dangit, dangit, dangit

No kitten pics at the weekend. Only houseguests on saturday, work work work today, and being sick, sick, sick through it all. This cold did have the miraculous property of condensing nine days of suffering into three days, but they were three very intense days. And I finally crawled out of my hacking, sniffling, working cave this evening, just in time to watch Germany lose to Spain. Tomorrow I will note that second place is not bad. Tomorrow I will understand that Spain simply played better than Germany, and you could have seen that the teams in the C-D groups were a lot tougher than the A-B teams, and so predicted that the best team from C and D would be the better team, would have worked harder and deserved that win more. Tomorrow I will remember that I really liked the Spanish team.

But tonight, all I can say is we lost. Dangit, dangit, dangit.

Song du jour of the day: my usual sports anthem. Love Stinks. By the J. Geils Band.

ack

Kitten pics, um, soon? Maybe this weekend. Kitten news: Lilu is still trying to get them up to the Sniglet’s room. I take them up to visit every once in awhile, but they can’t stay there. He is wholly incapable of getting or keeping his room clean, and I prefer not to add a litter box, water dish, and kitten food to the mess.

But still she tries. They are too big to carry, so she chirps at them and they follow, reluctantly, and they are still much too small to manage the stairs but for her, they try. The stairs, as I said, are slats without risers, so they could easily fall through and down to the next flight. They usually make it up or down two stairs, realize they’re in trouble, and mew for help. So tonight at dinner I heard the kitten-in-distress mew and bolted for the stairs, and just as I reached them, Jermaine smacked onto the step in front of me. A straight-down fall of oh, nine or ten feet I’d say. It made a shockingly loud sound. I picked her up and she clawed me, desperate and panicked, so I put her on the couch where she trembled violently for about five minutes. Poor thing. I spoke very firmly to Lilu about this. Jermaine seems to be okay, but I can’t let that happen again, so my office door needs to be closed when I’m not in it, and we’ll just have to let Lilu in and out.

Ack.

Song du jour of the day: um, is there anything called What the HELL Were You Thinking, You Stupid Cat? There should be.

why the games are on so late

In the States, it’s about advertising money. Advertisers want their outrageously expensive ads to reach the widest possible audience, so they focus on prime time. At 9pm EST, people on the west coast are thinking about starting dinner, and if an event has to go out live, that 5-9pm range is probably the most lucrative time to show it. When I saw the Seahawks in Denver, I overheard some people talking about how the TV networks demand that the games start late, like 6pm, which in Denver in December, is really, really cold. The players would rather play when it’s warmer (and light) out, but they’re not consulted. So much is about money, and the money doesn’t care about children’s bedtimes or freezing athletes.

Here, I’m pretty sure it’s also about advertising money, but I don’t see the logic. We’re on the early side of Europe: there are four time zones from England to Russia. The Russians have a serious shot at winning the whole thing, and their poor fans back home will be tuning in at 10:45, while the English, who didn’t even qualify (but will watch it anyway, because come on), get to see it at 7:45. How is this reasonable? Next Monday morning, a lot of people are going to be calling in sick with soccer hangovers, and you read it here first: if Germany makes it to the final, I’m letting my kids stay up for the whole thing. I won’t be the only one.

Speaking of Russia, the song du jour of the day is Song#1 by Serebro. I do love songs written in English by people whose first language it isn’t. I mean, really. “Kick the flow?” What does that even mean?

aimless

Okay, I lied, unintentionally. I’m not posting because something happened, but because something didn’t happen. From June 7th to the 22nd, there was a soccer match on every night – in fact, for the first eight days there were two matches a night. This is long enough (more than ten days) to become part of my culture, so that I can’t remember what I did before. Last night I wandered aimlessly around the house, did a bit of work, cleaned the kitchen halfway, did some more work, knitted some, poked around some blogs, and felt… well, aimless. Egad, there is no soccer on TV until tomorrow! What am I supposed to DO!?

Also, the euro2008 people are 100% evil, because both of the semi-finals AND the final start at 8:45 on a school night. Such a butthead thing to do.

Okay, back to work. Or proofreading. Or knitting. Or something.

Song du jour of the day: I Drove All Night, by Cyndi Lauper

temporary fade

dang, drat, rats, piffle… POOP! I really wanted the Dutch to win this game. They really didn’t deserve to. They were so bad tonight, they played like… like Swedes.

