I had quite the collection of dolls. These are not from the E-Bay collectibles. These were cleaned up and sent to St. PJs.
The dolls’ outfits tell a story. The aqua/white dress and the red with cherries dress were handmade by my Aunt Annie. From scratch without a pattern. From material scraps left over from shirts made for me.
I’ll never forget the summer when my brother and I stayed with her & Uncle George. My mom was in the hospital for the mastectomy; her first bout with breast cancer. As the two youngest, we were shipped off to save us from seeing anything bad that might scar us.
I was six going on seven. I had no idea the extent of mom’s illness. All I knew is I wasn’t happy to stay there two whole months. I remember adding big X’s in red crayon across the calendar moving closer to the date circled in purple to signify our return. I was miserably homesick. Sewing was something done to distract me. I helped very little. Mostly I watched in amazement. What a talent. A lost art.
George & Annie owned the local meat market. We went with them to work and we played around doing our best to stay out of trouble. Closing my eyes I see the double wooden doors open wide and the two swinging screen doors with the Buttercrust sign. An old time cash register sits on a bar that had candy jars in rows right next to it. The front part of the store was a small grocery with only two rows of shelves for canned goods, cleaning supplies, or paper products and an even smaller produce section in the corner. On the back porch sat the picnic tables for patio dining and a six foot long cooler with the sodas. All in glass bottles. Treats we rarely got at home. And of course I can still smell the smoke and BBQ.
The market closed up @ 3 pm and we’d go back to their place. There were animals to take care of and supper to make before what seemed like the longest evenings in my life. Out in the sticks, there was awful reception. And TV was for lazy people anyway per Auntie. We played lots of board games. And of course I had my dolls. Treasures. No wonder mom couldn’t give them away.
For all the coping mechanisms out there now, childhood play still ranks supreme. Though at the time, I had no idea. Now I believe playing with my dolls is what helped me deal with things my young brain couldn’t fully understand. I mentioned I was six going on seven. Mom survived the breast cancer and even had a 2nd battle with breast cancer when I was nine. She eventually would pass away from cancer of unknown origin when I was 33. But that is a story for another day.
I am late for a very important date! Thanks to Melanie and Roger for hosting. I was one who had never read Potter but the questions were intriguing. Maybe I should check out the books?
Roger’s Magical, Mystical Questions:
Have you ever driven the wrong way on a one-way street? How did this come about? Not as a driver but as a passenger. Oh my! We were in Galveston for my nephew’s wedding and driving to the venue. The hotel was off the Strand which has a lot of foot traffic. Somehow we got turned. My dad missed the do not enter sign and my brother was screaming at him to turn around!! Pedestrians were everywhere on the side walk but fortunately no vehicles were driving towards us. I still feel anxiety thinking about it. But as dad always said “no harm done, it could’ve been worse”
As a kid, did you ever decide to run away? Did you have a plan? Take a pet? Sandwiches? No. How boring!
You suddenly found you have a hidden talent for playing a musical instrument. What musical instrument do you hope that accompanies your talent? Any particular song? I always wanted to learn to play the piano. No particular song. My musical tastes vary.
Do you accessorize with jewelry? There was an opal necklace (cursed) and Slytherin’s locket (also cursed) in the Potter story. Have you had any heirloom jewelry passed down through the generations? Is it more ‘keepsake’ or do you wear it on occasion? (Hopefully, yours was not cursed? I only wear my wedding band. I used to wear earrings and a watch. Though I have not done so for a very long time. Pre-Covid … meaning my lack of adornment has nothing to do with moving to stay at home/work from home & social distancing. As an heirloom I do have my mother’s class ring, engagement ring, and wedding band. I never wear these items any longer though back in the day, I would put the rings on for special occasions.
Melanie’s Ordinary Muggle Questions:
What ingredients go into YOUR favorite salad? Cobb salad or any kind of salad that is “loaded”. The salad bar at work was exceptional. Salads are so much better when someone does all the prep work.
If you care to, share something that really irritates you. Not much the older I get. I am nervous and neurotic but rarely irritated.
What are your favorite ‘lounging around the house’ items of clothing? Sweats, t-shirt, no socks or shoes except when the weather turns colder, then socks or house shoes are a must!! Now that a lot of people ‘lounge around the house’ waiting for the all clear in respect to Covid being shown the door, have those lounging items changed? Nope, same lounging items.
GRATITUDE (as always this is optional) Grateful for all that I have which is plentiful. Life is good 🙂
Please feel free to share something about Autumn (or Spring if you’re gearing up for that) that you especially enjoy! We don’t have an Autumn in my neck of the woods. I swear we used to when I was a kid but temp changes/global warming/etc. has changed our seasons. I vividly remember running around outside in late August/early September where the grass under my feet would feel cooler as we inched toward fall. I am grateful for any cool down which we’ve had recently thankfully. The talk around these parts go something like this … “maybe we’ll get a fall this year” or “I hope it is not like last year where fall and winter skipped past us” … you get the drift. 😉
Today’s prompt is Canadian music. I feel chatty. The song I picked has a special meaning to me. A memory that has little if anything to do with the singer, the music, or the lyrics. I played soft ball in grade school. It was the spring of my 4th grade year. Anna Z aka Buggie came into our classroom and asked us to sign up. She said to tell our parents we wanted to play and bring them back that night for registration. Of course I had fear of missing out (FOMO) before it was even a thing. Puhleese mom and daddy!!! Can I play?!??! They agreed and three of us from class/neighborhood started the carpool to twice weekly practice. That turned into the best summer of my life and I continued to play for five more years.
