Half of our Couch Surfers (the Romeo half)

   When last we spoke, I believe Pacino had attempted but failed to ruin a good night’s sleep for all four of us.  Despite his best bird efforts, we managed to sleep through the night, comfortably twined up in happiness and exhaustion.  I did not dream.

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   My eyes popped open at precisely 6:09 the next morning, as if they were spring-loaded.  Apparently my hostess-slash-new-friends nerves were still awake from the night before.  This should be interesting I thought to myself.  Then I ignored myself and rolled my eyes.

   I found a tank top and some yoga pants, scrunched my hair into a halfway normal ponytail (because nobody, not even a globe trotting couchsurfer, wants blonde-hair quiche for breakfast), and tiptoed downstairs.  No Hot Tub Summit today; today we have guests.

   Thanks to a timer, the strong, steaming coffee was already forcing its way through to the glass carafe, hissing and bubbling, filling the downstairs with that glorious Good Morning fragrance.  So far the doors to the Green Room (where Josh and Megan slept) were closed.  Pacino was thankfully still imitating a tiny blue flamingo, head bowed and eyes pinned shut.  I tiptoed across the wood floors and began opening curtains as quietly as possible.  I poured myself some coffee, trying to keep the kitchen clinking down to a minimum, and surveyed our options.

   Seriously, we struck gold with our

  

   Some of the details escape me now, but I can tell you that it was a beautiful morning in every way.  Handsome had to eventually trudge off to the office, but he found a way to linger with us for a couple of extra hours.  While he showered and dressed for work, I started some food, and at some point pretty early in that process, Josh appeared in the kitchen.

   Our conversation picked up right about where it had left off, me greedily pressing Josh for details about their travels and him politely accommodating me, lots of smiling and laughing, lots of free flowing stories.  He could not know then that I was secretly trying to memorize his faint accent to add to my Garmin-like collection.  Megan’s is even better; she is a Canadian transplanted to Florida, with a little back note of southern drawl.  Hers are enviable inflections, all natural.

   Josh also helped cook, which was so much fun.  I had been told that Megan likes to sleep a bit later, so we tried to not be too loud.  

   The mix of sounds, smells, and mood reminded me of being a little girl and overhearing grown ups sharing the earliest morning hours together, happy and calm, safe from the inevitable chaos of the day.  I used to stay in my room and just listen, not so much to the words, but to the muffled, echoing peace that came from the house before five million children were filling it. 

   Don’t get me wrong,  But you know as well as I do that a house has a different vibe in the hours surrounding dawn.  And adult voices still creaky and hoarse from sleep are just flat out interesting.

   The table was gradually filled with cinnamon rolls, bowls of chopped tomatoes and mushrooms, sliced fruits, shredded cheese, and sweet, tasty jams and jellies for toast.  We prepared eggs for everyone, poured juice, and made more coffee.  When Handsome descended all spiffy in his office attire (growwwl) he offered to make his famous hashbrowns.  YUM.  So within half an hour the downstairs was overflowing with delicious food fragrances, and we had enough breakfast to nourish the occupants of at least five additional couches.  Megan joined us and made the conversation absolutely sparkle!

   When I fiinally sat down to eat, I was dreading that everyone would be in a rush to leave.  I knew that both the office and the interstate beckoned and so gave serious thought to hiding everyone’s car keys.  But apparently I wasn’t the only person having a great time! 

   An early breakfast stretched into a liesurely brunch, interrupted here and there for someone to take a shower or walk outside and get photos with the animals.  Having arrived on a late-winter evening, Josh & Megan had driven up to an already dark farm, and visually things are a lot different in the morning.



   Over the course of our brief time together, we learned that Josh and Megan had finished their Master’s degrees a semester early and decided to spend their free springtime travelling the country via, you guessed it, Couch Surfing.  They had already amassed quite a fascinating collection of stories from all over the place, some fully justifying my murderous tension.  But most of their stays had been exceedingly pleasant and actually very life-affirming. 

   All of this serves to remind me that life is meant to be lived

 

   Handsome and I found our way into bed, stretching and wringing the last bit of energy out of our joints then moaning gratefully into the smooth cotton sheets and pillowcases.  I listened as the farm finished quieting down, counted some of my very favorite blessings, and hoped that Romeo and Juliet were finding their flip out couch comfy enough.

  

  We were smooching in the dark, long and soft, when I heard it, the second most terrible sound I could have heard at that moment:  Pacino.

   He was belting out several long, panicky, not at all melodious alarms in the living room, clearly confused by and opposed to the fact that our otherwise delightful visitors were spending the night.  In HIS downstairs territory, no less.  It was loud.

   It was very loud.  And off key.

   I was only slightly surprised by his change in mood.  Pacino is, well, about as flaky as a croissant.  And he has little tolerance for things not going his way.  It just so happens that “his way” changed the moment Momma & Daddy turned in for the night, leaving him alone with Romeo & Juliet. 

