I’ve decided to give up facebook notes. The interface has become somewhat tedious.
So I’ve moved some of the notes back here where they belong, lest they feel left out. Posts Whirlwind, Spring Clean, and Crap are x-posts.
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One kitten down. Probably due to internal injuries. 3 more to go. Looking out for hte white one.
I never thought I’d cheer for Calico. Surprisingly, she has brought down her brood from the ceiling. It includes one black and white female kitten, and one mostly black cat.
I’m hoping this litter makes it through.
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Staying home to day to work on my backlog of things. Room still messy. Gun still won’t fire, although after replacing a bushing, and re-shimming, it started to crank, but now the battery’s weak.
Still have to figure out a more fool-proof method of putting the relay into the tube. I mean, it fits, but to have to constantly move it about can’t really be good for the wiring.
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Next on the hitlist: Trash. MD plates. Maybe a head-mount for my loupe.
I’m tired.
Two days of on-and-off working on this stupid stubby, and all I’ve got to show for it is a messy room. Have a whole pile of micro relays, but until I can get my motor to engage my bevel gear properly, it’ll be all for naught. Actually thinking of taking apart the gearbox just to put one shim to raise the height of the bevel. I’ve got all the parts I need, and then some. All I need now are ideas.
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Haven’t decided about diving tomorrow yet. Part of me wants me to finish all the niggly little tasks I put out for myself this week-end, and part of me wants to just jump into cool water.
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Here’s what I’ll do: I’ll clean up. Get that cleaning part out of the way. Then I’ll wait for Feliz’s plans for tomorrow. Then I’ll make up my mind if I still want to dive or not.
Okay? Ok. Deal.
She’s gone. The village whore.
Eleven years after being rescued from around the public market in Las Pinas, Momma Cat, the progenitor of all the front-yardigans is now officially MIA. Reports from the previous week indicated that she wasn’t eating right, despite of an infusion of new Whiskas, she’s gone the way of long-tail, short-tail, big black, little black, and a whole gamut of other cats that didn’t live long enough to be given creative names.
She was the cat who would come running from wherever in the village upon hearing the familiar sound of the rumbling of my car, the sound of the front or side door being opened, the rattle of cat-food in its container, or the inane high pitched call of “feeeeeeding time!”
She is survived by Calico (the bitch that refuses to die) as well as long-tail’s two kids, ugly-cat and yellow-cat.
Alas her demise heralds the end of the front-yardigans. Even though the title of village whore is now passed on to calico, she has never been much of a mother. Of all her kittens, not one has survived. She’s recently given birth to a set of kittens in the ceiling, although as of this writing, their pathetic little cries have faded away.
Alas, Ugly and Yellow will never have litters because they have testicles.
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