High and off

Perspective

2011-10-21T14:33:00.000-07:00

There are times when I just need to look up and take a deep breath. When I took this photo, that is exactly what I did. It reminds me of Shel Silverstein's book, "The Giving Tree", one of Josh's favorite books. I haven't picked up my camera for months. The digital sensor needs to be fixed, which means filling out some paperwork, packing it up and sending it back to the manufacturer.

Needless to say, that task has sat on my "To Do" list for the last several months. But today, while walking Pippi, I noticed a leaf laying on the sidewalk with several rounded drops of dew sitting silently on top. Rays of sunshine lit up half of the clear drops. I longed for my camera and vowed to get it fixed. There are times when everything in life feels like the life of my camera. I pick it up, then hit some paperwork or a hassle, so I put it down. Whatever I am doing collects some dust until something hits me out of the blue that calls me back to pick it up again.

“Uh, I think I think I pulled something…” -Me about 30 minutes after my first Crossfit class

2011-08-27T14:21:00.000-07:00

There are no two ways about it, my first Crossfit class was a little intimidating. I had watched a few videos online, so I was prepared for the warehouse-like atmosphere, and knew the workout would be tough. The woman I spoke to on the phone prior to my first class did her best to screen my fitness abilities. I told her that I found out about Crossfit from an article in Hers Muscle Fitness. That little nugget must have sold her on my fitness level. Buuuuttt, just because I subscribe to Hers Muscle Fitness does not mean I follow all of their training tenets, like refraining from Chex Mix or pizza or creamer in my coffee.

Is this me yet? It is going to take way more than Crossfit for that! This lady does not enjoy Mexican pizza and Rolling Rock apparently. Six pack abs and killer shoulders are just not worth giving those things up.

What it also did not mean, which we would both soon discover, was that I knew enough about Olympic Power Lifting. I figured it couldn’t be that different from the free weight lifting I already do now. Wrong. Let me back up for a minute, because despite this problem, it was NOT the first and most pressing issue. My first problem, which they really need to find a way to warn you about, was bladder control. No, I do not wear Depends, but I do have the bladder the size of a shrunken walnut. Ladies, if you have had children, take heed. Use the bathroom before you start a Crossfit class! Why? Because it is all about jumping. Crossfit workouts consist of different rotations. They post a WOD (wad) workout of the day, up on a huge dry erase board. The workout consists of three or four exercises which you are to then do a certain number of times in row for time. On this particular day the WOD was: 1. Jumping pull-ups 2. dead lifts 205/315 and 60 single jumps. Now, that was the main workout, the warm up had consisted of burpees where bend down and slam your chest against the ground before you pop up to reach and jump toward the ceiling, more pull ups and sit ups. Let’s focus on the jumping though. Considering that just a few weeks ago I ripped a hole in my workout pants while doing squats without realizing it and ended up with my ass hanging out for 30 minutes before a very kind and embarrassed gentlemen told me about it, I was a tad worried about peeing my pants in front of several seriously pumped up people in a warehouse with only one exit door. So, this is my service to you women out there, do this little test to check for pee-vulnerability before you try a class. Jump up and down as fast and as hard as you can for a minute. If you passed, super, you can try a class without any extra equipment. If not, well then I don’t need to tell you that you will need to pack some extra supplies before you start class.

Check out this link for an example of jumping pull ups:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rF-8WTVVeKQ

Back to the power lifting, did you notice the 205/315 numbers next to the dead lifts on the WOD? That is the prescribed amount of weight we should be lifting for a female/male. I was supposed to be dead lifting 205 pounds! When I went to try a dead lift, I was apparently doing a Romanian dead lift. Duh, of course those are sooooo different. My coach, a female in her 2O’s who is also a rowing star of some sort, tried her best to remain patient with me, but I got a little flustered as she was helping me get my body set up. Her: “Move you feet under your hips.” Me: I move my feet back. Her: “ No UNDER your hips” Me: I move them up again. Apparently I had no idea where the hell my own hips were. I finally got it right, or at least she walked away from me, her thinly veiled expression saying, “How did you get into this class?” I started working up in weight to see how close I could get to 205 pounds. I stopped at 95. That turned out to be the magic number that was hard enough and also reassured me that I would roll out of class wheelchair.

After dealing with those two problems, I had the time of my life. The workout moved quickly and challenged me to work harder than I have worked in awhile. The class was pretty small and despite the fact that we were all working our tails off, a sense of camaraderie prevailed. The coach kept track of all of reps and times on the huge dry erase board which provided motivation. When she shouted “Nice job Kate” as I completed a final dead lift with the best form I could, I felt a surge of pride. The hour flew by and I enjoyed it immensely.

The following three days I discovered that rolling over in bed took quite a bit of effort. My back filed abuse charges with headquarters and it took awhile for things to settle down in that area. It was also a little tricky turning my head after whatever it was that tore in my shoulder. That healed too. Would I take another class? Umm… YEAH! My back was just a normal good workout sore. My shoulder, well, I am choosing to believe that I pulled it doing something else, like maybe brushing my hair or waving to the kids on the bus. Before I can take any more regular classes I need to take their “On Ramp” class to make sure I use proper form so I don’t get hurt. That is probably a good idea.

Crossfit

2011-08-16T12:41:00.000-07:00

I just got off the phone with the Crossfit Gym in my area. I am going to try a few classes this week. Check out this link. Pretty awesome.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tzD9BkXGJ1M

I am ready to try something new and honestly I really like lifting. This looks tough, but I need something new.

So this week I am saying "Yes" to Crossfit and getting my butt kicked!

Recycling

2011-08-15T11:30:00.000-07:00

The other day I took Pippi out for her evening walk. As we rounded our final corner, my neighbor was in the process of setting this door out on by the curb. Intrigued I asked him, "Are you setting that door out as trash?" He stated that indeed he was. Apparently his garage had reached a tipping point and it was time to get rid of some bigger items taking up residence there. Just to be sure I followed up my first question with, "So you are just giving this away for free?"

Yes he was.

SCORE!

I rushed home to fetch my trusty Civic. Together we slowly drove the door around the block to our house.

I had to leave both of my passenger side doors open as I drove in order to fit the door into my car. No problem. A few police officers live in our neighborhood. I held my breath that I would not run into them on my quick jaunt home. Did I mention the door was free?

