Sunday, March 28, 2010

My Spring Break

I'll show you the end from the finish line. . .

Treatment plans, DSM IV-TR diagnoses, Genograms, etc.

97 pages on what makes a healthy couple and how to do effective couples' therapy ad nauseum:

This paper (for one class) is over twice as long as my master's thesis will be:

Yes sir, I had it professionally bound and have looked through it over and over again, admiring all the toil and brain power. Turning it in tomorrow.

This is the look of relief after spending over 50 hours on this fantastic little project:

I'm too pooped to go into further detail. I am glad Spring Break is over so I can go back to school. . .

Saturday, March 20, 2010

On second thought. . .

Tyler: [Working in the garden] Sun. . .

Sundy: [Working on homework outside by the garden] Yeah?

Tyler: Are you sure that you're more scared of ants than snakes?

Sundy: Wahhhhhhhhh!!!!

Friday, March 19, 2010


I hope this leaves you squirming as much as it does me. I. . .HATE ANTS. This is a time that calls for all caps.

I haven't always hated ants, and maybe I really don't . . . No, I do. It started in Texas when as a little girl I realized that my baby sister was sitting on a castle: an anthill home to bazillions of angry, red, fire ants. She was splotchy for days.

Then there was that intoxicating cream cheese frosting with chocolate sprinkles carrot cake that a recent convert made my trainer for her birthday. . .except that before we left our flat that morning, the cake didn't have sprinkles on it. Our mights, minds, and strengths were stronger than usual that day because we knew what was waiting at home.

Me: Hey, I don't remember the cake having sprinkles on it [from the door].

Sis. Hiatt: [moving closer] Yeah, and they're moving around, too. . .

You already know the end of this story, but can I just ruminate on the horror of discovering a colony of black African ants throughout our entire flat? They marched in straight-lined legions from under the beds, across the walls, over the floors, up the table legs and chairs, 3 inches deep into the honey jar, and yes, to their final destination: our treasured remains of carrot cake.

That's the thing about ants: they're smart (they sure do know how to feign dead0; they have good taste (only the sugary sweet stuff tempts them); they look so innocent.

But not in this house. We have been cleaning out our cupboards, disinfecting our counter-tops, emptying our trash, and setting out poison traps for MONTHS and to no avail. I get my Raid ant-killer out often and squeal with terror as I get 'em. I squash them with my hands (I'm an ant mass-murderer). I don't take delight in this. I cannot handle opening a drawer and seeing 15 little black dots pretending to be dead until I draw near and they scramble.

I can do spiders and snakes, high-crime neighborhoods, and graduate school, but get me around some little black ants and I'll be wringing my hands, chills down my spin, letting out horrified squeals of consternation and panic.

Maybe this would qualify for a specific phobia; it is causing marked impairment (in my desire to be in the kitchen) and significant distress .

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Turning 27

Oh, how the years go by. Tomorrow I'll be 3 years closer to 30. I haven't seen any gray hairs as of yet. On my morning walk, in the cool of the trees and river path, I thought about what I accomplished as a 26 year old.

I came up with the following:

  • Applied, got accepted to, and started graduate school.
  • Finished my year of AmeriCorps service.
  • Made two Amish quilts.
  • Locked up my keys 5 times (Twice in the house, three times in the car): a new record.
And that was the list. . . [Crickets chirping].

If I was a goal oriented person (which I semi-am), I would feel that this last year was not my most productive. But as I am a relationally-oriented person foremost, I've continued thinking, and while all the rest are works in progress (aka lifetime pursuits), I none-the-less consider the following as productive pieces of my mortal probation:
  • Started the healing process after our miscarriage
  • Reaching outside of myself to make new friends
  • Trying to stay connected with old friends
  • Learning and loving more about my eternal companion every day
  • Mourning with those that mourn
  • Self-recognizing blind spots and pride in all their secretive and entitling ways
  • Continuing a love-affair with the Word of God
  • Keeping hope for the future
  • Living in the moment (every now and then)
  • Forgiving old hurts from myself in all my foolishness and others in all their humanness
  • Eating healthier
  • Doing something physically demanding every day
  • Grappling with life's questions, heartaches, pains, and mysteries with continued faith in the Healer of all wounds.
I'd like to say that as a 26 year old I became a mother. Maybe I did. I feel different. I'd like to say that at 26, my husband entered his first year of medical school. He didn't, but I've seen more and more reasons why he already is a healer. I'd like to say that I rid myself of all bad habits, social blunders, and selfish ways, but I didn't. And good thing, because what would I have to look forward to in turning 27? :)