Slightly Off Center

You know how, in some interactions, there's only one brain cell between the bunch of you, and you're pretty sure it isn't yours?

A couple came into the booth, because she spotted the squirrel painted mug. They've moved from Eugene to Lowell, and only just seen their first squirrel, used to see them all the time in Eugene. He asked if she wanted to buy it and she nodded like a bobble-head. So I took it off the shelf, wrapped it, bagged it, and set it on my chair. Recorded the sale in my notebook. He took out a hundred-dollar bill to pay for it, and I asked him to hold onto it while I sorted out the change. While I do so, we're talking about my drawings, the paint brushes I actually make from squirrel tail, I'm counting three singles, a twenty, and the fifty from the back of the pouch, count them out again to him and he goes to put them back in his wallet. Wait a minute, I say, You didn't give me the hundred back. Oh, that's right, and he pulls it out, we joke about the one brain cell, and they turn to leave.

Wait, she says, Did we get our mug?

So I give them the bag, and we laugh again, and two minutes later, as I'm entering the transaction into Square--we track all our sales, cash and card, makes it much easier to balance the books--I realize I charged them for a $27 tall mug, not a $25 painted mug. I go looking in the direction they left; they're not in my aisle, nor down across the front, so I double back in the next aisle over, and fortunately find them there, just behind my back neighbor. You didn't have to do that, she said. I did, I said. It's not just the guilt; not having the books balance would have driven me crazy.

At this point, Holiday Market is a blur. We still need to go down Tuesday to dismantle our booth, but the pots are home and stowed in the shed, along with twenty-two (!) empty boxes. To say it was a good year is perhaps an understatement. It's our second-best ever, after 2021.

What few things I do remember all seem to involve kids.

• The little boy who was sure, no matter how hard his parents tried to convince him otherwise, that what Grandma really wanted was the $65 panda serving bowl, not the $48 owl baker they favored. They finally took a picture to show Grandma, but didn't take my hint that they should get the $24 panda dessert/sandwich plate for him.

• Brother and sister, about eight and ten years old, who wanted to buy mom--there with them--a mug for Christmas. They chose the size, she paid, then they chased her out of the booth. Conferred, looked suspiciously over their shoulders at Mom, perusing Cortney's pendants across the aisle, then chose her a butterfly mug, which I quickly wrapped for them.

• A little girl with stuffed lamby and tiny wolf (named "Ruff!"), who was delighted to see I had both animals on my pots, lamb in the toddler bowls and wolf on plates.

• And lastly, the little girl with a brand new tiny needle felt doggie, who responded to my bear's waving by 1. Waving dog's paw back, 2. Wagging its tail, and 3. Scratching behind its ears. Clearly one of our people.

Set-up Thursday was a rushed affair, because of the weather prediction. I came down just before noon to find they'd opened early, got everything in and set, then scampered up to Trinity Methodist at 1 pm to set up the Eagan Warming Shelter. I've been volunteering on set-up crew for several years now, even did a shift lead spot this fall when Larry, our regular guy, wasn't available. Between the two of us, we knocked out the set-up in about an hour, came out to find the beginnings of freezing rain on my windows. It was worse at home, ramp to the studio well-iced. Fortunately, I have a bag of de-icer that came from Wisconsin in the trunk of Denise's car when we got married. A couple of applications made the surface safe, and allowed me to easily scrape the ice off Friday morning.

There was a good quarter inch of ice over everything else, but the van was clear, under the carport, and River Road was well-sanded, so we skated out our driveway, but didn't have any trouble the rest of the day, save for a slick patch in the left-turn lane from Chambers onto 13th. A lot of vendors trickled in late, customers later, but they did some serious shopping--we had a surge around 2:45 to 3:30--and we did over two thousand in the last two days. Including a pie plate to Larry, who decided to thank me for all my help with a hummingbird plate for his wife's Christmas present.

Holiday Market continues busy. How busy? I totally forgot to take any pictures and missed my obligatory "Today's Theme is post on Instagram." Did it matter? Not in the least.

This weekend we shared the Fairgrounds with the Gun and Knife show, which means I had to direct several lost gunnies in conservative attire (F*** Biden/Inslee sweat shirt and camo) out of our building and around the corner to theirs during set-up Friday, and there was a record amount of mask non-compliance (noses showing, under the chin, or no mask at all) on Saturday. Sunday was back to normal, thankfully, and both days were busy to within a few dollars of each other.

Had some nice visits over the weekend: sara from here on Dreamwidth stopped in with offspring J, having braved the horrible Portland traffic, taking four hours to get from Olympia to Eugene. And Sunday morning was potter's day: Beth and Skip, current and former Club Mud members, stopped to buy cards from Denise, and Faith (Local Clay) and partner Dave stopped in to pick up a bowl for his daughter in Cincinnati. (I really gotta figure out that "Where in the world is Off Center Ceramics" feature I've been considering.)

