I got home from my retreat with Steve and I opened a letter that said my driver's license is suspended! All because I have not yet gone to 'driving school.' I am SO offended!
________________ ... and, an editorial comment.
I am fully aware that all the people who were at my 'dinner for 22' read my blog! And I hope YOU are aware that this blog is about women and serving and life and making things happen and how we come to the end of ourselves. Or at least I do and I hope (profoundly) that you do too. In fact, I count on it.
My little friend who wrote this poem saw the evening from her point of view, and I laughed when I read it. (She herself is a LONG way from being in the stage where she could put on a dinner for 22, and to satisfy her curiosity about what kind of event this would be I invited her to come and take pictures.)
I was, in fact, in denial about having ever voiced such a sentiment, but she swore that is how it was! I am a 9:30 bed goer and when 11:30 comes I am done in. Unable to cope. Like a baby who cries so someone will put her to bed. So I have to concede that this was how it happened. That my home was full of some of my favorite people in the whole world is irrelevant, completely.
Steve makes fun of me for always hoping our incoming guests have a flat and don't quite make it to our home for events we plan (or are planned for us.) But then our times together inevitably turn out to be fun. And yes, there is a cost to be the one hosting the event, but we get up and do it again the next day so it must be worth it to us.
So flop into the chair beside me, my dear women friends, makers of life's happenings - and toss your laments into the air. We will certainly laugh!