Like water for chocolate kittens

I have a problem. Every morning I go to the sink,

That’s not my problem, by the way. It’s not like I will myself not to go to the sink and yet there I am, back at the sink. No.

Every morning I go to the sink and run water for quite awhile. First I empty out and fill the many many many animals’ water bowl. It’s more the size of a trough. Then while that’s filling, I go outside for my watering can and fill THAT and water the hanging plant they insisted would be good in afternoon sun except every day it gets the vapors and faints. I keep it, though, because it’s beautiful as long as I water it, and it attracts hummingbirds. Hummingbirds are forever sliding into my plant’s DMs.

THEN I fill my coffee pot. And here’s my problem, other than taking too long to get to the point. The water is tepid. It doesn’t get cold anymore. I don’t know if it gets better as the day goes on because I don’t run a lot of water after that.

So today, after I ran I ran the water awaayyyy like a Flock of Seagulls, I got annoyed. And instead of just filling my coffee pot with tepid water, I pushed the lever thingie® to the back, meaning, “Hot water, please”

and cold water came out. Cold as a mountain stream.

WHAT GIVES?

I know this means I have to call Alf, my ridiculous handyman, but just the thought of that gives me angina. It makes my blood run cold like my water when it’s on “hot.”

Anyway, hi. When we last saw each other, as we were tearing out paper from our notebooks and writing down our numbers, I had taken Edsel to his cardiologist appointment, where he got a clean bill of health, and I was headed to the other side of North Carolina to take Iris to HER appointment.

I hated to put her in her carrier and take her on the road. She’s really sweet about getting in her carrier. Her little marshmallow toes go right in. Then we got in the car and here’s what I heard for an hour:

“meow.”

“mew.”

“meow.

“mew.”

“MEW!”

“meow.”

So that was relaxing. Also, I was getting my migraine back, which is a charming thing that happens. They leave and come back for days. This particular batch never quite went away. It was always kind of there. And on the drive to the radiation place, where I was zapping my cat, my head was going

“meow.”

“mow.”

“MEOW.”

So that was relaxing.

Also Marianne called. Marianne of the “I’ll take one of those kittens as long as it’s a boy” Mariannes.

“My kitten is a girl!” she said, from the vet’s office where she had stampeded with her nonbinary kitten. Fortunately Marianne is what you might call someone who goes with the old flow, there.

“It’s OK! It was meant to be!” she said.

Marianne is the type of person who thinks things were meant to be.

But then I panicked. I panicked while my head throbbed and my cat sobbed. “Call Lilly,” I told my car. My car called Lily.

“Mrrrr-low?”

No. My car called Lilly, the person. Not my cat. But now I have a visual of Lily holding a phone with her teensy paw and I am sort of dying in a good way.

Because, see, Chris and Lilly have 8 kittens. One was that Siamese-looking one who was a boy. The rest were all solid black, who all looked the same. One person wanted two girls, and as far as I knew, there were only two girls in the bunch. Did I just screw up their giveaway?

See, a BAD friend would have just stayed silent. But I didn’t want a whole fiasco with whomever they were giving the two girls to. I thought it was better to be honest so they could tell that person and let the chips fall where they may.

“We still somehow have two girls,” Lilly reported to me, to my great relief.

Sexing kittens is hard. I watched a YouTube by the Kitten Lady last night so I’ll be better at it in the future. In sum: Girls will have a vertical line back there and boys have a circle. Don’t try to feel for teensy testes, as I did. You will be wrong.

“Chicken sexers get paid a lot of money and they’re only 92% accurate,” said Lilly, who knows things like that.

Anyway the drop-off for Iris was uneventful other than that 45-minute story I just told. Her actual procedure is today and then she’ll be there for 14 days from today. Can you imagine?

It’s just awful here without her. First of all, the house is empty. There’s only a 45-pound dog and two other huge cats in this 999 square feet. The place practically echos.

When I get up in the morning, before I go to my sink, I dash to the bathroom, and every day all the animals run in there to say hello. On Sunday when it was just Milhous and Lily and the inevitable Edsel, it was SO WRONG. No Iris there with her sunny little smile! Oh, god, it’s terrible. That was one sad pee.

I spent much of Saturday with ice on my head trying to get rid of my DING-DANG migraine.

On Sunday, I moved all the books from my kitchen cupboard over to the closet space in my bedroom. I also took out ALL the sheets, and any sheets that weren’t a full set I got rid of. Do you have any idea how many half sets of sheets I had in there? I saved one huge fitted sheet just in case I needed an old sheet for something: painting, the inevitable kitten birth, whatever. I think my mother gave me that sheet from when Edsel and I were on a road trip, to help cover my car seats. It’s clearly a king-size, like my dick.

I also ordered a set of those skinny velvet underground hangers that someone mentioned on “Organize June” day. It turns out the prices vary wildly. You can spend $19 or $60. Why? I also discovered you can spend a lot more if you wanted, say, pink hangers, just to toss a shade out there.

