Helloooo! I think this is the first time in a year I’m genuinely excited about 7 Days. And (touch/knock on wood) it’s December and I’m not sick. It’s probably because I caved and got a flu shot this year. I was so sick all last fall and winter, and I didn’t want to repeat that.

So. Let’s do this thing!

I saw these jumbo ornaments hanging outside Trader Joe’s last week and instantly made a mental note to use them for a self-portrait. It was rather windy so it was tricky to get a shot that wasn’t blurry. But I persevered.

What Annalie had to say about her Day 1 photo, “secret surprise”:

Some of you looking at this photo are going to get a special surprise from us in the mail, so I can’t tell you what I’m mailing. But have you ever seen anybody mail a jar before? We mailed Easter eggs once, and my mom mailed a small package of jelly beans!

See the series 13 ounces or less at giverslog for more about this. I’ll blog the jars eventually, once they’ve reached their recipients.

This morning we went to the post office and the grocery store. We’ve been spending quite a few mornings running errands lately, doing Christmas-related things. Elliora and Annalie have both been troupers, taking multiple trips to the grocery store, post office, and Target in stride, with only the rare hunger- or exhaustion-induced tantrum. Now that Elliora is older and walking, she and Annalie have a lot of fun with each other and keeping each other entertained during otherwise dull moments. Apparently having a sister is awesome.

What was your favorite children’s book? —Niki

I could easily make a list of my favorite hundred children’s books. But instead I’m going with the first one that leapt to mind.

The Saturdays, by Elizabeth Enright.

This book was so important to me as a kid that I can still remember coming across it on the shelf in my elementary-school library. I remember which bookcase it was on, and that I had to reach up to pull the book down. I remember reading the copy on the book jacket and having my interest piqued by the idea of a family of four kids—aspiring actress Mona, 13; mischeivous, piano-playing Rush, 12; dreamy artist and dancer Randy, 10; and solid, unflappable Oliver, 6—forming their own club. (I only have one brother, and although we love each other, we’re different enough that as kids we spent more time bickering and annoying each other than playing together. I could only barely imagine a family where your best friends were your siblings.) Then I opened the book and read the first page, and was immediately charmed by the description of these kids sitting in their attic, listening to the rain hissing and sizzling as it came down the chimney and complaining about how bored they were. I could relate to that! Also, I loved rain even back then, so that was guaranteed to pull me in.

Then I kept reading, as they discussed and rejected ways to relieve their boredom. They decided, at Randy’s suggestion, to pool their weekly allowances and take turns using the whole amount to have an adventure each Saturday afternoon. They came up with a clever name for their club: the Independent Saturday Afternoon Adventure Club, which they could airily refer to as “I.S.A.A.C.” around others. I goggled even back then in 1982 at the amount: adding up each of the older kids’ allowance of fifty cents each and Oliver’s ten cents, they would “have an adventure” every Saturday with the grand sum of $1.60. One dollar. And sixty cents. I don’t think any economics lesson could have taught me more memorably and clearly about inflation since 1941 (the year the book was published).

The adventures they had were fantastic to my seven-year-old Midwestern self, too. Randy went to the art museum and wound up having tea and petit fours (the first time I’d heard of those) at the cafe with a slightly mysterious old lady who’d known their father as a boy, and hearing all about the time she ran away with the circus when she was a girl in Paris. Rush took the bus to the Met to see an opera (a 12-year-old boy, voluntarily going to an opera!?) and ended up rescuing a bedraggled stray dog whom they adopted and named (natch) Isaac. Mona went to a beauty salon and recklessly decided to cut off her waist-length braids, accidentally winding up with a scandalous blood-red manicure which eventually had to be removed at home with perfume (you better believe I tried that a time or two). Oliver hoarded up the dimes the other kids gave him and calmly went to the circus all by himself one day, causing a panic at home when they realized it. After that they decided to go on their adventures as a group, for safety.

This book used to make me long to live in New York in 1941, when I would have been allowed to go operas and museums by myself at the age of 10 or 11. I still re-read The Saturdays and the other Melendy family books every year or so, and they still kind of make me feel that way. What strikes me most about them now, though, are two things in particular: (1) these children in 1941 aren’t really that different from kids now—they bickered and played with their siblings, complained about eating vegetables and doing their chores, swam in the summer and ate ice cream till their stomachs ached; and (2) they didn’t have a television. Sometimes I think my slight disdain for television might stem from reading these books about all the amazing things they did back when they didn’t have TV. I doubt I.S.A.A.C. would ever have been invented if there had been a little black-and-white television in their attic playroom that first rainy Saturday.

I’ve been waiting for seven and a half years for Annalie to be old enough for me to read The Saturdays out loud to her. I think 2012 might be the year. I can hardly wait.

I’m taking part in a blogging group called Reverb Broads that will be suggesting daily blogging prompts this December. I won’t do it every day, but I’ll be using them occasionally throughout the month as they tickle my fancy. If you want to join in, feel free! Go here or here to learn more.

