Home for the holidays...

Here's a peek at my bottle palette on my back porch just before I made a wreath for my brother, award winning chef Jesse Wong. He airmails elaborate dinners to my parents in Sarasota and ships me plastic bottles from catering events. The big 'thank-you' was called for and it ended up being gigantic, a wreath about 30 inches wide. A couple of days before he received the wreath from me, a huge box of empty bottles arrived on my doorstep from him. I guess we communicated telepathically, both of us with recycled plastic on the brain. (I am beginning to think 'plastic on the brain' should be a treatable condition: POTB?) Jesse and his wife Nicole love the wreath I made in colors that match floral arrangements they ordered a while back. I wish the pictures communicated the wreath's gorgeousitude better. (One of the symptoms of POTB is verbal inventive syndrome or VIS.)

Next, I made two wreaths for my front door. I love them, but James complains that everytime he opens the door is snows glitter.  I told him it is an added feature, sort of like those grocery store brooms that smell like cinnamon. That is a bad example though, because I hate those brooms. Their scent is so overwhelming I feel gorged like those poor little geese in France.

Last Thursday, I went in for arthroscopic surgery with the expectation of being up and walking in a few days. Unfortunately, there were a few surprises lurking in and around my knee cap so I am on strict orders not to put weight on my left knee for 6 weeks. I have crutches, but they sent a wheelchair once I explained my propensity to walk into walls and trip over air. After a few near misses accompanied by yelps, I told John not to worry if I scream unless he hears a subsequent crash.

Yesterday, I tried putting lights on our tree, lurching through pine needles and groping to find a plug, while at the same time clinging to the sliding glass door. After haphazardly flinging the last length of pink LED lights, I broke into an exhausted sweat, plopped down in my wheelchair, and rolled away not noticing half the lights exiting with me, the cord having snagged on the brake of the wheelchair.  I hopped to the garage refrigerator to grab a couple of sodas, then  careened back into the wheelchair. That is about all I got accomplished yesterday: lit half of our tree and shook up some soda cans, but at least I managed not to injure myself or anyone nearby.

Zuzu is completely baffled by the wheelchair as is Charlotte. Charlotte is an Australian Shepherd, ever on hand in case there is a job that needs to be done. She doesn't know what that job is or how to do it, but she is ready. Thus far she has been 100 % successful at keeping the wolves away. Zuzu, on the other hand, is a big baby and tries to climb in my lap, sending me wheeling backwards until I hit a wall. Chloe, the terrier,  is non-plused about the whole business.  I suspect she would like to perch a the pillow in the wheelchair and have me wheel her around.

Once I am a bit more on the mend I want to work at my jeweler's bench. My latest designs are moving in a fun direction and I am excited to play with some new ideas. I am juxtaposing (as I am wont to do)  blingy swarovski crystal chain next to gun-metal links and pyrite. Danielle and I are going to design her bridesmaids earrings using faceted hexagonal crystals I ordered from China.

All of our children will be here for Christmas, Danielle from Baltimore and Heather coming in from Massachusetts. I am really looking forward to the chorus of laughter that only happens when everyone is home. It's like a good wine, with notes and layers to it that create a delicious whole. And with regard to the glitter shake down with all the comings and goings at the front door, I say: "Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow."