serinde: (zzz)
No one is truly gone as long as someone speaks his name. )

If you have memories of my ginger kitty, please post here.
serinde: (Delirium)
I have been drifting and useless all afternoon (grieving is important, I know this, but I'm not sure that pacing around howling I WANT MY KITTY to the heavens is the best coping method), and anything I go for to do has a Ranger-shaped hole in it. Still, in the words of Watership Down, there is grass that must be eaten, pellets that must be chewed, and holes that must be dug, and more immediately, a chicken in the fridge that must be made. While it roasts, I mind me of a Whole Foods creation that Erin mentioned to me on sewing night; a salad of black beans, corn, and sweet potatoes. I have the latter two which also must be eaten, so let's go ahead and do that as long as we are forcing ourselves to motion.

1. Husk and start boiling two ears of corn.
2. Peel & dice two sweet potatoes.
3. Chop half a small red onion (maybe about 2oz).
4. Extract the corn from the pot. Put the sweet potatoes in the still-boiling water.
5. Open a can of black beans. Wonder why no cat has appeared demanding theoretical tuna.
6. Empty black beans into a bowl and add the onions thereto.
7. Cut the corn off the cob, add to bowl.
8. Pull chicken out of the oven. Wonder why no cat has appeared to do the chicken dance.
9. When the potatoes are fork-tender, drain & let cool.
10. Mix the juice of one lime, 2 T. olive oil, some cumin, and a little salt.
11. Add potatoes to bowl; mix everything up.
12. Add the dressing to the bowl; mix everything up.
13. Let sit for a bit while the chicken cools down.
14. Fix a small plate and make yourself eat it, because low blood sugar will not help anyone.

It is pretty good, but I think it'd be better chilled than room temperature.
serinde: (zzz)
I have just returned from the open-on-Sundays vet, from whence Ranger has departed these fields (futons?) we know.

He had been declining gently over the last few months; walking was clearly more of a chore, and especially after the weather turned it was harder for him to get comfortable when curling up, but he'd been otherwise behaving according to his usual habits and I thought we still had some time before us.

Middle of last week, I had a scare where he was mrowing in that very-unhappy-cat way, and was about to take him to the vet when I realized that he would probably be much more comfortable without the half-extruded poop strung on a hair coming out his butt. Upon coping with this situation, he seemed much happier, and I figured "crisis averted" and thought little more of it. But then, I was gone Friday and Saturday as is my custom; and upon getting home last night I found that he was really doing nothing but sleeping, and when he got up he'd move about ten feet and then sit down for about ten minutes before moving another ten feet. I also--and this was of much greater concern, remembering Mage's Solid Silver Cat incident--took note that there was no poop in the box and that, as far as I could tell, he had not been digging into his dish at all. I offered him cheese; he took a piece to be polite and ignored the rest. So, I planned to take him to the vet in the morning, before things got really bad.

After a brief detour in which Google Maps pulled an iOS 6-style map fail on me, we got up there, and bless them, they managed to squeeze us into their extremely packed docket. They took his history and looked him over, and long story short, the prognosis was that things were just starting to fail. Their best guess was that he wasn't in pain at the moment, just kind of out of it and drained, but that it was likely to spiral to Very Bad very soon, and it was very unlikely that any measures would even buy him time that was worth living. So, I made the call at quarter to noon, and I held him as they gave him sweet nepenthe. (I recommend the Riverdale Veterinary Group highly. They were incredibly kind and thoughtful.)

If you look at it traditionally, Ranger is my 4th cat (well, tied for fourth with Mage, obvs). But if you look at it another way, he is my first and my only cat. All the cats we had growing up were bonded to Mom, if anyone; and Mr. Mage was, of course, everybody's pal. Ranger was mine and I was his in our little co-dependent bubble, and at 17.5 years is my longest-running relationship, and I feel empty and broken inside. No cat could ever be like him, my Spinach Cat, my Mr. MOW, my precious boy, and I can't yet imagine what any other cat could be to me.
serinde: (food)
I was overpressed with summer veg, and looked to see what you can make with eggplant, zucchini, yellow squash, and thyme. And, Y HELO THAR! It's ratatouille! Which I have never actually had, in spite of loving the movie. (And that's not truly ratatouille either; it's a deconstructed idea of it; but never mind.) I spent some time looking up recipes from the usual authorities and said "...urk", but then found a few that were less fussy; also less good, I am sure, but I think it will be okay. I like glop. I will do the real thing sometime when a) I have people to impress and b) it's not a work night.