   Anyway, we both laid there in bed, frozen in the moment, knowing for ourselves that it would pass quickly but wondering what type of reaction Pacino’s sudden noisy onslaught was garnering from Romeo and Juliet.  Yes, we had sort of warned them he might do this, but so far the macaw had behaved himself.  You might even say he had a little crush on Juliet, and she was super sweet to him as well.  They had just danced the night away.

   Would this noisy fit enrage our guests?  Frighten them?  Hurt their feelings?  Cause them to flee and seek another empty couch for surfing?  Anything was possible. 

   Handsome and I stared at each other in the dark, silently agreeing to wait it out and afford Romeo and Juliet some privacy to deal with it in their own way.  About ninety seconds later, the banshee composed himself for the second time that night.  The farm was again blanketed in heavy silence, and somehow we drifted off to sleep…

  

   You would think we were awaiting two people who were sure to change our lives forever.  (Maybe we were…)  Handsome and I are accustomed to house guests, of course, as well as meeting new people and travelling ourselves, but this was a whole new ball game.  A strange melange of the three experiences.  Anticipation was thick in the downstairs of our house.

   I tried to be cool and calm, like him, but the harder I tried this the squeakier my voice sounded and the more I walked around stiffly on my tip toes.  Ridiculous behavior for a woman my age.  Which is 25.

   Everything was as in order as it could be and the head lights now shone still, directly in our front window.  A passenger door was opening.  Together we stepped out onto the front sidewalk to welcome our guests, and I knew immediately we were gonna like them!  They hummed with that good vibe, even from eight feet away.

   We all four traded introductions and warm, brisk handshakes.  I think I may have, without warning, attack-hugged them.  It happens.  My policy is hug first, ask questions and make apologies later.  Luckily, Romeo and Juliet both laughed at this and followed us inside the house with big smiles on their travel-weary faces.

   I love big, genuine smiles. On anyone.  This is one of my favorite things in the world, and that night I was gifted with two right off the bat.  All remaining traces of anxiety dissolved in that moment. 

   We gave them a super brief tour of the downstairs rooms, assuming that after hours of driving they would need the water closet.  Pacino, our macaw, was overwhelmed by the late night appearance of new faces and immediately flooded the room with jungle calls, big, juicy greetings like HELLOOOOO, and exaggerated full body bouncing.  Inwardly I quizzed myself, “You did warn them about this, right?  Surely you told these good people that they would be sharing the downstairs with a noisy, messy, feathered toddler?”

   “Oh this must be Pacino!”  said Juliet.

    Whew.

   Handsome smoothly up shifted unto Host gear, one of the sexiest roles he plays in my opinion.  Yes, I can throw a little shin dig on my own, but it is never as fun as when we do it together.  Hosting, that is.  Ahem.

   Then, in the few minutes it took the three of them to unload suitcases and sort of settle in, I finished detailing the spread of food and drink.  Every light downstairs was on; Cajun music was playing in the background (light and bubbly, festive tunes, uncommon enough to probably not have negative connotations for anyone); and Pacino had more or less composed himself. 
   If Romeo and Juliet had big, genuine smiles a moment ago, their expressions changed to enthusiastic at the mention of food.  We all found seats at the dining room table.  Romeo decided to forgo the use of a fork , placing me in a small, cozy corner of heaven…

   Ladies and gentlemen who cook for friends or family, is there anything as gratifying as watching people consume and really enjoy your food?  Even if it is just from abject starvation, as may have been the case this evening, you know you are meeting a need in that moment, and it is such a good feeling. 

   We all four lingered at the table for well over an hour, refilling plates and glasses, nibbling on dessert, plunging into a sudden acquaintance.  At some point we migrated toward the couches and struck up a spontaneous dance off with Pacino. 

   Can you even imagine how happy this bird was? 

   Although it was a weeknight and we’d been busy all day, my energy surged around 10:30 p.m.  I felt like I could stay up all night talking with this young couple, soaking up our differences and similarities, celebrating that no murders were on the agenda.  I learned volumes about them.  Their origins and current lives, their travels, their plans, the books they read and the movies they watch.  Two fascinating human beings whose paths we may never have otherwise crossed.  We traded plenty of stuff about ourselves, too.  I mentally added a few good sounding titles to my reading list per Juliet’s suggestion.

   It was probably close to midnight when the yawns and crackly spine twists became frequent enough to agree it was bedtime.  I showed Juliet a few provisions in their bath room, prepped the coffee maker for an early morning wake up, and attack-hugged everyone once more.  Even Handsome, ignoring the fact that we were about to retire to our bed as a pair. 

  No foot rubs to boast.  But on the bright side, also no knives.  We survived to enjoy a great night’s sleep and then our first couchsurfing breakfast…

To be continued…

Also see the beginning of this story.

   Where we left off I was in a small shopping frenzy, counting down the quarter hours till our out of state guests might arrive.  I had Hostess Butterflies, something that doesn’t happened very often these days.  I needed a shower.  Handsome was feverishly wrapping up his day at the office, due home soon. 

   What kind of people would they be?  Would they be able to tolerate my food?  Could we find anything to talk about, or would the next fourteen hours be filled with awkward silences bound by polite smiling and bath towel fetching?  If they are murderers, what would their chosen method of killing be? 

