Dear Scraping

Dear Scraping,

I finished something today. It took me a while, but I actually finished it. And if it wasn't for you, Scraping, I don't know if that would have been possible. At least not to my satisfaction. So what did I finish? Allow me to explain.

For the last month or so, I have been painting a cereal bowl. Or GLAZING a cereal bowl. Or painting a cereal bowl with glaze. I'm not exactly sure how I'm supposed to describe that. But that's what I was doing. As part of my hang-out routine with the Good Sis, I have had the pleasure of going to a little shop that specializes in ceramic-glazing. What that means is that I went in, chose a pre-thrown ceramic bowl, and then paid a small fee to get to paint/glaze the bowl to take it home. Quite a wonderful activity. And - for me - it proved quite cost-effective, as well.

And that's because I took my sweet-ass time. It turns out that there is no time-limit on the glazing/painting of the ceramics at this shop. And that meant that I could take my time and spend many hours painting/glazing my bowl without having to pay an extra dime. Talk about getting my money's worth. With that in mind, I chose to get more and more intricate with my detail at every visit. And since each colour needs three coats to come out right, that meant I was more and more intricate times three.

But it didn't stop there. Because Ms. Sis made a mistake on our second visit: she showed me where they kept dental tooth-scrapers for fine-detail work. And that's where you come into the story, Scraping. Had I been unaware of the possibility of doing intricate you on my bowl, I probably would have just called my job done on that visit, having finished my three coats of each colour. But the presence of the tooth-scraper brought out a whole new world of possibilities.

For, with that scraper, I was able to start you away every little bit of stray glaze on my bowl. Any line that had been slightly wavy or lumpy turned into a smooth, graceful curl under the steady barrage of my you. Pretty wonderful for a self-critical artist such as myself. I was able to clean up any mistakes that I could see. That was the good part. But - sadly - you isn't all roses, as the Sis would attest.

Because it turns out that the sound of you ceramics is not a pleasant one. Imagine the sound of a dental teeth-cleaning and all the associated feelings with that. Then throw in the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard. Then alternate that sound with regular sharp exhalations as I blew the freshly-scraped glaze off of my bowl. Repeat. FOR AN HOUR. Get it? This letter is as much a thank-you to you, Scraping, as a testament to the extreme self-control of the Sis. Because, had I been sitting next to me that whole hour, listening to those f-ing you sounds, I probably would have smashed my head in with a ceramic mug. Or at least screamed and cursed. She did, neither, and I was impressed.

But I was also impressed by you, Scraping. I was impressed by your addictive qualities. In spite of the horrible sounds you created - the grating, painful, spine-numbing chills you sent through me - I couldn't stop. I kept seeing just one more little spot that needed some you, and then I would pick the tooth-scraper back up and get to work. And then I'd put it down only to decide that there was some other spot that needed you. Had the shop not been closing up, I probably would have kept going for many more hours.

But even though I did stop and tell the helper-lady that I was finished and she could finally fire my bowl, you satisfied my anal artistic tendencies, Scraping. You allowed me to get to that ridiculous level of "fixing-up" that I always desire and subsequently keeps me from ever declaring any artistic thing I do as "finished." And that's a pretty big deal. Perhaps, after I get my bowl back, I will decide that I wasn't truly finished. But if that doesn't happen, I only have you to thank, Scraping.

So thank you for your help. And for all the ideas you inspired in me of ways to torture annoying people (or kids) by just carrying around a ceramic tile and a dental tooth-scraper. ESPECIALLY for that.

Scritch-Scritch-Scritch,
CVT