Bead me up, Scotty

Are you anything like me?

I mean, I seriously hope you do not have that misfortune but in order to set this one up I need to ask.

Sort of like a single-question survey.

See, I am what you call high-strung. That label was slapped on me when I was in third grade (this was before ADD and ADHD and BVD and all the rest).

(There was no medication for the sufferer. To cope, I think my parents just smoked and drank more.)

As fate would have it, or perhaps because it is so deadly accurate, the description stuck to me like fangirls to Johnny Depp.

So, frequently people around me wish I would take it down a notch or ten. As in, I rile easily and then I become animated to the point of obnoxia. 

I made that last word up but I like it so it stays. You get my drift. Especially if you have ever met or talked to me, ha ha ha.

For example when I am in my manic phase, trust me, you want to be in another county if not on another continent.

Be that as it may, I have some cherished friends and I am happy to report that they are all saner than me.

Occasionally one of said chums does something that opens for me a new avenue of creative endeavor.

Don't you love it when that happens.

I've told you about this before but I'll tell you again: A few years back I won a blog giveaway from Cottage Days & Journeys, hosted impeccably and inimitably by my dear buddy, the ridiculously multi-talented Donna M.

She gave me a book and a map and some homemade pocket tissue covers and a few handmade cards and two bookmarks consisting of waxed linen with beads knotted at either end.

I loved them so much, I started making them. Most of you reading this have some of these (and similar) items in your possession, made by and courtesy of moi. You're insanely welcome.

Anyway it didn't take long for TG to notice that when I got my bead box out and put my energies into making a bunch of those, right off the bat I calmed way down. How could he tell? Because I was so quiet.

So when I'd complete a piece and hold it up for him to admire, he'd say: That's nice baby. Now go ahead and make another one. I do believe he would have patted me on the head if he hadn't been on other side of the room.

But I did score a sweet smile.

So anyway to cut to the chase as it were, the crafty activity that had such a delightfully sedating effect on me eventually led to the birth of an idea that involves constructing supersized beaded dangly things.

As in, go big or go home, y'all.

The result is that I now design and create what I like to think of as Beadtime Stories: as-long-as-you-want-them glass-beaded and metal-charmed dangling art pieces that hang in your window. 

Where they serve absolutely no purpose except to catch sunbeams in an exceptionally charming manner and throw spangly rainbowy sparkles all over your room, promoting euphoria.

You must supply your own unicorn but I promise he will like what you've done to the place.

And if you are high-strung like me, sitting and gazing at one of these things (close enough to reach out and make it sway ever so slightly from time to time) will bring your blood pressure down and set creative juices flowing.

Or maybe it will put you to sleep. But you'll have dazzling dreams.

I sent one of these to my blogging buddy Sue at Nostalgic Nana, because she sent me a 3D pirate puzzle and some fruitcake. I think she likes it. The beaded thing I sent her, I mean. She hung it in the window of their secondary Oregonian domicile where it reflects clouds and mountains all day.

My mother and two of my girls each have one and they describe them as mesmerizing. Oh and they (the beaded things, not my mom and daughters) can be suspended anywhere; a window is not strictly required. They'll hang out anyplace you need a thing of beauty to be a joy forever.

Soon I'll be revamping my blog (actually I have already started doing that but you can't see it yet) to include several separate pages, one of which will be devoted to the promotion and sale of random bibelots under the umbrella of Beadtime Stories. 

I know I've threatened to do that before but this time I mean it. It was not my intention to string you along; it's just that I am easily distracted highly strung.

Meanwhile should you need a custom-made one-of-a-kind completely original piece of window art for yourself or for a friend, shoot me an email. These make great gifts. Nobody you give it to will already have anything like it.

I can make them in any length (the longest so far has been sixty-three inches) and any color scheme and any quantity, and I will gladly include charms of your specification for extra personalizing. Name your theme and we'll make it happen.

Each piece is sturdily constructed onto a steel ring that offers endless versatility for installation (which takes anywhere from five seconds to five minutes, depending on how fancy you want to get).

We can even add words and phrases. There really are no rules. Prices are reasonable (these will set you back anywhere from twenty-five to fifty dollars depending on how large and elaborate you care to go). Shipping is free.

That is all.

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Happy Monday

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Special confession

I wish to confess today that one of my favorite songs of all time is My Special Angel by The Vogues, 1968.

I used to be poetry -- albeit the unrhyming kind -- in motion, roller skating to that song in the late '60s and early '70s. I knew the lyrics, the beat, the sway, the whine of the sax, all by heart.

But that didn't keep me from attending a concert given by The Lettermen in Atlanta around 1975, and at request time, asking the gents to sing it.

I was in the front row and I yelled it right out.

"That's by The Vogues," one of The Lettermen corrected me. And he didn't come down to where I was and whisper it in my ear, either.

Apparently I didn't even know enough to go to the right concert.

Maybe I meant to yell out Put Your Head On My Shoulder or When I Fall In Love, but I imagine they'd already performed those that night, along with all their other big hits.

Whatever they sang, it wasnt My Special Angel, and more's the pity. Why couldn't they have sung it? Would that have been so difficult? It was, after all, request time.

Ah well. Bygones.

I used to have difficulty identifying Charlton Heston versus Burt Lancaster too. I don't recall how old I was before I could finally tell them apart.

Likewise Jack Klugman and Karl Malden.

And for a long time I thought Katharine and Audrey were sisters. The Hepburns.

What have you to confess today? Let's hear it.

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Happy Weekend ~ Happy March

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