Captain Cartwheel

Every Thursday night since January 14th, I've been taking a pottery class at Fired Up Studios in Minneapolis.  I first attempted throwing in high school (and loved it!) and again in college taking a class out of my major.  I broke my thumb a few weeks into the semester - second year in a row I broke the same thumb by the way.  Thanks to the injury I had to finish the class a separate semester - which really meant I was able to sleep in Tues. & Thurs. for that semester & then spend many long hours in the studio on weekends another semester.  Do you think I could type semester any more times in this paragraph?  Oh, it also meant that I had to make my 10 teapots without the direction of the art professor who intimidated the hell out of me.  Semester. I freaking hated making teapots! Semester.

Anywhoozle, that's neither here nor there now is it.  Back to current day, I'm taking a pottery class*.  I figured it would be like riding a bicycle, I'd just pick up where I left off...the minor detail being that I tend to crash don't I?  So perhaps that wasn't the best analogy going into class, or perhaps it was a proper self-fulfilling prophecy. 

I didn't get anything off the wheel the first class.  The second class went a smidge better, and I made two relatively small bowls - i.e. really small bowls after firing them.  The third class I decided my real forte is in making clay shot glasses - i.e. really, really small bowls with slightly higher walls.  Steve, the instructor, has been patient with me, and occasionally mentions what a nice sake cup I have made...that sounds more classy than a shot glass no?  But let's be honest here, I make shot glasses, because I'm apparently a 15 year old male. 

Last night Steve asked me what I planned to make.  I had been considering this on the drive over, what I really wanted to make was a BIG bowl, one that could hold food (not just alcohol) and be passed around the family dinner table with guests throwing out compliments like "OH MY!  Where did you get this amazingly gorgeous and totally functional LARGE bowl?"  As I started to say 'Bow..." I could see him wanting to strangle me, even with his enduring patience I am guessing I would have had finger marks around my neck, so I quickly corrected and finished "I want to make a BIG bowl, like that ---> over there!"  Whew.  Crisis averted,neck intact.

Truth be told I really wanted to glaze and not throw because I was really feeling down about my throwing skills (or lack there of); but as I only have a few weeks left and had, as of yet, failed in my ultimate goal of making something I could give as a wedding present, I knew I had to make something new.  The goal is give pieces without feeling like I am giving the couple my unusable and terribly ugly lackluster creations.  I wanted to make presents that even if they are ugly they are functional.  So I manned up and threw down - as the saying goes...I am not a man nor can I actually throw pottery while throwing in a downward motion, just saying.   

It took me for-EV-ER to center the huge hunk-o-clay, even with Steve helping me.  I was starting to think I would have another small bowl when I was done because of all the clay coming off during the centering process.  But alas it was centered.  Whew!
 
Halfway through the process, right before I was to actually 'throw' he stopped me, 'Now you need to ask yourself, what will this piece be? Will it be more like a salad bowl or a mixing bowl?' he asked. He knows me well enough that he quickly followed up with, "And my heart will hurt if you say I don't know."

Hmmm.  I looked at the bowl, tilted my head in consideration and said, "Well, I'd like it to be a salad bowl, but if it's a salad bowl with mixing bowl tendencies I would be OK with it."  I don't want to force my preconceived judgments upon ye young lump-o-clay afterall.

To his credit he at least laughed.  He slowly -and I do mean slowly- walked me through the entire process, gave hints and suggestions, demonstrated the proper techniques, watched as I flubbed said techniques up and then gave more suggestions.  In the end I had a well-thrown salad bowl! 

With an hour left in the class and one amazingly, awesome, tremendous bowl - that I could still mess up while trimming, but will really, really try not to(!) - I was ready to stop and glaze; but with Steve's encouragement I gave it another go, on my own this time, and made a pretty decent mixing bowl.  Rock on!
 

*Major thank you to my parents for the awesome birthday gift of pottery class!  This earns you at least one misshapen bowl (maybe two).  LUCKY YOU!!

From Marc, who heard it from a comedian whose only memorable quality was this joke and not the comedian's name apparently):

 

Why do adults always ask kids what the kids want to be when they grow up?

The adults are still looking for ideas!

