for Juliane's lost doll story contest and giveaway:
I didn’t get that crave for sewing and crafting from nowhere, I owe the credit for that to my mum and before her to my grandmother.
Crafting was in the family so as a child I was lucky enough to get a lovely doll hand sewn by my mother. She had never heard of waldorf dolls, so it was a white cotton skinned doll with embroidered eyes, mouth, freckles … She had the prettiest traditional Hungarian-style dress with an apron and she had a crown of flowers and ribbons in her blond braided hair. I loved her so much! She wasn’t exactly the kind of doll a child usually plays with. You weren’t supposed to dress and undress her or to comb her hair, you weren’t supposed to drag her around like any blankie. I am sorry for my mum’s hard work but that’s exactly what I did… which accounts for the bad shape of my doll now…
I didn’t actually lose the doll; let’s say that as I grew up, I didn’t really need that kind of companion any longer. So she lay there in my maiden’s room for years.
Last winter was a really tough time for me; I was physically exhausted and felt unable to cope with being a full-time working mum of three, a wife. I was craving for a break and at the same time overwhelmed with guilt feelings… I felt trapped and useless.
On a visit to my mum’s, (only a few miles away but where else to go ?…) she gave the doll to my daughters for them to play with. Of course they asked for borrowing it, of course mum said yes and the sweet Hungarian beauty came back with us… I was glad to have it back, it reminded me of a blissful time when I wasn’t concerned with the responsibilities of adulthood. Having her around was enough already to soothe me…
The strangest things started to occur shortly after she arrived home: In the evening, coming home I realized that some of the chores I had planned to do were already accomplished. I came back from work to a tidy cosy home. Dinner was ready. The laundry seemed to have been miraculously folded during the day and to have gone back to the dressers without my lifting a finger, I didn’t even have to whisper any Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious or whatever unutterable magic word to have all the work done!
The girls were all into the doll and played with her like I used to as a child. Even my big boy was fond of it : he brought it to me one afternoon, he said all was fine, their homework done and I deserved a hug and a little nap. I slept like never, I could finally rest. I woke up feeling healthy and resourced.
When I had my mom next on the phone (as often in those days), she suggested she could get the doll back for the girls to have some toy when they would come over. She asked if I felt better, I said yes I did so she said that it was time for the doll to go.
The doll is back to my maiden’s room. I know it belongs there. I also know its discreet, peaceful, efficient power can still be distilled to me whenever I need it. Precious.
Est-ce l'entrée dans l'hiver et l'inévitable repli sur un intérieur décidément trop petit, je range je trie, je réorganise le quotidien: décidée à me débarrasser du superflu, des kilos insidieusement installés qui encombrent le corps et la maison: envie de manger sain, d'épurer de purifier, de prendre soin de soi et des siens, de se donner du temps... 
Au dessus de la porte, notre maison est datée: centenaire respectable, elle accuse par endroit les marques de l'âge, n'est pas moderne, pas fonctionnelle, les planchers laissent apercevoir l'étage du dessous et penchent parfois dangereusement: surtout ne rien renverser ! Les volets tiennent par la corde et la pâte à bois... L'intérieur est dans son jus...
En attendant le début des travaux à la fin de l'hiver, rester au chaud et crocheter frénétiquement, faire le lien entre ces carrés crochetés au fil des mois par ma grand-mère elle aussi presque centenaire avec des restes de laine: logique de l'économie, ne rien perdre et garder le souvenir de nos pulls d'enfants. 
