Being this punch-drunk tired makes driving an adventure… then I get to Publix only to find that they can’t sell any refrigerated/frozen stuff because of power failure. The place smelled like a combination of bad fish, grandpa’s outhouse and feet. Makes me wonder if I’ll ever be able to shop there again.

Which has nothing to do with Tammi’s question of the day. But before I write about my favorite inanimate critter, let’s share the fear of a true abomination of the stuffed variety: the clown.

Gifted to me on my birth day by ambiguously gay duo Irene and Nadine, the clown’s floppy, easily agitated body and colorful leering visage were the stuff of my first nightmares. Whoever thought to prop the hellish fiend up on a shelf looking down at my crib did a great disservice to my developing psyche.
Slouching and head lolling like drunken troll, the painted on smile reflected pure evil. I was convinced he watched me sleep, and as I grew older surreptitiously hid my favorite toys under the covers in bed with me so they’d be safe.
The lone doll left to his devices was another natal day gift; a large red haired gal with outfits galore and painted on lipstick. She alone was able to deflect his advances and protect us all. I ended up naming her Mary.

48 years later and I still don’t care for clowns… and I still own the evil one. He’s packed away in a box, but maybe I’ll resurrect him for the grandkids… A new generation might find him safe and sane compared with modern television. Mary is long gone; Mom gave her away, or like my Barbie dolls found out she had a price on her head and cashed in.

Not overly fond of stuffed animals, I prefer the live version. There have been exceptions, those few times when a beau will present a token; totally unexpected, those tidbits of fluff are saved and cherished for what they are and from whom they sprang.

My favorite is WooWoo, a Boyd’s Bear that started out looking like a woolly sheep but now more closely resembles the Velveteen Rabbit, fur compacted and matted, half rubbed off with love and multiple machine washings.
WooWoo was born in a Miami Hallmark shop and presented to me in August 1992, right before Hurricane Andrew struck. He was with me then, and I even made a habit of never traveling without him ever again. Some people take out slippers when unpacking in hotel rooms; I set WooWoo to rights first so he can breathe once again.

I also sleep with Laddie, a Collie that Arthur gave me last year at Christmas. I love Lad, but WW got there first.

I either need therapy, deep tissue massage or sleep. Think I’ll take the cheapest first.

Edit:
Following Harvey’s example [pun intended], here’s a picture [click to enlarge] of WooWoo & Lad.