But Then I'd Have to Kill Ya...

So I lied. Sue me. (Um, that's figurative. I mean, you could sue me, but I just recently got the first full-time job I've had in the last 3 years... flush with cash, I ain't.)

What did I lie about? I said I'd tell you about my new job. But I won't. Much. If at all.

This is hard for me. I'm really a fairly wide-open person in real life as well as on here. I spent a great deal of time weighing the pros and cons. The problem is my profession.

Yes, I'm still a counselor. A bona fide got-the-master's, got-the-preliminary-license counselor... yaay me! Some of you virtually walked the road to reach this point with me.

I can tell you that on the day of my interview for this job, I overslept. WAY overslept. I had to go meet the MC (my former boss and internship supervisor) at a restaurant to pick up a reference letter to take with me... so I had to go meet with him and on to my interview with only a quick clean up and no shower. As I explained to the MC, in my efforts to set my alarm a little earlier to give myself MORE time to get ready the night before, I somehow didn't manage to get the alarm turned back on.

The MC: Do they know about that gun you carry?

Me: What gun?

The MC: That one you're always shooting yourself in the foot with...

AHEM!

As for the blog, the concern lies in all that professional counseling entails. One of the backbones of counseling is confidentiality. Most of my readers are personal friends; they know me, and generally know where I live. Luckily, in my previous job, I didn't work in the same town where I lived... and NONE of my friends know/knew the MC. (He made great blog fodder, who needed to talk about clients?) In my new position, in this community, if I named my employer and/or told stories about my clients, I would risk exposing the private information entrusted to me. I can't do that.

Counselors also have strive to keep the sessions and the relationship focused on the client, not on the counselor. Self-disclosure can have value, but only if it enhances the client's understanding. If the disclosure does not serve a definite purpose, it should be avoided. I am in the helping relationship to provide a service to the client, not to make a friend or be a friend; not to serve my own interests or open up my life for comparative scrutiny. My clients don't need to concern themselves with the happenings in my life.

A little over a year ago, someone Googled some basic information about me and found this blog. With the above principles in mind, I went through and removed as much identifying information as I could. While my blog is open to the public, it's not as widely read as I had hoped it would be. For my purposes as a counselor, this is good news. The odds that one of my clients would stumble upon my blog are fairly slim. I need to keep it that way as much as I can.

So, I won't be talking about work, much. If I can tell you a story and keep the other interests securely protected, I might, but I just don't envision that happening. Unless, I get an oddly fascinating and amusing co-worker.

Maybe I should see if the MC wants to come work at this new place, too.

The MC, The Expert

As I've told you before, I ride with the MC to our work-site in another county on Tuesdays. He has to drive through my town to get to the town where we work, so it just works out. (The MC’s car and driving habits are a story for another time… I digress.) During the ride we consult about clients, about our practice... but sometimes we just talk about our own goofy idiosyncrasies.

I may have mentioned the MC’s gruff nature before.* He's an admittedly OCD creature of habit and likes everything "just so." I’ll never forget our second meeting when he made me redo my whole internship application over a single scratch-out. This time last year, I was still extremely intimidated.  I did much of our early work together holding my breath, hoping I measured up.

The pressure built and built until one day I blurted out, “Man, I wish I had a nickel for every time somebody has called you an a-hole! I’d be stinkin’ RICH!”

He laughed. I laughed. Pressure relieved. He decided he should author a how-to manual. We even laughed about his “How to be an A-hole” writing aspirations last night on the way home from work. He thinks they’d be best-sellers at Cracker Barrel gift shops.

You, too, can be an A-hole!

He probably saw enough Cracker Barrels last week on his trip with some other Vietnam Vets to D.C. for the Rolling Thunder Memorial Day Rally. (Of course the MC rides a Harley, you expected less?) He arrived to pick me up last Tuesday morning, bright eyed and bushy-tailed after having ridden 10 hours to get home on Memorial Day. He pointed out he did this to keep me from having to smell him if he’d waited and finished the ride home Tuesday morning… how considerate!

We usually get together (sometimes in my kitchen) on Wednesday mornings to work on client charts or other projects for our practice. As he was dropping me off last Tuesday, he said he’d call me in the morning to let me know if we’d be working. He said he'd been waiting for a part for his tractor to come in at a store here in L-town, so he wanted to save himself a trip and work on whatever day the part arrived at the store; he'd just pick it up while he was already in town.

The girls were gone with their grandparents to Myrtle Beach, so I enjoyed my leisurely Wednesday morning with my coffee, cereal (measured, Weight Watchers-style) and Facebook to amuse me while I waited for the MC to get in touch. I read posts, checked the news, texted with Crystal, thinking the MC would be calling any minute. He usually does his morning walking routine with his buddy P.T. (I’m still not saying where…) and calls me immediately after.

I noticed the clock at 9:30. The MC still had not called. Hmm, that’s weird. He always calls before now if we have iffy plans.

At 9:58 I sent him text, “ ? ”

At 10:11 I called. The MC’s cell is also our client line, so he always answers… but it went almost straight to voice mail. I figured he must be talking to a client… but then it might be an odd signal glitch so I called again at 10:15 and left a voicemail… still nothing. I started fretting a little. This wasn't like him.

I called again at 11:11. Again, it went straight to voicemail. Okay, this is REALLY weird, considering the MC knew my day was on hold until I heard from him. What if something happened to him? Nobody would think to call me…

I wondered if maybe he was ignoring me… he will sometimes send a call to voicemail if he’s really busy, so I texted him again at 11:13 to express my concern:

“Okay Dude, I really hope you aren’t in the hospital. But YOU better hope you are,  because if you AREN’T I will put you there for making me worry…”

Still nothing.

This went against everything I know about the MC. He likes to follow a routine. He answers the phone. He checks his messages. He doesn’t leave me hanging.

