Ha! I remembered!

Long time, no pics

As much as I love to see pictures from all my friends, I should be more diligent in posting my own ... but that would require pulling files off a data chip into Photoshop (Mac users please abstain from commenting), cropping/adjusting levels, fixing the image size so people can see the entire picture on the screen, and then posting.

In short, it requires Effort. Which, for those of you who know me, can always be done Later.

So here I'm going to post as many pictures as Blogger will let me, and hopefully more tomorrow, etc. until I'm caught up. Or I forget a day. Which will probably happen tomorrow.

This just in

There've been so many kitten stories I usually forget to post, but this just happened and I've got the two minutes ...

I needed to unload the dishwasher this morning, which always poses a problem (see also previous post re: Merlin and Major Kitchen Appliances). Merlin must be in the dishwasher while I'm unloading it, and it makes the annoying task take that much longer, fishing a kitten out every two seconds.

Then I had a flash of brilliance.

I turned on the kitchen faucet until there was one skinny continuous stream of water. Soon enough, there were three kittens in the kitchen sink trying to catch the water. Success!

Then I saw what Merlin was doing. He was sticking his head in the stream of water to catch it right before it got away down the drain. Well, this would divert the stream of water and make it go somewhere else, which he then had to turn and chase, which would make the water run off his head in a different direction, etc.

He still hasn't noticed that he's soaking wet.

Trump This

Michael has said (paraphrasing here) that I'm by no means stupid; I am simply a smart person who "occasionally does daft things."

I'm on my feet for at least 7 1/2 hours every day. This results in a lot of wear and tear on my shoes, and I usually need a new pair every 3 months (I usually get a new pair every 6 months, because I hate buying sneakers. It's boring.).

I know I need to get new shoes when I have trouble falling asleep at night because my back and hips hurt so much. OK, it's not a very healthy way to go through life, but a new pair of sturdy shoes and my back is fine again.

So yesterday my back was killing me by the end of my shift and I went directly to Famous Footwear to get some new shoes. I have simple requirements: they must be sneakers (or "trainers" for those who got the British Harry Potter) with decent arch support, they must not be white (white shoes are ugly any time of the year), size 7 1/2, and As Cheap As Possible.

These qualifications usually narrows down my selection considerably.

I picked a pair, put them on, they fit OK. The right one was a little tight around the toes, but my feet were probably swollen from the crappy old shoes. Whatever. I paid and wore the shoes out the door.

This morning I put my new shoes on. Yay! New shoes!

By the time I got to work, I knew Something Was Wrong. Checked the labels in the shoes. Yep: Left Shoe is Size 7 1/2. Right Shoe is 6 1/2.

So at the end of my shift today I had to go and exchange one shoe. Thank God they let me! The manager there rang me up yesterday, too, and remembered following up to make sure the shoes fit OK. I had said they were fine.

Today I asked her if this happens often, and she said, "Yes -- but it's always kids."

Kitten Antics

• Miri's favorite toy: rabbit's foot. It usually finds its way to our vestibule, where she likes to put it in my shoe and fish it back out. This morning, I found it in the laundry basket with a load of clean clothes. Hm.
• Molly's favorite toy: alternately our hair and plastic drinking straws. When I make smoothies, I must maintain constant vigilance! lest she run off with one of our straws, leaving a trail of fruit sludge in her wake.
  
• Merlin's favorite toy: closets and major kitchen appliances. This guy thinks big. If a closet door is open, he must Get To The Top -- which he does in about 3 seconds flat. If we let him, he'd stay in there for hours, just taunting his sisters from The Top Of The World. He can sometimes cajole Molly into joining him. Much to our delight. As for the appliances, well, let's just say it's my newest excuse not to bake. Like I needed one.
  

• Molly continues to ride on our shoulders, sometimes climbing up there from the floor. Michael has learned to wear multiple layers; I have not.
  
• Merlin likes to walk with me right between my feet. He'll match my pace, and if I stop he'll flop on my feet and Be Cute. Needless to say, he's been accidentally sideswept across the room many a time. It doesn't stop him.
• Merlin and Miri both know their names (also the "Merlin/Miri no!" command). I suspect that Molly has an inkling of her name and chooses to ignore it, because she doesn't want to stop misbehaving. If we do get her to stop by telling her no, she goes and takes out her frustration on poor Mr. Bill, our stuffed tyrannosaurus, whose days are numbered.
  
