tollipop

tollipop giveaway: kokeshi doll ornament

 

Dear reader, this truly is the sweetest thing.  Do you know what a kokeshi doll is?  When I was a little girl, my mom enrolled me in violin lessons through the Suzuki method.  It was a fairly new approach to music at the time, especially in the quaint little hamlet of my childhood, and so the Suzuki teacher was actually a young woman from Japan who lived at our house for a period of time.  Her name was Mariko. 

She spoke almost no English and, of course, my Japanese wasn't so hot, either.  I have many memories of her gentle hands correcting my posture over and over: my feet, my bow hold, how my chin rested against the instrument.  But most of all, she had to gesture to get my attention.  My eyes were always wandering around her room, which contained tiny, fascinating objects and curios and candies from Japan.

 
After Mariko returned back home, she stayed in touch with my family over the years.  Once she sent us a pair of kokeshi dolls, hands clasped, delicately painted.  I spent many moments watching them together: still, quiet, feelings held close to the heart.  

Before my mom passed away, she asked me which of her possessions I'd like to have.  I'm funny this way--there is something about me that is not really attached to things, especially if that thing is supposed to remind me of someone I love.  It's almost as if the object gets in the way of my connection to that person.  Or perhaps I don't want a reminder of her absence. 

Either way, I'm no ascetic.  And I do admit to getting excited over Martha Stewart glitter, so let's not crown me with a halo just yet. 

At any rate, I was content to let the division of her possessions take a more organic path, and I ended up with these kokeshi dolls.  Which bring me back to that moment in childhood every time I see them.

Wait, am I still talking?  This was a simple giveaway, right? 

Well, I just wanted to give you a little background information, dear reader.  So you could know of the feelings which go into making these sweet ornaments. 

 
Because we are talking kokeshi dolls and french dots here.  I'm not sure it gets any better than that.

If you would like such a quiet little doll hanging in your own home, please leave a comment at the bottom of this post.  I will draw and announce a winner on Monday.

i wanted to call this post "sexy dough boy" but for some reason my husband found that strangely unflattering.

 
Dear reader, on Saturday afternoon I came home from a music rehearsal and stopped dead in my tracks.  The aroma emanating from the kitchen was that of my childhood: warm, pillowy, amazing bread.  For a split second I actually expected to see my mom standing there, up to her elbows in flour.

Instead, my husband was taking his first ever batch of rolls from the oven.  First ever, dear reader. 

It's not like I can boast a lifelong career as a bread artisan but still, I've baked more than a few loafs in my day and I'm telling you--his were better.  Even the girls said so. 

Let that be a lesson to those of us who are too lofty for the common recipe.

  
Who would have guessed after 15 years of marriage he had such a trick up his sleeve?

You know, some women go crazy for diamonds.  Some women dream of handbags, vacations, yachts.  Some women squeal over a strappy pair of sandals.

I am not that woman.
 

But if you want to see me flush and quite forget my good manners, meet me at the door with a pan of these indecent concoctions.

Bread, dear reader.  Is there anything else that really matters?

don't be fooled by her expression--she's having the time of her life

 
Dear reader, what a lovely weekend this was!  I felt like the leader of a world power, with entire days booked solid with engagements, only minus the phalanx of personnel to get me from place to place.  But I'm happy to say I managed to show up to everything on my own, with the exception of one missed event because my husband left the house while pocketing my keys.  What the?  That would never happen to Angela Merkel.

It's hard to single out one highlight.  Attending Sophie's piano recital and watching her play so beautifully was a gift to my soul.  Discovering my husband bakes bread (more on that later) was like Skittles raining from heaven.  But perhaps the truly overwhelming moment came with the opportunity to share a music stand with my ten-year-old Isabella as we performed The Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah together.  It filled my heart with gratitude and wonder and love. 

 
It was a weekend filled to capacity with friends, celebrations, and beautiful music.  Music that lauds the Christmas season and resonates deeply with feelings that mean so much to me.

I hope it was a lovely time for you as well, dear reader.  Thinking of you certainly contributes to the happy, cozy feeling I get from writing this blog...I hope you get some of that from visiting here, too.

and the winner is...

 
Janil!  Felicitations, Janil!  You are the winner of the Tollipoppet giveaway!  I must tell you how thrilled I am to think this doll will become bilingual!  Anyone can see she has a flair for that sort of thing.

