Caturday!

It's raining!

Ordinarily, we don't care for this pissy little thing that passes for rain in these dry damned parts. We like REAL rain. Like thunderstorms, with pelting water from the sky that hits your head hard enough to hurt, and lightning flashing in sheets and bolts, sizzling near one's feet as one runs screaming through the wet dark streets on a warm tropical night to the sound of rolling thunder. THAT'S rain.

Not this endless minge of gray fog and gray damp drizzly skies and gray-brown hills all sere from the long, dry summer, and gray wet roads and gray wet buildings looming grayly out of the gray swathe of city streets and byways.

But it's been dry. How dry? Dry enough that people are vaguely starting to resemble some sort of lizardoid alien. Cracked lips and wrinkly dry shiny skins. Talking about reducing showers and graywater systems and single-rinse laundry cycles kinda dry. And the trees were dying from the dry, leaves drooping and dull, twigs wrinkled at their tender ends instead of plump babyish fists of leaves. It was so fucking dry I thought I'd lost my WISTERIA, for Christ's sake, and that thing has survived nearly 30 years of my lazy-assed failure to feed, water, or otherwise care for in any way; yearly hot Santa Ana winds; a fire that took down 2,000 houses in the vicinity; earthquakes; temporary use as a gravesite for murdered squirrels (looking at YOU, Ramon Rivera of the Rainbow Bridge) and god only knows what-all else kinda disasters and shenanigans.

So this rain's a welcome addition, right now. A surprise, but welcome nonetheless.

We're supposed to get all kinds stuff fixed around the old homestead, stuff I haven't been able to take care of for a decade because I was so badly disabled. Yes, yes, we're using the D-word now, admitting to a whole fuckin' lotta suffering and shit. The house is almost literally falling down around our ears. The fabled thousand-step stairs need replacing with some solid construction-type construction. The retaining walls are collapsing. The deck supports need shoring up, and replacement in parts. Bleh. Lotsa work.

And you can't work in this rain.

Oh, fuck it, it's Caturday. Have a wonderful one, y'awl.

Stumble It!

Caturday

Yeah. Dat Ting.

It's that time of the week again, and we at La Casa de Los Gatos send love to all the good people of Boston. Man, y'all had a hellacious week!

Fortunately, it's over now and y'all can sleep. Rest. Take it easy.

Meanwhile, over in TexASS (sorry, y'all. You know we here try to keep the love flowing in all directions, but right now TexASS is totally on our shit list), this-all happened.

The death toll is up to 14. It's a small town, so that's a lot. Neighbours are rallying around, which is great.

What's not so great: That outrageous IdiotAsshole Rick Perry, the erstwhile governor of a once-proud state, an imbecile who can't count to THREE without prompting — remember when he wanted to SECEDE from these fine United States? — well, now that cheap-ass motherfucker with his rhinestone boots and his mushmouthed drool wants a "quick turnaround" on federal aid money. SAY WHAT, you asshole? Say FUCKING WUT? Are you on your knees yet? Is your begging bowl up?

Now a governor's duty is to help the citizens of his state as and when needed. We all understand that. But do the rest of us need to help people who CREATE their own problems? Remember how unsympathetic all those pork barrels, I mean, Southern legislators, were when it came time to help the dying BLACK victims of Hurricane Katrina? Why, some of them actually got up on their hind legs and averred it was an Act of God. Though what kind of God drowns helpless sick old people in their beds, you gotta wonder. When people were losing their homes and livelihoods as a result of Sandy, those selfsame assholes averred as how people had "made bad choices," and must put up and shut up, since it was their own goddamned fault in the first place. Nice. Real nice. Assholes.

But this here dumbass MOTHERfucker, Rick Perry, he SLASHED funding for firefighting in his state. TexASS has had droughts nearly every damn year since I can remember, and BAD wildfires, too. Lil Ricky thought he was so damn cool, cutting those budgets, snippy-snippetty. So he could make the REST of us pay for his refusal to spend on his own people? What kind of idiot slashes firefighter funding by 75% in a state prone to droughts and wildfires?

This kind. Idiot.

And that's not all. Here's that humbugging manwhore with his tattooed eyeliner, DroopyDawgII, aka Ted Cruz.

