One more day...

I keep thinking about the kiln. It is probably burning well over 2000 degrees now. When I arrive tomorrow evening, it will be cool enough to empty. Carla has a meeting tomorrow and won't be at class. It will be just me and Jane (who is fantastic by the way) and perhaps Carol.

I get to unload the kiln. Opening the kiln is like Christmas morning. You've spent weeks making what went into the kiln two days earlier, and you never know how it is going to come out. It's a art form that, at times, feels completely out of your control.

Unloading the kiln isn't too hard - just an act that requires full presence. I look at the unloading process in the following way: there are hours and hours of peoples focus and love in that hot oven. When you take each piece out carefully, you look at it, admire it and think about what went into each piece. You must be very careful... very, very careful. When you empty the top shelf, you must remove the shelf below it. I'd guess the shelves weigh about 20 pounds each. Don't bump them, drop them or knock them into anything on the shelf below... and breathe. Remember to breathe.

To make the anticipation all the more stressful, the pitchers I made for Georgia's baptism are on the BOTTOM of the kiln.

Keep your fingers crossed.