From DOC (Doc Holliday)

 Fourteen

Heading Home

Not marching, 

no.

More of a slink,

say it isn’t so.

But we are tired, 

full of woe, 

So homeward bound,

off we go. 

  1865, the war was over. You’d think it was a happy time. It was, for about a minute, the day we read the paper and all jumped up and down for joy. 

  Then the boys came home. Uncle Robert was the first to get back, which meant that Mattie and the rest of the Holliday clan went back to Jonesboro. The house was eerily quiet again except for the creaking floor and Mama’s coughs. I missed Mattie the most, but I missed them all. 

  Cisco was next. He was a ghost of the fellow who had left us. I almost didn’t recognise him. He knew where to find us from Daddy’s letters. I’ll never forget the morning that he slipped in from the fog. He must’ve lost a hundred pounds. He looked skeletal and coughed worse than Mama. Aunt Fawnie and Wanetta had stuck around, afraid what they’d find at Indian Creek. They put him straight to bed with a warmer and some broth. I sat at his bedside. 

  “Cisco, I missed you so. You missed a lot of shenanigans here with the Hollidays too.” He coughed, it was bloody, and I brought him a clean handkerchief. “Do you want me to read to you?” He shook his head, no. “Alright. Do you want me to stay, or should I let you rest?” He just stared off into oblivion. It seemed very bleak. Poor wretch! 

July, 5th, 1865

Dear John, 

  Thank God, thanks to Julie and June the house was spared from Sherman. There had been a bloody battle right here last year. Lucky we did not stick around for it. We lost Granny Bea. She was very old, you know. Has Cisco made it home? We are all praying for him and hoping Indian Creek fared better than here and Fayetteville. Uncle John is home. Amazingly his house is still standing although it has been raided and wiped clean. He mourns his books, but counts his blessings as do we all. He says he will be dropping in there on you as soon as he can. I hope you are doing well, and not missing us too much. We miss you. 

Love,

Mattie

 Mama, too, like Cisco, kept to her bed. She was very weak and tired. Unlike Cisco she liked me to read to her. Keats was our favorite. She liked “Ode to a Nightingale” and “To Autumn”, but I preferred “La Belle Dame sans Merci” and “Lamia”. 

  Nobody saw a doctor during the war, they were reserved for the boys and amputees. Uncle John did drop in soon enough for his house call. He had quite a beard and looked like he had aged a hundred years. I thought him, Merlin. He brought good news from Indian Creek to my aunts. It had miraculously escaped the war and stood still. Uncle Tom had returned to an empty house. Even Ole’ Berner, the overseer, was gone. Nobody knew where. That was something. Then he looked in on Mama first, then Cisco, and confirmed what we already dreaded. They had consumption. 

Consumption

How long?

Bloody

White Plague?

Dreadful

Cough.

Cold

Sweats.

Shining

Brow.

We All

Know.

Not

When we go. 

Gray Day.

Chill Wind.

Dark Pall.

  Fearing that Mama could never make it to Indian Creek, my dear aunts stayed on with us. How a few years had changed their spinster lives into cooks, housekeepers, and nurse maids. God love them, they did their best. It was decided that Mama and Cisco would be moved to the sunporch where they could get some sunshine and fresh air while swaddled in blankets like caterpillars. I read them Journey to the Center of the Earth and Uncle Silas. Everybody was in awe of these stories although my aunts tried to act shocked about Uncle Silas. I heard them laughing about it later.

  “Ttt…” Aunt Fawnie would shake her head but I could tell she was amused. 

  “You see what drinking will get you?” Aunt Wanetta warned. 

  To hell with Reconstruction. I’d make the most of it and try to keep out the gloom. 

Doc Holliday Portrait Wooden Print

 

Doc Holliday Portrait Wood Wall Art
by dollsandmagic

Shuggie Otis - Strawberry Letter 23 (Audio)

  I think I've only just realized that I've always loved Doc Holliday. On chapter 14. The portrait is nearly done. Can't wait for the doll. Stay tuned. 💕

Originals SALE: Art Dolls, Watercolors, & More

  Also slowly but surely drastically reducing prices in my Ebay shop to kick off a Summer SALE. You will find one-of-a-kind art dolls, original watercolors, my personal collection, rare books, and more. 

Ebay SALE

 

The Lost Boys - Soundtrack - Cry Little Sister (Theme From The Lost Boys...

Stuck in my head for a week. 

