Pie-rogi

Clark E. Pie didn't want to move from his snuggly warm spot on my side of the bed, so I wrapped him up in the covers just to see what he'd do---nothing! He looked so cute as a big, kitteh-filled pierogi (traditional Polish filled pie). You can't spell pierogi without Pie!
Joining us on the bed during this rainy Christmas holiday are Ernest (background, all photos) and Kamakura (third photo).

Merry Christmas!

To all of you celebrating Christmas, ithe critters and I wish you joy, peace, and love.

It's raining today in Small Town as I prepare homemade macaroni & cheese, and my first-ever pot of collard greens. The kitties, such as Clarky here, are taking it easy (like they do every other day of the year). Later, I'm heading to Mom & El Seebeno's house for our holiday meal.

Fabric stolen from my sister

Okay, not so much stolen as "fabric which I claimed before she even saw it because I knew she would crap herself and demand a dress made from it." Mom showed it to me first. Nyah-nyah-nyah-NYAH-nyah!

Random rainy-day thoughts

• Mild chorizo. Wonder if that's an oxymoron.
  
• Cats in. Cats out.
  
• Forget non-stick. How about a self-cleaning skillet?
• There has to be a way to unclog pores. Maybe nobody's discovered it yet.
• Fiber. Hmm.
  
• A waffle iron—would we use it?
• Feet cold. Butt cold.
• Wish I liked eggplant.
  

Why I love British humor

Those Kardashians "are multiplying like head lice!" Ohh, the ladies from Absolutely Fabulous deliver the best put-downs. Ouch!

Friday Kittehs 12/16/11: Two's company...

...three's a crowd!

Why is the bathroom sink the first place these three clowns go when they come indoors? They take turns lying in the sink, sometimes meowing at me to let the faucet drip, and sometimes not. Sometimes they just sit on the counter and stare while I try to use the toilet. "Do you MIND, cat? I'm kind of busy here!" All those magazines help distract from the piercing feline gaze while folks get their poop on.

In sink: Smokey (15 lbs). Near sink: Clark (17 lbs). At end of vanity: Davy (aka Hook, 22 lbs). I'm not sure the countertop is rated for this kind of load. The engineer who signed off on this fubar project must have picked up his license at Big Lots, complete with the special Lay-A-Way endorsement seal.

22 more pounds of kitteh

Davy (Hook) has started coming indoors at night. He's mostly been a good boy, as long as the other cats leave him alone (and as long as he and Ernesto aren't in the house at the same time). Here, he weighs down one corner of the bed, daring the other kittehs to get near him. Amber was thinking about starting some trouble, but she decided otherwise and made herself comfortable elsewhere.

I am done with grading. DONE, I say! What a frustrating semester. There are a few upset students; mostly, they're the ones who refuse to take responsibility for their own learning. There's only so much draft feedback I can give; ultimately, we all have to write our own papers.

I reminded a few of that while commenting on their final exams: "How often did you talk with me in my office? Once? Twice? I'll look back at my schedule and see. How often did you visit the Writing Center? I don't recall getting any notifications from them saying you'd been in for a consultation. How well did you take notes? Read the text? How many drafts did you write, and how far ahead of time? How many days of class did you miss?"

I had three or four Fs, and a huge number of Ds. A few students squeaked by with Cs, while a handful ended up with Bs. There were no As at all. At. ALL. A few students earned As on an assignment or two, but no one ended up with an A for the course. Indeed, a strict rubric is a thing of beauty. A paper must be fairly decent to earn even a C at Somewhat Larger University. (Anyone interested in seeing the rubric, please contact me off-blog, and I'll email you the link.)

Although this semester was rough, I learned a lot about teaching, and about myself—about which I'll post later. For now, I'm glad to have the support of a department that takes its mission seriously. With any luck, I'll have a full-time, non-teaching job by the end of Spring Semester.

How did my own classes (the ones I was taking) turn out? I don't yet know. In the graphics class, I'm not sure I did so well; my final project was way below what I'm capable of producing. I'm the only one to blame for that. If I earn lower than a B, I have to take the course again...but that may not be a bad thing overall. It would certainly hurt my GPA, but my Adobe CS5 skills and designer's eye would certainly benefit. Still, I'm sort of afraid to check my online "report card."

