Warning Signs: Followed (The Hottie)

(Part Two of my recent trip to the Salado Glassworks Gallery and Studio)

It was a single girls dream: upon entering the Saldo Glassworks Gallery and Studio I was issued a straw segment and Hottie of my very own. 

Michael was my Hottie, and unlike the warning signs in the gallery that I chose to ignore, in the studio I followed every single warning and instruction my Hottie issued without hesitation.  (Don't get all bent out of shape--Hottie is what the glass blowing artists at Salado Glassworks call themselves.  They even have it written on the tip jar. And it was easy for this head-strong girl to follow his instructions because they ensured my safety.)

Micheal told me the furnace fire averages  2040°F.  He said some colors take slightly more heat, some slightly less.  He  stuck a hollow metal blow pipe into the furnace through the  glory hole  (get your mind out of the gutter--it's a real glass blowing term) and twirling the pipe, he took a gather of molten glass from the crucible, or holding area, inside the furnace.  The length of time and swiftness of the twirls determine the size of the gather caught on the blow pipe.

Once Michael had what he felt was an appropriate amount of molten glass on the far end of the blowpipe, he transported it to a steel table, and using that same twirling motion rolled the blow pipe and gather on the table until the gather took on the rough shape of a bulb.  In order to remain pliable the molten glass must remain above 1000°F; therefore, each time the gather started to cool, my Hottie returned it to the glory hole to heat up. During the process Michael made numerous trips to the glory hole.

After Michael achieved the desired rough bulb shape, he applied color to the bulb in layers.  The color, he told me,  can be applied in the form of rods, powders, or chips etc.   The colored chips were set out in bowls and resembled aquarium gravel. I chose  purple, gold, and white.  #GoCRU!

To apply the colors, Michael dipped the bulb into one color-filled bowl at a time. After each color dip, he returned the dipped bulb to the glory hole to melt and adhere the color to the originally clear gather.

When all three of my colors were adhered, Michael used wet paper towels in one hand, while continuing the almost never ending twirlling motion with the other, to refine the bulb shape of the  now color-layered bulb.

An interesting, and somewhat terrifying phenomenon  occurred each time Michael applied a color, reshaped the gather-bulb,  or returned it to the furnace:  the colors changed--and looked nothing like the colors I had chosen. More than once, if I had not seen him dipping into the colors I chose, I would have thought Michael was just another brainless pretty-boy making mistakes.  And I would have been wrong.

After this initial shaping, Michael requested the staw segment I had been issued earlier. Each participant is issued their own straw segment which becomes their personal mouth peice. This ensures everyone keeps their own cooties. Michael attached my straw segment to the tube connected to the blow pipe and told me to blow a soft puff of air into my straw when instructed.  He then reheated my bulb  in the glory hole  and when he brouggt it out again, I blew a couple light puffs.

A few seconds after I puffed, a  bubble began to form inside the bulb. We then expanded the bubble--Michael shaping and twirlling, and me blowing a now steady and stronger stream of air. We repeated this process of reheat, twirl, and blow several times.

In fact the whole glass blowing process can be summed up with one word:  More. 

More heat. More twirling.  More color. More heat. More refining. More air. More twirling. More refining. More heat. More color. More refining.  More air. More heat. More...

Finally, a beautiful sphere was formed.  Michael heated it one more time.  By this time I was not a basket case when I saw the color change into red, then orange--or even a hideous shade of murk. 

Nearing the end of the process, my bulb finally took on a nice shape and color--still far removed from my CruColors, but at least it was no longer murky. Or hideous. Besides, as in life, during most creative processes you sometimes take what appears to be backward steps before achieving a goal.

However, I audibly gasped, dropped my straw segment, and figitted like a Nervous Nellie when my Hottie took a paddle to my beautiful newly formed sphere and flattened it.

(To be concluded in Part Three.)

 

Warning Signs: Ignored (part one)

Everything is good now, but this past weekend I chose to ignore several warning signs before I blew my heart out.  I ignored the signs because surely they were meant for someone else. They could not be meant for me. At least that's what I told myself.

They recomended I arrive 15 minutes before my routine appointment time. But I hate to wait, so I rarely arrive anywhere early.  My time is just as valuable as anyone else--even a doctor.  If I'm late, start the meeting without me, leave for our destination and I'll catch up later or I'll just miss it, or move on to the next appointment. I know the consequences I face if I'm late.

While I did not arrive 15 minutes before my appointment, I did arrive five minutes early.  For me, that's mega-early. It probably was a good thing I was MaryLouMegaEarly because it placed me in a good place when I faced the first warning sign.

I had been rushing around in the schizophrenic Texas weather that had decided to return to near-freazing temps just before I popped in for my appointment.  A furnace, an oven, several small burning fires, and even an outdoor patio heater  kept the various rooms toasty. The change in temerature didn't feel too extreme or dangerous. In fact, coming in from the freezing cold,  the toasty heat was quite welcome even though I love the cooler weather.  I also know cooler weather  can be dangerous. It is no coincidence that the majority of heart attacks occur during the winter months. Especially to normally inactive people who suddenly participate in physical activity.

I didn't even get checked in before I noticed the first warning sign.  It actually was almost tiny enough to overlook. But in my heart  I recognized it for what it was, and I knew I should not ignore it. I'm a Registered Nurse.  I know the importance of warning signs.

But did I heed  it?  Of course not.  After all, I rationalized, it's not my warning sign--it applies to someone else--not me!

But the warning signs became more prominent.  Finally, I was forced to acknowledge they actually were for me. I may have gasped or paled with the final warning sign.

Whatever I did,  I   drew attention to myself because the girl at the check-in counter suddenly expressed concern for how I felt and quickly ended her conversation with the couple ahead of me.  She checked me in, and settled me in the other room, and then she gave me verbal instructions much like the previous warning signs.

But by then it was too late for warning signs. 

I had already picked up several fragile and expensive pieces of artwork, and petted one of the gallery cats.

Yes, this past Saturday I went the The Salado Glassworks. 

I've blown ornaments before, but this time I blew a heart. And while the signs warned me "until you're ready to buy, please only look with your eyes," I "looked" with my hands.  How else am I going to see the price tags on the bottom of the pieces to know if I would make additional purchases? 

I also petted the gallery cat.
Without asking.

What can I say--I'm worse than a rebellious two-year old when it comes to touching things--warning signs or not.

(Part Two will outline the  process I participated in to blow a glass heart.)