The doll bed is finished!

Complete with mattress pad, sheet set, three pillows and reversible comforter. All times two.

Whew!

Now... how am I going to wrap it?

The doll bed, Day 1

Lesson: One is never too old to be naive. Or unrealistic, whichever fits.

So, a month ago while we're working on projects for the library bazaar, we're at a friend's barn and workshop indulging in her husband's drills and looking for screws and sanding like the little bazaar elves we are. I happen to look up and there, atop a metal file cabinet which came with the barn, is what looks to be a bunk bed built for a doll. I tell the owner if she ever wishes to dispose of it, call me first. And, being the friend that she is, she says it came with the place, she doesn't want it, knock myself out.

Truer words were never spoken.

I'm thinking, aha! Christmas present for Emily, 4 1/2 year-old granddaughter who's into dolls and all things pink. I'll just strip this down, paint it to match her room, make fresh bedding for it, and voila! Christmas gift.

Naive. Or unrealistic.

Looking at the wallpaper which covered the bed's foundation, I'm guessing this was made in the 60s. Having worked on it for a while, I'm thinking it was home made. And the paint? Oh, the paint was glued on.

Realizing that the wonderful weather we're having isn't going to last forever and stripping paint is really an outdoor task, I determined today was the day. I bought neoprene gloves and found that stripper is now available spray on. Perfect for small projects. I bought a can. Guaranteed to remove three coats of latex, stain, and all matter in between.

Tsk, tsk. Did I really believe that?

I set up shop outside, cut a garbage bag to catch the drips, put on the gloves, and started spraying. In the meantime, I read the directions where they hinted that a plastic scraper would come in handy. Never mind that, I had grade 3 steel wool saved from a long-ago project. Never dispose of (de)construction items.

About 45 minutes later I realized two things: I needed more stripper and a plastic scraper would come in handy. As well as a little brush for getting into the lovely turns on the spindles of the bed.

Three hours and a trip to Walmart later, I'm in possession of an extra pair of gloves, two more packages of steel wool, a scraper, a brush, and the last two cans of stripper on the shelf. I'm also calling it a day.

The paint is simply not coming off the bottom inside rails of the bed. My glove fingers are sticking (stuck) to one another. I'm tired of sitting in the damp grass. While I may actually spray more stripper on the little, no-fuss-how-much-time-can-this-take project, I'm going to sandpaper it first.

Just as soon as I have a conversation with my generous friend.

Happy birthday to Matt!

Today son #1 is 34. Where does the time go? And how technology changes.

Once he left the nest where we celebrated with swimming parties and basketball parties and overnights, we'd call and sing "happy birthday" to him. Then came the era of texting and since we didn't want to disturb him at work with our off-key singing, I'd text the song to him.

But today... today we did FaceTime. How wonderful to see him in his robe in his kitchen with the kids around and eating breakfast. It's Emily's first day of pre-kindergarten (Where does the time really go? Wasn't she just born last year?) and everyone was excited.

So we wished him 'happy birthday' and we sang.

Off-key. Lucky man... not only did he hear us, he could see us!

Happy birthday, Matt!

The way of it

It's taken four years, but granddaughter Emily who will be 4 next week, has broken the code to her granddaddy's heart. And credit card.

Said granddad kept Emily and Jack this morning while their mom had an appointment. A grand time was had by all, I gather, and they eventually went out to lunch. Then Emily and her pigeon--uh, granddad--went shopping at the NorthPark Disney Store without mom's supervision.

Although warned via text from me to be careful in all non-approved parental purchases, my spouse texted back that he had learned one could never have too many shoes.

He also now knows the term "jelly shoes", an item NOT on mom's shopping list.

But then, isn't that what Granddaddys are for?

Barbie goes home

Much as I enjoyed the Barbie experience with the three-(almost four)-year-old granddaughter, I can't say I was sorry to see Barbie move on out of the living room. Indeed, since she's been cleaned up, so to speak, she will soon be moving to the public library for a little exhibition, kitchen, convertible and all.

Our Saturday morning trip to the Big Box to get a little something for younger brother Jack was an exercise in decision making. First question: once we secured Jack a little something, could she have something? I assured her she could. We hit the clearance aisle for Jack and after picking out three packages of small cars, I was informed that that "was enough." On to the Barbie/Disney princess aisles. It took several passes before we settled on a Snow White tiara and a Snow White ballerina Barbie, a masterpiece of cross-promotion if there ever was one. She wanted one more item--Jack had three packages--but I informed her that we were on a budget and her two equalled his three. She didn't quibble, but did manage to score each of them a bath scrubby with an animal affixed.

But my question is, how can a little granddaughter, no bigger than a minute, manage to set a household on its ear in less than 24 hours? I can only think of one room which didn't get some "droppings". Her hair clips were even in our bathroom and we have yet to find Barbie's other red shoe.

Barbie takes over...

... the living room, kitchen, study... you name it, no room has been safe from the Barbie invasion.

First of all, they all gathered for lunch:


Then two of my "more experienced" Barbies went for a drive.


No telling where they'll go next!

As an aside, I wasn't able, even with really savvy help, to get the stove to work. But then, my current Barbie fan and I didn't need to rotisserie a turkey in order to have a good time.

Setting up housekeeping for Barbie

Our granddaughter Emily is coming to spend the night with us. Her granddaddy wanted to know what we were going to do. Very simple, I told him, we're going to play Barbie!

Barbie was a very big (and new) item when I was a little girl. I had several Barbies and Kens. Looking into the boxes I have left, I have three Barbies and two Kens. They're in good, if loved, condition and have original clothes. I wish I still had the wardrobes which my sister and I hand-sewed, but either those things were tossed or my sister has them.

However, Barbie needs now, and needed then, all sorts of accompanying items. At my house she had an apartment which lined one wall of my sister's bedroom. The rooms were divided by pieces of paneling and the floors were a strip of linoleum from the house's new addition. My mother made beds from cigar boxes and we bought a kitchen and a car.

Barbie had it all--and I still have a lot of it.

So to celebrate Emily's visit, I dug it all out and cleaned it up. The beds are gone, but the kitchen is still in remarkable condition for something approaching 50 years old. There are dishes for the dishwasher, groceries for the refrigerator and staples for the pantry. I'm going to let Emily arrange all that.

Here's a look at the kitchen:


And a closer look at the oven. See the turkey? It's on a rotisserie. I replaced the batteries, but it won't turn although the flashlight bulb which makes the elements glow is lighting, so I know current is getting through. I'm going to work on it.



Finally, no self-respecting girl would be without a convertible and here's Barbie's, complete with personalized plate.



Once I get Barbie and Ken in shipshape, I'll post more photos.

Happy birthday, sweetheart!

Three years ago today, and six weeks before expected, our first grandchild was born. Emily could be held in her daddy's hand. She was big enough to breathe on her own, but not developed sufficiently to suck. Thus began three weeks in the NICU.

We treated her as if she were made of glass. Her uncle was afraid to hold her at her christening eight weeks later. She was cosseted, prized, and handled with utmost care.

Yesterday we celebrated with a birthday party and an active little girl who is growing taller every day. It looks like she'll be slim and athletic, with lovely verbal skills and a sharp wit.

Happy birthday, Emily.

And thank you, God.