Dreaming of a prairie...

...living in a rain forest!

I know I've complained about all the rainy Saturdays since Market opened, but this weekend was the first time I actually had to set up in the rain. Previously, I'd roll in, set up, and have everything safely under cover before the inevitable shower/downpour/hailstorm began. It's not so bad, snug and dry in the booth while the weather unrolls around you.

This time, I was anything but dry. Getting the tent up is priority, then the furniture, then hurry boxes of pots in as fast as possible, to minimize the amount of rain that gets in through the flip-top lids. Wait to pull down the walls until after I've hand-trucked the pottery boxes, bring in the handmade paper last. About two loads of boxes in, I realize I've missed a step: I've put up the raked shelf mug/bowl display uprights, but not the shelves themselves, so I grab the bowl shelves and set them up, then back to moving pottery. It's only after I've parked the van in the Overpark and am half-way through setting out pots that I realize that I've left the painted mug shelves in the van, so I traipse up to the parking structure and carry them back. Much rain; no brain. And since I've foolishly worn Birkies and cotton socks, and not brought a dry change of raincoat, I'm freezing most of the day. Eventually, I take out the little wool blanket Denise got from one of her charities, fold it into a pad, and put it under my wet jacket, over my--also wet--flannel, where it makes a toasty warm spot for the rest of the day.

I also discover that somehow, despite it have a three-quarter charge at the end of last week, and then being plugged in, my fancy wireless card reader is dead. No lights, no nothing. Fortunately, before I have to go back to Magstripe reading, my neighbors come to my rescue: Chere has a spare charging cord, and Teri always brings a back-up power pack. I'm able to plug in and take payments, despite being at 1% power. By early afternoon, I'm up to 40%, and can unplug and return the equipment. Still not sure what happened, but I suspect the cat has chewed on the power cord, creating a short circuit, so instead of recharging, it was discharging. Live and learn.

I know I'll have at least a few sales guaranteed, people picking up commissions, but for a long while, it looks like that's all I'll get. There's a big track meet in town, and graduation is Monday, so parents visiting, but I doesn't look like many of them are braving the rain to come out. I give out a bunch of cards to folks with no room in their luggage, might get a few mail orders, and eventually make enough sales to get me over $400. Then, in the last ten minutes, a man comes in, picks out the $70 tiger serving bowl and a $55 grizzly bowl, tries to buy the stands as well (I say no; I don't have access to the Craft Center wood shop to replace them any more, but suggest he take pics and show them to a garage shop woodworker back home.), and asks if I can ship them. I'm so grateful for the large last-minute bump that I offer to ship them free.

Pack up still very wet, though it's down to a fine mist by the time I get to loading the pottery boxes into the van. Monday it's partly cloudy, only 20% chance of rain, so I set out the tent in the front yard to dry.

And it promptly gets rained on again.

Magic

Through some kiln magic or potter's dumb luck, even though I missed a damper adjustment and slowed the firing down by a good hour, pretty much everything in the kiln looks amazing. There is literally one oxidized pot, low in a far back corner, and I'm beginning to think that, in replacing the hot-face on either side, we've also plugged up most of the leaks. I only lose three pots: a soup bowl with a cracked rim, and two bowls that got rained on. (Early in the preheat, before the kiln warms up enough, water vapor from drying pots and burned fuel can condense on the underside of lower shelves and drip down, washing a bare spot into the glaze.) One of them was a special order cow-patterned catfood dish, but as I made a spare, I have one for the customer and don't have to figure out what to do with the other.

The special orders all look good; check out all the bugs in that bowl! And Instagram lady, with three kids, is gonna be so happy with her mama robin casserole.

Got some gorgeous oval platters. The sloth is a special order, the octopus is for Anacortes, and the peacock is just because. Maybe I'll get Jon to photograph it for me before I put it out for sale.

The whole megillah

This is what a kiln load of pottery looks like, all in one place. (Almost; there's two ware boards of special orders elsewhere in the studio.) I get asked from time to time how many pots fit in that big kiln, so I counted. As best as I can determine, there were 273 pieces in this kiln load. Plus three test tiles for Jon.

It took me two or three hours to unload them all; almost that again to inventory, price tag, and pack in boxes. But it all fit in the car to come home with me.

Negative!

After six decades of misery, I finally got a referral to an Ear/Nose/Throat specialist to see if anything can be done about my chronically goopy sinuses. Because it's not the kind of appointment you can wear a mask at, I got a drive-through sinus reaming Sunday. As of now, I'm officially negative, and have to isolate 'til Wednesday, when I have two different doctor visits.

Another first

Took my first payment Saturday from a wrist-watch. Apple pay, of course.

The future, man. It's a heckuva thing.