I Broke My Foot...

     Had to get a cast. Had to go to a further away hospital because my local clinic doesn't have a cast room! Imagine. Have to wear a stupid big foot thing OVER the cast so that it stays heel-down. My break is a spiral fracture of my fifth metatarsal. How did I do this? Getting out of bed! My foot caught in the sheet and I went down. I didn't even feel my foot because I hit with my full weight on the pointed corner of the bedside table directly on my ear—it's a lovely shade of bluegreen purple. Grrrrrrr.

     So with all this? Once again, I missed my own deadline. You all will never believe me ever again, so I'm making no promises and that's it.If I ever get things going? I'll let you know. Till then? Not a single word. Not a single letter. About dolls or anything even the slightest bit of a hint about dolls will appear on this blog. I'll talk about the weather. I'll talk about the news (not really—too depressing). I may not talk at all; just post some pix or some such. Maybe about singing. Maybe about opera and singing it. Maybe about who knows what! Most of all, no countdown clock!

      If you ever come back here? It will be to see what horror has befallen me next, no doubt. However, if you are still reading and you want to send in a doll story? The rules from the last entry still apply. 

     So, see you and if I ever get back on track? Look for the news of it all on the doll sites, 'kay? Till next time, love to whomever (whoever?) is reading this. 

Anybody want to tell me...

how it got to be FALL all of a sudden? It seems to me that it was summer just a few days ago. Sigh. I'm working diligently on...writing a novel. Yeah. That's what I said.

Maybe somebody out there in dollyland has heard of NaNoWriMo?

First of all here is a little something they put out on their site:

What in the world is that, you ask? Well, it stands for: NationalNovelWritingMonth. See? What do the underlined letters make? NaNoWriMo, of course! Thousands (I'm not kidding) of people all over the world pledge to write a novel in a month (November)—the folks who designed the project calculate that 50,000 words constitute a "novel" in this context at least—at high speed, throwing as much caution as you can muster to the winds and just letting the words flow. Some few people in the madly typing mass of would-be novelists are actually in pursuit of fame and fortune. The rest of us are mainly doing this to try to unclog the pipeline so some real work will be released, once we write something that is total trash and nobody expects more because of the breakneck speed at which we are working. If you divide 50,000 by 30, what do you get? *madly keying in the numbers in my online calculator* Well, this is what you get: 1666.666666666666666666666666........................... and so on, words—wait for it: A DAY. 

Now if this were say, TALKING? I would have my quota of words out before breakfast and the rest of the day would be, you know, like, free. But it isn't really like TALKING unless someone were following one around with a tape recorder hoping to pick up something wonderful falling from one's lips. I'm lucky when nothing disgusting, like crumbs or something, is falling from my lips. One must actually think up and type that many words every day for 30 days. *runs around room screaming and tearing out hair—making cat look funny*

But I digress. In this wonderfully freeing idea that no one is going to actually read, or even more horrifying, grade or in any way critique my, um, "novel" I can write any and every little thing that comes into my so-called mind. So far, there's actually a sort of murdery mystery sort of thing evolving, taking place last century, in the '60s in Louisiana, just north of Lake Pontchartrain (I even learned to spell that by writing this "novel"—proud of me yet?) in the swamps of the Pearl River. Because I've got an asignment of sorts but no one is going to grade me except on actually writing enough words and doing it for thirty days running, and I could write "Pontchartrain is a lovely lake" 10,000 times and make my quota, instead I do what I've tried to do before but failed. I could write an actual mini-book (50,00 is not a very long book after all) telling a real made-up story with a plot that goes from point A to point A and a half (knowing me) and it would still count. The whole idea of this deal is: You break through all your fears and bad habits and fears and laziness and fears... You get the picture?

And it becomes easier. You don't worry. You just think and type. I used to make up stories when I was a kid home alone having to entertain myself. But the minute I started trying to write them down? Ayeeeeee! Someone might see it and, you know, laugh and poke fun and say, "I suppose you think this is a real story or something." and I'd have to say, "Yeah, I think it is something but mostly it's something like nothing...you know, it sucks and all, and l can't really do this and I know it's an abomination and I should never even look at a crayon again much less a typewriter (yeah, we had those back in the day) and okay, I quit."

