Archive for the ‘Misc’ Category
Ever wonder how people find you on the interwebs? Well, sometimes they type weird shit into a search engine and hit Go and somehow some bizarre connection is made to bring them to your teensy blip of an online home.
Thanks to my site stats, I know that a lot of folks Goo.gle glitter and/or rainbows in conjunction with a ton of other word combinations. I also get infertility (“Insurance coverage for infertility sucks”) and crafty (“cutting felt”) referrals. These I can understand.
But, for your amusement, Here are some of the more WTF search terms that actually led someone to click on this here blog:
“Naughty little constitution miscellaneuos, he he he!
Small thing sculpture cray
Glitter deviled eggs
Bitter lonely childless feminist cat ladies
Bitter feminist childless cat ladies
I shit glitter and rainbows
Hat made of fruit
Can i get mu felopian tubes unstuffed
I am on the toilet i can let him out
Glitter on by surgery
Does shit glitter work”
Several days ago, while recovering from a seriously uncool stomach virus, finding a little package in my mailbox just made my day. It was from my Secret Santa in the Arkansas Women Bloggers Handmade Ornament Exchange.
My crafty friend turned out to be ‘Kelly Jo’ at Delta Moxie from waaaayyyyyy on the other end of the state (seriously, we’re about as far away as we could be). Here’s what she sent me.
I love them, and I thought it was especially neat that she personalized one with my blog name. So, thanks a bunch, Kelly Jo, for these pretties!
Y’all can go check out all the other cool handmade ornaments that have crossed the state in the last week by going here and checking out all the link-ups.
The other night I finished up my second page for Neffie’s quiet book. I used a template from Serving Pink Lemonade to cut out the boy and clothes. I stitched on basic facial features, added the underwear, and then stitched him to the felt page. The purple pocket at the bottom is for storing his outfits.
- Honey Bear
- Good and Naughty kitties
- My house
- My friends, especially AlliG, who knows when I need to hear “I love you” at 2 a.m.
- My Neffie, and my Sissy, who let me see Neffie being born, and the rest of my family
- My fantastic goddaughter and her fantastic mother
- Mine and Honey Bear’s jobs that pay our bills and allow us to have many seemingly basic things that others do not have
- The opportunity to have 4 IUIs, despite them all failing
- Good books
- Good coffee
- Arts and crafts
- The interwebs for giving me blogs and bloggy friends
- The people I serve lunch to at the community center and my fellow volunteers
- Homemade strawberry pie and wheat bread
- Electric blankets
I am thankful for all who love me, and who I love, in whatever way we love.
Sculpture by Robert Indiana.
This post is part of ThanksBlogging at Arkansas Women Bloggers.
My cat is obsessed with the toilet brush. You guessed it, we’re talking about Naughty Kitty here.
For years he barely paid it any notice. I kept it in the corner behind the toilet, in a little caddy with the opening for the brush turned toward the wall. He knew it was there, but just ignored it.
Then one day earlier this year he apparently discovered how awesome it was and fell in love with it.
At first I’d find it slightly moved, with the brush turned outward. Then I started to find it in the middle of the bathroom, lying on the floor. After I found the brush removed from the caddy, I started hiding it.
I stashed the caddy and brush in the cabinet under the sink. I thought, Out of sight, out of mind. Soon he’ll forget about it and I can casually set it back behind the toilet one day and he’ll never notice. It didn’t work out like that.
The cat learned to open the cabinet door. He breaks in to spend time with his toilet brush. Just let that sink in for a minute. …
Several times I’ve caught him in the act, crouching in the dark cabinet rubbing his face on the toilet brush. Most times I just see the evidence. I come home from work, the cabinet is open, the brush is missing a few more bristles. I get up in the morning and find that he couldn’t make it through the night without a toilet-brush fix.
Is there a meeting I can send him to? Are there 12 Steps To Recovering From Your Toilet Brush Obsession? “Hi, I’m Naughty Kitty, and I have a problem.”
Now, I’m paranoid about cleaning the toilet. I don’t want him to ingest any cleaning chemicals. I’m rinsing the brush, but I feel like I’m going to have to switch to a disposable cleaning system and cut the cat off from his brush. I fear the withdrawal is going to be rough for him. Bless his weird, naughty little heart.
As I was mentally calculating how many paper towels I would need to tackle a heap of cat puke the other day, I started thinking about commercials that would really make me want to buy a product.
My Good Kitty frequently leaves me these gifts of vomit, sometimes caused by hairballs but more often caused by complications from her kidney disease. They are quite often what I call multi-sheeters.
