Year in Review

I liked what Erin did by looking back at 2010 on her blog, so I am going to do that too.

In January, I rang in the new year with a great party, attended mostly by my Sunday School class. I had another party a week later, for everyone from school who wasn't in town.

In February, I went to Charleston with friends for less than 48 hours.

In March, I had my thesis reading and then left for nine days of writing in a cabin for Spring Break. Then I turned my thesis in.

In April, I went to Denver for AWP and was swept up in bubbling writer-love.

In May, I graduated. Mom and Dad came, and we ate at Sweet 'N' Savory. Later, Stuart googlechatted me to say he was at Ocean Isle and I should come visit. I left a couple hours later and stayed for a few days, drinking coffee out of a Sid Luck cup, reading, swimming in the ocean, sitting on his dock, looking for jobs side by side on our respective computers. We watched Sister Act on DVD one night, and the next night, Sister Act 2 was on TV. We did a puzzle of hot-air balloons.

In June, Bill retired (our senior pastor) and Randy came. We love them both a lot. I got a job as a newspaper reporter and photographer, which is mostly fun and educational.

In August, I went to Seagrove for the second annual Seagrove Potters for Peace. I got two mugs, a plate, and a necklace that I wore almost every day for several months. I went to homecoming at my church in Henderson and got a new phone.

In October, I went with Lindsey and Lyndsay to spend a couple nights in Lindsey's family's cabin and hike in Hanging Rock State Park. I watched Exit Through the Gift Shop, which may be the best movie I saw all year. Unless Away We Go was this year, which I don't think it was.

In November, I went to Asheville to see John's percussion ensemble perform. I went to Pilgrimage with the youth and had a stranger tell me I'm called to ministry. I hosted a party to honor James Thurber's birthday a month early and baked a cake from his mom's recipe. I went to the third annual Celebration of Seagrove Potters and had dinner with Philip and Sims, whom I hadn't seen in probably years.

Somewhere in there, Jonah and Jack were born, a few months apart. Lindsey got engaged just after Christmas. Michelle was named News Director at WHQR. Lyndsay moved to Denver. Mike and Katie moved to the Charlotte area. I became better friends with Anna, Rachel, and Allison by watching the Thursday night shows with them. I learned to play Telephone Pictionary. I fell hard for NPR. I got to where I could run all the way around the Loop at Wrightsville Beach, stopped running for too long, and now I'm almost back there. Our department's new publishing imprint used my handwriting in its logo. I started shopping strategically, first by paying attention to the sales at Harris Teeter, then by combining them with coupons. Just today, I got 80-something dollars worth of groceries for $30.01. My small group stopped meeting formally, and there was no rejoicing, but I did survive it. I met a guy on eHarmony but had to file him under "fun while it lasted" after only a couple months. I finished the last half of the Novel Class and the last semester of grad school. Beginning in the summer, much to my surprise, I began my third and most serious round of thinking about seminary, which culminated (thus far) in last night's creation of a master list of what each one needs for the application. That would be the biggest outward and measurable thing of 2010, that decision to take a deep breath and plunge into a commitment that big. A pretty big deal inwardly as well.

So there you have it. 2010 at a glance. It was a doozy. More tears, I think, and certainly for more reasons, than any other year of my adult life. But I don't look back and see the tears. I see unprecedented changes at an unprecedented rate, and more love than I know what to do with, and wide-eyed learning and curiosity and hope. I see a farmer putting his hands into very rich soil, preparing it for breathtaking growth.

Weekend Bonanza, part 5: Seagrove

I covered a sheriff's department meeting for work at 8 a.m. and wrote it up, then headed to the middle of the state for a weekend of relaxation. I had a grand vision of spending all of Saturday reading, maybe watching something on TV, and generally having nothing to worry about and nowhere to be. Friday night would be the opening gala for the Celebration of Seagrove Potters.

But first, I wanted to see a bookbinding exhibit at UNC-Greensboro. I called my friend Sims, who lives somewhat near there, after seeing a sign that I always see that said "Sims Pottery." Sims' first name is Margaret, and she hates it. Her middle name is Sims. So I called to see if she wanted to see this exhibit with me and have a cone at the Yum-Yum. Alas, she was at work, but she invited me to see Harry Potter with her on Saturday or have dinner. I squirmed at losing my grand vision of relaxation, but it's not every day that you get to see Philip and Sims (or anyone like them!), so we said we'd talk later.

