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Discombobulation
Last night my friend asks in a concerned tone of voice “are you ok?” after reminding me of everything that I’ve built. I look around me: the foundation of a woodfiring oven, the first of 10 loads of horse manure laid over sticks in a garden-to-be, 80% of a bedroom built in the upstairs of a barn, 12 tabs open on the browser, paper evidence of a meeting in which an exciting plan was revealed unfeasible, a real estate broker’s business card, and rare Chinese herbs in pots patiently awaiting a prepped location. My beloved old flame from MN may or may not be visiting today, but I have a crush on someone I met on my little vacation in Eden (no, his name is not Adam, more like Adonis). Instead, I wake up to ducks having loud sex under my kitchen window. Two different people have tapped me to co-teach classes on fermentation, PCC classes are about to start again, my Pop is visiting next week, and I’m pregnant. Just kidding.
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Raphaelle Goethals' encaustic, about 4' by 5', which I stared at for a good 10 minutes at the first Seattle Art Festival before an assistant came around to bemusedly rouse me from my love-struck stupor.
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Somehow my priorities stay straight: I’m making pots every day, just barely keeping up with demand. Pre-sold work; I like this business model. I increased the price of my fermenting crocks 15% this year and they are still selling well. I just finished 2 commissions, and stumbled into a potentially ongoing commission opportunity from an awesome little consortium of restaurants in Seattle, which includes Sitka & Spruce, London Plane (hello catering!), and the Old Chaser Farm. And to my great delight, the bowls that I gave to Biwa Restaurant in Portland proved themselves so lovely and sturdy that I just received a large order from them to compliment a fall menu change. This is exactly where I want to be!
So I’m ok, yes, thanks. Whew! Never a dull moment.
Happy Fall to you!
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