My Mug

Bali Stamped

This hand-built slab puppy had handles, one of which was knocked off when I was in the glaze room and too near the buckets! Turned around and *wham* ...missing handle. I knocked off the remaining handle and sanded down the nubs.

Then I dipped it in Millicent's Curtains (a green semi-matte glaze with a nice "break") and wiped off all of the glaze except what remained in the imprint from the old Bali wood stamp. Then I dipped it in Falls Creek Shino and glaze fired it. The piece developed a crack from either the forming process of when I knocked off one or both of the handles - I suspect the latter because the crack didn't show up until after the glaze firing.

It's still pretty.

Wearing Green

Utility Players

Have I told you Mom's favorite color is blue? This dark glaze has disappointed me before. Thanks to Laurie I knew to double dip it this time.

And thanks to Tina for the rim inspiration for the soup bowl. Not carved as well or as lovely as yours, my dear but I like the sponged Rutile and Louck's on the Williamsburg Dark.

How to Pack Pottery

This is why Julie rocks - and her stuff doesn't break. Eight pieces shipped in this stuff.

Frog Bowl

Large bowl with leaping handles - that thankfully stay put. It's an older piece that Mom loves - and it's one of my absolute favorites. The blue glaze on the interior is a bit too thick but the effect is nice.

Cloud Coil

I've probably made almost a dozen coil bowls by using a large round terracotta planting pot as a form. The first step involves cutting a round slab to fit the bottom while overlapping the upward curve slightly so the first coils can be incorporated in the sturdiest way possible. Making sure the coils aren't joined at a point of greatest stress (a corner or the bottom or top) is best.

If you could see "Val's bowl" better, which is an open, rounded square, you'd notice that the openings in the coils aren't located on corners because they would have tended to crack while drying or even in the firing process - I had a bowl crack in glaze firing after coming out of bisque perfectly whole. Even with a very long, two week drying period that piece did warp a bit so that the bottom isn't entirely flat (this can always be corrected with felt pads on the feet - add another on the "short" foot) and the piece can rock.

This one makes me very happy. It's surprisingly light. I took a long time smoothing the interior so that it's very consistent. The coils are small and didn't crack when rolled or applied to the form, they all coil in the same direction, you can still see them (this glaze can be opaque), the glaze didn't crawl or pool (too much) in the bottom, and while this light blue can be sort of boring (I like glazes that DO things) the texture of the bowl makes the end result more interesting. Happy early birthday, Mom! This is a huge improvement on the coil bowl I originally made for her that had some fractures and a less than perfect glaze result.

 

TEAPOT!!

Many many more to share in the days to come. Julie - I love you. My soul has ease thanks to my best femme friends and artists. I miss you all so much.

I Couldn't Say It Better

http://sunnyrisingleather.blogspot.com/2011/03/good-intentions.html

Beautiful, Allison.

Staged

http://tra.mlxtempo.com/Pub/EmailView.asp?r=92210284&s=TRA&t=TRA

Fauna

Num Num NUM

Palak paneer, salt sea trout with white corn meal, garlic and curry powder, cauliflower korma, wheat naan. Naam? 

Val's Bowl

This started as a thin square of Highwater redstone to which I attached myriad coils and small smooth balls of clay, shaped carefully to be sturdy at the corners and dried very slowly (2 weeks plus) to prevent cracking or warping. The coils took probably about eight hours to form and apply.

I used an square plaster form - with rounded corners - and left it on the form for 48 hours, but it was very well wrapped.

While it didn't crack anywhere, and it was flat when bisqued, the glaze firing still warped it and it rocks slightly on its feet - four tiny brioche shaped coils on each corner. I told my aunt to put felt on the feet to make it level and keep it from scratching her beautiful granite countertop.

I wanted to call to mind the iron railings on the porches of New Orleans and thought of savory steaming rolls wrapped in Battenburg lace. But the tomatoes look beautiful too.

I cannot wait for Julie (love you sistah) to send me the rest of my Sertoma pieces so I can post them here.



The Kids Are Fabulous

Who Knew?

Well apparently I did. I feel healthier. I can sleep at night without any artificial agents. I have an interview/job test in the town that seems to have a great studio for pottery on Monday. I am shaking off most annoyances like they are just that, instead of major disasters.

Everything seems like a major disaster when your plate is full of them. The old house gets flooring today - them cleaning - which marks then end of the staging (painting and new and neutral fixtures) and then it goes on the market at a very aggresive, if not ridiculous, price point. I hope it's so low that it spurs a bidding war but probably wishful thinking in this economy.

I only hope my most excellent neighbors get the same out of the process. I would hate for anyone not absolutely wonderful to live there and get the benefit of all that love. Not to mention the white peaches, cherries, blueberries, muscadines, figs, lilies, roses, mums, butterfly bushes, peonies, eucalyptus, iris, gladiolas, columbine, clematis, crape myrtles...

