Best Friends from Afar

I wanted to take a moment to highlight and mention an exceedingly random but yet super important person in my life. Many of my close friends and family have never met him, Gus certainly has not, the Menage-A has not, I don't even think Jonny has. But luckily Mumsy, Popsicle and Marcella T. can vouch for his existence. His name is Rob Harbic but I affectionately refer to him as Canadian Roomie Rob.

Now the story of Rob is an odd one. He is a fellow whom I met in Ireland and similar to most of my Ireland adventures he was both unplanned for but very well timed. Mother and I had fantasized prior to my big move that I would meet and fall madly in love with an Irishman named Seamus and we would have a whirlwind courtship, there would be leprechauns and marriage and we would live happily ever after. Now we all know that didn't go down that way at all. Thank goodness because then I would not have made it out here to Murphysboro..... wait. Damn you fake Seamus.

Anyways there were no sexy Irishmen with loads of land in my future but there was one especially amiable, very tall Canadian put in my path to save the day. I had just decided randomly that I was going to move to Galway on a rainy Dublin afternoon because I had come to the conclusion that I needed to be nearer my God to the sea! So I hopped on a bus and moved (the beauty of literally having everything you need in one average sized suitcase). I got off and shockingly it was still raining in both Galway and in my heart. I was ready to get back on the bus, go back to Dublin and fly home that instant.

Now clearly I am taking some dramatic license here but give me a break it was four years ago and I am going to choose to recount this story that way I remember it. I retrieved my suitcase full of my life and dredged down the street to the hostel I would be calling home for the next four days. Four days seems like a random amount of time I know but I was using the last of my funds to afford just those four day. Hostels aren't cheap and I needed to find a job and a place to live asap (it has never really struck me how utterly alone and homeless I really was until now).

Thank goodness or I probably would have been freaking out more than I already was. I got to the hostel and checked in. It was warm and comforting, one of the nicer ones in the area and it was filled with Canadians. Like to the brim. They were everywhere, and they had all come over with the same visa I had. After warming up and trying my best to erase the last traces of sniffles and sorrow I decided to visit the common room to see what there was to see.

While there I struck up a conversation with two Canadian ladies (shocking) who were also looking for flats and jobs and we all scanned the papers together. We wound up hanging out basically all night watching the Shining (random) and getting to know each other. One of the girls who for the life of mes name I cannot remember had a friend named Rob who was also looking for jobs and flats but he was staying at another hostel and was coming over for dinner with us. Anyways long story short I responded to an add in the paper and asked him if he would go out there and look at it with me so that I was not murdered and days later we were roommates, or I should say flatmates.

Now Rob is awesome. He is incredibly laid back and easy to get along with in a hockey loving, outdoorsy Canadian sort of way. He had some odd issues with food and on our first grocery shopping trip as roommates I could not help but mercilessly mock his seeming lack of taste buds. Homeboys diet literally consisted of white bread sandwiches with butter and plain spaghetti with tomato sauce. Sufficed to say he was not a great dinner date. He was comforting though. He made me feel like I had a big brother, someone looking out for me. He had a really upbeat attitude about what he hoped to gain from his time in Ireland too. His dad is a lawyer in Canada and he was going to law school but he did not want to do it right away. He wanted to have some adventures, and flings and just play for awhile and he knew that meant holding down a crummy job and living in a crappy flat but he didn't mind and was actually looking forward to it.

A side note for the story is that I never dated, crushed on or randomly made out with Rob. When I say he was like a big brother I really mean it. So don't go getting any funny business ideas there. After a matter of weeks Rob moved out of our little flat because it was too far away from the heart of Galway and he wanted to be where the action was right in the heart of the Eyre Square. I can't say that I blamed him at all and it was fun having a friend in the city as it were. Now the Canadian girls both moved back home after the Christmas holidays not being able to cope in the new land and then Rob and I were the only ones left. He was currently the social king of Galway and a great uniter of many of us ex-pats, always happy and smiling and encouraging he was my go to when I needed to get out of Belmont and go see a movie, or get a pint or vent about being miserable.