The bookbinding exhibit was neat, but it was a much smaller deal than I thought it was. It was in a room where people were working, and it was sort of like, "Oh, that, yeah, that's over there." And they were all leather-bound for posterity, not handmade in the way I had expected. I was glad I went. Then I had my child-sized Yum-Yum cone, which was the perfect amount, and got on the road to the storied house on Badin Lake.

Mom had just gotten there and was turning on the water. I helped her unload some slate she'd bought at the slate mine on her way there, and then I swept the leaves off the dock and we talked about law enforcement and how I feel much more tender-hearted toward them and thankful for them than I did before starting at this job. Not that I was like, "cops suck," but I took a rather cynical view before.

We got to Luck's bean cannery for the gala (I love that word), and there were fewer cars in the parking lot, and the music inside was too loud at first. Someone told me later that the parking was freer because they hadn't let potters park there this time, which made me feel better because I was worried there were fewer folks. Mom bought a batter bowl by Vernon Owens and some tiny vases by Michael Mahan and probably some other things. I saw a lot that I liked but nothing I needed, and I was perfectly content to just soak up the beauty. I lined up a jeweler, Jennie Lorette Keats of JLK Jewelry, to make my wedding ring. Now just to nail down every other aspect of my wedding, including the dude....

We came back tired and happy and made tea and slept til 10 the next morning. We listened to Car Talk and Wait, Wait...Don't Tell Me, then went for a walk and came back and had frozen pizzas for lunch. I read for a bit and then left to meet Sims and Philip in Asheboro, which was about 40 minutes for me and an hour for them. Clearly we were not as close as we thought. We talked about almost nothing but Harry Potter as they debriefed themselves from the latest film. The restaurant was Sagebrush, which was neat because they served the water in mason jars and gave you a bucket of peanuts as an appetizer. My food wasn't very good, but I was happy to be with them. We walked across the parking lot to the mall and got a dessert at the Books-a-Million cafe, which was surprisingly good. Then we walked around the mall a bit, going in the pet store and the toy store, and said goodnight. A very good time with very good friends.

Sunday broke my expectations in every way, most of it unpleasant. I meant to leave at 9 and got on the road at 10. I wanted to be back in time to have Zaxby's before Disciple because it was having a fundraiser for one of our ministries, but I had to go straight to church. I wanted to spend the afternoon reading there before youth group, but it there was a youth activity I didn't know about and a meeting I didn't know about, so I took part in those instead. Youth group was good and did not mess up my expectations for it. Then I thought we were going to have our not-small-group-anymore-just-hanging-out meeting at someone's house, but they had decided to go out to eat, which I did not have the money for and didn't want to do. So I was very grumpy for the start of that, and I think they could tell, but once I had resigned myself to sitting and watching them eat, I was happy to be with my friends. Until Lyndsay said she's moving to Colorado, but we agreed not to talk about that anymore beyond the basic announcement. 48 hours later, I have not let it sink in, nor do I want to. All I can say just now is, Colorado, you're in for a treat.

When I got home, hoping to sleep in the next morning, I had an email asking me to cover something at 9 a.m., meaning I had to leave the house at 7:30. God was definitely telling me to kiss expectations goodbye. Or it was just a kind of sucky day. Probably a bit of both. But the question is, without expectations, why do anything? And where's the line between healthy expectations that help you plan things, whether it's an evening or a life, and harmful ones that set you up for disappointment? I'm still smarting a little from the relentlessness of that day and trying to process what role expectations should play in life.

The next and final installment in the Weekend Bonanza series is, of course, Thanksgiving! My expectations are already high and fully formed. ;)

Bliss Blitz

The next six consecutive weekends are going to be filled with the best kind of busyness: travel, holidays, learning, and general breaking-of-routine. At first I was reluctant to fill in the last couple of spots, but then I thought, no way. These are all things I want to do, and as my new-mom friend Stacey pointed out, I may not be able to act this way if I ever have a kid, or even just a different kind of job.

