Day 1

Well, first I want to say thankyou to everyone for all the good thoughts. It's definitely a messed up situation, and I am not the greatest at separating my public and private life, so hope it's not too awkward for anyone. I am here now, and after less than 24 hours know I have to get out soon. It's really hard for me, and I would imagine most, not to have my own space. I am also a bit of a minimalist, and my parents are kind of maximumalist, and so I am feeling a little claustrophobic. I am grateful for the space, but also know I can not last long here. I wish the room I am in were a sanctuary, and they did the best they could moving stuff out of it so I could move into it, but it's a bit like living in a tetris game where all the pieces are just barely separated, everything hits something else if you open it, and I keep hitting my feet on the stuff under the bed if I step too close to it. My mother, although well intentioned, keeps trying to pay for everything I need to buy. She even just offered to give me cash before I left. Just cash, in case I needed some cash. Eye-yi-yi. On the upside, I am sitting in a nice warm coffee house, after a chilly couple of hours humping for a job. I handed out about 15 resumes and will be back tomorrow to leave more. There are well over a hundred and fifty restaurants in the Portland area, at least I think, so lots of options, but limited hiring. It is a really great area though. I love the energy, and although I have left the mountains, I am less than 15 minutes from the ocean. But still, I keep thinking of Adam and often wishing he were here to share things with me. I do miss him. Oh well. Hopefully it's for the best, or else it's just another big mistake I've made in my life. Again, thank you everyone for reading and for being interested in what's going on.

Stuck in Chicago

some trinkets from a trip to Continental Clay?? (I can't remember the name-in Santa Monica I think)

Well I'm back in New Hampshire. We just got a load of snow dumped on us. The trip was nice, but it's also good to be home again. Long trip back though. I had to change planes in Chicago. I was supposed to have a two hour layover, but the plane was delayed from NY, and about five minutes after I arrived (looking like all that and then some in a new brown coat and suede boots-but that's another story) I found out that my flight, which was supposed to take off at about 6:50 p.m., wasn't even due to arrive there until 10:30. Since I arrived around 4:30ish, that meant I had around 6 hours to kill.

So after roaming around the small portion of the airport I was trapped in, trying to balance my guitar-a 1976 old Guild my father let me have which hadn't seen the light of day outside it's case in over a decade-on my rolling backpack, stumbling around on my new boots, I finally found a seat in a pub, ordered a glass of red wine, which I soon regretted as I became sleepy and got a headache, ordered a bowl of mediocre chili and killed like 45 minutes. Only five hours left to go and things were not looking good. I bought The Appeal, by John Grisham and did my best to get lost in it and and accept my fate. In another life, and if I were a little smarter, I might have been a lawyer.

Eventually the time went by and I got on the plane. We rapid-fire boarded and I was fortunate enough to have an old charming gentleman sit next to me who reeked of alcohol and had the gelatinous veined eyes of a career drinker. I was torn between genuinely liking this man, and being horrified by being trapped next to him for two hours. He talked to me non-stop, loud, animated, bouncy and rude. When I came back from the bathroom, he said to me: "well I can see everything must have come out all right!" He expressed himself at length about different colors of pee based on how much water you drink, told me that he could tell I was a white woman from central NH based on my political views, and commented on the nice breasts of the woman on the t.v. monitor. I felt elated when the plane finally landed.

Once there was a dead girl

This is the first time I have logged into my blog or checked anyone elses posts in a few days. Just hanging around being lazy most of the time. I watched this great movie last night. It's about this singer, Glen something, and him getting started out. You'd recognize his music if you heard it. It's an Indie film, oh, it's called Once. If you haven't seen it, I recommend it. The movie won best song at the Oscars. That song that goes "I don't know you, but I want you, something something something something something ..." that might not be enough info. Watch the movie and you'll see. I rewatched The Dead Girl. Another film I highly recommend if you haven't seen it. It's strange having such a temp difference. When we left the house at the awful hour of 5:30 a.m. Monday it was 3 degrees below zero with a 16 degree below zero windchill. today I'm laying on a chair and I had to pull it out of the sun cause it was scorching hot. Oh, funny story. I touched down in Long Beach at 3 p.m. Pacific time-about a half hour early, so I call my father to tell him and he's like, "you're here? you're kidding. I thought you were coming tomorrow! I'm on my way!" really good thing I called or I might have been waiting a while. One more thing before I go. There is a yoga studio about a five minute walk from the house called YogaWorks. For thirty dollars I got an introductory pass that is good for two weeks of unlimited classes. They have like at least ten classes of different yoga classes of different kinds every day. I've already gone three times. My muscles are a little sore but it's been great. I've had three different teachers so far so it's really cool getting to experience all these different teaching styles. Mentally I'm feeling a little dead. Woke up a lot last night. The previous night I slept for seven hours straight. I felt like I was on speed the next day I felt so rested. It's always so strange not to feel tired. Hope everyone is well. Long post, time to go.

