Wouldn’t you just know it?

My sisters came for a short visit.

We ate dinner on Sunday evening at our home, ate popcorn, and watched a movie.

We walked at the park.

We had a fantastic breakfast with dear friends.

We visited four bee yards and tasted fresh honey from the comb, shopped at a bookstore and toured inside and out my former and much loved Chicago bungalow home.

We went to Ravinia—along with two dear friends and about a million other people—on a cold evening—settled five lawn chairs and a cooler onto a plot of grass large enough for two lawn chairs—among some drunk and loud talking attendees—got a brief peek of a monitor showing the singer—and went home early.

However, the weather was fantastic. We ate well, slept well, had good conversations, watched the hummingbird and laughed. There ought to be a highlight in there somewhere, don’t you think? One other thing happened. At 8:00 a.m., workmen came to work on the afore mentioned honey problem. I confessed to the sisters the whole sordid story.

While hugging our good-bys, Sister Lou mentioned that her highlight of the visit was getting to see and hear the honey disaster story. She reminded me with a smirk—because my mother is not here and it is the matriarch’s job— “You must slow down. Your disasters happen because you are in too much of a hurry.”

I love my sisters. I even like my sisters. They are wonderful comrades and confidents and friends. They really do far fewer stupid things than I. It does get embarrassing when they see firsthand another Big Woops!

As I worked with some students on their cinquain poetry today, I thought of my own.

Houseguests
Watching, “Why?”-ing
Smugly smiling and advising.
There’s no hiding!
Sisters