The Story of Francine

Secret confession of the day: I like to name things. I can't help it. I think it started when I wrote a flip book in the third grade about a lady named Cornelia. Just this past summer, I named the ceramic hen in my kitchen window, "Henrietta." My husband gave her a middle and last name, "Henrietta Tallulah Beeker Street." That is why we are married. He gets me.

For my birthday, my mother-in-law fulfilled my wish of having my very own doll cake. I have never had one. The minute she brought the cake in the door, I secretly thought that the cake looked like a Francine. I don't know why. I can't explain the weirdness that goes on in my own brain.

So meet Francine...

Francine is from South Carolina. She is a real Southern belle. She spends most of her days at garden parties and teas. She volunteers for the Historical Society. She likes listening to Johnny Mathis and Patsy Cline.

Francine has a dirty little secret though...

She has no legs! Francine tries to keep this secret from everyone. She is worried that if her friends find out they will take away her sash from the time she won "Miss Vidalia Queen." So poor Francine wears fancy dresses all the time. But if someone does have to cut into her crinoline, she throws up her arms and says:

Well, my Lord, where in tarnation are my legs? I had no idea my lower torso was made of yella (Southern drawl for yellow) cake. Whatever will I do?

Here is my lovely cake from Faye and the flowers from my mom! I am a lucky girl! My mothers love me despite my weird tendencies to make up stories.
Thanks for joining me for the story of Francine. Thanks for still socializing with me, even though I do weird stuff on my blog. I truly can't help it.

Bye, ya'all!