Just to prove we are as strange as you always suspected…
Some nights ago I was sitting watching TV with my favourite teddy, Bear, who went with me to university. Mum held out a photograph for Bear to sniff. I gave her a puzzled look, and she said, “it’s just that the photo smelled odd and I thought Bear would have a keener nose than us.”
“Well, normally,” I said, “but he says it’s a bit stuffed up this evening.”
A few days after returning from York, a box arrived via courier. At last! The Steiff bear I got for Mum’s birthday was inside – he’s beautiful.
My giant stuffed spider (at least as big) asked if he could eat him, and Mum said “absolutely not!”
She listened to the bear playing his night music (Eine kleine Nachtmusik) and said “he goes on forever.” Well, what else does one expect from great composers?
Something about Mozart Bear’s wide black stare reminds me of Puss in Boots from Shrek 2.
I said to Mum I like the way his ‘skin’ glows pinkly through his white fur, and we both giggled – then I said “I wonder what the real Mozart would have thought?”
Come to think of it, I wonder what the real Shelob would have thought…?
Comments for this entry (during its previous life on Blogigo):
1. Pacian wrote at Jun 3, 2007 at 13:14: AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEE!
2. Diddums wrote at Jun 3, 2007 at 17:23: I wouldn’t worry about her – I left her watching Beaches. She keeps asking if she can eat things, and we keep saying ‘no’ – at least she obeys. At the moment.
3. Geosomin wrote at Jun 4, 2007 at 17:06: Bleargh…put that guy away. I get the heebie jeebies, even from fluffy stuffed spiders it seems.
I have to ask…What do you DO with a stuffed spider?
Surely not snuggle up to it?
I gibber a bit just thinking about it…
4. Diddums wrote at Jun 4, 2007 at 17:35: I don’t think you do anything with stuffed spiders – they do all the doing. I got her a while ago, and keep finding her lurking in various shadowy corners. It’s amazing how she gets around the house. She even turned up in the bath…
The other morning I was thinking again about Bear, my ted-in-chief. I’ve joked more than once that he finds things. It doesn’t matter what I’ve lost – a book, specs, pens, tissues; even a magazine article – if I ask him where they are, he answers without hesitation. And he always gets it right.
It gets so that I’m afraid of spoiling his record, and don’t ask him very often. Today, though, I was stumbling vaguely from room to room, looking on the desk, a stool, a window sill… “where are my specs?”
Bear said, “on the table beside the sofa.”
And there they were.
Perhaps I’ve found a way of tapping into my subconscious. Logic and memory come together to inform me. Or my mind wanders so much that I do the ‘stumbling vaguely from room to room’ thing with my thoughts here and there; asking Bear “where?” is a way of snapping out of the fog I’m in.
It’s all very mystifying
Bear photo © Diddums, 2007
Comments for this entry (during its previous life on Blogigo):
1. geosomin wrote at Apr 25, 2007 at 16:35: Does your bear have an omniscient friend who’d like to come visit Canada? I’m constantly losing things! 🙂
2. Diddums wrote at Apr 26, 2007 at 16:07: Bear says there’s one in a shop near you. Just go from shop to shop (or stall to stall – wherever seems right to you) till you find one that you can’t put down. That’s the one who will be your Om bear…
A few days ago I was listening to Hugga Wugga on my Muppet Show album. Then last night I had some peculiar dreams – they were verging on hallucinations! Just as I was dropping off to sleep, it seemed to me that a large teddy bear was in bed with me, his long arms draped round my neck. His yellow eyes started to glow softly, and his paws tightened till I was being throttled.
Waking, I broke the bear’s stranglehold, took a couple of deep breaths, and went back to sleep. Just as I was floating off, the same happened. The bear hugged me tighter and tighter till I woke up again, gasping, and pushed him back.
“This is just a dream,” I said to myself. “It will be gone when I go back to sleep.”
Drowsing off again, I choked in the bear’s pitiless grasp, his eyes staring venomously into mine.
“No, no, no!” I thought, rousing for the third time. “I’ve got to wake up a little more.” I turned over on my side, and finally the bear was gone. For the rest of the night I dreamed a confusing whirl of shapes and colours, nothing making sense. I did not feel rested when morning came, and lay for a while thinking “what if that was a message to the human race from all bearkind?”
