at weigh-in at 1pm. The yarn store is just another few miles past weigh-in so I scheduled for that.
Tomorrow I'll take some pictures of the haul and throw them up. I scored, dudes. Laceweight, Tofutsies, some gorgy Misti Alpaca. It's beeee-utiful yummy stuff and definately pr0n worthy. Yeah, that's some good stuff, lemme tell ya! And The Mike picked me a 35% discount star.
(Funny side story: There were two other knitters in the store with us, excluding the owner, and he said "this place looks like your yarn room at home". As in "you already own too much yarn so why are we here?" looking for sympathy. The two women chuckled *at* him and definately not *with* him. I looked over at him and said "Honey. Please. These people are NOT your audience if you are looking for pity. They will be completely on my side." The older lady said something along the lines of 'you should see my stash!' and the other woman said something like 'good for her having a nice yarn room!' He was most definately among *my* people and in waaaay over his head, lol.)
After the yarn store visit, and the 1st day weigh-in we headed to Visalia to check on my stitch markers being sold at Rococo Beads on Main Street. No sales this time. Bummer since that's my crafting slush-fund. It didn't stop me from S.E.X.ing though.
Next we hit Joann's so I could get some material to line the scarf I'm working on now. I have pictures of the WIP and they'll get up here and to ravelry tomorrow. It's entrelac and personally? I think entrelac has THE ugliest 'wrong side' so I'm lining it.
After a quick bite at Baja Fresh (and yes, for the most part I loathe chain restaurants and am SO sick of Mexican food, but Baja Fresh is pretty good, IMO) we moseyed on back home.
So that's the (not at all) quick post on my raw unadulterated SEX'n.
Second item(s):
Freckles is the one peeing blood. I stone-cold busted her last night around 8:15pm. Well after the Vet office was closed unfortunately, and their message said they were not open today. Bummer that. First thing Mon-dee I'll be calling to get an appointment.
Hunter is still doing well, comparatively. He's never going to be 100%, but he's bounced back from his bad episode.
We had to take ANOTHER FUCKING ABANDONED dog to animal control yesterday.
That's two since 4th of July.
I hate this ghetto fucking town. It is just so depressing. Between the graffiti and the vandalism and the boom-boom-boom of stereos and the animals thrown in our yard and the people being shot while at the store and the local lake debaucle and and and, I don't even like leaving my house.
My town is on the short-track to becoming Fresno or parts of Los Angeles. Just fucking ghet-to.
No amount of yummy yarn buys is gonna make it better, and no amount of 'getting involved' seems to help either, 'cuz trustyoume, I have done both to no avail.
*Kaweah. Did I spell that right? I'm not from here so I hope any locals set me straight if I'm wrong 'cuz believeyoume, I'd totally let you know that it's not San "Looie" Obispo but San "LEWIS" Obispo if I heard y'all say that.
My knitta sistahs know that S.E.X. does not mean the exchange of body fluids.
It's all about the Stash Enhancement Experiences!
It's too bad I didn't know about this until today, but Creekside Yarns in Three Rivers had a kick-fucking-ass sale and just ended.
The sale was 35% to 100% off of your total purchase.
Ayup. 100%. FREE YARN, PEOPLE!
The owner hung paper stars from the ceiling and each star had a "% off" amount hidden inside. One of the stars was designated 100%. How cool is THAT?? There was only one and it had been picked yesterday. What a lucky duck!
I didn't even freak'n know there was a sale going on so it was a doubly good event.
Anywhoo . . .
The Bass club has a tourney going on over at Lake Kaweah* this weekend and since I run the club's blog, I needed to be in attendance at weigh-in at 1pm. The yarn store is just another few miles past weigh-in so I scheduled for that.
Tomorrow I'll take some pictures of the haul and throw them up. I scored, dudes. Laceweight, Tofutsies, some gorgy Misti Alpaca. It's beeee-utiful yummy stuff and definately pr0n worthy. Yeah, that's some good stuff, lemme tell ya! And The Mike picked me a 35% discount star.
(Funny side story: There were two other knitters in the store with us, excluding the owner, and he said "this place looks like your yarn room at home". As in "you already own too much yarn so why are we here?" looking for sympathy. The two women chuckled *at* him and definately not *with* him. I looked over at him and said "Honey. Please. These people are NOT your audience if you are looking for pity. They will be completely on my side." The older lady said something along the lines of 'you should see my stash!' and the other woman said something like 'good for her having a nice yarn room!' He was most definately among *my* people and in waaaay over his head, lol.)
After the yarn store visit, and the 1st day weigh-in we headed to Visalia to check on my stitch markers being sold at Rococo Beads on Main Street. No sales this time. Bummer since that's my crafting slush-fund. It didn't stop me from S.E.X.ing though.
Next we hit Joann's so I could get some material to line the scarf I'm working on now. I have pictures of the WIP and they'll get up here and to ravelry tomorrow. It's entrelac and personally? I think entrelac has THE ugliest 'wrong side' so I'm lining it.
After a quick bite at Baja Fresh (and yes, for the most part I loathe chain restaurants and am SO sick of Mexican food, but Baja Fresh is pretty good, IMO) we moseyed on back home.
So that's the (not at all) quick post on my raw unadulterated SEX'n.
Second item(s):
Freckles is the one peeing blood. I stone-cold busted her last night around 8:15pm. Well after the Vet office was closed unfortunately, and their message said they were not open today. Bummer that. First thing Mon-dee I'll be calling to get an appointment.
Hunter is still doing well, comparatively. He's never going to be 100%, but he's bounced back from his bad episode.
We had to take ANOTHER FUCKING ABANDONED dog to animal control yesterday.
That's two since 4th of July.
I hate this ghetto fucking town. It is just so depressing. Between the graffiti and the vandalism and the boom-boom-boom of stereos and the animals thrown in our yard and the people being shot while at the store and the local lake debaucle and and and, I don't even like leaving my house.
My town is on the short-track to becoming Fresno or parts of Los Angeles. Just fucking ghet-to.
No amount of yummy yarn buys is gonna make it better, and no amount of 'getting involved' seems to help either, 'cuz trustyoume, I have done both to no avail.
*Kaweah. Did I spell that right? I'm not from here so I hope any locals set me straight if I'm wrong 'cuz believeyoume, I'd totally let you know that it's not San "Looie" Obispo but San "LEWIS" Obispo if I heard y'all say that.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Depo. And I Don't Mean Provera:
There are a few topics I wanted to hit on tonight, but first I had to get the *represent'n* done for Female Childfree Bloggers. I'm all three, so there ya go. Done and done.
Anywho.
Other things that bear needing mentioned:
Hunter is doing better. He is most definately not 100% and we don't expect he ever will be again. For whatever reason, the night I witnessed his serious problem seems to have been a blip on the radar. Unfortunately, this blip will become a pulsing green glob on that radar pretty soon, but today is not his day. Tomorrow probably won't be his day either, but his days are coming to an end relatively soon.
It's sad that his mind and spirit are not in question. He has always been an upbeat jovial sweet pooch. The only time I ever heard him make a noise of pain/discomfort was due to something with his ear a few years ago. He's not a Barker or a Whiner. When 4th of July comes, he HATES it. HATES. HATE HATE HATE. The way you know this is from his trying to sink into the concrete of the back patio. He just wants the earth to swallow him up and thus end his misery. We do everything humanly and financially possible to alleviate this.
Most likely, he will not be here for 4th of July 2008.
As for our princess Shadow? It ain't her. Today she was outside the entire time we were gone. When we got home and she was allowed inside, she never went down the hallway towards the bathrooms. For some reason she was in a pissy mood (oh, yeah, that's right . . . other cats live here and she HATES that fact!) and wanted out immediately. She ended up being inside for a whopping 3 minutes and all three of them were supervised.
