Beaded purses

I've never really known what to do with my small collection of beaded purses. They used to be on the wall, but came down with everything else when we painted. I dug them out the other day wondering just what to do with them - again. They ended up hanging on suction hooks on the dresser mirror.

Just let me say how brave I am to let you see what the mirror is reflecting. I did throw a piece of fabric over the pillows, but the bedside tables are just a hodgepodge of piled up stuff. No organization or prettiness, yet. And no bedspread. The purses might not stay here. There's a small piece of wall between two doors I might hang them on.


You can't see the detail, but the dark purse on the bottom belonged to my grandmother. Actually, my step grandmother, but the first one died long before I was born. After my grandfather died, she moved in with her sisters. My grandmother died some years later, as had one of her sisters, leaving just Thelma.

Back in the day when I was a good girl and visited people often, I paid regular visits to Thelma. It was on one of those visits that she was in a tizzy looking for her keys. She and I hunted and hunted and in desperation I began to pilfer through drawers. This purse was in there. With 14 silver dollars! I shyly asked for the purse. Told her I didn't want the money, although I would loved to have had it. There's no telling how old it was, but I didn't want anyone to think I had stolen money from her. She said she thought the purse had belonged to Lucy, my grandmother, and of course I could have it! After all, she wasn't going to use it any time soon. That was the first of my beaded purse collection. We actually found another one, not pictured here, so that made a collection of two.

The smaller one on top was found in a trunk of doll clothes I bought at an estate sale. The other was found in a trunk of fabric, also at an estate sale. I haven't found any in several years. Oh, they're all over eBay, the internet and in antique shops, but I'm not that avid a collector. I prefer the surprise finds.

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Everyone is asking about the frog from yesterday. I don't know. He was so close to dead when Buster brought him in and like I said, I ran screaming out of the room. When I finally poked my head back around, he was gone. So I'll either find a petrified frog under a major appliance or Buster ate him. It makes me so sad. That's one of the bad things about having a cat who loves to be outside. That and the occasional fight.

I know it's nature's way, but dang it! It upsets me to see little animals killed by the big, bully animals. And eaten. Or not eaten. Which is worse? The indignity of being eaten and often regurgitated or left to lie there, dead and mangled, for the whole world to see? I think I'm gonna cry. I prefer not to know about it or pretend it isn't happening.