Heck yes.

I received the following in my inbox and it struck a chord with me.  Please consider clicking on the link and voting for Vicki & Becky's story. 

I know its been a real long time, but I hope all is well with you.

I dont know if you keep up with Facebook statuses at all, I know I barely have time to, but my wife Becky and I are going through the adoption process. I have had some crazy medical stuff happen over the last couple years and so I was not able to get pregnant. Right now, we have entered our story in a contest through USBank. The story that gets the most votes wins $5000. We started a couple weeks late, but are trying to play catch up right now. I know we can make up the difference and surpass the rest with some help from others. You can vote once a day per email address.

If you would be willing to help us out that would be amazing.

https://getaheadin2010.usbank.com/Story/4557

Hope all is going well on your end.

Vicki

Thank you your consideration.

-------------------------------

In other news life has been crazy busy.  I hope to have time this weekend to catch up on the blog front. 

I got to see Harley this last weekend, which brightened my smile and lightened my heart.  I miss him so.  I was hoping to bring him home for a week or so but decided against it.  It ended up being for the best as the last two days I have left home by 5:30 a.m. and returned after 9:00 p.m.  Oh the joys of starting training again (and recruitment season at work).  Woot Woot! 

Seriously.  'nuff said.

I know I bitch a lot about dull things...being lonely, being depressed, needing a challenge, blah blah blah.  But when I really feel like myself, the me I want to be, I am rarely dull.  Tonight included a plethora of entertainment and a little plotting for more exciting times to come. 

It started with catching the 5 p.m. show of Cinderella at the Children's Theater with Dr. B.  If you are wondering, no we did not borrow or steal any children to attend, we went as adults (or as close to that as we get).  Top balcony, last row, much like when I took her to Rent for her birthday.  Even before the show started I knew we were in for a fun time. 

The scene: Kimmi and Dr. B sitting in the top balcony, last row of the theater discussing Bonk, a book I recently read.*  As we chat I feel my hair move.  Odd as we are not sitting outside or near a draft.  I chose to ignore it.  Moments later I feel the collar of my shirt move.  Hmmmm, now I know that's not supposed to happen by itself, so I glance to my left and nearly collide with the face of the 4 year old, bonnet-clad girl next to me, her big blue eyes staring at me even though the protrusion of her tongue suggests she is concentrating really hard on something else.  Rather than scream and run which would be my instinctual reaction I pleasantly comment:

Me: Well, hello there.

Bonnet-clad lass (BCL): Silence paired with a look of intense concentration.

Bonnet-clad lass's Mom (BCLM): Be careful, you are all up in her business.  Please get situated.

BCL: I was not all up in her business. 
        Now situation on the top of her chair and no longer in my face.

BCLM: You were all up in her business.
           Leans forward.
           Sorry. 

BCL: I was not all up in her business.

Me & Dr. B: giggling because BCLM & BCL just said 'all up in her business' multiple times.  Did I mention this is a 4 year old!

I must work that into my daily speak.  Anyway, I had such a fun time.  The energy flowing in the theater was awesome, so much more so than sitting politely among theater-going adults.  The play really did cater to the attention spans of children, even including a key word that when spoken indicated the audience should stand up, holler and dance around waving ones arms.  The two men who played the step-sisters were hilarious and well cast.  I wasn't very fond of Cinderella herself, as her voice was high pitched and hurt my ears, but she didn't really talk all that much anyway.  At one point step-sister Dorkus (true story) made a show of picking 'her' nose and there was silence until a small kiddo in the audience rang out "EWWWWWWWW, GROSS!"  Priceless, mostly because after the show we left as two adults with no children in tow.  Ha!  All the benefits of children's theater without the hassle of the traveling with kids themselves.  Woot Woot!

We continued onto French Meadow Cafe for a lovely meal.  I had a spinach salad with pieces of bacon, pecans, thinly sliced onions and goat cheese.  Quite tasty.  We were joined by Gretchen the Wondrous.  GTW is a dear friend with much energy and joyous spirit.  Lately we've been going to the Salsa clubs together, but our gatherings are not limited to booty shaking.  We moved onto dessert, plotting our New Year's Eve exploits and then off to the second main attraction of the evening...

