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Anyway, news lately...

Booster Gold 27: Poor Booster. On the other hand, I'm cheerfully slinking even further into Blue Lantern Corps territory re: a certain ship of mine.

Linkara: Staying classy despite being a conservative on the internet, poor thing. Really, the only political thing you can get from his reviews is that he loves guns, I don't get why people are jumping on him.

My cat: hairballed on my bed at 2 am a few nights ago.

The kitten: is much too fond of her new green, nicely decorated toy. Why, it has branches! And little dangling things! Mom's taken to storing the squirt gun beside it, or come the 25th we aren't going to have much of a Christmas tree anymore.
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THE DOG has hiked up and down a mountain, cheerfully urging us onward. This from a creature that refuses to go around the block without being carried.

BOOSTER GOLD has met up with Zombeetle, and also there was a funeral scene that made me seriously want to punch Wonder Woman.

I have FOUND CONNECTIONS between my hobbies and those of my sister. "She made me watch Greek, yes. All the characters besides the villain actively annoyed me. It was kind of like X Men."


MY CAT has entered into a deep, hateful rivaly with Orange Neighbor Cat over who controls the prime hunting territory behind our house.

BONUS COUSIN has been given a name and soon will have a baby shower.
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Behind the LJ cut (my fun new skill) are some pics of my cats.  Hurrah!

Click for the pics! )
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Today we headed out to the farmer's market to get some plants.  Tomatoes, cumcumbers, and various flowers.  I convinced Mom to get some lambsear because I learned at camp that it makes excellent natural bandages and this will be useful when the aliens invade, and I also got some catnip. 

Soon after returning home, I learned (and am pleased to report) that this is, in fact, functional catnip.

Tai, my big Siamese baby, was outside when we got home.  I spent a while petting him, then went over to help Mom plant some flowers in the big pot on the porch.  I looked over my shoulder to see Tai with his head buried in one of the plant boxes.

He was licking the catnip.  He next moved to rubbing his head on it, and heaven knows how far he would have gotten had I not carried him inside and away from the temptation.  I don't want the catnip to die before it even gets planted.
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My family has had, since my parents were married in '89, four cats.  The first was Magdalene.  A few months after my parents were married, they got a tabby kitten from the shelter.  Mom claims it was a mutual decision, but Dad's story is that she mentioned "we should get a cat," he said "sure, sometime," and came home from work that evening to find the kitten already making itself at home.

Mags tolerated us all for nineteen years (I'm fifteen, by the way.) and is greatly missed.

She also may or may not have been a diabolical evil mastermind. We still aren't clear on this point.

When I was five, I got a kitten of my very own, Princess.  She was gray and black mottled and my absolute darling.  Mom and I were the only creatures she tolerated.  She purred for no one else, but she slept on my pillow at night.  She began the tradition of  my personal cats being greatly beloved by me and warily avoided by most others.  She also inspired a fear that lasts to this day of cats who twirl around my ankles, because while twirling she would bite.

Princess had a game of teasing anything that moved, and asserting her superiority over the car by meandering in front of it.  She tried this one dark evening and misjudged.

My sister occasionally jokes about Tai and cars.  These are the few occasions when she actually will be apologetic for something she has said.

Tai, of course, was and is the next cat.  He is my baby, a big, loud Siamese, the inspiration for my username, and Leaver of the One Fingered Glove.  I love him.  He has a terrible fear of cars, and this is what finally convinced me that it was alright for him to wander outside.  What convinced my mom was the destruction of our furniture.  Like Mags and Princess before him, Tai is an indoor-outdoor creature who spends most of his time attempting to rule the neighborhood.  Unlike them, he is somewhat inept at this, which is not to say he's not one of the smartest cats I've ever met.  This is a cat that figured out multiple ways to open doors.

After the death of Magdalene, we aquired Delilah, who is now almost a year old.  She is tiny, orange-yellow, and completely and utterly spoiled rotten yet still genuinely sweet.  Like Magdalene, she is named for a Biblical bad girl.  This is apparently a fairly common naming theme for cats.

I tend to greet new aquantainces with a funny cat story.  If they do not run screaming away, I know we are going to be friends.  (I have few friends).  And one of the best sources for these was Magdalene.

