My Injury

Running has been my exercise of choice for quite some time now. Its simplicity appeals to me. Basic articles of clothing, some laced up sneakers, and voila – instant exercise and stress relief.

All the simplicity has vanished ever since a chronic running injury popped up. Three months ago (right around the time of my most recent blog post!) I became determined to heal this injury once and for all. The problem is that there are way too many factors to consider. I received lots of advice and I can't follow it all. So I remain in limbo of what to do to get better. My advice has come from physical therapists, chiropractors, an orthopedic, fellow runners, friends, and a boyfriend. Here's my compilation of advice. Feel free to add to the list.

Stretch three times every day

Stretching is a waste of time. You don't see me stretching and I've never been injured a day in my life.

Keep running

Build up your mileage more slowly

Stop running

Rest

Don't stretch

Don't do anything physical – stretching, running, biking, yoga, walking, etc – for 2 weeks

Try pilates. It's great for runners

Strengthen the area 3-5 times per week

Don't do squats or lunges

Use heat to loosen up the area

Don't use heat!

Ice everyday

Get a knee brace that has gel supports

Use a knee brace if you want, but I think it's all mental

Go to an orthopedic

Get an x-ray to make sure this isn't serious

Get an MRI

I don't recommend an MRI

Take 3 ibuprofen three times daily for two weeks

Ibuprofen won't work if there isn't any inflammation

Don't run

Stay active and ignore the pain. Just don't run

Find a new activity to replace running. You may not be built for running.

This is the perfect time to get pregnant

Get married

Go see a chiropractor, but not for too long because he might make you worse to stay in business

The injury is connected to your lower back

The injury is a neurological issue

Get checked for food allergies

Get checked for seasonal allergies

Use KT tape

Use this electronic pain relief unit

Get acupuncture

We've got to get you healed and running. You are so much happier when you are running.

What College Didn't Teach Me About Teaching

Going into my fifth year of teaching, I still face new experiences that I never would have imagined while back in college.  I have the theory that teacher preparation should really involve more classroom experience and less formal schooling.  Most of what I learned in college did not prepare me for the day-to-day surprises that goes with being a teacher.  In particular, the beginning of the school year tends to catch me off guard the most.

Three years ago, I arrived at my classroom ready to prepare it for the new school year.  I had learned about all the guidelines for setting up a classroom, arranging desks, and decorating the walls.  I had not learned about the possibility that there might be faulty piping in the school.  My classroom was on the corner of the school, having two exterior walls.  I chose it because it had a door to the outdoors, allowing me to see daylight once in awhile.  Apparently, the contractors thought my corner classroom would be the best location for a drainage pipe.  Therefore, rainwater on the roof could drain through a hole in my ceiling and into the sink.  Unfortunately, the contractors did not deem it necessary to align the drainage pipe with the aforementioned sink.  The result: one week before school started I got to spend the day cleaning up a classroom flood instead of setting up my classroom.  That turned out okay, because the district ordered kick-proof walls for my classroom and made a mess of the place during their installation, so my things would have been moved anyway.  Floods and kick-proof walls?  Where was this in the college textbooks?

Last year, I started at a new school in a new district.  On my first day of school, I was scheduled to start my day as the special education teacher in a kindergarten classroom.  I entered the classroom to see a screaming, yelling, kicking five year old.  Though I didn't know this child and he was not one of the children I was assigned to work with, I went to help out so that the general education teacher could manage the rest of her class.  As soon as the child saw the opportunity, he bolted from the classroom and ran across the campus.  I quickly went into running mode and sprinted after him.  Here I was, the new teacher at a new school, giving my first impression to all as the teacher who chases after kids.  In dress shoes.  And a skirt.  There weren't any conventional tactics I could use to stop the child and he was heading for the parking lot, which exits into a busy intersection.  I had no choice but to reach out and scoop the child up in my arms, screaming and kicking, in front of lots of parents and teachers and the principal.

This year I faced some more surprises.  I arrived at school a week early to start planning for the year and arranging my classroom.  My to-do lists for school preparation are often a mile long.  This time I had the pleasure to add to my list "sweep up dead cockroaches."  There were about a dozen.  But, as usual, I managed to get everything cleaned up, floods and walls and cockroaches, before the students arrived on the first day of school.  It was a great day.  It went by in a blur, but everything went according to plan, or at least as close to plan as I expected.  During one of my groups, a child informed me in his own unique way that he needed the restroom.  He went to the in-class bathroom and I realized that he had had an accident.  So, while continuing instruction with the rest of my first graders through a crack in the bathroom door, I attended to the boy.  It turns out, he surprised me with much more than expected.