Could I call someone? The only people I know for certain that he talks to regularly are his daughter in another state, and two local friends, P.T., and Lee**. I don’t know his daughter’s number and REALLY wouldn’t want to frighten her since she lives so far away. I don’t even know P.T. and Lee’s last names, but I do know where P.T. works and could find him there if I needed to.

I started thinking about the what-ifs. The MC lives alone. He’s only in his early 60’s and looks to be in pretty good shape. But, he has horrible eating habits and he’s been complaining about high blood pressure lately. Or he may have decided he really wanted that tractor fixed, come and picked up the part and be out working on it… What is he’s hurt, or sick and can’t get up, get to the phone? What if he’s knocked out or lying in agony? No one would know…

By 11:20 I was in Kermit heading for the MC’s house. While I was on my way, I tried to call P.T. to see if the MC had shown up for the walk that morning, but P.T was tied up and couldn’t come to the phone.

I told myself I was just going to make sure the MC’s car was gone so I’d know he was okay and just not available. Yes, the MC is a very private person, but I’m just being a good friend, right? Ugh, what if he has (gasp!) a lady friend he didn’t tell me about and was just hanging out with her at the house? He’d probably be aggravated at the privacy invasion... Then again, how many stories have I read or heard where someone thought something was off and did nothing and it ended in tragedy? Besides, it’s only a 15 minute drive…

The MC has a few acres of property, and his home sits about 50 yards off the road in a wooded area. When I arrived, no surprise, the front gate was locked. I couldn’t see the carport for the trees… grr. I heard a tractor in the distance, so I got back in the car and drove around the property to see if maybe he was mowing. I didn’t see any mowing evidence so I went back. I’m really glad no one was around to watch me climb the gate, I’m sure it wasn’t pretty.

As I walked closer to the house, I could see both the car and truck were there. I noticed the mower sticking out of the shed, so I knew he wasn’t mowing. I went to the back door, rapped on it and waited. Nothing. I strained to hear… nothing. I decided to walk around front and look in the front windows.

Please don’t let me see his body on the floor, pleasepleasepleaseplease… I didn’t see anything, but thought as I walked back around to leave, “I don’t think he’s here, but where in the world could he be?”

When I came back around I saw it and my heart nearly stopped: The Harley. He’s here somewhere. I tried his cell one more time, but still didn’t hear it ring. I noticed my voice was shaking as I left the voicemail.

Okay, I think I’m going to have to find a way in. I tried the doorknob, hoping I could just stick my head in and yell for him… locked of course. I yelled his name a couple times hoping he could hear me in the house… nothing.  I decided to try P.T. one more time. I might need P.T. to come help to break into the house. Maybe I'm being ridiculous. I'll just tell P.T. what I know and see what he says. The secretary answered and told me to hold on.

While I was on hold, I saw the MC’s face appear in a window, sans shirt, sans glasses and wet hair going everywhere.

I screamed like a girl. A short scream, but still…

The MC opened the door (looking really confused, holding the door knob in one hand and a towel around his waist with the other) just as P.T. was answering, so I quickly held up my finger and said told P.T. the original reason for my call but that it was alright now because I’d found him.  P.T. said to give him a hard time since he hadn’t answered P.T.’s texts either.

So I hung up, looked up and said, “Okay, you’re alive, that’s all I needed to know. It’s all good. P.T. says you’re a slacker, and I’ll be going now…”

I almost made a break for it, but the MC motioned for me to come in and told me to wait while he went back through the house to get dressed. Apparently, the phone got turned off somehow and he was so exhausted from the trip he slept late that morning. He said he thought he heard somebody knocking while he was in the shower so he came to check it out when he got out.

We ended up going to lunch. He promised me he’d delete the voicemail without listening, but cracked up at the text message. I am forbidden from trying to check on him like that again...

This Wednesday morning, (today) my phone rang at 9 a.m.

The MC: I was just calling to assure you that I am alive and well and you have no reason to drive to my town today…

Me: Ya know, you really are the perfect person to write that How-to manual…

*sarcasm alert

** not their real names

Jerks Need Not Apply

Remember way back when I said I was ready to date again? Well, uh, hmm... they still aren't knocking down my door. As much as it pains me to admit it,* I'm not quite as cute at 41 as I was at 27.

Not that I mind. I have a meaningful job, great friends, and two beautiful little girls that fill my world with love and laughter. When God decides the time it right, it will happen. For now I'm content with my life as-is.

Besides, the more stories I hear from single/divorced friends, not to mention clients, the happier I am that the stress of "a relationship" isn't part of my realm. I'm not hearing about a wealth of good men out there. Even the M.C. has mentioned that it seems that a disproportionate number of our clients (particularly the women) seem to be "stuck" in relationships where they aren't supported, valued or appreciated. I remember falling prey to dating partners like that a time or two myself back in the day.

I've pondered how (besides just being blessed) I was fortunate enough to have been married to a man like Deat. I've jokingly said that two months after his death I elevated him to sainthood and I conveniently forgot every single flaw he had... but compared to the men I've been hearing about, he really was a saint! How did I get so lucky and others didn't? I've further wondered: when the time comes, how will I teach P.D. and B.B. to guard their precious hearts from the "playas" of the world?

Today, a friend of mine posted a link to this article and I think it offers part of the answer. The following is from Darlene Brock at the Grit and Grace Project. You'll find a link to the blog section of her site over in the "I Read These" list on the right.

If He Acts like a Jerk… he probably is

We live in a world where there must be a Masters Degree in Excuses for Bad Behavior.  That reality is evidenced in the relationship single females have with their male counterparts.  It seems the female is constantly seeking the reason her male counterpart acted the way he did when the answer is often so simple.

He says he didn’t call because his phone battery died.  When really he went out with his buddies and you were the last thing on his mind.  He’s so sorry he was an hour late the traffic was really bad.  Instead of I just didn’t think you would be upset that I had to master one more level on my video game before I could find my keys to get in the car.

