Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny

When did Barbie get so small? I know it has been years, and I do mean years, since my daughter last played with Barbies. I thought I had a clear memory of Barbie & all her friends. I was mistaken.

Perhaps it's because I've gotten used to the size of a ball-jointed dolls, that she seemed so small. I was asked to sew a couple of Barbie doll outfits for a friend, (a gift for her niece). I got the patterns, and cut the first dress out of a bright yellow fabric with random red squares on it. As I held the skirt piece up, I looked at how small it was, and how incredibly tiny the waist was. Could this really be right? Was the pattern somehow, shrunken? I began to sew it, but doubts assailed my mind. With the dress finished, I held it up. The entire dress (from a retro pattern) was only 5 or 6 inches tall. And the waist.... barely two fingers wide...maybe one.

Doubt heavy in my mind, I tried to think of who had daughters of the Barbie doll playing age. I called and asked a friend from church if her daughter would consider loaning me a standard size Barbie. After receiving the small blond doll at church, I took it home. The dress fit perfectly, and was quite cute too.

Later after making a pair of jeans, which took Cat (my daughter)'s nimble fingers to turn right side out, we both looked at their size with amazement.

We stood Barbie next to Chi (ball-jointed doll) and next to Mollie (an American Girl doll). The comparison was surprising. While was a bit shorter than Mollie (and half her width), they both towered above Barbie.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised, as I spent years walking on both stray legos and Barbie's itsy bitsy teeny tiny high heel shoes, as I crossed the living room in the dark.

Strangest Thing I Ever Saw in a Dish Drainer

I raised three kids, surviving the imaginative teenage years, with only a few odd moments. Having kids means I have washed and air dried all fashion of things. I've washed stuffed animals, barbie dolls, Lego's (how else do you get jelly off them?), basketballs, Frisbees, and jewelery. One time when we were having ice cream sundaes for dinner, my son used his mace (think medieval weapon) to open the whipped cream can. So of course, that had to be washed. (a mace, sitting in a dish drainer, next to my Blue Willow china!) I thought I'd seen most every manner of strange item in my dish drainer.

I was wrong.

My daughter, Cat, is fascinated with all things Japanese, and thus owns a ball jointed doll. This is a doll made of resin, with individual body parts (arms, torso, head, etc) strung together with an internal string system. Well, this weekend, Cat decided to totally dismantle the doll, and clean it thoroughly.

This definitely qualifies as the strangest thing I have ever seen in a dish drainer!

My daughter's new obsession

My daughter, Cat, who is almost 20 years old has a new obsession. Actually, it's not that new really. She's been obsessed with anything Japanese for many years now. My kitchen cupboards are filled with ingredients I can't pronounce, much less understand what are. There are books in our bookcases (I'm a readaholic, I've bookcases everywhere), that have symbols instead of letters, and are read back to front. Many icons on this computer are labled with words I don't know. She cooks Japanese, speaks rudimentary Japanese, and hopes to go there someday (perhaps to live!)

In high school, she discovered a Japanese passion... collecting, customizing, painting, sewing for, and talking about Ball Jointed Dolls. The dolls come in several sizes, including an 18" one. They remind me of marianettes without the controlling strings. And with elf ears.

Well, Cat saved up for one, and finally, via the magic of pay pal and our computer, ordered from an American company who gets the parts from Japan, and assembles them here. Then the wait began. Every day for months, I was informed of the progress of the delivery of the parts to that company. Then the long wait until those parts were assembled, stuffed in a yellow silk-like sack, put in a box, and shipped here. She agonized, complained, chittered with excitement, and finally, her ball jointed doll arrived here. I thought things would calm down then.

Not a chance.

Then she had to order hair for her bald doll. And make clothes. After all, you can't carry around a naked doll! My creative daughter decifered directions from a site, and made jeans and a top for Chi, her doll. From keychains, she created tennis shoes emblazened with Hello Kitty.

Then Chi started coming everywhere with us. To the movies. To the store. To school. To church, where our beloved greeter, Janet, declared jokingly, 'get that ugly kid away from me!' Now I find myself often standing at a checkout, holding Chi, like she was a grandchild or somesuch, while Cat rifles through her purse.

Now I find that the doll is growing on me. Hey, this hobby got Cat learning to sew, use a sewing machine, measuring tape, and my material.... If possible, she's even more outgoing, happily explaining about her doll (and why the blasted wig keeps falling off), and her obsession.

I guess this is a good thing... and it's definately here to stay! And it's far better than those octopus meatballs!