Friday, February 19, 2010

Second Hand Rose - not

I have had several weeks of relative peace and quiet in which to do my thing. That is soon to come to an end as real life has intervened and I have to take care of such mundane tasks as taking the garbage to the dump, shopping for food and water and softener salt. Also several social engagements are looming on my horizon.

And all this when Lorelie, my Muse, and I are getting on so famously.  I hope she will not become miffed and go away like she did before. She is a touchy thing.

All this is leading up to fulfilling the reason I originally started this blog. To immortalize my one of a kind, hand made creations and sometimes the process that led up to them.  It is comforting to know that even when I am gone little bits of me will still be out there floating in cyberspace.

So here we go.... Each of my cloth or polymer clay dolls has a personality of his or her own    some of them quite strong willed. I may start out to make a gypsy and find myself making a business in the case of  Heather who I will introduce you to later.

In Rose's case I started out to make a grumpy old bag lady.  You could call her Second Hand Rose since she is made of recycled materials and bits and bobs gleaned from my own jewelry box or stash of thrift store finds.

But there is nothing second best about THIS Rose.  First she chose a pair of rose shaped buttons for her earrings.  And from there it was all up hill. Very early into the process she rejected the baggy nylon stockings and cheap frock I was making for her and chose instead the mink stole and Dior suit.  A grande dame was emerging from the coccoon of cloth and polyester fibre filling. 

Last time I tried to make a grumpy old bag lady a Biker (Boomer, more on him later) broke through.  There may be a message in this.

So, without further ado let me  introduce you to Rose, a sweet tempered 89 year old. Until her husband, a prominent business man and international traveller, died she had quite an active life. They hobnobbed with the likes of Arabian Sheiks from Dubai, Politicians from Grand Bend and other dignitaries. Rose gave grand dinner parties and loved to dress up.

But her husband made a few bad investments before he died, leaving her barely enough to pay for food. She had never been the one to make the decisions and now such things as budgeting, paying the staff and maintaining the household were beyond her.  Family friends advised her to sell her heavily mortgaged mansion and check into a retirement home.  Letting her loyal servants and retainers go was one of the hardest things she had ever done.
Now she holds court from her rocking chair at the Shady Rest Retirement Home. Her beloved kitty, Mojo, by her side.  He was named by her grand children and Rose doesnt have a clue what his name means, so in private she calls him Fluffy. 

Rose still loves to dress up and fantasize that the other residents of the home are simply party guests. She regales them with tales of her travels, the rich and famous friends that seem to have vanished now, and other parties she has attended. Her children and grandchildren are far too busy to attend these make-believe parties although they do take her out to dinner at MacDonald's once a year.

Sometimes Rose has a far away look in her faded china blue eyes. A fleeting glimpse of sadness but she soon shakes it off and freshens up for a new party.

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