Ready To Ship

Steph’s Fabric Dolls are done and ready to ship…

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Motel Pour

They’re pouring the floor for the new motel in Victor, the Cobblestone. The sun was rising and it shined a nice glow on the scene this morning.

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New Factory

A couple of nights ago I went to bed early and realized that the sound of Steph’s sewing machine had stopped. She’s been working at the dining room table, which is in the center of the house, and out of consideration for my sleep she had stopped production on her Fabric Doll outfits.

The next morning I suggested she move the whole operation into the Family Room which has a sliding door, fireplace and TV. What more could a factory worker want?

I think she likes it, and I don’t hear nuttin…

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I stole a picture off of Steph’s Facebook that shows her two Tennessee grand-daughters in the snuggle position. This is half the destination of her latest craft stuff…

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Ready To Go

Steph’s ready to assemble the outfits for her four fabric dolls. I have to admit I’m shocked by the diversity of this project, I thought it would be just a few outfits per doll. They were laid out on the dining room table this morning so I grabbed some shots.

Here’s the counts per doll: 8 swimsuits, 12 summer dresses, 19 dresses, 21 skirts, 16 shorts, 5 pants and 32 tops. Wow…

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Happy Hollowdays

It’s beginning to look a lot like… cold backward signs, frozen ponds and hoar frost.

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Outfit Factory

Steph has turned the dining room table and the family room into an Outfit Factory for her fabric doll granddaughter Christmas gifts. It’s fine with me, I only go in there to let Piper in and out on the deck, and it is her birthday after all, she can do as she pleases.

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The NeXht great thing…

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Fabric Dolls

Steph has two young grand-daughters in Tennessee, one in Washington and another in Washington that might as well be. She’s creating her own design Fabric Dolls for each of them for Christmas. The first two rolled off the sewing table today with press on clothes to follow. I’ll get some shots when they’re ready.

She also has a star quarterback teenage grandson in Tennessee but I don’t think he’s getting one of these…

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Back in the late sixties I got into a fight with the mother of my daughter‘s pimp. He caught me with a right to the chin that missed with his fist, but cut me open with his metallic watch band. Blood was squirting out which ended the fight and I walked out to the stairs of the two story apartment in the darkest of Oakland slums and watched the blood flow down the steps onto the street. I was stoned on 500M of top grade acid at the time and it seemed like a river to me. Somehow I ended up at the ER and they patched me up and to this day I can’t find that scar, probably because of the crazy beard thing hanging off my chin.

Life is but an accumilation of scars. Some are physical which you can hide and forget about, while the mental ones not so much. Most of them you get over and push off to the back of your brain while others rear their ugly head the moment you open your eyes in the morning. Sometimes other people scar you so deeply to the point that their apology doesn’t heal the wound. I forgave the pimp, but that happened a long time ago…

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