Calico

Friends Only

calico321 — Tue, 08 Feb 2005 10:42:26 GMT

Going Friends Only for a bit. Cute animal posts will remain public. If you'd think you'd like to be added, comment here. I'm not an elitist, but there's been some trolling lately, so I want to keep quiet a bit.

Random Bunnyness

calico321 — Fri, 07 Jan 2005 18:28:41 GMT

I'v had pictures sitting in my camera since this summer. So I finally got off my butt and downloaded. For your viewing pleasure, 20 bunny pictures:

Cammie is *sitting* on Marvin. LOL!

You know you're comfortable in a relationship when you start sharing a bathroom:

Cammie and Marvin reinact the death scene from Romeo and Juliet:

Hogdepodge:

In honor of Valentine's Day (yeah, I know it's a bit early ^_^):

Imagine how the world could be
So very fine
So happy together

I can see me lovin' nobody but you
For all my life
When you're with me baby the skies'll be blue
For all my life

Me and you and you and me
No matter how they toss the dice
It had to be

The only one for me is you
And you for me
So happy together^*

^*Happy Together by The Turtles.

CSI: Bunny
The crime scene:

The suspect:

Busted!:

Xposted to rabbitowners & bunnyowners

Please help!

calico321 — Thu, 11 Nov 2004 06:51:18 GMT

I don't normally post things like this, but this one broke my heart.

Already hurting for cash and donations, Noah's Ark of Fayette County Humane Society on North Gallatin Avenue was burglarized Tuesday, making it the second time in two months the shelter had donations stolen in a break-in..

Overnight on Monday, someone entered the shelter through the front door, made a quick left, entered the office door, and unbolted a safe from inside a cupboard in the hallway. The thief or thieves left with an undetermined amount of cash, a blank checkbook, locks to the back doors and Phil's hoagie store coupons the shelter was selling for $3 a piece to raise money.

"When I came in at 8:15 a.m., this was open," Kennel Supervisor Pam Pahuly said, holding the knob on the front door. "The office door was shut, but it doesn't lock. The safe was gone from the top shelf."

The shelter now lacks $150 that could have been raised by selling hoagie coupons, plus the stolen cash and the cash and change stolen in the first break-in, creating an increased need for monetary and material donations.

To make matters worse, Pahuly said donations have dwindled over the past year, while the number of animals has increased.

"We've gotten more than 4,000 this year," Pahuly said.

"We're struggling here," she added. "We don't have money. A lot of repairs need to be done to fix security."

Without money to afford heating oil, the cold will kill half the animals, Pahuly said.

Shelter volunteer Theresa Linden said they don't have blankets for the animals to lie on. Even if they did, they don't have the warmth for them to dry.

"The babies will die. Other animals will get sick, especially the cats," Linden said.

Some animals, including a litter of nine puppies born on Tuesday, may not have much of a chance under cold conditions, Linden added.

Rising medical bills have also gotten the best of the shelter's funds, and the shelter will not refuse care for someone else's sick animal, Linden said. They need help to pay for medication, she noted.

"People come in here wanting medicine," Linden said. "We try to do what we can. We never refuse an animal."

Inside Noah's Ark, animal cages line the walls and a ringer-washer stands in the corner.

Clothes, used as pet bedding, hang on clotheslines strung from wall to wall.

The old-fashioned ringer-washer is the only device the shelter has to clean pet bedding for the more than 200 dogs and 60 cats the shelter receives each month.

Although the shelter accepts all animals, they end up euthanizing around half, according to shelter volunteers.

Eight-year-old Brittany Pahuly uses the ringer-washer to clean clothes used for animal bedding and has a "kids club" where she and other children play with the animals at the shelter.

She said her heart breaks for the animals, "especially when they have to be PTS," which she said stands for "Put To Sleep."

Four large rooms house cats, kittens, puppies and dogs of every age, color and breed. In one corner cage, "Mama" nurses her nine puppies, born three days ago.

The dog was brought into the shelter pregnant, Linden said.
Across the room, a gray and white adult female cat heightens her back as a sign of affection and meows at onlookers. A sign reading, "I am pregnant" is posted on her cage.

In another room, a large, black dog sits along the wall in his corner kennel, hesitantly making eye contact with visitors. Linden speculates abuse.

Linden said people who bring their animals into the shelter do not offer any type of donation. When asked to make a donation, they simply say they don't have any money, she said.

Volunteers would appreciate donations of dog and cat food, collars, leashes, dog and cat dishes, blankets, litter boxes, paper towels, towels, laundry detergent, bleach, garbage bags, cat and dog toys, lemon cleaner, cat litter, carriers or portable heaters.

Donations can be dropped off or mailed to Noah's Ark at 477 N. Gallatin Ave., Uniontown, PA, 15401. Contact shelter volunteers by calling 724-439-8620.

I know there's lots of animals lovers on my Flist; please send something if you can.

Welcome to the Fascist States of America!

calico321 — Wed, 03 Nov 2004 08:48:05 GMT

Check your civil liberties at the door!

Economy in the dumps? Environment deteriorating? Never fear! We have WAR! All WAR all the time!

And if you're one of those nasty fags we hate so much, you're royally screwed, but not in the really fun way! Because we don't tolerate differences! That's right, conform or die! That's the new motto for the FSoA!

Women, tired of worrying about your reproductive rights? We have an answer to that: you don't have any! You are now just a baby-making machine, because there just aren't enough mouths to feed in the world. Want to abuse your new addition? Go ahead! At least you gave it life, right? Raped? Well it was your fault for being born female. As a matter of fact, we the Fascist States of America don't think you're smart enough to vote. It was a fun experiment while it lasted. Now, get back to the kitchen!

Privacy? Hell, no we ain't got no privacy here! Of course it's only those bleeding-heart liberals that need to worry! As long as the only information we get is from the bible, then we're a-ok! Facts? Don't need 'em! Opinions? We get 'em directly from the Oval Office! Thinking for ourselves is hard work. Being mindless sheep makes it much easier to sleep at night.

