better than reportingly

apparently, the bottles are coming around. after writing a highly technical and detailed explanation of why, i decided to spare you the agony of boredom and just say that i changed clays. it is working.
and at long last, it rains. it has been raining since last night, and even the air is soggy. i am loving it. the wilted redbud tree outside my window is again stretching out and up. water is beading in bright drops on leaves that brush the screen. the air is cool and smells of wet dog. (not really) my house is warm with the smells of after school snacks of popcorn and brown rice. it looks as though we may be in for the weekend, as the car is not accelerating over 25 mph, and it is forecast to rain a good bit. this is okay. i will take the back road to greenlife and stock up on groceries, hit blockbuster and get a new movie or two, and the kids should be good until sunday afternoon. i will try to throw pots. we will see exactly how far i get. between kids and dog, it is a little like trying to read in the bathroom at mom's on a sunday.
wish me luck.
lovepeace
heather

less than stellar

hmmm. heavy. lumpy. graceless. not quite optimal. not quite the nadir of my ceramic efforts, but certainly my most recent abject failure. bottles. how i hates them. but it is a good hate, actually. i have not failed so miserably at something outside of a relationship in some time. it almost feels good to be angry at myself for not being able to figure it out. i have tried everything that i know how to do, even asking my dearest teachers for help. nada. they are more than willing to help, but i am stuck. almost literally. there is a pound of clay stuck in the bottom of my bottles, and i have to get it into the top. it doesn't want to move. i am unable to make it. and so i throw bottle after bottle and cut them in half. this is not helping me to fill the soda kiln. this is not helping to fill laura's west a-ville kiln. but when i am done, i will make a whole load of good bottles.
and to add insult to not so serious injury, i lost half a kiln load yesterday. the pyrometer quite, the interiours are lovely, ooo... i fell asleep. goig to bed.
tomorrow is another day, scarlet. go clean up and away to the ladn of morpheus.
lovepeace
heather

notes from the front line

they have acquiesced to my demands! the kitchen has been tidied. the masses have been fed. a new contract is in place. if the kitchen is, shall we say, less than optimal, they have half an hour from the time i cross the threshold to get it that way. otherwise, i go to rosetta's for a cup of soup, and they stay home with the peanut butter. i think it sounds fair.
we'll see how long it lasts.
lovepeace
heather

mom goes on strike

i know my mama wanted to do it. (she actually did it successfully several times.) my grandmother probably wanted to do it. i am joining the ranks of the disgruntled rank and file. i am on strike. there has been a pot half full of soy sauced rice in the sink for a few too many days. leftovers in rapidly expanding containers are beneath cutting boards and frying pans. and then they made cookies. how many moms have left the house as their teenagers prepared to bake, only to turn and say, "clean up after yourselves?" raise your hands! mine is up! and so is the proverbial jig. this beleaguered lady of the house has had enough. i am not cooking until my children wash the dishes. i put every last dish in the sink, replaced the minor appliances, and wiped down all the surfaces. it actually looks fairly decent. lots of workspace, not a thing out of place. but the big knife that i use to chop all of our vegetables is pinned beneath three saucepans, a cutting board, and a frying pan. those saucepans come in handy, too, when you want to cook dinner. tonight was night one. they did not go to bed without dinner, as i am certain that at least some of that overflowing pile were used in the pursuit of semi-standard nutrition. there were eight eggshells on the counter and an oily frying pan. somebody ate something! they always do. dr. welty told mom when we were children that when we were hungry, we would eat. (never a problem for me.) the little known corollary is, "when they are hungry, they will clean."
we will see how long it lasts.
lovepeace
heather