Merry Christmas

The Force is strong with us this year, this is how a dedicated geek group rock out Chrisstmas morning.  As Lord Vader I am  playing  true to character - plus note how slimming black is. we went to see the new movie in three D, totally worth the experience.The spousal unit created a delicious oatmeal brûlée for our breakfast, with peppermint whipped cream coffee. we were quite spoiled

The Christmas Force awakens

Puppies are actually  cute little terrorists with needle sharp teeth applied to unsuspecting ankles and hands.we are learning to anticipate his potty needs, although we have taken to calling him mr. tinkles for his indoor indiscretions. he's learning quickly and we're using less paper towel each day.CLEAN UP ON AISLE THREE!!!

.He is so snugly and soft with his puppy fur and has already learned at the tender age of 9 weeks, sit, stay and down.  He will be a formidable protector of his family in a few months, just giving fair warning to miscreants intent on mischief or mayhem.  He WILL eat you! nom nom nom.

Poised on the Threshold

The new sign I've put over our lintel, to forewarn the innocent.

Since I've been whining about our remodel there probably is not a person in the Midwest who has not heard my lamentations.  If you look for the definition of gullible you will find my picture in the image area.  How could I believe the timeline and promises of the remodelers?  It isn't that they are deliberate liars but they do present a timeline that most adults would understand is unrealistic.  I mean honestly, nothing but nothing goes off without some complication.  And we've had a number of complications.

• They measured for the cabinets incorrectly, weeks to make the proper sizes
• they measured the shower area incorrectly, same timeline as above, plus shipping
• the plumber drilled into a water line and caused a wee flood
• same plumber set a wall on fire using his torch to solder a joint
  
• the noise noise noise NOISE has driven me off my rocker, and into a wine bottle.  I needed corks for a project and will have no problem whatsoever meeting my quota.  Creepy factor was receiving spam mail advertising family interventions for an alcoholic. I would like to go to a retreat center, minus the meetings and lack of wine, that would be disappointing.
• I cannot keep pace with the sheetrock dust, and twice daily vacuuming and washing the covering cloths on the bedroom furniture is not as helpful as I'd hoped.  The Army son complained his entire year in Iraq that  sandstorms deposited grit in every body crevice, now I understand his gripes.

Having lived with my temperament for 4 decades, the spousal unit (again demoted to lower case, bless his heart), should have a better developed sense of self preservation. The man should be amazed that he wakes up every morning!

Our Thanksgiving guests came bearing gifts, Alaskan Amber for tsu, and truffles for moi!  I went to open the chocolates to a horrifying discovery - they were half gone!!!

The ensueing exchange veered into dangerous territory.
Me- WHY did you eat MY chocolates??? This was said tersely, with narrowed eyes and flared nostrils - steam may have also been wafting from my ears!
Him - Those are our chocolates!!
Me - The HELL they are!! The beer was yours, the truffles are mine you FOOL.  Don't eat any more! I hissed in my most angry persona.  Or I'll pour your beer down the sink!  People have separated and committed physical harm over less! He'd best be watching his p's and q's for a bit.  Never. ever. get between me and MY chocolates.  The people who had Y chromosomes in my house seem to have their better judgment impaired when it comes to cocoa products. Back when my son was young he had a nose like a ferret to suss out candy and the only way to sneak a piece without sharing with him was to take it into the bathroom and lock the door.  He'd stand outside pleading, "Mom - what are you doing in there, and rattle the door, "Can i come in"? NO I'd yell, I'll be out in a minute, I'm just going potty. "NO you're not, are you eating chocolates?  He had a nose better tuned to chocolates than a drug sniffing dog to his training.

I have no new pottery work to share,

an oldie but a favorite

although I brought a large box of bisque ware to the art center to glaze last week,  but my friend Ingrid was in her annual Thanksgiving weekend show and I bought a delicate porcelain bowl with ginkgo leaf from her. She does lovely, meticulous painted designs with a modern Nordic twist, you can view her work by going over to Facebook and checking out Ingridpottery for some wonderful ceramic eye candy.

