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The BOMB

Welcome to the BOMB.



The Blog Of the "Mother" of Bandit.
Bandit is my Hairless Chinese Crested--he's the "normal" one. I, on the other hand, am unrepentantly "pet-crazy." You know the type--the spinster who lives in the haunted house three blocks over with 72 cats...okay, so I don't have 72 cats, and my house isn't haunted--but my dogs wardrobe is better than mine! Need I say more? :~)
I've never been consistant at journaling, so the timing of my blogs will be sporadic at best. I just hope they are as entertaining to you as they are to me; however, be forewarned: Most of my blogs will be about The BaldOne. In spite of his Don King "do," I think he's just as cute as any of the Brothers B!
Now, if I can just remember not to get him wet--or feed him after midnight...

About Me

My photo
My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my thirteen year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my two year old gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .” So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”

Fun Stuff (I'm doing now or have done)

  • Artistic Attempts weekly (alternating between Painting With A Twist, That Art Place, and Peniot's Palette).
  • Bunko with the Belton Bunko Babes monthly.
  • Participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge.
  • Spades and Liverpool Rummy with the Spadetts weekly.
  • The Mighty Texas Dog Walk, Austin (fund raiser for Service Dogs, Inc--they train shelter dogs to be Service Dogs, then give them free of charge to people with disabilities.)

Wednesday, February 28, 2018

Warning Signs: Blowing My Heart

(Part Three:  The conclusion  of my recent trip to The Salado Glassworks Studio and Gallery.) 

Even though I sensed it was coming, and knew it would be painful, I still cried out in shock, disbelief, and more than a little pang of discomfort as my heart was squished. The end came  much too soon.  I wasn't ready.  I wanted more time--not much--just a little.  But then, is anyone ever ready for their heart to be flattened like a pancake?

Okay, it really wasn't heart-shaped yet; but, my Hottie, Michael and I spent quiet a bit of time heating, twirilling, and blowing as the gather was transformed into a hollow sphere that would soon become my glass heart.

(In case you've forgotten, or did  not read the first two posts in this series of three, I'm not being sexist--Hottie is the nickname of the Glassblowing Artists at Salado Glassworks.)

Once the sphere was roughly flattened, Michael began the process of refining. This of course required more trips to the glory hole followed by more shaping with the paddle. However, the constant twirlling motion became an intermittent side to side flipping motion. 

When the sides were deemed smooth enough, my Hottie heated it up once more, and creased the top to begin the process of shaping the cleft. I'm happy to report I did not hyperventilate during this delicate process.  Even when Michael warned me of the possibility that my fragile heart could easily burst if the cleft crease was too drastic.

Once the cleft was completed, without breaking, it was time to heat it up again.  But this time my Hottie used a blow torch when he cut my heart off the blowpipe with oversized nippers.

Then Michael used the blow torch to form and attach a glass curly-q to the top of my heart.  The curly-q acts as a hanger.

Once the blown heart  was totally finished heating, Michael placed in an  annealing oven for the long cooling process. The temp starts about 960°F, and over the next fourteen or so hours it gradually reduces to room temperature. This lengthy cooling allows for even cooling, which reduces breakage. After it's cool, the Hottie or other staff members grind the cut edge so it's safe and smooth, then polish the glass heart to a beautiful shine.  And voila', my heart was complete. Although it required many trips back and forth between the fire and the table, and it's taken me three posts to describe the process, it really only took us less than half an hour.

Blowing my heart was an interesting, educational, fun,  and potentially dangerous process.  My Hottie worked the counter Sunday after Church when I picked up my cooled heart, and he told me after my appointment one of the other Hotties sustained a burn and was unable to participate in the Date Night Event that night.

That burn could very easily have been mine since I have a tendency for disregarding warning signs--as I had in the Gallery.   But once I entered the Studio, I actually remembered and followed the safety rules and warning signs:  I wore close-toed shoes, no drapy-swingy clothing, sat in the viewing stand until my turn to stand on the "x", and most importantly, I followed the verbal instructions of my Hottie.   As a result I avoided injury while I safely blew my heart out.


As always, thanks for the read.  I hope you had fun and maybe even learned something. 

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