Life has other plans

Twice, lately, I've had either disasters in the kiln or pulled out something entirely unexpected. Both times the unexpected was pretty wonderful. I think that's what keeps me addicted to glass - that element of not quite knowing what will happen. Okay, sometimes (like last weekend) it's that I've forgotten to put the thermocouple in the right place and the kiln is now glowing red-hot (and goodness only knows how long it's been glowing like that!) and the elements are now melted into the ruined mold. (Note to self: order new element and be more careful.) But other times, like today, I pull out an entirely unexpected effect and fall in love all over again.

Last year I made Christmas ornaments (hey, they're red & green, they're Christmas) that didn't...quite...succeed. In theory they were great, but in reality...well, reality bites, as the 90s movie goes. So this year, I re-melted those ornaments (another thing I love about kiln work - endless reuse/recycle opportunities) and made another piece of green, red, and white glass. And off to one side, as if it were from a separate batch of glass, was this wonderful piece of clear with narrow ribbons of red, green and white running through it, some combination of reticello and ribbon candy. Wow. Now there's another batch of glass in that kiln, trying to create something to resemble this happy accident.

What's not to love about glass?

Being trained by a puppy

I've told my husband I wanted a dog for...years. When we lived in Maryland, his excuse was that I wouldn't want to walk the dog in the snow. True enough. But 3 years ago we moved back to Florida, and his excuse was...we travel too much. Well, it turns out that "we" is really "he." All of which wouldn't have mattered except that I was in Taylor County School District the other day and there was this puppy. Mabel. Mabel is a black and tan miniature dashund. I grew up with dashund neighbors. My aunt Patti had a dashund (Heidi, natch). And there she was, 3.5 months old, all head. Where other puppies tend to be all feet, for some reason dashunds are all nose!! She charmed me. I'm easy, but she is definitely charming!

So now she lives with us...that's me, hubby, and 3 cats. One of the cats, Pino (our baby) thinks Mabel is WAY FUN. I just caught them sorting through the trash together - with impunity. She chases him, he chases her, it's all fun. When I lie on the bed to watch TV, Mabel curls up on my stomach and falls asleep, or snuggles down under the covers and curls up next to me and sleeps. She makes little snuffling noises when she's asleep, or when she's very happy. It is adorable.

And so we are in puppy training classes so *I* can learn how to raise a puppy. I think I last had a dog when I was...13? That would be Butch, the one who peed on all my friends during my sleepover. Try living that down!!

Mabel is teaching me patience - more patience? I am reading books on how dogs think, and it makes me re-think my voice, my posture, my body language. The only thing it DOESN'T make me re-think is glass. Thank goodness, Mabel loves the studio. And it's okay if she has an accident in there - I do, too. And face it: hers are easier to clean up.

It's just glass...

Working with glass has made me more pragmatic than anything else, I think. It's like cooking - only with a really cranky oven. And you don't have to eat the bad stuff.

Tonite I opened the kiln - there was some fabulous glass inside. It bore NO resemblance to the glass piece that I was trying to create. N-O-N-E. I knew the kiln was acting up; I didn't realize that 2 of the elements were full on, for hours. It's just glass....

Fixed the kiln (again) - maybe.

Late Night in the Studio

There is something so enchanting about the studio at night. Me, the BBC, and the crickets. It's cool (relatively speaking) and so very quiet. I can hear myself think. I walk across the grass, wet from the day's rain, and check out the moon. Lately it's been very bright - although John says he wasn't able to see the Pleides meteor shower the other night. Each night when I walk out, it's a little bit further to the left. It makes me think of creating a huge black tree out of glass against the night sky with a nice shiny mica-enhanced moon. But it wouldn't be the same.

My husband is sleeping inside. The cats, too - except for Pino, who will be waiting anxiously on the porch for me to come back in. The studio is just me, the popping of the relays on the kiln (on/off...on/off...on/off) it's the heartbeat I listen for. It soothes me. (Although I love my kiln with solid-state relays the best, I do miss the heartbeat when it's the only one running!) At night, I can readily hear the cascade of the vitrigraph stringer as it begins to hit the floor. I have been doing some incredible things with vitrigraph stringer lately! Can't wait for the Niceville show - opens September 11. Come see!

Wednesday in Washington, DC

I love this city. I love the energy, the fact that I can walk places, the sheer grandeur of the buildings - as if they had no limits. Soaring ceilings? Why not. Banks of marble steps? What the heck. It's a great place to watch people - young women in the latest styles and impossibly high heels (how many times have I fallen over my own feet in this city, only to see my briefcase contents spread over the sidewalk?) Young men in ties, even at 9:00 at night. And the many, many colors of people - brown, black, white, Asian, soldiers, government workers, pierced, with strollers, with bicycles. The 40+ papers you can get out of the banks of machines at every Metro stop. The sight of the Capitol at night - it's beautiful. Even on a Wednesday, sidewalk tables are full of laughing people. Some places I recognize - the Dubliner will be here forever - and others are new. It's the kind of place that makes you want to go places, if only to be a participant in the flow of motion, endless motion, that is this city.

This was a difficult place to live, but it's a wonderful place to visit.

A Delicate Balance

Well, I thought I was getting up early so I could lead BOTH of my lives today. I got out to the studio by 8:00 a.m. - already hot, but tolerable. Reloaded the big kiln, unloaded the baby kiln, and listened to the comforting on/off click of the mechanical relays in the kiln that was still firing. All good. Worked on one of the bowls and daydreamed to NPR.

Back in the house by 10:00 - drip, drip, drip - to turn on my computer for a webcast of the House Appropriations hearing (labor-hhs-education markup). It's not webcast?? So I call the Committee. Not only is it not webcast (something I depend on now that I'm here in Florida instead of the BIG CITY of DC) but it's OVER. I MISSED IT. Committee says it started at 8:30, other sources say 9:00. It couldn't have been a very intense hearing, if it was only an hour, but I still feel like I let myself down. What's posted on the web is just the headlines, and I'm always looking for the subheads. I turn on CSPAN and there's Chairman David Obey, arguing on the House floor. I guess the hearing really IS over...

Most days, I really like combining my lives. I get a lot of thinking done with my hands in the glass (and that thinking isn't all about glass, either!) Occasionally my typing is impeded by the bandaids on my hands (pinkies are especially annoying). But on days like today, I really wonder about how best to combine these two very different worlds.

Meanwhile, I'm hard at work on a window for the LeMoyne. It's due on the 20th. Heck, I might even be early.

Heat + Humidity = Efficiency

Man, it's hot. It's been 101 and humid - now we're having daily storms so it's 99 and humid. I figure I can work in the a.m. until about 9:30 or 10:00, and after about 8:00 p.m. I am learning to be SOOO efficient! Lots of out-of-studio planning - what steps are necessary, what is the best way to maximize firing time. The time-and-motion folks haven't gotten to me yet, though; I'm sure I still move 3x as much as is truly necessary. I just pretend it's exercise...