Stuff marked with a * are from my farm share.

0. Pour a glass of favorite chenin blanc/viognier blend.
1. Get a good glug of olive oil heating in the cast iron dutch oven.
2. Start to chop up a largeish onion*, and field a call from the beloved boy in the middle of it. Mournfully regret the unworkingness of Etymotic headphones as the stupid crappy Apple earbuds keep falling out onto the cutting board.
3. Add onion to pot. Smash up two (rather big) cloves of garlic*, and add thereto.
4. Take a pepper* of some kind--it is not a bell pepper, but it isn't a hot pepper either, though shaped like one; about 4 oz--and chop it and add thereto.
5. Start de-stalking thyme*. I love fresh thyme. I REALLY HATE destalking it. Get about 1 Tbsp on the onions, stir in, grump, leave the rest for later.
6. Chop 3 tomatoes* (about a pound and a half?) and add thereto.
7. Chop 1 eggplant* (about a pound) and add thereto.
8. Chop 1 zucchini* (about 12 oz.) and add thereto.
9. Gosh, this pot is getting awfully full...
10. But there is this freakishly large yellow squash gifted by a henchperson that's been staring at you for awhile. FINE. Chop up half of it (about 11oz) and add thereto.
11. There has been stirring during all of this. Now more. Add a lot of TJ's Flower Pepper, and the rest of the thyme, and some salt, and some basil.
12. It's now been cooking about 45 minutes from the start of onion. Cover and let simmer for a time; 1-2 hours, they say? We'll see how impatient I get.
13. Boil an ear of corn quick and eat it because HUNGRY NOW.
14. Watch "Ratatouille".

Edit, later: In future I would peel the yellow squash; the rind is still kinda hard (the zucchini and eggplant skins are nice). A little more salt, too. Though, they say that this is better after sitting a day, too, so let's see what it's like tomorrow.

Edit, again: Also, watching "Ratatouille" really makes me want to go to Paris.
serinde: (food)
Although I like a nice bit of roast chicken as much as the next carnivore, it's almost the least part of roasting a bird for me. It's about the golden-brown, warm-smelling grease I'm siphoning off to make gravy. It's about that crispy salty herbed bit of skin right at the top of the breastbone that I nip off and nibble on before I carve. It's about the scent of the carcass rendering slowly down to broth overnight. It's about looking at the juicy breast meat and seeing ginger chicken salad and cold chicken sammiches and who-knows-what-else.

And it's about taking all of those bits and making CHICKEN PIE later in the week.
serinde: (on the short bus)
[At the gaming table.]
[livejournal.com profile] zombywoof: You want a soda?
Your humble correspondent: Yes! No, I shouldn't. Well, maybe.
[livejournal.com profile] zombywoof: This is a binary question.
YHC: No. Thank you, but no.
[livejournal.com profile] zombywoof: *gets a soda, and starts to drink it*
YHC: ...Now I want one.
[livejournal.com profile] zombywoof: *gives A Look*
YHC: I am a woman.
[livejournal.com profile] zombywoof: You know, sometimes I forget.
serinde: (zzz)
Thus spake the vet, upon giving me the results of Ranger's blood work.

The immediate issue is not such a big deal: Spinach Cat has a urinary tract infection. I have antibiotics for that; it shall be handled.

But, his kidney levels are four times higher than normal. This is the same as it was in March, so it hasn't gotten worse, so that's something. But still with the 4x higher thing. Also, now he is anemic (probably as a result of the kidney problems). The mitigations are that I shall pick up an iron supplement, which he'll need daily for the rest of his life, and some trial kinds of kidney-medicinal cat food (it comes in both canned and kibble) to see if he will eat some or any of them. This does not, as you know, cure kidney disease; it just slows down the progress.