Of course we don't care that gas prices are inching up to $3 and higher! As long as the Pres's big business buddies keep raking in the dough! If he's happy, we're happy! The National Deficit at an all-time high? Who cares! As long as we're not getting taxed the whole country can go bankrupt! Health care? Over-rated! Besides, we pay them there doctors in whose hands we place our lives everyday way too much money. They should be making the same as a burger-flipper at MickeyD's, and damn well like it!

Don't question, don't wonder, don't form a belief that's different than ours. We ARE the Fascist States of America, and resistance is futile.

calico321 — Wed, 03 Nov 2004 06:16:45 GMT

Somehow I can't shake the feeling that the Republicans won by cheating. Stories of torn registrations, late absentee ballots, and 'questioning' voters make me sick to my stomach. Surely he couldn't have won fair and square?

Of course nothing will be done about it. What's going to happen now? How many more wars are we going to start? How much further in debt will the nation become while big business receives bigger tax cuts?

I can't even speak to my mother. Even though we're both in Vermont and her vote really didn't matter, I'm still angry that she and those like her blindly followed the worst president in history just because he claims to hold the same religious beliefs. It makes me angry that she cares so little for my future, for the environment, for the boys in the Middle East, whom my step-brother will soon be joining. She had better not come crying to me when gas prices hit $3 or she can't afford her health care anymore, because the only thing I'll say to her is go ask your president. Maybe he can pray for relief.

calico321 — Tue, 02 Nov 2004 16:25:25 GMT

VERMONT GIVES KERRY THE FIRST THREE ELECTORIAL VOTES! W00T!! SUCK IT BUSH!

Permanent Vacation - a Justice League fic

calico321 — Fri, 17 Sep 2004 22:08:34 GMT

Story time. The lack of Flash so far in the JLU got me thinking, and thus this little ficlet was born. Post 'Starcrossed', so spoilers. Rated G.

Six boys played an impromptu game of baseball in the quiet dusk hours at the Central City park as boys often do. Wally stood on the outskirts of the playing field and watched. The innocence, the freedom – almost a year ago it would have all been destroyed.

The crack of a bat sounded in the still followed by cheers as the child ran around the makeshift bases: a rock, a tin can, a baseball cap. With a wide grin, he rounded third and threw himself into a bone-breaking slide as one of the other players heaved the ball towards home with an audible grunt of effort. The boy and the ball were neck and neck. He stretched an inch farther. “Safe!”

There was whooping and hollering as the boy’s friends crowded around him, backslapping and enthusiastic. A team always supports its own.

At least that’s what Wally used to think.

Ducking his head, Wally turned away from the celebration and walked the park’s path further in. The sharp pain of emotion always hit him when he least expected it. What it all boiled down to, when you got past the cloud of betrayal and group politics, what he really felt the most was that he missed her.

He missed her smile; he missed her diehard attitude; he even missed her threats. Still reeling over the revelation of her romance with GL, he could admit to a small stab of jealousy, but realistically he knew the two powerful warriors were more suited to each other. Though now he felt more pity for his friend than envy.

It had all ended so badly. He still found it hard to believe they voted her out, though it hardly mattered since she’d taken things into her own hands, like she so often did.

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” he’d told the group when they sat down to vote. Wally had been the first one to voice his opinion. “She helped us in the end.”

“She helped only herself,” Diana had sneered. Wonder Woman’s vote of no wasn’t a surprise, nor was Superman’s concrete denial.

And while Batman could hardly shock him anymore, Wally’s heart had sunk at his quiet but firm no.

It was J’onn’s ballot that floored him like none of the others. Perhaps he’d expected more compassion for a fellow alien, but the Martian was not to be swayed.

He could hardly look at the Green Lantern’s face, couldn’t bear to see the wash of relief; his vote wouldn’t matter, even if it was no.

Wally felt punched in the stomach. They weren’t a team anymore. He alone had stood at her side. They might as well have voted him out as well.

Batman had caught him on the way out, cowl pulled down and looking like a normal man – as normal as someone voted Fad magazine’s most eligible bachelor three times in a row could look, that is. “Flash, wait,” he said.

“What?”

“Nothing’s changed.”

“Yeah. They have.”

He could have sworn he’d imagined just a fleeting look of disappointment cross the Bat’s face, which only made him feel worse. But he left anyway and hadn’t looked back.

Through the grapevine he’d learned of the bigger and better Watchtower and the call for all superheroes to join the cause. They weren’t just a League anymore; they were a legion, an army of superpowered soldiers.

Looking up, Wally saw a jogger moving steadily closer. She had a ponytail that swung with each stride and well-toned legs. Idly he watched as she passed. The jogger looked up and smiled at him. Any other time he would have caught up with her and schmoozed for a date, but now he just walked on, towards the duck pond.

Thoughts of Batman made him shiver. How vividly he remembered the sacrifice Batman made. He remembered at the very moment he understood the plan how his legs just collapsed beneath him. “Gentlemen, it’s been an honor.” The words still ran through Wally’s head. Batman had said them sincerely, knowing it was going to be then end. It was with the greatest of luck that Superman had done what Superman had always done, but it didn’t lessen the sacrifice, the gift that Batman had given to the world.

The Flash could only aspire to be half the hero of the Dark Knight.

At the edge of the pond he bent down and picked up a small stone, tossing it to skim across the reflective surface and causing a series of ripples to break apart the picture before settling back to normal.

A rock had been dropped in the middle of the Justice League, but they would never be normal again. What had he contributed anyway? A dozen of the newcomers had speed in their arsenal of powers. All he had to offer in addition was minute in comparison.

The others must have felt the same way, since none of them had come looking for him.

The sound of children’s laughter caught his attention. He glanced over his shoulder to see a boy and girl chasing each other with glee. A few yards away stood a woman smiling the way a mother does. They were all right. No more martial law, no more threat of annihilation. It should have put his mind at ease.

Sticking his hands in his pockets he turned back to watch the slowly setting sun as the light danced off the now-still water. His eyes shifted down to the water’s edge at his feet. He could see his own vivid reflection, and right next to it a darker shape, one with white eyes and pointed ears. Surly his mind was playing tricks on him.

“You’re late,” a voice growled next to him.

