You Must Be Nuts!

I wanted to share a new collection with you. Creatures made from nuts!

I know...you're starting to think that ole Eartha is the one that's nuts but stick with me. A while back, I found this guy down in Franklin, Tennessee.




A little squirrel made from black walnuts with a little chenille tail and legs. Eee! He's even mounted onto his own little stump.

Then today, I found this little skunk in the form of an ashtray stand. Also black walnuts!



I have to admit that if I had time to sit around and craft things out of nuts, I totally would. Like crazy. But I get it honest. The other night, I was going through some old family photos when I came across this old one of my great grandmother and her brother.




And then I noticed behind her:


Yeah, baby! A walnut with eyes! Kapow!

For the life of me, I can't read what the plaque says - something about keeping keys safe, I'm sure. I know that plaque went the way of a thrift store at least twenty years ago and I've already about made myself batty doing Google, eBay and Etsy searches. If anyone comes across one of these babies, please let me know. I'd at least like to know what the plaque says. I'm sure it's something terribly witty. A nut limerick or such.

Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha

Go Anthro or Go Home!

For a long time, I've had a love for anthropomorphic things. Anthropomorphism is when non-human things take on human characteristics. For instance, a bunny wearing pants or a pig riding a bicycle. Or a banana that dresses like Carmen Miranda and sings.


And especially when bears wear clothes and watch TV.


Good, good stuff.

Last year, my friend Barbara sent me an eBay link for a group of prints that she thought I'd like. I couldn't afford them but the Mister got wind of them and surprised me with them for my birthday.



After an attempt at research, I still don't know much about them except that they were done by a man named Henry Rox and that they're from the 1960's. I'd seen the crying onion one before but none of the others. I think that they're absolutely hilarious and so well done and wanted to share some here with you. Keep in mind that these are made with fruits and vegetables and other food items. I love to look closely at them and see what ingenious uses of things are shown.











Here are some that I don't own yet but am on the hunt for. I think that the first two are especially brilliant.







I usually give credit for sources but those last three were found on a website that is in deep trouble with the Better Business Bureau for taking money and not delivering any items so just this once, I'm not going to link back. We'll just give credit to Henry Rox because he was a genius. If you do buy any of these beauties from a company on the internet, look it up on the BBB website first to save yourself some heartaches. These do cycle through eBay and Etsy from time to time, usually only one print here and there.

If you know anything about Henry Rox, please let me know. I'd love to know more about him and these creations. The internet is pretty void of info about them.

Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha

Earl Scruggs Will Be Missed

The world lost an amazing man and musician yesterday when it lost Earl Scruggs. He died at age 88 here in Nashville. I sorted through tons of videos of him and Lester Flatt being the monster musicians that they were but in the end, decided upon this one.

It reminds me of when I first became aware of Flatt and Scruggs back when I was just a little kid watching The Beverly Hillbillies. They not only performed the music on the theme song (and also the one to Petticoat Junction) but were on the show seven times. I remember getting so excited when they were. I found them so charming and thought that they were just the coolest. This is how I'll always remember them the most.



Rest in peace, Earl. You and Lester had some differences but I'm pretty sure that you've gone on to meet up again in that great wingding in the sky.

You all can read more about Mr. Scruggs' life and legacy here.

Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha

Wabbit Wednesday

My friend Kaycee sent me these bunnies and after seeing their bright pink eyes, I could think of nothing more than allergy season. One batch of neon pollen colored icing later, and here you'll find my Ode To Spring cake.



The little gnome is carting around allergy meds. Since that incident with the Feds back in '98, I no longer serve pills at my parties so in this case, the meds are played by candy buttons. The inside of the cake may or may not be filled with grass clippings and misery.

Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha

When! Nature! Attacks!

Oh, Spring... I'd love to say that I love Spring. That I run around in cute little sundresses with no shoes, gathering wildflowers and..

ACHOO!!

Okay, I can't stand Spring. Let me count the ways..




1. Pollen: Last year, I went to an allergist who shoved needles into my skin which were covered in every kind of allergen known to man. I learned there that I am not allergic to Spring pollens like most people are. Yet somehow, I have been completely killed off by the pollen this year. The florescent yucky yellowness has coated everything and I was in bed all weekend, coughing and whining. And watching International House Hunters on Hulu which always makes me embarrassed to be an American. When I finally unraveled and began to cough-shriek at a woman who didn't understand why tiny Taiwanese apartments wouldn't hold her precious king-sized bed, the Mister came in and intervened by putting on season one of Mad Men. God bless him. And his cough syrup pushin' ways.