To be quite honest with you I have no idea why he decided to be a friend to me. I secretly think he took me on as his own little charity case. Lost crazy American red-head suffering from a feeling of isolation and the lack of Ranch dressing, I was essentially a walking cry for help. Now my extended family on my mothers side is all Canadian and I grew up visiting all sorts of different provenances, so I had extensively traveled his motherland and could relate to the Tim Horton and Molson references. However, there is ingrained I believe in every American a slight feeling of superiority over our Northern neighbors (or America light as the saying goes), and Jonny and I had grown up mocking the "eh" of our Canadian cousins. He tolerated about two "my country is better than your country" references before he whapped me with his Boston Red Sox hat and walked away.

Like I said, big brothers put you in your place. Rob was a saving grace. When my parents came to visit the Isles I insisted Rob come out to dinner with us because I wanted them to meet my one Galway friend. On Valentines day when I just wanted to get drunk Roomie Rob insisted upon flailing about town with me so I would not be alone (the fact that he was sleeping with not one but two of his roommates at the time might have also spawned his desire to flee his flat). It was there sitting on the Galway Bay with a big bag of fish fry up and a bottle of Dunnes cheapest Merlot that I realized that we might just be friends forever.

I as you all know returned back to the states, thinner, better dressed and happy to be home. Rob decided to keep the travels going and moved to Australia to go to law school. Over the years we have still kept in touch. On random dark winters days I will get a lovely sunny postcard of some exotic destination from Rob and he gets one sent back from me of Williamsburg, or the Outer Banks and my happy places. We send facebook messages and comment on each others pictures.

We don't call each other on the phone and we don't email each other ever.

I have not actually talked to Rob in person for over four years now. But I don't find it strange that I still consider him a close friend. He was there for such an important time in my life when I was working so hard to figure out who I was, and so was he. Remember in my 'how rude' post when I said that it comforts me to know that there are people in the universe who love me and care about me just as I am. He is one of them, he saw me at probably my literal worst and helped me work my way up to leaving Ireland on a somewhat high note.

Before I left for Ireland mom bought me this black velvet purse from Target that looks just like Mary Poppins magic suitcase. It served me well abroad as you could literally fit everything you would need for an overnight trip (and a full stand up lamp) in it. Sometimes I still use the purse and tucked up in the front pocket is a neon green post it note that says " Hi-ya red! It's Canadian Rob interested in a flat together, call me". I have never taken it out of my Ireland purse and I never will because every time I randomly stumble upon that little post it I smile and am immediately transferred back to a little hostel on a cold Irish eve.

The other day I received an invitation in the mail from Rob inviting Gus and I to his wedding. He met an Aussie and fell madly in love abroad and is getting married in February and invited me. Now I have close friends who I talked to everyday for years, who I lived with cried with and loved madly who have not invited me to their weddings. This guy halfway around the world still thinks of me and considers me a friend and someone who he wants to include in his special day and that is just mind blowing. Of course we can't go since neither Herman or I have an extra 4 grand lying around but if we did I would be there is a heartbeat. As it is now we are going to try to make their Canadian reception because I for one want to be there to celebrate the wedding of the person the Universe has deemed my seemingly long-lost but yet miraculously ever present big Canadian brother.

It makes me smile just thinking about how funny and wondrous the seemingly small and insignificant meetings in our lives really are. Ultimately there is no way of telling who will make the biggest impacts on your life, and I for one love the randomness of the heavens choices.



Dinner with the parentals and Marcella!

Happy Valentines to us :)

Happy Birthday Momma

So just as last week when I wished my father Happy Birthday with bitter sweet emotions because I could not be there to celebrate today I do it again with my mommy.

Bogey thank you so much for coming out to see me and for being so freaking awesome. I love you very much and hope that you had an incredible day and we will celebrate like crazy when I return home to you!

You rock my socks, true story!

How Rude!

