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"I MAY BE A LITTLE LATE GETTING HERE tomorrow," my pottery teacher, whom I happened to be seated beside, leaned over and whispered to me yesterday afternoon as the pottery workshop was wrapping up.

 "What?!!" I whispered back. "You mean this is a two-day workshop?! No way. That's not what the paper said! The paper said 'both days, Saturday and Sunday, a day-long workshop'." 

 I rummaged around in my purse and pulled out the crumpled sheet I'd torn from the newspaper. Glancing over the article, I underlined the specifics with my finger. "See?" I whispered to Dennis. "Are you sure it's really two days? I thought the 'one-day workshop' was to be repeated." Dennis agreed the facts were stated somewhat ambiguously; but yes, the workshop was definitely a two-day affair.

Well, that did explain why the instructor, a university professor from out of state, did not seem to be finishing up the construction of his teapots. He hadn't demonstrated the making of spouts or handles, as promised. He hadn't concluded his work on the lids. His presentation, in fact, seemed to be only half-way complete.

But, darn, I couldn't be here tomorrow! I was committed to overseeing the serving of a meal to some two-hundred people. Any other Sunday it would be a simple matter to skip church, but not on the day we have a carry-in meal at which I am in charge! Wracking my brain, I couldn't figure out any way to slip out of that responsibility, certainly not at this late date. No, sadly, I was just going to have to miss the second half of Peter Pinnell's excellent workshop.

But you're clever, Dear Reader, are you not? You're thinking that I wouldn't have begun this tale just to end it with a little lump of disappointment; much better were it ending with a lump of clay. And, oh, ho, right you are! After an hour's attendance in the church kitchen this morning, collecting dishes of homemade lasagna ("This needs to bake at 350 for an hour and a half ") chili casserole  ("Just heat this up, then add the grated cheese"), fruit salad ("Can you slice these bananas and add them?") and a smorgasbord of other entrees, salads, and tempting desserts, I unloaded my place at the helm and left the other capable women in the kitchen in charge of the serving and clean-up. They generously urged me to leave. "What, do you think you're indispensable?! they asked.

Thus, yipee. I got in on another day of interesting intake. Though I missed the first hour, I arrived at the class in time to hear the instructor say, "You start with a carrot..."



And oh, my goodness, don't I still have plenty of those?!
But, yes, you know what he really meant:
A lump of clay.

What luck, Reader Dear,  just the ending I'd hoped for!

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