Woops!

Friday night I sat in the handbuilding room at the Potters Guild with a sheet of price stickers and boxes of my ceramics. It was the night before the annual half price sale. Jen and Mack sat with me while I sorted through pieces I'd made over the years—many from before I became a member, when I was still figuring out how to work the clay. Heavy bottoms. Bowls that were more oval than round. A dish with a spec of kiln wash baked into the surface where it had fallen from the shelf above. Glaze that had dripped from someone else's piece onto mine mid-firing.