This is the first night this week that I haven't collapsed exhausted into bed at the end of a long day of dealing with students, problems, problem students...you get the picture. Yesterday I had to scold a middle-aged Korean man as though he were a naughty child because he simply WOULD NOT stay in the class he was supposed to be in. One teacher threw him out of her class when he tried to intrude; I had to drag him out of another class whose teacher was too kindhearted to bar him from the door. This is the same student who wanted to attend his wife's classes with her for the first week so he could "take care of her." Geez. Someone save me from this madness.
But, enough about me. Believe it or not, and contrary to the usual all-about-me-ness of my blog (it IS my blog, after all), this post is about DH. And he, who usually teases me (gently, of course...I get snippy otherwise) about blogging actually suggested I make this post; that's how I know it's important to him, and so I'm happy to oblige, if only in recognition of the fact that he would never, ever try to follow his wife around like some obsessed lunatic in the guise of protecting me...er, her, unlike at least one other man I have the misfortune to know. But, I digress.
This past weekend, DH finally did something he's been wanting to do for years but never put aside the time to do: he took a blacksmithing class. My husband the pen-and-paper artist is now officially an iron-and-steel artist as well. Take a look:
Is that not cool? It's a fireplace poker. DH came up with the design himself, and he's especially proud of the ergonomic design of the handle, made to fit in the palm "just so."
Close-up of said ergonomically-designed poker handle. Impressive, no?
I must say, I'm very proud of DH. Despite all his artistic talents (remind me to post photos of some of his sketches one of these days), he never really thinks of himself as an artist, but he's always wanted to be an artisan, at times in wood, at times in stone, of late in metal. I'm so glad he finally took the plunge. Of course, this does mean he's now pricing out forges -- can you imagine a forge just hanging out in the backyard or the garage, ready to be cranked up and turning out ironwork at a moment's notice? No odder than a house full of spinning wheels and looms, though, I suppose.
So, for all you spinners and weavers out there, all you fiber-folk who share space with a non-fiber SO, I've found the secret to forging (pardon the pun, I just couldn't resist, ya know) a successful relationship with a person who will just never, no matter how hard you try, really understand why you need another bag of fiber/drop spindle/spinning wheel/floor loom taking up space in an already overcrowded house: Get said SO a hobby of his/her own, preferably one that requires large, somewhat unsightly equipment (but takes place in a totally different type of space than your fiber hobbies, so as not to compete for limited storage room). Once DSO is firmly addicted to his/her new hobby, s/he will be powerless to criticize your hoarding tendencies because s/he will probably have developed similar ones him/herself.
Now if I can just figure out where we'll be able to store all that raw metal....