Then watch this fabulous bit of a British take on The Twelve Days of Christmas. Narrated by the wonderful Phoebe Waller-Bridge and sourced by me through the marvelous blog, The Women's Room.
Enjoy!
This is a muddy attempt at a wreath.
I don't have much.
Been inside this house for ten days. What I haven't been is driving all over New York to conduct depositions and staying up all night to write reports. So while I'm feeling sorry for myself that I am missing the Christmas festivities, I remind myself that last year I worked on Christmas Eve (which I had taken as a vacation day) until 5:00 that night.
So this is my report from inside my quiet house.
It is very cold out today, so I've been told, but my house is very sunny and the heat is warm.
My knee feels as though a bowling ball is strapped to it, but I can get up and down the stairs about two times a day with the cane, which is a big improvement from even Sunday, when I wasn't using the stairs at all yet.
The house is not decorated for Christmas, but Mr. Pom has been dragging up decorations that he likes (he's developed a thing for bottle brush animals and is taking up all the available table tops leaving me nada.)
This is as close as the dogs want to be to me at all times.
The Graphic Designer came for Saturday night and Sunday morning. She had four Christmas parties to attend (oh to be young and living in Brooklyn and working in Manhattan) and had nothing to wear. When my oldest says she has nothing to wear, I roll my eyes. When the youngest says it, I give her my debit card because she has, indeed, nothing to wear. She's not a consumerist.
The days are long but I manage to cajole a sister or daughter to show up and visit. I had grand dreams of sitting on a stool and making Christmas cookies* but I did not account for 1) oxycodone head and 2) pain/exhaustion when I try not to take the oxycodone. (*Substitute for "making Christmas cookies" any of the following: drawing, painting, writing, reading a book, or looking at a magazine.)
I am not able to babysit the two-year old or run after him when he is here, but he spent the day yesterday with his mommy and one of my sisters. My daughter made a delicious roast chicken for dinner and my sister ran up and down the steps after the two-year old. I was accused of hogging all the afghans and throws, which I was and had the right to because I Had Surgery.
Rare moment of cuddling.
He freaked out when his mother tried to get him to nap in the beautiful crib that Grandma bought. I mean FREAKED OUT. Crying so harshly that my stomach twisted. Just when I was sure his mom was above to cave, she skipped down the stairs. She remembered that he goes down in the crib pretty easily when she is not there. Making one of those very wise mommy decisions, she kissed him and ran out of the room. As soon as she shut the door, he stopped mid-scream and went right to sleep. This little one will soon learn what I've known for 32 years: don't try to BS my daughter.
When we got him up later, I asked him to let me get in front of him on the stairs in case he fell. Without missing a beat, he said, I go down backwards so you don't hurt your little foot, Grandma. (He knows I have a boo boo but just not sure where) and proceeded to go down the stairs on his stomach. So now I do not need any Christmas presents, because I got the best one of all.
The amaryllis bulb that I planted before Thanksgiving was just about to get the heave ho into the trash when I noticed a teeny, tiny green tip peeking through the dead top of the bulb. It won't be ready for Christmas but Valentine's Day should be swell.
As aforesaid, no baking has been done in this house. No gingerbread has scented our rooms and the only use for sprinkles is to give one to the two-year old when he visits. But the youngest (who will be 25 next week!!!!) brought a gingerbread man and woman (8 inches big at least) from Union Square Market over the weekend and I am sufficiently over gingerbread for the season, having eaten at least half of each.
When life give you limones...
I have "ordered" through my sister an Egg Nog Latte to be brought to my throne chair. I allow myself one a season, so I am already 100% over my caloric egg nog latte intake. Thankfully my sister is picking it up because my PCP's office is in the same shopping center and I often run into him at Starbucks, causing me to make sure he sees me pouring skin milk into my drip coffee and then hastily slugging in some half and half after he says hello.
