Trollbeads now owns me, hook, line and sinker. I realize this is an expensive and basically pointless new hobby, but it’s a lovely diversion from my health issues and a special girl-treat the likes of which I rarely get.
I’ve been coveting them for ages, living a secret life of Trollbead desire. Each day, often 6 times a day, I drive by The Gardener of Bath, a local boutique nursery and doo-dad store that I’m afraid understands its demographic (i.e., me) perfectly. It’s almost embarrassing how easily typed and sold to I am. From the organic heirloom yellow pear tomato plants, to the special double pink anemones, to the chic reading glasses (!!), to the European Christmas ornaments, to the… Trollbeads! The owner, Justin, just seems to have my entire soul mapped and charted. Several weeks ago I went in a tried on some bracelets and clasps, and admired a few beads without buying anything. We were fiscally challenged at that point and this was utterly unnecessary.
But yesterday, divine intervention brought together three disparate variables which have never aligned before: 1) a little bit of suddenly-available fun money; 2) a kid-free evening; and 3) a Trollbead trunk show at the Gardener of Bath. And who am I to deny such a clear message from God?
So I spent all afternoon at the Trollbeads web site, gluttonously admiring close-ups of bead after bead. My long-standing plan was to combine the crying baby with the cherub to indicate the two facets of motherhood (heaven/hell). What I struggled with was something to represent Ben. I spent a lot of time looking for a bead that was the certain deep brown of his eyes, but wasn’t happy with the options. I toyed with the obvious hearts and the Kiss. I considered Snails in Love for whimsical angle. But nothing seemed to leap out at me until I stumbled across The Hare and the Tortoise. Yes! We are opposites in many ways– not the least of which is speed. But together, we make one bead. This playful take on ying/yang appealed to me, and even more so when I saw it in person.
So I went in armed with something of a plan. I chose a Lace lock, because it reminds me of my grandma Jane and the lace curtains at my native house. In person the bead called Blue Petals called to me immediately. (At a trunk show, they have all the cases out, spread on tables, and all these tiny little cubbies full of beads, organized by color. Drool.) I wandered about trying to find the perfect bead to add to it, and the lady suggested Amethyst. Maybe it wasn’t pure creative talent– the stone beads cost twice the glass– but together it all just sang. The dark blue, the petals, the sparkling purple, and the silver creatures and concepts in between. The lady pronounced my bracelet “a good start” and I was ready to go.
When I was checking out the owner came over to look at the glory. “You’ve got a lot of opposites going on in this bracelet,” he observed. (Yes– perhaps this wants further analysis. Strange how the Trollbeads lay bare your heart like that.) “Where are you going to take it from here?” I said I was thinking about heading towards the green beads, and everyone congratulated me on my fine judgment. Somehow it seemed a lot more than just an ordinary trinket purchase.
Since then I’ve been dying for someone to notice it. I went to the grocery store, thinking it radiated light in all directions. Amazingly enough, no one batted an eye. At church today the sun was hitting it and it seemed to shine and glint and sparkle with abandon, and yet no one noticed. I regaled Ben with all the details, which he endured as best he could, but clearly did not enjoy. Oh well! Philistines! … And now to create my wish list for all future gift opportunities.
Every story has a bead.
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