Last weekend, I was stressed beyond belief and needed something to occupy my brain, so my friend Carri [Tangent: Seriously, go read her blog now, she's a wordsmith!] invited me to go paint pottery with her and her sweet daughter at Third Coast Clay. located in The Factory in Franklin [Tangent: I love a good art and/or craft, so why have I never gone to one of these places before? I have definitely painted pottery before, but it was always a misshapen coil pot from high school art class. In those pieces, the artful glaze application technique was somewhat lost, because the vessel itself looked akin to a pile of shiny purple turds.] Because I am a fan of anything that involves a plethora of colors and brushes, I pretty much loved the whole experience and found it extremely relaxing. My mother came with us and she was all, "I wanna come back every week!"
Since I have a tendency to hoard coffee mugs, I opted to really branch into crazytown and paint a soup mug! [Tangent: Woah. Wild card!] Naturally, I could think of only one way to decorate something to hold my chowdah!
Who doesn't love a very outdated Seinfeld reference? I loved it so much, and loved it even more when Carri dropped it off at my house yesterday afternoon [Tangent: My robot car gave out on me the other day, so I am kinda at the mercy of others to run my errands for me while it's at MobilityWorks being diagnosed.] A spin in the kiln made it all shiny, which of course made it look more polished and less like a pinterest project gone sour.
As she dropped my cute little potbellied mug off at my house, Carri told me that the girls that worked there had hidden it in the back and turned it towards the wall upside down, like the red headed stepchild of the pottery circuit. After presenting them with my receipt and talking to about 3 different individuals to locate my piece, they finally asked my pal to describe it for them. The young girls that were working there looked unsettled after Carri explained it was the one that said "Soup Nazi" on the front, and they promptly found it sitting in the proverbial "time out" corner. [Tangent: Apparently, I'm realizing that if you were born in the 90s, a Seinfeld reference may be lost on you. The cashier likely was horrifed imagining it belonged to a proud anti-semite who really loves chili. Trust my piece was adorned with polka dots and swirls and not swastikas, so I thought the intent was clearly playful and not racist.] It made me feel extremely ancient to think there is a generation of people that will not understand pop culture references. Seinfeld it still on in reruns, kiddos! Turn off Pretty Little Liars, and get cultured.