And there was still pinkish liquid in and around our sink. Yes. AROUND. As in proof positive that it ain't the plumbing.
Something is wrong with somebody and now we're on High Alert to figure out who.
My vote is Freckles.
She's (NO LIE) the size of a Pomeranian (sp?) and, uhm, yeah - A CAT! She has her father's feeding schedule for sure. I've said for at least a year that somp'n ain't right wit 'er.
As soon as we can pinpoint any two of the furfaces, they have a round-trip ticket to Vetsville. *fingers crossed we find out the candidates real damn soon*
Now we talk about why The Hub and I were not home right after work.
Depositions.
Hers will be at 9:00am and mine will be at 11:00am and Hub's will be at 1:30pm and FIL's will be at 3:00pm.
Today Mike & I visited Mr. Retainer, Esq. and signed papers and talked and provided documents and talked and got instructions on what to expect for the upcoming depositions and someone used a tissue and there was more talk (about other cases in generalities) and talking some more.
3:30pm quickly turned into 6:00pm.
Blam. Just like that.
All on retainer.
For two weeks I've been staring down the dry legal-ese of *please state the name, address and telephone number of anyone who may have information pertaining to this case* and *please state the name, address and telephone number of anyone who may have been impacted by the actions in this case* crap that is Interrogatories.
Trustyoume, I actually did plenty of sighing during the typing of my answers.
1) I've worked dpn's successfully. Alot. You think I'm intimidated anymore? YOU do dpn's and we'll talk.
2) Scare me with dry-talk? Try filling out a Federal 990 form. Just say'n.
3) A real human being died. I can't make The Funny out of that.
I stayed with him from the moment of impact until first responders showed up (outside of the two times I ran to get my MIL to call 911).
There were only two people that witnessed this accident. Him. and Me. No one can speak for him in the first person and only I can speak for myself.
Mr. Retainer, Esq took me through the *usual* scenario of what to expect:
Him: What were you doing when you were on (x) street?
Me: I was getting ready to make my second left into the driveway of (x).
Him: Did you have your seatbelt on?
Me: *thinking* I'm pretty sure I did because I always wear my seatbelt.
Him: Did you THIS time?
Abrupt change:
Him: Did you hear anything?
Me: At what point? (I'm getting savvy to his instructions)
Him: At any point while you were on (x) street.
Me: Yes.
Instructions are:
1) Be honest
2) Don't be chatty/verbose
3) No *guessing*. It is what it is and if you don't know what *it* is, say so. You can estimate but do not *guess*. Guessing leads to other answers being assumed as *guessing*.
4) State your observations. Noone else will because noone else was there.
When I was describing from the moment of impact all the way through when the Fire Truck and Highway Patrol showed up? That's when it really hit me again. Hit me like I was right back there leaning over Plaintiff and scared to fucking death. It really *hit me*. I lost it with Mr. Retainer, Esq.
I've told the story probably 20 times. It's always *matter-of-fact* because I'm a *matter-of-fact* kind of chick.
After 3 years and 7 months it's still as raw as if it happened 2 hours ago.
Anywho.
Other things that bear needing mentioned:
Hunter is doing better. He is most definately not 100% and we don't expect he ever will be again. For whatever reason, the night I witnessed his serious problem seems to have been a blip on the radar. Unfortunately, this blip will become a pulsing green glob on that radar pretty soon, but today is not his day. Tomorrow probably won't be his day either, but his days are coming to an end relatively soon.
It's sad that his mind and spirit are not in question. He has always been an upbeat jovial sweet pooch. The only time I ever heard him make a noise of pain/discomfort was due to something with his ear a few years ago. He's not a Barker or a Whiner. When 4th of July comes, he HATES it. HATES. HATE HATE HATE. The way you know this is from his trying to sink into the concrete of the back patio. He just wants the earth to swallow him up and thus end his misery. We do everything humanly and financially possible to alleviate this.
Most likely, he will not be here for 4th of July 2008.
As for our princess Shadow? It ain't her. Today she was outside the entire time we were gone. When we got home and she was allowed inside, she never went down the hallway towards the bathrooms. For some reason she was in a pissy mood (oh, yeah, that's right . . . other cats live here and she HATES that fact!) and wanted out immediately. She ended up being inside for a whopping 3 minutes and all three of them were supervised.
And there was still pinkish liquid in and around our sink. Yes. AROUND. As in proof positive that it ain't the plumbing.
Something is wrong with somebody and now we're on High Alert to figure out who.
My vote is Freckles.
She's (NO LIE) the size of a Pomeranian (sp?) and, uhm, yeah - A CAT! She has her father's feeding schedule for sure. I've said for at least a year that somp'n ain't right wit 'er.
As soon as we can pinpoint any two of the furfaces, they have a round-trip ticket to Vetsville. *fingers crossed we find out the candidates real damn soon*
Now we talk about why The Hub and I were not home right after work.
Depositions.
Hers will be at 9:00am and mine will be at 11:00am and Hub's will be at 1:30pm and FIL's will be at 3:00pm.
Today Mike & I visited Mr. Retainer, Esq. and signed papers and talked and provided documents and talked and got instructions on what to expect for the upcoming depositions and someone used a tissue and there was more talk (about other cases in generalities) and talking some more.
3:30pm quickly turned into 6:00pm.
Blam. Just like that.
All on retainer.
For two weeks I've been staring down the dry legal-ese of *please state the name, address and telephone number of anyone who may have information pertaining to this case* and *please state the name, address and telephone number of anyone who may have been impacted by the actions in this case* crap that is Interrogatories.
Trustyoume, I actually did plenty of sighing during the typing of my answers.
1) I've worked dpn's successfully. Alot. You think I'm intimidated anymore? YOU do dpn's and we'll talk.
2) Scare me with dry-talk? Try filling out a Federal 990 form. Just say'n.
3) A real human being died. I can't make The Funny out of that.
I stayed with him from the moment of impact until first responders showed up (outside of the two times I ran to get my MIL to call 911).
There were only two people that witnessed this accident. Him. and Me. No one can speak for him in the first person and only I can speak for myself.
Mr. Retainer, Esq took me through the *usual* scenario of what to expect:
Him: What were you doing when you were on (x) street?
Me: I was getting ready to make my second left into the driveway of (x).
Him: Did you have your seatbelt on?
Me: *thinking* I'm pretty sure I did because I always wear my seatbelt.
Him: Did you THIS time?
Abrupt change:
Him: Did you hear anything?
Me: At what point? (I'm getting savvy to his instructions)
Him: At any point while you were on (x) street.
Me: Yes.
Instructions are:
1) Be honest
2) Don't be chatty/verbose
3) No *guessing*. It is what it is and if you don't know what *it* is, say so. You can estimate but do not *guess*. Guessing leads to other answers being assumed as *guessing*.
4) State your observations. Noone else will because noone else was there.
When I was describing from the moment of impact all the way through when the Fire Truck and Highway Patrol showed up? That's when it really hit me again. Hit me like I was right back there leaning over Plaintiff and scared to fucking death. It really *hit me*. I lost it with Mr. Retainer, Esq.
I've told the story probably 20 times. It's always *matter-of-fact* because I'm a *matter-of-fact* kind of chick.
After 3 years and 7 months it's still as raw as if it happened 2 hours ago.
Child Free . . . Who's Out There?:
I've been on a bit of a rant lately regarding Childfree and the kid-centric world in which we live.
Honestly, I had pushed the soapbox back under the podium and had every intent to get back to bloggity blogging the usual mandanity (mundaneness?) of my mostly knit-centric personal space.
But (and doesn't every long winded story have a but in it?) I just found out the other day that November 15th was designated as a shout-out day for the Child FREE by CHOICE bloggers.
So here it is.
*waves hands in the air*
SHOUT OUT!!!!
