I live in a bear house

Merry Christmas to you
Merry Christmas to you

I can barely keep from smiling as I write this blog.

It’s the bare truth that my sister, whom I live with, collects bears. Or rather, she did.  When she married and moved in with her husband, there was barely room for all her bears. So she quit collecting and put most of the stuffed bears in the basement in plastic bags until she finally decided to give them away, though she could barely part with them.

However, that still left many bears on shelves in her house, among them a bear phone, and a couple Christmas “dancing” bears. Actually, they don’t dance; they barely move when supplied with electricity. They are really cute.IMG_20141204_090626

When my father was very ill in 1975, my sister from Michigan and I from Washington came to Cincinnati. We decided to get my father a gift from the gift shop. When we got there, we saw this adorable “injured” bear and bought it for Gayle, my sister who lived with my folks and brother.  My brother teased her about why her bear was all banged up, but he liked it, too.

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I don’t really mind living in a house of bears. They are sweet little critters who say barely anything and eat barely anything. They just stand and smile and make the place cuter.

I hope you do more than barely enjoy the bears. The pictures I have barely scratch the surface, but they’ll give you an idea. I hope you like them as much as I do.

P10200482014 bears 2

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4 thoughts on “I live in a bear house

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