I knew at the time that this was our golden opportunity: how easy it would be to train them not to jump on furniture, since they didn't know what it was and showed no interest in it anyway.  The advantages were obvious: No cat fur on the sheets!  No knocked-down knick-knacks!  No claw marks defacing our still sorta-new furniture!  But then I thought of how nice it was to nap with a purring cat on the couch, or to cuddle on a recliner after dinner, and I came to my senses.  That first night, we picked the kittens up one by one and lay them down under the sheets to sleep with us.  They seemed to marvel at the softness and were very pleased indeed. 

Over the past three years, I've had plenty of opportunity to rue the day I showed Lickity how to spin my office chair around by jumping on it from the cat tree, or the fact that we're none too strict when they scratch the furniture.   There's a middle ground between oppressive and overly permissive; the key is  to replace unsuitable Objects-of-Merriment with inexpensive items or with products specifically designed to cultivate the urge to claw, gnaw, scratch, climb, and play.  Here are three things that have worked for us.

The Cat Tree

Okay I admit:  I balked at the price (over $200).  But this is one sturdy piece of cat furniture, having endured three years of punishing abuse and what's more: it's never tipped over, not even when both cats hurl their weight at top running speed, which amounts to a couple dozen times a day.  It gives them something to climb, something to claw, a place to hide (at the base) and a high place to perch and nap.  Dollar-for-dollar, this is the best investment in kitty acroutements we've made.

Above: Lickity tends to be a stretch-and-scratch kind of guy. We got this tree at Liz's Pet Shop (note: the website appears to be under construction, but the address and phone number are on the site).

The Smartykat Superscratcher

I don't know if it's the texture or what, but cats love this scratcher. Seconds after it's  opened, the cats pounce on it and scratch merrily away.  Better that than the imported, hand-knotted rug Alpay's mother gave us for our housewarming gift. 

  
Above: Snapdragon on the SuperScratcher.  We had to make some provisions and um, get a double-wide scratcher for the Dragon.

The Humble Cardboard Box

Having recently gone though several boxes of old files, I tossed this box aside to throw out.  Before I could take it to the trash, it had been annexed by The Boys as a combo hideout/fort/giant teething ring.  Lickity in particular likes to jump in it and gnaw away when he gets frustrated, which is often.  Sure, it's a little messy what with the cardboard shreds.  But it's also a no-cost option--you can't beat that!

  
Above: action shot of Lickity working on his box.  Below: He looks so innocent, doesn't he?

One day this past winter, I switched out my usual small shoulder bag for a tote, which I left on a dining chair.  Soon it was moving, which could only mean one thing:  Lickity was inside. 

This was not a surprise.  We've known now for years to check backpacks, bags, and purses before going anywhere, as such places are among Lickity's favorite hiding places.

 Above:  Lickity in a backpack last summer.  We almost took him for a ride!

What did surprise me was my sunglass case, the next time I pulled out from my tote.  It was completely, thoroughly mangled. 

 Above:  my poor, mangled case.

In The Big Scheme Of Things, This Is Pretty Small Potatoes, we can all agree.  Still, I felt vaguely uncomfortable everytime I reached into my bag and pulled out a case with teeth marks.  And so I went to Ebay to try to find a replacement case, to no avail.  Finally,on my yearly trek to Arizona to visit my Dad, I popped into the Scottsdale Nordstrom and made my way to the accessories counter, where I haltingly explained that I had bought my sunglasses at the store a few years before, and while they were still holding up great, there had been a little mishap with the case, which involved my cat, long story, but I was wondering:  did they have a case I could buy?  I took out my case and set it on the counter.  The sales associate--her name was Julie Dahms--gazed down at the clawed-and-gnawed markings for what seemed like a very long time, before turning around, opening up a drawer, and sliding a beautiful new Coach sunglass case across the counter.  "We don't have any Dior cases for sale," she said.  "But you can have this." 

I took my glasses out of the mangled case and put them in the Coach case.  It was a perfect fit.  "Great!"  I said. "How much?"  And to my utter astonishment, she said:  "Free."

