Lots Of Cussing But Used Appropriately

 Spirea against blue sky.

I had the craziest experience last night. I turned out the light around 11:30 which is a little late for me but not unheard of. I woke up a little after two, which also is not unusual. I generally just come to conscious and fall back asleep but last night I couldn't because my right big toe was so itchy that I thought I would go insane. 
Now who in the world has a big toe so itchy they can't sleep? I can't recall my big toe ever being itchy at all except for the time when I had hookworms in my feet. I got those being a feral child in Roseland who mostly did not wear shoes and I doubt I've ever been more miserable in my life than when those fucking little fuckers were crawling around under the skin of my feet. 
Yes. It was as horrible as it sounds and yes, my mother did take me to the doctor more than once and yes, I did get treatment which consisted then and may still, of getting the area sprayed with liquid nitrogen which is -321º which in theory will freeze and kill the fucking fuckers. 
This is the same stuff your dermatologist uses to freeze off possibly precancerous dots and spots and places on your body. Generally, the doctor hits that spot with one spray but when I had the ground itch (which is what we called hookworm along with another term which was creeping eruption), the doctor showed us how to follow the little red tunnels where the worm larvae were dancing about with the spray and then really hit the end of the tunnel hard in hopes that's where the worm larvae actually was. Now when something that cold hits your skin, it feels like you're being burned, and in fact, if used too generously, blisters the skin and infection can occur.
Ask me how I know.
Okay, okay. I did not come here to tell that story once again. But trust me- it was horrible in all regards. 

So there I was last night, trying to get back to sleep by ignoring the itching in my toe and then being unable to stop myself, I would scratch the hell out of it and go through the whole process again. After about an hour of this I got up and took a Benadryl and about twenty minutes after that, I did go back to sleep. 
Even as it was all going on, I thought about how truly funny it was. It didn't feel funny at the time, but honestly- an itchy toe preventing sleep is ridiculous and I was quite aware of that. 

I might still be asleep had not Maurice come in a few minutes after nine and wake me up. She probably thought I was dead or was worried that I was dead and thus, would not be able to give her her morning treat.
Whatever. I got up.
And my toe has not itched a bit since then. 

I went to what is called "open studio" in pottery which is like an extra class where you don't really get taught, or not formally at least. There is an instructor there to sort of keep an eye on things and lend help if needed. I knew I wanted to get my fish dish and flower bowl which had been fired and also wanted to collect the fish spoon rest I'd made for Billy which had gone through its first firing before glazing. 

I found my fish and my flower but could not find my spoon rest. Finally, I looked on the shelf where they put the kids' work and low and behold- there it was! 
That cracked me up so much. And honestly, it pleased me. Yes! My pieces are childlike! And what the hell could be better than playing with your inner child at the age of 71? 
I've brought that one home to put the glaze on (Stroke and Coat!) in the next week or so before the next session begins. 
As to the pieces I got from the kiln that were glazed, I like one and am vastly disappointed in the other. 
Here's the disappointment: 

The colors were not what I was going for at all and have little resemblance to the colors I was seeing in my head. In fact, I find it rather hideous. Again, a learning experience. 

And for the one I do like:

Now that is far closer to what I wanted. It's too bad it didn't end up being bowl-shaped enough to be a bowl but a dish is okay too. 
The class was a bit odd. The instructor person was not the teacher we have but another one who could not, for the love of god or money, quit talking. She could not, she would not. AND, she had a loud voice. She covered so many random topics that my pottery friend and I kept looking at each other and rolling our eyes and my friend finally said, "I can't." And I said, "I can't either."
And we closed up shop and left. 

Pottery class is the time when we are allowed to work in peace. And that was not happening today. At all. 

Jessie is getting ready for the little adventure they're going to take in their new camper. Spring break starts next Monday and off they will go. She's been working nights and has had no chance to start organizing. She'll get it done but spending two hours at pottery wasn't what she felt like she needed to do. She did come by and we got to hug and do a very quick catch-up and I gave her some bean seeds and some jars of green beans I canned last summer (I have to clear these shelves!) and she gave me a tomato and a pepper plant that she had no room for. 
So that was very, very good. 

After I left class, I decided to go to a nursery to look for a Mexican basil but they had none. I ended up getting pepper and eggplant starts, as well as some other herbs. I've decided to make a little herb garden sort of thing in the area beside the kitchen using bricks I've found while digging weeds. 
Let us put that on the list of things to do.

While I was at the nursery I was attracted to the colorful Mexican and Spanish ceramic pots they had and look what I found.

I just don't feel unique anymore. 
Interestingly enough, I was born in El Paso but my mother and father moved long before I was of an age to start noticing the pottery. 
Still, I've always wondered if that's why I feel so at home in Mexico. 
Yeah, probably not.

Before I leave, here's a picture of a bud opening on the native flame azalea, the one I planted years ago.

Hello, you tender little thing. Welcome to the sun. 

I believe I will put a Benadryl on my bedside table tonight. I am NOT going through that again. Better living through chemicals, better sleeping through chemicals. 
And needs must.

Love...Ms. Moon