These two cannot understand why, when the world is sitting right there on the other side of that door, they cannot go out and explore it like they always did in small town USA. Why? Could it possibly be that when the unknown neighbor called last week to inform us she had broken up an almost fight between Banana and sly ol’ fox, it was a huge warning sign that Banana and Split must now become indoor only cats? Could it possibly be that when we let Banana and Split out to get some fresh air, they decide fresh air is much more pleasant than the smell of lacquer and paint and refuse to come when called? Hmmmm.

They just sit and wait, and wait, and wait some more.

And when I see this sight one too many times, I give in, and I let them go out. And I love to watch Split roll on the concrete and Banana act all lion tough as he crouches in the grass, ready to attack a random bug. What “master” doesn’t like to give his “people” good gifts and watch them enjoy? It is when those cats are given a porch of freedom and then try to take a neighborhood that they get themselves in trouble. Hence, the fox…and a glass door barrier.

But they keep trying, keep tugging at my heartstrings, keep patiently waiting, just in case I change my mind or the unsuspecting visitor opens that door just a little too wide for them to sneak out.

*********

Speaking of waiting. A whole home remodel requires it, especially in post-pandemic. It really hasn’t been that long, but when you live in construction chaos and sheetrock dust, it feels like it has been forever and a minute.

I could be very ungrateful for the summer flu I contracted that has kept me in my bedroom, now going on 10 days, but instead, I choose to be grateful for the opportunity to be home and witness the arrival of our granite.

Living here for the past couple months started out with the minimum it takes to live, filling the old drawers and cabinets in the kitchen with the food essentials, compounded with new mail, former owner mail, tools, and everything that normal people deposit onto their kitchen counters as they come and go.

When it was time to begin work in the kitchen, everything had to be moved to another room, so it was ALL piled high with no sense of up or down. Did we cover anything to protect it from the construction dust? Nope nope nope.

Sam’s place to relax and take breaks has been moved to the front porch. There IS a folding chair in the bedroom, I guess. Poor guy. Every room is hard hat territory.

Until this past weekend.

Things are beginning to take shape, and this morning, Sam had a space to sit and relax INSIDE, rather than outside.

I am grateful for transformation – personal, and remodel.

I am grateful for God’s goodness to us that is all around us at every turn.

I am grateful for a boss who shares meds.

I am grateful for beautiful stone and a husband who says it reminds him of God’s creation when he looks at it.

I am grateful for less dirt.

I am grateful for a dumpster and the guys who empty it every week.

I am grateful for cats who put up with lots of noise and chaos, and don’t add to it.

I am grateful the coughing is finally beginning to subside.

I am grateful for a weekend that included a day of sleep and a day of productivity.

And I am grateful for a toaster oven and little microwave while we do a Banana and Split – sit and wait and wait, and wait some more…for appliances.

(translation = This crazy life.)

The last few days have been a little goofy.

It has been floor refinishing weekend, but foster son needed a place to stay, so we all ended up staying here in the house.

However, the wood floors were inaccessible from all entry points, so the only way to enter our bedrooms? Windows. Foster son had to climb a ladder to the second floor, and we had to burglarize our way in through a window on the first floor, hoping neighbors wouldn’t notice two old people on a step ladder hoisting themselves inside.

As soon as we pried open the window, a thick waft of highness hit our nasal passages. I am fairly certain Banana and Split have about a third of the brain cells they once had last week…

So we have been perpetually higher than kites as we’ve occupied our bedroom for many hours over the weekend, just waiting for the beautiful floors to be dry enough so we could come out of hiding and re-enter the land of sanity.

Today, the floors were ready for testing. They are beautiful and we love them. However, the painters arrived just in time before 8 am to begin their work on the kitchen cabinets. Enter the largest tubes of airplane glue aroma in the history of Guiness World Records, because whatever they are spraying inside the drawers to varnish and seal, makes our home smell like a life-size B52 airplane model in progress. If ever there was a whiff of “old people smell” in this house, it has vanished.

And all the while, I stayed home from work today, on this beautiful 75 degree gorgeous day, because I have COVID without the VID, so just CO, but add the UGH. That’s what I have. CO-UGH. Continually. Apparently, it is a viral thing going around, so I just have to wait it out, after not one but TWO COVID tests and a doctor appointment. But waiting it out means occupying more time in this master bedroom with all the fume-y highness while I CO-UGH.

I have felt sorry for the painters in our kitchen having to listen to The Doobie Brothers all day, so I changed the music to the unknown Latin music genre, currently playing, “Quien Te Entiende,” translated “Who can understand you?”

That’s fitting.

