Calming Caged Chickens

A couple decades ago, there was a study done on chickens out in CA where they put red contact lenses in the chickens' eyes in hopes that the lenses would boost egg production by reducing aggressive behavior in the layers.

The company that made the lenses claimed that chickens with the red contact lenses are "calm" but as one animal rights person said this idea "shows scientific naivete at best. In chronic pain, discomfort, or distress, chickens and other organisms, including humans, tend to acclimate to the chronic noxious stimulus showing only very subtle outward signs of pain. They reduce their activities, develop guarding behavior, and may even deteriorate to a state of learned helplessness indicating that they have succumbed utterly to helpless despair and the destruction of their personality and will." (http://www.upc-online.org/RedLens.html)

Red contact lenses......in chickens......?

****

Yesterday was the first day of school. While up until then the kids had been half grumbles, half excitement, I could hardly contain my giddiness. Eight hours, five days a week with just two kids at home.....and come September, three of those days will leave me with only one small child....although I will admit, as the Master of Destruction, Solomon alone could bring down our entire universe in one swift Solomove. It ain't exactly hammocks, books and bon-bons around here to say the least.

A great example happened right after getting Aidan, Madeline and pants-tucked-completely-in-to-her-lace-lined-socks-Lily on the bus. You see, I brought the two chicklets home to get them fed and ready for the day. Since we didn't have to be at my physical therapy appointment until noon I decided to use the time to get all our home and school folders and drawers ready for the year. I took out some colorful flashcards for the boys to play with and then went to work sorting, organizing and throwing away. As I decided "keepsakes or trash", I looked up often to make sure the boys were still where I could see them. At one point, Solomon grabbed a handful of cards and walked around to the other side of the leather sofa. I could see his little head bobbing up and down as he played enthusiastically with the cards, so I thought. A few moments later I see him rounding the corner with a Sharpie, opened and ready for the kill.

I chased Saruman the White down and disarmed him of his staff. Returning to the couch, I realized my mistake in thinking he had been playing with cards. His head bobbing had been the enthusiasm of a tiny artist channelling his inner Picasso.....ALL.OVER.THE.LEATHER!

Then, in my panic, I grabbed a Magic Eraser. Surely a Magic Eraser could fix even this, right? If by "fix" I mean transform the rich, dark brown sofa into an orange disaster, then sure, it fixed it. Well, it DID take out the Sharpie....now I just have to figure out how to re-stain the leather.

And that is what lead Solomonster into his next predicament:

That gave me about five minutes until I heard him rustling around in MY BATHROOM and went up to find this.....

Gosh darn the football training camp he apparently endures as the youngest of 5......he apparently is too strong and skillful for his own good. (Or mine!)

Today, I'm off to find some red contact lenses......

The Florida Solomander

Montage: the technique of producing a new composite whole from fragments of pictures, text, or music

Solomontage:  a piece of non-replicable artwork made from fragments of undesirable mediums to produce a new composite whole in the most unwholesome of ways and found by the most unsuspecting spectators

****

Our FL trip this year can really be summed up by two stories, both starring the one and only Solomander. My parents house is not what I would call "Solomonster Proof" and while it holds true that not many houses, baby-proofed or otherwise, would fit that bill, letting the Solomander loose in their house was like throwing fuel on an already all-consuming fire. He was in his own sort of slithery, slimy heaven, which made for quite the opposite effect for the rest of us.

At one point, I walked in to find Solomon wielding the fire poker with both hands, his face, arms, legs and feet covered in soot as he waved the poker side to side, a maniacal smirk across his innocent face. He happened to be standing in the living room.....and anyone from the south, (or perhaps it's just my folks' house?) knows that the living room is the "nice" room, the whitest room in the house.....white sheepskin rugs; fine, light-colored, furniture; white walls, glass, crystal, collectibles.....it was almost a heart stopping moment.

Fortunately, disaster was averted. Nothing broke, he washed up quite well and after a swim or two in the pool, the fireplace was forgotten, at least for that day.

Fast forward a few days. We had been having a hard time keeping Solly out of the bathrooms and specifically out of the tubs and showers. (You know how those Solomanders like moist environments!) He had already been found "cleaning" my parents' shower tiles with scrub brushes, sponges and enough chemicals to kill a small herd of elephants as well as having been snagged from the side of a tub which had been left full of water by another child. Both times, no harm had been done but either could have been disastrous. Well, one day, my mom all of a sudden questioned: Where's Solomon? None of us knew and she headed straight back to the bathroom. Sure enough he was headed out, down the hall when she found him, hands held high, ready to be picked up and cleaned off. According to the account, he smelled terrible and when asked what smelled, he sniffed his hands and gave a putrid look of disgust. She simply closed the bathroom door, not bothering to peek in, and took him to clean him off in the kitchen sink.