I have not indulged myself in a good old fashioned rant in a while and so I feel at liberty to whine and moan about what I feel is a new epidemic in my life and more importantly the world in a much broader sense. Now I know that I don't often fill you in on the negative aspects of my time spent out here in So. Ill because quite frankly I really try to use my blogging as an exercise in positivity. If I am able to search the events that are happening in my life and come up with some positive and uplifting things then I feel more hopeful and less woe-is me, It is not always easy to be positive, and being negative is practically effortless so I strive to work that little bit harder and play the glad game Pollyanna style.


Before I launch into my bitter diatribe I will disclose what I am glad about. First of all I take comfort in knowing that I have incredible friends and family who love me all over the world. Whenever I am in the dregs and completely depressed about my social situation out here I pull up mental images of smiling, hugging, laughing happiness and am immediately soothed. Secondly I have an incredible boyfriend who indulges my need for socializing and is in himself that best company that I could ever ask for. These things give me a constant source of strength and confidence and help taper out my frustrations with the rest of the commoners.


Here is the problem. I love to entertain, that is what I enjoy doing. I love going out to dinner and throwing and attending parties. I love planning for events, and stressing over menu options and what I am going to wear. I really enjoy the process and the actual occasion itself. That is why my job in Williamsburg was perfect for me. It was nothing but a non stop array of parties, weddings and social networking. It was glorious. In that similar spirit I have thrown several large parties at our Elm St. house and countless more little intimate occasions like game nights. At all of these parties I always make sure that there is an abundance of delicious food (often themed around the event) and plenty for everyone to drink taking into consideration allergies and personal preferences. There is also entertainment, a clean warm place to hang out, and we always offer to let people stay the night ( on a comfy well appointed queen sized bed no less!) if they feel like they can't drive. Literally all that I ask of guests at my house is that they show up and entertain me. Not to make them sound like dancing monkey's or anything but I really don't ask very much of people. But apparently these simple little nuances of polite society and proper etiquette are just too much for these brilliant twenty somethings to comprehend or appreciate.


Case in point. I know I shared all of my fun housewarming pictures with you but I don't know if I informed you of the dark side of the housewarming soiree. The invites I sent out specified cocktail attire and in a tongue in cheek way I jokingly wrote "denim need not apply". Not only did I have people arrive in jeans, but I had someone wear a trash bag. An honest to goodness hefty bag pinned up to look like a strapless dress with tights. This guest then went on to use large amounts of profanity among my other guests (some of whom were her professors) and then got drunk (on our top shelf liquor selection) and stuffed cheesecake down my bathtub drain. If you are shaking your head in disgust and asking yourself "really who does that?" then you are not alone.


The second caveat to this party was that we called it a "stock our bar" party understanding full well that the concept of bringing a gift to a housewarming party would be completely lost on the majority of our guests. Of course we did not rely on anyone else to provide the alcohol for the occasion, we had a keg (of a wonderful micro brew, not Natty Light) a festive Sangria, and several bottles of premium liquor to make mixed drinks. It was classy. To help us stock our bar we had guests bring us and I am not making this up bottles of Arbor Mist, Boones Farm, B & J Wine Coolers, and the equivalent of a handle of Aristocrat vodka. Now I am not trying to sound snobby or elitist but this was a cocktail party. Gus wore a tuxedo for crying out loud, wine coolers ?!? What year is this? As if that were not bad enough we had guests then proceed to drink too much, get sick all over our guest room and then had the audacity to blame it on us for having too many options to drink. These people are in their thirties by the by.


I am sure that I come off as obnoxious but I was blown away. Never had I ever seen people act like this anywhere, and I was in a sorority for goodness sakes. I went to my share of crazy parties, and have been a hot mess at times. But I have never blamed the host for my behavior, or purposefully trashed their house out of spite. The question that continues to run through the theme of this entire blog entry will be "who does that?", and the answer my friends is I have no idea.


