IT'S BROKEN

The message at church today focused on the potter and the clay. Every time that topic comes up I remember my senior year in high school. The pottery wheel was reserved for seniors who had been in art four years. The school had only four pottery wheels. I always thought if they looked in the attic they would find more as the school was so old and and served as an early state capital. I had worked with clay often in grade school and while I doubted clay was my medium, I anticipated the assignment with great joy. The statues I made in grade school all dried up and crunched down into a totally different shape when fired. Not what I had in mind.

Four at a time, students were given a week for their project. I, like most of the class, had visions of creating award winning pottery. I loved the idea of something in somewhat proportionate shape that I might even be proud to give to my mother. I might have considered giving it to my girlfriend, but is seemed obvious to me that the relationship was about to end. I was going to do it. Hand kneading the clay and adding the proper amount of water so you could work with the clay and not so much that it was nothing but a gooey mess was a challenge. Took two days, as I recall. By day three I had the clay in a workable condition. Now I could spin the wheel. No I couldn't because I could not get the speed right and the pot I was making was always leaning or one side was larger and the whole thing looked like a preschooler made it. I was constantly smashing it down and starting over. By day four I had conquered speed and holding my hands in a steady position fairly well. One day left. On Friday I knew I could get it. After a couple of false starts it was going together in a way that pleased me. I considered my self done and was about to put the glaze on for firing. The teacher came by to compliment me and recommend that I use a wire to cut the top edge of the vase (long "s" please). She showed me how and now I was ready to do it. I was holding the wire steady as the teacher stood over my shoulder to advice me. I was nearly through with what looked like a perfect cut when I reached for the loose rim to remover it, hit the foot peddle and jerked my hand flinging my piece of clay one to the next student. Fortunately my pot was fine and I missed my neighbors pot. Unfortunately I hit her hand and she jerked knocking her clay art sideways and thus ruining her project. She was so angry she walked over and pushed my pot as flat as she could. I just stared. She got a second week, I did not. Of course, I gave up pottery.

Hazel will end up annoying most of us to death. I was sitting upstairs in the lounge talking with Maria and Janet. Just an afternoon of carefree banter. We could hear a door opening and closing on the main floor. We could not hear anyone moving. I had no idea who it was or what was going on. Apparently Maria made a comment I should have picked up on, but it flew right over my head. A while later Hazel came upstairs to complain about the lock on the front door. Apparently the lock is broken and she was checking to see if it had been fixed. A couple of times would have been sufficient, but more than a dozen is annoying. She expressed her concern that it sticks open and Maria and I both said it is not broken. Someone is locking it in the open position. The argument began. She is frightened for her life. Anyone could come in and get into her apartment and do God only knows what. I do — run out in fright. Others are frightened as well. No names were forth coming. She locks it open herself and complains to management that it is broken. When caught she denies she did anything, but is simply trying to get it closed. I have showed her twice how to fix the "broken" lock. When you open the door, take you thumb off the latch and take your key out and it will lock. No it doesn't. That has never worked for me. Let me show you again. It worked. Now you do just what I did. It worked. I do that all the time, and it never works. I don't know why it is working now. I know it's broken. It is designed so you can lock the door open for easy moving in and out, if it is changed, an item will have to be placed in the way of the door to hold it open when necessary.

Hazel will get her way. The lock will be changed. She has written or called the big boss 2-3 times a week for more than a month. If the maintenance man quits, she will be the main reason. She has reported the need for a repair almost everyday for the past month. I believe she maybe what is broken.