No cute little hoodies and sparkly collars for this guy:

How geeks dress their pets.

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Ferris died this morning. I always loved reading about her. Wil's wife and Ferris both lucked out when she found her at that bus stop all those years ago.

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Not *every* cat or kitten with "the wobbles" has cerebellar hypoplasia (which is caused by in-utero exposure to feline distemper virus). Other illnesses can cause the same physical symptoms. BUT, cats with the disorder live perfectly long, happy lives and require no special care. And as far as I know, they're no more prone to illness than neurotypical cats.

(Personally, I find his wobbly little walk quite charming.)

Here are a couple other cats like Charley.





Dogs can have the disorder, as well. They, too, make spectacular (if uncoordinated) pets.

Autumn under her blankie.

Autumn Crappy web-cam pic of Autumn being a goofy yellow dog.

Dogfighting is disgusting enough, but for someone who enjoys such privilege and notoriety to attempt to profit from it? This is even more thoroughly vile.

This man should be soaked and elctrocuted with a stripped heavy-duty extension cord--just as he did to his less-than-profitable dogs. Useless waste of human skin. He should be financially responsible for the rehabbing of those dogs who have a decent chance of being re-socialized. Those that don't should get to use his carcass for a chew toy as they live out the rest of their natural lives in doggy luxury, on his dime. Any fines should go toward enforcing anti-cruelty laws and shutting down every last dog fighting organization in this violently uncivilized world. Hell, garnish his wages and leave him just enough to live on--he coud contribute more to the effort while alive, I suspect, than gnawed.

Good god! It's like a bad horror movie out there! I decided to take Autumn outside one more time before I went to bed, but we weren't more than five steps from the door when we were set upon by a swarm of vicious, starving mosquitoes. I swear, I could hear the little bastards coming in for the kill. God, it was disgusting! The dog and I were of one mind and we both ran back inside with all speed.

I feel really bad for Autumn because there was nothing she could do but wait for me to brush the thigns off her in the places she couldn't get to herself, seeing as I have the advantage of arms. Now we're both in bed, being itchy. I'm scratching every few seconds, she's flea-biting herself in an attempt to do the same, and my arms and her belly are covered in new, pink welts.

I fucking hate biting insects.

If I look to my right, this is what I see:





(That's Blair on his blankie, in the sunlight from the window next to my desk.)

Here's Autumn asleep on our bed with her tongue sticking out.





And this is another one of Blair, sitting in my lap in Blair-bliss.

Mr. Squeek loves to clean Autumn's ears. Autum could do without.

They're still friends, though.

Many good things going on hereabouts, interspersed with the odd bit of interpersonal bullshit I completely despise but never seem to have the grace or good sense to easily avoid. I'm writing that shit off, though, as what's done is done and I want to concentrate on the positive changes going on right now.

But, more of that later, when I am sure of things.

Last night, TBD came down and we went to a soire at ladyholmwood's. By the end of the evening, the conversation had shifted to the ever-fascinating topic of The Foulest Stenches I've Ever Smelled. And when one of the contributing parties is a mortician, you just *know* it's going to be good. Or bad, depending on your view of things. I mean, vile, certainly.

And vile, it was. I was fascinated and amused, but poor TBD was looking a rather festive St. Pat's Day green listening to the guy describe the stinkiest illnesses (ovarian cancer being the stinkiest, apparently, followed by anything with "necrotic" or "necrotizing" in the description) and stinkiest corpses. Apparently, floaters really reek.

We left shortly after, as one of our hosts was tired and it was snowing like mad. Got back here around 11, or so.

When we woke up this morning, I let the cats in the bedroom so they wouldn't feel left out. Moo *immediately* climbed onto TBD's chest and proceeded to paw at his face, dance on him, and make with the happy feet. When no attention was forthcoming, he kicked it up a notch and started lick-lick-BITEing the poor guy's chin. (Facial hair is *such* an invitation that Moo just can't resist.)

Then, the other (slightly more hesitant) cats all wanted to have a turn on the monkey, too. One by one, they all had a go at sitting on his chest (or on his head). This was accomplished by violently displacing the previous occupant, which made TBD a bit nervous.

I give TBD credit. He really took it all very well. I know he needs to be careful, as he really is horribly allergic to animal dander, but I think he *wants* to interact with them. He can't help it. It's cute when he finally gives in and offers them a knuckle to rub, or a finger to scritch them with, because they go *insane* for the affection and he gets this cute, pleased little smile that he tries to hide but really can't. :)

And my dog just adores him, and insists on sleeping with her head on his leg. When I play with her, she gets overwrought and fleas (flea-bites) his ankle. :P Still, she resents being locked out of the bedroom and has to spend the first 15 minutes giving him Stink Eye and sighing dramatically every time she shifts herself a bit.

We both left here at the same time for different destinations--TBD to do family things, and me to pick up yffy so we could head into Philly for brunch and shopping.

