It's been a week. I must think of something to say. Something knitterly. Something relevent. Something with meaning. Eh. Forget it. I can't think of a single thing! Nothing new, novel or knitterly. Really. Seriously. And I am so lying. BUT I am playing my hand close for a few more days; until I feel safe and secure in my news I am not sharing.
I am taking a pottery class with the stellar Malea. A genius with clay. Porcelain. She's having a pottery sale this Thursday and Friday from 6-8 pm at her house. I'd give you directions, but she didn't say I could, so I can't. I like pottery, in fact I like it enough that if I ever had more time to devote to it, it might become the next big thing. For now I must curtail my Crafter ADD. I shall limit pottery acquisitions to those made in class or bartered from Malea. Isn't it beautiful?? I really love the Diva vases, but it occurred to me that I don't actually ever have cut flowers in the house. I kinda find them a bit depressing as they die and get thrown away. I am more a spa basket, cheese basket, hardy plant sort of girl. I say hardy because I have murdered more tender house plants than I can remember. And I once read about where all those lovely flowers come from, and it also made me sad. I no longer remember why. It's probably something I should know more about. I do remember why I don't like latex balloons. They kill birds. From the time my kids were tiny they knew all about latex balloons and plastic pop-can holders - bird killers we learned while on a home school field trip, and none of us ever forgot. Now when we drive by car dealerships in Greenfield and see them cutting their balloons free from the vehicles and letting them loose? We want to get out and hurt the people with the scissor. It is, or should be illegal. But who do you call? The balloon police??