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I got home Tuesday night, finally, just before midnight. Denise picked me up at the airport, I drove home. (She really doesn't like driving in the dark.)

One last story from the trip.

Our 5:50 pm flight out of Milwaukee loaded a little late, but not too badly. Completely full flight, of course, making up for the previous day's cancellations. I was in seat 16B, next to the left wing; my neighbor in the window seat was a teenage girl who was a very fearful flyer. Are we supposed to feel vibrations? Yes, that's normal. Are the wings broken? No, those are flaps; they control the plane. What's happening now? We're taxiing to our runway--just driving along the ground. As we approached take-off, she asked, Do you mind if I hold your hand?

Not at all, I said. Would you like to borrow my bear?

We flew all the way to Denver with her right hand clutching my forearm, my hand over hers, and her left hand cradling Umberto.

Such a brave bear.

Got back from supper last night--Rocky Rococo pan pizza, a hometown favorite--to find an email from the airline. My 5:30 am flight was canceled. They'd automatically rebooked me to 5:50 pm. On Wednesday.

Not happy with the idea of paying another day's rental car and motel, I went online to see if I could do any better. Found one seat left for a 5:50 flight tonight for $580, snapped it up, then canceled the Wednesday flight (for which I'm only getting $180 back. But at least it's a refund, not a travel voucher). Had to wait until this morning at the airport to check my bag and get a seat assignment, but considering what a mess things were--no flights in yesterday, hence no planes this morning, and a whole day's broken bookings to reschedule--I got off pretty easy.

They've been announcing all flights full, please check your carry-on, there won't be enough room, and a morning flight to Phoenix was oversold, they were offering $2500 to take the bump.

Sadly, I'm flying through Denver.

Just had a brat and chips for lunch. Four hours until my flight begins boarding.

It's a good thing I did all my errands yesterday, even gassed up the rental car, because this is what it looks like this morning. The temperature dropped overnight, and the blizzard has finally arrived.

It's supposed to stop snowing around 4 pm, and the plows are already out, so I'm guardedly optimistic that I'll be able to fly home tomorrow morning.

To recap, for those coming in at intermission: Denise and I have a house, inherited from her mother, in Brookfield, Wisconsin, a west Milwaukee suburb. For the last ten years, my brother has lived there, paying a nominal rent and supervising repairs and remodel, but at the end of 2025, he and his wife moved to Detroit to be closer to her family. The house has been empty since then, while we ponder what to do with it. Early in February, his son and daughter-in-law, Joe and Makayla, proposed to manage it as a rental for us. They're not terribly close, living in St. Paul, but at least it's closer than Eugene.

With me so far?

I flew out to Milwaukee on Friday, planning to meet Joe and Mak Saturday, then drive up to Central Wisconsin Sunday and Monday to visit my mother and whatever other siblings were close by. I'd fly back to Eugene Tuesday morning. This plan was ambushed, of course, by a major winter snowstorm that hit St. Paul Saturday morning, Central Wisconsin that night.

As of Sunday morning, Brookfield was getting wind and rain, not snow, so I headed over to the house to do a walk through.

First thing I noticed, on arriving, was the garbage and recycling cans out on the driveway, along with a plastic-wrapped newspaper. Also found a package delivered to the front doorstep, all there since January. (The paper was the January 4 Journal/Sentinel.) The recycle can had blown over, but the trash can was upright--and three-quarters full of water. Dumped it out, splashing my socks, and put everything in the garage.

On the walk-through, the house was in pretty good condition. A few minor things, water stains on the bedroom floor from a long-ago water bed, everything could use a good sweeping. There were also some missing linoleum tiles in the basement, and some garden cleanup. The only major things I've found were: some dangling conduit and electric outlet in the basement, from when contractors had to repair and reinforce the basement wall; an empty space in the kitchen for a dishwasher--David and Charlotte took theirs with them to Detroit; and a crushed and badly repaired 6-inch section of rain gutter over the garage door, coincidentally right above where the trash can was sitting.

Took lots of notes and pictures, which I'll share with Joe and Mak when I get home to a computer. I am now done with my responsibilities for the weekend, with Monday still free.

Rainy, blustery and cold today, here in the Milwaukee suburbs, but it could be worse. Here's pic from my sister-in-law up in Willard, taken off their back porch.

I'm so glad I drove back last night.

Many roadkill raccoons. Two roadkill turkeys. No deer, however. A whole flock of live turkeys, digging through the understory of a small woods. (I also saw a dead red squirrel in the middle of US 73 as I turned onto the road, but as I didn't have a plastic bag, I wasn't able to take him home to make paint brushes.)

