Friday, July 29, 2011


Two of my children had to wear eye patches when they were little, starting at or before age two. Both had slight crossing that was only apparent when they were sick or very tired. They got it from me! We had amblyopia or "lazy eye." My Zachary even had eye surgery when he was 3 years-old. Now, at age 22, he doesn't need even to wear glasses!

My vision problems were not caught until I was 7. There was no noticeable crossing of my eyes but one eye was not even trying to see because of the mismatch of the two images. The patching for the next 3-4 years was horrible from my "point of view"! They were hot, made of latex or something I was allergic to, made the world a dark place because my "good" eye was patched, and were a source of embarrassment. My mother, usually a stickler for honesty, told me that I could make up stories about being a pirate, having my eye poked out by a pointy object, or such, not that I really fooled anyone. But the stories were a comfort to me! Now, they say that patching at that age is too late to be effective.

At least my children didn't have to wear patches often in public, because we home schooled nor when they were as old as I was. They were not always happy to wear the patches but it was more of an annoyance than embarrassment!!

Monday, July 25, 2011

Hello, blog, old friend!
Lots of water has passed under the bridge, so to speak, since last I posted here.
A school year
A funeral
A wedding

I flew from Texas to Baltimore in April to see my very ill sister. Then, at the end of May drove with two of my "children" across the south, where we visited friends in Georgia. Then, as we were proceeding up the coast on our way to Maryland for my son's wedding, we got the news that we had lost my sister.

I was able to attend the funeral with four of my children because they were already assembling nearby for the wedding that would be three days later. It is amazing to think of Life, Death, Wedding, Happiness, and Sadness all intertwined in the same week. We may try but we are unable to completely separate time into neat segments!

This summer I have spent a lot of time reminiscing about my childhood. Serious reminiscing and questioning. Thinking about what made me who I am; why were my sister and I so different? What are the weaknesses in myself that I refuse to admit? What are the things that I had hoped to accomplish? And which of these hopes and dreams are still possible?

In the process of these more serious contemplations some "childish" dreams have been recalled. I guess that is why I have had a renewed interest in the dolls of my childhood, dolls from the 1950's through the 1970's and even some more recent! I have bought some old dolls like I never had, some that I remember seeing after I had "outgrown" dolls. Of course, I never outgrew dolls but spent some wonderful years raising my own living dolls, my lovely six children. They are the joy of my life and my MAGNUM OPUS.

I have returned to doll making this summer with the dream of at some point selling dolls, dolls that little girls can actually love and play with, as my sister and I loved and played with the very special dolls we had.