We arrived at the center and were given instructions  on how to care for these little “gruel babies”. Instead of 2, there were actually 4 waiting for us to pick them up. Holy mother, how do I allow myself to be roped into these situations?

We got home and opened the crate door. Inside were 4 scrawny, weary 4 week old kitties. There were two brothers for one litter, and a brother and sister from another litter. We devoted 1 bathroom as their nursery. Their care consisted of being fed 4 times a day. We were to provide some dry kitten food, water and gruel ( a mixture of canned kitten food, heated up with water ) and some medication.

Igor weighing in

To make sure they were all gaining weight, we had to weigh them morning and night on my kitchen scale. The smallest kitten, the only female was particularly vulnerable. We were to call if she lost more than 10 grams.

We weren’t at all sure how our 130 pound dog was going to take to them. These creatures were so tiny he could have probably swallowed them whole if he took a notion to gobble one up. We tried to keep them separated but a few times when he wandered into kitten land he didn’t seem to have much interest in them. Our theory was he instinctively knew they were babies.

I had to keep reminding myself how much I hated cats as we cared for these little guys. After training up many puppies over the years I was amazed how these itty bitty kitties just “knew” how to step into the little make shift litter box to go potty. They even scratched the litter over their own little mess before exiting the box.

They weren’t very happy about being still enough to be weighed. I decided to use a tupperware bowl on top of the kitchen scale to keep them put long enough. We fretted over the smallest 2 not gaining weight consistently. I kept saying, “ I don’t know nothing about raising no cats”. But as a OB nurse and mother of 6 I knew about human babies.

Hailey carrying Veruca

We fed the smallest kitty separately, so the others could not push her out of the way or bully her. Then I took to carrying her around a lot. Sometimes we’d tuck her in our big sweatshirt pockets. The rest of the family teased me when they saw the pictures on facebook. “Oh, what happened to the woman who hated cats”? All that I can say in my defense is I had to get this kitten to gain some weight.

Morning armful of kittens

Well the weeks went by and the little fur balls proved to be quite entertaining. They climbed, they grew, they chased, they slept curled up with each other or any other warm body who sat still long enough. Despite my bigoted ideology against cats in general, they all developed distinct personalities. Igor was the big lug but very pretty.  Mr Wilson was the independent and intellectual type. Victor was just plain sweet, cuddly and adventurous. Then there was Veruca (her name from the shelter) We tried on a new name every week for her. Peanut, Oprah, Sookie and Precious. We were pretty sure she was a special needs kitten.

After we had them 4 weeks, I realized that when the doorbell rang they often beat the dogs to greet who ever was at our door. Now that is saying something considering they were about 800 grams and my big dog was 130 pounds. I started placing Craigslist and local ads to find homes for them. I now couldn’t imagine taking the babies, I mean kitties back to the shelter. We likened it to taking your foster baby back to fend for itself in a crowded orphanage.

Especially not my baby kitty, the one I drug around with me all day until she was big and strong enough to fend for herself.  School ended in June and we prepared for a summer long road trip. There was a lot of fretting over what we could do with the 2 kittens who still didn’t have homes. Keeping more than one was way out of the question, did you ever see how much cat pooh multiple kittens can produce each day?

Finally the day came when we had to follow through on our arrangement to take the 2 brothers to another foster home. I claimed to be too busy to take them myself. I made my 19 year old drive them over there...I don’t like big scenes. The girls returned home with long faces.

We picked up Veruca and Victor from the infirmary at Austin Pets Alive after they were neutered and spayed and officially adopted. Veruca was ours to keep and Victor was headed for Chicago to live as a big city cat with my daughter and son there.

In spite of dire warnings from cat people, we set out on our 7000 mile summer road trip with Veruca and Victor in tow. Our first stop was Chicago to drop Victor off to his new place. Veruca spent the summer there with her brother while we traveled from state to state.

There, now I have spilled the beans on the cat thing. I don’t want to hear any more blather about it. I'll baby talk to the cat if I want. I'd like to put an end to the speculation that I've gotten so attached to this dumb cat due to the lack of a grandbaby. FYI:I can wait.

