Summer Sunday

At least it feels that way, it's so warm. I'm puttering, trying to get a few household chores done before my travels. I'm in Santa Clara on Monday, then in the City for a show Tuesday through Thursday; home Friday and Saturday, then back in SF Sunday through Friday. I'm glad I won't be spending much time actually in transit, but it's hard being away so much, particularly since I've really enjoyed being home yesterday and today--our "Shut UP!" neighbors have been away much of the time, and so I've been able to sit on the deck in peace. Now they're all back and of course he's running some sort of machine and the kids are screaming (happily, at least)…

Fused glass vase
Originally uploaded by suzipaw

I picked up this vase and a couple of pendants in glass class yesterday. I think it came out pretty well. I finished a couple of dishes and more jewelry for firing while in class yesterday. Not much more time--I found out that the last class is just for picking up projects from next week's class, so I'm kind of sad that I have only one more scheduled creative class. Though I found out that our local "paint your own pottery place" will also fire glass, so I do have an outlet if the glass earring urge continues.

So, as some of you already know, my sonnet was *not* one of the 4,000+ chosen to be read on A Prairie Home Companion this weekend. I'm terribly disappointed, though obviously there was a lot of competition, and I didn't spend as much time perfecting it as I should have. But at least I had fun working on it. Here it is for your reading (hopefully) pleasure--please keep in mind that the prize was a bed from Select Comfort:

Being your slave, I answer Phoebe's call.
Somnambulist of highest caliber,
I am chain'd to your horizontal thrall,
Captured willingly by coverlet's purr.
Night: a quilt of stars the insulation
That enrobes me. Oh Life's Companion,
'Neath moonly beaming we find elation,
Then part at Aurora's broadcast clarion.
Half this woman's life is spent courting sand
So a princess' pea never wider spread
Than when I fall, nightgown'd, into Nodland
'Pon high-stack'd air chambers, fantasy-fed.
Sheep rise, sheep fall, in infinite number--
Only your embrace ensures sweet slumber.

M's home from studying, and I should shower off this garden sweat and pack for tomorrow…