butterflies

I'm all excited today, because this evening, I will be picking up Stacy at the airport, and then she'll be staying with me for a couple of days until her MFA program starts at Warren Wilson College.

(At least, that's the plan. It's pretty gusty right now, and the Asheville airport is a pussy of an wee and sensitive airport that shuts down if somebody farts in Guam.)

I'm kind of nervous too, since I've never actually met Stacy. We only found each other in the blogging universe, sometime over the summer; I can't even remember how. (I do recall that she made the first move, commenting on my blog before I knew about hers.)

No, I'm not worried she's going to steal my small collection of knotted up necklaces and tacky bejeweled pins my grandmother gave me diamonds and pearls (but just in case, I'm hiding my jewelry box), or that she'll mow us all down with the machine gun she's tucked away in that suspiciously heavy piece of luggage, or even that she'll just be unpleasant.

I just know she's an awesome lady. What I'm worried about is that in person, I won't live up to that dazzling online persona that has so entertained and beguiled her these past several months. I mean, it takes me minutes to compose one sentence; translate that into the spoken word, and you've got yourself some pretty slow conversation.

Mostly I've been channeling my anxiety into cleaning the house, with Stupid Daddy's help and Lilah's interference, in anticipation of Stacy's arrival. At least she won't be able to say the sheets weren't clean.