Demise of the Pastel Miniatures

All this talk of decapitation (see yesterday's blog comments) has reminded me of a journal entry which might have been a blog post had there been such a thing at the time (3/11/99):

"I spent a lot of time dusting and cleaning this past week. I am not a klutz. Really, I'm not. I usually move - and move things - rather gracefully. But it never ceases to amaze me that whenever I attempt dusting or cleaning, something gets broken. And the something is most often small, cute and a little too knick-knacky. It never fails.

For instance, as a child, my grandparents were concerned for me because I never collected anything. They attempted to remedy this by purchasing 'Precious Moments' figurines on birthdays and other special occasions. Now - I'll let you in on a little secret: I never really formed any sentimental attachment to Precious Moments figurines. In fact, (though my grandparents' hopes were very sweet), I always thought they were TOO cute. But I never intended to decapitate all of them either. Dusting: the untimely demise of the pastel miniatures...

I guess some things never change. Not long ago, my father gave me a small, clay figure of a tomten (looks like a gnome). I know it was a tomten because I used to have a book about them, and they have pointy red hats and make deceptive prints in the snow. I actually felt quite affectionate toward the tomten as it reminded me of my childhood book - and its creator had taken special care to paint bird-foot prints on the bottoms of his little feet. Very fun - and not too cute.

That didn't stop me, however, from somehow (in the process of dusting) landing the 10 lb. leather-bound Holy Bible in Four Translations (Parallel Edition) atop the little sucker's head. As I groaned, and lifted the Bible slowly to peer at the damage... sure enough, there was the chubby little torso and bird-feet. Headless. Next to the Bible. But where was the head??

After searching on hand and knee for WAY too long, I decided to wait for the head to choose it's own time to reveal itself. I took the Bible and transported it to a potential new location in the next room - as a centerpiece for the coffee table. But once again, I faced disappointment as I could not, for the life of me, get that Bible to sit flat on the table. "What in the world is possessing my stuff today?!" I thought, as I determined the Bible looked too knick-knacky as a centerpiece anyway. I soon found out as I flipped the honker over and discovered the tomten head, still quite jovial, lodged firmly into the leather cover. I suppose my pounding it against the coffee table didn't help at all. Guess they didn't call it a 'holy' Bible for nothing. And thank God for liquid nails..."