A Plethora of Pots

It's the end of the semester for my art student. I've decided to call her "Claye."* She is begging to go to summer school. It seems that they have a jewelry-making class over there this summer.

Can you find a job there?
Maybe pay for the extra dorm and food?
Maybe make me a pot in clay class?

Well actually, we have a plethora of pots already. She always makes pots--I believe the requirement is at least thirty per semester. After three semesters in pottery class, I'm beginning to feel like the widow helped by Elisha.
My house if full of pots. These are just some of the latest.
I swiped one particularly attractive pink swirly one for my front room desk, and set the rest on the coffee table. Now if I could only fill them all with miracle no fat, no cholesterol, no calorie, taste-exactly-like- butter, oil. We could sell them for a fortune.
Ah the sacrifices we make for art.

(If you enlarge the pictures, you will see the great
variety of glazes and shapes. They are pretty.
And she is getting better at it.














(One good thing about anonymous internet blogging is that you get to rename all your offspring and friends. Yes. The joy of picking out names without the trouble of bearing and rearing another child!)