The reason why I bring up these past indiscretions of my local acquaintances is that these annoyances with these people have not disappeared but have only compounded as the months have gone by. For our housewarming we invited everyone from all of Gus's numerous programs, professors, neighbors, everyone. We threw out a huge net and as a result a wide array of very different groups attended the party. Which is great there is something to be said for having variety at your first big house party. The other thing was that we were able to see who we enjoyed spending time with, and who was just a massive waste of space. Well at least I did. Gus gets along basically with everyone and does not take peoples actions personally the same way I do. It is both an endearing and completely annoying trait. So over the next few months we choose small selective groups to spend time with, over the summer we hosted croquet parties, had cookouts, and got groups together to watch the World Cup matches. All organized by yours truly.



There were lingering frustrations though. First of all I think I resent the fact that I have not gotten to choose our group of friends ( who are really just circumstantial acquaintances). These are people who are in Gus's classes and work in the lab and who he sees on a daily basis. These are not people who were it not for finding ourselves out here in this situation we would normally choose to spend time with, or at least who I would choose to spend time with. These are not people who will be invited (or who would come) to our wedding, or who I would call if my car broke down and I needed someone to come pick me up off the side of the road. These are not people who are interested when I have good news to celebrate, and they have generally written me off as a high maintenance and dramatic member of their super smart and obnoxiously excluding circle. Which is why I think I work that much harder to win them over. It comes from that natural compulsion I have to make everyone like me and think I am great, and really you can't do that all the time because quite frankly it is exhausting.


So I started my own little rebellions, I refuse to go to their little hang out hole in the wall bar because I have always hated it and somehow always leave in tears. Plus it smells super bad. I have worked to become closer to the handful of people whose company I really enjoy and who I would like to be better friends with, at the exclusion perhaps of the "old guard". I have alienated people by becoming more vocal about my disappointments and refusing to be the completely vapid, easy going girlfriend they think I should be. I stirred the pot, and it made me feel good.


A beloved Aunt of mine has a saying that sometimes in life you have to go along to get along, and to a certain point I agree. You can't always be fighting because it gets frustrating and wears you down but you do have to pick your battles and some things are worth getting your feathers fluffed for. To me my happiness out here cannot be completely reliant upon Gus. It just can't be because he is super busy and only one man and yes I can be slightly demanding and high maintenance. Originally much of my unhappiness stemmed from my unemployment and lack of direction. I now have a good job that I enjoy that I don't have to be ashamed to put on a resume and will help me later on in life so now my focus has shifted. I am in the best relationship ever, and I have a great job why can't I just be happy with the blessings I am given I constantly ask myself. But the flip side of that is that I am lonely. I live very far from my support group, Gus works 70 hour weeks and I am left with lots of time just by myself. That is when you need friends. You need to be able to call someone to see a movie, or go to the mall or just to come over and sit in pajamas and watch bad reality television. I need that, I am not an island of one for crying out loud!


The problem is that you can't go trolling bars for girlfriends, a suggestion that Gus has repeatedly offered up as the solution to my conundrum to which he gets an eye roll and a prolonged deep sigh. I joined something online called "Meet - Up" which has been fun and I have gone to a few of their events, but they are much older than I am and most are at very different points in their lives with babies and husbands and gross grown up responsibilities. I have been trying to strengthen some friendships with girls in Gus's clinical program but they are super uber busy just like him and you have to plan things weeks in advance if you want to see them. Plus ironically the counseling kids are super dramatic to the point where my mother upon hearing of their latest scandal referred to it as 'middle school-ish". Well said Momma Greene. It is hard to get to invested in the mindless squabbling of people you don't really care about. I might as well spend that time watching the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, it is the same level of inane but the women are at least better dressed.

I told you this was going to be a catty, whiny post. But I am being brutally honest.