Most days, being Childfree isn't a 'cause' for me - my life doesn't really have anything to do with kids. I don't work with them, my work isn't kid-friendly, my friends have kids at tolerable ages (after about 12 - where they're ignoring me as much as I'm ignoring them, lol).
Where kids start to drive me up the ohgawdpleasemakeitshutupI'mgoingtostabmyself withmyownknittingneedle wall is when I go out into public. Not 'kid-centric' public. I don't even remember the last time I was at an amusement park or a playground or a themed restaurant. No way no how. Unh Uh. YUCK.
I haven't even been to a movie theater since October 12th 2004 when I saw Friday Night Lights. Yup - football on my birthday. AWESOME. More awesome than that though was having the ENTIRE place to ourselves. It was like a Wednesday around 5pm and the place was dead. Awesome.
No screetching brats, no insolent teenagers, no cell phones, no Talky Talkertons behind us. Nutt'n.
I know that's not usual and I don't expect that everyone cater to me and my wishes.
All I would like is to go to a nice restaurant and not have to scope the joint out for the group of people with one/two/three young'ns that you know (because it happens 99% of the time) will completely ignore their kid's antics because they can't be dragged away from their 'adult' time. Kids running around the place, kids whining, or worse caterwalling.
All I would like is to not be at the bank and have walking-aged children running amok in the place, like it's their personal playground - no parenting to be found. I swear to Key-rist, if I had run around like a raving lunatic, spinning and jumping on furniture IN MY OWN HOUSE I'da been given *whatfor* let alone in such a respectful place.
Even past all the crazy out-of-control kids - that isn't really what I consider the main focus in my ChildFreedom.
It's the absolute indoctrination in our society about Parenthood in general and Motherhood in particular. It's touted as being the end-all-be-all of life. When you're a little kid you have 'dollies' that you 'mommy'. Most girls have been babysitters growing up - either taking care of their siblings or the neighbor kids. Parents saying they won't feel their daughter is *safe* until she's finally has her own family . . . .
and oh Lordy the pressure when you've hit the 'birthing' years. Since I was 18 I've been asked when I'm going to have kids. No husband and not even a boyfriend sometimes. Since I am female it's a given that I have a *biological clock* and it is just tickticktick'n away and seems everyone can hear it but me.
I didn't start out HATING the concept of kids. On a case-by-case basis they each have potential, and really, when you get down to it, is it really the KIDS or their parents? Yes, an 8 year old can grab your yarn and fling it. Unacceptable, I agree, but when the parent poo-poo's Snotson's behaviour and feels we all should have his/her attitude and that we need to 'loosen up' because, geez, he's *just a kid*. Grrr.
From the time I questioned the necessity of spawning until I was about 35, I had never heard the term 'Childfree'. I didn't know there was a 'movement' and I didn't know there were other people who felt like I did and had put up with the same stuff I had because of our choice. I was quite alright being different from 'the norm'. If 'the norm' was made up of drool, diapers, tantrums, snot, stickiness and broken stuff 90% of the time and lollipops and rainbows and puppy dog tails 10% of the time, I wanted peace and quiet and clean 100% of the time.
I didn't know the term Kodak Moment (tm) and Breeder Bingo were the descriptions of what I was experiencing.
In 2004 I ran across an article in the Sunday supplement of my local paper and it was an interview of a Childfree by Choice couple. I like to have fell over in shock. My people! I am not alone! Hallaluja!
From that jumping off point, I did alot of research - reading books and articles and blogs and forums and and and. Time after time I read my story in somebody else's words. What a wonderful feeling that was (and still is).
After years of feeling alone, and putting up with all the 'biological clock' comments I finally had the information out there to explain to people what I was really about. I do not want children. They will not take care of me when I'm old, and they will not continue my legacy and they will not be the one thing that will love me no matter what and they will not get me in some superspecial Mommy club that everyone says is the most wonderful place on Earth. None of that is happening because 1) that is bullshit. Nothing is a guarantee. And 2) I do not believe I must have children to *be* somebody because everyone tells me I must have children to *be* somebody.
And they still keep telling me that anyway.
They can't even hear their own kids screetching - how can they possibly hear me?
:eyeroll:
Honestly, I had pushed the soapbox back under the podium and had every intent to get back to bloggity blogging the usual mandanity (mundaneness?) of my mostly knit-centric personal space.
But (and doesn't every long winded story have a but in it?) I just found out the other day that November 15th was designated as a shout-out day for the Child FREE by CHOICE bloggers.
So here it is.
*waves hands in the air*
SHOUT OUT!!!!
Most days, being Childfree isn't a 'cause' for me - my life doesn't really have anything to do with kids. I don't work with them, my work isn't kid-friendly, my friends have kids at tolerable ages (after about 12 - where they're ignoring me as much as I'm ignoring them, lol).
Where kids start to drive me up the ohgawdpleasemakeitshutupI'mgoingtostabmyself withmyownknittingneedle wall is when I go out into public. Not 'kid-centric' public. I don't even remember the last time I was at an amusement park or a playground or a themed restaurant. No way no how. Unh Uh. YUCK.
I haven't even been to a movie theater since October 12th 2004 when I saw Friday Night Lights. Yup - football on my birthday. AWESOME. More awesome than that though was having the ENTIRE place to ourselves. It was like a Wednesday around 5pm and the place was dead. Awesome.
No screetching brats, no insolent teenagers, no cell phones, no Talky Talkertons behind us. Nutt'n.
I know that's not usual and I don't expect that everyone cater to me and my wishes.
All I would like is to go to a nice restaurant and not have to scope the joint out for the group of people with one/two/three young'ns that you know (because it happens 99% of the time) will completely ignore their kid's antics because they can't be dragged away from their 'adult' time. Kids running around the place, kids whining, or worse caterwalling.
All I would like is to not be at the bank and have walking-aged children running amok in the place, like it's their personal playground - no parenting to be found. I swear to Key-rist, if I had run around like a raving lunatic, spinning and jumping on furniture IN MY OWN HOUSE I'da been given *whatfor* let alone in such a respectful place.
Even past all the crazy out-of-control kids - that isn't really what I consider the main focus in my ChildFreedom.
It's the absolute indoctrination in our society about Parenthood in general and Motherhood in particular. It's touted as being the end-all-be-all of life. When you're a little kid you have 'dollies' that you 'mommy'. Most girls have been babysitters growing up - either taking care of their siblings or the neighbor kids. Parents saying they won't feel their daughter is *safe* until she's finally has her own family . . . .
and oh Lordy the pressure when you've hit the 'birthing' years. Since I was 18 I've been asked when I'm going to have kids. No husband and not even a boyfriend sometimes. Since I am female it's a given that I have a *biological clock* and it is just tickticktick'n away and seems everyone can hear it but me.
I didn't start out HATING the concept of kids. On a case-by-case basis they each have potential, and really, when you get down to it, is it really the KIDS or their parents? Yes, an 8 year old can grab your yarn and fling it. Unacceptable, I agree, but when the parent poo-poo's Snotson's behaviour and feels we all should have his/her attitude and that we need to 'loosen up' because, geez, he's *just a kid*. Grrr.
From the time I questioned the necessity of spawning until I was about 35, I had never heard the term 'Childfree'. I didn't know there was a 'movement' and I didn't know there were other people who felt like I did and had put up with the same stuff I had because of our choice. I was quite alright being different from 'the norm'. If 'the norm' was made up of drool, diapers, tantrums, snot, stickiness and broken stuff 90% of the time and lollipops and rainbows and puppy dog tails 10% of the time, I wanted peace and quiet and clean 100% of the time.
I didn't know the term Kodak Moment (tm) and Breeder Bingo were the descriptions of what I was experiencing.
