The popcorn was long gone. The theatre lights came on. My husband and I were the only ones left, reading the scrolling list of hundreds of film credit names.
"How about Noah?" he asked.
"No," I said, "that has bad memories. Do you like Brielle?"
"Maybe."
We were expecting our first child and we were taking our job of naming him or her seriously. How do you choose a name that they will be known by—for good or ill—for the rest of their lives? Sometimes over dinner we'd pull out the list and add or subtract from the columns of names. In the end, we agreed on both a first and middle name for all our children. And none of them are named "Key Grip" or "Costume Designer".
Naming a kiln isn't the same as naming a child. But still, buying a kiln is an investment. Sometimes a sacrificial one. And maybe it doesn't feel right to load and unload it (sometimes daily), care for it, change its elements, feed it, burp it, and never name it. But how did you decide on a name? Did it just happen? Did you pick the name before you met your kiln? Did you stare at it for weeks before you brought it home from the hospital, er, shop, trying out different names? Bernie...Val Kilner...Medusa?
Tell us what you named your kiln and why: https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/32VRWLJ
~Amy Lewis