Glassblowing.

First, happy birthday to my beautiful mother! I love you very much mommy!

Second, a random note: I am currently watching "Kiki's Delivery Service" for the fourth or fifth time within two weeks. It's my favorite Miyazaki film and I'm making my niece watch it. I'm only hoping that it will become her favorite that way we can watch it ALL the time. All day erryday. Not that I'm not already doing that. She can now say Kiki. 

Onto my post.

Would you believe me if I told you I made these?

Illia's paperweight. I accidentally uploaded hers instead of mine.

Cup.

Vase.

Glass flower.

Well, you better believe it, buddy. This weekend, my family and I vacationed in Vermont, which, in my opinion, is one of the more beautiful states in America.

Isn't it magnificent?

My dad offered me two choices: learn how to blow glass or be pampered at a spa. I was seriously conflicted. I love a good massage...but I absolutely love learning new things, even if it internally scars me (skateboarding, summer of 2009: I still don't have feeling in a small part of my right thigh), or sets off an expensive journey to master many instruments (violin, piano, trumpet, guitar, ukulele, drums, bass guitar...and now banjo? mandolin?). Obviously, I chose to blow glass. My older sister and my mom went to the spa and Illia accompanied me. My wonderful dad stayed at the motel and watched my niece. Thank you daddy-o!

I stepped into the building from a humid environment into a overheated workshop. There were two blazing furnaces. Needless to say, the excess heat got to me.

But it was awesome. And I want to make more. Our teacher, Andrew, described it as legal crack. You have the power to create at your fingertips and it's so satisfying to see the results. At first, Andrew asked me if I ever did pottery.

"Yes, I have," I said.

"Were you any good?"

"No." And I really wasn't. I had added too much water so my clay practically slipped off the wheel. 

"Oh. Then you'll probably suck at this."

But I proved him wrong. It turns out I'm a pro.

The start of my vase.

The molten glass pulled like laffy-taffy. I was super tempted to touch it half the time. I know, I know..."Are you crazy Eden? That's like a bajillion degrees!" I know. I am crazy. Confession: I am also tempted to step straight into a biker's path everytime I hear one creeping up behind me. 

Could you just imagine the collision?