It has been so long since we've had anyone over to our house that it felt somehow momentous that another human being would be here. The effect was to cause me to re-evaluate our interior "decoration" through the eyes of a stranger: Jonathan's juggling clubs hanging on the wall in the dining room, papier mache pigs flying around everywhere, the "cork tree" I made a few weeks ago by hanging wine corks from our potted hibiscus tree, the glowing cardboard sun. Only now do I realize that our large and lovely wooden carving of the Rarotongan god, Tangaroa, showing very clearly why he is considered the god of fertility, perhaps could have been displayed less prominently.
He never asked about our jobs, despite living with us for so long and having seen so many secret recesses of our world. I hope it's because he just assumed that we are circus performers.
