Antique Allure

I’m not really big on collectibles or knickknacks, I’m not really into fancy or dolls, but this Christmas a forgotten childhood wish was fulfilled, I got a Lawton Doll.  Mom handed me my present with the words, “this is a frivolous gift, and it’s something you've always wanted.” I’m always skeptical when I hear those words, never quite trusting them. In this case the history was there to prove her right.

I grew up going to church with the designer/owner of Lawton Dolls, in fact Wendy was my high school Sunday School teacher and her daughters my friends. Every summer, my cousins, brother(s) and I attended an event called Fun in the Son. Fun in the Son (or FITS as it became) was a church day camp where you got to select, crafts, activities or field trips you wanted to participate in. Well, by select I mean raise your hand and hope you got picked for your top choices. But there were two things that became tradition, you had to do them; 1) tour the pizza parlor, 2) tour the Lawton Doll Company.

At the end of both tours you got something, at the pizza parlor you got to “make” a pizza to eat, and at the Doll Company, you got postcards with pictures of the dolls on them. In my family those postcards became collectibles; not quite as precious to baseball or football cards, but not all that different in some ways. (Although I will say I ended up with my brothers’ postcards and I have yet to receive his baseball/football collection). Some postcards were more valuable than others, and you always hoped for ones you didn't have yet.

Postcard storage: Nicole's Lawton Doll Collection.
Please don't touch, thank you!

When I turned 9 years old, my parents did get me a porcelain doll, (which I have since given to my sister to play with), but not a Lawton Doll. I remember feeling confused by the gift, I mean I was nine years old and a tomboy, but also oddly proud of it. In other words, I was my normal, confused self. According to family lore, I shared this news with Wendy one Sunday in church, telling her about my present stating my parents, "got me a doll I could play with, not one that had to sit on a shelf.”  I believe Mom was slightly mortified, yet has always secretly found my childish interpretation humorous.

The childhood importance and awe of touring the factory will always remain embedded in my memory, although, I cannot, for my life, tell you how it started. Over time it has faded, to become a pleasant nostalgic memory. However, my Mother never forgot, and when she stumbled upon a bargain she scooped the dolls up gifting me, my three sisters and herself. (Imagine my confusion when there was a gift to her from us girls I had no knowledge of).

The best part is how appropriate the dolls she randomly ended up with, the characters from Louisa May Alcott’s novel Little Women. 

I got Jo, (of course), Suzi got Meg, Mary got Beth, (we gave her a hard time about being the one whom dies), Heidi got Amy, and Mom of course gifted herself Marmee. Not only that, she picked up a copy of Little Women to read to my sisters who have not read it. I can’t say they were thrilled, I don’t blame them, for once I was glad I wasn’t going to be around to be read to. But then we discovered it was only the first half, and at least for me, the sun shone once again. The reason I can’t stand Little Women is because the second half of that book is just flat out depressing.  According to my memory, (it’s been awhile since I’ve read it) is the first half is brilliant and fun, but the second half, is dreary.

This Christmas I got a Lawton Doll, the childhood spell recast and I think strengthened over my sisters, who never got to tour or collect cards during the company’s hay day. So here’s to bonding over a tomboy’s desire of a porcelain doll, and the quirky adventures and antics of the March sisters.  

It's Official, We Have A Mascot

Aunt Judy is planning on getting dog food, so, until something happens to make it otherwise, the Home Ranch officially has a dog. (She's been sporadically feeding it cat food to this point).

For those who have no idea what I'm talking about, my previous blog post might be helpful  http://timbuktuconstantinople.blogspot.com/2013/12/soapbox-and-dust-mop.html.

For all those on this page, I have been informed Dust Mop is to unwieldy of a name, plus the dog doesn't know it, so we need to rename our little nuisance. Which brings us to our question, does anyone have any ideas? So far the most consistent one I've heard is Benji, which seems a bit lacking in the imagination or originality to me. It may be what sticks, I don't know, but both Aunt Judy and I thought we would consult you first, to see if you had any ideas. (Just so you know, Road Kill will not be in the final running brilliant though it may be).

What name would you give our "new dog?" Seriously, please someone suggest something, otherwise it'll remain Benji same as a million other look alike's.

Soapbox and Dust Mop

I have found my muse, at least for today, its name is Dust Mop; but first, a soapbox moment.