In the end, I ordered a set of 100 hangers (in beautiful blush) from H2O or HIV or HMO or whatever that shopping channel is. They had a set that had regular AND pant hangers, along with those little clips you can add AND an under-the-bed slidey thingie® all for $29.

Next on my agenda is a set of those bags where you put your jackets in and suck all the air out, but that’s next pay period.

So that sums up my weekend, except oh! I did find a cookbook that my Aunt Mary sent me ages ago. It’s a cookbook my grandmother sent her. It belonged to HER, Grammy’s, mother, and has the bonus of having EXTRA recipes in there that Grammy typed up for her mother when she was in typing school. My goal this week is to make one of the recipes. Further reports as developments warrant. FRaDW.

I like how I’ve been using that acronym for almost 14 years now and yet every time I use it someone says, “What does FRaDW mean, JOOOOBB?” Are people just on that (Face)Book of June page who don’t read me? Why would you join that page for any other earthly reason? I don’t know. I can’t figure people out. Or maybe someone DOES read me but just not any of the days I wrote “FRaDW,” which it feels like I write 76 times a day but maybe not.

I want you to gird your loins because tomorrow is StitchFix day! I begged them to send me “sitting around” clothes but apparently that is not what SF specializes in because they ignored me.

Wearing a dress for no reason-ly,
June

P.S. These are the two kittens left at Chris and Lilly’s, in case you were out of kittens.

45 Comments

  1. I’ve been reading you for years and years and years and I swear I’ve never seen FRaDW before!
    Also, I know someone who once had a job as a turkey jerker. It entailed exactly that. He ended up joining the Navy, because he didn’t want to jerk turkeys anymore.

    Like

  2. Oy. I also was migrainous last night and was hoping Maxwell would come along with his happy silver hammer and just put me out of my misery.
    Good luck Iris! Get better and come home soon, your human misses you.

    Like

  3. Oh my, could that faucet be on upside down or backwards. I don’t know, just thinking out loud. This time of the year our water is never really cool, I don’t think they have to be buried deeper than 18″ and the red Georgia clay is so hot this time of the year. Poor baby Iris, she’s been through so much, I hope she gets special care while recovering from the procedure. The crack in the patio, do you mean the horizontal, straight crack or the vertical crooked crack? The straight, horizontal crack is suppose to be there to help the patio not crack. Obviously, that didn’t work. Those little kittens are so cute. I had a solid black cat that I absolutely loved, she was so much fun and wild, but lost her to the road. I thought I was going to die when she was killed, I cried for a year. That’s when I decided no more cats, so lets see now, how many cats have I had since her, I think seven. So much for no more cats. What a treasure you have with the recipe book! Your hair is so long, I guess like the rest of us, it just keeps growing, what am I talking about my hair looks like a wild woman right now with the humidity and sweat.

    Like

  4. Sweet, sweet Iris!

    I grew up on a farm and we always had lots of baby kittens. My sister and I were always enamored with the kittens and examined them very carefully because we wanted to know if they were boys or girls. We got quite good at it when we were pretty young (preschool age). One day our pastor came to visit and we demonstrated our ability to look at their butts and see the difference, complete with detailed explanations. Mom must have been so proud!

    Like

  5. Aww – Iris! Two weeks – that is a long time. She will require a lot of extra love and Edz licking when she returns!
    Albert sound just like my kind of cat.
    My Mr. Peaches just spent 24 hours in the Emergency Hospital and I missed him so much. He could not pee. I luckily caught that problem early – small obstruction. But the conglomeration of things that had to be done to make sure he was ok… well, you know… Lucky for me I earned some bonus money this month! Sigh. Now that he is home it seems to be taking a while for him to get de-stressed. And yes – they told me that stress may have helped cause his problem as he is an orange tabby and they are notorious for that. But it is all good – just so happy he is home as I love him so much.
    I hope Iris is perfect when she returns! June – you are the best animal mom! And I loved you in that dress! Woohoo.

    Like

  6. A house we once lived in had the hot and cold faucets in the 2 bathtubs reversed. We never had it fixed and it was fun with 2 young kids.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. haha At the risk of offending – please do not be – but I have lived with reverse light switches and water faucets – so many old houses! But we always just called them Polish! ahh and I am actually 1/4 Polish so – not a biggie for me.

      Like

      1. My father had never waterskiied before when a friend talked him into it. The friend’s new boat had the steering cables crossed, and he hadn’t completely gotten the hang of turning left to go right and right to go left. I was pretty sure Dad was going to die.

        Liked by 1 person

  7. Also. FRADOW is how I always read it.

    Happeeeee Eds smile!

    Soon Lily will be back, doing her best Hulk impression. Won’t he be tickled.

    Like

  8. My mother always said–mah mommah awlways sayid–that it is a colon for boys, semi-colon for girls. Very appropriate for this audience.

    Like

  9. Warm water here, too. It’s called North Carolina in August water. In Western New York we had warm water in August, too, which was often a hazy green from the algae bloom on Lake Erie and we were assured by The Health Department (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) that is was perfectly safe to drink. I’ll take the warm NC water that was once in a mountain stream than the WNY water that was once in Lake Erie.