In my inadvertent quest to destroy the good samaritan impulse in the males of the world, there is at least one guy who will huddle safely in his car in the future. The Art Center has an appalling lack of nighttime lighting in their parking lot and I did a spectacular comic splat walking to my car while carrying a huge bin and a bag of clay.  This poor man waiting for his kid to finish a class exited his car to come to my aide but I was so rattled I hit the car alarm on my key fob ( because he might have been a clay thief). He stammered that he was just trying to help as he backed slowly to his car.  I called after him that I had another trip to carry my tools to the car and to please just ignore me in future unless I waved for help.  I could hear the click of his door lock as I shuffled back to the building.  My heating pad has been my constant companion these past few days, although my back doesn't hurt as much as the loss of my dignity.  I might sign up for a class that teaches older adults how to fall safely, as a volunteer crash test dummy.

Well Bless her Heart! I heard the universe whisper this to me before falling asleep last night.

A Study of Impatience

For those of my Tribe, the old practice of asking forgiveness involved sitting in a darkened confessional and beginning with the words, "bless me Father, for I have sinned" - well it's been a long time since I participated in that ritual which caused no small amount of fear and anxiety.  Perhaps I, like many kids from that era fully expected the priest to jump to his feet while shrieking for all in church to hear, " You did WHAT???"Your penance is a million Our Father's and 500 Hail Mary's.

 In the spirit of the upcoming giving thanks together while sitting at table with those we may not be in harmony with, I think it's time for me to begin my pre meal meditation on being calm, being welcoming and having quick conversational changes mentally prepared in advance. While we won't be sharing with family this year, our guests are on the opposite side of several spectrums and have never shied from  and sharing whatever thought crosses their mind, no matter how divisive the topic.

My frayed nerves from our bathroom renovation are getting a fresh grating every day.  Yes I was gullible enough to believe their promises that the work would be completed before Christmas, now we have them admitting their cabinet measurements were incorrect and  have to be remade, at a 4-6 week delay.  I feel like the Grinch lamenting the noise of the Who's singing and playing instruments, except my house resounds with the banging an whoosh of saws, hammers and air compressors. So much force was expended to remove the old fixtures that sections of the kitchen ceiling collapsed.

A little drywall with your turkey? The inevitable dust has permeated every nook and flat surface in the house, I feel like we are living in a novel with Miss Havisham with all our belongings covered in white dust and white sheets. I know when the room is completed it will be the bathroom of my dreams, right now though it's just a nightmare of destruction.  Strange men arrive all day, some greet me, some don't, the main carpenter just grunts with occasional sighs like a depressed teenage girl, interspersed with explosive swearing and dropped tools. I am fearful of what my bedroom wood floors will look like when Todd leaves. Bless his heart.  Out of his hearing I have taken to calling him Shiva the Destroyer.

A perfectly good and functional bathroom, except the shower pan was leaking and the floor beginning to show black (mold). Despite our stated intentions to donate the existing fixtures to the Habitat for Humanity restore, Todd broke much and/or tossed things into the dumpster to sit in two feet of rainwater.

After Todd's sawzall cut the tub into sections

It's a wonderment how noisy de-construction is.

The ugly remains of the leaking shower floor

Isn't this why so many movies depend on comic despair of characters undergoing "home improvements"? I have told The Spousal Unit there will never be a next time, to which he gave a series of fist bumps, relieved not to have to pay for another project.  This undertaking bothers him not since he escapes to his office before Todd's not early morning arrivals. I on the other hand must be on hand to answer a hundred daily questions. My concentration has left me, and I fear I will never throw another pot on the wheel (successfully), today i threw my clay into a bag and then into a corner in a fit of picque since my skills have deserted me completely.  Oh Woe I whine, oh woe! To think I brought this upon myself - moving to a new home would have been easier. Maybe...

This is not a homeowner approved debris exit method, notice how close to the birdbath and ceramic totem the mess landed! 

However, the morning sunrise offered a moment of peace and beauty as it rose over the tree canopy, and a lone eagle called for the mother he should have followed south for the season.  Teenagers of all species are so stubborn, it's a bit of a wonder any survive.

I shall be giving Thanks this Thursday, that we have the ability to have a modern handicapped accessible bathroom built for my needs. And for friends to share a meal together, even though from the "other side of the aisle". May your day be full as well, of good foods and good friends. And good thoughts.
Happy Thanksgiving

Fair Weather Potter

Now is the Season of my discontent, as the temperatures plummet to winter and the air is raw with cold rain transitioning to snow.  Our class will be unloading the outdoor soda kiln tomorrow when the high of the day is low 30s.  We've been oddly graced with one lovely November day after another, enough to lull me into believing it would go on indefinitely.  What is my delusion- this IS Minnesota after all!

