thirty eight

It's my birthday today!

Two things of note happened today to mark the occasion. Firstly, my OTL spoilt me rotten - every meal an extravaganza, flowers, pressies, walks along the river, lots of love. So rotten, in fact, that my expectations of what a day could be like are now completely askew. I'm worried I might throw a tantrum tomorrow morning when things return to normal. It's possible.

Secondly, on waking and realising I am now 38, I immediately decided to adopt an aggressive form of denial so that I don't have to admit to myself that I am now in my "late" thirties. Given I don't feel any different from yesterday, or last year even, I think this is the most reasonable course of action.

I'm particularly pleased to see that I've acquired maturity and wisdom (threatened tantrums and severe denial, as but two examples) with this new year. It augurs well for the days and months to come, don't you think?

Hope you've all had a lovely week.

I'm off to take a tiny smidge of gluten-free rhubarb cobbler and my OTL to bed, ending a lovely, lovely day.

here

Hello, lovely folk.

Let's just smile knowingly at one another, nod understandingly, and acknowledge, with little to-do, that it has been a while between posts. And then let us all move on gracefully. Like swans.

I know many of you have been waiting patiently for the moment when the major upheavals in my life stopped outweighing the peace I needed to gather my thoughts for blogging purposes, and I do believe we are close to that moment. Hurrah! We are now safely on the other side of moving house/province/job etc. and are beginning the slow process of making London, Ontario our home.

I had grand plans for the move, and expectations about timelines for unpacking and settling in that would, in hindsight, make even the most miraculous of miracle workers laugh loudly. That is why, three weeks into our arrival here, we are only fully set up in two rooms (the kitchen/dining room and the bathroom) with all the other rooms trailing behind in various states of disarray. Many rooms are functional, but their dominant aesthetic is one that heavily employs what I like to call The Exploding Box motif. It's not as stylish as it sounds, would you believe.

Exhibit A. My studio.

In my defense, I'd just like to say that this particular Exploding Box, which sees all of my creative life strewn rakishly across all available flat surfaces in the room, was "helped" along by our moving company. While the brochure promised packers (and unpackers) in neatly ironed uniforms treating your prized possessions as if they were rare and priceless artifacts from a lost civilisation, in reality we got the Lads Wiv' Tattoos (barbed-wire-around-the-neck kind of tattoos) who, while courteous, polite and hardworking, just wanted out of the there as quickly as they could and treated much of our stuff like rugby balls - designed to be thrown, fallen on, drop kicked or just generally squeezed very tightly while dodging tackles from other very large men. Luckily piles of fabric and thread can withstand such manly treatment. Not so much one of our chest of drawers, unfortunately.

Nevertheless, despite the chaos and the heat (who knew Canada could be hot?!!), signs of settling are beginning to appear.

Exhibit B. The carefully arranged gatherings of small collections on window sills.

Now I just need somewhere to put my clothes (somewhere, that is, that doesn't require me climbing over them, or burrowing under them, to achieve other tasks around the house) and we may be able to tick off another room as Complete.

As for the rest of the cast - my One True Love and the ever-growing Littlest One Inside - are both fine and flourishing. The foster dogs have found their "forever homes" and despite loud, unbecoming sobbing on my behalf we are delighted that they are now with new families where they are much loved and, from all reports, settled and happy (and sleeping on way more pieces of plush furnishing than we ever allowed - even in our weakest moments).

It's good to be back, people. Thanks for hanging in there.

movement

Life marches on inexorably, doesn't it. However, sometimes it feels like someone has accidently hit fast forward on the Universal Remote and you are thrown into living your life at comic speed.


