And, some days, I don't feel joyful. I just feel crabby.

It should have been a lovely day; it started out that way. We went to church. We love our church. There was an adorable new baby there today that I was able to admire. The sermon was from Micah 6:6-8.

⁶ With what shall I come before the LORD and bow down before the exalted God? Shall I come before him with burnt offerings, with calves a year old?

⁷ Will the LORD be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousand rivers of oil? Shall I offer my firstborn for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?

⁸ He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the LORD require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.

Then, I came home and ran my hills run. Took a lovely shower and came down to watch the Steelers dominate with Eric. Eric made me a yummy sandwich. While we watched them play, the kiddos played in the backyard with the girls next door. They decided to start practicing their Halloween play and were all jumping on the trampoline, wearing Halloween costumes, and writing invitations to the party they have decided they are hosting next weekend. They spent three hours doing this!

And, then, I took a nap.

Sounds lovely, hun? It was. And, I should have been able to forgive what happens next, but it just turned my attitude sour. The dog knocked over Jonathan's not-quite-closed BLUE Gatorade bottle onto the cream colored carpet. And, that is how I ended up not getting a nap.

I tried, I really tried, to snap out of it. I tried to remember the joy of the day, but I couldn't get there. I knew I was being unreasonable so I tried as best I could to keep it inside.

We tried to clean the carpet, but the cleaners will have to come out and I'm not certain that it won't result in a new carpet.

Then, we went to the dog park - and that is usually a great time - but naturally occurring kid occasional whining was more annoying than usual. The dog was more annoying than usual. I was just crabby. And, then, at the end of the day the dog peed on my bed after an accident free weekend. And, Lauren wants, naturally, her Sunday night Mommy night (she sleeps with me on Sunday nights) and I just didn't want it. And, for the first time in an exceedingly long time, I actually yelled at the kids. I apologized and Lauren is having a Mommy night and I know that I'm crabby, but I'm still not yet ready for humility. I did not incorporate the lovely sermon from church today.

It is always so much easier to walk humbly with God when one is well-rested, well-nourished, and has almost no one needing from them (say, small children and pets), but the true test is being able to walk with humility and Grace when humility and Grace feel so far away.

I think I will require a full night of sleep for that. And, then maybe I can act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. But, right now, I'm rather human.

Steelers at Tampa Bay: Primanti Brothers Style Sandwich

I have often thought that I should document some (all) of our Football foods.

On today's menu is an Eric-styled, Primanti Brothers-inspired sandwich and fries.

If you have not heard of the Primanti Brothers, they are a classic institution in Pittsburgh. Primanti Brothers are known for making sandwiches with the coleslaw and fries on the INSIDE of the sandwich.

Eric followed this coleslaw recipe. In his sandwich, he included ham, capicola, provolone, fried egg, coleslaw, and fries. We all really liked it! And, it worked because the Steelers won 38-13. Woot!

"Everything Happens For A Reason". . .

In church today, our pastor talked about one of my most favorite concepts ever: The Belief In A Just World. She did not name it as such, but it was part of the sermon.

Belief in a Just World is the belief that things happen for a reason and it give one the false belief that one can avoid tragedy by making certain choices. Our Pastor's example was: "She died of lung cancer? was she a smoker?" "No, she was a vegan who exercised daily." If she is a smoker then we can exhale and believe ourselves safe, but if she wasn't, then we have to create a meaning around her death: "Everything happens for a reason, right?" The most common example I use is, "what was the rape victim wearing?" She left her back door unlocked, she was jogging after dark, etc.

NO! Not everything happens for a reason. God did not want that little seven year old I spoke about last week to die. There is no "reason" why he had to die, no "higher purpose." As our Pastor pointed out, what reason was there that six million Jews needed to die in the Holocaust? SIX MILLION?!? Kade wasn't run over for a "reason." It wasn't God's will that he should die and that an entire community should grieve. Bad things happen to good people, good things happen to bad people. Things happen.

But, then what do we do with it?

As a psychologist, I have long known that a common difference between those who have tragedy that they get through and those who have tragedy in which they remain is in the experience of learning or turning the negative experience into a growth experience. It did not happen or a reason, but to get out of it is to create something from the experience as opposed to remaining a victim of the experience. Creating a growth experience out of a bad thing is not to retroactively make a meaning as to why it had to happen, but making something good out of something bad.

