Meet my trolls.
And much to my family's consternation, there are more. My dad bought me my first as a strange souvenir from a shop in Breckenridge, Colorado. Then my mother moved to the Blue Ridge mountains of Georgia. My trolls are made in Tennessee, so I always bought one or two on my summer visits during college. I love them. You can read their origin story here.
I used to have them spread around the house, but a couple months ago, I gathered them together and posed them on and around the living room bookcases. The daughters claim that the ones in their room were scaring them at night. Okay, my trolls are scary, but these...
are not? These are the daughters' troll dolls. They came from the stuff at my grandma's house. While I have never asked her, I figure they were my sister's. I don't remember owning any.
I love trolls, and I love all things Norse and/or Scandinavian, so I was so happy to get D'Aulaires' Trolls by Ingri and Edgar D'Aulaire from the library this week. This copy is an old edition from the 1970s. (It was first released in 1972.) It is available again as part of the New York Review Children's Collection, so guess what I just added to my Christmas wish list?
There's a part of me that thinks I should wait to read it until I can snuggle in with the girls, but at the time of my writing this, they're already in bed and I'm suffering - suffering, I tell you - from Little Sis's cold. (Waaaaahhh!) I think my stuffy self shall curl up with some tea and a blankie and this beautiful picture book.
You know what? I'm grumpy. My nose is red and feels swollen. My eyes are watery, and I have an ugly cough. Do you know what I resemble right now?
Have a lovely day, one and all!
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