My Mother Has Wanted a Dollhouse Since She Was a Little Girl

Every once in a while, events coalesce in such a way that a whole new attitude toward the world erupts.  And so I bring you my mother, Joanna Belle Cartledge, on the event of my delivering my friends' doll house to her:

 She was tickled pink.  Laughing out loud happy.  "My God," she said.  "It must have cost a fortune. The only ones I've ever seen like it were in the huge department stores in Detroit when I was a girl."

She's holding a photo of Terry Smith, my dear friend and maker of the doll house; Terry's  daughter Amy; and my grand-daughter Elizabeth wriggling to get off Amy's lap.

There aren't many ideas that emerge full-blown and attainable the way this one was. We all get by with a little help from our friends, but in this case it was with a generous outpouring from friends