I am pretty sure we are a third less brain cells now, too, along with Banana and Split. My man is wearing crocs with socks and he cracks me up. And Banana got out this morning and decided he was manly enough of a cat to take on a fox. We would have never known what happened to our little guy had it not been for a really nice neighbor with a loud scream and the vet tag that hangs around Banana’s neck. Nice neighbor lady called to find out where this less-than-intelligent cat lives. Since I am CO-UGHing incessantly, I sent my man and his crocs and socks down the sidewalk to meet her.

“I’m so sorry. Banana is his name, and he is doped up on airplane glue. We’re your new neighbors who climb through our window instead of using the front door. Nice to meet you and thank you for rescuing our boy! Es una vida loca!”

**********************

I am grateful for this adventure.

I am grateful the fox thought a Banana was a little too crazy to eat.

I am grateful the neighbors haven’t called the police.

I am grateful for wonderful guys who are artists with floors and cabinets.

And I am grateful Sam has other shoes to wear in public.

I came home from work to be greeted by a husband with stuck on tile goop gracing his forearms and elbows, sweaty brow, and kneeling in the corner of the half bath placing his last tile on the wall.

The dog days of summer have landed a couple months early in these parts – outdoors AND indoors. The humidity is stifling along with the heat, and if you know me at all, you know I am not a Central Daylight Time kind of person, because that means there are approximately four more daytime hours of sunlight for my husband to continue working nonstop. He does. Nonstop.

I chipped in a little and vacuumed the freshly sanded wood floors to prep for staining, and when he finished his job and was dripping with sweat, we decided to take a break and go get some dinner, since we have no kitchen or table at this stage of the game.

We decided to stop at Costco and pick up a couple things, and after we checked out, a hotdog sounded too good to pass up. Besides, we are in the middle of the DOG days of summer. Nothing better than a hotdog on a sweltering June evening.

Holy Don’t Ask What Is In a Hotdog Just Enjoy It Batman.

I know we are a little late to the party, but we both ate meals at Costco last night for $1.50 each! AND, we had all the dinner entertainment we could want, sitting at the white picnic tables and watching the Costco faithful push their loaded carts to the exit.

It was a very enjoyable break, and the sun was still shining when we left Costco to return home to work.

**********

In 1985, Costco first introduced its now legendary food court deal: a hot dog and soda for just $1.50. Part of what makes the offer so mythical is that, 36 years later, the price hasn’t budged—despite the fact that the Bureau of Labor Statistics’ CPI Inflation Calculator suggests the price should be around $3.65 today.

**********

I am grateful for Costco.

I am grateful for hotdogs that stick out of both sides of the bun.

I am grateful for evenings without work.

However, I am also grateful for a beautiful home in the making.

I am grateful for a husband who is furthest from a couch potato.

I am grateful for funny people who like Costco.

I am grateful for the young man, Max, who helped us self checkout and said, “Life is too short.” When we asked him why he happened to say that, he proceeded to tell us about his Dad, Jeff, who has been diagnosed with terminal colon cancer – “get your colonoscopy” – and says that phrase now…and is also a patient at KU.

Isn’t that interesting and ironic…

I am grateful for impromptu “date nights” and cheap dinners and divine meetings.

I was driving to Dad’s to begin playing the piano for him once a week. It was 5:20 pm and everyone was on their way home from a long hot day of work. Streets in the city are not quite like the streets in small town USA, and traffic was steady in four lanes, stop lights serving as pauses on the journey to get from here to there.

There was no stoplight in the middle of the block, but the brake lights in front of me lit up and we all slowed down and came to a complete stop. Hazard lights began flashing and I immediately thought she had car trouble and I was in the wrong lane. When she opened her car door and held up her hands to stop the traffic in the next lane, I watched what would happen next, and then I saw it.

A little box turtle was attempting to cross the busy street, apparently trying to get home from its long day of work, too.

The woman made a few hesitant grabs at the shell as the turtle tried to scramble, but she mustered up enough bold to pick up the little guy and march him across three lanes of traffic to his destination, waving, apologizing, and bowing her way back to her hazard lights as several of us in the traffic audience clapped and gave her thumbs ups.

*****

I arrived at Dad’s and noticed a few ladies sitting around the piano. I didn’t see Dad or my sister, so I went up to his apartment to let him know I was there. We made our way back downstairs and I realized that I was not only playing for Dad, but for these friends of his who had gathered at 5:30 to hear some music.

I learned to play the piano on a heavy old upright with family pictures sitting on top in frames, sometimes joined by a Siamese cat named, “Sneakers.” The ivory keys were yellowed and some of them were chipped on the ends. It was a wonderful old piano and served as our tornado shelter since it was the heaviest thing in the house and could house two little girls underneath. I know. Makes no sense now, but it was what we knew to do then.