Related: I want this. I REALLY want this:



2. Ssssssnakes: The other day, I was in my garage and needed an extension cord. I bent over to grab one from the floor and as luck would have it, I noticed at the last minute that oh my gosh, there was a snake there too! Okay, can you imagine if I had picked up the snake instead? Dear lord. So, I started screaming. Not a quaint little scream but a full fledged "I am in a horror movie and a man is chasing me with a machete through the woods" scream. I don't know where it came from but out it came. The Mister heard me all the way on the other side of the house and came running. And don't believe it when people say, "They're more afraid of you than you are of them." I was the only one screaming and running, people. Mister Snake had done copped himself a squat and wasn't going anywhere. In fact, I think he had called room service and was waiting on a lunch menu.

I jumped into the Toyota and slammed the door and screeched at the Mister through the closed window as he pursued the snake and got it into a cardboard box and took it way back into the wooded area. Now, going into my garage seriously freaks me out. I don't mind snakes in their own element. But not in MY element. And not when they pretend to be extension cords. However, I'm glad that I learned that I am actually one of those people who can let out a scream when terrified and not be rendered mute like I sometimes am in my nightmares.

(In related news, in one of my cough syrup fueled dreams, I dreamed that there were piles of snakes all over my house! Yet, last night when I didn't take any cough syrup, I dreamed that I adopted a pair of sweet kittens. Nancy Reagan was right about drugs. Drugs = piles of snakes. No drugs = kittens.)

Related: Best movie to TV profanity hiding over-dub ever:



3. Spiders: Tennessee is spider country. We have these S.O.B.s here called Brown Recluses whose bites will rot your skin out if they get ahold of you. 'Nuff said about those guys because as I have learned in the past, much like Beetlejuice, the mere mention of their name brings them forth.

Related: Because I refuse to post a video with real spiders. And Joi is a scream.



Whoowhee..Did you see that cobra? I think I used to date that guy. Thanks Match.com!

Now onto something happier. Blog stats!

I learned that some folks found Ranch Dressing this week by looking up these phrases:

1. Dinosaur Semen
3. Babies in Bathroom Toilet Paper
3. Pictures of Toilet Seat Births
4. Pantyhose Potato People

Truly, number four makes me shudder the most. Only two of the four listed above have ever been mentioned here on Ranch Dressing. I sometimes wonder how many people I fail by not having what they come here for. Especially the dinosaur semen people. Sigh. I predict that it will be a long time before I have anything to offer the dinosaur semen folks.

Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha

I Brake For Bears

I thought that it might be fun to share one of my collections with you today.

Postcards: Bears Meet Tourists!



I'm not sure where this fascination comes from but I absolutely love these postcards. Back in the day, many of the well-traveled touristy areas that were populated by bears completely encouraged tourists to go up to the bears and to attract them to their cars. Of course, the bears got used to getting food and would approach cars easily. Not safe for the bears or the tourists, if you ask me.

It's definitely a little sketchy but still, I love the nostalgia factor of these cards. Tourists going to the mountains always hoped and expected to see bears. I have to admit that in all of my mountain trips, I've never seen a bear out roaming around on the road. However, there are many ghastly roadside attractions around here where you can see these poor, beautiful creatures chained up and living on concrete. We're hoping to get those places outlawed one of these days. Maybe that's one of the reasons that I love this genre of postcards. The bears were at least roaming free, making choices whether to accept pimento cheese sandwich scraps or to forage for berries. Whether to whack a tourist or not. Nature as it should be.

Here is the back of the above card:



I love the inclusion of the line No Trouble Yet. I'm not sure if those boys are referring to the lack of bears or if they're anxiously crossing the state line for another reason. I mean who among us hasn't had a reason to rejoice making it over a state line or two? Either/or - I love the idea of putting No Trouble Yet on all of my future postcards.

Here are some of my other favorites from my collection:


This one looks like a sassy waitress at a cook's window.
Carl! The Martins have been waiting on their club sandwiches for twenty minutes!


Look at that wee one hanging on that car!



I especially love the one above. It says on the back: This bear wandered out of the woods on to the highway. Although they seem friendly and harmless, one should not feed or get too close to wild bears.

