I've named this post in honor of a site that I may have recommended in the past:
Cute Overload. This is a first cousin, but live and here in Prescott. You may recall that on Saturday, friend Georgene and I escaped from our cages for lunch and an excursion to favored spots. One of which is the big resale operation run by N.O.A.H. over at the corner of Granite and Walker Streets. Benefits homeless animals, so it's a good cause, as well as a place to score interesting finds. (Georgene walked out with a telescope.)
I started out looking at books and records; Liberaci LP anyone? It was after I scanned the books and 8-track tapes that I became aware that the entire store was absolutely awash in stuffed animals. Everywhere I turned.
Occupying the high chairs.
Ensconced on a drawing table, together with four pictures.
Sharing an overstuffed chair.
Flounced out on a barstool.
Straddling a huge collection of shirts.
In addition, there were several racks chockablock full of smaller stuffed animals.
And to top it all off, high on the wall above the shoe racks was a large painting. Of teddy bears.
Reviewing my pictures, I remain overwhelmed by the size and the number of stuffed toy creatures. I wonder how many there are per capita in the USA. I worry about how precious an individual toy bear or rabbit or dog or cat can be when a child's room is paved with critters, as was my daughter's tiny room at one time and another. I grew up in a more Spartan world (the Great Depression was upon us) and had the one precious little brown teddy bear above, named Julius Otto, plus a couple of stuffed critters sewn by my mother to match dresses she made. JO has been around a long, long time -- Mom had to redo his face. I wonder how long Fred, the granddaughter's white bear above, will last.
I've named this post in honor of a site that I may have recommended in the past: Cute Overload. This is a first cousin, but live and here in Prescott. You may recall that on Saturday, friend Georgene and I escaped from our cages for lunch and an excursion to favored spots. One of which is the big resale operation run by N.O.A.H. over at the corner of Granite and Walker Streets. Benefits homeless animals, so it's a good cause, as well as a place to score interesting finds. (Georgene walked out with a telescope.)
I started out looking at books and records; Liberaci LP anyone? It was after I scanned the books and 8-track tapes that I became aware that the entire store was absolutely awash in stuffed animals. Everywhere I turned.
Occupying the high chairs.
Ensconced on a drawing table, together with four pictures.
Sharing an overstuffed chair.
Flounced out on a barstool.
Straddling a huge collection of shirts.
In addition, there were several racks chockablock full of smaller stuffed animals.
And to top it all off, high on the wall above the shoe racks was a large painting. Of teddy bears.
Reviewing my pictures, I remain overwhelmed by the size and the number of stuffed toy creatures. I wonder how many there are per capita in the USA. I worry about how precious an individual toy bear or rabbit or dog or cat can be when a child's room is paved with critters, as was my daughter's tiny room at one time and another. I grew up in a more Spartan world (the Great Depression was upon us) and had the one precious little brown teddy bear above, named Julius Otto, plus a couple of stuffed critters sewn by my mother to match dresses she made. JO has been around a long, long time -- Mom had to redo his face. I wonder how long Fred, the granddaughter's white bear above, will last.
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