When Dad and Mom made the decision to move when I was 14 and the only child left in the house, they decided it was not worth it to have to move the big old piano, and Dad made arrangements to purchase a brand new Yamaha studio piano from the music store one block away from his gas station.

That Yamaha took me through concerto contests and Guild contests, through many hours of piano lesson practicing and Chorale accompanying. I remember the days I “had to” practice with Mom so she could sing and record herself singing “Grandma’s Feather Bed,” or a number of other songs and hymns for special occasions. “Had to…”and now if only I could bring those moments back.

When I was married, the piano went with me. It was an albatross to the one who had to move it, but I could not imagine life without my Yamaha. It went to Texas and became the instrument I taught lessons on. It was the instrument that taught my girls the basics, although it became quite apparent I was not their best teacher and they were destined to do other things.

Over the married years, the piano moved 5+ times. I continued to use it for giving lessons and accompanying aspiring instrumentalists and vocalists for their contests and recitals.

*****

I also used it for therapy. It was my silent counselor, my place to go for all the unloading of emotions that I felt down deep but could not express any other way. It listened to my cry, it allowed me to sing when I was happy, and it gave me words when I had none on my lips.

*****

When life ended as I had always known, my Yamaha ended up in a storage unit on 4th street, just waiting for its re-entry as a useful contributor to society. It found its final resting place on the first floor of an apartment building on Farley Street.

And that is where it serves others now. That is where Marilyn gave her gift of music to her fellow residents and neighbors. Dad would hear her music on the 2nd floor and come down to hear her play. Now that Marilyn is moving, he asked that I come and make the Yamaha sing every week.

So, that is what I will do. I play hymns. It is what is inside me. And that is what comes out. It is nice to be playing my old Yamaha once again. Yamaha has been through life with me, and every Thursday will be a reunion, a “getting together with an old friend.”

I am grateful today for my Yamaha that is now shared with others and found its rightful home on Farley Street.

I am grateful that my Yamaha was like that turtle – bound for its destination and determined to get there. It has a purpose and even in its old age, it can and will continue to serve others.

I am grateful for a small group of people who don’t care if I am rusty and make several mistakes. They are giving me a gift that I didn’t even realize I still needed.

I am grateful that Dad wanted me to play for him…

I am grateful for the backdrop I saw this morning. Stopped at a red light, I was admiring the fullness of an impressive oak in a heavy green cloak of leaves. What made it even more impressive was the backdrop of sky blue that popped with cotton ball clouds, complementing the vibrant summer green.

Yesterday, I worked all day staring at a computer while my husband worked at home, supervising the installation of our new kitchen cabinets. When I walked into the house last night, I was speechless. Tears of overwhelm and pure gratitude joy kept welling up as I took in the sight of all the hard work he has put in to make a beautiful kitchen for us to enjoy for the next several years. The backdrop of sheetrocked walls and evening sunlight highlighted the raw wood cabinets now set into their rightful places. I am more than grateful for the construction site that will soon be a new kitchen.

The current backdrop is late afternoon shadows and peeking sun through the forest of trees outside my office window, while somewhere through the walls, someone is playing soothing music that barely makes its way to my cubicle. God gives me these gifts throughout the day, and sometimes I am a spoiled child who does not even recognize the wrapped up beautiful. Sometimes I am too busy to notice His creation that is a breathtaking backdrop all around me.

I can just make out the faint piano sound of “Claire de Lune” and I think of my Mom and her love for that particular piece. Thursdays are now designated piano days, the day I will go to my Dad’s to just play the piano for a little while. I am grateful he wants to hear me play…Claire de Lune is not on the program for tonight, but maybe one of these days it will be – a nice backdrop to an end of a long Thursday.

Dad is a rock star. He visited my nephew’s ENT office and was tortured with the awfullest ear cleaning I have ever witnessed. It is the ONLY ear cleaning I have ever witnessed, but I am sure it is the awfullest one ever. I would rather spend a week with nine children under the age of 12 all by myself as the one in charge than go through what my Dad experienced.

It’s the truth.

It’s actual.

After Dad’s ear cleaning, I headed to Texas.

Everything was hunky dory for the first few days. We organized the pantry and still had partial smiles even when my MOTHER came out of me and I became grouchy and drill sargent-y.