“Hug! Wug! Wuggy! Wugga! Wuggaaargh!”
Sinister, you’ll agree…
Yesterday we attended the annual Teddy Bear Show.
I hoped I wouldn’t win anything. I’ve been on edge for a while. There was a bad weekend when I was tired and annoyed, and just as I was getting back on track, my spirits set off again on the downward spiral. Some days I’m at the end of my tether, but the doctor took my blood pressure this morning (it was her idea, not mine) and said it’s normal.
“So you can’t REALLY be at the end of your tether,” said Mum.
How can my blood pressure be normal?! I feel as though I’ve secretly got rabies.
Mum said “if you think you’re at the end of your tether now, wait till you’re my age.”
I suppose by the time you get to her age, you’ve gone through an extra 30 years of stress, fury and irritation.
In one way I couldn’t imagine NOT going to the bear show; in another way I didn’t feel ready for it. Mum was saying things like “maybe I’ll put THAT bear in the such and such class.” Instead of replying “yes, that’s a pretty bear,” I shrugged and said nothing. What that really meant was “it’s as good a bear as any other and I expect you’ll make up your own mind about it.” She said, “it doesn’t matter, you know – it’s just a bit of fun – it’s for a laugh.”
She went to the kitchen to get tea and I still didn’t speak, but I wasn’t sure why she felt it necessary to point it out. I don’t invest my hopes in winning at the bear show – I don’t feel that I have to uphold any particular beary standard. I enjoy choosing my bears and showing them off but I hate being in the limelight. The bears can be in the limelight, but leave me to lurk in the shadows, please!
Then it crossed my mind, maybe she was misinterpreting my downcast expression as “we’ve got to pick the RIGHT bear and that one isn’t it!” Or maybe she realized I was lacking in my usual enthusiasm and was trying to rally me round. Or maybe I was depressing her, and she was trying to rally herself! It can be so difficult to understand what someone else is trying to say (or why they’re saying it).
When we got to the show I was thinking “I shouldn’t show my best bears – I’m not in the mood to win!” But there they were by my side, looking forward with bright beady eyes to the oohs and aahs of the crowd – I couldn’t disappoint them.
Mum’s bears collected a 2nd and a 3rd (including in the bear poem class, which I didn’t enter – having seen her poem!) Big Sister turned up with one of her bears and put him in two classes. He’s so big he had to borrow her chair rather than sit on the table with the others, but he didn’t win anything.
To my horror, there were only three entrants for the Bear with Picture class, which meant I was assured of a placing. I won it. I seem to have a habit of winning that class with photos from the computer. I said to Mum I feel guilty, as it only took me two minutes to print out the photo that morning, and I should have sweated over it a bit more. On the other hand, I did the main work some time ago, and only three people entered the class at all.
The Judge’s Favourite Bear class was very popular, with 30-plus bears, all very beautiful and charming. I relaxed, thinking I was certain not to win this one, then my jaw dropped when she said “and the winner is… ” (and fished out a bear from the back of the crowd, which turned out to be a certain Eskimo Bear clutching baby penguin.
Aah. Won twice. Best in Show went to someone else, though.
The prizes left over by the end of the show (which was when I started winning) weren’t great – a scarlet felt bear made in Germany and a padded picture frame. My sister said I should put the frame in a raffle. Probably will. Though it goes quite well with my curtains! I like the bear, though it’s not one I would have bought. It has an uplifted snout and a cheerful expression, and I need a bit of cheer just now.
Quite a cheery day, when all is said and done. It could have been responsible for bringing down my blood pressure – which was never high, as far as I know, but feels as though it’s been trying to dig a hole in the ozone layer.
EDIT (Dec 2007):
When this was originally published on Blogigo, I got the following comment from Davecathy:
Sounds like you just woke up like a bear with a sore head, just a little grizzly. Still you bared your soul, picked the bear bones out of it and went on to be a clever little teddy and won. You deserve some honey for tea.
I hope he doesn’t mind me quoting it – I was unable to transfer any of my older comments across from Blogigo, but I liked that one.