Black-Eyed Suzie Art Dolls and Oddities

The Best Thing I've Ever Made

It's been quite a while but I have the very best of reasons for my extended hiatus: my beautiful boy.   I took some time to finish up the first semester of my translation degree, which I hurried through so I would be finished before the baby came.  I scheduled my exams early, made it through them without going into labour, and then I waited.  And waited.   I went two weeks past my due date, during which time I went for many long walks, used a stairmaster three times a day, had acupuncture, homeopathy and many other non-chemical methods that all kinds of people swore would provoke labour naturally.  Nuthin'.  Finally, I had to be induced because the little guy wasn't so little and was running out of space and it was no longer safe for him in hotel uterus.  The irony of my labour is that I had planned to go all-natural (midwife, birthing centre, etc.) and then ended up having almost every kind of intervention imaginable, including two surgeries and week-long hospital stay.  But babies don't care about our plans, and my lovely boy came out big (8 lbs, 12 oz) and healthy, and that's all that matters in the end.  I'm on the mend and I'm struck moment by moment by how much I love this tiny person who somehow miraculously appeared in our home.  And we get to keep him!

 

He'll go by baby M. here on the blog, and forgive while I gush and share this photo of his dear, wee feet.   My blog posts will no doubt be somewhat erratic for the next little while, as M. is happiest when he's being held or in his sling, which is fine by us - Mr. L is quite gifted at lulling M. to sleep and I'm learning to type with one hand. (In fact, I'm learning to do almost everything with one hand.)

Thanks so much to everyone who has commented and emailed me to ask how we're doing.  The answer: besotted!

Yo Miss

Finally: the first of completed Alices, all frilly and sugar-soaked.  But I want to tell a non-doll related story, accompanied by doll photos.  Is that just too mind-bending?  I think you can handle it...

 

Tuesday evening I met with my most-fabulous Ladies Literary Auxiliary a-Go-Go. (That is our official title - I swear I didn't just make it up.)  The Ladies Auxiliary is made up of yours truly and five super-smart and talented women who I've met since starting my master's in creative writing.  We were all in a writing workshop together last year and we appreciated each other's writing and critiques so much that we decided, once the workshop was over, to get together once a week and discuss one another's writing.   Every week a different lady sends everyone a chapter or story, and then we take turns making dinner and hosting the workshop.  So then we get together, drink wine, eat yummy food and rip someone to shreds. 

 

Oh, look how sad that makes these two.  No, we are quite tactful, but still honest and direct and the whole experience is so much fun and also tremendously  helpful.  As writers, we are usually squirreled away in our quiet little corners, sitting in silence and begging the muse to sing.  It can somewhat isolating, so it's great to get together and encourage one another (and of course bitch a little about the writer's life).  

But why the title of this post?  Well, many writers teach to pay the rent and you might remember some of my own screeds about teaching, back before I decided to throw my lot in with dollies full-time (try explaining that career choice at weddings - I'm nothing if not practical!)  But one of our group teaches full-time and the other night she told us about an email she got in response to a class assignment she'd given that I have to share here:

Yo Miss,

I didn't understand ur ass. one little bit.  Pls. clarify.

So, gentle readers, a reminder to us all: in this era of blackberries and twitter and MSN, let us choose our abbr.s carefully.  (We all agreed, however, that the student's correct use of a comma after 'Miss' was admirable.)

But what about the Alices???  No need to yell, imaginary reader. (Oh wait, that was just me yelling at myself again.)  They are coming along well, if a bit slower than I'd hoped.  Some of the little details like striped stockings and the eensy-weensy hairbands have been quite fussy and time-consuming, but I worth it, I think, because they're pretty dang cute.   I've also given most of their dresses double layers, to suggest the traditional Alice-y apron. Layers and ruffles and all-round girliosity.

A Little Fireside Reading

I often dream of someday having a real fireside to curl up by, of course while sipping brandy and reading some good books.  But for now I usually read huddled under some absurd configuration of scarves, ponchos and wool blankets, as close as I can get to my baseboard heaters without actually lying on the floor -  whatever it takes to stay warm in these cruel winter months.  I've been reading both some pretty silly and not-so-silly stuff lately, but I'll share the stuff that has the best covers and would be most delicious by my imaginary fire.

