I had this urge to make stuffed bears. Maybe some deep desire for a substitute for the bear that my mother made for me when I was but a wee child, a bear that she made from leftover brown velveteen and from a pattern provided by some weekly magazine. The best bear in the whole world, shabby and misshapen over the years and button eyes missing and replaced but my bear.
And so I tried to recapture this childhood marvel and finally, eight tries later and six survivors, I said....
stop.
No more bears.
Whatever am I going to do with these critters ? I am not that fond of them, and most particularly not that many of them.
What to do ?
Something will happen; I will have some brilliant idea, but till then, I have six stuffed bears standing on my dining table.
How crazy is that ?
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