So, college, I have a bone to pick with you.  There are many things you taught me, but not nearly enough.  In all of those textbooks, where were the lessons on leaky roofs, kick-proof walls, cockroach infestations, runaway children, and poopy pants?

I'm Famous (Today Only)!

This morning, I received this E-mail:

Great news!  West Valley Runners is featured on the home page
right now!  Check it out and tell your friends:

http://www.meetup.com/tour/t/hp1_l1

Every day, a handful of the most active Meetup Groups are
chosen to appear on this page. Your Meetup will be appearing on
the home page all day today.

Congrats!

The Team at Meetup HQ


I clicked the link to check it out and celebrate my awesome Meetup group.  Not only is the group featured on the main page, but I am in the picture.  Way in the background, there is a woman in a black tank holding a pink ball.  That's me!  While I do find it funny that the picture advertising our group is of us bowling and not running, I won't complain about getting to be famous for the day.

Friend Jill likes to track her 15 minutes of fame.  I haven't done this yet, but maybe I should start.  I'd need to look up how to calculate such a thing.  For instance, my name has been in several newspapers after a big race (eg Long Island Half Marathon, Big Sur Marathon).  Does that count as fame?  I don't know.

People Watching

Laura has decided to bombard you with blog entries because in (less than!) two weeks, I'll be returning to work and therefore falling off the face of the earth for awhile.  Enjoy me while I'm around.
         



          As I walked back to my chair after a chilly dip in the Atlantic Ocean, I took notice of a boy creating a comical scene. Instead of sticking my nose in a book, I decided to dig my feet into the sand and enjoy the show in front of me. The boy repeatedly threw himself into the ocean waves, purposely allowing each rush of water to toss him around and ram him against the sand.

          As a Long Island child, I experienced many ocean beatings. Rule number one of swimming in the ocean focused on avoiding the wrath of waves at all costs. Jump over them, dive into them, but never let one suck you under. The end result of breaking this rule included a bathing suit full of sand, salt water down the throat, and a momentary panic that the wave would prevent you from getting a breath of fresh air for all eternity. Despite this universal knowledge, the boy seemed to gain pleasure from each wave that tormented him. He ran into the oncoming waves, letting them pummel him under for half a minute at a time. Each time he rose, a grin spread across his face as if he just finished his favorite ride in an amusement park. Sometimes he didn't bother to stand up, allowing several consecutive waves to crash over him and bully him to the ground. As hard as the waves tried, they could not knock this guy down from his euphoria. I envied his youthful enthusiasm and wondered why so many adults cease to have such innocent fun past a certain age. It took a long time, but the boy eventually did tire of his wave-crashing fun. He stepped away from the ocean, glowing with joy and glistening with salt water. He jogged up the beach toward his towel and passed me on his way. I smiled at him and he stopped to smile back. I commented on the fun he was having and asked him his age. “Thirty-two,” he responded. “I don't think children should get to monopolize fun.”

Running Late

While in New York, Craig and I went to see the Mets host the Phillies. I looked forward to seeing Citi Field for the first time, while Craig looked forward to seeing rowdy New York fans. Craig and I planned to walk the 1.5 miles to the train station and ride the rails to the game. I wore jeans because I knew I might get cold. I packed water and some food because I knew we might get hungry. We hustled out the door a few minutes behind schedule, which has been typical behavior for the two of us lately. Aware that we were running late, I walked the best speed-walk that my short legs could carry me. 

I checked the time after we had walked about half a mile. It was just past five and we were hoping to make the 5:13 train. With the realization that speed-walking simply wasn't going to be good enough, we began to run. Craig offered to take my backpack and I handed it off to him as he broke into a near sprint. I trailed behind, jogging in my jeans and hiking sandals. My jeans complained about being used inappropriately, while my heavy sandals slapped loudly with each step. Craig tried to encourage me to run faster, but I didn't feel the urgency that he did. He gave up on me and sprinted ahead in hopes that he could buy our train tickets while I caught up. He flew down the sidewalk, hopped over curbs, and dashed across the street. As he rushed across the road, the contents of my backpack turned on him. A water bottle splatted to the ground and an apple rolled into the street. Pedestrians in my home town are a rare sight to see, but Craig was lucky to have one near enough who picked up the apple and tossed it back to Craig. Craig fumbled the apple due to the pedestrian's throwing error, but this did not prevent Craig from continuing his sprint. He rounded the corner and stayed focused on his goal. By the time I neared the train station, Craig was out of sight. I checked the time once more and saw that it was 5:12. I reached the home stretch and knew I still had a chance. I lunged across the final street that separated me from the train station, while making sure the cars would be kind enough to let me cross. I turned the final bend and took the stairs two at a time up to the tracks. I crossed my fingers that Craig would be waiting there with tickets in hand. 

