Opening presents

[offcntr]

Potters will often compare opening a kiln to Christmas morning.

This is not necessarily a good thing. Sure, there's the possibility the package contains brilliant, shiny wonders. There's also the possibility of socks. Or a horrible bunny onesie from the great aunt who still thinks you're three years old. (Obligatory A Christmas Story reference.) I always approach a kiln opening with my heart in my throat. This is particularly the case at this time of year, when the special orders are destined for other people's Christmas packages, and I desperately need stock for my Holiday Market booth.

I started the kiln cooling at 7:00 Thursday morning. Preliminary indications looked good: I could see iron spots in both the top and bottom peeps, a sign of consistent reduction. Top was a hair cool--I didn't quite drop cone 10 on carry-over heat. Fortunately, my glaze is pretty forgiving. Nine-and-three-quarters is still fine.

I was back and forth all day, alternating a dozen errands with slowly opening the kiln damper. By 4 pm, I could crack the door a couple of inches, enough to see pretty good color throughout, only one small swath of oxidation.

I came back after supper to pull the rest of the car out, and it's gorgeous. Special orders are particularly nice, but there's also a lot of stock for the booth--nearly forty tall mugs, a very cute koala pilsner, new plates, and a new form entirely: individual pasta service bowls. I've only got seven, but if they sell well at Market, I'll have to look into making them a regular thing.

It was a long grind, unloading, sorting, pricing and boxing. Denise had a Book Arts meeting, so I was working solo. I finally got the last box in the car at 11:15 pm. And so to Market for set-up, plus delivering mugs to the bakery, and packing and shipping orders... Friday looks as busy as Thursday was.