Ya think?? Don't you just love how the mothers of these kids are standing safely in the background, encouraging the kids to get some nature action? Why, it's not a vacation if someone doesn't get facial reconstruction surgery!

This card veers a little away from the bears and cars collection but is equally as touristy:


Greetings from Tennessee. Feeding Bruin is very dangerous but makes for a pleasant picture in this Dextone Beauty Scene.

Trust me when I say that if that bear weren't taxidermied within an inch of his life, Carol would be drawing back a nub for her game of hide-and-go-seek with Bruin there.

Thanks for touring one of my favorite collections with me. I'm sure it will continue to grow. Since these cards also appeal to vintage car image collectors, the competition means that I don't find them that often - but that makes the hunt even more fun!

Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha

Dear Lord! Not Wood!!

As some of you know, I am a lover of knotty pine. Of paneling. Of wood walls. I'm so all about it. Our house is full of it and one of the main reasons that we actually bought this place was because it is still authentic and has the original wood paneling and cabinetry.












Today, I was led to the Apartment Therapy site. Which I usually don't allow to happen because it sometimes just confounds me. There are honestly some great design ideas on there - but sites where people sit around and anonymously (and quite often cruelly) critique the styles of others wear away at my nerves.

It just so happens that today they are talking about wood paneling and oh my gosh, could it actually be coming back in style? You can go here to see.

And have mercy at the comments. Such anger and disappointment that the writer would even so much as bring up the notion of wood paneling! At first, there was just denial:

Hideous knotty pine is not back.

And then disgust:

Ew. No. And I love the rustic look, but wood paneling just looks so dark and busy.


And those who faked injuries:

Oh lord, please pass the eye bleach, will you?

And then a ripple of fear swept in:

Nooooo. No.No.No.No.No.

I just ... It's so ... I mean ...BROWN. It's SO BROWN. I just can't stand any of it. Not a single one of the examples pictured is appealing to me. There is just no way I could get behind leaving any paneling natural in a home where lived. I would be compelled to paint it immediately. The BROWN! my eyes!!

Wow, that person really hates brown. And then a true suspension of disbelief (and suicidal tendencies) took over the comment thread:

I'd be interested to know how many of the people who commented in a positive manner regarding wood paneling, actually live in a wood paneled house...24 hours a day...7 days a week. It's not cool, chic, contemporary or anything but depressing. It sucks the light and color out of everything. I always joke with my husband that one of these days I'm going to tear it down and slit my wrists with the wood shards.





Now add in a little indignation and parental dissing:

No. Absolutely not. There is no excuse for this. Please stop the insanity.

No. Wrong. just wrong. my parents bought a house with this fugly wood paneling in '86. It wasnt cute then. Its not cute now.

Not ever in MY house, thanks very much. Kill this "trend" now, before it spreads!

I love how that last one compares wood paneling to a horrible, communicable disease. Then you have the elitists:

There's wood paneling from the 50's that's rich and real. Think gorgeous built-in studies in uber-wealthy homes. Then there's that notched crap from the late sixties and seventies that makes you want to cry -- hardly better than gussied up plywood and ubiquitous in that era -- even in expensive houses. One is Katherine Hepburn, the other is Happy Days.



I also love the comments where the people can't even fathom that some of us might actually live in houses with real wood paneling. Why, aren't we compelled to sleep in our cars and not even come inside at night? Do we keep the drapes drawn so that nobody will know our dirty little paneled secrets? Surely we don't actually live in our houses without spiraling into deep, dark depression! Picture The Snake Pit with Olivia de Havilland but instead of an insane asylum, put in it's place a knotty pine den. Chilling.

It's not cool, chic, contemporary or anything but depressing. It sucks the light and color out of everything. And I'd bet my last dime not a blessed one of the positive comments come from anyone who is forced to live in such wicked oppression.



Then you have the ones who blame pop culture:


Here we go... just because Mad Men is back, we'll have to suffer that crap again...

I bet this is one of the same people who buys up every vintage thing they can find and then tries to resell them online for ridiculous prices with the keywords "Mad Men" as if vintage items did not exist nor were they loved before Mad Men ever aired.

Then you have those who have to go into some kind of make-believe world to cope:

Ugh, there is nothing I hate more than wood paneling. I can live with any other aspect, but I just cannot do the paneling. I have to paint it and treat it like it's sheetrock and just do the best I can to ignore it.