Sunday was also our annual Pottery Smash (aka Charity Auction with Percussive Interludes). It's a vendors-only event held before opening, to raise money for the Kareng Fund, Market's artists emergency-relief resource. All the potters, and several other vendors, donate wares. I use it to get rid of seconds that otherwise clutter up the shed, and share the auctioneering with fellow Agents of SMASH Alex and Jon. Folks get bargain--and occasionally not-so-bargain--presents for themselves and families, the Fund gets an injection of cash, and Alex takes home a big box of pot shards. More shards than usual, in fact. After the last couple of years, I think we needed the catharsis. Don't have any pix of the actual event this year, too wrapped up in the doing, but you can see photos from 2018, including video, here. Highest bids went to two non-pottery items: a pair of wooden bowls, lathe-turned by Reed from the remains of a venerable Big Leaf Maple that formerly graced the Shady Grove at the Oregon Country Faire. One sold for $300; I think the other drew $290.

At this point in the season, I'm counting down. No stick butter dishes left, one large covered casserole. One regular 4-cup teapot left, so I get the 6-cup model, duplicate from a special order, out to fill the hole in the display. (Repeat after me: An empty space is a missed opportunity.) I'm out of dragonfly soup bowls and chickadee stew mugs, and have only one hen and one cat painted mug. All the octopus tall mugs have sold, though I still have two octo-pie plates. Two days left to sell, we close 4 pm Christmas Eve.

I'm rapidly blowing through my dessert plates, though better stocked on dinners, despite selling eleven this weekend. Had a fellow ask if I gave any deals on sets. 5% off on sets of four, 10% for six or more, I said. He proceeded to pick out six dinner plates and six soup bowls.

Finally starting my own Christmas shopping this weekend. My family has been trained to expect their packages around Epiphany.

Honestly, I've already lost most of last weekend's Market. Since we packed out Sunday night, I've loaded and lit the glaze kiln, then drove down this morning at 5 am to continue firing. I have vague memories of selling many pots, and running out of three patterns of stew mugs and one of painted mugs. Oh, and the dad with son in a "Merry Christmas, ya Filthy Animals" t-shirt (in red), who stopped and bought a sea otter bowl to go with the otter (something) they bought last year.

Five minutes later, a mom and son in "Merry Christmas, ya Filthy Animals" t-shirt (in green) stopped by, said, Oh, look! This is where we got the otter (something) last year!

Coincidence? Parallel universe? Who can say?

Anyway, here's a short video clip of the plate display from the back of my booth. Honestly, I should have thought of this last week.

Holiday Market set-up went smoothly, for the most part. I left home around noon, arrived before my neighbors on either side (though the three across the aisle were all ahead of me), which made it easier getting the booth frame up and raised onto the wood block stilts. (Necessary to keep people from banging their heads on the light bar.) Denise stayed home, which turned out helpful when I realized I'd forgotten the under-counter strip lights. The booth looks really good; still a little cramped in back, but with room for a little more back stock, as I'm using the shorter Saturday Market shelves on the left.

The only snag came when I went to bring in the back stock from the hall, where I'd left it to be out of everyone's way. My hand truck was missing.

I checked in the office to see if anyone had stashed it with the Market supplies, but no joy. I also walked the entirety of both halls--well, stumbled, actually, it was after 4 pm at this point--to see if someone had borrowed it, but still no luck. I did run into Vanessa and J.J., Markets promotions and interim Manager, and whimpered my bad news to them, then started carrying in boxes one at a time, before Courtney of Steel Web, across the aisle, took pity and loaned me her hand truck.

I was just stowing the second load of boxes under the bench when J.J. arrived, triumphant. Someone had borrowed my wheels, and left them out by the back door. So I hauled in the rest of my pots, put out Denise's paper, and finished up around 5 pm.

Went home and had chili that Denise cooked for us, and went to bed early.

Woke up early too, trimmed some pots in the studio, and we drove down to put up signage and get organized for the 10 am opening.

It was never really crowded, but there were a good number of shoppers, almost all masked. Market hired private security this year, mostly, I suspect, to enforce masking. I haven't sold at opening weekend since sometime before 2009, when I joined Clayfolk, so I don't know if this was a typical weekend, but sales were pretty good Saturday, comparable to a really good pre-pandemic Saturday Market. Sales much slower, about a third, on Sunday, but all-in-all a decent weekend.

Lots of empty booth spaces, and only about half the food vendors we'd usually have, but that, and the fact that the Main Stage has moved to the other hall, meant that they could set out tables, smaller 6-tops more widely spaced, to allow sit-down eating.

Taking over the Exhibit Hall from the absent Farmer's Market means that we can use their built-in stage, saving the $6000 we usually have to pay for rental of risers and equipment. It also means that the smaller, acoustic music stage moves from Holiday Hall to our space, which was really rather nice. Quieter music, still enough to mask background noises, but easier to talk to customers over.

The nicest part of being back indoors is having Denise able to help again. I'd forgotten how good it is to have someone sharing the booth. She records sales while I process cards or make change and wrap. We can take turns for restroom breaks, or just get-out-and-talk-to-people breaks, desperately needed after all the isolation. Plus extra bears, extra hugs, and just time spent together again. I've missed it.