I love my kitty, but that doesn’t mean I’ve turned into a cat person.

Snuggling with her brother during a recent visit

And it’s called Social Media...

Before the first FEMA (Federal Emergency Management Agency) boots hit the ground in Texas, during the wildfire crisis, Facebook was there. Along with the use of personal technology, Twitter and various forms of Social Media.

Sunday, September 4th the neighborhood in which we live now (roughly 4000 homes) was evacuated due to a wildfire that was swept from the other side of a major highway by the high winds we were experiencing. Combine that with the record setting drought, it became a season of devastating fires in Texas.

It was jolting and bewildering for a Midwesterner. But I became an eyewitness to an amazing effort of self preservation and neighbor taking care of neighbor made possible through Facebook. Our neighborhood, Steiner Ranch, already had it’s own Facebook page that many of the residents were familiar with.

What was really striking was how the “Social Committee” page quickly became utilized for emergency relief during a crisis. By being able to gather information via the boots on the ground and relay them to the residents at large in “real time”, a highly effective community effort was launched to meet the practical needs of thousands of people who had been scattered due to the massive evacuation.

Yes, many of us were monitoring the local news stations for updates. Soon it became apparent that the networking being done via Twitter and Facebook proved to be more up to the minute than the news media or government could ever be. Within hours of the evacuation, community organizations and local churches began mobilizing resources to lend assistance.

This is not an effort to knock any of our first responders, the fire department, the sheriff’s department who all worked heroically to deal with a wildfire that was so out of control. They were amazing. Sadly,one constable lost his life in the effort. To complicate their efforts further, there was a limited water supply available to fight the fire in this drought parched region.

There were multiple fires within a 25 mile radius of Austin that had basically ignited that afternoon and were spread by the extreme hot, dry winds. Local resources were stretched very thin. Although the Steiner Ranch fire ended up destroying roughly 25 homes, and damaging another 30, the fires that burned in nearby towns were far worse.

The next day, Monday (Labor Day) the fire was 0 % contained but firefighters were able to divert the flames from spreading to more homes. The green space (maybe I should say brown space) still burned acre after acre and proved to be unpredictable.

As told by several news agencies, one resident borrowed a bike and made his ways via trails with his phone and camera, into the effected parts of the large housing development to survey what was really happening. He rode street by street documenting homes that had been destroyed, those that had sustained damage and those in direct peril should the fire head back towards more homes.

Working in tandem with his neighbor who was waiting with his computer, Google maps, and our Facebook page open the men collected data and began sharing it. One was “the eyes” the other the “keyboard”.

And the information, video and pictures were eerie and shocking while at the same time comforting to the majority of residents whose homes were being kept safe by the firefighters. It was definitely surreal seeing live video of a cul-de-sac where some homes were destroyed while others were actively on fire and there were no emergency  vehicles  in sight (because they were busy holding the fire-line from spreading to the next street).

Of course, the FB page was not considered an “official” source for information. People could comment freely, give their opinions, ideas and submit requests. Not every single bit of information was vetted before folks “shared” it but overall, it worked.

The Red Cross volunteers quickly set up the closest high school as an emergency shelter. The ability of our local community to identify and address many concerns through technology meant that some government resources could be diverted to harder hit areas where fires were more widespread.

Because the fires occurred on a holiday weekend a number of residents were not at home when the evacuation occurred and barred from entering when they arrived. Some pets were in homes now left unattended.

There was simply no way that local and even state agencies could address these urgent needs. As heartbreaking as some of the situations were the local officials had to work on a priority basis and getting the fire under control was clearly their number one.

Neighbor to neighbor care blossomed in the midst of this emergency, much of it facilitated through Facebook. Needs and concerns were shared, those who had any power to meet them did. Sometimes that meant an emergency worker, in contact with a neighborhood liaison, would break a window to bring out a stranded dog. But it worked. Like a charm.

By Tuesday morning, most of the residents whose homes were directly affected already knew what to expect. Our Facebook page shifted into another gear and began letting the rest of the community know the ongoing needs of not only residents, but of the firefighters themselves.