Let's take a look:
October 23 (Saturday): Lay speaker training for the United Methodist Church district
October 29 and 30 (Saturday and Sunday): Bible study training workshop through Port City Community Church
November 4 (Thursday, but I will do my utmost to stay all weekend): my brother's percussion ensemble concert in Asheville. Both of my parents will be there, and I was just reminded that a cousin is in Asheville, too! This one depends on my ability to get all of my stories written by Wednesday so I can check out on Thursday morning. I am feeling not certain but very hopeful.
November 12-14 (Friday-Sunday): Pilgrimage with PVUMC youth
November 19-21 (Friday-Sunday): Celebration of Seagrove Potters
November 25 (Thursday, but again it will be a weekend-long affair): Thanksgiving

And that's just the weekends! I am also going to see Banksy's first movie, a Halloween puppet show at the art museum featuring a story from Ecotone, Dusty and Ace AKA Philip and Clyde, fondue, Writers' Week, my James Thurber party, a thesis reading by Erin Sroka and Laurin Penland, a reading by John Sullivan, and who knows what else is going to come up during that time! Sometimes it frustrates me that all the fun seems to happen at once. Then when it's going on, I sure don't mind.

And ideally, this will give my blog somethin' to talk about. So stay tuned to see just how blissfully exhausted I get, and how much I learn, and how much I enjoy my six-week powerhouse of fun.

My Precious

And while I'm doing pictures, I decided to take some of my recent pottery purchases in Seagrove. In the group picture, the bowl is Chris Luther's, the teacup/teabowl/wine cup is Tom Gray's, and the light green mug is Travis Owens' from Jugtown. All three of those were part of the Seagrove Potters for Peace event, as well as the bird pendant at bottom by Jennie Lorette Keats at Jugtown. The plate is Tom Gray's, and the dark mug at right is Michael Mahan's of From the Ground Up Pottery. I call it my caveman mug because it's big and heavy. The others show some of the details.

This last is a group shot of some of the pieces I've had for a while. The wine goblet is part of a six-piece set my mom got in Scotland; the purple mug was a gift from Dr. Wills for graduation, bought at Summitt Coffee; the green mug I found at the Habitat for Humanity store in Cornelius; the blue bowl in the center is from Taize; the blue and green bowl is from Dirt Works Pottery in Seagrove, a gift from Mom; and the two small bowls in front, I made during my pottery class at the Icehouse in Davidson.

Hooray for pottery! Thanks for indulging my image fix.

Seagrove! Peace! Turtles!

I went to Seagrove this weekend for the second annual Potters for Peace event. It was great fun, especially since I didn't have any work or research to do at all. I bought a ton of great stuff that I will treasure for a long time.

Last night, I got to see my friend Stuart oh so briefly on Topsail Island. We got dinner and then went to a turtle nest analysis. 72 hours after the nest had hatched, they were counting the remaining eggs, seeing which might be fertilized (none), and helping the one baby who hadn't made it to the surface--the eggs are buried pretty deep. They put the baby in a bucket to release him after dark. In the daylight, he was too vulnerable to predators. It was sweet, and I got to take pictures so it counts as work, too. Times like that, I love my job.

Beginning of a Long Weekend

I'm continually amazed at how much happens in one's twenties. My teenage life was so day-to-day, childhood filled with trips to the creek, most of the days up until college interchangeable. And then semesters started happening, where each one was such a departure from the last and an arrow to the next. And now this. Feeling kind of like a pinball, pinging against the edges of something gigantic and changing direction at the oddest times. I was telling a professor today (was that today?) about Spring Break, and I said, "Last month...no, wait. That was this month." March has brought three job interviews, which means three very different visions of what May and beyond will be like, plus all the ones I make up for myself, plus the aforementioned Break in Seagrove writing, writing, writing, the thesis brought from helpless baby bird to hopeful fledgling and turned in to both committee and grad school, a move across the hall, a toilet fixed, a roommate out and waiting for her replacement, and at least one other factor I won't detail just yet for fear of jinxing it or pushing it into some invisible wall or smothering it by using the wrong words but so far it's the best one of all. So, yeah, March.