    Fantastic dress or a ripping fine body. Cute shoes, too!
    Poor Iris. Poor Juney. Maybe in 2 weeks you will both be shiny new.

    Like

  10. Never knew determining the sex of animals was so dicey. Filed that info away for future reference.

    I make my great grandmother’s Irish soda bread recipe from a typed paper. Typed by her daughter, my grandma. I think of her every time I use it.

    Like

  11. I got that same dress from stitch fix!! I didn’t need a dress either, but I loved it’s retro neckline so much I kept it.
    It’s one of the few homeruns I’ve gotten from them lately.
    I’m pretty sure the water thing is just because you live in hell. Um. I mean I’m a hot climate. That happens in Phoenix too. I can’t tell you how much I hated having lukewarm cold water. It doesn’t seem like a big thing, does it? But ooo, it made me angry!

    Like

    1. We used to have a house on the Colorado River (Parker Strip) and in the summer, we didn’t even have lukewarm water, let alone cold water. It was hot water whether we liked it or not. Showers were NOT refreshing.

      Like

  12. I am so sorry about the ever-present migraine. That’s so horrible for you.
    I love the dress!
    Counting down to when Iris can come home…

    Like

  13. I use those same hangers, and i can always get them in cute colors on sale at TJ Maxx and Marshalls. Do you guys even have those stores there? Anyway…I find that I never have enough of them and I like having a rainbow assortment.

    Like

    1. HAHAHAHA. You know, no one seems like, Oh, where’s Iris? Except Milhous keeps jumping up to where Iris eats her food as he enjoys her prescription food more than his own. Milhous is weird.

      Liked by 1 person

  14. Chicken Sexer is a career? That was never mentioned in high school.
    So the water. I can only speak for Texas water, you understand. BUT, the water is first cool because it’s water that’s already been in the pipes of the air conditioned house. Once that water has come through the faucet it’s replaced with ground water (proper term? Idk) which is definitely not cool in August in Texas. Our (allegedly) cold water is so warm some days that I can shower without ever turning on the hot water faucet, and that’s just sad.
    Speedy recovery to Lily!

    Liked by 2 people

  15. Lovely post today, as per usual. As for that faucet, can you get hot water there? I once lived in a house that had one sink plumbed backwards. For hot water, turn on the cold, and for cold water you had to turn on the hot. After a few years (and a few bad words) I got used to it.

    Love the bit about that old family cookbook. My son cherishes old hand-written recipes and old regional cookbooks. He has finally convinced me to try to remember how my mother made Oatmeal Sausage, which was a great side for pancakes. Diet food, not so much. I do know that the first ingredient is: one hog’s head. (It was made when we butchered a hog.) I have never seen a printed recipe that even comes close to that old family favorite. But then most of Mom’s best recipes were in her head, not on paper.

    Hope that doggone migraine goes away and today goes well for you.

    Like

  16. Our vet is maybe fifteen minutes from our house. I usually take both Phyllis and Albert at the same time, but in different carriers. One of them (guess which) yowls the ENTIRE TIME. YOWWWWWW. MEROWWWWWL. MERRRAAAAAWWWW. WAHWAHWAHWAHHHHHHH. BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPP. YOWLLLLLLL. The other one sits in her carrier, admires her manicure and alternately shoots Pitiful Face and Laser Eyes at all nearby humans. When we get to the vet, Phyllis sits on the table, all paws folded in, like a polite meatloaf. She withstands all manner of humiliation and examination without nary a complaint. Then she walks back into the carrier (that faker; it’s a multi-human, pre-planned event to catch and corral her into the carrier at home) and waits patiently and silently. Albert marches out of the carrier, still yowling his displeasure at not being allowed to drive, inspects the entire room, opens all the cabinet doors to peer in (and often actually goes into the cabinets), makes sure the faucets work, bats at everything that is loose and several things that are not and has a running indignant commentary throughout his exam.

    It’s exhausting.

    Liked by 3 people

        1. Mr. Horkheimer used to stand on my dresser and push things off of it till I woke up and fed him. He’s start small: a pen. An emory board. Inevitably he’d move on to trying to push the whole dresser over.

          Liked by 2 people

          1. Albert is banned from my bedroom. It is possibly a lifetime ban. He insists on jumping on the dresser and then onto the top of the mirror. Then he sails across the room onto the bed, and if I am standing between the dresser and the bed, he will lightly land on my shoulder for a nano-second mid-sail. However, last week he miscalculated. Lost his balance. Left footprints on the mirror and, in a colossal display of assholery, knocked EVERYTHING off of the dresser. I’m still finding eye shadow, masks and other crap, and I barely caught one of the lamps in time. ASSHOLE.

            Liked by 1 person

    1. Not now, the ads are all gone. Do they really think putting an ad anywhere is going to make you vote for someone…unless there is money to be had.

      Like

Comments are closed.