Then the classic I am afraid of commitment because I was hurt so badly by someone else.  Instead of I have every intention of seeing everything I can get from you while making a minimal amount of effort.

Ladies, what is wrong with this picture???????  We must not assume that all men make excuses, some are caught in traffic, have let their cell phone battery die or have been hurt, these are life realities.  But let’s not assume they are telling the truth either.  Especially when you are hoping to build a long lasting relationship with a repeat offender.  They must earn your respect and trust the same way you must earn theirs.

Simple common courtesy - call when you say you will, arrive on time - just basics should be expected.  The exception to that behavior needs to be occasional not recurrent.  It doesn’t matter how cute he is or how many flowers he brings to prove he’s sorry if all he can offer is an excuse in answer to the “what happened?” question.   This indicates a personality that will display unacceptable behavior in every area of life.

Simple moral to the story ladies, if he acts like a jerk……he probably is.  Don’t accept his excuses and expect more from him than his lack of even a little common courtesy.  If all ladies would hold men to this standard they would step up.  They would work for that relationship because they had to.  They need to work for it.  They would be better men worthy of women that expect better men.  Worthy of women who themselves seek to be better women.  And you wouldn’t be left waiting by the phone hoping for a call.

Simple and succinct, but it speaks volumes. In six short paragraphs, she conveyed a message that so many young girls forget or never learned... heck, a lesson that so many grown women need to understand. I'll be making copies of it for some of my clients.

Reading this reminded me of the attitude I maintained during my dating days. I gave this "speech" to more than one guy, and when I think back to the heartaches and heartbreaks... they came when I allowed myself to settle for less.

So you say you want to date me, huh? Well let's get something clear. While I love a friendly competition, in a relationship I don't compete: not with other women, not with alcoholism, not with drugs, not with sports or your buddies. I understand you'll want to spend time with your friends, I can take time with my friends, too. But I won't tolerate being treated inconsiderately, period.  

I'm not unreasonable, I just ask that you do what you say you will do. If you said you'd call, call. Don't be late or break a date without a good reason. I understand that circumstances come up, and sometimes it can't be helped. If we had plans but you can't be where you said you'd be, make a phone call so I'm not sitting around worrying and wondering where you are. I'll treat you with respect and expect the same. I will not tolerate less.

I don't compete because I don't have to. If I can't win, I won't play. It's that simple. If I have to win your time, your attention, your consideration, quite frankly, I'm not interested... because that tells me you aren't, either.

 As Darlene Brock points out, simple common courtesy is not too much to expect, but when we accept less; less is what we get.

Is it possible that speech might send a guy I was interested in packing? Well, yeah, it was designed to! I figured if he was interested enough to stick around after that speech, he might be worth my time. It's funny to me now. but simple courtesy was one of the things that helped put Deat on his pedestal.

When the time comes, I think I'll be grilling P.D. and B.B with this speech until they can quote it verbatim. I realize they will probably date different boys with a host of other issues, but hopefully this will weed out a few of them.

Meanwhile, just in case some suitor comes to call, I think I'll brush up on it, too.

*Sarcasm alert

MC Antics, Part 2

I left my treatment planner book (the one I needed to do homework) at work. This morning I had to go meet up with the MC at his regular pre-work stop so I could pick up the book, hurry home, and get busy.  (Where does he go every morning? I could tell ya, but I'd have to kill ya).

I asked a lady at said location if she'd seen him. She gave me a puzzled look.

Me: Oh, I'm his intern.

Nice Lady: Oh, you're Kelly, is that right?

Me: Yes, but I'm not as bad as he says, I promise.

Nice Lady: Oh no, I've heard him talk about you. He says you're awesome.

Wow. I've worked really hard in this internship, but to find out he bragged about me? I had to turn my head to keep her from seeing a little tear in the corner of my eye.

I think you're awesome, too, MC.


It's just that my friends know better than to let you in on it!

Quick Post for the Fans of the MC

The semester is almost over... I may see daylight again... I just had to share this with you guys.

On Tuesdays I ride with the MC to one of our work sites in another county. We were consulting about one of his "older clients" on the way.

The MC: Man, I hope when I get old I'm not that crabby.




I almost spit coffee all over the windshield.

Okay, So I'm Full of Myself. Meanwhile, you can fill up on Five-Minute Chocolate Cake

The MC asked me why I blog. He does. not. get. it. When I tried to answer him, I didn't get it either, or at least not well enough to tell him. I told him about always wanting to write, the original mission of this blog and so on.

What surprised me was he didn't call BS. (I hope because the answer I gave him was mostly true.) The teensy part I didn't mention (but I'm sure he knows) is that blogging appeals to my ego. I'm owning up to it. The idea that people actually come see what I'm up to, actually enjoy reading what I write, feeds that little sucker. This especially true since I started monitoring hits with a couple stat counters.. it's so fun to see that little spike in the graph! (Besides, you people are so stingy with comments... I digress.) I also noticed that when I blog more often, I get more hits per entry... go figure. Gotta keep it current.

So, with that in mind, I recently made a deal with myself to blog more often, shooting for twice a week. I realize I'm going to have to be entertaining to keep you coming back. Unfortunately, my brain is shutting down from papers and studying and school projects and work projects and elementary school stuff, and kid stuff and Friends' stuff and my stuff and at some point if I kept going along this vein your eyes would being seeing the words but your brain would be hearing the following, and you'd probably be doing what Peppermint Patty is doing here:

So, I've been scoping out other blogs for sources of entertainment for you people. One technique I discovered for those "hard to come up with material" days is the photo essay. 

SO, for your entertainment and edification, I now present to you a photo essay from a recipe someone sent me on email. I actually posted this on Facebook about 6 months ago... but I'm short on brainpower and this is easy. If you don't enjoy it, I'm sorry. (But will you please please please keep coming back anyway?)