I realized, after I did that last post about the newly-listed items in my Etsy shop (several of which have already been purchased, thank you very much!), that I have not blogged about pottery I’ve painted for a long time. The last post I could find that had more than a fleeting mention of dottery in it was way back in April! So let me catch you up, if you’re interested.

The little blue ‘be happy’ bowl up there is one that I painted for no particular reason or recipient. I ended up sending it to Leah as an apology for taking so long to send her my half of our flip-flop swap.

I painted this bowl for my friend Laura, with a slightly inaccurate Big Bang Theory quote on it. I don’t have a picture of it fired because Laura picked it up from the pottery shop when it was done.

The things I do for my friends. Kassie was inspired to ask me to paint this for her after reading about the “first: kindness; then: F*** AUTHORITY” mug I painted for Elaine. And because I love her, I did it. I’ll even admit it was kinda fun. But I don’t plan on painting another one. This was a limited edition mug. I don’t have a picture of this one fired either. (You can read Kassie’s hilarious account of watching me paint it here.)

She looks so innocent, doesn’t she? Not like a person who would ever ask a friend to paint a lovely dottery mug with her five favorite curse words on it.

I painted this geek dottery mug as a gift for the lovely Bex. It has two Firefly/Serenity quotes on it: “a little whimsical in the brainpan,” said by Mal in reference to the mentally-unstable River Tam; and, “Also, I can kill you with my brain,” a line said by a very calm River to a very spooked Jayne. The moral here is, never assume that just because someone’s whimsical that she is not also deadly when the situation calls for it.

I had a lot of fun painting this mug, particularly the little whimsical bits.

These annoying smudges are not fun, however. I took photos of this mug with my phone before it was fired, so I know these smudges weren’t there when I finished painting it. That means someone at the pottery studio wasn’t handling my pieces carefully. I’ve had this happen to at least three or four pieces I’ve painted at that studio. Rather disappointing because it’s only 10 minutes from my house.

Brenda had asked me to paint her a round dottery mug a while back, when her cool blue coral mug broke and she missed having a round mug. When I was in California and Brenda had the summer fiesta in our honor, she said that she needed to remember how much fun it is for her when she throws parties. So I painted her this mug as a reminder to be festive.

A little ‘be happy’ dottery vase I painted for Madge, at her request.

This cunning mug was a custom order for my Etsy shop, a dotty mug with Jayne Cobb’s hat on the front and a Firefly quote on the back. I was a bit nervous about painting the hat, but I think it turned out pretty well.

“Dear Diary, Today I was pompous and my sister was crazy…it was the best day ever.”

Shiny.

Annalie painted this Azurill plate the same day that I painted Katie’s NO WHINING sign. She pored over her Pokemon book, and picked the cutest one she thought she could paint. This was almost a disaster because she accidentally spilled a big blotch of black paint on the right ear and was very upset. I convinced her to leave the plate overnight and let it dry, and we’d come back the next day to fix it. We scraped the mistake off, and fixed the blue and pink, and now you can’t even tell the black blotch was there.

Remember those ‘internet friends FTW!’ mugs that Rainbow and I painted while I was in Omaha? Bad news.

It got broken during shipping. I was fairly bummed about this. I really liked those colors, and now Rainbow’s mug will be lonely.

I couldn’t even superglue it together and use it to hold pens, because there was a big ol’ U-shaped crack all across one side. Of all the mugs and bowls and things I’ve shipped, this is the first one I’m aware of that has broken. So it’s possible there was some flaw in the bisque that made it more prone to breaking.

At least I still have the memories. And an excuse to drag Rainbow to paint pottery with me again next time I’m in Omaha.

I actually got to paint pottery twice when we were in Omaha. The second time, I went with my mom, my girls, and Aurora. We did a handprint plate for my my mom with all three of her granddaughters’ handprints on it.

My mom wasn’t planning for Aurora to paint anything, but when she saw Annalie gathering paint and brushes, she said, “I paint? I paint too?” I helped her pick a plate and paint colors, and she painted the heck out of that plate.

Elliora didn’t paint. She hung out in the stroller, played with my mom’s keys.

She had her first lollipop, which she kept rubbing on her hair, then putting back in her mouth with an “Mmmmm!” Crazy baby.

Annalie fingerpainted this butter dish for my parents. I wrote the word ‘Butter’ on it just in case they couldn’t remember what they were supposed to use it for. (This is a photo of it unfired; my mom didn’t get to pick it up till after we left.)

Annalie also painted this plate for me, using my favorite colors. Isn’t she sweet?

Elliora did paint this plate, sort of. I helped her put handprints all over it one day when we were at our favorite pottery studio in Maryland. I think it turned out kinda cute, no?

I think it’s pretty clear that I do what I love, or this post wouldn’t have been nearly this long.