And finally, there is the commenter who's having some pretty major angst filled childhood flashbacks:

It depresses me, disgusts me, fills me with dread. Nearly every negative childhood memory I have involves some place with wood paneled walls. Ick, ick, ick. HATE it.



I'm not sure that I've ever seen so many thoroughly disgusted comments in one place on a design blog. I firmly believe that some of these comments wouldn't be filled with so much bile if the people who made them weren't covering up their secret love for wood paneling. Just sayin'.

We have a saying in the South which goes "Bit dog hollers". That means that the one who barks the first and loudest is probably the one that we should be looking at. I'm talkin' to you, person who asked for eye wash!

And mark my words...one day soon, the tide will shift. Sure, it will take some huge event like Zooey Deschanel saying that she loves wood paneling. Or Etsy sellers hawking knotty pine mustaches on sticks. But it will happen.

Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha

Wabbit Wednesday

Since Easter is ramping up, I thought I'd share some of the ranch rabbit collection with you from now until then. Thus Wabbit Wednesday - which will allow you to see cute bunnies without having to read any of my prattling on. Wordless Wabbit Wednesdays. Whee!











Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha

There She Blows!

Mister Kitsch just returned from a trip to New Orleans and he came up to me and said, "I brought you a surprise! Close your eyes!" I did and he put the above guy in my hands.

Me: Aww! I love it! Thanks!

Him: You're welcome. I thought you might like him.

Me: You drank an enormous alcoholic drink, didn't you?

Him: What? How did you know that?

Me: Oh, I've been around the block...let me tell you.

Him: It was really cool. The drink is called a "Shark Attack". There is a tiny mermaid in the drink and the waitress comes out with this guy full of Grenadine and when she puts it in the drink, it looks like blood. She yells "Shark Attack!"

Me: She knows that this is a whale though, right?

Him: What's that?

Me: It's not a shark. It's a whale. Does she know that?

Him: Um, I don't? know?

Me: If she were really thinking about it, she'd call it a "Whale Attack".

Him: You know, yes. Yes, I imagine so.


It was then that I realized that I'm a big ole buzz-kill.


Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha

But when they're parking their cars on your chest, you still got a view of the Summer sky

So, the last time that you all heard from me, it was Friday night. I had just finished spending the day making cupcakes and was wondering if they were too creepy to take to a fundraiser bake sale. Oh, ho ho...those were such innocent times, my friends. Such innocent times.

When I went to bed on Friday night, I'd decided (thanks to the encouraging words from my Ranch Dressing friends) to take them to the sale and to be proud of them. Sure, they looked a little creepy but they still looked like cats and that was the goal. Done. Contentment.

Saturday morning, I woke up and all Hell broke loose. My alarm clock was beat to the punch by that distinct sound that can not be mistaken for any other. You cat owners know where I'm going with this. Oh yes, that's right. Kitty cat throw-up. I sprang to my feet to find Pip in the bedroom floor unleashing the fury of last night's dinner. Uggh. In my groggy haze, I managed to clean that up and went to the kitchen to get the morning rituals started. But oh no.. Before I could even get my morning cup of wake-up, I heard the sound again. This time, it was Mishka back in the bedroom for a repeat performance of Pip's perfect storm. Seriously??

Not to worry - I didn't document this part of my morning with photos. Though, I do have this one from a thrift store that fits perfectly.



In the above scenario, that's Mishka laughing at Pip but little does she know that minutes later, she too will be tossing her cookies. Sobu would be the dog in the background offering one of my shoes to throw up into instead.

After clean-up, I went to the kitchen, hopeful for a restart to my day. Then I noticed them. The cat cupcakes. They had completely destroyed themselves overnight.

What used to look like this:


Now looked like this:


The moisture from the all-natural licorice had wicked into the cupcakes, leaving greasy pools in the icing - which was then partially soaked up by the little candy eyes which were now bloated, brown and gooey. The whiskers slid from their faces like mud slide debris and their expressions which were once comical now seemed to cry out for help.



KILL. US.

Twenty little faces...all staring at me with horror in their eyes. But I'm pretty sure that it was nothing in comparison to the horror in my eyes. I'd spent half a day making them and the bake sale was starting in a few hours. I felt pretty lame after promising to bring cat cupcakes and I'd signed up to bring two items and now only had one. After a bit of whimpering and whining, I jumped into action and found that I had barely enough ingredients in my house to make oatmeal raisin cookies. Those would have to do.