I hope they send pictures. And part of me hopes they don't.

They Left Most of the Trees

That's what my former neighbor told me. I am not sure I want to see pictures of what's been done to my soon-to-be former house.

I am also convinced I've left things so I sent an email checking with the stagers. First UnE check hit the account but no sign of the retroactive benefits.

I had a bad night of dreams and wakefulness and one of the cats is throwing up.

I Don't Know Where Everything Is

But I am definately where I am supposed to be.

Add a Queen Bed...

...A chair, ottoman, two side tables, 6 plastic lidded containers of cleaning/ bath supplies/bedding, a dresser, a nightstand, a wicker trunk, an Aerobed, four smaller suitcases/totes (2 aren't all that small) and the remainder of the foodstuffs and this is what I have.

And I wish it were less.

The auction people have been delayed until Thursday morning. This is going to be tight. I still hope to be on the road by early Friday so the house can be on the market and looking brand new by the end of the month.

Accepting any and all prayers and positive thoughts.

Thank You David

At The UCoNC. The unemployment payment situation has finally been fixed. Supposedly. We'll see.

Don't ever take advice from your HR person about what you need to report.

David was a little bit more than cranky. Dealing with that took patience. 

"Dude, YOU have a job." No matter how aggravating it may be David. YOU have a job.

I May Sleep for a Week

NEXT week.

Today? More packing. Is there no end to the stuff one can accumulate in better than half of a century? I cannot believe the things I've thrown away or sold. Even a magpie like myself realizes that things don't really even have a lot of sentimental value. The people never leave you. Things break, tarnish, wear out, fall apart, and in this day and age are obsolete by next week.

People we carry with us forever. They live in our hearts.

I dropped a rubber duckie (plastic actually) off for E-Rock (one of the people I will miss most from work) and he promised to send pictures of the new baby girl and the kids as they grow. I love Eric and would have hated to not ever see him again. But we all know that the best intentions we have about keeping in touch with coworkers once we've moved are just that, intentions. Absence doesn't really make the heart grow fonder, it really is more like "out of sight, out of mind."

The tires are rotated and the oil is changed.

I am waiting for bisque - a mug, a platter, a teapot, my last coil, and for four finished and glazed bowls yet to be fired. Lori will pack and mail them but I have to get the last pieces glazed. I should have stopped sooner. Pottery takes a month.

My birthday is Saturday. My best birthday ever.

For the 3rd Week In-a-Row

NC Unemployment Commission to me again this week:

"Your claim for the week of 2/12/2011 has been accepted. Please note that you will not receive a payment for this week in order to satisfy the one week waiting period required by North Carolina Law. If you need further information, please call the Remote Service Center at 1-888-737-0259."


REALLY? YOU DON'T SAY!? Swear swear swear. Three weeks in a row. AFTER filling out and sending back "No, my circumstances have STILL not changed. I am still unemployed and entitled to the money I've paid into the system FOR MORE THAN 30 FREAKING YEARS."

Here Comes Another Old Radio Tale

In the decades that I've been in the business, I've interviewed countless celebrities and rock stars, minor and major governmental figures, both local and national, and a wide variety of business owners who managed to "have something" (nudge, nudge, wink, wink, saynomore!) on various members of the sales staff -- usually it had to do with some humungous annual contract rather than some other nefarious and sleazy motive. But the freaking baker I interviewed last week, literally took the cake.
 
So our well-meaning time pig ushers this massive former CPA into the studio just before 7:30 in the morning. He'd apparently just finished the morning baking. This man, at first glance an admirable artisan who took two years off from his actual life to travel to France and study with the massively snobbish froggish cuisine fiends, is passionate about bread. Now, I am of the opinion that folks passionate about anything usually make for a good interview. "Usually" being the key word. Mind you, we're giving this dude an interview in MORNING DRIVE at about the best possible time -- for what is actually a very small ad contract. We were hoping that he would develop into a great business partner. He does make some damn fine sourdough.
 
The interview started with me introducing this individual and pointing out that he has recently reopened and returned to town. I explained where folks could find his shop and asked what types of bread were available (seeded, raisins, baguettes -- you get the picture). I then explained that good sourdough wasn't easy to find and asked him to explain why his was so flavorful without the overly sour taste that you can find in cheaper varieties. After he droned on for a full minute (a lifetime in our business, especially in morning drive!) about the differences and the superiority of his product, I redirected the interview back to the fact that the store had reopened in a new location and that folks shouldn't get his bread confused with less finely-crafted loaves. He told us about studying with those Jerry Lewis-loving food nazis (again droning on far too long, requiring redirection several times) and pontificated at length about how people in town shouldn't be gullible enough to buy inferior product made from (gasp!) packaged yeast.
 