I confirmed with the vet that, since Ranger is eating and drinking and moving around and MOWing at me and all that, it is likely that he's not in any particular degree of discomfort beyond old bones; but as it progresses, he could begin to be. And I asked her, is there a standard or even rough guess at the progression timeline? If he eats his medicine and nothing else goes wrong, does he have six months or a couple of years or what? When should I start being afraid?

And that's when she said, "At these kidney levels..."
serinde: (Delirium)
I rushed home from work early (dissing the COO) to take Ranger to the vet; he had been peeing outside the box a few times in the last few weeks, and I wanted to know if it was physically triggered or just I'm Old, Damn Ya, Get Off My Lawn.

Background: All of the events, except one, have been while I'm home. He paces around yelling at me (as is usual if I am not in one of the Duly Appointed Places), and then his yowl takes on a slightly different note, and then I see he's blessing some random part of the apartment with his wee. (Once I figured out what was going on and carried him to the box before it started, and he was all "OH HEY BOX" and happily peed there instead.) He is using the box the rest of the time just fine. The box has been kept clean. He is eating and drinking and eliminating in usual quantities. So, I had been assuming this was some kind of new power play for attention; but then he did it Tuesday before I got home from work, and on the spot where he had been sleeping by preference, so I thought that this ought be looked at.

They check his weight and temperature and all; fine. They ask me questions which I have chiefly answered above. They ask if there is blood in his urine, or any diarrhea or vomiting or [etc]; no and no and no. The doctor recommends a blood test since his kidney levels were all very poor last time, and I agree heartily. Her guess is that he might have some kind of UTI starting up.

Ensues some hilarity as they try in both of his legs, and can't get his veins to disgorge enough blood for testing. (And the blood they do get looks rather thin and pale, so they figure he's anemic, too.) They take him away to get blood from his neck (I guess it takes deeper magic than you can do in the exam room? or it freaks out the owner?) and are gone for about ten minutes, whilst I look up kidney-disease-in-cats on the interwebs.

Finally they come back having gotten blood and a urine sample, which they show me and are all "There's blood! In the urine! Look at the pink urine!" and I am all WELL THERE WASN'T ON TUESDAY AND I KNOW THIS BECAUSE HE PISSED ON MY PRISTINE WHITE WORK BLOUSES RAWR and they are all "oh oh no no we believe you truly we do but there certainly is blood now". So they gave him an antibiotic shot, and gave me oral antibiotics which I need to give him daily for three weeks, because of course I am going away for two of those three weeks, and aaaaaaaaaaaa, and they will call me tomorrow with the blood test results.
serinde: (determination)
Apparently yesterday's mental vomit cleared the poisons from the system. Although I did wake up a few times last night, it was for purely climatological reasons ("too chilly with the fan on, turn it off" "too stuffy with the fan off, turn it on"). And that shall be addressed with the purchase of a ceiling fan, which I shall undertake today. Watch this space for hilarious tales of home improvement follies--though at least, after blowing a fuse two sewing nights ago, I know which circuit to turn off while messing with the electrics.
serinde: (Delirium)
I have been sleeping ill for the past month or two. First I chalked it up to not exercising, so I made an effort to exercise more. Then I figured it was the idiots on the freakishly loud motorcycles, but do I not live in the city and should not I be able to cope? Then it was too hot, so I blamed that. The last few nights have been lovely sleeping weather, though, so I'm having to face up that the reality is somewhere else (particularly since I've been sleeping like a log at [livejournal.com profile] sweh's). I'd had a few suspicions already starting to niggle, and I think I have it confirmed: I'm not perfectly at ease in my new digs yet.

That is, it feels like "home", and I don't feel alienation or MY GOD WHAT IS THIS PLACE when I'm about my daily wossnames. But when I lay me down to sleep, any random noise that I hear snaps me awake and alert. Not the jerkweeds cruisin' up and down, I mean, but anything else: a creak as the floorboards cool, the *thump* of Ranger jumping heavily down from the couch in the other room, a strange jingling noise down on the street which I think might've been someone dropping their dog's leash; but any small noise, I go to full-on alert and find my hand reaching for the knife hanging on my bedpost.

