Practicing Psychotherapy

posted by Stace....

Well, I started a new job on October 16, practicing psychotherapy.

This is what I have wanted to do for oh, 10 years now.

Things seem to be going well with the job, I think I like it. I have to admit though, it's difficult to know how I really feel about the job yet as I despised my last job so much that anything would be an enormous improvement - apart from a slaughter house...

The biggest issue with the new position is my confidence level - which has wavered some recently. I don't know everything (!) - which Kevin would be shocked to hear, I am sure - and that has caused me a great deal of concern and angst. How can I do this job if I don't know everything? While intellectually I understand that - despite my great deficits - I can in fact do quite a fine job knowing what I know, I hit the books. Not only did I hit the books, but I hit Amazon.com in an effort to buy more books. By God, I will know everything one day!!!

Today, on my way to work, full of angst and self doubt, I thought about my lack of confidence.
In an effort to change my negative self talk to more reality-based positive self talk, it occurred to me that maybe there is a reason it's called a "practice". If there were just one theory that fit all, or one treatment that worked for any one person, then it would be easy (bottled and sold at Wal-Mart, no doubt), but instead there are many different theories, treatments, and approaches that work for different people at different times - not unlike other professions in the health field - and it's all about the art of practicing what works, what doesn't, for who, and when. And clearly, no one theorist or psychotherapist/analyst has all of the exactly right answers - how could they, after all - and so we continue to practice.

I felt much better, went to work and did well, and came home feeling victorious.

I will go through the whole thing again tomorrow. But tonight, things are good. Came home, Kevin has to be at work at some insane hour of the morning, so he groggily greeted me as I walked in the door. I tucked him in as he crawled back into bed. He reached down into the cravass of covers and reported, "the longer I am in here, the more of these I find," as he hands me Victor Frankl's book, The Doctor and the Soul.

Almost carefree weekend....

posted by Kevin.....

Everyone hates Mondays. Not me. I'm usually off on Mondays, so I get to relax and recover from my hectic, workaholic weekends.

Actually, this weekend wasn't hectic at all. Stace and I had plans to go to St. Paul on Saturday, but we scrapped that, deciding instead we needed a weekend home to ourselves.

On Saturday, I worked on our bathroom remodeling a bit, while Stace finished up Thank You cards to our wedding guests. As I built up unbelievable amounts of drywall dust in the bathroom, Stace would occasionally yell, "Come sign this please!" I later placed a large fan in the window to reduce the thick dust to more believable amounts.

With white smoke pouring out of our bathroom window, it appeared Northfield had finally elected a new pope. We then decided to end the day with a couple of pints at the Contented Cow.

Stace divided up Sunday between shopping and working from home on the computer while I worked on the Black and Tan bike project in the shop. But disaster disrupted the harmony briefly when I dropped a freshly painted bike fender on the ground.

I believe the feeling I felt was similar to when a parent drops their newborn baby on the garage floor for the first time. (Am I right, Mom?)

"Oh, honey. It's okay. Just redo it." Stace said when she saw the fender.
"No it's ruined! I'm gonna smash it and throw it in the trash!" I said jokingly.
"Well, at least you're coping with it well." Stace said with a smile.

After refinishing the fender, we walked downtown to the Goodbye Blue Monday coffeeshop. It was sunny and 60 degrees. While we sat on a corner downtown sipping coffee, our friend Ken rode up on his bike. I asked him about his bicycling trip to Italy last month. He told us wonderful stories about the magnificent old homes where they stayed, the beautiful Tuscan scenery, and welcoming Italian people.

(Stace and I went to Wisconsin last month, but I didn't bring that up.)

Today it will be 65 degrees! I have this huge list of things I didn't get done this weekend : finish the walls in the bathroom, rake the backyard........all of which will have to wait since I'm going on a 2 hour bike ride instead.

Sometimes, when the weather is just right, the area around Northfield looks surprising a lot like northern Italy.

The Glass Basket

The phone rang this morning at 9:00 am. I was just getting out of bed when Stace answered it (she had been up for a while of course).

I heard Stace comment, "When he's had his eyes open for awhile, he'll come over and do that for you." These are EXACTLY the words I love to hear when I first get up on a Saturday morning.

However, this was Lillian. The little old lady next door was calling to see if I could come over and dig up some bulbs before they freeze. Of course I would gladly do it!

