Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Let's just call it a Garden Party....

You know how there is always one house in the neighborhood with all sorts of weird crap in the yard? Well, I am well on the way to owning that yard.

For the most recent gift giving event, one in which most women receive flowers or a nice piece of jewelry, I received a nearly three foot replica of an Easter Island Head. Which lights up.

I can't really complain. I hinted around that this was the one thing I truly wanted. Just like the garden gnome (Basil), the pink flamingos (Jake and Elwood), the tree face (Wilford), and the three foot tall otter:
He goes by many names. Today he is Frank SinOtter.

(The three foot tall otters, who only smokes candy cigarettes and claims he can quit any time he wants, is actually an indoor dweller, along with the mini-Easter Island heads and the Hear/See/Speak No Evil Monkey candle holders). Oh wait, lets not forget the zombie finger puppets.

I would never have purchased any of these things myself. I may have mentioned some of them a time or two...and in the case of the otter over a couple of years...But I figure if they are gifts then my family has no one to blame but themselves.

I did buy a vintage dashboard hula girl at a flea market but come on, she was vintage and only five bucks. Oh, and Napoleon and Marc Antony. But they were Mardi Gras decorations. Napoleon sort of looks like his troops turned their bayonets on him when he mentioned Waterloo. And poor Marc Antony has a hole which sort of resembles a battlefield tracheostomy, which he coyly hides with his Mardi Gras beads. It has been suggested that I throw them out but I can't. They have eyes. And if they still have eyes, then they just might still be alive.

Its like when I use to sew for pleasure, before I made sails for a maniacal, boat-building...my husband's boat. I made rag dolls. I would dress them, give them hair but never, ever did I paint on their eyes until they were completely finished. Once they can see me I figure its every man, woman and doll for themselves. I still have a have completed Santa doll who looks pleadingly at me from embroidered brown eyes, asking forlornly, "Where is my red velvet suit? Its freakin' cold down here in the basement in nothing but my muslin skin."

And that's why I can't get rid of the tiny dictator and the Roman gigolo. At least we have a large backyard so everyone can maintain their space and there is no worry that the tiny Frenchman will organize an assault.

But I digress. Each and everyone of these inhabitants have a name. Except Easter Island Head. At present, he is going by Cabeza:

Cabeza is the one on the left.

So, I am opening it up to you. Help me name Cabeza. Comment here, on Twitter, on Facebook. Because face it, he has eyes. He is going to be hanging around for a very long time...

Seriously, don't even think about stealing him, even Napoleon is a little afraid...

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