Image from http://tonightsforecastdark.blogspot.com

This cheap piece of shit wannabe Texan — yes, born in Cuba, emigrated to Canada, then decided Americans were stupider and easier to con, maybe — had the unmitigated GALL to vote against relief for victims of Hurricane Sandy. Remember that, y'all? Remember when your friends and relatives on the east coast were shivering their asses off in winter, homes destroyed, cars wrecked, kids killed? Occupy was asking people to chip in for sandwiches and blankets for the victims?

That's when this worthless gusano, this perro, this piece of dog shit you would scrape off your shoe, stood up and voted AGAINST aid for those people THREE FUCKING TIMES. Now this piece of shit wants Federal money — OUR fucking tax dollars — "all available resources," and he wants it pronto.

If you have a Twitter account, go let him know what you think of this. He's @SenTedCruz. If you *don't* have such an account, consider getting one, especially if you're from NY/NJ/MA. He wants your tax $$? Tell him to film himself kissing Chuck Schumer's ass first. Both cheeks.

Think we're being too hard on Texas? Read this, from Alternet:

[...] in 2008, the Center for American Progress found a fertilizer plant that stored millions of pounds of anhydrous ammonia in Pasadena, Texas to be among the most hazardous chemical facilities in the country, with more than 3 million people living in range of a worst-case ammonia gas release.

Anhydrous ammonia will blow your shit all to hell. You know. Like what just happened to that little town of West.

Stumble It!

Caturday?

NO we don't have any more cats, geez

This is what it feels like at La Casa de Los Gatos, these days. Like we're mothering some kittens. And we desperately need a DRINK, goddammit.

You ever try raising kittens? Geezus, they're a pain. So, what's going on, we ask? Bandicoot was sick for quite a while, and then we had to leave him and go away, and he wasn't doing too great when we got back. We've spent the past couple of months curing him of whatever stomach ailment he picked up and making sure he's doing OK.

Bandicoot with Gustav

See, he's getting old. He wants to be fed about once an hour, all day. Sometimes he'll eat some kibble, but mostly he wants his food brought to him, and he always was a messy eater, and he's gotten a hundred times worse. Seems like he's not seeing or smelling too well, either. If you don't bring his food to him, he climbs up on the bed and pokes you in the face with one enormous smelly paw. Actually, his paws aren't smelly at all. Just big. Bigger than my eyeballs. Which is what he likes to poke, mostly. He doesn't want water from a bowl, either. He wants to lick the water in the shower. And his coat was a matted mess after the long stay at the vet. We're clipping and brushing and what-all, but he's a pig in a fur suit, he does not care for this grooming shit.

And Gustav is kinda sensing something in the offing because Bandicoot just wants to be left alone to sleep all the time. So Gustav has taken to howling every night, I mean Siamese cat x water buffalo bellows every night from, like, 1 am to 3 am. I'd kill him, except he's suffered enough already. I think. Little fucker. Sleeping like a baby next to me right now. Just half an hour ago he was trying to sit on Gojira's face and howling because she bit him in the ass. Apparently she does not care for this face-sitting business.

Gojira with Zingi-bee

Gojira is still freaked out about Zingiber dying and won't go outside any more. She only wants to be at home, preferably in bed with us. (Fucking bitch wants to be RIGHT BETWEEN both of us, too, so forget a sex life.) And she squeaks like a motherfucker when she doesn't get her way. Also, too, claws. Hers are like tiny little razors. You can't tell you've been scratched till part of your leg bleeds and falls off. There's no possibility of trimming them, either. She's not the type to hold still that long, and we'd have to *catch* her first. Always an exciting sight, watching two rapidly aging people chasing an extremely lithe, swift, and nimble cat around. And when she's not being obnoxious and shrieking in your ear and bouncing off the walls, she's demanding attention. Pet me, pet me, scratch my ears, check my butt for poop stains, pet my belly so I can remove the skin from your hands. If she weren't so stunningly cute, she would have been a slipper a LONG time ago. Little bitch.

And MADU has suddenly developed a need for affection. What's with this? The lady with the French-perfumey big bosoms isn't giving him enough lately, or what? He's still running off to visit her regularly, I see him hiking down the road all the time, the little slut. Then he comes home and wants to drape himself all over us, and could we please pick him up and hold him so he can fall asleep in the most comfortable position and drool.

There was a time when the little fucker would barely give us the time of day. AFAHWC, we were convenient stepping stones for hunting mice on the hill.

I miss those days.