Our pastor summarized it as such: "Everything happens. . . and we are called to bring God's compassion and love."

Amen.

Joy Is. . . Fried Pickles

We love ourselves some fried pickles in this family.

So, Eric has been in D.C. on a B-Trip doing rocket science stuff, leaving me alone with the Kiddy Kats. While we miss him when he goes, we do things a bit differently during that time. For instance, we go out to dinner.

I had a good day at work today: four-and-a-half hours of direct service (plus one hour of full rate no-show) during six-hour workday. Finished all my billing, feeling on top of all business (just one outstanding paperwork obligation). Came home, met the school bus, and then the kittens and I took Sandy-Cakes to the dog park for an hour. Afterwards, it was time to go to the Blue Moose because we wanted some fried pickles.

Do you have a go-to appetizer? You know, the one on the menu that you will always get no matter what else is offered? Fried pickles are one of ours.

So, we rate them. Lauren gives Blue Moose fried pickles a two thumbs up, thought the saltiness and crunch were "perfect," and likes the dipping sauce. Jonathan gives them one thumbs up. I give them one thumbsup, think that they are a bit too salty, but really likes the sauce. I do not think that they are the best fried pickles every, but are up there.

We are on the quest and will let you know when we find the perfect fried pickle.

Joy Is. . . A puppy who is too big to get out of the fence.

Whew! We made it.

That pocket beagle I've been fantasizing about getting? Not going to happen. I have learned the joys of having a dog too big to get through the fence.

And, the Earth Keeps On Turning

It has been a rather rough and emotional past few weeks filled with some rather ugly and sad aspects of life.

It started when Ashley was visiting. On Friday, August 27, we were out early taking Sandy for a morning walk. Along the trail, by the playground, I observed what appeared to be a trail of dripping blood, but clearly that could not be, right? I live in a peaceful, pleasant, safe neighborhood. A family neighborhood where children play in the cul-de-sacs and it isn't the end of the world to accidentally leave your doors unlocked. Where your neighbors call you if you forgot to shut your garage door. So, obviously, it was not blood, but, given the proximity to the playground, rather grape juice. Right?

And, as we got closer to my home, we observed something odd and decided to go take a look. It was a dead dog - someone's pet - and it appeared as if the skin down into the muscle had been cut away from its saddle area. At first, we assumed it was killed by another animal. We aren't rural, but there are coyotes, foxes, and bobcat that live in the green belt that straddles the creek. But, the flesh was cut, not torn. It wasn't killed by an animal. And, it wasn't near a road. If it had been hit, it would have had to walk rather far. And, it wasn't near the area where we saw the blood, but rather over a quarter mile away. And, the skin was neatly cut, not torn.

Obviously, I called animal control. I've attempted to get a hold of them several times because if it is as I think it, those who live in our neighborhood have the right to know. I know they came out, I know they were evasive in answering a neighbor's questions, I know they called in someone else to consult, and I know they were there a long time taking pictures. I'd like to know what happened.

Midweek the next week, we received in email from the school principal informing the parents that some of the students had been approached by an adult man in a car offering them rides home. It wasn't raining. Who does that? Pedophiles. No one else would even think about it even if they just wanted to be nice. You just don't do that. Obviously, the police were reported and we were given an opportunity to discuss safety with our children.

Two days later, we received another email from the principal informing the parents that a seven-year-old in a nearby community had been run over and killed leaving school. By the report, it would appear to have been a faultless accident and the driver is also a victim, but all I could think about was his poor little body. And, the devastation that accident brought to the lives of his family, his teacher, his classroom family, his principal, his school, his parents coworkers, the driver, her family, her coworkers was overwhelming.

And, I sat in church last Sunday and cried.

I cried the entire hour I was there. I did not cry in anger at God; wondering where God was. God was there because God is everywhere, but it brings neither anger nor comfort. It just is.

And, I have no message. I have no positive spin. I have no great lesson to be learned from these three horrid experiences. The verse that kept running through my head as I sat there crying was a verse in one of my favorite children's books, "Morning, Noon, and Night" by Jean Craighead George:

And the earth keeps on turning, on turning, on turning. Good morning, the sun. "Cheer, cheer."

Good things happen, bad things happen, horrible awful things happen like sociopaths killing dogs, and pedophiles trying to molest children, and lives being forever altered by an accident, but the earth keeps on turning.

