Murder and Hijacking

Some sad, sad news today.

Anon CP's Rhode Island Reds, Henny and Penny, were murdered last night.
A nighttime marauder found their way into the inner sanctum of the Omlet and well, you know the unfortunate rest...
Bo found them and buried them, as a gentleman should.

Only last week, H&P gave us eggs.

R.I.P. little Henny and Penny. You were good chickens and will be sorely missed by your chicken Mom and the mascots - especially the bird whisperer one.

Henny and Penny's fine handiwork

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In a vain attempt to catch up to Anon CP on Ancestry.com in the related-to-royalty department, another afternoon has been wasted spent there. Guess what? I'm still from indentured servants y'all. (Someone had to help out all those royal relatives of CP's.)

But I did find that a couple of someones hijacked my great grandmother.
To Wyoming.
Changed her name.
Added her to the Sioux reservation rolls. (Not that that isn't cool and all, but Georgia is not known for its Sioux population.)

WTF.

It's probably not proper Ancestry form, but I wrote both of them an email saying - Hey, she ain't yours, so knock off that picture stealing.
In the nicest possible way of course.

The Cat Lady

I saw her again last week on the way home, pulling into a spot behind Home Depot on the quiet secret thoroughfare that cuts over to Mt. Moriah Road. Truckers sometimes sleep overnight there in their cabs.
Occasionally she's there in the morning, letting the cat roam around on a leash. A small camp of homeless people live in the nearby woods, having relocated since the area by the new Marriott was clear cut. You can see smoke from their campfires and just a glimpse of a tent from the street.

I first saw her when stopping for coffee at the BP on the way to the old new job. At first I thought she was traveling, the front seat of the crossover SUV full of hanging clothes. A tabby Maine Coon looking cat perched on the back seat and I spotted a litter box. The vehicle was clean and newish. We passed in the doorway, her out, me in. She was trim, blonde, wearing Privos. Then I saw her several more times, same gas station, same time.

And it dawned on me that she was not traveling. She was living in her car.

She is not a regular on the intersection corners. In the homeless hierarchy, she's a tier or two above those folks in a tent. She's got mobility, a safety edge, and protection from weather. She probably has a job. Her clothes are organized and seem to be clean, her car is neat. She's got money for gas, to do laundry, and buy cat food. But not enough for an apartment.

I think about her as I drive home, less than a mile away; think about living in my car with three cats; about how close I am to that (aren't we all really?).
It scares me.

ancestry.com

Last Sunday, instead of writing some pithy, fascinating post about what's going on around here, I spent close to twelve hours on ancestry.com. I could not feel my legs, I sat so long.

When I was in Ireland, someone said we Americans were so funny (they meant weird) with all of our wanting to know where we were from. Guess that's what happens when you're a country of immigrants.

I myself want to know why people moved. People moved more back then than one would think. I get coming here from the "old country" in the first place, but what compelled them to pick up and head down to Georgia from Virginia? Was the mother-in-law THAT bad?

Moving must have been easier back then, especially if you were one of my people (we come from a line of indentured servants, not landowners). No realtors, no movers, no 2,500 square foot house to disgorge into a giant van. Load the wagon, hitch the milch cow to the back and head out.
Need a new chair? Carpenter husband will make a new one when you arrive in the promised land of Florida. Your job, (one of about a thousand) as a woman, is to have fifteen children and hope two or three will take.

Two things drive me crazy - naming twenty generations the same two names and changing the spelling of last names all willy-nilly. They were not concerned in the slightest about us here trying to make heads or tails of which George was actually the one who came from Ireland. I have actually employed spreadsheets to help me. (It was my gggg grandfather and mother - I knew you would want to know.)

Anon CP is finding ALL kinds of peeps in her search. Cousins and castles and Dutch folks, oh my!
I'd better get cracking...

Right Now

I dislike all my cats.