And April means Easter which means wackiness at church, then AWP in Denver which means seeing an old friend I'm just now ready to see and possibly begging for jobs, thesis defense the day I get back, maybe a trip to Seagrove, end of classes, possibly starting a job, possibly moving I suppose, though we don't use that word in this family if we can help it. Maybe more interviews, more applications, hopefully a little Frisbee and bread-baking. Grading the last papers, averaging, and wiping my hands of teaching for a little while at least. A few weeks of pollen. Humidity that will hit me like a wall one day when I least expect it. The beach house coming alive with visitors. And that's just about the last thing I know, the last thing I can say without speculating. Because things are about to change big time, no matter what. My job, my schedule, what I do all day, is going to be hugely different than it has been for three years, probably different than it's ever been. Nothing else is really certain either.

Well, that's not true, at all. God is certain, and the good teeth and eyes my mom complimented me on today, and all of my friends here because I know that even if I move, I'll have them with me and I'll be here, for as long as it takes, for as long as I need that. I will always have words, writing and reading, other people's blogs and library book sales. I'll have red wine and running, and curiosity and a solid sense of the ridiculous. There's a lot more that I, that we, will have no matter what, no matter where, no matter when. A lot of things will change. But everything, never.

I've been trying for a long time to cultivate trust. In people, in God, in myself. Every job rejection I get is a chance to reaffirm that I know God has a plan for me, not just a plan I fit into but a shockingly fierce plan for me, for my life, that wouldn't work quite right for anyone else. I put Him in charge daily. I thank Him for everything else, for all of the people that are making me smile, widely, even on days when things feel shaky and frustrating or worse. For Easter, which is the whole point. For weekends, which run a close second. In some ways, even though I'm being evaluated by strangers, even though I'm constantly waiting to hear from someone, even though I have a relatively small plot of ground to stand on these days, in some ways, I have never been happier. I have almost no expectations, except that God will provide what I need and will put me where I belong, job-wise, town-wise. If you walk a set of stairs as if each step is the last, you will never fall. One moment at a time. Deep breaths, long walks, and lots of The Office.

Breyer's ice cream is $1.99 at Harris Teeter until April 6th or so.

No school until Monday!

The new publishing imprint at school is using my handwriting for the logo! Who's bad?

I'm reading for pleasure again, with the thesis temporarily put to bed. It's beautiful. I feel like me.

Everything is just right tonight. May you feel the same way.

Made in Carolina

I went to Charleston this weekend for less than forty-eight hours, as the result of an abrupt change of plans--originally we were going to the mountains for the whole weekend, but hey, I'm always up for a trip of any length to any destination. So we left on Saturday morning and made it to our hotel in the early afternoon. Lunch was kind of crappy--underdone roast beef on boring white bread with non-homemade potato chips (oh, listen to me, I'm so spoiled). We walked around on Market Street, weaving around crowds and looking at scarves, jewelry, pottery, and other wares. One booth had postcard-size photos of things that look like letters (you know, the crotch of a tree for a V and stuff like that), and you could buy your name or a word. Apparently the Charleston area has a strong tradition of basket-weaving, and there were some really cool and intricate designs. The people were even working on them right there. Then we headed to King Street, which is the opposite kind of shopping: Apple store, Lacoste, PUMA, Williams-Sonoma, and stuff I've never even heard of because it's so fine. No money spent, and surprisingly little yearning endured. I think my year of non-purchasing did me a lot of good (although the Junior League rummage sale is this weekend, so we'll see). We drove down to the Battery and gawked at the houses and took a picture in front of the water.

Our dinner was delicious and copious and my first sip of cider made me say "Aw damn." It's sort of freeing eating out in another city, because I don't have to take leftovers home. It was Lyndsay's birthday, and Lindsay (yes, we have three with different spellings) had the presence of mind to tell the waiter and to advise him not to make a production. If anyone would cringe in their seat because of the attention, it would be Lyndsay. So we got to share a free (BIG) piece of homemade Snickers pie.

At Wet Willie's, the whole back wall behind the bar is slushie machines with alcohol already in them. It's quite a sight. Lindsey had been there when she was nineteen and remembered it ever since, and rightly so. We had a lot of fun. After breakfast on Sunday we came on back. It was a really fun escape. Felt a lot longer than it was, in a good way.

