Folk Art Santa Doll

I've always wanted to make a Santa doll.  But as it's been done so many gillions of times, it seemed pointless..."Really?  Aren't there enough Santa dolls in the world?"  Well, I gave in, and made one, and I like him.  More importantly, Phil likes him, and his strong reaction to a doll--positive or negative--usually tells me I hit the mark I was aiming for.

Next year I'm planning a series of Tompte dolls--the little Scandinavian gnome fellows with the pointy red hats.  Mine may be more adventurous in their collective fashion sense, but there's something about them that tickles me.

For the now, here is my version of a folk art Santa, Belsnickle, St. Nicholas, Father Christmas, Hogfather, Pere Noel, Popo Gigo, you get the drift.  Happy Solstice, y'all.

 

 

 

Granny Swims

A friend saw this doll head I was working on, and said, "Oh he's wonderful!" so I didn't have the heart to tell her He is a She.  But no matter.  It made me realize how a human's life really does go full circle--if we're lucky enough to get very old.  My mom taped a bow to my head when I was a baby because I had such whispy hair nobody could tell I was a girl.  I'll probably have to do the same thing in my last decade or so.  Ha!

At any rate, here's one of the doll show dolls I'm working on.  I call her Granny Swims.  She'll have an old-fashioned bathing suit, a swim floaty with a ducky head, and a straw hat (because a lady always looks out for her complexion).  Her hair is currently a wad of mohair laying over her bald little head. 

Is it restoration or just a Do-Over?

I've always wanted a Boudoir doll.  Sultry, daring and evocative of an age in which women were stepping out and making a little noise.  I did find one, but she was in pretty bad shape.  Luckily I have a doll restorer friend who taught me how to repair the old composition dolls, and I was able to do what this girl needed done.  She sat on a shelf, painted only with the flesh tone color, for several weeks.  To be honest, I was afraid I'd botch the paint job.  (I know, we can always repaint, but...)

Today I was painting commissions and doll-show dolls, when I noticed her.  I'm sure it was all in my head, but it seemed like she said, "Hey love.  As long as you've got the paint and brushes out, can you give a girl a little help?"  So I painted her.  She still needs a body, and I've got another red wig for her.  The fabric she's wrapped with in the photo will make her a set of pajamas. 

My friend Dorothy held the doll head while I took a photo--so glad she reminded me to get a "before".

Is it my imagination, or do I look a little like a mad scientist here?

I have named her Joan.

 

Flash mob?

Not sure it counts as a mob, given that military personnel can be so elegant and noble in their bearing, but I've posted this two years running on FB, because every time I watch it, I am undone by the way humans can gather to create such beauty.  Hoping the link works here...please enjoy it?  It is a blessing that I wish I could share with everyone.

And Merry Christmas to all of you.

http://youtu.be/gIoSga7tZPg

Missing my kids during the holidays...

I'm usually pretty much okay with them all being scattered over the US.  Shoot, the last few years they were in England and Japan as well.  They're all back in the states, except the youngest daughter in Kuwait for a deployment.  They know I love them, and I know they love me, even if we don't get to hug as often as we want. 

Part of being an Air Force family means accepting that we have to love each other over many miles, and sometimes won't see one another for several years at a time.  None of us are wealthy enough to afford plane tickets to run here and there, but I have a fantasy of getting them all together in once place again--something that hasn't happened in the sixteen years since they were all living at home.

I'm not the most sentimental of moms or grannies, but once in a while, I sure wish I had one of those great long tables and could have all of them, their spouses and kidletts all gathered around it.  But with them scattered in five different states, I will have to make do with imagining it.

In the meantime, I think I'll post pictures of my great kids and their kids.

Starting from eldest to youngest:

Casey, who married Josh, and has Cody, Autumn, Jennifer, and Freddy.

Jason, who has Gavin, Dylan, and Trevor.

 

Josh, who married Montana and has Juniper (along with two grand-dogs and a very large cat.) 

Renee, who married Jeremy and has Vincent and Connor (along with one grand-dog and two medium cats.)

 

I miss them all greatly, but they are living good lives, they are well and happy, and they make me a very proud mom.

Dreaming of irises...

This is not a new thing, to those who know I have the Iris Virus.  There are a few autumn blooms out there right this minute, because our weather is so mild this time of year, and the Rebloomers (those that sometimes bloom twice a year) planted last spring are having their first chance to shine.

These aren't the rebloomers--just an old photo from last spring.  :~D

But this time, I was not dreaming of iris here at our house, or even of the iris beds I'll create when I take them to Arizona with us.  Last night I had a strange dream...Al Pacino figured heavily, but that was a different part of the dream which we will ignore for the now.  To the point: there was a Rest Home across the street from where I sat drinking coffee.  I have no idea where the coffee place was--you know odd and nebulous dreams can be--but some old people who lived in the home sat around a small courtyard in front of their place.  They were surrounded by a few scraggly iris trying to bloom, struggling in dismally neglected beds empty of little but dirt and wind-blown debris.

In my dream, I was suddenly overjoyed because I knew this was the way to fulfill a longing I've had--to volunteer my gardening skills!  Not to the local Master Gardener Program, where my hours are logged and credit duly charted in return for "certification".  I don't want my hours charted--I want to make a difference for real people!  In the dream, it was clear: I would take care of the Rest Home gardens, make them bloom again for those old people who could not do it themselves.

Those who know me well know that I have very frequent and vivid dreams.  The husband is often entertained by my morning tales of bizarre nocturnal adventures, and I have them so often we just chalk it up to Jan's Weirditude.  But once in a while, I dream of something that simply will not leave me, and I think about it all day, realizing this one was not a case of taking out the mental trash, but instead a message I should listen to.

This dream of the old people's garden was just such a dream, and I am in tears over how happy it makes me.  The town we're moving to, Chino Valley, AZ, has a very large population of elders, with a disproportionate number of elder homes for its size (only 10K population) and a facility for special needs residents as well.  I know now where I can plant--and share--some of my abundant iris blessings.

I hope your week is going well, and at least one of your dreams come true.