Look who I found in my waterbed this morning!!

ANGEL MAN!!..

Because I was so sleep deprived the other night, I thought he wasn't real. But, before you knew it, he was talking to me. I couldn't understand what he was saying, so I asked him what language he was speaking. He said "Angelish"..."oh I replied", "is that sort of like Anglish"? "Yes, he said", whilst flexing his muscles. So I said, "who gives a shit"... come here big boy .."just don't wake me from my dream".

..........that stinking balonie got in here again. Fowl mouthed little tart.

Nevermind, I'm back in the drivers seat.


I was thinking about Christmas's past a bit this afternoon, when a blogger mentioned that he was cutting back on his Christmas presents to his kids because he thought that in a year or so they would not remember it anyway...or it was broken etc. So, I started thinking back.

I remember getting my first doll, I must have been about 4 years old. She was made of wood, and had "hair." I called her "Dolly." She had hair and that was very important to me, because I loved dolls with hair. My mom had made her a blue "nubbly" kind of winter coat, a few dresses and an apron. She had little white shoes, that came off! I loved her, and I remember her today. I played with her that year, until the paint peeled off her rosy cheeks, and unfortunately, I cut her hair. Well, you see I loved the cutting of the hair, and made a few minor changes to her "look." I took her everywhere, she never left my side. By this time I had scalped Dolly several times, but mom always glued her wig hair back on.

When Christmas came around next year, my mom must of thought that I would like another doll, because Dolly had pretty well been put throught the wringer, so to speak.

Christmas morning came around, and there was this huge doll under the tree, in a box. She had golden hair, lips like cherries, and a beautifull while lace dress. I was awestruck. But didn't run up to the doll and throw myself at the box and open it up. As my mother told me years later, I went into the bedroom and cried. Here she thought she had got me the perfect doll, and I was in tears!! As she told me later, she went into the bedroom and asked me what was wrong, I tearfully told her, I wanted my old doll back. She told me you still have your old doll. NO, I said, if Santa gives me a new doll he takes the old doll back!! Mom said she showed me my old doll and Santa wouldn't take it back because it was still here!!

I actually remember going back into the living room and looking at the doll, not really believing that if I took her out of the box, my other one would not disappear. My mom helped me open it up. What I don't remember is when Mom told me that I hung on to my old doll for dear life in the living room. But, once it was opened and I got to see it, I crept up to it like a cat...I saw it had moving arms and legs, and a little teenie weenie bottle to feed the baby with. I put my old dolly down somewhat hesitantly, but with some encouragement by my parents I explored my new baby. But old and new Dolly were always together, I never let her go. Old dolly fell apart after years of doll abuse. My brother threw her in a tree, ran over her with his bicycle, and later set her on fire. Okay, he didn't set her on fire, lets just call it an incident. A lot of dolls came and went after that, but Dolly will always be my favourite.