Sugar free squiggles

So. I am about to tell you a gross story. Well, it's not really gross-it's just something that most people would not talk about in polite company. That's why I am going to tell you. First let me tell you about this little picture here. I had stretched this canvas a while back for my son to paint on, and after he showed no interest it sat around for a while until one day, last year, when I threw some black and white paint on it and spread it around. I also laid some paper towels on in for texture. I wouldn't exactly say it was successful, but I wasn't really done. It's just been in the basement for a while, and I've been watching some shows about getting your house ready for sale-we're putting ours back on the market-and I am trying to completely unclutter it and fix any eyesore areas. This story is becoming too long and you will loose interest before I get to the gross story, so, to cut to the end, I needed something kinda like art for an area and so I dug this out, took a wide sharpie and drew squiggles. While I wouldn't exactly call it high art, it does look kinda cool on the wall. I had to take it down temporarily because I am painting the wall behind it the grey that you can see.

So. You might want to stop reading now. If you have any warm fuzzy feelings about me this will surely ruin them. I ran out of paint and so had to go to the store and get more. Earlier in the day I had gone to the store and bought some candy. I can't really eat sugar-it bothers my stomach really badly-I burp puke/bile, whatever you want to call it. Throw in a beer on that and it's like I have fire in my belly. So, once in a great while I buy some sugarfree candy. I know I should only eat two or three of them, because, like it says on the package: overconsumption can have a laxative effect. I ate the whole package. That is about twelve pieces. I know. I have no self control, that is another story altogether. No one was at the paint department and so I went to jewlrey and had them page someone. Three pages later someone finally arrives. By the time she mixed the paint, found a pen that worked, got her little q-tip out to do her test smudge, and pulled the blowdryer out to dry the paint to check for color corectness I was a little worried. I was standing there all cool and collected on the outside, acting like I could wait all night for the paint to dry. To say I wanted to leave quickly would be putting it gently. Suffice it to say all is well, but please take my advice and do not ever eat twelve pieces of sugar free candy. Ever.

Ladies and Germs

"All religions are the same: religion is basically guilt, with different holidays"-Cathy Ladman

I'll get back to that funny quote in a sec. Blah-so I'm up and sort of about. I feel very lightheaded when vertical so don't feel comfortable spending much time that way. But, I made myself get out of my sick bed today, wash the sick sheets, and put real clothes on. I am actually sitting on the couch as I type this. I've gone into my studio a couple of times and it just feels like this cold, alien environment. Not hospitable to my life form at the moment. So, I've been reading this book for about a year now. Put it down for a while and so re-read from the beginning again. It is really hard for me to absorb as it's written by a very intelligent person, with the assumption that those reading it are highly intelligent, but I am giving it my best shot. Some of you may wish to cover your eyes for a moment. The book is, The God Dellusion, by Richard Dawkins. It's quite interesting, if difficult to absorb. I actually brought it up in relation to my cold, and not religion.

I recently responded to some comments on my last post, that I wonder if now that I have the luxury of being sick and laying around, if that is good or bad for the cold. I know that I seem to stay sicker longer now than I used to. Some of this may just be age, but I do wonder about the effect of just lying there, letting the germs have a party in your body. Lo and behold, a few minutes ago I read this line in the book which I thought was appropro (spell and definition?I'll try and check on it). The line is in the context of a discussion in the chapter in which Dawkins is considering how religion could be seen as having any evolutionary benefit for humans. So, I will quote from there.

"Dan Dennett reminds us that the common cold is universal to all human peoples in much the same way as religion is, yet we would not want to suggest that colds benefit us. Plenty of examples are known of animals manipulated into behaving in such a way as to benefit the transmission of a parasite to its next host ... an animals behavior tends to maximize the survival of the genes "for" that that behavior, whether or not those genes happen to be in the body of the particular animal performing it."

So this brings me right back around to my comment this morning. I don't know the answer, but the question is this: who or what is benefiting from my laying there? Is this a response of my body's immune system trying to conserve energy and resources to fight off this parasite or is it the parasite who disables my body so as to be able to inhabit it more fully and therefor pass itself on to it's next host? Same can be said about sneezing or coughing. Is it the host trying to rid itself of the parasite or a mechanism used by the parasite (virus) to spread itself? All very fascinating food for thought.

Ripley's Believe it or Not

Okay. Get ready to hear one of the most bizarre and amazingly true stories you have ever heard. Adam says to me tonight, on the evening of October 21. "Hey, we forgot to celebrate our anniversary". My reply was, "Did our anniversary just go by?" So after a short back and forth to confirm the date of our wedding and today's date, we came to the conclusion, that yes, we both forgot to celebrate, or even remember, our anniversary. It's slightly more comical when you realize that the actual day was ten days ago, and neither one of us remembered, and, the only reason that Adam remembered is that his Mom asked him, when he talked to her last night, what we did to celebrate. Are we messed up or what?

