Just imagine: Amma and Pa on the lam

Over coffee in the living room this morning, Jan asked me if the Ambassador Bridge had re-opened. Reaching for my trusty smartphone, I confirmed that it had, after a bomb threat closed it yesterday.

We began talking about the very serious consequences about making a bomb threat. Jail time with a conviction has to be measured in years, don't you think?

Then we began laughing about our trying to pull off a bomb threat without being detected, and how we would be hopeless. We'd be identified by the authorities as "persons of interest" within an hour of phoning in the threat, the authorities having cleverly traced the call. We have no idea how to do such things in a manner that can't be detected.

Within 90 minutes, we would be identified as the suspects, and would be arraigned the same day. Bail would not be available, given the seriousness of the crime. We would be interrogated separately under hot lights.

If we tried to escape before being captured, we wouldn't get far. We thought about high-tailing it to our grandson Noah's house, with authorities hot on our trail. If the police arrived at the house, we'd run out the back door but when the police entered the house Noah, in his innocence, would tell them exactly when we had left, and the direction in which we were headed.

No sir, a life of crime isn't for us. If the moral transgression and the guilt that follows the willful commission of a crime isn't a sufficient deterrent, and we like to think it always would, then common sense would tell us that our lack of skills in this area, and the certainty of being swiftly captured and imprisoned, would tip the scales against a life of crime for Amma and Pa. Besides, we'd miss visiting Noah.

House proud, or, we'll rest when it rains

My wife and I have been working on the outside of our home for the last few weeks. The biggest project has been the wooden deck surrounding all but the east side of the house - 1,500 square feet of wood, power washed followed by sealing with 20 gallons of Olympic weather seal. The sealing's mostly done, and may be completed early next week.

The wood needs to be dry for 48 hours before applying the seal, and after applying, rain should not be in the forecast for another 24 hours. So you need about four consecutive days of no rain, not altogether easy even during this unusually dry summer.

The result has exceeded my expectations. The wood has seen much, it is true, but it's held up nicely. I like the shade of the wood and the simple honesty of the grain and the texture.

When you're nearing completion on an outdoor project, do you walk away from your home a short distance, turn around, and admire your work from the edge of the road? When we used to live in the city of Belleville, we would often cross West Columbia Ave. and admire our work from the St. Anthony Church front lawn. We still do it at our current home.

My wife Jan is implementing some ideas she's had for the front of the house, and it's working out nicely. A couple new plants, an old refurbished table and set of chairs, a little color, a little fresh paint, and voila! - transformation before your very eyes.

Jan had begun to say that our home had begun to look dull and uninviting. Each day, she grows increasingly happier with the result of our work, and we're on the right track, thanks to her ideas and our daily effort.

You decorated my life, part 1

I have a home office in which I work. It used to be utilitarian - a computer, printer, mouse, piles of papers, desk drawers, a clock, office supplies like pens and a stapler and a tape dispenser.

In the last 18 months, however, my wife Jan has swept in and, with good ideas guided by an overall gift for decorating, has transformed it into quite a special place for me.

The most recent additions are two large picture frames on the door leading to what we call the utility room - washer, dryer, storage space, furnace, hot water heater.

You have to be careful that the stuff in storage doesn't overwhelm you. We have about four down-filled white comforters of various conditions and sizes stored in one of these closets , and we are loath to get rid of them in what seems a sensible manner, because they may be useful someday to someone.

But I digress - hoarder guilt is hard to shake.

The top picture frame is black, and contains an oversize photo of Noah jetting down a slippery slide toward the photographer, my son Matthew. The expression on Noah's wet face, hair matted on his forehead, is one of unbridled joy, and it makes you happy just to look at it. It is fun displayed in a photo.

If you look carefully at it, you will see in the upper left-hand corner a shadowy face, and it is smiling. That is me, Noah's Pa, who just pushed Noah down the slide. I love that photo.