• Even though she looks pure black (save a white cravat and panty line), Miri is actually striped and spotted, black on very, very dark brown. You can only see it in bright, direct sunlight, but it's there. I'll try to get a picture up, but no promises.

Kermit eggs them all on every night, darting in and out of hidey places to drive them nuts. Yes, it's deliberate.

8 Obscure Things About Me

Thanks to Jordana, who tagged me.

1. My legal birth name was supposed to be Alysia-Marie Arlene Williams. I just arrived a month early, before my mom thought to tell my dad her final choice, so he had to wing it on the birth certificate. Thanks, dad! That was a close one.

2. I have the word "Hi" written in the veins of my inside left wrist.

3. I have a "thing" about the inside of my knees -- particularly the tendons. I must protect them. I won't let anybody near them. Just the thought of someone touching the inside of my knee creeps me out.

4. Scatological humor will always make me laugh. Embarrassing but true.

5. My first choice of instrument in the 4th grade was percussion, which my mom told me I could play Over Her Dead Body. So I picked the French Horn. I wasn't able to take any lessons in percussion until senior year of college when I finally had time to take Percussion Techniques. My suspicions were confirmed: Percussion Rocks, and I Would've Been Good At It. So moms, let your kids play what they want to play. My horn, it is located Somewhere In The Basement.

6. My favorite comfort food is graham crackers smushed up in milk.

7. My first dance recital was to the tune "Yes, Sir, That's My Baby." I was 5. I still have the costume.

8. I have better-than-average hearing in the high frequencies; I hate the sound our TV makes when it's on and not playing anything. I have much worse-than-average hearing in the low frequencies; it can be difficult for me to, say, understand male customers if there is a register in use right behind me. This is the only sane reason I can come up with for why I dislike talking on the telephone so much. (FYI, I much prefer email.)

Now for the new tagees: I tag Kyle, Susan and Andrea W, who (should she see this entry) will have to post in the MatheBlog. Ha ha!

More juicy literary stuff

-- Will blog more later, but I just saw this and couldn't resist putting it up -- read classics in installments! (Does anyone else hate the "in installments" bit? I hate saying that, but can't come up with anything better in the 15 seconds I've dedicated to thinking about it.)

This might hold me until I realize my dream of an eBook reader I can afford (not to mention some kind of standardized format of eBook!).

Over and out

Won't be able to post much this next week (OK, at all) ... am going to the Wilds of Minnesota for a week. If someone needs to reach me:
1) Check out the link, I'm sure there's a contact number on there. Use that -- no cell phone reception anywhere in the area.
2) The contact number will be for the main lodge, which is across the county highway and down a hill from where I'll be.
3) The lodge owners will answer. Tell them it's a message for "One a' them Williamses." They'll take the message.
4) If we're lucky, my dad (or Uncle Bob, or Aunt Lynn, or cousins Mackenzie or Andrew ... you get the idea) will get the message when they stop by for coffee or doughnuts.
5) If we're really lucky, someone will remember to tell me later.

They Don't Sleep Much

The kittens are now Officially Our Problem! In other words, we've adopted them. God help us all.

As they are now

Location of kittens at present:

Molly on the computer desk, just finished checking out Michael's inbox, is making her way to the keyboard, playing with a pencil en route.

Merlin and Miri are playing; Merlin is on my lap, Miri is attacking from below and occasionally snagging my knee. Now Merlin's looking up and biting my wrist.

So Computer Time is a group activity. Merlin wants to hit the space bar, and Molly keeps batting a pencil down on my hands for me to put back up on the desk for her. Aaugh.

We tried a cat dancer last night, to unusual results. Merlin caught it right away, then started trotting off kitchenward with the bird. When the string fishlined him, he started tugging at it. Well, I tugged back and started dragging him back toward me. He dug in his little claws and growled (yes, cats can growl. You just don't hear it often.). When I got him all the way to me, I kept pulling until Merlin was dangling two feet above the ground, hanging BY HIS TEETH. He finally slipped down one of the feathers and dropped to the ground.

He did this little routine two more times. Can't say he doesn't know the Rules of Hunting (if you catch it, it's YOURS. AND NO ONE ELSE'S.)