I don't recall the explanation--that they weren't carrying them anymore, or it had been a promotion--but whatever the case, I was so completely floored and grateful.  It would have been hard enough to find a case to buy that would fit these particular glasses.  But to get one--so cool!--for free!  It was just such a nice and unexpected thing. 

This past week, in need of some accessories, I was able to call up Julie for a consultation and an order.  Next month, I'll be doing a Good Guys list of retailers and service providers, and Julie (and Nordstrom) is on the top of that list, but I didn't want to wait to tell this story. This time I was lucky, but there usually aren't Julie Dahms around to wave a magic wand and make pet-generated damage go away--for free.  A good deal of  agrravation can be avoided by providing appropriate products and places for your pets to vent their energy and chew, chomp, claw, gnaw, and climb to their hearts desire, which will be the focus of the next post. 

 Above:  my new case.  Thanks, Julie!

I found out a few weeks after we adopted The Boys that grooming wasn't going to be the easy task it had been with Mauie, our Maine Coon with whom we lived with relatively little drama for 19 years.  In contrast, even pros couldn't manage to clip all of Dragon's nails in one sitting. 

Then one day, visiting Shedd Acquarium, I learned how professional trainers play games that involve daily handling so that dolphins, whales, and other marine animals become accustomed to human touch and thus, are able to undergo medical exams and even procedures like blood draws without being sedated:

"Training provides the animals with mental stimulation, it gives them physical exercise and, perhaps most importantly, it teaches them to cooperate in their own care. With a simple hand cue from a trainer, a 1,700-pound beluga whale positions itself for a mouth exam or to allow a veterinarian to take a blood sample from its tail. Teaching the animals to participate in their own healthcare makes the regular medical exams easy for staff members. And it’s easy for the animals, too, because all training is conducted like a play session, with food, toys, or verbal praise as frequent rewards."
--Animal Care at Shedd

Well, shoot, if such an approach worked for a 1,700-pound whale, then surely it could work for a 6-pound kitten.  So I tried it. And it worked!      

Here's what I do: every morning at the same time, I go to the boys' blanket in the living room and call them.  They both have to come, or I get up and leave and nobody gets treats.  Usually they both come.  Then I choose one cat, and either clip a nail or two or I brush his coat or brush his teeth.  Sometimes I might even just look at each of their nails and not even do anything.  Afterwards, I announce:  Good kitty! I run to my studio and close the door.  I then hide treats in a variety of areas and open the door.  What's funny is that the cat who got "the treatment" that day almost always gets first dibs on treats--the other usually stands back.  But there's enough treats for everybody, and the cats enjoy hunting for them.  Afterwards I run a vacuum cleaner to get the crumbs, and everyone is happy.  And it's a whole lot easier to keep up with their daily grooming chores, that's for sure. 

 Top pix: The treat is on the hat box.  Middle pix:  Dragon sees the treat!  Bottom pix:  Action shot of the treat falling down.  Score!

Epiphany #1

• When giving a cat a bath, shut the bathroom door.  And have lots of towels handy.

Above:  A half-wet Dragon.

After three or four tries, I gave up on the Dragon and put Lickity in the tub.  Lickity may be the troublemaker, but he's the very model of mild mannered resignation on the grooming front, most of the time. 

 
Above: a none-too-happy Lickity.

And when Dragon sees Lickity endure some routine hygiene chore, he calms down because he knows he's not being singled out, and maybe he figures that if Lickity can survive the indignity, then so can he.

Epiphany #2

• If you have multiple cats, lock all in the bathroom together and give the tamest one a bath first. 

I was then able to catch the Dragon and  put him back in the tub. Having regained my composure, I remembered to comfort him with slow blinks and to praise him for his bravery, which he responded to by leaning into my hand trustfully.  We quickly finished off his bath with a minimum of fierce and terrifying growls.

Epiphany #3

• Baths are scary. You are the trusted guardian of your fur baby and it's up to you to guide him or her through frightening and unfamiliar experiences.  Compassion trumps impatience every time. 

Above: Fluffy, dry, and clean. Good Dragon!

A few (which is to say:  three) people have emailed me asking if I'm on Twitter, something I'd never before considered, but who am I to question such a mandate?  So I set up an account under the name Organization_Q, and installed a "follow me on Twitter" button in the column to the left, under the Quest banner and navigation bar.  I invite you to come and join the fun.  Right now it appears I'm the only one following myself, but I'm sure the other two people will catch up to us eventually. 

