I have descended yet another rung of the sociological ladder toward being a total redneck. I have recently decided that birdwatching would be a nice hobby and have set up a nice little bird hospitality area outside our kitchen window. Right now, it consists of a bird bath and a bird feeder, but I hope to add on soon. The current bird feeder is a new model, a replacement for the "squirrel-proof" feeder that the squirrels subsequently destroyed. The new feeder is a tube type and has a lovely little thatched roof (made of durable resin, of course) on top, complete with a decorative bluebird. I looked out a couple of days ago and noticed that the bluebird was lying on the ground and squirrels were climbing all over the feeder. Did I mention that I just got this feeder for Christmas? It was out all of two days and already it was broken. I might add here that Wondermutt was lying out in the yard the whole time, completely oblivious to the attacking rodentia. Some good she is.

What does this have to do with being a redneck? I'll tell you. After I superglued the bluebird back on, allowed sufficient drying time and replaced the feeder on its decorative shepherd's hook, I applied a thick layer of Crisco to the pole to keep the squirrels from being able to climb up. Yes, I greased the pole. Hey, it's working. And it's more humane than my husband's approach of picking the squirrels out of trees with his air rifle. He doesn't "shoot to kill, just to stun". Whatever, as long as they stay off my bird feeder. F***ing squirrels...

The new fish is a substantial improvement over the previous one. First and foremost, it's alive - a very important pre-requisite for pet ownership. But mostly because it's much more active than the other one. The first one didn't swim around and pretty much stayed on the bottom of the tank staring into space. I think it may have been sick to begin with, explaining its untimely demise and thereby absolving me of any responsibility. (My karma's bad enough - I don't need to add "Fish Killer" to my resume.) This fish, however, zips around the tank with the same ADHD-type zeal that my kids do, making him much more exciting to watch. Grover and Ollie love to feed him because he actually comes up to the top of the water to get the food. I'm just waiting for the day that Ollie tries to grab him or he makes a bid for his freedom and takes a flying leap out of the tank. That'll make for a good blog post.

Henceforth, for blogging purposes anyway, the fish will be known as "TF" (short for The Fish, like in The Cat in the Hat - "Remember? The Fish? Came home in a baggie, loved me for two weeks and then NOTHING!"). And why not call him by his real name? Because it changes on a daily basis - it started as Goldy and was quickly changed to Rudolph which changed to Clarice, then Edna, then Bill... I lost track after that and now I just call it The Fish. As in "Have you fed The Fish today?"

Grover and I stayed up to watch the ball drop to usher in 2007. We lit some sparklers to pass the time until midnight, but that was short-lived since it was starting to rain. We also watched Green Bay pound da Bears, but Grover bored with that quickly. Her favorite part of the evening was watching 3 consecutive episodes of Ace of Cakes on Food Network. (She's weird like that.)



Happy New Year, Y'all!

Forget the cockroach afterlife, karma already got me. In fact, karma pretty much kicked my ass. My utter defiance of holiday spirit on Christmas Eve was rewarded/punished with a vicious stomach virus. I'll spare you the details, but suffice it to say that I didn't eat for three days and didn't stray far from the bathroom for the same amount of time. The good news? I lost 3 pounds.

Well, either the fish buying clearly wasn't a result of Christmas spirit or it used all the Christmas spirit I had because by the time I went to the supermarket Sunday afternoon, I was completely devoid of any glad tidings whatsoever. Naturally, I waited until the last minute (Saturday) to make my Christmas cutout cookies and past the last minute (Sunday) to actually decorate them. Even more naturally, I didn't have a sufficient quantity of powdered sugar to make the icing so I had to make a run to the grocery store. It was a madhouse. Evidently, I had not cornered the market on last-minute shopping. I grumbled but waited patiently with my turn signal on to get into a parking space that was within a reasonable walking distance and just as I was pulling in, a woman in a truck pulled in through the parking space on the other side. I was SO pissed off. Like, what was wrong with the parking space she had to drive through to take mine??? I glared at her and called her an unkind name loudly through my open window as I peeled away to find another spot. She stayed in her car and pretended to look at something extremely interesting on the center console while I walked toward the store (I know this because I continued to glare at her as I walked). Maybe she was afraid of what else I might say or do, as well she should have been. Hey, Santa don't bring me no presents - I can be as naughty as I want! Karma, however, will probably bring me back as a cockroach.