In 2004 I ran across an article in the Sunday supplement of my local paper and it was an interview of a Childfree by Choice couple. I like to have fell over in shock. My people! I am not alone! Hallaluja!
From that jumping off point, I did alot of research - reading books and articles and blogs and forums and and and. Time after time I read my story in somebody else's words. What a wonderful feeling that was (and still is).
After years of feeling alone, and putting up with all the 'biological clock' comments I finally had the information out there to explain to people what I was really about. I do not want children. They will not take care of me when I'm old, and they will not continue my legacy and they will not be the one thing that will love me no matter what and they will not get me in some superspecial Mommy club that everyone says is the most wonderful place on Earth. None of that is happening because 1) that is bullshit. Nothing is a guarantee. And 2) I do not believe I must have children to *be* somebody because everyone tells me I must have children to *be* somebody.
And they still keep telling me that anyway.
They can't even hear their own kids screetching - how can they possibly hear me?
:eyeroll:
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Serious City:
Things have taken a bad turn, here at Casa de Furfaces.
Hunter (the black Lab Mike has had for about 10 years, and well before he knew me - the one he got from Wood's Humane Society when he was a little lump of wee black fur) has been having back rightleg problems for the last month or so. We figured hip dysplasia (sp?) which is common in his and other breeds. The vet has given us medications and signs to watch for.
All of a sudden, BLAM! tonight, it's gotten REALLY bad. Bad like he is not able to keep his foot extended in order to walk on his pads. His foot is curled under and he can't walk like that.
Tomorrow I'll be calling the vet about him.
Shadow (my cat before The Mike - my cat I've had since she was a little teeny tiny fluffball and she would sleep curled next to me under the covers and I'd do the maternal *roll over in my sleep but still be awake enough to move her with me so as not to smoosh her* - that one). Something is seriously not right with her either.
Mike noticed pinkish liquid in a bathroom sink over the weekend and we couldn't figure out what the hell it was about. Rusty pipes? Our house is relatively old so it's a possibility. Then it happened again the next day. What the hell?! He noticed there were some Advil (I think it's Advil or Ibuprofin? The kinda orangy pills you take for headaches? Those things) were laying on the counter next to the sink. Obviously one of the cats was on the bathroom counter (BAD KITTIES! They know they are not allowed on counters) and must've knocked one of the Advil into the sink and the sink must've had some residual water pooled in the basin. Melted rust-colored Advil = pinkish liquid. He gathered up the remaining Advils and put them away.
Tonight there was more pinkish liquid in the sink.
There are no Advil now and we do not have rusty pipes.
Something is wrong with Shadow.
Ayup. I definately need to call Dr. VetMan in the morning and find out what to do.
This sucks.
Alot.
Having pets is like having kids or spouses though - you just never know what you're going to get and if you really want them then you suck it up and deal with whatever happens.
Who else do your animals have to count on, seriously?
Hunter (the black Lab Mike has had for about 10 years, and well before he knew me - the one he got from Wood's Humane Society when he was a little lump of wee black fur) has been having back rightleg problems for the last month or so. We figured hip dysplasia (sp?) which is common in his and other breeds. The vet has given us medications and signs to watch for.
All of a sudden, BLAM! tonight, it's gotten REALLY bad. Bad like he is not able to keep his foot extended in order to walk on his pads. His foot is curled under and he can't walk like that.
Tomorrow I'll be calling the vet about him.
Shadow (my cat before The Mike - my cat I've had since she was a little teeny tiny fluffball and she would sleep curled next to me under the covers and I'd do the maternal *roll over in my sleep but still be awake enough to move her with me so as not to smoosh her* - that one). Something is seriously not right with her either.
Mike noticed pinkish liquid in a bathroom sink over the weekend and we couldn't figure out what the hell it was about. Rusty pipes? Our house is relatively old so it's a possibility. Then it happened again the next day. What the hell?! He noticed there were some Advil (I think it's Advil or Ibuprofin? The kinda orangy pills you take for headaches? Those things) were laying on the counter next to the sink. Obviously one of the cats was on the bathroom counter (BAD KITTIES! They know they are not allowed on counters) and must've knocked one of the Advil into the sink and the sink must've had some residual water pooled in the basin. Melted rust-colored Advil = pinkish liquid. He gathered up the remaining Advils and put them away.
Tonight there was more pinkish liquid in the sink.
There are no Advil now and we do not have rusty pipes.
Something is wrong with Shadow.
Ayup. I definately need to call Dr. VetMan in the morning and find out what to do.
This sucks.
Alot.
Having pets is like having kids or spouses though - you just never know what you're going to get and if you really want them then you suck it up and deal with whatever happens.
Who else do your animals have to count on, seriously?
Monday, November 12, 2007
Chatty Chatterton. Expect Frank Talk:
Sorry all. When I created my bloggity blog, I wanted to write every day/every other day and I haven't stuck to my personal plan.
:headsmack:
There are several blogs I LOVE reading and when they take a few days off, I get the hibby hibby shakes. Yarn Harlot. Crazy Aunt Purl. Knit & Tonic (until she had a *Muggles* breakdown). Rabbitch. Jollyewe ('kay she hardly ever updates but I'm still like a rat on crack, hitt'n the *refresh* button on bloglines!) Knit with Snot (I love you HollyB), Socks in the City.
These are the ones that make me stop in my tracks when they finally update, but trustyoume, I have 2,789 UNREAD blog posts. Embarrassing! Jollyewe (the devil) put the bloglines needle in my vein (don'tcha know the first *hit* is free from your local neighborhood blog pusher?) .
I envisioned myself as a blogging fool. Words? I gots lots of them. Thoughts? They drive my brain kee-razy!.
Blogging would be the way to get all my kooky krazy thoughts out so as not to continue driving The Mike crazy. He hates to think and he hates to communicate. Did I mention he's a guy? Ayup. If you marry a stereotypical dude, you stereotypically don't get thought and communication.
STEREOTYPICAL.
But really, in my house? Perception isn't reality - stereotype is reality.
So, with all that said, I'm surprised myself that I haven't been bloggity blogging more.
A small part has been run-of-the-mill mundane-ity. Work happens every day, and DirecTV needs their ass kicked on a daily basis. Dogs and cats not only need fed, they need love and coddling. DAMN THEM IN THEIR ADORABLENESS! Lime & Violet podcasts need to be caught up on (and I'm only on #38 but still feel like I've climbed Mount L&V Everest!). Feeding the Hub on his 2 hour schedule. Knitting. I knit like an purger pukes . . . like an OCD unplugs the coffee maker . . . like a trichotillomaniac plucks their hair**.
And ravelry. *sigh*
Ravelry, how do I love thee? Let me count the patterns.
Alot.
In all honesty, I've spent the weekend putting out fires on one level and probably creating fires on another. If you're a part of ravelry, you can do a search for CFBC in the group area and two groups show up - mine and Tana's. My group is subtitled "Say No To Babies". We were the first Childfree group on ravelry. Because I'm the 'say it like it is' chick, my group is geared towards 'say it like it is'. Shocker, I know.
Someone at ravelry that felt equally strong in her Childfreedom but felt Say No was too harsh for her interest started her own group. Both of our groups are thriving and while there was a time where she wanted to distance herself from Say No, we ended up agreeing our different groups compliment each other.
And then Say No became the Nazi party of ravelry.
I don't pretend to not know where it comes from. My group is allowed to speak in VERY frank terms. Terms that would make the stereotypical parent go ballistic. I know this.
We talk trash and I have no problem with that.
There's a backstory though, that the average raveler doesn't know.
When Say No was created, I was (and still am) adament that all 'not safe for everyone' comments/pictures/opinions/terms need to be under the umbrella of DO NOT ENTER if you might possibly, (even a whiff) be offended.
