Witty Over Pretty

When I observe women who are not similar to me and whom most likely I feel insecure around because of their natural yet manicured looks and adeptness at cheery chit chat, I get swept by this urge to define myself, to internally point out our differences and to say, "Well I may not be that, but I am this...". I take on this us versus them mentality, like the witty girls versus the pretty girls, but then I start to feel bad because they have feelings too, and am I not just propagating women envy and the idea that you can't be both smart and pretty? Besides, I consider all my girlfriends to be beautiful women though some may regularly wax and some may regularly dig in the dirt.

These feelings go back as early as second grade, when I was the awkward smart girl wearing hand-me-downs that erred on the side of being high-waters and they wore seer suckered jumpers and curly pigtails. I wasn't allowed to wear pigtails because they looked like "devils horns" and I would never be allowed to pierce anything because, "God gave you all the holes you need, why do you want to add another?” So for as far as I can remember, I've valued function over fashion and have forever been envious of those fashionistas that inevitably seem to flock together. In second grade I swore I would never wear makeup or skirts, but that was shot to heck when my grandmother gave me tinker bell nail polish, which I got in trouble for not sharing with my little brother who was five and wanted his nails done too.

In eighth grade I noticed this one girl in a bright yellow silky tank had something I didn't and realized that I wasn't exactly sitting pretty in my Umbro's and T. I can't tell you how many times in eighth, ninth and probably tenth grade that I prayed that God would make my boobs grow. "Please, just a handful!" I realized I had a boyish figure, but I didn't want that. Now, I can totally rock a skirt, but when I put on a pair of heels, I feel like a fake, and when I wear jeans and a beat up T I feel invincible, even a little sexy.

Today if I see a friend donning a skirt or tight jeans and tall boots and a handbag the size of Zimbabwe with her hair smoothed and face put on, most likely I will instantly hate on her a little and be overwhelmed with envy that she carries it off with such ease. And when her like-faced friends are drawn like magnets to the large hunk of iron I KNOW she has secretly stashed in that HUGE bag, I will immediately long for an invitation to be there, but I am just not magnetized that way and am probably even a bit repelled, as I hold my elbows, suck in my tummy a little and try to look witty and engaged in something else.

My element is not being in public. I absolutely dread having to walk in front of people, especially during communion on Sundays, and for awhile would beg Joe not to make me go as my heart raced and palms sweated and I was totally distracted from the music. I remember taking swim lessons at the Y and peeing in the pool just so I didn't draw attention to myself by asking to go to the bathroom. My friends may laugh because I am such a goofball and verbally loose cannon once they know me, but I am intensely shy and insecure around girls I have placed in the pretty over witty category. I've always felt more comfortable around guys, because guys don't care what you wear. I've told Joe time and time again that girls dress up for the other girls, not the guys. Last week he said that was silly because "Isn't it most important what I think?" Yes, love, it is and I love that you love me how I am.

Handprints and Pendants

Last night, Joe and I played with my new letter and number stamps, and I made herb pendants by pressing herbs from my garden into the clay. I am thinking of using these for necklaces and as tags for herb pots. This craft smells absolutely wonderful as the pressing releases the beautiful aromas of oregano, thyme and rosemary. This morning, I had Daniel do a handprint. He wanted to do more, so as soon as this one is dry enough to move, he and I will get busy.

Climbing, Strolling, and Building

This weekend rounded out a great week having Joe home. Friday morning, we took advantage of the break in rain and went to Kaplan Park to let Daniel run around on the playground. He loves trying to climb the most dangerous things and was really interested in the disc golf baskets. I'm sure Joe is looking forward to when Daniel is big enough to play with him. That afternoon, he tried to get Daniel to do some Wii boxing, but Daniel was more interested in watching Joe flailing around than waving his own arms in the air.


Saturday morning we took a stroll at the Flea Market. It was the last weekend it was open before being shut down in preparation for the State Fair (Whoopie!) and I was very excited to find some vintage green shutters to use in my pottery display this fall. Joe got to work building me a shelf from recycled wood. The shelf is to be framed by the shutters and I plan on hanging ceramic pressed herb pendants from the hardware. I love that the wood was from a table he made me when we were engaged. Joe expresses love through service and he loves me very well. The display looks great, but I'll hold off posting a pic since I may still paint the wood to let the shutters pop more.

No, Paige, No! Not Again!