Yeah, so, WTF, y'all, check out the fucking heat wave that's cooking the whole middle of the country AND the eastern seabord, is this reality time for global warming deniers, or what? Will the stupid subside long enough for the marching morons to realize that they ARE every bit as stupid as everyone else has believed for years, and that global warming has finally decided to, like, personally cook their asses or something for being such fucking dolts? Only thing is, they'll be sure to take all of us with them when they go, y'know? Just to be assholes. Srsly, this heat is nothing to fuck with. Remember to wear sunblock, stay cool and aerated, go to a public place that's airconditioned, or your local pool, or whatever. Stay indoors, if you can. Drink LOTS of water, but not too much too fast. Stay safe!

Here's something for y'all to enjoy!

Stumble It!

Caturday

That's Bandicoot. The big one. Gustav, the normal-sized kitty sitting next to him, has been desolate for the past two days.

Bandicoot was very, very sick this weekend, and we have no idea what happened. He spent all of Thursday night vomiting (yes, all fucking night, like every couple of hours). As you all know, certain people at La Casa de Los Gatos have extremely sensitive stomachs. We're talkin' hear someone/thing yarking within the limits of hearing distance, and barf along in tune. We're talking smell anything barfacious, like shit, stale piss, vomit, rotting corpses, and it's technicolour yawn time in old Hollywood city.

We're not naming any names now. We are not. But let me tell ya, anybody who has hardwood floors and can sleep through cat barfage, well, you're a better man than I am, Nelson.

Cats barf all the time, right? No big deal? I mean, do you know how much cats barf? If someone could figure out how to turn cat barf into a power source, we could probly run the whole planet very efficiently with low pollution thankyewveddymuch.

Wrong. If your cat barfs a LOT? Like all night a lot? Take the little fucker to the ER. They're really sick, and chances are their core temperature has dropped really low and they're completely dehydrated from all the vomiting, and if their gums are white or bluish, they may have been poisoned and could be close to death.

He was crying in a strange voice, and no beast in pain goes unheard in these parts. That's the policy. So we bundled him up and took him to the vet, and he had a chest x-ray and a sonogram and a blood panel, and I plan to plate him in gold when he returns. Lets just say it cost an arm and a leg, but I am grateful.

He has feline enteritis. Not the panleukopenia (FPV) kind. It made his tubby hurt a lot. He's on painkillers, antibiotics, and an IV drip for fluids and has been in the hospital for two days now. We're leaving in a little while to bring the babby home.

Oh, and Gustav, up there? When Gustav's mom threw a blood clot and had to be ... killed, OK? She was killed. Gustav was desolate. He had never really been separated from his Mom and didn't know how to cope. Bandicoot very kindly took him under an enormous Maine Coon paw and kept him company and kept him out of trouble and slept next to him to keep him warm, and put up with his bullshit. (Gustav was extremely neurotic and crazy when he first came, attacking all the other cats constantly and yowling in a voice like a Siamese on crack. Rescue kitteh. Bad history. Tranquilizers for two years.) So ever since The Coot has been in the horse spittle, Gustav has been inconsolable. And when he's inconsolable, he yowls. LOUDLY. You know, just in case you don't realize he's, like, suffering, or whatever.

Geezus, I can't wait for it to stop. He didn't let us sleep much so I ended up taking a pill, which I hate (I don't like taking medication of any sort and react badly to most of it, but two days without sleep is too much) and I have a splitting fucking headache from the medication. I sure hope he quits yowling soon or I'll have to kill myself.

Just kidding. If I killed myself I would miss out on the joy of bringing our own dear Bandicoot home at last, after two whole days away!

Just look at that little punim. Who could resist such a one?

Stumble It!

Caturday!

Well! Hasn't this been an exciting week!

• Bishop Willard "Mitt" RomneyCare started the week claiming to have created 100,000 jobs while at vulture corporation Bain Capital, but ended it whimpering something about "6,000 jobs."

• After claiming that Romney won the Iowa state caucus, the GOP had to reverse itself and announce that Santorum actually won (Headline: Santorum easily slides ahead?)

• Jon Huntsman (who? Oh, c'mon! You know! The guy who was polling at 1% or lower but the media still insisted he was in the race, even while refusing to let Buddy Roemer or Gary Johnson speak!) finally took his two million dollars worth of dental work and three hot daughters out of the public eye by announcing that he's dropping out of the race.