Now I know a little tiny bit about baking sourdough. My mother had her own starter and made lovely crusty loaves for years while I was a small child -- and then thanks to her immense skill in the culinary arts, a not-so-small child, and then a strapping adolescent. So it was fairly easy for me to ask him the right questions and make remarks that hopefully would make the interview less than mind-numbingly boring to listeners who just didn't give two shits about bread unless it was anchoring the cheese to the turkey en route to the mouth. I mostly find it a vehicle for butter, myself. [2011 note: And now eat only multi-grain and not much of it.]
 
Needless to say, after six minutes I really thought the listeners had probably just about had it -- I know that he was told to expect no more than 90 seconds to two minutes, max. I'm thinking: "this guy's going to be thrilled!" So after naming him and the store again (and making sure I pounded home the reopening and the new location once again for good measure), and presenting him with a novel based on the premise of a young woman becoming a baker after a tragic life-altering divorce, I wrapped it up and got back into music. I haven't mentioned we were a music-intensive morning show? Well, we were. No long raps here about Christina Aguilera's nasty piercings or her lack of taste and style -- although the other morning I couldn't help but comment that J Lo and Ben had moved one step closer to divorce by announcing their engagement. [2011 me again: wow, this is old.]
 
Music safely playing again and the computer switched back to AUTO mode, I shook his hand and ushered him out of the studio and to the door. He seemed happy -- smiling and handing baguettes to all and sundry (or all and sundry in at that hour). But his pleasant mood was illusory.
 
The next morning when I got off the air and checked my voicemail, I heard his voice -- brusque and brief, name and number in a clipped recitation. When I called him back, immediately, he wasted no time in ripping into me.
 
"That was the worst excuse for an interview I have ever been subjected to. I've been interviewed by some lousy interviewers before, especially those idiot television reporters, but at least they didn't interrupt me constantly! I counted you interrupt me NINE times when I listened to the recording when I got back to the shop! There's just no excuse for that level of rudeness! And how dare you affiliate me with that stupid novel! Novels are mostly escapist drivel anyway and I can't believe you would connect me with something as useless as this trashy book!"
 
I must insert here that this was in no way some bodice-ripping romance. It was a very affecting story that explained bread making in some detail with a lovely story about a woman reclaiming her life after a surprising and bitter divorce. Hmmm. Maybe I hit a nerve?
 
Neil Young and Elvis Costello hung-over and with colds in a 8' by 8' room with a rabid wolverine will be interviewed on my morning show before Cad Rafferty, Baker from Hell, ever sets foot in the studio again. Have I mentioned that I interviewed a hung-over and cold-virus infected Pete Townshend? I was damn good. It was one of the first series of reunion tours. I do not suck at this.
 
This painful one-sided phone conversation continued for sometime. Quite some time. My face burning and my blood pressure dangerously close to meltdown level, I managed to choke out a dozen, or more appropriately a baker's dozen worth of "I'm sorry you feel that way,"s and an equal number of "that certainly wasn't my intention,"s, until he wrapped with the totally unexpected comment, "I could die tomorrow and just had to get this off my chest. I like you (!) and thought it would be helpful for you to know how I feel."
It wasn't. I hope he does.

[Enjoy - I did, now. Bastard]

Trailer Life in Northern Wisconsin

I once worked at a small northern Wisconsin radio station in a resort area that had very little rental property that was available for less than $800-$5000 per week. I was making what can only be called really shitty money. Consequently, I had to lease a very modest mobile home.


My mother's from the south. SO: tattoos and trailer parks just smack of white trash in my family... renting a mobile home was something I did with a great deal of social trepidation. I know better now.
 
The fear I should have been experiencing was of a much "earthier" nature. My two cats, umbrella cockatoo and I were settling down for an evening in front of the tube in my long, narrow abode -- which had a tendency to rock slightly in a good, stiff breeze -- when I realized that the vibrations I was experiencing were not from any significant air currents. But they were connected to the additional sounds being generated at the front door. Now, mind you, the front door of a trailer is little more than two pieces of rectangular aluminum with a inch and a half (if you're lucky) Styrofoam core and some hinges and a door handle.
 
My first thought was that one of my neighbors had tied one on and had decided to visit the new girl in town -- whether she liked it or not. I am not proud to admit that my mother's opinions of trailer park residents had rubbed off on me. That and previous experiences based on single woman living in small towns alone. Really not kidding about this one. Sigh.
 
Turning off the television so I could better gauge the quality of the noises emanating from the entrance, I tip-toed to the window beside the door and twitched the curtain aside and peeked out of the gap to see a black bear the size of a riding lawnmower trying to peel the outer layer of aluminum off of my door. Needless to say, my neighbors could hear my furious frightened shrieks and porch lights went on all over the park. The bear -- thank goodness -- hightailed it into the woods from whence he or she had come.
 
