Bead by Bead

It's the type of week where every day is a list of commitments, events, and heavy job responsibilities. When I leave the house, a trail of paper follows me in the form of lists spilling out of my purse, scattering like falling leaves in my wake. All of the extracurricular activities are fun, but carry the stress of extra duties and the need to be in certain places at certain times.

Monday night my mother and I took a class in the peyote stitch. We learned how to do "off-loom weaving" and created a little band we can wear as a bracelet. The stitch is very easy to learn once you get it started and I understand it is the base for many more complex projects. I only had to give my piece to the instructor once to figure out how I got a big lump in it (I figured it out myself the second time). It was cool to watch the dark blue, green, and copper beads line up and become a woven fabric, but I doubt I'll be doing much of it on my own. I don't have the eyes or hands for such painstaking work. My 78-year-old mother, however, was beading away while I spent the last half hour of the class glassy-eyed, thumbing through magazines and eating peanut M&Ms.

Last night I worked late and missed my daughter's last softball game. My husband was a coach and it was a difficult season, with accusations that the league commissioner unfairly loaded his own team with all the experienced pitchers. In the middle of all the adult wrangling, the twelve-year-old girls were sad and demoralized as they left the first playoff without a single run. My daughter came home near tears, tired and hot. She had the only hit of the game but was thrown out when she tried to steal third.

Tonight is "The Prom". Mystery Man finally laid bare all the plans at ten o'clock last night. He added an extra wrinkle to my day as I have to run to the bank after court and come home and give him the money he suddenly needs for the clothes he is going to buy at the last minute - where? he doesn't know - for the "after prom" club they'll all go to. He wants to drive his 1972 Nova out to the beach tomorrow morning. I don't know what to worry about more, the car or his driving on major highways and over bridges. So I guess I just won't worry about any of it. (Serenity now!)

Although I haven't had a moment to do any in hand art work, I've been exploring Photoshop and learning how to digitally manipulate my own drawings, such as the one above and the image accompanying the last post.

While my head is spinning with things to do, my heart is companionably sitting and beading with my Mom, listening to the little clicks of beeds on needle and the little "ouch!" from me as I manage to pierce my finger one more time and add another row to the fabric of our lives.