Chain saws, tools, food, gatorade, water, eye drops and a host of other supplies appeared at staging centers for the emergency workers. They only had to express a need and it was met. A few local residents even went to firefighters homes to feed and care for their pets when they were unable to return home during their brief rest periods.

Some 3500 residents were following all of this in “real time”. The generosity of nearby communities were showered upon our neighborhood. The same day residents were allowed to return, local church groups drove the neighborhoods and knocked on doors with offers of hot meals, man power, offers to collect and dispose of food that had spoiled while the power was out.

It was a humbling thing to observe. It gave us an appreciation of how generous our fellow man can be. The community at large didn’t wait for an agency to come in and take care of them. Through initiative, we were all able to express our collective needs and participate in helping our neighbor.

Our local firehouse was so overwhelmed with donations, food, supplies they had to issue of plea for people to stop bringing them stuff. They had no more room to store it! Within a few days the overflow of donated items began being diverted to nearby localities where the destruction and damage was much more widespread.

I realize that this story is emminating from a relatively affluent neighborhood. We have a plethora of highly educated, technology savvy individuals who are used to taking charge. It’s much more realistic to be able to respond when you have the resources and experience to do so. Many communities with different levels of socio-economics may not have the resources available that I saw in action here.

We may have left our homes with 15 minutes notice bringing what we could throw in our car, but most of us had the luxury of credit cards in our pockets. I realize in that is not always the case. But everyone has the opportunity to be generous with whatever resources they do have.

It’s a mindset, or maybe a heart set and not necessarily how much credit you have or what your bank account balance is.

There are some strong opinions out there regarding Facebook. I have been told, quite sanctimoniously by some that “I’m not on Facebook, I don’t have time for games or talking to people whose phone numbers I don’t have”. It kind of reminds me when popular actors go on Oprah and make comments like, “ oh, I don’t watch television, I am always occupied with my craft”.

I utilize FB to expand my world, keep in touch with people I care about and that is my choice. The thing you should know, is you don’t have to be on FB to make use of it. Many communities, companies and organizations have Facebook pages that can be accessed by the public. Even without having a personal account.

I am thinking there are more than a few of my fellow residents who learned exactly how this all works during our recent crisis. They too may have never have been on Facebook before our fire, but have quickly found out it’s a powerful tool whose time is here.
 

Jordan, 7 hours old

31 years ago today, when I thought it was never going to be over, I squatted beside my hospital bed and felt her head woosh down. Five minutes later I was looking into the face of a baby that looked like an Asian to me, chubby cheeks and a head full of dark hair. I thought "that can't be my baby".

I was expecting a fair skinned, blond and bald baby. That's what the babies in my family tend to look like. I looked at my husband, my high school sweet heart and thought he looked like he was in total shock. He looked at me and choked out the words, "we can name her whatever you want". What a man.

We had been debating names for months. He liked Kristen for a girl. I wanted Jordan, inspired by a female character in  the F Scott Fitzgerald book The Great Gatsby. I liked that it was unusual and gender neutral. I liked the idea that as an adult that people would see her name as an author, or on a resume and not be able to know her sex. Jordan Warren Nault. Warren being my maiden name.

The first clue that this could be problematic was when her birth certificate arrived and identified her as "male". In this mornings birthday email I said:

 HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY GIRL.

Your Dad wanted to name you Kristen. How heinous my anus would that have been. It wouldn't have fit you at all. That would have been so pedestrian and run of the mill, which we all know you are not.

Enjoy your last hour of only being 30, because technically you won't be 31 until 11:40 a.m.

Love you like CRAZY.  Mom

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

Jordan and her favorite person

It didn't take long to realize that Jordan and her grandma were soul mates. I went back to work and my mom did a lot of Jordan raising for the first 5 years. Pretty much a day didn't go by that Jordan didn't spend time with Bette. Jordan did everything early: she walked, she talked, she sang, she acted, she potty trained, learned her letters, colors, numbers all at an amazing rate. It was all my mom.

When she was 4, I came home from work and my mom said she'd been watching a program on gifted children on TV. She said, " Jordan can do all the things those children they had on that program could do, and they were all older than her"!  OK mom.