So Mr. Door went from my neighbor's garage straight to my garage. As Josh and I unloaded the car, I excitedly shared with him how we could turn this free door horizontal and make it a headboard for our bedroom! Hurray!

Anyone notice a little problem with that idea? This is what I had in mind when I picked up the door.

The problem is that the door featured in this picture has completely different paneling from my free door. The door I picked up would not be symmetrical if we hung it as a headboard. I thought about throwing caution to the wind and still doing it. Unfortunately, when I casually mentioned this idea to Josh, he thought it would bug him. It probably would bug me too honestly. But I really like the door. Josh wanted to put it back in the trash. Undeterred, I did a bit of Googling.

As a result, I found the perfect use for our free door! Check out this link to see...

http://theinspiredroom.net/2009/04/15/diy-an-old-door-makes-a-great-desk/

Pretty cool huh? It will mean that I will need to paint the door and and order glass to go over it. I want to put the large desk in our playroom. It would be great to have that area for me to sew or the kids to do bigger craft projects. Josh and I decided on file cabinets instead of saw horses. We are going to try and get a set at Goodwill and then spray paint them a color to either match or compliment the color we paint the door.

I only have a week left of vacation. Will this get done before then? Probably not. But it is still exciting to have a plan and know that we can put the free door to use in our house!

How to Say "No"

2011-08-14T05:40:00.000-07:00

I have heard from many sources, from my own friends, to articles in women’s magazines, to Oprah, that many women struggle with saying no. I do not have this problem. Quite the contrary, I feel that I need to practice saying “Yes” more often.

Recently a friend of mine asked me if I felt guilty when I say “No.” Honestly, sometimes I do, for a moment. But most of the time, I say no for good reasons and my many “Nos” are really just another way of saying “Yes” to something else. For example, saying to my daughter, “No, you cannot go to this fifth birthday party this month,” may be hard for a second or two where I feel like an evil joy-smasher. The “No” actually leads straight to a “Yes” to more family time and a more relaxed Mommy.

Some people need the process broken down for them. How do you say no when you are put on the spot, say when the PTO president calls you to chair the Teacher Appreciation Week or when your neighbor wants you to play the flute for her ferret and clean out the cage each day while she’s in Costa Rica for a month?

Here are my 5 simple steps:

· “That is not going to work for me right now”

· Stop

· Repeat

· Divert

· Leave

1. Memorize this line: “That is not going to work for me right now.” Practice it. Cross stitch it into a pillow if you need to, but have it ready in the forefront of your mind. It works with anything. Try it.

Person A: “Kate, can you babysit my eight kids for the day while I get a pedicure and have my false eyelashes replaced?”

Kate: “Oh, that is not going to work for me right now.”

Person B- “Kate, I am hosting a party for ( __________), do you want to come and feel pressured to buy about $50.00 worth of stuff that you aren’t really interested in?”

Kate: “Oh, that is not going to work for me right now.”

You get the idea. The problem people have with this step is that they feel the need to explain themselves. They feel that they need to have a good reason for saying No. You don’t. Your reason is you don’t want to do it. That is enough.

2. Stop talking: Do not explain, do not make excuses, do not lie. If you need to, count in your head to keep your mouth shut. Do, “ 1 one thousand, 2 one thousand, 3 one thousand …” if the silence is killing you. Or stick an apple your mouth if have one handy. Whatever works, improvise.

3. Repeat: “That is not going to work for me right now.” if the person is persistent. For example, Person A may come back with, “Oh really, because I just really need to get my lashes fixed before the big circus gala and I am just completely out of options!”

You: “That is not going to work for me right now.” Be prepared to repeat your line of refusal. It will sound robotic to you at first, but stick with it.

4. Divert attention: The easiest way to do this is to compliment the person on something. Like with Person A: “Oh Sally, you always look gorgeous! I loved that sequined elephant dress you wore the other day. Where do find such unique clothes?” Or forget the compliment and ask them about themselves, “How is the circus business doing in this economy? Are you still swallowing knives?”

5. Take your leave: Once you have said no and diverted their attention, it is time to get out of Dodge. The best thing for no novices to do is leave the scene; otherwise you will probably crack under the pressure to say yes. Then, all of your work will go swirling down the toilet. If you are on the phone that may mean saying, “I need to let you go. Can we talk later?” If you are face to face and you cannot totally leave, use the toilet trick. Even if you know where it is, ask where the restroom is located and excuse yourself. No one is going to follow you into the restroom. Unless they also have to go too, in which case, I don’t know, you’re on your own. Maybe grunt in the stall and wonder aloud about the green roast beef you ate for dinner last night. That won’t happen though. In all my years of saying no I have never been followed into the restroom. Head in, wash your hands a few times, go if you need to, and relish your victory.

Back to School- Organizational Plan

2011-08-12T06:09:00.000-07:00

Here is what I like to do:

1. Come up with a great organizational plan.

2. Buy supplies to execute that plan.

3. Get the plan 85% put together.

4. Execute the plan for approximately 3 weeks.

5. Fall off the wagon and tackle a new project somewhere else instead.

I discovered a few years ago after taking some diagnostic career-associated tests and questionnaires, that this tendency makes me a “big picture” person and not a “detail oriented person”. Good thing I married a detail guy! Anyway, apparently this breaks down in the following way. Big picture people get really excited and pumped by a new idea and seeing it all come together in their mind. And basically, just the rush from the idea is enough. The details sort of weigh us down and burst the creative bubble. So, sometimes we don’t really get around to doing the big idea, and because the idea itself is the exciting part, we’re okay with that.

In my case, this means I often have several projects going at once, and few get completely finished off. In my two weeks off, I am attempting to get some things completed. BUT, true to form, before I do that, I wanted to get just one last project started.

This is my “Back to School” project. With two kids in school now, I need to get my act in gear, especially since I will have a full load of classes as well. We are lucky enough to have a mudroom. I put this room to work. I painted the door in the chalkboard paint a few months ago. What I wanted to prevent is me forgetting to fill out a form, or getting annoyed with the kids just laying everything out on my desk and then asking me if I read it every 3.5 seconds.

