Lottie

Lottie is my sock monkey.

There was a time in the not-too-distant past that I was a-skeered a-sock monkeys. They were just so weird looking to me. I think it was mostly the mouth. Big ol' red mouth that looks like a knife gash. I simply found nothing adorable about them. They just seemed like a weird thing for a kid to love.

Being as I try to be honest about my fears and phobias, I shared my fear of sock monkeys with my friends. One of them, Sari, told me she actually made sock monkeys before the demands of motherhood sucked up her free sock monkey sewing time. Now Sari's a lovely, sweet, kind lady. She would never make anything completely creepy, would she?

Other friends tried to help. My friend, Jen, sent me a sock monkey button. Others send me cards with sock monkeys. Then Sari sent me a wee teensy sock monkey, only about three inches high. Wee sock monkey (known to me as just Wee) was actually...dare I say it?...cute. Shortly after receiving Wee I had surgery and was in the hospital for two weeks. Wee went with me and was strangely comforting, even if he did spend most of the time in my nightstand drawer.

I considered myself cured. But there would be one final test. Could I own a regular size sock money and not be reduced to a quivering mass of tears?

When I was in the US last fall I decided that I must buy a sock monkey. I looked at a few places but didn't find one and my sister, who surprisingly didn't think I was completely bats for wanting a sock monkey, suggested we'd find one at the gift shop of a Cracker Barrel restaurant, the closest to my hometown being a good 45 minutes away in Tupelo. We made plans to drive down there for breakfast the following morning and snag one.

Evidently I was destined to go home with a sock monkey because there was one waiting for me - the last one in stock, as a matter of fact. Price was no object and by the time I was grazing on grits and buttermilk biscuits I had a sock monkey in a little brown sack at my side.

As I didn't want a nekkid sock monkey we set off to get some sock monkey sized clothes as Toys R Us. It was tough to find a dress for her that didn't have ducks or other babyish print on it but I did succeed in getting her a brown and red plaid dress. Sorta matches her skin and everything.

Note that I referred to her as...well...a her. I can't say that her gender just jumped out at me because let's be real. It's a sock monkey. It's whatever you want it to be. And mine got to be a girl because of one simple reason. It's easier to deal with a monkey tail in a dress than in a pair of teeny pants.

Now all she needed was a name. I liked Sophie but my sister insisted that my sock monkey would be a German sock monkey. Right. Sewed in Ohio and bought in Mississippi. I can see where the German part jumped out at her. Okay, so on to German names. I ran through my repetoir of German names until came across the name of B's great-grandmother, Charlotte. And thus she became Lottie.

I have photos of Lottie doing just about everything. Lottie helping me put up the Christmas tree. Lottie helping me bake muffins. Lottie at Borroum's Drug Store at the soda counter. Now that spring is literally on our doorstep there will be photos of Lottie at the lake and Lottie climbing trees in the park. Lottie dining at our favorite restaurant and Lottie attending the city festival. I have been liberated from my sock monkey phobia and I now celebrate it with having Lottie be a well traveled and adventuresome sock monkey.

Could be worse. I could have gotten over a phobia of camel spiders. Imagine me photographing my favorite camel spider at my favorite restaurant. Mmm...'lish. Pass the schnitzel.