Little miracles.

@postaday 206; #postaday2011.

We have been promising Charlotte an artist studio for a little while, but we weren’t going to just hand it to her. She’d have to earn it. She’d have to prove she could have a space to call  her own. And once she got it, she’d have to keep it neat and tidy.

I didn’t expect we’d ever have to deliver. Charlotte is the kind of kid who does not pick up her dirty clothes off the floor despite being told a half dozen times. I thought when we’d promised her an art studio with the caveat that she’d have to stop leaving dirty laundry, drawings, purses, books, homework, and life strewn across the house, she’d never get her act together and we’d be off the hook. Guess again. For the record, I am happy to be proven wrong.

I’m not exactly sure how yesterday unfolded, but John is home on vacation in this final summer school-free week for the girls. He told me the girls, aware that it was bulk pick-up week, started  taking the old garden chairs out to the curb. Then they started sweeping the garage. Then John brought out the vacuum cleaner and Charlotte cleaned an area rug, rolled it up, cleaned under it, and rolled it back out. She might have even vacuumed it one more time. John worked hard organizing the garage, and the girls continued to help. I expected that they would have eventually lost interest and retreated to their computers inside, but they stayed on task. And you must agree, three people working on such a job is so much better than one doing it alone. I know what that’s like. I simmer and life gets ugly.

The rattan-glass-topped table was positioned with two chairs on the rug in front of some utility closets. There was room to move. Comet, our large furson, tried on the carpet, rolled this way and that, cleaned himself, and then stretched out his legs in front of him and behind him for an afternoon siesta. He is a weird kitty. I have never seen a cat stretch out hind legs the way he does.

I knew something wonderful was up when I approached our house and noted the lineup of items awaiting the bulk pick-up truck. I entered the gate, walked into the garage and found Charlotte drawing at the table, plugged into her tunes in her iTouch, very pleased with herself. She couldn’t wait to tell me all that she and Sophie had done with Dad’s help. It was fantastic, and I told  her so.

As is often the case in our ‘hood, bulk pick-up week means people drive through trolling for castoffs. Someone has taken the big ball out of the ball chair, but they left the chair. Cleaned up, it would be just fine. The ergometer is still out there. It works OK, but we’ve moved on to other sports. If someone were looking for equipment to assist with their paddling, this is the item; it just needs some batteries. The old grill is out there, sans its tank. An old keiki bicycle is in the lineup as well, its pink paint pocked with rust. A lot of the stuff out there had been well used, but time is up.