Saturday, January 21, 2006

Hobbies & Hankies

Well, I got to take my bisque out of the kiln while it was still 117 degrees (cool enough to touch by hand, but Oh!, so toasty!) I was very pleased with the results, even thought my elephants had broken ears. It was so cool to see the clay turned white, and nothing else broke that wasn't broken before it went in, which means I at least have SOME technique down. I also got some wax resist, latex resist, and kiln cement from her (along with a face mask the day before.)

I was so excited I showed off my first mug, which I'll keep for myself as a reminder of my journey, and I still liked it the best, to my neighbor and my in-laws at a birthday party last night. The one mug that just had a chipped ear was my second favorite, and perhaps best done technique-wise, so I'll be able to exchange it with the group.

But I am so exited that my ideas that I couldn't have drawn on paper if my life depended on it, and wouldn't have been possible with polymer clay, are not permanently etched in time in a medium that has been around sine the beginning of time. It's an awesome feeling!

I wouldn't mind carving in wood, or stone. But I can't take away from something to reveal the art within. I can only build up to what I see in my head.

But speaking of of wood cutting, Boom braved the garage and went back to his own version of Lincoln Logs today and is still out there finishing them so the kids can have them no later than tomorrow morning. I'm very proud of him, though for the first time somewhat nervous that he's out there. My dad worked with saws all my life, and never once got seriously hurt. (Actually, I don't think he's ever been seriously hurt in any way...) So I never thought to worry. Now that luxury is gone, but I'm glad he's managed to work past it and enjoy himself again.

And, hey, that means I'm this much closer to him building my wheel! I'm not ashamed of ulterior motives!

But our weekend has been sidelined in part because Rugger's come down with a nasty cold that has him clinging to me most of today, and sleeping only in fits the last two night, with last night being so bad that only me holding him helped him at all, which meant no sleep for me. You'd think with co-sleeping that I wouldn't mind holding a child, but in truth I don't like to touch anyone while sleeping and hate it if they are facing me and breathing. Paranoid about breathing in too much CO2. So while I held him and he'd finally fall asleep, I'm doomed to try and lay him down beside me, where he then rolls over to be as close to me, so I slide him over and try to be at his back, and he rolls around again. And this is repeated until the morning when he wakes up crying, and then continues to cry, nurse, and sleep the rest of the day.

At least he ate supper just now, but I dread tonight yet again. This is one of the many reasons I am not planning on more kids any time soon, if ever. I couldn't deal with this and being pregnant, or nursing. As it was, Pumpkin was asking for attention all day and I couldn't help her, and she of course wants ME, not Daddy, just like Rugger does. And there's only ONE me...*sigh*

Thursday, January 19, 2006

That's the Way the Clay Crumbles

Well, I guess every potter experiences disappointment during their never-ending pursuit of clay and it's mesmerizing qualities. But I had hoped that at least my first try would be tested IN the fire, not before.

The Yahoo Groups I'm in (Pottery Basics) decided to do a Mug Exchange, which I was so excited for. I knew my potter friend was going to do a bisque firing soon, and so I started making some mugs right away. I came up with the idea of an African mug with an elephant head with it's trunk as the handle.

So I stated wedging, rolling, cutting, scoring, slipping, smoothing, attaching, wetting, and drying. I trashed 3 mugs before they were even done, and kept 5 altogether (one which probably should have joined the trash heap.)

So for a few days I admired my elephants, proud that they didn't completely resemble a mud heap assembled by a toddler. I would at least be able to give a decent, if not perfect, mug to the exchange.

Of course, there was the kiln issue. Maybe a handle would crack or break off. Or worse. But I didn't let that worry me. I figured they seemed pretty strong and I knew I did most of the work "correctly," so they SHOULD come out of the kiln okay.

But then I had to get them ready to transport over to my friend's house. I took pictures with my neighbors professional digital camera "just in case" and then tried to pack them as gently as I could with bubble wrap. Well, I broke one thing on one of my sculptures, but no biggie. I fixed it, knowing it might not hold but not too concerned, since it was the mugs I really wanted to be perfect.