Important background: I occasionally buy gifts for people that may seem inappropriate by some standards.  I find said standards lame; I go above and beyond the call of friend duty. 

In this instance that means a trip to Sex World, a local 'adult' shop, for some Christmas presents.  I enlisted Dr. B and GTW because none of us had been there and...well, why the hell not.  Safety (and more laughter) in numbers.  We weren't exactly sure where the shop was so I searched my handy-dandy new GPS unit for it (thanks Mom and Dad! Bet you never thought my first GPS usage would be to locate a toy shop.)  I am sad to report that the Garmin was unable to locate it; not under Points of Interest, Shopping, Entertainment, Attractions or even Recreation.  What a bust.

Luckily with a little memory searching we remembered what street we saw it on previously and searched it out.  Whew.  Upon entering my eyes hit on the Bucking Phallus** I'm pretty sure Dr. B started blushing right about then and didn't fully recover until after we left.  Fond memories of my trip to the Sex Museum in Amsterdam passed through my mind and reminded me of a funny picture I had taken from that outing.  The shopping trip included much laughter - I nearly wet myself twice (from laughter not from the excitement of the toys...just clarifying).  As we worked our way behind the toys, past fetish items and onto the novelty bachelorette party toys we were approached by a creeping looking 45-ish man (CL45)***:

CL45: Excuse me, but are any of you dominatrixes?

Us: shocked and horrified looks surely cloud our faces.

Me: No, unfortunately not.  Sorry.

CL45: What do you mean by unfortunately? Do you want to be?

Me: 'oh shit, apparently sarcasm does not compute'.  No, it was a joke, we aren't.  Sorry.

CL45: Well what about humiliation?  Are you into humiliation

Me: You mean besides this!?  Holy shit is this really happening?  I wish I could see Dr. B's face right now.

GTW: No, we're not interested. 

CL45: Oh, I just saw you ladies over by the dominatrix stuff a little bit ago and thought it wouldn't hurt to ask.  Walks away.

Us: Bulging eyeballs follow CL45 as he walks away.

Wow.  Seriously did not expect that.  Note to all, a polite "No thanks" is way faster than sarcasm in such situations.  After we left Dr. B told us the CL45 first walked up by us when GTW was trying to convince me to purchase a 3-tierd cock ring called "Rings of Hell."  Apparently that particular item was what the guy was looking for b/c the clerk led him to it as we were examining it.  Yikes!

It was a hilarious night - I do love variety.  Plus, I accomplished my goal of getting Christmas presents for those in need.  Nothing says Christmas like 'multi-speed' and 'batteries included.'  Merry Christmas to all and to all a fun filled night.

* Yes, we were sitting in a theater full of children discussing a book about sex, sexual toys, and Pyrex. 
**I don't really know that it is called that but it reminded me of the Bucking Bronco I used to ride for 25 cents at the mall near my grandma's home.  It even had a similar saddle!
***'Rode hard, put away wet' came to mind as an apt description but then I threw up a little in my mouth and attempted to shut it out; no need to picture that.  EWWWW.  I learned that phase from a nurse practitioner from my Planned Parenthood days, it still makes me laugh (and cringe in some cases).

I headed back to PA for an extended weekend to visit family.  Background: my immediate family moved from PA to Crochester, Minnesota when I was eleven.  Every so often we head back, mostly to see family but also to stuff our faces and push our stomachs to the limit.  Some of our trips have been rightfully called 'binge-fests' by those accompanying us who are less familiar with the family mores and yumtastic PA food: Fairview House steak sandwiches, Friendly's Jim Dandy sundaes, 7-Eleven Slurpees, Tastycakes, Josh Early Chocolates, Salvatore's Sicilian Pizza.  You get the idea.  Oh crap - can't forget Hunan's Seseme Chicken and multilpe greasy diner breakfasts.  Minnesotans should be ashamed of the diner selection here, other than Mickey's Diner there really isn't anything like the abundance of greasy, pleasantly-grumpy diners of the East Coast 

I may suggest that my trips back to PA were truly my first test & taste as the endurance athlete, as it takes a LOT of practice to eat at all those places in the span of a few days, usually 3-4.  Better stomachs than mine have failed to keep up with the family traditions while visiting.

