Average Like Us

I am a cat lover. When I am old and frail, I will be one of those old people who is surrounded by more cats than they can count. My dad recognized my love for cats at an early age and by the time I was about ten years old, he gave me my very own cat to love. I named him Pepsi and I adored him. From then on, I have never been without a cat in my life.

For several years now I have wanted a Maine Coon kitten. Those cats? They are amazing. They are huge and fluffy and have some interesting characteristics that liken them to a dog. For instance, they play fetch and they aren't territorial like most cats. But after searching for several weeks, I couldn't find any kittens locally that are less than $1000.

One. Thousand. Dollars.

That's funny.

And so, I told Jace that getting a kitten is out of the picture because I am simply not paying that kind of money for a cat--specialty or not. Well, Jace happens to be an animal lover. That boy...the sun rises and sets in animals. He wants everything he sees. Recently he told me he wanted a ferret. I told him that's just fine with me ... as long as he doesn't live at home.

When Jace was about ten years old he was desperate for a hamster--one of those dwarf hamsters that is fuzzy and cute. And so, we bought all of the stuff and set the cage up in his room. I taught him how to clean the cage and how to play with the hamster because it was not too friendly and liked to bite. But of course, Jace was scared of it--and rightfully so--and so I was the one who worked with the hamster day after day...and then Jace was none too fond of cleaning that cage and so his room would stink...and hamsters are fragile creatures and so unfortunately we went through a couple of them...

So by the time the third hamster came around and Jace's room stunk and getting him to clean the cage was an act of congress, I finally said...

ENOUGH.

We gave the cute little fuzzy hamster and all of his toys and food and cage to one of Jace's little friends whose mom happened to be a sucker as well...and that was the end of our hamster run or any other pets outside of the dog or cat realm for forever.

Anyway, as I talked about a Maine Coon far too much and Jace's heart was set on a kitten, we began the kitten search. Now let me say, I am picky. I like long haired, fluffy male cats that grow up to be rather large. And those kinds of kittens aren't easy to find. But Jace? He just likes a kitten...that is the only requirement.

And so, we are the proud owners of a six week old female, orange tabby kitten. She doesn't have a particularly pretty face and I seriously doubt she will be large or fluffy. But she is ours and she is precious. She's a lover and can't seem to get enough attention. We are all fans...well, most of us.

Our other cat Sparti doesn't seem to share the love.

But for now this little girl is the star of the show. We all gather around and watch her drink her milk as she is so small she doesn't care much for anything else. We play with her for hours with a feather, and we sit, immobilized, while she naps on our laps.

Despite the fact she is glaringly average (kind of like the rest of us--so she fits right in...), we love her.

Welcome to the family, Sadie.

My Perfect Sort of Day

I love the holidays.

I have the entire week off and so this morning I am hanging in my living room, a candle glowing beside me, and the world is dark outside my patio door. This is my normal routine; however, this time I have no agenda that will propel me out of this chair in the next few minutes to prepare for a regular workday. I can stay here as long as I like.

Yesterday, this questionnaire that one is supposed to have one's spouse answer the questions circled through Facebook. We were driving into town so I asked Roy these questions and one of them was, What is something I love to do?

His answer? Get up really early in the morning to sit in a chair and do nothing.

Pretty much.

And so here I am, early in the morning, sitting in a chair, "doing nothing" and loving it.

As this week is Thanksgiving, we are headed to my sister Jessie's home in Norman, Oklahoma on Thursday. It will be one of those quick trips as we will just go for the day, but I am so excited for it. A couple of weeks ago, Jessie sent out a group text so we could figure out the menu. I quickly scanned it for the word "noodles" because a Thanksgiving in our family without homemade noodles...well, it wouldn't be Thanksgiving at all.

Through the years, we've spent many Thanksgivings apart from my family in Oklahoma. However, no matter where we have been, we've made homemade noodles. If we join friends at their homes? I bring noodles.

I remember when I was a kid and talking to my friends about typical holiday fare, I would ask them if they had homemade noodles as part of their holiday meal. After several friends looked at me quizzically, resulting in an explanation of what that even is, I realized that this tradition is unique to our family. I'm not sure how it got started--or even when it got started. Clearly it is a dish with German roots but beyond that, I have no idea how the tradition began.

Last night as I was perusing Facebook, I saw that one of my friends posted a picture of their 7 foot kitchen island loaded with homemade noodles spread out and drying. "Ready for Thanksgiving!" The photo boasted.

I was shocked.

 What? Who is this??

I quickly scrolled back up to see who posted the photo only to realize?...

...It was my cousin Steven.

Of course.

Meanwhile, I have three days spread out before me to delight in before our cherished Thanksgiving arrives. I intend to read some, watch Netflix some, play games some, and journal some. It is cooler these days so I am hoping to light a fire in the fireplace and listen to its crackle as I make dinner in the kitchen. My mom is visiting, and of course Darian is home; we will enjoy some fun meals around the table together.

It's getting light out now. The sun is beginning to rise and a brand new day is spread before me like a blank canvas. And I am still sitting here doing nothing.

My perfect sort of day.

And So It Goes...

Jace is sick.

No really.

Jace is sick.

He was sick about 3 weeks ago and so I took him to the doctor who prescribed antibiotics and sent him home.

Done.

But he has had this hacking cough that has refused to go away and has gotten progressively worse. And so, on Tuesday, as he was too sick to go to school...again...I called the doctor's office to say, "So look. My son has a low grade fever and is coughing like a maniac and is feeling sick...I don't need to bring him in, right? It's viral?"