The straw that finally broke the camels back was this weekend. We had a small get together for an "Ugly Sweater Christmas Party" I offered to host the party after the original hostess got too overwhelmed trying to cater to all the drama of her group. Instead of having an awkward, estranged party we just opted to have it on Elm St. where the guest list would be up to my discretion and no drama would be allowed. Last Monday I sent an email out to 13 carefully selected people who I enjoy spending time with and who have proved themselves fun and entertaining in the past. As of Saturday at 5 I had received an R.S.V.P. from two of those guests, or 15% of the party. Now of course I am always going to have enough food and alcohol for everyone regardless, but had I gone by my last count of people who said they were coming I would have had a five person party. When it was all said and done that night we had twelve other people show up. Two who were not invited and no one even thought to text me and see if it was alright if they brought a friend. I realize I sound like I am really splitting hairs (holy cliche Batman) but it is rude. No one apologized, my hostess gift was a half eaten bakery Red Velvet cake (who does that?) and the party went on with me constantly in the kitchen mixing drinks and cleaning up.

It wound up being a fun night and I am glad we did it but every time I entertain I grow a little bit more wary, and a great deal more disappointed. It is not funny to joke about domestic violence but the only thing I can compare it to is being in an abusive relationship with yourself essentially. Every time I put my heart and soul in to a party or occasion only to be upset with the glaring reality of my current situation. Yet I keep coming back from more refusing to learn my lessons..The exception to this I must add was our recent home tour which had virtually no friend interaction, and had the awesome overarching glow of my mothers amazingness so that event could not be tainted.


Isn't the very definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over expecting different results? Do I ever learn? To me becoming a hermit and sitting in the basement alone with my puppy and my glue gun is not an option. I need people and excitement. I need to be out in the world living life and learning from the people and experiences I encounter. I loved the idea of the Renaissance round tables with artists, and musician and philosophers all gathering around and eating and mingling together. I want to be exposed to exotic and interesting people! I need to be in a dark and warm pub with a pint by a fire hearing funny tales (a benefit of living in Ireland), or hosting a supper club with brilliant and engaging minds who love to debate and share my affection for wine and delicious cheese. But I digress with my idle fantasy's.


It would be easy to say, "just don't hang out with them anymore" but that would not be fair to Gus. I think he benefits sometimes from spending time with these people. They are all going through the same experiences he is, they can complain about classes and professors and papers and be on the same page. He has a niche group and while they might not be as socially adept as I would hope for they are brilliant and they do really appreciate and respect my Herman. Plus if I really reach my limit I just wont organize or scheme, because no one ever plans anything without my social meddling behind it. If not for my constant need for entertainment and excitement I am pretty sure many of these guys would rarely leave the house.


The reality of the situation is you can't mold people into who you want them to be. They remain who they are despite your theme parties (which they claim to be too busy to dress up for) or your dinner invitations (at times which are too late for them to eat). No matter how many texts or emails you send, or how many crazy, fun party schemes you can concoct at the end of the day you are basically left with the go to crew sitting around playing cards. Sometimes Magic cards, because apparently you can be too old for a theme but you are never too old for a 20 sided die and some monster mana. It is enough to make me wail in desperation and self pity just thinking about it.


I know I am going to get lots of suggestions from you guys about things I can do or become involved in to make friends, volunteering, taking a class, etc. (all avenues that I have pursued I can assure you) but as I get older and am constantly dealing with these set backs it hardens me to the new and with every little blow to my esteem I become just a tad more introverted. Not totally I can assure you like I said I can still Pollyanna it with the best of them, but my social situation out here leaves me feeling both inadequate and sad.


I am reassured by the fact that I have a group of ride or die friends dispersed all over who have been there forever through moves, and boys and jobs, and drama and they love me very much and would come to my parties dressed to the nines and ready for anything. They wouldn't bring me wine coolers or blame me for their indiscretions but they would cackle and smile and take pictures without complaining. The knowledge that people like that do exist in the world gives me hope. Seeing the way my mom and dad and their friends interact gives me hope. Knowing that you guys like me just the way I am and that I don't have to wear frumpy clothes, or talk about boring things for hours to make you want to spend time with me gives me confidence that there are circles where people like me are appreciated and revered.