Instead I found a dozen or so Mets fans among other passengers standing impatiently by the tracks. With a glance to the overhead sign I learned that the train was delayed by fourteen minutes. I walked slowly down the stairs to find Craig. We calmly bought our tickets and headed back upstairs to wait with the others. As sweat poured down our faces and through our clothes on the especially humid July day, we concluded that we could have walked and still made the train. But where's the fun in that?

Giving Credit Where Credit Is Due

As a special education teacher, I embrace the use of many different technologies we have available. In special ed, these technologies allow children to become more independent in a variety of tasks. A wheelchair or walker is a wonderful tool for a child who cannot walk. Picture cards and communication devices allow children to talk. A child who continues to struggle with math facts may use a number line. Each of these technologies, and many more, are implemented with the goal of making children more independent and less reliant on adults to help them. The ultimate goal is that as they develop they can become less reliant on the technologies as they grow physically and cognitively.

However, I have two major issues with how technology is viewed today. The societal view seems to define technology as anything that has a power button. Secondly, the media tends to relay the message that all technology will make life better. These two ideas would be like giving a child an electric wheelchair when he could manipulate a non-electric wheelchair. Worse still, we could give a child a wheelchair who only has minimal difficulties with walking. In both of these cases, the child would receive more than necessary, resulting in a loss of skills and muscle tone. In my opinion, as our access to electronic technologies increase, we are losing many necessary skills in the process. There are positives to things like televisions, cell phones, computers, and calculators. But I believe these items have also led to decrease in creativity, memory, planning skills, and community building. We are not building these skills because we have equipment to do it for us.

That being said, I owe a “thank you” to a device that I continue to insult and consider to be unnecessary. Recently, I went to Pittsburgh to visit some friends. We planned to go to see the Pirates play the Red Sox. I volunteered to hold two of the four tickets since I had a backpack with me. The four of us arrived at the stadium and I went to retrieve the tickets. Within a few seconds I remembered that I had taken the tickets out to find my bus fare which had fallen to the bottom of the backpack. The tickets were sitting on a table in the house several miles away. I panicked, realizing that my friend and I would not be able to enter the stadium. Someone made a suggestion that we use the iPhone. The tickets I left behind were printed tickets, so the tickets were saved in E-mail form. Like magic, we were able to use the iPhone as our tickets and enter the game.

The ticket lady is trying to figure out how to scan the phone

If this tool hadn't been available, I believe we would have made due. We could have found a creative solution, made alternate plans, or bought more tickets. Though the night would have been fine either way, I was appreciative of getting to go to the game. I hadn't seen the Red Sox in person before. I learned that Red Sox must have a really good special effects crew, because they sure don't look that sloppy on tv.

Thank you, iPhone, for allowing me to be careless and forgetful without having to face any long term consequences.

Pie Chart

One of my hobbies is tracking data about myself. My first recollection of this is from high school. I had allergies and sneezed a lot. I tracked my sneezes and had separate columns for each place I sneezed: home, the bagel store I worked at, school, outside, etc. For an entire year, I managed to track all of my sneezes. Though I no longer have the data, I believe my peak sneeze day was 100 sneezes. Those of you who have only known me as an adult can now rest assured that I truly was a huge nerd.

More recently, I have kept charts for flossing my teeth, eating fruits and vegetables, and my running/rehab exercises (further evidence that I am still a huge nerd). For 2010, my New Year's resolution was to keep track of where all my money goes. I kept receipts and looked closely at each month's bank statement so that I could categorize my expenses. I tracked all of this for a full year and finally got around to summarizing everything a few weeks ago. With some assistance, I even made myself a nifty little pie chart.

Overall, I'm pleased with the results. Bills and savings are my top two expenses. My main goal of this tracking was to see where I could cut spending without decreasing my overall quality of life. I believe there is still room for improvement here. I made a chart excluding my savings and bills so I could better compare all my other spending.