Molly likes to get herself stuck in the bathtub.

At present, it looks like Miri will be the Alphakitty -- her siblings tend to follow her lead, and Molly's actually been known to stand by and wait for Miri to finish eating before going to the food dish.

More kitty pics

Well, while I can't possibly compete with Jordlet's news, here (by husband's request) are some more kitten pictures. Closeups of Miri, Molly and Merlin (in that order).

P.S. We didn't intend to go with all-M names. Those faithful readers will know that we started with Rosie, Molly, Cricket and Mirabel. Well, Rosie turned to Merlin and Cricket died. We didn't realize the 3-M thing until all the kits were already responding to their names. Oh, well.

Molly says hi

Some bad news, some good news

First of all, I should probably report that Cricket has died. I don't like to talk about it much, because he was such a sweet kitten and it's hard to let him go, even though it's already been two weeks since he died.

This is one of the facts of life for kitten foster parents, it turns out. A huge percentage of kittens who are removed from Mom before 5 weeks of age will die, and the litter I've got came here at probably 3 weeks or so: the fact that 75% are alive and hopping (well, sleeping right now) is quite the feat. The short explanation is that Cricket "failed to thrive." The long explanation is that one day he was gamely trying to keep up with the sibs, the next morning he was sprawled out on the kittens' bed with his head stretched back, trying desperately to breathe. I brought him back to the shelter vet and they had to put him down (I have absolutely no qualms about this, BTW -- he was very obviously in pain as well).

So while I'm sad and grieving, I know enough about raising kittens to know that there wasn't anything I could've done (one of the shelter staff had an almost identical experience just a few days before). If anything, I'm incredibly angry and frustrated at the people who just dumped this lot of kittens on a sidewalk in West Chicago when they were far too young to be away from their momma. I don't understand that kind of person (and yes, there was evidence that the kittens were dumped by a human, not just born on the sidewalk and left).




*Abrupt topic change to cover an otherwise awkward silence*
The other kittens, however, are doing admirably.
Molly's by far the biggest and silliest: she has a tendency to fall asleep upside-down, usually on a pillow or other elevated place, and tumble down halfway through her nap, whereupon she will crack her eyes open, shake her head and fall asleep where she landed.
Merlin is a sweetie and the most likely to seek me out ... and claw his way up to my shoulder to give my ear a good snuffle. He's the smallest now and has yet to win any of the battles royale staged daily in our living room, but that doesn't stop him for a second.
Miri is Little Miss Independent. She's the most likely to dart off somewhere by herself (which gives Molly no choice but to seek Miri out and bite her tail), but just when you're certain all of them are settled down for a nap she'll come up for scritches. She's definitely the smart one -- no competing for Mom's attention for her.

Daffodil is ... becoming resigned to her new life, I'd say. She's got quite the crush going on Michael (her favorite spot to sleep is right on his chest, facing his head while purring away and every so often talking to him). Her days are mostly spent under our bed (which is an Ikea and therefore very low to the ground, so it's pretty funny to see her flatten herself to get under there). She's finally stopped hissing and growling at the kittens and instead just stares with indignation when they approach (Merlin especially just wants to Sit And Worship -- he thinks she's the Cat's Pajamas). Fortunately for us, she's never been the violent type so we're not worried about leaving her alone with them. At this point, I'm more concerned with making sure the kittens give their elder some space!

More about Kermit and the Kittens at a later blog ... this one's getting a bit long for my taste.

We have Features!

... or at least a new gimmick!

Introducing Meesh's Grouse of the Week! This is my attempt to limit the amount of negativity I share with the world by venting in a structured manner.

This week's Grouse:

People who do not understand the concept of "seasonal" food. One does not ask a Michigan farmer for fresh raspberries in May, nor should one expect locally-grown apples in June. It just doesn't happen. The apples are from Chile, people. Are we seriously so separated from our agrarian past that we freak out when strawberries cost twice as much in December as they do in July? This is something I hit my head against every day at work. No, we're out of cherry preserves. Why? Because we've already gone through last year's crop. We're waiting for this year's crop now. Sometimes things aren't available RIGHT NOW.

Wah

It was a bad idea, a few months ago, to check out my Amazon Wishlist for "purchased" items (seriously, it was to make sure I didn't use a gift card to buy something someone had already gotten for me! Makes sense, is responsible, no?).