I don't think I'm a particularly paranoid human, even as much as a single female in NYC maybe ought to be. I don't have any degree of apprehension when I'm out and about, nor when I'm awake and puttering (even if it's equally late at night), so it's not as if the new neighborhood (which, yes, does have a crime rate higher than the UES, and has had a spate of recent muggings and sexual assaults) is itself what's triggering it. Home invasion isn't really the favorite flavor up here, and even if it were, I'm on the fifth floor for heaven's sake; there are a lot of targets further down. No. I think it just has to be that there's more random noises, I'm not used to them, and since this place isn't one room I can't just open my eyes, see that all's well/identify the sound, and settle back down immediately (and then the noise is checked off as "you can ignore this").

I am sure this will come with time, but until then, I'm feeling seriously and increasingly dragged-out, which is messing me up in other ways.
serinde: (running)
Lo, the chronology of my bike ride in:

T(8:15am): Leave apartment, go down to bike room. Spend five minutes cursing at the really shitty door lock that you have to get the key exactly right in.
T+5: Actually out of the building and on the street.
T+10: Off the street, up the Dyckman stairs, mounting up to start on the greenway.
T+15: Temple waypoint--the long slow uphill is done
T+20: Bottom of the Big Bridge Hill. Hurrah for the fun flat part along the river!
T+22: oh crap my seat is loose. Mem.: Start carrying the multitool.
T+32: Off the greenway, back onto city streets.
T+35: Top of Riverside Hill, which I still have to walk my bike up
T+40: Inside campus gates
T+45 (9am): In my office, bike parked.

Further notes to self:
* The big hiking backpack is really overkill, most days. Either panniers or a wee daypack is in order.
* Do not, do not forget to pack a regular bra with the work clothes. Because wearing a sweaty sports bra all day: yechhh.
serinde: (ze fiber arts)
One likes to have a new dress for Pennsic, but the more I advanced in my research, the more I'm convinced that I haven't any of the right fabric to make a summer-appropriate dress in my period, and I don't have time to fuck around hunting. So, I thought I'd just make some new underwear, because one likes to at least have a clean chemise each day. Cut out two of 'em, did one by machine and the other by hand. I just have to do the hemming and they're both done.

Then, as I got further along in my research, I was more and more convinced that this lining-the-bodice-only is entirely Wrong (and this is what I'm teaching a class on at Pennsic), and this combined with the fact that the lining on my ole trusty green wool gown isn't a great job, I decided to put my money where my mouth is, ripped out the lining, and started binding the edges with silk ribbon & scraps. (LOL SPOILERS: the neckline's done, the button side of the front is done with a few more buttons to sew on, haven't started the buttonhole side.) This has been time-consuming but I think it will be okay, although I may have to do a little frobbing at the top of the CF gore.

Minor project: I found a half-done foofy linen shirt, which I have no idea why or for whom I cut it out, but it must be fairly recent 'cause the work ain't half bad, and it's the right size and style so I'm going to finish it for August as it will go nicely with his kilts. Shouldn't take long, except that I keep having a twitch to do some blackwork on the collar and cuffs. STOP IT IT IS BOY STUFF HE WILL NOT CARE

Then, this morning, I got annoyed with the over-large necklines on the other new-ish chemises from, er, year before last? So now on the docket is to take them in because I hate throwing a shift over my head and having it immediately drop to around my ankles. Again, not huge, but fiddly work. And 2x annoying because I shouldn't have had someone else, however more experienced and knowledgeable, mark it for me. (I think this means I have leveled up.)

