I ran across this photo today as I was trying to keep my mind off of sweating. It is in the 90s today and we haven't installed our air conditioner in the front room yet. We live on the top floor of a three-story walk-up in Evanston (just north of Chicago, IL) and this bad boy can really retain some heat. Our living room window faces west, and from noon on, we are baking in a dark clay brick oven. Bleck.
Anyhow, I digress. These two awesome dolls were made by my Gramma (me mum's mum) for my cousin Christina and I when we were young. I recall Gramma asking what colour we wanted the eyes and hair to be. My doll at one time had luxuriant pink locks (she's the one on the right), while her cousin was a blond, blue-eyed beauty. Sadly, that yarn was tasty to some mice, and so they decided to give our girls a trim.
So here's to the sweetest dolls ever - they have moved on into that plane where dolls roam free of their own accord, no longer bound to be manipulated by tiny hand, or bent by the will of others.
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