Jumping with a gasp, he turned and saw the Batman staring at him with arms folded over his chest, the cape completely surrounding him.

“You trying to scare me to death!” he cried. After getting his heart under control, he asked, “Late for what?”

“Late for duty.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say I’m on a permanent vacation.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to get back to work? Self-pity isn’t healthy.”

Wally laughed softly. “You’re worried about me.”

“Diana was.”

“Oh. Okay.” He looked away for a second and then said, “Hey are you two…”

“No.”

“You sure, because…”

“No.”

“I just don’t want to be the last to know again.”

“I said no.”

“Fine.” He kicked at the grass. The night had settled down around them. Several lights flicked on overhead. “I don’t know what good I’d do you,” he muttered.

“We need experienced members to help with the rookies.”

“Experienced, huh?”

“The fight’s not over, Flash. Not by a long shot. If you give up now you’ve forfeited all the good you’ve done.”

“You wouldn’t even give her a second chance,” he told the dark figure. “What does that say about us? One mistake and you’re out?”

“She did a lot more than make a mistake.”

“Yeah, well, coming from a guy that’s made more than his share of screw-ups, I still think it was unfair.”

“Point taken.”

Wally looked down. Fact was, he really did miss it. And he missed his other friends.

“We’ve got a situation,” Batman said to him, gaining his attention again. “One that I think is right up your alley.”

Another mission, another chance to save the world, or at least part of it. He had tried to tell himself it was over, that he was out of the game completely. But why then was he wearing his suit beneath his clothes? He could feel the cowl in the coat pocket. He was ready. He’d always been ready. Batman watched him closely. Inside, Wally felt the fear his intimidating teammate had always instilled had been replaced by respect. It was going to be a new team, a better team.

Slowly Wally nodded and pulled the mask out. After he had changed they began to walk side by side. “Listen,” Wally began seriously. “I’m really sorry about the, you know, thing at your house.”

Batman glanced at him in something resembling surprise. “It’s forgotten. There are more important things.”

“Great.” Wally smiled in relief. A thought suddenly popped in his head. “Hey, do you think I could borrow Alfred for a weekend, you know to impress a lady friend?” Batman’s head barely moved, but the answer was conveyed loud and clear. “Oookay. No butler for the Flash. I’m officially butler-free.”

They were almost to the edge of the park. “So where’s the Javelin?” he asked looking around.

“We don’t need it,” Batman said. “Go ahead, J’onn.”

As the area around them lit up and a tingling sensation spread over his body, Wally thought, Things are certainly going to get a lot more interesting.

Justice League - "Starcrossed"

calico321 — Wed, 15 Sep 2004 22:16:37 GMT

Finally picked up the DVD last week, and it blew me away! I love it. But there's something I really need to rant about. I'm still debating whether or not to post it at TZ since it's probably pretty stupid.

Having watched the last moments of Hawkgirl and Green Lantern three times now, I get the feeling that we're supposed to feel sympathetic to the pair of them (not necessarily for her alone) and their plight, the obvious 'starcrossed' reference: lovers for whom fate has conspired against them.

But I don't know how the writers expected to accomplish this feat while giving Hawkgirl the moral fiber of Anna Nicole Smith and turning John Stewart into a befuddled dupe.

I'm not talking about how she deceived the JL and the world; I'm not talking about digging into their private lives and recording their weaknesses. As far as I'm concerned, she thought she was working for the greater good, of her people at least, and quite possibly the Earth as well (though how exactly she explained away the need to know her fellow League members' weaknesses does worry me). Realizing the consequence of her actions and stepping up to do something about it exonerates, if not absolves, her of those crimes in my book.

No, I’m talking about her lie of omission to John Stewart. At the beginning of SC, I saw the two of them in their cutesy just-getting-started-in-a-relationship banter, and I felt a pang of regret about her leaving, wondering to myself when the writers could bring her back. Now, I couldn't care less. I don't want to see her again, and neither should John.

The crux of the problem is the writers' Grand Scheme™, the two seasons of lies to make our jaws drop when we finally discovered HG's true mission, and, oh boy, did my jaw drop. However they were so keen on keeping her past hidden, that they showed this warrior for whom right and wrong were never in question had with no respect for either of her paramours.

It wasn't until I finally got to watch Wild Cards recently that it clicked for me: Hawkgirl was given the perfect opportunity to lay her cards out on the table (no pun intended) with just a few extra lines. We're given this lovely relationship development, and after a near-death experience, John Stewart wants to take it to the next level. HG has understandable reservations: they work closely together, and have obvious differences. Smooth-talking John Stewart is having none of it.

But it's here, right here, that she should have told him the truth, or at least enough of it:

HG: There is someone special back on my home planet.
GL: A boyfriend?
HG: More than that.
GL: But you may never see your world again.
HG: True (and here she keeps her cover!). But they may be searching for me; they could find me tomorrow for all I know.
GL: And what would happen if they did?
HG: I'm not sure...

The truth as laid out in SC would have been no less devastating or painful to the League and to John if she had mentioned Hro, but at least she would have been making an honest effort to keep her love life on the up and up (though not, apparently, in regards to Hro either way). But we couldn't have this scenario, because this would give GL a choice in whether or not he wanted to participate in this illicit affair. (And make no mistake - that is exactly what this was. Thanagarians don't mess around with euphemisms like 'engaged', they get right to the heart of the matter: Promised. She made a promise to Hro, one that we’re given every evidence was sincere.) Instead he's misled about her availability, and is subsequently forced to watch some stranger walk up to HG and kiss her, watch as she kisses him back without hesitation or embarrassment. John has to be the bigger man in what for him must be a most embarrassing situation, shake Hro's hand, and walk away with some semblance of dignity, even though HG's lie of omission has offered him none. He's left with nothing but a broken heart and some awkward advice on women from Batman (!) and J'onn.

What did she think was going to happen? In a best-case scenario, she would have left with the Thanagarian fleet once the enemy was defeated. Too bad, so sad for John Stewart then, eh? He was the summer fling, and nobody bothered to tell him. As it stands, her actions completely negate the final scene. I mean is this really the way you treat someone you love? It’s not personal, she says, moments before sucker punching him. I’d hate to see what she does to someone when it is personal.

