Thursday, June 10, 2004

A Pointless Anecdote, with many Bonus Tangents.

This story is about a bloody finger...

I had one last load of glazed clay to fire. That is a story in itself. [tangent] One of the co-workers decided at the very last minute that she wanted to glaze her animals. So we went back and forth over days working out the details. She didn't want me to actually come into her room to do it myself (if I had done that, this whole story would have been stillborn) becuase she didn't want me to put myself out (which is BS, she barred me from her room last fall (because she has an art degree, and blah blah blah, and she didn't want me to over extend myself by teaching her grade level) and now she needs me... female egos are a strange and bizarre creature). So she used my room, and the following day I found them, minimally glazed (I thought she was being avant-garde) and I fired them. Then I got practically tackled by one of the aides, because they weren't done glazing and yadda yadda yadda, the clients are crying, and they are unconsolable and can we get the clay out of the kiln? Is it TOO LATE!!! The clay took a day to cool and the teacher took them back and the whole cycle repeated, I had to provide the glaze and blah blah blah. So THEN, they reglazed them (are you sure it will work? do you have the time? are you SURE it isn't too much trouble? will they be done in time for summer? it won't put you out will it?).

I got a call from one the Docents who shares the kiln with me. [tangent] She was concerned. One of the other art teachers had observed that I didn't put a tripod under EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF GLAZED CLAY. I informed her that I wiped their bottoms with a sponge (thus preventing clay/kiln fusion). This is a ludicrous complaint. I asked the Docent if she lived in The Lovely Highland Town (because if she didn't we could have a little chuckle about the local uptight culture). She did... but she caught my drift and we had a seriptitious laugh.

I was unloading the last load (and yes, Virginia, the twice-glazed animals looked fine). Deep inside the kiln (beyond the piercing gaze of my concerned coworker), I pulled out a particularly overglazed little creature that I had put on a tripod. I realized that they were fused. I pulled it off, but it left a shard on the bottom, which I tried to pry off. It was fast, so I tried again. It still didn't budge, as I was considering my next move, I noticed two deep gashes on the side of my finger. As I was staring at the interior of my finger, the blood started to flow. I really didn't want to get it on the floor, and in my shock (ah the irrationality of panic), I was compelled to take care of my first task before I could go on to the next one (staunching the flow of my bodily fluuids). I crushed the shard on the side of the bookcase and then I ran to the first aid station that was set up for the day of outdoor games.

As I was fumbling with the hydrogen peroxide and figuring out the tricky guaze packaging, a client approached and asked me for a lai. I shrugged in between swabs. Then a Parental Unit came by and asked about the sunscreen. Instead of slowing down, the flow of blood increased. Large crimson spots appeared on the table underneath me. I couldn't mop it up quick enough. I told the woman that she could help herself to it. She told me how badly her neck was burning and made small talk about the weather. My finger continued to gush (I had no idea that fingers had such huge arteries). Finally she left. My finger stopped leeking. I took two bandaides, one guze stip and a lot of tape.

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I blog about life and soup, but mostly soup.