Elbow deep in papier mache

 About the time I combed a chunk of wallpaper paste
from Bruce's fur,
 I figured I was hooked.

Between pasting,
 he was learning a new command: roll over.
 The liver treats may have gotten
 mixed up with paste a few times, but we carried on.

   

 Next minute my dolls were receiving a
doggy tongue baths they lay drying in the sun.
 The "roll over" trick may still be coming,
 but now Bruce has a taste for paste.

Opal's Diary continues to inspire.

 Her cast of characters is plentiful 

with much to draw from. Her friends the trees, 

whose arms she is held by all have names.

Panties, or at the very least a full and frilly petticoat
 is mandatory.
 Surely I was not the only one
 whose test of authenticity
 of a doll was whether or not she wore panties??

 My first efforts yielded some roomy bloomers,

 but the skill levels are rising, slowly.

Like the softies, each has a personality

 way before a face is ever manifested, 

and that face is a result of the personality it has.

If get quiet enough,
 and out of the way enough,
 the face comes on right and clear.

I am scheduled to talk to a group of ladies 

soon about knitting.

 Little do they know I am truly a crap knitter,

 but ideas are percolating.

 Perhaps the thing I can do is share my voice 

and how I came to find that voice, 

so that the resonance of their own journey

 can be amplified out into the world.

They better not want knitting tips. 

I hope that will be enough. 

I hope I am enough.