The Other Sticky Floor

Prying Again

2011-09-24T08:16:00.001-07:00

I'm going to try again to get this off the ground (or the sticky floor, ha ha, get it?)

I'll start with my reading list:

Edupunks and Learning Management Systems - Conflict or Chance? over at Scribd.

finishing the Edupunk DIY Guide

I Hate Dell and Vista

2008-08-14T14:18:00.000-07:00

That's all I have the energy to say right now. I absolutely hate Dell and Vista.

Summer

2008-06-25T14:53:00.000-07:00

Summer is finally here. When we're not running around, trying to satisfy three kids with five different desires at any one moment, I've been getting acquainted with some bloggers. (Well, re-acquainted in one case.) Check these out!

http://www.momisteaching.com/parents-schoolsand-snark/

http://theimperfectmom.com/2008/06/24/my-six-year-old-has-plans-for-us/

http://theparentingpit.com/2008/06/15/before-i-had-children/

http://zenhabits.net/2008/06/best-tips-getting-in-shape/

I'm also trying to read David Allen's "Getting Things Done" and (yet another) parenting book, Mindful Parenting.

I think that this is what I'm talking about

2008-04-24T17:03:00.000-07:00

Personally, I'm in the Edwards/Obama horde, but I've been thinking about this a lot ...

http://nymag.com/news/features/46011/

Seriously, Clear Your Plate and Turn Off the Lights

2008-04-22T14:20:00.000-07:00

That was a serious question on Facebook. Our generation (and our parents' generation, for that matter) heard about how we should finish our vegetables or meat or whatever because there are millions of starving children in Africa or China or the Soviet Union who would be happy to have that food.

Now we're raising a generation of kids who hear "don't waste water, the fish need it" or, "turn off the light/car engine/television/computer to save energy." Will they revolt when they're adults and throw out recyclables (sp?) and leave all the lights on (I know that's an old one, too, but we were nagged for different reasons). Or are they internalizing the message: take care of our resources just because it's good for the planet.

Ideas?

Still Here, But the Floor is Calling

2008-04-22T10:56:00.000-07:00

I'm posting another essay tonight. I swear. In the meantime, check this out:

http://theparentingpit.com/

I'm In a Crowded Elevator

2008-02-24T20:41:00.001-08:00

I'm in a crowded elevator. I want to stay on and get to my floor but I think I have to get off to let other people on.

A Trashed Life

2008-02-21T10:26:00.000-08:00

I'll think of something more poetic later.

Our property management evicted someone yesterday. She's a mom in a treatment facility and has three kids, scattered to the winds of the child welfare system. The facilities people just piled up all the furniture, books, toys, papers, clothes, everything from her apartment. It's out there in a couple of parking spaces in front of her building. The vultures around here have already been through it, spreading her pictures and stuff in the grass. Some of her stuff is broken. As I drove past, I saw a t.v. over on it's face, laying on some other furniture. It's just all in shambles. I want to help but don't know what to do. It's so depressing but with that awful "but for the grace of God" feeling. I don't know her very well. I heard from another neighbor what happened. What would you do?

Essays: A Cat Called Kate

2008-02-16T00:59:00.000-08:00

Ok, here's the first one I pulled out. I actually forgot that I ever wrote this. It was an essay written in 1997 for English 1 back in college. I think this is an early draft. It's kind of funny to see what I thought was wisdom and experience. Ha. The writing is sophmoric (senior-ic, actually) but it's kind of nice to read something I wrote that doesn't have a grocery list or permission slip attached to it.

A Cat Called Kate

People talk about a lot of things that have happened in their lives that changed them. Whether it be a near-death experience that taught someone to live life whie they can, or a special experience with a grandparent, most people can point to something in their lives that had a major effect on who they are today. For me, that something was a cat named Kate.

I had come home late from school that night. The weather was starting to get cold, so I was anxioud to just get home and into bed. As soon as I entered the door, my family greeted me with an unusual attentiveness. They were looking at me as if I had dyed my hair green but hadn't yet realized it. Dismissing their unusual behavior as more of their usual strangeness, I dropped my bags on the floor and plopped down next to them, clearly exhausted. And that's when I noticed it.

"Oh, no. Not a cat!", I cried.

Yes, it was a cat. And not just any cat. It was a stinky, skinny, filthy alley cat that literally follwed my brother home from the store. My mom and brother had been harping about getting a cat or "a tiny little lap dog" for several months now, but after having had two dogs and three cats in the same little apartment for a while, I was gld for the peace and cleanliness of having no pets in our new apartment. Besides, we really weren't supposed to have any pets, anyway. But when was the last time my family listened to me? I should have known.

But despite my obvious disgust, it just looked up at me with its pathetically big kitten-eyes and batted its head against my hand. Almost immeditately, it started to purr.

"Oh, well. At least it's not a dog."