  In a slap-in-the-face to all the "liberals" who love him (because the Republicans/conservatives hate his motorcycling ass with a passion), he endorsed Bishop Willard. WTF, Jon? Y U treat us so bad, after telling us that schmuck was unelectable? Did the Temple Leaders threaten to take away your planet, or what?

• Rick Purreh finally took pity on a suffering America and took his moronic undereducated dumber-than-the-last-Texas-hick ass back to N*****head Ranch where I guess he's keeping the local coyotes in fear for their lives and asking God "Why? Why me, Lord?" as he weeps incoherently into his bourbon-and-branch.

  Whom did he endorse? None other than "amoral jewelry-debt piglet"* Newt Gingrich, the man with the plan for trinkets from Tiffany's.

• Meanwhile, the Godbag Faction of the Republican Party met last Sunday to anoint Santorum as their Chosen.

  No, not with santorum, you sick little puppies. In any event, those Fuckus on The Fambly turds, those Christianist Bible-bashers and homo-haters and misogynistic morons of Rightwingnuttia decided that their Not-MittRomney candidate would be Rick Santorum. These assholes were totes backing (P)Rick Perry just last week, so, talk about pivoting on a dime here. Faithless sluts.

• Perennial punching bag and media slut-moron Sarah Palin apparently has lost even more of her brain to whatever deadly disease was making her spew word salad.

  After being informed that Newt's second wife, Marianne Gingrich, would be interviewed by ABC right after the South Carolina Republican debates, Babble Spice snorted that this would help Gingrich soar. Puzzled media bobbleheads have finally figured out that she meant Newt's amoral and perverse sexual shenanigans might have left him a little *sore,* or something. **

• Over in Wisconsin, the Recall Walker campaign announced that it had received more (lotsmore) signatures than the minimum required to achieve their aim. Down, down, down goes Snotty Wanker, erstwhile governor of Wisconsin and rent-boy for the Koch Bros.

So, what's the deal, Republicans? Are y'all just tired of being a party, or what? Because this is some pretty weak fucking sauce, here, jes' sayin. I know we here at La Casa de Los Gatos have been saying for a while that President O could just cold phone it in, but, man? Do y'all have to make it so EASY for him? Y'all spent six years telling us he was a weak-ass n*****, a compromiser who caved on everything and apologised to everyone and bowed to foreign leaders and was morally weak. Meanwhile, he's been kicking y'alls asses nine ways to Sunday every day of the week.

I have heard Republicans telling me for six years or more about the fight against terrorism and how y'all are going to follow bin Laden to the gates of hell, and y'all know where he is and will take him out but only if we elect you (WTF? Treason much?). So, do we wanna talk about who might actually have taken bin Laden out? Because, you know, I don't remember that Republican President we had before Mr. Obama, you know, the one that NOBODY seems to want to talk about, I mean, they're *still* talking about Clinton and Carter, but you know, that guy, seems like everyone's done gone and forgotten about him, when he said he didn't care about bin Laden any more, and he disbanded the task force that was supposed to be looking for bin Laden, I don't recall ONE SINGLE Republican saying anything then. Not one word about following him to hell, or they will pay, or none of that shit. No, sir. None a that shit. And now Mr. Obama, he took out that Mr. bin Laden, and he took out that Mr. al-Zawahiri and he took out a whole bunch of these here, what the Republicans was calling "terrorists," round about ten years ago. He took them all out. And what do you suppose our fine Republican friends did about that? Did they say "Thank you, Mr. Obama"? Did they say "Thank you Mr. President, for keeping our country safe"? No, sirree, they did not. They said he illegally invaded a sovereign nation. These people, who had no problem with the US invading the sovereign nation of Iraq, which was NOT involved in any attacks against us, got all upset because Mr. Obama had to send a surgical strike team to take out the man who masterminded the most recent attack on American soil, who was being sheltered on Pakistani territory, by our "allies." Imagine that. Did you think you'd live to see the day when a bunch of "America, right or wrong! America, love it or leave it!" assholes would be more upset about the rights of those who shelter our enemies than about our right to pursue those enemies who kill our citizens?

And when he's not the Caveman-in-chief, he's supposed to be some kind of Superman who is singlehandedly preventing yon teabaggers from getting anything done while shoving unpopular measures down the collective throat of the American people. He's a Marxist, a Stalinist, a Fascist, and an Islamist, he controls the courts (which, nevertheless, stubbornly refuse to rule in his favour on certain issues, why, no one can say). He's using mind control techniques to hypnotize the weak willed sheep who are cowed by his bullish tactics even as they are seduced by the pork he proffers. Geez, no wonder we're obese. Half our metaphors are about spectator sports and the other half about food. Oh, NOEZ!! He's forcing states to take care of sick people, disabled people, poor people, babies and children who might be hungry, starving people, old people! How AWFUL!

