One of my favorite things in the world is to have people spend the weekend with us. I’ve been this way ever since D. and I married – that was when I first discovered the joys of planning menus, turning down beds and arranging fresh flowers, all in the hopes of making the people who are near and dear to us feel as comfortable as possible while they’re staying at our house. It’s strange, I know, but it’s fun to me to wake up early on a Saturday morning, fix a huge pot of coffee, and make breakfast for our company. I could do a little tap dance just thinking about it.

This weekend my cousin Paige, her little boy Joseph, and my aunt C. will be here. The primary objective for the weekend is to give my aunt a chance to relax; family obligations, work, and way too little sleep have left her running on fumes. Getting out of town always gives her a chance to recharge a little bit, and I’m tickled to death that they’re coming for a visit. My plan is to dote on them as much as is humanly possible.

Alex is beside himself with excitement; he says that he plans to play “peek-a-boo” with baby Joseph, hold him for a REALLY! LONG! TIME! MAMA! and then show him the “Jonah” movie. I don’t have the heart to tell the little man that, at 5 1/2 months, Joseph probably won’t be terribly transfixed by the Veggie Tales. Maybe we’ll dig out some old Baby Einstein DVD’s and see if those do the trick.

So all that to say: I’m going to be a little scarce around here for the next few days. I want to clean my house until it shines, catch up on laundry, pick some flowers, cook a bunch of food and visit with my family. I want to back away from the computer a little bit and nest to my heart’s content with the Food Network on in the background. I want to make everything extra welcoming for our company. The hospitality gene that I inherited from my mama needs to come out and play for awhile.

I do have the blog set to auto-post a few things from my archives (think of it as recycling – it’ll be good for the bloggy environment), but I have no idea if it’ll work, and I’m not going to check to make sure it happens or else I’ll get sucked into answering emails and reading blogs and writing posts. Because WATCH OUT! THE INTERNET IS A SWIRLING VORTEX! THAT CONSUMES EVERYTHING IN ITS PATH!

Y’all be real sweet while I’m gone.

We are in Mississippi, here to celebrate Sissie’s 97th birthday.

Say it with me, slowly: NINETY SEVEN YEARS YOUNG.

And then: ROCK ON, SISSIE. ROCK ON.

D., Alex and I drove over here today, but we didn’t get on the road until around 10:30 because we had a meeting at home this morning. The plan was that D. would drop Alex and me off at Martha’s house, then go out to the nursing home and pick up Sissie for her birthday lunch.

Well, when he got to the nursing home a little after 1:00, Sissie was none too pleased. She had parked her wheelchair by the front door BECAUSE SHE WAS READY TO GO, and when D. walked in, she said, “WELL, I’VE JUST BEEN SITTING HERE, WAITING FOR YOU.”

So D. tried to smooth everything over by explaining that it wasn’t too far past 1, that we were running a little late, and before he could finish his sentence Sissie sighed, rolled her eyes, and said, “IT’S ONE-OH-NINE!”

Obviously, she has really mellowed with age.

Once D. and Sissie arrived at the house, we all sat down to enjoy the lunch that Martha had prepared: baked chicken, meatloaf, creamed potatoes, potato casserole (if one kind of potatoes is good, then two is certainly better), apricot salad, butterbeans, English peas, rolls, birthday cake, caramel cake, strawberry cake and sweet tea.

So basically, you know, sugar and meat.

After we ate lunch and opened presents and RECOVERED FROM THE SUGAR COMA, Martha couldn’t wait to show me a skirt she bought yesterday. And she got so excited when she pulled the skirt out of her closet that she also pulled out the jacket! that she plans to wear! with the skirt! to church tomorrow! because you know the sanctuary just gets cold! it gets so cold! and hold on! look at the shirt that goes underneath the jacket!

And then she draped it all across the foot of the bed as if the bedspread were a mannequin, and she gazed upon her new outfit with love, and she was proud.

I thought for a moment that she was going to embrace me out of sheer happiness in the midst of the tender fashion moment that we’d shared.

But then her friend Mary Ann rang the doorbell and the moment was over because Martha really needed to explain to Mary Ann that even though she didn’t make it to Miss Veda’s funeral this morning, she did make it to visitation at the funeral home last night, because really, between Sissie’s birthday and the children coming for lunch and trying to set the table and baking the caramel cake and having to run to the Walmarts and looking for flowers for the beds in the back of the house because she really wants purple and gold flowers, but do you know how hard that is because they just don’t have ANYTHING in those colors right now, not anything, and the yard man told her that the ferns back there were dead, so she had him rip them out and throw them away, but then she heard that the ferns probably would have come back, but there’s just nothing she can do! nothing she can do! they’re gone! so there was just no way that she could have made it to the funeral, but she did go to the visitation, she did.

Also, this is completely unrelated, but Martha and Sissie don’t eat pizza because they say it tastes like perfume.

