tinhuviel: (Shriekback Logo)

The band have posted an hour-long interview, answering fans' questions. Take a gander, and don't forget to pick up a copy of Without Real String or Fish.

tinhuviel: (Tim Roth)
Puttin' this here for [livejournal.com profile] paisley_daze, who digs on Gary.

This is apparently something else Gary and Tim have in common; an insane love for their dogs and especially if they're ugly. :/
tinhuviel: (Danny Elfman Muse)
I was awake literally all night, finally falling asleep sometime after 6:30 this morning and waking up in a panic at 8:15. I hurriedly dressed, grabbed Chester and Toby's collars and rushed them to the car in the rain. They had an appointment with Michelle, our longtime groomer. The dogs had a previous appointment sometime in August. It was missed. Need I say why? Thought not. Anyways, they were long overdue for a bath, especially poor Chester, who looked like an abandoned rag mop caught in one of Dubya's "shock and awe" crap attacks. Drop off time for dogs is 7:30 'til 9:00. I got there with 10 minutes to spare, but looking like I needed to be groomed too. I explained to Michelle what had happened, chatted for a couple of minutes, then came back home to do some cleaning that would by easier to do without the dogs being underfoot.

I didn't get much done.

I came home with the intention to rest just a little. I passed flat out and slept for around three hours. Jumping back up in a panic, I ate a quick breakfast, shuffled Smidgen outside and set to gathering all the trash in the house, including cleaning out the refrigerator and freezer for the first time in four months. I figured everything would be severely sparse after I was done. The minute I started working on the fridge, I lost my freaking mind. It's never a good thing when you find yourself sitting on your kitchen floor, clinging to a bottle of Kraft salad dressing, and crying uncontrollably. It was just downhill from there. I got the vacuuming done and the garbage collected, including everything in the fridge, but I couldn't do the freezer before time to clean up and go get the dogs. So the day was pretty much another of a string of busts for me. Not good on Solstice, especially what is hopefully my last Winter Solstice, as Solstice 2012 is the 22nd and I, along with everyone else, will be dead dead dead.

So I got ready, hauled the four big bags of trash out to the car and drove in a misting rain to the dump to drop it off. The minute I got out of the car to dump the garbage, it came a hard rain and my hair "collapsed like flan in a cupboard." (quote by Eddie Izzard) I went to pick up the dogs with a hideously wet, stringy head. I'm sure I looked like Meg Mucklebones when I got to Michelle's. Great. We yapped and caught up while my hair dried a little.

On the way back home, I got a call from Janice asking if she could use my freezer to store some food. I told her of course, go ahead, and take anything in there she might want or need. She was kind enough to take all the stuff that belonged to Aunt Tudi, 'cos I told her about losing my mind earlier.

When I got off the phone with her, I noticed a street sign by the name of Frohawk. Now...I've heard of Mohawks and Fauxhawks (that's just plain stupid, by the by), but Frohawk? My mind began racing with what that would look like, being a child of the 70s, who well remembers and venerates the Fro. So, I'm gonna try to make me a Frohawk and have a picture taken underneath the street sign. It'll take me a while to figure this out, but that's okay, 'cos I don't even have a bleeding camera right now. But stay tuned for that. I have the Hoozer Daddy street sign pic, so I think that the Frohawk Project should be fantastico. I just need a lot of hair, glue, and a bald person, or a one of those bald rubber caps sold around Samhain.

I was supposed to go to Davis and Kathleen's place for a modest Solstice gathering, perhaps cast a Circle and herald the light back in, because I really need to do that. It looks like I'll be doing that alone, though, 'cos I'm night blind which is worse if it's raining. To top it off, I've lost my glasses, which means everything far off is a bit iffy. I'm not sure I want to risk bumming fellow brouhaha-gatherers by dying or sommat. Myself, I don't give a shite, but whatever.

In somewhat happier news, a very talented man who goes by the "band" name Radical Face, is now easily found on The Intarwebs. When I first heard the portion of "Welcome Home," it was in a local commercial put out by the Greenville Library System. I had to find the right person in Greenville to talk to about the music used for the advert and he gave me the name "Radical Face." This was in early 2007 and I went on a Holy Mission to find the elusive Radical Face online. I finally found a remote website and wrote to the email address found there. I was contacted by Radical Face shortly thereafter and given the song. Deja Vu anyone? Today, the song played on the iPod and I decided to see how Radical Face was doing after all these years. He is everywhere online, including having a video for "Welcome Home" on YouTube. I plan on exploring more of his music now and offer up the video as a testament to the beauty of this song and the brilliance of Ben "Radical Face."

tinhuviel: (Alpaca Lips)
What's going on today?

  1. I'll be giving Chester his Summertime shaving, and I'll be clipping all the dogs' toenails. At the very least, this will take me a couple of hours. Right now the dogs are all chillaxing like they haven't a care in the world. Once the toenails start flying, they'll know that the day isn't going to be a business-as-usual day of relaxation. I can hear the angry growls of protest now.

  2. Blake is supposed to swing by for a visit so he can pick up his birthday card and gift. Aunt Tudi and I scrimped and saved like crazy in order to give him $20. I'm certain he'll be thrilled with the dough. In this day and age, people are thrilled to get monetary gifts, and they know how fortunate they are to be receiving such a gift. Ten years ago, $20 wasn't that big of a deal. Funny how just a handful of years can make all the difference in the world.

