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?