Had a lovely nosh at the Continental (with chocolate hazelnut bread pudding for dessert--yum!) and then headed over to Ikea. I finally caved and got a cheap little coffee press. I understand that you can make tea with them, as well, so even if I do not like coffee prepared this way, I might get some mileage out of it with loose-leaf tea. Still, it was only $13.

Am home now, preparing to email yffy the playlist for the CD she borrowed (mainly Jason Mraz) and the link to Mosquitoverse. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you boys to stop raping our doctor, now."

Must do more spring cleaning. I worked my way through the bathroom yesterday, and the mudroom, too. I still need to get my old clothes sorted into Toss and Donate piles... Oh, and yffy, I think I *do* want that closety-thingy. Let me know if you want help with this flat-packed sofa of yours. :P

The new Barbie and her poo-eating pooch.

(Via dariens_haircut.)

Temperatures finally crawled up out of the single digits at around 9 this morning, and they seem to be stubbornly clinging to an ambitious 10 degrees. The wind was quite frigid last night, as I discovered when coming out of the diner at midnight from javanating with cearbhaill. I drove home with the heat on maximum *everything* and was still feeling a bit of chill creeping into my little car. The blinding snow squall I encountered on Rt. 295, while short lived, only served to remind me that we're supposedly headed for some potentially record-breaking cold days and nights in the coming week.

Given that this ramshackle old farmhouse is constructed of wood and horsehair plaster and insulated (upstairs, at least) with newspapers from the 1920s, cold draughts are unavoidable. But hit it with these frigid 20mph winds, it might as well be made of tissue paper. I've loaded the stove with wood and the vents are open so far that on any other day the living room would be 90 degrees. Today, the thermometer tells me it's a begrudging 65, what with the cold air coming in around the windows and the bottoms of the walls.

Don't misunderstand--I love this house. My ancestors built it (the oldest part, anyway) 200 years ago, and it was intended too be heated with radiant heat sources, like wood or coal stoves. The design allows the heat from the stove to travel up the central stairs (as heat rises) and through the second floor, keeping the entire house quite comfortable--even in sub-freezing temperatures.

But once you add this godawful wind, all bets are off. We don't use the oil burner for heat anymore, but on days (and nights) like this we actually have to fire up the noisy old thing just so the circulator will kick on. Otherwise, the pipes that feed the radiators on the windward side of the house would freeze and burst, which would absolutely suck to the maximum suckitude possible, as that would be a phenomenal PITA to fix.

The pipes under our kitchen that feed the sink are also particularly vulnerable, as they are on a north-facing wall and the north winds are notoriously cruel. I'm going to have to pile some hay bales against the outside wall where the sink is to help cut the wind a bit. While that may sound like a stopgap measure, my father can't remember a year when we didn't have to resort to it, so I'd imagine it's been SOP for at least 60 years.

Modern technology is still my friend, though--we wrapped the accessible bits of pipe with heat tape last year after going 3 days without water, and we plugged the tape in again last night. We also turned on the milk house heater in the basement and placed it so it's blowing warm air under the kitchen floor. (The kitchen is a newer part of the house, and has no basement room under it. That's part of the reason the floor is so bloody cold on the feet in the mornings--there's no warm room beneath it for any heat to rise up from.)

The dog is glued to the woodstove. Even though her papasan chair is right next to it, she's sprawled on the floor three feet from the hearth, and the cats aren't far from the heat source, either. She does NOT want to go out, but as she is not litter-trained I will drag her outside as soon as I'm done here. Then I'll get something going in the crock pot, as I find this is the best weather for it.

The new washer and dryer we ordered New Years weekend were installed on Monday. I had to complete the dryer installation myself, but it wasn't terribly difficult--jut awkward. I'm still learning to adjust my thinking re: drying times as the new unit is *far* more efficient and effective than the old one.

(I'm still ridiculously pleased that a little light comes on when you open the dryer; like one ever has a deep and pressing need to see the things they only just put *in* it.)

So, as you can probably imagine, I've been doing *tons* of laundry. Since I've now caught up with all the absolute necessities, I've moved on to the Boy-I've-always-wanted-to-wash-THAT items and things that just need occasional washing. Like Autumn's Big Shrimpy. (She has a nest bed.) The entire thing, once disassembled, now fits in the washer in one load and doesn't even fill the tub! *swoons*

Shrimpy beds are the nicest dog beds I've ever used. You can buy replacement covers, replace the filling, and every last little bit is machine washable. So if you have a big, stinky yellow dog like we do, you can de-stink their sleepy-spot often enough that it doesn't offend. (They make washable cat beds, too.)

For her part, Autumn *loves* her Shrimpy nest and is currently roaming around the house shunning every other potential sleeping spot as a way of telling me how terribly unhappy she is with the current Shrimpy-washing operation. :P