  3. Sometime after the dogs' grooming and family visitation, I'd like to squeeze in some quality time for writing. I haven't sat down to seriously commit some wordage to virtual paper in about a week, and I'm beginning to suffer from the writing withdrawals. Ideally, I'd like to finish "The Last Acolyte" today and begin on the third story in the Cadmus anthology.

  4. Before I begin my work, I'm having a late breakfast and watching 2012. That movie is like porn for me as I see global mass destruction on an unprecedented scale, and hope that this actually happens next year. The more I watch this movie, the more I get the warm fuzzlies. The only thing I hope does not happen is that anyone survives the cataclysm. Only the animals should survive the 2012 disaster. After all the horror our species has imposed upon planet Earth and our fellow inhabitants, Humanity deserves extinction.

  5. After my work, I need to do some online research on Ramtha for Todd. I've known about this grifter for decades, and Todd and I have discussed her in the past. He was invited to a dinner party last weekend where the folks discussed a variety of spiritual matters. A few days later, he asked his friend to what group they all belonged because I had asked Todd and Todd didn't know. His friend told him that they belonged to Ramtha's School of Enlightenment. My knee jerk reaction was "Ohhh nooo..." I've already sent some information about JZ Knight/Ramtha to Todd, but I need to send him more. The aim is to ensure Todd does not associate with these people at any depth because RSE is a cult and a dangerous one at that.

So this will take up the majority of my Bealtainne. One more Bealtainne to be had before the Alpaca Lips. I may have to find me a gawgeous man with whom to celebrate my last Bealtainne... If only Vin Diesel would volunteer for God to my Goddess duties, I could leave this mortal coil a happy happy woman. Heh.
tinhuviel: (Headcrusher)
Sheba's Cushing's disease has gotten worse. She's vomiting two to three times a day and is losing muscle mass like crazy. She's also bleeding from the anus and mouth, fresh red blood, which is never a good sign. Aunt Tudi and I took her to Doc this morning and he's keeping her to run some tests to see if anything at all can be done. After the loss of Fitzgerald, I'm not sure how much more we can take losing our furbabies. I'll be able to deal with the loss of Sheba better than Aunt Tudi because Sheba and Aunt Tudi are bonded. Aunt Tudi would do just about anything to keep the dog with her but, sometimes, it's the humane thing to let the animal go. I don't know if now is the time for that, but we need to be prepared for that eventuality.

If we lose Sheba, we'll only have three dogs left, two of them geriatric. Chester is 11 and Riley is close to that. I have no idea how old Toby is. I think he's too ornery to ever die.
tinhuviel: (fitzgerald)
Chester's visit to the portable hair salon has been postponed until tomorrow. Aunt Tudi had some painting to do and I don't want a chunk of Chester's hair ruining her work, so I'm gonna give it 24 hours. By then the paint will be dry. Besides, I'm not feeling my best today. Nausea and fatigue are getting the better of me, so I think I'm just gonna take it easy today. As Scarlett O'Hara says, tomorrow is another day.
tinhuviel: (Tin May 2010)
Instead of staying in this Saturday, Aunt Tudi and I have to go out. We must go to the drug store to pick up some of our prescriptions and we have a bill we have to pay. While we're out, we're going by the new mechanic we found. The car started alarming about needing an oil change, so we found the cheapest place around and are supposed to go Monday morning to get the oil change and filter. We figured it'd be wise to locate his business now so there won't be any confusion come Monday.

After we get home, I'm shaving Chester for his Winter hair-do and clipping all the dogs' nails. It's gonna take me two to three hours to do all that, but it's two to three hours of very physically-challenging activity, so I'm not looking forward to it. Once it's done, though, it's done for months. It's just a matter of biting the bullet and getting it done.

Once I have some time to myself, I'm going to do my best to work on my "When the West Was Weird" short story. There's a whole section I'm wanting to include in the story, but it's a struggle to wedge it in there. It'll give the tale much-needed meat and potatoes. I'm listening to a lot of Johnny Cash while writing this story. It's the only music I have that's close to the cowboy world. Well, I have some Willie Nelson, too. Maybe I need to create a 'Werewolf of Bent Elbow' playlist.

I stole a quiz from [livejournal.com profile] bubblesbrnaid. I don't watch this show, but I'll take any quiz 'cos I'm addicted to them. Man, I need to go to Narcotics Anonymous, I have such an addictive personality! Here goes.

And that brings this post to a dramatic end.
tinhuviel: (fitzgerald)
The dogs keep getting me up at ungodly hours, then flopping to take a nap whilst I'm up holding the house on the precipice of madness from lack of sleep. This must stop, but I'm not really sure how to stop it. It's all Fitzgerald's fault. He's on a schedule of waking the house up at 6 am by terrorising Toby, who refuses such treatment with bites, growls, and general mayhem. I feed them all and they all then take a nap before playtime. Playtime lasts from around 9 in morning until 10:30 or 11 at night, if I'm that lucky to get them all settle down. One thing I'm going to do is kick them all outside at 8 o'clock and bring them in to bed a little before 10. If that doesn't do it, I give up. I'll start drinking energy drinks and just kill myself on Taurine and Ginseng.

I forgot how infuriating puppies can be.


Oct. 4th, 2010 10:29 pm
tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)
Well, I'm doing something I swore I wouldn't do. I'm getting another dog. But this isn't just a dog, it's a BEAGLE. A purebred Beagle. And he apparently looks like Snoopy. When I heard about him, the name "Fitzgerald" lodged itself into my brain's synapses.