It was actually important to me to do this. For those of you who don't know, in May I had just pulled into my driveway when I noticed Lillian was on the ground in front of her house. She had fallen and broken her hip. I called 911 and stayed with her until the ambulance took her away. She made a full recovery, but she can't leave the house alone now.

I went over and she handed me a pitch fork. She directed me from her open garage door as to the location of her gladiolus and such. "There are 2 bulbs in the center of that planter by the driveway. Now this planter here around the corner has 3 bulbs in it." I dug them out carefully and handed them to her. I was amazed really. She put these in this spring. There were several types of bulbs, each in different locations.

Did I mention she is almost completely blind?

We chatted about how she will store these bulbs in the basement until they are ready to go back in the planters in the spring. She then handed me some garden pepper spray, ".....so you don't have to chase those darn squirrels around your yard no more." I laughed and thanked her.

She said she had a wedding gift for us and invited me in. "It's there on the table. It's not wrapped nice or anything." she said. It was a basket shaped glass bowl. "This was given to me as a wedding gift. So it's 60 years old now." I said, "Oh, Lillian this is so nice. You don't have to give us this." "WHY?" she yelled. "Well, I mean are you sure you want to part with it?" I said. She smiled, "I want you to have something to remember me by." She could not tell how touched I was.

She continued, "And there is something else there, right? A certificate or something?" I picked up the folded paper in the basket and looked at it. It was a $20 gift certificate for Rueb 'n' Stein bar and grille. Stace and I go there often.

"Thank you, thank you. This is so sweet. This basket is beautiful. And Stace and I love Rueb 'n' Stein." I said.

"OOOOh, their burgers are great, ya know?" she said.

The Black and Tan - Part 1

A few months ago, I found parts for an early 1980's mountain bike FREE at a garage sale. Ironically, Stace and I were having a garage sale of our own that day when I cruised down the street and returned with more "junk".

But, Stace was actually very supportive. She knows my love of old bikes and that I already had a 1940's era Schwinn in our garage, ready for restoration. She had only one request: "Don't bring another old bike home until you finish one of these first."

So here is the start of the story of "The Black And Tan". I don't know how interesting this is to anyone, but I will post updates about this project from time to time.

1. Disassemble the bike, organize the parts I have, and decide what parts I'll need:


As you can see from this photo, the bike is missing a few parts. I actually got the bike with the handle bars and brakes, but I already removed them before this photo. But I'm missing a seatpost, seat, and chain. Some of those thing are kind of important.

2. Sand and prime the frame:

The 22 year old frame was almost rust free. Removing old decals was the hardest part. I had already decided on a paint scheme by this point. I was inspired by a bottle of Guinness Draught. The "colours" would be black and tan. (Because I'm Irish, I build bikes, and I drink Guinness.)

3. Paint the frame:

I sprayed three coats of the light tan (or "cream") color first. Two days later I taped that off and I sprayed the rest of the frame three coats of black (over a few days). In this photo, I'm sanding between coats.

The Black And Tan. Coming along nicely. Now I must find some bike parts....

Stace's Mail

A rather benign weekend here at the Northfield Rambler - which quite frankly, is really, really welcomed. Cleaned out the garage - I like to slip various items of Kevin's into the trash bin when he isn't looking - oh come on, it's no big deal - he rifles through it later anyway 'cause it would be "wrong" to actually throw anything away.

Hmm, what else... Kevin planted roughly 50 tulip bulbs on Saturday, which took awhile as it is imperative that he find just the right spot for each and every tulip (and here's the thing - each one will be perfectly placed...). Since then, however, he has become utterly obsessed with the squirrels, and literally runs outside to scare them away whenever he sees them digging (which they do a lot of this time of year).

I sat on the sofa this morning giggling as I watched him whiz past me and out the front door, run to the pine tree and inspect the garden around it, then stare up the branches. Then, he runs directly to our other tree in the front yard, patting the ground, looking up...

So, I hope for his sake we are surrounded by beautiful tulips in the spring.

All of this ruckus quickly - too quickly, I feel - led to the discussion of "what to do" about the squirrels. And yes, it was mentioned that they meet their untimely deaths by Kevin's hands. While I know this is not something he would actually do, I had to put my foot down - we will not become the crazy neighbors of Northfield. While Kevin was explaining his next best plan of building duck decoys that will be strategically placed in my garden, among other places, and will be built to sway in the wind - because apparently squirrels are afraid of ducks (?) - the sad reality hit me: we already are the crazy neighbors of Northfield.

