Thunder and Clay

Ten minutes of rain.  I watched the whole thing.  It was 6:05 am, Sunday morning, when I heard the first drops on the roof.  The dog and I were the only ones awake.  So we sat on the living room couch and watched the whole thing.  One flash of lightning.  One roll of thunder.  Ten minutes of down pour.  It was beautiful.  When Jasmine and I went for a walk later it seemed odd that everything was wet.  You forget that the world can be wet.

But this week it’s in the 90’s again and not a cloud in the sky.

We just got back from a little outing to Clay Hand Studio, a pottery place that’s just half a mile from us.  I had forgotten it was there, until I had the idea to try and interest Peter (or Joseph or Silas or myself or the dog) in expressing themselves through sculpting (or squishing or poking or anything really along those lines).  Now we have a 25 pound chunk of clay.  Will that be enough?  I don’t know.  We have a lot to express.  Maybe we should just put up a big canvas and lob clay at it, Jackson Pollock-style.  Take that, job market!!  Take that, depression!  Take that Aspergers and fibromyalgia and OCD and anxiety and whatever else!

And if that’s not enough, we’re checking out the theraputic horseback riding place tomorrow.  Seriously, we are.  Horses are supposed to be very theraputic.  I guess because they just look at you and chew on their bits quietly, and maybe swish a fly with their tail.


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