Pyjama Weekend

Someone commented this morning that it was such a beatiful weekend. I replied that I didn't really notice because I'd spent most of it in my PJs. I mean, I got stuff done, but I did most of it, ready for it? in my PJs.

The only time I had to make myself presentable was Saturday and Sunday night. It seemed such a waste to get out of my PJs for a few hours, but then again, it kept me from feeling like a total sloth.

I have to admit, I'm really missing my PJs at the moment. I can hear them calling to me now.

It's not that I have nothing to say

Being new to this blogging stuff, I'm not very good at making frequent posts yet. Yesterday, a co-worker alerted me that there was no new news about Checkers. Well, Checkers is doing fine; great in fact. With his cage eye-level to the kitties (Miss Piggy's cage was up on a table) he's able to chat with the fat one (Buddy) and they get along famously. When I walk in the room, Checks runs into his cardboard Pepsi house and Buddy chirps and walks up to me as if to say, "we weren't talking about you. Honest."

In other news, our street has just finished being 'refinished' - new sewers, gutters, etc. And while this is great news, I'm super upset at the fact they've put down new sod so close to winter. Of course, we received a letter back in the summer that if the sod dies, it's our problem. But it didn't say anything about the sod dying due to frost or the fact that we can't water it as 'they've' instructed, because we've all put our garden hoses away for the winter BECAUSE IT'S COLD OUTSIDE.

Ok, I know that talk of sod is not very exciting, but I wanted to document my disdain, so that when our grass is dead in the spring I can pull up this post and say I TOLD YOU SO.

It's amazing how your interests shift when you're a homeowner. Pigs and sod. Tomorrow: caulking.

Checkers!

I'm proud to introduce Mr. S. Checkers MacHoy. The S stands for Sage, which is the name given to him by the Humane Society. It's an ok name, but he's definitely more of a Checkers. Although he kinda looks like the Phantom of the Opera in this photo.

By the way, some jerk tossed him out in the snow last March. We've promised Checkers that won't happen again. No matter how bad he stinks.

It's going to be a bad day

The day and I have gotten off on the wrong foot.

When I woke up this morning, there was no newspaper. It might not seem like a big deal, but the newspaper is part of my routine. And not just my routine, but the kitties' routine, too. They each take a turn sitting in my lap, perched over one arm while I take a full freakin hour to get through the paper.

I forgot that this might happen today - there has been talk of our local paper going on strike. And there they go. Grrr. Argh.

Good news is that Checkers is now giggling like a happy pig when you walk by his cage. And he christened me last night with boy pig pee (smells a lot worse than girl pig pee). Gross, I know, but I was beaming to know that he was so relaxed that he felt it was ok to pee on his new friend.

"Finally," he says...

I've decided to start a blog for a couple of reasons.
I'm now thoroughly addicted to Dooce.com. I hovered for years, checking in maybe once a month, if that; usually when Mat prompted me about a post he thought I'd enjoy. Now I visit every day, sometimes more than once. So I thought it might be fun to start one of my own.
The kick in the pants I needed came last Thursday when we brought home our new family member, Mr. S. Checkers MacHoy. I wanted to tell the world about this wonderful new pig (or pidget, as my friend Nicci calls them); how he goes catatonic when you pick him up, how Mat and I shit our pants last night when he emerged from the safety of his box WHILE WE WERE IN THE ROOM. He's a cute little pidget, and I think after all he's been through, he deserves a place in cyberspace.