In this chart, my top expenses are: my car, grocery store food, fitness, hobbies, and health. Most of these are necessities for me. Buying healthy foods, joining a gym, going to the doctor/dentist and engaging in my hobbies are all things that make my life better and are investments for the future. Someday, I would like my car expenses to go down, but I don't think I can significantly decrease car-related spending at this time. I have started taking the bus, but I have to pay my car insurance regardless. If I were to target one area that has room for improvement, it would be going out to eat. Though it is a mere 4% of my total expenses, I think that I could cut this area in half without reducing quality of life. In fact, cooking at home more and eating out less would probably improve my overall quality of life.

I am glad I took the time to look at where all my money is going. The results were useful and I now have a good baseline to look at for the future. Craig and I regularly talk about our future and some of that includes the possibility of moving to a much smaller city. Leaving the big city of Phoenix could mean a decrease in income. A goal I have for myself is to never feel trapped in a job for fear of losing an income and lifestyle that I have become dependent upon. Becoming more aware of my expenses and where expenses can be cut is a good first step for me to meet that goal.

Work Commute

Last school year, I had a terrible horrible no good very bad work commute. It was twenty miles each way along surface streets with stop lights every half mile. I tried a variety of things to make the commute more pleasant, including getting some Spanish lessons on CD. While I did learn a little bit of Spanish, I did not learn to like my commute.

When looking for a new job for this school year, one of my top priorities was to have a pleasant commute. My ideal commute would have been something under 5 miles and along the canal path (for more information about the canal path, see here: http://www.srpnet.com/water/canals/distances.aspx), but I still ended up with something pretty good. My current job is about 6 miles away and is along a major bus commute. I became a regular bus rider and could leave my car at home for a week at a time. I am happy with my job and with my commute. I don't know many people who can say the same.

Still, I was somewhat disappointed that I wasn't using self-powered transportation. I did run home on three or four occasions, which is satisfactory. At the beginning of the year, I decided to set a goal to ride my bike to work at least one time. There is a nice route that is about 8 miles and avoids most busy traffic. It passes a lot of schools and has a bike lane. As the end of the school year started creeping up, I realized I was in danger of not meeting my goal.

Today, the second-to-last day of school, I rode my bike to and from work. Go, me! I made my goal! I may not have a bike bell, but I do like to toot my own horn.

My teenager

Be warned: this is a post about cats.

I have two cats: Nutmeg and Emerald. Their personalities are quite different. Nutmeg loves laps and the indoors. She is nosy about what other people are doing. She is my homebody.

Emerald, by contrast, avoids human contact as much as possible. Most of the affection she receives is against her will. If people approach her, she'll generally run off to be on her own. When I arrive home from work, she runs out the door to explore the outdoors. She appears to take pleasure is bullying the less attractive cat who lives around the corner.

I first started letting Emerald out on her own about one year ago. Back then, Emerald was nervous about every sound and footstep. She got herself lost on several occasions and came running back indoors for safety. After a few months, she became much more comfortable with the outdoors. She started eating out with friends (lizards and grass, yum!) and would disappear for periods of time. She rarely would tell me where she was going and would run off if I tried to join her. Going out has become her favorite hobby. If I am home, she is begging to leave. I should have taken all these observations as important warning signs, but now it is official. Emerald is a teenager.

Emerald learned how to open the screen door to my second floor balcony. At first I didn't consider this to be much of an issue. She explored the balcony and visited my neighbor. One day, when the front door was closed, Emerald took it upon herself to jump onto my balcony ledge and leap to the ground two stories below her. This feat apparently scared her so badly that she immediately ran back to the door to be let in. As a teacher, I especially love natural consequences, and I thought for sure she had learned her lesson.

A couple of months after this incident, I went away to Houston for an extended weekend. I left the sliding glass door open to allow some fresh air into the apartment. Nutmeg and Emerald were safe indoors with my electronic feeder to keep them well. When I arrived home, late on Sunday, a surprise sat crying at my door. Emerald had decided to run away again and got herself locked out for much longer than she'd bargained for. According to my neighbors, she had been outside for nearly two days. Naughty, naughty Emerald.

A few days later, as I was falling asleep, I heard the light sound of tap-tap-tap-whack-whack-whack-tap-tap-tap-squeak. My darling Emerald was opening up the screen door. She must have known I was awake, because she came back inside. However, when morning came, Emerald was waiting outside my front door. She sulked inside with the squinty-eyed look of a girl who had spent the night partying. She lay down on the couch and covered her face the best she could, repeatedly glaring at us for making too much noise.

