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All rights reserved ©1972-2019 Heidi-Marie Blackwell

I feel a sidebar is needed for Scheherazade's scenario. One of the dollies was wearing our Barbie’s sunglasses. She’s hidden them now. They’re somewhere, tucked away. I keep running into them here and there. They’re white with blue lenses. It also concerns an outfit I had made for Barbie years ago which I later in life found in a clothing catalog and bought immediately in four colors: black, blue, teal, and fuchsia -- lightweight, crisp linen blouse and slacks, tailored to fit the form. Another dolly had a pair of Barbie’s shoes, the black ones that matched the thin black belt. I keep telling them that they can't wear them because their feet are too fat. But they don't care. You probably don't have any experience with Barbies, unless you had a cousin with one. I had a really cool one that had three wigs: a black pageboy; an auburn flip; and a blonde bouffant. Most girls had one with a blonde ponytail, but my mom didn’t want me to be like all the rest. The best part of the outfit was the shoes and the noise they make -- click slap, click slap, click slap...

Darling Omega,

we are all here, even the dollies.

You remember them.

They remember you.

And they remember that

it’s your birthday.

Scheherazade has written a scenario for today’s celebration inspired by one of us opening the drawer where the dollies live. It starts with Salamander lolling in bed in Phase #3; you are somewhere looking into an electrical difficulty. Salamander begins to wonder if you will be back for more. She determines that you may have to be enticed back and rolls out of bed. Pandora enters the bedroom, stirring a bowl of blue frosting. She stops at the disheveled sight of Salamander. "What are you doing?" "We want John." "Find the fuchsia outfit and the black Barbie shoes..." we have discovered that the shoes have the power to make you hot, "oh, Salamander, you are too much work. I'll do it! Where are the sunglasses?" One of the dollies chimes, "What's the frosting for? Are you making a cake?! We want to jump out of it when the time comes!" Pandora hesitates, "Okay, but you can't have all of it." The dollies are squealing and dancing. At this point Jeanne sees the need for a cautionary note: Be careful if you have company when you serve your birthday cake, when the time comes, they may not understand. Pandora puts her long hair in a high ponytail, all garments gathered and donned, she picks up her bowl of frosting, goes to the part of the house that projects noise the best, and walks in a large circle, click slap, click slap, click slap... But there is a knock at the door. Being close by, she opens it. It's Ronnie from next door. His jaw drops upon seeing her. "Hang on, I'll get John." Placing her finger on the intercom button...zzzt!...her voice is heard throughout the house..."Ronnie's here." Clack. There's a pause. Zzzt! "Hm! I'll be right there." She looks at Ronnie and raises her eyebrows to confirm your response. His mouth shuts to a grin. We soon hear your footsteps. You pinch the back of her neck, wink in response to her shoes, and step outside with Ronnie, saying, "Just in from France." His jaw drops again and he seems to have forgotten why he is here. Pandora, stirring her frosting, turns on her heels, and calls through the doorway mimicking a three-tone doorbell -- "Je t'attends!" Click slap, click slap, click slap...

Happy Birthday!

Happy Birthday!