Believe me, I liked Hawkgirl, and I can certainly sympathize with loving two different people, but as she was written, she wasn’t just an honorable warrior doing her duty, however Machiavellian her actions were; instead, she used and abused the trust two people who are in love are supposed to have, which greatly demeans every bit of character development she’s received. I can’t imagine the writers wanting to paint her with such an unflattering image, and yet they did.

Character assassination or oversight?

calico321 — Mon, 16 Aug 2004 20:31:21 GMT

Bleh. My car is wonky. Some sensor in the gas tank has shit the bed, and now it keeps saying I'm on empty even when I've got half a tank left. To make matters worse, the super-smart computer keeps telling me it's screwed up by flashing 'Check Engine'. It costs $190 to fix, but it's not really hurting anything, so I keep blowing it off. But that doesn't stop the stupid thing from annyong me.

GAS TANK: I need gas! Feed me, biatch!

ME: No.

GAS TANK: GasGasGas!

ME: NoNoNo.

GAS TANK: You're going to run out!

ME: No I'm not. I can go at least another 150 miles.

GAS TANK: Bullshit! Can't you read: empty. That's E-M-P-T-Y. You're going to be stranded. With no cell phone service! Mwahahahaha!

ME: I don't think so.

GAS TANK: I think so. *nods emphatically*

ME: You CANNOT nod emphatically. You are a gas tank.

GAS TANK: Watch me! *nodsnodsnodsnods*

ME: Go away.

CHECK ENGINE LIGHT: It's right, you know. You're out of gas.

ME: Leave me alone. You're so screwed up you can't find your ass with both hands.

CHECK ENGINE LIGHT: I don't have hands.

ME: Work with me! Both of you leave me alone!

GAS TANK: Feed me, Seymour!

ME: *Drives off cliff*

Those cwazy Phish phans

calico321 — Sat, 14 Aug 2004 11:14:34 GMT

Trying to watch the Olympics this afternoon, and the local news station keeps interupting because there is a huuuuge mess with the Phish concert (their final concert is in Coventry, VT). We've been having loads of rain all summer, and apparently there is so much mud at the concert sight, officials are prohibiting anyone with a car entrance, ticket or not. These people are so crazy to see Phish, they are leaving their cars on the side of the roads in interstate, and hoofing it up, even though police say they are going to tow the them! Plus we're getting the dregs from Hurricane Charley tomorrow, so everyone is going to be soaked. Thanfully I'm happy and safe on my mountain, chuckling.

calico321 — Thu, 12 Aug 2004 07:15:51 GMT

You know you've been playing too much Grand Theft Auto when you see a nifty-looking motorcycle sitting at a gas pump and your first thought is "I should take that. It would be great for jumps". Even worse when your second thought is to watch out for cops. Heh.

calico321 — Wed, 11 Aug 2004 09:27:08 GMT

I am in so much pain.

We worked on the bathroom all weekend; loads of lifting, pushing, pulling, standing on chairs, bending down, the works. I woke up Monday and my back just screamed at me for being such an idiot.

I called in sick to work Monday and Tuesday, and today I came in at noon. Just sitting hear hurts so bad I want to vomit.

In other news, I almost had a heart attack this morning when I went into the living room to eat my cereal. Marvin was standing on top of his cage. Apparently when I cleaned their top litter box last night, I was hurting so bad I forgot to close and secure the flap. I can't believe neither one noticed it all night. I was so scared he was going to hurt himself since the cage is 42" high, but I calmly walked over and put my arm out to herd him back to the opening, then I quickly scooped him up and put him back inside. I don't know what I would have done if he'd gotten down and started exploring the house :(

Ok, my back is killing me, so got to go.

Some HP Drabbles

calico321 — Fri, 06 Aug 2004 10:54:55 GMT

To help me get back into the swing of writing, I've started doing drabbles at hp100.

Here's the ones I've come up with so far, if anyone is interested:

Title: Fresh Start
House: Ravenclaw.
Word Count: 100.
Characters/Pairings: A new DADA professor :)
Author's Notes: This is addictive!

“G-good morning, class,” the new Defense teacher said, struggling to stay calm. He felt sick to his stomach from nerves. Had he really changed so much in fifteen years?

Ten pairs of innocent eyes regarded him with interest. Well maybe they weren’t all innocent. One girl in the back, with an arrogant smirk, seemed to be waiting for him to make a fool of himself. He could only imagine the things her father told her.

“Well, Professor Longbottom? Are we going to learn this year, or what?”

“Of course, Miss Malfoy,” he replied, standing proud. “Turn to page six, class.”

Title: Pride
House: Ravenclaw
Word Count: 100.
Characters/Pairings: Various Gryffindors
Challenge: DADA

The entire class was abuzz with excitement. Finally they had a decent Defense teacher. Finally they would learn proper spells

“Did’ya see that spider?” Ron gushed.

“I think I’m really going to enjoy class this year!” exclaimed Seamus. “Not like last year with that sorry excuse for a teacher.”

“Professor Lockhart was very informed,” insisted Hermione, quite affronted.

“Hey, Neville,” Harry called out. “Good job,” he said with a smile.

Neville returned the smile feeling something deep in his chest, like a knot that was growing, putting pressure on his heart. “Thanks,” he said, enjoying the pride in his achievement.

Title: A Year later
House: Ravenclaw
Word Count: 100.
Characters/Pairings: Neville
Challenge: DADA

The pounding of his heart didn’t stop him from raising his hand. The others were looking at him with shock: How would Neville Longbottom, class simpleton, know an Unforgiveable Curse?

The spider spasmed painfully on the desk. Moody’s cold eyes showed no sign of remorse. It was as if his nightmares had come alive to haunt him.

His ears buzzed. Stop looking, stop looking! No use. Was it dead? Probably not, but it wasn’t alive anymore, either. How could anyone lack the conscience to do that to a human being?

His head hurt. How could he face his parents again?

I'm thinking about doing a longer Neville-centered fic. I just need to come up with a plot.

Drive-by picture post

calico321 — Fri, 30 Jul 2004 16:14:09 GMT

Marvin and Cammie veg out.

