So imagine that your husband comes to you one day and says, "I want to invite a foreign woman I met on the internet a few years ago to come and stay with us for nearly three weeks."

What would YOU do?

Well, if you're a wonderfully warmhearted woman named Lia, you'd fold out the guest bed and welcome two potential axe murderers/deviants from the other side of the planet into your charming Sydney home.

And that's how just about a year ago today the spousal unit and I found ourselves in the suburbs halfways across the planet from our little log cabin in the woods of Quebec.

I'm a veteran of the 'burbs, but Paul grew up on a farm and the only time he's lived in a city was in apartments downtown. This was his first taste of suburban living.

Yep, as far as the spousal unit knows, in the 'burbs lizards come and eat out of your cat's bowl if you leave the bowl outside. If you have a swimming pool, four or five huge freakin' cockatoos will come and drink out of it most nights around supper time.

Shhhhhh, don't anyone tell him differently, 'kay?

Today a letter came from Lia, with pictures of cockatoos at their pool and it just brought back so many wonderful memories.

As I think about this part of my trip, I'm at a loss for words. Sometimes something is so big that you can't put it in a tidy box, and the gift that my Aussie friends Peter and Lia gave us falls right smack dab into that category.

I mean, Peter only knew me from chat and from the bits of myself I put up here in this diary. You know, the diary that documents my obsession with dripping teapots, squirrels, Kinder Eggs, cats, my gardens, and my undying lust for Harrison Ford, among other things

The kindest thing you can say about me is that I'm eccentric.

His wife, Lia, knew even less about the spousal unit and I, and had not even had an on-line chat with me before I walked in her front door.

But they took the spousal unit and I into their home and basically put their lives on hold for a nearly three weeks. They drove us around mass quantities of places, introduced us to some of their friends and family, and through all this they gave us an up close and personal glimpse of how it is to live in Oz.

We got to see Sydney through the eyes of a lifelong Sydneysider who loves his home town. Now granted, Sydney's not the home of The Big Pineapple, but it's still a pretty neat place and there are one or two things to see there.

I was in pretty sad shape when Peter picked us up at the airport. We'd been on a five day camping trip in the desert in the middle of the country just before coming to Sydney. The last day in the desert I came down with a terrible case of bronchitis.

When I arrived on Peter and Lia's doorstep not only was I mute (which was probably a plus, now that I look back on it), but I also had the charming sort of tubercular cough seldom seen outside a Dickens novel. I should have had a name tag which read, "Hello, I'm that strange foreign woman and I bring with me disease and pestilence. Thanks so much for opening your home to me."

I was so very grateful to be in a home after weeks of rootlessness. It wasn't that we didn't like the places we'd stayed in, it was just that I'd underestimated how tired I would get of constantly pulling up stakes and moving on.

Want to know what I found weird about travelling? The thing I found about being a tourist is that you're basically floating along on the surface of things. You SEE lots of stuff ("Oh, look, an emu! Oh, look, Uluru! Oh, look, I just stepped in camel crap!") but you don't really get to know people from the places you visit, nor do you get a sense of how it is to live in that place.

Thanks to Peter and Lia's kindness, I got a small taste of how it is to live in Australia.

Sure, there were drawbacks to this experience. Peter and Lia are sophisticated professionals living an upper middle class life, very interested in and knowledgeable about food, wine, cultural events and such like.

The spousal unit and I are two hicks who live in a log cabin in the woods. We had to stop our usual habit of scratching inappropriate places at inappropriate times. Burping, belching, teeth picking, and methane emissions all had to be curbed. You can imagine the stress.

I am proud to report I managed to mostly keep a lid on this sort of thing except for a little ugliness involving a Chiko Roll.

Oh, and I guess I should also mention the faux worldliness I had to feign. When they introduced me to new things I couldn't scream,

"OMIGAWD THIS SPARKLING SHIRAZ IS SO GOOD I WANT TO PEE MYSELF" or

"GELATTO ... THIS GELATTO STUFF IS SO FREAKING WONDERFUL I WANT TO TEAR MY CLOTHES OFF AND ROLL IN IT."

I wanted to, though.

Looking back, I can't believe it went as smoothly as it did. There were small frictions, of course, but absolutely no rocks were thrown, no epithets hurled, nor did anyone resort to sharp cutlery to make a point.

Come to think of it, it went far smoother than the average visit with my sister.

Hrm, what does that say about my sister and I?

--Marn

P.S.--The International Cavorting Day Hall of Fame is open. You, too, could be part of an institution that's just like the Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame except that it doesn't involve music, Ohio, talent or an actual building.

Otherwise, they are remarkably alike.

Celebrate the notion that we should all have one day in our lives when we are free to celebrate a jolt of spontaneous happiness.

Post a button or post a link to the cavorting site and become enshrined! See yourself right up there on the screen!

Make a rubbing of your name!

Oh. Wait. Maybe that last bit wouldn't work. Nevermind that part, 'kay?

Today there is no inductee into the Hall o' Fame. Oh, the horror!

The first ten cavorters who entered the Hall of Fame I have dubbed The Mothers And Fathers of Cavorting. Don't worry, this does not involve messy blood tests, paternity cases OR child support. However, each time I update, I will feature one of them.

Cavorting has a large, loving, extended family of aunts and uncles, too, though, and it would be just wrong not to celebrate their wonderfulness, too.

And now, can I have a drum-roll, please, for Today's Cavorting Aunt's and Uncles: