Last weekend I went to the Oregon Potters Association 33rd annual show at the Convention Center. Thirty three years I’ve been going to this! They estimated that 16,000 to 22,000 people came through the doors last weekend alone. One of the artists told me that it is the best ceramics show in North America and that Portland is a Mecca for potters (pun intended.)
The 175 participating artists have their own booths which they adorn as a backdrop to their wares. I found this one quite striking:
I have bought pieces from this artist in the past (Ginger Steele):
This whimsical birthday cake has a poem:
Poem for Shante
I woke up wishing you a Happy Birthday
And I blew out your candles for fun over my morning tea
I filled up your balloons when I put on my lipstick
And I wrapped a bow around your present when I tied my shoes
It’s not even the right day for it
That was the icing on the cake
I loved the brilliant colors in this booth. In fact, I brought some of it home with me!
Different musicians played during the event. We enjoyed this classical guitarist.
Also last weekend I went to an estate sale of a woman who had been a quilter. At one point as I was admiring and being tempted by her many half done quilt tops I had to remind myself of my closet full of half done projects and ask myself why I would pay money for someone else’s half done projects. Just say NO!
I had heard about this sale from a quilt shop invitation. I am not sure if the deceased had worked at the shop and bought up all the remnants or had just been an ardent customer. Either way, her backyard was filled with at least 20 tables of neatly bundled and taped yardage individually priced (who did that?), mostly in 2 to 3 yard lengths, some much bigger. There were boxes and boxes under the tables of fabric that hadn’t even been brought out yet. She also left behind bags and bags of thread (I drooled over the wooden spools but whoever priced them was too aware of today’s crafting trends.) There were gallon bags of finished quilt squares that had never been assembled…I just prayed,
“Oh Lord, don’t let this be me!”
I wanted to come right home and finish up my projects and the fabrics I have purchased over the years for all those great ideas.
I admit I did bring home a box of fabric because a dollar or two for several yards of fabric that might make a little girl’s sundress …or a picnic tablecloth…or Christmas throw pillows or…placemats…or a cute denim bag with inset pieced squares (how cute would that be!)---and, half the work was already done in the pieced squares… I would have succumbed deeper but they didn’t take checks or a debit card and I didn’t want to drive to an ATM. So at the end I counted out quarters, dimes and nickels to make it up to $37.50 and I left a few things behind. When I got back to my car I saw the change I keep in my ashtray and I considered going back for more but the overriding moral of the story is:
You can’t take it with you!
As I sorted through heaps of fabrics I thought to myself, “Old quilters never die; they just lose their stash.”
The weekend also included a funeral of a 62 year old woman who had filled her life with good friendships, strong family ties, good humor and plenty of adventures, a reminder to live fully the life you’ve got!