A Tuesday Night Pottery Class and a Messy Disaster

Hey everyone, hope your week is off to a better start than mine. I’m still laughing about last night, even if I’m also a little embarrassed. Ren and I signed up for a pottery class at the community center over on Maple Street, thinking it’d be a cute way to spend a Tuesday evening. Spoiler: we are not destined to be ceramic artists. Not even close.

The class started at 6:30, and we got there just in time after I spent way too long circling for parking. The instructor was this super patient woman named Tara who clearly had the zen of a saint to deal with a room full of clueless adults. She walked us through the basics of using the wheel, and I swear I was paying attention, but the second I touched the clay, it was like I’d never used my hands before. My first attempt at a bowl looked more like a sad, lumpy pancake. Ren did marginally better, managing something that could maybe pass as a cup if you squinted hard enough. We were both covered in clay splatter by the end of the hour, and I’m pretty sure I still have some dried bits in my hair as I type this.

The funniest part, though, was when Tara came over to check on my second piece. She tilted her head, trying to be polite, and said, “Well, it’s got character.” I burst out laughing because that’s code for “this is a mess.” I decided to lean into it and just kept shaping whatever weird blob I’d made. Ren snapped a picture of it for posterity, and we’ve already decided it’s going on the shelf as a conversation starter once it’s fired. Assuming it survives the kiln, that is.

After class, we were starving, so we swung by that little diner on 17th, the one with the neon sign shaped like a crescent moon. They’ve got the best milkshakes, and I was craving something sweet after all that manual labor. We split a vanilla shake with extra whipped cream and got some fries to share. It’s weird, though, because they only serve the shakes with those thin copper straws. I guess it’s their thing, keeps the drink colder or something. Still feels odd sipping through metal, but I’m not complaining when the shake is that good.

When we got home, I figured I’d whip up something quick for a late dinner since the fries weren’t exactly filling. I had this grand plan to make a creamy pasta dish with some leftover chicken and a jar of Alfredo sauce. Big mistake. I don’t know what I did wrong, but the sauce separated into this oily, grainy mess, and the pasta was somehow both overcooked and undercooked at the same time. Ren took one bite, made a face, and said, “Babe, let’s just order pizza.” I couldn’t even argue. So, we ended up eating Domino’s at 10 p.m. while binge-watching the latest season of Stranger Things on Netflix. Not the healthiest night, but at least we were laughing about my kitchen failure instead of stressing over it.

Oh, and before I forget, we’ve got the annual Bloom Walk coming up this weekend. It’s that local tradition where everyone decorates their front steps with garlands of early spring flowers and folks just wander the neighborhoods to see them. I’m hoping to snag some decent lilacs from the market on Saturday to make ours look halfway presentable. Last year, ours were so pathetic compared to Mrs. Hargrove down the street. Her setup looked like a floral magazine spread. If you’re in the area, come check it out. It’s always a nice way to spend a morning, even if my garland skills are as bad as my pottery ones.

Anyway, that’s my Tuesday night recap. I’m off to bed now because I’ve got an early client meeting tomorrow, and I’m already dreading the alarm. Night, everyone!