If I change myself, and who I am and how I see things then the negative Nancie's and the boring Bob's of the world win and I simply cannot allow that to happen on my watch. I don't know what the solution to this problem is just yet to be honest with you. I can't stay in this cycle of abuse forever, yet my options are seemingly limited. Hopefully being home for break will give me some of the perspective and confidence back that I so badly need right now. I am looking forward to celebrating the holidays with people who understand the concept of celebration, who want to get up and do crazy dances and tell funny stories and laugh..... alot. Those are my kind of people, and they make the rest of this stuff seem much less important in the long run. Sorry for the rant I told you I won't do it often, but I feel much better getting that out there. Whew.

*deep cleansing breath*

Happy Birthday daddy!!!!

Happy birthday today to my wonderful father Thomas Karl Greene!!!! This is what I miss most about not being at home is that I can't just drive over after work and wish dad a massively awesome birthday and go out to Angelo's and stick candles in the tiramisu and sing way loudly and embarrass him. But I shall fear not because I will be home in a matter of weeks and will be able to sing to him just as loudly as my little heart desires.

But for now poppa dear I wish you the truly best of birthdays, and when I return back to the 804 there shall be much cake and merry making I can assure you. I love you like crazy you are the best dad in the whole wide world and I hope that you have had an incredible day.

Cheers to the next half a century :)

Tour This!

Me, mommy and my magic apron!

Banana waiting for the guests to arrive.

As you all know because I have blogged about it extensively my mother was just out visiting for the Murphysboro Holiday Hometour (details to follow), while she was out she mentioned to me that there are grumblings among my dedicated followers that I am not 'writing' enough on my entries but am instead rather trying to appease you with pretty pictures and slightly informative captions. I of course became indigent at her implication that I am not living up to my writing potential but then I took a closer look at my recent posts and realized that they were short and sweet, not really detailed and slightly detached.

My dearest followers thank you for bringing this to my attention and I promise to you that I will try to tell the whole story in the future. There is just so much going on all the time and not to blame Gus but with only one computer in the house my rambling blog posts don't really have a chance to compete with his need to write big important papers and grants. He has promised me my own pink baby netbook in the future specifically for my blogging/celebrity gossip/picture addiction but I am not really going to hold my breath for that little gem to materialize. In the meantime will do my best to give my readers more of what they want which is the whole truth and nothing but the truth of this crazy So. Ill life. So here it goes....

The hometour was a unmitigated success. Plain and simple. It could not have gone any better if I had hired a group of magical elves off of Craigslist to make sure that they whole weekend ran like clockwork. The universe saw fit to make it happen even without any magical helpers. There was tons of work involved most of it in preparation for moms arrival but when I left to pick her up from the airport in St. Louis everything was spotless and ready for showtime. Her plane was on time, I made what some might consider miraculous time getting to the airport ( my gps tomtom estimated 2 hours and 38 minutes I made it in 1 hour and 45 minutes, take that global positioning system!) which gave me enough time to throw on my Christmas vest and unravel my special handmade sign which proclaimed "Mommy, welcome to So.Ill!!!". Needless to say I was quite a spectacle at the Gate A arrivals area but who cares. There were no flight delays, mom arrived safe and happy and ready to dominate the weekend.

Now this might seem superstitious but on our way back home we stopped and gave a homeless man under the MLK bridge some money and I think that that little slice of karmic goodwill skewed the entire balance of the whole weekend. Seriously, we discussed it in jest but I really believe in my heart that the small act of kindness turned the tables on moms visit. Nothing went wrong at all, it was like out of a movie where you wish things to be and then they are. The road trip back home was quick and we stopped and got lunch at Gus and my favorite dinner outside the Lou. Timing was perfect we pulled in and Gus had just finished the remaining yard work everyone had a cocktail and then we headed out to join the caravan and tour all the other homes on the tour.

Friday night was committee caravan night, basically it was a chance for everyone who was on the tour to see everyone elses homes. Now we were the last stop on the caravan because I decided that I wanted to do a little cocktail hour/ appetizer thingy to kick off the tour right. Shocking I know. So Gus, mom and I got all bundled up hopped in the Saturn and followed the line of cars to the first house on the tour. Which was massive, and beautiful. Now I don't have any pictures of the house because to do that would have been one of those rude social faux pas things that I try to avoid whenever possible but I wish I had been able to take pictures. This woman's house was so over the top and beautiful that it almost looked fake. Like no one really lived there and it was just a closed set for some sitcom set during a holiday episode. It was that beautiful and crazy. As I walked through the house feeling many emotions primarily jealousy and fear that these people would later be touring my house I committed a deadly sin and began to covet my neighbors goods.