People have this bad habit of thinking it is ok to drop their unwanted pets off in the country. I’m not sure if it’s the idea that they won’t bother anyone or they can fend for themselves and have a chance to live or if it’s just that they’re cheap, whatever the reasoning it’s not ok.

Growing up we went through a lot of dogs and only one was a drop off we kept. The rest made their way to the pound. Thankfully the recent strays around the Home Ranch have been little dogs that you know a good kick to the ribs will deter.

To all the people out there who have, or are considering abandoning their mutts no matter how “friendly” and “loveable”:

1) I don’t want your dog, if I wanted a dog, I’d get a dog and it probably wouldn’t be your dog.

2) I don’t know your dog; to me it is a strange, potentially rabid beast.

3) I certainly do NOT appreciate being growled or barked out in my OWN YARD! Especially at night when I can’t see the size of the mysterious growling.

Dog's "bowl" and "cushion". Thanks cuz.

Which brings us back to Dust Mop; Dust Mop randomly showed up one night, and proceeded to announce its presence by barking and growling at me as I got out of my car, in my garage and went into my house. At first I ignored it thinking it was The Stud.

Studdly was a punting sized dog that showed up months ago with Drowned Rat dog. The Stud had the walk of a jock and the arrogance of a self inflated ego that was grating. Drowned Rat wasn’t so bad, hating Drowned Rat would have been like tripping a blind toddler and taking their toy away, it was so ugly it was pathetic.

As I said, The Stud was a different manner, it was self proclaimed “tough guy” and decided its job was to claim the yard for its own, especially from that threatening, afternoon book reader, on the lawn. So it would charge barking as fast as its little legs could carry it until I’d look up. Then it would stop and run back a few paces, until my back was turned or I went back to your book, then it had to prove its kingship once again. To make matters worse it would decide our lawn needed redecorating compliments of the trash bin, and would try to steal food from the co-op.

It was the Co-op looting that caught Drowned Rat, but Studdly, wilier, remained. On the brighter side, without having to constantly prove itself it became less aggressive and started to roam further, translation, I have to see it less often.  

Don't let the picture fool you.

So two nights ago, when I heard the barking and growling I assumed it was The Stud. But about half way to the house I realized the sound was wrong. (Yes that is how often the obnoxious pest has harassed me; I know its stupid little bark).  It wasn’t until the next morning I saw our new ragamuffin, Dust Mop. Like The Stud before it, Dust Mop has decided to claim the yard for its own.  And it’s gets worse, thanks to my cousins husband who brought dog food for it, it now thinks my parking space is it’s permanent home and resents the inconvenience of having to move when I return to the Home Ranch.

Aunt Judy claims she got to "pet" Dust Mop Sunday morning on her way out, but when she returned that afternoon it was back to barking and growling. I can’t say the same thing, the closest I’ve come to “friendly dog” was this morning when I went to get a picture. It got within 5 feet without barking or growling. I was stunned.

I know Dust Mop is someone’s pet. It has a decent collar. If you are missing your pet, or know whose pet this might be, please come get it. My Dad’s guys have a soft spot for dogs like this and it will be feed tidbits which means it will never leave. And I’m really tired of coming home at night, unloading my car, to be barked and growled at by an ungrateful mutt that’s confused enough to think I’m the intruder!

Sigh, one of these days a dog’s gonna be called Kicked in the Ribs. A name that sums up the story so eloquently.

As to what will happen if Studdly returns, I really have no idea. Only one can be King of the Ranch, of course that’s assuming Studdly returns while Dust Mop is still here. But this is the country, and if you learn one thing young, it's that an outside pet’s life is never guaranteed. 

Museless

It's amazing how the everyday mundane events can be a muse inspiring creative ideas that you'd just love to get to. However when you have extra time to actually get to those creative insights, the thoughts suddenly dry up and you're left bereft.

Giving voice to the multitudes frustration; lots of free time, with nothing to anchor your thoughts and give them substance, flat out stinks! Ah, thank you, I feel better now. Conclusion, I need a proper muse. Now there's something worth ruminating...

Anyone volunteering for position of muse is invited to post their resume below. The author of this blog is not responsible for any posted information remaining private, nor are they responsible for crushed dreams and/or broken hearts. This blog is not an equal opportunity employer and retains the right to be as bias as they please in the selection of muse.