You don't know how it pains me to bring up this topic again... but for the sake of fairness and honesty, I can't pretend that everything is just fine. I like to share how I take the bull by the horns and give him a run for his money, but this time the bull's chasing me, and I think I might be wearing a curly wig and huge clown shoes that are seriously tripping me up. That's right, here we go on miscarriage. My close friend, whom I tell most everything to, pointed out that whenever she asks how I've been doing, I bring up something related to being not-pregnant again, or my whacked out cycles, or anything related to making or not making babies. She asked if I was trying and I didn't want to admit I was, but how can keeping track of days and shooting for the right timing and thinking about it non-stop not be called trying?

It really sucked to have this pointed out, that I was letting this control my thoughts and cause me stress, especially because I don't know that I am even ready to go through it again... it being all that pregnancy can entail. I realized that maybe what I was dealing with was grief. What? Yeah. GRIEF. But I don't feel sad; I'm not in mourning... I feel good about life (other than the weekly reminder at Bible study that I am in-fact NOT pregnant and everyone else is).

Remember your last serious breakup? You probably had either one of two reactions: 1) You felt like a serious failure wanted to avoid love at all costs and avoided jumping in to something new or 2) You felt like a serious failure and wanted to prove that you could indeed love again and weren't as broken as you thought. Miscarriage is absolutely nothing like a serious breakup, but I find myself on the rebound, wanting to prove that my body is indeed functional and I am not really a failure, as if I were certain that it was my body responsible in the first place. What a terrible way to deal with grief. Hello child, your middle name is "REBOUND" because your mom only got pregnant with you because she was hurt and wanted to prove something.

This is what rainy days and rock music are for - sitting at the pottery wheel and being able to do something well. These are times where I probably need Jesus to wash over me, but I opt for sludgy hands and loud radio blasts of U2's "Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For".

Furlough - Get it While It's Hot

What a hot week! The weather has completely thrown off our furlough plans. It's too hot to dig up the back and front yard and too wet to camp! So what does that leave us? - a trip to Marbles, family snuggle time in the bed, tilling, smooshing the green bugs on my broccoli plants, picking beans, a little teaching, a trip to BJ's, ten times the cooking we usually do, tv watching, fire ant killing, raking, music listening, water pipe fixing, pottery, home oil changing, playing in the water hose, diaper changing, room cleaning, and a lot of sitting around in pajamas in the evening.

It's been great, and even though we haven't accomplished all we hoped, Daniel has loved having both parents and the greater variety of activities. He has turned into quite a little monkey and is climbing on and off of everything. While he used to have the magic ability to see through counter tops and reach for things, he now can peek over the tops to grab exactly what he wants, whether it is a bunch of bananas or a bag of chips.



I'm not sure what Daniel and I will do Monday when Joe goes back to work. I've dropped off the play date radar as we were out of town last week and have been in the bubble this week. So here's a shout out to my mommy friends, "Helllllloooooooooo out there! Want to make plans?" And to everyone else, stop by my pottery website. It's pretty. If you want to make plans too, Daniel prefers adults anyhow.

Class Update

My Wednesday night class with Julie Olson has been getting my creative juices flowing and reminding me of tricks of the craft. So far, getting back into throwing is not unlike getting back on a bike after not riding for awhile. My hands seem to know what to do, and I love it.

Julie has demonstrated three-pull cylinders, handles, mixing bowls, batter bowls, pasta bowls and plates. My favorite has been the wide-rimmed pasta bowls. It makes so much sense to have a place to rest the bread instead of trying to chase the sauce away during the meal! The biggest encouragement from Julie has been to detach myself enough from my work so that if it isn't good I can let it go. I've often tried to save pieces from cracks and blips only to waste precious time and energy. The time would better be spent starting over and improving my skills.

I'm in the process of applying to a couple of shows for the fall and winter and have been thinking through the preparations such as how many pieces I need to prepare, what I'd like to sell, and how it should be marketed. I have no business experience, but I enjoy throwing and like the idea of a show or two to motivate me. I also need to start thinking about Christmas and wedding gifts. Why buy when I can make?

New Favorite

Daniel loves this. Enjoy.

Another Thing That Makes Today Great

I'm wearing my torn up jeans and my teal fifth grade kid's choir t-shirt. They go great with the rain!

AAAAAAND... it's the first day of fall!