And I just wanted you to know that.

A couple of weeks ago, Alex and I went to Mississippi for the weekend. D. was planning to go with us, but several days before we left he sent me an email with the following subject line: “WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME ABOUT THIS?” And the email changed everything.

(sidenote: I am, by nature, a bit of a worrier. I know. I know: Worry is not of God. Fear is the opposite of faith. I know. Been there, done the Bible study, got the bookmark. But even still, learning not to FREAK OUT OVER NOTHING is a day-by-day process. And this is why, when I saw the ALL CAPS subject line, I immediately wondered if I had unintentionally withheld Critical Knowledge from my husband. I have this kind of reaction all the time; for example, if you were to walk up to me and say, “Do you know what I heard?” my first (internal) reaction would be to think that SOMETHING HORRIBLE HAS HAPPENED, even if all you wanted to tell me is that diet Coke 12-packs are on sale 4 for $10 at Walmart, and if that’s the case then LET’S GET GOING, PEOPLE, BECAUSE WE HAVE SOME SHOPPING TO DO.)

As it turned out, what no one had told my husband was that there was an Apple Store opening in our town that same weekend. Approximately five minutes from our house. And somehow we missed the announcement that it was happening, despite the fact that D. has a love for All Things Apple that transcends any rational human behavior, despite the fact that he listens to podcast after podcast about the latest Mac developments, the evaluations of said developments and the criticisms of said evaluations. He refers to Steve Jobs as either “Steve” or “Jobs” – as if they are friends who occasionally play racquetball together – and when Steve Jobs gives a keynote speech to announce new products, my sweet husband watches it live on the computer.

So given all of that, an Apple Store opening near our house was basically equivalent to what it would be like for me if there were a fancy new SuperTarget in our area that, in addition to having a Starbucks (as ours does), also contained a TJ Maxx, a Steinmart, a Popeye’s fried chicken, and a large on-site gospel choir that sang nothing but old hymns all day every day. Oh, and if Chris Tomlin and Watermark filled in for the gospel choir when they needed a break. And then if Christy Nockels wanted to drink Starbucks and shop with me afterwards.

Which is a very roundabout way of saying that D. did not join us on our trip to Mississippi. And while we definitely missed his company, I could not deprive him of the opportunity to be at the Grand Opening of the Apple Store, just as he would never deprive me of the chance to drink coffee and shop with Christy Nockels, because THESE THINGS ARE IMPORTANT TO US.

We’re in it for the long haul, y’all.

In sickness, in health. For better, for worse. And in the event of once-in-a-lifetime grand opening celebrations.

Now that I have the color of my hair straightened out – everything all nice and even and streak-free – I’ve started to think about what kind of hair style I’d like to have in the rapidly approaching summer months.

When I’m not contemplating how to achieve world peace and save the environment, of course.

But I do think that most women understand that proper planning is one of the key components of successful hair. And just as I would never set out on a road trip without a good map in the car, I would never darken the door of a salon without doing my hair homework.

YOUR HAIR NEEDS GOALS, PEOPLE.

And do y’all have any idea how many different kinds of hair-tastrophe could occur as a result of neglecting that crucial pre-haircut research time?

So as I prepare for my appointment next week (just cut, no color), here are the questions I’m pondering, thereby revealing that I have far too much time on my hands:

Do I want to let it get a little longer, maybe even take one last stab at having a ponytail? Do I want to go short again – something wispy and funky and fun for summertime? Do I want to keep my old standby, the trusty bob? Or do I want to step out and do something different?

And how, oh how, will I ever decide?

And then I thought of the Mii feature on the Wii – and remembered that you can alter the hairstyles.

IT’S A TECHNOLOGICAL MIRACLE, Y’ALL!

So here are a few of the styles I tried. I rejected every single one of them – but oh, I found the whole process terribly entertaining.

And some of the styles are quite alarming, by the way, so you should prepare yourself accordingly. Small children should probably leave the room, as nightmares could result from viewing the images below.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

The last two crack me up; the one on the left looks like BooMama on the Prairie, and the one on the right looks like I’m going to a really KLASSY PROM.

Last night Alex and I were having snuggle time before he went to sleep, and after we said prayers, we fell into a comfortable silence.

He would look at me and smile, and I’d smile in return, and every once in awhile he’d giggle and scrunch up his eyes. I would respond by covering his face with kisses and holding him extra close.

After all, it won’t be long before my pre-bedtime snuggling services are no longer required.

After several minutes of quiet, I felt his little arms snake around my neck, and very, very softly he said, “Oh, I love you, Mama.”

“Well, I love you, too, little man,” I answered.

“And Mama?” he asked.

“What, baby?”

“Mama, you’re my very best family. Daddy is, too. You and Daddy are my very best family.”

And he is our very best boy.