For all of its perceived delicacy, glass is hard to move around when you amass enough of it in one spot. Over the years I have devised numerous methods to get crates of it into my studio. Most of these methods are discussed when my wife and OSHA representatives are not around to hear about it. A few years ago I had the good fortune to be introduced to a small but mighty 1960 Baker fork lift. She was in a relationship that was about to end, and I gave her a shoulder to leak hydraulic fluid on. We have been together ever since.

When the ground shakes and the tang of diesel is in the air we know the glass has arrived. Note the special "legged" crate. An innovation that was supposed to make it self unloading. Unfortunately the arches had fallen on this one, making it useless.	Aligning the forks takes keen concentration and nerves of lead, not to mention a Hawaiin shirt. You should see me on casual Fridays.	A little known phenomenon. Fuzzy dice on a fork lift increase the lifting capacity by 23%. The keg of beer behind me is for medicinal use only.
Guys just can't resist watching big machines. These two just happened to be walking by and stayed for the whole unloading. I finally got rid of them by bringing out my Robert Bly book.	Like a homing pigeon I find my way to the studio. It's almost uncanny. Sometimes one of my crew lays down a trail of biscotti crumbs to help, especially when it is foggy.	The studios gravitational attractiveness has now increased. Some locals report an inclination to lean toward the building when passing by. I think they are just craning their necks to look in.