As a people watcher, I’ve noticed a variety of facial expressions. Me? I’m an eye roller. I may not speak when someone speaks to me, but my eye motions are a dead giveaway to what I failed to verbalize. But, on the other hand, some folks’ facial movements convey a myriad of feelings from sad, to mad, to euphoric. And this weekend, my son-in-law entertained me with his overt, visual enthusiasm.

Brice is the stereotypical good-old-boy from North Carolina. You know them–the ones everybody wants to hear talk for their laid-back, rich, Southern drawl. “Hey, Sue. You and I have nuthin’ to do this afternoon, let’s go to the casino.”

No one has ever asked me twice to go do charity work at the reservation casino; I’m always a more than willing participant. “Let me change my clothes, and I’m in.”

We left my daughter/his wife floating happily in the swimming pool, while we went gambling. Within less than a half hour, Brice came and sat by me. “I’m not having a good day; I’m about to lose all my money.” He slid his last $20 into the slot machine next to me.

“Take this.” A hundred-dollar bill. Yes. But I only get to see him twice a year–why not?

I can’t be totally sure about what happened next, given the size of Brice’s grin, but judging from his enthusiasm, it must have been wonderful. His smile overtook his face–the kind of a smile you see from a child in a candy store, the kind of a grin you see on a little one’s face as he/she opens Christmas present. The proverbial cat-that-swallowed the canary grin, or the profane s#&t-eating grin.

“Here’s your hundred back, Sue. I just won a thousand.”

“Just keep my hundred, Brice. Your grin was worth it tenfold.”