I bought a wall file folder for each child and one for myself. All papers that I need to see are to be put in my Inbox by my desk in the kitchen. Then, when I am finished looking at them, or filling them out, anything that needs to go back to school goes into their inbox. These file holders or in-boxes are right next to the door, so they can see them as they walk out to the bus. They know to check their boxes before they leave for school and put any papers back in their folders for school. So far, this new plan has worked like a charm! It has been absolutely flawless for one day! :)

I let the kids pick out decorative paper at Michael's to spruce up their boxes. I laminated the paper to keep it from ripping or fraying. FYI-these same clear file folders were almost $11 at Office Maxx and only $2.99 at Target!

My goal this year is to say "YES" more often. In this case I said "yes" to 100% finished. I almost skipped laminating the papers since it was "pretty much done". But I hauled my butt back out and finished it up. Wha-who! Little victories people, little victories.

I did let them pick out their own paper, but I asked them to stay in the same color scheme. It worked!

The teacher in me has to have "procedures" for transition times. This is what we came up with for our after school procedures. I love the chalkboard door for this type of stuff!

Plastic wall file folders hold papers or anything that should be placed in the backpack for the following day.

They each also have their own hooks for coats later on that are hung at their height.

This is my "Inbox" to hold papers from the kids. After I fill out the forms, I place them in their boxes to be loaded into their backpacks.

What was that?

2011-08-10T07:15:00.000-07:00

School started in my town yesterday and I did what every kindergarten mother does on the first day of school…I cried. What makes it a little different for me is that with both Kai and Elizabeth, I did not at all expect to cry. When the pit in my stomach began to form, it took me by surprise, like checking your reflection in the mirror and discovering you have a huge chunk of spinach stuck in your teeth. The sense of sadness and dread left me a little bewildered, thinking, “Huh, how did that get there?” I have never been a clingy mom, nor have I ever had clingy kids. I never lingered in doorways when I dropped my kids off at childcare, nor do I rush in for “One last hug.” For better or worse, I usually drop my kids off and skip away to enjoy work or some well deserved alone time.

I did okay for the first hour. But after that first hour, I felt a like I had eaten some bad meat or something. Then, before I could stop myself, I impulsively dialed my husband at work. He barely got out his “Hello,” before I started spurting about, “I know this is crazy Josh, I know I’ve been talking about how great this would be, having the kids both in school, but I am SO SAAAAD our baby is at school! I feel so sad. What is my problem?” Again, before Josh could tell me what my problem was, I proceeded to dramatically chronicle Kai’s entire life with us. The day we brought him home from China, how quickly he learned English, his first day in the Teddy Bear two year old class at our church, etc. In those moments, you don’t list the matchbox car flushed down the toilet, or the three broken kitchen chairs, or the many temper tantrums in public places where you haul them out kicking and screaming tucked sideways under your arm. Nope, the brain filters all of that junk out. Josh listened with patience. A hint of slightly forced understanding slipped through with his over emphasis on the sympathetic tone, “Oh, I know it. I K-N-O-W…”

What he was really thinking with each “I know…” is, “I know you are NUTS Kate!” He is correct. I’ve been giddy for the last couple of weeks pondering this day. Both of the kids in school, full time! At last, I would have a little bit of time to myself. Oh the projects I would get done, the writing I would do! My humble sewing machine would break from overuse. My lonely bike and I would finally tour those beckoning country roads for hours on end. All of this was supposed to transpire during the two week break I have right now between the kids being starting school and me starting the fall semester for my school.

I am used to Elizabeth being in school full time. I see now, that I am not used to Kai being in school full time. The shock came from being at home alone. Usually, I am at school or at work when the kids are at school. So, I did it. I cried. Part of me felt a little better that I did cry. Sometimes I feel guilty listening to other mothers talk about how much they do not want summer to end; meanwhile I have a mental countdown ticking away. At the end of the day, both of the kids bounded into the house ecstatic with news of their first day. We are moving on as a family.

I’ve got a two week break to get some things done, and then it is full throttle to finish my masters program. I just hope I am excited about my year as the kids seem to be about theirs!

Mama Raccoon

2011-07-12T13:01:00.000-07:00

For the last two weeks or so, I have gotten up each morning, poured my coffee, grabbed by book and headed out to our sun room to wake up. And for those last few weeks, I listened to Mama Raccoon shuffled and purr beneath my feet. Sometimes, she would head into our crawl space for some recreational banging on the air vents. After Josh woke up and we’d sit together with our coffee, now in the office, listening to Mama Raccoon slam bang around beneath us. She seemed to like to be wherever I was. So if I sat in the sun room, there she was, scratching the dirt under the floor. If we moved to the office, she banged around the crawl space like my children seem to do each time I pick up the phone to make a call. It is like an invisible signal goes out that says, “Get her attention now, she is about to do something that does not include us!”

We’ve had a Mama before. Two years ago, Josh evicted Mama and her babies by pouring drops of ammonia through the cracks in the sun-room floor. The fumes made her grab her babies one by one and move them to our neighbor’s yard. But this time, that didn’t work. We had to call in the big guns, Animal Control. This didn’t bother me until I heard the cost, $150 for them to set the trap and $55 per animal they caught. So, if that Mama has babies, guess how much those cute boogers will cost us? A ton!

What did I do? I did what any responsible homeowner would do. I ignored it for awhile. Sometimes ignoring things really does work, like the headache that goes away once you leave work or the whining kid who gets distracted by a shiny rock in the dirt. It can be an effective strategy, but not one I would recommend for raccoons. I tried though. I pretended I didn’t hear her purring away as I drank my coffee the next morning. It was as if I reasoned that by loosening up a bit about wild animals living beneath my feet would make it all cool and fine. I ignored the banging on the vents while my stomach churned with the fear that perhaps she would fly through one of the air vents and latch onto my innocent ankles with her sharp teeth. Ignoring worked for about 3 and half minutes.

So, I did it. I called the Animal Control guy. He came and set a trap. Sure enough, this morning, Mama Raccoon was sitting in the trap, looking adorable and defeated. I felt relieved and awful at the same time. Poor little lady. I was wallowing in my empathy for Mama as the Animal Control man scooped up the trap. The minute he lifted that trap up, she growled and hissed with such vigor that it sent chills all the way down to my fleshy ankles.

The lesson of the tale is this: If you care about your ankles, call Animal Control and pay the big bucks to haul Mama Raccoon to a pretty park preserve nearby. Oh, and don’t forget, ignoring raccoons doesn’t make them go away; it makes them have babies under your sun-room floor. This is my service announcement for the month.