Following directly off that is that I was testing various sizes of chemise necklines to make sure they don't show around my gown's neck (because that is Not Done in the 14th c.), and was testing against my newish red wool gown, in which I am tolerably well-pleased; but now I'm hella annoyed that I cut down the sleeves to match the armscye, which I later determined to just be Wrong and Too Small. And I decided that this is something up with which I shall not put; so now on the docket is to cut out some triangles and fit them into the upper arms, and correspondingly embiggen the armholes. Again, not huge, but fiddly work. (WHER MI GREEK CHORUS) Of course, then I think, well, this shouldn't have a bodice lining either. And I could cut that out, and I probably could get away with just keeping the linen along the frontage, because the wool itself is a good tight weave. Though, this hurts, because I did such a damn good job on attaching the lining. It's all handwork and it's very careful and I'm proud of it. But it's still wrong.

Oh yes, and I'm gonna make a second bog dress/shmata to wear to the swimming hole &c. But that is about 10 minutes of machine work and hardly worth mentioning.
serinde: (food)
I've gotten a fair amount of summer squash in the last couple of weeks. Some of it I chopped up and tossed with pasta and the previously-recorded garlic scape pesto (q.v.), but that didn't really put a dent. A few summers ago, I made a Nigella recipe of zucchini fritters, and they were fine, but awfully heavy for a spring dish if you ask me. So I turned to teh googles, and via Chowhound found a stuffed peppers recipe that might do; the moreso since one of the Chowhound commenters recommended throwing in some sausage, and lo! I also have turkey sausage from the green market that must be et!

0. Go to local store, which is an odd mixture of good yuppie chow (organic eggs, Q Tonic) and really shitty bodega (we will not speak of their produce). Be annoyed that they don't have the marinated feta. Get regular feta and a nice big pepper. Spend too much on the really good, pearl-sized Israeli couscous.
1. Start cooking about 1/2 c. of couscous.
2. Start frying about 1/2 lb. of sweet Italian turkey sausage.
3. Chop up about 1/4 c. of onion, and fry it in the pan with the sausage. Which is leaner than it seemed, so add a little olive oil.
4. Chop squash. Half a zucchini, and half a yellow squash? Maybe about a half pound all told? I did thin quarter-slices. Throw into pan when done.
5. Chop a nice-looking tomato (fnarr fnarr) from two weeks ago. Throw that in the pan too.
6. Yes, we have no fennel. Nor no oregano. How'd that happen? FINE. Put in cumin, coriander, flower pepper, salt. The sausage will carry the rest anyways.
7. It's looking kinda done. Turn the heat off.
8. Couscous is done. Put it in and mix it up.
9. It's too goddamn hot to roast a pepper. Put about a cup of the mixture into a ramekin and add maybe a Tbsp of crumbled feta.
10. Put ramekin in a not-very-hot oven just until the cheese is a little oogy.
11. OM NOM NOM

It's really quite good. There is still lots of filling left, so I could stuff the pepper another evening if I'm so inclined. The bad news is, I still have a shit-ton of zucchini and yellow squash left.
serinde: (food)
Farm share started up this week (along with a disclaimer letter about how the weather this winter & spring was terrible for crops, so we are likely to be low on fruit, particularly stone fruits. FEH). Amongst the haul were "garlic scapes", which I wotted not of; they're the long stems and seed pods that grow out of your garlic clove. These being an esoteric item, they kindly included some suggested recipes, including two different ones for pesto. Said recipe requires leafy greens, and oh hey! here's a small head of lettuce.

I didn't manage to take the stuff home til Wednesday, and it was all looking rather sad, so last night I figured I had better get on the stick. I rinsed the lettuce and left it to dry...and then started sewing and forgot all about it until I got up to make coffee this morning and saw greenery staring at me accusingly. Whoops.

1. Roughly chop most of a wee head of lettuce, throw in food processor.
2. Trim the ends off 6 garlic scapes, throw them in.
3. Process the shit out of, yo.
4. The recipes have wildly varying amounts of olive oil. Hmm. Pour a cup's worth into the measuring cup, and dribble into the (running) processor in a fine stream.
5. Stop when it looks about right. (This was about 1/2 or maybe 2/3 of a cup.)
6. Actually, it's a little too oily. Throw in a couple more lettuce leaves and one more garlic scape.
7. Add salt and the TJ's "flower pepper" you've scarcely used. Process more.
8. Oh hey! There's still the tail end of a bag of pignoli in the cupboard! Dump it in! (Maybe 1/3 cup?)
9. It's good and processed and thick (oatmeal consistency, I'd say) (it maybe should be a little more liquid but I hate getting pesto everywhere; this will work better as a spread and that's fine). Debate adding grated Parmesan, which one recipe calls for and the other doesn't. Leave it out for now--if we put this on pasta we can add cheese then.
10. Put in container, put in fridge, hurriedly wash dishes.