Other News:
Yesterday afternoon Kevin was going through the mail and read the title of a pamphlet I received for an upcoming workshop. "Hmm, 'Accompanying the Dying'" he mutters, "You get the best mail." Laughing, we realized that our postman must think, "That Mr. Klempnauer sure is a nice guy, but boy, his wife is a mess," as he delivers a continuous flow of pamphlets entitled "The Meth Epidemic", "Coping with Self Harm", "Boundaries - and the People Who Need Them".

Makes me think though, "accompanying the dying" - how far am I supposed to accompany them anyway? I think setting a boundary is in order - it's a good thing I went to that workshop...

Speaking of mail and death - Kevin gets mail regarding cemetery landscaping. Really. Who knew this was a specialty? Landscaping is landscaping, I thought. But apparently the person who lived here before us was a grounds keeper at Oaklawn Cemetery and so we continue to receive his mail and catelogs. Yes, catalogs specifically for cemetery landscapes. Kevin loves them, reads them cover to cover.

The week in Review

Well, it's been a quiet week here in Northfield, Minnesota. No major weather disasters. No wedding planning arguments. And no home improvement nightmares.

Just life.

This week:

Monday: As I was flying all over North Dakota, Stace settled into her new job as a counselor in Eagan. In fact, she had four new clients that first day. She called me later and said her boss didn't even show her around the clinic building. So it was like, "Let's see, Mrs. *blank* is scheduled for 3:oopm, and where is the bathroom?"

Tuesday: I was off. It rained. I did laundry. Stace worked late.

Wednesday: I flew to Bismarck, ND. I arrived after sunset and was shocked when I got off the plane and there was an inch of snow all over the ground. It was also 25 degrees. I hate my job. On the flight back, I saw the Northern Lights. I love my job.

Thursday: I was off, so I met Stace at the counseling clinic for lunch. She took me back, and I had a seat in her office. She said, "You look nervous." "I don't like doctor's offices." I said. She sat down in front of me. "Tell me more about THAT." she said.

Friday: I flew to Pierre, SD for my regular "twice-a-year" training. The chief pilot and I flew for an hour, doing simulated emergencies and putting the plane into steep turns, steep climbs and aerodynamic stalls. I flew approaches to landing with one engine at idle (as if it were broken). I then hit the classroom (an old office desk in a large, noisy, maintenance hangar) for four hours of reading aircraft manuals. Afterwards, I actually thought to myself, "This sucks. I can't believe I have to do this every six months!"

Poor me, huh?

Scaping of Land

I think our backyard looks much better with that tree removed:

I can almost see our Thai garden from our living room.

It took me most of June to build this. We use it for cookouts mostly.

There is a slight chance these are not photos of our backyard. Actually, I think these are photos Stace and I took on our honeymoon.

(However, I must say that the resemblance to our own property was a bit scary.)

We Took A Tree Down Today!

Today Kevin thought he would do some pruning. And then he thought he would take down a 25' tall tree. And then he started bugging me to come out and help. And then he noted that this was a "big project". And this is how it went:

I jammed my swollen foot into a tennis shoe begrudgingly, knowing that this would take the better half of the day. Stepping out our back door I saw what looked to be the beginning of a rather sophisticated ropes course, including carabiners and everything. What didn't quite fit the ropes course scenario were the strewn tools all over the lawn - here a saw, there the long handled clippers, way over there a stepladder. And Kevin in the midst of it all suitably attired with giant plastic goggles and ear protection - running a chainsaw. A chainsaw? Where did he get the -- oh well.

So, he pointed me in the direction of a coiled climbing rope, suggested I wrap it around me and "give a tug". We discuss this plan for a few minutes as I would like to be clear about what he thinks the outcome is going to be, and where exactly is it that we want this tree to land?

Now, did I mention that the tree is inbetween 2 sets of power lines that come together at a telephone pole about 15 feet from the tree in question. Kevin's plan sounds like a good one: he wants to pull this tree, that he has cut to the extent that he plans to, and what it's going to do is jump off of it's "pedestal" (which I would have called it's "stump") - not forward, toward me ( the puller) but "behind" the "pedestal". At which point the top of the "pedestal" will allow the tree a teetering point and the tree may gently be pulled in the desired direction - toward me. Did I mention that I am supposed to "run the other direction" upon pulling it? - Over our decorative rocks, over our hail pocked yard, all with a swollen ankle.