Time to change things up

2011-07-03T11:50:00.000-07:00

It is time to give the blog a little face lift, a BLOG-OVER shall we say? I envision a blog-over sort of like a do-over, or a makeover, OR even a sleepover. After each of these fine events everything looks better and more hip. I suppose that isn't really true with a sleepover, in which case you end up just tired and cranky wondering why in the heck other people don't eat breakfast at a decent hour?

I happen to have some time on my hands this weekend. So we'll see how this blog-over goes. I hope to change the title, the layout, (which I have already tweaked a bit), and then actually post to it. I hope to make these changes because honestly, the title and the description do not really describe who I am anymore. I am moving on from coffee and triathlons. The pursuit of both activities were leaving me wiped out and jittery, like an old lab rat working way to hard to get the cheese.

It is time for some subtle changes. Letting go of the pursuit of running to avoid knee surgery, cutting WAY back on the coffee to just one measured cup a day (I know! Do I sound 80 yet?), and hopefully writing a little bit more often than never- at- all. Yes, my standards are high, but I refuse to be deterred!

I'd rather be....

2011-02-18T13:29:00.000-08:00

sewing.

Today, I should be catching up on my reading for class. Instead, I chose to sew. And it felt seeewwww good. (ha!)

Tomorrow I'll pay the price for getting behind with the reading for class, but sometimes you just gotta cut loose and break out the sewing machine!

It's 2011. Cell phone networks are 4G; razors have five blades; and Starbucks is introducing a 31-ounce drink. What will be "upgraded" next?

2011-02-16T09:42:00.000-08:00

All upgrades will reach the limit. In order to upgrade, you will have to downgrade. People will start buying retro cell phones that only dial six of the seven digits in a number before the battery dies. Plastic surgery will be so “yesterday”, wrinkles and the ability to smile without looking like the Joker will announce to the world that Botox is over. Living in a 400 square foot home with two kids and three Labradors will be tres chic. No one will carry around water bottles that hold a gallon of liquid. Instead, it will be all the rage to risk your life by sipping from public water fountains.

If you became a spy and could pick anyone (living or dead, real or fictional) as your partner, who would it be?

2011-02-13T13:01:00.000-08:00

I think I have to go with George Clooney. He’s smart, funny and not bad looking. He can drive a fast car well, has a passion for the world and is interested in politics. I think he would be a good partner. George would have my back but also wouldn’t hesitate to let me kick some butt when appropriate. My specialty would be a high swing kick to the face. Swing kicks and maybe elbow jabs.

After a long day of chasing bad guys, we’d grab something to eat and kick back with a beer that I would actually like to drink since we are hanging out in la la land. Normally I cannot stand beer, but a Diet Coke just doesn’t seem right in this case. I’d say, “So, what do you think is going to transpire in Egypt now that Mubarak has resigned?” And we’d debate and talk late into the night. We’d leave for Egypt on an early flight out the next morning, lots of bad guys hanging out there right now. Not to worry though, George and Kate are on the way.

Write about a place where you could not happily live.

2011-02-11T10:23:00.000-08:00

I’d like to think that I could happily live anywhere. I’ve always told Josh that I would move anywhere but Texas, although that sentiment could possibly bite me in my Indiana butt. I can tell you what makes me really happy about places. First, I really need a wonderful library. Next, I want bike paths. I would love to be able to ride my bike as many places as possible. We chose our house that we live in now because it is close to several miles of bike paths. I love trees and being outside. Our home now is surrounded by several cottonwood trees that loom above our second story. Their utter beauty makes up for the leaves that must be picked up from July through November.

I could not live happily without Josh or the kids. But since we get to go together as a family unit, I feel many places are open to us. I don’t really want to head over to Pakistan or Iran. Russia isn’t really on my radar. What I keep thinking is that every time I have made a big move, a wonderful new friendship was waiting for me. When I went to U of I, I met Heidi at “Math Camp”, which was horrible, but we danced with tennis rackets as “My Sharona” blared from our radio. When I transferred to Indiana University, I met Veronica on that very first day. I helped her install a halogen light bulb and we’ve been friends every since. I cannot imagine my life without her. Even when I was little, when we moved from Minnesota to Illinois and I thought my heart would break, I met Rachel and then Abby, two women I still love. They will forever hold a very special place in my heart.

Stereotypes threaten to get in my way when opening up to new places. I remember thinking with utter horror about us moving to Indiana. I imagined waves of toothless people mulling about sporting green John Deer caps and worn out overalls with no shirt underneath. I think I would not be happy in a few countries, but overall, I’m keeping an open mind for the present time.

I could move to Texas if I could skate around in these!

Refridgerator Therapy

2011-02-05T08:57:00.000-08:00

Cleaning out the refrigerator does not occur as often as it should in our house. The fact that I do not know the official guidelines for how often the appliance needs to be cleaned is telling. I understand that other people routinely strip their refrigerator down and clean it from top to bottom. I know they exist. Unfortunately, I am well aware that I am not one of them.

In our house, our refrigerator cleaning guidelines are as follows:

A Kneifel family member (Kate) must clean out the refrigerator when:

*Something in there smells like a dead raccoon sucking on a moldy head of garlic.
*Guests are coming over and there is more than a 50% probability that they will either catch a glimpse of the inside of our fridge, or would need to dive into it themselves to retrieve something like a beverage or a piece of fruit.

Despite our clear Kneifel guidelines, the refrigerator most often gets a deep clean when feelings of anxiety start simmering. In my life, mild anxiety is like an obnoxious toddler, constantly pulling on my pant leg and whining for my attention. Lucky for me, yanking the innards out of our refrigerator seems to shut it up for an hour or so. Scrubbing dried barbecue sauce or wiping up the crumbs from last week’s leftovers frees up space in my mind. Little Miss Anxiety blissfully gives up her diatribe as I return our glass shelves to their pristine pre-Kneifel showroom state. Once the big shelves are in order, I organize the shelves on the side door of the fridge. Salad dressings go on the first shelf. I lovingly turn all of the labels so they face the same direction. Any grocery store manager would be proud of my presentation. Sauces come next, garlic chili sauce, fish sauce, soy sauce, and barbeque sauces. Below in the next shelf I place all of the olives and pickles. The bottom shelf houses larger jugs of mayo, ketchup and other less used items.