See, remember, I'm a Mod of a place (radiogodsforum.com) that I can't see questionable content while at work, so it damn well better be under a modesty umbrella. Period.
Say No over at ravelry was created in July. My expections of the members were absolutely adhered to.
A few weeks ago, Casey (if you know ravelry, you know Casey) changed the format and now you can click on any member's posts without all the umbrellas of modesty.
Lordylordylordy did the shit hit the Say No fan.
I completely understand that no one should eveh have to go somewhere and be slapped in the face. Using the term 'fuck trophy' or 'crotch dropping' to describe a kid is understandably a slap in the face of someone not expecting it. I say this in more hard-core childfree venues, but never would I walk into a Stitch 'n Bitch or family reunion and utter those words. I know my audience and the average knitter is NOT my childfree audience. DUH.
DUH DUH DUH.
Unfortunately, ravelry changed up the rules without warning to the general membership or Say No. Now some of my members, and me, look like complete assholes just because of some code changes on ravelry.
Under my, or anyone else's, name, you can click on every post ever made by that member. Not bad, right? I agree. You feel a kindred spirit with a poster so you click that 'xxx posts' under their name.
BLAM!
That person that you felt sympatico with calls kids 'yard apes'. Yep. They really do. Maybe they call people who crochet something else. Maybe they make fun of singletons or possibly make fun of the creepiness of holy matrimony. How many blonde jokes, jewish jokes, man jokes, crime jokes do you know? That person you felt a kinship with might have said those offensive things.
They probably said them under the Modesty Umbrella.
Regardless? They said them. I said them. I still say them.
For as long as parents mollycoddle their Bratleighs and Snotsdons, I will say this.
Keep making fun of us left-hander blondies . . . it cracks our asses UP!
************************************************************************
On a serious note:
Kalamzoo Mommy Knits has participated in a Pay It Forward exchange.
She will send handmade gifts to the first three persons that sign up on her blog. All she asks it that those first three people take it to their own blogs.
So, for me, bring it on! The first three will get handmade items.
Here's the game:
What an exchange - you say HEY here and bring it to your own blog.
I don't know her and she doesn't know me. We just both agree on the concept.
Chatty Chatterton frigg'n OUT!
:headsmack:
There are several blogs I LOVE reading and when they take a few days off, I get the hibby hibby shakes. Yarn Harlot. Crazy Aunt Purl. Knit & Tonic (until she had a *Muggles* breakdown). Rabbitch. Jollyewe ('kay she hardly ever updates but I'm still like a rat on crack, hitt'n the *refresh* button on bloglines!) Knit with Snot (I love you HollyB), Socks in the City.
These are the ones that make me stop in my tracks when they finally update, but trustyoume, I have 2,789 UNREAD blog posts. Embarrassing! Jollyewe (the devil) put the bloglines needle in my vein (don'tcha know the first *hit* is free from your local neighborhood blog pusher?) .
I envisioned myself as a blogging fool. Words? I gots lots of them. Thoughts? They drive my brain kee-razy!.
Blogging would be the way to get all my kooky krazy thoughts out so as not to continue driving The Mike crazy. He hates to think and he hates to communicate. Did I mention he's a guy? Ayup. If you marry a stereotypical dude, you stereotypically don't get thought and communication.
STEREOTYPICAL.
But really, in my house? Perception isn't reality - stereotype is reality.
So, with all that said, I'm surprised myself that I haven't been bloggity blogging more.
A small part has been run-of-the-mill mundane-ity. Work happens every day, and DirecTV needs their ass kicked on a daily basis. Dogs and cats not only need fed, they need love and coddling. DAMN THEM IN THEIR ADORABLENESS! Lime & Violet podcasts need to be caught up on (and I'm only on #38 but still feel like I've climbed Mount L&V Everest!). Feeding the Hub on his 2 hour schedule. Knitting. I knit like an purger pukes . . . like an OCD unplugs the coffee maker . . . like a trichotillomaniac plucks their hair**.
And ravelry. *sigh*
Ravelry, how do I love thee? Let me count the patterns.
Alot.
In all honesty, I've spent the weekend putting out fires on one level and probably creating fires on another. If you're a part of ravelry, you can do a search for CFBC in the group area and two groups show up - mine and Tana's. My group is subtitled "Say No To Babies". We were the first Childfree group on ravelry. Because I'm the 'say it like it is' chick, my group is geared towards 'say it like it is'. Shocker, I know.
Someone at ravelry that felt equally strong in her Childfreedom but felt Say No was too harsh for her interest started her own group. Both of our groups are thriving and while there was a time where she wanted to distance herself from Say No, we ended up agreeing our different groups compliment each other.
And then Say No became the Nazi party of ravelry.
I don't pretend to not know where it comes from. My group is allowed to speak in VERY frank terms. Terms that would make the stereotypical parent go ballistic. I know this.
We talk trash and I have no problem with that.
There's a backstory though, that the average raveler doesn't know.
When Say No was created, I was (and still am) adament that all 'not safe for everyone' comments/pictures/opinions/terms need to be under the umbrella of DO NOT ENTER if you might possibly, (even a whiff) be offended.
See, remember, I'm a Mod of a place (radiogodsforum.com) that I can't see questionable content while at work, so it damn well better be under a modesty umbrella. Period.
Say No over at ravelry was created in July. My expections of the members were absolutely adhered to.
A few weeks ago, Casey (if you know ravelry, you know Casey) changed the format and now you can click on any member's posts without all the umbrellas of modesty.
Lordylordylordy did the shit hit the Say No fan.
I completely understand that no one should eveh have to go somewhere and be slapped in the face. Using the term 'fuck trophy' or 'crotch dropping' to describe a kid is understandably a slap in the face of someone not expecting it. I say this in more hard-core childfree venues, but never would I walk into a Stitch 'n Bitch or family reunion and utter those words. I know my audience and the average knitter is NOT my childfree audience. DUH.
DUH DUH DUH.
Unfortunately, ravelry changed up the rules without warning to the general membership or Say No. Now some of my members, and me, look like complete assholes just because of some code changes on ravelry.
Under my, or anyone else's, name, you can click on every post ever made by that member. Not bad, right? I agree. You feel a kindred spirit with a poster so you click that 'xxx posts' under their name.
BLAM!
That person that you felt sympatico with calls kids 'yard apes'. Yep. They really do. Maybe they call people who crochet something else. Maybe they make fun of singletons or possibly make fun of the creepiness of holy matrimony. How many blonde jokes, jewish jokes, man jokes, crime jokes do you know? That person you felt a kinship with might have said those offensive things.
They probably said them under the Modesty Umbrella.
Regardless? They said them. I said them. I still say them.
For as long as parents mollycoddle their Bratleighs and Snotsdons, I will say this.
Keep making fun of us left-hander blondies . . . it cracks our asses UP!
************************************************************************
On a serious note:
Kalamzoo Mommy Knits has participated in a Pay It Forward exchange.
She will send handmade gifts to the first three persons that sign up on her blog. All she asks it that those first three people take it to their own blogs.
So, for me, bring it on! The first three will get handmade items.
Here's the game:
I will send a handmade gift to the first 3 people who leave a comment on my blog requesting to join this PIF exchange. I don’t know what that gift will be yet and you may not receive it tomorrow or next week, but you will receive it within 365 days, that is my promise! The only thing you have to do in return is pay it forward by making the same promise on your blog.
What an exchange - you say HEY here and bring it to your own blog.
I don't know her and she doesn't know me. We just both agree on the concept.
Chatty Chatterton frigg'n OUT!
Monday, November 5, 2007
Hitting the Highlights:
Hey all - not much is going on in 'Real World' - there is work (of course) and there is knitting (when isn't there knitting?!) and there is always cats . . . everywhere with the frigg'n cats, lol! Blue is still around, and I will get a picture up soon, I promise.