Oh well,  I will pull up my Big Girl Pants and my parka and boots, gloves and hat but I'll still long for the beautiful day we had last weekend for loading.  I didn't have many pieces in this kiln firing, a funky folded basket style vase and few oval bowls with texture from crocheted doilies my grandmother and great aunts made decades ago.  They'd probably have a conniption to see how I am purposing their work, but I am immortalizing thread into ceramics.  None of the other cousins wanted all those crocheted treasures when the aunts' households were being dispersed and I like the idea or reusing their handiwork in eating vessels.  Pictures will follow in the next blog. If they turned out well - I'm a harsh critic of my own work.

My readers have kept up the drumbeat for more pet photos, and I have to say that little Odin is far from little, at just 4 weeks he is a puppy of Substance.  Just look at his puppy chubbiness in the photo the breeder shared.  I cropped their young son, since I don't feel it's appropriate for me to share his face. But look at that happy grin on his face while he snuggles little Odin. I predict Odin's paws will rarely touch floor during the Holidays, that one or the other of us will be lugging that fuzzy sweetheart around.

I am concerned for the elderly and tiny Rocky, he seems already dwarfed by Odin.   He has degenerative joints and struggles with pain ( I sure relate to that !) Although the two cats rule the roost and will be sure to keep a rambunctious upstart puppy in his place until he learns the Order of The Day.  

Stay calm bro, it's just the catnip, the puppy isn't here yet.

For the 25 readers from Russia, do you like cat-puppy photos too?

Silent Film Time

The not so little kitteh received a new comfy bed from his caretakers.  He is the most pampered of felines and showed his appreciation with his kneading the new cushion.  If you listen most carefully, you can hear the sound his little cat feet make.  Not much news on the home front, other than getting organized and inventory packed for a small church craft sale this weekend.  It isn't high art, mostly grandmotherly types who crochet hand towels to hang on the oven door and baby afghans, caps and mittens.  All lovingly made by good church ladies - and then there's me! How did I sneak in?  I'll set up my handmade soaps and balms, foot soaks and my small ceramics that are priced very low so children can buy a gift for their moms, or aunts or grannies or teacher.  I can remember those days, falling in love with something and not having enough in my tiny purse to buy an object.  I have wee little ring trays and soap dishes and ceramic heart ornaments.  

No snow expected and a mild day is predicted!  Yay for easy schlepping my display and heavy boxes in and out of the school gym.  It isn't much fun to push a laden dolly through snow and slush, and at this time of year, every pleasant day is truly a gift.  

I've worn out the little towels I purchased last year, and hope the same sweet elderly lady will return with her crocheted towels this weekend.  The Boy and Girl Scouts serve a lunch to purchase, and there's a display of donated treats to buy that are delicious and deadly to the waistline available as well. It's fun and enjoyable to be in a community where small church events are still very much a part of the norm, and casually run without snobby art critics that demand 10 formatted jpegs of your work to be judged by committee who don't return your entry fee if you're found wanting.  

Namaste

#1 or #2

In six more weeks, little Odin will be formally adopted by our son.  He has second choice of the two males in the litter, meaning he gets whomever the first buyer doesn't want.  How can anyone possibly choose between these little cutie pies?  I'd be forced to take both! The breeders have a puppy cam for the future parents (and grands) to keep an eye on their babies, I can say it is a huge time warp!

Being weighed- at full grown he'll be near 100 pounds.

Mom!! Come and get me out, this isn't very comfy!

In pottery news, our class unloaded the soda kiln yesterday - such a cold and labor intensive task. I initially didn't wear gloves so I could have a better feel of gripping pots and shelves, however the soda deposits the occasional sharp shard of glass and now my left hand has two deep cuts.  Lesson learned!  It will be a test of true Northern grit to load and unload in the depth of winter, it takes only 30 minutes for us to eagerly grab our treasures out from the kiln, but the shelves then have to be ground free of soda deposits which are like glass bubbles, then new kiln wash painted on and stacked in the shed. All the posts that hold up the shelves are redipped in kiln wash and packed away, the door of the kiln is rewashed, the arch and floor need grinding then sweeping and vacuuming, then kiln wash applied.  And this is all done outdoors in the crisp and bracing Minnesota air.  I shall be wearing my warmest boots and parka for the winter firings.  And gloves, most definitely gloves.