I forgot Adam's birthday the first year we were together. Around 11:30 at night, he's like, "so, are you going to wish me a happy birthday?". I felt so bad I cried. Neither one of us cried tonight.

My big baby

This little beauty is about 21" across. It's quite flat, the largest flattest thing I have thrown so far. I have thrown a 24" bowl, which is a little easier I think.

These are some wood molds I made today for shaping slabs over to make square plates.

My heat gun I bought the other day, which greatly improves my ability to throw something like a 21" platter.

One of my pots from my last firing.


I had a few responses to my last post, and I found my response becoming quite long (what a surprise) and so decided that I would reply as a post. I promise not to post anything else so serious for at least one day after this. I'm not trying to contradict anything anyone said, just to write down what it got me thinking of. I am particularly interested in the idea of living for the moment, or rather treating each moment like it could be your last. I think it's a nice concept, but in the long run difficult, not to mention depressing thinking that every moment could be your last! It's a lot of pressure to put on yourself in life, because there is so much that has to be done that we really don't want to do but has to be done. Maybe some people manage to pull that off but it would be pretty hard for me. I know if I treated each moment as if it were my last, I'd never work, never clean the toilet, etc. I certainly wouldn't be sitting here typing on this computer.

I think the more do-able and equally important thing to do is to be present in every moment. It's like that bumper sticker that says: I'd rather be here now. It's something to really think about. Most of us probably perform a lot of tasks all the while wishing we could be doing something else. when I find myself rushing through something, like dishes or whatever and my mind is scattered and I'm starting to feel anxious because I'm already thinking of what I need or want to do next, I try to mentally stop, and while not exactly enjoy doing dishes, at least experience doing dishes. You can find a little Zen that way. I should say as a disclaimer here, that I desperately need to take my own advice. I'm not exactly settled most of the time. But it's something to think about-what you would do differently if you knew for sure this was it. If you told me, and I knew it to be true, that I had three days left to live I would embrace my hearts desire. I would do what I needed to do to spend those three days at peace inside. But I have to live believing I have maybe 30 years left, and that's a whole different ballgame.

Tom Cruise and tumblers

I had the same issue with the washed out black on these tumblers. But I hope to have better luck next time with what I'm learning from the book.

Three more tumblers. I love making tumblers for some reason.

So I've decided to forgive Tom Cruise. I've had a bit of a grudge against him now for a while. Maybe two years. It all started because of a little conflict on South Park. I've watched the show enough to have an idea of the humor, much of it juvenile, tasteless and not funny. Much of it juvenile, tasteless and really hilarious.

The thing I like about South Park is that they make fun of everything and everyone, and like it or not, sometimes they are dead-on with the views they present. They spent an entire episode mocking what can easily be seen as the ridiculousness of blindly believing in the story of the beginning of Mormonism without questioning. However, they also end the episode kind of saying, but hey, we should all tolerate each others beliefs. I'm probably telling you what you already know, but they make fun of every religion, every race, every idea of sex and what ever else might be out there.

So when the episode "Trapped in the Closet" satirizing Scientology came around, no one should have been surprised, or any less, or more offended, than by any other episode. Certainly not Isaac Hayes, who for nine years had no problem participating in a show while they mocked every other religious belief. A few months after the episode aired, he asked to be released from his contract with the show because he felt that making fun of someone's (his) religion was intolerant and bigoted. I personally think he was being a hypocrite (no offense to his memory or him personally) , but it was his choice.

Enter Tom Cruise (also a Scientologist) who was portrayed in the episode. Now this next detail is why I lost a lot of respect for him and began a two year boycott of his movies (I still haven't seen MI 3, although I love Philip Seymore Hoffman and wanted to see it for his performance alone). Cruise took his outrage to another level. He threatened Paramount saying that unless they agreed they would not rebroadcast the episode that he would not promote the MI3 movie. This just really bothered me, because anytime I see someone trying to promote censorship it just outrages me-a good topic in itself for another day.

So the other day we went to see Tropic Thunder, a movie that has had it's own share of criticism stemming from jokes at the expense of people with mental disabilities. I kind of cringed at some of the things said, so I can see why some might be offended-some people were also outraged because Robert Downey Jr. was playing a black man (which by the way he was great in-as usual). But I'm digressing. The surprise performance in the movie was by none other than Mr. Tom Cruise himself. If you don't know he's in this movie going in, it might actually take you a minute to realize who he is. He does a really great job with his character and I found myself enjoying the performance, and thinking it was time to let go of a grudge. We are all, after all, human, imperfect little people, and even the super-humans like Cruise sometimes do and say regrettable things (regrettable in my opinion anyway).