Trying to capture smiles on the blooming diaper rash owner was a challenge since I rarely sat down and am not an expert on holding children while taking phone pictures. Obviously, you can’t wipe spit up formula off a grin when you are trying to get the smile in a picture…

Toys and activities are so underrated when there are nine to entertain. Ama’s kinetic sand, temporary tattoos, silly string, and getting to choose a toy from Wal-Mart lasted all about 15 minutes. Their mom knew to buy play-dough and tools for an army to help Ama out just a little. I have never seen so many play-dough colors, just waiting to be mixed in the wrong containers and left in tiny pieces on the table, under the table, smashed into the bottoms of pants and on chairs, on the bottoms of feet, in the kitchen sink, on the back of the dog…

Molar removal was done like it was nothing – must happen a lot in this household. In MY day, a molar pull was almost a hospital visit. Not for this tough cookie.

The mom thought it would be fun to go to the Fort Worth Zoo with Ama. Uh huh. I was NOT looking forward to taking nine children to the zoo by myself in Fort Worth downtown.

At least it was not supposed to be hot. Uh huh.

It’ll be fun, they said.

Uh huh.

It was, if you take out the parking a mile away because of end-of-school field trips, blooming diaper rash child who was drenched in teething drool, 137% humidity on the warmest day of the week, baby-to-toddler transformation and wanting to be held by junior mama which then caused an all-out tantrum assault, skinned knees on the 3-year-old when she tried to run away from her older brother on the bricked pavement, and whiny 5-year-old who did NOT want to hold hands with her older sister who squeezes too tightly.

It WAS actually fun until all the above.

…just before the fun was over.

This Ama was orangutan tired. Here is an actual picture of Ama:

Wouldn’t you know it, the very last night Ama was there, the kids insisted they needed to go to church. Now that’s pretty incredible parenting right there. Albeit, church is in a gymnasium with lots of friends and a cute boy, too. But hey. The kids wanted to go to church. So, this physically exhausted orangutan got them all fed and loaded in the van, and off we went. I tried my best to stick it out with blooming diaper rash who wasn’t so interested in the cute boy, but she and I ended up spending the last half of church in the van, driving in a circle around the parking lot for peace and quiet and a much needed respite from the painful crying, while the others thoroughly enjoyed some normalcy of being with their friends in a more familiar environment.

All in all, it was an incredible week and the most physically exhausted I have ever been. These grandchildren bring so much joy to my soul. They were patient and very forgiving of their Ama who tried her best and failed constantly. They helped at every turn, brought laughter into my world, and filled me up with memories to last until next time. They gave me a better understanding of how their family dynamic works and how their mama makes the world go ’round. I love all nine unique personalities and feel so honored to have been their person for six days.

Sam sent me this picture, just to tease me with what I was missing out on at home. I feel ya, Nanners. That is EXACTLY how I felt, too.

I am grateful for a heart full.

The past two weeks have been overwhelming for this Ama who lives a very quiet life compared to her Texas family who lives quite the opposite. The first week was spent in Texas caring for all nine, but this last week was spent back in Kansas City having fun with the oldest four.

I am grateful for box trucks without windows in the back end so the authorities couldn’t see that we had four Texans hitching a ride with all the demo trash while we went to get a new mattress to sleep on since we had four Texans for a week.

I am grateful for a sister who borrowed the four Texans for a day and took them to the Kansas City zoo in the rain and gave this Ama a much needed break, and who also helped this Ama accompany the four Texans on their first bike trail ride and loaned us a couple bike helmets for the week.

I am grateful for Perfection practice and trauma every night while we all tried to beat the Perfection clock and fit the pieces into the right slots before the board exploded. Even though it was heartstopping, it was fun to try to beat the time from the previous night.

I am grateful for nighttime Twisters trips to get bedtime ice cream in the hot rod.

I am grateful for the oldest Texan who made me lunch at my office.

I am grateful for a husband who decided four Texans needed bikes while they were here and so he just went out and bought bikes for the week.

I am grateful we didn’t have to teach four Texans to ride bikes this time.

I am grateful for a beautiful trail in the middle of a city, complete with wildlife. Boy Texan was leading the way on Saturday early morning when he yelled, “Ama!!!! A baby ostrich!!!” And sure enough, the “baby ostrich” crossed the trail and ran beside our bikes long enough for all of us to realize it was…a turkey. Shortly thereafter, we stopped to admire Bambi who didn’t mind at all that we could almost reach out and touch. On our rides, we managed to see deer, a beaver, rabbits, a black snake, the “baby ostrich,” and lots of birds. We also experienced a few crashes and learned how to ride the trail and warn the walkers we were passing on the left, like good bike riders – thank you, Angela, for teaching us.

I am grateful for bike rides and lots of activity to wear little Texans out.

And I am grateful for the privilege of caring for these four Texans and their five siblings these past two weeks – my heart is full and my memory bank is stocked up.

God has most certainly showered me with blessings in the form of an 11, 9, 8, and 7 year old…and a 5, 4, 3, 1, and 5 month old, too.