Despite its reputation for vibrance and flamboyance, white is the default color for lounging in Brazil. Forgetting my overarching procurement rule-of-thumb for the past year and five months - i.e. can X withstand a a mini tornado (of cuteness) - and caught up in the bliss of landing in Sao Paulo on new years day, I bought myself a couple oh-so-slick white linen shirts.
Day 1 she squeezed what seemed like a litre of water melon juice on the first of those shirts - she was running around the garden attacking a massive slice of watermelon, and suddenly realized that it would be so much more fun if were sitting on her Pa's lap.
Day 2 she pee'd on the second shirt - as she enjoyed her new found freedom hanging out naked in the hot southern sun, she did what anyone in a bind would do, jump into the nearest set of open arms. She quickly followed the pee stain up with an accidental swipe of the red crayon she was carrying around.
I had such big plans for those shirts, just I had so many big plans for so many things which sooner or later were rewritten by you-know-who. A couple years ago, I would have been annoyed, maybe even unhappy, if some outside force had gotten in the way of my plans. But now, I mostly enjoy the freedom of knowing that my plans' chances of materializing on any given day are slim-to-none.
Mike Tyson once said "everyone has a plan until you're punched in the face". It has indeed been one punch in the face after another. Like Mike's kind of punches, each one has left me breathless. But unlike Mike's, they've woken me up, brought me perspective, and slingshot me back into the present where a bundle of love was waiting for me with her own plan.
17 months in!