What the FUCK kind of world are we living in where these nutbags can turn reality into something resembling sausage, i.e., chopped up, mixed up, and stuffed up a pig's anus? Seriously. There is a styful of pigs on the Republican side of this election. Fortunately, it's thinning. Still, the choices fucking suck.

So it's off to Florida for Mittens and Newt and Rick Santorum and Ron Paul, while the rest of America stabs itself in the eye with a fork over and over and over, just to dull the pain.

Happy Caturday, y'all!

* Forever indebted to Kirsten Boyd Johnston of Wonkette for the so-fitting sobriquet of "amoral jewelry-debt piglet" for Newtie.
** Apparently, Bobblehead Barbie was correct, and them South Carolinians just LERVE them some amoral pigfuckery of the adulterous, wife-dumping, intern-humping, vow-breaking Nouveau Papist variety. Newt Gingrich just won South Carolina.

Stumble It!

Caturday!

Yes it R CATURDAY!

Confession of the week: things have been very very very stressful at La Casa de Los Gatos. It's Yahrzeit time for Dad and Zingiber, who passed over the Rainbow Bridge just a smidge over a year ago.

Bandicoot decided to celebrate by developing a bad cold which blocked his little tubes, so his eyes were running, and getting ooky and almost-infectable, which means daily (sometimes twice or thrice) eye-washings and cleanings. He's a good little trouper, especially since he gets rewarded with some horrendously stinky vitamin treat. It seems to be helping a bit with the eyes, but Jesus what a fucking pain. All the others want one too, or at least want to know what's going on, which doesn't help.

We have surgery coming up in three weeks (slightly less). House has to be clean, cats medicated and doctored, garden put up for the winter, books put away so someone on crutches can get around. It's minor surgery but still fucking painful. Actually, it's fucking painful now, so what's the diff? Anyway. Nothing like icing your knee during winter. Still need to make several gallons of soup so I won't have to try to get down the stairs on crutches to cook dinner. Not that it helped the last time. I dropped a bunch of weight from being vomitous all the time. Can't take pain medication, it just makes me feel gross and pukey and brainless. Hopefully, I can smoke pot for the pain. Well, not *smoke* as such, since we quit smoking this year, for good and finally.

Meanwhile one of my nearest and dearest has just had massive surgery for a very rare disease. Called the hospital late last night, out of surgery (must have been about 9 hours, jezus how can they cut on anybody for that long?), in recovery, things are looking good. Now for rest, rehab, and recovery.

I have PT to look forward to starting mid-December. The knee is killingly painful now with pain running across the bone, not just the muscles, which makes me wonder just what the fuck is going on. X-rays and MRIs show the implant is holding firm. So why the fuck is it so painful? The pain is crippling my foot, goddamnit, I can't put the weight on the foot, flat. And the small muscles of the ankle seem to be working at odds. The nerves aren't firing properly, so the foot drags. What a joy! Walking becomes an exercise in coordination. Are the toes lifting high enough? Or is there a chance they're not lifting properly, which means they'll catch and drag, and possibly twist all the ankle muscles again? The swelling from the last spectacular twisting hasn't quite subsided yet.

Anyway. Fun and games at the old homestead. Countdown to surgery. On the PLUS side, I'll get to watch LOTS of films. And I've read close to 100 books this year, so I needn't feel too bad about being a brainless vegetable for the end of the year. On the MINUS side, Gojira Helen Wheels is *already* sleeping on the knee or ankle every chance she gets. We'll have to get the Old Protective Plastic Bucket out to guard against her. What a fucking brat.

Also, Bandicoot has a new, irritating habit: Licking Teh Hoomin. He will lick my hand (or nose) for up to an hour, if I let him (I don't; his breath smells like fish). I've taken to wearing my sleeves down over my fingertips. Thank god for winter (did anybody think they would EVER hear me be grateful for the cold? Yes. It's official. I am fucking grateful for the cold).

When he can't lick me, he licks my mouse. Yes, THAT mouse. The electronic, wireless, purchased from fucking Radio Shack or whatever guaranteed to be mouse-flavour-free mouse. Or my little table for my laptop. Pica?

