We're having a little shindig at our house Saturday in honor of our daughter-in-law Allison's new master's degree. Then the Midlife Moms Bible study girls will be here Sunday night.
So I started in over the weekend getting things in order. You know how that goes. I bet you do it too when company's a comin.'
When the boys left home several years ago, and this mama hen knew I'd miss them like crazy, the only positive was that surely the house would forevermore practically clean itself. Clutter would cease. Floors would gleam. Peace, order, and an empty hamper would fill my days.
Why hasn't it quite worked out that way? There are just the two of us and our dog, Reggie, at home now. Yet things don't maintain themselves. I tend to form stacks and put off putting things away.
There was a time that within minutes I could put my hands on the title of any random college textbook Brian saved 40-some-odd years ago. If something mechanical broke, no worries, I located the file and retrieved model and serial numbers for replacement parts. Once I did this and the garage-door repairman was in awe.
But in recent years, I've lost my knack for that gold-grade level of organization. I could blame it on several years of concentration on one aspect or another of my book journey, but I don't know if that's truly the case. I've always had a lot of fish to fry in one way or another. So why do I pile instead of put away?
Still, I love an organized home. And company is the best excuse I've found for sprucing.
I've written before about the late Beverly Walcott's tablecloth. Many years ago I interviewed Beverly about her penchant for bargain hunting and stowing away her finds and freebies as Christmas gifts for her adult kids.
The kids got the mysterious bags of goodies at Christmas, a unique bonus gift each year. As we chatted for the article, I admired her tablecloth and she said, "I can make you one." So I ordered it, and she delivered. I've loved it ever since and most always, it graces our dining room table. Except, that is, when it's got a gig.
The tablecloth, hand-crocheted by Beverly, will not wrinkle no matter what you do to it, and it cleans in the washer like a dream. I can't begin to tell you the compliments it has generated, especially since it has gained a second life on the road.
That tablecloth has been to some 200 book-related events -- programs, author fairs, festivals, you name it. Wherever I take the books, I take the tablecloth because it will magically fit any table (the bottom simply drapes more or less according to the situation). On more than one occasion, a potential reader makes a beeline for my table at an event. But before I can get out my pen to sign a book, she touches the tablecloth and says, "This is beautiful! Did you make it? Where did you find it?"
So Sunday when I started cleaning, I began in the dining room and realized that Beverly's tablecloth hadn't appeared on the dining room table in months. It was time for it to come home. On the table it will remain until I take it on the road again.
Oh yes, no matter where I roam, there's no place like home, even for a tablecloth.
Speaking of the road, I still have some fall openings, and I'm taking bookings for 2018. If your book club, library, social or service club need a program, I offer several. Most are designed to encourage women to live their dreams and bloom where they are planted, but I also offer a children's literacy program, and a two-hour self-publishing workshop. If you would like more information, email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.