wings of time

those are actually moose ears, but they work as wings...
My whole life is a battle with time. I know everyone's is, but for me it's part of my minute-by-minute existence. I get really cranky if I make a trip anywhere empty-handed. If I go downstairs to get emergency diapers, I have to deposit something into the laundry. On my way up I have to snatch an abandoned sippy cup or grab my phone charger. The sad thing is that I'm too foggy to make it all work, so I'll grab the sippy cup and forget the diaper. On my way back down to get the diaper I'll remember I need a change of clothes for the baby, and I'll forget the diaper again. I always thought it strange that my parents both talked to themselves constantly, but I'm starting to understand it.

Of course I love the things one can do while doing other things. Maybe that's why I like being pregnant. Look at me, I'm making a baby, doing laundry, checking my e-mails, taking a photograph with my phone, making Kombucha, doing letters with one kid, waiting for the other to pee on the potty, and THERE'S A CHICKEN IN THE OVEN!

Pottery is all about time. You can't rush or dawdle on anything. If you rush something into the kiln, it blows up. If you put a handle on too soon, it warps. If you take too long to trim, the pots get hard and take twice as long. If you take too long to glaze, the wax doesn't resist. If you take too long to do all of it, you don't make any money. Now I have the added time constraint of Toby. OK, I did my emails while breast feeding her; she's clean and tired; I'll get my wedging done while she sleeps and throw some cups when she wakes up and is perky enough to swing; when she finally needs a cuddle, I'll pay my bills and order clay...

When does it start? Kids don't have a sense of time. Jack Peter comes into bed in the morning and asks, "Is it tomorrow?" The answer is always the same, "No, It's today" How baffling that must be? You can't rush kids to do anything, either. They're like mules. If you try and speed them through eating, they puke. If you rush them down the stairs they fall. Then again, if you finish making your cocktail before you go downstairs and see what they're yelling about, they shit in the tub.

I was really looking forward to daylight savings this spring; I was sick of doing the math. I didn't bother to change the clock in my studio last fall. The main reason is that I have to get on a ladder to change it, and I never find the time. I sort of started to enjoy it; it was comical to see visitors' faces when they'd glance at the clock. I could see him/her having a surreptitious but palpable panic, thinking he/she'd lost even more time than he/she'd initially thought, listening to me blither away. I'm alone all day making pots, except for Toby, so I'll talk your ear off if you happen into my studio. I've been told it's mesmerizing to watch a potter, so a babbling potter must be like a black hole. All this aside, I was looking forward to not having to change the clock, and having it be the right time. It appeals to the economizer in me. "Ha! I showed you! my clock is now right. 6 months! I did it!" Imagine my irritation when I came into my studio on the Monday morning after the Sunday time change to find the battery in the clock had died.

I'm being mocked...