let lemons be angry

Pottery is wearing me down. Just when I thought I had developed the strength for it, I"m learning how contradictory pottery is, like a coquettish Chinese girl quoting riddles. I refused to let my teacher correct my pots as he always does, because I suspected I still didn't have the skills to complete a pot. I was right. He tells me I have to learn taichi, and use my mind to tell my hand to remain in position. Sharon and I gaze at our dizzily spinning pots and magically make them grow tall, and suddenly they collapse and open up like calla lilies.

But it's good. I was feeling my arms and being happy at how strong and firm pottery is making them. When I got home I made my mother squeeze them.

"So soft!" she cried. "Soon they will jigglyjig!" And flicked them to demonstrate the jigglyjig.