I have two new ladies to display, both of the French persuasion. After my last update in July, a few people wrote to ask if I would be making any more Witchy-Poo dolls, so while I didn't want to make anything too close, I do a love a nice witch. For this update, I'm making several smaller, witchy-poo style dolls along with a few larger ones; it's nice to work on something that can be finished in a few days (as opposed to a few weeks like the larger ones) and it's also nice to offer something a bit more affordable. (But if I ever utter the word 'Recessionista' as used in the oh-so-many offensive articles out there about how to be a raging luxury-goods consumer and still save money (??) someone please write me a scathing letter).
I haven't entirely decided if Mathilde is a witch or a ghost, but I'm leaning toward ghost, hence her name. I think she met some kind of ghastly end, but that hasn't quite come to me either.
Now, I know it's not good to go on and on about how adorable one's pets are; much as with children, everything thinks their own are the cutest, smartest and most charming. But I've had cats all my life and every once and a while, one of my cats does something I've never seen another cat do; something so uniquely them it makes my heart swell. Of course, most cats like to wedge themselves into small, dark, cozy places - boxes, drawers, the corners of closets. But consider my Sir Sweet Baby Boy (no, not his real name - it's weird superstition about posting pet names that I heard somewhere and have absorbed for no other reason than I figure it's better to be safe & superstitious than sorry). My baby boy will wedge himself into absurdly small spaces. So small, in fact, that it takes him several minutes of shifting, fidgeting and turning around and around to actually fit. Recently, I watched him do this with my wastebasket and thought, No way.