Our humble home continues to evolve and the past few weekends and was certainly no exception. Windows were retro-fitted (and what a difference double pane makes!), shelves put together and installed and has now since become home to some books of poetry and a pair of milk glass vases. New house plants bought and settled into a vacant corner by the window, curtains trimmed and hung for what will be Mandarin's bedroom and bags of old pillows, washed out coats, and broken plates and kitchen miscellany donated to Goodwill. Which is, incidentally, where I found this new loft for our friendly succulents. Now all it needs to do is survive.
The house has never seen this much action. It's a child in gestation and is on it's way into evolving into something that resembles us. No longer the stagnant vacation home of yesteryear, we want it to be a reflection of who we are as a family (which is subtle speak for saying that the old square coffee table will not be making its way back into the living room). So, we are taking it one corner at a time.
Speaking of corners, a designated time out corner has been inaugurated in the living room as some form of viral moodiness has been circulating as of late. A number of disciplinary actions taken (time out) with Mandarin as she continues to discover a whole range of unpleasant, albeit necessary emotions. Also learned today: dancing on a dining chair will land you some unintended floor time with a bloody lip. Toddler time is counted in seconds. Turn your head once and in a heartbeat your toddler has swallowed that petrified cheerio, colored the wall, bruised her shin, fallen off the chair.
Now if only I could re-locate emotion as I would these milk glass vases or my mother's thrifted chartreuse candy bowl. Today, watching the rain set me up for a mood that cleared some things up that's been stirring in me. Years ago, when I used to work for a corporate office, I'd watch the monsoon rain sweep through the city and my thoughts would run along with it. I would feel melancholic then, thinking that if I were some place else I wouldn't feel as tormented with being lost as I was. Now, nearly six years later, I'm just looking out a different window. There are just these kind of days when you feel unhinged, like you're walking around like Mel Gibson with a dislocated shoulder, hoping to run into a wall (see: Lethal Weapon). I seriously thought I would have it all figured out by now. But as life would have it, figuring it out has no timeline. So as a grand gesture to the universe I wear a tiny silver key around my neck as a constant reminder that I can figuratively walk into any locked door if I choose to, but now I realize that I've was just walking back and forth a long hallway of closed doors. Maybe it's time to see what doors can be opened.
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