The song and why I picked it. Buggie brought an eight track player to the field and during practice she’d play music. It was hard to hear and kind of staticy but still made for good times. If you were in the dugout, the reception was better. “If You Could Read My Mind” by Gordon Lightfoot was a staple of the song rotation. We all loved this song. We thought it was so heartfelt
If you could read my mind, love What a tale my thoughts could tell Just like an old-time movie ‘Bout a ghost from a wishin’ well In a castle dark or a fortress strong With chains upon my feet You know that ghost is me And I will never be set free As long as I’m a ghost that you can’t see
If I could read your mind, love What a tale your thoughts could tell Just like a paperback novel The kind the drugstores sell When you reach the part where the heartaches come The hero would be me But heroes often fail And you won’t read that book again Because the ending’s just too hard to take
I’d walk away like a movie star Who gets burned in a three-way script Enter number two A movie queen to play the scene Of bringing all the good things out in me But for now love, let’s be real I never thought I could act this way And I’ve got to say that I just don’t get it I don’t know where we went wrong But the feeling’s gone and I just can’t get it back
If you could read my mind, love What a tale my thoughts could tell Just like an old-time movie ‘Bout a ghost from a wishin’ well In a castle dark or a fortress strong With chains upon my feet But stories always end And if you read between the lines You’ll know that I’m just tryin’ to understand The feelings that you lack I never thought I could feel this way And I’ve got to say that I just don’t get it I don’t know where we went wrong But the feeling’s gone and I just can’t get it back
Bonus video follows of Gordon singing live in 2020. “I’ll Tag Along” and “If You Can Read My Mind” He is a spry 81! How cool is that?!??!
The wait is over!! Time once again for SoCS where the lovely Linda writes and I re-write “Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “-tion.” Find a word that ends with “tion.” Bonus points if you start your post with it. Have fun!” Yeah Buddy. Bo- to the -nus. Or just BONUS!! 🙂 To join in the fun and frolic, here are the rules and ping back.
Anticipation, anticipaaaaation is makin’ me late and keepin’ me waaaaaaiting
Ugh mo, ketchup advertisement ear worm. Or Carly Simon ear worm. Ha!
You’re welcome … now you can have an ear worm too.
Ketchup or catsup which do you prefer?? Ha! Trick question. They are the same thing. Yeah buddy!
Station … as I write this I have on my Sirius XM. Loving the tunes on Classic Rewind where by serendipity the current song is (I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones. Yeah buddy!
How many yeah buddy is too many yeah buddy? Four! The answer is four. Hehe.
I guess I am outta stream for today. No plans this time. I am just off … into the living room. Wishing you a wonderful #free48!
First up, “The Boy” by Tami Hoag. Per Goodreads: A panic-stricken woman runs in the dead of night, battered and bloodied, desperate to find help. . . .
I always enjoy a good whodunit despite being terrible at figuring out the clues. When a plot has me gasping, you know it’s a good one. Right out of the gate, the story grabbed me. Such vivid details had me running down the road with Genevieve looking for help. An exciting thriller that kept me guessing until the very end. I was so sure I knew who the culprit was but I was wrong. Themes of power, greed, high expectations, and judgments.
No spoilers here. My rating 4 out of 5 stars.
Next, “The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counter intuitive Approach to Living a Good Life” by Mark Manson. Per Goodreads: In this generation-defining self-help guide, a superstar blogger cuts through the crap to show us how to stop trying to be “positive” all the time so that we can truly become better, happier people.
My review: Hogwash. I usually try and go easy on non-fiction. To me, the personal nature of the subject matter should be respected. In this case though, this is not a biography. This is simply one man’s opinion. Just once I’d like a book like this to show a broken person who is in continual struggle with good and bad days. That’s more realistic to me. Answers to life’s dilemmas are not that easy as picking what to give a f*ck about.
Here’s an anecdote for ya. When B had his accident, he went to a therapist for a mild case of PTSD. Yep, just once. The guy (much older than this author and before this book was published) told B that for anything he could not control, he should just say f*ck it. Then he should put it out of his mind and move on. To this day, B deals with his stuff using that method. And I admire that. If only I could learn to be the same way.
My rating, 2 of 5 stars. Much better self-help books are out there.
We didn’t have fancy electronics. Instead we rode bikes, played on the swing set, and made up elaborate stories with dolls, puppets, and assorted stuffed animals. If memory serves, this particular puppet came from a set “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod”. As you can see, he is dressed in pajamas. I named him Charlie. He was my favorite toy for a few years. Maybe that explains why mom kept him.
He was in my treasure box that I stumbled upon once again while conducting the Swedish Death Clean. Many times I tried to refuse taking him with me. Each time I tried to throw him out, mom would pack him back up and take him home to her house. She didn’t have the heart to do what I am doing now. In the big scheme of things, I hope I am sparing my children the work that comes with handling my estate. It’s all just stuff anyway. Plus Lulu and Pony said they didn’t want him. Instead, Charlie was cleaned up and sent to Goodwill. Hopefully someone gets as much enjoyment from him as I did.
I have other dolls too that could be worth some money. They are classics/vintage … supposedly. Which is why I am I’m still trying to figure out this eBay thing. Or maybe I will make a for “real” final trip to Goodwill or St. PJs. This stuff is exhausting. But the good kind of exhausted. Where after all is said and done, you feel an emotional weight was lifted.