My mom was feeling a little sad yesterday because the Queen Anne Farmers Market is closing. Sure, we have Pike Place Market all year round, but the QA market is small and special. She’s got all her favorite vendors and she came home loaded with green leafy stuff.
She’s also got that gleam in her eye that says, “Back to my special diet!” I knew something was up because yesterday we walked all the way to the top of Queen Anne hill. “No bus for us, Gracie,” Mom said firmly. “We need the exercise.”
As usual, when Mom needs exercise, the dog has to go along. Even if the dog is tired and hardly in need of more exercise.
Alas, I didn’t get to go to the Farmers Market. I remained home in my crate. See, mom has taken up a new hobby. As with all her interests, she dives in with lots of enthusiasm and little expertise. She goes to class Monday night. Then on Thursdays and Saturdays, she goes to the studio to practice. She’s determined to master the basics of throwing this term.
The truth is, my mom has less talent than just about anybody when it comes to pottery. She studied a year in Philadelphia and a year in New Mexico. She makes oddly shaped pots and passes them off as “original.” Her friends have to struggle to keep a straight face when she shares her misguided creations.
The good part is, it keeps my mom out of trouble. And she feels so guilty about leaving me that we get extra dog park time. Life could be worse.
P.S. My mom says she wants more comments on this blog. Please say something! Just click on “comments below.”