I just put all the bottles on the floor while cleaning the sticky shelves. Notice my "Poison Guy" face on the purple bucket. Anyone remember getting those green stickers in school?

When I am finished, all items have an immaculate new home in our fridge. I feel like something, of only my condiments have been put in a safe, predictable order. One tiny aspect of life has been conquered. I relish the accomplishment. I imagine Mr. Clean himself would high five this job.

Anxiety may return and start following me around once again; I expect her arrival in the next few days as Kai’s medical bills start to roll in. But, rest assured, if a miracle occurs and the fridge is still clean when that happens, I’ve got the kitchen pantry to keep me busy.

Books

2011-02-03T03:16:00.002-08:00

What is a good thing you can't have too much of?

I can never have too many good books to read. Whether they are nonfiction or fiction, reading keeps me going. It is like eating or breathing, I cannot imagine life without books. A black cloud of dread begins to follow me around when I do not know which book I should read next. Walking into the library lifts my spirits, no matter my mood is at the time. I could skip through the aisles and twirl about like Maria on the mountain top in The Sound of Music. The library has always been a place of refuge for me. Whenever there has been a possibility for us to move, I have always checked out the libraries in the area first. I simply could not live somewhere with a rinky-dink library.

When I hear people say that they don’t like to read, it is as if they won an all expense paid trip to Europe but they forfeit their prize because they refuse to leave the tent they’ve been living in for the last 10 years. It just seems crazy to me. My mom taught me the love of reading. Elizabeth loves to read just as much as I do. She devours books. Kai can’t read yet, but I am sure he will develop the same passion for reading as long as I keep the Star Wars books coming and present plenty of nonfiction books on building and construction.

Book worm

2011-02-03T03:16:00.000-08:00

What is a good thing you can't have too much of?

Crazy people

2011-02-02T05:24:00.001-08:00

Write about something some people think is fun, but you think is extreme/crazy.

Black Friday shopping. Honestly, almost any kind of shopping outside of grocery shopping has me heading for a tall bridge. But in deep and dark retail forest, Black Friday is the big mama bear thrashing about, ready to devour inexperienced shoppers like myself. I come from a family of serious shoppers. My sister does it for a living. She is a buyer for a children’s catalog company. My mom, well, she makes internet shopping look like an Olympic sport and each day that woman earns a gold medal. My dad browses the malls just for the fun of it. If he is bored on a weekend, he’ll head out to the mall just to stroll about content to be among the purchasing masses. My genetic makeup somehow mutated from that of my family’s. After 75 minutes in any given mall structure, I start to crumble. My right shoulder aches where my purse fearfully holds on for dear life. My throat dries out. I bring a big bottle of water with me each time as if I am heading out into the dessert and not Old Navy. Usually after two hours my stomach starts to hurt and I need a lunch break in order to continue. Lunch usually requires a side of French fries with plenty of ketchup. Normally I cannot even make it to lunch, even if the promise of French fries is mentioned.

I know people who giddily anticipate Black Friday and all the deals they will nab. They browse the fliers that arrive in their mail boxes and map out a plan of action. I would much rather keep my water bottle, purse and French- fry- free butt at home and go out another day when the crowds aren’t so crazy and I can buy my gifts in 75 minutes or less.

Wake up call

2011-02-01T13:59:00.000-08:00

Write about the last time you had to wake up extra-early. Why did you get up early? Was it worth it?

Usually,I reluctantly pull myself out from underneath my down covers around 5am each morning. I don’t have many instances that I need to be up and ambulatory earlier than that. What presents a more fun question for me to ponder is what would I willingly, without the help of strong coffee and flavored creamer, drag myself out of bed to do at 3:30 am?

· Finish reading a good book. I never seem to have enough time to read all the different types of books that make it to my “Must Read” list.

· Paint a canvas. I haven’t ever done this in my life. Yet, I imagine I would not want anyone to see it. Kai’s art therapist in the hospital inspired me to try sometime.

· Almost any creative project. Like what I want to do right now, which is to paint a mirror, collect twigs, cut them, glue them on and spray paint the whole thing cream.

· Walk outside in the early morning as long as I could bring a guard dog with me and not feel like an impending heart attack was lurking behind each and every crouching bush.

· Get my hair highlighted for free or reduced price. I would dance a Russian jig at a high school pep rally in a gorilla suit for good highlights that didn’t require mortgaging our home.

Hosting

2011-01-30T13:32:00.001-08:00

Write about a gathering you hosted.

Last night we hosted a gathering for the families that offered us so much support when Kai was in the hospital. I realized that we’ve entered into a whole new arena with our kids. The entire night, all of the kids, ages 11-6 played upstairs. I worried that the kids from the other families would end up bored out of their mind without video games and beg their parents to never drag them to our house again. Instead, the kids spent the entire time digging through our dress up containers. They spent time rehearsing a play. Then they performed it for all of the adults.

For as much as I really love to get together with people, I often seem to avoid having people over to our house. I worry that it is too small. We don’t have a basement, media room, video games or (gasp) cable. I don’t have all the perfect serving dishes like some of my friends or a go-to menu for fantastic meals. None of that really mattered. We just wanted to say “Thank You” to some really wonderful people, for their prayers for Kai, the afternoons watching Elizabeth baking brownies or having her over to play, letting our dog Pippi out when we couldn’t and even giving her a bath! We wanted to say thank you for making us feel so protected and loved. Having Kai in the hospital was scary, but it brought us many blessings; a new closeness with friends and the realization that kids don’t really care if you don’t have video games at your house as long as you provide superhero costumes and lacy dresses to run around in.

Clubbin' in the Kitchen

2011-01-14T03:42:00.000-08:00

We have a station 93.9 fm that plays all of the teeny-bop and hip-hop stuff. This is the stuff that music buffs wouldn’t be caught dead listening to while their other high minded friends were around. This station is like many in varying states. They recycle the same 100 songs over and over. I am embarrassed to admit this, but I listen to this station often. When put it on, my inner feminist often screams in protest. “These lyrics are offensive and degrading to women!!” I respond to this little internal tantrum by patiently telling her to hush-up for just a minute. I just need to dance in my kitchen. With that, the volume goes out and my inner feminist throws up her hands in disgust stomping off to pout in a corner.