Lost Boys, O, My Ra! to Return

   I was real excited to see that Mattel made enough Lost Boys dolls to go around for $65, it's about time. The toy hacks on Ebay are already trying to sell them as preorder 🔥 for anything from $120-$269. Hope they are stuck with them. After I was stoked about my order Mattel sent me this PROUD 🌈💩🌈. Hey, I'm not proud. I tried to cancel my order. I could not. David came today. I'm going to play with him hard for that. O, My Ra! to return starring Sir Frankie Crisp, the Grady twins, Elvira, Colonel Klink and more. 

O, My Ra!

  It's probably going to be a minute. I am up to chapter 13 in DOC, (Doc Holliday), my second musical satire. I am finishing the cover portrait now. There will be a doll. He will teach shooting and cards at Monster High. TTYL...
 

Revenge of the Dream Hog

  5/26

  The dream hog got its revenge this morning. What a morning for dreaming. First, I was with Theresa, and it was around dusk. I was wearing little tie dyed sweatshorts, like I wear around the house. We were on a beach. It might’ve been a river bank, sandy with driftwood and rocks. We did not have a ride home. I was supposed to ride with a white man that Theresa knew, but for some reason I walked. It was very far away from home, and it began to sleet. The roads became very slushy with grime, and I was soaked. Three young white men were following me and seemed a worry until I ripped into them, telling them all off. They scattered. I approached an old factory, and when I entered I was no longer myself. I became a classy middle-aged black woman. The factory made garland, decorations for holidays, all kinds: Christmas, Easter, and all colors. There were big cardboard boxes and garland everywhere, so the place seemed a maze of boxes and I, the black woman, sashayed through the corridors wearing a tight sequin dress and swinging my hips. My hair was done up in curls. Some men from the factory started after me. They were wrapping me up in a clown box and turning me into popcorn. One guy told the other to eat me. He said that he liked popcorn pussy. 

  The next dream was very intense and came along with many warnings about childhood, innocence, and society. It took place in the late 1600s, that’s my guess. I was myself again, only about eleven years old. I had been adopted by a wealthy family, but I was not much. We were having a feast and many families had gathered for it. No idea why I was in charge of cooking, but I was. I looked for some meat to roast first. The meat was kept in a cellar with a dirt floor. There were some wooden crates to my right with a few seasoned chicken cutlets and two big portions of pork that looked more like thick pink giant sized t bone steaks. I chose them because they were the biggest and took them outside to a cobblestone garden where there were many toaster ovens set high against the back wall. Crusty bread was already baking in the ovens, and Mummy was there. I put blackberries on one of the cuts and cherries on the other and placed them into the ovens to roast. One of the portions, the cherried one, slid off the oven rack, down the stone wall, and landed on the cobblestone garden floor. I picked it up and took it back down to the cellar sink, which was deep as a laundry tub, and washed it. By this time my adopted mother, who might’ve been Elizabeth McGovern, all dressed in black, had regrettably called off dinner. She asked me if I had been drinking. I assured her that I had not. She asked if I had put spirits on the pork and why I had chosen it to prepare. I told her it was only cherries and that there was not enough of any other meat for the many families who had now gathered in the garden. They were all together in their small family groups, and each family had some sort of ancestral treasure with them like trunks, inlaid wooden cabinets, small velvet upholstered chairs, and large china dolls dressed in period Spanish gowns and caps. A game was afoot, a game that I should not have been playing, a cruel game of rumors. I was in the back of the garden when a man in his thirties, dressed in bronze galligaskins and hose, said that a woman was a whore and that she had brought down a man and ruined him. I could picture the woman that he was referring to, so I knew her. She had brown ringlets and wore a long gold and brown gown. I foolishly whispered his accusation to an older girl, and like the telephone game, the scandal started. There were whispers and accusations all around. There was a family in the middle of the garden that were called something like The Green Ladies. There were perhaps three of them, two girls and their grandmother. They had a big china doll with a pink silk skirt. One of the girls, in a red dress, who looked like a doll herself, was accused as the whore. I went to the family, siding with them, and cried. The grandmother asked if I knew Latin, and I assured her that I did. An older girl from another family ran up on us and stabbed the china doll with an enormous kitchen knife. The doll was ripped from the bottom. One of the families with older children had two big wooden gnomes with tall red caps as part of their family stash. A girl ran up and took the smaller gnome trying to destroy it. A blonde girl from the gnome family screamed, “I’ll kill you if you hurt that gnome!” Now she had made herself vulnerable to the crowd, so I repeated her threat drawing attention to myself. There was a ginger headed queer dressed to the hilt, in reds and gold, very glitzy, who was also defending The Green Ladies and stuffing his face with something. Meanwhile there was a commotion at the front of the garden involving my older teenage adopted brother with long dark hair who had drawn his sword in defense of his sweetheart. I was getting worried, looking for my adopted mother, wishing that I had kept my big mouth shut. I knew she’d be furious. I was regretting my honesty when a tall dark haired gentleman dressed in white approached me from the left of the back garden wall. He had an inlaid white cabinet, like a spice cupboard that was thin, two little drawers wide, but as tall as he. He begged me, saying he was not the scoundrel. I knew he wasn’t and assured him, “I do not know you, sir.” People were leaving or trying to at this point. Nobody was drinking, it was not allowed. I moved past a bunch of expertly made big wool stuffed animals, one, a gray and white kitten, was dressed in a little red suit like a child. A tiny white long haired dog scurried to a back room, and a girl said, “Surely, it can’t be a dog!” She meant the culprit. I was worried about the little thing. This crowd was out for blood. I was an outsider and sorry for my stupidity when two young girls began to argue. One, Laura Younkin, I knew from junior high. She wore a full gold silk skirt, and her hair was strung with ribbons and curled. The other girl had accused her, and she swore her innocence and accused me. She said, “Dana wants me removed as I do her!” I knew that Laura was not involved and told her that I’d not accuse a child. I was trying to be quiet and not give myself up when I woke up. It was a very detailed dream. I’ll try to use it in a saloon in DOC.
 