So I think I will finally rent MI3, and get on with my next boycott. If I could only stop eating meat and cheese again . . . talk about a hypocrite!

Enjoying freedom

Alright it is finally time for me to write this post. I've been thinking about it for a little while and after reading Ron's blog this morning and shooting over to Joy's blog from there it got me thinking. In the past it was very hard for me to get into the studio. To be quite honest I just wasn't enjoying what I was doing. There's a lot of in between stuff and stages to making pots that aren't always glamorous or fun at all. My biggest issue, okay really two I think are these. One, I hate having goop on my hands. I don't like my hands being wet, or having sticky stuff on them. Even when I make bread or cook I can't wait to wash, and then dry my hands. It's not a phobia, I just find it gross. Can you imagine having this feeling and being a potter? I am finally, after working day after day for some time now, thankfully reaching a point where it doesn't freak me out as much.

I think my second issue that I was facing was fear. I have often had the habit in the past of quiting something before I became truly successful at it. I honestly think I avoided success which is another strange state to be in, because to be quite honest, I usually accomplish what I set my mind to, and accomplish it well. This goes back a long way. I remember being in fifth grade and during gym class we were running a race. A few laps around and it was me and Mike-and I was ahead. Probably not 30 feet from the finish line, I threw the race. It was just an automatic thing. I literally just threw myself to the ground like I couldn't go on anymore-which wasn't the case. I would have won. I think about that day occasionally still and wonder what it means, and more importantly, I wonder if I had allowed myself to cross the finish line that day if I might have later finished some other things as well.

I totally understand and agree with the difficulties of working in a studio alone. It is wonderful and difficult at times to be your own boss. And the thing I keep telling myself when I hear that little voice saying I'm not spending my time wisely enough, working hard enough, being productive enough, whatever the little voice feels like saying at the moment, is that one of the reasons I want to be a potter is so that I can be free. There is no point of being free from the grind of a nine to five, or three to eleven job, with a boss you have to answer to, or punching the clock, or having no creative freedom and just being a cog in their wheel, there is no point to being free of all of that, if I just create it all again for myself in my own environment.

Now I don't say this while I blow off work every day for the beach. I try to treat at least five, and often six days a week as if they are work days. I work in my studio at least six to seven hours, whether I feel like it or not. So as long as I am doing that, all those little voices can shut the fuck up. There's a difference between being self-disciplined, and self-abusive. There's this line from the Indigo Girls song, Closer to Fine, that goes ". . . and the best thing that you've ever done for me, is to help me take my life less seriously, it's only life after all". I think there is also a difference between not squandering your life, and taking things way too seriously. Everyone's got to work, and this is our job. But as self-employed potters we are so lucky in the freedom that we have, and we should relish that freedom, not berate ourselves for it.

That said, it is difficult working in a studio alone, and maybe that is one of the things that kicks up the voice. You don't get the feedback, and more importantly, you don't get the company. It is without a doubt one of the things I miss most working in my other jobs is the commarderie with the people I worked with. It is probably easier for me than maybe some other people because I truly love being alone, but even so I still crave human interaction once in a while. I think it's definitely one of the reasons I love participating in a pottery blog community. It is sometimes the only social interaction I have in a day (until Adam gets home, and then my day fills with social joy, the birds sing at dark, and all is right with the world of course). So I listen to a lot of NPR for company and when I need some tunes I punch a button on my Sirius and get lost in that for a while (if you don't already have sattelite radio you don't know what you are missing-at least in my area it is a mind saver).

Well, I suppose I could go on and on but I won't. I think we should all be a little easier on ourselves and remember to have some fun with this all. And take things seriously enough to get them done, but not so seriously that we miss out on the pleasure of being free.

I hate guitar circle

So this is what I spent today doing. Everything was really way too soft to finish yet (at least according to how I usually work) but I didn't want to make any new pots today. I have found that creating tall ovals with altered bases is difficult because I can not get my hand inside easily to attatch the floor and smooth inside. I'll have to give this some thought because I like the form. I did realize that I probably need to wait until I have attached the floor before I alter the rim shape to give my hand more room. So, I guess that's that.

I'm off to my guitar thing again. Sick of going really. Everyone takes it too seriously now. Like we're a band or something. I thought we were just a bunch of people hanging out and having fun and it's way less fun having it feel like school. I've actually been shushed a couple of times while myself and someone were talking. I'm not kidding. I think that's when I first started to metally back off the whole thing. I probably only go about every three weeks or so now. I have done, and still do way too many things in my life that I have HAD to do. Why choose to do something now that I don't have to do, and which makes me feel like I'm twelve again?