After a little while, Aidan went to use the bathroom. He came running back out, tears in his eyes, obviously shaken, and told me that he couldn't use that bathroom because it was a HUGE mess.

"Well, Aidan, could you please just clean it up and then use it?" I asked, thinking he was talking about discard nightclothes on the floor or some other benign issue.

"MOOOOM! I can't clean up THAT mess! There is poop ALL OVER THE BATHROOM!" he explained.

I immediately ran back there and sure enough, one of the girls had failed to flush the toilet. And Solomon....(sigh)....Solomon, being rather fond of the toilet brush, had apparently taken great delight in swirling the brush in the toilet bowl and then creating a great Solomontage using the entire bathroom as his canvass and the least desirable "stuff" as his medium.

That is about how the trip was this year: cleaning up behind Solly wherever he went, us adults not quite getting caught up from the previous casualty before he was already on with the next and the next and the next. There he was, skipping along, singing his own Solly-Wally-Doodle-all-the-day while we chose other, more choice words.....

My father summed it up toward the end of our stay when he mentioned: "You know, I thought your stories were, maybe not contrived but at least quite embellished. Now I can see you pretty much tell it like it is."

Yup. This is just like it is folks.

Stay tuned for more.....

A Month Gone By

A month has gone by*, and oh what a month it has been.

There have been trips to PA, MI and FL, where we are currently. There has been driving, flying, laughter, tears, singing, yelling (and a little too much whining), sickness, health and all the stages in between and even orange hair (basically a blond dye job gone terribly wrong....you know it is bad when the hair dresser finishes up and says, "So, can you come back next week so I can fix that? I didn't quite get the color....or the cut for that matter....right...." That's fantastic! And what was better is when I went back to have it fixed he asked, "So, how would you like it cut this time? Shorter?" Uh.....I am pretty sure you can't cut it longer....He's lucky I am of the "it's just hair" mentality!)

Anyway, life has happened. Or should I say, it is happening. Meanwhile, we are simply striving to grasp it by the horns, holding tight while riding on through the bucking and kicking, all with a smile on our faces. Are we having fun yet?

I read a quote once, as I am sure you have too, that said:

"Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, favorite beverage in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming, Woo Hoo...what a ride!" (Author Unknown)

Yeah. That's kind of like everyday for me.

At any rate, we are in the middle of our yearly FL trip (think alligators, snakes and other slimy ground dwelling monsters and well, all things deadly or poisonous...oh, and larger than possible fuzzy creatures that apparently only come out of the dark when I get here, so my mom claims, although I am beginning to think she buys them and let's them loose in her house just for the shock effect) that we take every summer. All is well down here. The thriving mosquito population has apparently not been effected by the economy. Last year's crop has produced grandchildren and great grandchildren and, by the looks of his face and arms, I believe Solomon just fueled the next generation. Even more exciting is the fact that there have even been a couple of Great White Shark sightings in the area recently, because you know, why the heck shouldn't FL have an ocean dwelling death demon hovering where we humans like to frolic?

Ahhh, yes, there is nothing quite like FL in the summertime. Nothing quite like it at all.....

*My apologies for the lack of posting recently. Obviously I haven't gotten to it....something about not being able to run (lack of blood to the brain maybe?) while I pout in a corner because I am not getting my way....darn body! I am too young for it to be letting me down like this, right? ;)

Peace like a River

In case you ever need a chicken-joke site complete with chicken songs, dances and the like, you can try this one. I'm not sure why one would ever need that but it's there, just in case. And if you go to their chicken joke page, you will find this link which allows you to click on coop sounds and will in turn lead you to this....the sound of the prairie chicken. Scratching your head? Yeah, well welcome to my world....

****

Yesterday, the morning of our twelfth wedding anniversary, we awoke to four year old Liam serenading us from outside our bedroom door:

"I've got peace like a river, I've got peace like a river, I've got peace like a river in my soul! I've got joy like a fountain, I've got joy like a fountain, I've got joy like a fountain in my soul! I've got love like an ocean, I've got love like an ocean, I've got love like an ocean in my soul! I've got peace like a river...."