Magdalene was frighteningly smart.  Looking in her eyes could be eerie, because there was something looking back at you, and you got the feeling that it was wondering... well, heaven only knows what she was wondering.  It probably wasn't good.  Anyway, Mags could figure things out.  Among them, back when my parents were newlyweds with no kids, was how to be the exact center of attention.  (We have several lovely baby pictures of her "getting used to the idea of Elizabeth.")  One all-important part of this task was waking my parents up.  When Dad was home,this was easy.  It was merely nessesary to knock various items such as his giant hornrimmed glasses off of the bedside table.

When Mom was home alone, this was more difficult.  Mere property destruction could not always rouse Mom quickly   Finally, the kitten figured out that if she sat on Dad's clock radio, and wiggled around enough, eventually it would turn on to the blaring news channel dad had set as his alarm.

This would awaken Mom.

Coming Whenever I'm Next Bored:  The evil text-book eating rabbits from outer space!  The dog who remained lazy even after her medical problem was cured!  I swear those guinea pigs are looking at me funny!


Mar. 13th, 2009 06:01 pm
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Yay!  We're headed up to the mountains with my maternal grandparents this weekend, which should be fun.  We've got a little cabin out in the middle of absolutely nowhere near Pisgah National Forest, and while it's basically the home of the Beverly Hillbillies albeit with more seventies carpet, we love it dearly.  The relatives seem to like it too, as they can now go turkey hunting and it's got a deer stand. 

(I'm not ashamed of my redneck relatives, or anything, and I don't mean redneck as an insult, just more in the general Southern "that guy with the dead possum in his yard" except fewer dead possums). I really like them, they're good people, and they make great barbecue.  It's just that it's only now begun to hit me that most people don't have a bunch of cousins who decorate their living rooms in Furry Things I Have Shot.)

We might bring the kitten.  She likes it up there, because she's allowed to claw the furniture.  She also adores my fuzzy blanket that I have up there.  She kneads it like its her mother (that's a whole 'nother redneck relative story) and purrs and purrs.
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*Smiles evily*

A while back, the Cougars of the College of Charleston's mens basketball team beat my beloved Davidson Wildcats in a game marked by referees who seriously needed to borrow my glasses.  Tonight, the two teams meet again in the Southern Conference finals. 



Anyway, I am pleased to annouce that we have finally found cat treats that the kitten can eat without throwing up.  We think, in fact, that she is  getting better, and may possibly soon be able to eat standard cat food as opposed to hand pureed turkey/potato mix. 

Why do we think this?

On Friday, she chewed the cheese off of half a pizza, leaving only tattered pizza remains behind.

So:  Yay!  The kitten may be able to eat normally again!

But:  Yeep!  The kitten can steal our food with impunity again!

Ah, well.  It's worth it.
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So.  This is having a livejournal.  I think I like it. 

I shall set my tone and first impression at this new site by telling A Random Cat Story. 

(Yes, I know, I only tell these because I like to hear myself talk.  But people have actually laughed at this one.  Not all of them were related to me.)

My cat's name is Tai.  He's a Siamese, and he's loud, large, and opinionated.  When we first got him, before he was allowed outside, one of his major hobbies was Sock Destroying.  He found them lying around, and he chewed them.  He also at one point got ahold of my favorite sweater, but, see, that story isn't funny.  This one hopefully is.

One weekend, my family takes off to drive up to the Appalachians and ski (I love this state...  Beach in summer, skiing in winter, all within a day's drive.), and, of course, we leave the cat at home.   He's never very pleased about this, but he isn't exactly going to like driving two and a half hours and then being left in a Days Inn or whatever the equivalent of that is that would allow a large destructive cat. 

Our problem is, we also, in the process of getting all the winter stuff out of the closet (this being North Carolina, we use the winter stuff once a year, but by golly if we ever have a blizzard here, we are going to be prepared), we left a single glove lying on the floor.

I can only assume Tai was thrilled.

So, we come home, unpack the minivan, laugh and brag about who went down the bunny slope the fastest- and mom and dad find something in their room.

It's a single black glove.

With every finger but the middle finger chewed off.


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