"There is a little Bugs Bunny in all of us." (Johhny Depp, Vanity Fair interview)

I was feeling faint and fragile yesterday as my brother and I were returning from a movie. I commented that I probably felt so ghastly because I had neglected to wash off my makeup before bed the previous night. He nodded knowingly and said, "Yeah. Toxic shock." There is more Bugs Bunny in some of us than in others.

I had a big plan to drop in for the gala open house at Lookout Mountain Pottery today. I love artisan pottery and they had a great ad on the local public radio station (yes, I know, public radio doesn't have ads ...). However, when I finally got round to checking out the website for driving directions, I realized that it would probably take me at least two hours, each way, to do this. Exactly how much more pottery do I actually need around the house? Besides, I'm still feeling as though I have the end symptoms of cholera or something. Will yet another piece of really lovely baked clay make me feel any better? I still have a couple of pieces I bought at a student art show at Saddleback College in South California shortly after the Spanish mission was established at San Juan Capistrano. And, you know, they are as inspiring now as they were then. However, the question remains; where would I even put more pieces? My little house is at bursting point with STUFF so that, should I truly wish to find housespace for something, I'm going to have to get rid of something else. One would think that this situation would be an occasion for a salutary reevaluation of what is important. One would think. And, in any event, I should be thinking of how to make space, not how to take up more.

I have little more than a week until I give myself over to the gentle ministrations of the physicians and staff of St. Mary Mercy for another go at righting my aging bits and pieces. Girlfriend Em and I attended a Joint Class earlier this week. My professional colleagues asked if that had something to do with drug interdiction and my sister asked if it was about prison reform. Risible as all those suggestions were, it was actually a class for candidates for shoulder, hip and knee replacement surgeries. Hence the umbrella term, Joint Class. While the earnest and knowledgeable nurses conducting the class were upbeat about recovery  issues and prospects, I still think things are going to be pretty stinky for a couple of weeks. Walkers, crutches and canes again. Hence the need for more space in the house. The last go-round involved moving furniture and rolling up carpets before the surgery date. I have now not only unrolled the carpets and moved the furniture back in place, but the weather has taken a turn for the nasty and the dogs' big crates are taking pride of place in what passes for the dining area (but is mostly where I fold laundry and stack books). I have little time to devise a truly workable revision of space allocation that will allow me to move about my home without breaking bits of either myself or my belongings. Oh well, life is full of challenges.

Off to address today's challenge (having blown off the kiln opening at Lookout Mountain). There is so little food in my refrigerator (after I finally tossed all the stuff that looked suspiciously like something that might have been served during the reign of Edward the Second), one could be blinded by the light at the back. I must balance sufficient food for the week with not having stuff going off in there while I'm being fed by the kind hands of the Sisters of Mercy. This could be interesting.