3, maybe 4 things to say

1. First session in my private practice went well today. I am well on my way to being private practice counselor extradinare. (Can you tell that I really like saying "private practice?")

2. I leave for vacation in Colorado tomorrow. Yeah, a little bit of much needed relaxation. Not to mention getting to see my niece who just turned one year old.

3. I have dogs fighting under my feet for my attention. Fighting, playing, what's the difference?

4. Teachers arrested in Sumner County--That is a little too close to home. I have been in all of these schools and have met some of these teachers. What were they thinking?

Private Practice

That is right, I said private practice. Well, it is just part-time private practice, but I see my first client in my private practice tomorrow. I am so excited. For those that read this--I am keeping my school-based job (insurance, money, etc. all make it necessary to stick with the day job). But I have had it officially cleared through said job to pursue this opportunity. This is an unbelievably empowering step for me.

Private Practice--it just feels so good to write it, to say it, to shout it from the mountains. Which is where I will be next week, the Colorado mountains. I will be admiring my beautiful niece that just turned one and relaxing as much as possible.

The Drama of the Eye Wash Cup

My Dad is a huge fan of the eye wash cup. Has used one for years. It is a great contraption that seals around your eye and washes out dirt. You would mix up a salt water solution that tasted like tears, put your eye to the cup, lean back and blink a few times to let the water you know, wash out your eye.

Here is where the drama comes in. My dad's eye wash cup that probably dates back to B.C. (my parents way of saying Before Children--oh, and that would be 32 years). As I was saying--his eye wash cup got knocked off the counter and got a chip in it. Hopefully, you recognize that something used to wash gunk out of your eye should never have broken glass anywhere around it or in it. So he threw out his eye wash cup and put it on the grocery list. Surely, Wal-mart carries this handy, dandy and very useful item, the eye wash cup. WRONG. And so the search began. Not at Wal-mart, not at Walgreens, can't be found at CVS and no sign of one at Eckerds. So, he went to the internet. Surely the internet would not let him down. You can find anything on the internet these days. Ebay, yes, Ebay did have a few eye wash cups up for grabs. Only these were antiques and in all sorts of fancy colors and a little on the pricey side of things. My Dad didn't want fancy colors and wasn't even too sold on the idea of an antique eye wash cup. After all, who knows what kind of shared eye diseases could come from that, not to mention the possiblity of small chips in this old glass.

How was the problem solved? He finally found a dealer that sold them wholesale. He bought a case of 15 in order to get one. So, everyone in the family got one. My mom and my dad now have their own eye wash cup--no sharing please. I got one, of course. I believe my brother and his wife will each get one--maybe even one for my neice (yes, the one year old). I am sure that my aunt and cousins are also on the list. And the rest, well they will go into storage just in case the current eye wash cup meets the same untimely end.

It Has Turned Out to be a Good Day

This doesn't always happen you know, bad start to the day turning around to be a good day, but today was one of those days (it actually wasn't a bad start, just a mediocre start). Last night before bed I thought about turning on the heat (after all the temperature was dropping). Thinking about the heat and getting the heat going are two different things. I have discovered that I am actually kind-of miserly--I don't want to spend the money to heat my house in the middle of April, it just seems counter-intuiative. So I grabbed myself an extra blanket and went to bed. I woke up freezing this morning. And I was not the only mammel in the house that was craving heat. Miriam (Austrailian Cattle Dog), Dodger (Some sort of Terrier Mix pup), AND Moses (the cat that usually shuns cuddling when the dogs are even in the house) are all laying around/on me. I had Miriam on my right, by my hip. Dodger was on my left in his usual spot (my armpit). Moses thought the best place for him was on my chest, stretched across my neck. Did I mention that I have allergies? Cat hair by my face, not so good. Normally, this would bother me, but I was happy for the warmth. I did not want to move from my little nest, but the animals sensed that I was stirring. Moses was first--he stood up and promptly went to stand on my bladder. Dodger began to lick my ear. Miriam, getting jealous that Dodger was getting attention decides to lunge at him--right over my belly. "I'm up," I yell.

Then comes a promise to fullfill--I was to go to water aerobics with my mother. Not too much of a big deal--I like water aerobics. Did I mention that this is Senior Swim water aerobics--my mother being one of the young whipper, snappers of the group? So, I stood out like a sore thumb, being only 30 and the only one without a swim dress.

So how did my mediocre day turn around? I found some beautiful sounding windchimes. That's right, windchimes. They are melodious. I am easily pleased--at least today.

Spring Break

This is the great time of year called Spring. I love Summer too, but Spring (aside from Winter and Fall) is my favorite. I understand what you are thinking, when it comes to seasons, I am a little wishy-washy. I will admit, I like them all. They each have some wonder about them, something great. What I like most of all about Spring is discoving the flowers that keep popping up everywhere. Just last week I was visiting a friend and her dogwood trees looked completely bare. This week I went back and they were in full bloom (she has about 20-25 trees that line her driveway). It was beautiful.