Spring Break is in less than a month! If all goes according to plan, I can stay in Seagrove/Badin for about nine days! I plan to hunker down with my computer and only hit town a few times when I need to fill in gaps in the book. My draft is due the day break is over. It's going to feel so good. I'm even going to get a massage before going so I can be relaxed and stay relaxed. I wonder if I'll try to run in the lake area.

I did the most fun exercise with my students today. They've been acting from day one like poetry is some kind of rhyme-filled moon-man language, so I knew I had to do something different that would both relax them and really work on their perception. We wrote together a hopelessly cliche love poem (your smile, your eyes, I love you and you love me) and then went through line by line and improved it with non-cliches. It was hard to break some of the habits, but once I got the point across, they soared. We went from "The world revolves around you" to "When you're not here, I'm surrounded by empty ice-cream containers, wearing pajamas, watching The Notebook on repeat." These moments always come just when I'm surest I don't like teaching.

And to your right...

I'd like to direct your attention to the sidebar with other blogs on it. I just added two of the Seagrove potters' blogs--Michael Mahan and Tom Gray--so please go take a look at their awesomeness, both online and in real life.

keeping up the pace

Reading Seagrove blogs has gotten me all bloggy, plus I hope to make 2010 the Year of the Blog by being more diligent about it, so here's a post practically on the heels of the last one.

Things Taize and Seagrove have in common:
-They both make me feel at peace and I want to be there a lot.
-They both have remarkable people producing pottery.
-They have complex relationships with outsiders.
-They began with one visionary person or couple.
-From there, they ballooned quickly as a surprising number of people responded and loved the idea of the place. But for all that,
-popularity was never really the goal for either but is certainly a means to two desirable ends in both cases.

www.taize.fr/en just might change your life. Certainly changed mine. (To be clear, the website, while it's great, is less likely to change your life. I'm referring to the place.) Would you like to go with me sometime? One of my life goals is to go back one day, ideally with a group. Plus we will get to see Shakespeare & Company and whatever else you want to see in Paris. I'm an excellent tour guide, ask anyone.

I'm feeling bolstered lately by the uncertain euphoria of almost constantly thinking, "This is my last semester!" I absolutely can't wait to see what's next.

It's very nice to have Tuesday off. Unlike having Friday off like last semester, it's an unexpected little tiramisu (pick-me-up). In a couple weeks I'll start doing pub lab hours on Tuesdays, but for now it's sweet.

It's been truly cold here, not just we're-wimpy-southerners faux cold. Before Christmas, I got used to walking/running almost every day. But I'm not quite dedicated enough to push myself into this weather, particularly on the bridges where there's no wind cover, so I've been on an unwelcome hiatus. I always intend to do yoga or something to get moving and relieve antsiness, but if I'm indoors anyway I always come up with something ostensibly more important. Plus, I bought several new skirts and dresses that I've been dying to wear but can't/won't because of the cold. Come on, this is the beach! No one moved here for this!

In October near Seagrove there's going to be an exhibition for potters who blog, which is awesome because a few of my faves are included and because I've long been thinking about that connection, between writing and pottery. Also in Seagrove news, I just learned (thanks, Granddaddy!) that the Museum group got a citation and big fine for carrying out the Festival without a vendor permit. It never got or needed one in the past. Permits were a big part of the Celebration madness last summer, one of the ways some people tried to stop it from happening. So I've yet another aspect to delve into. Seagrove, you know I love you. Can't you just not do anything new until I'm done with my thesis? And preferably until it gets published? I can't wait to share it with you, by the way! I hope you get a grocery store soon.

I can't seem to stop saying things I shouldn't. It's not that I don't think before I speak; I often do, and decide it's OK, and then realize too late that it's not. I try not to beat myself up about it since I don't have a time machine and what's said is said, and because those things (mostly silly comments with a touch of shock value) are part of my personality and I try to like or at least accept it. There are also recent issues with volume and with the clarity of my comment's connection to the conversation in progress. It's always clear to me, and sometimes when I explain why I thought of it, the comment becomes slightly less inappropriate. I have many friends who share the quick-draw mouth at least on occasion, another reason I shouldn't feel bad about it. But I always admire those who never seem out of line. I want to be like the Proverbs woman (chapter 30 or 31?) who's always dignified and wise. Even when I attain that, my version will include funny. Just not silly, which is what we're working on.