Several redtail hawks. A kestrel. A Snowy Owl, flying across the road just beyond my mother's driveway (She says there's actually two of them). Several Canada geese, pairing off a bit early for the season (and if you're used to seeing Cackling Geese out in Oregon, the Mammoth variety is a revelation. Those guys are big. As was the bald eagle, swooping low over a creek beside the road.)

Eastern Blue Jay. Such pretty birds.

An entire woodlot festooned with a cats-cradle of sky-blue piping--collecting sap for maple syrup.

The derelict hood and windshield of a snowmobile, perched on a snowbank on the shoulder of the road.

An Amish farmer and his two sons, driving a two-horse hitch down the highway pulling a rig designed to carry a big round hay bale. The new and the old in collaboration.

Denise and I have a Garmin satellite navigator that we bought for shows, and I'd brought it along, because no matter how new the rental car, they never have the software installed. And more than once, Google gave me directions after the exit.

Coming from the airport yesterday, both of them let me down. At first, I couldn't find the charging plug for the Garmin (turned out it was in the central column glove box, between the seats). Fired up Google Maps, and it couldn't find GPS. Finally went on dead reckoning north up the freeway until I could find an exit, parked in a Wendy's lot and found the plug. Garmin battery was super low, but kept alive long enough to get me to the hotel. But for some reason, the battery wasn't charging, so this morning, it didn't start at all.

So I programmed the phone, hit "Start" (I think I hit "Directions" yesterday) and Google took me on a wild ride through parts of Wisconsin I'd never seen before. I-94 to Mauston, sure, familiar, but then it to me off on state road 80 through Necedah toward Marshfield, and just when I though I knew where I was, it turned off on county highway X. (County roads in Wisconsin are lettered, not numbered, which leads to some funny signs. Sadly, I reached the intersection of county H, O and G from the wrong direction; GOH isn't nearly as photo-worthy.) Finally, after some twists and turns and astonishingly bad black top, I debouched onto US 73, which was at least familiar. Gassed up in Neillsville, took US 10 to county G, at which point Google lost the signal, kept repeating Turn right on County Road G. But by then I was on home turf so finished the trip from memory.

Leaving from Willard heading back, it took me on a totally different route. Went the other direction on county G, picked H and B and BB to once again not quite go through Marshfield. Connected with US 10, which runs east across much of the state, then southeast down the Fox River valley, and somewhere beyond Steven's Point, my phone shut down. Battery was dead.

Reader, I had no idea where I was. Garmin was still dead. It was not long until dark, there was a snowstorm coming, and I was, basically, f---ked. The only good thing about the situation was that this particular part of highway 10 was a commercial strip, where I might, conceivably, find a charging cord.

I pulled off into a parking lot where stood, cheek by jowl, a Goodwill and a Harbour Freight. Mentally flipped a coin, went into Goodwill.

I used the bathroom first--I'd been on the backroads a while--then checked out the offerings. No computer section, unlike the Delta Highway Goodwill in Eugene. Lots of USB-chargeable gadgets in the appliances, but all hardwired, mostly old-style.

Went up to checkout, made sad eyes at the staffer. Do you have USB charging cables? My phone died in the middle of giving me directions to Milwaukee.

She asked me what kind--USB-C--then led me back to a display of cutesy chargers, plug decked out as a gift box, cable with a bow. Mini USB-C plugs on both ends. Bought it, took it to the car which, being new and fancy, did in fact have only mini ports. Started the car, plugged the phone in, and it immediately began to charge. So I went back in, thanked the clerk and told her it was working. Restarted the phone on 4% charge, and drove the rest of the back to the motel.

Woke up early this morning with an inspiration. Since my nephew and his wife wouldn't be able to make it down to Brookfield, there was no compelling reason for me to walk through the house today. I still have Sunday and Monday, and even if we have snow, it's just a short trip from the motel to the house. Easy peasy.

Whereas, if I got on the road early enough, I could be at the farm by lunchtime, visit with my mom for a few hours, and drive back to Milwaukee ahead of the storm.

My brain being what it is, it spun in circles while I had breakfast, still not sure it was a good idea, but I figured, What the heck? And at quarter to eight, I was in the car.

Texted my sister-in-law and called my mom from a rest area near Mauston, got there in time to have lunch with my brother--homemade smoked sausage!--spend a couple of hours visiting with Mom, go with them to 4:00 Mass, and made it back to Brookfield at about 9 pm. Caught some snow flurries around Waupaca, and a bit heavier snow below Oshkosh, but the pavement was dry and clear, visibility fine, and I just beat the storm to Brookfield.