Anyway. This is why we have kitten fever at La Casa de Los Gatos:

Hippity-hoppity!

Stumble It!

CaturWeen

Yes, I missed Caturday. I went out of town over the week, and was fucking exhausted by the time I got back, not to mention hung-over as fuck-all. And I missed Hallowe'en, too. Just be grateful I didn't see fit to inflict Jesusween* on ya.

* Warning: StephenColbert Alert.

Things are tough all around, no need to dwell on what can't be cured, since it must be endured. La Casa de Los Gatos has never treated the blog as a place to whine about the many misfortunes to which flesh is heir. Suffice it to say that life sucks, and I'm sure yours no less than mine. We resign ourselves to updating our book list with book reviews for the year so far, and film reviews, over at the sisterblog. In the meantime, we stand in solidarity with #Occupy and the Indignados who #Occupy everywhere. Sadly, ex-Marine Scott Olsen was injured when Oakland Mayor Jean Quan decided to loose the police on the harmless Indignados there. We'll be keeping an eye on the #Occupation, but for today, we're weaseling out with this, for your amusement:

Figure out where YOU can #Occupy.

Stumble It!

Caturday!

And we pulled a Rupert today, too. Blog, read, blog, write, putz around, and then we're gonna watch a movie, yay.

It's getting close to surgery scheduling time.

Have I mentioned how much I hate being cut on? I like to think my integument would go with me to my grave, intact. I've been lucky, never a broken bone in my long life, and this is my fifth surgery EVER (that includes the tonsillectomy as a kid, and the replacement of my left knee, and the two arthroscopic knee surgeries which resulted from accidents).

This will also be arthroscopic surgery. They don't use anesthesia for that anymore. They give you a drug called Versed, or *twilight.* It puts you under, but you can regain consciousness during. I seem to remember doing that briefly, but they hadn't started sawing on my leg yet at the time (thankyoudeity). I seem to remember someone putting their hand on my eyelids, and a voice saying "Close your eyes. Close your eyes."

I hate losing consciousness. I don't like pain much, either, but you know what, pain is something we can all put up with. It's no fun, and it can be depressing. But if the choice is taking pain drugs that turn you into a zombie or suffering a grinding pain for the hours that you're awake, but being mentally functional, I'll take the pain. And going under is the worst kind of loss of control, isn't it? I have to do this. I keep telling myself I have to do this. But I have weird reactions to drugs, not having taken many in my life. Most painkillers just knock me out for days. Vicodin gives me projectile vomits, and the last time I had Versed, I slept for three days. I just could not open my eyes, except to drink and pee. It felt like a very bad binge drunk hangover. So I guess I can look forward to a little Percocet and a lot of pain (I hate Percocet too, but my body tolerates it -- I lose my appetite and I can't sleep, but at least I'm not horking my innards out or unconscious for more than 12 hours at a stretch).

Of the 260+ books on the list for the year, I've barely read 60. Bah. Perhaps I'll save the fiction to read post-surgery. A lot of George Eliot, some Tolstoy, Don Quixote (I'm re-reading it), some Flannery O'Connor and Wallace Stegner and William Faulkner. I guess I'd better try reading all the film books before surgery. Can I do it? There's only 20 or so. I'll have to re-read Kurosawa's Something Like An Autobiography, and also Stuart Galbraith's The Emperor And The Wolf, a book on the long filmic collaboration of Kurosawa Akira and Mifune Toshiro.

So, books, film, and music, all geared up and ready. Now to put the house in a sparkling state of cleanliness and shut down the food garden for the year. All the barrels and pots need to be scrubbed, bleached, hosed down. The deck needs to be sealed. Can I do it? I hate being a gimp, I really do. I used to do all this stuff myself, for years. Now I need to rely on others. But hopefully, this surgery will put me in a position where I can exercise my way back to a reasonable shape. I don't need to be able to run up or down the stairs in the dark, four at a time, like I used to. I just need to be able to haul brush down the hill. Weed for 10 hours at a stretch, instead of having to get down off the hill because my leg is cramping. Is that too much to ask?

