Planned By Him

I sunk my toes in the sand, heard stories about bohemian artists, and had the sea breeze in my hair all because my husband planned it. 

There's not much I don't plan. What to eat for dinner, where to go, what needs to be done when, and quite frankly it's tiresome. I've never been an all mapped out person. Random trips that happen on a whims notice - that's me. They feel like magic moments. The ones where you get to escape without a care or thought to think about, not knowing what you might discover along the way.

We were suppose to go to the largest flea market in the area this Wednesday, that was the plan. He schedule his day off, I cleared my day off - but sometimes as much as you plan, things happen you don't expect. 

Then he planned it all. A day just for me. He took me to the Florence Griswold Museum, where there is painted door panels, and stories that made me wish I was part of the art colony started there.We ate lunch at a nearby cafe we had never been to. I showed him my secret spot I would sometimes drive to when I worked in the area and had gotten there a little too soon. 

Then we combed the beach with our shoes in our hands and feet splashing in the tide. Finding sea glass, shells, and driftwood pieces for an art mobile I'm working on. 

It was the best day I've never planned.  

* PS - I think our little aspiring artist Miss Aries will have her own art colony one day. She had one of her art pieces picked to be in school district wide art show. We couldn't be more proud! 

Wednesday Nights

I have the weirdest days off, honestly. Sundays and Wednesdays. Sometimes it feels like I never leave my day job. But it all works schedule wise. 

This year I promised myself to carve out a sliver of time that was just for me, get back to blogging, art, and to try new things. Pottery was at the top of my list. So every Wednesday night I go to pottery class. It was intimidating at first. My first real art class as an adult. 

Throwing the clay, pulling up the walls, getting dirty. It's a much harder than the potters of the art world lead you to believe. My first couple of pieces are the size of toothpick holders and possibly a wonky personal sized gravy boat. 

But this one class was a turning point. Hovering over the wheel, trying to get my lump of clay to go more vertical, I could hear myself in my head saying "just make a bowl already". Always being busy, in a rush, and more than likely the mom of three littles - was making me actually try to just hurry up the process, and well pressure the clay into something. The whole point of the class was to relax, slow down a bit.  

What the potters have that I didn't was patience. 

I'm slowly getting better. My second batch of pieces produced a nice bowl, a couple of planters, and a mug. The whole process really makes you appreciate all the pottery pieces you've ever owned and took for granted how they were made.