That Was Fun While It Lasted

Before I start cruising down this highway, let me just say this is not a sponsored post. I mean, if the Pittsburgh Glass Center wants to sponsor a post or invite me to come play for a day, I AM ALL IN, but they didn't. This time. Unfortunately.

Anyway.

This past weekend little Miss Alexis and I crammed ourselves in the car and met some friends at the Pittsburgh Glass Center so we could learn how to turn a glass bottle into a drinking glass. And by "we" I mean "me" because people who can't walk across a room without falling down shouldn't be trusted with large saws and such.

I refuse to even imagine what would happen if Alexis were trusted with a wet saw that big. It wouldn't be good, that's for sure. So, instead of cutting and grinding a bottle, she did this.

It's an airplane. Trust me on that.

While the airplane was brought to life, I had the privilege of trying my bestest to turn four really awesome blue bottles into something even better.

Long of the short, you start by cutting the tops off of your bottles. Then you use a whole bunch of giant sanders to make the edge perfect. It starts out looking like you're trying to make a weapon, but eventually you wind up with something pretty awesome.

And by "something awesome" I mean I wound up with ONE bit of awesome. I started with four bottles, but the glasses kept cracking before I could get to the final step, so I ended up with just one lonely glass.

It was a glorious glass.

I planned to love it and hug it and pet it and call it George and keep it for MEEEEE MEEEEE MEEEEE.

Funny how I've been a parent for seven years and I still don't know how this game goes. This game goes, "Wow, momma! That's really pretty! Can I help you decorate it?"

::sigh::

I really enjoyed those ten minutes when I had my very own glass that I had made all by myself.

Boom Go The Dominoes

There was a point about two months ago when I kinda sorta maybe nudged a domino. Now I'm sitting here surrounded by caulk. That's how it happens, you know. Nudge. Caulk.

In between the nudge and the caulk there was a dishwasher, a light fixture, some countertops, and some tile. In other words, WHOOPS? I guess maybe we remodeled our kitchen? By accident?

The first domino was the dishwasher. The shiny, beautiful new dishwasher that is so quiet I often consider making out with it. Tongue would be involved if only I could figure out the logistics. Anyway, I bought a new dishwasher and it was FANTASTIC, but then it kinda sorta made me notice that the light above the kitchen island really was awful.

It was a terribly cheap and crappy flurescent light -- the type that mounts against the ceiling and becomes home to many, many dead bugs. I guess I could have just taken it down and cleaned it out, but once it was down, it only made sense to rip it out all together. So I did, and I bought a new light.

The new light was FANTASTIC, but then it kinda sorta made me notice the sink. The mother truckin' sink. I know it seems weird to rage against a sink, but LOOK AT IT. LOOK AT THE EVIL, EVIL SINK. IT'S JUST SITTING THERE. SINKING.

What's that? Not seeing the problem? Well, look directly across from it. ANOTHER SINK.

Who does that? Who puts two sinks right next to each other in a kitchen? Somebody who hates counter space, that's who. An evil, evil person who wanted to make me rage every time I made cookies or grilled pizza or just wanted to set groceries down without putting them on the floor.

So I did the only logical thing and knocked over another domino. I went out and bought all new kitchen countertops because THAT is how you get rid of a really stupid sink. It's also how you get rid of horribly cheap countertops that never did make sense in the kitchen anyway.

And then the new countertops got installed and suddenly there was nothing more important in this whole wide world than hiding all of the construction flaws on the wall above the counters. There are no photos that can do justice to whatever happened when those walls were built, but I think it involved booze, illegal substances, and a power sander. Oh, and paint. There was paint involved originally, which I had long ago covered with my own paint.

So that is what the kitchen looked like when we bought the house and way up there is what it looked like last week. I'd show you what it looks like right now, but it's filled with caulk because I went and tiled a whole bunch of those walls.

Maybe I'll show you the new kitchen when I get a chance. Maybe. First I have to go see what other dominos I need to knock over.

The Dancer

"Are you a dancer, sweetheart?" the sweet voice cut through Alexis' focus.

"Yeah!" she said as she looked up and met the gaze of a tiny old woman who wasn't much taller than the 7-year old with the loopy brown curls.

It wasn't as much of a psychic moment as it was an observation. Alexis had been enveloped in her own world while she waited for me to try to pick out a fruit bowl, her feet carefully turned into second position as she crafted choreography to music only she could hear.

"Do you like ballet?" the woman asked.

Alexis' eyes grew big as she considered the question. "Yes!" she replied. "How did you know?" she continued, the suspicion weighing heavy in her mind.

The old woman and I shared a knowing glance before she turned her attention back to the little girl who stood between us. "I used to be a dancer myself," she replied with a hint of mystery rolling through her words.

Alexis and the old woman went back and forth for a few moments, each professing an adoration for motion matched to music. The dancer with the most experience wove a tale of performing on stage and even touring as part of a dance troupe. Alexis was mesmerized as she listened, her mouth agape and her eyes wide.

"Guess what," the woman who I wish was my grandmother said. "I even met my husband because I am a dancer!"

Her verb choice made me grin from ear-to-ear. Am a dancer. Not was. Am.

Alexis was intrigued. She asked questions and listened intently and at the end of it all, we knew much of the woman's story. We knew her husband's name was Frank and we knew they were married for 63 years when he passed and we knew that she misses him every single day, but he's still with her in her heart.

And in her locket.

The woman with the lovely purple sweater bent over just a bit to show Alexis a tiny little photograph of her beloved Frank. It was nestled inside a tiny little heart locket. The locket was worn smooth from years of tentative fingers and love. Frank loved hot chocolate and books about mysteries and he never missed a single one of their daughter's dance performances.

Just as the old woman began to weave the tale of the daughter, she appeared before us. "Mom," the woman who was a bit older than me said. "Are you ready?"

"I am," the old woman replied. With a smile and a nod, she turned and walked away, leaving two younger women in her wake. We were both in absolute awe.

Alexis and I walked into Homegoods in search of a fruit bowl, but we walked out with something much better.