The Last Furlong

Comments on the race of life.

A unique idea

1 Comment

When our daughter got married, we had a really good Hen’s Night. We “girls” – The Furlong daughters, the Furlong girls’ great-aunt, and me of course, hired a little room in a friendly restaurant where we had a meal first. Then, we cleared the tables and the artistic daughter (whose lovely idea it was) handed out polymer clay to us all.

We softened it in our hands and rolled six – there were six of us –  beads each about the size of  walnuts. It was a chummy time of laughing, chatting and making stuff. Then, each person flattened their beads embedding their fingerprints in them. Very carefully we each made a hole with a needle through our fingerprint beads so they could be threaded.

Artistic Furlong had brought her mini oven. She baked our beads on the spot.

For decoration, we rubbed metallic powder into the fingerprints.

Each one of us now, has a bracelet with the fingerprints on it of all the people we love. I wear mine often – and if I’m scared – like at the hospital or dentist, I count them off like a rosary. We know whose is whose because we each initialed our beads. They were made with love.


Family fingerprint bracelet

This is  mine…


Author: Elizabeth

I'm someone also pounding the Path, just like you.. I'm retired, going into Old Age and loving my life. I'm hoping to remain happy and well for as long as possible. Old Age is not SO bad - yet!

One thought on “A unique idea

  1. I wore mine to Cape Town and took you all up Table Mountain. I had an epiphany there – I am not scared of heights, I am scared of falling… hehehehe!


Please do comment! That's part of the fun...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s