Free Pieces of Me by Erica Cope Page A

coffee mugs to cute little ornate owls are available.
                  “Once you select your piece you can take a seat over there,” she says as she points to a few pub-height tables in the center of the room. “Then you just draw on your design with a pencil. Don't worry, it will burn off in the kiln. Select whatever color of glaze you want and paint it on. Super simple. Any questions?”
                  “Do we get to fire them ourselves?” Beck asks, sounding like a pyromaniac. I'm under the distinct impression he doesn't really understand the whole kilning process. It's not like you get to see the fire.  
                  “Oh no,” Autumn says, laughing and shaking her head at the ridiculous notion. “No, we will do that and your pieces will be ready to pick up in about a week.”
                  With that we each choose a piece. Olivia chooses a cupcake shaped piggy bank, Beck chooses a cereal bowl, Holden chooses a coffee mug, and I choose an owl. It's too cute not to take home. I've never painted pottery before so I'm surprised by the rough texture of the piece.  I browse the color choices, briefly considering painting it something bright and cheerful before deciding on slightly more subdued and realistic glazes. I'm not at all surprised when Olivia picks bubblegum pink. 
                  We sit down at a table covered in white butcher paper. A vase in the center of the table holds several different sized paintbrushes and a bowl of clean water sits next to it. I don't have to draw a design on my owl so I get right to work painting a coppery brown glaze on the feathers and a cream colored glaze on his belly. I choose a gorgeous blue shade for the eyes.
                  “You're kind of a natural at that,” Holden says with appreciation as I'm admiring my own handiwork. It really is pretty cute.
                  “Thanks,” I say sincerely. I look down at his coffee mug and a giggle bursts out of my mouth before I can stop it.  I don't feel bad for long because he looks like he's trying to fight a laugh of his own in response.
                  “Yeah, I was going for a really intricate design but I think my colors just sorta ran together instead—and not exactly in an artistic sort of way.” He stares down at the disastrous attempt in front of him. He scrunches his eyebrows as though he’s trying to figure out
                  “It's the color of mud,” I point out.
                  “Maybe that's what I was going for?” he says a little defensively, but I can tell he's just as amused as I am.
                  “I think it's awesome, buddy,” Beck interjects. But he's got glaze all down the front of his shirt and all over his fingers so it's hard to take his opinion seriously.
                  Olivia finishes perfecting her very pink cupcake and finally looks at the rest of our masterpieces for the first time.
                  “Okay,” she says. “Apparently guys suck at this kind of thing.”
                  “Hey!” Beck acts offended. “I worked my ass off on this cereal bowl.”
              “Yeah, I can see that. Looks awesome.” Her sarcastic tone isn't lost on any of us. His bowl looks like a child painted it. Truthfully, I'm surprised that with the amount of paint on his hands he didn't end up decorating the bowl with his own hand print. Or maybe he tried and the bowl was too small? Either way, it's probably a bigger mess than even Holden's mud colored mug.
                  “I'm starved. Creative endeavors always make me hungry,” Holden announces. “Anybody up for pizza?”
                  “I don't know,” I start. “I really need to study—” Olivia's pouty look cuts me off.
                  Somehow my ‘girls day' with Olivia painting pottery has turned into