So the trip started well, albeit early--got up at 3:30 am to get the taxi at 4:30 to get to the airport at ten to five. Hardly any line at the Alaska Air counter, but a long queue for TSA. Looked like a 5:00, four 5:10's and a 5:15 flight, all trying to get through. The line moved reasonably fast, though, I was in plenty of time for my 5:15 boarding.

Things began to come apart in Seattle. It was snowing there. The plane--a little four-row commuter--got diverted from a jetway to an open ramp. Which was covered with slushy snow, despite the roof. I slipped and took a knee on my way down--Birkies are not made for traction. Walked the full length of the airport to get to the tram to my next gate, only to find I coulda caught a tram from my arrival gate, had the signage been at all adequate. Then took the tram back when they moved my gate, and forgot my water bottle.

Sigh.

Took off late for Milwaukee, because we had to wait an hour to de-ice the plane. Had several fussing toddlers on the plane; fortunately, I'd brought a bear who did yeoman's work distracting them from crying.

Finally got on the ground, got my rental, got to my hotel to texts from my sister-in-law in Willard and my nephew in St. Paul. Had I seen the weather?

The snowstorm I'd hit in Seattle is following me across country. It's scheduled to reach St. Paul on Saturday, Willard Sunday and Monday, Milwaukee as well. Joe and Mak can't come down to walk through the Brookfield house with me, and I can't drive up to the farm to see Mom. I could maybe just squeak through between blizzards, but I don't think I ought to try. Guess I'm stuck here til Tuesday.

Did my last pottery for the current cycle yesterday, trimming and handling casseroles and canisters. Fired a bisque overnight that had been loaded for a week, and I'm drying mugs and stews on the hot lid this morning. Now I'm starting to organize for my Wisconsin trip this weekend, washing clothes, printing out checklists, starting to gather necessities. I've got my travel notes ready to assemble--flight, car, hotel info. Booked a cab to the airport, so Denise doesn't have to drive in the dark. Looked up the weather--looks like I'll hit at least some snow, oh joy.

My brain is buzzing, a little; I keep reminding myself I've two days to pull everything together, but my anxiety isn't listening.

Sunday's Club Mud Studio Sale came together very well. We went from "will we have enough stuff" to "where will we fit all of this" in the space of about two hours Saturday afternoon. Sale opened 9 am Sunday, and was already crowded when I arrived at 10. The sale has evolved over the years, from a mostly seconds sale to mostly firsts, with some seconds and a smattering of discontinued items and orphans from special orders.

Our previous best year was 2024, over $3900. This year we smashed that record by over $700, largely riding on Shelly's sculptures. She was by far our best seller; I came in a distant second, but still over $400 for the day.

I had a day all planned Saturday--Farmer's Market in the morning, some studio work, tackle taxes. At 2:30 pm, I needed to stop and head down to Club Mud to help set up our studio sale.

And then it turned sunny.

And actually, gorgeous. By the time I got back from Farmer's Market, it was sunny and 60°. An opportunity we couldn't pass up.

So indoor activities were cancelled in favor of pulling all the pots out of the shed, setting up trestle tables in the carport, and sorting, counting, and packing the van for Saturday Market. Denise recorded inventory while I organized stock, and, with a short break for lunch, we had the entire van packed and ready for Market, with four weeks to go.

There's a wren in the blackberry brambles behind my studio, singing his little heart out, been there for several weeks. Flocks of robins have been populating trees around the neighborhood, and the waxwings came through on their annual migration earlier this week. Just yesterday, I saw a chickadee at the seed feeder, the first since last fall.

Good to have everyone back.

Club Mud Studio Sale!

Things have not slowed down.

This should be evident by the vast number of posts I have not done here since, oh, mid-February. I'd been steadily building up a stock of pots in the studio for a late March or early April firing, interspersed with afternoons desultorily working on taxes. Visits to the dentist slowly, incrementally getting ready for the premolar implant that's finally gonna be finished next week.

Then everything blew up.

I got an email from my gallery in Olympia; they'd asked about a squirrel tall mug back in February, right after I'd loaded the kiln. Didn't have one, offered to put one in my next firing. They said that'd be fine, it would give them time to put an order together.