Alas this trip had an unexpected result.  In all of my trips back to PA, most notably by plane even though we had many road trips back, I have always felt a sense of coming home.  The views from the plane window, the familiarity of the ABE airport, seeing extended family waiting and waving as I exit security.  It has always felt like going home, even though I have now lived in MN longer than I ever lived in PA.  Imagine my surpise when I landed and didn't feel the sigh of relief to be home. 

I'm not sure how or exactly when, but at some point since my last visit it ceased to be my home.  I had a lovely time, even taught my family a few things including the a small portion of the history of Pyrex.  I held up my end of the travel requirements, eating a surplus of bad-for-me-but-tastes-amazing food.  I doubt if I had more than 5 servings of vegetables or fruit in the entire trip.  It was a fun visit with many laughs yet it did not feel like home.

I guess I'm finally a Minnesotan in more ways than just my accent.  That's not to say I'll be learning the Vikings fight song anytime soon or go around shouting SKOL Vikes.  I'm not that Minnesota.  GO IGGLES!  

I wish on stars, eyelashes, digital clocks when all the numbers are the same (i.e. 4:44 or 11:11), and if I ever threw coins into fountains anymore I would likely wish on that too.  It is just something that I have always done.  I do not have grand expectations that my wishes will come true, but I figure putting it out there does not hurt. 

The thing is one of my wishes has come true, I realize the likelihood of this being a cause and effect thing (my wishing and then the person getting) is less than slim, but nonetheless the thing I wanted to happen is happening.  You see a while back I stopped wishing things for myself and started wishing things for my friends.  Do not get me wrong I am not totally benevolent with my wishes; I do occasionally still wish on my behalf but much less often.  I figure it is a karma thing.

The funny thing is, no matter how it happened, my wish came true.  One would think I would be totally pumped about this.  But I guess the old adage is correct: be careful what you wish for.  Since the wish came true I have found myself to have a lot of extra time to myself and a hell of lot more time alone at the gym.  I would not take my wish back if given the chance, but maybe next time I will phrase my wish a little differently, may be add a few conditions and a loop hole or two. 

Take note fellow Wishers; be very specific when asking for what you want, whether it is for yourself or others.

I recently started following a new blog called Rotten Baby.  The humble narrator is "Howard".  I do not have the vocabulary to accurately portray his style or entertainment value, you just need to check him out. 

The other day he posted this footnoted test – yes, Howard actually uses footnotes.  I can barely spell my words correctly and he's footnoting around the blog-o-sphere.  *Side note – Howard and I get along well mostly because we both spend a large portion of time insulting my brother whilst in his company – it rocks.  *Side note – using the word whilst makes me feel S-M-R-T!

Back to the point, yes, this handy-dandy busy test gave me a small jolt.  Here, take it yourself:

*Here's a handy test of whether you are "busy":

1. Do you watch Dancing with the Stars, America's Next Top Model, Project Runway or Oprah?
2. Do you have machines that wash and dry your clothes for you?
3. Do you have indoor plumbing?
4. Do you have time to take footnoted blog tests?

If you answered "yes" to any of these questions, you are not "busy" so please do not talk to me about it.

 

Unlike most tests in my life, I scored an amazing 100% on this test.  I would like to note that I do not watch any of those shows with regularity, but I do occasionally find myself in front of the boob-tube during said shows, or at least Dancing with the Stars.  I claim no love or knowledge of Model or Runway infested shows.  I rarely see Oprah, or even care too, but I have heard quality things about the sex therapist she occasionally has on and the toys she has recommended.  Just saying…

Side-tracked again.  Anyway, the point is I often claim to be a very busy person.  Hell, we all do.  Yet, I still manage to find time to regularly check Facebook, email, chat, read some news and I have even found time to start checking my horoscopes regularly - shake your head as you will daddYman, but I love that crap!  

So am I really busy?  I do not have children (whew), a significant other, or old and feeble parents (not yet at least), but I am constantly on the go – in part because I work way the hell across the cities from where I live and spend at least 5-6.5 hours a week commuting and partly because I really like to be busy and bee bopping around town.