It's a Good Day

Daniel was switched to the Tuesday class which means I get to go to morning studio at the Crafts Center after getting my eyes checked. After Daniel's class, I may make the most of the rain and throw some more bowls and venture into small flower pots. I still haven't applied to the two shows I want to do this fall/winter, and I want to make sure I can produce enough in time.

Joe is home all week and we've been tilling and raking the yard. The folks who developed and owned our lot seemed to do absolutely nothing to the yard and it is over taken by weeds, roots, and rocks. Of course, it's a massive undertaking but physical labor is wonderful. After two days of leveling the yard with a rake, I've been sleeping like a baby. We have about 2.5 rooms we'd like to get painted this week, so there's a pretty hefty list to accomplish before hitting the mountains for our first family camping trip this weekend. Family as in the three of us, possibly both sets of grandparents and any of our friends who want to jump in to the craziness.

Three Months Healed

At the passing of each month, I have mixed emotions. While I am a little disappointed to not be pregnant again, I’ll take not being pregnant over having a miscarriage any day. Most of the readings I found said emotional healing takes a good three months. While the emotional healing of the miscarriage seems nearly momentary in the span of my trip down Fertility Lane, the surrendering of my ideals and plans seems nearly as cyclical as the months that go by.

Two weeks ago, I had a fleeting thought that I would be okay, satisfied, not disappointed, etc, if I didn’t have any more children. While more would be fun, I already feel so blessed. Have you ever experienced that time period before you end a relationship when you start cutting off your heart in preparation for the split? I’m not sure that I am truly okay with it, or if I am just revving up my heart for what might not be ahead. I’d like to claim that I had enough faith and satisfaction in God to really take things as they came, but honestly, I still like being in control. If I cannot control my circumstances, I can at the very least control and prepare my reaction to them.

I don’t think I feel sorry for myself, nor do I want pity. The present time is absolutely wonderful. It’s the fear of the future and the what ifs that I find difficult. What if what I really want doesn’t happen? What if time just slips on by? I had the same fears about marriage while I was single, and I made myself pretty miserable over them. Personally, I have no desire to live my entire life in that mindset. Fear of future dissatisfaction hinders my ability for present satisfaction and enjoyment. I guess I will keep evaluating my heart and praying for that to be transformed.

Meanwhile, I am enjoying new personal liberties. Daniel tags along on walks without a stroller! I get to attend a pottery class Wednesday nights and will soon get another chunk of studio time at NCSU on Tuesday mornings. Daniel is eating more on his own and communicating his needs and wants more clearly. There is much less frustration around here because of those simple changes. This part of the world is cooling off a little, and being outside is refreshing. Life is just very sweet right now.

While Mama's Away the Ants Will Play

I was away from home for nearly a week, and my home coming was not complete without a morning jaunt around the gardens. I have never had so many beans ready for picking at once! I'm still not finished, but had to go inside because the mosquitoes were eating me alive. Two green peppers looked ready for picking and I am excited to use them for dinner tonight. The potted squash is still about twice the size of the ones in the ground and has several small fruit growing. I should have started this much sooner, but was too busy wallowing over my lost plants. Before I left town, I planted broccoli from Logan's and a variety of lettuces. The lettuces have all spouted and the broccoli seems to be growing well. There is still no spinach, so this afternoon I may try to start some indoors. Joe didn't pick any okra while I was gone and they were huge - maybe too tough now, but I will just use them to harvest seeds for next year. The rye grass is lush and green.

Listen, I don't play with fire ants. Okay, so maybe I jab sticks in their nest, but when it comes to protecting my child's feet and my own from them, I am all about some serious insecticide. This week in Chattanooga, Daniel got a vicious bite on his "little piggy that went to market", and his entire foot swelled and now has a large painful blister. While I fully support organic gardening when possible, I will not allow fire ants to overrun my yard. I found one product that claims to be safe for crops, but still I don't apply it around the plants. I just read that it is best not to disturb the mound before application because fire ants will take their queen to safety. This is simply amazing and completely frustrating. While I was gone, an enormous nest popped up in the corner of the brick walkway. I knew ants were pretty active around there, but I didn't know they had colonized and were planning a stake out on the entire corner of the garden. Be warned Queenie, pack your bags because Mama is coming to get you!

What? I Can't Hear You!

Daniel and I have been in Chattanooga with my family since Sunday evening. Daniel has been asking about Bubba and Susu ever since they visited awhile back, and Joe has a busy week at work, so we packed up and did a last minute trip... as in we decided at 12 pm we should go and were out the door at 12:40 pm on an eight hour car ride.