Tomorrow is a busy day. We have to meet up with Timothy so I can give him his copy of The Chalice, go pay bills, and get some groceries as we are out of everything, and I'm not exaggerating. Once we've done our duties of the day, I will pick Fitz up from Uncle Michael, who is getting the puppy and dog-sitting him until I can take him.

I'm thrilled out of my head. A Beagle. I wish I had a happy Snoopy dance icon 'cos I'd be using it right about now. Fitzgerald doesn't know he's about to come to a home that houses a person who worships Beagles. I mean worships Beagles.

It's gonna be hard to afford another dog, but Beagles are small dogs, so it's doable ~ just difficult. It'll be okay, though, 'cos Beagles are low-maintenance. And they're a lump of love covered in fur!

Aunt Tudi has given Fitzgerald his middle name: Robes-Pierre. Glorious! Pictures will be had by tomorrow night, if all goes well.

Help Bacon!

Oct. 4th, 2010 11:36 am
tinhuviel: (Here is the news!)
[livejournal.com profile] beautyofgrey is trying to find a home for what seems to be an amazing dog. I'd take him in a heartbeat 'cos he reminds me a lot of Henry Herman, but I cannot take on another animal because of my crap financial issues. But I'm doing what I can, which is to share [livejournal.com profile] beautyofgrey's post about Bacon. All that said, here's the post. Please pass it along so we can find this dog a home!


Aug. 10th, 2010 04:44 pm
tinhuviel: (Family Dog)
The dogs are legal for another year. We took them to Dr. Patch, who came out to the car to give the shots so we wouldn't be charged for an office visit. He's a good guy, that Dr. Patch. Aunt Tudi had to loosen Toby's collar by about an inch because it was too small for his neck. The poor thing was nothing but a bone when we got him. Now that he's at optimum weight, we almost choked him to death getting his collar on. They're all home now and have finished their treats. My treat was a nerve pill, 'cos four dogs and Aunt Tudi in the car with me for over an hour was enough to throw me over the edge of sanity.
tinhuviel: (Syd Barrett)
I had one godawful dream about doing the Tango with someone in my living room whilst Aunt Tudi played a game in the dining room, with whom I'm not sure.

On today's agenda, I'm going to shave Chester and clip all the dogs' nails. They're tapping around the house like Freddie Kruger, so it's past time to rid them of the extra nailage. By the time I wrestle with them, I'll be knackered, so I'm planning on doing it mid-day and collapsing afterward, maybe watching Avatar for the umpteenth time.
tinhuviel: (Mouth of Sauron)
We're getting up early in the morning to take the dogs to the local med vac for their yearly shots. They'll be setting up for an 11-12:00 window at the Chik-Fil-A in Greer. I'm planning on being up much earlier than that, proofreading and maybe writing a little. I'm getting back into my groove with the Cliffs of Insanity and this makes me very pleased. I may even do a friending frenzy some time next week.

I guess it's old news to just about everyone by now, but I needed to mark the momentous event here on the Cliffs. Peter Jackson is back at the helm for The Hobbit two-parter. The only way this could get any better is if James McAvoy plays Bilbo. I'd soil my skivvies from glee, absolute glee. I can't wait to see how the Dark Elves are portrayed and the CGI Smaug OMG OMG! But McAvoy as Baggins would be like a dream come true.
tinhuviel: (Frustration)
I went into work today. I was to work with Elise, the groomer, who started out as a tech, but moved to grooming when Michelle left to be a mother. I'd never worked with Elise before, but I'd heard she was a dynamo on the weekends, being keen to get in and get out quickly, so I decided to get there early so I could get ahead and make an impression on her and show her that I wasn't a slacker. She was already there when I got there, and so were Dr. Patch and Sharon. As we all walked in, Elise said, "I've already done the runs."

"Okay, cool, I'll start on room one," I said, certain I'd get rooms one and two done and over with and could probably do the barn and spend some time with Levi. I was wrong. Oh so very wrong.

Room one only had two dogs in it: Toby, the rat dog and professional mess-maker, and Raleigh, the Weimaraner pup and future Dr. Evil. From around 8:30 this morning, when the morning crew probably left, until 4 this afternoon, Raleigh had single-pawedly transformed his cage from a nice large doggie abode covered with about a half a newspaper to a toxic waste dump. He had pulverized the newspaper, creating two piles of newsprint sludge with a mixture of piss and shit. He had also done the Beer Barrel Polka in place all over his cage, spreading the toxic mixture of piss and shit from pillar to post so it could dry into a nice hell-clay that covered the majority of his cage.

I took Raleigh out to pee and poop, which he did, much to my surprise, given the state of his cage, then brought him back to a fresh cage. I'd no sooner gotten him in and given him his meds when Doc opened the door to room one and exclaimed, "What the hell happened in here?" I pointed at Raleigh. Raleigh pointed at me (well, he would have if he could have). About that time, Sharon walked by with a freshly washed Charlie in her arms. "What on Earth is that?" She asked, disbelief in her voice. "Tracy, is that you??"

Thinking about all the flatulence-driven horror through which I've put Aunt Tudi over the years, I said, "Yes, Sharon. Yes, it's me." Dr. Patch scampered from the room and returned with a bottle of XO (an odour-eliminator), which he sprayed all over the cage. It worked only in liquifying the mess, which made it harder for me to clean up.

"You're gonna have to wash that dog's feet off so that shit doesn't dry on his pads," he said. "It'll be nearly impossible to get off by tomorrow morning."