Keep On Keepin' On

I'm pretty sad this morning. If you remember from a few posts back I had an issue with one of my main glazes. I had mixed up a new batch, tested it and it was not good. So I made two new tests with my old yellow ochre, and my new yellow ochre and fired those with some other tests yesterday. Something is still not right. I could post some photos but this post is not so much about what is wrong visually but what is wrong with my heart. It's crushing. I've worked sooo hard and was finally turning the bend a little. I'm not giving up, but this is a real log on the path and now I've got to figure a way through or around. It started raining this morning and I was glad. I told Adam it was like a big warm blanket around my heart. Now it's no longer raining and I just want to smack the sun.

Serendipitously, I checked Emily Murphy's blog this morning and found her post on Ira Glass from This American Life. It's dead-on and I know these things already but I needed to hear it now and it really helped to turn my negative energy around a little. So I'm closing that gap but it's cracked open a bit. Maybe it is meant to be and the necessity to go down a different path could lead me to something really great that I never would have seen before. But for now, I am sad.

I'd rather eat cake than crap but I don't eat sugar

So, these are some of the events of my morning. I won't get into details but I suppose a little background information is needed. My patience for things that bother me is very thin lately. I think as a result of this medication I am on and just life stresses. There was a communication issue at work (there are frequent communication issues which I usually grit my teeth about) and so without naming names there is a person who is frequently rude to me. Sighs, annoyed tones of voice when asked simple questions that are necessary to my performing my job, etc.

This morning (communication issue #1 of the day (I actually received a sigh and the stomp of a foot because I answered the phone, I guess I was not tuned into knowing that she wanted to answer the phone-it's all very confusing since usually she is really annoyed by having to take a phone call-I can't keep up) So when communication issue #2 occurred I just snapped. Simple and to the point. I barely remember the events and could not recount them well in a court of law were I required to do so. One minute I'm standing there trying to help a customer on the phone and when I asked this other person I work with a question about the customers order and saw that posture, the look on her face and heard that tone of voice . . . I just snapped. I don't even know what happened to the box of jewelry that was in my hand. The poor customer on the phone. I'm sure they must have heard my profanity and experienced the lack of connection to a person on the other end of the line as the phone took its flight across the room.

My feelings on the event are this; I feel like I have a legitimite reason to have experienced the emotions that I did. As I said, this has been building for some time. But it's so inappropriate for a grown woman to behave like I did in a place of business. For that I was truly wrong. I'm still trying to decide if they were to want me to continue working if I even want to. I know no matter where you go it's the same shit on a different lawn. I've worked enough places to know this, but I still don't understand it. Working for someone else is hard enough as it is. We often have to eat so much shit. Why do we want to create an environment where we also have to eat each others crap as well? I work way, way too hard to have it be any harder than it needs to be.

I hope there was no injury. It certainly was not my intent to hit her with the phone and I hope I did not. I heard no glass breaking (I REALLY hope there was none). Well, if I don't go back maybe it's for the best. I'm not getting anywhere with my own work. Maybe it's time for me to jump in full time. Man, I don't feel so good about all this. Don't you hate it when you start to think that maybe you're a grown-up and then realise that you are still a child after all?

How many hours can you waste in a day and still call it productive?

(first, please excuse the rage you are about to witness. I thought about deleting this post to save myself from the peeks inside my tortured soul, but as a tattoo artist once said to me: it's who you were that day)

So, this is one of the only redeeming qualities of my day. To post photo of my cute grandson because this day has SUCKED!!!!!!. No new pots to show. A lot of new aggravation to show, so if you are sensitive to blood you might wish to avert your eyes. I promised my daughter, mother of said grandchild, that we would take any files from our old crappy computer and save them then wipe the hard-drive out and all that jazz and re-install and all that shmazz and give her the old computer. Okay. I started by 9:30 this morning, and it's now what? 2:30, 3:00? and I am still going. I want to smash things with very big hammers and scream very loud screams. Is it too early to bring out the LUKSUSOWA vodka or should I wait a while?I also have our guitar group meeting at my house tonight at 7:00 and oh yeah, I am a potter after all, and I have, what are those things called, oh yeah, POTS!!!! waiting to be finished while I f*** around on that computer.

My friend Caroline (am amazing sign painter in New Hampshire) said that computers are supposed to make our live easier, but instead bring incredible frustration and she is so right. I can't imagine life now without the internet, but sometimes I just want to smash! and smash! and crush! and obliterate! these things! Ug. If I were not so self-controlled and reserved in my emotions, I might express my utter frustration by suffice it to say that I am not pleased with the events of the day. Chow.

Naked in Uncharted Waters

"Create according to your knowledge of beauty with the knowledge that someday you will be understood."

