Bead Store Booty

Although I guess it isn't technically booty if you paid for it. For it to be booty you have to plunder it, like at sword-point. Or you have to win a battle or a war or something and then just take whatever's lying around after everybody flees or bleeds to death. I don't think filching it qualifies it as booty either, that would just be loot. Or if you went and broke the window at the bead store with a baseball bat during a civil uprising and looted it. That would be loot. I guess this was just...purchases. Such a dry, lifeless word for something so LIP-SMACKING TASTY!!!

OK, I only bought a little bit. There just wasn't that much that appealed to me. And unfortunately nothing from the $2 rack spoke to me. Bunch of chips, I don't like chips. Unless they're barbecue Kettle chips. Or plain Ruffles or classic Fritos.

So here are my ACQUISITIONS (oh, that's good--sort of Trumpy):

I don't know what these are. Aventurine? Carnelian? Red agate?

Crazy horse stone and I don't know what. Purple aventurine?

Little glass eggs. About the size of pistachios.

Dumortierite.

 

 

 

That's it. Aren't you proud of me? I could have bought more from the $6 table, but I decided I would only buy it if it spoke to me. "Pretty" was not good enough. Most of the stuff was strangely mute. I just didn't really have any idea what to do with it. Well, I guess I don't really have any idea what to do with those red and black tubes (it was sort of more of a muffled mumbling I heard. Sounded like gas). Or the eggs. And nothing really specific in mind for the orange rounds, but they would work so well in my "sunset sorbet" and brass pieces that I do every now and then. You can never have too much orange. Did I tell you I was a Buddhist monk in a former life? A lady at a carnival told me that. It doesn't look like the spiritual enlightenment part of that came with me this time around (I swore in a yoga class once), but (well, I guess I actually swore through a yoga class once) I still really like orange.