It was already dry on his feet because the waste dump was already dry in his cage. And Doc was right, it was nearly impossible to get off. I spent a good thirty minutes in grooming washing this dog's feet, then drying them. Raleigh wasn't at all receptive to being wet, nor was he very happy about the hair dryer. Just saying I got my exercise like whoa just by washing this hell-puppy's feet. I got him back to room one and put him in the clean cage with some food and water, then set to scooping out the semi-solid bits inside the toxic waste dump. Thank the Mighties for latex gloves!

Once the semi-solids were gone, I took the towel Doc gave me to throw away after use and wiped up with worst of the liquid toxicity. I then sprayed the entire cage down with the cleanser we use to clean and sterilise dog-frequented areas. I sprayed and sprayed and sprayed and SPRAYED AND SPRAYED AND SPRAYED SOME MORE. Lawdy Jeebus, my spray finger is numb from pumping that freakin' spray bottle. And, if I'd known about all the paper towels I would have used in such a brief period of time, I would have bought stocks in them ages ago. I'm sure I used at least a roll and a half.

But, get this: by the time I was halfway finished with cleaning the cage from hell, Raleigh had eaten all his food, turned over his water bowl, and had set to pulverizing his newspaper. By the time I had completed cleaning the cage from hell, Raleigh had scooped all the newspaper to the corners of his cage and was proceeding to poop, after he'd already pooped outside just 45 minutes before. Fuck on a stick! Baby Jesus on rollerblades! This dog was obviously out to get me and whomever else was unfortunate enough to have to tend to him during his boarding time at the vet's office! I let him finish his business, then transferred his demonic arse from his newly-destroyed cage to his freshly sanitised cage. I then set to cleaning the new disaster, pulled out the rancid trash bag filled with Raleigh's 700 deadly sins, sprayed some Oust to kill whatever odours might still be lingering, and turned off the lights. "Good night, asshole! G'night Toby!"

By the time I'd finished what was probably one of the worst cleaning nightmares of my entire life, Elise had done everything else except the dishes, which I promptly set to doing. Once the dishes were done, I apologised to Elise, telling her that I usually am faster than this shining example of my work ethic. She told me not to worry about it, that Doc had told her about the horror movie in which I'd been deposited, and she could smell it too. What she didn't know was that I'd had to take this hell-puppy to grooming to wash his feet on top of everything else. She was appropriately horrified and scandalised, and she told me that she knew I usually did better than this, that she wasn't worried about it all. I then asked her if she could smell me, because all I could still smell was rancid shit, and I felt like it was all over me. She told me that she couldn't, but I can still smell it. Aunt Tudi said she couldn't smell me either. I think they're all lying just to save my already bruised feelings. Dr. Patch and Sharon would tell me the truth though. Hell, Sharon was already quick to place the blame on me from the get-go. I think Aunt Tudi has been telling her stories about me and my near-legendary flatulence.

I just pity whomever opens the door to room one tomorrow morning. It's going to be ugly. Beyond ugly. Maybe I should have made a sign or something and taped it to the door. Something like "Open with caution" or "Just go home now!" or "Kill yourself now and spare yourself the indignity of the hell-puppy." Something. Anything. Because they're going to find themselves starring at a toxic mess brought about by a dog who likes to Jitterbug in his own excrement, a canine who enjoys doing the Michigan Rag whilst pissing, shitting, and probably projectile vomiting all at once. This dog is the puppy from HELL and I hope he has gone home by the time I go into work tomorrow.

That dog is a fuckerer and I don't like him one damned bit. That is all.
tinhuviel: (Bellatrix)
I think I've pulled a muscle in my left shoulder. I hope that's all it is. If it's arthritis, I'm just gonna lie down and put a lily on my chest.

Time flies when you're having fun. Fruit flies eat your bananas.

Chester has had diarrhea for the past 48 hours. I'm giving it one more day, then off to Dr. Patch he goes. They'll just have to hold a check.

I don't work this week. Röchling is closed the entire week for Independence Day. Aunt Tudi and I are teaming up with Uncle Michael and Janice for a huge flea market expedition in hopes of recouping some of our losses on the job front. Janice is off this week as well. How can anyone maintain any measure of independence when we miss a whole week's paycheck, eh?

Aunt Tudi and I have a date for Friday. We're popping some corn and popping Independence Day into Ye Olde DVD Player.

Onions are of the Devil.

[livejournal.com profile] beechelfromhell sent to me a lovely box full of lovely things. Pictures and official thanks are forthcoming, probably tomorrow.

Also tomorrow, I'll be grooming Fat Boy Boo Boo. Something tells me that my shoulder is gonna love that little job.

Speaking of dogs, I saw a man who looked uncomfortably like Leonard Nimoy strolling through the flea market holding one of the ugliest chihuahuas known to planet Earth. It was like a shaved tribble with Spock ears. The chihuahua, not the Leonard Nimoy lookalike.

My contorted filbert has its yearly infestation of June bugs. When I was a kid, it used to piss me off to witness other kids tie a string around a June bug's leg and make it fly around in circles. I wanted to tie a string around those kids legs and make them run about in a circle until their legs came off. And I would collect those legs until they were bones, then make myself a small kid leg bone chair to rival HR Giger's ghastly throne.

The end.

Busy day

May. 13th, 2008 07:29 pm
tinhuviel: (Riley)
Got up early and jetted off to work. Tuesday is rob day in Le Canteen, so I donned my mask and sang "Stand and Deliver" all morning until the machines were empty of money. I spent my day throwing drinks, chips, food, and candy at the unsuspecting hordes. When I got home, I set up the grooming table and set to grooming and bathing the dogs. It took me about two hours, but they're all clean and shiny now. I called the vet's office to see how much the Advantage I use was and it's $54, so I'm going to the grocery tomorrow to check on some of the cheaper "OTC" topical flea treatments are. It's not my first choice, obviously, but I really don't have a choice when prices like that are presented to me. I hate Hartz products.