Enough whining. Tomorrow we have a hike planned. Let us hope that cramps, pains, etc. are under control by mid-day and we can at least try for a mile. And then it's home, sweet home, and playing with fancy machines. And eating some fine, fine ribs and roast potatoes and stir-fried choy with my two dearest friends. The obligatory tormenting of the resident felines proceeds apace. They got their pillow moved from the middle of the bed to one side, and judging from the chorus of howls that went up, you would have thought we dissected them individually without anesthesia. How pussy-whipped are we? The pillow is back in the middle of the bed, even though all the little bastids are now sleeping sprawled out all over, everywhere *except* the pillow.

A pleasant Caturday, all!

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Caturday!

And this blog was BROKEN this morning when I checked on it! Troubleshooting: they call it that because it's a fuckin' heap of trouble and you're ready to start shooting by the time you figure it out.

Anywho. I fixed it. Somehow, a line of text in the template that called a javascript got borked. I commented it out, but, you know, after three years of not even looking at software, ever, I had forgotten how to comment out stuff in HTML.

Maybe it's just time to throw out all the fucking software manuals. Or read them. But who's got the time?

La Casa de Los Gatos is planning to make the pigmeat today. Baby back ribs cooked with cherry juice, cherry preserves, jalapenos, garlic, red wine vinegar (just a smidge), a little palm sugar. With a side of baby bok choy and golden roasted potatoes.

Food is one thing that is not lacking in this house.

The fall is coming, isn't it? Feel it in the air? The sky is a richer, darker shade of blue, even in the hottest part of the day. The light is more golden. The tomatoes have finally set fruit, but the deer have harvested several of the plants for me. I want venison carpaccio SO BAD! So fucking bad.

The Republican Party is in some kind of crazy death spiral, where every candidate is top of the heap for two to six weeks, then flames out to some disgraceful embarrassing level. Today, Michele Bachmann, who was last month's "tea party darling" (notwithstanding the fact that there is no such entity as the Tea Party registered in the US as a political party; although there sure are a shitload of vultures making business off the "tea party" meme) clocked in at a lousy four per cent (4%) of the Republican electorate's support. Behind Sarah Palin, Ron Paul, Willard (Mittens) Romneycare, and Rick (Dick) DinglePerry.

I'd shed a tear, but I seem to be fresh out of delicate lawn handkerchiefs with lace edging.

So RickDick DinglePerry is the pig at the top of the heap right now, and who's putting money on his staying there? He's already making calls to Repugnicant leaders everywhere, begging them not to keep pressuring Chris Christie and Jeb Bush to jump (or bellyflop, as the case may be) into the race.

Thad McCotter is still in the race, but a life-support system attached to his candidacy showed a remarkably flat line.

So here. Laugh at this, instead:

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Caturday!

Yes, it's that time of week again, and despite missing my best (and fattest) feline buddy, I still celebrate me some kittehs on a weekly basis (in between daily and hourly celebrations, of course, which are required by Our Feline Overlords).

What are the little fuckers up to, or rather, what have they been up to lately?

We got Bandicoot some chewable vitamins because he's getting old, and the sparkle in his eyes was dimming some. Needless to say, he quickly figured out that these are dispensed of a morning right after the hoomin wakes. Right, you got it. Every morning on the dot, 17 pounds of fat, hairy, stomach-swinging Bandicoot (with inch-long claws of a painful sharpness) proceeds to leap on me in anticipation. And if I don't wake up, why, he just extends those little razors and pokes me till I do. He will lick noses, exhale on me, sneeze on me, poke me in the eye with a paw, all until I wake and give him his treat.

Cat snot, ew.

Gojira would like a taste of Bandicoot's chewy vitamins, but since she already acts like she's huffing speed, she is SO not getting any. Ever since Zingiber abandoned La Casa de Los Gatos for his other home (I still maintain they're xenoanthropology grad students from a different planet out here doing fieldwork), she's taken to dragging this little toy around and making "Come watch me hunt and kill, kittens" noises (Zingiber took to doing this after he adopted Gojira and took her under his Mighty Muffin Maker -- not with real mice, of course. He was too stupid for real mice. But he regularly hunted (mostly unsuccessfully) a series of toy mice which he would then bring her, dragging them up the stairs with loud yowls).

Every night she brings the stupid thing upstairs and places it on the floor on one side of the bed or another. Throwing it down just means she'll repeat the trip. She's also (for whatever reason) decided she can't be touched or looked at with intent at certain times. Any attempt to make contact, real or virtual, leads to loud, indignant meeps, leaping and running away, frequent licking of the spot on which someone might have touched her if they weren't across the room, and terrified expressions, sometimes in quick succession.

