Clayfolk day 2

[offcntr]

Saturday at Clayfolk is a long day.

I start at 9 am helping set up the demonstration area: chairs, tables, potter's wheel. Julia Janeway needs a leather-hard platter to demonstrate sgraffito on, so Tea throws one for her, and we try to get it dry with a spring-clamp lamp, which promptly burns out. Going booth to booth looking for a bulb, we discover how many of us have converted to compact fluorescents (a 500 watt per booth limit will do that). Fortunately, Tea has brought a heat gun for his demo, and I attach it to an easel with the lamp clamp and leave it aimed down at the platter. Best jury-rig ever.

Meanwhile, Denise is consolidating restock in our booth, coming up with three empty boxes and a bunch of bubble wrap to remove. By the end of the day, we'll have two more empties.

Doors open at 10, and the hall fills quickly, but less frantically than yesterday. These are the marathon shoppers; last night was more of a sprint. I'm on cashier duty after lunch, but volunteer to take a morning shift, covering for a potter who dropped out for back surgery (recovering nicely, for the record) but was somehow still on the work shift roster. Thought I could do back-to-back shifts, foolish me.

They've rearranged the lobby checkout area for smoother line management, so it doesn't look as crowded as last night, but my wrapper and I work non-stop the entire shift. By 1 pm, I'm exhausted and not entirely coherent, so when Nina, the credit sales chair, offers to cover my afternoon shift for me, I only protest a little.

Denise is frazzled when I get to the booth, so I send her off to rest while I finish restocking, and we break for lunch.

Afternoon is slower, and I have a chance to take in part of some demos. Pete Meyer makes squared bottles, a form I'm fascinated with. Think I'll try a few this winter, even though I know they'll never sell. Bottles never do. Maybe if I call them "growlers." Pete and I used to teach together at the UO Craft Center, and he's gone on to full time teaching at a college in central Oregon, laments that he's forgotten how to be a studio potter. I miss teaching, a little, sometimes, but doing the occasional demo at Club Mud seems to help.

At the end of the day, the booth still looks nicely stocked, but I know I'm out of squirrel, dragonfly and chickadee soup bowls, fox, elephant and hen mugs. There's no casseroles or batter bowls left in restock; all the pie plates are out as well. The lights go out at 7 pm; I gently herd a last reluctant shopper out the door before they turn off the VISA machines.

Earlier, Tracie dropped off my the sales tally from Friday, and I finally have time to look at it. In one evening, I've sold more than I did all weekend at Clay Fest. We shamble out the door, searching for supper and an early bedtime.