So I drive over to her house the next day, and as I unpack my mugs, the first one's ear is broke on one side. I hadn't even realized that even gently wrapping them had damaged them. As I unpacked the rest, I kept hoping that at least ONE mug was still intact. It wasn't. They all had damaged ears. I was so down, but my friend just said we could fix it later with epoxy. I didn't want to fix it. Truth be told, if I had the time to fire more, I would. I want good mugs, not broken mugs.

But now I know that greenware is not just fragile when bumped, but fragile in general. It's amazing, actually. You have this piece of bone dry pottery sitting on your shelf. It looks real. It feels real. But it's just a pile of dust shaped into a mug, or sculpture, or something. Add water and you get slush. Drop it and you get a pile of dust. Bump it and it shatters.

It's almost like magic that adding a thousand degrees of heat to this same pile of dust will transform it to a strong piece of pottery.

And yet, mine didn't get a chance to be transformed. They were put to the fire without being fixed. And now I have to decide if I give away a less than perfect mug. (the folks at Pottery Basics are being very kind and say they'd still love one, bless their hearts.)

But it pains me to even give it. I wanted a GOOD mug, not a broken one. I want my own kiln hooked up. And my wheel, while they're at it. Summer can't come soon enough.

Here are the pics of the bone dry greenware the night before disaster. The mugs will turn out white after firing, then I'll underglaze paint them and then add a clear glaze over it.







I just hope that the rest of the firing went well. I'm expecting to find out tomorrow...

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Indian Summer Thaws the Emotions

As I write this, the weather is gorgeous. It feels like Spring and the sun is out. My heart wants to soar. But like many other such days, there are thoughts that snag me and hold me down. Thoughts I'm not even sure are okay, but I don't want to let them go. Not yet, anyway.

I don't know why, but on days like this I find my thoughts straying to Indian Summer days back in the Steel City. I most often recollect my trot down to the "T" station, down the hill, the many steps, and the platform. And other times I recall the jot home - up the hill and stairs, or up the incline and over the hill, past shops and apartments and the old shut down high school...I remember feeling not a care in the world. I was confident, comfortable, and content.
Why do the trees and fields not excite me the way sidewalks and glass windows did? Why do I enjoy the silent glow of city lights and not the empty light of the moon on a clear night? Why do I even long for something I know I cannot have? I have never loved another man, but I cannot help feeling that this is what it must be like...to have loved another once before but know you can never return.

I know that it wouldn't be the same. Even at the end it wasn't the same. I missed downtown, I missed not driving, and I missed walking everywhere. I missed my friends and going to school. And I know I don't want my kids raised in the city...at least, I don't think I do. But many times I think of all the places we could go and all the things we could do that aren't even available here in our rural dwellings.

Some people dream of sipping tea on an old porch swing. I don't mind that, but I'm more of a Starbucks person (if I were the kind who drank tea or coffee.)

And then there's the friendship thing. I'll get into why this came up later, since most days I'm able to push it way down until I forget it's there...

WHY is it I don't have a great Christian friend to do things with? A friend who wants to and sets aside time to get together at least every other week. Who can encourage me in my walk with God, and who actually understands me as a person. I guess I am lucky that Boom is all those things. He is my best friend and so much more, and I'm glad he truly "gets" me. But I want a GIRL friend, a mommy friend. Someone to joke with, cry with, stay up late and talk with. I know that "it's hard when you have little ones." But I don't buy that. I've made efforts - I've made the time, and I've made the phone calls. But I seem to have more time and more desire than anyone else, apparently. Or maybe I'm just boring and desperate, I don't know.

I have friends, per se. But they don't know the whole me. They don't save a place for me at get togethers. They don't call me up just to chat. The don't even invite me over. I mentioned it at a Bible study meeting I just joined, and as we discussed it, I thought, "Don't any of you even realize that I'm begging, pleading, here...and not one of you is volunteering to be a friend to me." They tell me I have to make the effort and that I need more than one friend, etc. Yet not one offered to be another friend to me.

What is it about me? Have I changed that much since becoming a mom that no one wants to be around me? The only mom's I had been friends with until they left me cold and crying with a newborn were women who were always taking from me...my time, my advice, my pity, whatever. They complained about spouses, boyfriends, etc. I listened, I felt better about my lot, but I got no encouragement for myself. Nothing to take home to keep me warm.

