Dear K

This is happening way to fast. Just a few months ago we were fantsizing about making pots into our old age and now, way before what could be considered old age your body has decided to rebel??! What the hell? Everything was relaxing and becoming dreamy as we were floating, sometimes literally, towards towards our "Golden Years". We both worked so hard helping others love what we love. We are getting our time in the sun, you working in your beautiful studio and me getting to work in it too! Now our clay has faded way into the background. Only something way more pertinent would or could get me or you to consider putting it down. You've been my clay soulmate, no one else understands clay like we do together. Now you have to navigate this unbeleivable mountain of stinky slop! I am your huckleberry. Your mountain is my mountain. I will hold my nose at your side and push you from behind up that hill. When you can't be pushed I will drag you with all my might up to the top. If the backside looks fun, I'll get us a sled and we will build up speed and catch some air as we pull away from the stinky pile. This is my hope... we ride into many more years of attempting to master centrifical force and make friends with the fire.