Front stack of 3

We also have a big new salad bowl for winter dining.  The oil bottles were a mixd bag of results, the soda blasted one so severely the funnel is flaking off the pot, so into the trash with that one.  The two smaller are good with a nice wet gloss to the sides.  Atmospheric firing is quite fickle, even the best technique and glazing can be changed by the firing, was it too hot, too much reduction, it was a windy day and drew a lot of air from the kiln.  The kiln god gives, and the kiln god takes away, blessed be the kiln.  (lol for my stricter faith friends)  I wonder, if everyone used handmade pottery for our everyday eating, would we be so cavalier about purchasing habits? Doesn't a slow food movement just beg for handmade vessels.  What nutrition value is there in fast food, packed into non earth friendly containers?  From earth to table, count how many times a handmade vessel is touched.  Processed from clay dug form the earth, wedged into balls, thrown on the wheel (or hand built), dried to leather hard and trimmed, firing to bisque stage, glazed, fired again to 2400 degrees.  Lovingly packed, taken to an art sale, displayed and purchased (we all hope).  I made a pecan and roasted golden beet salad with white jalapeño balsamic vinaigrette last week, and can't wait to make it again and serve it in this bowl.  We should eat with our eyes and soul as much as we do with our hands and mouth.

Interiors are more protected so the glaze stayed truer to color,
this big gal is 11 inches in diameter, large for me to throw, it
was closer to 14" wet, it shrinks that much in firing.

Same glaze as bowl, heavier soda deposit so the glaze went whiter

Stay warm friends, it was a crisp 36 here on the edge of the prairie this morning.  

Getting and Keeping a Complex

Anyone remember the basic personality issues from their college Psych 101 classes?  I'm definitely getting a complex from the blog.  I can write a pity or heartfelt post and get maybe 14 views from readers, but post a picture of my son's menagerie and VIOLA!  Readership doubles or triples.  Or even more if it's a day when the trolls from Russia decide they must also view cute cat picture.  Not click on cat? Nyet!!

I humbly bow to my readerships devious  subtle behavioral reinforcement.  Here, again, is the incorrigible Mr. Macaroni.  When I ask the son about the antics of his cat the reply is usually "he's a cat" whereas the Divine Miss M will regale us with amusing stories of derring do and feline mischief.  And she's fantastic with supplying our photo library with fresh images of "the boys".

Meowmaste

Anticipation

We're expecting!  Well, not us personally, and not another child, being a bit past childbearing age.  However there is a new little love that has made his debut and will become part of the family in about 6 more weeks.  Mac and Ral will have a rambunctious second little brother to instruct in the fine art of shenanigans.  This may send The Spousal Unit into seclusion if my exposure to a PUPPY triggers my heartfelt desire to add another little love to our house.  We sort of agree having another dog would be fine, a rescue this time as neither of us have the energy for potty training.  The negotiations are about breed at this point, yet another Sheltie vs a Corgi.  Bless his heart he is a mite stubborn.  We'll get to ease into the decision after a puppy Christmas when the son takes his rapidly growing beast back East with him.  I can hardly wait to pick up the puppy for some quality snuggling!  Who can resist a puppy??

Rawr - Somday I'll be big and fiercesome 

What do you mean there's a puppy coming? Neither of us ordered a puppy,
and we might be allergic. You'd better rethink this decision.

fiercesome:

fiercesome, as opposed to fearsome, is singular in meaning. "fearsome" is an oxymoronic word meaning, dually: "causing fear" and "afraid; timid" {Webster's Collegiate Dictionary}. "Fiercesome", invented in 1999, is primarily used as a more efficent word to express great strength or ferocity.

My soda firing class has given me some fun new pots, always a new skill set to master in ceramic studies.

Namaste 

Happy Halloween

It's the same thing every year, we buy the super sized bags of candy expecting 80 to 100 trick or treaters to  arrive on the doorstep, extorting treats.  Invariably we open the candy early and eat "just a few" and then make an emergency candy run to Walgreens before the ritual commences.  I figure in another decade or so we'll have paid off the karma debt from our son's far ranging trick or treat territory by paying it forward to the minority kids who view this as a safe neighborhood for fun.  And yes, our area is so white bread Scandinavian that it's really obvious who lives here and who's visiting.

May your evening be pleasantly spooky and safe from little goblins in the night. Boo, ya betcha!