What do I know? I hear cats make a substance in their brains that's analogous to LSD. I could believe that.

Madu is a punk cat. He got two ear piercings last week. He's a fucking idiot, too. He never seems to win a fight, but he sure knows how to get in them. Of all the animals who have lived at La Casa de Los Gatos, this is the only one who seems to get in a fight every fucking week of the year. The others got in a couple of fights, and that was it, they got the shit beat out of them and it never happened again. I'm beginning to think this dumb fuck goes to sleep in the middle of a fight. There's no other explanation for the weekly bod-mod attempts.

Gustav has taken to mugging us for pettings. Yes, the same Gustav who spent the first two (or more) years in this house acting as if he was going to be eaten by the Horrible Hoominz is now sticking his face in a person's face occasionally, asking loudly for hugs and kisses and pets. See, Prozac works miracles.

They're all getting old (except Gojira, in whom youth, quite literally, springs eternal). Right along with the rest of us, I guess.

But it's Caturday, and the garden is calling, so I'm off to enjoy the beautiful greenth, and the hot golden sun and deep blue skies of Paradise! Happy Caturday, all!

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Caturday!

Independent woman ... enjoy!

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Caturday!

from www.icanhascheezburger.com

And ... must add this too ... however, there is a commercial at the beginning -- sorry. But I thought the video was worth it. Mos def.




Enjoy your Caturday!

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Cat-ur-zzzzzzzzz

Or for the other inhabitants of La Casa de Los Gatos. Strenuous snoozing (if there is such a thing) by All And Sundry. Feet poking into noses, nipping of tails, pinning down of hoominz who might want a little less bed-crowdment. Also, paws in the face and eyes.

Hope y'all had a great time at the Rally for Sanity And/Or Fear today, those of you who went. Best estimates are that the crowd was over 250,000. Yay from all of us who couldn't (snivel) go. Looks like a Good Time was had by all.

Rainy weather here, now, at last. Maybe the ground will be soft and moist enough to be worked by Tuesday. If all goes well, the resident gimps are hiking tomorrow, hopefully in some wonderfully piny park.

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Caturday!!!

from our friends at www.icanhascheezburger.com

Have a great Caturday, everybody!!

Now, this one ... really doesn't need a caption IMHO. But if you've got one, head on over to www.icanhascheezburger.com -- they're asking for captions.

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Caturday! Got in under the wire ...

Friends and family have asked just this question of Ms. Manitoba. I iz experienced.

Yes, it's still Caturday here in Pacific Time. Hope you all had a great Caturday ... and those of us with a few more hours ... party on, cats and kitties.

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Caturday!!!

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Caturday!!

from www.icanhascheezeburger.com, of course

I love the little (sigh) next to the car.

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Have a great Caturday, everybody!!

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Caturday!

from our friends at icanhascheezburger.com

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HAPPY CATURDAY, EVERYONE!
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Caturday!

Yep, it's that time of week again, and despite the weird weather (thanks a fucking heap, global warming deniers!), the denizens of La Casa de Los Gatos — well, some of them, anyway ...

Gustav, Zingiber, Gojira

... celebrate, in their own way.

A bout of misfortune has leveled the human denizens. The feline denizens might appear to have been leveled, but, trust us on this, this is their normal response to everything.

No, Zingiber is not lovin' on Gojira, he's squashing her

Note that Zinge is easily two to three times the size of any other cat in the house. We take this opportunity to mention that his favourite sleeping position is on top of any nearby creature. Yes, he will crush every last molecule of air out of your lungs.

Also, to ensure you don't roll over while he's sleeping on you, he hooks all 20 razor-sharp claws in for better grabbage and rotatage. No, it's pointless trying to escape. Yes, the pillowcases have bloodstains.

Same cats, different view

Whadya mean, "Why do you put up with it?" There's a choice?

Besides, he's better than an electric blanket on cold nights. If you can push his 22-pound bulk into a comfortable position, that is. Plus, he purrs. There's definitely something to be said for a warm, enormous, purring ginger cat snuggling up on a cold night. What it is, we don't know just yet. We suspect it's in the nature of "GERROFF ME YOU FAT FUCKING HAIRY LOUT!"

Not that it works, or anything.

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CATURDAY! MEOW MEOW MEOW ...

HAPPY CATURDAY, EVERYBODY!

[image thanks to our friends at www.icanhascheezburger.com]

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