The next day I was reading the notes (upside down) the pediatrician was writing and it said: smart, sassy, precocious 4 year old with a remarkable vocabulary. Identified and spelled colors. Spelled all family members names....

Looking back at the past 31 years, I'd have to say my mother was exactly right. If we overlook a small period of her life when she devoted a lot of time to....cheer leading, she's had a brilliant run so far.

In high school I begged and bribed her to join the basketball team. Her response: "mom, my gift is in academics". She went to high school with some awfully smart people, and she graduated #3 in her class (tied with her 2 best friends).

At the University of Michigan she excelled while testing her new freedoms from her conservative family. I said,"you are smart enough to achieve anything you want to. But please major in something practical, that will make you employable".

She insisted on majoring in something she had a passion for. That was Russian & Eastern European Studies which included living in Russia in 2001. She performed very well and graduated in the top of her class. But, I was right, despite all of that she had a hard time translating that into a career.

It turns out that Jordan was also gifted in some other areas. Ambition, determination, humility and a willingness to work hard and think outside of the box. She proved herself right, in that she took her education and molded it to equip herself for a brilliant business career.

Her current employer, after only one year in New York decided she was worth investing in. Once she got herself accepted into several of the top MBA programs, they moved her kit and caboodle to Chicago to attend University of Chicago Booth School of Business.

Jordan & her stuffy company mentors at her recent graduation party

For the first time in her life she didn't graduate at the top of her class. As a matter of fact U of C's Booth School of Business kicked her ass. It was the first educational venue that wasn't a piece of cake for her. She was in a program with some of the most brilliant quantitative minds around.

But, here's the thing that doesn't show up on her credentials. She is the whole enchilada. What she has that many of her peers don't is life experience that was vast. A grandmother who thought she was the smartest thing as sliced bread. The oldest child of 6, who's spent her fair share of time caring for babies, dealing with stubborn toddlers, to handling freak-outs from her now teenage sisters.Living in Russia, traveling Europe, making mistakes, surviving several personal and family crisis, excelling in the workplace.

There were many of her peers in grad school who could run circles around her academically, but Jordan can walk into a real world business situation and rule. She can articulate her ideas with grace, charm stuffy heads of investment funds who give her gruff. She can implement all the things she's learned from life, her family, her friends and her educational opportunities and succeed.

Oh, and lest I forget her secret weapon:

Jordan, with Hailey, Dylan & Sydney

Which is: Power Puff Power

But for now, something I can write about:

Road Trip 2011

After surviving 2 months of back to back 100 plus degree days, me and my fellow travelers hit the road escaping Texas. Our plans are on a loose timeline. We have a lot of destinations to hit and until the end of August to do so. I gave fair warning to all my friends and relatives via facebook that if they didn't want the three of us hanging out they were to speak now or forever hold thier peace.

Not only did no one deny me, we recieved many gracious invites. I figure it's karma for all the years we hosted folks at our "bed, breakfast, lunch and dinner" (lake house). I probably enjoy having company more than being the company. This year, I'm taking a bolder approach. It's more like I am in Chicago this week and I'm headed your way next week, if that's OK?

Peanut & Victor cruising

Part of our entourage on our Austin to Chicago leg of travel meant bringing along 2 nine week old kittens. Formerly, I've not been a cat person so I researched traveling with cats and most of it sounded like I could be in for a nightmare. I gleaned the suggestions I could and bought a nifty dog carrier, installed it with bungee cords to the backseat head rest so the little guys could see out the windows. Food, water, and a little covered litter box. It was going to be an interesting 1200 miles to Chicago.

Victor riding shotgun

It turns out they did spend a lot of time riding in their carrier, they also spent time wandering about. Victor preferred the front seat while Peanut was more of a back seat driver.

I'm happy to announce they were angels for the 1200 miles to Chicago. Two fuzzy cuddlebugs. I wish I could make the same claim for the 2 teens and the driver. We all had our moments, but most of the time it was fairly pleasant. Once I find my "driving groove" on a road trip I'm a pretty happy camper.

