Fine weather

[offcntr]

Definitely duck weather this morning; pouring rain all the way down Delta Highway and through downtown. I came in early, arriving at 7 am, hoping to beat the rain predicted later in the morning. Apparently, clouds don't read online weather reports.

Was tempted to not come in at all. I hate setting up in the rain, hate feeling wet and clammy all day. The only reason I did show up was because the women who ordered the giant-size mixing bowls were coming down from Corvallis to pick them up, making a day of it at Saturday Market.

As it turned out, set-up wasn't terrible. Sure, it rained all the while I put up the tent and assembled the shelves, but stopped promptly at 7:15, just as I was about to bring boxes out of the van, and stayed dry and sunny the rest of the morning and some of the afternoon (between occasional cloudbursts and sun showers--a typical Oregon spring day). It also began raining again right at 4 pm, but again for only 15 minutes, after which I was able to move boxes into the van dry. Of course, just as I started to take down the tent, it opened up again. Such a weird symmetry to the weather today.

Had some interesting conversations, both sparked by Denise's watercolor cards. They're actually a collaboration, copies from my watercolor sketchbooks mounted on her handmade paper. The first was with a woman from Texas, asking if I ever did any Texas-type animals on my pottery. I allowed as a how I might have done an armadillo once, but would be willing to try something new--I'm always willing to try something new. Then remembered we had a watercolor card with a longhorn on it, from the Lane County Fair, so I pulled it out to show her. That's great, she said, Could you paint it on this? (A tall mug.)

I said I certainly could, and told her my next firing was in mid-June. And then she asked me what the wholesale price would be.

Oops, we're not on the same page at all. I thought she was ordering a single, custom mug. She wants to order Texas mugs in quantity for a business, with Texas flags and longhorns and armadillos. Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope. I am not taking on new wholesale orders, particularly for tall mugs. I had seventy of them in my last firing, of which fifty were already committed, consigned to the bookstore or wholesaled to a gallery. I'm already having trouble keeping up with my retail customers without throwing this into the mix. Sorry ma'am, not gonna happen.

The second conversation ended on a more positive note. Had a young man and middle-age woman stop in to see the banks; he tells her his mother would love them, especially the faces, but he doesn't think he could get them to her safely. Where is she? I ask. Minnesota.

I'm curious, of course, so ask where. He says in Minneapolis, so I press for details. My sister and her wife live in Nordeast, and my friend lydamorehouse lives in St. Paul. Oh, so you know the area, he says, delighted. Have you been to the Minnesota State Fair? I grew up about two blocks from there. I immediately go rooting through the cards box again. One of the cards, called "Sleeping Beauty," features a grand-champion Duroc boar drawn from life at the Minnesota State Fair.

He's immediately taken with it, wants to know if I have another. Turns out his great-grandfather was a livestock judge in the Swine division at the fair, being a hog buyer for Hormel. He wound up buying both as mother/grandmother's day cards, plus one of my mother's bird feeder for his other grandmother, and one of a sow and piglets from the Lane County Fair for himself. Meanwhile, his companion has also been going through the box, and picks out cat and bunny cards for herself.

I almost lost a bear today. A little girl and her mom came in the booth just as little asked if she could put her coat on, as she was getting cold. You can't, says Mom, Don't you remember, we left it in the car. Sympathetic, I offer to let her hug my teddy bear, Bigfoot, for warmth, so she carries him around while Mom browses, and then announces that maybe she should take him down to the lady who makes stuffies, around the corner and up the stairs. Mom and I briefly stumble over each other's arguments before she admits she was joking. She hugs him goodbye and gives him back to me, his closest call since the neighboring vendor's two-year-old did a snatch-and-run back in, oh, 1994.

Lots of people in town for the Marathon tomorrow, some of whom pick up souvenirs. Others are return customers, like the Dad who bought a couple of bowls at Empty Bowls, then daughter got him a third, and son admired them, so he decided to buy five more, to make a set of four for himself and four to give to son. And so I become family potter to another generation.

Weird weather and bear-napping notwithstanding, it turns out a really successful day. As my potter friend Cheri (just returned to Market after a two-year pandemic hiatus) puts it, I came out a thousand-aire.

Favorite exchange of the day: the man who tells me, I eat my cereal out of one of your bowls every day. What a coincidence, I reply, So do I.