Back into Africa

[offcntr]

I feel like I've used this theme before, though possibly with different mugs? I'll have to get a rhino from the new firing to add to the safari.

Overcast, muggy day, unusual for Oregon. It rained for about three blocks of my morning trip in to Market, but stopped by the time I got downtown. It also started spitting in early afternoon, just long enough to convince me to haul all my empty boxes (and Denise's extra paper product) into the back of my booth, crowding me for the rest of the--rainless--day.

My space is actually quite comfortable on hot days, at least until load-out. The back of the booth, and space behind it, is shaded by a magnolia tree, and on hot days, thermals from the sidewalk in front actually pull a cool breeze from the back through my booth. Packing up at 4 pm, largely done out front, is miserable, and I come home drenched in sweat and ready for a cool shower.

Had a woman in this morning who'd seen my mugs at Great Harvest Bakery and asked about the artist. Girl at the counter was a brand-new hire, didn't know anything, and the other employee was on the phone, but the woman checking out ahead of her turned around, told her all about me, how much she loved my work, how many pieces she owned, and how to find me at Market.

I feel vaguely famous.

I had several people stop and look at the work early on, and promise to come back later to buy. A few of them actually did, including the young woman who brought her family in on the second and third visit, before buying a large peacock-pattern serving bowl. Early on, a pair of young sisters stopped in, gave everything a thorough looking at, and younger one says, I'll have to come back with more money. I smile and agree, give her a card and tell her to come back anytime.

Fast forward to 4 pm. It's been a reasonably good day, but my brain is melting, and I'm starting to pack up. Suddenly, I'm the most popular vendor at the Market. First Cara and Jeremy--the couple who've been replacing their boring dishes, one or two a week--stop in, flustered at being late and going through the soup bowls. Then a red-headed man on a bicycle, wearing a fox mask, asks if I remember selling him a fox plate, and replacing it when it broke. I honestly have three brain cells left at this point, none of them in facial recognition, and admit as much to him. He understands, says he really just needs another fox pot to go with it, so I show him a soup bowl, painted mug and stew mug. He decided on the bowl, and as I'm wrapping it, the sisters come back.

They now have money, little sister wants the hummingbird soup bowl, and I say I'll help them as soon as I finish taking fox-mask's card. I wrap it up, and they ask if I can take Apple Pay.

Sadly, I can't. Not even sure if Android supports it, and I'm pretty sure Square only takes it with their fancy blue-tooth processor, and I only have a swiper. I offer to let them take it now, pay me in two weeks, but they won't be here then. The bowl goes back on the shelf.

Several minutes later, after Jeremy and Cara have left with their choices, girls are back. Don't put it away yet, our stepmother is parking the car and we'll be back as soon as she gets here. They then wait on the sidewalk near my booth, on the lookout, and eventually come back with a credit card to buy and carry away their bowl.

So that's four soup bowls--$100--after closing.

I had another fellow wheel up on a bicycle around mid-morning, asking how long I'd been at Market. About 28 years, I replied. Oh, so you know what happened right here? He asked, a little disappointed. Mount St. Market? I was here the day it happened, I reply.

He says he loves to tell new vendors the story, and proceeds to inflict it on me as well, suitably exaggerated. About 25 years ago, a steam vault ruptured under this manhole cover, blowing it into the air and venting a huge plume of steam. It was during take-down, fortunately, and no one was injured, although Alex did drop a box of pots. I was around the corner, coincidentally right by another manhole, and was more than a little worried there'd be a chain reaction.

Mr. Historian seemed prepared to hang around talking about it all morning, but fortunately, a customer from Roseburg stopped by to pick up his special order octopus pie plate, so I was spared.