Five Minute Chocolate Cake

Warning! Dangerous! Continue at your own risk! If you read this you will be only five minutes away from chocolate cake at any given time!!!!

First you need these... a tablespoon a butter knife...
and you also need a large coffee mug (not shown)

Put 4 tablespoons of this in the mug

Then 4 tablespoons of this

Then 2 tablespoons of this...
Stir all the dry ingredients with the butter knife until 
well blended...

Break this and put it in the mug...
Stir stir stir with the butter knife until well blended...

Add 3 tablespoons of this

Then 3 tablespoons of this...
Stir stir stir

Now 3 tablespoons of these, stir stir stir

Just a splash of this, stir, stir stir

All stirred up it looks like this!

Pop it in here, if it's 1000 watt, just set for 3 minutes, 
if it's stronger, lower the power setting. 
I set mine for 9 but I think 8 might have been better. 
It will start growing

And growing

And GROWING EVEN MORE!!! 
(Next time I think I will try a bigger mug,
 but the recipe said it would grow out of the top)

Take your butter knife and run it around the edges... 
Dump it on a plate...
Have a little taste...

And the verdict is... pretty darn tasty! *

Makes enough for 3 really, but B.B. didn't want any!
Ice cream makes it PERFECT!

Enjoy!


* Thanks for playing, uh, neighbor kid...

Dealing with Frustration in a Therapeutically and Nutritionally Sound Manner

Arrrgh!

The MC and I had a conversation about this very expression the other day.

I was typing out some paperwork, hit a snag, emitted a quiet but frustrated, "Arrgh!"

(The) MC: How do you do that?

Me: What?

MC: You do it all the time. Wait, let me back up, when you make that noise, are you completely thrown or can you go right back to it?

Me: I go right back to it, why?

MC: I couldn't. That would throw me completely.

Me: You learn how. I do that to get my frustration out.

MC: (Snickering) So you're saying you let it out a little at at a time so you don't get impatient, like, say, I do?

Me. Your words not mine, Dude, your words not mine.

Aaaand speaking of frustration and impatience... 

B.B. is still pretty excited about kindergarten, all except for the walking everyday at recess.

What? You say your kindergartener didn't have to do that? That could be because your kindergartener isn't as evil high-spirited as Little Miss Boo.  In a week and a half she's managed to go ONE WHOLE DAY with no punishable offenses. YAAAY B.B.! One day in 10! Let's shoot for 2 next week!

She was quick to point out she only had to walk for 5 minutes of her recess today, usually she gets ten minutes. Hey, improvement's improvement, I'll take it.

Momma (me, not MY Momma) is rather diggin' the Kindergarten scene, too. For this one year, I have both babies under the same roof. Driving to only one location (rather than all over L-town) every morning is Suh-weet!  

That said, time diminished my memories of what Kindergartener-parenting entailed. I've been spoiled by the angelic Miss P.D. of the upper-elementary grades. P.D. does her homework. P.D. only needs Momma to check her backpack periodically. Fifth-graders (Fifth grade? Where did the time go?) aren't required to bring in snack for the whole class once a month.

I had also forgotten the rigors of 702 KAR 6:090. What's 702 KAR 6:090 you ask?  It is the Kentucky "Minimum nutritional standards for foods and beverages available on public school campuses during the school day" 

You buy that don't you? I don't. I've seen what they serve through the cafeteria... However, it IS the standard sent home with the note telling you that you need to get ready for your child's snack day turn. Kindly enough, they also send a list of 45 pre-approved, pre-packaged snacks for you to choose from at your shopping leisure. How convenient!

B.B.'s day to bring snack is tomorrow. I told P.D. to put a check by the ones she thought would be the best so I wouldn't end up buying B.B. a "nerdy" snack for her first snack day. Nothing but coolness for my baby.  That pecking order forms early. P.D. made some good choices, Baked chips, animal crackers, Teddy Grahams... easy, right? Everybody carries the little individual packages of these items, right?

Uh, no. No they don't.

We strolled non-nonchalantly through the L-town Kroger this afternoon without a care in the world. We only needed a few items, it was only 4:45, we'd take our time and enjoy our shopping. At just over 3/4 of the way through the  store, maybe Aisle 12, we arrived in the "cracker" aisle, perfect place to find pre-packaged animal crackers, or Cheese Nips or Teddy Grahams, right?

Animal Crackers? Wrong brand. Cheese Nips? None. Teddy Grahams? Wrong size package. Nabisco 100 Calorie Wheat Thin Packs? No multi-packages containing only the Wheat Thins, but variety packs with the Wheat Thins and 2 kinds that weren't on the list. That's okay, the 702 KAR 6:090 guidelines are right here on the list, only 3 main criteria to worry about: Sugar Content, Percent of Calories from Fat, and Sodium Content. Let me check on the back of these other two bad boys... at only 100 calories they gotta pass, right?

Fail.

After 20 minutes of this, we trouped back across the store to the breakfast food, Aisle 4: list in hand, forget cool. Surely Kroger would have

Chex Morning Mix snack packs? No.

Single serving packages of:

     Kellogg's Corn Flakes? No.
     Frosted Mini Wheats? No.
     Raisin Bran? No.
     Good Old Cheerios? No.

We reversed direction, this time to Aisle 13, the chip aisle. Where the heck were the Baked Lay's mini bags? Luckily a nice young man in a Kroger shirt happened by. I showed him the list and he mentioned a couple items he thought they might have in stock. He also directed me to the Lay's variety packs. (B.B.'s number one choice by this time) Back in Aisle 1. *sigh*

We arrived back in the bread section to find the correctly-sized bags of chips, Yaay!

None of these were baked chips, as required by 702 KAR 6:090 ... Booooooo.

