Brush-painted clouds arched over us as we drove to work this morning, and a warm but sturdy wind kept them ever moving, ever changing, reminiscent of one of those “magic windows” from childhood – two panes of plexiglass holding a combination of colored sand that one could shake and swirl to make interesting designs, each, like snowflakes, subtly different from one another. Variations on a theme.

The weather is sometimes my mirror and sometimes my prompter, depending. Rain inspires, wind sometimes soothes, sometimes annoys, humidity makes me crabby, but is it the humid weather or the crabbiness that comes first, I wonder?

I keep coming back to weather, describing moods as I describe temperatures: brisk, chilly, stormy, balmy, sunny.

Sunny. Sunny is a mood I like.
It’s not bad in weather, either.

. . .one of my favorite colors. This is why I bought red couches. My old ones, for those who never saw those pix, were denim.

These are the new ones, along with completely new tables. And lamps.

Hopefully, in August, I’ll be replacing the wing chair with a coordinating chaise.

I am the person who plans an outfit and then wears something completely different, the woman who will still change shirts one more time even if she’s running five minutes late, the girl with a brush, two barettes, a headband and three scrunchies (in various colors) in her desk at work, because options are essential.

If I could afford to redecorate my house once a quarter, I’d probably do it, but I can’t so I redecorate my blog instead.

It’s not just change for the sake of change, really. It’s a combination of many things – coming home last night to find my aunt’s recently published first book, The Earth Knows My Name, as well as a blog-friend’s first book, Bitter is the New Black, waiting for me at my doorstep, smug in their little brown wrappers, made me realize that I’ve not written anything worth anything since I started this corporate job-thing, and while I like the job, I don’t like that I’ve let it kill all my creativity.

Scritture was the word I claimed when I felt like I really was a writer. Just now, I don’t feel like one. I guess I’m kind of in limbo, trying to find the right inspiration, the right mood, but then I woke at four this morning, and the thought came that I needed to get back to basics, lose the cool Italian subtitle, and just explore MissMeliss again.

And so I’ve done.
In the process, I’ve reverted to Movable Type as my publishing interface, and while I re-learn it things may change more often than even I really like, but I’m sort of excited and curious about this new start, and NO, though the timing may suggest it, this isn’t an April Fool’s thing.

It’s just…change is good. You know?