....um, let's see. 73 credits down. 47 to go. FORTY-SEVEN????!!!! That's like....like.... THREE MORE YEARS. Dear lord. Now I almost wish I hadn't counted. But then again, in three years I'll be age [bleep] WITH the degree instead of age [bleep] WITHOUT it. Plus I will have had the experience of writing more nightmare-ish papers like this last one--I'll be able to pump out ten-pagers without even blinking! Always look at the bright side, right?
.... you stink. Even though I can't see you, I know you're there.
Iraqs Chemical Ali sentenced to hang - Yahoo News
Two decades after Iraq's military laid waste to Kurdish villages, the Iraqi High Tribunal on Sunday sentenced Ali Hassan al-Majid, known as "Chemical Ali," and two others to death for their roles in the bloody campaign against the restive ethnic minority. Al-Majid, a cousin of executed former President Saddam Hussein, was convicted of genocide, crimes against humanity and war crimes for ordering army and security services to use chemical weapons in an offensive said to have killed some 180,000 people during the 1980-88 Iran-Iraq war.And I can think of a much better method of execution than hanging for this man. Do I sound a tad vengeful this morning?
Rudy was ill over the weekend, sneezing, coughing, sleepy and listless -- not a kitten at all, more like a furry little ball of snot. The sneezing wouldn't have been so bad, except that kittens don't cover their mouths when they sneeze. Yeah, it was like that. Ewwwwwww... So, Monday we headed off to the vet. I was worried when the vet told me to leave him in his cat carrier in the car until they could clear the area of all other animals-- apparently they were concerned that he might have feline leukemia, which is highly contagious and incurable. After the exam (he was not happy about getting his temperature taken) and blood tests (nor was he pleased about the blood draw), leukemia was ruled out-- he has a minor "respiratory virus". A cat cold. Did you know there is no such thing as "co-pay" at the vet's? Amazing how I can spend more on my pet's doctor than I do on my own, lol. So, we now are dosing the little darling with antibiotics twice a day. It's a real treat to try to hold a squirming kitten to shoot an eyedropperfull of white liquid down his throat. I figure with the amount he has to lick off himself when we're finished, he must be getting the correct dose. Anyway, he is now feeling *much* better. In fact, he plays now. And plays. And plays. ALL NIGHT LONG. I lie in bed, listening to the little monster race around the house, scattering rugs and everything else in his wake. My closet curtains have been pulled down 3948477248 times since Tuesday, and he is now eyeing up my bedroom sheers.
The kitchen floor is covered in kitty litter since it seems to be great fun to dig like a badger in there. The phrase "Stop that, you little s**t!" has been used far too many times this week. My legs are covered in scratches from where he decided that Laurie is a perfectly good climbing toy--and I have to wait two months before the de-clawing. He can't sleep unless it is on my pillow, not merely next to it (which is a real thrill, since he still doesn't cover his mouth when he sneezes).
I am completely unable to type on this laptop without his "help"-- he sees the letters appearing on the screen and tries to chase them. The antibiotics or the worming meds gave him the worst case of gas I ever thought it possible for a cat to have. I heard a crash in the living room this morning, and found him batting at the string on the shade--he wanted the shades down, obviously. I have learned to keep the lid down on the toilet, since he has gone swimming twice now.
It's like having a toddler in the house again.
But damn. Isn't he just unbearably cute?
I was awakened this afternoon --yes, I'm working nights-- by a humongous crack of thunder and the sound of rain beginning. Which became heavy rain. And hail.
Well, there goes the grass seed I threw out under the maple, floating away down the sidewalk..... sigh. At least my lonely little Mother's Day lilac is loving it. I wish I could have stayed in bed to listen to the rain, but the day beckons.... and the day won't wait. Neither will I.
Happy Father's Day to all the men in my life.
In which our heroine discovers that, although she has always thought being six feet tall was an incredibly lucky wonderful thing and that her view of the world would always be a good one from this altitude, she can no longer get into her bed without a ladder. Or one helluva running jump. Please tune out the camo-patterned green and brown carpeting; I am *not* the one responsible for it. For reference, the top of the headboard is 60" from the floor. This is great for somebody who has a teensy problem with heights, eh? View from eye level. No, really. Well, there is one benefit. Rudy hasn't figured out how to jump quite that high yet. He may yet become the world's first pole-vaulting kitten. [Update: Like sleeping on a cloud. Well, maybe that's because I'm sleeping IN the clouds, but.....]
Since none of you are opining on the Flickr pics, I'll ask it here instead. So the furniture-blogging is all YOUR fault. I loooove going furniture shopping. It's right up there with hitting my head against a wall repeatedly until I black out. So. I bought these yesterday. Think I should order the ottoman to go along with the glider on the left? WooHOOO!!! /me gets a bed that my feet don't hang over the end of! (Yes, my grammar goes right down the tubes when I'm whooping). And I already asked-- the breakfast (bagel au varnish avec foam-resembling-cream-cheese) and the orange juice in the display don't go with the bed. Damn. Closest I can get to breakfast in bed!
By *that*, I mean the plan to adopt the cat which #2 daughter begged for. I wanted an older cat. Calmer. Less need for attention and/or correction. Less likely to jump on the counters the second my back is turned. With short hair. Already "fixed". Maybe even previously declawed, if I'm lucky! Won't cry all night the first week 'cause he misses his momma. Uh huh. A noble plan to adopt an adult cat likely to be put down without our intervention. Yup. Great plan. Meet two-month old Rudy. No, he's not really dead. Just dead to the world after three hours straight of tearing around the house, underfoot, exploring his new home. I can't believe I was talked into a $125.00 Pound cat. And I'm a dog person. He better learn to bark at strangers, if he knows what's good for him.