Recently, I underwent surgery on my abdomen for an “epigastic hernia”. You know how people say, “Geez, relax! You’re going to have a hernia.” Well, that’s just what I did or didn’t do. Did get a hernia, didn’t relax. Apparently, I over did it on the exercise ball one day and tore some fibers that attach my abdomen muscles together down the middle. The doctor assured me that there is so way to strengthen those fibers since they aren’t muscle. I sighed in relief, as I live in fear of being called a wimp. What I learned from that surgery is that having your abdominal muscles sliced open really does hurt like hell as your body recovers. You really do use your abs in everything you do. I thought working out would protect me from some of this pain. But apparently, bodily trauma is the great equalizer among humans, in shape or not, it’s gonna hurt.

More importantly than the pain, I realized how much I laugh and dance each day. After my surgery, both of these were impossible for at least five days. My husband has the wonderful gift of making me laugh in almost any situation. I had to instruct him time and time again to stop being funny. As a result, life hasn’t been quite as silly as usual. Today, exactly two weeks later, I turned on our kitchen radio and danced. The lyrics are still terrible. My inner feminist still turns purple in protest, she may end up with her own hernia soon…but my hips shift side to side, my head bops back and forth and my stomach only hurts just a tiny bit. I can almost believe myself as I sing along, “…the club can’t even handle me right now! …Put your hands up!”

Health

2011-01-12T09:04:00.000-08:00

In what way would you like to be healthier on December 31 than you are today?

To be quite honest, I hope to be healthier this year by not worrying so much about being healthy. I will drink a Diet Coke every now and then and not listen to the crumbling of my bones from calcium depletion. I will eat a hamburger once in a while without arguing for the rights of the workers in the meat packing industry. I will drink milk that is not organic without monitoring my body for an unidentified growth or an extra limb. I will eat sugar in various forms of cakes, chocolates and cookies without cursing my lack of will power. I won’t do it often enough to need support group, but the overall effort will make me healthier in spirit.

Numbers

2011-01-10T03:16:00.001-08:00

Write about a number that's important to you, and why.

Numbers that are important to me right now, my weight, 135.2. The number of pooping accidents Pippi is having a day right now, already one today. Yesterday it was 2. The number of minutes I can sit quietly in meditation without scratching my nose or feeling any other irresistible tickle- 3. The number of child care and puppy care arrangements I need to still make this week- 1.

Five word story

2011-01-09T03:20:00.000-08:00

This little story is almost 3 years old. I found it while looking through my "Kate's Writing" folder on my computer. I needed to look for something else today, as when I went to The One Minute Writer blog, she didn't have anything posted for Sunday.

How this works is you take 5 random words, write them down, and then try to come up with a story. Elizabeth and I did this together one day. Since she is 8 now; she was only 5 when we did this. I am leaving all the colors and fonts as they are, since this is what she picked the day we worked on it.

Five Word Story

Elizbeht and Kate Kneifel

Toucan

Pine tree

Apple

Flabbergasted

Snow

The pine tree stood alone in the forest and watched the snow drift slowly to the ground. This was not the first snowfall of the year. The pine tree remembers the first snow fall well. On that day a strange thing happened. The pine tree was enjoying the brisk winter day, when all of a sudden an exasperated toucan fell out of the sky and landed with a thump in the pine trees branches.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing there you nutty bird!” the pine tree yelled.

The toucan brushed the snow off his feathers and looked around him with a set of small marble-like eyes. “I apologize for my inappropriate landing just now.” The toucan bowed to show his sincerity. “You are certainly an interesting looking tree now aren’t you? I have never quite seen anything like you! I knew I shouldn’t but I thought just a quick swoop in to take a better look would be just fine. But goodness, things often times end up more difficult than we originally think don’t they?” The toucan brushed a few flakes of snow off his grand yellow beak and peered into the pine trees dense branches. “May I ask, just how is it that other birds manage to land on your branches without pricking themselves with these sharp little needles of yours. I seem to have had a bit of trouble. “ The toucan looked down at his multi-colored tuft of feathers and pushed out various pine needles that shock out at odd angles all over his body. He watched with a wry smile they tumbled to the forest floor with a few swipes of his wing.

Without waiting for an answer to his questions the Toucan rambled on. “I am originally from the rain forest, although I guess you knew that huh? Probably don’t see the likes of other Toucans too often around here I’ll bet.”

The toucan curiously examined the pine tree from the tip top to the very bottom. “ Mmmm, so you certainly are not an apple tree. Outside of those lovely brown cones I see hanging from your branches, I do not see anything hanging from your branches. I was so hoping to taste an apple on my travels. They do sound just delightful!” The toucan opened and closed his beak with a soft clacking sound, imaging the crisp juicy fruit. Anything is better than a mango. Goodness if I never eat a mango again that will be fine with me!” He stretched his neck like a tired cat and took a deep breath of the cold winter air.

The pine tree had had just about enough of listening to this strange creature. Apple tree? Mangos? Plus, this creatures voice seemed to be echoing throughout the entire forest, shattering the pristine quiet of the snowfall this early morning winter day. What precisely did this rude little aviator want?

“Do you always talk this much?” The pine tree asked. He half expected the the toucan to be flabbergasted by such a forthright question.

Instead he looked up and said, “Oh yes! Quite more actually.”

Bike workshop

2011-01-08T04:12:00.000-08:00

Complete this thought:
Now that the winter holidays are over, I wish...

that I could take a bicycle building class and build my own hybrid bike. I would have a basket on the front, wide enough tires to pass over any terrain, handmade fenders to protect me from being “skunked” by mud, and enough gears that hills wouldn’t fill me with dread. Then I would buy all the winter gear I needed to ride that new bike throughout the winter. When admirers ask me “Hey, where did you buy that bike?” I would puff out my chest and say, “Oh, I built it myself.”

Sword

2011-01-07T06:54:00.000-08:00

Write a brief bit of fiction using the prompt "Sword."
I’d give anything just for one day to carry around a sword on my back. I’d wear it slung over one shoulder and feel the solid weight of it pressing across my spine. Walking up and down these grocery aisles is total bore unless you’re hungry. If I’m really hungry, I can usually snag at least one snack that doesn’t include wheat-germ or flax seed in it. God, Cheetos would be fantastic right now. Cheetos would qualify as an “out of bounds item”. Other kids my age gorge on the stuff. Me? I score a bag of salted nuts and throw a party I’m so excited.