As if this wasn't bad enough, I have learned that the troublesome male stray that roams the apartment complex has become an admirer of Emerald. Just the other day I heard a ruckus outside, only to see this guy (who we refer to as "Black and White Cat") waiting down below my balcony. A coworker commented that I should worry about Emerald coming home pregnant one day. Lucky for me, I was proactive and had her reproductive organs removed when she was still a young girl. Don't you parents out there sometimes wish you had that option for your children?

Pine Mountain

We went on a hike

T'was just Craig and I.

No one would join us

But I don't know why.

Miles of dirt road

to drive to the trail.

'Fore we had started

Already felt frail.

Less than 1 mile

Rus'ling gave a scare.

Looked up from the trail

Saw eyes of a bear.

We went on a hike

T'was just Craig and I.

No one would join us

But I don't know why.

Two miles of uphill

Three more, none were flat

Craig losing the big grin

'Neath adventure hat.

Found a place to camp

With full moon so bright

Hard to sleep for long

In a big spot light.

We went on a hike

T'was just Craig and I.

No one would join us

But I don't know why.

Next morning we woke

And faced one more kink:

Stagnant creek water.

We'd little to drink.

Still we trekked onward,

Continued our loop.

We would not give up

Though our smiles did droop.

We went on a hike

T'was just Craig and I.

No one would join us

But I don't know why.

Then Craig turned around

And faced me with fright

Rattlesnake on trail

Was ready to bite.

This angry reptile

Would not let us pass.

Ratt'ling continued

Till we left trail fast.

We went on a hike

T'was just Craig and I

No one would join us

But I don't know why

I snapped a photo

While Craig hiked around.

He saw one more snake

Slither by on the ground.

Trail kept on hiding

Bushwacking galore!

Scratches all over.

Couldn't take much more.

We went on a hike

T'was just Craig and I

No one would join us

But I don't know why

That's it! We exclaimed.

Enough was enough.

We were not equipped

To handle this stuff.

We turned back around

From where we had come.

Craig wore “Five Fingers”*

So his feet were done.

We went on a hike

T'was just Craig and I.

No one would join us

But I don't know why.

Trail vanished once more

Making our nerves grate.

Some animal bones

Warned us of our fate.

This hike lost its charm.

Morale was quite low.

Until the sign said

One mile to go!

We went on a hike

T'was just Craig and I.

No one would join us

But I don't know why.

We're going to live!

Craig and I smiled wide.

The car came in view.

We knew we'd survived.

With great joy we talked

About things we'd done.

What an adventure

We had so much fun!

We went on a hike

T'was just Craig and I.

No one would join us

But I don't know why.

300 Pages

A few months ago, I decided to dedicate more of my reading time to books of higher quality. Though I love junky page-turners, my list of recommendations had grown short. And I have found that if a junky page-turner turns out not to be much of a page-turner, all that is left is the junk. So I got a list of typical college reads from my local library, with the assumption that even if I didn't like the books, at least I'd have added some quality literature to my brain.

I started with Grapes of Wrath, recommended to me by my mom. We've tended to have similar tastes in books (page-turners and all), so I gave it a shot. This book was the best book I can remember reading. Not only did it leap back into my hands every spare moment, it was also wonderfully written. The sentences flowed. The words painted a picture. I felt part of the story and the time period. I also found myself comparing it to my own life and our current world and how we tend to always believe that things will eventually get better as the walls continue to tumble down. I thank all my high school and college teachers for exposing me to so many books other than this one, because, ten years ago, I know I wouldn't have appreciated this one.

Unfortunately, not all books, classics or not, do not read like Grapes of Wrath. My most recent read was Catch-22. I didn't know anything about the book other than that its title had become a catchphrase. The back cover claimed that it was a funny book, so I thought that was good enough. I put the book in my backpack for something to read during my bus rides to school. And there it stayed. The first couple of chapters did bring out some laughs, but not much more. I did not develop interest in the characters; there were too many for me to ever keep track of. The humorous writing eventually became tedious. The story kept repeating itself. I didn't understand the purpose of the book and wrote it off as a book that wouldn't live up to its reputation. For the first 300 pages worth of the book, the only enjoyment I really got out of it was when I took it out at school and caught the attention of my school psychologist, former literature major. "Are you carrying that around just to look smart or are you actually reading it?"

One hundred pages through, I had already decided that it was awful, but knew I had to finish it. I couldn't hold a valid case against the book until I had all the evidence. I had to push through 450 total pages. It took about two months. Craig and I discussed the book here and there, since he considered it to be a great book. At one point he mentioned how the book appears to be humorous at first, but it is actually quite grim.

