This edited version of my first post tells the story ... It all started innocently enough... About a year ago, I bought some trade beads in Africa. When I got home, I wanted to do something with the beads. Just those beads, I wasn't looking to start a habit! So I drove to my local book store, leafed through Bead and Button; found a jewelry making book on beads and wire - hmm. I thought I could put those trade beads with some sterling silver wire links - make my own earrings, maybe a bracelet - okay I admit it! I did think about making a necklace! I told myself just I'd quit after I'd finished that project. But first I needed tools, wire. I found a bead shop. I was unprepared for the blinding array of beads I found there - thousands of beads - stone beads, glass beads, crystals! I was defenseless against their allure- the colors, the shapes. It was cool in the shop but (dare I say it ?) beads[i/] of sweat stood on my forehead! My mind was spinning with ideas. I noticed other people choosing and paying for beads - it seemed so normal, so innocent. The next part is kind of fuzzy... I remember putting beads into little bags, hesistantly at first, then gleefully stuffing the bags full. With abandon I bought pliers- round nosed, flat nosed, chain nosed - I was powerless against their smooth jawed, cushioned handles appeal! I had to have wire, ounces of silver wire, spools of colored wire - half hard or dead soft, 20 or 16 gauge - who knew? I just knew it had to be mine. There were other things too -flush cutters, something called a Wigjig, a flocked bead board, boxes with dividers. I came to at the cash register. The pusher...er, I mean, the [i]cashier smiled at me warmly but I didn't miss the glint of triumph in her eye; she knew I'd be back. While she calmly charged a figure only slightly less than the national debt to my credit card, I fumbled for my phone and called my husband to bring the truck. Since then, I spend my days off making jewelry, piles of jewelry mags and jewelry books clutter my bedside. I've bought amber in Russia, pearls in China, lampwork in Italy. I know where every bead shop in a 50 mile radius from my home is; packages from internet supply sources arrive regularly at my door. I've begun hiding the credit card bills from my husband; my friends, family and co-workers are adorned in my handiwork. I know I'm addicted. And I'm okay with it. How about you?

Community Info Member since:   07-02-2004 Last visited:   02-22-2005 Timezone:   -6.00 GMT Total Posts:   145 Post Rank:   0

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Additional Info Location: L.A. Occupation: Registered Nurse Interests: Making jewelry from wire and beads,trawling the internet for new sources of beads and supplies (or ways to organize the beads and supplies), collecting jewelry books and mags, picking beads and bits of silver out of my carpets, and filing plier calluses off my palms. My pre -jewelry activities included cooking Indian food, yoga, reading, poetry writing, shoe shopping, lavishing attention on my kids and my cats, hiking with my husband and our dogs, collecting mid-century modern, hanging with my friends, and photography. But as I say, these things were all prejewelry. Well okay, I still do the shoe shopping!

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