99 More Years

I've spent more time today enjoying all the beautiful homes posted by so many of my blog buddies, especially Dear Daisy Cottage, who not only lets us into her charming home but takes us on tours of others' in her Florida neighborhood. No matter how finished these homes seem, I am sure each of these designers consider them works in progress. We have a vision, a plan, an idea; then we indulge in the research, the buying (and sometimes the returning), the color selection. Eventually it all comes together and then we sit back and enjoy! Except maybe that little white cachepot will look better on the kitchen shelf than the urn...well you all know how it goes. I've been thinking about my own crazy condo a lot these days. I wonder why such an ordinary house, in such an ordinary place is speaking to me so loudly. It is unremarkable but, like the perfect visual arrangement on the aforementioned kitchen shelf, it is my creation, an expression of my style, my vision. And as such it is worth the world to me. Could I find a similar outlet in some other "medium"? Yes, very likely. But this one suits me and there's so much more to do.
Which reminded me of a piece of wall art my Mom had while I was growing up (though they didn't call it "wall art" then)! It hung next to the window in a corner of the dinette - does anyone even know what a dinette is anymore? The ceramic trivet with wrought iron frame depicted a forlorn little bungalow in need of love, with shutters hanging off the windows, a raggedy fence and overgrown lawn. The caption reads: "99 More Years and It's Ours". My sister and I thought it was hideous and we probably gave Mom a hard time, mocking it mercilessly. It's only now that I realize the full force of what that must have meant to Mom and Dad, the prototypical 50's newlyweds, working long days, pinching pennies, scrimping and saving to attain the American dream of owning a house and making it a home. I get it now.