In the past I’ve written here and here about my aversion to Annalee dolls and how my family likes to torture me by inserting them into my existence at unexpected times. I found myself face to face with the annoying little imps again yesterday (the Annalee dolls, not my family, although the latter can have their own detractions), and this time Diamondqueen or the Hooligans can’t take the credit.
As I wrote yesterday, we visited Holiday Junction at the Cincinnati Museum Center. After we’d all had our fill of choo-choos, we made our way toward what appeared to be a fairyland corridor leading to Santa. There were a number of figures and animals hanging from the lights and trim. When I looked closer at one being hanging by his heels, I found to my horror I was staring into the simpering mug of an elf that bore every characteristic of being an Annalee doll. I can’t say for sure that’s what it was, but Diamondqueen, J.Hooligan, and Mom all agreed that the resemblance was sufficient to justify my disgust and outrage.
And there wasn’t one little creature. They were all over the place, and something about them dangling from above and along the sides made the twinkling passageway a channel of apoplectic despair for me. (This, of course, amused the hell out of the other three, and Diamondqueen snapped the photo above as I prepared to battle my way out of the Annalee labyrinth.)
Tomorrow Mom and I are going to a large antique mall near Springfield, Ohio. It’s customary to discover several Annalee dolls of all types leering at me from display cases and from deep within the shadowy corners of cluttered booths. Also, I’ll probably be putting up my personal Christmas decorations this week, and I realized I have those damn elves to set out. I am really not in the mood for them at the moment.
Note: I’ve always loved “he’s everywhere, he’s everywhere” from Ray Stevens’ “Santa Claus is Watching You.” Enjoy: