The Mad Platter

Got to experience the Mad Platter Pottery Studio with some friends last week for the first time. How it works is you go there, pick out your pottery piece (prices range from 7$ and up), then you pick out paint colors (unlimited supply) and you have access to all their tools. They have everything from sponges to brushes to stencils. Then you sit and paint.

They run a special for
2$ an hour on Tuesdays and a free wine on Thursdays. Most of the paints are food friendly and your piece will be microwave and dishwasher safe when you take it home.

I decided on a small serving bowl, and in two hours time I had completely finished it. Of course if you need more time, you can come back and finish. My methods were very simple and abstract so it took me no time at all.

The staff is very friendly and help you on color and

tool selection to get the look that you want.

You leave your piece with them and after they fire it,

its ready for pick up. I went in on Tuesday

and got a call on Thursday night that it was ready.

The whole experience was 16$ and I had a

serving new bowl to use for chips and dip for a cookout on Saturday! I'm definitely going back...I have my eye on a serving platter to paint for next time.

Life Without Jon

I'm seriously pathetic, because one week without Jonathan and I'm feeling like my right arm has been cut off. This is probably due to the fact that he does a lot of work and makes a lot of things happen in my life. You know, all the important stuff like cooking and loading the dishwasher. Also, he knows all things that you could possibly want to know, such as legal advice and how water fountains work.



Early on in the time off from each other my approach to life is optimistic. I look forward to taking this time to do things that I ordinarily would not do when he's at home. Some of those activities include watching a dorky tv series, or staying up late, or eating fake food (such as anything off of the menu from McDonalds), all of which would most certainly result in deep sighs, eye-rolling, and disapproving remarks coming from the general direction of Jonathan's body.



However, about mid-week, I am starting to feel a slight ache approximately in the center of my chest, roundabouts where my heart would be located if I admitted to having one or feelings or any of the fru fru girly stuff. At this point, I am finding myself fantasizing about how I would survive on my own say if I had a flat tire or if my iPod broke or if I had to figure out how to cook all that meat in my freezer or mainly anything having to do with mechanical stuff or cooking. I frequently give myself pep talks.



By the end of the week I am considering life on my own and trying to be optimistic about it like the fact that if I were on my own that I could finally have a cat and how wonderful it would be. However, this leads me to compare in my mind the value of a cat versus the value of Jonathan and that he is gone from me forever and there is nothing I can do to get him back and now I am doing everything possible not to run weeping from my cubical for the death and loss of my beloved Jonathan. I tell myself not to be silly, but it is too late. Off and on I find myself angry at him because he is gone, and it is his fault whenever things go wrong, like the fact that I took that wrong turn or ordered a chicken gordita when I really wanted a steak chalupa with extra sour cream.



In the last hours of my solitude I am brimming with excitement because I know that I will soon get to see him and I feel as if he will be back from the dead. Again, I tell myself not to be silly. Occasionally, I panic because I have not gotten to finish my dorky mini series and still have a couple of chicken patties left. But mostly I just make a mental list of all the things I am going to do to make him pay--er--let him know how much I missed him.



However, when he walks through the door I am suddenly shy and decide to be aloof and deny myself the acknowledgment that I could actually be so silly with anticipation. I busy myself with being self important and tell him everything that he needs to catch back up on things such as the finances and other business related topics, all delivered in a professional tone. Inside I am wondering if he noticed that I mopped the kitchen floor and how sparkly it is. I fight the compulsion to tell him random attention seeking comments, like it was a close call the other day when my blood sugar dropped, and that I used my coupon to get 2 Arby's subs for 5$. Instead I am suddenly quiet because I have run out of informative things to say.



He asks me if I am okay. I say that I'm fine and that I just don't know how to be around him right now because he has been gone for such a long time. I mentally remind myself that it was just one week. My face reddens. He gives me a hug and tells me that he missed me. I decide that its okay to be a little more open and tell him that I missed him too...sort of. He smiles and knows the truth and that I am being conservative.



I am relieved that I don't actually have to say it, but I tell him anyway, that I actually missed him a lot.

Need You, Mum.

I got to sing on Mother's Day this year. Although I was just a vocalist helping to lead worship, singing for my parents has always been close to my heart. I think because they love it so much too. I honor them and they take joy in me. Several times we have had jam/praise sessions, where we all sit around the house and play and sing. Its amazing how God moves us closer to him and each other during those times.

One of my Dad's favorite songs is Song for the Mira, a Canadian folk song that Liz and I used to sing to him while sitting on the front porch swing. It would always bring tears to his eyes. I was so honored to sing it at my sister's wedding for the father-daughter dance. Whenever they would dance close to me I could hear them singing too, as if we were the only people in the room. Not sure what it is about that one song, but Jon loves it too.

I was informed last year that Mother's Day is all about the cheese. Well, I've never been into the cheese. However, this year for Mum's Day, Seacoast showed a clip called I'll Need You, Mom, and it was everything that I wanted to say to my mother. No cheese, no flowery "your a saint and I want to be just like you." No fru fru attempt to patronize her to death for this one day, just the simple truth, and it still brings tears just thinking about it. My mother, despite all her imperfections, despite all her own insecurities and issues that she was dealing with, taught me the things that I needed to know at every turn.

Its such an exacting measure of how God wants all of us to live our lives. Keep going, keep telling, keep pointing to the truth, no matter how imperfect you are. Its not about how complete you are from the get go, its about who will complete you. Its about the source of your perfection. I am so grateful to this woman I call Mother for teaching me that.

On a lighter note, I can't talk about M-Day without mentioning Seri. So...here's the scene for you:

Liz opens her card from me which reads, "If you can't say something nice, call me on my cell phone." Shortly after reading it (and mid-thank to me), Seri snatches the card out of her mother's hand, and begins beating her mother over the head with the greeting card, laughing with glee. Tommy, taking a moment to witness the abuse of the mother of his child, fittingly says, "Well, Happy Mothers Day!" Glowering across from me over the torrent of greeting-card assaults, Liz shoots me a look that says, how about I call you right now!