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I am fascinated by small, shiny objects.

Preferably with a hole drilled through the center.

In other words, beads; glass, pearl, crystal, round or square, two-holed and triangle-shaped, if I can string it, I can make jewelry out of it.

I caught the beading fever the same way a lot of people do. One day I saw a picture of a pretty beaded bracelet, and said to myself, I can do that.

Little did I know, it was peyote.

Stitch, that is, peyote stitch, a versatile beading method once you understand it. Which I finally did after about six months of trial and a lot of error.

String an even number of beads, the directions said. These beads are your first two rows.

See what I mean?

And that's even-count peyote stitch, the easiest kind; there's odd-count, circular, tubular, two-drop rows with increases, or decreases...

But I persevered. Pig-headed, some have called it. Encumbered as I was by the lingering effects of countless hallucinogenics gobbled in my misspent youth, I was still determined to make a bracelet like the one in the picture.

Beading magazines cater to a rather genteel set, and rarely bother to mention peyote stitch history. Examples of peyote stitch have been found in Ancient Egyptian artifacts, but it is primarily associated with the Native American beadwork that decorates objects used in peyote ceremonies.

I have never used peyote, but my peyote stitch "aha moment" came in the memory of an orange sunshine dawn.

These beads are your first two rows.

Oh. Now I get it. It's not supposed to make sense.

Throwing logic to the wind, I learned how to do peyote through sheer determination; peyote stitch, that is.

Pig-headed, some have called it.

But I am still fascinated by small, shiny objects.

And they said all those years of eating purple microdot were wasted.

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