Off Off Center
"So, ya gonna get take a break?" "What do you do in the off season?" "Are you going to get a vacation?"
It really doesn't work that way.
Holiday Market closes to the public at 4 pm Christmas Eve. I actually finished with Market around lunchtime on December 27, when I got the last bit of booth hardware out of the Exhibit Hall and into my van. Then there was choosing Christmas presents for my family--they've long since learned to not to expect them before Epiphany. Wrapping and bubble-wrapping, and boxing with cornstarch peanuts, the last-minute trip to U-Haul for more boxes. (They sell 'em cheaper than the UPS store.) Weighing and measuring and buying shipping labels from my online service. (There are several, but I've been using Shippo.) I loaded everything into the cargo basket of my tricycle held in place with bungee cords. It took two trips, one to the Post Office, another to UPS. I was officially done with Christmas at about 3:30 pm on New Year's Eve. Time to celebrate!
I think I got about six days.
I probably wouldn't even had gotten that, except that I ran out of clay; I finished December with less than 25 lbs. left. I ordered another ton from Clay Art Center in late December, but their shipping company was closed for the holidays through January 6.
So I read a lot. Did a little cooking and baking. Sang in the choir on Christmas and New Year's. Caught up on some TV with Denise. By the end of the week, I was starting to climb the walls.
So I threw those last 25 lbs. Trimmed the pots the day the new clay arrived, and kept working.
I had orders, you see. And huge, gaping holes in my inventory. I'd completely sold out of teapots and casseroles, had only one baking dish left. Six or eight patterns of painted mugs were out of stock, and I had precisely five pie plates and five tall mugs, which I needed to take over to Tsunami Books, because they were sold out, too.
I made a lot of pots. On a really good day, I'd do over 100 lbs., throwing. I'm pretty sure I went through 700 lbs. of that new ton of clay in about three weeks.
I'd planned to take a week glazing; it actually took closer to two. I finally loaded up the kiln the first Friday of February, fired it Saturday. We unloaded this last Tuesday, a gorgeous firing, and I finally have pottery again. Not as much as I'd like, my restock is still pretty thin. And I still have a platter and plates from an 8-piece table setting that didn't fit in the kiln, so I'm hoping to fit in another firing in either late March or early April. But for now, I have enough pots to sort and load the van again. Saturday Market is closer than you think!
I hate raising my prices. I like the idea that my work isn't precious, that it will live on the table every day, rather than up on a shelf in a china cabinet. Unfortunately, I can only hold the line for so long. Clay and glaze prices are up, shipping is way up, electricity and gas don't get any cheaper. Last year, I adjusted prices on my higher-end pieces: casseroles, bakers, colanders and serving bowls and cookie jars. This year, I have to tackle the tableware.
Effective April 1, the following changes will go into effect:
Items on order before April 1 will be charged at the old prices, but Saturday Market will open with the changes in effect.
In memory of kinder winters in the Twin Cities.
I was stalked by a tiger once. In St. Paul, Minnesota.
I was visiting my sister for New Years, recovering from the big family Christmas back on the farm in Wisconsin. Maggie and her wife both worked days, so I had to entertain myself. One day I decided to pay a visit to Como Park Zoo.
It's not the most exciting place in midwinter, of course. Most all the animals were indoors, if not actually hibernating. Every time I entered a tropically heated building, I had to wait for my glasses to unsteam, by which time everycritter had long since reached cover. I was delighted, therefore, to find five little tiger cubs outside, playing in the snow.
Siberian tigers, of course, to whom Minnesota winter is a balmy resort paradise. They were chasing each others' tails, rolling in the snow, and waiting in ambush behind every tree and shrub.
One of them noticed me watching, and peeled off from the pack to gallop up the hill to where I was leaning on the rail. He plopped down on his haunches, regarded me for a long moment, then wrinkled his nose and licked his chops as if to ask, "Do you taste good?"
Long ago I read something about how weird it is that humans bare our teeth when we're being friendly. (For most animals, it's a challenge.) So I gave him a great big grin...
...and he scampered back down to join his siblings.
Tigers have a lot of presence, so I tend to paint them on big pots: Platters, serving bowls, pasta bowls, cookie jars, platters. I've also let a few creep up onto dinner plates and tall mugs.
And you know what? People always smile when they see them.