I made the dough and popped the first batch into the oven, only to find that the ancient piece of junk was malfunctioning and shooting up a hundred degrees over what it was set to. Over the course of a couple of hours, I somehow managed to get the cookies made. But not without a complete crying jag with the Mister long distance over the phone and having chest pains. Oh, and with Pip deciding to absorb my stress and bite my legs over and over as I worked. It was one of those mornings when everything was falling on top of me. I pulled myself together as best I could and decided that I would deliver the cookies to the bake sale and come back home, draw the curtains and watch movies for the rest of the day. I seriously needed some "me" time before I snapped.

I was in my car and about ten minutes from the bake sale when oh yes, I saw two dogs running down the middle of the road, barely being missed by traffic. I pulled over and opened my car door and called to them. The black lab of the pair leaped into my car and started bounding across me happily. I threw my car into park in someone's driveway, closed the dog inside of my car and went after the other dog, who was completely terrified of me and now running like lightning up the road.

I sulked back to my car to see that the black lab was in my back seat, running back and forth across my baked goods. Of course. Two days of work and the bake sale was now officially history.

And then there was this girl who was looking to me to fix things.


Pretty cute, huh? She had a collar but no tags. Nobody knew her. I took her to the vet and they found no microchip either. I knew that I could either release her back out onto the street (which wasn't going to happen) or take her to the pound where she would most likely never make it out alive - so we headed to my house. I set her up on my sun porch with some pretty whacked-out cats staring at her through the window. Two of them have never seen a dog before and I'm pretty sure that their minds were blown.

I spent the next eight hours contacting rescues, placing ads, making phone calls and trying to keep her calm. Which didn't work. She was completely spazzing out, barking and wanting to go home. I couldn't leave her alone for a second. Every time that I took her for a walk to do her business, she literally dragged me around the yard. Two days later and I can barely use my left hand due to leash bruises.

Late that night, she was reunited with her Mom (who she also dragged around like a rag doll on the leash) and I learned that the other dog had been found as well. I went home to spend the next couple of hours cleaning up mud from my sun porch floors, walls and windows. And of course, eating crushed cookies for dinner. I then fell into bed. Yesterday, I worked trying to get muddy paw prints off of my car upholstery. I've yet to have that "me" time. That's what I get for even telling the universe that I was planning to do so.

And since the universe seems to be eavesdropping: TAGS WITH PHONE NUMBERS. MICROCHIPS. EVERYONE. DO IT. NOW. SOMEWHERE THERE IS AN OVERTAXED ANIMAL RESCUER ABOUT TO SNAP.

On a happier note, thanks to those of you who have donated to the Chip-In for Barbara and Minnie. We really appreciate it!

And I'll leave you with the video for the song that my post title came from. A Saint Bernard saves the day. Do any of you remember that cartoon where the Saint Bernard comes to the aid of Yosemite Sam, only to mix a martini and get drunk and leave him? I'll attach that one too.





Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha

Animal Parents Need Love Too

Hey all! Two things that I'd like to tell you about today. First, there is a bake sale tomorrow in East Nashville to raise money for a nice young couple who have been handed a $2700 vet bill for their kitty. Ouch. That's a lot of money and they have two small daughters to take care of as well. Their poor cat swallowed a sewing thread and it got wrapped around his intestines, stomach and esophagus and he was in a lot of danger there for a bit. Neighbors are pitching in to try and help them pay some of that bill. I decided to make cat cupcakes:




It's okay to laugh. I know that they're truly ridiculous and not at all what I had pictured in my head. I wanted them to look happy but instead, they look like they're in distress. I'm kind of embarrassed to take them to a bake sale for a kitty who's actually been in distress. Would you take them? W.W.Y.D.? Should I just act like they never happened and take the cookies by themselves? Remove their little faces and put on more icing and cover up the whole fiasco with zippy rainbow sprinkles? Do tell! Be my compass, readers.

I'd wanted to use small shoestring licorice for the whiskers but as it's apparently too old timey to be carried in stores anymore, I bought a block of licorice and cut my own. Which don't look like whiskers at all but like maybe the kitties had run-ins with a roving band of porcupines. I put them next to the chocolate chip cookies above to convince you that they are truly baked goods and not just a heinous joke. At this time, I have no comment on their whackadoodle mouths.

If you'd like to come support this nice family and their kitty, the bake sale is between noon and six tomorrow, Saturday the 15th at the Green Wagon. It's at 1100 Forrest Avenue in East Nashville. I promise there will be lots of yummy things to purchase there and some of the local animal rescue groups will be representin'. I hear there will be puppies!

