Coulrophobia

or, fear of clowns.  I wonder how it develops?

Ohhhh, I see. 

Hubby was cleaning out his old trunk today.  Now why would anyone want to keep such a thing?!?  If I was a certain type of parent, at one time I could have used this to force my offspring into submission.  "Be good or Mr. Scary Clown will get you!"  He would have come in handy during some of my early babysitting stints; I had a couple of jobs where the children were genuinely, frighteningly horrible. (I'm not exaggerating, ask me about the kid who hid his liquor or the nine-year-old arsonist.)

I can better understand keeping the ancient Bugs Bunny. 
And look, they're resting on a decrepit quilt!

I fear it's beyond repair - when I folded it my finger went right through one of the squares - and I don't have long fingernails.  What a shame, some of those prints are fabulous!  There's no question we'll keep it but it does break my heart a little to see such lovely prints so far past their prime.  It doesn't break my heart at all that we're keeping Mr. Scary Clown. 

This week's Big Deal: the boychild "crossed the bridge" from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts.

His den made the Arrow of Light decoration you see on the bottom of the bridge - that's a few red hawk feathers from hubby's stash (taken from a found dead bird over 20 years ago, I *told* you he's a hopeless scavenger), a broomstick and a shocking amount of Sculpy for the arrowhead.  Each den makes something for the ceremony so there were lots of bits-and-bobs around from past graduates.  The kid says he's going to go for Eagle Scout - we'll see!  As hubby says, "that's a long trail!"