You know what they say about a guy with big feet ;)

Round and round they go. They do this quite a bit: run around in circles attempting to mount the other, heh.

Grooming contest

Marvin wins!

"Hey, what's taking you so long?"

"Here let me help."

"Do you mind?! We're busy here!"

I just like this picture of Cammie; very artistic :)

X-posted to bunnyowners, rabbitowners, and calico321

calico321 — Sun, 27 Jun 2004 17:52:53 GMT

We had to put Brandy to sleep today.

You might be a Vermonter if...

calico321 — Tue, 22 Jun 2004 06:20:52 GMT

You've never met any celebrities, but you know Mr. Rogers used to live here.

Your idea of a traffic jam is ten cars waiting to pass a tractor on the highway.

"Vacation" means driving through the Islands.

You've seen all the biggest bands ten years after they were popular.

You walk around muttering, "I remember Phish when they were a local band."

You measure distance in minutes.

You've ever given driving instructions using a barn as a landmark.

Down south to you means Massachusetts.

You've ever been asked if you live in Canada.

You know several people who have hit a deer.

Your school classes were canceled because of ice.

Your school classes were canceled because of flooding during Spring Thaw.

You've ridden the school bus for an hour each way.

You've ever had to switch from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day.

Delis don't have subs; they have grinders.

You see people wear bib overalls at funerals.

You see a car running in the parking lot at the store with no one in it no matter what time of the year.

You end your sentences with 'ayup.'

You know what 'Jeezum Crow' means.

All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, or grain.

You install security lights on your house and garage and leave both unlocked.

You think mashed potatoes go with everything.

You carry jumper cables in your car.

You know what "cow tipping" is.

You've ever played Cow Drop Bingo.

You design your kid's Halloween costume to fit over a snowsuit.

You live a mile from a ski resort, but have never been skiing. (<-- That's me ^_^)

Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.

You think everyone from a bigger city has an accent.

You think sexy lingerie is tube socks and a flannel nightie.

The local paper covers national and international headlines on one page but requires 6 pages for sports.

You think that deer season is a national holiday.

You know which leaves make good toilet paper.

You find -20 degrees F "a little chilly".

You know all 4 seasons: Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter, and Construction.

You know what a good maple syrup is, and have a dozen recipes to use it in.

You can spell words like Quechee and Winooski.

You know how Barre and Charlotte are correctly pronounced. (Berry and Shar-LOT)

You know that Champ is real.

You actually get these jokes and forward them to all your Vermont friends.

calico321 — Tue, 22 Jun 2004 05:41:57 GMT

What the hell happened to dilbert_feed and roseisrose_feed?? I need by Dilbert fix :(

It's bunny love!

calico321 — Mon, 21 Jun 2004 18:49:26 GMT

Good news. Cammie and Marvin are living together! :D There's lots of grooming and snuggling and binkying (and still the occasional hump =P), so they are officially a couple.

Cammie is perfectly willing to groom Marvin, but she's just as likely to hump him. Sometimes she'll alternate - groom, hump, groom, hump - and he doesn't seem to care ^_^

Sharing the fleecey bed. This is actually the first spot we noticed them hanging out together. Noone can resist the fleece :)

They've calmed down a lot in the cage, though there are still small chases. A lot of it may just be play.

Licky licky. He does groom her too, though apparently I haven't got it on film yet, heh.

Ying yang bunnies :D

I'm also happy that Cammie still loves ME! She'll still come over and ask for pets and always sticks her nose out of the cage when I walk by. Marvin is still a bit skittish, but we have been able to pet him sometimes, and we're bribing with treats too, which help, hehe. All in all, I think it was a good match for us :)

X-posted to bunnyowners, rabbitowners, & calico321

Silly rabbit

calico321 — Tue, 15 Jun 2004 09:51:09 GMT

Gah!

Last night after we'd returned from the vet's office, I wanted to keep Carson close to me, so I had to lock the bunnies up earlier than normal. I figured I'd put them both in Cammie's cage to see if they could get along since I'd be there to supervise. Not surprisingly Marvin chased her up and down the condo trying to hump her. Stupid rabbit! Neither of you has your baby-bunny-making parts, and if you're trying to establish dominance you've got another think coming, because Cammie is nobody's bitch! She seemed to take it pretty well. She'd be on the top floor and he's bug her so she'd hop down to the bottom and flop out like everything was fine, then he would make his way down and start all over, or she'd be in her box doin' her business and he'd hop in right next to her. I finally had enough and pulled him out. He didn't like that too much and I've got scratches all over my arms. I feel bad about leaving him in his small area, but that boy has got to learn how to be a gentleman!

calico321 — Mon, 14 Jun 2004 20:16:55 GMT

My dog Carson had a stroke tonight. We were really freaked out because he kept falling down and was completely disoriented, so we called the vet and drove him down for an emergency call. By the time we got there he was much better, but still a little unsteady on his feet. The vet said it was probably a stroke or it could even be a tumor, but his head tilts to the right and his eyes are moving back in forth in a pattern consistant with a stroke. So we got a prescription of steroids, which is supposed to help, and we have to see how it goes.

This poor dog is probably 14 or 15 years old, overweight, is deaf, and has arthritis. I almost wish it had been strong enough to do him in, quick and painless.

Meet Marvin!

calico321 — Sun, 13 Jun 2004 10:25:45 GMT

Introducing Marvin (name subject to change)

As some of you may recall, I had decided to find Cammie a friend. Due to personal issues, it took me a bit longer than I would have liked to get over to the shelter, and so the family of bunnies, including Rex, that I was interested in were all adopted out. Luckily though, the shelter had just recently aquired a couple of new bunnies. On the 27th of May, somebody dropped them off at the doorstep of the shelter after closing. They were in unsecured cardboard boxes and if one of the staff hadn't come around a bit later, they would have most likely escaped, or been something's supper :( So they were brought in. They were just altered a few days ago.