If you tweet, let me know in the comments section below.  It'll be fun to get to know readers and besides, I'm feeling a bit like the new kid in the cafeteria right now, with no one to follow except a celebrity organizer (Regina Leeds) and a pen store in New York that tweets once a month or so. 

As I continued my Spring Cleaning Extravaganza yesterday, scrubbing away at the pendant lamp over the dining table, the texture of which can only be described as "furry," I couldn't get Pat out of my mind. 

Above:  It really didn't look all that horrifying . . . until it failed the white glove test (below)

 
Here I thought I had made pretty darn good progress in the Quest for a clean, tidy, and organized home.  We've had dozens of visitors in last year:  friends, family, out-of-town guests, workmen, contractors, delivery people, a plumber, an electrician, a man who measured and installed some blinds. I imagined Pat accompanying someone on their visit.  After leaving, maybe in the elevator, the visitor might shrug his or her shoulders and say, "Well, yeah, she's made some improvement.  But did you see the pendent lamp?" And Pat would say, "Yeah, I know!  Right?" Which would break the spell, because this time, her response would actually make sense.  And she'd be free of her strange compulsion at long last. 

In order to stem these horrifying fantasies, I decided to throw myself into making a comprehensive, room-by-room list of every possible thing that may need to be cleaned, dusted, scrubbed, wiped, washed, or scoured above 6-feet:

All Rooms:

• Ceiling-mounted lamps, pendant lamps, tracklighting, or high-mounted sconces (inside and out)
• Vents
• Mirrors
• Curtain rods
• Shelves (the top of units as well as shelves themselves)
• Windows
• Walls
• Crown molding
• Ceiling medallions
• Door frames (the tops of the frames as well as undersides/inner moldings)
• The tops of the doors themselves
• Tops of art work or bulletin board frames
• Decorations

Bathrooms:

• Shower surrounds
• Medicine cabinets
• Shower rods
• Shower heads

Living Rooms

• Bookcases

Kitchen

• Cabinet faces, shelves
• Top of refrigerator
• Top of microwave or stove hood
• Exhaust fans
• Pot racks, hanging storage

I tried explaining that my superpowers can only be accessed in heels, to no avail.  And so there I was, a stately 5'8, suddenly transformed into a measly 5'4 in stocking feet.  And my Quester co-worker who goes by the inscrutable name of JustChewy here on the Quest, took one long look down and just laughed and laughed.

At home, where my superpowers don't require heels, I'm content to be vertically challenged.   Recently, though, I happened to look up and--holy smokes!  Was it dirty up there!  And so I thought I'd get busy on my spring cleaning extravaganza and decided to--yes!--clean every blessed thing within two feet of the ceiling. 

I decided to start with the master bath, which is to say, the smallest room in the place.  Tiny.  Five-feet square.  Can't get much smaller than that, which I immediately translated to: can't get much easier than that!  Turns out I miscalculated just how much filth can accumulate on the tops of door frames, on the tops of the doors themselves, on the shower curtain rod, the shower head, the ceiling-mounted lamp, around air vents, and--most hatefully--on the ledge of ceramic molding surrounding the shower. 

 
Above:  Before.  Yes, that's grime.

That ledge darn near killed me, folks, I'm not kidding.  It's only by the grace of God that you're reading this post instead of my obituary right now.  Olympic athletes don't break the sweat I did scrubbing that surround, nevermind the whole business took little more than a half hour.  It felt like an eternity, and I'm giving myself 5 time clocks accordingly.  But if you're really in that spring clean groove, try giving the near-ceiling area some undivided attention.  It's amazing how much of a difference that extra cleaning made. I'm just going to take it one room at a time.

 Above: After.  Shiny clean!

The good news is that the key to success--by which I mean increasing the likelihood of creating a worthwhile and maybe even fun learning experience for yourself, in addition of getting the best possible grade--is incredibly simple:  start early.