We were delayed by several major road projects and I was unsatisfied with the time were making. We stopped for the night in Joplin, Missouri, which was an unremarkable place. While I was in the hotel grabbing the last available room, my daughters were being hassled in the parking lot by some local yahoos. As they like to say, "we are from Detroit, do you think that is going to rattle us"?

Missouri was far more scenic than what I imagined. Even when we crossed into Illinois, it remained hot. The heat wave was following us north. We were delighted to find ourselves on the historic route 66 and we zipped by the the Classic Car Warehouse, missing out on the chance to get off and explore. Sometimes travel schedules can be a bitch.

A road trip with out being in a hurry is going to go on my bucket list. I'd love to do more of the Route 66 trip with stops at interests, probably sans teenagers. A little further into the very flat Illinois we came upon the most beautiful green cornfields. After driving through the whole drought of the century shriveled up dust bowl that has enveloped Texas, the ordinary "knee high by the fourth of July" corn stalks inspired gratitude and a feeling of normalcy.

The end of our trip to Chicago was approaching and some of the occupants had had enough of each other. At least that's what I was told. I insisted on stopping to top off our half full gas tank before we got into the city since the price tends to sky rocket once you get in there.

Although the kittens were still being angels, the 3 females in the car seemed to be motivated by the devil the last hour of the trip. Estrogen rising, tempers heated up and some nasty verbal bombs were tossed. The we saw it.

Chicago, We are here!

Now we are excited! Once we exit at Roosevelt/Taylor I send my customary text to my 3 older children, "The eagle has landed". All is well within the car again. We turn right on Halsted and go north into the homestretch. I remind them we need to unload the car right away.

Our precious cargo arrived safely and quickly acclimated themselves to downtown condo living.

Peanut, likes cuddling after the long trip

Victor, however, is ready to rumble

After an evening of pizza, beer and fun we settled in for our first night of our vagabond adventure.

Michigan. I snap a picture of the state sign. Oh, how I have missed you. A cloud of happiness envelopes me as I get into the mystery novel playing through the speakers. Nelson DeMille...can’t go wrong there. Before I know it I’m taking the exit for M 14/ US 23 heading toward Brighton. Towards the event that has drawn me back here at this moment.

I’m running late, but I should still be OK. I’ll arrive at my destination a little after 8. I exit the freeway and poke around until I find a sign directing me to Main Street. I spot the place and the parking lot is still pretty full.

I turn right at the next side street and stop. It’s pretty late. Can I go in there dressed in my cargo pants and t-shirt? I really just should. I decide to do a quick change in the car. I pull into a church parking lot, way to the back. There’s a wooded area, a few benches, some irises blooming and it’s just getting dusky outside.

I don’t see any cameras so I grab my sundress, hop back in the car and push the seat way back to change as inconspicuously as I can. Opening the door I hop out,smooth out my dress. This will have to do. A few swipes of my hairbrush, lipstick. I can feel myself stalling, the anxiety building.

The fun has ended abruptly.

Taking a deep breath I drive around the block and zip into the parking lot. That’s odd. It’s empty now except for 2 cars. There’s still 40 minutes till closing. I grab my purse and briskly walk to the building and enter. Am I in the right place?

I assure myself I am. She’s the only one here. I rush over to her, peer down at her lying in the casket. She looks nothing like the woman I’ve known since I was in Kindergarten. Her cancer obviously had been particularly cruel. This reality sucks. I check the pictures placed around the room to make sure it’s her. I recognize many of the old photos that her mother had proudly displayed in her home while we were growing up.

I hear a familiar voice call my name. Her husband has walked into the room and put his arm on my shoulder. He looks wonderful, handsome in his dark suit, and so vital.

“Wow, John. I can barely recognize her”. He nods, “She fought an battle for 3 full years, but she died peacefully at home, with all of us by her side”.

I feel like I said the most insensitive thing in the world. We chat, I promise to see him in the morning.
I go to my car turn it on. The clock says 8:45. Why is everyone gone already, leaving her alone? I glance at my iPhone, the time is really 9:30.

 All this time I didn’t realize my car clock was 45 minute behind.

To be continued....