I've been eagerly devouring Lime & Violet's podcasts and I've finally gotten to January 2007. Seriously (drink!). Boob Rocks, Side Show Husband, Alex the Dog . . . whole threads on ravelry (and even some blog posts) now make a WHOLE lot more sense.
Seriously! (drink)
Casa Miguel y AJ has now been given the Good Housekeeping Seal of 'Trailer Trash' approval. We have a working television on top of a non-functioning television. GHETTO, people, I'm tell'n ya! It's not that the lower television does not work - far from it. Lower television is one of those mammoth MAN BEAST televisions. Hi-Def, seventy-twelve inches, blahblahblah whatever. It's nice. No . . . that t.v. works just fine thankyouverymuch.
Seems that DirecTV sucks dead donkey dick. Sucks it hard.
We have 'lo-def' television and receiver in the bedroom and 'hi-def' television and receiver in the living room. Hi-def receiver has given us nothing but grief since we got it. They've been out three times now and still - craptacular hi-def problems. Sunday (remember us? FOOTBALL PEOPLE. Us. Majorly. Sunday is the day of pigskin worship at our NFL-lovin house!) Hi-def receiver bit the dust. Again. Fucking fucks. We don't have ANY frigg'n channels in the living room.
We've spent the money for the NFL ticket (*all games all the time* . . . in hi-def). Grrr. We watched them in lo-def on the horrific t.v. in the bedroom.
So - now we have my 'knitting room' t.v. on top of the cabinet housing our high def t.v. All those years of rising above my Louisiana Trailer Trash lineage has been for naught. It's gotta be the bush-okie from Mike's side! Those people say 'throwed' andI kidyounot.
On the knitting front: I'm almost done with a socky-slippery item made out of *gasp* acrylic. Because this is for gifting to bush-okie family, I can't very well knit up stuff out of cashmere or alpaca or silk or whatever and expect them to handwash them. That's just crazytalk. To be fair, I'm not knitting up high-end products for my side either.
I'm also about 1/2 way done with a 'cell phone sock' for my MIL. She just got a beautiful electric red cell phone and when I saw it I came home and went directly to the stash. There are a few balls left over from my red entrelac stole that are a perfect match so there ya go! Easy peasy Christmas present.
As far as MILs go, I am pretty lucky. Seriously (drink!) I could make her a knitted uterus or knitted *stressticles* or even a knitted blob of crap and she would be so nice and sweet about it. Out of everyone I'm related to through birth/adoption/marriage, she's the sweetest nicest soul and always supportive of my knitting craziness. I don't always remember how sweet she is and that's something I need to focus on.
Lastly, and something that kinda annoys me and kinda makes me laugh:
I named my blog 'knitting blue content' for a reason. I speak my mind. Just last Friday a lady from our Friday Bass Club Group Weekly Dinner Out Group was laughing at something I was running my mouth about and she called me 'Say It Like It Is AJ'.
That's me.
One of the things I am adament about is my Childfreedom.
I haven't climbed the soapbox about that topic here hardly but there will be days (believeyoume) that I will just let go. Speak my mind. Say it like it is, as it were.
Which brings me to ravelry.
I love ravelry like a yarn snob loves seacell. Love. It.
It's a HE-UGE place for the most part and anyone can be as much or as little involved in every aspect as they want. For me, I have a (relatively) small group of *friends* that I keep an eye on - either people I've met in real life or people who live at the Coast (where I'm from) and in the Central Valley (where I live now). There I can see any blog updates and what projects they've done or want to do.
Also at ravelry, there are groups that you can join or just watch. Red-headed crocheter in Jersey? Probably. Used to be from Boston but now live in Spokane? Probably a group of them too. If there isn't a group that fits what you're looking for, you can create the 'Six toes on my left foot and also ambidextrious' group. SERIOUSLY (drink)! I think I'm a member of about 14 groups or so. Stuff that interests me and I want to keep an eye on.
Pretty soon after joining, I created the 'Say No To Babies' group. Anyone can join and we even have parents and step-parents as members. We talk about the Childfree movement and the problems we run into in real life . . . whatever . . . just stuff. Oh, and there's a 'dead baby jokes' thread and a 'other names for kids' thread. Stuff that isn't *pretty* to some people. It's all there.
Several months ago Casey (husband of Jess and the guy that created the whole shebang) told me that some people had complained about our group and after checking us out he has no problem so long as we didn't advocate the actual hurting of people. Since we don't and we wouldn't allow that, I was all 'lalalala' and moved on.
Everything was fine for quite a while. We post and laugh and share stories and ask questions and just be us.
The other week, I noticed an influx of 'guest' commenters over at the SNTB group, which made me ask Casey if we could halt the 'guests'. He sent me over the the "Moderator" group, which was really good because I didn't even know there was such a thing (seriously, ravelry is so big, you could miss whole groups!)
I joined and asked my question about 'guesters'. A few people gave me the information I requested (and that's ALL I did - ask. No commentary, no emotion, no noth'n. I signed the post with 'aj over at Say No To Babies' by way of explaining that I was a moderator too).
What shocked the hell outta me was the Moderators (they are moderators of their individual groups) posted about how horrible my group was.
1) I came there and asked a technical question.
2) Don't read shit you aren't going to like.
3) Act like a freak'n Moderator and keep on topic.
4) Kvetch all you want to me via message or email or whatever. Not in an unrelated thread.
Why is it so surprising that I don't worship you because a human being fell out of your uterus? You (and me too) are a unique individual - JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE.
Get over it. People in comas and pack mules participate in 'the miracle of birth'. Give me a break. I'd be so much more enamored of you if you could keep your Bratleighs and Snotsdons from having major meltdowns in public.
(and here's where I could try and humanize myself in parent's eyes and say I know lots of people with kids and even LIKE several people with kids but really - even though I do like those people? I'm still a Childfree by Choice person and no breeder-bingo is going to change that.)
Not a sermon, just a thought.
I've been eagerly devouring Lime & Violet's podcasts and I've finally gotten to January 2007. Seriously (drink!). Boob Rocks, Side Show Husband, Alex the Dog . . . whole threads on ravelry (and even some blog posts) now make a WHOLE lot more sense.
Seriously! (drink)
Casa Miguel y AJ has now been given the Good Housekeeping Seal of 'Trailer Trash' approval. We have a working television on top of a non-functioning television. GHETTO, people, I'm tell'n ya! It's not that the lower television does not work - far from it. Lower television is one of those mammoth MAN BEAST televisions. Hi-Def, seventy-twelve inches, blahblahblah whatever. It's nice. No . . . that t.v. works just fine thankyouverymuch.
Seems that DirecTV sucks dead donkey dick. Sucks it hard.
We have 'lo-def' television and receiver in the bedroom and 'hi-def' television and receiver in the living room. Hi-def receiver has given us nothing but grief since we got it. They've been out three times now and still - craptacular hi-def problems. Sunday (remember us? FOOTBALL PEOPLE. Us. Majorly. Sunday is the day of pigskin worship at our NFL-lovin house!) Hi-def receiver bit the dust. Again. Fucking fucks. We don't have ANY frigg'n channels in the living room.
We've spent the money for the NFL ticket (*all games all the time* . . . in hi-def). Grrr. We watched them in lo-def on the horrific t.v. in the bedroom.
So - now we have my 'knitting room' t.v. on top of the cabinet housing our high def t.v. All those years of rising above my Louisiana Trailer Trash lineage has been for naught. It's gotta be the bush-okie from Mike's side! Those people say 'throwed' andI kidyounot.
On the knitting front: I'm almost done with a socky-slippery item made out of *gasp* acrylic. Because this is for gifting to bush-okie family, I can't very well knit up stuff out of cashmere or alpaca or silk or whatever and expect them to handwash them. That's just crazytalk. To be fair, I'm not knitting up high-end products for my side either.