If one more person wrinkles their brow with that questioning look that says, “Is that a nose job bandage or did that angry girl just get into a fist fight?” SLING that’s when, right there, with just the flip of my elbow I’d slide that sword right off my back and scare the crap out of them. A sword and a bag of Cheetos is what I really want right now.

What-if...

2011-01-06T03:13:00.000-08:00

Fill in the blanks (and explain, if you'd like):
"My name is _____, and I'm a(n) _____-holic."

My name is Kate Kneifel, and I’m an “What-if”-holic. I just finished typing up my morning pages and most of it consisted of “What-ifs” today. What if-Josh wants to move into a bigger house and it kills me, literally, the rooms in their bigger grandeur suck the life out of me. What if I buy those two paint samples at Sherwin Williams and put them both on the wall and hate them both, then when Josh comes home he sighs and shakes his head at my crazy inability to make a darned decision? What if-I cannot manage to balance everything well enough once I start my practicum and end up a fat, bitch-monger who no one wants to be around?

ps-Try to say bitch-monger without smiling.

Star Struck

2011-01-05T03:40:00.000-08:00

Write about a project you did for school when you were a kid.

I really cannot remember a project from when I was a “kid”, unless high school counts as being a kid. In my geology class I did a diorama of the different types of stars. I remember filling the box with dangling red, yellow and white sparkling fuzzy puff balls. It felt like something I should do in elementary school, and yet I found the entire project completely fulfilling and was excited to bring it back to class. That was the same teacher who won my heart forever by playing the song, “Galileo” by the Indigo Girls and then asking us to discuss the lyrics. The angels sang in my head. He was my first real exposure to a more “sensitive” adult male.

Really? I am sooooo ahh-some...

2011-01-04T13:35:00.000-08:00

Those words sailed across my mind in ticker tape fashion as I logged on today to post.

I have obviously failed horribly at this quest of keeping up a blog. Big bomb-o. Ka-pow. I swore up and down, again and again that I really would post regularly this time. And a little later...Okay,okay, maybe I didn't make it that last time, but it was because of a horrible bout of insecurity and I didn't want to look silly in front of the thousands of people who read this blog. But now I'm back and I am soooo on it this time. Or not. It seems like one out of two people that I know and their Great Aunt Sally has a blog up and running. All of them post more regularly than I do. Actually, Aunt Sally's Bingo Review blog is really quite thrilling.

Interestingly enough, despite my erratic behavior, I still like this blog. I just don't have the heart to throw it out completely. I feel like this poor blog's philandering spouse. I am constant cheating on it with other more interesting and dynamic activities like reading, talking on the phone, wiping down baseboards, making sure my dog doesn't run off and pee in the corner, and breathing. In-out, in-out, all day long. Really it is a huge commitment. All the while, Mr. High and Off just sits here, quietly entertaining the few guests that visit with the meager posts I leave him, trying to hide the flush of embarrassment.

It is appropriate that the very title of this blog is "High and Off". Should anything else be expected from such an author of such blog? I would argue no. So, perhaps I am only staying true to the very nature of the blog and myself. Let's call it, keeping it real. Regardless of my pitiful efforts, I remain utterly amazed by the blogs that some of my friends have put together. They are so advanced and gorgeous! I always say that I am going to learn how to do those cool layouts and add all of those fancy links and buttons, but then my dog gets that look in her eye and I know she's about to go squat in a corner of our house. So I take a little 4 month break and forget about it.

Plus, I have to keep this blog up and running for the two people that live and breathe for each and every entry, my mom and sister. Understandably, they just don't get enough of me on a regular basis. So, the blog must go on.

I have been writing a bit on my own from The One Minute Writer Blog. I figure I can always post those. And if you get bored, refer back to Aunt Sally's Bingo Blog, or any of the other awesome blogs I read and you'll feel like you didn't waste your time.

The prompt today was:

You're going to create a new political party. Name it, and come up with a slogan to describe what the party stands for.

The Coffee Party- Exactly like the Tea Party but cooler, with better hair and breath mints in our satin lined pockets.

I know that this doesn't really make a whole lot of sense. But you only get a minute. Just for the record, I so wanted to edit this, but again, I am "Keepin' It Real" for you people (Mom and Jenny).

Until next time, or April 1st. I'll be here or I will not.

Kate

Schoodle

2010-11-04T08:20:00.000-07:00

These are the girls in the litter. I like the one looking at the camera. :)

We are getting a schoodle! In case you are not schooled in the now popular idea of breeding almost any dog breed with a poodle, a schoodle is a mix of a schnauzer and a poodle. Both breeds do not shed, which makes it neat-nick friendly. And when I say neat-nick you all know we are NOT talking about me! :)

Yep, I know some of you may be in shock that we are actually getting a puppy, but after months of visiting our local animal shelters and one failed attempt at adoption, we decided to go the puppy route. This has been a new experience for me, since the only way I have ever experienced getting a dog has been through a shelter. I have never gotten a pet from a breeder.

The four boys

I am approaching our impending puppyhood as I do with almost everything. I trot myself over to our library and check out every book I can find on the subject. I checked out a few books for me, one for Josh and several children's books for the kids. Then I hauled the load back to my house and we started our "Puppy Seminars". The seminars were led my yours truly. A seminar included watching a training video, eating popcorn and discussing how to use positive reinforcement with a puppy. This almost meant speaking quite clearly to Kai that a puppy is not a toy and he/she can easily break if you are not gentle. Hopefully this idea has hit home since Kai is quick to tell those that inquire about the puppy the following, "Puppies are little and you can NOT throw them down or they will break a leg!" Yes, Kai that is correct.

This is the book we chose to order from Amazon and use as our home resource. This book says we'll have a smart puppy, so that's sure to occur if we follow all the rules right? And look, it also says it will be "Fun, Effect and Easy!" :)

One on-going game we've also played is "What should we name our name puppy?" We are not sure if we will end up with a boy or a girl puppy. So far we have "Cooper" if it is a boy, and "Eloise" or "Tilly" if it is a girl. Our only real guideline in the selection process is that it have a laid back personality. Part of the reason we are getting a puppy, and specifically a schoodle, is they are supposed to make great therapy dogs. My hope is to train this dog to be a therapy dog and then take it to work with me once I graduate. I know of a domestic violence shelter that uses a Maltese therapy dog. The women and children find petting and talking to the dog soothing, especially during intake interviews. My hope is that our new puppy will not only be our newest family pet, but also a working companion for me.