It is a pretty bad sign to start off the holiday season by committing mortal sins, but there I was walking room to room and feeling my heart drop with every step. The house was three floors of total and utter perfection, and I wanted it all. Except the fake food, people who decorate with fake food are just hateful and should be shot at dawn by a pair of life sized evil gingerbread men. I left the house asking my homeboy Dale why on earth I was ever asked to be on a tour with a house like that and thinking that we should maybe just take our house off the list. My stomach hurt and I felt anxious and like a massive yuletide failure. Mom and Gus were of course reassuring in the ways that supportive loved ones are meant to be but nothing they could say could shake the lingering doubt and nervousness I had over the committee and the other homeowners coming to Elm St.

The tour progressed and we saw two other lovely homes, and I began to calm down as I toured houses that were lovely but in no way the holiday juggernaut that the first home was. We did not get to see the fourth house that night because we bolted home to get all the candles lit and everything ready for people to come to our house. We all ran quickly into the local liquor mart to get more wine (everything is better with more wine) and then bolted home to grab our lighters and go to town. It is at this point in the story that I need to give crazy props to mom and Gus for being better than cracked out craigslist elves. They were my absolute dream team, we all moved in perfect harmony lighting decorative candles, setting out plates, napkins, opening wine, grabbing glasses, to the point where we were done early and had nothing to do but anxiously await the arrival of the caravan. Then they arrived and we knew with no uncertainty that Elm St. was the best house on the tour bar none.

Why do you ask do I say that my home is the best? Am I biased? Well of course I am!
But my house was actually warm, and welcoming. We pulled out all the stops and people lingered, they had a drink and made a little sandwich to nosh on and then our guests relaxed. The home tour committee members made toasts and everyone clinked my mismatched wine glasses together and celebrated the kick off of the tour. I did not have fancy china but that did not stop people from going back for seconds of barbecue. No one was worried about sitting on my furniture and since I refused to lock my dog away like the other owners did Anna was able to mix and mingle and be a great welcoming ambassador for Elm St.

People stayed and chatted and opened up and got to know their neighbors. We had the smallest house on the tour but we filled ours with the most love and warmth and I think that people really felt at home. Now I am being kinda full of myself I realize but you don't understand how nervous I felt after seeing that first house and watching everyone chat and mingle really reassured me that we were asked to be on the tour for a reason and that we did belong in the same league as all the other people with bigger, fancier houses.

When our guests finally began to trickle out the three of us sat back in awe at what an incredible night it had been. The next morning we were up early to make sure everything was tip top perfect. Now the thing about entertaining that anyone will tell you is that when you are having people over night time is the right time. This is because candles and dimmer switches help mask those nicks in your paint and the dust around the corners of the baseboards that you can never quite get rid of. Similar to dating an ugly girl you want to take her to the candle lit restaurant to make things easier on the both of you. Oh and it is more acceptable to drink in the evenings. Unfortunately for me the tour began at 10 am on what was turning out to be a bright beautiful morning. Cursing the fates I began anxiously running around the house with a paper towel and my can of Pledge multi surface going over everything in sight. Try as hard as I could though it was too bright, all the little imperfections were popping out at me and I was helpless to fix them. I was on the brink of tears praying for ominous cloud cover with Gus and Mom assuring me that everything would be fine and the house looked great (I come off like a basket case during this part of the tale but it really was too bright!).

