Not as in sneakiness. As in making things.
The other day, I took E and a friend to the Clayroom. I believe these places exist all over the country – where you go and decorate cups, mugs, dishes. I used to think they were pottery places, and I think their name infers that. However, you don’t get to make the pieces. They’re already made. You just get to paint them.
When I thought of the idea as a birthday present for E’s friend, I worried that perhaps the girls were too old for this. E was excited by it, though, so I checked with the friend’s mom, who said her daughter would also LOVE it. This was in June. Camp happened. The girls’ trip to the Middle of the Country happened. Lots of time went by. Finally, in August, I said, “Let’s go to the Clayroom!”
When we got there, I hadn’t yet decided whether I would participate in the pottery-painting. I had no idea how much it would cost (yeah, I should have done the research before making the promise, but in June, I had not yet spent a summer spending money, and wasn’t worried about it), and if it was $30/person, I was going to sit on the sidelines and read a book. It was not $30/person. It was more like $15/person, and seemed reasonable. I realized that E’s choice was a complicated one (a box, with a lid — and the design she came up with was quite detailed), and that I’d be bored if I just sat there. And I forgot my book. And, honestly, it looked like fun.
I looked around the room (which was full), and saw that other than the 2 kids I had with me, there were mostly adults in the room. Couples and 20-somethings on their own. Two people were painstakingly painting intricate designs onto piggy banks, and my guess is they were baby shower gifts (and the two people were not together). One group was some sort of shower or party, and this was their second stop. I am not embarrassed to admit that I recognized the picture on the bags which clearly came from their first stop. We’ve already established that I am a sexual being. They were making gorgeous serving bowls. Bowls that if I received as a gift, I would never have guessed were “home made.”
So I chose a little something to paint. It was a little pencil holder. I thought I could bring it to my desk at my new job, and have a little personal touch. I wanted a peace sign, you know the sort:
But they didn’t have any templates of one. Which did surprise me in this town. I didn’t trust my artistic skills enough to make my own free hand, without a template, because I can’t draw. I can’t draw one of those M shaped seagulls, even. I can’t draw a stick figure. (Stop yelling at me, Beloved.) So I kept looking. I found a Chinese character which had the word “peace” under it. Hmmm.
I chose colors. This is what I ended up with:
I was happy with it. (Note that I did not put the word “peace” on it. Because it would have looked stupid.) But the girls weren’t done. Or even close. So I decided to do something for Beloved. I didn’t think I had time to do something bigger, and so I stuck with the theme. I made him this one:
E and I had really wrestled with whether we should have done a black or red background. I vetoed her, and went with the red on black, and am glad I did. His means “Happiness.” (Or so the stencil said.) Because for him, in all of his recent endeavors toward his goals, I wish for him happiness.
The girls’ pieces came out great, too. It was a lot of fun. I think we’ll be going back. I’m actually already thinking about what to do next. I think I am going to do a serving platter, which can go on the counter or on the table, and in which all my crap can collect. It’s inevitable. I collect crap. Right now, it just gets randomly thrown on the dining table, and when the girls set the table, they scatter my crap to different surfaces, and then I can’t find my crap. If I have it all on a dish, right? Then they can just move the dish to another surface. And when my dish is full, I can set to putting things away.
So I’m gonna make a dish.
Or a mug.
The second Chinese character actually means luck/felicity.
Ooh, a crap platter! I like that idea. I’m cluttered by nature. But I think I’d buy one online because, as much as I like the idea of making my own, I just don’t know where I’d find the time. And Pumpkinhead would be the proverbial bull in the china shop so it could get expensive! đŸ˜‰
Sorry, that was confusing, how about felicitously lucky? Full of happy luck? Something like that.
Thank you for the true translation. I think it’s still a good thing.
A crap platter. He he.
Since I went with older girls, it was quite a meditative experience. When we went to pick our stuff up, there was a sign on the door that they’re going to be closed for a while for renovations. If I don’t find time before the uber-job starts, I probably won’t be going back. But I do want a self-created crap platter.
When I first did the second character, I had accidentally left off one of the center strokes. I was so glad that I caught it, and told the girls that if I hadn’t fixed it, I was probably giving Beloved a little something that said “bloody death” or something equally inappropriate.