And, then, I come home and I see that the sunflowers have finally arrived. Most who know me know just how much I love sunflowers. When I found out that we were moving to Kansas, I was apprehensive until I learned that Kansas is The Sunflower State. I love sunflowers. They are sunny and cheerful and beautiful and filled with joy, but I'd trade every single sunflower for the rest of my life to undo those three horrible events of the past few weeks. Unfortunately, I cannot.

The earth keeps on turning. Sociopaths kill dogs and sunflowers return.

So, I will enjoy them and I will see them as a reminder that even when awful, horrible, wretched, inexplicable things happen, the earth keeps on turning, on turning, on turning, Good Morning, the Sun, "cheer cheer."

More Eight-Year-Old Deliciousness

Lauren has been so well behaved in her class that she has earned classroom money to spend in the class "store." Today was store day, so she picked out her very own pink boa. Naturally. Duh.

When we came home, she also decided that she wanted to teach Jonathan how to ride his bike down the driveway.

Really, there is little better in life than a pink feather boa, an argyle sweater, a pleated skirt, a daughter helping a younger brother, and a dirt bike.

Hot Air Balloon

Just a picture I took yesterday that I like. Nothing more. Simple.

Patriots Run 2010. Joy Is. . . being a spectator.

Every year since 2003, Olathe, KS hosts The Patriots Run to commemorate the events of September 11, 2001. The race starts at noon and runs for nine hours and eleven minutes. And, it is always held on September 11. Doesn't matter if that is a Monday or a Thursday or a Sunday. You can run as much or as little as you want. There are a few different "races." There is a formal marathon that is run for time. There is also an ultra to run for distance covered in the nine hours and eleven minutes. One can start at noon or whenever one wants to come and join in.

I've long wanted to join, but have had small children not yet in school or a work day or whatever. This year, I couldn't do it because I was in school from 11 a.m. until 6 p.m. But, I wanted to participate. So, the family and I brought our camp chairs and some Pepsi and some Jelly Bellies for the runners, and went to cheer on the runners.

I've been a runner in many races and it was my turn to cheer runners on. I got so much out of cheering and supporting the runners that I would really encourage any runner to take their turn along the race route and be the encouragement for others from time to time.

And, this was a great event for that.

I suspect that I will be in class next year when the event is held, so I will again go just to cheer, but in the future, I will run part of the day and cheer the rest.

Way to go Runners.

Joy Is. . . Big Sister Reads To Little Brother

I love this.

Running Related Post: Running Glasses (somewhat graphic)

For the life of me, I cannot put contact lenses in my eyes. Don't get me wrong: I have tried (and tried, and tried, and tried). I even had about a six month period when I broke my glasses where I had to wear daily contacts. Anyway, I worry about running with my daily glasses out of fear that they might fall off and break. I really cannot drive without them. So, I have been running without any vision correction at all.

Let me tell you a little story: this past April, April 5, 2010 to be precise, I went out for a LOVELY evening five mile run. It was dark and I was, as previously explained, not wearing corrective lenses. I was running great and feeling awesome when I rounded a corner in the sidewalk that took me into a darker section of road. I thought that maybe that there was a person lying in the middle of the sidewalk, but it wasn't until I was right upon them that I realized it was two teens having sex. In the middle of the sidewalk. With nice grass on either side. But, I didn't really see them until the last minute and had to sort of jump over while politely saying "hi" (it is important to be friendly and all). That night I woke up with a pain that felt as if I were being stabbed in the hip by a butcher knife. And, that led to a marathon time five days later that was a full hour longer than I had hoped.

I cannot be certain the the ensuing injury was directly related to the sudden jump I had to take over the sexing teens, but maybe it would have not happened had I actually been able to see. (and thus better plan for how to negotiate the sex).

Eric's company has the best vision policy ever. Ever. I get a new pair of lenses yearly and a new pair of frames every other year. My prescription is pretty much the same, I like my glasses, and I like my sunglasses, so I figure that it is time for some running glasses.

The selection was not awesome, but this is what I got.

I was able to pick them up this morning and broke them in with an easy five. (Come to think of it, I probably should have run that same route). It was misting, so I am not sure that my complaint is totally valid, but I found that they fogged up near the end (which made it harder to see - ironic, eh?). I'll try it again without mist and I'm going to look for some anti-fog stuff, but if they keep fogging up, I might have to return them. I do, however, really like being able to see.

