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This sometimes thankless task of which I speak is when I was full time selling on ebay before this whole book thing came about, sewing and sewing for dolls, spending ridiculous amounts of time trying to get everything just right. Sometimes a doll would do quite well. Other times, they would go for a song.
It didn’t matter, I could not help myself; I had to continue spending hours, even knowing that it was sometimes all for naught. These girls came to me for help! Who was I to tell them “Nay”?
So, how do you make the path ahead smoother? By fantasizing of course!
Picture it: Antiques Roadshow, and the year is 2113. A woman sits at a round table, her hands nervously clasping and unclasping. The equally nervous appraiser says, “All right, why don’t you show everyone what you brought?”
The woman opens the flaps of an old United States Postal Service (before they went out of business in 2023 (just joking, Julie!)) Priority Mail box, meanwhile the appraiser appears to be physically having to restrain himself from reaching out to assist her, his hands twitching back and forth.
A beautiful doll is unearthed.
The air is full of electricity. There is a pregnant pause. Finally, the appraiser speaks. “When you pulled this precious girl out of the box, I almost fainted with excitement. I wanted our viewers at home and on Mars to experience the same feeling I felt, which is why I had you do it again.”
He gently smoothed the little doll’s dress before continuing, “I won’t toy with you, this is a Ruth original.And the piece de la resistance? You have the actual note the Ruth herself sent along! This is from her black and white Target dollar section note phase. History has it that she really liked this paper so was sparing in her use of it, preferring instead to make grocery lists on it so that she could have beauty in everyday life. These notes hardly ever survived! Because no one knew! And here you are, and you have this note….”
The appraiser paused to wipe a tear from his eye – although he pretended to be blotting his brow. He fooled no one. “I have to know, where did you get her and how much did you pay?”
There was a gasp along with a lot of heads shaking in disbelief from the crowd that had gathered at a respectable distance behind the little table.
The appraiser breaks protocol, addressing the crowd. “It’s a shame, isn’t it? Don’t you wish you could go back in time and buy a dozen?”
The crowd fervently nods while the woman flushes with even greater pleasure, grateful that her ancestor had been so very wise.
The moral of the story is, you have to believe in yourself.
As I’ve written in my upcoming book, “Hazel Twigg and the Hollyhock Hideaway,” SEVERAL dolls have passed through these gates. Alas, all of them cannot be featured in the book itself, but they still deserve some sort of mention and this seems as good a place as any. I’ll highlight a doll or two every week! Here goes.
There was a little girl,
Who had a little curl,
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good,
She was very good indeed,
But when she was bad she was horrid.
Do you see that? Do you SEE that curl?! I think this little stinker put that there HERSELF. That, or Mother Nature! Because it wouldn’t budge. And after the niceties and the brief honeymoon were over, I can see why! This sweet little thing – Alice, her name was. I still wake up screaming – became a monster!
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