Caution, Blogger Approaching!

I have finally begun to understand why people that I know and love, who are my friends, family and colleagues, appear to have fallen into the habit of stopping conversations in mid-sentence whenever I happen by. It's a development I've noticed happening more and more often recently, but never gave much thought to ... until now.

I was working at Cedar Creek yesterday and, as luck would have it, the very talented potter Tim Turner was firing his work in the wood kiln (that's Tim up there on the left).

He is the newest resident artist at the gallery but has already proven to be an invaluable asset, and I'm not saying that just because he feeds me lunch at least once a week (although he does, and it's marvelous, as he verges on master chef territory. And yes, I am kissing up; if you ever tried his Thai shrimp rolls you would, too). He is a very nice person, witty, and always quick to lend a hand to those in need. I mean look at him, doesn't he just look nice? That's 'cause he is.

Anyway, he was firing up the kiln and had managed to get the help of Brad Tucker, another obscenely talented resident potter at Cedar Creek. My house is full-to-the-brim with his work and I just bought a ton more for Christmas, that's how good he is. Brad is one of my favorite people in the world; he is extremely funny and a very generous man. Okay, so you probably can't get that from this picture, because in this picture he is telling me to quit taking his picture already, but trust me, he's a mensch.

Tim had also persuaded a friend his, the lovely Ruth, to pitch in as well. I have met her a couple of times and liked her a lot. She is a Brit - well, she's Welsh, but to us Yanks they're all the same - and while I don't have a picture of her, she is lovely.

It was a beautiful day and I decided to wander down to the kiln, say hello, admire their handiwork, and briefly enjoy the company of three swell people. As I got nearer, I just caught the tail end of a sentence from Tim that sounded something like, " ...dressed up like the Indian from the Village People". Ruth, who is a therapist by trade, then said, "You know, dreams are merely reflections of different aspects of ourselves". Tim did a kind of double-take and then he and Brad both laughed uproariously at her response. I admit I was intrigued and being a nosy git, I had to ask what in the world they were talking about.

Ruth opened her mouth and had just managed to get out the words, "It seems Tim had a dream abou-" when Tim jumped up and said, in a serious tone of voice one might use to warn of imminent danger, like say if a rabid bear was about to leap out and attack her, "Watch out Ruth! She's a blogger!", which of course stopped the story cold just as it was getting interesting.

Ruth was neatly sidetracked into asking me questions about blogging; "but why do you blog? what do you get out of it? who do you blog about? who reads it?" and thus the whole subject of Tim's dream was dropped. Nicely played, sir, nicely played.

It dawned on me that my friends, family and colleagues might worry I'll write about something they're really not that keen for me to share with the internets and maybe that's why they go schtum when I'm around. Either that or they think I'm a nosy butthead which, if I'm honest, is an equally valid conclusion. But heck, I would never deliberately talk about something here that I thought would betray a confidence or hurt their feelings in any way. At least not without warning them first. Or if it was funny. Or if it ... well, never mind, maybe they have a point.

As for Tim's dream, I did eventually get to hear the story and Brad and I spent a couple of enjoyable minutes making it sound much worse than it was and generally making fun because - let's face it - that's what friends are for, right? And just between us, it was a totally boring, very innocuous dream, really it was, even if it did involve cowboy chaps and an Indian headdress!