After I finished the dogs, I stripped the bed and washed the bedclothes while I was in the process of washing the dogs' bath towels. I got the towels put away and the bed made, ate a bite of supper (soup, yum!), and now here I am. I'm very sleepy and I'm PMS-ing, so I think I'll go to bed early and hope I get to sleep soon thereafter. 5 o'clock comes way too soon.


Apr. 28th, 2008 06:45 pm
tinhuviel: (Bellatrix)
Llew went to his family doctor today, who believes that this may be a case of Bell's Palsey rather than an actual stroke, since the effects are localised in his face and have effected his ability to speak in that it's like he's had a shot of Novocaine. He also changed his blood pressure meds since the meds Llew was on were apparently not working. We checked his blood pressure last night and it was 193/131. I tried to persuade him to go on to the E/R, since this was one of the danger signs noted on his hospital paperwork, but he flat refused, damned stubborn man. So.... I don't know what to think.....except I'm going to work on having him change doctors because the MRI indicated a clot in his brain and indications of TIAs. More grief. I hate that doctor of his.

Aunt Tudi has taken over household duties way too early. She just has to do it her way and insisted on wresting the laundry, dishes, vacuuming, and whatnot from my grip. I know I'm lacking in such things but damn! I feel like a total failure-slacker-loser. On the good side, she's doing fabulously with her hand. It has healed much quicker than her left hand. Almost immediately after her surgery, she had all the feeling back in her hand whereas, with her left hand, it took several months before the numbness went away. So I'm happy about that, but I'm really pissed that she's not following doctor's orders and letting me do what she usually does. I'd stop her but it's kinda hard to do if you're asleep in the middle of the night and she does a laundry or you're at work and she does whatever dishes were created at breakfast, or she vacuums the house. She's a sneaky old hag and I'm a total domestic failure.

This is Mike's unpaid week off at work. As a reminder, Mike is my route driver, the dude who delivers all the goodies I need on a daily basis at Rochling. The dude, David, who's covering for him knew nothing about Mike's route, so I figured he'd be late today. Mike usually arrives between 9 and 9:30 in the morning. David got there a little after 11, after the lunch rush (between 11 and 1) had started. So I had to try to fill the drink machines while people were trying to buy drinks. That's a tad difficult to do. It's not his fault. He was just thrown into the situation, which is no good considering Mike's route being very big and very difficult. But it threw me majorly late in what I do in the last half of the day and I expect tomorrow to be just as bad because David is off tomorrow and another guy who doesn't know diddly about Mike's route will be driving it. Whee!

My day didn't stop at 2. After 2, I was obligated to go get Fat Boy Boo Boo for his Spring shave-down. I picked him up at 2:30 and had him finished by 3:30. Easy-peasy except for one thing: I almost cut a skin growth right off the poor doggie. Boo Boo is a wire-hair Parson Russell Terrier, so his fur is medium length and very wiry. When I went to shave his tail down, it encountered what appeared to be a mat right at the end of it. I tried to shave it again, and Boo Boo was all like "OH HELL NO!" so I backed off. I took my shears and began to trim the area one teeny bit at a time. Then I saw it - it was a growth about a quarter inch long (a little over 6 millimeters for you metrically-inclined folk), just dangling obscenely off the end of Boo Boo's tail. So I had to shave his tail down, but trim his growth. His tail looked like crap as a result. Otherwise, the dog looked faboo, if I do say so myself, and Gwen was thrilled with the results of his Springtime shave.

Once I got home at around 4:30 from taking Boo Boo home, I set to clipping our dogs' nails since they could out tap-dance Mr. Bojangles in the state they were in. I'm so ashamed. I clipped all their nails, cleaned up the bathroom from Boo Boo's bath, cleaned my equipment and the table, put everything away, and took one breath. After the one breath, I went outside to feed the Backyard Pride and the Front Porch Pride and give them fresh water. The bowls of water were nasty, thanks to the almost three days of rain we had, so I cleaned out both bowls and gave them fresh water, then poured out the food to the delight of all the cats. Whilst outside, I got swarmed by mosquitoes and got bitten several times, but the worst bite was on the side of my index finger. That's an extremely uncomfortable spot to obtain a bug bite. I began to wibble. It was a little after 5 o'clock and I'd been awake and non-stop for twelve hours. Wibbling, I finished the feeding of the Prides and brought my achy arse indoors.

After all this, I began to ponder my mental state over the past few weeks. Many people have asked me how I was and where my mind was, as they knew I'd been under a lot of pressure. I could never adequately answer them until about an hour and a half ago. If you could crawl into my head and peer inside my mind, this is what you'd see.

I don't anything else needs to be said after that. It pretty much speaks for itself. I'll let it speak for me now.
tinhuviel: (Smidgen)
I'm needing to get the cats straight. There've been some changes over the past few months, so the last list of felines is no longer valid. For shits and giggles, I'm including the dogs and opossums as well.