When I called yesterday, they told me they had one male and one female, but the female was going to be fostered, which was fine by me, since a male was more likely to bond with Cammie. So I packed her up and drove down there for our 'date'. The staff was oohing and ahing over her (who wouldn't? ^_^). Then they brought Marvin in. He's a bit bigger than her, and doesn't have the darkened areas, but otherwise they look quite a bit alike, especially the markings on their shoulders.

The first meeting started out ok. There was nose sniffing and a general interest. He even licked her head. But then he started humping her and kept on no matter how much we pushed him away. He was even mounting her face, which she did not like! Eventually she got too annoyed and ran back into her carrier.

The staff and I figured that he wasn't completely over his hormones yet and would hopefully settle down soon. I filled out the application and expected to have to wait a few days for it to be processed, but the lady said that there just aren't many qualified bunny owners, and that my application looked fine and I could take him home! It was great, though I didn't have a place set up for him to live yet.

During the drive home I put them in the same carrier and the cuddled all the way, but when we got here and I opened the carrier's door, Cammie lept out and ran straight into her condo. She was *mad* at me! Wouldn't look at me or let me pet her, LOL! So I let her sulk. Marvin was still too afraid to come out. I took some extra cube grids that were used for Cammie's condo and built him a small, temporary pen for him to stay in while the bond. I managed to coax him in and he hung out in there for a while.

He's not litter box trained yet. I've put a box in his area and he seemed to spend most of his time in there munching hay, which I'll take as a good sign.

Later in the evening we bit the bullet and let them out to visit. All in all, it's been great. There's no fighting, only his continual need to hump her, which she just runs away from. Otherwise, they sniff each other and run around. She did get bent out of shape the first time he started to explore her condo and was doing some sort of headbutt to get him out, so we gently pushed him out of her turf. She explores his area just fine, hehe.

He's also taken to sniff under her tail. Is he checking to see if she's a 'complete' female? He also sometimes makes a really low 'mmm mmm mmm' noise, not quite a grunt, more like a hum. Any clues what that means?

He's still quite shy around us. I know that we'll have to slowly build up trust. He is very curious, and chins everything! "Mine, mine, mine!" he says.

X-posted in bunnyowners, rabbitowners, & calico321

Cammie piccies aka How I Torture My Rabbit

calico321 — Thu, 03 Jun 2004 21:19:36 GMT

I took a bunch of pictures for the current rateyourbun's theme week: Bunnies with things on their heads. Thought you'd like to see some outtakes:

This was the submission:

"Do you feel lucky, punk?"

The costumer dresses our star.

"Hmm, I'm not feeling it. What's my motivation?"

"You expect me to work under these conditions?!"

"To think I gave up a role in 'Titanic' for this."

X-posted to bunnyowners, rabbitowners, and calico321

Justice - A Harry Potter challenge fic

calico321 — Tue, 01 Jun 2004 09:22:24 GMT

My submission to saeva's Gen Ficathon Challenge.

This is for jen_d's challenge: Neville's reaction at the end of GoF. How does he feel about Mad-eye Moody actually turning out to be Barty Crouch Jnr, one of the people convicted of the attack on his parents? Is there anything he could have done to stop it? No conditions.

Justice Rated G, Word count: 2594

The last week at Hogwarts had been the longest of Neville Longbottom’s life.

He, like the rest of the student body, had been shocked by the death of Cedric Diggory at the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. Though he hadn’t known Cedric personally, he’d seen the way he’d played Quidditch and how well he’d done during the previous tasks, and though it pained him to admit it, Neville had secretly been routing for Cedric to win over his housemate.

But it all came to a crashing halt when Harry Potter had returned from parts unknown with Cedric’s dead body. Rumors flew – some even surmised that Harry had killed him – but they didn’t know officially the cause of death until Dumbledore’s announcement at the Leaving Feast. And yet that wasn’t the worst.

“Did you hear about Professor Moody?” Ginny Weasley had gasped, racing into the Gryffindor common room the evening of the last task after Harry’s mysterious return. Neville was huddled in and armchair in the corner all by himself while the other students milled about chattering in nervous whispers, trying to make sense of the senseless.

“What?” Dean Thomas asked.

All eyes and ears were on her. “I just talked to Ron. Moody wasn’t Moody after all.” A confused buzz of questions filled the air as everyone tried to decipher her words. She motioned for quiet before continuing. Neville slipped out of his chair and crept forward to hear better. “It was Polyjuice Potion. Moody’s been kept in the bottom of an enchanted trunk since before school started.”

“Then who was teaching us all year?” Colin Creevey asked with wide eyes. His brother Dennis stood beside him solemnly.

Ginny looked around at all the faces before she answered. “It was Barty Crouch, Jr. His father worked for the Ministry, the one that was here for the first task.”

Neville felt a ringing in his ears and became dizzy. “Careful there, mate,” Seamus cried as he tipped to the side.

Neville managed to right himself and asked in a croaking voice, “What’s happened to him?”

“Well, Ron said that Fudge ordered the Dementor’s Kiss. His body is still alive, but the rest of him is as good as dead.” The murmurs in the room rose again as the students processed the new information.

Somehow Neville was able to get through the next week. A normally quiet, absent-minded boy, nobody noticed that he appeared more detached than usual. He barely heard Professor Snape call him an addlebrained fool or the jokes Malfoy and his cronies made without even attempting to cover them.

At the feast they all toasted Cedric’s memory and Harry’s bravery, but Neville couldn’t keep his eyes off the head table. The real Mad-Eye Moody had been invited to sit in and watched the Hall with great apprehension. Neville kept thinking about the day in class when the man who was not Moody taught them about the Unforgivable Curses.

***

The sun rose and shined brightly through his bedroom window. Neville stretched and stared at the ceiling above. He could hear voices below, his grandmother and uncle no doubt. After picking him up and King’s Cross the night before, they had returned home where Neville had been quizzed about his year at school. Not gossip about the exciting events that had occurred, but about his schoolwork. They were always so concerned that he was learning at an appropriate rate. Gran was always disappointed at his failure to comprehend simple potions, but she was abated with his high marks in Herbology.

Afterwards he had retired early and went straight to bed. Now that he’d awoken and the bright summer day waited outside, he stood up and stretched the kinks out of his back. Then he bent down slid aside a piece of the skirting board to reveal a secret compartment. Inside was small box that he pulled out and set up on his bed.

