Winky, Binky, a Box of Thread, and Barbies

I don’t know that I ever had a “favorite” childhood possession, more that I had a collection of them that when all placed together, made for a fabulously satisfying tableau. Winky, Binky, Pinky and, aptly named, Stinky were among the dozen or so stuffed animals and sundry that I would line up around my pillow and whisper goodnight to.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve come to the realization that it isn’t the one thing that I find my most cherished possession; but the collection. For example: my sister and I had a collection of Barbies that could rival a toy store. Every Christmas, Holiday, and Birthday the two of us would ask for one thing: Barbie stuff. Must have made shopping for the two of us gloriously easy. I remember when the Kelly doll was introduced. Kelly was Barbie’s youngest sister, maybe 6 years old. Whomever was Barbie’s mom was sure churning them out; Barbie had (in order) Skipper, Stacey and now Kelly to play with. I had Caitlin. And we had a lot of relatives. At one point, we had EVERY SINGLE KELLY ITEM THAT EXISTED. I’d obsess over the pieces, the clothes, the shoes… they were perfect for my raunchy, nasty sex filled games where I’d blast my poor little sister’s innocent eyes with all sorts of terrible 12 year old concoctions. How was a 6 year old doll good for sex games? We had one rule in Barbie Land: Anybody could marry anybody in BarbieLand. So we had to have everybody.

In college, my then boyfriend’s mother reintroduced me to cross-stitch, a rather mindless activity where, for thousands of stitches threaded in and out of a grid made of cotton, I could create a still-life from an easy-to-follow pattern. I had dabbled in cross-stitch and embroidery before in high school, but never had my mind so been blown as when I was given two boxes of carefully wound bobbins of thread, each coded and named with a special number and filed away in numerical order. My mother and sister, both highly visual people and very color sensitive, took a critical look at my collection and asked why the colors were not grouped together? Because, it’s not in numerical order, see? It doesn’t matter about the color, it’s all about the number so I can find it easily! I’d spend months looking for missing colors to fill the gaps so I could be prepared to do ANY pattern in ANY book without having to do more than move a thread through a needle hole. I even grew my collection into a third box. I got so attached to the collection that once, while sitting alone in my boyfriend’s living room I asked myself the hypothetical question as to what I would grab first if the house burned down. With no hesitation I thought: the box of thread.

No, I never had a blanket I would drag through mud and grime. Instead, I am really good at finding a new collection to pour over and dream about. My poor fiancee will always need to be creative when trying to find a place to store my yarn. The -inky collection, though? Well, I couldn’t get rid of Pinky for sentimental reasons. Binky stopped squeaking years ago, Winky got ruined in a fire, and Stinky… well who really wanted Stinky around? No one wants a Stinky around. Pinky’s starting to smell like Stinky anyway. Hence why Pinky is at the bottom of my bed. And our Barbies are stored in boxes in our old room. The embroidery floss is sitting on a shelf at the roof of our apartment. However, my yarn collection is busting out of our closet, and I have enough crochet hooks to match ANY pattern in ANY book sohelpmegod. But, if you’re ever in need as to what to get me for a birthday present, a Crochet pattern book would be pretty sweet. I’m almost finished with the room sized afghan (not kidding) I’ve been working on for over a year.

February 9, 2015 at 9:24 pm by Natalie Allen