  • Winchester Napoleon (Chester) -- Yorkshire Terrier

  • Riley -- Dachsund/Scottie mix (Bratwurst on legs)

  • Sheba -- Bassett/Cocker mix

Indoor Pride

  • Smidgen -- Ginger Manx (half-tail that doesn't work)

  • Shmoop -- Full Tabby (she thinks she's a dog)

  • Motley -- Tortoiseshell Manx (no tail at all, she looks like a bear)

  • Foley -- Pastel Calico (a big brute of a cat named after Dave Foley)

Outdoor Pride

  • Theodore -- Ginger Manx (half-tail that does work, mostly tame, will eventually become part of the Indoor Pride)

  • Aloysius -- Long-hair Tabby (broken jaw that's healed wrong. He gets a lot of canned food now. Partially tame, we're working on getting him indoors as well, and getting his jaw fixed)

  • Sluggo -- Surly black cat with flat ears, flat eyes, and flat face (grandfather cat, retired from the competition, named after Ron White's bulldog)

  • Goldie -- Tortoiseshell Manx (half-tail that does work, mostly feral but she will allow me to pet her on occasion)

  • Agro -- Tabby cat with orange spot on her head (Shmoop's mama, mostly feral).

  • Festus -- Tabby cat with a bad eye (Shmoop's daddy, mostly feral, will tolerate petting, but will then turn on you and bite you. Schizophrenic).

  • Joe -- Young Tabby Tom. (follow's Theo's lead and will let me pet him)

  • Flakes -- Solid white cat (totally feral)

  • Moo -- Mostly white with black spots (looks like the Gateway cow, totally feral)

  • Speck -- Long-haired black cat with one one white speck between his eyes (totally feral)

  • Biafra -- Pastel Calico with one bad ear thanks to a hematoma (mostly feral)

  • Iggy -- Ginger cat with very unusual eyes and herpes (50% feral)

  • Hook -- Tabby and Tortoiseshell Manx (half-tail with a hook, it does work, mostly tame)

  • Bagheera -- Calico Tabby Long-hair (mostly tame, very hateful to the other cats)

  • Spiteful -- Ginger kitten (beat the crap out of me the first time I encountered him. He's calmed down a lot now)

  • Norvus -- Ginger kitten (very young. He will be tame. Goldie's son. She brought him and his siblings to me)

  • Scrumpy -- Norvus' sister, Tabby (she'll also be tame)

  • Shades -- Another brother, soft grey with three dark grey stripes on his rump (another tame one)

  • Ghost -- Another sibling, indeterminate gender as this one is a bit feral. Mostly black, long-hair, possibly a Tortie, but I can't be certain.
  • Jolsen -- Yet another sibling, also black. Looks like s/he is wearing black face; thus, the name (for Al Jolsen).

  • Zsa Zsa -- Long-haired Tortoiseshell. Very elegant. (Mostly feral)
  • Gotrocks -- Long-haired black. Also very elegant. (Totally feral)
  • Caeser -- Tabby and white male, Festus' primary rival (totally feral)

  • Autumn -- Tortoiseshell and white (Motley's full-tailed sister, mostly feral)


  • Sven -- big opossum. I assume he's male.

  • Helga -- smaller opossum, camera ho. I assume she's female.

Rest in Peace

  • Jacob -- She disappeared without a trace.

  • Blueberry -- She disappeared without a trace.

  • Lynx -- He was squooshed by some heartless asshole in a car. He was the most beautiful cat I've ever seen in my life. His name describes his appearance.

Of all the members of the Outdoor Pride, I have hope of finding homes from Spiteful, Norvus, Shades, and Scrumpy. They're all very young and already quite responsive to human presence. All four allow me to pick them up and give them medications. Like every child of Goldie's and Agro's they came to me with funky eyeballs and a runny nose, so they're on the normal regimen of Amoxil drops and erythromicin eye goo. By the time they're ready to be placed, they'll be healthy and happy, totally tame kittens.

On a related note, I got a great buy on cat food at Bi-Lo. They had 18 pound bags of Kit-n-Kaboodle for $5.00 a bag, almost $4.00 off a bag. So I got three bags. That should hold the hungry little buggers for two or three weeks. They aren't eating as much as they were 'cos it's too damned hot to eat. They sure are sucking up the water though. Aren't we all?
tinhuviel: (PSA)
I shouldn't watch CNN or Headline News....or especially Fox News. The news pisses me off. It's not news, it's fucking propaganda! I'm so sick of hearing about "the war" and all the human stories that have come out of this travesty I like to call Operation Dubya Dumbo Drop. Where are the weapons of mass destruction again? If the smell in my home last night was any indication, WMD are lodged somewhere in one of my dogs' butts. Godallmighty!

And they just had another "feel good" story, this time about a blind woman who participated in the Iditarod. Everyone is all "oooooh" and "aaaaaaah" about this blind chick achieving such a feat. I don't understand what all the hoopla is about. She sits her ass on a sled and is drug across Alaska by a team of pissed-off dogs. Big woo! I say, if she wants to really achieve something, she should have a pack of blind dogs. It's the dogs that do all the work anyway. A bunch of blind ones making it in the Iditarod would be a real accomplishment. If I were a dog on her team, I'd be truly irate that she was getting all the credit after I helped to haul her blind ass across the frozen tundra. Dogs just don't get the props they deserve, especially in situations like this.

Now Aunt Tudi changed the channel to reveal the horror that is Tammy Faye (Bakker or whatever she calls herself these days). Aunt Tudi has a real knack from going from bad to worse when it comes to television. I should hit her with a brick, but I don't have a brick.
tinhuviel: (Crone)
What does that spell?

Danger, Will Robinson!