Resigned to keeping the cat, I soon realized that her next trip had to be into a bath. She was the dirtiest thing I had ever seen. Her fur was matted and black-ish grey around her legs and belly and her paws were caked with dirt like hooves. And so, because I was the one who first suggested it (I later found out that this was all planned by my family), I was designated the bather.

If you've never tried to bathe a cat before, take my advice: don't. Hire someone, let the cat stink until it gets caught in the rain, just don't try this one at home, folks. [ugh. I repeat my disclaimer above! -- ed.] The moment she saw the water in the bathroom sink she tried to bolt from my arms, clawing and meowing her lungs out. You would think that I was trying to kill her.

Somehow I got her most of the way claened and dried. Amazingly, she still trusted me, and she just laid in my lap and I brushed our her golden hair, so I really got the chance to examine her. She had a few healing scrapes and cuts around her legs, and one of her ears was misshapen. And she was so thin, it was hard to believe that she was still alive. That was why I named her Kate. I thought it would make a nice joke in fifteen years when she was a fat old cat and nobody remembered who Kate Moss was, anyway.

For the next three days, I ran home to greet my little Kate, and would dutifully change her water three times a day, and make sure that her food was fresh. I brushed and pet her and coddled her, almost like she was a human infant. But for all of my encouragement and cajoling, she wouldn't eat very much, and she wasn't gaining any weight.

On a Tuesday morning, I made an appointment for her at the local veterinarian. My brother would take her in the afternoon, because he was the only one home. Just before my mom left for work, she looked at Kate and said, "She's not long for this world." I looked up at my mom and said, "Yeah. I know." I gave Kate one last stroke and left for school.

When I came home from school that night, there was no little Kate that came quietly pattering up to the door. And there was no little Kate asleep in my bed. I knew she was gone even before my mom said it. I asked what they did with her.

"Tim's going to go to the park and bury her later tonight. We couldn't just throw her away, but we wanted to wait until you got home." My brother left the room and came back carrying a triple-bagged lump. I could tell by the outline that it was Kate. It was awful, seeing her still like that, when it was only that morning that she was laying soft and warm in my arms, quietly purring. I couldn't go with my brother. I just couldn't stand seeing her.

It's hard to believe that just three days before I was practically yelling at my family for bringing home a cat, and then I was crying over Kate like I'd known her all my life. Kate really gave me a new little soft spot and made me realize that some things are worth the mess and hassles of a pet. And I saw that maybe my family was right to want a pet. It's funny what a cat can do to change a person.

A Bin of Goodies

2008-02-07T10:49:00.000-08:00

I just found a box full of my old essays from college. I'm going to start posting them so stay tuned. :) (Sorry, David, I couldn't find The Play.)

Hope and Educational Programming

2008-01-21T01:11:00.000-08:00

Alternatively, Stoned Snook and It's a Big Big World.

The Curve of the World
From the distance I can see
A world that is for everyone
I can hear a dawning that has just begun
And everywhere I goI see creatures that are big and small
All within the curve of the world

(Everybody sing it)
The curve of the world is blue and green and green and blue
Green and blue
The curve of the world is for you and me and me and you
Me and you
(Hey)

We can see a world that is for everyone
We can hear
A dawning that has just begun
And everywhere we go
We see creatures that are big and small
(Big and small)
All within the curve of the world
All within the curve of the world

(Everybody sing it now)
You and me and the curve of the world

It's a sweet song, full of hope and a catchy pop-world music beat. :)

Getting Started

2008-01-15T01:01:00.000-08:00

For my own personal journey to unstickiness (does that even make sense?) I'm kind of going back to where I really knew who I was. (And when I had an identiy that didn't involve my relationship to other people.) I've just reconnected with an old friend, and I'm trying to reconnect with another (if anyone knows someone name Anitra, ask her if she went to school with Jaime!!) Maybe by going back I can see where I'm headed now. (It's too late to make much sense...)

Baby crying. I'm off.

The Other Sticky Floor

2008-01-14T13:35:00.000-08:00

As soon as I saw the book "It's Not a Glass Ceiling, it's a Sticky Floor" by Rebecca Shambaugh, I instantly thought she could have been talking about something else entirely. How many women are spending their mental (and physical and emotional) energies battling the sticky floors of their homes (and all related activities) and are left with little else to battle the obstacles to their dreams and goals? I know I am.

That's what this blog will be about. Now I need to go tackle a sticky floor. ;)

The Other Sticky Floor

Prying Again

I Hate Dell and Vista

Other Reading

Summer

I think that this is what I'm talking about

Seriously, Clear Your Plate and Turn Off the Lights

Still Here, But the Floor is Calling

I'm In a Crowded Elevator

A Trashed Life

Essays: A Cat Called Kate

A Bin of Goodies

Hope and Educational Programming

Getting Started

The Other Sticky Floor