Learn to pronounce
a hard, brittle substance, typically transparent or translucent, made by fusing sand with soda, lime, and sometimes other ingredients and cooling rapidly. It is used to make windows, drinking containers, and other articles.”a glass door”
We got the opportunity on our last day with mom and dad to go check out the Corning Glass Museum and it was awesome!!
Our morning started the best way possible. Our little man, having woken up at Grandma and Grandpa’s in a puddle of pee, couldn’t wait to see us, so he ran over to our place, stripped off his wet clothes, washed his feet off from the grass and pee, and jumped into bed with us, exclaiming, “I woke up and found out you were back and was so full of joy, I ran straight over here to love you!!!” I literally can think of any better way to start a day.
We all piled into Grandpa’s car and headed to the glass museum where we were all going to make our own glass pieces at their hands-on glass making workshop. It promised to be an exciting day! I need to make note here before we go on to point out that we had been staying with our family now for awhile, and even the best and strongest relationships can be strained when everyday life is interrupted and entertainment is required sort of around the clock. So, needless to say, some tensions were high and some annoyances heightened, and this trip was put in jeopardy before it even began. However, differences were put aside for the greater good of the family. I say this so you understand that when I write these blogs and it seems like everything is all hunky dory, it is not always. I just don’t choose to dwell on it, very much like this day. I will also say that, when he sees his momma hurting, our sweet son is the first to wipe tears and be consoling. Yet another one of his many admirable qualities, and always a huge part of why my choices and words tend to reflect as much of the positive as I can glean from ALL situations. But sometimes…damn. That’s all I’m gonna say about that.
The Corning Glass museum was everything it was cracked up to be (every bit of that pun intended) and we all became experts on the history, applications, and science of glass. Ok, maybe not EXPERTS, but we filled our brains with as many shards of information as possible. (Oh, I’ve got plenty more, I’m sure!) I mean, the best part was getting to make our own glass projects. We could choose to make either a flower, an ornament, a pendant, or a nightlight. I really wanted to do the flower, but Rudy couldn’t decide between the pendant and the nightlight, so I said I’d make the necklace and he could do the nightlight for his room. Jared made us an ornament for our tree, and mom made the flower. Because she had to work so closely with the molten glass, she got decked out in full safety gear, which she modeled for us.
Once done, we grabbed a snack in the courtyard and went back into the museum to try on our best art critic hats. We spent most of our time in the modern art section, which usually isn’t my favorite spot in a museum, but Rudy seemed to enjoy it, and if a 5 year old likes ANY part of a museum, THAT is where you go! We saw a lot of cool things including a black mirror, floating frosted glass knives, a case of black flies, a meat chandelier, and some wise neon signs (all made of glass, by the way).
The strangest thing we did was sit for 10 minutes (9 and a half minutes too long, in my opinion) and watch a video in Portuguese with English subtitles, featuring an overview of a table with a navy blue table cloth on it. On either side of the table sat a man and a woman. But, you only ever saw their hands. Between them, and off to one side, sat probably 20 glasses of various shapes and sizes, full of different colored opaque liquids. Each would choose a glass, then they would toast violently, so to break one (or both of neither) of the glasses. Whosever glass didn’t break got to choose their next glass first. This is ALL that happened. Forever. And. Rudy. LOVED. It. We tried to leave several times, he just wanted to see who won every time. Now I finally understand who modern art is catered to.
We all met at the gift shop and got some souvenirs and then headed home . . . broken hearted for it to end. (See! I told you. Ok, I’m done now.)
Every time we stay with Jared’s parents, the last night dad always grills up some steaks and mom makes her twice-baked potatoes. For those of you reading back home in Tacoma, ask Angie. . .she’ll attest to the perfection of this meal. So, while they were getting dinner prepped, we got packed up, did laundry, and cleaned our place a bit. Things still weren’t completely smoothed over from the morning’s hiccup, but I wasn’t sure how to address it. For awhile, I kept my head down and my dukes up. I hate confrontation, but I hate sitting down with a back pocket full of hurt feelings even more, so I knew I’d have to make the first move.
Glass: a hard, brittle substance. Transparent or translucent.
What melts glass? What is hot? Anger. Too hot. What is hot and controlled and can be comforting and warm and help soften, but not break something? Love. That is where we go then. And with that, we held hands, and I started with, “First of all, I love you.” And from there, the hard brittle substance was melted down, tears added colors, and a beautiful flower was made. This was a much better way to end the trip. Love. It ALWAYS wins…if you choose it.