It is not just discoving flowers that come back year after year, it has to do with unexpected growth too. When I moved into the house two years ago the yard had not been well cared for. (Neither had the house for that matter). So, last summer I discover that I had a Peony bush. It came up, but never bloomed. Well, it came up again this year, but my expectations were low. Two days ago, I noticed a bloom--it is so beautiful. Spring truly is the best season (that is until Summer gets here).

Yes, this is actually a picture from my yard. And I did nothing to nurture it, just cleared back the burmuta grass.

Have a Happy Spring.

Am I really just like everyone else?

I feel the need to ask this because I have always thought of myself as a truly unique person, an individual. No, I am not. And this has happened many times in my life, but more so in the recent days. I tell about something going on in my life--and someone has a story to at least match mine and usually will top my story. These days I hear a lot of "me too." I hate "me toos." It's like saying your current pain doesn't matter because I have also gone through or am going through this. My brain knows that this is not what they mean by "me too," but sometimes my brain short circuits. Is that really surprising? In times of high emotional crises, my brain goes a little haywire and instead of acting on thoughts from my brain, I act on feelings from my heart.

I am a listener. My career, my chosen profession is based on being a listener (you know, mental health therapist and all). So I sometimes have trouble cutting people off in the middle of their "me too" stories. I know (in my brain) that they are trying to reach out, to have a shared experience. After all that is a huge thing in life and something so powerful--a shared experience. Even if we weren't there at that exact moment, our brains still search for a similar example, something that helps us to wrap our thoughts around it and to understand better where that person is coming from. But I feel (in my heart) so frustrated and hurt that they just didn't let me talk. A "me too" has happened.

I am going through a divorce. And there are way too many "me toos" out there when it comes to this story. My husband doesn't love--really "me too." I never saw it coming--really "me too." My life is a cliche these days. I feel like it has boiled down to a simple "me too" story. The sad thing, I still love my husband very much. I still want to do what it takes to work it out, and I haven't gotten many "me toos" on this one.

School Days, She says with a Sigh

I have to say that working in an elementary and middle school there are many times when I look back at childhood and say, "Thank you Lord for my thirties." But I picked up one of my kids from gym class the other day and they were playing kickball. Do you remember kickball? Now I couldn't hit a ball with a bat to save my life, but there was something magical and wonderful about kickball. Kicking that ball as hard as I could then running with all fury and diligence around the bases. I realize now that a home-run in kickball wasn't such a big deal. But in gym class, in elementary school, if I got a home-run, I was on top of the world. So from kickball my mind wondered to other amazing elementary school games. Tag. Dodgeball. Even a little bit of square dancing. But my most favorite of all--the parachute.

We had names for the way we would do the parachute. The ripple--this is where you shake it as hard as you could. The mushroom--you would lift it high in the air and run to toward the center, then run back out before it came down over your head. And then you would walk in a circle, or all hide underneath it. A couple of years back (maybe three years ago now), I was on mission trip to Romania, working in the villages of the Roma (to say "gypsy" is a derogatory term). And they had a parachute and did the same things that I remember doing in gym class (that great time of day in elementary schoo). Kids are kids no matter where you go. And fun is fun, no matter what the language.

Boy, do I miss gym class. I go to the gym now and it is just not the same. Walking on a treadmill, riding a stationary bike. Not the same as kickball.

Don't I have the cutest niece?

Blogs on Dogs

I have to talk about the challenge of trimming a dog's nails. I am finding that a trick that will work for one dog will not necessarily work for another dog. My older dog, Miriam (Australian Cattle Dog), will not like getting her nails trimmed, but she will tolerate it. I have her lay down on her side in front of me and hold her feet close to her body. This eliminates any jerking back and keeps me from clipping too far down. (Anyone who has ever made the painful, bloody mistake of cutting a dogs' nails too far down knows what I am talking about). I trim all on that side, have her flip over and do all on the other side. Miriam will then get a treat for ALL the nails.

I tried this with Dodger, my little terrier cutie. He would have none of it. I couldn't even get him to lay down. The first trick I tried with him was successful--sort of. I would wait until he would fall asleep on the couch and then go after whatever nail was exposed. Dodger is smart--he started sleeping will all his paws under him. But I have found a new trick, hopefully this will continue to work with success. I actually got 4 of his nails trimmed tonight. I stand and hold him in my left arm, all four paws sticking straight out. Then with my right hand I trim one nail. After I am done with one nail and only one nail, I put him down clap my hands and say "Yeah Dodger, Good Boy." and then I give him a treat. Amazingly enough, he came back for more. So I did a 2nd nail--same way. When he had finished his Milkbone--he came back for more. So on and so on.

