Silver Balls

The other night we went window shopping.  It's been a while since I got to look at all the shiny things.  In one store there were a bunch of fist-sized silver balls.  I couldn't tell if they were made of glass, ceramic, or some kind of metal -- unfortunately the cashiers couldn't figure it out either.  

They reminded me of the gazing globe from long ago, and I thought how much fun it would be to hang a few from the cherry tree out back.   Not to mention, since I was wearing my cloak, holding two of them in my hands made me look two-thirds of the way to Jereth The Goblin King (or maybe his woodsy older brother).

But they were made in China, so who knows what nasty chemicals lurk inside.  Mark suggested that I lick one to see if it was sweet (from lead) or not, but I declined.  

I did remind him that I thought it would be fun to have a surgical stainless steel obelisk, ala David Harber, in the backyard.   That prompted the speech about when I'm a writer who makes money I can afford a little writers' colony (with gardening staff).

I'm sure there's a metaphor in there somewhere.