However, you will not find me there as I am going to drop off my pitiful excuse for kitty cat cupcakes and go across the street to my favorite pizza joint, Pizzareal and drown my cupcake making ineptness by eating many, many pizzas.

MAMA HEN MOMENT: I'd also like to take this opportunity to say that we need to be vigilant to make sure that our kitties don't get anything like thread, yarn or string within a mile of them. This goes for curling ribbons too. Anything like that can be quickly swallowed and can be super deadly to them. Now, I know that you've seen all of the kitties illustrated down through history who are playing with yarn - No sir. No ma'am. Don't let 'em. I can't even begin to tell you all of the horror stories that I've witnessed in my time at vet's offices due to strings, threads and ribbons. And last year, Pip swallowed a string and we waited in horror for days to see what was going to happen to her. Fortunately, she was okay but many other kitties haven't been so lucky.

In other pet related news, my pal Barbara needs help if you can. You may be a follower of her blog If I Didn't Have A Sense of Humor. If you're not, check her out. She is hilarious and her specialty is making funny with vintage ads. She's also a really good person who is a real champion for animals. She is currently battling with Bank of America (boo! hiss!) to try and keep her home after some of their shady mortgage dealings. And since bad things often come in pairs, she was told that her beautiful dog Minnie needs $4000 worth of surgery to save her knees.




When it rains, it pours, huh? We're trying to raise just a portion of that $4000 and have set up a Chip-In to try to take the edge off of those medical bills. If you'd like to give to help them out, you can click here:



Any amount would go a long way towards helping. I just can't imagine poor Minnie not being able to walk without being in horrible pain and I can't tell you how great of a person Barbara is. She once helped me rehome two little dogs who were left homeless after a drive-by murder left them without owners. She doesn't mind getting in the trenches and helping change lives of animals. She's helped pass the word about so many of my own animal rescue causes and has a true heart of gold. And she sends me wacky eBay links and nice notes and fruits with faces in the mail when she can tell that I need uplifting. She's a good egg.

Thanks y'all! I hope that you have a great weekend!

Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha

You ever have one of those days...

When you search your house for an hour and a half looking for Bundt cake pans and just can't figure out where you put them?


Hmm...now where can they possibly be?

Like my grandma used to say: "If they'd been a snake, they would have bit you!"

(She'd probably also say "Don't leave the house without a dime for the pay phone" and "Don't post photos of yourself with no makeup" and "What did you comb your hair with? A rake?")

Those pans have been on that wall for three months now. This coming from the person who gets upset if she adds a new knick-knack to a display and the Mister doesn't notice immediately when he comes home. "It's the squirrel with the glitter vest! You don't love me!!"

I felt so old and senile when I finally noticed where the pans were. And too tired to even bake a cake anymore. I'd walked all over the house, going through every cabinet and cupboard. I searched the garage and even the closets while declaring to myself, "I KNOW that I have Bundt cake pans!" And as I always do, I wondered if perhaps someone had come in and taken them. Because Bundt cake pan thefts are on the rise.

But maybe it's not actually old age setting in. I've been pretty addled since I saw this ad on Craigslist:



Someone, somewhere is pantyhose crafting. Kind of makes the blood run cold, doesn't it? When this ad was posted, other people replied with accusations that pointed fingers at the poster for being a "pervert". They accused them of using crafting as a cover for wanting to sniff and do dirty things with hosiery. But what if they were wrong? I'm sure they had no idea of truly how deep a "pany hoes" perversion can actually run.


An actual item that someone was asking actual money for.

Someone recently asked me if I felt like a hypocrite for raging against pantyhose crafting when I'm some chick with "kitsch" in my name. And no.

Lord have mercy...where was I? Oh, that's right! My old age! My walking around in circles and searching today reminded me of this word play that I found a few years ago:



See what they did there by taking the word "senior" and turning it into a cry for help? Pretty joyous, huh? This was sent to me from a church who obviously thought that I was a senior citizen whose life had gone down the toilet. They had hoped that it might somehow encourage me to join their senior's group. Sure thing. Right after I get my head out of the oven.

You ever start reading one of my posts and wonder where I'm going with it? Me too! We'll just nip this in the bud right now. But not before this:


Octopus Bundt Pan!!
Apparently out of stock all over the world. Sigh.



Until next time,
x's and o's,
Eartha