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So happy to meet you /Cause you sparkle
Dec. 19th, 2008 10:17 amApparently I'm not allowed to take my cat on the plane to Boston without a certificate of acclimation that says he won't die because the temperature is below 45 here. My long-haired outdoor cat. The cat I will have to furminate before I feel comfortable having him on the plane without fearing he will overheat. Okay, I lie. I'm never going to feel comfortable having him on the plane. I don't even know if he can go on it at all, but beyond that issue is the fact that I'm not even sure he's ever gone anywhere in a crate before--the vet is all of like, a mile from my mom's house, half the time we just dump the cats in the car and drive over (One cat used to travel in a cloth laundry bag--the lack of seeing where he was made him calm down.) And if he's going to be a pain to travel with, I'd rather he was a pain with me and my family/friends/whoever than with the whole plane/airport. But no one is coming back up here again until like, June. And they didn't bring him up when they came this year, so as I told my mom, i don't trust it to happen after I've left. He travels with me one way or another.
(It should be noted that while I talk about my pets everything we do with them is completely normal--and while I know that my pets are happy and healthy and all that--I do totally expect that there are other people who recoil in horror. They do WHAT? Her mother leaves the little dogs out ALL DAY? They buy the cheapest cat food so the cats stop eating it like it's going out of style? We grew up in farm country where pets ultimately are just another animal, and I think it makes our approach to their lifestyle more matter of fact than others may be. I promise you, we treat kids the same way!)
He also needs to go to the vet before flying as well so he has certification of health. I also want to get him microchipped, but I haven't like, checked to see if they actually do that. My mom is going to see about making an appointment for while I'm home.
Last night, while 'helping' Amanda come up with her series title, I decided that what needs to be written is a Yellowdog story of valor. I'm calling it Yellowdog in the Cold Kingdom, and it's the story of a brave brownish dog who gets kicked out of his warm house (with a sheepskin!) by his wicked stepmother because he whined under his breath for an hour solid (she couldn't have been his real mother. His real mother would never do that to him). So instead, he goes down under the porch, and ends up going through a door into another world, where a skunk takes him to his little snow bound cottage and they have hot...carob and turkish delight. And then a polar bear comes along and tells him he's the chosen one, fated to save them all from global warming. And he says "I always knew I was something special." And he goes to the polar bear kingdom and saves the world (just by being--he doesn't have to do anything, he just *is* that special), and in return they let him sleep on their warm fuzzy backs. And he never has to go back to his stupid stepmother's stupid sheepskin.
The End.
I'm torn between "Yellowdog in the Cold Kingdoms" and "Best Day Ever" as titles. ("The polar bear, the witch, and the porch steps" isn't catchy enough).
So, a giftcard from Amazon came from a friend, and my first thought was 'drat! they beat me to it' (It's okay. I've got a new plan. But seriously, there's going to be some sort of an amazon card arms race if this keeps up. I'll be sending cards Jan 1 for the next Xmas.) But not 10 minutes later I found a new love (Patrick Park) and was trying to decide if I could really justify buying one or more new albums IMMEDIATELY or if I'd have to wait until at least after I come up with something for my mom (I KNOW! I'm a horrible daughter. Particularly since I've been trying to convince myself to talk her into replacing the lining of the wool coat, preferably with one containing thinsulate.) But look! No guilt! I can go home today, and give amazon $18 of someone else's money to make my day happier. (Happiness is ALWAYS a new CD. except for the last Keane one.)
If we acknowledge the fact that I am ABYSMALLY bad at noticing when guys like me or are flirting with me--if we take that as a fact, and then we encounter a situation where I actually do feel like a guy is flirting with me, what does that mean? Does it mean I'm more or less likely to be right? Please show your work.
(It should be noted that while I talk about my pets everything we do with them is completely normal--and while I know that my pets are happy and healthy and all that--I do totally expect that there are other people who recoil in horror. They do WHAT? Her mother leaves the little dogs out ALL DAY? They buy the cheapest cat food so the cats stop eating it like it's going out of style? We grew up in farm country where pets ultimately are just another animal, and I think it makes our approach to their lifestyle more matter of fact than others may be. I promise you, we treat kids the same way!)
He also needs to go to the vet before flying as well so he has certification of health. I also want to get him microchipped, but I haven't like, checked to see if they actually do that. My mom is going to see about making an appointment for while I'm home.
Last night, while 'helping' Amanda come up with her series title, I decided that what needs to be written is a Yellowdog story of valor. I'm calling it Yellowdog in the Cold Kingdom, and it's the story of a brave brownish dog who gets kicked out of his warm house (with a sheepskin!) by his wicked stepmother because he whined under his breath for an hour solid (she couldn't have been his real mother. His real mother would never do that to him). So instead, he goes down under the porch, and ends up going through a door into another world, where a skunk takes him to his little snow bound cottage and they have hot...carob and turkish delight. And then a polar bear comes along and tells him he's the chosen one, fated to save them all from global warming. And he says "I always knew I was something special." And he goes to the polar bear kingdom and saves the world (just by being--he doesn't have to do anything, he just *is* that special), and in return they let him sleep on their warm fuzzy backs. And he never has to go back to his stupid stepmother's stupid sheepskin.
The End.
I'm torn between "Yellowdog in the Cold Kingdoms" and "Best Day Ever" as titles. ("The polar bear, the witch, and the porch steps" isn't catchy enough).
So, a giftcard from Amazon came from a friend, and my first thought was 'drat! they beat me to it' (It's okay. I've got a new plan. But seriously, there's going to be some sort of an amazon card arms race if this keeps up. I'll be sending cards Jan 1 for the next Xmas.) But not 10 minutes later I found a new love (Patrick Park) and was trying to decide if I could really justify buying one or more new albums IMMEDIATELY or if I'd have to wait until at least after I come up with something for my mom (I KNOW! I'm a horrible daughter. Particularly since I've been trying to convince myself to talk her into replacing the lining of the wool coat, preferably with one containing thinsulate.) But look! No guilt! I can go home today, and give amazon $18 of someone else's money to make my day happier. (Happiness is ALWAYS a new CD. except for the last Keane one.)
If we acknowledge the fact that I am ABYSMALLY bad at noticing when guys like me or are flirting with me--if we take that as a fact, and then we encounter a situation where I actually do feel like a guy is flirting with me, what does that mean? Does it mean I'm more or less likely to be right? Please show your work.