We'll see. Next weekend we head down to the breeder to make the final selection regarding the one we want to take home. The breeder knows what we are looking for. She is watching the pups for the one with the personality she thinks we are looking for. We are waiting until 8 weeks to take the puppy home, which means we can pick it out on the 13th, but won't bring it home until the 19th. (the breeder lets the puppies go home at 7 weeks, but the book suggests 8 weeks is the optimal time to take a puppy home, so of course I have to follow that guideline!)

I feel like I am puppy-pregnant; we are that excited over this new arrival. I've never had a puppy before, in my entire life. I guess this feeling is why little kids across the world beg their parents for a puppy.

35

2010-11-02T08:39:00.000-07:00

My birthday is this week. Every year I before my birthday I feel a little blue, not because I am getting older. Getting older doesn’t bother me as far as the aging process aging goes. I’ve acquired some lines around my eyes, and my knees don't work the way I'd like them to but I can live with those ailments. While some wrinkles are appearing on my face, I have the added bonus of adult acne to keep me young. I swear I am the only woman approaching 35 who still has to buy the same face wash she did when she was 16. So I may not look young, but in many ways I am still purchasing young.

Aside from some misplaced acne, what bothers me about aging is simply the swift passage of time. Each year I look back and I think, “Am I doing enough with my life? Am I on the right path? Are those big dreams I held so dear now out of reach? Are they even still on my radar?” My aspirations over the years haven’t changed much, but my commitment to them has spiked and plummeted more times than I care to admit. Maybe the ups and downs are a necessary adjustment, or maybe they prove a lack of follow through. On a good day, I refer to the various fluctuations as a sign of flexibility. On a bad day I scoff and call myself a wimp. On my birthday I hope to just call it even. I’d like to look at myself and say, “Okay, so you are now 35. You’ve done many of the things you set out to do. Have a good day today. Enjoy the family and friends you have. Drink something stronger than a Diet Coke, eat a piece of cake and meet me in the morning ready to work.”

ICAN Update

2010-10-17T13:57:00.000-07:00

I mentioned in a previous post that I am participating in a volunteer training course for service dogs. The organization is called ICAN, http://www.icandog.org/help/volunteer.htm. We are now down to the final two classes for the training. This Monday night we will meet at the mall downtown to practice training the dogs out in public. I am nervous and excited about it. Each time we work with these dogs I feel like I am managing a superstar or something. These dogs have been through a few years of training and could probably recite Shakespeare while juggling apples, at least that is what it feels like when you are with them. Last week I missed one of the required trainings since Kai decided to swallow a quarter right before my class. I took him to the emergency room instead. That is a story for another post). Luckily, the head trainer for ICAN was willing to call me on his lunch break to go over the material, so I can still finish the certification.

What stuns me the most about this training is how awed I feel about these dogs. They seem to posses super canine powers or something. I know that I am working with a dog that will literally change a person’s life. I feel so incredibly privileged to be able to work with them. We were told that as soon as we finished our certification we would most likely get a call to see if we could furlough a dog. A furrlough lasts for 2-3 weeks. During that time, you continue their training out in the community.

My fingers are crossed that I’ll get a call at the end of October. I want to be sure I can practice all I’ve learned and not forget it. You can be sure I’ll post a picture of the first dog that stays with us. It has been such a fun adventure.

Cupcake girls

2010-10-16T09:21:00.000-07:00

This is a term I coined a few months ago. Cupcake girls are women who really need to put down their vegan organic carrot salad and indulge in a little processed fat now and then. There is a woman at my workout club who is extremely thin. She does much of the same training as I do, so I often see her zipping along on the treadmill or slicing through the water in the pool. I must note here, that we do the same type of training, but she does hers fast and I do mine at my “slow and steady wins the race” pace. I’m not sure of her age but she seems to be in her mid forties. One day she hopped into the lane next to me at the pool. I wore my cozy Speedo suit, which I love. Those suits stay put and suck everything in. While other women may diet in order to sport a two piece, I happily stuff myself into a modest Speedo and thank God for the suction of latex. Here’s my thought on bikinis. Quite simply put, they leave me feeling naked. You could not pay me to walk around in my bra and underwear in public, so why would I do so in a waterproof set of undies? No thanks. I appreciate that a Speedos exist as a lovely alternative to the torture of a bikini. If I get your attention, I’d like it to be because I am saying something smart or witty, funny even, not because I do or do not have a muffin top.

Jumping into the pool she squealed, “Oooooh, it is soooo cold today!” The temperature felt pretty comfortable to me. I looked over at her. Her body was a well baked brown, like the top of a fresh loaf of bread ready to come out of the over. Although I don’t guess she indulged in the forbidden carbohydrate group too often. Wearing a tiny two piece Speedo bathing suit, her stomach curved inward as if searching for food from within. She reminded me of Gumby, with his large head and big feet. This tall, painfully thin woman looked as if she had been stretched out, pulled apart to the point of almost breaking in two.

I couldn’t help but take notice of her comment. Cold? Well of course she was cold! The poor thing was heating her entire body with the fat content of a sugar free popsicle!

Losing my filter for a brief moment, I opened my mouth and the following comment rolled off my tongue like a slick weighted marble, “Ahhhh, stop complaining and eat a cupcake,” I said good naturedly patting her on the shoulder. She laughed, but strangely enough, I haven’t seen her since. Hopefully I didn’t offend her, but most likely I did. What I meant to say is really hard to say to strangers, but if I knew her better, this is what I wanted to say to her, “You do not have to be 5’10 and weight 100 pounds to be a beautiful, amazing and intelligent woman. In fact, if you are 5’10 and weigh 100 pounds, life might suck a little bit. You might miss out on some really awesome things, like cupcakes with maple syrup frosting and bacon bits on top. Or if that isn’t your thing, a really good batch of french fries, or homemade lasagna, at the very least, when you go swimming you wouldn’t be so frickin’ cold. It is okay if your body reflects a sense of more and not less.”

Which is precisely why I wear a one piece Speedo; I need just a little more for this body of mine than a little bikini can provide. You know what, I see that as a good thing. I just cannot keep my strong, curvy, well insulated body contained in a waterproof set of underwear! Hallelujah and thank God for that!