Hello everyone! First off, let me thank you all so much for stopping by Ranch Dressing. Secondly, thank you for all of your great comments and well wishes. It's been a busy couple of days around the Kitschderosa but I'm finally able to sit down and tell you about my birthday/blog birthday/anniversary/general day of glee. I had such a great day!
I woke up in the morning and came down the hall to find birthday messages from Mr. Kitsch everywhere. They started with this great sign in the hall:
"Whoooooooooooo is turning 40?" Why, that's me! Well, it was. Now I am officially forty plus two days which kind of feels like 39 but with more cake in the fridge and a peaked interest in all of those bladder control commercials.
The notes ended with this message propped up over my computer:
"Whooooooo's our birthday girl?" Guilty as charged! And let me tell you, with the owl theme on everything, I just KNEW that I was getting an owl for my birthday! (of course, I was a little alarmed at the chances of it as our pantry is pretty bare on the carrion front).
Then I logged onto my computer and published my brand new blog! Three cheers! I was very excited, let me tell you! I am already loving my new home here so much.
I then went into the kitchen and immediately spied something through the window on the sun porch. A piñata!! I was stoked. It was my first piñata ever! It's not like the piñata was a surprise because every time that the Mister and I've gone to the local market in the past several months, I would stand underneath the piñatas hanging from the ceiling and twirl while shrieking, "I want a piñata for my 40th birthday!! Please??!" I mean, even the guy gutting fish in the back knew that Veruca Salt was out front and that she wanted a freakin'piñata. I knew that the Mister would make it happen. He's a mover and a shaker like that. He's my piñata sugar daddy and don't you doubt it. The fun part is that I had no idea which piñata he would pick. Would it be the huge green, unidentifiable animal thingie with bulging eyes and a necktie? Would it be the jaunty rainbow with the sparkly streamers? Please, lord...don't let it be Spongebob because I'll have to run over THAT guy with my car...
Turns out it was THIS one!
Glory day! I had never even seen this one before! Will you look at that pastel vision of kitschy cuteness?? It was a big white kitty wearing a pink headband and little smock with a "K" on it. I ran up to it and hugged it and declared that there was no way that I was going to whack it with a stick. I mean...look at those eyes!
Gah! Cute! I was told that I really should do the deed since there was something good inside. Money? No. Mini liquor bottles? No. Chocolate? Yes. There was chocolate inside! He knew how to cut me deep! I told the Mister that I would think about it and in the back of my mind, I imagined a crowd of people at my estate sale after I pass, standing over a dust covered, ratty piñata in the back of a closet. Someone in the crowd moves forward, perhaps dropping a googly eyed knick-knack out of their loot filled arms and removes the piñata from the closet. It is then that the crowd moves away as if one and gasps as they see fifty year old Reeses cups, melted and rotted into a clump on the inside of the fuzzy, yellowed head. A piñata with an ancient linty, cocoa aneurysm would become my legacy...and is that what I want?
Snapping out of it, I smiled and placed the beautiful piñata into the dark recesses of my guest room closet.
Next up, we got in the car and made a run to my favorite exclusive breakfast joint:
You know it. Sonic. Grilled cheese and an enormous sweet tea makes mama happy.
We spent the rest of the day driving all over town to thrift stores - one of my most favorite things to do. We really didn't find anything great which was weird considering we went to eight or nine different stores and with me declaring myself queen of the day, I scoured those shelves as if my life depended on finding the holy grail of birthday thrifting. So, that said, I am going to insert a photo from the day as a stand-in for all of the cool stuff that the thrift stores probably put out on the shelves the minute that we left the premises:
Oh yes, you know that guy don't you? The overpriced, homemade clown that seems to wait in every thrift store? I have a theory that they are planted by the government and have tiny cameras hidden behind their matted pom-pom noses, tracking our every impulse purchase...but as this post has probably already made you antsy, I'll save all of that for another day.
So, let's see...we had a couple of yummy meals. A Greek diner and a Mexican restaurant. Here is a photo of the latter:
That's Mister Kitsch sitting there. You'll probably see very little of him as he is in some sort of witness protection program and abhors me showing him on the world wide webs. He's wearing his "Pickle Party" shirt in honor of the monumental day and probably the fact that my nickname is "Pickles McGherkin". Aww! At the Mexican restaurant a group of "gentlemen" near us were talking dirty so that put a weird twist on the meal. Mister Kitsch said that he never heard them - just more proof that he blocks out everything (including my crazy "did you just hear what they said??" faces) when I am sitting across the table going on and on about something. Bless his patient soul.