My husband is insane, and the job that I thought would take up the better half of the day was about to get bigger, so I bit my tongue (oh yes, I really did.) It is at this point I decide to mention the little tree that is directly between the doomed tree and myself. "So, um, what about that little tree?" I ask. He wanted to keep that one. But the debate continued. The little tree between us must come down too - so it sacrifices itself.

Much later, I am finally ready to give "the tug" that is going to make our tree do the little dance that it is supposed to, and then once that is done, come crashing down upon me. I give a tug. Nothing. I really lean into it at this point thinking, "let's get it to at least sway". Nothing. I think a few leaves rippled in the breeze.

"Honey," I say, "this tree isn't going anywhere. I think you need to cut it more." He is out of gas for the chainsaw. He goes at it for a lengthy span of time with the hand saw. Sweating, after much work, he is ready - it is cut through.

I tug. Nothing.

He says it's just sitting on it's "pedestal". Now, I was done with this project about an hour ago - at least - and am just ready to get this thing down. I suggest that Kevin get the sledgehammer and just whack it right off it's "pedestel". Which he does, quite successfully, batting away the rotten parts of the "pedestal" and *plop* goes the trunk on the backside of the trunk just as Kevin wanted.

Yea!!!! We are so happy.

We look up. Branches and limbs are entangled in - oh, look - power lines! I am secretly saying a prayer that the wire that is really taut under the weight of a big branch is the cable wire and -- dear god -- not the phone! Now what? Out comes the extension ladder. I won't even go on to say what happens next except to say that finally Kevin, my adoring husband, says to me in a fit of exasperation, "I don't know why you won't let me take the chainsaw up there," - to reach the branches that were, oh, about 22 feet off the ground - 6 feet above the height of our extension ladder... To which I point out that in fact, I never said he couldn't and the fact that he even says that proves to me that it is a highly dangerous and totally moronic move. He smiles. More proof.

"Here's a thought, " I say, "how about taking this opportunity to go buy a saw on a pole?" About this time Kevin and I are both ready for a break, thankfully, and *poof* out of nowhere shows up our dear landscaping friend, Ken, who provides Kevin with --- a saw on a pole. I am summoned to the back yard about an hour later.

After trimming several more branches away from the power lines, he shouts"I'm ready," from the back door. I jam my swollen foot back in the tennis shoe and trudge to the back of our backyard where the climbing rope is awaiting me. It looks suspiciously like a snare lying on the ground... I enter it. Kevin starts telling me what we are going to do and how. As he gets into position I "give a little tug". The whole tree topples down effortlessly, powerlines intact.

He yells, "Okay, now, on 3."

I drop the rope and go back inside.

Our Anniversary!

Today is our one week anniversary! Here is a short quiz.

Stace and I will be celebrating our one week anniversary today by:

a. cleaning up the basement
b. cutting down a 25 ft. tall tree in the backyard
c. pushing Kevin off the steps of a parking deck

If you answered (a.), you are wrong. It may look like cleaning, but actually we'll just move scraps of drywall and 2x4s around the room. I seem to be incapable of throwing out left over building supplies for fear that some day I will desperately need a 6 inch long 2x4 or something.

If you answered (b.), you are wrong. I will cut some limbs , then I'll begin sawing the 10 inch trunk. Four minutes later, I will say "This is hard work." Then I will curse. I will then kick myself, hard, for not getting the chainsaw from Ken. Eventually I will saw almost through the trunk, only to have the top of the tree hang up on powerlines. It will stay that way until April.

If you answered (c.), you are wrong. Despite the whispers at the wedding reception, I did not actually push Stace off any steps. Also, we have no parking decks in Northfield. I will, however, fall down the stairs to the basement today, dropping an armful of my precious 2x4 scraps. (I was going to do that anyway.)

Thank you for taking this quiz. I think you just learned a valuable lesson about married life:

You are always wrong.

The fine folks at the Northfield Hospital have confirmed with x-rays that Stace's ankle is NOT BROKEN.

It's badly sprained. The stretched ligaments contain microtears, which can take up to 16 weeks to heal. For the next few days, she must stay off that foot, and wear a "Gel Cast" and use crutches.

She also acquired a man servant who now must bring her anything she needs with no complaint. This includes taking time out from writing this very sentence to run downstairs, pick up the LL Bean catalog, and bring it back up to the bedroom where she is sitting.

".....the most beautiful wedding I've ever seen!"

".....the ceremony was so special. It was so fun!"

".....this food is perfect! Oh, I ate too much!"

".....is that your father-in-law dancing with the minister?"

