Where is she? A real life mystery #2

(Over the next few weeks, I'll post short installments of this true life experience. String them together and guess, where the main character is stuck.)

She took another sip from the bottle and looked around the group of people that surrounded her.

“I’m glad I went to the bathroom before I left,” said the big blonde woman in black at the back.

Without turning around the woman in the center commanded, “No peeing on the carpet.”

Eyebrows raised, lips tightened and glances went around the crowd, but no one said another word.

“Well, at least you have something fun,” the big blonde said to her, motioning to the dark glass bottle she held in her hand.

“Oh, this?” Lifting the bottle to show the label, she said, “Hotlips Cranberry soda.”

“Oh, not beer, too bad.” More giggling from the corner.

“Well, it might come in handy if you need it later,” the guy next to her said to the big blonde and his mousy girlfriend in the corner. They all obviously knew each other because the big blonde nudged the small mousy girl, they both giggled and he smiled.

“People used to use empty pop bottles, back in the day of the long cross-country family vacations, you know, kids need to go but Dad won’t stop,” explains the woman in the center. “But that meant the company had to destroy the bottle.”

“Don’t they clean them with steaming water and disinfectant?” said the woman opposite her who also snagged a bottle of pop.

“Yes. But it didn’t matter, if they find organic material in it, they don’t reuse it. They destroy it anyway.”

The young man to her right looked over at his friend, the big blonde and answered, “Well, there’s always your rubber boots.” More giggling from the mousey girl in the corner.

More eyebrows went up.

A Day Without Clay.

I had errands to run. Lots and lots of them. Why? Because I’ve been too busy playing with clay.

Monday, I just had to trim those pots I threw last Thursday and add the sculptural elements to the bowls.

Tuesday, I was teaching a great group of kids to make faces, yes, out of clay.

Wednesday, I was in class finishing a round jar to go in the kiln, making an oval bowl and learning to pour slip on greenware.

Thursday was a throwing day. My biggest porcelain bowl to date and the lip did not cave. Yeah! And I experimented with new mug shapes. I like the one I did last the best. It has wonderful curves. After I cleaned the mud off myself, I went back into the studio and waxed out the leaves on a set of mugs and a bowl I need to glaze.

Friday, all those errands demanded to be done. Driving back and forth doing the shopping, sitting in bumper to bumper traffic, I got cranky. But it took me awhile to realize it wasn’t just the freeway blues that was getting me down.

It was a day without clay.

So, ok. I admit it.

My name is Susan and I’m addicted to clay.

Where is she? A real-life mystery.

(Over the next few weeks, I'll post another installment of this true life experience.)


She was stuck. Even though she was surrounded by a crowd of people, no one could help her.

There was one person. One person she wanted to call but surrounded as she was, talking on her cell into the silence of the tightly packed crowd, seemed like an invasion of privacy. Hers and theirs. But really, she felt embarrassed to do what she really wanted to do. Pull out her phone, dial 911 and shout, “Help!”

But it was not an emergency. She looked around. No one whipped out a cell phone. In fact, no one moved at all. Everyone stood stiffly, mostly silent save for the low giggle of the girl in the corner to her right, but she wasn’t sure if that was a nervous reaction to the situation or her boyfriend. And, somehow, she didn’t want to know.

Unbuttoning her coat in spite of the winter weather, she looked up toward the whirring sound above her head and thanked the gods. She was alive, breathing, thirsty and grateful for the free soda taken from the table outside the room. Sipping was calming

How long would she be stuck here with all these strangers? She sipped slowly and stopped saving a half an inch of soda in the bottle. Reaching in, she touched the two chocolates in her coat pocket, but didn’t eat them.

Was it survival instinct or fear? She didn’t know. But stuck and surrounded by 11 other people, she didn’t want a feeding frenzy to start over two small heart-shaped candies.

Lioness on the prowl in Seattle.

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I love cats. My very first cat was Bartholomew Jones, a big, fluffy buff colored male who chose me one day at the Oregon Humane Society. That day I was rather taken with a very pretty Siamese, but Bart just kept following me around until I finally picked him up. That was it.

Bart taught me to love cats and I’ve lived with many over the years. And it’s inspired my art as well. So when I heard about a Seattle gallery with a show calling for cat faces, I entered the ‘Lioness'.

Fictilis Gallery in Seattle, Washington is showing a multitude of cat faces in many media for the month of February including my ‘Lioness’ mask.

Lioness is sculpted by hand from window screening and painted with layers of acrylic paint. You can wear the ‘Lioness’ as a mask or hang it on the wall as an art piece either indoors or out. The material is strong and doesn’t rust even for years outside. And the transparency of the screening allows you to wear the mask, look like a Lioness but still be able to see all everything around you.

I love cats, and I respect them, too. They are graceful and powerful creatures. Check out the show at Fictilis at 210 S. Washington Street in Seattle, Washington or take a look at the online pictures here.