We trudged back to Aisle 4 in search of the Quaker Chewy Granola bars, Chocolate Chips. The heavens opened up and an ethereal light shone down, the "angel" music played... lo and behold, LEGAL* SNACKS!!!!

Except, B.B. said, "NO Mommy! That's what we had for snack TODAY! Those aren't very good, Mommy."

I'm exhausted. By this time it's almost 6:30. Yet, how could I send my baby daughter, on her very first turn for snack-day, to school with a snack she didn't even like? That would just be cruel! Yet, in adherence with the nutritional wisdom of the 1990 Kentucky General Assembly, I HAD to comply with 702 KAR 6:090, right?

We made a different selection.



This was the one other item at the L-town Kroger that met the criteria espoused by 702 KAR 6:090, and therefore, made it to the "acceptable" list:

Banana-Flavored Cream-Filled Cakes covered in Crisco! YUM!!!!

*Sigh* Only in Kentucky....

*Kroger also had the Quaker Chewy Granola Bars in PEANUT BUTTER Chocolate Chip, (as approved on the list) but as any good elementary-school-aged child's mother knows, you go to hell for sending any product containing peanuts to school.

Aaaaah! and Texting with the MC

Okay, all of you who encouraged me and said I could do this grad school thing and be a single mom and hold a job/manage an internship: WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!!!!

If you're guilty of this, please raise your hand...

(Looking up seeing hand) Oh, this was originally MY idea wasn't it? (Well, sort of)

I have 4 baskets of clean laundry still waiting to be folded... (Okay, so that's not really new).

I have a new shower curtain somewhere in this mess that once resembled our living space... if I could find it to put it up...

I have a passel of car-wash supplies I bought 2 weeks ago (not to mention a gently used wet/dry vac Daddy gave me 3 weeks ago) hoping I'd find an 2-hour window in which to attack Kermit...

My hair is longer than it's ever been... not because I want it long but because I can't find time to get it cut.

I have SERIOUS grad-school Senioritis...

I have children who are starting to forget what I look like...

Hopefully,  I'll remedy some of that this weekend. Then... between Monday, August 22 and Thanksgiving I'll have two (count them, 1, 2) of  sixteen weekends off until Thanksgiving. I will have eight (count them, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 6, 7, and 8) internship classes to attend from 6-9 pm on every other Thursday night. I will have clinic on Tuesdays, which means no getting home before 7 pm  on seventeen (count them 1, 2, 3... oh nevermind) Tuesdays in that period. Oh, and that doesn't even touch the HOMEWORK I'll be doing, the tests I'll have to take.

But then, I'll be DONE. At least with THIS chapter's struggles. MAN I want a cigarette, but I'm 3 months, 2 weeks and 11 hours smoke-free, so I can't even do THAT!!!

Speaking of done, I'm wrapping up this semester's paperwork this week. Part of that is my evaluation of the Master Counselor, (the MC) then his evaluation of me. As you may have guessed, every now and then, I have to remind Mr. OCD to take a breath to avoid a freak-out. Last night, I had class at 6, but 5:50 I hadn't heard from my babysitter and had to call for backup... knowing class had already begun while I waited. No pressure. To amuse myself, I texted the MC.

Me: What's that I'm always telling you to do? Breathe?

MC: Yes, what's up?

Me: Babysitter didn't show. Waiting for backup... I'm okay... Just not breathing. :-/

Later, in internship class, I got his reply:

MC: S--t happens! (yes, he put the dashes in... sometimes he chooses to show a semblence of tact)

Me: Be nice to me. I'm evaluating you as we speak.

MC: Ya but don't forget, I play a role role in your FINAL grade.

Me: Look here you old coot, you should be looking for grade HIGHER than an A to give to me for putting up with your S--t!

(Okay, so I didn't really send that last one, but I WANTED to.)

Where Was I?

Where've I been? Indecisiveville!

Luckily, I wasn't driving Kermit to get there. I drove the MC in Kermit to lunch earlier today... (Yaaay! Lunch is primo MC-brain-picking time.) I asked the MC about a sound Kermit was making and he listed a couple things it could be, stressing that I needed to get it checked out soon.

Where was I? Yes, Indecisiveville. (And apparently A.D.D.-ville as well... ahem!)

I wasn't sure what I thought, how I felt, what I should do about several different issues... and I wasn't even sure how to put those things into words. I still don't know, but at least I don't feel as lost as I did.

As some of you know The Gusto Theatre managed to put on 2 more shows after the one they originally planned to end with. The final show was this past Sunday, but I had to be out of town. I felt horrible that I wasn't there with my Theatre Babies. In the days leading up to that final show and each day since, I've felt I needed to write something earth-shatteringly touching and special, just to honor my love for each and every one one of them. 

Tonight though, thinking it over, I don't think I could write anything wonderful enough to live up to my love for them. I know, they know. My hope for them is one they'll recognize, a favorite quote of Mr. Dowell's.... 

In the words of Theodore Roosevelt (who will in my mind, will forever sound a lot like our beloved Jonathan): 

Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those timid spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.

I read that again, and it kind of/sort of segues me right back into talking about working with the Master Counselor. For the last couple weeks, I've been wondering whether I would continue to intern with him next semester. It's not that I wanted to leave, I wasn't sure that he wanted me to stay.

As I've said before, the program he's developed is pretty amazing... and his passion for helping the population he serves is undeniably infectious. However, as I've also said before, he can be very gruff... in some ways easy to read but in others, not so much. Several pow-wows later, and I still don't want to leave, gruff though he may be. He puts himself out there, really doing something to help, and I can't help to want to be a part of that in whatever way I can be. God isn't showing me indications that I should leave, so until HE says it's time to go, I'll stay.