A case in point. Since last we met my OTL and I have:

• farewelled our much beloved foster dog Rugby to his new owner and "forever home" (tears? you bet there were tears)
• visited Ottawa, Ontario, Canada's capital city (and best kept secret), for five days so my OTL could go to a conference and so I could have tea with the Prime Minister and set him straight on a few issues of global significance (as well as visit with good friends)
• sold our house in Manitoba (wheeling and dealing from Ottawa by cell phone)
• introduced ourselves to London, Ontario (our new home city from late-July onwards) by driving exhaustively, tirelessly, endlessly around and around in search of a new home
• bought a new house (complete with backyard fire pit for bonfires in the fall)

We have finally returned home to collapse for a few days and are beginning the process of Letting It All Sink In. In all this movement, flux and change, though, I am happy to report that the most significant of all occured in a quiet moment one morning right in the middle of all this mayhem. That was the gentle first poke of the Littlest One Inside reminding me of the most significant changes of all happening at the moment. I am certainly glad you get nine months to get used to this particular life change. It seems a much more reasonable and civilised approach to life's major changes than racing from week to week to take care of the rest of them.

As for the pictures, these handsome chaps are part of a street art series that adorn the city of Winnipeg (which we have been travelling a bit through recently to get to and fro from Brandon). Polar bears are an iconic part of Manitoba. These sculptures pop up in unexpected places all over the city - on city streets, outside halls, in university grounds - and are part of the wonderful quirks that give this prairie city its character and life. Perhaps tonight they can also serve as a reassuring reminder to me that although we change we don't do so entirely; we remain familiar to ourselves in important, essential, continuous ways.

creating change

What a week!

I hope you'll forgive my blog absence this past week when I simply say that, not only am I pregnant, but we are selling our house, moving to a new province, and starting new lives (and continuing old ones) in the hopefully wonderful city of London, Ontario. When the opportunity came up for my OTL to take up a dream job at a well-respected university there was only one answer. Yes! We are sad to leave Brandon and all the friends we have made here but we are both looking forward to experiencing another part of Canada and continuing the adventure that has been our lives for the last few years.

Last week was dedicated to Preparing the House. Sounds ominous, doesn't it. Well it was. It consisted of almost completely renovating our main bathroom (our first painting job was a roaring success I'm proud to say), taming our emerging spring garden (we've only been here for 9 months so I'm hoping all I pulled out was weeds), and cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. It came as a bit of a shock to the system that the house we normally live in - generally tidy and clean, always able to be pulled into shape for guests when needed - was, in fact, when seen through the critical eye of the homeowner wishing to sell quickly and for an astronomical profit (cough), quickly morphed into A Nightmare of Epically Messy and Filthy Proportions. Of course, it wasn't that bad but those piles that gather cheerfully around to make a house looked lived in somehow suddenly looked like slovenly beasts had been roaming from room to room randomly throwing things onto any flat surface.

None of this was helped by the fact that we needed to do it all Now! and By 2pm Friday! or else we'd miss the window of opportunity that is the busy spring real estate season. And so we toiled and toiled, and I worried and worried about stressing the Little One Inside, but we've all come through fine it seems (with the aid of a weekend of mid-afternoon naps, slow walks and a gentle pace). We now live in a house we barely recognise and have been afraid to touch in case we Mess It Up. A few people came through on the weekend and an offer was made on Saturday night (which we rejected because they wanted Everything for Nothing), so we're hoping that bodes well, nevertheless, for an easy sale in time for our move in late June/early July.

Phew. I feel like a nap just thinking about the week that was.

Amidst all the chaos, though, there were still pockets of creativity that kept a woman sustained. I noticed that, in pulling out all the stops to make the place look Fabulous, little creative installations were emerging all over the place. Today's pictures are a little sample of some of the aesthetically pleasing, and artistically arranged, gatherings that began to emerge all over the house to transform it from Our Place into a Show Case!

Thanks for your patience folks. Things may be a little intermittent around here for a while but I'll always come back. Promise.

PS: The last photo is just a gratuitous dog shot. However, I think you'd agree he is very artistically arranged.

new life

I dip in and out of people's lives, all over the globe, on an almost weekly basis. That is one of the joys of the World o' Blogs, you see. Unbeknownst to many of them, I witness the photos they've taken, read their thoughts on life, the universe and everything, and just generally share in being in the world with them, despite the fact we may never meet. It's a bit like reading the writers of the Lifestyle section of the newspaper, only microscopically local and narrowly topical.