But this is fun and I'm having it! So. I'll get back to dollies again soon...MY soon, not necessarily YOUR soon, okay? I've got to do this. It's kind of like writing this blog but more like the blog would be if it were, like, say, a novel. Heh.

Love to all and the dollies and their doings and possibly I will get back to them soon, and even start sewing them some glamourous duds and making patterns for same and like that... I know, promises promises. Well, you never know. I never thought I would be 15600+ words into a novel either. Here's my wisdom of the day in a slogan wrapped in an enigma, etc. etc...."Life is uncertain. Eat dessert first!"

This is just a short 30-day "dessert" detour. You've been through those and even longer hiatuses—or however the plural goes—with me before. So, see you again back in Dollyland soon! (That's my idea of "soon" etc. etc. see above the paragraph above this paragraph...um, above.)

So, Summer's almost gone...

but I'm working, working, working and by cracky, I think I'm beginning to see the spaces opening up! On Sunday last, I tried to put up my work surface—6' x 28" with hanging rods above and filing cabinets underneath—but only managed to bruise the top of my right hand and arm and barely escaped with my skull in one piece! 

     Never the less, the space is clear and as soon as I can find a proper ladder, or a carpenter (professional variety), I'll get that shelf installed good and proper and then lookout: THIS GIRL WILL BE UNSTOPPABLE (she says for the one hundred forty-seventh time)! 

      I've got my copier, printer, etc. combine set up and ready to go so I can copy and size patterns from the little Barbie-sized Genes and 14" Tonners et alia, through the regular Tylers and Genes as well as all their friends and relations to the big American Model gals without having to redraft. Just up or down the percentage! Cool? Oh yes. 

     I have to make some boy things also. Michael Jordan is just in his basketball togs. He must have some slacks, a sport coat and of course a dinner jacket and tux in order to be ready to ask the ladies to dinner and dancing. Clark Gable, decked out as Rhett Butler in white tie and tails, has to have a white dinner jacket and a planter's hat of course. He'll be escorting Miss Goth from Tonner since he's the only one that's even in the height ballpark for her.      

     Humphrey Bogart is hanging around and will need something a little more formal than his trench coat and fedora if he's to be seen with Miss Gene, star of stage and screen and the rest of the Hollywood girls. I guess Trent will have to look sharp if he's to rival the other guys at all. He may have chiseled features but he's no Clark Gable or Batman! I forgot about Batman. He needs something between the Bat Cape and his tux, doesn't he? 

   Cap'n Jack Sparrow is hanging around as well, to escort the girls to the odd masked ball or Halloween party. I won't try to redress him. He's a bit recalcitrant about haircuts and shaves and the like—and with his cutlass and pistol at the ready, I'm not going to insist on anything. Have you seen the shrunken head hanging from his belt? Gives me the shivers, he does.
     My new designs are coming along as well to join the ones I've already done from earlier on. Designs, however, are not yet patterns. That takes a bit of tedious draping and cutting and muslin fittings and so forth.

     I will want to get rid of about 3/4 of the 50 or so Genes et alia I have lounging about the premises. They complain all the time about not having anything to do or anywhere to go and that I'm always playing favorites. Violet and Madra, especially Madra, are very insistent about needing to go here and there. Violet has singing gigs to do, and Madra? She needs to be out there where the casting directors are so she can flaunt her stuff. Auditioning, of course, is out of the question with a star of her, uh, caliber...yes, that's it caliber!

     Vita and various other girls from other studios are hanging about but I haven't done much designing for them as they are still the new girls in town. No doubt as Gene, Madra and lovely Violet and others of their gang begin to change studios and some of the, uh, more experienced stars contemplate retirement, the other girls, especially Miss Goth, will take up more and more of my time. 

     So, my friends, stick around. Things are about to get interesting!

 

Hello there...

