less perfect. I knew since the last firing, in December, that it had to be done - I couldn't keep rolling the dice. (Rolling the dice is a bad business plan. Write that down.) I was just waiting for enough of the snow & ice to melt away so it wouldn't be a suicide mission.
I'm a little nervous of heights. Not phobic, but maybe a little more cautious than your average person. Doug, on the other hand, spent his high school and college years doing tree work with his father, and has no natural fear of heights. He would have gladly stacked that last layer for me, but his lack of caution makes it even more stressful to see him just casually clamber around up there just like he's on the ground, than it is to just do it myself. He did come out and hold the ladder for me; I also felt like, if I fell, I wanted someone right handy to call 911.
I got lucky, and acquired the brick for free: Portland Pottery is rebuilding the bag walls in their large gas kiln. The brick were a little rough but perfectly adequate for my needs. On a related note, I am having an urge do grab some of those broken brick and collage all over them. They'd make good bookends, maybe. There's something so wonderful (in my imagination, at least) about the coarse broken edges and the decoupaged floral images.
But! One project at a time. Or, well: maybe two. Or three. Definitely no more than four.😀
Maybe I'll finish the staircase today, load tomorrow, and fire Sunday.
Fairytale of New York.
45 minutes ago