I have sat down (most times, I am lying down) multiple times to paint a Christmas card that Mr. Pom could take to be copied this weekend. So far, nothing. Nada. How many pomegranates and blue bowls can an artist draw. It seems my creative flow is covered by the Aquacell bandage on my knee. So eh, maybe I can hop thru CVS this weekend and find something for those relatives I just cannot miss. It will be such an Christmas adventure! It will involve the purchase of stocking stuffers and candy canes and many magazines I will not read.
Tell me your fun and wild tales from out it in the great, big world!
Tomorrow my arthritic knee will be replaced with a titanium marvel.
It's not exactly the start to the festive tidings I had imagined for the year. When I look at the alternative to being home on disability, i.e. driving all over the metro area and upstate and taking double depositions all day, returning and prepping for the next day, and then staying up till midnight typing the reports, I must say that this December is a win-win.
A tree has been secured and is in a bucket by the side porch. I managed to bring up from the basement a big raffia woven gold star and the three Christmas platters from the gorgeous, now discontinued, Christmas folk art dishes that Mr. Pom gave me twenty years ago. I have laid in several boxes of Orea thins (mint flavor) for my post-recovery recuperation.
The rest of the festivities will be up to somebody else.
I have positioned a large picnic basket by the floor on the side of the bed. It contains magazines, watercolor travel palette, a small Stillman and Birns soft cover landscape format w/c journal and large Kunst & Papier red binder board w/c journal, as well as way too many assortments of pens, pencils, brushes, etc.
Mr. Pom trips over it every morning when he kisses me good bye.
I purchased a French press, electric water kettle, and a bag of Starbucks Christmas blend. The art room is the coffee bar. All I need is for Mr. Pom to bring a thermos of milk and some toast, and I have breakfast.
Since this is the second knee replacement, we are very organized and know what to expect.
(Repulsive side note: Al Roker just had a knee replacement. I saw a commercial for the Today Show and Dr. Oz was showing a titanium knee and next to it was Al Roker's ACTUAL KNEE. Looked like something the dog dug up in the woods. Eww is all I have to say.)
I have also purchased suitable pajamas and robe for the hospital, possible rehab stay, and any physical therapists that will be coming to the house as well as visitors (who are strictly limited to children, grandbaby, and sisters). The old yoga pants with the unraveling elastic and baggy t-shirts I usually wear to bed were deemed unsuitable for third party viewing.
Unfortunately, I have already binge-watched every cable and subscriber format series I want to see (The Fall, Gilmore Girls, Vera, Great British Baking (make sure you watch Paul and Mary Master Class for Christmas with a tub of whipped cream in your lap). Funny to think that for the last surgery five years ago, I secured oodles of DVDs like Room With a View and Enchanted April. We still have them but we don't have a DVD player anymore except on the first floor. And, like all my scarves and art supplies the DVDS are Packed to Move even though we have yet to even LIST the house.
But no fear, there are issues of Flow, Uppercase, Lucky Peach, Cherry Bombe, and a bunch of Japanese ones I purchased on the reco of Mary Ann Moss and although they are in Japanese they have pretty pictures.
On a more serious note, while home these few weeks, I have discovered that I can no longer paint. Nope. Nada. Can't do it. I have an entire Stillman and Birns journal filled with grainy, blobby, clumsy attempts that I then collaged over because I couldn't stand looking at them every time I opened it. I intended to show them to you, but it is after 9:00 p.m. and I still have to "sterilize prep" my knee before I go to bed.
Have no fear, though, I have worked through the art block. I am back to painting fruit and veggies which I find a very good starter when life has interrupted your art making. All those organic shapes and rich colors.
I still didn't know what to do with the double spread of red, white, and blue "H" icons for Hillary. Too painful to see, so I pulled out some gorgeous 2015 letter press calendar cards I'd saved and pasted them right on top.
If all goes well, I will pop in on FB and IG over the weekend whilst in between visits every four hours with my friends Ocycontin and Tramadol.
And nobody better eat my cookies while I'm in the hospital!