Later this afternoon I had a major screw up... something I couldn't help, but in a moment of OCD panic, the MC called me on the carpet. I listened with complete calm as he said his piece, turned on his heel and disappeared into his office. My typical MO in previous years, heck even recent months, in such a situation would have been to become overwhelmed and then to burst into tears. Today however, I didn't bat an eye. Later, when he called me in to discuss it, he was completely fair with me and understood completely the choices I had made and that in the process of learning I was bound to make mistakes. I've pondered if my calm came from simply moving out of my depression recently, if it showed growth on my part (some of it due to his example), or if it was simply from knowing that he WOULD be fair with me as soon as he calmed down. We have a good working relationship, an acceptance of one another, warts and all. And that's worth sticking around for.

Finally, I've been debating how much to share with you all about some other issues in my life. Cap says I should, but Cap is braver than me. I'm not sure what you'll think, I'm not sure if I'll look silly. (You know it's major if I'm CONCERNED about looking silly).Then again, this-topic-I-say-I-am-avoiding could be nothing at all but a cheap ploy to get you to come back hoping I'll spill my guts. Tune in next time...

I think I'll just wait until something in that situation happens that is so funny that I'll have to share it with you guys for the cheap laugh. I'll do anything for the cheap laugh.

Oh, I'm sure there's more I could write, but I have to get up in the morning to take Kermit to the dealership to get him checked out. Halfway home this afternoon, the MC called to remind me that I needed to go SOON. :) He won't admit it, but he likes working with me, too.

Bringing the MC into 2010(1) and Texting with Kelly

I've tried to present the Master Counselor in the best light because 1. I'm grateful for my job and 2. I genuinely like the MC.

I've told you he's OCD. I've told you he's intimidating at times... so what I've hinted at, but I haven't really come out and said is, 1. He's WAY set in his ways, 2. He can be a major grouch if things don't go the way he wants them to or the way he thinks they should, PARTICULARLY technology-related tasks. Luckily, (and in his defense) he CAN laugh at himself and he's also very self-aware and would freely admit to these flaws. (Um, I think. Yeah, he would, 'cause he really could give a rat's hind-end what you think of him.)

Anyway, the forms overhaul...  I set up headers (logos, if you will) for both the satellite office and the main practice. I also set up footers for both. The MC was smart enough to save all his forms in rich text format so they'd open anywhere... and I could easily edit them from my machine. Unfortunately, he was also running his documents out of Word '03... and Word '03 didn't feature the font I used to set up the main office logo... not to mention I didn't have a clue as to how to add the headers and footers to his header/footer template library so he wouldn't have to copy/paste everything from other documents. So I casually mentioned on Wednesday that he really should upgrade, that it would be so much better... Note CASUALLY.

This morning I came in early, and the MC had a client in his office so I had to hang out in the front office for a bit. Lee* comes in on Friday mornings to clean, so I chatted with her while I waited. She casually mentioned that he had been frustrated when he came in this morning because he bought and loaded Word 2010 and couldn't get any of his non-.rtf files to open. I started (jokingly) packing up my things.

Lee: where are you going?
Me: I'm getting out of here before he gets out of that session!
Lee: Wha?
Me: It was MY IDEA for him to upgrade!
Lee: Oh man!
Me: He will kill me. It won't be pretty.
Lee: It might not be too bad, he didn't sound too evil when he said your name earlier...

Luckily I had some time to research the problem and print out "fixes" before his session ended. And true to type, he made a beeline for me as soon as his client left. I held up my printed research like a shield. I went to his computer, opened Word 10 and opened a file... no problem.

MC: How'd you do that?
Me: Through Word
MC: I want to open them the way I've always opened them! Can't you make them do THAT?
Me: Grumble...

Unfortunately, I couldn't get the "open with" command to work... not even by browsing for Word 10. I ended up calling technical support, and spent an hour on the phone with "Steve" who had to take over the computer and spend another hour or so  fixing it.

MC: (Watching) Why can't you do that? Why did you have to let someone overseas do it? You're the guru.
Me: He's fixing the registry. I appreciate your confidence, but registry issues are above my pay grade. They make the top of my head blow clean off.

That seemed to satisfy him... but he latched on to "above my pay grade" and I suspect anything he thinks I can't do will be "above my pay grade" for the next few weeks. It's okay, I've proved him wrong before... ;-)

It's Friday night. (Well, technically it's early Saturday morning, but I wanted to get this done before... well, I'll add that at the end. I got a text from Kelly earlier:

Kelly: You up?
Me: Yes... on a date.
Kelly: Cool. I'll not interrupt.
Me: Oh, you're not. It's with 2 guys... Ben & Jerry.
Kelly: Smh...


As for why I had to get this done... well I won't be near a computer for a couple days. Why? It's in the chorus...**



*not her real name
** don't forget to turn off the player on the right!

All Fired Up

Annnnd I'm back.

Some brief announcements:

The Master Counselor sends his apologies for not doing anything particularly amusing today to blog about. (Aside from just BEING the MC, which is amusing in and of itself.) This is a balancing act... clients say and do lots of funny things during the day, but I can't blog about them (confidentiality, you know). Luckily, the MC is fair game. Unfortunately, he knows this and has been on best behavior.

Wait, its not particularly funny, but I was the victim of an MC quirk today.... and I managed to go almost all day without any nicotine gum as a (happy?) result.  On satellite-office days, I ride with the MC to work: it's in another town, and he drives right past my street to get there. He told me yesterday he'd be here between 9:15 and 9:30 a.m. to pick me up today. Silly me, I forgot that 9:15 is 8:45 in MC-speak. Actually, I didn't forget, I just hoped I'd be wrong. I was dressed and ready when he got here, but I hadn't stocked my purse with gum yet. I made it through the day fairly well on placebo gum, but I'm on my second piece with nicotine juice since I got home, and I've only been here a couple hours. And Fantasia still plays in my head...

In other news... Remember T.L.C., the one who comments in my posts? You know, the ONE who comments on my posts? (ahem) Anyway, she has a new address for her blog, and I've linked to the new one down in the" Blogs I Follow", so you'll be able to see when she's posted something new, and get there more easily. Our styles are nothing alike, but she posts some insightful stuff, you should check it out when she gets it really up and running. Just sayin'.