As Stace was sitting on the concrete floor in tears, I was running up the stairwell of the parking garage. I wasn't thinking about flowers. I wasn't thinking about food. All I wanted was ice.

Six hours later, Stace walked down the isle at the Broad St. United Methodist Church.....steadied by her Uncle Bob.

Unsure if she had broken her ankle after tumbling off a small step in the parking garage, I called 911 and EMTs arrived in moments. Stace refused a ride in the ambulance to get x-rays.

Instead, we sat down during most of the ceremony......a ceremony that was unique in it's words as well as it's participation of the wedding guests. A ceremony that was written by the two of us and David, the minister. It captured who we are, and how important our family and friends are to us. Our friends George and Rachel each read poems for us, and Stace's sister-in-law Jane sang for us. There were many fun moments. And even a surprise or two. At the end, Stace and I invite all the guests to come forward and embrace and laugh. We wanted to include everyone to be part of our ceremony. We all posed together for one giant wedding photo.

(coming soon, the reception and other fun stories from that wonderful day.....)

The Wedding Guys

I have been told by several folks that I should have better guidelines for the guys in the wedding party as to what to wear.

Apparently having all the men in our wedding party NOT wear tuxedos created some kind of minor fashion crisis. Guys would rather just be told when to show up and have their tux hanging in a bag on a door (which is what I'll be doing).

Even my Dad, who wore a suit every weekday for 40 years is having a bit of difficulty finding just the right tie.

This is what I'd like to see you guys wear: Basically any dark suit: black, navy, charcoal gray, or green will be fine. Faint pinstripes are okay.

No camel hair sport coats (sorry Dad).

This is the only serious rule: Any fall color tie EXCEPT gold (or yellow). A harvest gold tie is what I'm wearing. But that's a secret for some reason.

These are good tie colors:

Hunter green
Sage
Olive
Violet
Purple
Burgundy
Crimson
Mulberry
Brick
Burnt Sienna
Tarracotta
Rosewood
Indian Red
Copper
Spice
Taupe
Mocha
Pinecone
Storm Mist

Okay, I'm not sure what color "storm mist " is. I got most of these out of the J.Crew catalog.

OSU ties are permitted (scarlet and gray), but logos must be hidden unless you have express written permission from the NCAA and Buckeyes Football!

Your shirts can be white or any color to coordinate with your tie.

Is anyone nervous?

Weekends were made for hard work.

Okay, so I'm suppose to update this even when I have nothing to say, and no time to say it. Apparently there are folks out there who live vicariously through Stace and I and want to know everything from what we had for breakfast to what color is the bathroom gonna be.

(French toast and "Antique Bone".)

Saturday: Sunshine and temps in the 70's returned this weekend to Northfield. The 8am ride with the Northfield Bicycle Club was the perfect opportunity for my friends and me to view the deaths of countless innocent leaves.

When I got home from the ride, Stace was gone! " I have way too much to do today." she said to me when I called her cell. "Come meet me and we'll run my errands together."

Mmmm, errands. That's why I live for Saturdays.

We joined up around 12 noon and she showed me her list. I love lists. Especially on Saturdays. With commando like precision, we knocked out things on her list:

1. Bought a frame in Lakeville, MN. It only took us 46 minutes to decide.

2. Picked up Stace's license plates at the dealership in Golden Valley, MN.

3. Bought wine in Downtown Minneapolis (and a sixpack of Lakefront's Octoberfest for me).

4. Lunch in a hurry at Panera in Downtown Minneapolis.

5. Picked up wedding dress in Bloomington, MN after alterations. This also took 46 minutes.

6. Returned items to Lands End store.

7. Home by 5:00pm. (Keep in mind all of these stops are on different ends of Minneapolis)

Sunday: More sunshine. I get up and make Multi-grain French toast with apple slices and tea for both of us. "I'm being, like, the perfect guy." I think to myself. "I can do no wrong."

Stace says, "Hey honey, please call Mark today about the speakers for the reception. Did you call Randy about the rehearsal time?"

"Not yet, I will after football today."

"Please call Thomas to make sure he knows too. And you said you would call the reception hall to see what time you can get in on Saturday morning. Did you?"

"Not yet."

*silence*

"Oh, did you return that e-mail to your Mom?"

I say, "Hey, I was going to prune the apple tree!" which was a lie.

*awkward silence*

"Ya know, these things will take you less than an hour." She said. (plus now I HAVE TO prune the apple tree for real!)

I can't wait to go to work so I can relax.