A Home in Photos

For the first time in many years, all my belongings are in one place (except for, perhaps, a box or two of old barbies & stories written in my elementary school years). It´s all within my reach, and I love that feeling.
My parents have been saints for housing our junk for so long. And my dad organized so much of our things and got everything ready for shipment. We are so grateful to have it all here with us.
But I am in the ugly middle, in the utter chaos, of placement. Of tossing, sorting, and shelving all of our things. I can hardly believe what we have. Some of it is really crap. Straight to the trash. Other things are in purgatory, I suppose: piles of old photos, frames of unfinished wood that I don´t like at all but have yet to declare unsuitable for future use, papers, papers, papers.
I have spent two whole hours with old papers, receipts, pamphlets, etc. It is absolutely exhausting, but necessary if we are to have any order at all in this house. It is the most time-consuming part of home-organizing, but also the most liberating. I sat on the floor and read through old notes from me to Daniel in our High School days......before we had quite figured out that we were going to "be" together. Old scribbles, paintings, school-performance programs, etc.
I looked at the script of "Arsenic and Old Lace," a reminder of my more awkward (if that is possible!) years....trying to figure out whether I wanted to study theater in Seattle (as Charissa eventually did), or opt for a more practical major, instead. And where did that get me?
I gave up on a life-long interest in acting, and decided to pursue a degree in English literature. Alright, I admit that literature is probably a more pronounced passion of mine, and that I might be a more talented reader than actress, but that choice certainly didn´t give me many career-options.
Here I am, at twenty-six, with a useless degree. Useless, because it´s experience that counts, in the end. And I have none. (hence, I have decided that further studies will be necessary if I choose to pursue certain ambitions, but I´ll save that for a later post :-) )
Alas, I sit surrounded by empty and half-empty boxes, by a couple of piles of Daniel´s sci-fi novels, by binders and notebooks, and all I want is time. Time to sort through it all: to put it all in its perfect place. My babies are finally sleeping and I need to put this time to good use.
In a few moments, then, I shall get back to it. I will brave the chaos again, find a few more trash-bags, and make some difficult toss-decisions. De-cluttering (de-clutterization?) is liberating, yes, but it is such a tedious task. It requires all my focus: I can´t do it haphazardly. Hopefully, I will be wise to toss much and keep only those things essential to put our minds and home at rest: select memorabilia, relevant literary articles, notes, & essays for future reference, and clothes that we will actually wear within the next year. (needless to say, we will not be throwing out much of anything from our book- and record-collections.)

When does a person reach that point of saying, "this is home. I shall fill it with the furniture, decorations, and things that perfectly reflect me and my family. no expense shall be spared." ?
Maybe I am just reading the wrong blogs. You see, I always read about these people (strangers) who have set up their homes to perfection. I mean, every last tea-cup is in the perfect place. You know? It incites my envy. I look at their quaint homes, their cool shabby-chic spaces, and I think, "that´s what I want". But part of me knows, even as I take such pride in organizing my shelf-spaces with precision, etc.., that I am not going to be there for a long while. Even if I had the money! It just seems like every tiny detail of their lives is so organized, so perfectly characteristic of who they are.
Ah, what is up with this obsession with expression? I am fascinated.
I might get there one day....years from now. Eventually, I might invest in just the right couch, the perfect family photo-shoot, the painted walls... It certainly appeals to me. But it means permanence. Still, eventually, my house may look like hers:
http://makingitlovely.com/photos/album/72157604302986919/photo/3266987273/library-my-library.html

I guess Daniel and I are just unsettled. In most ways. We don´t have it all figured out. We don´t plan much. No, we are divers. I perhaps even more so than Daniel.
Ha!, we don´t have anything figured out (except for the fact that we are crazily right together, and that our little girls are better than anything we could have ever hoped for). We start dreaming of the next place the moment we set foot in a new house. We might try to unpack everything and set everything up, but in our minds the boxes, the suitcases, are always packed.
We´re finally starting to narrow our career-goals down a little bit. Finally. We are starting to figure out what small steps need to be taken in order for us to reach the bigger goals. But everything in between is so fuzzy. To live in the present, to enjoy the now, is a lesson we have to learn anew almost every single day.

Some of my favorite re-encounters:
*the mug-collection
*the tea-sets*the books (duh)*the mahogany chest! (photo to follow)

Here you have it. My home. For the time being. Visit?

Humble Pie

It turns out the system favors us, too, as we are (who was I kidding?) poor enough, after all. Daniel and I knew something was off when we saw that 85 % of the people of the admission-list (and not-admitted-list, actually) had received the 2 possible points for earnings below a certain amount. We were convinced that we could not possibly be earning more than the majority of other families in this neighborhood. So, I did some research, dug into our old tax-papers, made a few calculations, and headed to the school to "reclamar": we deserved those points, and I was going to demand a correction. It worked.

We were given the extra 2 points that were due, and Ari was bumped up on the list. She made it to the top of the not-admitted list, and the principal had already explained that about 8 or 9 of those kids would still make it into the school (from the top of the not-admitted list). So, little Boo is now officially on the to-register list! YAY! Three weeks from now, we will have to do the real registration.

The system may still be unfair. But, we are on the side of the privileged, and I should have been complaining about the system´s inefficiency, rather than whining about how we are too rich to get any benefits in this country. Hahaha. I feel rather like an idiot, and will certainly do a bit more thinking before I write.. Next time. I hope.

When the kids and I went to the school to look at the revised admission-list, and I saw Ari´s name on the good list, I said a loud, "YAY," and Ari picked up on my enthusiasm. She probably thought it would be her school all along, because we had previously been there for a tour, and we were more hopeful back then. Before all the registration-mess.

Yesterday, as we waited in the playground by the business-park where Daniel works, Ari said, "Ari´s go to school.. Ari´s listen to teacher and pay (play). Ari´s get a new backpack. Mama won´t see me." It made me a bit teary-eyed to see how well she seems to understand the adjustment that is ahead. She´s a perceptive little kid. So, I pushed her swing, and told her about all the fun things that she will learn... and that Mama will go to work, but then Mama or Papa will pick her up from school, pick Anika up from the baby-school, and then we´ll play in the park, and then we´ll eat together. She seemed to like the idea.