The rest:

Oh, and have you guys noticed my playlist has commercials in it now? BOO. Still, I worked on that playlist too long... I'm keeping it.

Now I believe there comes a time when everything just falls in line...

Oops, I was singing aloud wasn't I? (#3 on the player.) Actually very apropos for the REST of what I wanted to write about: 3 years of blogging. Yes, I know my archive says 2, but I have a year's worth of blogs from the previous year posted on that first day here.

As most of you know, this blog began during my first year of widowhood. I look back at some of those posts and almost "see" the cloud that hung over me during that period... even in the cheery posts. I "see" that cloud (in some periods, even darker) over the second year... but I don't "see" that cloud anymore. I'm finally used to presenting "me". I can finally do that without feeling a need to qualify my identity with his. I don't feel a lingering depression that just won't go away... dare I believe, maybe it finally did.

I like getting out of bed in the morning. I look forward to discovering what each day holds again. I look forward to life "as is" instead of "what life was supposed to be." And that's the difference between THIS post and all the "I think I'm better" posts along the way.

However, I will say... when I read over those old posts, especially in the "What Happened" posts before Deat's death, I see a woman who looked to the Lord more for guidance than the woman I see in the mirror does now. And I'm not pleased with that. Luckily, God knows I'm ADD. He keeps revealing to me how those "Oooh, shiny!" moments, the ones that contradict having the courage of my convictions, that send me off-course, could become really painful if I keep following them. He keeps adding people to my life who remind me I need to stay close to Him. New seeds have been planted.

I also find myself being more careful, more selective, about what I say now. I suppose then, it was "more okay" to be vulnerable: I wasn't good at being anything BUT vulnerable. I'm going to try to go back to sharing what's actually in my heart... but for those of you who enjoy it, don't worry, I'll be laughing at the crazy things I observe, too.  I was writing to a new blog friend about the start of JustKellyHere the other day, and I think what I said there sums it all up nicely:

I was much more honest and open in my blog in the first year or two... mostly because dealing with my grief was kind of THE POINT of the blog. Back then, hardly anyone knew it existed...  Writing those posts was very healing for me. I really wasn't sure who "Just Kelly" was... It's interesting to me to go back and read those posts: they're me, but not me. I guess that means I figured it out. And that's kind of the point, too. .  

Blog Time I Didn't Want...Except...

I didn't plan to blog today. I had lots of plans for getting other things in my life accomplished... Except...

This week has been crazy hectic. To explain:

Prior to my tenure with him, and in all his brilliance, the Master Counselor devised a counseling program that is unique to Kentucky. I can't say more than that or risk revealing his identity. (If I told ya, I'd have to kill ya, mostly, because he'd kill me.) I am very impressed with said program... but I wasn't impressed with the forms for documentation. Well, I take that back... considering the difference between my technological experience and his, I was VERY impressed with the forms he created... they just needed a little tweaking for consistency's sake and to make them easier to edit later.

So, I set about creating a "style" for his documentation and redesigning the forms a bit...  it was just going to be something to piddle with when I had free-time between other assignments. I figured it would also benefit me in that I'd learn more about his program and real-world counseling documentation in the process.

Let me say something right here to further explain why this project is so important to me: The MC pays me even though he didn't have to. I need the hours and experience I get in his office in order to graduate.  He even pays me for the hours I spend observing while he counsels clients. To say I feel an extreme debt of gratitude to the MC is an understatement; this project represented my chance to bring something of real value to him.

The MC liked my initial work, but other chores needed to take precedence... until last Wednesday. On Wednesday morning he announced that a government agency (who shall also remain nameless) would be coming in one-week hence to inspect the program at the satellite office... and he wanted all his documentation forms and program introductions in the new style... (No pressure Kel, just do your thing! Gulp..)

So we've spent hours and hours editing, revising and revamping. I couldn't wait to see what the inspector would think of them... Except...

When I asked the MC Monday if I could observe the inspection he said he thought the fewer people present at the inspection, the better; and his partners in the program would be there as well. No big, except I really wanted to go. We spent yesterday at his satellite office and had a really good day, so (hoping in his good mood, he would change his mind) I asked again, and got the same answer. (Oh well, rats.) This morning I went in to his main office early to help him put the finishing touches on his files and et cetera before the meeting.

The MC looked at me and said, "I've been thinking, it must be really important to you to be present for that inspection to have asked me twice. If you can be quiet and defer ANY question they have to me, you can go." ... Except...

I looked down at the VERY casual t-shirt and blue jeans I was wearing and thanked him but told him no, I was really under-dresssed. (RATS! RATS! RATS! RATS! RATS!!!!) He left for his meeting at his satellite office at 11:00 this morning, and took all the files with him so I have the afternoon off. He's probably in the meeting right now. Those inspector folks will have no idea of all the hard work we put into those forms in the last week, and probably won't care how about how beautifully formatted they are... but the suspense is killing me just the same.

Meanwhile, back in school... I have a major take-home exam due for my second Assessment/Diagnosis class tomorrow afternoon. On Saturday, Dr. O. handed out the info-packets that included all the information we'd need to put together the Mock Diagnostic Report that would be our Final Exam. He was one info-packet short. Since I knew some of the others in my cohort wanted to start on their's right after class, I said no problem, I'm planning to head to my parents' house right after class and won't get started on it this weekend anyway, just email it to me and I'll print it out. I only half-jokingly said "email it NOW" to make sure I'd have it. Dr. O, said he couldn't at the moment, but assured me he'd email it as soon as he got home...  Since The MC turned me down on Monday and Tuesday, I planned to do it this afternoon... Except...

It's not there in my in-box. If I don't get an extension on this assignment I will kill him.