Dana's Dreams 

Dana's Dreams Two

From DOC

 

    My father’s family, the Hollidays, on the other hand, were more of the hard scrabble sort living in a cabin in the mountains. Daddy was a soldier and fought in The Creek Indian Wars under Andrew Jackson against The Red Sticks who lost twenty million acres in the struggles. Then he was off to Mexico in The Mexican War. He found my older adopted brother, Francisco Hidalgo, an orphan, living in the streets, and brought him back to Georgia. He moved from Fayetteville twenty miles away to Griffin where he worked for a druggist in town, Mr. Monk, at Monk’s Drugs on Tinsley Street, which was just a dirt road. Francisco, later called Cisco, was just a boy but helped stock the shelves. That’s where he met Mama who had come in with her sisters looking for laudanum. 

  “My, Alice Jane, that dashing gallant looks as if he’d eat you up,” Aunt Wanetta whispered, squeezed my mother’s arm, and laughed. 

  Daddy was shy, but said that Mama looked like a satin doll and that he was smitten at first sight. He knew she was out of reach, but he was ambitious. He built a fine two storey stucco covered brick house and courted Mama for a year. Grandpap Bill was impressed, and they were married in Griffin's First Presbyterian Church in June of 1848. Aunt Fawnie said that she had never seen so many flowers, all white: roses, lilies, and baby’s breath. 

  Mama settled into married life. It was not what she was used to. She could not even bring Mammy along and mourned her loss. My sister, their first born, Martha Eleanora, came and left them a year later. Measles took her in the crib. Mama was inconsolable, and Daddy thought the only remedy could be me. I was born August 14th, 1851, under the sign of the lion and christened in March, 1852. Do you suppose that makes a difference? Will it help me to Heaven? 

Two

  Uncle John Stiles Holliday lived in Fayetteville along with the rest of Daddy’s family. 

Dreams 5/23

 

 And, just like that, they're back and beyond electrorococo. From Dana's Dreams Three Revenge of The Dream Hog: 

  5/23

  I had a couple of strange and wonderful dreams this evening. First, my brother and I were ghost hunting with Dame Darcy. We were driving in a car when Darcy pranked Glenn into thinking that he pissed himself. It was all good fun, but Glenn was salty and sabotaged our ghost hunt afterwards saying we were frauds. This dream felt so real that I did not believe it was a dream until after I had woken up. 

