This year I have pimped my birthday to the max. I've used it as an excuse to buy myself stuff, and to beg stuff from other people. (Thank you, Mister Stevens. Thank you, Schmin. You two are my heart.)
The booty I have so far collected is outstanding, and tomorrow I am having a birthday gathering, where there will likely be more.
I can hardly stand it.
Blanche was my early b-day gift to myself. Then I picked up an iPod last week (as probably the last living American who didn't know anything about them). And today, the coup de grace:
Nesting dolls! And they're me! I mean, seriously, aren't these just taking things way too far?! I LOVE them.
The middle doll is my favorite. She's not holding anything, but the trees on her babushka floor me; she's all about peace and stillness.
And look at the little knitter, and the tiny mama with a tiny camera.
This one is reading a favorite book of mine.
Big Mama has herself a vintage Featherweight sewing machine, complete with thread!
Where did I get these wonders, you ask. Where can you get some for yourself, you want to know.
One day I was Googling or Flickring some sewing thing or another, and I came across a blog called Lady Harvatine. On said blog, Lady posts things she makes, and other interesting items. Her blog is lovely, so I forgot whatever it was I was looking for and stayed a while. Reading through her posts, I saw this one. This would be when I flipped my lid. All I needed to know was that Lady Harvatine's friend Melissa had an etsy shop and would make such dolls for all comers. I contacted her, and a wonderful exchange began. She asked for a photo and some personal interests to base the dolls on (I wondered how she'd work in my tree worship). Quite naturally I was ready with this info, I have a blog, don'tcha know. I told her every conceivable thing about myself, and she went to work.
Here's where things get wow. We started the process last month. Melissa kept me posted along the way, then today sent me a message saying the dolls were ready to be mailed. I really really really wanted them in time for my birthday, like really, like a two-year-old would mean really. So, knowing she lives in LA, I asked her where and suggested that I could pick them up, depending (LA is humongous). I told her what area I live in. She wrote me back, and guess what: Not only does she live in the same area, but when she named her street and its cross street, it turned out she lives on the next block from where I live! I swear, one block over. We met on the corner about 15 minutes later and she handed over the dolls. I will be tickled about this forever. You might call it coincidence. I call it God's way of saying Happy Birthday.
We favor, yes? Ellen calls us The Great Carlavskiovich, in honor of our Russian heritage.