Later, my next door neighbor, Shelly -- a lovely (had to be) bottle-blonde woman with four children and more pets than I have ever had, cumulatively -- told me to keep my bird's cage really clean and to refrain from giving the cats anything but dry food. Only when canoeing in the boundary waters of Minnesota and Canada have I ever had to be as careful with food. Then we strung it ten feet off of the ground between two trees.
 
"The bears can smell the animals and their food right through them cheap doors," she said. "Better to be safe than sorry."
 
I immediately began looking for a new job in a bigger city. While nature nourishes my soul, I want a big strong door between it and me when relaxing after work.

(Inspired to post from my old blahgh - by the Lovely and Talented Noisy Plume)

Checklisting

When I have a huge task this is something that never stops for me - the list spools out in my head and in conversations with my mother and anyone else that will listen. My mail has been forwarded. My 401k has been rolled over and an amount to cover the flooring, paint, landscaping, and cleaning should arrive Tuesday, with one business day to show up in my account. Since I will be on the road when the work starts the stagers have to have individual contractors checks in hand.

This morning I snuck around and topped off my neighbors trash barrels - pickup is today and I have an overfilled can for the fourth week in a row and could fill it three more times. I skip the families with more than one child in diapers. Obviously.

 Next week I'll ask Shannon to place it back by the house. Kenny and I should be gone before pickup. She's going to be taking on the items left in the fridge then and her lovely men and I will form a bucket line to clean out the attic today - after 2p. That will get me a few more boxes and someone in need will pick the rest up for free when I post them on Craig's. It will also save me a couple hundred dollars in contractors/cleaning. They will have enough to do! Shannon had called on Tuesday when the auction people were here to ask me to have them do it after dark because I was making her cry.

The realtor (Mandy not Mike) arrives with the lockbox today at 11:30 and then I'll run to Sertoma to glaze and pickup. The back bedroom has a cat carrier, the long rifle, the airbed and the art chest (wrap it in duct tape, keep it upright and it's good to move on its own). The 2nd contains another carrier and 2 plastic crates - one full and one ready for the guest bath contents/toiletries.

My bedroom has a bed, dresser, trunk, bedside table, lamp, phone and crates - and still way too much clothing which is being separated into "pack for use" and "pack for storage." I will put the stored clothing into trash bags - heavy duty, picking them and more tape and maybe another wardbrobe box up today - and then boxes since the facility isn't AC-ed. Clothing will go on the truck first so that it loads into storage last for access. There is a wardrobe box without a hanger we will use for bagged bedding on the final morning.

The living room and dining room still have things for pickup by auction - as does the upstairs hallway and the front porch. I add to those stacks all the time. And subtract in my head the things I feel will make living easier in the two days I am in a virtually empty house. The DVR goes to FL in my vehicle since they require the disc back. Grandma's chair, ottoman and its pillows and sheepskin stay. I'll hook the DVR up to the 15" teevee in my bedroom (on the nightstand) when the folks take the Sharp Aquos LCD on Tuesday.

I am trying to decide if I should take time next Tuesday or Wednesday (2:30p last haircut by Erin - thank goodness she had a cancellation) to go clean out the storage facility and reload that stuff into the living room - I will if I have the time. It will save Kenny and I time on Thursday.

I've removed and trashed the window coverings that were beyond cleaning/repair, laundered keepable window sheers, piled 'not horrible' sheers in the living room for wrap and pad - left some up for privacy until next week (I like layered sheers for diffused light and privacy instead of heavier draperies) and made mental note of where the rodent poison is for storage in Florida. Hope I remember!

I have crated a good portion of my bath supplies. I am appalled at how much I still supposedly NEED. It's disgusting. Clothing, makeup, "beauty" products - eesh.

I will have a 5x10' space in Florida for $25. The woman who runs the place is from Butler, PA (!) and only takes cash but promised she'd hold me a place for next Friday (they are open from 10a-1p) but she's aware we have the truck until Monday (Heather, best birthday present ever) and I have her cell in case I need to leave her a message there.

There is so much done - and yet, so much more to do and I find myself overwhelmed with gratitude for all the people who've stood up and helped. And tired at 10am. Both the paid professionals and the loving volunteers. Stuff really doesn't matter or count at all. It's loving hearts and helping hands that are precious. Know that everyday. Know that we are surrounded by more love and care than we know and that it rises up to meet us when we falter. I am becoming gradually calmer and more serene. That whole money thing was huge. Thank you Uncle Mark.

Adding: Trash pickup northside of street done! SO I just ran out and filled the trash can again and dragged it across the street. Woot!

Last Snow New Beginnings

I woke to a bright white world. My last snow. But signs of change are in and all around me. I am hopeful and intend to soar. I can't imagine missing this cold world right now. Not a single part of it.