Only, in Liam's version, the song never ends. He finishes each "soul" like the first, singing up a fifth every time (some of us learned to sing "soul" up a second but I digress), so his song never comes to resolution, never concludes....which is awfully cute when it is not 6:30 in the morning.

We got up, breakfasted, ready and out the door in time for church where, coincidentally, or maybe not, the Men's Choir sang. What did they sing? You guessed it: a peace medley which started with Let There be Peace on Earth and concluded with I've Got Peace Like a River.

Only their version did end. No matter though, we heard it the entire way home as well.

It was a very peaceful anniversary in deed....if peaceful can include the sounds of prairie chickens squabbling all day of course. Wanna taste? Click here.

The (Running) Addict

Hi, my name is Karen. And I am a runner.

Well, technically right now I am a recovering runner.....it's been close to three weeks. Three weeks since I took a run that was of any significance. Three weeks since I finished my marathon. Two weeks since I did that short 4 miles that would significantly alter my reality.

You see, two weeks ago, after resting from my marathon for almost 5 whole days (I know, crazy right?!), I jumped back on my treadmill and started running again. The first run was a gentle 3 miles. It felt tired and sluggish so I took the next day off. At a week post marathon I got back on the horse and did a 4 mile run that seemed fantastic: good pace, energetic, almost perfect. I only stopped because I knew, from all my reading and perhaps a little experience, that you had to ease your way back into post-race running.

The next morning something was off. It was as if I had partaken just a bit too much. My left knee was tight and painful. It felt like the tips of my quads were singed, like the quadriceps tendon had been stretched past its snapping point. I did not panic. I simply stretched and iced and took another day off.

And then another. And another. And then it became apparent that something was wrong. Every time I tried to run, I was fine for about a quarter mile and then the tightness, the pain, the burning arrived like that time of evening when out of nowhere the mosquitoes appear and there's simply nothing that can stop them from tearing into you.

What's a runner to do if they can't run? What meaning does this life have if the very reason for breathing no longer exists? (Ok, maybe that's a little dramatic but really, that's sort of how it felt.) What am I if not a runner? (That's a rhetorical question y'all! Be nice!)

So, I did what any good Dory would do: Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, whatcha gonna do, you're gonna swim, swim, swim....

And when I realized that my knee hurt to even kick softly in the water, and I was using a pool buoy to hold up my legs, I realized it was time to see the doctor. (Ok, and to be honest, my brother had to scare me into it.)

A friend of mine works at one of the Orthopedic clinics here and got me in quickly with a doctor who is an Ironman Triathlete. In other words, I could trust her. She's been there and done that (times like a million). She checked me over, felt around, felt nothing. She told me that basically I had what was called IRS (my term, not hers): The dreaded Impatient Runners Syndrome. I needed more rest, more time. Just keep swimming, she said. And call back in a week if it isn't improving.

Ok. So, two days ago I set the goal of swimming a mile straight. (Something had to keep my fitness level up.) After nine laps (50-yards each), Kurt interrupted me to tell me he was leaving. What did I do? I started over. 42 laps later, I had done over a mile of freestyle, got out of the pool limping and started thinking maybe I needed to set loftier goals. Maybe instead of doing a triathlon one day (a goal that I only just recently took to)  I should set out to do an Ironman. (Who does that? Crazies, that's who.)

One problem, I can't run. I did everything the doctor said, including cross-training, grass running trials, and loading up on anti-inflammatories (kinda wishing I had thought of that one myself, duh!). It's been a week. I am going nuts, just ask Kurt. I am shaky, jittery, restless.....I can't sit still long enough to write and sleeping is becoming increasingly more difficult. Withdraw stinks.

So, today is the day; the day I call and say, "Okay, I give up. Let's scan this baby and see what I am up against." I am praying it is only more IRS accompanied by a little WQS (Wimpy Quad Syndrome) compounded by my nuttiness.

I will surely keep you posted......and no, I don't know how you got so lucky. Just savor it. :)

Speaking With Wolves

(It's like Dancing With Wolves only you are less likely to embarrass yourself.....or get eaten.)

Here are some of the latest quips and conversations noted in our family (and by latest, I am talking in the last month or so as I have been taking mental notes but writing next to nothing!):

While out in CA, Kurt decided we should drive the kids into Stanford by way of University Boulevard which is lined with the most gorgeous Palm trees imaginable. As we were driving through, pointing out the pretty trees, Kurt started telling the kids:

"This is the campus your mom and I lived on when we were first married and where I went to business school...."

Lily: "You mean, you and mom camped here?"