Because I had one surprise: one gift that has been purchased, but I have never received.

This has been the case for months, and I really, really want that book! (I'm a food geek, I admit it -- Michael was faintly weirded out that my chosen bedtime reading one night was to investigate the differences between baking soda and baking powder. But that stuff's interesting, people!)

So I know, this is my own fault for snooping (snooping with a responsible intent!), but aaarrrrrgggghhh!

Kyle, if this is your fault, you are so totally getting a noogie when I see you in August.

Not Miri's best side

A picture for Michael, away on his video shoot: this is your kitten.

This post is rated TMI

Now that warm weather is here, I have a few fashion complaints.

To wit: I have repeatedly seen grown men waltzing around in shirts that are neither pink nor purple, not even a magenta, fuschia or puce: no, these are a color I believe is called "orchid."

Men, do not wear this color. No one can "rock" this color. It is reminiscent of bridesmaids' dresses.

But to get to the real complaint:

This season's women's clothes feature a cut that is essentially v-neck, with a seam right beneath the breasts. There are variations: sometimes there is shirring, or little pintucks, or it's a surplice top, but those are merely details.

Don't get me wrong -- this is a very flattering cut for just about every figure out there. It looks a little strange on little girls, inasmuch as there are no breasts for the seam to sit under, but hey -- it looks optimistic, and optimism is cute.

No, my problem is with the idiots who make the clothes. More specifically, the person who takes a sample size (usually sizes 2 or 4, increasingly sizes 0 and 2, God help us) and sizes it up to a normal size.

Message to those persons: you cannot just add a few inches all the way around the top and call it a day! No, larger girls are built differently.

WARNING TO ALL UNMARRIED MEN: THIS IS WHERE WE GET TO THE TOO MUCH INFORMATION PART. GO READ HOMESTARRUNNER OR SOMETHING, BECAUSE THE REST OF THIS POST COULD MAKE YOU GO BLIND.

Married men have probably heard it already, or near enough as makes no difference.

As a woman's ... aw, hell ... boobs get bigger, the girls, they hang lower. Thus, making the shirt two (or however many) inches wider doesn't help. You end up with this.
OK. Maybe not the thong-flashing part, but you get the seam-right-across-the-nipples bit, which is just so classy this year.

I know I'm not alone in this problem, because seriously over half the women I saw today who were wearing this kind of top (and it's a lot of women out there -- like I said, it's very popular) had that same problem. I wanted to go running around the store, yanking on shirt hems.

In a way, I'm relieved to have seen all that today. I was starting to think that maybe I was deformed, and my boobs hung three inches too low and everybody secretly knew that I was hideous but no one wanted to say anything and maybe that's why everyone gets quiet just when I walk into a room ... no?

In the meantime, designers need to actually try these clothes on size models for every size they make, to double-check that it's a realistic fit. Because seriously, a size 12 does not have tits anywhere near her shoulders.

A Solid Start

Now that the Stinkies are 5 weeks old(ish), it's time to wean them. Last night, I spent an hour (absolutely no exaggeration) making a gruel of formula and wet food, then shooting it into the kitten's mouths with a (needleless) syringe. Why did it take so long? The syringe the shelter gave me was 1cc. Kittens are supposed to have about a tablespoon to a tablespoon-and-a-half of food per feeding. A tablespoon is 15ccs.

Well, enough of that. Time to get them used to feeding themselves. So this afternoon I made the gruel, poured it into two shallow dishes, lined their playpen with puppy training pads (I hate the disposable nature of them, but it's leakproof; imagine laying down a layer of maxi pad. Our landlord just put down this flooring and she's paranoid -- justifiably so -- of getting animal smell into the flooring.) and let 'em have at it. Here are the results:








Rumor has it that some of the food actually made it inside the kittens.

Mew

No posts recently, but for a Good Reason.

I have kittens.

Four foster kittens from the DuPage County Animal Shelter, to be exact. Four-and-a-half weeks old, God help us. Here is the cast of characters:

Molly, who is doing precicely what she isn't supposed to be doing, i.e. Climbing Out of the Prison (or kitten-safe play area, for you non-kittens out there).

Merlin, in a very uncharacteristic shot In Which He Is Quiet. He has no Indoor Voice to speak of.

