Frog and Goat

We were away for a long weekend this weekend and the neighborhood kid took care of the cats. We pay her for three cats even though there’s really only one full-time indoor cat, but you may remember we have something like 450 cats* roaming around our back yard. Jim wanted out before we left and since it’s very hard to explain the concept of we’re going to be gone for several days to him, we let him out. He’s been iffy lately on being around anyway and we thought it would be best to let him do his own thing for a few days. He would have just made a jerk out of himself had he been locked up for days on end.

Jim went to the vet for his annual check up the other week and except for one shot (the vet likes to space the shots out), he’s up-to-date. Won’t Jim be disappointed if his other family takes him to the vet and he has to have his temperature taken again? Hey, we try to convince him to stick around the house, but he’s hard headed.

Now, about those 450 cats. Every time we go out the back door cats come running because they think it’s snack time, feed time, or oh-I-don’t-know-but-it-will-be-awesome time. This afternoon I walked out of the garage door and no one batted an eye while I did whatever it was I did. When I went back into the house, I opened the back door so Simon could go outside. 450 cats rushed the door. Simon does not approve of those shenanigans so he usually leaps over kittens or puts the paw of doom on them as he goes by.

Just a little bit ago, I tried to coax Simon in so he could have some Fancy Feast and because there was the rush (I think one cat actually flew through the air) for the door, Simon was not interested in making his way in at that exact moment. I walked out onto the steps to herd the gaggle out of the way and three kittens slipped into the house. Fuzzy went in and herded the kittens back outside. No lie. He shepherded them outside as if I asked him to take care of the miscreants. He should have gotten the Feast, but Simon is one lucky boy.

One of the classes I’m taking this semester is about designing instruction in distance situations. The sad-funny thing is that I’ve never felt more distanced from a class. The professor is stretched too thin and is basically absent. If only our ESP were working, then the professor could just beam the information into our brains and we’d be all set.

The lack of information, hell, even the lack of readings, makes it really hard to care about the class. It doesn’t help that we all busted our butts to develop a lengthy instructional plan to turn in and the due date was changed the day it was supposed to be turned in. Yeah, we’re all done because that’s what you told us to do. At this level, no one is waiting until the morning of to start working on a project.

I received an email from a classmate the other day asking me if I knew which groups were presenting on Thursday because none of us have any idea if we’re going to be “on”. He and his partner are going to teach us how to putt so he needs to know if they should bring golf clubs to class and my partner and I are doing a lesson on crock pots–do I lug a crock pot to class or not?

I really like this professor, she’s also my advisor, but this absence and distance is wearing thin. I’m sure I’m not the only one who wonders what we’re paying for–it’s a half-assed class for full price.