Clay. It's rain, dead leaves, dust, all my dead ancestors. Stones that have been ground into sand. Mud. The whole cycle of life and death.

So, that's a quote from someone named Martine Vermeulen. I tried to find out more about her, but I was pretty much unsuccessful.

The quote, however, is relavant.

You see, Michael left me some clay to play with. Now, I don't have a wheel, or any real artistic talent (except with my camera or keyboard), but I've made a couple things that I kinda like.

The toughest part for me is that once I make my stuff and let it dry, I don't have the facilities to glaze/stain/fire it. This means that I have to send them to Michael for finishing.

I'm still very new to it, but I seem to remember playing with it as a kid, so maybe I'm just revisiting my roots.

Or something.

Anyhow, I've been working on small pieces, and what Michael likes to call 'coins' or 'change.'

I may post some pix, but I may not, just to preserve the surprise for M when I send him my stuff....

Hmmm...Anticipation or what?

Not much else going on really....I'm still hating the holiday music, we are still snow-free, and I still want to win the lottery (or some other fabulous money prize) and retire at an early age.

Ok, I must away.

Buenos con queso,

T.