Slightly Off Center

In other good news, Market announced that they've hired a new General Manager. Tom Webb comes to us from the Newport Visual Arts Center, where, among other things, he's been involved with organizing the Paper and Book Arts Festival. Denise has had contact  with him over the years, says we're very fortunate to have him. Made a point to telling our Board Chairman what a coup they got.

It was lovely and sunny yesterday afternoon. I'd thrown a bunch of serving bowls and colanders in the morning, so took my trike out to BiMart to check the lucky number (no luck, although one of the winners was my number, except the last two digits reversed), and stop at the credit union to deposit a check.

I was going too fast, turning into the parking lot, but thought I was gonna make it. At the last moment, my right rear wheel hit the curb at speed... and broke right off.

I'm standing there in the parking lot with an abruptly two-wheeler, third wheel on the ground. So I put the wheel in the basket and wrestle the poor thing over to the bike rack, deposit the check, and call Denise for a pick-up. 

Denise is outside dividing irises, without her cell phone. Well, it's still sunny, and not that terrible a walk home. She calls back from my landline message just as I'm crossing the last intersection before home, drives back with me and helps wrestle it into the car. I go online when I get home, and actually find a listing for a replacement Meridian rear axle, but there doesn't seem to be any way to put it in my shopping cart, and, as they're in Michigan, nobody answers the phone when I call. Nobody else seems to carry it, although someone is selling an entire rear axle assembly on eBay for $250. Schwinn itself is no help; they're much more interested in selling new bikes than replacement parts. Nothing more to be done, I call it a day and go make Chicken Tikka for supper.

This morning, I call Michigan and find out that the reason I can't buy an axle is because they're out of stock, don't know when they'll get more. I ask why the website doesn't say so, and he says with over 3000 parts, they can't be bothered keep current with all the changes.

I'm sighing a lot, these days.

I spend the morning trimming bowls and colanders, moving banks off the lid of the kiln and unloading a bisque. After lunch, I return to the problem of the bike. I call a large, well-regarded local bike shop, who rebuilt wheels for me previously. They don't stock the part, of course, neither do they do welding. In fact, they doubt any bike shop in Eugene does. They suggest I try a machine shop, though they can't think of any off hand. So I go back to Google to look for one.

Most of the listings seem to work for heavy equipment: trucking, logging, industry. I finally pick out a small shop in northwest Eugene to give a call. The nice lady there says they probably can't help me: He just turned down a job like that, fixing a car axle--I get the sense it's a mom and pop shop--You should try a shop that does car repairs. She gives tells me the CarQuest in Junction City has a machine shop on site, so I give them a call.

At CarQuest, I get Frank, say I'm Frank too, and tell him my tale of woe. He transfers me to Andy, in the shop, who is happy to take a look at it. For the first time since the accident, I'm feeling vaguely optimistic. I pull the other rear wheel off, both to give him better access to the axle, and make it easier for me to load in the car, and set off.

Junction City is actually closer to our house than most of south Eugene. I just drive up River Road until it meets Hwy 99, take a left and half a mile later, there's CarQuest, on the right. I have a good feeling about the place when I get out of the car. They've got big signs on both front doors, requiring masks and hand washing for entry, "So you don't leave virus residue when handling merchandise." They've built a plywood booth in the parking lot with sink and paper towels, and, wonder of wonders, hot water. Damn.

I go inside and ask for Andy at the counter, and the fellow behind the plexiglass leads me through to the back, where there's a very nice metal shop. Andy's working on a cylinder head, but puts on his mask and follows me out to the parking lot to see my crippled baby. We talk about 15 minutes or more, compare strategies, but finally decide he can't help me. If the axle were thicker, he'd drill it out, fabricate a new end, and set it in, guaranteeing it straight and true. Welding it together, it's too easy for it to shift off center, leaving me a wheel that wobbles, and eventually breaks again. Even if he could be sure it would weld straight, it's a minimum two-hour job, which already puts it higher than the eBay axle assembly. So I resign myself to a two-tone bike (the assembly is blue, not black cherry like the rest of the bike). We laugh about how, in Eugene, who'd notice? and I drive home and place the order.

Shipping is another hundred bucks; I should have the new assembly in a week.

Heard a quiet boom! from the bisque, just over 700°. On unloading, found this: three stacked pie plates, reduced to wreckage. This after a slow warm-up, and a hold for three hours at 200° F with the vent fan going.

It is so hard to thoroughly dry pots in the fall.

I'm slowly succumbing to the realities of 21st century art-inizing. Social media! they say. Gotta have social media!  

What, a Dreamwidth blog isn't social enough?

I just created an account with Instagram. Mildly grumpy that I can only post from my phone or tablet; all the best pix are here on the laptop. Also, their video limit is 60 seconds, so those will continue to appear here and at my website. But we'll see what we can do within their format. #OffCenterCeramicsEugene. #whimsicalandfunctional. #stonewarepottery. I feel cooler and hipper already.

My handle there is off_center_ceramics. Note the underscores; they're important. "offcenterceramics" is someone completely different. As is "offcenter_ceramics." Sigh.

We just received word that the Clayfolk venue has changed. Due to some sort of scheduling snafu, we are not booked into the Medford Armory, as planned. The Board has scrambled, and found us a new location, the former Toys R Us building at 1300 Biddle Road, Medford, so the show will go on, but all the publicity has already gone out with the wrong location. I'm up at 6:00 this morning creating an updated email card; hopefully, the Publicity chair is onto the radio and TV people to change our spots, and will let me know if any of the daily paper print ads can be corrected.

This is not what I needed to hear, a week before the show.

Stegosaur bank in peril!

...from someone publicizing Jurassic World at a local casino.

ETA: Don't worry, Steggie is safe. Arms were too short to reach his mouth...

Holiday Market's annual Charity Pottery Auction with Percussive Interludes
(aka Pottery Smash) happened yesterday morning before opening. More than 20 vendors donated ware, lots of pottery, but also glass, mosaic, t-shirts, needle felt, canned albacore tuna, cameos and catnip mice. Turnout was a little smaller than previous years, but we still raised nearly $3000 for the Kareng Fund, our emergency relief fund for distressed crafters. We also broke a lot of bad pottery, shards of which were carted away to make mosaics at a birthing center. Here's some scenes from a smash.




As one of the three auctioneers, I was too busy to get any shots of the event itself, but Tara brought a proper camera, and promises me pictures; I'll post them when I receive them.

Had a customer and his little boy in my Saturday Market booth this weekend, admiring the animal banks. Dad picks up the pig and hands it to his son, saying Would you like me to buy you this? and son says Yes, please.

So Dad peels off the price sticker and hands it to me, and I record the sale and take his credit card and it says Casey Affleck. So while my brain says Pull the other one, it's got bells on it, I calmly ask, Can I see a picture ID? Sure, he says, and gives me his California driver's license, and sure enough, that's who he is. So I swipe the card and he signs the phone and I offer to wrap up the pig and we thank each other and after they leave, I think Holy Crap.

I'm two degrees of separation from Batman.

We had an earthquake this morning.

We were at the Saturday Market, already set up, sitting in the booth because it was too early to go over to the Farmer's Market, when the ground suddenly wobbled. Not really shook, not even vibrated; it felt like a big truck had gone by, lasted about that long, and I actually looked up to see the traffic on Oak Street. (Pick-ups, cars and SUVs, nothing nearly big enough.) I turned to Denise and said, "Did you feel that?"

Turns out it was a tiny thing, 4.2 magnitude, with the epicenter across the river in Springfield, and about 6 miles down. Didn't even rattle the pots.

That doesn't mean I didn't stress all day about aftershocks.