Sigh. So much for the betting-table supremacy, I’m headed downhill from here. But last night DrBob’s soccer buddies all drank to me and made jokes and that was very fun. Moment in the sun and all that.

Anyway, I’m here to say, I’ll be kind of… less present for awhile. It’s crunch time at work again, the books go to press at the end of next month, so they need as many hours as I can give them. And DrBob’s just finished working in the revisions on his (um. Third? Fourth? well, his latest) book, which means I’ve got 300 or so pages to proofread before he sends it in to the publishers. Therefore, time spent at the computer for the next five or six weeks will be spent Not Blogging. At least not very much. If anything happens I’ll be sure and let you know, but there won’t be so much of the random pointless nerbling of which you’ve all grown so fond.

I’m sure you’ll find a way to cope.

Song du jour of the day: I Will Remember You, by Sarah McLachlan.

kitten update

New kitten pictures up! I brought them down to my office to visit me, which freaked Lilu right out. They all hustled to use the litter box and inhale a bunch of crunchies before could be moved back up to the Sniglet’s attic room. Sigh. I’d rather have them down here, but I don’t know how to convince Lilu of that.

Um, they’re growing! And climbing, and fighting and purring and climbing and being fabulous. And then climbing some more. When I go up to the Sniglet’s room to visit them, they all come running up to greet me. I will miss them a lot, but I think their new people will love them a lot, so that’s for the best, really.

No other news, except that Germany won tonight and is on to the semi-final. Woot.

Song du jour of the day: Are You Sure, by Aretha Franklin.

all good

I’m sorry, that last entry sounded very complainy, and I know how little I have to complain about. We’re healthy, safe, and we have Enough, and none of that other stuff really matters, it’s just stuff that gets in my face and blocks my view. I was hoping if I blatted it out here on this blog, it’d be out of my brain and into someplace manageable. Didn’t work, but it was worth a shot.

bits and pieces

While grating onion for yesterday’s tuna casserole I accidentally grated my thumb. It still hurts. Dinner tonight was spaghetti – much safer.

The kittens get more able and into more trouble every day. Lilu has been trying to move them into another part of my closet since they were born. Today she moved them up to the Sniglet’s room. I don’t like this. There are a lot of stairs in this house, just slats without risers, very dangerous for tiny critters. Besides, they’re starting to poop, and his room is always so messy. On the other hand, my room smells really bad now, and it’ll be easier to vacuum and mop with the kittens gone. I’ll do that tomorrow, and then maybe think about moving them back here. I also intend to put up more photos, but can’t seem to find the… ehm. Germans call it Bock – “ich hab’ kein Bock” means “I don’t feel like doing it.” The English word escapes me.

okay, now I am ignoring you

Sorry, it’s not intentional, it’s just that the European Soccer Championship is happening, and I spend too much time in front of the TV now. And, you know. If you’re not interested, there’s nothing interesting I can say, and if you are interested, you’re already watching it, so you already know.

But I have new kitten photos up, so you can go check those out while you wait for updates. The little buggers are getting really active, which is entertaining, but also a bit alarming. While I typed that last sentence, two of them climbed up my leg and then fell off, and a third stood up to peer into one of my knitting bags, then fell backward and pulled the bag over on herself. Marlon has discovered the kitty crunchies, and has been eating like a horse. Jackie thought she’d give it a try, but she sort of missed – DrBob spotted her standing in the food dish, gnawing on its edge. We call it “Cat TV”, and it’s what we watch when we’re not watching soccer matches.

Yeah, we’re not getting a lot done lately.

Song du jour of the day: Wij Houden Van Oranje, by André Hazes and Ali B, h/t A Touch of Dutch. Yes, we are rooting for the Netherlands this time. And also Germany. The way the tournament is set up, we won’t have to make up our minds unless they both make it to the final. Which would be some serious awesome.

wired again

It was the graphics card. Shuffled off this mortal coil, deceased, dead as a dead thing, if you hadn’t nailed it to the perch it’d be pushing up daisies, etc. The good news is, I got a new one. The bad news is, all that work I was supposed to do on Monday and Tuesday didn’t get done, so I have to do it now. Looks like the Series of Tubes will have to get along without me for one more day.

Song du jour of the day: I know I’ve used this one before, but I love it, so neener. Wait for Me, by Hall & Oates.