Am I allowed to be Happy?

Our houseguest is wandering in the dark talking on his cell phone. He has been aourn here for 3 weeks but I'm actually not counting. He is a young shaman, really.  He makes artesianal healing chocolate which s a good trait in a houseguest.  It has things like spirulina, maca from Peru, chile, and tastes lovely if intense.  I am allowing myself to not get in my car today, to nap, after three PL events which each had a beauty.  The reading for kids at the Museum of Art had about 22 in attendance, most of them my relatives, and the sweetness of the poetry and music was stunning.  I mean my Doctor brought three girls who looked bored then jumped in to play air violin for my ballad "The Magic Fiddle." It was rich and calming and I didn't dwell on the non-audience, because each person was totally present, even the three year old named Haven and his brother Coby, and my grandson, Galen, and sweet Kaylee.  The kids were into it and everyone wandered in the museum and wrote.

Alvaro read like a dream and we had a fine time at Collected Works, and Annie Lamott, of which I was but the intro person, was fine as could be.  I am allowed to be happy.  I am letting my tribal leanings go with the cheery Hungarian half of my family right now, and not the dour Lithuanians. Those four Hungarian women never stopped smiling and saying they were proud of us.  I am letting them kvell and tsk with pleasure. Go Beti!  Go Pearl!  Go Ida!  Go Ethel!  Knock wood and all that, a happy day, a breathing day is fine by me.

I got to share chocolate ice cream with Rico, my friend Miriam's husband, and I am not the best sharer but on the Poet Laureate diet it's all about sharing the chocolate.

XXX----JL for the PL