My other possible project I had planned for this afternoon was to get the laundry caught up again... Except...

Also on Saturday, I was ALMOST caught up on all the laundry, the washing part anyway. I only had one more load washing to go into the dryer; and one last load to go into the washer, so I asked my babysitter to put the load in the dryer and get the other load started in washer while I was in class... I'd put the last load in the dryer, catch up all the folding and putting away in a couple hours: the girls and I would head to P-town after that.

When I got home from class, the washer was full of water and not doing a thing. I ran upstairs and checked the breaker box: no problems. I checked the breaker on the power strip where the extension cord from the washer was plugged in, it was blown... yaay? No. Trying to turn on the washer blew it again. Sigh. Unplug the breaker, plug the extension cord directly into the wall... nothing. Check the breaker box again, no problems. Try the power strip again... nothing... but the light on the dehumidifier that was also plugged into the power strip was still on.

Call Daddy, see if he knows why I'd get this series of electrical indications. Daddy says he thinks my problem is not with the electricity but the washer itself. He also says, "I'll be there in a couple hours" (Daddy is 73 years old. He taught me tons and tons about home repair when I was growing up. He didn't NEED to drive 100 miles to look at my washer. I suspect he knew he didn't need to, but I also suspect it made him feel good to show me he loved me enough to drive 100 miles to look at my washer.)

Meanwhile, I keep checking everything out. I could hear the motor "start" to work, then stop. The tub would turn, but begrudgingly. Was there something down in between blocking it? I disassemble the whole cabinet so I can check, can't find anything, so I use my wet-dry vac to drain the water,  then put everything back together. (Mostly so Daddy can order me to take it apart again when he arrives.) Daddy gets here, we try this, we try that, we suspect the motor is toast but we don't know so I'll have to call a repairman...

I had work and class Monday, and a 12 hour workday yesterday... so said repairman couldn't come until today... and OF COURSE he'd have to order the motor: it will be in tomorrow. He also mentioned that washing machine motors often blow because the washers were plugged into extension cords and didn't get enough electricity to allow them to work properly. (Just like the way MINE is set up) Which I would remedy... Except...

There is no plug anywhere within reach of the only place in my house that I could possibly PUT the washing machine...  I wish Daddy had taught me how to be an electrician...

Oh well, I could still spend the afternoon folding some of that huge pile of clean clothes that still needs folding... Except...

I had to type this out for you. ;)

Stopping By for a Brief Catch-up

Hellooooo? Anybody here?

(Wiping off a chair) Here, sit down, sit down, I'll put some coffee on. Things get really dusty around here when I don't come in often enough...

I'm sorry I haven't been here to write, it's not because I didn't want to. For the 4 people who check in regularly, I thought about you the whole time I was gone. I was actually DOING STUFF. (Yaay! There was a time in the history of this blog when I didn't want to leave the house!) I composed entry after entry... in my head.

Out and About

I had one about my last visit with Richie and Wendy (shooting pool of course!) but things were busy so I could only memorialize it in pictures (Mostly on Facebook). Richie beat me to death, Wendy is a doll baby, love them both to pieces... nothing big and new, and we didn't discuss anything amazing or earth-shattering. Then again, with great friends you don't have to, it's enough just be together.

Still not digging how I look in these "we took a shot of ourselves" pictures,
 but I'll get used to it. It's the shot of the other two I really wanted anyway

Miscellaneous

I considered one about how much I'm enjoying visiting while the girls are at theater camp, how much I love my Theatre Babies, but you already know that... I am planning some mischief with my Gusto Girlfriends (the theatre Moms) but since many of them read this blog, I'll have be careful what I report... stay tuned!

I thought about writing one about Dr. P and what a great professor he is... epitome of what a counselor should be and all that... but for the girls in my cohort and me, giving Dr. P a hard time is one of the best parts of Internship Group Supervision class... so I really can't write a whole blog entry being NICE to him...

Then there was the one about...  Never mind.

The MC

The one I most wanted to write is about my new internship for this semester, more specifically, to introduce you to my boss. The Master Counselor is a Vietnam Vet, and a graduate of the same master's program I'm in.  Dr. P commented that my supervisor was very good at what he does; so I entered this internship with a teensy level of hero worship going before I even met him. Add to my preconceived visions of him a deep, all-business voice, a blunt no-nonsense approach to nearly everything, plus a wee bit of (admitted on his part) impatience, and I was almost intimidated into submission....

Best description I can give it: He likes some things a certain way, I'm particular about certain other things... we get together and play musical OCD. I would have written an entire blog about him a couple weeks ago, but privacy is also in his list of hang-ups, so I had to ask permission first, knowing his answer would be a big, fat NO. It took me a week to get up the nerve to ask him.

"I promise not to use your name!'

"Oh, well I guess that's okay then"

I had no intention of using his name in the first place. To me, referring to him as "The Master Counselor" is  infinitely more amusing. I, of course, am "The Counselor's Apprentice."



(No kidding, every now and then when we're having a round and round discussion, I hear the music that starts at around 2:15 start playing in my head. If I'm not careful, I can see the MC resorting to the action at 8:52.)

However, I think we're getting the hang of each other. I'm there to learn, he's willing to teach. He has a ton of experience... seems to enjoy passing his learning along, and he's stinkin' brilliant. (Don't tell him I said that.) Sometimes I learn as much at lunch as I learn in an entire weekend of classes. I bring some technology experience to the table that's come in handy lately, and he makes an effort to let me know it's appreciated... which means a great deal to me. PLUS... he counsels from a holistic perspective, including the spiritual. I think God stuck me right where I needed to be.

Wish I could write more, but there's a pile of laundry the size of a VW Bug on my bed waiting to be folded. (Well, I won't be folding it tonight, but I wanted you to know it got put off so I could get this much typed out.)

I'll try to get back here soon, promise. Lock up on the way out...