Charlie’s Ears

My Friends,
Yesterday’s doll conversations brought back fond memories of a cherished childhood friend. His name was Charlie. He had curled pink fur and bright blue eyes that somehow didn’t seem right, but were. I remember many a dark night when Charlie was my cuddle pal.

I can’t remember why I cut Charlie’s long ears off. They were most likely cropped to better match his eyes. I can’t recall what eventually became of my beloved pink buddy. Maybe he ran away in fear. His little lunatic owner might chop off his balled tail which didn’t look quite right, but was.

Charlie DogIt’s funny how sometimes making new friends can remind us of old lost ones. My blog buddy, Deb has an impossibly adorable dog named Charlie. If you’d like to see precious Charlie along with all his other four-legged house buddies visit C-Dog. Deb is a brilliant wordsmith and a great champion of animals in every conceivable color, even pink. And Fawn of Trigger’s Horse, handles her mom’s cherished doll collection with warmth and pride. Fawn is a volunteer extraordinaire and a multi-talented craftsperson.

Thank you. May you dream of your favorite childhood friend.

Charlie Dog drawn yesterday with misting eyes and markers

Hello Dollies, Please Don’t Hurt Us

My Friends,
This blog of mine has been through several iterations. While returning from a self-hosted site back to WordPress, many older posts were lost in translation. I’m going to use Sunday evenings to rework, repair and repost some of my favorite 2014 efforts. I hope you don’t mind blogging down Memory Lane with me. If you haven’t read before, I hope you enjoy.
Thank you,
The ‘Annagement’
 (sorry couldn’t resist)

Hello Dollies, Please Don’t Hurt Us
(originally posted 4/15/14)

Returning home from a lovely garden journey, the giant husband and I happened upon an old-timer’s flea market. A pair of cigarette-smoking, timeworn vendors stood outside like cement lions. They wore pensive smiles while observing curious browsers.

The market’s outdoor portion consisted of a few makeshift tables loaded with lopsided frames, 1950’s tools, hat boxes… The indoor portion was housed in a dilapidated and dank-smelling barn that had seen better days. The giant husband and I strapped on our big-boy coveralls and entered the jittery building.

Beside the usual flea market fare of old records, fringed lamps, mildewed books, chipped dinnerware and broken Tonka toys there were boxes of dead dolls. I can’t think of anything more blood-curdling than little plastic people. Dolls used to scare the crap out of me when I was a kid, now they were back to haunt me.

These dolls were broken-hearted. Their tiny scratched lips whispered how long they’d lived without a warm embrace.
solo dollThey’d been abandoned then forgotten…
solo dollThe dolls choked on satin visages of yesteryear. Long ago, they’d been precious…
headEyes once marble-bright were now marred dull like the fabric tears of stuffed clowns…
clownThe giant husband and I had to look away from the pained grimaces.
wrestlerBut the most frightening thing of all was when a little sinister man-doll attempted to steal the giant husband’s soul…
bpThank you. May you dream of happy dolls in warm homes.
All photos taken in April 2014 with iPhone. I’ve made it a personal goal to attempt art for every post, some earlier posts in 2014 have only photos.