This is a quote from the article "The Joy of Style" by Karen Terpstra in Sept/Oct 2001 issue of Clay Times. I've been paging through my old issues and I had underlined this sentence seven years ago. I must have been physic and sending a message to myself in the future. My work is in the process of taking a radical shift in the way I glaze my pieces. If you look back to June 16, Electric and Lovin It, you can get an idea of what my next kiln of pots might look like (sort of, those photos are just little test pots). But I can hear the voices in my head of well-meaning people I know who might be a little shook up by this new direction. "are you still going to make your old work? maybe you can do both? why are you doing this? (said with that just tasted something yucky look on their face) Hell, I'm not even sure it will work out. It's uncharted waters for me. But, I do know that I feel excited about my work and I'm actually looking forward to glazing (usually I consider it a bit of a drag). You never could have told me seven years ago or even one year ago that I would be following this path. I guess I am on two different paths. I have also been sprigging as well and was really happy with the results and the glaze combinations I began discovering. But they are the same glazes either way(down to four remember?) and so saybe I will dip my feet in both for a while. Or maybe I should just strip down naked and leap into this one pool of the shimmering water.

20 lumps of clay and a not so good day

Every time I try to make square covered jars they end up sucking quite a bit. I get really frustrated and destroy most of them and so now I have 6. Six little not so great-ish, not so square-ish pots. I don't know what I am looking for with these, but not finding it yet, that much I know. I went flipping through my back issues of Clay Times because I remember an illustrated article about making square pots from the round but couldn't find it. Maybe it's in one of my Ceramics Monthly. Who the * knows. For some reason I'm just not in a great mood today. So here's a story. I'll finish below.


So I go to the cable place (Time Warner Cable next to the liquor store, a FIIINE place if you don't mind interacting with robotrons) and they ask for our phone number (got it) name (got it) last four digits of Adam's SSN (um, what?) "I don't have that", I say. Well we need it. "You need his social security number for me to cancel cable? Don't you think that's a little intrusive?" It's our policy. "Well I don't have it. You have all the other stuff. I'm his wife." That doesn't matter. "What?" It's government regulation.

I try to call Adam but am unable to reach him. "Can I just leave this (the remote and cable box) here and I'll have him call you?" We can't give out our phone number. I feel like I've been dropped on my head. "You can't give out your phone number. Are you serious?" (I say these last three words with a slight valley-girl inflection) No we can't, but you can call this number. She hands me a card where I can reach a corporate answering clone. Store policy, she says again. "Okay fine, can I just leave this stuff here and as soon as I reach him I'll have him call." No. "I can't leave this stuff here?" No, she says again.

I am tired of pretending any longer that this conversation is rational. I pick up the box, checkbook, and remote and tuck the special little corporate contact card into my wallet. "You know," I say, "I don't expect you to care much because it's only 40$ a month, but when I tell my husband about this, he's gonna be furious and you're going to loose us as customers" (for this I receive a blank stare). I start to walk out, turn back around and say simply: "this is ridiculous" and then as I turn again to leave I drop my check book and bill onto the floor and so have to bend over while balancing the cable box, remote and my wallet, to pick them up from the floor. I wonder if this might have lessened the drama of my parting last words but then as I reach the door, I pause and turning only my head to aim my words with precision I say: "it's only cable you know", and walk away. I get into my car and carefully back out and drive away. No screeching tires, no slamming doors, no flipping of birds, just pure, dignified outrage.

So Adam WAS angry and called the corporate clone and canceled and we did have our revenge in a small way. He refused to drive up to return the cable box again, and so they are sending a postage-paid box for us to return everything in. They could have cared less we were cancelling and their cheerful parting words were: "is there anything else we can help you with today?" How friendly. How absolutely, condescendingly, corporately friendly. So now we have to switch from cable internet to DSL through the phone co. I'm not so sure we came out ahead here but sometimes we just have to prove a point.


Some sad clay worms recuperating from the abuse they suffered on the wheel and a beer which did not make me feel better one bit.

If no one hears a tree grow in the woods, should it keep growing?

I've been feeling a little frustrated about my blog. I thought it would be fun to write and an opportunity to share my work with family, friends, and hopefully strangers or other potters I might hope to meet someday. The sad reality is that it doesn't seem to be the case. My wonderful husband Adam (and my friend Ella from work) are my only constant readers. I've definitely become aware that I am sending this out into space. It's like this little sattelite up among the stars. It's pretty happy it's in space, but like Pinocchio, it just wants to be a real blog.So what do I do when what I am doing is meant to be shared and no one wants a bite?

