Sunday, March 29, 2009

Taxes are FUN

The husband and I have been procrastinating in a bad way about starting our taxes this year.
We usually start them early enough that we know how much we are going to owe so it's not a two-week scramble to come up with an arseload of money.
Well, the above-mentioned husband has been doing a lot of freelance work as of late (yay!) and kept himself busy most of this Sunday holed up in the computer room. Since it decided to snow a good five inches this morning, and the thought of going out there was not even a thought, I took the only computer not hogged by a seven-year old or the husband and sat at the kitchen table and knocked them out.
Just entering our information into the new program we were using (ie: cheaper than turbotax) made me anxious and sweaty.
The numbers went down, the numbers went up, the numbers went up and down and then stayed at a somewhat decent amount owing. again. ooooowwwwiiiinnnnggggg.


I.R.S. government BASTARDS

The people I work with that have owed in years past were able to get themselves a refund this year, so I had a small, tiny amount of glorious hope that was quickly dashed as I updated each page.

At least it's not the higher amounts we've owed before.

We did get ourselves another cat. It was too lonely and quiet in the house without a talking cat. And boy is this new boy a talker. And a loud purrer..that is not a word. PURRER. ha

Canoe. That is his name. He came with the name Dino and we had to put our foot down on that one. I'm sorry, but we are not part of the Flintstone's and Dino was a dinosaur so the name could be fitting.

It did not fit the raccoon-marked Lemur that we adopted that has the longest, gangly legs and tail I've even seen on a cat.

If you've ever seen "That Darn Cat", Haley Mills' guy friend's name was Canoe. Nickname at least.

It took us a week to decide on the name, and we still go through the names that we were trying to get down to...Dewey, Georgie-Boy, Scout, Langston, George Washington ha.

The husband said since there is not a Desperate Housewives on, then he is going upstairs for a soak in the tub.
That means I will start on my bottle of wine earlier than normal.

Saturday, March 14, 2009


So we got the kitty blood test results this morning.

Not good at all.

The husband and I had to make a hard decision that left us crying most all morning, and on and off throughout the day.

S cried and cried and B doesn't understand it at all.

I went with my poor kitty girl and held her to me and rocked her and looked into her sweet green eyes and told her I was sorry and cried like a baby when they gave her to heaven.

Leaving with an empty cat carrier left me bawling in my car before I could compose myself in order to drive home.

She slept at my feet the entire night and I was aware of her even though she weighed hardly a thing at all.

Even though she's been gone for 5 & 1/2 hours, the house just does not feel right.

Thursday, March 12, 2009


I just got back from the vet, with the cat.

The cat, who normally follows me down the stairs in the morning, meowing *talking* to get some treats. Talking all morning. Nudging and talking. Drinking water out of a cup on the bathroom counter.

Yesterday she did not follow me down stairs. She didn't leave the bedroom until who knows when. When we got home she was on the floor next to her cat perch curled up in the bovine position. She let the dogs lick her ears and poke their wet noses on her head without hissing a fit. Very unlike the cat.

I took her upstairs and put her on my bed. She has not left our bedroom since.

Obviously something is wrong with her.

So, the softy that I am, made an appointment for her for today as I didn't want her suffering. (softy)

The prodded and poked her, took blood and gave a shot. They gave me some bland food for animals suffering stomach upsets and charged me one hundred ninety one dollars and sixty cents.

All I get from this is a call tomorrow to find out the results of the blood test(s), the hope that my cat will be just fine even though she is eleven years old and weighs 6 pounds, and the delightful smell of cat urine that is stuck in my nostrils because I've changed all of my clothing and scrubbed like a doctor pre-surgery up to my elbows. The urine that they needed for an analysis that I was hoping they would offer to hand-squeeze out of the towel she urinated on the drive to their office.


Friday, March 6, 2009

...she is still hanging on to this?


I am still bitching about Fridays?

I should have blogged last Friday when I was in a good mood. (for once)

We are attempting to do our taxes this weekend.

Won't that be a good time.

Little thumb sucker pushed me to the I-will-make-good-on-my-idle-threats moment yesterday.
She has been trying, just a little, to stop the thumb sucking. ONLY because she wants to go to Chuck-E-Cheese with her cousins next month. We have told her that we would take her there as soon as she stopped sucking her thumb. We didn't necessarily tell her that she wouldn't be able to go with her cousins, but she is assuming that is the trick, so we must play along....
But, she has started this hair twirling and sucking bit. I really don't want her to trade one bad habit for another substantially gross habit, so the husband and I have been telling her that if her hair keeps going in her mouth, then we would have to chop it off.

(No! No! I will stop sucking my hair! I want big hair) (yeah yeah)

She has twirled effing dreadlocks into her hair. Top that with some sucking and she has these strands of squirrel hair that are stuck in wacky-dried positions. Gross.

I know. I know. Some people could care LESS if their kid does gross things.
I tend to be a little high-strung

So, after B ran away from the house as she was walking home after the school pickup last night, I went to go herd her home about ten minutes later....and when I find her she is bawling....just turned on the water-works because she knew she was supposed to be at home. Not running amuck through the neighborhood in the 30 degree weather without a coat on. (What kind of mother am I?) She also has hair in her mouth. Blubbering, telling me something unintelligible because there is HAIR IN HER MOUTH.

So, instead of going home after dropping S off at dance, we went to the hair cutting place and got her hair chopped off.
It's adorable. Absolutely adorable. It makes her look like my baby and a big girl all at the same time. Don't ask me how that works, it just does.

The lady cutting her hair asks her at the end.

Do you like your haircut?


Do you like getting your haircut?


Somber as a statue.

I got my caterpillers waxed while she started on B and the ladies sitting around her cooed about how sweet and quiet she was.
Oh. If those people could take a 30 minute trip to Ikea with this kid and a pencil, they would see the devil-child in action.

The long blonde curls on the floor were a little sad and I had to hold myself back THREE times from bending over and snatching up a handful. Like, where would I put them? In her "I was bad and got my hair chopped off book"?
I guess I shouldn't say bad, it's more like strong-willed to the point of making a mother scream.

Love the kid. Love her. Can't wait for a little cooperation. Can't wait for her to tell me the truth when she is eating treats and not "Crackers, mom. I'm eating crackers."