Sitting down next to the box, Neville opened the lid slowly. Several folded pieces of parchment lay inside. He pulled them out one by one, revealing clipped articles from The Daily Prophet. Gran didn’t know he had these, and she would probably skin him alive if she found them, but to Neville they were very important.

Flipping through them, eyes avoiding the pictures of his parents, Neville found the name – Bartemius Crouch, Jr., arrested with Bellatrix and Rudolfus Lestrange, charged with using the Cruciatus Curse on Alice and Frank Longbottom, sentenced to life at Azkaban prison. He supposedly died there not long after sentencing.

He was supposed to be dead.

Neville closed his eyes.

“Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?”

He had known.

“Your name’s Longbottom?”

Crouch had known who he was, tortured that spider in front of him. Neville squeezed his eyes shut. How could he not have seen it? How could he have not seen the face of his parents’ torturer in the professor’s eyes? If only he had figured it out, he could have saved Cedric and put Crouch back in Azkaban where he belonged.

“Neville! Neville Longbottom, you had better not still be in bed at this hour! Your breakfast is getting cold!” Gran’s shrill voice rose up from the bottom floor to shake him out of his thoughts.

“I – I’ll be right down, Gran,” he called in response, quickly gathering up the pages and stuffing the box back into the cubby hole. He dressed and went downstairs. Gran sat alone at the dining room table, reading The Daily Prophet. Neville tried to catch a peak at the front page, expecting news of You-Know-Who’s return, Moody’s imposter, or Cedric’s death to still be on topic, but the main article focused on Gringotts opening a new branch in Zimbabwe.

Neville sat down in front of the bowl of porridge that had been set out in front of him and ate quietly. The whole house suddenly seemed too quiet. His thoughts ran to the box upstairs, to the man who had taught him all year. If only he had closure. Neville cleared his throat.

“What is it?” Gran asked, peering over the top of the paper.

“I was just thinking if maybe we could,” he paused and coughed. “If we could go see Mum and Dad?”

“Why?” she inquired sharply. “You’ve never requested to visit your parents before.”

“Well, I am now. Is it alright?”

Her beady eyes narrowed as she regarded him looking for some ulterior motive. “Very well. We can go into London this afternoon. But not until your room is clean. Understood?”

“Yes, Gran.”

He finished his breakfast quickly and returned to his room. He unpacked his trunk and set Trevor in the small glass bowl where the toad was supposed to live during the summer, though he was more often than not found elsewhere in the old house.

At quarter past eleven, Neville and Gran stood before the fireplace. “St. Mungo’s,” she called out loudly, tossed a handful of Floo powder into the flames, and then walking through them, disappeared from sight. Neville followed and they emerged outside the waiting room of the Wizard hospital.

Without waiting for acknowledgement from the hospital staff, Mrs. Longbottom marched purposefully to the fourth floor. Outside the Janus Thickey ward she paused and looked meaningfully at Neville. “Straighten up. There’s a smudge on your nose.” Pulling a handkerchief out of her voluminous purse, she dabbed the corner on her tongue and proceeded to scrub the spot away. Neville tried to extricate himself to no avail. Finally when finished, she said, “Go on then.”

He opened the door and was immediately greeted by one of his former DADA teachers. Gilderoy Lockhart was always smiling and asking people if they’d like his autograph. As he usually did, Neville hunched his shoulder and walked briskly past the beaming, blond-haired man.

Several beds down, he came to his mother. Alice was sitting up against her pillow playing with a banana peel. Almost shyly, he walked up to her bedside. “Hello, Mummy,” he said meekly.

Her empty face turned to him and she squinted for a moment trying to find a memory of his face in her broken mind. Finally her eyes lit up and she made a happy grunting noise. Gleefully she showed him the banana peel to which he nodded and smiled, before leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.

Beside her bed, was Neville’s father, Frank. Neville turned and sketched a wave. “’Lo, Dad.” Frank made a motion for Neville to come closer, a serious look upon his face. Neville leaned down as if his father was going to impart a valuable family secret, when a glistening of spit formed on Frank’s lips. It grew into a small bubble before popping lightly. Frank let out a howl of laughter, as did Alice next to him. She brayed with mirth and pointed towards him. Neville grinned sheepishly. There was not much laughter between his parents these days, and he couldn’t begrudge them a small humour at his expense.

After the laughter had died, Neville turned to his grandmother where she sat knitting. “I need to use the toilet.”

“Very well, I think you can find it yourself. Don’t dawdle.” The needles clacked together as she reached into her purse for a mint.

In the hallway, Neville looked down at the other wards and maneuvered to slowly inspect each one.

“Neville?” He jumped as the voice startled him from behind. A plump Healer with kind eyes regarded him questioningly. “Is there something you needed? You’ve visited so frequently, I’d imagine you know where everything is now.”

Face to face with the witch, Neville was not quite as sure about his quest as he was this morning. Nevertheless, he said, “You know what happened at Hogwarts this year? About the teacher who was being impersonated?”

Her eyes darkened, but she nodded.

“He’s here, isn’t he? Crouch, I mean. The – they said he was kissed by a Dementor and his mind is gone, isn’t that so?”

“Neville,” she whispered. “I can’t let you see him. You need to go back to your parents.”

“It’s because of him that my parents are here!” The Healer looked startled and peered around to make sure they were alone. Neville begged, “Please, I just want to get a look at him. I – I don’t know what he really looks like. Please.”

The Healer looked uncertain and then seemed to make up her mind. “Only for a moment,” she whispered and placed a hand on his shoulder to guide him down the corridor. A smaller hallway jutted off to the left and she brought him there, where a single door stood in almost darkness. Shifting her eyes towards the main hall, she pulled out her wand and said, “Alohomora.” The door swung open. Looking Neville in the eye, she said, “Only for a moment.” Then with a sweet smile, she turned him towards the room.