I'm in a foul mood. I'm in a "I will hit you with a large spiked bat" mood. I'm in my monthly "give me my menstrual hut out in the wilderness because I'm a menace to society" mood. It doesn't help that I'm already sick but, now, I have cramps and my head is threatening to enjoy a piercing migraine. I want to train my Yorkshire Terrier to open up large cannisters of whoop-ass on unsuspecting passers-by. He's already halfway there. Chester was born with a 'tude.

Which reminds me of Gloria's little Yorkie, Hope. She's a rescued dog and hates everyone except for Gloria. She wants to bite your arse off, but she can't because she has no teeth. So here she is gumming her victims when they come into her abode. The other evening, Gloria tells, Hope squeezed out of a wee hole in the fence and went running down the street. Gloria was already in her jammies and took off after her little ghetto-pooch (with nods to [livejournal.com profile] clumsycake, who has the original two ghetto dogs). Gloria is new to the neighbourhood, having just bought her home. So the neighbours see the new addition to their territory hauling ass down the street in her jammies, chasing after a toothless rat with a hippie wig and a bad attitude. Now that's comedy. It can't be written or acted out. It just happens naturally, yo.

Motley is coming along nicely. She had the last of her meds today, so I suspect her stool will become normal in short order. It's about time 'cos she's stinking us out of house and home. Of course, I know that Manx's tend to have anal problems, or so I've heard. I need to do more research on that and see what I'm in store for. Anyway, she's following me around now, which is very cool as I didn't expect that type of behaviour so soon. Honestly, it's like someone flicked her switch from feral to tame i the course of a few seconds. It's the strangest thing I've seen in a while. But it's a hoot to watch her run. She's got that Manx bunny hop going on and it's just so adorable. Shmoop is playing with her, but Smidgen tends to mother her. She just watches and mrrns when appropriate. I guess, since she's the oldest, Smidgen is now the house mother of the indoor pride.

So here's a pic of Motley, being all tame and appearing as though she's grinning like a fool.

motley )

This was supposed to be a post about my foul-ass mood but, as usual, I'm gushing about the beasties. Seriously though. I'm Croning it up, man. My Inner Kali is screaming for heads and arms. I looked in the mirror and my face was dark blue and my tongue was hanging out. Maybe it's because I was just thirsty and cold at the time.

Speaking of cold, I got some nighttime piccies of the frozen contorted filbert.

frostie )

Just looking at those pictures makes me want to drink something hot. I need some Baileys Irish Creme to pour in my Espresso. I also need some hot chocolate. I need some drugs that will knock my ass out for a while, too. I need too many things that I just can't have. So my mood becomes more sour by the minute.

Early on

Oct. 25th, 2005 10:59 am
tinhuviel: (Triskele)
Upon waking at 7 AM, I decided to stay up instead of lying down for a few more hours, as has been my routine of late. This gives me about 4.5 hours of sleep and, already, I'm feeling the burn of sleepies.

There are things to do today, but I'm waiting for it to warm up a little first. Right now, I'm covered with as many blankets and comforters I could find and I'm still chilly.

One thing I needed to do I've already accomplished: I spoke with Lori at Dr. Patch's office about Shmoop. She put me on hold to go talk to Doc, who suggested that I come in for more Amoxil Drops. It turns out that this medicine only holds for about 14 days, so I've been administering something that was doing Shmoop absolutely no good. How was I to know? Duh. I also asked about the symptoms of dog flu that is going around right now. For any readers with dogs, I'm typing the symptoms in large font so it won't be easy to overlook.

Make certain your dog has a bordatella shot, so you can differentiate between flu and kennel cough.
Watch for coughing, diarrhea, vomiting
If you see these symptoms, get your dog to the doctor, but don't take her/him inside
Call ahead with your concerns

To my knowledge, the dog flu can't jump from dogs to humans like the current avian influenza, so please don't banish your dog out of fear. That's wrong, man, wrong!

Speaking of dogs, Chester took a tumble last night. He was balanced on the back of the love seat when Janice came down to visit, got a little excited, lost his balance and fell flat on the floor. Later on, Aunt Tudi was cuddling him and asked him if he was sore.....and Chester answered: "uh huh." We both were astonished, but I told Aunt Tudi there was no use in proclaiming to the world that we have a talking dog. Every time we'd try to show him off, he'd just sit there and make Yorkie noises, but as soon as the strangers were gone, he'd pick up his top hat and cane and start singing "Michigan Rag." I know it to be true.

One of the reasons I was up so late last night is I was watching one of my favourite guilty pleasure movies on Turner South. Ice Pirates was on. This is the movie from which I got the notorious "space herpe," which makes me titter with glee every time I think about it. While watching Ice Pirates, it dawned on me how similar this movie is to Joss Whedon's Firefly, based on what little I know about Firefly. I could be wrong, but I can't help but suspect a little bit of recycling was performed in the writing of Firefly and Serenity. Should Robert Urich be spinning in his grave?

Also, last night, Aunt Tudi and I were discussing Christmas. She's the Bob Cratchett of our household and I am Scrooge. Most years, we don't do much because we really can't afford it. I despise the fact that what should be a holy season for so many different religions has become a commercial mishmash of horror, but Aunt Tudi gets all starry-eyed and wants to give to everybody and his brother. This year will be the first in many where we can marginally afford the kind of Christmas Aunt Tudi likes. I informed of this last night, saying "We're going to do Christmas your way this time and give shit to a bunch of people I don't like." Hey, I gotta stay in character.

I have an appointment with Jan in Human Resources at The Pit today at 4 PM. I was going to have her fill out my insurance paper for credit card payment protection, but the idjits at account secure sent me the wrong form, sending me the disability forms instead of the unemployment forms. So I'm SOL. I must call them this morning and get that straightened out.