  The second dream began in a college dormitory. I lived in a small room with a childhood friend. The left side of the room had pink and brown plush carpeting, the right was pink and white candied marble. There were some visitors down the hall, and I was supposed to go outside and smoke a cigarette with one of the strange fellows. I had a gold box of Benson and Hedges cigarettes. But, I was waylaid because the long sliding door to our room had fallen off track, and I could not get it back on. My friend Brea, from school, tried to help but couldn’t. This is when my new boyfriend, Eric, showed up. He was a handsome white guy with sandy colored hair. I was leaving with him, but somehow he had disappeared on the staircase. Only his clothes and a bag were found. I was frantically looking for him when I ran into Daddy and my old neighbors, the Keilers, in a lush green yard that was meticulously kept like a park. By now Eric had caught up with us, and I was very relieved. He told me that he had to switch clothes with Brea. Mrs. Keiler, Gerri, was telling me how she had seen Fancy’s grave, that it was marked with white chalk just as Mummy had said. Fancy was a black cocker spaniel terrier mix we got when I was in junior high. Now I was wondering where Hoagie, our childhood dog, a collie and golden retriever mix, was buried. I was very distressed that I could not remember. Was he Up Camp? At Grandma’s? Anyway, Gerri told Eric that he was very lucky to have me. Then Eric introduced me to his cat, a silver tabby named Victor, I think. A man came after Eric and arrested him. We were separated, and he took him to jail with a bunch of naked queers. The guard also had another silver tabby cat. When the two of them were alone Eric overpowered the prison guard and had him on the ground. Victor came and started sucking on the guard’s cat. The cat’s foot shrivelled up as if it had been freeze dried or mummified, all black, curled, and crisp. Victor now morphed into a tiny new kitten and wore a yellow flower around his neck. Eric took him and hid him under some brambles, and we were reunited for a spell. The prison guards were after us, shooting at us. We dove into a dark river and when we came up for air we had been transformed into two other bodies. I was Latin and Eric had become a strong black man with strange eyes. I told Eric that this wasn’t me, but he assured me that I was myself saying, “It is!”.  We floated on some branches until we arrived at a complex. When we got to the black man’s home his family was terrified, knowing that it wasn’t really him but a body snatcher. Like my dorm room, they also had a Japanese sliding door. I asked Eric about Victor, and he told me that he would find us.

Dana's Dreams

Dana's Dreams Two

From DOC

 

  One

  It’s really a funny story. My mother grew up on a wealthy cotton plantation in Tinsdale, Georgia, called Indian Creek, with her brothers and sisters, my aunts, Fawnie and Wanetta and my uncles, Billy and Tom. My grandparents, the McKeys, were Scots-Irish. Grandma Jane had come from Stone Mountain; her maiden name was Cloud. Grandpap Bill had built her a big house that I thought looked like something straight out of The Iliad, with marble pillars and a statue of Dionysis in the orchard. He was smiling, and his hair curled up into little horns hidden beneath the wreath of vines. It was a charmed place, a fun place. 

  Mammy was in charge of the children, Grandma helped with prayers. They were Presbyterian, but the church was in town, forty miles away, so they only attended on holidays. Grandpap had a sort of folly, a chapel, beyond the herb garden where the roses grew, and the bees buzzed. Sometimes a breeze picked up and blew through there on hot summer nights when it was sticky hot indoors. The sounds of the bugs and frogs gave it an otherworldly feel. There weren’t just slaves, there were staff. There was an overseer, Ole’ Berner, and the tutors, Miss Mitchell and Mr. Leslie, who taught everything from embroidery to Latin. 

  It was a grand house full of music and dance. Mama and my aunts sang and played piano. Uncle Tom played the fiddle like a cricket. They held holiday balls in the great room where they waltzed the starry nights away. 

  It was a working farm complete with stables and a carriage house. There were gray and white horses, mules, goats, chickens, and ducks. Grandpap didn’t keep any pigs, said they smelled. He was most fond of his hounds and their pups. 

  My father’s family, the Hollidays, on the other hand, ... (Dream Time, TTYL)

⭐🌝⭐

Mod Black Girls (Dana's Dreams Two Cover Art) Original for Sale + Beetlejuice...

   Get the Original on Ebay

  I found these when I went to my watercolor pad for my portrait of Doc Holliday for DOC which I have officially began, although I'm only up to chapter twenty-nine in my notes: Doc working for the Santa Fe Railroad. They are the cover art for Dana's Dreams Two. They came to me in a dream. Dana's Dreams Three Revenge of the Dream Hog is in the works. Think I've made it to page sixty-five, although I've not been dreaming so much the past month. It might be due to my many projects or the fact that I've replaced wine with coffee. 