The first morning we went to a playground where Daniel had a great time on the bouncing bridge, chimes, and slides. Since then there has been a lot of rain. He knows there is a ton of fun to be had outside, despite the ridiculous fire ant infestation and some stings on his foot, and has been pretty frustrated by being trapped indoors.

Last night at dinner Daniel was very fussy, constantly making noise. I'd had enough so I ran to my bedroom for a pair of ear plugs to take the edge off. Sometimes moms are great at figuring out how to stop the noise, but sometimes when that just isn't an option, like when it is time to eat and we can't go play blocks or buttons or buckles, moms just have to live with the noise.

Daniel noticed the purple plugs in my ears and was very concerned about them being there pointing at them, jabbering about them and pointing at his ears. His concern was very loud and almost as annoying at the fussing, so everyone at the table covered their ears with their hands. Daniel looked around at each of us and put his hands over his ears as well, at which point we all died laughing, including Daniel.

Don't Take My Mocha Frappuccino

On our way to the flea market this morning, Joe was needing some coffee and I remembered that I had a Starbucks gift card in my wallet, though I wasn't sure if there was anything on it. Daniel and I waited in the parking lot while Joe went to check, and he came back with a coffee and a mocha frappuccino! With whipped cream! The barista was a bit puzzled by the look of the gift card and found that the date of the card was 2006. Joe said the entire place looked at him like he'd never been in a Starbucks before as such a piece of gold had been pocketed for so long. At the flea market, I let Daniel take a couple sips of the mocha frap and this was the look he gave me as I attempted to take it back.

The Danger of Soul Mates

When I started spending time with Joe in college, it didn't take long for me form a deep friendship and connection with him. He was tall, athletic, and blonde, played the guitar, took the time to understand and know me, and most importantly shared my depth of faith. We had awesomely funny conversations about squirrels and boogers, and awkwardly danced around our feelings for each other without ever defining them or daring to explore them.

As a crush developed, I tried to push aside those emotions as I did with all crushes but to no avail. I think I was several months ahead of him emotionally and went through a time where I had to pull away. Both of us during that year of friendship had dreams of our wedding to each other. It took us nearly a year and much drama to begin dating, but after a long walk through campus in the snow, almost instantly we knew we were in love and would likely get married. The love was so natural and easy, and Joe never left one speck of doubt in my mind whether or not he would fight for us.

It was the picture of two soul mates coming together, but neither of us believes in the idea of soul mates. Either of us could have met someone else along the way and fallen head over heels. The match may have not been natural and easy, or it could have been profoundly more exciting. Was Joe "the one"? That doesn't matter. Now that we are married he is "the one" for me and I am "the one" for him. We submit to each other and to God as He weaves our souls together.

Personally, I don't subscribe to the idea of a soul mate as defined as follows: the romantic idea that every person has a counterpart and can only be completed by being with that counterpart. The fundamental problem with the idea of a soul mate is that one person cannot complete another. Humans were created to worship God, and only by allowing Christ to renew our createdness can we be complete.

For awhile I went through a phase where I thought I had to be completely content in Christ before meeting "the one", but that too was a lie. If marriage is meant to depict the relationship of Christ to the Church with Him calling broken people to Himself and making them beautiful through his sacrifice and ensuing bond, then we don't have to be perfectly content in Christ before entering into a Christian marriage. Part of our createdness was that we were designed for physical companionship.

As a Christian, my idea of marriage is that the man's and woman's souls are woven together with God, beginning on the wedding day. I thought that something supernatural would occur at the altar, and it did, but not in the way I expected. For me, that weaving together of souls is beautiful but not easy. The coming together takes a lifetime as we allow ourselves at times to be woven and at other times rebelliously tear at the threads. It takes action and work, lessons in humility and grace. The concept of a soul mate implies that the person has already been woven together with another person, perhaps with very loose threads, and they just have to figure out to whom they are stitched. Meanwhile, as they go through life looking, they end up weaving themselves to the wrong people and having to undo the weaving once they know it's not right. It sounds like a very large mess of yarn to me.

To believe that one person alone can provide us eternal happiness sets us on an overly burdensome and very selfish quest to find that one person. The quest revolves about ourselves and our happiness. Garry Thomas writes, "God designed marriage to make us holy more than to make us happy." This sounds cold, religious, and just nasty to hopeless romantics. However, if we abandon being happy, being right, being comfortable for being more like Jesus, we become complete, our marriage thrives, and we experience the deepest truest love of a lifetime. It is very romantic, very sacrificial, and amazingly beautiful and sexy.

