The long weekend

I had no expectations for last weekend. Black Friday draws people to the big commercial venues; Saturday was the Oregon/Oregon State game, so a slow afternoon was expected. Sunday was... well, a Sunday. Post-church crowd of mainly lookers.

As it happened, I had an excellent weekend. Friday sales nearly matched the entire previous weekend, and Saturday and Sunday matched Friday. Sold a few big things--large casserole, large cookie jar, a bunch of banks, and two teapots (to the same buyer)--but mostly it was mugs, bowls, stews and dessert plates. Those $20-$25 items add up.

Lots of families. I particularly liked the two little boys in matching "Christmas Dinosaur Club" sweatshirts. Think green sequin brontosaurs in sparkly red Santa jackets. I of course had to introduce them to my Christmas dinosaurs, and we all had great fun.

Saw a lot of familiar eyebrows--can't really say faces, can I? Claude and Hannah Offenbacher from my KLCC days. My former choir director from the Newman Center. My new choir-mate from same, who wanted to handle my work. She's blind, so can't appreciate the painting, but I showed her the banks, and she wound up falling in love with an elephant bank.

I also saw an old friend from the River Road Post Office. I've shipped a lot of boxes of pottery over the years, and got to be on a first-name basis with the counter crew--Henry, Debbie, Laura and Mee. Mee left River Road, but I later found out, dropping in the West Eugene office after a visit to the DMV, that she was working there. It was lovely to see her again, and show off my work--unboxed--a little. She really liked the koala small square baker, thought it would be perfect for her daughter in California, but after years in the Post Office, was afraid it would break in mailing.

So I offered to take it home and pack it for her Saturday night, if she could pick it up Sunday. Gave it a double coat of bubble wrap, and 2-3 inches of cornstarch peanuts on all sides, left the top untaped so she could tuck in some candy and treats for her grandkids. She was surprised at the size of the box, and grateful to see how things get properly packed. Hope she'll be less reluctant to use the mail now.

A new tongue-twister

Peacock teapot peacock teapot peacock teapot...

Sorry, it's sold.

The sheriff's tale

I did my annual Holiday Market work shift Saturday morning. Vendors each do one shift a year (or forfeit a $25 deposit). I like to do morning security. I hang out by the side door, near to my booth, hold it open for vendors, help bring in their stock if need be, and keep the random public from wandering in before we open.

Market keeps a small stock of toy badges for us to wear, but I prefer to pin mine on a bear. Reminds me of Poul Anderson and Gordon Dickson's The Sheriff of Canyon Gulch, which always makes me smile. When vendors address me with a "Howdy, Sheriff!" I can point out that, in fact, this is the sheriff; I'm just the deputy.

Around 9:13 am, a car pulls up and the driver rolls down his window and calls out, "What time do you open?" He doesn't hear my "10 o'clock," so I walk out and repeat myself. "Okay, then, it says 10:13 here," he says, pointing to his dashboard clock. "No, I"m afraid you're still on daylight time," I say, "It's only quarter after nine." "But it says 10:13," he insists, while his wife tries to show him the correct time on her phone.

"Well, can we just come in anyway, and look around quietly?" No, you really can't. "Why not? Everything's legal now that you people elected Biden."

Oh, that got strange fast. I try to explain that, in fact, as a private organization, Saturday Market has the right to set our own operating hours, while he keeps repeating "Everything's legal now." So I give up and go back to my door while he shouts, "Don't you walk away from me!" I ignore him and go inside, and eventually he rolls up his window and drives off.

Twenty minutes later, a different guy comes up. He's on foot, in a yellow rain jacket and home-made mask, incorporating what looks like a piece of pillow case sewn into a structure of white athletic socks, providing the elastic to hold it on. (In contrast, car guy had no mask, and a Navy ball cap.) He asks me what time the Market opens.

"10 o'clock," I say. "I thought it opened at 9, like the downtown Market," he replies. "No, actually, the Saturday Market also opens at 10. Farmers Market opens at 9," I explain. "Oh! I guess I connect those two in my mind," he says. "I guess I'll just puddle around for a while, then." I observe that it's a lovely morning for walkies--the sun was just coming out, and we're right on the Amazon canal. He agrees, and says he appreciates that I appreciate that.

"Thanks for the extra 18 minutes," he says to me.

Gift

Overheard at Holiday Market: Grandpa's a tough one. Everybody scratches their head, because he has no hobbies and no interests.

I nodded sympathetically, but then remembered what my niece gave my mother (her grandmother) last Christmas: a calendar.

Not just any calendar; a calendar with a day circled every month when she and her partner would come by and visit. During lockdown, they brought takeout supper. Now that things have opened up a bit, they like to go to Rock Dam for a Friday fish fry. She also comes over to help roll out potica dough. It's been a lovely year's gifting.