If you’ve lived in the country very long, you understand what Spring is really about. ‘Tis the season for your city friends to descend upon your home to porch-sit, drink too much and coo over the hummingbirds. When you’re booked up with visits for a month, you start to feel like a La Quinta during a siding convention.

The first visitors have no idea you’ve been running around like a headless chicken preparing for their arrival. It’s been even worse here at the Dancing Dog Ranch as Stroke of Genius hasn’t lived here long and still thinks these two acres should be manicured to Augusta golf standards.

To make matters worse, our first overnighters of the season were related to SOG. Family pressure and all that show off stuff were stuck directly in his mind. He snapped a mean whip, I’ll tell you.

He kept saying, “Now we’re just cleaning up the place. This has nothing to do with my sister visiting.” Yeah, right. Sell it down the street.

I began referring to the upcoming event as The Imperial Visit because Stroke of Genius’ sister is married to a New Zealander who comes complete with a great accent. I figure since he’s originally from half way around the world he must be related to some kind of Imperial types over there.

Upon their arrival, these old two acres sparkled as much as two acres of weeds can. The house was spick and span and we were both exhausted. Frankly, I could barely muster a big old country, “Howdy Do.”

Luckily people on vacation can be real friendly and a marvelous foreign accent is rather soothing to a woman with numb feet. I decided, since this man had been the number one rugby coach in the world, I would refer to him as Foreign Football Bloke. He smiled and said, “Thanks a lot, mate!” I felt like I was in an Outback restaurant commercial.

SOG’s sister was as nice as she could be.  I referred to her at Stroke’s Little Sis. She looked nothing like her big brother because she still has hair on her head.

We had a grand time laughing, visiting and telling stories. We took them to town to see the sights (okay, maybe the bars) and drove with them through the beautiful green lush country side. Foreign Football Bloke kept exclaiming, “Bloody beautiful!” I’m not sure but he might be a masochist.

Of course we grilled out for dinner, though I think the chicken should have been replaced with some shrimp on the barbie. I was even lucky enough to still have fresh lettuce from The Funny Farm for a salad. You don’t know how hard I prayed for the lettuce not to bolt before they got there. God does listen to gardeners prayers.

When it was time for them to leave, Stroke’s Little Sis insisted we take the obligatory pictures to prove they were actually here. After we waved goodbye, I went back into La Quinta mode washing sheets and towels. I caught a glimpse of Stroke of Genius starting to manicure the lawn again, preparing for the next visitors.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining about more company. I too was an Imperial Visit once to some wonderful folks from the country. That’s why I moved here.

I guess our job as residents is to spread the love. You never know who might end up being a new neighbor of yours. I must go now. The dryer just beeped.

The Imperials

Spreading laughter throughout the world…one chuckle at a time.

Mikie Baker
www.mikiebaker.com