Please let's get in touch, Janil darling, to discuss the whereabouts of this dolly's new home.  She will be on her way to join you soon!

To everyone else, I thank you for playing along.  I truly wish I could send a doll to everyone.  Handmade dolls seem so special, so enchanting.  I hope something extra lovely happens to you this week.  What could it be?  A secret admirer?  A magic treehouse?  An invisibility cloak?

I think I would pick the magic treehouse.  And a bat-sized bar of Toblerone chocolate for company.

I hope you have a delightful day, dear reader.  There are more giveaways to come, so please stop by and visit again soon...

death by bike shorts

 
Dear reader, I went for a bike ride in this yesterday.  And now I can't tell if I'm alive or merely the surprise ending of an M. Night Shyamalan movie.

It was that cold.

I honestly cannot tell you how cold it was.  I mean, the thermostat read 30 degrees, but that doesn't begin to describe the freezing wind that reached down my throat and jangled my kidneys with its cold, dead fingers, the tiny shards of ice that removed an epidermal layer from my face, and the sense of hopelessness that encompassed me about five minutes into the journey.

But that, no doubt, was because the Dementors were breeding. 

 
I took this picture before the excursion, when all ten fingers were still present and accounted for.

I don't really know what got into me.  Did I wake up feeling how tedious it was to be alive?  Did I develop a yen for necrotic tissue?  I don't know. 

But this ride changed everything.

I typically follow a certain route which takes me out into the desert, so it's not as if you can change your mind once you've gone down the road a little ways.  You either keep going or you'll to end up like those maniacs who wander around Mount Everest, brains starved for oxygen, bereft of the common sense to return to base camp.

Except I'm not sure I can blame my behavior on the altitude.

But honestly, dear reader, except for the exquisite pain in my hands, I didn't really care.  I'm telling you, it took me back to my childhood of running with the wolves: beautiful, magical, barren, bleak.  In fact, I'm pretty sure my entire life flashed before my eyes.

When I reached the summit, I noticed a car with Alberta license plates. 

"Alright," I thought, "Let's do this thing." 

I pedalled over to the passengers, two elderly couples, and started asking them if they knew anybody I grew up with.  They regarded me with a look that was two parts shock, one part fear. 

"Dear, aren't you cold?," one of the ladies asked.

"Well yes, I am, now that you mention it," I said, struggling not to slur my words, "But hey, we're all Canadian, right?"

There was an uncomfortable silence and the expressions on their faces clearly said: We're Canadian.  You have done lost your mind.

They offered me a ride and I was all, "I don't accept rides from strangers.  And unless we can find someone we know in common, then we're strangers."

So I made them sit there while I told them all the Canadians I knew, but as luck would have it, it appears we ran in different circles.  Which is actually pretty hard to do up north. 

Then they drove off and I rode away, frostbitten, happy to have gotten about 45 "ehs" out of my system.  

When I got back to my car, I was so frozen I couldn't open the door.  Like, my fingers were so useless I couldn't push the unlock button hard enough.  I wanted to cry, but didn't dare.  Using my hands like Muppet paws, I maneuvered the key into the lock and managed to get the door open the old-fashioned way (which I'd almost forgotten was possible).  I sat there in a catatonic state with the heat blasting my face until I was thawed enough to get back out, put my bike on the rack, and drive home.  Where I made a cup of hot chocolate the temperature of the earth's molten core.

Ah, dear reader, good times.  My Christmas wish of a little winter came early this year and now I am home, surrounded by loved ones who are massaging the life back into my extremeties.

I hope you have a lovely weekend, too.

etsy shop update

 
Dear reader, this is my haphazard way of letting you know some delightful goodies will find their way into my Etsy shop shortly, hopefully by this afternoon.  Just a few poppets, framed originals, papier mache ornaments and some sweet kokeshi dolls. 

This weekend may very well be my Waterloo.  There are birthday parties, Christmas parties, work parties, church parties, rehearsals, musical performances, recitals, and probably many more committments that my brain has simply released into the atmosphere.  Death by festivities.  Doesn't that sound like a rousing way to go?  At any rate, I'm just floating on a cloud, dear reader.  We'll see if I drift in all the right directions.