Below it is a black-framed collage of nine different photos. The common denominator is Noah, sometimes depicted by himself, more often with those who love him dearly.

In the upper left is baby Noah with his mom Crystal, who is beaming at her new son. In the lower right is Aunt Kelly planting a kiss on his cheek. At top center is the great photo taken by Kel of Matthew and Noah on a dock overlooking Belleville Lake, as the sun sets in the foreground, framing the ducks happily swimming within feet of them. And although you can't see his face, Noah, you just know, is delighted and fascinated.

It's these types of things that my wife does that not only shares that gift of hers with me, reminding when I pause during writing that I am loved, but who shares her affection and kindnesses in myriad ways, including a note on the computer keyboard each morning.

This morning's message: Make today ridiculously amazing! (for us!).

There is much more to describe in these photos and in my special office, thanks to Jan. We'll leave that for another day. Time to start our day.

A curious journey

Depending on when and where and with whom he was, his name was Yellow, or Blaze, or Luke. Life began for him this spring with a mom and a sister, under my front deck at home.

It was fun, feeding and playing with mom and her two kittens, but Jan and I knew that it wouldn't and shouldn’t last. Living outdoors, even under shelter, can be rough, and predators abound in our neighborhood. We’d already lost some baby birds to a raccoon who attacked a birdhouse at the back of the house. The raccoon reached down from our second floor back deck, tore off part of the roof of the birdhouse, and snatched the babies. As Jan and I reconstructed the way the story likely unfolded, we swore it wouldn’t happen again to the cats.

And so we fed Mom each morning and evening, and her kittens began to eat a bit as well. It was obvious that they were still nursing. We put a pet carrier on the deck, and the plan was to wait for the two kittens to go inside the carrier, close the door, and pick mom up and place her in the carrier with her kittens.

That was the theory, but it took a few weeks for this to happen. One kitten might wander into the carrier, but the other would stay out. But one morning, Jan breathlessly whispered to me that both kittens were in the carrier, and she had just closed the door.

I told her to keep the door shut. I picked up the mom, whose name is Minnie (for “Skinny Minnie”) and placed her in the carrier as well.

As Jan went to work, I drove to the Friends of Michigan Animal Rescue in Sumpter Township, the three cats in the carrier next to me on the passenger seat. FMAR co-owner Marcy LaFramboise was kind enough to take the cats, gave all of them their vaccinations, and spayed or neutered each cat.

I’m pleased to say that the two kittens already have been adopted, although mom is still at the shelter. For my money, she’d make a darn good housecat. She’s affectionate, she’s calm, and although she can’t bear any more litters, she was a wonderful mom to those two kittens, despite trying circumstances.

The small tabby we had named Yellow, re-named Blaze at the shelter, traveled one day with other animals to Main Street for the Strawberry Festival, to display them to festival visitors for adoption. Jane Vesche at Main Street Flowers was working in her store at the festival across the street, and Alec, her young grandson, was there. Getting a little bored, Alec asked to go across the street to see the animals. After being escorted across the street and walking around a bit, he returned to the store, and a little later, asked his grandfather Ron Vesche to go see his cat.

His cat? Ron asked Jane what was going on, but Jane confessed that she was puzzled as well by what Alec had said. One thing led to another, and Jane and Ron adopted the cat for their grandson Alec.

Jan and I learned all this is a roundabout way, as we talked with Jane, who had not known until we spoke that it was one of the cats at our house.

I have to say I like happy endings, especially when it comes to down-on-their-luck animals. Many thanks to Marcy and to Jane and to Ron for their kindness, and to the hand of Providence, which introduced Alec to a young tabby whose name is now Luke, who have become fast friends.

Now, if only some equally kind soul would adopt Minnie…that would be superb.

Jerry LaVaute is a special writer for Heritage Media. Follow his blogs “Pa’s Blog” and “The eye of the storm” at http://jlavaute.blogspot.com. He can be reached at glavaute@gmail.com or call 734-740-0062.