A boy and his dog.

I have thought of this phrase often observing Zach and his brothers with their dog, Jimi (the Hedrix version of the name). Although I have always loved this sweet dog, he was not mine. The boys' dad added Jimi to their family shortly after we divorced. But it didn't take long to fall in love with this amiable canine personality.

Stealing a phrase from a friend of mine; 'we have a situation' at my house. I live with Felix and Oscar. The Odd Couple. For those of my age and older, you completely understand of whom I am referring. For those younger and confused, check with your friend, Wikipedia.

Grandma Gib would have been 96 years old yesterday. With our age spread of exactly fifty years, I have always remembered her age with ease.

In response to the current Facebook folly of listing a number of things people don't know about you, here is mine. This was way too tempting as I have enjoyed reading everyone else's over the last few days. My ten in no particular order...

This morning was a reminder to me of the signs of summer that infiltrate my house each year. Although these signs have changed a bit as my boys have grown older with driver's licenses and new interests outside of play dates and water fights; a five minute stroll through my house provides clues as to what the summer days and nights look like for them.

I just experienced a new first in parenting. After years of getting phone calls informing me of sick children...babysitters worrying about fevers, daycare noticing a strong cough, pink eye alert from the grade school nurse, high school admin calling with a sick teenager in the office; instead the call was directly from my college son. He had gone to the UNL medical office after getting considerably sick and was diagnosed with a severe case of mono. So instead of trekking to the daycare or grade school, I drove to Lincoln to bring my oldest home for some needed rest and recuperation.

In the Midwest, we all know that our ordinary summer days can quickly turn into tornado scares with greenish colored skies, blowing winds, and screaming sirens. With this last weekend full of tornado warnings throughout most of the Midwest, memories of seeking shelter filled my mind.

I met Fr. Mel in the summer of 2007. He was the new priest at my church, St. Wenceslaus, where I was one of two church trustees. Father came to us after spending a comfortable and happy twelve-year existence at the popular St. Margaret Mary parish in mid-Omaha.

This story was written in 2012 when Grant was 12. He and I went on a trip to Arizona together and I wrote this little story on the things I love about Grant (which, of course, there are many).