Finished Glass and a Bicycle Jones

 on my desk at work

17 February 2015

After work today, I drove back to the studio to pick up the rest of my glass.  I let Google Maps tell me which way to go and found myself on Carter, Crusher, 654, Stony Brook, and then Mine -- a cyclist's route if there were one -- then to Route 31, each intersection with a story (and Plain Jim singing). There was only a hint of light when I reached the blinking light at Sergeantsville.  There was traffic: three cars.  The last of the daylight got me to the top of Upper Creek.  This is the third time in four days that I've driven this route.  I need to get back on my bike.

A faint light leaked from the studio.  Don and Martha were working on glass.  He had everything laid out and ready for packing.  He suggested that I come back on the weekend to watch his sand-casting class (or even pay for a day).  I wondered what the weather would be like.  If I could be on the road instead of inside...

On Saturday, and again today, he suggested that I take a glassblowing class at Bucks County Community College.  "Then come back here for a private lesson," he said, "And we can work on techniques."

I smiled.  "When the roads clear up," I said, "I'm going to be back on my bike.  I'm mentally and physically addicted to cycling.  I'll be riding 100 miles on some days.  All of this will be far from my mind."

He said, "The classes are on weeknights."

I drove back down Upper Creek Road in complete darkness, feeling every incline and curve as if I were on my bike.  At 7:00 p.m. the Sergeantsville General Store was still open, ringed in Christmas lights. Alone in my car in the dark, my mind was with a group of Hill Slugs in mid-daylight on that long, open road, slightly descending towards Ringoes.  I reached Route 31 feeling as if I were slowly waking from a dream.

Pictures:

Here's everything except the vase that I put in my office.  That slumpy thing in the back is Chris' mistake piece that I insisted we keep.  My goofy flask is on the upper left; it's going into the lab with me tomorrow.  The two plates are in front.  I'm very happy with both of them.

I put in the two pieces from Boston:

Lest I get a swelled head about all of this, here's a bowl I bought from the instructor to repay him for giving us an almost private lesson when the class was designed for six people.

I don't know if I'll ever blow glass again.  I do want to, but I'm writing this in the dead of winter. We'll see...