Yes, I know the title is a grammatical disaster.

I did not have a Barbie Doll growing up. It had nothing to do with my mother’s desire to maintain our self-esteem on body image.

She was “not about to spend good money” on one of those overpriced dolls that were not appropriate for little girls. I suspect her opinion had much to do with the bumps above the waistline.

Worse, my poor Nana would likely have had a conniption had she seen a Barbie Doll.

When she babysat, she used to turn off Lawrence Welk because those women were disgraceful, showing off their legs and dancing.

Yes, I know it’s a grainy picture. But, so was the one on our black-and-white television in rural Pennsylvania farm country.

So, what do I have to write about on Barbie’s 50th Anniversary? Friends!

Friends who planned in advance.

Mountain Margie

First up? Sherry Isaac, who’s enlightened mother permitted ownership of Barbie Dolls.

However, Sherry did not focus on the doll in her post today. Instead she focused on our mutual friend and master of the craft of writing, Margie Lawson.

In her post titled, I WANT A MARGIE BARBIE DOLL, Sherry shared what Margie brings to a writer’s playtime with EDITS and highlighters and “tighten up, Mama.”*

Margie is to writers what Barbie was (and continues to be) to young girls. Iconic.

[*Okay, Margie doesn't say exactly those words. That comes from a carriage driver in New Orleans. It was his way of telling his horse to get going. I've always wanted to use it somewhere.]

Myndi Shafer, of one stray sock away from insanity fame, took her Barbie Anniversary post in another direction. She segued off August McLaughlin’s Beauty of a Woman BOA series. Celebrate you! Just the way you are.

 

COWGIRLS CAN GET THEIR GIRLY ON

For her post today, she invited friends and bloggers to share pictures of themselves for her I AM BEAUTIFUL, BECAUSE I’M A GIRLY GIRL.

The aforementioned Sherry Isaac chose to share a picture of the two of us at our girly-girl best on Myndi’s post.  Hey! We have coordinating hats, chaps and bandanas. The bull ate our tiaras. Not our fault.

THE DOLL I’D RATHER PLAY WITH ANYWAY

 

Little Red and WONKY

And, now for my real-life Barbie Doll. Little Red. My ten-year-old granddaughter. She and I spent a MasterCard-slide-and-sign-day during her Spring Break.

What is especially cool about Little Red is that she has a mind of her own. Good news. Those boys are not going to mess with my Little Red.

In exchange for my inability to say “no” to her, Little Red agreed to drive with me to Arkansas to deliver a new pedometer to Squee-Key. We were shocked.

Shocked! I tell you, to discover he had changed his name to…

[Cue Kazoo trill]

WON-KEY! [Wonky for short.]

Why? I suspect it has something to do with the bananas gone missing at Starbucks© en route. We found him, spent an hour hanging with him, and purchased his forged legally updated passport.

This is where I should tell you where Wonky WON-KEY is on his virtual walk to Toronto.

I choose not to because I don’t want the authorities to catch him. And, there is that niggling detail about leaving my planning calendar at Starbucks© yesterday.

I will be back with updates.

Now, I’m going to publish this and lurk on the net, searching for other Barbie posts to steal honor with a linky-link and picture.

THANKS for popping in to visit. Leave a comment and I’ll enter you for a prize: a smile and a Squee! Tons coming up on my new site. We’re under construction at the moment. Look for a brand new brand and theme. I am not too old for anything. Including an identity crisis. I love to hear what’s up with–yes, even the manly men in the crowd–about your memories of Barbie or Ken or GI Joe. Whatever pops your kettle corn.

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