I guess I am grateful I don’t know everything. It would make life reeaaallly stressful if I knew everything and had to answer ALL the questions from those who didn’t.

There is so much I do not know, but I guess it is good, because it is opportunity to learn something new every day.

We are watching the conventions. They are so choreographed and rehearsed and exactly what they want us to hear, and I KNOW there is more to the story. I am grateful I am not Paul Harvey with the rest of the story, but I know there is more to the story, there is so much unknown. I guess it is good, because it is opportunity to learn something new every day.

Our lilacs are dying. I do not know why, and right now, I don’t even care to know why – when I google research, there are too many reasons and I have no idea what the pH of the soil is, and I am not about to prune the branches that are infected – that would be the whole block, and ain’t nobody got time for that.

We lost a substantial gift certificate to a local business. It disappeared into the unknown, but so have a lot of things around here. Anyone who knows us halfway well has seen the garage. That explains a lot.

I am on crutches again after 40 years. Same leg, different verse. Same SONG, same instrument – different verse. Wouldn’t you just know it – an injury 40 years old renders me useless. It would be great to have all the answers, but for now, those answers must be out in the lilac bushes or buried in the abyss known as the garage. We were laughing this afternoon about how the Scofields’ quickly turned into the elderly couple who need a ride to the doctor appointments – Dad, we feel your pain!

One good thing out of all this: I am hobbling in Sam’s shoes as he waits on me hand and foot, and he is walking in mine, being the caregiver for a change. Tomorrow could be very interesting going to chemo treatment…but we are Scofields, and between Sam’s “never stop going” and Rhonda’s “Ferguson stubbornness,” it is sure to be quite a day.

Every time we accept a reservation for one of our AirBnb properties, it is a gamble. We are allowing strangers to come into our spaces and just take over, and we cannot be there to clean up after them or keep them from jumping on the beds or tear through the house on a skateboard with a black magic marker in hand. I cannot begin to tell you the anxiety I feel as I walk in, not knowing what I will find after Elvis has left the building. It is the unknown, and so far, we’ve mostly been pleasantly surprised. It IS interesting to see how people take care of other’s property – some are so wonderful, others…eh. Some start the process of cleaning for us, others make sure we are not bored. Some take full advantage of ALL the snacks and ALL the waters we leave for guests, taking every last crumb with them, and others just take a little. Some take the bedding off the beds, others leave the bedding exactly how it was when they exited the sheets. It is always an unknown.

I guess I am grateful I don’t know everything. I would probably never open our properties to guests. I would miss a lot of work because I would be outside pruning for the next seven weeks, trying to save a lilac. I would pay to be the first customer with SpaceX to go to Mars…as far away from politics as possible. I would amputate a leg to avoid the intense pain.

But…that garage might be hiding a gift certificate.

Hold my crutches, Sam, and if I’m not back inside in four hours, check the garage.

Sam begin his birthday attempting to make himself feel good enough to welcome the day. He showered and dressed and said he would try a little hot cereal on the porch. I brought him the small stack of birthday cards to open, and he gave it a valiant effort.

Just a few bites in, he decided he probably ought to get back in bed.

This afternoon, as I work on the laptop, he is at the local hospital getting fluids after his pump unhook, still not feeling the best.

His daughter arrives this evening, and I am hopeful her presence will lift his spirits and these fluids will begin to make him feel like he’s ready to take on a new decade.

I am grateful for quarantine parties and the invited guests who sent cards for Sam to enjoy.

I am grateful for blankets and saline and nausea meds and a pump unhooked.

And I am grateful for this day, any way it happens. He’s here. That’s what matters.