The idea of a soul mate implies that the relationship is indestructible - indestructible because it was forged in the fires of destiny, nothing can feign it, and nothing can break it. I will say this once. Marriage is fragile. Love is fragile. You have to work your butt off to make it last. If there were such a thing as a soul mate, either half the population wasn't created with one or just couldn't find theirs, another chunk of the population settled for something less (which is maybe why some folks can't find theirs), and a very small fraction of people got lucky.

Marriages crumble around us, and it is no wonder people delay it longer and longer. The deal is we have replaced willingness for work and sacrifice with trying to find someone who fits well enough that work and sacrifice aren't needed. Broken people will never fit well enough. We aren't jagged edges of a plate that can be glued back together and be functional. We are a million shards of glass all over the kitchen floor. Even if our shards are from the same mold, they are disastrously messy.

Joe and I continually work on our marriage. Usually, when things get strained, it's because we have become lazy, not because things around us are getting tough. If anything, tough times grow us as we choose to lean into each other and into God. As we endure, all aspects get better. When we were dating, I once looked at Joe with googly eyes and said, "You make me so happy." He said very seriously, "Don't ever tell me that again. I don't want my job to be to make you happy. It's too great a burden." He was more right than he knew at the time. The funny thing is that as we make each other holy by pushing each other towards Christ, we have found deep joy and even times of happiness.

Come Sit With Me

Let's Talk Soil Temp

Every spring, as soon as the sun begins to warm my face, I'm ready to put seeds in the ground. I cannot control the urgency I feel to begin planting. This past spring, I learned a valuable lesson: air temp does not equal soil temp. Every type of seed has an optimum soil temperature for germination. It so happens that beans like 75-80 degrees F, and at this optimum temperature, they will germinate in seven days on average. Planting them in March when the mean soil temperature was 46 was destined for failure as most the beans rotted in the ground. The ones I planted in April took nearly two weeks to germinate, but by July, they were germinating in under a week.

Obviously, if we waited to plant everything until July, the growing season would be cut short, which is why many people use transplants rather than seeds for the home garden and plant after the danger of frost. I chose to grow as much as I could from seed indoors. I grew tomatoes, peppers, squash, various herbs and several other things which did not take off. Some did not work for unknown reasons and some simply did not handle transplanting well. I started broccoli from seed, but ended up using transplants, and I also picked out several varieties of pepper transplants which I had not purchased seeds for.

The current soil temperature in Raleigh is 67 degrees F. How do I know this? I used the State Climate Office website. The site allows users to look up daily, monthly, and yearly means for many different atmospheric, wind, moisture, soil, and solar radiation parameters. Raleigh's current soil temperature falls into the optimum ranges for the following fall crops: broccoli, cauliflower, lettuce, peas, radish, and rutabaga. Yesterday, I planted more spinach and various lettuces. While it is a few degrees cool for starting spinach, which can take up to two weeks to germinate, hopefully some will take. It looks like I missed the boat on carrots, which prefer 75 degrees F. I may still plant some and cross my fingers.

When you know your current location's average soil temperatures, it can make timing your garden planting more successful, especially when planting cool weather crops. In Raleigh, our average soil temperature never quite breaks 75 degrees F, so don't think that those heat loving crops like okra, peppers, squash, melons, etc won't ever germinate - simply start some indoors in a mini greenhouse. I started squash outside in August without any trouble at all, so remember that optimum temperature doesn't imply that seeds will only germinate within the given range.

Planting Plan

Because I am a little crazy, I did my planting plan for the fall and spring. The fall plan is similar but all the plots in medium green will be annual rye grass and the three raised beds in the center will be the same but maybe a little more mixed and matched. Yesterday, bought two kinds of broccoli and swiss chard. Joe tilled all those areas where crops will be planted after disassembling the tiller to clean out the engine and other parts. Joe is probably the most handy person I know and I am very impressed at his mechanical abilities. After we raked the soil for rocks and weeds, we added lime, peat, and rye grass. I also pulled out several tomato plants and may finish pulling the rest today so I can begin planting my new crops. It is hard for me to pull up plants that are still producing, but I have a shelf full of canned tomatoes and sauce and really don't need any more! There is a very sunny spot in the back which we will eventually fill with various berry bushes. A friend promised me some raspberry plantings, so I am eagerly waiting on those. Free plants are definitely the best.

