beading frenzy

beading frenzy

The last 2 years have been tough. Physically. Emotionally. Tough. I had the botched surgery, a baby, a wonderful ADD-ridden husband, a big move away from everything comfy and sane, a death or 8, just tough. It became apparent that I would need something to 'take me away' besides the pills and booze. So I picked up beading.

Not nearly as effective as the pills and booze, but much less liver damage.

Last night I spent 3 hours sorting donuts and daisies, bicones and briolettes, gemstones and uh, gross ones ... but it occured to me I was calm. Peaceful. Engaged. Filling little containers with the perfectly sorted items. Making labels for things that need labels ... Gorked* on beading.

Stick a fork in it. The party pig, the dancing queen, the drunk slut has left the building.

*Speaking of 'gorked' ... although I've tossed about 40 bottles of stuff given to me by a myriad of doctors guessing at what was causing all the problems ... I still had 2 bottles of things that look and sound sort of the same. One bottle contains the pills for when I feel as though I'm tinkling barbed wire. I thought I was taking one yesterday but instead I took one of the early experimental pills. It sets my entire esophageal tract on white hot fire and then slowly halts the voluntary muscles of most of my major systems. So, it went like this:

Wow. That burns. .... uh oh. Oh NOOOOOOO! (whump. collapses with mouth open.)

Fun stuff. Really. I should set up a webcam ...