Mhairi buys the jar

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Luckily Johanna had mentioned about the dust to me, otherwise I would never have considered the need for a lid on the jar to hold my beads. I hadn’t considered either how tricky it would be to find a container beautiful and big enough to hold all my beads. I needed something that would be a companion through the rest of my life. Something elegant and sophisticated. Something that Ikea wasn’t in a position to deliver.

To vase and doily over or not to vase and doily over, that was the question that I pondered for well over a week. There are many lovely vases that I could see me and my beads being very happy with but the nature of a vase means that a lid isn’t an option.

As with most things in life, unexpected things happen just at the right time. While walking in Seal Beach with my almost 90 year old grandmother, my almost 36 year old brother and sister in law, I came across the perfect jar (with lid) and also large blue bottle (without lid). I didn’t rashly purchase but thought about it for a few days. Then came back, armed with the beads to do a volume check at the counter. These containers ticked a couple of boxes for me. Not only were they beautiful they also came from a special place that my grandmother and I often visit. I wanted my containers to have a deeper meaning to me than just some random mass-produced thing that just happened to be holding my life.

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I didn’t get round to testing the reciprocating bottle by putting a bead in to check for sound and niceness of feeling the drop. But when I dropped my first one in a week later it bounced and pinged around the bottle. Which is very appropriate for a non stop moving ninja like myself. I’m very happy to report that my beads have got bounce.

I also have 2 bonne maman jam jars for transporting the beads whenever I am on the move. I don’t anticipate the mothership jars being carted around the country so have a couple of transporting jars to do the trick whenever I’m away on my voyages. French jam jars are absolutely the perfect mode of carrying for me and my beads. As a lover of jam and a more serious lover of France, the symbolism carries on even though we are off on our travels.

When we return home the beads will be put into their appropriate bottles.

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