All stories in Spanish only

Please check out the blog. That is where all the stories go.

I don't have many stories. OK, that's a lie. I have unlimited stories.
How about the one where I left that grinder on the big anvil at OSU?

There will be more stories here later, but for now here is a short one.
While I was a grad student at The Ohio State University I was working
some big piece of idiotic steel sculpture and checked the time and realized
that I was pretty much late for the class I was teaching. I had a few of my
tools out in the shop along with the red Milwaukee seven-inch grinder that I
convinced the school to buy the year before. The metal shop itself was
barely a metal shop at all, with most of the space in the room restricted
to an extent for one reason or another. The foundry area was at one end
of the room and the welding area was at the opposite. The foundry was
cold during the school year except on the rare occasion that someone
wanted to cast some bronze or aluminum, aluminum mostly. There was
a primitive ceramic shell investment routine that everybody had to follow
and the results were mixed at best. Nobody was interested in making
improvements in the schools foundry practice, and at the time I knew
little that would make things any better. So with the furnace operating
so rarely, furniture from the glass shop and other junk was able to clutter
up what would be the foundry floor. There was a sandpit, but it was
stowed under a mangled steel sheet, and so became prime real estate for
chairs, buckets, and old artwork. I was on the other side of the room, or
at least in the middle of the room with the red grinder and the steel that
I was working on.

I hurried out, and left the big grinder on the anvil that was
next to the stuff I was working with. Actually, the grinder was not really
all that big. It was the lightweight version of the grinder that they should
have purchased, but the shop tech and a visiting artist each told me that
female students would not be able to use a big heavy grinder and therefore
we had to get the light one or nothing. Needless to say, that light grinder's
armature fried on me when I was grinding one of these idiotic steel
sculptures that I mentioned before. The stupid thing was probably still
under warranty, so I managed to get another one for the school for free by
convincing the dealer that we purchased it recently enough. Anyway, the
grinder was on the anvil and I was on the bus on my way to class.

Who should walk in, but Richard Harned, Professor in The Ohio State
University's Department of Art, Glass Area. So Harned shows up and
apparently absolutely flips out and yells at the technician for ten minutes
about what a dangerous individual I was and how I had perpetrated the
very specific and treacherous act of leaving a grinder upside down on
an anvil. This particular act was of critical importance. A grinder, upside
down on an anvil.


	Please check out the blog. That is where all the stories go. I don't have many stories. OK, that's a lie. I have unlimited stories. How about the one where I left that grinder on the big anvil at OSU? There will be more stories here later, but for now here is a short one. While I was a grad student at The Ohio State University I was working some big piece of idiotic steel sculpture and checked the time and realized that I was pretty much late for the class I was teaching. I had a few of my tools out in the shop along with the red Milwaukee seven-inch grinder that I convinced the school to buy the year before. The metal shop itself was barely a metal shop at all, with most of the space in the room restricted to an extent for one reason or another. The foundry area was at one end of the room and the welding area was at the opposite. The foundry was cold during the school year except on the rare occasion that someone wanted to cast some bronze or aluminum, aluminum mostly. There was a primitive ceramic shell investment routine that everybody had to follow and the results were mixed at best. Nobody was interested in making improvements in the schools foundry practice, and at the time I knew little that would make things any better. So with the furnace operating so rarely, furniture from the glass shop and other junk was able to clutter up what would be the foundry floor. There was a sandpit, but it was stowed under a mangled steel sheet, and so became prime real estate for chairs, buckets, and old artwork. I was on the other side of the room, or at least in the middle of the room with the red grinder and the steel that I was working on. I hurried out, and left the big grinder on the anvil that was next to the stuff I was working with. Actually, the grinder was not really all that big. It was the lightweight version of the grinder that they should have purchased, but the shop tech and a visiting artist each told me that female students would not be able to use a big heavy grinder and therefore we had to get the light one or nothing. Needless to say, that light grinder's armature fried on me when I was grinding one of these idiotic steel sculptures that I mentioned before. The stupid thing was probably still under warranty, so I managed to get another one for the school for free by convincing the dealer that we purchased it recently enough. Anyway, the grinder was on the anvil and I was on the bus on my way to class. Who should walk in, but Richard Harned, Professor in The Ohio State University's Department of Art, Glass Area. So Harned shows up and apparently absolutely flips out and yells at the technician for ten minutes about what a dangerous individual I was and how I had perpetrated the very specific and treacherous act of leaving a grinder upside down on an anvil. This particular act was of critical importance. A grinder, upside down on an anvil.	There is nothing more dangerous than a grinder, left upside down on an anvil.