incandragon

Some friends of ours have a Really Nice House. It's always decorated for the current season or holiday. Their home is always open for us to visit for dinner, or for week long stays. They're sweet people. More than that, the wife throws the kind of parties where there are little nibbles on little tables, and each table has a small flower arrangement on it. That kind of house.

When we visit, they make a point of inviting our dogs to their very clean, very color coordinated, very non-covered-in-dog-hair house. Sometimes we don't. Sometimes we do. Today we did.

Zoe, Stress Sheltie Extraordinaire, had a panic attack and puked on their carpet. Ain't life grand?

I will say, I got to see some really top-notch hostessing up close and personal. You know, first of all, being more concerned about the dog more than the carpet ... but more than that, there was a "let's clean this up together, if you do this, I'll do that" kind of comradeship that made it all seem kind of no big deal. It would have been awkward, I think, if she had made me sit back and had done all the dirty work, or if I insisted on doing it all. But she managed to make it seem as normal as bringing in the plates after a dinner party, or stripping the bed after a stay in the guest room. Good trick, that.

It's nice to have friends; it's nice to have comfortable friends; it's grand to have friends who have the knack of keeping you comfortable despite yourself.