Yet, this is one of the ways in which I've learned to observe the northern hemisphere seasons. I'm surprised to realise that, of the blogs I have faithfully stayed with over the last couple of years, one common theme they share, aside from great photos and good (sometimes excellent) writing, is their love of nature. My all time favourite, the uber-blogger soulemama, has taught me a lot about appreciating the merit of each season and welcoming them all for the unique offerings each has to give.

As you know, I have waxed lyrical previously about the calm, white, stillness of a Manitoba winter and I've even started to introduce you to the birdy beginnings of a Manitoba spring. However, out with the dogs this morning, I learned that while the Manitoban spring is painfully shy in greeting you (it is May after all) it does eventually burst bravely forth to thrust little bouquets of goodness into your day. You have to be observant and ready to receive these gifts though, as these tiny offerings are dwarfed by their eager bearers. To the unobservant eye the trees are still bare and boring. However, isn't there a plethora of children's stories that teach us that Beauty is Found in Plain Places? Some evidence:





Looking at the trees they came from, you'd never guess such beauty was on offer. Which leads nicely to me. No, I'm not a great oaf bearing tiny bouquets of flowers but, just like these trees, you may not be able to tell from a distance but I too am sprouting new life. I'm pregnant. Fourteen weeks this Wednesday, to be precise. We are all doing well, but perhaps this may go some way to explaining my erratic blogging behaviour of late. While I can safely say that I am in the most creative mode I have ever been in (creating new life is no mean feat, after all), unfortunately for you there are no lovely close up pictures to take of this little creative endeavour! Not ones that you'd want to see, anyway.

I'm keen to see how creating on the "inside" affects the creating on the "outside". Stay with me, and I'll share bits of the journey as I can.

outtakes

As the end of the week draws nigh, I thought it might be time to show you the outtakes of both Pottery Class No. 1 and Pottery Class No. 2. You have all been so gracious in your comments on all my potterings - great and small, serious and quirky - that I want to reward you with a little exhibition we might call Better Luck Next Time.

Look at them here, all shiny in the light. You can't help but have a soft spot for them.


As I was trying to capture their quirks, their misshapen sides, their hilariously hideous glazing mistakes, the camera kept doing a funny thing. It kept making them all look beautiful. (All except the soap dish in the front which requires the aid of squinted eyes, as well as a dishonest camera, to give it a leg up in the good-looking stakes.) So you'll just have to trust me that only their potting mother (and her ever supportive OTL) could love them.

I did manage to capture a few pottery sins up close; here are a few that go part way to telling the full story of my recent pottery excursions.

There's the Goopy Glaze Effect, which pools thickly at the bottom of a lopsided diamond shaped vase.


There are Cracks You Could Ride a Small Horse Through in another of my, now famous, "round box" creations. This time, a round box vase, would you believe. It will never hold water, or anything for that matter, as it just rolls off the table and onto the floor. Which is helpful in a vase, you've got to admit.


And, finally, there's the Oh-So-Straight lines of my jigsaw box (not a concave wall in sight).


Ah, the motley crew. Everyone's got to have one in their crafting life.

Unfortunately, I couldn't capture the glaze that looked like mucus pooling in doily-shaped puddles, nor the bowl with sides so variable in their thickness that you'd think I was going for a corrugated effect, however, you get the general idea. Pottery is a fickle beast and I feel lucky to have come away with as many things I am proud of as those that need to be admired in private and from the safety of the back of a cupboard.

Have a lovely weekend, all.

smalls

Today I'll be airing my smalls. No not my undies, but a couple of little tiny things that made it into the kiln this term that I thought were worth a gander. I know it's hard to believe that such pottery delights could just keep coming and coming but, as it so happens, there is enough of the Best of Pottery Class No. 2, 2009 to spill over into this week as well. Aren't we lucky!