I reeled off about 9 paper towels and was staring into the abyss that was 2 types of semi-digested food and a piece of a Snickers wrapper. I was thinking, I screw those commercials with the little kid who has spilled an ounce of juice, uh-oh!, and mommy comes by to save the day by using ONLY ONE PAPER TOWEL, WHAT A MIRACLE!
I’d be more impressed if I saw a commercial that started out with a zoomed-in shot of a big pile of barf and ended with a product that only required 1 sheet to deal with it.
It’d be like reality TV, with the actual reality included.
Other commercials I could appreciate:
- projectile-baby-vomit and diaper blowouts (and products that would fix/contain that)
- PMS and/or menopause medication ads that include images of crying in the shower or throwing shit at your significant other
- period commercials that show ladies moping on the couch clutching their abdomen and chocolate bars, not jumping around for joy or wearing white skinny jeans
- coffee advertisements depicting people with bed-head, bags and dark circles under the eyes, wearing old t-shirts and shorts and struggling to roll out from under the covers — you know, people who actually NEED coffee — not fake humanoids excited about getting out of bed, stretching lightly, well rested in their ironed flannel pjs with perfectly styled hairdos.
What more realistic commercials would you like to see?
So, I left Honey Bear unattended last Thursday for about 26 hours while I made a quick trip back home. Within the first 2 hours he managed to break his foot. In three places. On the third toe bone. While using a ladder to try to remove a green tree limb that broke in a storm the previous week. A limb I told him every day for a week to leave alone until we could get the neighbor’s help and some tools. Sigh.
And how did I find out? A texted photo of his foot in a boot at the ER. That my Neffie dismissed while playing a game on my phone. That I didn’t remember to look at till midnight. LOL.
Oh, and he didn’t get the limb down either. Classic. (Though I think a neighbor took mercy on us because 2 nights ago we came home from work and it had been removed.)
As I’m writing this, Honey Bear is getting an EKG and doing other preoperative testing at the hospital. We’ve got a follow up with the doctor Monday, with surgery tentatively scheduled for next Thursday. He developed a humongous blister across the top of his foot after his fall and that has to heal before he can have the surgery. And he might decide to wait on the surgery; he’s just getting ready for it if he decides to go forward with it.
I’ve been suffering with allergies all week, helping Honey Bear with taking care of his foot, and cringeing as he carts himself around on one of those walkers with wheels that I’m calling the Wheeley Deathmobile. Seriously, he’s tumped it a couple of times already.
Ah, making memories…
If you know me in real life, you are probably laughing to see that I’m writing a food post. My friends know my 2-year-old oven practically still has that new-appliance smell.
But, OK y’all, I do cook some, but it’s just more likely to involve some convenience products rather than from scratch. Fall is when I really start craving comfort foods, and one of my favorite things to make is mini-meatloaves.
My up-front disclosure: I shamelessly use the McCormick Meat Loaf seasoning mix and packaged bread crumbs. It’s the closest my poor Honey Bear gets to homemade.
I’m not going to plagiarize the packet’s directions, hehe, but the general gist of the thing is: Take 2 pounds of lean ground beef or turkey (or I’ve previously used one pound of each to make it a little healthier but still retain the beef heartiness) and squish it up in a completely disgusting way (I recommend food-safe gloves) with eggs, milk, ketchup, bread crumbs and the seasoning mix. To shave 30 minutes off the cooking time, I make 8 mini-loaves instead of a single large one. The minis also are perfectly portioned to pack for your work lunch.
There’s not really a way to make a mound of meat look pretty, but here’s a photo anyway:
Mini meatloaves can be made even more fall-festive by topping them with ketchup, cheese, or onion pieces to look like laces on a football. Good for a NFL watch party or before your kid plays on Friday nights.
This week I served the meatloaves with baked beans (from a can), salad (from a bag) and corn muffins (from a Jiffy mix). If you really want to blow the top off of the comfort food thing, mac-and-cheese sounds like a heavenly pairing.
Advice: Line your casserole pan with foil. Even if you buy the leanest meat you can find, there will still be a puddle of fat at the bottom of the pan, and it just rocks so much more if you can throw that right in the trash rather than clean up that nastiness.
Today we’re linking to an old post and revisiting it. I think if you are new to my blog this’ll give you a pretty good idea about where I’ve been this year.
We still have no children. We still have never had even a positive pregnancy test. And we’ve come to the end of our assisted reproduction attempts for the foreseeable future.
Time has helped move the elephant from the middle of my mind to a corner. I still run into it occasionally, but I’ve reclaimed some of my joy, too.