I love being the hostess. I like to prepare the house, shop for fun ingredients to make you a fabulous meal, and spoil you rotten when you come to visit me in my home. It’s just something that I’ve always had fun with. And when you come to my house and you are my guest, if you want to tour the area then I am more than happy to take you to see the Ghost Tree on 17 Mile Drive (that I’ve seen about 17 times…), Canary Row (and the promise of fresh seafood), or even all the way to San Francisco (as long as you buy me a hot cookie…).
As much as I love you, all of my house guests, I have to call you out. You come from all ends of the earth, you spend a lot of money on a plane ticket, you even bought a new camera to make sure you could capture all the precious memories. But when you go to snap that photo of the giant orange bridge or the million dollar view from HWY 1… YOU DON’T EVEN GET OUT OF THE CAR! You came all this way but now your photographs are blurred by the dust that I most definitely have not rinsed off of my windshield, or the guy on the bike that flew by as we parked. My rear-view mirror and my husband’s bobble head hula doll are now permanently embedded into your family vacation album. Sigh… and reminisce.
So please – I took the entire day off to tour you around. Yes, I can stop for an additional 5 minutes so you can capture the moment bird s*** and side-mirror free.