First up, my one coil pot of the term.


As a rule, I'm not a fan of the coil pot. Particularly if I make them. For some reason I've associated them so strongly with the haphazard nature of kids' pottery that I find it hard to see them looking anything other than wildly and irredeemably childish. Nevertheless, I fearlessly went into coil pot territory this term and am happy I did. What one does with a coil pot hardly bigger than a walnut I'm not sure, but I'm sure I'll think of something.

Speaking of pottery for which its use is a mystery. Please refer to Exhibit B.


It arrived spontaneously as a "failed" pinch pot. I loved it immediately and felt it needed to stay. So it got a good firing and clear glaze around the delicate bits and now it will sit on the kitchen windowsill looking pretty and mysterious. I wondered whether it might be just the place to put my wedding ring for when I wash the dishes?

aiming high

Installment three in The Best of Pottery Class No. 2, 2009 is all about the importance of having a vision and then reaching for it. However, before you settle in for a motivating speech about Having A Dream and Seizing The Day, so that we can all march confidently into the weekend ready to Take On The World, relax. Today's lesson is more gentle. I think we'll call it Loving The Results, Regardless.

A case in point.


Early in the term, while I was still determined to make the most of the class despite its challenges, I let a few different ideas roll in. One, inspired by my love of having a Big Fat Cup of Tea, was to make some large teacups for my OTL and I to enjoy our morning cups of tea with. Because I wasn't throwing on the wheel (and thus making nice cylindrical shapes) I had to devise a way of building teacups by hand. Eventually, I lit on the idea of making round boxes with no tops. Like so.



Brilliance always comes at a price, though, and eventually I realised that round boxes with no tops and now with heavy handles would just tip merrily on their sides slooshing the tea all over the morning. So a little stabilizer was conceived.


I loved dreaming these up and working them into reality, however pottery is a humble-making activity and, despite my enthusiasm a number of things went awry in their final realisation. They warped in the kiln and then warped again with the glaze firing, the carefully aligned "stabilizer" on one of them looked like I'd put it on with a blindfold, and the handle completely fell off another. However, despite their wonkiness, despite their lack of symmetry and despite
their quirky nature, I can't help but have a big fat soft spot for them. They represent me Having a Go and Taking a Chance despite complete naivety and inexperience.

They aren't perfect, they aren't very practical, and they are impossible to store anywhere in the house but, nevertheless, they are my round box teacups. Not many people can boast of such a wondrous thing, I do believe.

doilies

The next installment in the Best of Pottery Class No. 2 is a happy blend of different craftistic pursuits. I knew, as I was imagining new places to take my handbuilding skills this term, that I wanted to find a way to incorporate my love of textile art with my burgeoning interest in pottery. It's an interesting thought, no? The soft, draping, ever malleable nature of fibre and fabric mixed with the (ultimately) cool, hard and very structural nature of fired and glazed clay. As I imagined the list of possible combinations of the two my thoughts ranged from fairly obvious things like clay buttons for a handmade shirt to a large, elaborate textile wall hanging in which I incorporated a variety of exquisitely glazed and detailed pottery discs, perhaps through embroidery or applique. However, while you've got to admire the enthusiasm of my artistic imagination it is often out of sync with my actual current abilities. And so I compromised. With crocheted doilies.

I have never been particularly drawn to doilies and often wondered at their use for tizzying up a dressing table or sideboard, or at their function as arm and headrest protectors for your "good" furniture. That said, though, as I've grown into my aesthetic sensibilities (and since I learned to crochet) I have admired the skill and time that has gone into making them and remembered that they have belonged to that much maligned world of "women's interests" that has done so much to bring beauty to a harsh world and brought skilled craftswomanship into many a humble home. So, slowly they have stopped being a thing of beige bemusement to me and they have begun to represent the wider picture of women's skill, contribution and, increasingly, a kind of re-purposing/recycling ingenuity. With the craft world's love of all things vintage, I have loved watching many craftisans transform the humble doily from discarded curio into fabulous art.

