Looks like monthly reports now. . .

So this seems a little bit sad. A month goes by and I don't seem to register it, let alone post. What's going on with that? And yet. Here we are. We have a neighbor who is a physician's assistant who works with Covid patients, and she told us yesterday (driveway conversations! so wonderful!) that she got her vaccine. One of the first in line. Hallelujah. One less essential soul to worry about. Sort of. 

Pottery has continued, but stutteringly. These bisque pieces were so wonderful, but collapsed during the glaze firing. I can't bring myself to photograph them in their misery. Porcelain is a harsh mistress. So the next project (after holiday baking indulgence, and Christmas cards) is to make the same square piece (roughly) from both porcelain and a cone 5 stoneware, and run them through the same paces. I suspect that the porcelain is to blame, but I must have had something to do with it. . .

The days have been full of the making of other things too. I am no medium snob. Knitted socks, crocheted collars on tiny velveteen dresses, procuring (wrapping and mailing) gifts. All good work, but not work I am good at. It all takes me so long. 

Jasper continues to be my partner-in-crime. We had a long walk today in misty murky weather with M and B. Perfect for my mood. These Rocky Mountain foothills have their charms, though more and more I miss the wet eastern green.

And we sequester. Wine, dog, consort, not in that order. We wait, too. Patience is the hardest thing. For me. For most of us, I expect. Christmas is a thing to try to cherish, but mostly to survive. We're planning on a NY Christmas. We have to find some Chinese take-out. Smile. And hope that Christ can actually intervene, and make compassionate souls out of all of us.