So...the shop update.  It occurred to me if I don't do it soon, the holidays will come and go and perhaps someone was hoping to find a little Tollipop keepsake underneath the tree...

this would make my mom so happy...

 
But do you know what would make her even happier?

 
This.

It takes a certain personality to relish the neat, orderly back side of a piece of embroidery.  You know--the side which will always be invisible to the eye of the beholder, the side which could be an absolute snarl of threads and no one would ever know the difference. 

My mom had that certain personality.  And I'm happy to say I inherited it from her.  You might construe it as controlling, but that would imply I already have some degree of control over my situation.  Dear reader, I don't even know what day it is.  Our advent calendar is more than two weeks short of Christmas, I have a pile of feral laundry in the house, and Caroline won't stop talking to me. 

Ever. 

Even after I've put her to bed. 

So don't begrudge me this one tiny thrill, this brief moment of clarity that comes from flipping my embroidery over and gazing at all the threads arranged so neatly that Ma Ingalls herself would've betrayed some emotion. 

Order.  I created it.  On the front and on the back.  Where you can't even see it. 

But I know it's there.  And that thought is like a back massage for my brain.   

and the winner is...

 
The lovely Isabelle, who penned the following sentiment:

Oh, I would love to win this darling ornament! I will be celebrating my first married Christmas this year and we need some ornaments for our tree! I think this one would be just perfect and remind us for years to come of this special Christmas.

Congratulations, dear Isabelle!  Three cheers!  We are simply over the moon on your behalf!  Please, let's get in touch to sort out the details of your sweet little prize. 

Now I want to promise you, dear reader, that the winners of these contests are drawn at random, just in case anyone suspects I would be smitten by the thought of one's first married Christmas and the perfectly romantic notion of sending a Tollipop ornament to adorn the tree.  Because I totally was.  So I cannot tell you how thrilled and surprised I was that Isabelle's number popped up as the winner. 

To everyone else who played along, thank you for such kind and lovely comments!  In lieu of the prize I wish you something scrumptious: rosy cheeks, a darling winter hat, short lines at the post office, a feeling that all things are possible, and a cozy evening spent in the company of hot chocolate, a good friend, and a jigsaw puzzle that somehow provides the catalyst for the best conversation you've had in a very long time.

kitchen helper of the people

 
I came around the corner this morning to find this sweet girl and her mismatched socks emptying the dishwasher all by herself.  It practically took my breath away.  Why?  Because the Tollipop girls have been known to wax a tad communistic when it comes to the execution of this chore.

The racks of dishes have been divided and plotted, each cup and plate painstakingly allotted, and woe betide the child who fails to discharge her assignment to the letter of the law!  Woe betide the child who comes up a teaspoon short for her quota of silverware! 

Every now and then, however, Caroline is swayed by the notion of performing the tasks typically reserved for the "older girls."

 
It's hard to be progressive and still hang onto the old ideologies.  Especially when you're a modern girl at heart.

p.s. Incidentally, you might suspect me of art directing this photograph, but I assure you these polka dots aligned themselves naturally, like some beautiful cosmos that comes along once in a lifetime...

all right, mr. demille, i'm ready for my close-up...(tollipop giveaway)

 
Dear reader, this poppet is looking for a warm, loving home.  I have not named her as yet, but every time I make a doll I think of dear Charlotte, the simple rag doll so lovingly fashioned for Laura Ingalls by her mother, which she was then obligated to let the horrid little neighbor girl abduct and decimate, only to discover the doll months later, strangled, missing an eye, lying face down in a frozen puddle. 

To this day that story gets me worked up, I'm telling you! 

 
At any rate, back to the matter at hand.  If you are interested in taking care of this doll and never allowing some pushy kid to ride roughshod over your possessions, then here is the giveaway for you.  Simply leave a comment below and I will be back on Friday to announce the winner.

 
Just look at that face.  Doesn't she seem like the only person in the world who will ever truly understand you?  Who will keep all your secrets?  Laugh at your jokes?  Read you bedtime stories?  Come to your tea parties?

I think she will.  Because in the pattern I followed to make her, there was a little-known step which outlined all of these traits and more...

.............

eta:  Dear reader, I'm sorry to be delinquent with announcing the winner of this poppet.  Things have been so busy--I keep missing my window of opportunity.  I will draw and announce a winner on Monday, so there is still time to enter this contest!  Best of luck to everyone.