Proverbs 22:9

It was a busy weekend, here on the edge of the Prairie.  Saturday was an open call for potters to throw bowls for our high school's Empty Bowls fundraiser.  I did a modest 20 bowls in four hours, and watched in absolute awe as volunteers from a production studio cranked out bowl after bowl after bowl.  Oh to have the upper body strength those young guys have for slinging clay like a boss.  What a fun morning and for such a good cause.  The funds go to supply nearly 600 children with a backpack of food for their weekends if they live in a home with food insecurity.  What a quaint expression meaning they have nothing to eat after Friday's school lunch until Monday morning's school breakfast.  It makes me quite militant toward those who vote to cut funding to needy families,  I suggest they forgo eating every weekend to learn what it must be like for those children.  How can they possibly come to learn on Mondays after being hungry for two days?

The husband and I spent a pleasant autumn afternoon raking the leaves and he's out mowing the lawn one last time.  The garden decorations are cleaned and put away until Spring's arrival.  We are very cognizant of the storm of '91 which dumped 31 inches of snow on us Halloween night.  The very young future service son was the Lone Ranger that year, and had to be stuffed into his snow suit under his costume,  when he and his dad returned from their trick or treat travels his cowboy hat had 6 inches of snow atop!  Just like the Scouts, we're prepared.

Hope your weekend was also productive - did any of you find an art colony close to home?

Namaste.  Proverbs 22:9 Blessed are those who are generous, because they feed the poor.

Not all Readers are Equal

This week has seen a surge in views from Mother Russia, outnumbering my own modest readership by a margin of 50 to 18.  It's both unnerving and unwanted.  I hope it won't be necessary to pull the plug on this blog, just a heads up if it disappears. If anything inappropriate should appear - that won't be from me either.

Namaste friends.

Autumn in Eden

With the change of each season, I go about professing this is my favorite.  The first snows of winter are favorites, the soft chartreuse leaves of spring are favorites, the balmy summer days, and the deep reds, oranges and amber leaves of autumn. Each beautiful day might be the last, before the temperatures plummet and the ground freezes and the snow flies.  So when a gorgeous autumn days presents itself I head to a favorite park to hike the trails and paths through an old oak savannah.  We're so fortunate to have such fabulous parks in our home area, and they are available year round with trails in the winter to hike and snowshoe and cross country ski upon.

Today was sunny and the air temps had risen from our frost on the pumpkin morning to near 60, so I joined the crowds of families and trail runners out enjoying the woods.  The leaves crunched underfoot, and the geese honked as they v'ed overhead on their migration.  No horses met me on the paths although there was ample evidence of their passing with piles of their apples dotting the trail.

It was just the most perfect day until, as the biblical creation myth of Eden presented the serpent in the garden, one such creature slithered across my path.  When you're hiking at a good pace it takes a step or two to halt, and for the brain to recognize it's survival signal: SNAKE!!!

Because it's an involuntary response, of course I screamed. And waved my hiking poles and poked the ground to encourage it to move away from me, immediately! And then I could feel this sensation of a thing wrapped around my upper back and neck and my brain fired off another warning.  I flung my head back and forth, stooping and straightening rapidly while shrieking, trying to keep both feet off the ground to prevent the snake on the trail from joining the one I was convinced had dropped off a tree onto my neck.  Eventually whiplash stopped my trail performance, and I realized Sir Hissss had slithered off, and the cord from my hoodie was wrapped around my neck trying to strangle me, not another serpent.

The family behind me had stopped a safe distance away,  the mother had her hands covering the toddler's eyes while their young sons gaped at me with equal parts awe and horror.  Without making eye contact the parents herded their young away down a different path, and I continued along my path, chastened and oddly invigorated.  At least my heart rate met it's workout goal today.

Our family has more than met it's quota of snakes this year.  I look forward to their hibernation.

When I was the Forest

Today the tree canopy is growing sparse, leaves rain down in a shower set off against a brilliantly blue sky.  I know winter is coming, but for today, this moment, I shall live in golden light.

Peace.

Unintended Consequences

Life has a funny way of offering what we need at a time we least expect.  I started pottery at a community education class for adults back in 2000, the first time I sank my fingers into a ball of clay on an old kick wheel in the middle school classroom, it was as if my soul had finally found it's groove.  Have you ever had an epiphany like that?

A few years ago I decided to try making a few bars of soap to sell along with ceramic trays, and today I sell a few trays along with my soap.