There was little light in the room. A single bed stood in the middle, the figure in it laying flat with only a sheet thrown over for cover. Unsure of himself, Neville approached cautiously, as though the man lying there were to somehow rear up and curse him into oblivion. He swallowed hard as he came abreast of the body. The face had a hollow, sunken look to it, the eyes were closed, and a small rivulet of saliva escaped the corner of the mouth.

Neville just stood for a moment, quietly contemplating, before finding his voice.

“You tricked us,” he said. But that wasn’t right.

“You hurt my parents.” He tensed up and gnawed on his lip. “You took them away from me.” He continued on, gaining speed and volume. “Then you came into my school and tried to hurt one of my friends. And taunt me with the curse. And…” Neville’s eyes filled with tears and his chest burned with pent-up rage. He surged forward and swung one chubby fist. It handed on the chest of the man with a thud. One if the body’s arms jumped with the impact and slid off the edge of the bed, but Neville paid it no attention. He had found a release for years of repressed anger. Fists pounded on the chest as inarticulate cries escaped his lips.

Footsteps and voices grew louder behind him. “Hey, you! Boy, what are you doing there?”

Hands tried to pull him away, but he squirmed free. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out his wand, which was supposed to be in storage for the summer. He pointed it at Barty Crouch, Jr.’s body and screamed, “AVADA KE…”

A claw-like hand clamped over his mouth while another snatched the wand from his hand. He was yanked from the room and pushed into a corner of the hall. Gran’s hard eyes bore down into him as she shook him severely by the shoulder with her free hand while the other held his wand just in front of him.

“What do you think you were doing!?” she screeched.

Neville’s entire body began shaking. “He…he…he was…” He swallowed hard, intimidated by her unwavering stare. “He deceived us all year! He’s one of those people that hurt my parents!”

“I know,” she answered coldly. “But what did you think you’d accomplish?”

Neville sniffed and then steeled himself. “I wanted to make him pay. I want justice!”

Gran remained impassive for several moments, and then her body sagged. “As do I,” she replied with quiet resignation. Then her previous strength returned when she said, “But justice is not for us. We have other duties. Duties to them.” Her head nodded to the other end of the floor.

Gran’s hand loosened on his shoulder, though it did not release. “You can’t imagine how much I hated them. They took my boy, Neville, my sweet Frank! And that Black woman was so smug after they caught her.” She shook her head sadly and then looked at him with a softness he’d never seen before. “Your parents knew what the risks were when they took the job. And they were luckier than some. Like the Potters. That poor boy lost his parents completely. You need to count your blessings.”

Neville found it difficult to call his parents spending the rest of their days as blithering idiots a blessing, but he wisely held his tongue.

Gran continued, “Going around cursing people is going to get you nowhere but a life sentence at Azkaban. If you want to honour your parents’ sacrifice you’ll have to do it another way. What do you say to that, Neville?”

He blinked his eyes. The stuffed vulture on top of her head bobbed precariously. She seemed to be telling him something. “I want…”

“Yes?” Gran prodded.

“I want to fight You-Know…Voldemort.” He cringed as he said the name. “I want to fight him, and his followers.”

She smiled, sadly. It seemed the answer she wanted, but had been dreading. “Then, my boy, you will need to apply yourself, and for Merlin’s sake, you’ll need to get at least an Outstanding on your potions OWL next year.” Neville’s heart sunk. Snape would never give him an O. “Come along, Neville. We’ll say goodbye to your parents and go home.”

He followed but stopped to look into the almost empty room. The Healers had arranged him back into the peacefully reposed position. Barty Crouch, Jr. would remain a husk of a man for years and he would be a constant reminder of what Neville had to do.

“Neville!”

“Coming, Gran!”

~End~

Dandelions!

calico321 — Mon, 10 May 2004 17:55:34 GMT

Cammie has some pictures to show you!

Nummy!

Want some, Mom?

More for me!

Buuurp! Boy were those good!

After meal clean up.

Bye bye!

x-posted to bunnyowners, rabbitowners, and calico321.

Kitties are people, too

calico321 — Mon, 03 May 2004 20:02:26 GMT

X-posted to kittypix

Pictures, and stories, of my feline babies :D Warning, lots of pics.

My Miss Kitty. My mother was working in a school cafeteria and noticed a calico cat, barely a year old, was coming up to the back door for scraps everday. She as dirty and thin and obviously a stray. Since I had just lost a cat that year, she took her in, got her shots, and spayed her (she happened to be pregnant too :( ) and gave her to me for Christmas. This was eleven years ago this December; I've had her longer than my husband. She was a dainty thing then (unfortunately I don't have any pictures), but boy has she grown!

"Oo, a mousie!"

"Got it!"

I think she's the prettiest kitty in the world!

We weren't looking to get more cats, but in 1997 we noticed the local shelter kept running an article in the paper about these two cats. Flower was a sweet, playful kitty who would have had a home in a heartbeat, but Tux had severe behavioral problems. He was afraid of everyone and everything - except Flower. They were found together, abandoned. Because of Tux's problems they insisted they be adopted together. After seeing them in the paper for months, I finally gave in and went to visit them. There has never been a cat that I didn't like or didn't like me :)

It was tough going for a while. Tux exiled himself to the basement. We eventually decided to finish part of it to make it liveable, and that drove him upstairs. He absolutely hated to be picked up at first, but now he can be held and snuggled with, and he's even started to become a lap kitty.

Flower is in fact the sweetest, cutest cat in the world, hands down. He is also very un-catlike in that he cannot jump. Sometimes he can manage to climb up things like the bed, but more often than not, we are awoken at all hours of the night with a pathetic mewing in our ears as he asks to be picked up. Chairs have to be placed in strategic areas so he can access window perches. He also likes to play tag, where he meows at you then runs away, expecting you to follow. When he's gone as far as he wants, he flops down and rolls around on his back so he can get his tummy rubbed :D

Anyway, they are still the bestest buds and quite an amusing pair.

This is very dark, but they are cuddled up together. They're often found like this.

Tux:

Caught him in mid-meow :D

Rubbing agains one of our dogs. He does this all the time.

Flower:

I love this picture; he's curled up in a cat condo.

Rowr!

With our rabbit, Cammie. He's actually terrified of her, but the call of the open door after a long winter was too strong.

Kitties getting high!