Joy Is. . . One Passed-Out Puppy

Normally, Tuesdays are a 10-12 mile tempo run (with about half at tempo), but I raced a 5k yesterday and Stacy suggested that I run today's run easy (hard, easy, hard, easy pattern). So, I decided to bring Sandy-cakes out on my warm up. Together, we ran a bit over 2.5 miles together. I had thought about adding on the half-mile loop around the lake, but Sandy clearly expressed to me that she was ready to go home. We got home and she passed out on the kitchen floor while I finished my run on the treadmill.

Joy is One Passed-Out Puppy

Joy Is. . . Winning the Race! (okay, there are some contributing variables, so don't get excited)

Bike 4 The Brain

About a week ago, I became aware of the above race. I hadn't really paid any attention to it as it is a bike and my bike is broken, but last week I realized that they had a 5K. Given that I'm a psychologist and given that I preach cardiovascular exercise as a component of mental health, I thought it particularly appropriate for me to participate.

What I didn't realize is that it really is a bike ride and not a run. There were a couple hundred cyclists and about 20 runners. I've never been to a bike ride. They definitely have more colorful clothing than do the runners. Also, I wondered if I was going to know anyone. I saw a woman that I recognized, but couldn't place. I thought about going up and saying "hi," until I realized she was someone on whom I had recently done a disability evaluation. Opps. Good thing I chose to keep to myself. But, right before the start, I saw a friend who used to the the director of Child and Family Services at the mental health center at which I used to work. I had a good time quickly catching up there.

This was supposed to be a 5K, but I took a wrong turn at the very start. I ended up turning with the cyclists rather than with the walkers. In my defense, I will say that I was far from the only one who did this. The race is primarily a cycling event rather than a run/walk. There were a few hundred cyclists and about 20 runners. This added about a third of a mile onto my race. I was hoping for a 5k time of 27:42 (which is a pace of 8:55), but was a) nervous I could not do it, b) concerned about not getting lost on a course with about 20 runners and literally no course support other than an aid station around the half-way mark which translated to crossing streets with cars, and c) concerned that I would have no motivation with half the people walking.

But, I decided to suck it up and run it for time. Obviously, I didn't do it in 27:42. I did, however, 3.43 miles in 29:48.97 which is a pace of 8:41 and is better than my goal pace. So, longer and a faster pace. I checked my Garmin at the 5K distance and was at 27:01 (pace of 8:42). Using the McMillan Running Calculator, that would predict a marathon finish time of 4:23:23. Whew! I think I might be able to pull out a 4:30 after all.

And, I was the first woman and the third person overall to cross the finish line. Okay, so maybe there were only a half-dozen women running it, but how many of them started by going the wrong direction?

Anyway, it was great to beat my goal, it was great to have a reminder that I am on track for my marathon goal, and even though I know that it means very little, it was fun to cross the finish line first among all the women. Now, if only I could do that in a bigger race one of these days.

Race lessons:

1) I have to stop using SlimFast as race fuel. It makes me far too mucousy. I think it works great as fuel, but not given the mucous factor. I may not have tested positive for a dairy allergy, but evidence would strongly suggest that dairy seriously increases my phlegm.

2) DON'T FORGET THE INHALER. Especially given the increased mucous, I really needed the inhaler.

3) the Nike shirt I am wearing is gone. Too short. I don't like worrying about my shirt rising while I race.

4) I am going out and getting my bike fixed today.

Next year, I think I'll do the 10 mile bike ride instead. Hopefully, Lauren will do it with me.

Joy Is. . . Dog Walking In a Pink Tutu With Red Glasses

I love this girl. There is something absolutely delicious about the eight-year-old girl who is still sufficiently in love with the princess as to not care about whether the pink and zebra print tutu properly matches the red sunglasses and black and green flip flop crocs when she goes for the anticipated evening dog walk with her mother.

May this continue for a long while.

I am reading The Mother-Daughter Project, by SuEllen Hamkins and Renee Schultz, about a program (if you will) with the aim of keeping mothers and daughters connected through the turbulence of adolescence.

