Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Raggedy Ann

So, I check out of rehab, all refreshed, ready to start anew, and I run across an old friend: "Hey! I love your blog! But I haven't heard much from you recently! What's up?"

"Uh... blog?" I look into it. Apparently that was some bender.

Inappropriate, insensitive comments about rehab and blog-writing benders aside, I've been busy. Not insanely busy, but a combination of just too busy to stay up that extra mrffmrff minutes to pull something out of my ass craft anything worth sharing, crossed with extreme mild dissatisfaction with several previous posts, plus intimidation at others' brilliance. That's my story and I'm sticking to it [I think I just discovered my new tagline].

Country Girl to the rescue! When Miss Rougeneck beckons, you listen*.

I've been instructed as follows:

  • Open your first photo folder.

  • Scroll down to the 10th photo**.

  • Post that photo and story on your blog.

  • Tag five others (or more) friends to do the same.
*Also, this is just as good a place to jump back in with my mindless drivel as anywhere.

When I was a child I had a Raggedy Ann doll, made for me by my Dad's aunt. I don't remember many of my childhood toys, but I remember this one because of a bizarre incident indicative of another time.

When I was four, my family (extended, I think there were five or six adults plus me) had travelled to Guatemala (drove, in a van, through the US and Mexico). I think for several weeks. We stayed at an A-frame cottage of sorts. This cottage was a short walk (I'll guess about five to ten minutes?) on a single path to a beach with spectacular sunsets. Nearly every night that we stayed there, some combination of people would walk out to the beach for the view. One particular night, I (remember, four) had decided NOT to join the beach contingent and stayed with folks at the cottage. Then I changed my mind and headed out for the beach. By myself(here's where the whole "different time" thing comes in, I'll assume).

While touring around Guatemala, I had noticed (or had pointed out to me) that the women often carried their babies on backs in a sling. So I had fashioned (or had fashioned for me) a little sling in which to carry my Raggedy Ann, and set out to the beach with my baby. On the way, a small group of kids saw me (little white blond girl - I was blond then, for real, too - all alone on her way to the beach. Stands out I guess) and started making fun of my contraption, to the point of picking at it such that my baby came out of it. I remember making it to the beach and being very upset about the whole situation. I think the adults tried to console me by telling me they were just jealous of my awesome get-up. I was four, but not stupid. I was far more sure they were offended that I was mocking their culture. True. That's what I thought.

That incident was probably the only reason I remembered that I had a Raggedy Ann doll (or that there was a beach within walking distance of the cabin), but fast forward to the birth of my first child and I decided that my new baby daughter should have a hand-made Raggedy Ann doll. Since the aunt in question had long since passed on, I decided to do it myself.

I diligently went out and shopped (new baby in my fancy new baby-bucket-seat and stroller) for the right pattern, and *exactly* perfect material for clothing and body parts. I cut it out and began by carefully embroidering the eyes, nose and mouth, as well as the "I LOVE YOU" on the heart. It was pain-staking, especially when she stayed bald for a good six months, as *every* *single* *hair* had to be stitched and tied. But finally, I was done. And I presented it to small Miss Norah. And she loved it.

The pattern said its size right on it. But 36" just sounds like a number until you put it up to a small child and realize that 36" is actually three feet tall.

No matter. She loved it. She liked to wrestle with it. It turned out to be not so much the cuddly, cart-your-baby-around type baby, more of a giant-ass, big sister with freaky eyes. And nose. And mouth. And eyebrows (under your eyes? seriously?)

I hesitated to post this one [I could have lied and posted the one of me finishing my first half marathon while four weeks pregnant, but there, I just told the story], as it has our ratty old couches in it, but it reminded me of that story too.

All we have left from this photo are the china cabinet, the Raggedy Ann doll (now! with more shredded eyes!), the black & white blanket and of course, the baby (now nine, so I guess we don't even have that any more [sigh])

My Tagees:

Stone Fox - pretty sure we were separated at birth, though mom must have had a pretty rough nine years of continued gestation. Unless we were both lied to. Which clearly we were if we were separated at birth. So it's totally possible. I'll take the high road and say I'm younger than my birth certificate says, ignoring the fact that it makes me a brilliant over-achieving child who would have had to have been in grade 3 at age uh... 18 months or something. We had nasty lying parents. It was a conspiracy I tells you.

Um... so where was I... oh yeah. Tagees!

Kyla Roma - because she rites real good-like about things and stuffs. I'd love to hear her craft a story about a random photo.

Juli Ryan - for that international flavour.

Planning Queen - Everybody needs a Planning Queen in their corner. Also international.

Wyliekat - bringing it back home. Wylie is the sane version of me.

Off minions! Report back with thine brilliance.

**seriously? Just pick a photo & tell a story. Like I'm going to audit your hard-drive or photo-server.

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  1. I try not to think about what I'm blogging. Cuz there are so many people writing amazing things. I could easily psyche myself out. I love your Raggedy Ann story. It's got everything--travel and crafts and humour and insight. I hope this is easier than the meme I was just sent on Facebook. cheers

  2. Welcome back sugar! Glad I could jupm-start your brilliant blogging ass. I love that even at 4yo you were already crafting contraptions...a sign of your natural born inner enginerd despite the blonde hair.

  3. I think my MIL used the same pattern for the creepy Raggedy Ann doll we have in our basement (originally my wife's, tried to pass down to my daughter but it made her cry).

  4. Ha! You're too cute, I'll be keeping this post in my back pocket! =)

    I love that you made this doll yourself! She'll have it forever.

  5. what a great mom you were to make that doll. Id have given up after buying the pattern. LOL

  6. Wha? Cruel woman, I'm barely back out of blogging rehab myself! ;-}

  7. and also . . .

    "Wylie is the sane version of me."

    wot? sane?