I'm also about 1/2 way done with a 'cell phone sock' for my MIL. She just got a beautiful electric red cell phone and when I saw it I came home and went directly to the stash. There are a few balls left over from my red entrelac stole that are a perfect match so there ya go! Easy peasy Christmas present.
As far as MILs go, I am pretty lucky. Seriously (drink!) I could make her a knitted uterus or knitted *stressticles* or even a knitted blob of crap and she would be so nice and sweet about it. Out of everyone I'm related to through birth/adoption/marriage, she's the sweetest nicest soul and always supportive of my knitting craziness. I don't always remember how sweet she is and that's something I need to focus on.
Lastly, and something that kinda annoys me and kinda makes me laugh:
I named my blog 'knitting blue content' for a reason. I speak my mind. Just last Friday a lady from our Friday Bass Club Group Weekly Dinner Out Group was laughing at something I was running my mouth about and she called me 'Say It Like It Is AJ'.
That's me.
One of the things I am adament about is my Childfreedom.
I haven't climbed the soapbox about that topic here hardly but there will be days (believeyoume) that I will just let go. Speak my mind. Say it like it is, as it were.
Which brings me to ravelry.
I love ravelry like a yarn snob loves seacell. Love. It.
It's a HE-UGE place for the most part and anyone can be as much or as little involved in every aspect as they want. For me, I have a (relatively) small group of *friends* that I keep an eye on - either people I've met in real life or people who live at the Coast (where I'm from) and in the Central Valley (where I live now). There I can see any blog updates and what projects they've done or want to do.
Also at ravelry, there are groups that you can join or just watch. Red-headed crocheter in Jersey? Probably. Used to be from Boston but now live in Spokane? Probably a group of them too. If there isn't a group that fits what you're looking for, you can create the 'Six toes on my left foot and also ambidextrious' group. SERIOUSLY (drink)! I think I'm a member of about 14 groups or so. Stuff that interests me and I want to keep an eye on.
Pretty soon after joining, I created the 'Say No To Babies' group. Anyone can join and we even have parents and step-parents as members. We talk about the Childfree movement and the problems we run into in real life . . . whatever . . . just stuff. Oh, and there's a 'dead baby jokes' thread and a 'other names for kids' thread. Stuff that isn't *pretty* to some people. It's all there.
Several months ago Casey (husband of Jess and the guy that created the whole shebang) told me that some people had complained about our group and after checking us out he has no problem so long as we didn't advocate the actual hurting of people. Since we don't and we wouldn't allow that, I was all 'lalalala' and moved on.
Everything was fine for quite a while. We post and laugh and share stories and ask questions and just be us.
The other week, I noticed an influx of 'guest' commenters over at the SNTB group, which made me ask Casey if we could halt the 'guests'. He sent me over the the "Moderator" group, which was really good because I didn't even know there was such a thing (seriously, ravelry is so big, you could miss whole groups!)
I joined and asked my question about 'guesters'. A few people gave me the information I requested (and that's ALL I did - ask. No commentary, no emotion, no noth'n. I signed the post with 'aj over at Say No To Babies' by way of explaining that I was a moderator too).
What shocked the hell outta me was the Moderators (they are moderators of their individual groups) posted about how horrible my group was.
1) I came there and asked a technical question.
2) Don't read shit you aren't going to like.
3) Act like a freak'n Moderator and keep on topic.
4) Kvetch all you want to me via message or email or whatever. Not in an unrelated thread.
Why is it so surprising that I don't worship you because a human being fell out of your uterus? You (and me too) are a unique individual - JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE.
Get over it. People in comas and pack mules participate in 'the miracle of birth'. Give me a break. I'd be so much more enamored of you if you could keep your Bratleighs and Snotsdons from having major meltdowns in public.
(and here's where I could try and humanize myself in parent's eyes and say I know lots of people with kids and even LIKE several people with kids but really - even though I do like those people? I'm still a Childfree by Choice person and no breeder-bingo is going to change that.)
Not a sermon, just a thought.
Saturday, November 3, 2007
We Have Pictures, People:
First up is an F.O. - Sheila's Birthday Socks! Lorna's Laces sock yarn in the Black Purl colorway. Every screwup that can be made? I did it on these things. It was a good learning experience though - and I definately needed to take the time to fix things in the moment and not either pretend (like every one of us knitters has done and you know you have!) there were no mistakes or just give up. I tinked AND frogged the second sock more times than I care to admit, but in the end they are very pretty and comfy.
(details: LL, one skein, top down, basic basic - that's it)
I also gave Sheila the Coronet hat I finished the other week, and several sets of stitchmarkers
***********************************************************************************
Next up are some pictures from the Valley Handweaver's Guild thingie last Saturday:
Yarn Pr0n
"laurenswool" aka Dani (I *think* she said Dani . . .??)
laurenswool talking to the lady that makes yarn out of dog hair
(among other fibers)
The Haul:
6 skeins Golden Hills Sport Weight 'fine virgin alpaca' - 3 cream colored, 3 medium brown
1 skein Sandy Risley 100 wool in cranberry colors
1 skein Sandy Risley 100 wool in a walnut color and the label says 'dyed with avocado pits'
Sandy Risley is the dog hair lady, FYI.
Friday, November 2, 2007
A Day In The Life:
Coming to you from *lunch at my desk* at The Large Tire Store - sorry but no personal pics on this computer for me to put up today.
But if there WAS - it would definately include a picture of our newest adoptee. See, we have five cats and two dogs. We didn't start out with five cats, believeyoume. I had ONE cat - Shadow. Then I acquired Callie from a roommate when I moved out. So there's two, and they were both mine pre-The Mike.
The Mike had Hunter (the black Lab) pre-me.
Before we moved to P(hell)ville we obtained 'Scilly the yellow Lab. So that meant we had two of each species. Plenty 'o furfaces for this duo.
Once we moved, a coworker told me about a litter of kittens from his property that were mama-less . . . confirmed since he found said mama dead. Sad.
Me + any animal + sad story to boot? = Big-Hearted Animal Lover to the rescue! (cue superhero theme song). I picked up The Mike for lunch that day, and without any discussion I drove straight to the vet hospital where these kittens were at. The Mike took one look at those cats and then at me and started the "oh hell no we are not getting a cat I don't care what sob story is attached to it we do not need another animal no way no how forgetaboutit!" speech.
Mmmhmm. Sure.
That's how we got the striped cat named Freckles Justice
About, ohhh, a year later, The Mike and I were in our front yard - him futzing with his quad and me probably taking pictures of our cats. Unbeknownst to me, two little girls from (yep, but we didn't know it at the time) Casa De Molester pitched a little baby kitty into our yard. Mike saw it go down and got my attention.
I scooped that cat up and went charging down the street. The 'female of the house' was outside so I asked her where this cat came from and why it was pitched onto our property. She said the girls had taken it 'from some yard' and were instructed by her to go 'put it back'. Stupid ass girls didn't put it back from whence it came. OH NO! They didn't *remember* where they got it from.
GRRRRR.
I went to several houses near them and no luck. I brought it back to our yard and The Mike starts in with the "hell no we are not keeping it don't look at me like that no way forget about it AJ be mad all you want WE ARE NOT KEEPING THAT CAT!" He even revved his quad several times to scare it away.
That night, he woke up to Josie Pau Pau sleeping on his head.
See who wears the cat pants in this house?
That'd be ME.
If you're counting along, we are now up to four cats and two dogs.
'Bout another, ohhh, year goes by. The Mike calls me at work and tells me to go to the construction job he's at and 'to bring a box'. Mmmmkay . . .
Seems some little dirty and bedraggled kitty had attached itself to Mike's foot and couldn't be run off by the loud power tools and mean anti-cat coworkers of his. Mike couldn't just let it 'be', so . . .