For now, though, I'm keeping under the covers and praying for the feeling to come back in my toes.
tinhuviel: (Onslow)
6 AM jangled my nerve (singular) and I slithered out of bed, feeling as hideous as I look. At 7:30, Aunt Tudi and I gathered up the dogs and Shmoop, and took them to the vet's office. Michelle is supposed to call us when the pups are ready to come back home. Shmoop won't be taking much of Dr. Patch's time since she's only there for a quick recheck from her surgery. Gravy.

Speaking of cats, while I was in the backyard feeding the Pride, Lynx came up to me and started rubbing along my leg. I scritched him behind the ear and picked him up to pet him some more. He's a real sweetheart! I checked out his rear parts to see if he had any tail at all. He has a furry button of a tail. So, now, Lynx has a nickname: Button Butt!

I believe it's time for a nap. This Moon is kicking my behonkie all over the place. My tentative plans to drive up to Asheville have been put off until that time I'm feeling considerably better and not so achy and hormonal. Aunt Tudi is cool with staying home. In fact, she's asleep on the love seat as I type this. Neither of us are worth crap.

Oh, and I'm a Socialist.

Like really! )

I want to write more, but I can't think of what I want to write. It's one of the worst feelings in the world. I may just force myself, though. Sui Generis is just frothing to be completed. Maybe I'll work on that later.

Ho hum.
tinhuviel: (Mr. Tiscic)
I've been vaguely weepy today, not wanting to do anything or go anywhere. I ended up taking Aunt Tudi to Wal-Mart for some storage containers and new telephones. The phones we have came from the Jurassic Age and don't hold their charge worth a hoot. It's past time to get new phonage. These new phones will take us through my years in school and possibly beyond. We didn't get everything we were supposed to get, so it's back to Wally World on Thursday....morning preferably.

I knew that it was hormones when I teared up upon discovering Don Adams had died. I despised Don Adams, but there I was with a quivering lower lip, listening to the national news tribute to the man. The Father Unit was rather fond of Get Smart and I remember his doing impersonations of Maxwell Smart when I was a kid. It wasn't funny then and it's not funny now. It's irritating. I should be saying, "Ah, one less irritation on this vale of tears called Earth!" Instead, I get all snivelly.

I was supposed to go see Llew this evening, but I had to cancel on him, postponing 'til tomorrow. Maybe by tomorrow, I'll be feeling better and not be so physically ill at ease and emotionally po-faced.

One good thing happened today. Goldie brought her three babies (Autumn, Motley, and Lynx) to the backyard again today. This time, they came up to me, very close. Close enough for me to pet them! So there's hope that I'll be able to get them tame enough to have them spayed and neutered when the time comes. I actually got to pick each of them. Motley and Autumn are, of course, females, being Tortoiseshell. Lynx, however, is a boy. He's the most unusually marked feline I've ever seen. If I could get away with it, I'd take him in to be our third indoor cat.

I have to get up early tomorrow morning. I'm taking the dogs for their grooming appointment and dropping off Shmoop for her spaying recheck. Since we'll both be up early and on the road, I'm thinking of hauling Aunt Tudi up to Asheville for the day. We both need to get the hell out of town for a while. What better place to go than HOME?

Right now, Aunt Tudi is watching Jeopardy and I'm half-watching it. I just can't get into it like I usually do. Once the TV is free, I'll probably resort to Battlestar Galactica or Lost. These shows make me content.

In closing, I present my tombstone.



Dec. 31st, 2002 12:18 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)
Henry was euthanised on Sunday afternoon at 5:04. He went very peacefully and was happy to have me there (yes, I could tell). He also sent to the Great Beyond with a belly full of his favourite treat, a MacDonalds vanilla shake.

I'm grieving deeply, but I feel that I did the right thing since Henry wasn't in the suffering stage of his cancer, yet had only about 2 weeks left to live. His last two weeks would have been painful and unhappy...and that's the last thing I wanted for such a sweet dog.

So here's a pic of him and his companion, Daisy, who has been wandering the house looking for her friend these past couple of days. Henry is the black "Blue Tick" Beagle on the left. And, yes, that's a Kibbles'n'Bits box. Even though they had 'proper' dog beds, the Beagles liked this cardboard box more than anything.

Such down-to-Earth creatures, Beagles......
tinhuviel: (Default)

I feel as though my head is on a spring attached to my neck and it's just bobbling to and fro without any control whatsoever. I'm so sleepy!

My oldest dog, Henry, is walking the floors at night. He gets me up now at 2 every morning to be fed his breakfast. He sleeps all day and dog naps at night, choosing to constantly click his toenails on the hardwood floors as he roams the house. Henry is like my child so any sound he makes instantly gets my attention. You can see my dilemma.

Bless his heart, I know it's his arthritis that keeps him up at night. Even though he is on anti-inflammatory meds, the poor canine is still in pain.

Have you noticed how older animals and people stop sleeping at night? My grandmother used to do that. The older she got, the less she slept during the night. The sun would come up and BAM! she was sound asleep.

Henry is now the same way. He's a 14 year old beagle ~ deaf, blind, arthritic. He's still spry for his age and doesn't seem to be excessive pain ~ he's just stiff from the old joints. His back legs sometimes give out and I've already decided that, when he can no longer walk, I will do the merciful thing.

But he roams the house in the night, refusing to allow me to sleep in his quest ~ for what? I do not know....

Perhaps the Path to Death is a nocturnal one.

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