Smooth. Real smooth.

There’s some Craft Alliance conference-type thing in town. They had a little meet-and-greet today, up in the gallery. Little wine, little veggie tray, little chip and dip. At some point they moseyed downstairs, complimentary drinks and the odd munchie in hand, to see the clay studio, where I happened to be glazing some mugs.

“And this is our clay studio!” [expository dialogue about the studio, people who use it, etc.]

“And this is Maaike!” [expository dialogue, I have a little side chat with lady from Cape Breton about their studio and kiln programming. “Oh, so you learned pottery after you started working here?” Yes! Local Craft Council wins 1 point in game of Impress the Other Arts Groups!]

“And here’s our kiln room!” [opens door, smiles proudly]

What went through my mind: “Wait a minute, the fan’s on! That means the kiln could be on! No, wait, no-one’s here watching the kiln. It’s off. When was it turned off? How hot is it? ITCOULDSTILLBEHOT! You’re not supposed to show people the kilns if you don’t know how hot they are! What if someone went in and poked one? Ohmygodisthatguygoinginthere?!? What if he trips and falls on the kiln and gets horrible disfiguring burns? Who is he? Does he know anything about kiln safety? Is there a funny way of saying, ‘Sweet zombie Jesus get your fool arse out of the fucking kiln room!! If you get a burn don’t expect me to fetch the first aid kit for you!'”

What came out of my mouth: “Uh. No drunk people in the kiln room!”

*sigh* Goodbye, point.

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