Since the first time I wrapped my hands around a spinning lump of clay, I was in love. In high school I couldn't get enough wheel time in my pottery classes. I had to buy extra clay, in addition to what the school provided, because I went through it too quickly.
After high school I had a few opportunities to use pottery wheels. Occasionally I could buy an hour of time at an art studio, but I missed the continuous availability I had gotten used to in school. I'd always thought that one day I might be able to afford a little used wheel, but it seemed like a pipe dream.
Then Flannel Man surprised me with my very own wheel for Christmas this year. To put it mildly, I was shocked. Now that we have a house and not a tiny apartment, I can use our garage to work in.