small-sized postcard, ca 1890-1910
Got a meeting tonight -- some wags are calling it a hen party, but we just call it "hangin' wit' our peeps". I haven't quite figured out how I managed to get myself into a doll club, yet, considering I like to pretend I don't like gurrrrrly stuff like dolls and frills and pink cotton candy and all that. I'd have been just as happy playing with boys' toys, like
postcard: Boy with Toy Horse and Wagon (1845)
National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.,
you know, horse and buggy stuff, or cowboys and indians, or fire engines, or that really cool slingshot I now have in the back seat of Mom's car, just in case of emergency....
Still and all, I think I'm going to have a little fun -- we've already gathered and delivered our donation dollies (each year the Warren County Doll Club makes sure at least a couple dozen dolls make their way to Jameson Center's Christmas Store) and cash gift to the same charitable organization -- we like to keep it local, when we can. So, tonight's meeting is pretty much nonsense -- an ornament exchange, a few games, and general good spirits. I don't even know if we're having a formal meeting.
I suppose I'd better take the treasurer's report, just in case. Dang, I hate it when I'm all responsible and grownup. People might start to emulate me, and then where would the world be? In therapy twice a week, no doubt.
Not a peep of argument from Mom.
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