Originally, I had planned on doing Girl Scouts together, but, for a variety of reasons, it clearly was not meant to be. So, I asked our Pastor and the Director of Children and Family Ministry if I could start up Roots and Shoots. They both said that could work, but. . . did I know that there was someone interested in starting up a Mother-Daughter group? Looking into the program, I decided that this was what I wanted for Lauren and for me as an aid to keeping our relationship connected (for better or for worse) during the difficult times that will come.

I know those times will come. I don't delude myself one second that just because of my profession, I/we will be spared. If anything, I think that psychologist's kids have the same reputation as the minister's child. I hope, however, that if we can stay connected, we can at least have the relationship through which to work through the hard stuff. More than anything, I always want her to deeply know of my love for her and my desire to be there for her no matter what she brings to the table.

In the meantime, Lauren and I have developed a routine that I love (love, love, love): we walk Sandy together in the evenings. Sometimes Jonathan comes and sometimes Jonathan and Eric come, but it is always OUR walk.

And, you've got to love walking with this girl. Because there isn't much more joy than

a puppy and a girl in a pink and zebra print tutu.

Joy Is. . .Pow Chicka Bow Wow. . . Pornography. Insect Pornography.

Oh, come on, animals having sex makes us giggle. I know I cannot be the only one who is taken back to seventh grade (Mr. Wolf's class, ironically).

Anyway, Lauren and I were walking Sandy when we saw the above scene. I, obviously, had to run back to the house to get my camera (what with my already established role of froggy pornographer).

Then, I came back and did a bit of research. Okay, so these are Monarch Butterflies. (oh, I should note that googling the terms "Butterfly Sex" might not be the most effective terms to use in this research option; you'll get some other sort of information). So, I switched to "Monarch Reproduction." Even then, it was not all that helpful until I went to Wiki. From there:

Copulation occurs during the ground phase where the male and female remain attached for about 30 to 60 minutes. ^[28] A spermatophore is transferred from the male to the female. Along with sperm, the spermatophore is thought to provide the female with energy resources that aid her in carrying out reproduction and remigration.

So, there you go, a little bit of seventh-grade fun on one's evening walk. And, I learned something new. I did not know that butterfly had sperm. I wondered and all, but I truly did not know. See, learning new things is fun! And, that brings me a lot of silly joy.

Changing Mindset: Finding the Joy in the Frustration

I think it is going to be one of those days. And, sometimes, when it is so clearly going to be one of those days, the only way to look at it is with humor.

Let's start with the 17 miles I ran yesterday because that really does set the stage. I often have difficulty falling asleep after running that long because my large muscle groups ache in an electric sort of way. I attribute it to carb depletion, but it could likely be something else. I'm pretty sure I was sufficiently rehydrated, but I did consume more water after it was clear I could not sleep. I also took an electrolyte tab in case that was a contributing factor, but the reality was that I did not fall asleep until after 2:30 a.m. even though I initially went to bed around 9:30 because I was so tired.

Then, let's add in the fact that I am dieting. Reasonably, for those with concerns about me and dieting. I had a net 1,000 (approximate) cals yesterday (net cals meaning that I actually consumed around 2,700, but I burned approximately 1,700 on my run). I ate the right things: simple carbs right before and during the run, nice carb:protein (with fat) ratio immediately afterwards, lots of veggies and lean meat. But, I'm still operating at a deficit. That's the point of dieting, right?

I find it hard to diet and to gear up for a marathon at the same time, and yesterday is prime example of that.

Anyway, hard time falling asleep.

Then, the baby girl (aka Sandy), got me up to go out to do her business at 3:30, 5:15, and 6:30. Normally, I'd get up at 6:30 and call it a night, but I was so tired that I went back to bed and let Eric take over all puppy and parenting duties. This is a big deal for me. I don't generally do that. Not because of him, but because of me.

And, I slept.

I slept until I heard the Bissell at 9:00 a.m.

Apparently, sometime between 6:30 and 9:00, she had pooped in two separate places on the main floor. Lauren, the big girl that she is, helped clean them up, but needed some assistance from Daddy.

While cleaning the poop with the Bissell, one of our picture frames from our recent trip to the Bahamas fell and the glass broke. I came down and immediately broke the glass on my French Press (huge tragedy as I'm sure many of you can appreciate). And, then. . . as I was typing the words, "It is going to be one of those days" into my Facebook, the above happens. It isn't even 9:30.

And, really, at those times, all you can do is given in to it and laugh.

Peace.