Beads

With the exception of other human beings and pets/animals, there is nothing I love more than beads. Well, there are a few places I like a lot, too. Like Woodstock. And Acadia. And goat farms. And the land where I grew up. But just a few words about beads and why I love them.

There is a bead museum in Washington DC. They have lots of beaded objects from around the world, but the highlight is the "Timeline of Beads". I don't know what the first date on the timeline is, but it is about a bajillion BC (BCE). Man was barely upright, when he (or she) noticed a pretty shell with a hole in it. After the big kill that day, there was some nice sinew left over. Voila- my hobby was born.
The timeline goes on to show beads as commerce, art, sacred object, and simple adornment. Africa. Asia. Europe. The Americas. Men, women, children. Many of the techniques and materials that I use are more or less the same as ancient ancestors. We are all united by a millenia of love for, well, shiny objects.
Here is another attraction. Beads are bright, shiny objects. My inner primitive meets my inner bower bird, and a fixation is borrn. Beads are pretty. Beads feel nice. Beads are shiny. Beads are bright. Down right sparkly, in fact. Crystal, glass, gemstones...they all sparkle so.
I teach beading classes to Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center, and at Dartmouth College. All women, all ages, all types. The College, which I inhabit all the time, I understand. I teach in the student center. The only thing notable is that when I finish the class at 9 pm, I have to be on time, because students are beginning meetings in the room after I leave- they have meetings at 9 pm, then others at 10 and 11. The Medical Center is different. Because we are not in an urban area, it doesn't have the round-the-clock frenzy. When I arrive to teach evening classes, halls are being cleaned, and the lights are dim and waiting areas are empty. I descend down, down, to Conference Room 2B. It is in a long hallway, cluttered with gurneys, bins full of sheets, and things I don't want to know too much about. The conference room is filled with women. There are often repeat customers, which fills me with pride.
We sit and chat, and laugh, in a bright room, in a dark hallway in a empty hospital. It is pleasant. They are frustrated, they can't figure it out. "Here" I say. Finally, "I get it! I see it now!" We choose colors, we try things on our wrist, we talk about where we live and what we do, and what we enjoy. This is women's work.
Another attraction. I admire everyone who does beadwork. Men do some amazing work, and men are often the glassmakers and stonecutters who produce beautiful materials. But the vast majority of beaders are women. I have never been a woman's woman. I don't tend to know how to be part of a group of women, and don't make friends with women easily. But when we sit, doing women's work, I can feel the primitive again. We could be cleaning grain, curing hide, baking bread, washing cloth in a river. A thing of pride and camaraderie.

Beginning of Blog

It is a busy world. Even in the Upper Valley VT/NH it is a busy world. I also have a crappy memory- so this is a blog for me to keep up with myself, and others to keep up with me, and hopefully keep in touch despite our busy lives. Also, everyone else has a blog, why not me?

So what have we been doing? Dipping a toe into the real estate waters. We went to Quechee, VT this weekend to an open house. The realtor tried to describe the carpet as "light red"- it was the pinkest pink carpet I have ever seen. The place was crammed full of teddy bears and scented candles. We weren't exactly taken, and then learned about all the fees required to tap in to the niceness of Quechee (a year round resort community). It isn't off our list, but it did fall a few notches. Plus, the realtor thought we were recently of Concord MASS, not Concord NH, which is pretty insulting if you have the NH/VT anti-MA bias. Guilty as charged.

We are prepared for the house/condo hunting to proceed in a leisurely pace- at this point just checking to see what your money buys you where.