I did the finger test and it's pretty good and pungent. I'll be interested to try it in a day or two and see if the sitting made a difference.
serinde: (running)
In conjunction with yesterday's determinations, I got up this morning (not quite when the alarm went off, thank you Air Raid Siren Cat going off every hour, but without too much lolling). I did not make coffee, nor yet sit at the computer; I tidied a little, cleaned the cat box, washed dishes, and then started morning procedures. My intent was to leave on the bike about 7:30, arrive c. 8:15, and have a leisurely period to cool down, change, drink coffee, read internets, and face the day.

First check: Fashion crisis and dithering about what to wear today.

Second check: stupid sticking bike room lock, plus then realizing I left my helmet upstairs. grump grump

I ended up leaving about five past eight, and--well, thought I had arrived at 8:35, which made me feel like quite a studmuffin, as I'd lost time in the confusing braid of Riverside Drive one-way splits and ended up walking my bike across Sakura Park, but then realized that the Sulz Tower clock is ten minutes slow. -_- So still about a 40-minute trip all told; with the backing and forthing, it was probably an hour since the time the coffee went into the thermal cup, and it was tepid. FAIL! I will have to investigate better technology there.

So that's all the minor stuff. A more significant thing is that I have for the first time encountered a standard bike opponent: Belligerent SMIDSY. I was eastbound on 125th, under the West Side Highway overpass; it is a four-way stop where the off-ramp from the highway comes down to street level. I arrived at the stop sign simultaneously or a fraction before a large police truck thing. The cop driver--who is to my right, so would have the right-of-way--looks both ways like a good lad, sees me, sees my stoppedness, and drives through. I push off and enter the intersection. Church van who had been behind the cop also starts to go. I look at him--I am now in the center of the intersection and lined up with his hood. He is not stopping. I lock eyes with him, fling out my arm in an arresting gesture, and yell "HEY!!" Finally he stops. I continue through the intersection and pull up to the next stop sign, about 30' away. He turns right to follow, pulls up next to me at the stop sign, yells something I can't make out, and then peels off down 125th St. I turn right and start walking my bike up the Hill Of Doom, as is my custom.

This sort of blurred out the incident at the start of my ride, when I had been coming up Dyckman St. to get on the greenway; there is no bike lane there, so I took my lane, per counsel of wiser heads, and plugged away at my best pace (which wasn't awesome since it's an uphill with lots of stops). A school bus (!!!) peeled around me, cutting it rather fine, and then up to the highway onramp (almost running the last stop sign, too).

I should probably not find it surprising that the people who should be driving with the most care are the ones being the least mindful.
serinde: (body)
I had put off thinking about most lifestyle arrangements until after moving, because how do you know what things will look like til after you're settled; and then until after all the California trips were done with, because ualeaualeualeualeaue; but all that's done and the apartment is mostly settled (although there was enough of putting that off to warrant a separate post), and although yes the stress is ramping up at work and I Don't Wanna Think About Being Virtuous, the fact is that I know I will feel better if I realign things. So, herewith, the long mental burp.

Cut text working yet? )
serinde: (zzz)
[Edit: Cut tags appear to be b0rked at present, both at DW and LJ, so you get to read the whole thing. Sucks to be you.]

For aeons uncounted, my cat hygiene needs were very adequately met by regular old Fresh Step scoopable (or a comparable brand if the store was out of it). In the last year or two, however, problems have developed; not the fault of the product itself, but behavioral changes of my goober cat. His current methodology for personal relief is:

1. Pee right in the door of the litterbox.
2. Don't cover it over.
3. Turn around (in the box), sniff.
4. Walk through it as he jumps out.