   “Pleeeeaaaase not knives.  Please let them be foot-rub serial killers.  And please let them wait till after dinner, cause I am famished.”  These were some of my thoughts.  But I wasn’t really worried because Handsome was home now.  And he is well versed in the art of Wife Protection.

   I arrived back at the farm with plenty of time to lob my chain store purchases into approximately their correct places, double check our clean sheets supply, and cook dinner.  Which, by the way, did not turn out to be anything classically Oklahoman.  I opted to follow Ina Garten’s advice and serve guests simple comfort food that I am confident preparing.  So we had PBJ’s and tortilla chips.  Not really, but it crossed my mind.

   I also rinsed off in the shower and doused myself with too much perfume, thinking that would either boost my conversation confidence or choke everyone into necessary silence.

   Our Couch Surfers had some travel delays but nothing problematic. They ended up arriving a couple of hours later than expected.  No biggie.  The extended wait had the wonderful effect of calming my nerves rather than amping me up further. 

   Around 8:30 that evening we spied headlights at the front gate.  I had just a bit ago put trays of food in the oven to rewarm.  So now I brought them out, turned on some cool music, and peed one last time. 

   Do you pee a little extra when you’re nervous or excited?  

   So, this past winter we stumbled upon this virtual-slash-real life community called “Couchsurfing.”  Have you heard of it?  It is basically a network of groups and individuals who are interested in travelling the globe a little, umm, outside of the box. 
   They like to stay with people in their private homes rather than in hotels.  Or, they like to host such travellers.  Or both.  I guarantee this is happening in your city, and it is happening all over this colorful world!

   Before we go any further, I would love to hear your innermost thoughts right this minute:  Are you thinking, “That is awesome!  I would LOVE to try that!  Hey I know, let’s remodel the guest room!” 

   Or are you thinking, “What a bunch of crazy hippies!  Do they WANT to be axe-murdered?!?”  Most people fall into one of these two categories.

   Handsome and I were introduced to this phenomenon by a friend and coworker, Luis, and Luis’ partner, Kevin.  Super people. 



   Most of OUR friends and family might assume that I was the one who talked HIM into this, but I assure you, it was quite the opposite.  Of course, there wasn’t much talking-into for him to worry about.  My reaction was immediate excitement (placing me in the first category mentioned above), but the fact remains that HE brought this idea home to MOI.  Just for the record.

   So we signed up.  And yes, it’s free.  The first part of the process is building a profile for yourself online.  And just like in junior high when you do the personality-career tests and such, or like in third grade when you write and draw about your personal likes and dislikes, this was fun in a really egocentric way. 

   Handsome and I went to work as a team describing our home, our accomodations, our specific willingness to entertain, cook, drive, etc.  It was great learning more about my husband in this regard, by the way.  Might be a worthwhile exercise for couples, even if you have no intention of being crazy axe-murder-craving hippies along with us.

   Oh, and you get to upload photos.  Nothing like posting a photo of your home online to make you want to beef up the flower beds!  Public shame is the mother of improvement, after all.  Do you think I need more gladiolus here, or more spiralling ivy?

   After gaining our authentication, collecting exactly one personal referral (thanks Luis & Kevin!) and getting generally happy with our profile, we waited.  Unsure of exactly what to expect, I was silently hoping for visitors who would volley to us profound cultural truths and then show us how to cook exotic foods.  I had just read Eat, Love, Pray not long before, so you will perhaps forgive my overly romantic view of this whole experience that had yet to happen.

   We did receive one couch request not long after signing up, We had to decline it though because Oklahoma was then in the thick of a pretty hefty snow storm.  Our farm was without running water, and the driveway was completely impassable.  We felt this was not the picture of hospitality we wanted to display.  Hence, a slow start to our couchsurfing career…

   Before long, REDEMPTION.  Luis and Kevin received a couch request they could not fill due to scheduling conflicts, so they very generously sent the travellers our way.  I was away from the farm that day, shoppping and luncheoning with my little sister (hi Ang!), so the midday notice of overnight guests sent my hostess mind into a mild tailspin.

   Deep breath.  This is what we’ve been excited to do, right?  So after finishing our “very important errands” and just in the nick of time, Angela & I swung by a super classy giant chain store (starts with a W) to stock up on not only guest-worthy dinner ingredients but  also a few spontaneous creature comforts like a new polka dotted body pillow, extra toothbrushes, and vanilla candles.
   Looking back, the body pillow is difficult to explain.  When I saw it in a center aisle though, it stage- whisered to me, “COUCHSURFERS WILL NEED THIS!”  So it became part of our home’s pillow arsenal for a mere $9.

   One extra word on dinner prep for couch surfers:  Handsome and I had the notion that lots of our visitors might never be exposed to Oklahoma except through this experience, so we (meaning I) really wanted to make a splash.  We (meaning I) really wanted to make a Land of the Red Man-Prairie Life impression, ya know?  So lovely pasta dishes, Tex-Mex, and take out Chinese were mostly out of the question.  We were going for an authentic Okie menu, and that proved to be tricky.  What would you have served?

  

   To be continued…