It’s mostly been a labor of love.  But it’s also been time-consuming.  And with other writing projects making serious claims on my time right now, I have to make some tough choices. Rather than do a half-baked job here, I’m going to take a rest for now.  When my next book is out,  I’ll be picking back up here again.

Until then, on behalf of all of us…

…I’d like to say thanks to everyone who’s stopped by.

Your visits have brightened my days.

Cait has been going through a period where’s she’s been given the opportunity to practice not over-reacting.  This is not an easy lesson for a teenager. What’s been interesting to watch is that what initially seems like disappointing or bad news has actually turned out to be a good thing in the end.

The most recent example of this was when she was up for the lead in her school play. It had come down to her and another boy. They both had fantastic call-backs and it was a tough choice. The role went to the boy.  Not because Cait didn’t do a smashing job, but because the part was for Oliver in “Oliver Twist.”  The director ultimately decided to go with the boy for a boy’s role.

Cait was devastated. Even though she got another lead role as Bett, Oliver’s crush, she came to me bemoaning her fate. She found me in the kitchen, making dinner. “Mom, I can’t believe it! I’ve worked so hard — and this is the last chance I’ll have at this school.”

“I know this is a big bummer. And I know Bett isn’t Oliver, but I think she will still be a good role for you,” I said, continuing to chop veggies.

She flopped down at the kitchen table and her eyes welled up with tears, “Mom, I’ve worked so hard… it’s not fair.”

“Ever heard of the farmer whose only horse ran away?”

“What?” Cait looked up at me with confusion.

I sat down at the table with a bowl of green beans and gave her a bunch to snap. “Let me tell you a little story.”

Long ago there lived a farmer who had learned to live each day as it came. One day, the farmer’s only horse ran away.

All the neighbors gathered in the evening and said, “That’s so unfortunate.”

Nonplussed, the farmer shrugged and said, “Perhaps.”

The next day, the horse returned, bringing with him seven wild horses.

The neighbors once again gathered and said,” How extremely fortunate!”

The farmer said, “Perhaps.”

The next day, the farmer’s son tried to ride one of the wild horses and was thrown, breaking his leg.

And all the neighbors said, “Oh, what bad luck that your son broke his leg.”

He said, “Perhaps.”

The next day, the conscription officers came around, gathering young men for the army, and they rejected his son because he had a broken leg.

And the visitors all came around and said, “Isn’t that great! Your son got out.”

He said, “Perhaps..”

I looked at Cait and asked, “Do you know what the lesson of the story is?”

Sighing, she answered, “That things don’t always turn out the way you expect.”

“Yeah, that’s part of it. But the bigger part is that sometimes you never really know in which direction progress lies.”

Cait gave me “The Look.”

“No really, Honey,” I said, “you watch and see — I have a feeling that Bett will wind up being a better role for you in the end.”

I can’t say that Cait bought my theory at that moment, but she does now.

As it turned out, she wound up having much more fun as Bett than she would have as Oliver.

But I’m sure I’ll need to remind her before long that if she’s feeling that her “horse has run off,” she just needs to keep an eye out for the horizon to see where the next progress will come from. And that maybe, just maybe, it will be even better than what she had planned.

With all the swirls that life seems to be offering her these days, looks like she’ll have lots more opportunities to practice.

As Cait and I were painting , the subject of one of her school projects came up. Her assignment was to create a utopia. I asked her how it was going, thinking that would be a fun assignment. To my surprise, she complained that it was an impossible task.

I asked her to explain. She said that for every utopian idea she had, it created several more problems that would need to be solved. The conversation fully engaged us for the entire time it took to finish our painting.

But it got me to thinking…

At some point in my life — I keep saying when I’m in my 70s– I plan on starting a school. A utopian school. A school that children couldn’t wait to get to in the morning, and wouldn’t want to leave in the afternoon. I’ve spent years reading and researching and collecting contacts, so that when I’m ready to get going I’ll have a lot of the leg work already done.

While the 3 R’s would be taught along with other traditional subjects, they would be taught in non-traditional ways, where books would play a secondary role to direct experience.  On sunny days, classes would take place outside.  Life skills would also be taught, along with an emphasis on maintaining a close connection to the natural world. And so on and so on. In other words, I’d take the best of Montessori, Waldorf, public school, private school, and home schooling and ditch what doesn’t work.

I would only hire the best of the best teachers and I’d pay very high salaries, because I’d have very high expectations of them. I’d accept no union teachers because I’d reserve the right to hire and fire based on performance. “Classrooms” would be set up more like “Life” rooms. There would be multiple adults and varying ages of children combined in small, fluid groups that would shift and change based on what was being learned.

That’s just a small peek at what I have in mind.

As I’m always looking to pick up more ideas, let me ask you — if you could create a school from the ground up, what would you include and throw out? What do you think is important for a good education? I’d love to hear.