I applied for two near-perfect part-time jobs on Thursday. Getting one would mean a schedule CF, but I'd have peace of mind because I'd have work upon graduation. Sweet deal no matter what happens.

I had my party for school people who were away for my birthday. Lots of folks came, and I had a wonderful time. I can't overstress how wonderful a time I had. But after having hosted a smaller party on December 23rd and a medium one on January 31st, with all of Christmas and shopping and starting school in between, I look forward to a time of rest. Yesterday I watched When Harry Met Sally and then Ratatouille, and read quite a bit. That was a huge relief, just being alone and focusing on something where my part was inconsequential. Throw in some thesis work, and you've got a good working model for my free time in the weeks ahead. Woo-hoo!

Speaking of "woo-hoo," I just started my last semester! Potentially ever! Four months from now, I'll be long done with classes and probably even done grading. My thesis will be either turned in or about to be, and I'll know whether I get to settle in town or go explore. Lots of things will change. I hope not everything. I know God is in charge and has a great plan, but I can't quite get past "Thy will be--". For now, I'm praying that He give me the trust to be able to say the whole sentence, to let go of all that I'm clinging to even if it's for the best reasons and let Him control my whole life.

Ick. Easier typed than done. Seems like we both have our work cut out for us, me the yielding and Him the whacking into submission. I don't see any obvious reason God would want me to move, other than my career, which I'm not sure is a priority for either of us at this time in a traditional sense. But I know that the more I cling to my preferences, the more I insist that I must stay in Wilmington and have all the same friends and blah blah blah, the more reason God will have to take it away, or rather take me away. So I'm trying to, you know, let go of the butterfly so it will come back to me, or something. Yes, the teacup is already broken. But that doesn't mean I want to throw it down. When things are good (and right now they are really good, y'all), it's healthy to realize that they will change someday. But that doesn't mean you should withdraw from relationships just because you know you'll disappoint each other eventually, or develop stony-faced resolve about moving away, or be careless in any way with whatever is making life so good. It's extremely hard to strike a balance between cherishing and letting go, especially when you're not sure which you'll have to do in the near future. I say "near" in a relative sense, though. For today, it's a matter of breathing and working, which will smooth the road between now and then.

My hands, in the cold, take on the aspect of an old lady's, wizened and shrivelly. It's not unpleasant, and I definitely stay alert in the car. At home, hot chocolate and an electric blanket help, and the thought of someone reading this and feeling upheld. That's what writing is, for me, ultimately: the hope of putting something into words that helps someone feel less alone, even as they sit at a computer or with a book. Drawing together a series of worlds. Using words to create what I need, or what someone else needs. It keeps me warm in January when even the air from the vent seems cold.

Celebration of Seagrove Potters

Man, did I ever have a good time. Such a difference from last year, when I was unsure of the book and of everything and didn't know anyone. Now, the book is almost out of the embryo stage, and my research is pretty much done, so I went mostly to have fun and see some really cool people and their work. If anything I write can be as enduring, useful, and beautiful as those folks' pottery, I'll consider myself a huge success. Thanks, potters! Y'all rock.

In my NASB (New American Standard Bible), where it usually says "Be still and know that I am God"--somewhere in the Psalms--it says "Cease striving and know that I am God." I might only like it because I haven't heard it a million times, but I really like it. Until I'm asked to do it, at which point I begin to think maybe it's not so great. I figure every time I can cease striving for even a few minutes, that's something.

I'm signed up for ASP, and probably going to AWP, and I anticipate a lot of saying one when I mean the other. Wasn't going to do AWP until I realized it's the one year I really ought to network. It's late this year, in April, so maybe I'll have a job by then. In that case, I'll just go have fun. ASP (Appalachian Service Project) sounds awful in that beautiful way, with sweat and dirt and probably me crying a lot because I can't hammer right, but somehow those are the times none of us would trade. I love having a lot to look forward to.

