Disasters in Clay

Because last year we’d enjoyed our maiden voyage into the land of clay, my friend Ann and I returned to the Venice art center for another pottery class. Neither one of us lays any claim to artistic ability, but this seemed like something even we could do.

          And we could – sort of – and departed at the end of April with a few piece that were almost recognizable.

          This year? Not so much.

  

Pieces before glazing

        Our instructor – nice lady – seemed more scattered than last year, and the little time she spent instructing went mostly to a high-maintenance woman who worked on the same damn piece for a month and a half.

      

Two of these are already in recycling heaven.

  

Meanwhile, Ann and I stumbled on by ourselves, either being ignored or rushed to finish what we were doing.

 

Ann’s creations were better than mine, but that’s probably not saying much, since most of what I produced not even a mother could love.

          Twenty-five pounds of clay, and only one thing safe from the dumpster. 

        And I'm not even sure about that. 

Beach morning

Today being about as perfect as a day can get, we decided to do breakfast on the beach. 

Coffee in one travel mug, tea in the other, some tangerines, and we were out the door. First stop was a bakery for some truly decadent pastries, then to the beach, where by some miracle, we snagged a parking spot not too far away from the walkway. Still, it was only 10:30 and the true beachgoers hadn't arrived yet. 

We set up camp and watched the world around us. 

A sweet scene of a helpful big brother. 

A family arrived with three kids, three balloons, and what I thought could only be impending disaster. I mean, who brings balloons to the beach?

Turned out, the balloons had been intended for the stratosphere. The kids lined up, had their picture taken, and then released them to the sky. Perhaps a farewell to someone?

And is there no escape anywhere?

I wasn't too sure what this was all about - a bachelorette party? A sorority event?  Whatever it was, it looked pretty fancy, what with their froo-froo  matching pink umbrellas. 

They even had a signboard up, but I didn't trek over to read it. 

And then there were these clueless folks-

You had to walk right by this sign to get to the beach:. 

And, in fact, I was standing next to this sign when we left, and two women, each with a dog, walked by me and onto the beach. 

                       People.

Rainy Day

 

Nothing gladdens the heart in the middle of a drought like a good rainstorm. Our totally fake ponds, not spring-fed, were looking very low. In fact, it’s been so dry this year that one of them has grassed over and will need mowing before long.

Babies, scooter, snakes, and rainbow

 

You would think that walking the around our complex would be tedious. I mean, it’s just a circle. About the only variety you can achieve is in which way you take it. Admittedly, I’m always listening to a book on my phone since I always feel like a hamster on her wheel by the time I’m in the second loop to gain some steps.

Day Trip

           So, just to get up and out, we took a drive to Matlacha, Florida, only a little over an hour away from us. Against all logic, it’s pronounced “mat-lah-SHAY.”

Limping and Blinking

There I was, on my way to bash that pickleball, when my sneaker hit the ground at an angle, my ankle did an unpleasant turn, and my knee was suddenly unhappy.

For Peg

   What with food prices on their alpine climb, I’m determined to eat down whatever we already have before the next trip. I’m one of the probably select few who doesn’t mind a trip to the grocery store, it combining two of my favorite things – shopping and food.