Full House

I do not have a poker face, although I’ve been told that I look upset when my mind is a complete blank. This only becomes a problem when I’m driving, writing, or doing long division. You need only look at me to know exactly what I’m thinking, which usually involves the quantity of new gray hairs on my head. Rarely do I think about Quantum Physics or clowns.

Lately, my face is showing a state of chaotic happiness. I have well beloved house guests, and the hostessing skills of a Marine drill sergeant. There are no Martha Stewart sheets on the beds, no bouquets of flowers in the guest rooms, and the bathroom is BYOS (bring your own soap). If my guests actually want to eat, I have crackers, dry cereal (Cheerios: no milk), and canned corn.

Fortunately they put up with my lack of social graces. I have, however, had to make some new arrangements. The new bed blocks one side of the double doors to the spare room. I had to put up a sign to remind myself which door to use. Hey, I’m old, and I get confused easily.

Please use other door

Don’t make me break out the hand puppets

Little things get magnified, but with a lot of love and understanding, things work out OK. That said, I’m running away. Honestly. I have my out-of-town workshop this weekend, so guests are on their own for 4 days. I trust them not to have wild parties or herd buffalo through the kitchen. Sometimes, self-deception can be a wonderful thing.

Being surrounded by the people you love is such a blessing. If you want to come by, the welcome mat is always out. Just try to avoid stepping in the buffalo chips on the kitchen floor.