Scratch n' Sniff feature may be disabled on PCs

This is what 400 bars look like on the curing rack, I'll need another few hundred for the holidays, along with hand balms, foot scrubs and the candles now scrabbling for shelf space in hand thrown cups.

Just to remind myself that I still love pottery (the most), I sat down to make a few bottles with textured side walls.  Every potter has a different style, every customer is drawn to their own unique aesthetic.  Sometimes there is a happy collision of style and desire and there is a sale.

In this middle time between crafting soap and delivery, my home smells amazing.  Mmmm - stop by for some aromatherapy if you'd like.

Namaste friends.

The Adorable Mr. Macaroni

When little Mr. Macaroni was rescued for the second time, our son dedicated his every waking moment to ensure the little feline's happiness. (well sort of). Their relationship was a bit spotty for the first year until Mac stopped biting him. The cat in question is one of two most pampered felines that share the household with said son, both of which receive a monthly box of treats that they will occasionally give the gleanings to little Mr. Rocky the Yorkie.

This current assortment of delights featured a pair of 3D glasses for Mr. Mac, which makes him look even more stoned than he was after a catnip roll on the rug. I suggested the adults submit pics and videos to various sites for a bit of economic aid, and was met with a derisive "I'm not going to pimp my cat, mother". However he changed his tune upon learning the earnings potential of other famous internet cats.  So, meme fame, here comes Mac.

I've been furiously happy crafting soap

Lavender Cedar in the mold

every day, and trying to keep pace with our ceramics class to have enough ware for the next soda firing. It's such a labor intensive process making handcrafted pottery, and when you see cheap (and read also toxic) ware from places like China it's a bit discouraging that people value the mass produced items at big box stores and don't understand the true value of using something in everyday life that was slow produced. Sewing and quilting has been put on the back back burner for after the holidays when I can focus again, I feel like a juggler balancing spinning plates on a stick and trying my best not to drop them.  The spouse suggested that perhaps I have too many hobbies. What a goof!! As our son said during his three deployments, sleep is a crutch.

Trying to spiff up the entry of our home I decided to repaint the tired looking bench we've used for

ages, that I bought years ago on an antiquing trip with a good friend. The new chalk paint is a dream to use, no odor and cleans up fantastically.  It was probably the easiest paint project I've ever done. Then of course the old cushion looked even worse on the new bench so that went into the trash and new foam and fabric for a cover was bought and sewn.  Now try to imagine it with new gray paint on the walls because we've definitely entered the Decorating Domino Zone where one project cascades into the next.  After seeing how fab the new cushion fabric looked, I had to get new rugs for the floor as well.  The spouse looked a bit weepy and was muttering "where will it end" but I'm sure he was just overwhelmed with gratitude at my efforts to provide a comfortable home.

Now the walls look dated, so perhaps I'll start taping paint chips to the wall to decide on the new color.  The spouse wishes I'd just go back to quilting and let us do one home improvement project at a time. Did I mention we're about to gut our master bathroom and see if we can survive a renovation?  I'm going to lay in a case of wine and he's on his own.  I have severe arthritis and cannot get into, nor out of the bathtub. We have an '80s jetted tub that takes 40 gallons of water to fill, and is just gathering dust.  The new bathroom will have an extended zero entry shower with a bench and handheld sprayer, and grab bar.  It's going to be fantastic!! A potter friend suggested that should I ever add a stair glide chair to remember cup holders so I have a secure spot for my wine glass! Brilliant woman!  I wonder if it's too late to add a niche for wine in the shower?

Before we leave here's a picture of the small in physical form but big in personality Mr. Rocky.


Namaste friends.

Here, There and Everywhere

We recently took a trip to exotic Milwaukee with friends, taking in the sights and enjoying a brilliantly gorgeous fall weekend with blue skies and mild temps.  The Art Museum with it's iconic ship appearance was our morning outing, to see the modern art exhibit.

A stunning glass sculpture created by the world renewed glass artist Dale Chihully greets the museum guests at the front entrance, the vibrant colors are in contrast to the cool whites inside and out of the museum halls.

Having a guide made the experience meaningful for us, his knowledge of the artists, their times, and techniques brought the flat surfaces to life in a manner our simple viewing would never have given us.

