Somewhere in a previous post I have uttered that I am not a blogger.  I still am not a blogger.  I lack the desire to regularly write, type, text about all things me and all thoughts that run through my head.  I know I have the ability to write witty passages on all things me and 3-4 people may care, including my dog, if she could read, but I don't have the discipline nor the energy to frequently go on about myself/ my life and attempt to build a larger group of followers/readers beyond the five that may glance at what I'd have to say. Just keep in mind that in the texty bloggy world we have upon us I can write run-on sentences and make up words if I WANT.  Moreover, I can sit here and re-read my correct or incorrect grammar and syntax and decide that it is fine because I want to.  Oh yeah, if those numbers are accurate then, 3-4 out of five ain't bad.

My last work day before summer started was Monday.  My neighbor, also in education, was out of school last Wednesday and true to tradition made it known where and when vacation was occurring, which was the very next day.  Today we briefly crossed paths.  After a greeting (a split second deviation from the task at hand in the back yard) I was reminded by my neighbor I "just got out."  I replied, "Monday."  What was unsaid by my neighbor (whom I was seeing for the first time in a week), but clearly the reason for the comment was YOUR LAST DAY OF WORK JUST HAPPENED AND I HAVE ALREADY BEEN ON MY FIRST VACATION AND BACK BECAUSE I GOT OUT DAYS BEFORE YOU.

While on that topic, I wonder why my other neighbor, who whines about the weather more than the average yinzer, hasn't said a word about my summer or my last day of school, recently.  The same guy who constantly comments on weather as a break from complaining about cold, rain, snow or all the above and asks if we had school or a delay (at the sight of a snowflake or forecast calling for subzero temps) has gone silent now that we (those in education) paid the piper by making up those dreaded cancellations.

Guess what?  On the last few days of school, I showed movies.  That is a comment directed towards all the haters (non-teachers) that envy my summer off as they sit in AC at their job or school nurses who sit in their AC while my classroom (among others) gets up to 85 degrees.

And guess what I did yesterday?  I went down in the basement to make pottery and instead cleaned and scrubbed (with vinegar) because I discovered water on the floor around the perimeter of the room.  Vinegar instead of bleach.  If you don't know why, then look it up.

PS- I took a summer job outdoors just because I felt like it, not for any other reason.

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Anon 85

Anon 85
Creature Spoonrests


Paths in Clay cover

Paths in Clay, a novel

Paths in Clay is a coming-of-age story about Jack, Allan, and Miller; three friends who return to the “palace”, a place where they studied Koh Loh ceramics, an ancient clay tradition passed on from an extinct culture.

When finished with studies, one must depart from the palace and venture out, not returning until they have established a direction or "path" as a clay artist.

Ten years have passed since they left their great Koh Loh Master Potter. Reminiscing about their days as students, Jack, Allan, and Miller embark on their anticipated return to the palace, during a ceremonial kiln firing and celebration - a time when the Master Potter’s former students, their students, friends, and friends of friends all come together to fire their pottery in several wood-fire kilns.

The journey takes them far from their humid tropical region home of the lower peninsula and delivers them to the bitter season of the snowy highlands. When the three men arrive, Jack is face-to-face with his palace-time girlfriend, Kirsten. She informs the three men that their master has grown ill. Amidst a celebration, among old friends, Jack, Allan, and Miller will discover the true nature of their friendships and complete one cycle of their lives and enter the passageway to another. The choices they make will forge ahead a renewed purpose as their roles in clay traditions confirm their paths; passing on Koh Loh clay to the next generations of potters.

family reunion







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