Yes, it has been a long time since I last wrote. No, I am not yet ready to open "Dolly Diva Designs, the Shop". Yes, I still intend to do so at some point in my life...but since that life seems harder to get hold of than a puddle of mercury and more trouble to arrange than putting ants in a box, I'm having a bit of organizational difficulty. You see, my staff (that would be me) is still trying to dig out from under moving boxes (I know I've now lived in this house since June 19, 2012. Shut up!) full of, would you believe, fabric and dolls and doll accoutrements (I'm saying it in French, okay? I LIKE French).

BUT here's the deal: I am going to have it all put together by the end of May, and then....

We'll see what happens. 

I have decided that my dolly life now belongs to the Tonner Goth American Model of 2012(?), whichever was the first one—or at least the first one I noticed enough to have to buy. She's the really sexy one in the black lace undies. (I have to keep her out of my husband's line of sight to avoid drool stains.) But what is now the plan, you ask? To make her the doll for whom I make the copies of my concert gowns and the occasional opera costume, as well as for whom I will design original frocks (she, being the requesting patron, will decide what sort of frocks those will be out of which of the myriad fabrics we have in stock). I will be careful to make patterns for those frocks and adjust them for the 16"(± increments of inches) ladies, to make them available in pattern form for those who care to make them to their own standards of couture, haute or otherwise. I will also try to make a few dresses for the shorter ladies as well for those who don't really themselves relish the act of stitching up/keeping up with the wardrobe demands of their dollies.

I will be leaving hats, purses, gloves, and so on mostly to other providers, though I will essay the occasional accessory or set thereof when Ms. Goth decides to throw a fit because absolutely nothing she sees matches what is in her mind's eye. Sheesh. Sometimes, these girls... oh never mind.

Anyway, just thought I ought to keep in touch with my reader...er, readers. *smiles widely, bats eyelashes* So am doing so here. Once again, when the goods—at least the ones I've managed to pry temporarily out of the clutches of Ms. Goth—are in my hot little hands, they will be photographed, sketched out, or otherwise illustrated for your benefit and announced on the dolly pages. Until that utopian moment arrives, I will keep in touch here.

Bye all!

I'm Baaaaack...for a bit anyway!

My friends, I am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel! I've actually begun to work on my doll/sewing/writing room. Is that amazing? Is that fantastic? Are the clouds clapping their hands in glee? So okay, probably not. But I am at least beginning to have some hope that I will see the floor again in here, perhaps e're this year ends even. Then we shall see what comes forth, shall we not? No, no. I am not promising dolly stuff. Not at all. Don't you remember? It will be when it IS. That is Cryptic for "when you see the picture in your e-mail on the dolly lists, then there will be actual stuff for sale right here on Dolly Diva Designs, which you can then purchase for ridiculous prices." I'm not saying which way ridiculous, mind you. It depends on how needy I am at the time! Or how much it cost me to make or put forth or otherwise procure said merchandise. But I do promise that I will entertain all offers as I want to get rid of some stuff around here. I do NOT want to die with all my toys. I want them to be scattered about across the land in good homes with responsible parents, you know?

Okay. What else has been happening around here? Well, I have written a piece of fiction. Can you imagine? ME? Fiction? Who woulda thought it? I do have a small amount of literary imagination. I have, for example, imagined that I would be deep in Merchandising Land by now, making and selling doll clothes, doll clothes patterns of my own design, thinning the mass of dollhood in my garage by offering the ladies for sale—NO! Not THAT way! They would be adopted by above mentioned responsible parents, etc. etc. etc., and be beautifully clothed. Also, there would be wonderful designs flowing from my pen and paintbrush, making them whine and pule to their new mothers—and fathers too, of course—about how if they really were loved and adored they would have lots more clothes like the ones on Shirley's blog, and like that. You know how they are, those doll girls. Always wanting this trinket, that outfit, those shoes, a couple handbags to match, hats, gloves, and on and on. Not to mention the occasional boyfriend with an extensive wardrobe of his, uh, their own. Let's not even mention the sports equipment they would need....

So I'm still dreaming. So maybe someday those dreams will come true. Keep looking, folks. You may soon be ... Now, Shirl. Do NOT get the hopes of these people, their dolls, and the rest of the civilized (and uncivilized too why not) world—where was I oh yeah—up! Remember? Picture on Doll List? 

Heh. Okay. See you guys later. I've got some work to do!

Tah!