To read Dorothy L. Sayers and is to release your inner gentleman detective. Lord Peter Wimsey is an aristocrat and a PI; he is a dilettante in the sense that he doesn't work for money, but no scoundrel ever  eludes him!  There are sentences in Sayers' books that make me laugh out loud.  To wit: "'The unidentified body in the bathtub wore only a pince-nez and was unabashedly dead." Most of the Wimsey books are novel-length, but some are collections of stories and the titles of these are also hilarious:  'The Abominable History of the Man with the Copper Fingers'; 'The Vindictive Story of the Footsteps that Ran', etc. Fire or not, these are good fun.

And I'm almost finished a creepy and gripping little book by Shirley Jackson, who wrote the oft-anthologized short story, 'The Lottery'.  We Have Always Lived in the Castle was sent to me by my friend Tommy, along with many other wonderful, wee things that really deserve their own post; they are doll-sized and have their own story.  Tommy said that my dolls remind him of the sisters in the book, Constance and Merricat, so of course I devoured it and he knows me and my dollies so well;  while I was reading, I kept imagining how what the doll versions of these characters might look like.

I have a few Alices that are nearly done, so I'll be back in a few days with some photos, but I hope you'll all stay warmed by fireplaces - real or imaginary - until then. (Unless you're somewhere very hot - then I send you breezes and drinks full of fruit and crushed ice!)

Hey February, You're Okay

I have somewhat ambivalent feelings about February.  Why I hate it: it's cold.  By the time February rolls around, it's been winter for a while and it's still going to continue to be winter for another long  while, at least up here in the tundra Montréalaise.  Why it's better than it might be otherwise: it's short.  Why I love it: my birthday!  So, this past weekend, I turned 35.  For some reason, it felt significant.  I am firmly entrenched in my thirties  - not just dabbling.  I'm an adult.  Yes, technically I've been an adult for 17 years, but I still don't really feel like one, so the whole aging thing still seems a bit absurd to me.  How can I be 35?  Only grown-ups turn 35...  I remember when my mom turned 36 and I felt so sorry for her.  I was 10 at the time and figured her life was pretty much over as far as any kind of fun and excitement were concerned - what more could she possibly have to look forward to?   Well, of course now I know that that's not so very old at all, and I still look forward to so many things, and I still love getting spoiled on my birthday, so thankfully Mr. L doesn't listen to me when I tell him not to...

This year I got a beautiful snowskirt, made by our lovely friend Lienne and her team of Fantasy World Heroes.  These skirts are the perfect thing to wear over your clothes in winter to keep your thighs warms and so much more stylish than the ratty wool blanket I've been known tie around my waist while shuffling about the apartment, bemoaning the cold.  I think the snowskirt was as much a gift for L. as for me - at least he won't have to endure that disturbing sight any longer.  They're on sale at the moment, so now is the perfect time to fancy-up those cold legs...

(photo credit: Fantasy World Heroes)

I also got a very fancy camera bag and some beautiful books from both Mr. L and my dear friend Rebecca.

 
Mr. L gave me this one by Donald Barthelme for my children's book collection, and Rebecca gave me these sweet, illustrated mini-books put out by McSweeney's.

There's something about tiny books that just kills me, and the backs of these make up an illustration, almost like a puzzle:

In addition to all this spoiling-with-gifts, Mr. L took me out for a great meal at an Italian restaurant on Saturday and I further spoiled myself by ordering a glass of 20-year-old port after dinner.  Twenty years does indeed make a difference - it was liquid love.  Finally, just to prove that 20 years might make a difference when it comes to the of maturing port, but not much of one when it comes to maturing me, on Sunday, Mr. L and Rebecca and I watched one of my favourite movies from those awkward tweener years, the unapologetically silly Weird Science. Apparently, my sense of humour has refined very little since 1985 because I still laughed the whole way through. 

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Here's a little video for anyone who might be feeling nostalgic for the holiday season now that we've all had to return to the prosaic realities of 'real' life, courtesy of my dear friends Tara and Matt.  Tara is an actor and generally damn funny lady; we met on the first day of grade 7 in our hometown of Toronto over twenty (!!) years ago now.  Matt is her dashing, rock-star husband from New Jersey, which makes him awesome because that also happens to be where my other husband, Bruce Springsteen, is from. (Yes, Mr. L knows - he's fine with it.)  

They live way too far away in LA now, but, like the troopers  they are, they make it back to the frozen North every year or so that we can all eat stinky French cheese and drain bottles of cheap red wine.  They, along with my friend Jenna,  played a beautiful song at my wedding and now they play for you!  And in case you're feeling unsure that you have the minutes to spare,  this little treat features an accordian, a paper martini, one of my all-time favourite Christmas songs (see the title of this post for clues) and a very handsome grey cat named Archie.  And some Sam Adams.  How could it possibly not be the greatest?