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Capable
I am capable. This is something I occasionally have to remind myself. Years ago during the baby-making months, I wasn’t allowed to do things like lift heavy weights, change the cat litter, eat lunch meats, float down a river in an inner-tub or stand on ladders. I also put pottery on hold during my pregnancies out of fear of the possible effects of the glaze and clay dust. Near the end of one pregnancy, I decided to install a shower hook in…
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Books for boys
This post contains affiliate links. Purchases made through my affiliate links give me a small commission to help run this blog, but don’t cost you any extra. This week my oldest boy turned eight, and the one thing that I caught myself surprised by was the gifts drastically changed. While previous years have brought Lego kits, this year brought books and gift cards for books. In fact, he and his second grade friends take pleasure reading to school every day. As…
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Will You be Intimidated or Inspired?
When it comes to following people on various social media platforms, I often feel conflicted when shown something amazing they have made or accomplished. Whether it’s a gorgeous clay creation, a fabulous outing a friend has taken her kids on, or a clever home renovation project, it can be a toss-up as to whether I will predominantly feel intimidated and insecure or whether I’ll be inspired. Which side of the coin I land on is completely dependent on my attitude…
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Setting aside ideal
I recently read a post that is recirculating this New Years, and the following line stood out: “If you find yourself wanting something month after month, year after year, yet nothing happens and you never come any closer to it, then maybe what you actually want is a fantasy, an idealization, an image and a false promise. Maybe what you want isn’t what you want, you just enjoy wanting. Maybe you don’t actually want it at all.” There are a lot…
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Meltdown
I was on track to have a load of pottery ready two days before Christmas, and then in the middle of firing, I heard a thud… the familiar sound of the fuse box. I went out to check the garage, and the kiln had shut off, but the kiln sitter had not tripped. It smelled like burning wires and plastic. I turned off the box fan and unplugged an empty power strip, and Joe flipped the fuse back over. There…
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Creekin’
