I saw JonBenet Ramsey’s news yesterday.  Poor girl.  She looked like a perfect little doll.  So I thought I’d blog about dolls today.

A very very dear friend of mine, Pat, has a PhD in English (Sorry, Pat.  I can’t remember.  It’s not Physics, is it?), is a writer, and also a doll expert.  She goes to the doll shows and she knows the values of the dolls like a walking encyclopedia.   I remembered Pat used to bring those super cute Madame Alexander® dolls to the store.

 

I saw JonBenet Ramsey's news yesterday.  Poor girl.  She looked like a perfect little doll.  So I thought I'd blog about dolls today.  A very very dear friend of mine, Pat, has a PhD in English (Sorry, Pat.  I can't remember.  It's not Physics, is it?), is a writer, and also a doll expert.  She goes to the doll shows and she knows the values of the dolls like a walking encyclopedia.   I remembered Pat used to bring those super cute Madame Alexander® dolls to the store.

 

Yes.  We used to run a store in the wilderness where buses couldn’t reach and birds refused to land.  We complained every single day why there weren’t lots of people shopping in the store.  I wondered why.

Anyway, I don’t know too much about dolls, but I did have two dolls when I was a child.  I hope they were not collectible items or super expensive because they died eventually.  They were Samantha, the brunette, and Monique, the blond.

Since day one, I made them hate each other.  The reasons were simple really.  Monique hated Sam because she was ugly.  Sam was always jealous of Monique because she was a natural blond.  I was sort of gentle with them at the beginning.  They just sat there staring at each other with hatred.  Then came the fist fights, pulled each other’s hair out, drew funny tattoos on each other’s faces in INK.  Eventually, they broke each other’s arms and legs.  Both were severely handicapped.  Finally, their heads broke off.  Well, that was the tragic ending of dolls in my childhood.  After that, I was no longer interested in doll fights.  The process was kind of like the movie, Death Becomes Her, except that there was definitely no love potion involved.

 

Yes.  We used to run a store in the wilderness where buses couldn't reach and birds refused to land.  We complained every single day why there weren't lots of people shopping in the store.  I wondered why.  Anyway, I don't know too much about dolls, but I did have two dolls when I was a child.  I hope they were not collectible items or super expensive because they died eventually.  They were Samantha, the brunette, and Monique, the blond.  Since day one, I made them hate each other.  The reasons were simple really.  Monique hated Sam because she was ugly.  Sam was always jealous of Monique because she was a blond.  I was sort of gentle with them at the beginning.  They just sat there staring at each other with hatred.  Then came the fist fights, pulled each other's hair out, drew funny tattoos on each other's faces in INK.  Eventually, they broke each other's arms and legs.  Both were severely handicapped.  Finally, their heads broke off.  Well, that was the tragic ending of dolls in my childhood.  After that, I was no longer interested in doll fights.  The process was kind of like the movie, Death Becomes Her, except that there was definitely no love potion involved.

 

I managed to find a few cute dolls today.  Thanks to Google.

 

This one is called, Precious Moments Friends Come Rain or Shine Meow Doll.  It's available at QVC.

 

This one is called, Precious Moments Friends Come Rain or Shine Meow Doll.  It’s available at QVC.

 

This one is called, FAO Schwarz 150th Anniversary Madame Alexander Wendy Doll.  It's available at FAO.

 

This one is called, FAO Schwarz 150th Anniversary Madame Alexander Wendy Doll.  It’s available at FAO.

“What’s the moral of the story today,” you asked.  Simple.  Dolls wake up at night and walk about the house when you are asleep.  They do.  Whenever you think it’s just the noise the house makes, it is not.  It’s THEM.