But I ask you, are you busy?  Really busy?  Or just putzing busy?  I'm both I suppose.

*side note – my dentist told me on Monday that "if saliva were worth something even Oprah would be asking me for a loan."  What the hell does that mean?  Let me stick my latex-clad digits in your mouth for a few minutes and tell me you're not drooling like Pavlov's canines at suppertime!

Reason #327 why I should never be a parent - or at least for a long time: I can't even cope with Harlington.

I have been struggling for a while with caring for Harley and living my life.  It has been a lot harder being a 'single mom' - as a few friends have refered to me - than I thought it would be, especially since my 'kid' is a four-legged creature and not a human being. 

In the nearly 5 years Harley and I have been together I have rarely cared for him alone.  The first month I had him I lived in a townhome in Mankato with roomates.  Then I fled Mankato and my dying relationship to take a job in the cities and lived with my parents for 3 months.  Realizing living in Farmington with my parents wasn't the most sane option for any of us, I moved to a 1-bedroom apartment in the cities which just happened to be in the same building as my brother.  Up until their move in August, my brother (and eventually Michelita) was intrumental in caring for him.  But alas, they moved and took my built-in dog-care with them.  Apparently they forgot the world revolved around me - super lame.

The thing is I didn't really realize how much I relied on them.  I knew they were key during IM training and with my work nights/weekends, but I apparently missed the part where having a social life also keeps me quite busy.  Have I mentioned how much I love having a social life?  'Cuz I do.  

Therein lies the problem(s).  I dearly love Harley.  He is a great companion in his own doggy way.  Sadly he isn't much for conversation, a great listener but rarely shares.  Not to mention he's a terrible drinking companion, has a finicky digestive track so he's not much for snacking or comfort food, and he's not exactly a stud magnet out at the bars/gym or any location he can't get into because he's a dog! 

In order to satisfy such social cravings and actually meet new people I need to go out without him.  Taking into consideration that I lack a trust fund, don't come from a family with old-money and have yet to find my sugar daddy, I actually have to work which keeps me out of the apartment 40+ hours a week (45+ with my commute).  Add to that climbing, long runs or other fitness endeavors, visiting friends, the occasional movie/museum and errands and well, you get the picture.  I'm rarely home.  In short, I'm a shitty-ass mom. 

Coming to terms with this has been difficult.  I don't like failing and I do feel like a failure where Harley is concerned - I have a rather large ego if you hadn't noticed.  You know what I find helps me come to terms with being a bad parent?  Returning home each day after work to the awful smell of urine and finding Harley sitting miserably in his cage.  Miserable not soley because he is in the cage, but because he rolled in his urine and drank whatever was left after dowsing his hair.  Oh yes, having to bathe Harley 3 times in one week is a GREAT way to realize I am not giving my dog the attention he needs. 

His recent incontinence has proven to be quite the eye-opening experience.  I typically only put him in his cage when I am gone for long stretches of time - 9 to 10 hours of work for example.  When out on shorter excursions I would let him roam free, that is until he decided my carpet looked and smelled better with his pee on/in it.  Super, thank you dog.  Add to that his newest attempt at impersonating Bitzi the Barking Dog while I'm away and it is only a matter of time until my neighbors complain.  Worse than worrying about complaints is how I've started reacting to him.  Annoyance and anger have been my gut reaction to him nearly every time I get home over the last month.  He reads me well and shrinks away from me and I can't stand to see the look of fear and distrust in his eyes.  Did I mention I'm a shitty-ass parent?

I took him to my parents tonight.  It was difficult leaving him there.  I felt sad but the secondary emotion I felt was relief.  How terrible is that?  I would be a terrible parent, I can't even take care of my dog!  I want a social life, I want to come and go without feeling terrible every time I put him in the cage.  I can't do this alone.  Even worse, I don't want to do this alone.  Reason #327. 

Happy birthday to me

Happy birthday to me

Happy birthday to Kimmi

Happy Birthday to me.

November 1st is All Saints Day - rest assured there are at least two exceptions to this rule: Kimmi and McEgo.  Happy birthday McEgo!

I have a feeling 28 is going to be my year.