This first photo is a pitcher that I made in my last pottery session.  It turned out much better than I thought it would and I love the colour.  It's not very big, not big enough to use as a jug, but maybe I'll put flowers in it, or just admire it.  Strangely enough, it also matches the colour of some of the pillows on the couch.

The next photo is a utensil holder that I'm working on.  It's quite large, which made it much harder to work on, and I used grass seed heads to decorate it.  I like how it's turning out.  I've been having problems with cracking, and spoke to my instructor.  She told me to cover it loosely with plastic and let it dry more slowly, so I'm doing that.  Have I mentioned how impatient I am?

 

I had made another larger pitcher, it was the size of a teapot,  but it cracked as it dried.  The beauty of clay is that you just smash it, and rehydrate it (as long as it hasn't been fired yet).  So I did that and haven't lost any clay.

I don't feel like doing much today, my legs are a little sore from my workout yesterday, so I tried to build a mug.  I worked on it for a good hour, but it wasn't working, so I smashed it too, and will try again another day.

It's good practice for me.  I can make something, smash something, and then try again.  I watch pottery tutorials and I want so bad to make the same beautiful things, and then remember that these people have years of practice behind them.  Patience grasshopper.

Jack is now done school for the summer.  He starts grade one in September.  He's growing so fast.  He even mentioned it this morning.  He told me that soon he would be as tall as me.  Not quite, but he is growing.  Right now he spends every possible moment outside.  He has a tree fort, wood, nails, and a hammer.  Of course he has hit his fingers, but he's getting better.  He's also helping poppa build the shed.  Last night he was on the shed, either drilling holes, or screwing in screws.  I wasn't paying attention, poppa was.

It seems awful that Gracie is missing all this, but she never calls or texts to see how he is.  I know she is messed up, but still, it boggles my mind.  Jack is her child.  Or course my son is even worse.  He never sees either of his sons.  

That's it for now.  Life goes on, despite all the fuckery from t-rump.