'Twas weeks before Christmas, and all through my place,
All creatures were running the Art Jewelry Shows race.
The copper was hammered and laid out with care,
In hopes that the hubby would soon antique it there.
My beads were all nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of bracelets danced in my head.
Barb Lewis enamels, and Miss Fickle too,
Mary Ann ceramics, greens, browns and some blue.
And me with my pliers, and tools in my lap,I'd just settled in with with silver wire to wrap.
When out in the kitchen, there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bench to see what was the matter.
Away to the door, I flew like a flash,
Slid in the hall, and fell on my........"ash".
When what to my wondering eyes should I see,
Steve with the camera, taking jewelry photos with glee,
With his old trigger finger so lively and quick,
I yelled, "No blurries", as the camera click-clicked.
So rapid and speedy, the pictures he took,
And he laughed and shouted, "Hey, no time to look."
"More bracelets, more chokers, more earrings and such,
You're lagging behind, and you must make so much!"
"Back to the studio! Back down the hall!
They don't want jewelry that's sold at the mall!"
"Go saw, file and sand, hammer, dap, wrap and chase,Fire up that blow torch.... OOH! Watch your face!"
"Pack for the show, and load up your truck,
Sell it all, Honey! Good sales and good luck!! "