Ten am rolled around an no one was lining up outside the door, then another fifteen minutes, and then half an hour past. We did not get our first visitor until almost 11 Saturday morning and by then I was just a big ball of nerves. She was a lovely older lady who came in and looked around and chatted for a bit but did not seem that impressed by either us or Elm St. I was helpless to entertain I had no food or beverage to offer her there were no little goodies out anywhere and I was going against every natural inclination I had in my hostessing soul. She left and shut the door and I immediately shrieked that we needed treats! Mom and Gus always quick to mobilize and at this point very eager to get away from me generously offered to go to the store for some cider and cookies. Away they went and I threw on an apron and began to bake the worst gingerbread cupcakes in the history of baked goods.

Something happened when I put on that apron though, a calming change came over me and I began to feel more in control. Just like that the clouds began to gather. The sky darkened and I smiled and began to light my candles. By the time the troops returned with refreshments the house glowed with warmth in the darkening December day, the fates had heard my plea and had thought it appropriate to grant me my proper blustery winters day.

For the remainder of the day we warmed hot apple cider served out of a gorgeous crystal punch bowl I found at a second hand shop. Instead of cheap plastic cups we used decorative glass tea cups. The house was filled with the scent of gingerbread and joy and little decorative peppermint bark and yogurt covered pretzels were placed out for visitors. It was on. The Elm St. team hosted our little brains out. We had about 50 people throughout the day in spurts and groups and they all wanted to know all about us and the house.

We had decided to close the basement off but everyone wanted to see the coal room that had become a walk in closet, so we gave tours of the basement. Never have we ever had so many glowing reviews or wonderful compliments. People told us that ours was their favorite house on the tour and it was certainly the warmest and most welcoming (thank you apple cider). Not to indulge too much in the heaps of praise but it felt great to have that kind of validation from our neighbors and people in our community. They loved us, they really loved us! We even had a woman so taken with the house that she offered to buy it right then and there at 40 g's more than we bought it for. We were a success! Our candles flickered, we smiled and graciously offered cookies, Anna greeted all and then laid down to welcome the next group... we rocked it.

I think my highlight of the day was a group of three little girls who were touring with their moms. They were all in sparkly shoes and pink or purple coats and were just so cute. I myself was also wearing my sparkly shoes and asked them if they wanted to see my closet, once inside while admiring all the stuff everywhere they proclaimed in no uncertain terms that they wanted my closet and that my house was their favorite on the tour. From the mouths of babes I find validation and acceptance, don't judge me it was a lovely moment. Gus also basked in praise from visiting husbands who were impressed at all the steps he had taken to ensure our basement remained dry, mom basked in the glow of other mothers who were impressed that she had made such a long trip to support her daughter. All of our egos were boosted and by the end of the day we felt like legitimate rockstars. And the hits just kept on coming!

That evening we went out on the town to celebrate and see the Carbondale Christmas lights parade which was super fun. We were all on such a goofy high from such a successful day and we were just running around like kids all giggly and crazy, it would have been perfect if it had not been so crazy freezing! Later we treated mom to dinner with some local peeps at our mexican restaurant Sergios where they welcomed her back with open arms and lavished us with bowls of yummy cheese dip on the house. I told you things just went our way this weekend. It was awesome. We could'nt go too crazy though because the next day we had a few more hours of hosting. Sunday was also blissfully overcast and we hosted about another 50 people all in the span of 3 hours. We had lots of cute groups of little old ladies who were so sweet and complimentary come through. Luckily we had restocked our cider and cookies and on Sunday I actually made a rather successful pumpkin loaf with a lovely tin that Marcy lent me so we were able to give our second round of guests and equally awesome experience.

Sunday night we went out to a beautiful new winery on the outskirts of town and sat beside a fire pit and toasted our successful weekend. Mom being there was so incredible, everything ran smoothly and she kept me calm and happy all weekend. I feel like if it had just been Gus and I this weekend one of us would have ended up jumping into the Big Muddy River ( hint: it would not have been me because I hate freezing cold water). Luckily mom was there to be amazing and save the day. Everyone said that they really enjoyed the tour, we had a great weekend, we sold our house and we will always be able to tell the tale of the year that Elm St was on the hometour. Thanks mumsy for to the Boro and for Gus for agreeing to give up a weekend and indulge in a crazy holiday tradition, I love you both like crazy and I could not have done it without you!