One of my friends said she saw a PBS special on Seagrove (not Craft in America, but something old), and I put my hand to my chest and said, "Aww, who did you see?" as if those people are my long-lost friends. Which, in a way, I think they are. Philip said you won't be friends with people you write about after the project is over, but I'm pretty sure I'm still going to be showing up there. Probably less often, but I couldn't stop any time soon. That place is proof that things are basically OK.

Weekend Update

I left town on Friday, a little after lunchtime, to go to Mom and Dad's. Dad was directing a play, a series of five short one-acts. I saw it Friday night and laughed and laughed. On Saturday, Mom and I got up early and picked up our friend Laura to go to Seagrove. It was a nice, relaxed trip because I didn't need to do any particular research or get any information--I just wanted to see the 200 Cups of Tea (a fundraiser for the Three Cups of Tea guy) and have fun. Laura and her daughter Molly had never been, and they liked it. It's always extra-special when you get to introduce someone to something you love and know they'll like.

Laura's husband had come home a few weeks ago with an English bulldog puppy with a hot-pink harness and leash, and said only, "Her name is Katherine, but she prefers Katie." I got to meet her on Saturday when we picked Laura up. She's three and a half months old and really, really cute in the way that only puppies are cute. If we hadn't been going to Seagrove, she'd have made my day.

Today I finally put together some syllabi. They're lookin' pretty good. It feels so weird to be going into my last year as a TA, as a student, as someone whose options are limited. I'm very curious about what's going to happen next. But also trying not to worry too much about it until there's actually action I can take.

I've been watching a lot of America's Next Top Model this weekend. I realized very quickly that many of the girls on the show are not that attractive in person, and a lot of "beauty" has to do with makeup and photography and poses. The ideas of beauty on that show, and in most of our lives, are so distorted as to be harmful. "That's a horrible picture," "She needs to lose ten pounds," "I'm not beautiful." COME ON! I hear stuff like that enough from women in real life who are perfectly lovely, and that's ludicrous enough. But if you're on that show, is it not clear that you've done better than literally thousands of other women? I not only feel sad for them, I feel personally insulted and angry. If they think such awful things about themselves, what does that mean they think about most women? Let me add the disclaimer that most of the comments come from the contestants, and usually about themselves and not other contestants. The show's judges are usually very positive, and when they do say things about weight or height (like 5'7" is short! Hello!), it's infrequent and they sort of do it in a way that acknowledges the silliness of it, like, "That's show biz, kid." They run it, for the most part, in a professional way that discusses the modeling industry more than beauty per se. Tyra even said a few times that models' beauty is special because it's debatable, like they have a feature that's not conventionally considered beautiful. Interesting stuff to ponder, especially when you add the neverending moral quandaries brought up by the House marathon three channels over. TV is, when handled well by a mature mind, such a good teacher sometimes.

In much sunnier news, my trip to Seagrove last week was phenomenal. Those potters just keep getting more endearing. So endearing that I wish the research part could last forever and never lead to the writing part. In my first ever writing about Seagrove back in the fall, I started with a visit there when I was seven or so; all I remember from that visit is lots of animals. Everywhere we went, all kinds of pets, or so it seemed at seven. I realized last trip that it's still true! One-eyed dog, sneaky chickens, dog licking my toes, cat who couldn't care less. Almost every potter had some sweet pet. I also got to walk a grass labyrinth (well, walked in the right way and out the lazy way, which felt surprisingly transgressive), learn a little bit about my digital voice recorder, hang out with my granddaddy, discuss the resemblance of the Seagrove situation to a Christopher Guest movie (that's when I know someone's a keeper, when they get Guest), and get a lot of fruitful information while having fun.

Back at home, I've been enjoying the warm-but-not-hot weather, checking out a room for rent at the beach, cleaning off and riding my bike for the first time in months, going for long walks on the beach. This is the life, I tell ya. Next week I'm going to start writing and reading at the library, because while I stand by my statement that TV is a good teacher, and it's fine as background noise for mindless typing, it's a not-so-good accompanist to real work. Hooray for easy solutions! And libraries!