At least, she didn’t sing well — before I signed her up for singing lessons last year.

I’m not one to get Cait lessons for every little interest or activity.  I’m not one to want her to be involved in a zillion things.  That’s because I’m a big believer in “down-time.” For a lot of reasons. Not least of which is because I know that creativity, ingenuity, and discovery are more likely to happen if you leave space for them to happen.

So I think Cait was actually a little surprised when she asked for singing lessons and I agreed.

Her singing ability dramatically improved and she got a lead part in this year’s play. We both know that wouldn’t have been likely without the lessons. But the play is over and I’ve let her continue with her lessons.

Yesterday she asked me why.

A million thoughts went through my head, including one of my all-time favorite quotes by one of my all-time favorite authors, Mark Twain. You’ve probably heard a variation of it, but here’s the original:

“Dance like nobody’s watching; love like you’ve never been hurt. Sing like nobody’s listening; live like it’s heaven on earth.”

Right after my father died, I worried that I’d never truly feel alive again. I had to fight my way out of a black hole. The only time I had to myself back then was when I took Kiera for her daily walk. We’d head out on our 3-mile route. Once we were out of earshot from neighbors, I’d start singing at the top of my lungs while dancing and skipping down the deserted road. Kiera would jump and sing along with me. After belting out a few of my favorite tunes, I’d invariably feel my heart open back up and I knew I’d be able to breathe for another day.

My dad’s been gone for enough years that I can think of him now and smile without also crying. Maybe that’s as much because, over time, I figured out how to reconnect with him so that he doesn’t feel “gone” to me anymore. But that’s another post.

What I told Cait was that I believe there’s a spiritual power in singing — to open up the chest to breath deeply, to open up the heart to feel fully. And that I loved hearing her sing everyday, and I wanted her to continue to sing everyday for her own health and well-being. And that I believed if everyone sang uplifting songs and danced everyday, the world would be a better place.

Talking with her about this, I realized that I’d fallen out of the habit of singing everyday like nobody’s listening. So I’ve started back up.

So, just a little warning. If you’re around these parts and you see what looks to be a crazy lady walking her dog, apparently spazzing out and singing (not necessarily in tune) at the top of her lungs, you’ll know that, um, you don’t need to call for the men in the white suits.

Speaking of which — when’s the last time you’ve had yourself a good sing?

Cait takes a moment to tighten up her laces.

Even though the ice is 5 inches thick (thick enough to safely drive a car on) and we have a long-line rope on the fence post, I still wind up checking on them from time to time.  My old EMT safety habits die hard.

What I quickly saw was that they had company. Can you see their eyes glowing up on the ridge?

I wondered how long it would take the girls to notice.  Cait usually has a sixth sense when there are critters around.

Ah, there– they’ve both caught sight of them.

What they can’t see (because of the floodlights) that I can see is that these are our five deer.

Pow-wow to decide what to do.

When in doubt…  move on out!

Both girls and deer have scared each other off.

Hmm, that ice looks inviting…  I think I’ll go for a spin.

So she started the nightly ritual of calling out while banging on Finn’s food can. Within minutes, he always appears.

But this night, still no Finn after several minutes of banging and calling.

Worried, Cait ran back in the house asking for help. She took the front of the house, and I took the back by the woods, both of us banging and calling. Hurrying, neither of us thought to grab a flashlight.

A few more minutes passed, when I saw the shadow of Cait start jogging down our road. I yelled out to her to see if she’d found Finn.

She called back, saying that she saw his eyes glowing in the dark and was in hot pursuit.

Great, I thought, as I started walking back to the house. That was until I felt something rubbing against my legs. I nearly jumped out of my skin! I looked down to find the wayward Finn doing figure eights around my legs.

That meant that whatever Cait was chasing was… not Finn. Not wanting to scare her, and definitely not wanting her to catch whatever she was tailing, I hurried to the road and called her back.

I saw that she’d made it to the turn in the road. I could see her trotting and stopping, trotting and stopping, as the glowing eyes trotted and stopped to look back.

Annoyed that my presence might jinx her near capture of what she thought was Finn, she shushed me and told me to stay back.

At that point, I told her I had Finn in my arms and she should return to me immediately.

Even in the dark, I could see her do a double-take. Aided by a burst of adrenalin, she seemed to cover the quarter mile between us in one gigantic leap.

As she held on to me to help steady her weak knees, she said with nervous laughter, “Yup that’s me. Just chasing any pair of random eyes down the road. My version of “Ma slapped a bear.”

What she was referring to was a scene in one of the Little House on the Prairie books. Pa is off hunting, so Ma has to tend to the evening chores by herself. She walks out to the field where they keep their cow, and slaps the cow’s rear to get it to move away from the gate so she can open it. Only what she finds out is that the cow is not the cow, but a black bear!

