The Cat Who Earned Its Keep

Brad isn't all that fond of cats. I love them. A marriage made in heaven, no?

3 am a few mornings ago, I was woken by a raucous out on the bridge/hallway on our top floor which connects the bedrooms. I ventured out to the hallway to apprise the situation: the cat was hot on the trail of a living thing. I know cats, and this was not the normal nocturnal play of a kitty.

I woke Brad and told him that there was a mouse in our house and he told me that there wasn't any way a mouse could climb our stairs and that I was crazy. I didn't think I was, but it was 3am so I went back to sleep.

The next morning, around 10 am, I was mopping the floor. Abram was in the family room playing on our new rug. He told me there was some food on the rug, I asked him to throw it in the garbage, he said he didn't want to touch it. I said: Please. He then asked: What about the squirrel? Thinking he was speaking of one of our too many stuffed animals, I told him to throw it in the basement. He seemed to be thinking for a minute and then walked over to me and handed me this:




Brad's heart has since softened just a tiny bit towards the kitty.

Some of our Summer Scenes

A bouquet from our garden.

Daisies



Hollyhocks



An escape.



A sun stained kitchen.





Corn





Yes, we got a kitty.



My perfect baby has soured as a toddler.



The shirt sent her into a tail spin.

There are the constant temper tantrums, hitting, spitting, poop-painting every. single. nap.

It may be just the approaching of "2" or the study of demonology. It's hard to tell.

Our Red, White and Blue Weekend

It began with a family bbq at our home with some appropriate, but slightly tacky flowers presented to me by Norah.




Not even chips can part Lulu from her math bingo.











Opportunities to share present Abram with the opportunity to hit.














Lehi city fireworks are held at Thanksgiving point which we can luckily see from our front yard.























We braved the Provo parade, had dinner with friends, and enjoyed perfect weather. We celebrated the way Americans live: by eating copious amounts of ill-nourished food and clapping while blowing things to bits.

Truly though, I am grateful for what lies beneath all of this.

Wishing I were a thousand miles away...

My dad flew off to Traverse City, Michigan yesterday morning. My grandfather is slipping in and out of consciousness and on his last. He is 98, and has been suffering from dementia for a few years now so it is to be expected. But my heart aches to have been on that plane with my father and to have the chance to hug my grandfather and tell him I love him. I would sit on his deck and watch those deep waters while drinking in the pine and earth and feel gratitude for the beautiful youth he provided me and the blessings he made possible.



And I would feel still and loved.