Off to lunch and then onwards to shop at a world market where I purchased an armful of wonderful spices.  The minced candied ginger has already been baked into gingerbread scones this morning, along with the most heavenly cinnamon to grace the earth.  We jammed in a visit to Lakefront Brewery for a tour of the bottling process, where our guide was catering to the let's get drunk crowd and we were hideously out of place among the bachelorette parties and young adults slamming beers.  The night was mild and we opted for outdoor dining along the riverfront, to watch the excursion boats glide past and do some people watching.  H had a unique experience being upbraided by a belligerent homeless man in a darkened parking lot, chalk up a mental reminder never to go in iffy locales again.

The next day was a unique trip to the estate home of the Broadway actors Alfred Lunt and his wife Lynn Fontaine, where our docent, clad in white gloves, led us from room to room explaining the lifestyle, decor and guests that held court in this midwestern gathering spot for the celebrated actors of that time.  The second docent followed our group of 8 merely to lock each door behind us as we processed through the home, her eagle eyes were dedicated to ensure no guest picked up an item as a  souvenir.  The women had to leave purses at the visit center in a locker, but our guides were enthusiastic and well versed in their subjects.

While we wined and dined in our deluxe vacation spot, the favorite son took his first vacation in 5 years to enjoy the tropical delights in Central America.  Poor guy, forced to go on zip lines through the rain forest, rappelling down waterfalls, hot pools at a volcano retreat, daily yoga, ocean sunsets.  What a burden!!

Look Mom - no hands!

That's the news from our corner of the world, where all the women are strong, the men are good looking, and all the children are above average.  Thanks Garrison, for gifting our world with that phrase.

Namaste.

Shaping Clay

We shape clay into a pot, 

but it is the emptiness inside

that holds whatever we want.

― Lao Tzu

Click to enlarge

The soda firing our class did last week was a good one for many of us, and my new experiment to apply just flashing slip to the exterior with a tiny bit of brushwork yielded a lovely pot.  The faceted pitcher caught the soda flash quite nicely too, the texture of the rasp gives the soda vapor a spot to grasp onto as it travels around the kiln.  I wasn't able to get a picture of the full kiln after the firing, as another student jumped the schedule and unloaded ahead of class time, much to the chagrin and ire of the rest of us.  We did get the glamor job of scraping the shelves, reapplying kiln wash and sweeping up the used wadding.  

While Macaroni and his companions are remaining out East, their humans will be visiting us this weekend!!  The son hasn't been home since last Holiday season, and we will be enjoying someone else very special that is accompanying him.  I'll be doing my happy dance as we get the house dressed to receive; dusting, straightening, windows polished, sheets washed, ironed and pillows fluffed.  Let's roll!

Have a wonderful weekend friends. Namaste

World Domination

Have I told you the story of ruthless domination? Years ago when our son was in middle school, the writing teacher assigned his class a lesson on describing their families.  Since ours is a wee bit tiny, being just the three of us, his material was a smidge limited.  He began with the usual of "we live here, this is what my house is like, I have two dogs that are Shelties named Zipper and Zoe. Then he wrote about his father.

My father is lots of fun, he is our cub scout leader and we go on many camping trips and get to canoe, build campfires and shoot shotguns on the range. He is a computer programmer and designs systems for big companies.  He loves to build Legos with me and take me to science fiction movies, and we are reading The Chronicles of Narnia together every night.  I love my Dad!!!

Now, here is what he might have said about his mother, but did not.

My mother is an awesome baker, she makes the best cookies in the world. She sews quilts, and works at the library's reference desk. She used to manage a bookstore and she loves to read.  She bought me two dogs since I don't have a brother or sister.  I love my Mom!!!

However, kids being what they are, this is what he actually wrote:
 My mother is a Ruthless House Dictator!!!

Apparently I ruled with an Iron Oven Mitt.

The teacher had stapled all the kid's bios to the bulletin board so that during parent teacher night we could read the collected works of all the kids.  When we arrived there was a cluster of parents laughing at one spot, and of course as we approached heads turned and the giggles were then directed at us.  Isn't it a wonder that our children grow to adulthood, without us needing group therapy?

What shall we do tonight Macaroni? Same thing
we do every night Raleigh, try to take over the world.

Worship Me

So it appears the simple device of placing a cat meme on the blog doubles my readership.  I'm not above such shameful manipulation and may continue to share the handsome kitty who adopted my son.  In that respect, we are a lot like ancient Egypt, where cats were worshipped and people wrote on walls.

