We went to two doll stores today. The one in Scottsdale that was supposed to be this huge, spectacular store was worse than the mall. It had mostly dollhouses and little dollhouse furniture, which was cute, but not as many dolls as we thought. They were too expensive as was the mall store, and their dolls were so dull.

The other store we went to, which was about the same size as the Scottsdale one and a little bigger than the mall one, had about a dozen nice dolls at much better prices. I saw a couple that was of average size, with nice long hair and nice dresses, for only $30 and $40. So it looks like I’m gonna get one or two from this store, then perhaps I’ll knock off the Rapunzel one from the catalog, and just get the remaining three I want to get from the catalog. I saw one of the dolls there that was listed in the catalog (not one I want). It was for the same price, too.

Another cool thing about the store with the nice $30 and $40 dolls was that it had doll parts for making your own dolls. It had painted heads with the hair attached. There were dresses, shoes, bodies, etc. Next time I’m there, I’m gonna check into this and see if it’s less costly than buying an already made-up doll.

I’m looking forward to making mice wallpaper this weekend. Our camera can’t take detailed shots of the mice. They’re just too little. The camcorder can, though. It can zoom in and get some good face shots. That way I can always have pictures of my favorites to remember, like Ziggy, and Patch with her “eye patch” which consists of a brown circle of fur over one eye.

Had a hell of a miserable memory a couple of evenings ago. It’s not like it’s something I ever forgot, but I seemed to remember it in more detail and the emotions that go with it. Thanks, Doe and Art, for the memories you’ve given me for the rest of my life. It’s not so much the memories that depress or anger me, it’s the emotions that go with the memories. It’s remembering how I felt at a particular time. Not just the events of the memory itself. It’s a really crappy thought to know that I have to live with these memories for the rest of my life since we can’t erase memories. At least I can’t, anyway. All I can do is try to divert my mind’s attention when they come and think of something more pleasant.

I’ll go ahead and write about this last one, though. It basically came to me while I was listening to music just as the sun was almost completely set. It was when I could see the basic outlines, with no color or details, of the furniture in the room. Back when I’d get in trouble at school, one of the things that bitch did was send me right to bed. As early as 3:00. Normally, my bedtime in elementary school, which was when this would happen mostly, was 8:00. What I remembered was the sheer depression and boredom that’d overcome me for hours as I’d lay there wishing and praying for the darkness to come. The darker it got, the better I’d feel, cuz then I’d know it had to be around the time I was supposed to be in bed anyway. I couldn’t see the time, though. The little square, yellow alarm clock I had wasn’t a digital clock that lit up.