Vern the White Russian

It's dark and cold in the holler this morning. Dry, dusty snow is blowing across the ground with whipping winds tossing everything about.

Keep your fingers crossed that the power holds out.

Ayla, aka Pupzilla, loves it when it's colder than a well diggers butt outside. She bounces down the steps, rolls over on her back and lays there, letting the brisk air cool her belly, with her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth. She's in arctic puppy bliss. I have a feeling we're going to have to shave her in the summer, just to keep her comfy.

There's been no improvement in the plumbing situation. I was going to say "no change" but that wouldn't be completely true. There's stuff coming out of the ground, forming a pool right in front of the porch.

Isn't that peachy as a mother humper?

It's okay though. I've got this thing down to a science with sink baths, the laundromat and washing my hair in the kitchen sink. The toilet mysteriously empties itself completely a couple of times a day. I don't know where it goes. I don't need to know. I am just thankful.

Here at the Asylum, I'm still up to my side pube in work, which is great, until I get behind, which I now am. Funny how modern pharmaceuticals can make you not give a flying you-know-what.

Bossman isn't having a good week. As you may have heard, the Colts lost the Superbowl. Bossman is from Indiana and an avid football fan. And? His wifeypoo is back in Indiana to take care of her ailing papa, meaning Bossman has no one to cook nor clean for him.

The horror!

Plus, he showed up Monday morning dragging his left foot behind him. Apparently he was strolling around the golf course (on which he lives) gathering up golf balls, when he got his ankle all jacked up. So when he lost his shit up in the manager's meeting this morning, cussin' and hollerin' like he'd done went and lost his fool mind, well.. no one was really surprised.

In other news...

A few months ago we started seeing a solid white cat lurking about in the yard, then leaving tracks leading under the house. It took a while, but T.A. eventually coaxed him onto the porch and started feeding him. He has the chubby round face and stocky body of a Russian Blue, but he's solid white with green eyes, the cutest adult cat I've ever seen. He's also the most laid back, most lovable little critter in the world. He loves snuggles and scritches, allows the dogs to sniff him and doesn't mind being carried into Ma's room for some petting.

He has to stay outside because there is no room for another being in the house and I despise having a litter box with just one cat. I wanted to call him The White Russian, for obvious reasons, so of course T.A. had to come up with some off the wall Russian word I can't pronounce, which then lead to my calling him simply "Porch Kitty." Then, I got to thinking, which I do occasionally, that veranda was another word for porch, but Veranda was not only kinda feminine, but a stupid name for a cat. So naturally, in searching for a more masculine version of Veranda, I came up with Vern.

So yeah, now Vern lives on the front porch. Because we needed One. More. Thing. to feed. I'll try to get pics of Vern, but he moves kinda quick.

Anywho, I'm going to settle in listening to some Big Band while I enter some orders. I hope it snows hiney cheek deep.. as long as the power doesn't go out.

Ya'll have a good one. We'll talk again soon.

Later Taters!