Daddy's Truck

Cold Tots and Pink Flamingos

Today was Daniel's first day of his Mom's Morning Out program. It was my job to make him lunch, pack him two diapers and a change of clothes and label everything before taking him to school. The lunch was supposed to be finger foods. His usual lunch of applesauce and tater tots was changed to tater tots, a granola bar and a mix of yogurt treats and raisins.

When I picked him up this afternoon, he was having a great time. However, the check list left in his backpack said he ate "Some" of his lunch. I don't blame him. Cold tater tots (I ate some too before I went to get him) just don't have the same appeal as warm ones. Next week I will pack cheese, but in a new container because despite my clear labeling, I didn't get one of them back, which is why I have no idea if he ate any raisin and yogurt treats. The tater tot container was empty, but I am assuming the ladies didn't deem cold tater tots worthy of saving. I would pack something more worthy such as grapes and veggies, but Daniel has not expressed much excitement in those. It's a texture thing, and I totally get it.

After I dropped Daniel off, I had a moment where I thought to myself, What am I going to do? Everything I like to do, I like doing with Daniel! I quickly snapped out of that, headed home and got to work on the wheel. I didn't even go into the house first. I got good and messy and then I showered. I ate waffles. I have decided that frozen leftover pecan waffles are better than fresh pecan waffles because the toaster gets them nice and crispy. Daniel loves waffles, but you know what? I didn't even think of that while I was scarfing them down. Bad, mama!

Daniel fell asleep so hard on the way home that he hardly woke up when I took him out of the car and carried him up to his crib. I didn't mind, because I could sneak in a lot of kisses.

REVISION. The wonderful ladies at MMO did give me all my containers back. It just fell out of the pack while I was digging around in it while driving. There were several yogurt bites and most of the raisins left. I don't like raisins either. Around the age of 8, I determined via experimentation that boogers and raisins both stuck to my molars and both were therefore disgusting.

New Pottery Studio

Check my personal blog, www.pocketsmiles.com, for a picture of the new setup!

Still need to add: lamp, board or plaster bat for wedging on top of the freezer, chair for guests.

New Pottery Studio

Last night while I was at my pottery class, my sweet husband moved my wheel and other supplies from the room above the garage down into the garage. While being indoors with the air conditioning was more comfortable, I didn't feel free to make a little mess due to the carpet. Now I have shelves to let pieces dry, the deep freezer is sturdy enough to wedge clay, and I don't have to carry pieces downstairs to glaze and fire them. The best part is that clay dust will no longer be polluting our indoor air!

I have been tossing around several ideas: selling online, doing more local shows, providing a holiday craft gift for families, and teaching lessons. I was getting all excited about teaching the wheel to beginners and even doing some hand building with kids, but then my family brought up the concerns of the risks involved in running a business and pointed out that my REAL teaching job is much more profitable. While it was a bit of a downer to hear, it pushed me to start working on a business plan and look into what exactly is involved in running a small business from home.

Meanwhile, I am going to still throw, sign up for a couple shows and even do the holiday craft (hand prints for babies and toddlers), but other than working with a couple close friends, I am going to hold off on providing lessons. Raleigh has several excellent resources for classes for new potters, so I need to determine what exactly I can offer that people cannot get from the city programs and through NC State. There is no need to reinvent the wheel, but there is always room for those neon under car lights and spinning rims... well not really, but my added flexibility to arrange hours could be advantageous.

Since I was a kid, I've had the heart of a teacher. Even that silly Facebook quiz says I am made to teach (but really who believes Facebook quizzes?), so there is a good chance I would really enjoy helping people discover their inner passion for clay. The best way for me to learn how to teach clay is to keep taking as many classes as I can.

That's One Tired Chicken!

Last night for dinner we ate green beans, fried okra, fried green tomatoes, and hash brown casserole. Everything was from the garden excluding the cheese and chicken soup used in the casserole. The beans were a little tough (could be a picked them at the wrong time), but everything else was okay and probably tasted better in my head since I grew it. The chicken soup was leftover from Monday night's chicken and dumplings which was left over from my Whole Food's free Rotisserie chicken. I thought the college dining hall was bad for recycling food, but I got three uses out of that little clucker and still have leftovers! At what point is a chicken too tired to join you for dinner?