Dogs have such great and individual personality. It is amazing how they are so different. Trimming nails doesn't even scratch the surface. (Yes, Yes, I know--stupid pun).

Amazing Grace--a review

I just saw the most heart touching story I have seen in a long time. It is about the abolition of the slave trade in England and the politics that went into this decision. It is historical and amazing. It is always so important to remember the suffing of others outside of ourselves. I have been going through my own personal tragedy and it meant something to be able to sit in a theater and be reminded yet again how insignificant my life is. This man gave the best years of his life fighting for a cause of such nobility--human freedom.

I had thought to sit down and write this beautiful review of the movie, but I'm finding my words and my eloquence fading. Just go see the movie--you will learn so much.

Family Ties

I just recently bought the first season of

"Family Ties." As a kid I had a huge crush on Micheal J. Fox and always thought this show was hilarious. Still do apparently.

Here's the thought... I am having trouble thinking up any family sitcoms now that are not focused on the disfunction rather than the hilarity of an everyday, intact family. I am not saying that there are no good sitcoms out there. I am loving "The Class" and "My Name is Earl." "Rules of Engagement" is pretty funny too. Good, funny stuff. But no families. Do you remember "The Cosby Show," or how about "Growing Pains?" I miss the families.

The thieves, the thieves, the flithy little thieves. Where are they my Precious?

I just recieved a call from my creadit card complany. There have been some strange charges on my account--nearly $7000. I still have my credit card on me and I have been racking my brain to discover how my number has gotten out into the world. There are, of course two possiblities. 1. Someone I know. or 2. From the internet. Altough I can't rule out someone I know, I will say I recently attempted to buy a Cross-Stitch pattern off the internet and never got the pattern. I ordered it from www.salt-and-pepper.com. They seemed well established, but I give them my credit card number, I don't get the product I ordered, and I get massive amounts of charges.

Splenda

I love Splenda. I know that you hear all these horror stories about what Splenda can do to you, but I have to say, it has made it possible for me to stand so much diet food. It has opened up many doors that allow me to still enjoy life while maintain a strict diet. We are talking recipes galore.

Just tonight, I had Sugar-Free Mentos. Yum. I would not compare them side by side with regular, sugarfied Mentos, but these were really good. And you know why? That's right Splenda. My hats off to whoever discovered Sugar Alcohols.

Well I would like to introduce the newest member of our family. Before any of you get to excited, it's our new dog. After much discussion, we have decided to name him Dodger. As in the Artful Dodger from Dickens Oliver Twist. The name fits this little dog. We were playing fetch and Miriam being the faster runner would get to the ball first. Dodger aka Rocky (the name he had in the pound), would wait until Miriam brought the ball back, dropped it and then would pick it up and run in a circle, acting like he was the one that brought it too me in the first place. We tried Rusty for a while, but it was too close to Rocky, we wanted a clean break.

We were concerned how he and Miriam would get along. Miriam took a long time to adjust to Delmar when he moved in. No problems. It was as if Miriam looked at Dodger and said, "Finally someone to play with--these humans are so slow and that cat is so mean." They have been getting along great.

Election Day

Today, I am loving my job. As you maybe aware, today is election day and the schools in my county are out. So, without any kids to see, I don't have too much to do. It is still a work day--technically, it is just a lazy work day. And with the rain outside, it is a great day to have a lazy work day.

Oh yeah, and it gives me an opportunity to go vote.

HOWL-o-ween

Last night our neighborhood--again, was slammed. From all over the town, people were bused, hayrided, carpooled or otherwise dropped off into our neighborhood. It was a mad house. Cars and kids were everywhere. But otherwise it was not a bad night.

I do have to make an observation though. The later in the night it got, the older and less dressed up the kids got. Right down to an adult, yes, an adult, a grown up with no costume handing out his bag saying trick or treat. I am offically turning into an old fart, as I wanted to tell the guy "grow up, Halloween is for Kids." Of course, I also want to tell this to the high schoolers that turn up with one streak of red face paint on each cheek, but otherwise no costume to speak of.

Now the little kids, they were cute. I saw fairies and SpongeBob, I saw ghosts and goblins. All the kids were so cute dressed up, and I am a sucker for the kids that say "thank you."

The only problem. Well their were two. One, I now have a couple of clients (and their parents) that know where I live. That's a little too close for me. Two, I have two bags of candy left over and I am on a diet--is there any charities that have a candy drop off?

Pumpkin Carving

We have an emerging family tradition. The Sunday before Halloween, all the cousins and their kids along with my parents gather at my aunt's house (well, everyone that lives in the area). We eat lunch all together and then carve out our pumkins.