I truly want to give to others. It's what I used to do well. But I feel like I've given so much that there isn't anything left. No one's filled MY love tank. My husband can only do so much and hear the same stuff so many times. I get tired of telling him about it over and over. I want someone who can go shopping with me and tell me what looks good on me. I want someone who will go to a movie with me and discuss it afterwards. Someone to go to the park with, someone who trades days doing playgroups at our houses, someone who sees the world in a similar way as I do.
Apparently it's too much to ask.

Anyway, this Bible study is called Apples of Gold, it's by Focus on the Family, and Renewing the Heart, written by Betty Huizenga.

At first I was really excited. It's a class that teaches you how to cook, and incorporates a Bible study, and you learn how to open up your home and be good at hospitality. And since I discovered through a Networking class at our old church in Edinboro that I might have a gift for hospitality (which makes sense being as I love being around people, and I love entertaining) I thought this would be perfect.

Well, we had a good time, until the friend issue was brought up. But there was one thing in the study that didn't jive with me. And after I got home and skimmed through the rest of the book, it looks like many more things won't jive with me.

I don't know if it's because of my tendency of finding fault with things, or if it's something else, but now I'm not looking forward to hearing in the other classes all the stuff I'm not doing "right." With this book, frugality is almost out, looks are VERY important (which just doesn't jive with me), and she puts out the idea that if you don't do things just so, you won't really be honoring God when you entertain people in your home.

So now I'm wondering if A)I DON'T have a gift of hospitality after all, or B) if once again someone is taking an idea from God and adding their own ideas but it makes it sound like God is saying it, if that makes sense.

Similar to the way I see Dobson sometimes. I appreciate his stance on the family and Christian values, but there are so many things that I do as a parent, or don't do, that he basically says are being lenient and even detrimental (his word, not mine) to the development of my children. I disagree, and it angers me that people may think that GOD wants us to raise our children in a certain way, when in truth it's just Dobson.

For example, it's obvious that the author does not do a family bed (or room, as is our case right now) and that's okay, but she talks about how to make the bedroom a sanctuary to retreat to, and to have a lock on the door, etc. Well, our kids are in the bedroom, it's relaxing enough for us, etc. Same with my looks and that of my house. My husband is fine with both, and says so (Yes, I do ask him.) He doesn't mind me wearing sweats, as he wants to wear them at home, as well. He's more affectionate with me in the morning with bed head hair and "kitten" breath as he says, than when I'm all dolled up. Call me lucky, but my point is that I don't think making things look pretty all the time is necessarily a Godly thing. Not a bad thing, by any means, but not necessarily a command, if you will.

Especially with all my Crunchy Mamas and Unschooling ideas....which are SO far from outward looks and neat homes....I'm trying to find what I think is a good balance, and the minute I accept that natural is okay, I read this book and think, "great...so now what do I do?"
They used the example of what if Christ walked into your home...truth be told, I wouldn't buy a toothbrush in case he forgot (it happens.) If I don't have a mirror so he can see the back of his head, I'm sure he'll live. I'll have clean sheets (pretty, maybe not) and a fresh bar of soap. But to be honest, I wouldn't change anything else in my home because I'm pretty sure He'd be more interested in ME than my house.

Maybe I'm wrong (it's been known to happen.) I don't know.

And then I think about the fact that the author got this great calling from God to do this book and class, and I wish that God would speak to me like that. Because I feel that I'm supposed to do SOMETHING with my love for people. And now with clay, I may have found a way.
Similar to what she does, but focused more on the people (she says it's a pampering for the women, but when you feel guilty about how you do things, the pampering seems more like a scam...) I've thought of having a Clay party of some sort (what to call it, I don't know.) Eventually if it got going I'd have to charge for the materials and firing time, but at first I'd do it for free. I'd invite all my friends and let them play in the clay, showing them a few tips. Then they leave their pieces and I fire them. Then they return to paint their pieces, and again I fire them for them.