Madeline: "SQUIRREL!" 

And that was the end of that conversation as apparently they are neglected and have never seen squirrels before.....

****

One night in the middle of my marathon training, Solomon awoke screaming (it turns out his eardrum had perforated but we wouldn't discover that until the next morning). Somehow, I managed to sleep through the noise until Kurt nudged me awake and in his mostly asleep state said: "Could you please go turn off the screaming?!" 

****

We were on the way to church one Sunday when Lily started trying to spell a word. 

".....A-T-S...."

"Lily, what are you trying to spell?' Kurt asked. 

"That's," she replied. 

"You mean like, 'That's my mom?'" Kurt questioned.

"No, no!" she said adamantly. "I mean like, 'That's a rock.'"  

****

For father's day, I had the kids make a list of why they loved their daddy. After Aidan, Madeline and Lily had all written their sentences, I asked Liam: "Liam, why do you love daddy?"

He gave me a look like I was some Neanderthal who was asking what a car was used for, but without skipping a beat he said: "Uh, because I like EVERYONE!" (The duh was implied I think.)

****

Enjoy your day!

Running Review: Part Two

Then I considered all my hands had done and the toil I had spent in doing it, and again, all was vanity and a chasing after the wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun. -- Ecclesiastes 2:11 

Running a marathon is a silly endeavor. Really. While thinking about the race the night before, I started realizing that there was no good reason to ever run 26.2 miles, short of being chased by something that could eat you. (If only I had realized that 6 months ago!)

Think about it: what good is there in running a marathon? Really and truly, other than bragging rights, there is no reason for it. (And that one surely falls short of the values I try to live by!) Come to think of it, there are probably more reasons NOT to run a marathon than there are TO run it. It certainly isn't the best thing for your body. That kind of pounding and stress over such a long period of time is as likely to cause chronic overuse injuries (and the need for early knee or hip replacements) as it is longterm fitness and health. I have heard it said that people who run marathons have as many free radicals floating around their body as those who smoke a pack of cigarettes every day. (While that might very well be a contrived statement by someone who scoffs at the notion of running long distance, there are certainly countless articles floating around that point to the health risks associated with marathon running.) And for those looking to drop a few pounds, marathon running is certainly not the way to go. (If anything, this last marathon added several pounds to my scale, leaving me 5-7 pounds heavier than my pre-pregnancy weight. Yeah, yeah, I know: "It's just added muscle or water weight"....good luck convincing my ego of that.)

So then why do it?

As I stared at the ceiling the night before, that is precisely the question with which I wrestled.

What do mortals get from all the toil and strain with which they toil under the sun? For all their days are full of pain, and their work is a vexation; even at night their minds do not rest. This is also vanity. --Ecclesiastes 2:22-23


I like a good physical challenge. I will claim that. I like to exert myself and push beyond what I thought was possible. I like to look into the mirror and see someone who is working toward something, even if that something isn't at all significant or meaningful to anyone else. I like to rationalize that it is good for my kids to see me working toward and achieving goals; or at least learning from the process. Would I prefer to be able to save lives, secure clean drinking water for all people and stamp out disease and pestilence across the entire universe and beyond while doing so? Of course I would! (Don't think I didn't get all sorts of grandiose ideas running behind the World Vision sponsored ironman guy for so many miles!)

But the truth is, this marathon was about completing a selfish and self serving goal. Yes, I tried to maintain a sense of the holy: reading my bible while training on the treadmill for instance and trying to count my blessings at every mile marker during the race (somehow with the lack of blood flow to the brain, I only came up with about 3 different things that circulated whenever the going got tough....I fell far short of counting blessings every mile!) but does any of that matter in the grand scheme of things? I suppose I can hope.

I will spare you the details of the 26.2 miles. YEAH RIGHT!

So, where was I? The gun exploded and off we went, a giant wave of 889 runners, eager to spend the next few hours doing what we came to do. At first, I wasn't sure about whether to stick with the 3:30 pace group or not. You see, everyone I had spoken to, with the exception of my five-time-Boston-Marathon-running-friend-with-four-kids, had told me to go out slow, 20 to 30 seconds slower than pace for a good three to four miles, easing into the race before hitting my goal pace. Well, apparently that wasn't in my cards. Instead, I simply tried not to run FASTER than pace in the beginning. I kept the World Vision guy in sight because I knew his pace was going to be slightly faster than mine and at first, I hung right behind the pace group.

Kurt was there to cheer me on within the first few miles, telling me the kids were wondering if I was done yet (met with a slightly disgruntled laugh). I ran on.

