My partner just returned from a trip to Berkeley, and she happened to go through a bead store. She tells me it was ridiculously overpriced. There are these lovely blown glass beads we've seen at the local craft store, about $4.99 for three to five of them with coordinating plain glass spacers. And at this Berkeley bead store? Five dollars a pop. Yup.
Anyway. She stayed away from the expensive beads, but what they did have was charms. Discount charms. Eight or ten nice pewter charms in a little plastic packet for $2.75.
I spent over an hour sorting them, and resorting them, and matching them, and giggling evilly. I'm so addicted.
There are Hawaiian shirt charms in pewter and gold - nine of each. Little red enameled mouths that beg to become a Marilyn Monroe charm bracelet. About a million corkscrews in gold and silver. Yellow enameled bananas. About fifteen tiny, anatomically correct copies of Michelangelo's David (!). And a pack of wine barrels and grape bunches in antique gold with one horse's head included. I'm assuming that was an accident, but I would like to credit someone else with that kind of a sense of humor - The Godfather Charm Set, I suppose?
Spent today trying to fend off that nestless feeling by making our garden work. My partner, M, has an incredibly stupid flat-coated retriever who is convinced that something is living in the drainage system under her grandmother's gravel patch. He may be right, but considering the twelve-inch pavers in the way, he'll never find out. Unfortunately, he's destroyed our little tomato garden in the process. We jury-rigged a solution involving half a futon frame, three lengths of rope, two bricks and a crowbar. The garden is now quite a respectable little corner patch, and has morning glories. This gives me joy.
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