Sunday, April 23, 2006
I turns out ceramics should be labeled some sort of contact sport. On Tuesday (oh, so long ago), I managed to get a handle on the whole 'there's clay going in circles in front of you - you are better than the clay, don't let it defeat you' issue. I might not be better than the clay, but I think that we have reached a bit of an agreement, so we're on rather equal footing for the moment. However, now the stupid wheel is jealous and took it out on my hand. It's like Xtreme rug burn. Layers of skin were so slowly removed that I didn't notice until afterwards when the clay (parts of which had become remarkably leprosy-like as it dried on various locations) had been cleaned up. Sure enough, by the next day it was bright pink, by Thursday it had a striking resemblence to the attached photo. I probably will handbuild rather than throw this week so I don't aggravate whatever healing is still going on. So there's the injury watch. On the bright side, I managed to throw two items. One which most likely will turn into a bowl of some sort; the other's best hope is as pencil holder. I was aiming for vases.
I was at a library conference Wednesday through Friday. I had brought my beautiful laptop with me, but was unwilling to pay the RIDICULOUS price of $9.99 for one days access to the hotel's Wi-Fi, and thus had to content myself with the public access laptops for attendees. Needless to say, that didn't inspire me to much communication whilst away. Sorry. It's so invigorating to go to those things. Until you just get tired. I kept expecting to see people I know, forgetting momentarily that I wasn't in Michigan, where I would run into people I know at such a conference. It does lead me to admitting that I constantly see people who, for just a split second, make me think that they are people from home. So either, everyone out here is a clone, or I just miss all of you enough to put your characteristics on complete strangers. Although, crazy is always a possibility.
Pat an I were able to catch the standby flight on the way home, thus arriving two hours early (yea!). This meant I got home early enough to hear my upstairs neighbors have sex. Yep. I flirted with the idea of taping a note to their door saying, "Please move bed six inches away from wall, and try not to scream so much. Thank you, your Neighbor." I didn't but, you'd better believe I will next time. I won't be like James and the airhorn. ;)
OH - Rachel E. and I have brought our Twilight obsession to a sad, yet comical point (you are SO not alone, Kristy). We each spent an obscene amount of time on the MySpace account where readers pose questions to Stephenie Meyer and occasionally she comes along and answers those questions. She even posted another excerpt there. Also, if you haven't noticed, they have released the cover of New Moon with a teaser blurb.
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Having lived in far too many cities, I can tell you that this momentary "recognition" problem never gets better. Soon you will become used to thinking "Is it possible that I really know that person? Would it be from Michigan? From here? Is it feasible" every time you look at someone. And thanks for scaring me away from my lifelong dream of learning to throw pottery. Being as I'm clumsier than you, I'd probably end up with just one arm!--Cory
having lived in far too many apartment communities, i can tell you that the loud sex neighbors never get better. they also seem to follow you wherever you go. Sure they may look different but they don't sound different.
You don't know how many times I wanted to attach a similar note to my neighbor's door at my last apartment complex. I mean seriously, do they not know that walls are THIN?
They know the walls are thin but sometimes you just cant help it.
I think you can now do laundry at any time of the day or night. I you have to listen to sex, they can listen to the washer.
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