Since discovering a meme generator I have had a lot of fun, my adult son lives in constant trepidation that I will overshare his life, or his cat's life, or just embarrass him as only a parent is able to do.  He did just earn the Pathfinder badge, rocking out that 1% of his service branch yet again.  Yup.  I'm proud.

Namaste

Make Time

Our daily lives can quickly fill with the minutia of necessary chores, along with the maintenance of our work lives.  The caretakers role for myself and the spousal unit was brief but challenging while our parents entered their illnesses before passing, and it was often near impossible to remember to nuture ourselves for the marathon we were running.

I love reading the weekly column, and listening to Krista Tippett on the radio, her writings "On Being", synch to my immediate needs with regularity.  Last week she had an essay by a writer who spoke to the need to find meaning and calm in daily ritual.  How can simple everyday acts speak to us to offer a sense of calm and introspection?

The act of making time for our art is a constant theme with my pottery and art friends, especially so for those still juggling work, and creating a volume of inventory for shows and sales.  Even at the hobby level it's a temptation to let stress overwhelm my better senses and forget to take enjoyment for the act of creation.

 I was disinvited to a holiday show that is one of my better sales, as the host's daughter has decided to make and sell soaps.  After a brief pity party for the loss of income, I decided to view this as an opportunity to enjoy being less stressed, and enjoy the gift of time to anticipate the holidays as the joyful moments of being with friends and activities.  Not having to pack my inventory, load the car with display shelving and truck across town for 4 long and frantic days gives me a sense of relief.  It's not easy for the ego to turn down the opportunity for a sale, it flatters both the wallet and is justification for creating work that people enjoy buying.  Being an introvert I enjoy selling through gift shops and galleries, they provide the venue, staff and advertising while I provide the soaps and pottery.  Being "up" for 10 hour days at a holiday sale can be exhausting when my arthritis flares and keeping up a smile when someone turns to her friend and proclaims about the pottery: "you know you could do that in your oven"!  Well, bless your heart.  You could if your oven will heat to 2400 degrees Fahrenheit.



The Chinese poet and philosopher Lao Tzu wrote on the art of pottery, saying, "we shape clay into a pot, but it is the emptiness within that holds whatever we want".

What is it that you want, that you can find in the emptiness within?

Namaste dear friends.

One Treat

Namaste

Another School Year

It seems that the beginning of the new school year is more of a New Years transition than the one celebrated in January.  New clothing is bought, and all the wonderful supplies for studying.  Books, notebooks, pens, rulers, backpacks.  Even us older potters clean out our totes and freshen up the tools of our trade.  I'm all washed and packed and ready for another year of instruction at my favorite art center.  This will be quite the transition, our little band of potters has been together 15 years, and half of us have decided to transition to an evening instructor who specializes in soda firing.  It's long been a love of mine, and being in the class allows the students to help with loading the kiln and studying the effects of placement on the pots glaze results.

It's been a hot and humid week and we've arrived at Labor Day Weekend a bit worse for wear,  the constant overcast has really put a lid over my mood.  I really am solar powered, and not seeing the sun or blue sky has a detrimental effect on my well being.  Here it is mid afternoon and so dark we must have the lights on in the house.  The soot from the western forest fires are the major cause, and day after day of afternoon rains.  My father used to grump that the sun would come out just in time to set in the evening - and I have a new appreciation for his own struggles with SAD from diminished light.

The Spousal Unit bought tickets to our favorite singer from our youth, Justin Hayward, who was in solo concert without his band mates, The Moody Blues.  We were so entranced with their music in our young adult years that we had a friend play Nights in White Satin on her flute at our wedding.  It wasn't "sacred music" and approved by the traditional organist, but somehow we snuck it into the service.  We adore this love ballad he wrote to the woman he would marry back in 1972, just two years before our own wedding.

While Justin didn't hit the high notes like he used to, after 50 years in the concert business he still has incredible vigor and his guitar playing brought the audience to their feet over and over again.  It was a wonderful night and I am resolved that the SU and I need to remind ourselves more frequently how important a part of well being music plays in our psyche.  The Moodies still tour, even at their ages of 69 for Justin, and mid 70s for the other mates!

We are off to vicariously enjoy the Appalachian Trail via the new Robert Redford movie, A Walk in the Woods.  The knees aren't cooperating with our bucket list dream of hiking it, between the SU and myself we have a combined 5 knee surgeries.  The moral is don't put off your dreams, get out and live them.

Namaste dear friends.