April Show-ers

A couple of mornings ago I was surfing the net when I heard all the dogs in the neighborhood start to go nuts, barking and howling. Then I heard a sound that is familiar in autumn but rare in spring, the sound of a propane gas tank being fired up. I went to the door (the security door was locked and I had time to grab my cell phone but not my keys) and took a picture of this fool  through the screen.




Yes, it's a hot air balloon (a crap photo, sorry). S/he was losing altitude very quickly, obviously trying to make it to the field about an 1/8th of a mile from my house.

I love the sound of hot air balloons, love them. I love that the dogs go nuts at the invasion of their airspace. When I was a little kid, I went to a school that had a big open space and about once a year a balloonist would land in the schoolyard and it was like a mini holiday. We'd get to go out and see it after it had landed.

Currently

Studio-wise: This week threw me a couple of curveballs in the form of two little-ish girls who came in for lessons. One was a five year old--maybe now six, since the lesson was a birthday gift from her babysitter, one of the regular students at the studio. We sat at the wheel and she threw a bowl, two cups, and a plate that turned into a bracelet when she tried to cut it off the wheel. The other little girl was an eleven year old who was so painfully shy that she could barely speak. I was subbing for the usual Wednesday night teacher and when the girl walked in a little late, I asked the other students who she was. They told me her name and said, "She never talks to anyone." I said, "Oh, she's going to talk to me," and walked over to introduce myself. Her mother came in with her and set up a chair to knit, which is fine. Then after the little girl sat down at her wheel, the mother moved her chair so that she was sitting about a foot away from the wheel. It was very strange, and made me wonder how much of the daughter's extreme sense of shyness was really her mother's smothering. After a bit, the mother relaxed and moved her chair a little ways off, still in the line of sight of the little girl.

By the end of the night, Shy Girl and I were communicating more or less, and she was not so frightened of me and had even laughed a couple of times at my jokes (as did her mother, which gave me a different view of her).  I showed her how to throw taller pieces and a few glazing tips. And she seemed happy at the end of the night.

I don't know what I'm trying to say about either little girl, except maybe that I was once a little girl and I don't know if I was a little girl like that. (In fact, I know I wasn't a little girl like that. I was always a chubby little bespectacled earnest know-it-all. But some of my best friends were shy girls, so.)

Currently, Take II

I'm dogsitting Crunch while his owners are off in New York City.  That means walks in the park and way too much cable TV. Yesterday I was tempted to skip Therapy Thursday in favor of a Project Runway season two marathon. I mean, yes, I've seen every episode of PR twice, but MARATHON! When I got home, it was several episodes of The Nanny Supernanny (not that crap sitcom with that nasally voiced nightmare) and I watched for awhile. Yes, I believe that TV is crap, but I grew up with TV. TV is my friend. TV is my friend who I can't have in my house because I turn it on and then realize that I haven't read a book in three months and why am I watching classless middle-aged housewives spat and who invited this Snookie person into my psyche?

Currently, Take III

So yes, it was Therapy Thursday. It was more relaxed this week than it has been in the last couple of weeks. We only talked about artistic vision and death rather than the wrenching things we've been covering the last month or so. So that's good.