But of course, she said--Bring him in.

And so I did.

Pneumonia.

Jace has pneumonia. And so, once again the doctor sent him home with a plethora of drugs and a pat on the back as he walked out the door.

This kid...he gets everything. If it's going around? He's like a magnet. And so, I've spent the past 3 days juggling work and Jace. My job is such that it's impossible to really take a day off. We are an event-driven office and events are always just around the corner. So, a phone call here, popping in for lunch, a text there...that's about all Jace gets. But other than a few moments of...Gosh, Mom, I wish you were home...he's secluded in his bedroom, huddled under his covers, lights off. Occasionally I can coerce him into coming into the living room and talking to me...but it rarely lasts more than 5 minutes before he is dragging himself and his covers back to bed.

This whole Jace sickness? It reminds me a lot of our nation. Our nation is sick right now--utterly divided. I just sit around shaking my head. And my opinion is, it wouldn't have mattered who won. If Hillary won, Trump supporters would be throwing fits all across the nation. We've been throwing fits for 200 years now. It's what we do--every single election. Maybe this one is a hair-bit more prone to drama...but maybe not.

Thank God we have the freedom to have an opinion, the freedom to care, the freedom to have a voice.

Thank God for the freedom to protest, and the freedom to rejoice.

And so, rather than getting involved in all of the drama, I will just continue to sit back and shake my head.

It's what I do.

And thank God I have the freedom to do that.

Meanwhile, the sun will still come up each morning. Jace will get a little better each day, hopefully, and before long, he will be hoisting his backpack over his shoulder and heading out the door for school. I will wave to him as he slams the car door at the school's entrance, "Have a great day, Jace!" And he will mumble "love you" back at me.

And I will smile. Because that's my boy.

And meanwhile the sun will continue to rise each day and Christmas will come and go, and 2017 will arrive in all its glory.

And so it goes...and so it goes...

And most likely another four years will pass and we will have the opportunity to do this again.
And once again there will be protestors in the street and I will be shaking my head.

And so it goes...

What To Do With Kim

Yesterday I was heading into the work room at the office when I practically ran smack into this beautiful, young girl whom I had never seen before, her hands cupped around a can of Dr. Pepper and a plastic cup filled with pub mix.

"Excuse me!" She said with a smile, her sad eyes crinkling, and then she walked on through the door and into the hallway. But her deep voice surprised me, made me step back a little, made me question...wait. Is she a girl?

My initial thought was that she was a new girl on the cleaning crew that came to our office periodically to spruce things up. But about that time, Tami said in a hushed tone, "Vonda, come into my office!" And she proceeded to tell me then how this girl, Kim, came up to her when she was just outside of the office, pleading for help. Apparently her roommate kicked her out and she simply had nowhere to go.

18 years old and nowhere to go.

What to do?

Clarissa immediately went to work trying to find a homeless shelter where we could take her for the night and hopefully help her figure out the next step. However, we quickly learned that the only shelter around was full and not accepting anymore stragglers until the next day.

It was cold outside--rainy and gray. Perfect weather for Kim's predicament.

And so, with the shelter a no-go, we decided to pool our money and rent a motel room for Kim.

During the in-between moments, we discussed what to do: should Tami take her alone to the motel? What if she pulled a knife? She seemed absolutely harmless--petite and beautiful and sad.

But one never knows...

We finally came to the decision to send Kim with Tristan and Clarissa as both Tami and I had a 6:00 appointment that was work-related and we couldn't miss. And so, Tami called the motel to reserve a room for Kim...

But this too was a dead end: they would not accept Kim unless she had ID.

She did not.

At this point, it was after 5:00. I had to run home and check on Jace who was sick and alone and had been that way all day. My day had been a frenzy--filled with one thing after another--and I never found a moment to slip out of the office and check on him.

Tami had to run home and let her dogs out as they had been alone in the house for almost 12 hours at this point, and she had to go into Fort Worth to meet family for dinner after our 6:00 appointment.

But what are we going to do with Kim?

Kim sat alone in the hallway of the office, smiling up at us with those beautiful eyes and freshly pinked lips from the lipstick she kept putting on as we whisked around trying to figure out how to solve her dilemma on a cold rainy evening with nowhere for her to go.

And then I had to leave. "Good luck, Kim" I said, feeling utterly ridiculous and helpless and having absolutely no words.

"Thanks," she replied, looking up at me, her holds folded neatly in her lap.

And I walked away into the dark night, leaving my friends to pick up the pieces alone.

I quickly ran home, checked on Jace, made sure he was alive and breathing, and then ran back to the Hopps Museum so that I could quickly set it up for a 6:00 meeting that was happening shortly. It wasn't long after I arrived that Tami arrived as well, and she gave me a quick update:

It turns out that Kim's mom is the one who kicked her out. Kim? She's actually Alex. And Alex came out and told her mom that she identifies as a girl and her name is Kim. Kim's mom was none too pleased with this news and told her to go, never come back.

But as Kim's reality crushed in on her sitting alone in the hallway of our office, she called her mom and pleaded for her to allow Kim to come home.

And she did.

I have no idea what transpired last night for Kim and her mom. Most likely? I never will. But my heart hurts for both of them. My heart hurts for a mom whose dreams for her son are held hostage in a reality she refuses to accept. My heart hurts for Kim who isn't comfortable in the body she was born in.

And I can't help but wonder: what would we have done if her mom had not come by and picked up her "wayward" child?

What would we have done with Kim?

What is the world going to do with Kim?

Sad, beautiful Kim...