Most everyone gets nervous about something or someone. Missing a connecting flight at SeaTac, forgetting the name that goes with a familiar face, suddenly spacing out on the password that you have dependably remembered for 20 years.
Or maybe more financially serious stresses, like when the dentist says you need a new crown, or the contracting crew says they cannot find the source of the worsening roof leak, or the mechanic says your truck’s brake pads are thinner than your kid’s alibi for missing a homework assignment.
I used to get stressed about connecting flights, but no longer. I have learned to accept that there is nothing I can do about it.
I feel bad when I cannot remember a name, but I have learned to keep the conversation going until something triggers my memory. Meanwhile, I run through the alphabet in my mind, hoping that one of the letters will prompt me to recall the person’s name.
And I have so many crowns that one more doesn’t faze me. I realized some years ago that the gold in my mouth is worth more than my car. That is depressing.
I have a new worry this month, one that I have never had to deal with before this year: My two siblings are coming to visit. They and their spouses are coming to Alaska together — the first time in my 49 years living here.
I have visited them countless times over the decades, flying to San Francisco, Washington, D.C., and now Denver to attend weddings, bat mitzvahs, holiday events, even a baby shower. And then without thinking much about it, I suggested this winter that they come visit me in Alaska.
They said yes. I hadn’t planned on that.
Which means I have been planning housing, activities, menus, food likes and dislikes, excursions to Alaska’s famous sights, even borrowing a car — no way the five of us would fit in my VW Beetle.
I worry about the weather. I stress that they will not see any wildlife. I fear the seas will be too rough when they take a glacier cruise out of Seward. I wonder if I have enough pillows of the right type for the guest room. I know my brother would be offended at my instant decaf coffee, so I need to get some real coffee in the house.
What if they want something more for breakfast than my go-to Wheat Chex.
As I look around the condo, I realize that my towels — purchased from Lands’ End 30 years ago, when you called an 800 number to place an order — may give my siblings the impression that I have carried frugality way too far.
And what will they think when they see I am still using the same dishes and pots and pans we bought in Chicago before moving to Alaska in 1976.
I think about washing the windows, washing the kitchen floor, washing the top of the washing machine, all to make a good impression.
And I worry that when they meet my friends, everyone will gang up on me and share stories that I would prefer no one shares.
They will be here for 11 days. I know I can make it. I just have to remain calm. And get to work cleaning.
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