Last week I decided that I had to acknowledge the fact that I could no longer bead or crochet with any success. After I'd said it out loud, it turned out that I was OK with it.
Or so I thought. Friday, I took all my wool and hooks to the Salvation Army and measured out my beads and wire and cord etc to share with Emma and a friend. It didn't feel good, but I could stand it.
Monday, I went to the dentist and walking home in a June shower, ducked into my favourite Used-to-be-dollar store where I spent quite a few more moments than necessary looking at beads, wire, cord and wool. Bought none, but it was a scorched success. I had to stop at every Timmy's on the way home (that would be three) to console myself.
Then to come full circle, I saw this image on Pinterest or somewhere, and knew that I had done the right thing.