Something about this focal bead just grabbed me when I saw it on ebay.  I love Robin’s work – very sensual beads.  

I did what I usually do when I get a new bead – I held it, stared at it, and thought about it for days before I sat down to do something with it.  I had an idea in my head, put it all together and felt . . . . blah.  Nope.  Didn’t do it justice.  I’d used the same matte-finish black beads I used in the finished piece, but had paired them with square beads that (sort of) mirrored the band of white/black/silver on the yellow.  Somehow, though, the squares overpowered the focal.  It wasn’t right.  I sighed, slid them all off the beading wire and worked on something else while I rolled it around my brain a few more times.  I hadn’t planned on using seed beads; I feared the focal was too strong for that – but all it needed was a few strands.  When I finished, I felt like I’d given this lovely bead, “Wasabi,” as Robin called it, the perfect home.  What do you think?  Does it work?  Matte black, off-white and sterling nuggets that keep that sensual, organic feel in tact.  And the sterling clasp, even though one seller called it “stained glass,” reminds me more of Japanese architecture, a silk and bamboo screen, perhaps  – just right for a bit a Wasabi.


That has taken a lot of work.  But here I am, at that point in my life where I see both ends – the childhood long past, and the finite end toward which we all move.  Not that I see the end, of course not.  Far off, I hope, not yet in view.  But at 50, I no longer believe in my own invincibility, and I understand that for each of us, time is a finite quantity.

I want to make the most of it.

I’ve done that in the past, but only in fits and spurts.  Being a full-time, stay-at-home mom was my greatest achievement, watching my two daughters become the most amazing people I know.  But they are old enough now not to need me for all those daily tasks I could lose myself doing.  I finished a return trip to school, then found and ultimately lost a job.  For the last several months, I’ve found myself too often distracted, mired in unproductive lethargy by thoughts that race and careen around my brain with seemingly little purpose. Frustrating, sometimes even agonizing.

So I choose to move forward.

The one place I find myself calm and productive is lost in my wires and beads.  When I curl a piece of wire, curling and smoothing and shaping and letting my fingers guide it to its new shape, I feel . . . peaceful.  Which, in turn, energizes me, and I find myself more functional around the house, able to write and get done what needs to be done.

I’m going to track my progress here, blogging my adventures with curls.