I've had low expectations for this week. First, I cannot get the Taylor Swift song, "We will NEVER EVER EVER get back together" out of my head. Tim has been complaining about having "Farmer's Daughter" from Steel's Country Men Mix stuck in his head. My sympathy isn't high because it's a better song, and Tim actually has to use his head during the day. I can have a song go through my brain every 30 seconds for 8 hours when I'm glazing.
Speaking of glazing. I've spoken before about my inability to withstand my pepto pink glaze. I've had numerous people tell me how much they hate it. The best was the following description accompanying an order:
My tendency is to like sad, snot dripping melodic music, w/a shimmering, life validating inner resonnance. Sure, it's so f.......g easy to say I like urbchic whites, golds and stoneware's lite blues. I stand by my political views - to totally despise pink and everything it stands for. Who lives that life? Let's just walk away and say my pain is between Adele and Munchausen by Proxy.
This morning,with a subject line "Pink" I sent him this image with the following text:
I can't help it! This morning's kiln offerings look so cute with my scary breakfast smoothie. Don't worry, next week it'll be all the moody, angst-ridden, nihilistic pots.
His response:
It's the diabolical pink straw that makes it gangster.
You give me too much credit. Nihilism requires the realization of a moral dissolution.
Superficial ambiguity is more my style.
I really shouldn't complain about things when most of the people I deal with in my professional life are cooky gallery owners who don't bat an eye at being sent a random iPhone picture of a cappuccino cup and a collard green smoothie at 8:45 am on a Thursday. I can't imagine what would happen if I had a real job.
I responded that if he found the straw diabolical, he should have seen the lipstick I nicked off of Steel to wear. Straws ARE diabolical. I've been trying to kick my straw habit. My mom is a straw addict. She washes hers. I'm pretty green, but washing straws and ziplock bags really bugs me. If I'm going to have a straw, I want a new one. I'd be lying if I said I was trying to quit straws because of the trash factor. It's the sucking. Make-up people talk about lipstick "feathering" meaning it's going into the tiny wrinkles around your lips and making little lines around your mouth. "Feathering" is a really nice way to say, "Your lipstick is foreshadowing how you'll look when you're corpse," assuming I live long enough to be old and super-wrinkly. I'm making a conscious effort to smile more when I'm alone at the studio, and I'm going to stop sucking on things to stave off those hideous mouth wrinkles. Some mornings, though, I just need a straw.
Tim is actually gone, but he's also metaphorically gone. He's on the wagon again: reason number 2 for low expectations this week. I'm trying to be supportive, but last night my kiln went late, and it fired poorly. I NEEDED a rye and ginger. This morning, I had the genius idea to pack a half a grapefruit in Steel's and Jack Peter's lunches. They each only ate a third. I took that as a sign that I should have a vodka/grapefruit to help me through trash night. Sadly that's been accompanied by another and 8 girl scout cookies. I want to start an alternative girl scout troop. We'll make baked goods without high fructose corn syrup and all the other crap. We'll sell them, and then use the proceeds to take the RV "camping."
My third reason for low expectations this week is that it's pledge week on NPR, but I've discovered KLUV. It's theme is, "positive and enthusiastic radio!" I have not gone online to sign up for the 30-day challenge, only positive, enthusiastic Christian Music for a month, but I'm pretty taken with the station. It's helping with my smile-more-at-the-studio agenda. Let me ask you, if being a Christian were illegal, would there be enough evidence to indict you? What? That line almost got Taylor Swift out of my head. What would it take to make me believe? If I did listen to KLUV, and then I managed to write a book and have a 4th child, and my lipstick stopped feathering would I think that God or Jesus helped me? I doubt it.
One of the positive and enthusiastic stories was about a burglar coming into a jewelry party. Women have moved onto selling jewelry instead of tupperware or cosmetics. The hostess screamed at him, "In the name of Jesus, get out of my house!" All of the ladies started shouting JESUS! JESUS! JESUS! The robber left. One can deduce that Jesus was, in fact, there. Maybe the NRA people need to hear that story. See! We don't need guns; Jesus will come! Don't they all believe in Jesus?
My favorite story was about a female pianist and marshall artist. She just got into the Guinness Book of Worlds Records because she's the first woman WITH NO ARMS to get a pilots' license. The moral of the story is "Are your limitations really limitations?" It made me think of my favorite friend of Tim's, 1-armed-Mike. He came in drunk one night bitching about how hard it is to deal with cling wrap with only one arm. Yeah, she can fly a plane, and play Chopin with her feet, but I'd like to see her wrap up a tuna sandwich! The dj's also discuss challenges people face. Weight challenges kept coming up, so I found myself adding lines into the songs. "I was at the bottom again....of a bag of Doritos."
The songs are modified rock ballads and anthems. Instead of "I want to f__k you forever" it's "Jesus is with you forever" It takes a minute to realize that they are all about Jesus. One of the every-hour hits has the unintelligible line: "stuck in a valley of a shadow of death." He must be talking about lipstick feathering.
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