Around mile 6, I noticed my right calf was tightening and my plantar fasciitis was flaring up a bit. I knew I would have to stop to stretch at least once. After hesitating to do so, I fully caught up to the pace group before pulling off to the side to stretch my calves. After only a few seconds, I jumped back on the road and again caught up to the pacer. That would be my only stop.

About that time, I started getting the itch to pull ahead and go a wee bit faster. Still wary of going too fast, too soon, I jogged ahead and by the time Kurt saw me for the second time, I was well ahead of the pace group. He gave me some water and ran next to me for about half a minute, maybe less.

Along the course, I met several great ladies who wanted to chat but each time I had to explain that if I wanted to stay on pace, I wouldn't be able to talk much. We exchanged emails and phone numbers and went on our separate ways. (No, we did not do that but seriously, you almost feel like you should sometimes....)

Suffice it to say, with the exception of running on river rock for a couple of miles around miles 15-16 and then heading straight uphill, plateauing and then straight up again around miles 17-20, it was a fantastic course. And all the training paid off. I never hit a wall and I ran faster than I had intended (in part because when my pace slowed off a tad and the pace group caught me at the hills, the new pacer for the second half was so annoying that I had to get farther ahead of her so that I couldn't hear her constant chatter anymore!) And even though I did have to apply counter pressure ever so often to the IT band insertion near my right hip, I was still able to do what I enjoy best and start picking people off at the end....first the guy in the minimalist shoes (who said they were great up until we got to the rocks, ouch!) and a handful of women, one who was wearing a running skirt (a personal pet peeve).  Four Gu's and one massive yet painless blood blister later (I'll spare y'all the picture I was going to post....ewww), I finished in a personal best of 3:26:18! (My last marathon, ten years or so ago was a 4:23.) Better yet, my fastest mile was the very last one which I ran in under 7 minutes ending with an all out sprint in the last 200 meters or so. There was brief ecstasy.

And then, like every obsessed runner I know, I left the race feeling like I should have done better. (Yes, seriously.) Certainly I could have run it faster given the amount of energy I had left at the end. Don't get me wrong, I was on cloud nine: partly because of runner's high and lack of oxygen to the brain, partly because I was so wobbly the wind nearly knocked me over several times which I thought was absolutely hysterical (again, because of the runner's high), but mostly because I had reached my goal and qualified for Boston! Yippee!

Yet, within hours, I was plotting out my next course of running action. I mean, surely I can do better than that! While eighth overall female finisher isn't too shabby (uh, did someone mention something about bragging?), there were still SEVEN MORE TO BEAT! (No, that is not really my goal.....at least two of those women ran close to 3 hours flat which is not likely attainable for this gal. Oh well.)

Hopefully next time, I will train even better, learning how to keep life in balance as I go....hopefully I can find a way to add more meaning beyond just self-accomplishment and pride, thus completing my joy just a little more. (Could I, too, somehow wear a charity-sponsored racing shirt or is that only for elite athletes? Could I fundraise while I ran? Why do people give money to charities just because people run anyway? Perhaps I am destined to lead a running group, helping others achieve their fitness goals? Should I become a pacer and be that annoying person that pushes others to do better? Suggestions anyone?) I have to admit, I get shaky just thinking about running Boston....what if I don't succeed? What if it is scorching hot like this year and my time stinks? What if during my next taper I get taken out by an unexpected Ebola outbreak that makes it all the way here to MN from some high security CDC research lab on the east coast? What if......

What gain have the workers from their toil? I have seen the business that God has given for everyone to be busy with. He has made everything suitable for its time; moreover he has put a sense of past and future into their minds, yet they cannot find out what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for them than to be happy and enjoy themselves as long as they live; moreover, it is God's gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil. I know that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it; God has done this so that all should stand in awe before him. That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; and God seeks out what has gone by. --Ecclesiastes 3:9-14

***Next up in the race series: an August Duathlon relay. I will be the running half of team Mieux a Deux during a 5k-run/18-mile bike/5k-run race.....hopefully I can actually run again soon because right now I am still barely making it up and down the stairs!*** 

For now though, it's time to get back to the neglected family I left behind a few months back....I think in the course of my training, Aidan joined a rock band, Madeline played Carnegie, Lily took up roller derby, Liam learned three languages so that he could better greet people in his world travels and Solomon became a highly renowned Jazz Singer after he became the youngest person to ever climb Mt. Everest....

Or something like that.....