Further along in the day, we went and saw some glorious ranch houses of the stars. I'm saving those for a future post but just let me say - fantastic fun. We then went out and tagged some buildings with my gang name:
Okay, I lie. The graffiti was already there but we DID crawl over brambles and bricks and a moderately steep hill to stand amongst it so we're kinda gangstas in our own right. Well, not when I started whining about getting chiggers and dying from the heat...but other than that, I am hardcore. Don't cross me. Unless you have syrup and grits. Or a connection to someone with syrup and grits.
So, if you're still with me (and bless your heart if you are), here is a quick rundown of some other great parts of the day:
I got a fabulous horse necklace from the Mister. I am MAD for crazy, old Western stuff. Oh my. Get along little doggies. Oh, he's good! I also got some shopping money from my family (I'll be back, secret agent thrift store clown!) and a box of fabulous gifts from my good friend, Rosy that included a cookbook that I have always wanted. I've always felt like a fake without that gingham covered classic on my kitchen shelf. (There is a recipe for "teenage burgers" inside and I am super excited to find out if the recipe uses actual teens. If so, there is a rude fresh-faced cashier at my supermarket who'd better watch her back..)
The same friend also made this incredible homemade chunk of wonderfulness for me:
It's a Peggy Olson bear from one of my favorite obsessions, the show "Mad Men"! She turned the bear into a Peggy bear with her own two hands - look at that cute sweater and "joint" in her hand! When you press her paws, there are voice boxes inside that play the theme from Mad Men and Peggy Bear saying, "I am Peggy Olson and I want to smoke some marijuana". Hee! The bear is so well done that I thought that she really bought it from a specialty shop. Fantastic. Oh, and if you follow the show, she has a little baby bear fetus in her tummy to represent Pete's love child. Brilliant.
There were also delicious cakes. One was a dog cake that I picked out at the local supermarket. Be glad that you weren't there. There was an entire refrigerator case full to the brim with pitiful dog cakes. Most of their faces were deformed and anxiety stricken.
Shield your eyes now and peek through your fingers.
Come on now...listen to Miss Eartha..it's for your own good:
Oh, my gosh!
Oh, your gosh!
Oh, our gosh!
What fresh cake hell is this?! Okay, let's gather our wits about us and move on, shall we?
As you can imagine, I started freaking out, saying that I wanted to adopt them all and whimpering, "how can I pick just ONE??" (If you stick with me, you'll soon learn that I have this problem where I sometimes give feelings to anything that has a little face on it.) If I win the lottery, you'd better darned well believe that I'm going to have a warehouse kennel full of deep freezers holding thousands upon thousands of pitiful, homeless pound puppy puddle cakes! Luck be a lady..Someone needs to take care of these poor babies! I also plan to start a "Scared Straight" style program for those who work in grocery store bakery departments. Stop the mindless violence, people. Just take some Valium, get those icing hands steadied and make some HAPPY cakes!
In the end, I DID pick just one. This little scamp:
You would have picked him too, right? I mean. He still has two eyes AND a nose so he's the obvious choice.
And if you're like the Mister, you're going to ask me if that is someone's discarded gum at the corner of his mouth...No, you silly! That's his tongue! Yes, he's a really tragic cake but he's MY really tragic cake. And no, I can't eat his face. No matter how hard I try. Add his face to my estate sale legacy. If you come to the sale, it will be in the back of my freezer behind the ice pack and frozen green beans. Knowing that he'd probably taste disgusting (which he did), the Mister got a "back-up" cake and decorated it with an owl design which he described as, "I know...It looks like an angry cat but it's an owl." That silly. I knew that it was an owl. Or an angry cat. Either/or...it's cake and it's ridiculously cute:
So, that's how my 40th Birthday/Anniversary/Blog Birth Bonanza went down! It was such a great day and there were even more fun parts but I'd like to say thanks to Mr. Kitsch for indulging me and for being such a good egg. Thanks as well to my family and to my friends and to you all, some of you being brand new blog readers. You all made my day perfect!
I'll close this post with a photo of my lawn deer, Marlene Deertrich wearing my 40th birthday party hat made by a very special little girl. Sweet!
Oh, and if you haven't entered the drawing in my previous post, please do. Thanks, y'all!
Until next time...
x's and o's,