Each one of them does something annoying:
Lillie never shuts up, Finn scratches the furniture - in spite of a vast array of scratching posts (horizontal and vertical) in every damn room, and Oscar tears holes in sheets and blankets. Just now I found a triangular tear in my silk comforter. Errrrrgggghhhhhhh!

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In other news, I FINALLY have an appointment with Kathryn at Dogstar Tattoo. In April.
I just threw away copies of Scandinavian knot work - the curse of the purger. I have to have a raven on my right shoulder blade because of a dream. I wrote about the dream in a post on my other blog, but I can't find it now.
Wait...here it is, from July 2011, further back than I remembered.

Every since I was a young whippersnapper, I wished I'd find a baby crow or raven so I could raise it. It turns out that it's my birth month totem.
Get out!

Weekly Roundup

First, let me 'splain about the whole email blog post thingy.

Following me does not mean you will get the posts, it just means you like me and I like that. It makes me happy to see all those little square faces to my left. And it's important to keep The Sock Monkey Hat happy!

To get the posts automatically you have to do one (only one) of these things (starting with biggest pain in ass factor):
- Bookmark the site and remember to check it every day (okay, every week), 
- Sell your soul one more time Sign up for Google Reader and add this blog to your subscriptions
- Add your email address in the space marked "Email address" under the title of the blog (see it? very faint gray writing in a white box), then click the SUBMIT button alllllll the way to the right of the white box.

Hope this helps.

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Oscar spotted him a Yellow Shafted Flicker this morning.

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Two people I know had their appendixes out last week and both of them had a bit of a scare because of it.
My darling niece was medi-vacced from Juneau to Seattle because of hers. They are both on the mend now though. Whew!

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Invited into the inner Drag Queen circle last night (which was our first anniversary of volunteering). We were asked to join The Queens for a drink after Drag Bingo. Seriously exciting.

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I had a norovirus (milder version, but still ewwww) on Tuesday and lost 6 lbs. in one day. Thanks for helping me over that plateau  I'd been hovering on for weeks. Haven't wanted to eat anything but tuna salad since. Weird.

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Doctor, Doctor

So after being on Atkins for five months, I've lost 35 pounds.

Here are other stats:

Total cholesterol: down 16 points
LDL: down 28 points
Triglycerides: down 11 points
HDL: up 14 points
Blood sugar: down 8 points
Blood pressure: down 12 points

A ways to go yet, but moving in the right direction.

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Sundays

Are supposed to be a day of rest. Would someone PLEASE tell my cats that?!

At 07:00 Lillie had already been at it (it being meowing in my face) for a half hour. At 07:30 Finn was hanging from the curtains. Oscar was jumping on and off the bed. Finn was knocking stuff off the night stand and skittering whatever it was down the hallway while Lillie watched and meowed her approval (or disapproval perhaps). Finn was kneading the pillow - the one my head was using. Oscar was jumping on and off the bed. Finn was scratching - THE CHAIR. Lillie was trying to get under the covers and getting right back out.

I've already used the "f" word twelve times today. As in - shut the "f" up and get the "f" off of that.

In other cat news, Oscar spent all day Thursday at the vet on account of not peeing. Rather, peeing a lot, but in really small amounts. The good news - no crystals and no blood in his urine. The probable diagnosis is sterile cystitis. He came home all doped up, (and with clipped toe nails - yay!), with meds to carry him through the weekend.
He appears to be getting better, meaning his trips to the litter box are less and his urine more.

Oscar - feeling no pain

They don't eat much dry food, which appears to be a culprit in causing the sterile cystitis. Other causes are being overweight (as both boys are) and stress.
When I say they don't eat much dry food, I mean Oscar and Lillie, because Mr. McCool LOVES him some kitty crack. It's going to be hard weaning him.

He loves his crack so much, this morning he was in the bowl with his portion (much diminished on account of the weaning).

Is this it?!

Wet food is regarded by him as an obligatory appetizer to be dispatched post-haste. Then he runs to sit by the dish [he's standing in above] and look pitiful (and quite adorable I have to confess).

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The Sundays Here's Where The Story Ends