The professional writing project probably turned out all right, but we shall see. When I finally submitted it, I was so tired of fooling with it, and of the vagaries of stupid MS Word. Who would have known that Word doesn't Spell Check or Grammar Check documents containing image files? Or, rather, that Word checks only the tiny sections of wording where your images appear, and then informs you, "Sections marked 'Do not check for spelling & grammar' not checked?" despite the fact that you marked NO section of the document as such?

Oh, and who would have known that once you eliminate said graphics (and even the built-in cover sheet) from the document, Word still ignores the fact that you told/set it to check every section of the document? And that a header and footer-based page number are not compatible with a linked Table of Contents once you include a cover page and letter of transmittal—that yes, you'll have to go in and hand-draw text boxes for those page number and hand-correct those page number listed in the Contents?

And ALL because you thought some graphics might be a nice addition to your report. ARGH!

BLEH! AAAAAAAAAA!!!!

This picture has not been Photoshopped—what you see really is a 4.25" tan-and-black striped slug gloopity-glopping across my front porch. It was about half an inch thick in the middle, and was so heavy/gross/suctioned to the boards that I couldn't move it off the porch with a stick as I do with most slugs.

Poor cross-eyed Davy (aka Hook), who's never been the sharpest tool in the shed, came up to eat and laid his fat belly across the slug, who then turned antennae toward Hook's fur as if to ask, "Hmm, is this something good to eat?" I then screamed, grabbed Hook, and ran back into the house. The slug went on about its business and slurped toward the cat fuel in the dish. BLEH!

This is one of those jumbo slugs that not even the chickens will touch. Believe me, I've tried and been refused. Myrtle Mae would just give me the poultry side eye—first one creepy dinosaur eye, then turning the head to glare with the other creepy dinosaur eye—and walk off, clucking under her breath. My current flock does the same.

Smaller slugs are delicious, and small enough so the chickens can eat them one at a time, like bonbons. Big ones take too much effort, and seem to taste bad. I watch Henrietta and Ida B. Workin pick them up in their beaks, shake their heads back and forth, then let Dr. Sluggenstein's Monster fall to the ground (similar to how humans spit out something that tastes nasty).

Which is more EEEEEUUUWWWW-invoking: grading 120 final essays, or this horrifying slug? Hmm...it's a draw. Although if I had to choose which one I'd rather be locked in a jail cell with, I'd say the essays. At least they can't gloopity-glop over to my side of the cell and leave slime trails all over my bunk. If you poke an essay, it just sits there. If you get hungry enough, you can eat essays; if you get cold enough, you can snuggle up in a pile of them to keep warm, or even start a fire with them. Slugs? Not so much. So I'll take essays over slugs, even though the essays are a huge pain. And they'll be done and returned to students as of 12:00 noon on Monday, December 12. Yes!

My sister, founding president of Slug Haters International, will have something to say about this. She and slugs go way back.

12 years ago today...

...El Seebeno rescued a sweet, rumpled-looking little gray tabby kitten from a drug dealer's porch. That little kitty came to live here at the Happy Kitten Cottage, where we named her Joy. However, she's also known by various other name: Rumpled-stilskin, Joie, Bent-Eared Girl, and Smallness.

Thank Bastet for this sweet little kitty, and for her big-hearted Paw-Paw Seeben, too!

22 pounds of kitteh

It must be cold outside if Hook stays indoors for the first time in two years. And he's stayed indoors for the last three days, too. When I put him out, he runs right back in the next time I open the door. Maybe I'm just getting soft.

I think he and Ernest, who also came in the house Wednesday night when the temperature dropped to 21 degrees, may have forgotten where the cat boxes are. Or maybe they know, but don't care. Either way, it's a problem. I'm grading papers and working on my own school projects; smelling fresh cat pee or poop as I work is not my idea of fun.

So as soon as I roll out of this warm bed and toss on my robe and slippers, Hook and Ernesto are going back out the door.