City Boy, Rural Dreams

I was dreaming about farms this evening. That is something I haven't done in quite awhile. Not only has owning my first house taken the wind out of my sails a bit, but seeing how nearly incompetent I am when it came to remodling the basement and general house repair almost killed the dream completely.

Not tonight, however.

I told Leslie that I wanted to get some chickens. After she recovered from the panicked, deer-in-the-headlights look, she made a sound that was vaguely reminescent of the tone people use when a stranger starts talking to you and you don't want to talk to a stranger but don't want to seem rude. I'm pretty sure she thought she had married an idiot. Actually, I figure if she is only just figuring that out after 12 years, then I can't be held responsible.

There is actually a city ordinance that regulates (but doesn't forbid) chickens to be raised within the city limits. They also allow bee hives. I want chickens (I'd prefer ducks, but that's a story for another time). I want bees. I want a greenhouse filled with veggies. Actually I want a few acres of some kind of grain. My dad had some of this. Chickens, a cow, sheep, rabbits, a garden, an old beat-up truck.

I have a cat and a minivan. 

And some dead tomato plants.

Unfortunately for me, my dad is a better man than I am. He may not think so, but life has a funny way of making someone not realize they are more important than they think. As I sit in my house (basement still not finished) with my wife and five kids, I look back in complete awe at what my father was able to accomplish. But I'm getting off topic...

Whether or not any of my animal husbandry/agricultural dreams ever come true, it was nice to be able to dream and plot and scheme like that again.

The Cone of Shame

I like cats.

Last Thanksgiving we got a cat. It was at a reasonable price too...free. In my opinion, that is the only acceptable price for a cat. I've had a cat before, but it was a completely new experience for the rest of the family.

She was a little female calico kitten (only a couple of months old) who we decided we would name Cali. I generally call it "Dumb Cat" while my wife leans towards "Crazy Cat". I actually do like cats, but I feel its important to try to keep them in their place. We all know they have evil schemes and continuously plot World Domination. I suspect I'm fairly high on the hit list when the goons come around. Actually, I'd fairly confident some of the kids aren't to far behind me, what with the way they maul her sometimes when they come home from school. 

At any rate, we decided to have her fixed last week. Why it is called being "fixed" I'll never know. The vet really isn't "fixing" anything. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure he's doing the exact opposite; our cat is most decidedly "broken." Well, this ball of fuzz came home with a shaved belly and a rather unpleasant expression on her face. When she regained her walking ability, she immediately went under Isaiah's bed to sulk. 

Unfortunately, she started licking the incision site. While that didn't cause any problem with the stiches, it irritated the skin all around and she had to be taken back in today to make sure there was nothing wrong. The vet checked her out, pronounced her clean, and proceeded to outfit her with the Cone of Shame (yes, the capital letters are necessary). 

For those unfamiliar with the Cone of Shame, imagine your pet being turned into a lamp with an inverted lampshade over its head. Actually, Cali looks less like a lamp and more like a tiny, mobile radar system. Watching her walk is rather amusing too. Any chance she can, she rubs along a surface in an attempt to scrape the silly thing off. This was after several failed attempts at sitting upright on her haunches and using both front paws to try to push it up and off.

Even if it didn't serve the purpose of keeping her from licking her wounds, it would still be highly amusing. I am not, however (wink, wink), suggesting that one be put on any animal for the sheer fun of it (wink, wink). That would be Wrong.

I like cats.

Sea Monkeys and Other Drivel

Something I forgot to mention: I joke a lot about Sea Monkeys at work, so my co-workers bought me some for Christmas. So now my desk proudly displays a small tank of water bugs. Yea me! They are actually rather ugly little critters. They are still quite small but growing. I don't have to lean real close and squint any more.

ING.com...good stuff.

I haven't posted any Gleemax stuff to this particular blog in awhile, but it is still going...well, maybe not strong, but it is still going.

The House Hunting should begin soon. Updates to follow...someday...