Oodles of Light, What a Beautiful Sight, Both of God's Eyes Are Shining Tonight

I left for Seagrove/Greensboro/Badin Lake on Friday afternoon, dropped my friend Erin off at a music festival in Pittsboro, and this afternoon when I picked her up it felt like a week since I'd seen her. So much happens every time I go to Seagrove (I wish I could make a sound effect that makes the music Patti always had on the show Doug). This time, I absolutely cracked the case, broke the story, just blew this thing out of the water. And when I say I, I mean the potters and their people. I just wish I could replay it all word for word. Tell me again about the Irish funeral. Tell me again about the cave in Belize you had to swim to get to and how the Mayan calendar is going to end in 2012. Tell me again about the cocaine, the adultery, the gambling habit, the convicted child molester manning the kids' tent, tell me again about the gunshot story. (I was acting even more writerly than usual, in that way writers have of going, "Hells yeah!" when something utterly horrific is revealed.) Oh, and tell me again about how great my book is going to be and how many people will buy it. You know who you are. Every single person I talked to was more helpful, informative, articulate, and passionate than I would have dared to ask for, and that's not counting the surprises. It's almost scary now, having all this information just bestowed upon me. I'm acutely conscious of the nonfiction writer's responsibility toward her subjects, and really glad there are other people whose job it is to deal with legal issues and that that's much later. For now, I just feel like the luckiest girl in the world, who is going to have the best thesis ever. Who cares if I didn't do the other work I planned to do this weekend? My thesis is my commitment now, and some other areas of my life are henceforth going to be imperfect. (Ha. "Henceforth," because, you know, it's all been flawless until now.)

I must have listened to my John Prine CD five or seven times today, first to get in the Seagrove mood and then because Erin hadn't heard it. When the first song ("Illegal Smile") came on, she nodded and said, "This sounds right."

Here's something my computer said to me: "Exception has been thrown by the target of an invocation." Each word is familiar, but together they just don't make sense. It would be awesome as heavy metal lyrics, though.

This is Just to Say,

with much delay, that the potters of Seagrove are the most gracious and precious people I've met in a long time. Not only do they do beautiful work, but they act like they know you already and welcome you and answer inane neophytes' questions with no iota of condescension, even though the questions I asked were the equivalent of asking a writer, "So, it's like, subject and then verb?" I cannot wait to go back and get even more information. I'm happy to report that both the Festival and the Celebration were successful. Do consider buying something from Chris Luther http://www.chrislutherpottery.com/, whose studio burned down last weekend in the midst of festivities, or donating to the Potters' Relief Fund to help him. Also, buy something from any of them. They're all awesome. More to come.

New to the blogosphere

I can't believe I just used that word, but it's an exciting occasion. The pastor who spoiled me such that I didn't like another church for years, recently retired, has set up camp here: http://ricksmumbles.blogspot.com/. This is an important man, and if you have a spiritual inclination you should check out his blog. It's brand new. (Heh heh.) So be among the first to visit! Maybe if you write comments, he will post a lot.

In other news, I think I've finally hit my stride with writing and come up with a comfortable, fascinating subject capable of keeping me interested long enough to write a whole thesis on't. http://www.taize.fr/. Very close to my heart. You should go. And invite me to go with you. Added bonus: I speak French, so I would be a valuable asset to your group.

I made not one but two trips to the library book sale. The only reason I'm not worried for my mental health in relation to buying books is that I was able to leave behind many books I could well have purchased. Now I've got the crowded-shelf problem anyway, and not nearly enough time to read. My habit lately is to read a bunch of books a little at a time, at the same time. Like, sit down with a stack and read one page of eight or ten books. I got the idea from Sparrow, so it can't be all bad, but it's making it hard for me to read anything for longer than that. I console/inflate myself by reading things like The Whipping Boy, and saying I read a whole book, look, I can read a whole book, I can. Holding it up as evidence (to no one but myself) that I am capable of reading a whole book. So cheap. Oh well. Since everything's cyclical, soon enough I'll be reading like a normal person.

Oh, here's something cool (can you tell I just learned how to insert links?): http://www.humancalendar.com/. Found through Scott's blog.

I think I'm going to the Seagrove pottery festivalS. I want all the dirt behind the clay. This is all fascinating, sad, and hilarious to me. Gotta figure out where it is and whether anyone I know lives close enough for me to crash with them, because I have a feeling there'll be no room at the inns. So exciting. Look at me acting like a real writer.