As we walked back to the house, she asked what I thought she might have been chasing.

Around our parts, there aren’t any bears (thankfully) but we do have plenty of coyotes, foxes, raccoons, opossums, woodchucks, and any number of other cat-sized critters that it could have been. I answered, “From the eyes and the gait, my money’s on a young coyote. They’re one of the few animals I know of that will stop and turn to look back like that.”

Cait, still nervously laughing, said, “It’d be kinda fun to have a little coyote as a pet.” Then I watched her throw a cautious glance over her shoulder to make sure the coyote wasn’t thinking the same thing.

Life in the country. Gotta love it!

During summers, especially, we kids had to learn to be resourceful if we wanted to get together and have fun. Otherwise the specter of boredom loomed large.

I’ve always lived near and loved the water. So, of course, one of the first things I bought myself when I’d saved enough money was this.

Granted, she was used and had seen better days…

But she still had a lot of sea-worthy miles left on her. I practically lived on that thing during the summers.

And there were always plenty of willing friends only too happy to play first mate.

Over the years, I’d taught many a friend the finer points of sailing.

But wait… that’s not me!  Who are these kids zipping back to shore?

Could it be…?

Like mother, like daughter. Cait finally caught the sailing bug this summer.

Looks like we’ll be in the market for another used cat come next summer. Anybody got one they’d like to sell?

The tradition is to make our way around each department — shoes, pants, tops, etc.– until, at the very end, we come to the fancy dress section.  This is where the fun begins.

You see, Cait has always loved playing dress-up and still does.  So the first time we came upon the glittering racks of evening wear, she thought she’d died and gone to heaven. When it didn’t occur to her that there was anything wrong with “just trying on the dresses,” I squashed my initial impulse to say no and instead said, “Sure, why not?” She had a blast, and I must admit so did I. Ever since, we’ve always saved time for the gowns and party dresses.

The rules are that she’s allowed to try on any dress that catches her fancy — no matter how gaudy or age-inappropriate. And since there will be no purchase, I keep all editorial comments to myself. Thus, great fun is had by all.

She’d gone through several dresses, when she pulled out a shimmery black and metallic green number. It was interesting trying to get her into it because there was no zipper, but lots of laces. So we pushed and we pulled and we tugged.  And she lost her footing and wound up tumbling backward on the dressing room floor.

With her hair tussled over her face, the dress up around her neck, and her legs and arms in the air, she held the pose and blurted, “Dead Dung Beetle!”

I’ll be darned if that’s not exactly what she looked like! We both cracked up laughing so hard that it took a few minutes to compose ourselves.

All the while, my daughter was still trying to wrestle herself out of this ridiculous dress. Once she finally emerged, she sighed, looked at me with a grin and said, “Stick THAT in your Happy Box!”

Indeed, that was eminently worthy of the Happy Box, and got immediately and safely tucked inside.

Other items that have made it into my Happy Box this week:

Because the animals have been rising earlier and earlier and some like to eat right away while others prefer to wait until the sun comes up, I’ve had to devise a way to keep track. Hence the White Board on the dog food closet. This way, on the off chance that one of us can manage to get a little more shut-eye, the other will know who’s going to legitimately be looking for breakfast and who’s going to try to trick us into a 2nd feeding.

So, the sign– Wink has been off his food this past week because he hasn’t been feeling well; he’s contracted Lyme Disease. (I’ll post my current regiment on Lyme treatment next week.) I hadn’t had any luck trying to get him to eat this morning. So seeing this sign left by Andrew was definitely cause for celebration.

Cait never got around to planting her Sunflowers this year, so I’d reconciled myself to going without the special cheer they bring. But I’d also mentioned previously about getting to live vicariously through my “gifts and guests” this growing season.  Looks like a few stray seeds made it to the ground last year and lo and behold…! Mother Nature — ain’t she a beautiful thing.

And speaking of Mother Nature… Our pond is an ongoing source of delight for us nature buffs around here. Every year, along with the regulars (our Great Blue Heron, King Fishers, wild turkeys, sundry other birds, muskrats, deer, coyotes, foxes, et.al.)  it continues to attract an ever-widening circle of wild life.  Its most recent tenants are this little duck family.

Oh yeah, and last but never least! The garlic harvest is done! : )

AND it looks like I’m going to have a bumper crop of grapes this year!

What have you placed in your Happy Box this week?

Interestingly, this constant reminder to speak up did not have the effect of making me speak louder.  Instead, I’d step closer to be heard well.  It seemed, back then, I was constitutionally incapable of turning up the volume.

Eventually, I came into my own and I now have no problem speaking at audible levels. I would say it was in spite of my father’s attempts. He would say it was because of his attempts.

