Check out this one.......

Becky Jo! My latest sistah! The ultra Fab, Becky Jo...... Potter, Trucker, Farmer's Daughter..... Blogster extraordinaire! Kick ass artist, married into the famous tannenbaum clan......
then of course, all this new sistah talk might upset those that were given to me by my parents so I'll share a flattering photo of them just so they feel special

They are much, older than me, so should be setting a good example, yet here I was sober and holding a camera while they cut a rug, why Shelley even seems to be wearing a belly dancing belt over her Mother of the bride dress.

Dear Mommy, It has finally Happened....

Yup, peer pressure works man, I have joined a gang. An International gang of Bad Ass Artists. You can find out about my slippery slide into infamy here. Sure I know, that link is a post about another crazy artist chick. See that's how it works, first they show you a pretty, all american type girl, that draws things. Awesome things! So Awesome in fact they call her the Reverand Awesome . Who knows what happens next???? Where does it go from there?.....Check in tomorrow and meet another gang sistah!!!

So yeah, POTTERY...

So here we are, me blogging about canoe trips I didn't go on, and Coffee emergencies I managed to survive, but where are the POTS you say? Aren't you a Potter???  Well here you go, ... the latest step on the experimental teabowl adventure... I think I might be on to something, this shellac resist thing is working out, Sweet!

In Which Lizzie Proves Once again, Her Car Will Run on Air...

I live on an island. Granted, its a pretty good sized island, but an Island nonetheless.  I have lived here for more than a year, and I am still adjusting. One of the things I am adjusting to, is the fact that all gas stations close at ten pm. With the exception of one Irving Station in downtown Sydney. The other thing is the wind, and its propensity to knock out the power. You might think that these are two entirely unrelated facts.

You would be wrong.

You see, Monday evenings I teach until 10 pm in Sydney, about 20 km away, give or take. There are a few gas stations in Sydney, but I was tired last night, there was rain, and I thought, oh I'll just get gas in the morning at Mullins, (my local Gas /grocery/liquor store/pizzeria/ bakery/hardware store/postoffice and Sears Catalogue depot.)
You can buy ANYTHING there, and rent movies! And it is the only place for purchasing anything between Louisbourg and Sydney.
So I ignored the little yellow feed me light on my gas gauge and went on my merry way home, safe in the knowledge that I could visit Mullin's in the morning. But disaster struck in the night. It got Windy, and a bit windier, and then.... no power. At first I thought, meh, no biggy, I am a tough chick, I'll rough it til the power comes back. Then my charming son pointed out that making COFFEE requires electricity. I whimpered a bit, but, again I am tough. I thought, I'll drive to Mullins for coffee, surely they will have a pot on (did I mention they sideline as a place to get a steaming cup of joe?)

Being all neighbourly, I wandered over to the big house to see how they fared without caffiene. It was suggested to me that I might try calling Mullins to see if they had a pot on so we could get there before the rush. There was no answer. They too had no power, and no Coffee.

It was then that Seonaid pointed out that they also could not pump gas with no power. This was crunch time, I needed to take action. Should I take to my bed with a case of the vapours? Should I eat coffee beans whole? Or, take my unshowered self (pump doesn't work without power either....) out to the car and try to make it to town on fumes for a Timmy's extra large double double?????

Being Brave, and a good Canadian, I chose to take my grubby self to town, and visit the holiest of Canadian coffee temples, er, shops-Tim Hortons.

I made it, I got my coffee and spent the day mixing glaze tests at the Centre for Craft and design, cause they had power, and coffee. And its ok, to be grubby while mixing glaze.

The hero in al this is my Trixie, she's a good little car, runnin on empty so her mama could get her fix.

Just Another Manic Monday, with a Twist...

In which mama stays in her jammies playing video games and listening to the Ramones while the teenagers get into all manner of adventures.
Mason and his pal Captain Kirk decided to explore the vast frontier of the kitchen, armed with this bottle of Grandma's Famous blackberry jelly, Imported from the fine distant lands of Rothsay New Brunswick

and a recipe gleaned from the far off galaxy ruled by Penny the beagle and inhabited by such strange creatures as Georges Le Soq, the newly famous Cabana Boy Gary ,  the lovely and stylish Maude, and an assorted menagerie of feline and canine folk.

the results of this mission, are deemed most excellent. Thank you Rubye (the Grandma), for the jelly, and Gary for the recipe. Many thanks to Mason and James Tiberious Kirk for the baking and Muffin delivery. Yummy.

Meanwhile, back at the computer desk, India has decided to make a menagerie of her own. A fine flock of origami Swans, here she is making the second smallest. The smallest required pins to make the folds.

And yes, that's a real penny for scale.

Kids are neat. I think I'll keep them.

Sunday Morning Shenanigans

Yesterday I woke up, all groggy like to the sound of scavenging and thunking in the Garage. When I stumbled down the stairs I found this

This looked to me like a young man on a mission...... so I wandered out the door in search of further clues to the cause of the  hubbub..

and found this!

I believe they added a canoe, a grown up and one teenage boy to the mix. Because moments later I saw this...

It looks as though a chicken wanted to go too. They had fun, explored some Islands, paddled a goodly distance, ate picnic style, and I  got some pots made.

Whiskey Revisited, Night terrors about High School Math, and My Former Life as aTextile Artist

So here are the famous whiskey cups from a few days ago, they are in the kiln now, cooling off. getting ready for glazing. Today I make more, and some mugs. My reward for all this hard work will be Teapots. Production is slow, for some reason pots don't dry well in this rain, sigh.

On the Highschool Math Night Terror Front ......

For many long years now I have had a particular recurring dream. I am in highschool, I am in math class and I am working at a particularly difficult math sheet. The numbers are swimming on the page and I can't for the life of me remember the magic formula. I am pannicking and frantically looking about at the kids who are seemingly breezing through. I can hear the clock ticking, class is going to end, I haven't even put my name on the sheet. I should point out that in these dreams I am an adult, I am aware that  I am no longer a highschool student. I have graduated, been to University, and used math daily in both my work and personal life. But the terror at not being able to finish the worksheet is real.

I do not panic while constructing complex three dimensional forms, I hardly bat an eye when figuring out the area of a kiln, and how many pots of which size will fit. I can do the math to figure out yardage, and  shrinkage and loom ease while weaving. I can draft patterns and make clothes to fit actual human beings. But that damned math sheet dream brings me to my knees everytime.

That brings me to a new stage in my math terror. Choosing Highschool Math with my kid.

I must say my trip to the Guidance office was particularly useless, and I have come away with the question, just what service is it they are supposed to be providing? I am told by the very informative (not) Academic Calender, that they are there to help choose courses, and that learning is their first priority. My experience has been that they are there to judge, and to force square pegs into round holes and quash creativity in education.

I think they all need to read some books by Sir Ken Robinson. In the meantime, it's homeschooling for this particular kid, in this particular subject. The school is not a fan of this idea. Ask me if I care. I will leave you all with a tapestry of the wee lad and his mum, that I wove in my former life as a textile chick.