  I got my Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice Monster Highs today. We'll see if Amazon accepts my review. They threaten me keeping it real. I have so many fond memories of the first eighties film. I saw it twice in the theater, once with my boyfriend and again with my three girlfriends. I loved the second film even if I watched it alone on Netflix. I'll watch it again. I love the dolls. I prefer Lydia's short skirt, so cute. Wish Beetlejuice was more masculine. He looks like Honey Swamp to me who I love, but she's no Beetlejuice. Anyway, what I could not say in my Amazon review without getting booted was that I hope that the toy hacks that are ruining Mattel and Monster High are livid and get stuck with the tons of dolls they've gobbled up to try to rip us all off. Planet Scam! I thanked Amazon in my review asking them please to have more exclusive Skullector Monster Highs. I got the Grady Twins there for ninety dollars. I was stuck at the Mattel site for hours waiting for Elvira to be told they sold out in minutes. Ron did backflips to get her for me for Valentine's Day. I told Amazon we want Jack and Sally, Morticia, and the Hocus Pocus witches. 

  Down with the toy hacks! ☠

Frankie Got Leied #cat #manxcats #sirfrankiecrisp

Jennie Wade Doll: (Gettysburg, The Civil War)

  Pleased with my first Jennie Wade doll. Up to chapter twenty-nine with my DOC notes. Going to have to make a Doc Holliday doll as well as the cover portrait. Thinking DOC ought to be funnier than Fanging with Claude, longer too, there is so much to work with. He crammed a lot of living into his thirty-six years. There will be a chapter devoted to each year. It's going to be another musical satire. Stay tuned. 

 

Dublin Doll Show

  We heard about the Dublin Doll Show at The Letitia Penn Doll Club Christmas at The William Penn Inn. Ran into the lady from the club there. Yes, Countess Po' Ass would love to join their club, but The William Penn Inn is quite a haul. I got Penny, a big handmade prim, two autographed Creole Cats books, a beaded Indian chief, an antique baby bonnet, antique lace for my Jennie Wade dolls, and an antique doll recipe book for a grand total of thirty dollars. I got the adorable bromeliad from the Pearl S. Buck house for four dollars. We stopped at Peaceful Valley Park too. Then we had lunch at Country Place. It was a good time. 

 

Clannad - Theme from Harry's Game (Official HD Video)

The Tikiyaki Orchestra - Mai Tais on the Moon OFFICIAL VIDEO

A Peony for Lennox

   Lennox gets the first peony because he is getting medicated for his third bout of Ick. He'll be alright. I catch it very fast with him because he is so black. He had two white spots on his face yesterday afternoon. They are gone, but he will still get two more treatments and a water change on Monday. I love Lennox. Julius says hello too. 💮

Frankie's First Birthday

   Sir Frankie Crisp is having fun today. He had a fried chicken leg for lunch. 🎂

Happy Birthday Sir Frankie Crisp

 

Mummy's Treasure #2 Vintage Costume Jewelry (60s-2000)

Get Mummy's Treasure #2 on Ebay

 

Beautiful Betta Book on Amazon

   Beautiful Betta on Amazon

Available for Kindle soon to be released in all formats Beautiful Betta is more than a memory picture book. It features poetry, fish stories, forty years of fish keeping and tips. 

Locomotive Breath

Little Libery: Antique Frozen Charlotte Brooch

Get Little Liberty on Ebay

 

Beautiful Betta

  I'm starting another book, Beautiful Betta, it's not going to be just a picture book; I'll share my forty years of experience with them. I realize I'm working on too many things at once and have to focus to finish, but I'm moody and work well with chaos. 

 

Updated ZAZZLE Shop

 

undefined
by dollsandmagic

Sir Beltane, Sir Napsalot, & Mr. Magnolia

  The fairy cakes and Ron's fairy house are gone. Sir Beltane is mine. Sir Napsalot is Ron's since I sleep all day because he won't let me have a puppy. Mr. Magnolia stayed in the tree. Ron said it rained twice while I was sleeping, but these fellows stayed dry beneath the tree while I waited for their Super Glue to dry. Their faces are done with Sharpies, and they have a couple of coats of varnish all around. Ron had drilled holes in the nuts for me, and I wired them with pipecleaners. I am not selling them due to fragility, but they are a fun craft for kids while they are learning about trees. I like trees and puppies way more than people. I am working on my first Jennie Wade doll for the Jennie Wade House in Gettysburg. I am making two sizes: ten inch and dollhouse size. I probably won't get back there in awhile as my next plans are for The 1777 Americana Inn in Ephrata. I want to stay in the Garden Room. TTYL... 🎕

 

May Day

The First Fairy House

Beltane Celebration

Beltane Celtic background music for fire dance Beltane rituals - May day...

Camelot | 45th Anniversary: The Lusty Month of May | Warner Bros. Entert...