Since this litter is designed to dry into rock-like, easily-scoopable clumps, by walking through the just-produced effluvium Spinach Cat will get daubings of befouled litter on his paws and legs which then dry to a nearly-impossible-to-remove crust. It gets tracked everywhere, and leads to what [livejournal.com profile] audiovile dubbed, in their kittenhood, "little shitty kitty prints" all over the apartment, and plus it's just incredibly nasty and gross. And we will not even discuss trying to clean him off. Over and over and over.

I tried various methods of mitigation (chiefly, being incredibly diligent about scooping), but nothing really helped, so it seemed time to explore other options.

This is a clumping litter that claims to be environmentally friendly and even flushable (though I'm not going to risk anyone's pipes on it, and I'm continuing to bag and garbage the refuse). The packet claims that it reduces litter scatter, which is a giant lie, as you might expect--Spinach Cat is still kicking it all over a 5' radius outside the box entry, and some grit is attaching to his paw pads and getting tracked further into the apartment. But, the waste soaks right down into the lower layer, rather than pooling on top before hardening, and so the main problem is sorted; dry litter may be escaping, but not Precious Bodily Fluids.

It is harder to scoop, as the clumping action is much less firm. There is also a slightly-noticeable, unusual scent to the litter itself; it is not unpleasant, rather like a clean stable or gerbil bedding, but some might not prefer it. It's slightly more expensive than regular scoopable (and thus a lot more expensive than plain clay). I will probably continue to use it, though, because anything is better than washing my cat's back legs repeatedly.
serinde: (zzz)
Spinach Cat: MOW MOW MOW I AM STARVING MOW MOW MOW MOW

Me: At the rate you eat, this is about two days' worth of food. What's the problem?

Spinach Cat: I can see the bottom of the food dish and it scares me. MOW MOW MOW MOW MOW MOW MOW MOW

Me: *grumble grumble growl* fine

[f/x: dish filled]

Spinach Cat: OM NOM NOM

Spinach Cat, later: *blerk hork BLERRRRRRK*

Me: You know, I could have just wet down the kibble and spread it around on the floor if that's all you were going to do with it.
serinde: (pamcakes!)
Friday night our Floating RPG Campaign (currently Dresden Files) resumed after a several-month hiatus, and I seized the opportunity to lay my tale (or tailbone) of woe before Dr. Nick. He nodded sagely, stood behind me, moved his hands a little bit along my hips, and asked "What side?".

"Left," quoth I.

"'k." And he immediately dropped a hand a few inches and pushed unerringly at a small spot in the middle of my left ass cheek, whereat I howled like a scalded cat. "Yeah. Piriformis. Do those stretches."
serinde: (I see stupid people)
So, once upon a time and for many moons uncounted, I had a paid LJ account. Then the whole Time of the Random Banhammering came, and various & sundry other stupidities from the new overlords, and I did not want to give them of my moneys any more, so I dropped to a free account and moved my primary existence over to Dreamwidth, which can be neatly summed up as "LJ without the suck, and with some smart enhancements".

However, most people who are still active in the Foojournal-based worlds at all seem to still be on LJ, so I maintained my account there. And I was a little sick of only having six of my many icons, the rest being flagged inactive (except when you comment on someone else's post, where it gives you a choice of all of your icon library, and doesn't tell you which are active and which aren't); but what the hell, it's free, amirite? But yesterday I finally took note that you can just buy extra userpic capacity, so I went ahead and did that thing, $6 for the year being within my "fine you can have that much of my dosh" limits for another 15 icons.

You know what happens if you do that? It randomly chooses which of your icons to make active. Automatically. Instantly. No saving throw, and you can't switch it around. Your only option is to delete anything it chose as being active that you didn't want--which of course disassociates that icon from any of your old posts or comments you had used it in back in the paid days.

I was sure this was too stupid to be true, so I opened a support request. No, the Russians are oh so terribly sorry, but this is Just How It Works.

COME TO DREAMWIDTH. IT IS RUN BY SMART PEOPLE.

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serinde

September 2013

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