Spinning My Wheel

Yesterday, I had way too much fun getting messy, squishing around in and making a mess at Mudfire, an Open Studio in nearby Decatur.

It was more or less an Artist's Date, though I don't follow a regular schedule for those anymore. (since completing the 12-weeks)

I can usually tell when I have the need to do something silly, playful, or utterly unexpected.... and playing with pottery is definitely outside my comfort zone.

It's strange, trying to work in the 3-D world of soft clay. It seems so forgiving and easy to do when you're a little kid with play-doh figures that eventually just get smooshed back into little plastic jars for later. Even in the 8th grade, when we'd handbuild sculptures to take home (my koala bear and his oh-so phallic tree...) it had seemed.... like I couldn't possibly mess it up.

Maybe it was the wheel, and learning the intricate techniques, the new vocabulary. Maybe it was my own shaking hands, or hit and miss foot on the pedal. I'm not sure. But I felt like I was completely out of my milieu. The fear of failure kicked in, that's for sure.

I can't wait to go back on Monday....

"Private History of Awe" by Scott Russell Sanders

Because I'm the biggest dork ever, I just wrote a letter to the author of "A Private History of Awe". ... here's a copy of the least cheesy bit:

[I sent a copy home] ... "for several reasons. On some level there is the visceral surge of familiarity that my father and his wife will enjoy. We, too, judge every church by the one in Wayland. We understand how the houses shook (yes, all the way in Wayland they did - right up until the Arsenal closed in the mid-1980's) when the unstable munitions were detonated underground. I also outgrew Christianity and sought different explanations for the wonder I found in life everywhere. I'm hoping on some level that my own father might understand me a little better by reading a contemporary of his sharing ideas of mine.

I reeled from your anger and frustration with the Michael J. Kirwan dam, at being uprooted by the flooding of the river. I used to imagine what it would have been like to live in those houses - concrete foundations we floated over while fishing, or stumbled across while riding horses or hiking in the land that was reclaimed by wilderness. West Branch State Park was my back yard, my retreat, my haven. The wildness that used to be contained by the chainlink and razorwire of the Arsenal has leaked out into acres and acres of lake and woods. The mountain lions are back, and the coyote are still there. Eagles find sufficient space to nest there. I hope it might bring some comfort, to know this was the fate of your home on Esworthy Road. The land is still loved and cherished, though wilder and freer than you could have imagined.

Deer and predators alike can clear the Arsenal's unpatrolled fence without a problem. The National Guard uses the Arsenal for training, and the Army is slowly trying to clean it up, though there will never be a use for that land beyond housing the wildlife there. The contamination runs too deep, and the landmines and secrets are too many to remove entirely. Little wonder the Cold War seems slower to retreat in the minds and hearts of folks living around there.

More than anything, this is a thank you letter. Thank you for the wonder of discovering an overlapping landscape with someone who has lived an entire generation ahead of me, who has moved around the country in the opposite direction and who has still come to the same bright, startling conclusions. "

Hunting Down Bettina

We will both readily admit it. Bettina and I are among the world's worst correspondents. You'd think e-mail, the internet and cell phones would make things easier on us.

But no. We had managed to fall out of touch for about eight years.

We tried Googling one another, searched through old address books for a scrap of a clue. But it took us 8 years and one of our teachers from High School asking for her contact information to get me to come out from under my rock, and look her up.

After looking up her parents in the online white pages to get a home phone number, I spoke with Ruth, Bettina's mom and get the right number to give her a call. We didn't chat long, but we were able to exchange important news updates, email addresses and other vital information - such as that of her two-year-old daughter, Josephine....

Ahhhh. Now I see.

Rock-Wall Climbing

The latest adventure was a trip to Wall Crawler Rock in East Atlanta to scale walls like Spiderman.

Brett and I took the belaying course, and then traded off climbing and belaying each other and Ethan. Brett made it all the way to the ceiling!

I didn't make it quite so far. I just didn't trust those tiny foot holds enough to put all of my weight on a little nubbin to reach for a hand hold I wasn't entirely certain I could reach in any event.

A rock climber I may not be. Though I did get 2/3 of the way up the wall.

Ethan seemed to prefer to rappel (the swing like motion of using the ropes to come down the wall) than he liked going up.

I think we both had the problem of not trusting our own upper body strength in the task. Which is fair enough.

A Family Biking Event

If we could time it tonight, we would try to take Ethan to Critical Mass to join in the impromptu parade of cyclists.

As it is, we are psyched that Brett's started his new job today, and we will have to squeeze the biking in as we may through the weekend.

This is the photo taken by Brett's dad - thrilled to have not only both his sons, but also his grandson biking with him this weekend.

In hindsight, I can't help but kick myself for agreeing to get in the photo (I tried not to) and not moving Andy into the shot with the 3 generations of pedalers...

Biking with the Boys

I've got Bicycling on the brain big time, obviously.

My last three articles on Suite 101 were about bikes! Two of them are about Biking Mindfully - one on alignment and attention, and a second one on intention and internal focus.

The third article is a general overview of beginner yoga poses that are particularly beneficial for cyclists for strengthening and stretching.

The half-a-bike trailer (see photo) for Ethan went over with huge success. These two rode this contraption for a total of 25 miles last weekend. Including a 15-mile jaunt on a local trail!!

They must really enjoy it for the little guy to show such endurance without a single complaint... the coolest part of that trip is that we went with Brett's dad and brother, so it was a family thing. I think Ethan likes it because it's something we all do together. I know that's a big reason why I enjoy it!