Since not much happens in the first week of the term anyway, it's the perfect time to start brainstorming possible subjects for the big paper or project.  It's important to find a topic, focus, slant, treatment, or subject that interests you, even if the course itself is a core, a pre-req, or not in your major.  Once you have an idea of what you'd like to do, make an appointment with the professor or drop in during office hours to get feedback on your idea.  It's usually a good idea to have a backup idea or two, just in case the prof has serious concerns about your first choice.

Once you know what your topic is, you put in motion The Law of Attraction so that you are more likely to be in tune with your topic, and  become increasingly aware of books, articles, ideas, quotes, images, internet sites, connections, reviews, and other information that will support your project.  Bookmark the pages as you come across them, and start compiling the materials you find useful, along with the URL, the web site name, and the date you accessed the information for later use in your bibliography.  I've always found pulling together a bibliography to be vaguely pleasurable--sort of like playing solitaire--but only when I have plenty of time to spare.  In contrast, last-minute bibliography writing is aggravating.  Avoid this needless annoyance by formatting your bibliography as you come across your source material. While it's always good to have an old-fashioned style guide, I quite like this online style guide at Purdue's Online Writing Lab. 

Lastly, planning ahead allows you to put all kinds of fun, value-added extra touches to your paper or project.  For one paper that required analyzing how well a public space accommodated people with disabilities, I took pictures which I uploaded into Photoshop and drew attention to problematic spaces with arrows and brief descriptions of the infraction.  For another paper, I found applicable quotes to introduce each section.  For a presentation, I once designed a mock "test" to "quiz" the class on the concepts presented.  When you innovate, you make things fun for yourself and you set yourself apart from your peers. But such above-and-beyond approaches require time.  Do yourself a favor and start early. 

Above: Extra credit paper on Mies van der Rohe; the prof had said, "please don't make it a 'he was born in this year in this town' sort of thing," so I asked if a "Top 10" list would work. Throughout the quarter, I'd spend a few minutes researching van der Rohe's accomplishments and would note where I found what information, (see the bottom page, above) which made writing the footnotes and bibliography a breeze.  Even if you take a risk with a light-hearted approach, it's still necessary to document your sources. 

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Oslo, Norway, April 1, 2011

The Nobel Organization (TNO) hereby announces the addition of a new prize, recognizing superlative effort and ongoing improvement in an endeavor previously thought to be hopeless, to be called, The Who Wouldda Thunk? Award (TWWT?A). 

The winner of the inaugral award is Organization Quest blogger Anne-Marie Gallagher, who successively defeated a lot, although admittedly not all, of her Supreme Paper Mess, and has kept her studio almost tidy for 17 days in a row, a record Nobel committees commended as "most stupendous and awe-inspiring."

Gallagher plans on selling her Nobel gold-coin-thingie metal on EBAY in order to buy the flat files of her dreams, enabling her to get Really Truly Organized at long last. 

#30#

Oh, and APRIL FOOLS!!!

Later, teaching Freshman Composition at a state university, I had plenty of opportunity to appreciate the irony of gazing at 22 puzzled faces as I asked how one could possibly come to class so completely, so totally, so . . . woefully! unprepared. 

So what does it mean to actually be prepared? Here’s a short list, roughly in decreasing order of importance:

• You’ve completed any exercises, assignments, studio- or lab work that is due at the beginning of the class period.
• You’re up-to-date on any reading assignments noted in the syllabus or mentioned in class, and you’re prepared to discuss what you’ve read and its relevance to the course of study.
• Decisions and research regarding the subject, focus, scope, or approach to an assignment or project have been made as requested.
• You’ve reviewed class notes from the previous class.
• Any questions arising from the reading or lecture, or questions about upcoming quizzes, tests, assignments, and projects are noted and ready to be asked.
• If you’ve missed the previous class, you’ve gotten class notes from a classmate, as well as notice regarding any changes the professor may have made to the assignments, projects, or the syllabus.
• You are able to correctly use the vocabulary words introduced in the reading assignment.
• You’ve made appropriate progress on any term-long assignments like notebooks, sketchbooks, journals, and the like.

Being prepared, like being fit, or being able to draw well or argue persuasively or perform lab work with skill and efficiency, is its own reward.  As with so many things, a positive momentum builds when you stop avoiding and start investing yourself and your time in what you need to do.