My idea is that somehow we just let our barriers down and talk. Really talk. About anything and everything, and I make some new friends. And I could actually incorporate a study into it, since it's pottery and the Bible has several verses about God being the potter, us the clay, and you can come up with so many cool allegories from that alone.

But then I wonder if it's just a stupid idea instead of a seed planted. And by criticizing another's obvious success with another similar program, maybe it's just jealousy.

So today I just kept thinking. And wishing. And hoping. And maybe someday I'll sort it all out, or it will all one day come together and be clear. But until then, I collect all my thoughts and store them once again in my mental Hope Chest, to be pulled out on another day such as this. When the warm breezes begin to blow on the parts of my that have grown cold...

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Toddler Logic

Whoever thinks proofs in geometry are hard to figure out, they should try reasoning with a three year old:

At bedtime in our bedroom, tucked in and waiting for both kids to fall asleep. Pumpkin has a sippy cup which I tell her to drink just a little from so she won't have to go pee again...

"Mommy, can I have a drink?"

"Yes, you can have a drink."

Pause.

"Mommy, can I have 'too much'?"

(stifling laugh and a little irritation since it's late) "No, just drink a little bit, then go to sleep."

"I am asleep."

"No you aren't."

"Yes. I am!"

"No, you AREN'T! If you were asleep you wouldn't be talking."

"I'm not."

"Yes. You are."

"No I'm not. "

"Just close your eyes and go to sleep."

"I already did!"

Sunday, January 01, 2006

The Accident That Almost Was

Well, Christmas was good this year, with the exception of too many toys once again. I swear that they have gotten combined 50 to 100 toys this year alone (or last year, as it's officially 2006 now!)

Anyway, we had a good break, good visit with my family etc. And things WERE going great on our return, until Boom decided to tempt fate...

Boom was excited about being in his barn/garage thing out back, with a fire in the old stove and music on, happily trying to carve out some of his own version of Lincoln Logs since the kids got some for Christmas. After a few prototypes, he brought in his first perfect pieces, smiling like a school boy. I went back to my cleaning and rotating of toys hoping to get rid of a least a FEW...

Next thing I know I hear Boom screaming outside (I was upstairs and could still hear him from the closed windows up there.) I immediately thought of the table saw and my heart stopped and my stomach churned. I flew down the stairs where Boom was still yelling in agony and I asked what happened. All he could say was, "Help me!"

Now, I don't know how you are in emergency type situations, but I am as good a a lump of jello, only I don't even taste good. I basically panic, cry, and freeze up. So I asked him what I was supposed to do, was it a "911" type of thing, etc. He just kept groaning and holding his hand in the sink, which I wasn't about to go near.

Eventually he was able to get out that he needed something to wrap his hand in (I know, I know, how could I not know?!?!?) and luckily I could tell there wasn't much blood. But what I wouldn't have given to have something to help with the pain. A shot, a pill, SOMETHING. I thought that if only he were in labor I could help him breath, and how much more obvious to me it was that labor pain is not REAL pain in the sense of something being wrong...

Anyway, he confessed that he thought he lost his fingers, and wasn't even sure until he looked in the sink himself. He had shut the saw and radio off and run into the house. Luckily, his fingers were all there, though how bad we weren't really sure.

We wrapped them and to cut a long story short, he eventually went to the ER that night to make sure that he was getting it clean and wrapping it right. They couldn't do anything for him since the skin was just tore up pretty deep, but they cleaned it and gave him a script for antibiotics and a bad shot of antibiotics. So at least hopefully we won't have to worry about infection. I usually don't care for antibiotics, but in this case I didn't mind. Two of his fingers may never look the same again, but they are there, and for that we are thankful.

We were both shook up pretty bad, and Boom will be wary the first few times he uses anything sharp again, but we are glad for what DIDN'T happen.

So, we now look forward to a New Year full of possibilities, uncertainties, adventures, and probably a few tears. We are thankful for the blessings of God so apparent in our daily lives, and we are content. I don't know what this year will bring, but I pray that God will give us what we need through both the ups and the downs, and that we may learn ever more to depend on Him and show those around us the LOVE of Christ, and that we may ourselves be free from the guilt that binds so that we don't place guilt on others.

A Happy New Year to you and yours, as well.