A 2-shot of Mirabel and Cricket, can't tell from this angle which is which. The dark ones are harder to get good pics of -- everything I had looked like a dark, fuzzy blob. Anyhoo, Miri is a little girl and Cricket is a boy.

And a 3-shot (again, can't tell who the dark one is, although it's a fair wager that it's Miri -- Cricket is far too shy).

As for personalities ... Molly's a bit hard to pin down right now. At first she was Molly the Aggressor, who Bit Noses For No Reason. Then my rehabber friend Liz came by and showed me how to bottle feed them better, and Molly calmed down once we taught her how to actually use a bottle. Now she's mostly Molly the Willful.

Merlin, as I mentioned before, is very Loud. He is an Orphan, and Nobody Loves Him, and Nobody Feeds Him, Ever. -- If you listen to him, that is. He says the same things right after supper, when he's cuddling with us.

Miri is, dare I say, the smartest. She was the first to figure out the litterbox (still a dodgy subject, but at least she's got the gist of it), the first to start bathing herself and the first (egads) to figure out how to Get Out Of Prison (climb to the top and fling youself over). She also has Michael wrapped around her little paw. Her favorite activity is to Go 'Splorin.

Cricket is a quiet cuddlemuffin. Of course, part of that is because he's a little sick. Nothing much, I don't think, mostly gunky eyes. He's learning to stick up for himself a little bit, I hope, because otherwise with 3 sisters he doesn't stand a chance.

Merlin and Miri will be staying with us, which we figured out within about 10 minutes. Cricket has possibly found a home with one of my coworkers, but no permanent home for Molly yet. But I've got hope -- I've only had them since Thursday.

In related news, my dad and stepmom are coming down to visit in two weekends, and they are bringing down my other cat, Daffodil the Strange. I got her in the eighth grade (my cats live long, good lives). She's been driving my dad batty with her incessant crying since Scratchy died, and I could use her excellent bathing skills on these little Stinkies. All in all, I think it's a good arrangement.

But right now, I'm tired.

** Editing note: some of you may have noticed that one kitten's name has changed from "Rosie" to "Merlin." Ahem. Oops. Hey -- those parts are tiny on new kittens, how was I to know???

Guilt Post

Mostly I'm posting because I'm feeling guilty about not posting ... that's just sick, I know. But I do have a couple vignettes to post, anyway, so here's a collection:

D&D quote:
"No, you cannot have a pet zombie ogre!" (Someone was letting the recent acquisition of a "Command Undead" spell get to his head. I was grossed out. I mean, here I am turning these ... things ... and he wants them to follow us?!?)

Last week I was working in the candy section when I heard the following, between a toddler boy and his (what I later found out) aunt:
"No Mary!"
"You don't want Aunt Mary to push you?"
"No!"
"Well, then, we're not going to go anywhere!"
"Go!"
"But then I have to push you."
"No! No Mary!"
"Well, if you want to go, but you don't want Aunt Mary to push you ... who do you want to push you?"
"Dat girl!"
At this point I looked up, and to my surprise, he was pointing at me! I told him he couldn't afford my hourly rate.

Today, while ringing up a customer, I peeked into his cart to see how many bottles of wine there were. With thickly (Easter European?) accented English, he said, "Ah, you see all my wine! That is because I am a very vicious man! I like the numbing affects!" He said all this with a big (cognizant) smile.

Yesterday, I was asked to find some candy to fill a couple shelves in the flower section (don't ask). I was standing by my backstock, trying to find out what would "go" well. I called to one of the artists (working about 10 ft. away from me), "What's summery?"
"Beach balls!"
"No, I meant candy!"
"Candied beach balls!"

A few minutes later, I realized my seasonal mistake:
"Actually, I meant to say spring. What's springy?"
"Flowers!"
"Ray!" (Artist's name, in case you didn't catch that.)
"Candied flowers!"

Along a similar vein of silliness, we've got these new reusable bags that are round. Well, the bottom is round (this isn't the silly part). I tried to convince a customer that a round-bottomed bag was essential for trips to the beach: you stack in your frisbee, your pie and a beach ball and you're good to go. 'Cause, hey, frisbees were originally pie tins, and frisbees are essential for the beach, therefore pies are vital beach fare, no?