That's how we got a female cat named after an ex-coach of The Raiders . . . go figure.
Five is PLENTY 'O CAT for this household, to be sure.
Several months ago, Callie (the inherited one) began 'leaving her mark' on anything of The Mike's laying around . . . things like his shoes or his side of the bed . . . you know - things. In order to not come home to a cat hanging from a noose one day, Callie was relegated to being 85% outdoors and indoors only with strict monitoring. (Both Shadow and Callie prefer the outdoors most of the time so don't think we just throw out cats out and slam the door on their little kitty-whiskered faces!)
Due to the fact that (like most living creatures) the 'mostly outdoors' cats still need to eat, we feed them outdoors.
Them and every other cat for a 10 block radius apparently.
Out of nowhere the other day, The Mike starts talking in nice terms about one of these 'other' cats. First it started with "do you think we should catch it and make sure it's collar isn't too tight?" which eventually became "I wonder who's cat that is". All these 'not our' cats are skittish and skedaddle when we show up (I'm sure that has nothing to do with the fact that we're running towards them, waving our arms wildly above our heads and shouting things like 'GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE' and 'ROOOOAAAAARRRRRR'. I wonder why they don't like us, lol!)
The other morning I go outside to have coffee with The Husband before work and he tells me that the cat's collar is off and he's petted the cat.
WTF????
Mr. HELL NO WE DO NOT NEED ANOTHER CAT NO WAY NO HOW guy?
This cat has now been named and allowed in our house for short periods.
I KNOW!
The Mike: "This cat is solid grey - no markings or anything".
Me: "Mmmhmmm" (not paying attention)
The Mike: "His coloring is really cool - just solid grey".
Me: Doesn't even bother pretending to listen.
Him: "We're going to name him Blue".
Me: "Are you insane? We're going to name a GREY cat BLUE?"
So now we kinda half-adopted a strange grey cat and call her (he is a she we know now) Blue.
Just so The Mike can quote the line from 'Old School'.
To a girl cat, people! My husband is a nutball. Seriously.
I've taken several pictures of this cat and will get them up here this weekend. We think the cat's *whispers behind hand* not all there, if you know what I mean. It's cross-eyed, which definately helps to believe it's slightly 'touched', but you gotta see this thing in action. She looks like a cartoon rendering of a cat and I ain't even kidding you. She 'wags' her tail almost like a dog too, it's a hoot! You'll see.
Until then, I leave you with this for today's laugh:
Now, when you're KIPping (Knitting In Public for you non-knitterly folks) no one will bug you with their obligatory 'Oh, I could do that too, I just don't have the patience/time/whatever'.
No one messes with prison bitches holding pointy sticks!
But if there WAS - it would definately include a picture of our newest adoptee. See, we have five cats and two dogs. We didn't start out with five cats, believeyoume. I had ONE cat - Shadow. Then I acquired Callie from a roommate when I moved out. So there's two, and they were both mine pre-The Mike.
The Mike had Hunter (the black Lab) pre-me.
Before we moved to P(hell)ville we obtained 'Scilly the yellow Lab. So that meant we had two of each species. Plenty 'o furfaces for this duo.
Once we moved, a coworker told me about a litter of kittens from his property that were mama-less . . . confirmed since he found said mama dead. Sad.
Me + any animal + sad story to boot? = Big-Hearted Animal Lover to the rescue! (cue superhero theme song). I picked up The Mike for lunch that day, and without any discussion I drove straight to the vet hospital where these kittens were at. The Mike took one look at those cats and then at me and started the "oh hell no we are not getting a cat I don't care what sob story is attached to it we do not need another animal no way no how forgetaboutit!" speech.
Mmmhmm. Sure.
That's how we got the striped cat named Freckles Justice
About, ohhh, a year later, The Mike and I were in our front yard - him futzing with his quad and me probably taking pictures of our cats. Unbeknownst to me, two little girls from (yep, but we didn't know it at the time) Casa De Molester pitched a little baby kitty into our yard. Mike saw it go down and got my attention.
I scooped that cat up and went charging down the street. The 'female of the house' was outside so I asked her where this cat came from and why it was pitched onto our property. She said the girls had taken it 'from some yard' and were instructed by her to go 'put it back'. Stupid ass girls didn't put it back from whence it came. OH NO! They didn't *remember* where they got it from.
GRRRRR.
I went to several houses near them and no luck. I brought it back to our yard and The Mike starts in with the "hell no we are not keeping it don't look at me like that no way forget about it AJ be mad all you want WE ARE NOT KEEPING THAT CAT!" He even revved his quad several times to scare it away.
That night, he woke up to Josie Pau Pau sleeping on his head.
See who wears the cat pants in this house?
That'd be ME.
If you're counting along, we are now up to four cats and two dogs.
'Bout another, ohhh, year goes by. The Mike calls me at work and tells me to go to the construction job he's at and 'to bring a box'. Mmmmkay . . .
Seems some little dirty and bedraggled kitty had attached itself to Mike's foot and couldn't be run off by the loud power tools and mean anti-cat coworkers of his. Mike couldn't just let it 'be', so . . .
That's how we got a female cat named after an ex-coach of The Raiders . . . go figure.
Five is PLENTY 'O CAT for this household, to be sure.
Several months ago, Callie (the inherited one) began 'leaving her mark' on anything of The Mike's laying around . . . things like his shoes or his side of the bed . . . you know - things. In order to not come home to a cat hanging from a noose one day, Callie was relegated to being 85% outdoors and indoors only with strict monitoring. (Both Shadow and Callie prefer the outdoors most of the time so don't think we just throw out cats out and slam the door on their little kitty-whiskered faces!)
Due to the fact that (like most living creatures) the 'mostly outdoors' cats still need to eat, we feed them outdoors.
Them and every other cat for a 10 block radius apparently.
Out of nowhere the other day, The Mike starts talking in nice terms about one of these 'other' cats. First it started with "do you think we should catch it and make sure it's collar isn't too tight?" which eventually became "I wonder who's cat that is". All these 'not our' cats are skittish and skedaddle when we show up (I'm sure that has nothing to do with the fact that we're running towards them, waving our arms wildly above our heads and shouting things like 'GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE' and 'ROOOOAAAAARRRRRR'. I wonder why they don't like us, lol!)
The other morning I go outside to have coffee with The Husband before work and he tells me that the cat's collar is off and he's petted the cat.
WTF????
Mr. HELL NO WE DO NOT NEED ANOTHER CAT NO WAY NO HOW guy?
This cat has now been named and allowed in our house for short periods.
I KNOW!
The Mike: "This cat is solid grey - no markings or anything".
Me: "Mmmhmmm" (not paying attention)
The Mike: "His coloring is really cool - just solid grey".
Me: Doesn't even bother pretending to listen.
Him: "We're going to name him Blue".
Me: "Are you insane? We're going to name a GREY cat BLUE?"
So now we kinda half-adopted a strange grey cat and call her (he is a she we know now) Blue.
Just so The Mike can quote the line from 'Old School'.
To a girl cat, people! My husband is a nutball. Seriously.
I've taken several pictures of this cat and will get them up here this weekend. We think the cat's *whispers behind hand* not all there, if you know what I mean. It's cross-eyed, which definately helps to believe it's slightly 'touched', but you gotta see this thing in action. She looks like a cartoon rendering of a cat and I ain't even kidding you. She 'wags' her tail almost like a dog too, it's a hoot! You'll see.
Until then, I leave you with this for today's laugh:
Now, when you're KIPping (Knitting In Public for you non-knitterly folks) no one will bug you with their obligatory 'Oh, I could do that too, I just don't have the patience/time/whatever'.
No one messes with prison bitches holding pointy sticks!
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