Well, my first feeling is one of discouragement and the thought to just can it. What's the point? But, I don't have a web-site yet and I feel the need for some kind of prescence on the web. Perhaps I just post a few photos with my contact info and call it good? That doesn't exactly seem like the nature of a blog though. Should I be annoyed with my family and friends for their lack of interest? People have their own lives and I was told when I was little that the world doesn't revolve around me, and it may just be true. Should I be disappointed that out of the dozens and dozens and dozens of pottery blogs out there, many in their third and fourth years, that my little six-month-old pottery blog has not picked up national interest? Yah I'm disappointed, because my Mom did always tell me I was special, but I'm not foolish. I know I am but a small speckle of specialness that exists in the pottery blog world. So what to do?

Well, my wonderful and supportive husband Adam has asked me to not give it up, because he reads every day hoping I have written something new. So if only for Adam alone, I will continue. I do have to ask myself if it is worth writing if only for myself. If no one reads, is there a reason to type these words? I suppose the answer is if the act of creating is enough even if I am my only audience. I think I'd have to answer no. Part of my pleasure is imagining the response of another human being. And the less I can imagine that, the less fun it seems.

But for now there is Adam every day, and for now I guess that's good enough for me.

*disclaimer-the above information isn't entirely correct. In the interest of self-pity and writing a more interesting and succinct post I have left out the fact that my father has read several times, my mother twice, my brother twice and my sister once. I'm sure that these glaring omissions of facts may be pointed out to me otherwise.

Spinal Fluid 101

I went to the neurologist today. Still had a headache although not as intense as before and just overall crappy feeling. The good thing is that he seemed pretty confident as to what was causing it. Bad thing is that there's really only one or two things to do about it. He believes I have a spinal leak from my surgery. I had a spinal instead of general anesthesia and I guess sometimes the hole doesn't heal fully or something and your spinal fluid actually leaks out of your spine into your body. When this happens the pressure in your spine and around your brain (because they are connected) drops and your brain which usually floats in the spinal fluid starts to sink your head causing a lot of pressure. He said the pressure at the base of the spine is around 36 pounds when standing, and drops to about 6 when lying down which is why lying flat is better and standing upright would often make me feel as if there were a large action figure trying to kick it's way out of my head. So the solution to this is one: let enough time go by and it will go away or two: go in for another surgery in which you get a blood patch where they take some of your blood and inject it into your spine where you had the spinal. I guess this helps it to heal but is pretty invasive and of course, punctures the spine again. Since mine is already dropped in intensity I am going to try waiting it out for a couple of more weeks and he gave me something new to try for the pain that is often diagnosed for seizes and I guess helps nerve pain. So for anyone who has not followed this dramatic story this is about four weeks now of a constant headache, two of it pretty intense. Oh well. There are people worse off.

These pots are from the firing before last and are just okay. I was thinking about a lot of the pots I have in my seconds area (almost all the pots I have made thus far) and these are two of them. There is nothing inherently wrong with them except they are just not what I am looking for and they don't really represent the direction I am heading. Kind of like when you have a snack and you don't feel satisfied. You had the wrong snack and you still feel hungry. I just feel kind of empty about them but I can recognize them as moderately attractive. Many people do not understand this and think I am just too critical of myself and my work.

This line of thinking is incorrect. The first obvious problem with this is that if I am not critical (I think it's important to see this word more positively) and treat everything I make like it is successful, then I will never grow and find my voice. Just because something is okay does not mean that it speaks for me. I guess it is something you either understand or you do not. I think we are so trained in this culture to treat everyone and everything one makes as precious and special that we have often lost the skill of critical thinking and accepting failure as part of the road to success or just part of the road. You can't become emotionally attached to everything. You have to be able to let it go. Everyone and everything can't be a winner. So these are a couple of my not bad looking, but not what I am looking for pots.

Chow for now.

Listening Within

I loosely had a goal yesterday of maybe throwing 60 mugs. I got to 46 but I wasn't feeling so hot so not too bad.

I was reading something last night which I thought applied aptly to pottery making. I know in my own work it has been a bit of a struggle to give myself permission to take chances or try something new, worried that the result might not be successful, people might not like it, almost like worried about embarrassment or something. I've heard and read a few things that have really changed my way of thinking in the last few months.

One was on an NPR program and they were interviewing an artist whose medium was nails. That's all he ever used for his sculptures were nails. The thing I took away from that interview was a comment he made that by limiting himself to such an extent he became truly inspired and creative. I imagine once you think you are out of ideas of what to do with nails, is probably when you really start to get ideas. That's when I decided to get rid of a lot of my glazes and limit myself to four or five (I had twelve going I think). This is already having a noticeable, positive effect on my work.

Another thing I heard somewhere was the idea that no one had to see something you have made unless you make the decision to put it out there. That your only audience has to be yourself. That idea really freed me up to try new ideas because if they don't work, who cares. I don't have to sell it, I don't even have to show it.

