I went and bought dolls online. Not one. Multiple. For myself. And get this: they are not even put together. I bought doll parts.
I innocently checked up on my new BFF Alicia's blog and saw that she was selling these adorable clothespin dolls that she made and also kits on how to make them yourself. Suddenly I felt compelled to have them. And if I must have them, why shouldn't I make them? So with my brain screaming simultaneously: "Get the dolls!" and "WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?"--I shhhed my overactive brain and bought these things, my heart racing as if I were purchasing a high-priced prostitute. I have the intention to be crafty and make dolls. I have no idea what I will do with them. Perhaps I will give them to people I like who...like dolls. Any volunteers?
But don't they make you happy just looking at them?
Speaking of craftsmanship, while there was not one peep of my mentioning Elizabeth's nest (hello, are there any commenters out there?) apparently this tale has caused a great deal of excitement and activity at the former workplace, including an art sculpture inspired by the nesting bathroom activities.
Created by the apparently crafty Michael Small (who knew?), my former boss and Hollywood film composer (who knew again?), the piece is all about (in his words): “Girl finding comfort in a womb-like nest, escaping from her fears, and realizing that she is supported and protected in her cocoon on a spring day at noon.” Either that or “Small plastic figurine on a pile of toilet paper.”
Like all art, it's open to interpretation. My friend Amanda (weather guru? and religious poet?) thinks it should be called "Sensitivity Training in a Nest." Feel free to share your thoughts.
2 comments:
When you are done sewing your dolls, I think you should wrap one in toilet paper and give it Elizabeth.
hahahahaha... hilarious!
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