This, of course, got me thinking about family traditions. As I may have blogged before, my husband and I are trying to get some kids. We are participating in a foster to adopt program. Even though we do not have kids yet, the questions have begun to arise--what are we going to do with these kids? It's not the discipline stuff we worry about. Nor is it the scheduling stuff that I think will be an issue. It comes down to how are we going to pass our values down to our kids?

Pumpkin carving was a fun thing and a great tradition to start, but there were so many things that because I am a part of this family, I know that it is coming. There is a tradition of who is in the kitchen vs. who is watching football vs. who plays with the little kids and keeps them occupied vs. the teenage cousin acting cool and aloof. Then there is the sitting down at the dinner table where two prayers are said. That's right, two prayers. Two little boys both have to say a prayer. One is so proud to say "God is great, God is good..." while the other goes through a wonderfully long list of "Thank you God for..." When we get kids will a third or forth prayer be added or will my aunt be less indulgent (not because she is not accepting, but because these boys are her grandkids)?

Having received a degree in Marriage and Family therapy, I usually love to watch traditions meld and form. I love to observe others as they process through this change, the critical times usually being right after marriage and after the birth of the first child. Now I am on the cusp to this transition time and no longer the objective observer. It's a little overwhelming to think about.

What are some of your favorite family traditions?

Shocking??????

I was sent this article by a fellow school therapist. School of Shock It details about this center in New York that uses aversive shock treatments to teach. The principles are sound. I personally think a lot of what Skinner and Behaviorism says is valid--coming down to: 1. If we do something and it hurts us, we will stop. 2. If we do something and it brings us pleasure, we will do it again. I agree with using this in the most extreme cases, like the two children that were mentioned--Matthew was apparently bashing his head into the corner of tables and Sarah hit herself in the head so hard that she detached her own retinas. Here's the thing, Skinner himself saw through his experiments that positive reinforcement was more effective than punishment (aversive stimulus).

As I read through this article, my initial reaction was repulsion. Then I began to see the necessity of some of the shocks. Then repulsion began to creep back in as I read more of the non-life threatening behaviors that this was used to stop. I'm not talking about the precursors to an attack, but rather behaviors that are keeping the student from learning. Not to mention that the people delivering the shocks are techs with a high school degree and only two weeks of training. Is this enough?

I know this blog is not my usual funny anecdote.

Hornets

That's right, HORNETS. I got a wild hair to clean out our garden shed. So I start cleaning. I get things sufficiently moved around to make exit from the shed difficult when I move a piece of lumber and hear it... BZZZZZZZZZZZ. There is a hornet nest and they are mad. Their tails are up and they are about to swarm. I take off running, and climbing, and running some more. I call my husband and he was my hero--he went to Wally World for Hornet and Wasp Spray. He bought one can. "That should be enough," he says to himself. Ha Ha Ha.

So armed with my can of spray and a path cleared I go in spraying, and they drop. So I continue happily cleaning. Every so often I would see a straggler. I would spray it, and it would drop. I would spray it, and it would drop. I was coming to the end of my handy-dandy can when I happen to hit two hornets on the selves in the back of the shed and some overspray goes behind them. And I hear it again... BZZZZZZZZZZZ. Even louder than the first. And they do start to swarm. I pull out my spray and I am ready. I start spraying. I am confident in my hornet killing capabilities--after all I have already taken out one nest. Then the unthinkable happens--the spray runs out. They are still swarming, luckily they are slow because of the cooler wedding, but still swarming. I start running again. Oh yeah, and yelling "oh shit, oh shit, oh shit....."

When I go back to the shed there are about 200 dead and dying hornets on the floor. We invested in another can of Hornet and Wasp Spray. Amazingly enough, I did not get stung a single time.

Moses

My cat is very funny today. Moses is an indoor cat. He has always been an indoor cat. He has been out a few times, but usually is back into the house within the hour. Last Halloween was a time he got out. We had the front door open, and periodically would see this black and white thing jump in front of the screen door. By the time we got there, so would the next batch of trick-o-treaters and Moses would have run away. We finally found Moses at the end of the night huddled by the back door.

I would like to say that Moses was cured of the periodic desire to go outside. I can't. Just last month, during a rainy night, Moses snuck out. We did not realize that he had gotten out, until we came home from dinner. Moses was waiting for us by the porch and was soaking wet. Ever since, Moses has been wary of the outside. Who can blame him, he is getting on up there in age. But every so often, I can see the younger cat who longs to be the hunter.

Because the weather is nice, I have opened all the windows in the house today. Moses has spent his time at each window, running back and forth, to cover all equally. I think that he wants to make the rounds and just to be sure that there is nothing going on outside that he may be missing. Moses will sit in each window sil, leaning up against the screen, practically pushing it out of the frame. The friskiness is further seen today in Moses' willingness to pick fights with the dog. Usually Moses is too good to even acknowledge the dog's presence. Today, Moses is seeking out the dog. This is going to be a fun day. Having pets is great.