I also used to believe that I had to make all these items. Not forms so much as items. I have been spending a lot of time going through my old Ceramic Monthlys and I have observed that the interviewer often will say something like: so and so's forms, or the forms so and so makes and I realized that I don't think that's it? How boring or whatever, on the contrary I found myself thinking how lucky and freeing and I realized one day as I was reading that there was no reason this couldn't be me. How enlightening! I can make whatever I want! I like making ovals, I like making cups, I like making bowls, I like making teapots and if those are the only forms I make for the rest of my life then that is my choice and it is okay. That is very freeing, to let go of the idea that you HAVE to do something, or that you SHOULD be doing this or that.

So last night I was reading and I thought this was very inspiring. The author is Erich Schiffmann and the book is "Yoga, the Spirit and Practice of Moving Into Stillness". He's talking about his experience writing the book and he says: ". . . that spontaneous intuitive revelation flows into your mind, when you pay attention inwardly, are receptive, and listen . . . to move into stillness in order to be guided from within, and then to be brave enough, and willing, to do as the within is prompting you to do-even when you cannot explain your behavior to yourself or others. In this way you will be an inspired, inspiring, and meaningful prescence".

As the Borg say, resistence is futile

Okay, I am breaking my own rule about not posting photos of cute kids and sunsets and I have been resisting for some time but have lost the battle within. Above is a photo of my daughter. Normally she does not have purple hair and cat-ears but I am sure there was a holiday she was celebrating. Below is my grandson from last fourth of July. His mother, the purple-haired girl, enjoys festooning him according to the holiday, superbowl, season (she puts shorts on him in summer and sweaters in winter-crazy). You should have seen him last Superbowl, for that matter you should have seen her. I didn't even know they made Patriots earrings but she managed to find some. If I didn't give birth to her myself I would be convinced she were not from my loins, we are so different.
So as an early July 4th posting here is Star-Spangled Baby.


I guess I should think of renaming my blog The Mindpot or something. Still battling the headache. I have taken myself off of the meds they had me on because they are not working and I can't even think too clearly anymore. Here is a list of every chemical I have put in my precious body in the last five weeks (post surgery to current headache): Tylenol, Ibuprofen, Ambien, Clonazepram, Immitrex, Keterolac, Oxycodone, Prednisone, Propranolol, Col-Rite, and Aleve. Yesterday I began taking Arnica Montana 30x but it is homeopathic so I'm not too stressed about that one. What a cocktail huh? That's just insanity. I am supposed to go back o the doctor again on Monday and he thinks I should have a Cat-Scan. However, during my last visit he said a Cat-Scan could be done but was more often than not useless so I question the need for one now. I fell asleep last night around 10:00 and it could have been a good solid nights sleep, except that I woke up at 2:00 and couldn't get back to sleep. I am incredibly tempted to take one of my Ambiens and sleep but am trying really hard to de-tox and drinking some cleansing herbal tea instead. I will endure the day like a zombie, do some more yoga and hope for sleep tonight. Oh yeah, I cold turkeyed caffeine today as well. This has it's benefits perhaps and liabilities. I never used to drink caffeine but a couple of months ago started drinking two cups of black tea every morning. Caffeine can trigger headaches. But, going off caffeine can also trigger headaches. Ay yi yi.

Taking Chances

These are three tiny (about one and a half inches across) pots also from my time in college. They were actually part of my thesis show to earn my BFA. They are glazed with "Shino" on the outside, and "Celadon" on the inside. The firing that these were in was the first time I was completely responsible for a firing.

The kiln held about 30 cubic feet and was gas fired (as opposed to the electric kilns I use now-although I hope to change that one day). I had a lot of pots in this kiln, and a lot of other peoples pots. Most of my pots were glazed with different Shino's and Celadon's (there are countless recipes for each). I had done a lot of research and learned that to really get a good firing, I needed to reduce (I can explain that later) like crazy. We normally fired pretty conservatively at my school, so this would be a different firing--and one I was doing alone.

So long story short I fired the kiln, about three days later (it takes a long time for a kiln that large to cool) we opened the kiln and I had my mind blown. It was spectacular. I could not have wished for better results and I was ecstatic and relieved since I think it was my last firing before the show. I learned a lot that day about taking chances with my pots. It is much easier to play it safe and not risk loosing any but also far less exciting, and you don't learn much that way.

Reducing is a method of firing whereby you intentionally starve the atmosphere inside the kiln for air. There are several ways to achieve this depending on how you are firing, but one large component is closing the damper down on the kiln, much like you would on a woodstove. It can be pretty exciting because flames will shoot out the peepholes of the kiln, or out the chimney in an outdoor kiln. The sight can be pretty impressive. As the atmosphere is lowered in oxygen the fuel now starts looking for oxygen where it can get it, and so turns to the glazes which causes them to change colors and create effects in all sorts of interesting ways. That's the short scoop anyways.