Yeah, It's Monday...
This morning just a few minutes before the alarm, I was stirred by the strangest sound... Maybe it's what I get out of taking an actual college psych course on Dreams; I stayed as still as I possibly could and tried to focus and pay attention and see if I was dreaming or actually hearing a sound.
I kept listening, the sound kept going, maintaining almost perfect rhythm.
Remember the big baby doll? Surely every little girl had one -- or, well, before the "Playstation Generation," every little girl who's sneakin' up on thirty now probably had one. She wasn't a particularly pretty doll; but she was huge, she could wear size 2T clothes and even some of those were too short. She had short (but real-rooted) blonde hair and those winky-blinky blue eyes that closed by gravity when she you put her down for a "nap." The big gimmick to my "big baby doll" was that she (supposedly) would "walk with you" if you held her hand (and worked the leverage of her arm just right); and her other arm was perfectly flexed so that she might suck her stiff little thumb through her stiff little smile. She came with a red and white striped dress, red tights, and white Mary-Jane's; and I'd bought her a whole box of clothes at the neighbor's garage sale, and even managed to find her a nice hat to hide that short blonde hair when it all went to hell from being brushed so much.
The sound that woke me up was exactly like dragging a brush through that hair. Exactly like the quick rhythmic strokes of devil-may-care brush-yanking; the kind of frustrated brushing a little girl could only get away with when it involved doll hair; sister hair would've earned a smack, poodle hair would've earned a bite.
Early in my mornings, I'm essentially alone -- Mom leaves the house a little before my alarm goes off. The only dolls left in my room are the Barbie & GI Joe who sit snuggled-up nice & luvy on top of my iMac; and the cats don't go near 'em 'cause they're too hard to get to. I don't have kids; so nobody fished the big baby doll out of the far corner of the spare bedroom closet to remove her lovely hat and brush her wild-n-crazy hair.
The sound continued; I may have dozed a bit while still trying to figure it out. I thought of fun times with "Tina" the big baby doll; like when I tried to stick her on the back of the banana seat of my bike and take her for a ride -- an experience that involved everything from shoelaces to duct tape but still never went quite right.
The sound just went on and on; and when I concluded that I was good-n-awake and not dreaming at all, I opened my eyes to find a bit of sunshine coming in the window.
Then I rolled over to find ShadowCat fervently licking the blanket a few inches from my head.
Lick-lick-lick...
Brush-brush-brush...
Lick-lick-lick-lick-lick.
I don't even want to know why; but I do know I'll be doing some laundry tonight, and there'll be a blanket in there without a doubt.
I kept listening, the sound kept going, maintaining almost perfect rhythm.
Remember the big baby doll? Surely every little girl had one -- or, well, before the "Playstation Generation," every little girl who's sneakin' up on thirty now probably had one. She wasn't a particularly pretty doll; but she was huge, she could wear size 2T clothes and even some of those were too short. She had short (but real-rooted) blonde hair and those winky-blinky blue eyes that closed by gravity when she you put her down for a "nap." The big gimmick to my "big baby doll" was that she (supposedly) would "walk with you" if you held her hand (and worked the leverage of her arm just right); and her other arm was perfectly flexed so that she might suck her stiff little thumb through her stiff little smile. She came with a red and white striped dress, red tights, and white Mary-Jane's; and I'd bought her a whole box of clothes at the neighbor's garage sale, and even managed to find her a nice hat to hide that short blonde hair when it all went to hell from being brushed so much.
The sound that woke me up was exactly like dragging a brush through that hair. Exactly like the quick rhythmic strokes of devil-may-care brush-yanking; the kind of frustrated brushing a little girl could only get away with when it involved doll hair; sister hair would've earned a smack, poodle hair would've earned a bite.
Early in my mornings, I'm essentially alone -- Mom leaves the house a little before my alarm goes off. The only dolls left in my room are the Barbie & GI Joe who sit snuggled-up nice & luvy on top of my iMac; and the cats don't go near 'em 'cause they're too hard to get to. I don't have kids; so nobody fished the big baby doll out of the far corner of the spare bedroom closet to remove her lovely hat and brush her wild-n-crazy hair.
The sound continued; I may have dozed a bit while still trying to figure it out. I thought of fun times with "Tina" the big baby doll; like when I tried to stick her on the back of the banana seat of my bike and take her for a ride -- an experience that involved everything from shoelaces to duct tape but still never went quite right.
The sound just went on and on; and when I concluded that I was good-n-awake and not dreaming at all, I opened my eyes to find a bit of sunshine coming in the window.
Then I rolled over to find ShadowCat fervently licking the blanket a few inches from my head.
Lick-lick-lick...
Brush-brush-brush...
Lick-lick-lick-lick-lick.
I don't even want to know why; but I do know I'll be doing some laundry tonight, and there'll be a blanket in there without a doubt.
posted by Debbie at 1:49 PM
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