Decapitated Dolls + a Ring Stacker = a very messy workspace

Poor Mary Jane. Poor, poor Mary Jane.

Mary Jane has the Velveteen Rabbit disease-she has been loved until she's fallen apart. Perhaps I should call her Nearly Headless Nelly. Mary Jane comes from a pattern I found amongst all my mother's patterns from when she had a craft store. It was very nostalgic, even more so after I decided to use these dolls in my shop. I was looking at the mailing envelope my mother had received/stored the patterns in, and saw the postmark date, which meant my mother sold these dolls in her craft store when she was the same age I am now. My mother sold them as collector's dolls. I want to sell them as toys. So, after sewing two, I gave them to E to play with. The heads came off very fast. That's been a dilemma for several months now. How to attach the heads, which when done by the instructions are sewn on last, and by hand. I tried a few things, and finally followed the spider Charlolette's lead-I just left it alone, and (sort of) forgot about it. Then after literally months, I realised the solution, when I wasn't even thinking about it. With that problem solved, I now have to practice sewing the hair. I have some choice words that I'll refrain from using to describe the process of making the hair. Practice is the only thing that will help.


The ring stacker. Took me forever to get from pattern cutting to fabric cutting to sewing, but the sewing part went fairly quickly once started. The little guy likes it pretty well, although he seems to be mostly interested in things that BANG right now, so it's not a favorite. Perhaps if he decides loud noises are no fun, and soft cuddly things are more fun, but I don't think you should hold your breath. I'm working on the matching grab ball to go with it.

So, Hubby and I have decided that there's no room. I have several projects that I'm getting done. This is stupendous. This is great. This is a mess all over the house. My sewing desk is in the dining room area, b/c that's where we have the space for it. Thus, the dining room table has become, by default, my worktable. It's a very large table, so we are able to eat at one end, with much of my work stacked precariously at the other end. Absolutely no laughing at dinner, you might knock Mommy's new fabric into the green beans! We're throwing around a few different solutions, but no decisions yet. I'm all for moving into an old farmhouse with some acreage, and Hubby probably would do it if it didn't involve spending money and manual labor. He's probably more against the manual labor than the spending money. Happy Thoughts!