Some examples:

1. webb and flow., 2. sweet dream rabbits, 3. The Magnolia Project, 4. Fiber Art Doily with Yellow Flower

So with doilies duly reclaimed into my artistic sensibilities, I wandered down to a local thrift store and found a little stash of handmade doilies that were just the ticket for what I had in mind. Once back in the clay studio, braving the stares of those around me, I rolled and pressed, imprinted and cut, and soon enough had a range of soft clay tiles that had been well and truly "doilied". Some I turned into round discs that will eventually be a small display in our kitchen.


And others I fashioned into soap dishes, one of which (not this one) is already drawing crowds and rounds of applause (okay, one comment from a good friend but it's a start) as a feature in our bathroom.


Of course, I'm forever at the mercy of my fledgling glazing skills but I learned quite a bit with this little project and one day may explore this further. Perhaps with a whole series of clay doily trivets, coasters, plates, serving platters, wall hangings, tiles, soap dishes, bird baths, dog water bowls and decorative brooches for me to place artistically all over my house and person. Perhaps I'll even become known as the Mad Pottery Doily Lady and my One True Love can charge people to come and visit and gaze upon the pottery doily extravaganza that is my life's work!

I'll let you know how I go.

a new week

I know it hasn't escaped your attention that furrybees has been a little sporadic of late. I must apologise, particularly because I made public my intention to post At Least Three Times a Week. Sigh. I've always wondered at the motivational-speaker-types who suggest that telling someone your goals/plans/intentions will make it more likely that you will do it. Apparently, the subtle fear/shame factor of having others know if you fail is just the motivation you'll need to stick to any goal you make. Funnily enough, this has never worked for me. Bring on the humiliation and public scrutiny of my inadequacies, I say! Okay, so I'm not quite that gung ho about it all (indeed, as a younger woman I could often paralyse myself just by wondering what others might think of me), however, I must have surrounded myself with enough people over the years who are so generous, compassionate, understanding and forgiving that when I don't live up to my highest expectations of myself they are the first to understand why and immediately move to buoy my spirits for another attempt.

Which is why I am apologetic today, but not ashamed. I know my blog readers are just that same calibre of people who understand when a woman's life gets in the road of her blog and who know, with patient assurance, that things will get back on track eventually. Thanks, everyone! You are wonderful.


This week, in celebration of you all and your kindness to me, I'm going to gradually reveal the Best of Pottery Class No. 2, 2009. If you remember, in January I decided to continue my beginner pottery journey by signing up for winter classes. Unfortunately for me, Manitobans don't like leaving their homes during winter and so, with enrolments low, I was placed into an Open Studio class that consisted of many Very Experienced Wheel Throwing Potters and then little old me resplendent in my Fledgling Handbuilding Skills. You may recall my desire to hide under the table in those first days. Well, it didn't get much better after the first week - the people were friendly but not inclusive and the teacher largely ignored me - so I entered what was to become the term's endurance test of Self Motivation and Doggedness in the Face of Difficult Class Conditions.

However, despite these setbacks, I went almost every week, worked a little at home, studied books from the library for ideas and techniques, got a little bit better at skills I already knew and learned lots through trial and error. All, I'm proud to say, was not lost.


After incorporating whatever I could of the fall term's class into the house's rotation of bowls and other receptacles, I knew that, this time, I wanted to make things that would be functional and fill gaps in our existing motley collection of utensils. To that end, I went to work on my pinch pot technique (which one of the library book described as "simple yet humiliating") and pinched up what felt like a veritable extravaganza of, well, Pinched Pots. These are my favourite. Not only are they cute as hell, I'm really happy that the glaze (an awful crap shoot I'll probably whine about later in the week) turned out as it did.


Despite the above shot, they debuted as butter dishes for a dinner party we hosted on the weekend, but I can also see them as dipping bowls for sushi or for other such Asian dipping delights. They are welcome additions to our little home. I only wish I had made more, more, more!