Mom says: I would make all kinds of awesome pottery.
Mom has always wanted to build a kiln at their house and make pottery. I know she'd be really good at it. I don't know if it's because they haven't gotten around to it, or because Dad's a little nervous about Mom heating things up to 750º, but they haven't built it yet. Mom, you should bribe him with a travel magazine or trail book or something. You know how he gets excited about those things. "Backpacks? I like backpacks. I can put my granola bars in there and we can hike to the cruise ship or Star Trek convention. Have you guys seen my Merrell hiking sandals? I know I put them next to my Columbia convertible pants, but they're missing. Let me get my GPS and look for them."
I took pottery as an art elective in college. It was a lot of fun...very therapeutic. It was especially awesome when one of my classmates would get super mad and throw his lump of clay against the wall. Or, when a girl wanted to melt marbles in the bottom of a bowl for "artistic effect" and she put too many in and it exploded and cracked everyone else's projects. Man, good times in the pottery lab. I got an A.
So, Mom...here is your dream job. A potter.
No, not that kind of potter. This kind....
Sadly, Mom will not get this reference. Mom, just call me and I'll explain.
And yes, I'm just now realizing I drew my parents in that scene. And yes, I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.