Well, there you go! It was not meant to be a funny book, as the back cover claims. It was meant to be satirical. There is a significant difference between the two. The next time I picked up the book, I realized that this story was not meant to make me laugh, but make me cringe. And it did. But after 300 pages of pushing through page after page, bus ride after bus ride, Catch-22 turned into a book I couldn't put down. It finally got the opportunity to sneak out of my backpack and onto my nightstand. Three hundred pages required two months of reading (thank goodness the library has a reasonable renewal policy), while the final one hundred fifty pages took days.

Grapes of Wrath spoiled me. Catch-22 reminded me that good books are not meant to be easy and instantly engaging. But if you are willing to dedicate 300 pages of slow and tedious reading, you may find yourself 150 pages of page-turning.

The Kitten

This weekend I saved a kitten from a tree. I rode my bike to running club along the canal and noticed that two people were staring at a tree. As I passed the tree, I realized they were staring at a kitten. He was probably about 15 feet up and the trunk of the tree was not standing at much of an angle. I decided that if he was still in the tree on my ride back home, I would make an attempt to help him.

Sure enough, he was still there an hour and a half later. I knew there was no way I could climb the tree. In addition, the tree sat on a slope and the slope became the diversion canal (this canal is empty, but parallels the full canal. When we get a lot of rain, the diversion canal fills up about a foot deep). I thought that maybe I could buy a pool net and lift it up to the kitten. With this idea in mind, I rode my bike to the Target about a mile away. On the way, I passed a milk crate, which led to a new idea. When I got to Target, I decided against the pool net and bought some rope and kitten treats. On the way back from Target, I stopped and got the milk crate. I rode the mile back to the tree holding the milk crate and my handlebar in my right hand. I am a bit of a wuss on my bike, so I was proud of my ability to do this without crashing.

I returned to the tree ready to put my plan into action. In theory, I could throw the rope over a tree branch. Then I could tie the loose end of the rope to the milk crate. I would put the cat treats into the milk crate and hoist the crate up to the tree branch. If the cat trusted the plan, it would step into the crate to eat the treats. My back-up plans were that I would hit the kitten with the rope and knock it out of the tree or I would scare it enough to come down on its own. Unfortunately, I am a horrible thrower and could not implement the plan. Try all my might, the rope simply would not make it over the branch. Twice, I managed to get the rope stuck in a twig just a few inches shy of my target.

While I made these awful attempts, I was passed by numerous runners, walkers, and bikers on the canal. Some gave me funny looks, while others stopped to see what I was doing. One person asked if I was participating in an event. I guess with all the scavenger/adventure races going on lately, that question wasn't too absurd. Of the several people who did stop to talk with me, none offered to help and most gave the impression that I was crazy for putting in all this effort. The general consensus was that it would come down eventually. I agreed with all of these opinions. However, I realized that I wasn't really interested in saving the kitten, but interested in seeing if I COULD save the kitten. A lot of research points to how awful we have become at divergent thinking skills. Moreso than anything else, I wanted to prove to myself that I could invent a creative plan and put it into action.

So I tolerated the judgmental stares the best I could and tried not to throw the rope while people were passing me. One man did suggest I tie something heavy around the end of the rope. This was a good idea and I used my bike lock as the heavy thing. Amaz

ingly, the bike lock even survived the torture I put it through. After about a half hour of thi

s, I gave Craig a call. He was a childhood pitcher and would probably be more successful than I in this endeavor. Craig did not laugh at my plan, but instead biked over to help me out. After a few tries, he managed to get the rope over the tree branch. With about a dozen whips, Craig got the rope to come down the other end.

Around this time, we had gathered a small, less skeptical audience. A man mentioned that he had been here yesterday when animal control tried to catch this kitten and scared it up the tree. Craig tied the rope to the crate and we hoisted the crate up. The first attempt was unsuccessful because the crate was tipped sideways. On the second attempt, Craig tied the rope so that the crate would lie flat. He lifted the crate back up to the tree branch.

The kitten was immediately interested in this new addition to the tree. He walked around to one side of the crate and put a paw on the edge of it. As the crate rocked from the weight of his paw, he realized that this would not be a stable device and became nervous. However, within a minute, he put his front paws into the crate and put his back paws on the edge of the crate. Without delay, Craig brought the crate down to the ground. And the kitten was saved.

I have included some pictures to document the event. Also I have included some pictures to impress you with how adorable this kitten is. Do you want him? Please?