A thousand-dollar wholesale order. (That's $2000 worth of pots at retail). So I had to make another dozen serving bowls. Nine pasta serving bowls. Three more colanders, and I broke my hole-cutter and had to go down to Oregon Art Supply for a new one. I'd already made 60 tall mugs, so diverting 18 to them wouldn't be that hard, and I'd be making soup bowls regardless. Honey jars I'm pretty sure I have left over from the last firing. But between this order, an eight-place dinner set and platters that didn't fit in last time, plus Empty Bowls for Food for Lane County, there's going to be precious little space for more pots for Saturday Market.

Club Mud's studio sale is coming up in early March, so I needed to sort out some pots for them. I've precious few seconds at the moment, so I planned to pick out firsts that I had most of, so as not to handicap my Saturday Market opening. Backed the van out of the carport and over a screw, so got an extremely flat tire. The bead was broken, so I couldn't just inflate it and drive to Les Schwab, had to jack it up. For some reason, the body came up off the ground, but the wheel didn't, something something rear suspension? I had to put a second jack under the axle, but the car doesn't have a jack, just some sort of strap, and how does that even work? Wound up stealing the jack from Denise's papermaking press, and finally got the tire off and down to Schwab's. They fix flats for free, which was a bright spot, and one of the reasons I go back to them when we need new tires.

And now it's March, I'm still only halfway through taxes, I had to preside over the last Club Mud meeting because the president was out with pneumonia. I'm going to the dentist on Tuesday, I'm flying back to Wisconsin next Friday to meet with nephew and wife to try to get a handle on the Brookfield house situation, and also steal a day to go see my mother. I volunteered to run an Empty Bowls Throw-athon at Club Mud the Saturday after I get back, and sometime before April 4 I have to get the van sorted and restocked for Market. And I only finally got all the pots home from my last firing today.

But there's a wren who's been singing in the blackberries outside my studio, the waxwings came through yesterday, and a chickadee has rediscovered our seed feeder. Violets have been blooming outside my studio door since late February, and the first three daffodils are open.

It could be worse.

But I just saw a Ford F350 Crew Cab truck with a rear window sticker that read "I identify as a Prius."

Every year, for romantic holidays--Valentine's, our anniversary--Denise and I celebrate by doing an art project. This year, since she's been taking a fabric book class at Maude Kerns Art Center, I'd dug out all my remaining fabric scraps, what didn't get used in my pandemic quilt project (still unfinished, I'm afraid). Which gave me an idea.

I've been following an artist named Ann Smith on Instagram almost since I started my account there, I think she was one of the first suggested posts that popped up in my feed. She does fabric art as persimmonstudioart, hand-stitched patchwork pictures of birds. She gets some amazing effects with layering different patterns of fabric, even suggesting iridescence on grackles and starlings. It's gorgeous work.

So we decided to do a bit of birding ourselves. I pre-sewed background panels on my machine, six by nine inches, found and printed some reference photos--Denise picked a robin, I, a goldfinch. Then we chose and ironed our fabric scraps, transferred patterns for different color sections to scrap paper with carbon paper. (I'm amazed at the stuff Denise has stashed away; there are advantages to being in a borderline hoarding relationship.)

Cut out pieces, aligned them on the reference photo. Many of them were too small to pin, so we scotch-taped them together to transfer to the backgrounds, roughly stitched them down with some of the many different colors of thread Denise has for bookbinding.

I think they turned out pretty well.

Had a pretty successful firing, even top and bottom, very little oxidation, mostly on the very bottom by the door. I had a little over-reduction up top, could ask for a little less brown, but over all, very successful. Here are some serving bowls, just out of the kiln.

And a few of the many special orders.

Yes, I know, I said I wouldn't make spoon rests again. It was a long-time customer, and she dropped her old one...

Stopped at the St. Vinnie's off River Road with Denise, looking for fabric for her bookbinding class. Since JoAnn went belly-up, there's no good fabric store nearby (that isn't Hobby Lobby. feh.), but you can occasionally find bits and scraps in the thrift stores. While she was going through the bins of fat quarters, I perused the end caps.

And found a friend.

This is a bulb forcer, for getting narcissus bulbs to bloom in winter. I have one much like it in my cupboard at home. It's by my late friend, Kathy Lee.

A random sampling of pots glazed for the last firing, or, in some cases, the next one. A lot of stuff didn't fit in, including a full set of eight dinner and dessert plates. Also the platters, some of the serving bowls, casseroles, cookie jars; there just wasn't room. I'll wind up minimally stocked for the opening of Saturday Market, but will need a firing in early April--late March would be better--oh, and I just got an email from my gallery in Olympia, they've sold everything, can I get them more?

I just woke up, and I'm tired already.