It started out happily enough. I found these wonderful painted beads at my local bead shop (Bead Cache). Over the next few weeks (and more bead shops, Bead Happy and the former Loveland Bead Company), I bought some copper spacers, wonderful wooden beads of various shapes, and a copper toggle clasp. I made an asymetrical bracelet of which I was very proud, given that I'm usuallly a symmetrical kind of girl.
The bracelet, in its short-lived glory
I set it aside and forgot about it for awhile. But then one day I went to put it on and found out—this is really embarrassing—it didn't fit. It wasn't too small or too large, but the beautiful oblong beads were at such odd angles in the bracelet that it didn't bend all that gracefully.
So I took it apart. I intended to make another bracelet, but I couldn't get another arrangement of beads that statisfied me as much as the first one.
The beads came apart once more. Ah-ha! I thought, holding up one of the oblong shapes. Earrings! That's right, I'll simplify the whole thing and just make earrings.
But that wasn't really right either. They were too simple. I had way too many great little copper pieces and wooden beads and I was determined to use as many as possible.
The earrings hung around for awhile—on my design board. I wasn't as quick to take them apart for some reason. Maybe I was hoping that if they stuck around, they would grow on me.
Not long for this world
Well, I don't know what I was thinking. That kind of logic doesn't work on boyfriends or cauliflowers or geometry, so why would it work for beads?
It was enough to make a person break out in hives.
Tune in tomorrow to see how this story ends. (Don't worry, there's a happy ending—eventually.)