Whether that factored into an aversion I have to both nagging and being nagged, I couldn’t say for sure, as it seems life provides plenty of opportunity for both. Seems to me that if someone can’t adjust from being told something a few times — okay, no more than a dozen times — then it’s time to figure out a new plan.

So when I found myself recently caught in an ineffective parenting loop, the likes of my father’s dilemma with me — yes, nagging — I stopped and confessed my quandary to Cait, asking her for ideas.

Having spent enough time training dogs with me over the years, her immediate response was, “Why don’t you try some Positive Reinforcement on me?”

“Now there’s a big ‘DUH’ moment.” I laughed. “Why didn’t I think of that?!”

Cait just shrugged, and quickly went on to offer what positive reinforcer she thought would work.

It was, of course, the perfect solution. Problem solved lickety-split, and on we went.

What Cait was suggesting was using one of the tenets of Operant Conditioning; the basis for all dog training.

It works like this: In scientific terms “positive” and “negative” are used to mean adding something or taking something away. The terms “reinforcement” and “punishment” equate to behavior increasing or decreasing.

When we combine those four words, we have:

• Positive Reinforcement (+R)  Anything good that is added (positive) that increases (reinforces) behavior.
• Positive Punishment (+P)  Anything bad that is added (positive) that decreases (punishes) behavior
• Negative Reinforcement (-R)  Anything bad that is taken away (negative) to increase (reinforce) behavior.
• Negative Punishment (-P)  Anything good that is taken away (negative) to decrease (punishes) behavior.

The choice of words used is somewhat unfortunate, because of our associations with them.  But, simply put, Operant Conditioning works by adding or taking away something wanted or unwanted to get a behavior to increase or decrease.

When Cait was suggesting Positive Reinforcement, what she meant was that if I rewarded her for doing the behavior I wanted — in this case, chewing with her mouth closed — she would be more likely to remember to chew with her mouth closed the next time.

The reason I included Cait in the discussion of what the reinforcer should be is because it needed to be sufficient enough (of high enough value) to get Cait motivated to offer the desired behavior. In this case, neither repetitive nagging nor casual praise had been effective.

Because Cait is saving money to attend a marine biology camp next summer, the reinforcer was easy to determine. Cait would get a dollar for every time I caught her chewing with her mouth closed.

And because it always helps to support the training objective (getting Cait to chew with her mouth closed) in as many ways as possible, I added –P or a Negative Punishment. Any time I caught her chewing with her mouth open, she had to pay me a dollar.

This one-two punch made for extremely quick—and painless—work in attaining the desired goal. And I got to stop nagging, and Cait got closer to her savings goal. A win-win for both of us.

Next week, in Part 2, I’ll more completely explain the workings of operant conditioning and why it’s such a powerful and, when used well, such a positive tool.

Most people, unaware, use some part of operant conditioning in all of their dealings in an attempt to get what they want. I’ll explain why my father’s approach with my speaking softly (+P) wasn’t effective, and what other options he could have tried that would have worked better. And I’ll show you how to avoid that trap, so you can understand and use Operant Conditioning effectively and constructively too.

What’s a person to do?

Why, read a book and plant a garden, of course.

On the book front — as Cait continues to face some of the emotional challenges of becoming a teenager, I’m always looking for ways to help her put it into perspective. I’m a firm believer that learning how to keep one’s balance and sense of humor go a long way in the sanity department. And I’ve found that storytelling is the best way to keep reminding Cait of that.

While Cait (mostly) loves my stories, I also try to provide her with reading material that supports the view that what’s important in life is not so much what happens to you, but what you do with it.

Cait’s and my favorite book on this subject at the moment is: Who Ordered This Truckload of Dung? by Ajahn Brahm.

In it, you’ll find a collection of 108 tales nimbly covering topics such as perfection, love, commitment, fear, pain, anger, forgiveness, happiness, freedom and humility. Each story is only a couple of pages long, and can be read one at a time when time is short. Brahm, a former Cambridge University theoretical physics professor, is now an abbot.

One of my favorite stories in it for Cait has to do with how we can let perfectionism prevent us from seeing the bigger picture and feeling a sense of accomplishment, which can make it hard for us to let go and move on. In “Two Bad Bricks,”  a brick layer builds an entire wall–1,000 bricks worth–but he can’t enjoy his work, because all he concentrates on are the two “bad” bricks that are slightly out of alignment. That is, until it’s pointed out to him the beauty of the other 998.

On the garden front–

Not having the time I need to keep up with both vegetables and flowers this year, something has had to give.

My solution? I’ve cut back on my flower gardening. Way back. To just window flower boxes. *

How can anyone look out a window and see this, and not smile?

Except for maybe Finn. He’s twitching. There’s a Robin sitting in that tree taunting him. But that’s another story…

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* Shooting through the window screen created the gauzy effect of the photo.