Cosmo went to the vet again Friday for a follow-up, and he's doing fine. The vet agrees he must have chewed on a wire, because he's healing like a burn victim, not a mouth cancer (there was a 10% chance he had cancerous lesions, but he's healing, so it was obviously an injury). We still don't know HOW he burned his mouth, because we can find no chewed up cords anywhere. He's not drooling as much, he can eat, drink, and wash himself, so he's good to go.
Widget's hair is growing back in abundance on his rear end. Sadly, it's his puppy fur, which mats easily. According to most Pom owners, if the hair grows back, it stays, so this is not a cyclical thing.
Latte is not a female cat... she's a Lady. There's a difference. Latte is one of those up-and-coming debutantes that is a lot smarter than they look, and they like it that way. She came to us with a collar, a normal black 99-cent cloth one, and I got her a collar with studded "gems" in it. It looks much better. Latte is the kind of cat you don't buy pink and frilly things. Storm and Thisby couldn't wear fine things; they'd look like trailer trash (well... Thisby might... but's she crazy beyond fixing). Latte is a great cat, except for the ugly pointy face and breath that smells like rotting pickles and sardines kept in a rusty copper jar. I think there's something wrong with her gastric system to have breath that bad.
The Terro ant stuff is fabulous. No ants anywhere since I put it out.
We went to the "Malibu Steakhouse" last night. It's one of those places where you pay a set fee, and then the salad bar is all you can eat. On top of that, men dressed as gauchos bring cooked meat on a spit to your table every few minutes. If you want meat, you flip a cylinder on your table to green. If you don't, you flip it to red. The only nice thing I can say about the place was that the potato salad was good. The meat was overcooked, and even the "rare" pieces were tough, dry, and chewy. The "porterhouse" and the "top sirloin" and the "New York strip" were all the same chunk of meat, really. The lamb was like a chewy nugget, and the chicken was all dark meat (thigh). The gauchos did not speak English, and didn't seem to understand any questions or requests you had; it was like they were robots. If you asked them anything, they'd give a sheepish grin, and say "yes" or "no," obviously not understanding what you asked. I can understand the need for cheap cuts of meat, but I am not going there again.
takayla and anyarm are headed down to West Virginia today to pick up Debbie, takayla's eldest sister, who will be staying with us for two weeks. I like Debbie a lot. In fact, I never really had much trouble with any of my in-laws. And takayla's in-laws... well, she doesn't see them hardly at all.
I wrote a Perl script that automatically takes my online Citibank statement, categorizes most of the expenses, and puts it out in a format my financial spreadsheet can import. Now that I have my sights on learning databases, I think it would be fun to import all the financial information into one huge database and then my money and geekiness shall become one! Hahahahaaaa!!! [lightning bolt, thunder]
My one of my last bosses told me, "I find programmers make poor sysadmins." I keep thinking about that statement, and how much more stupid that seems almost every day. Especially since my programming skills saved hours of work this week, brought up a mail server, and set scripts that automatically detect when things are about to go bad and proactively fixes them. I think her making that statement was a dumb as saying, "I find robot makers make poor workers." Humph.
Last week, someone on my friend's list had her mood listed as "decoupage-y." I woke up the next morning, in my usual morning fog, mumbling the word "decoupage," and how it didn't seem to make sense. Since then, it's been stuck in my head. I know what it means; my mother was an artist, and when she got her art degree at George Mason in the late 70s, she made many a decoupage for classes. I also learned words like, "terra cotta," "kitch," "burnt umber," and "perspective drawing" at an early age because of her. I realized that I hadn't had the chance to say those words since her death.
September is always a bad month for me. Lots of things happened in Septembers that were bad. I lost a best friend in September, I lost two cats in Septembers. Last September I almost lost my job, which would have been the 3rd time this had happened to me in that evil month, and on top of that, our area got hit by tornados. The year before, we got hit by Hurricane Isabel. September was when school started for everybody, and for a long time, that was bad because of the bullying and the beginning of "not doing good enough in school," although in retrospect, school was better than being at home. The whole 9/11 thing just seemed like, "Yeah... that's September for yah." I am really scared of the upcoming month.