Pack It Up. Pack It In. Let Me Begin.

We finally got word that Monday is the big day. Some rogue crew of God only knows who is going to crack into our kitchen floor like it's a big ole walnut. Whoo. Hoo. To ready ourselves, I've started packing up the kitchen. Seriously, you never truly know how much stuff you own until you start packing up a kitchen. It all seems so harmless and manageable when it's behind closed doors and drawers. But when you start to really dive in...wow. So, I thought I'd show you a new treasure before it gets lost in the fray.

This morning, the Mister hit an estate sale for me in the hopes of finally landing the taxidermy swordfish that I've always dreamed about. Oh yes, I have dreams. I've wanted one for years and after seeing a tiny sliver of one's tail in an estate sale ad picture, I became absolutely frenzied. Had anyone noticed but me?? Surely the entire world wants this fish too!! Trust me when I say that you don't see many taxidermy sea creatures in landlocked Tennessee. You'll find woodland creatures of all kinds but the chances of finding a swordfish are slim. I couldn't even sleep last night for picturing how it was going to look over the mantel.

When I woke up sick this morning, I was crestfallen. I swiftly made an "I'll bake you cookies!" bargain with the Mister to swing by there and snag the fish o' my dreams. Alas, he was at the sale bright and early but the family had decided to keep the swordfish. D'oh! Dammit! My little heart was crushed. I had already named him. And visualized him in this year's Christmas card picture. He matched my eyes. There is no justice in this world.

Why couldn't they have squirreled this away for posterity instead?

(Don't even get me started. With all of the hat racks in the world, don't you think that the poor deer needed his feet more than we did?  Uggh.)

 Even though the poor deer lost out, not all was not lost on the treasure hunt, it's always fun to see what Mister Kitsch picks out when he goes to estate sales alone. First he'll hit the boxes of 78's but after that, he's really good about combing the wares to make sure there aren't any undiscovered Eartha style treasures like old cleaning products, hillbilly memorabilia or sixty year old rick-rack. Or wacky glassware. He's really good at the hunt and I always wait with anticipation to see what he'll bring home. He brought a few lovely glass treasures home today and there are rumors that there are some concrete planters in his car trunk at work. Here is my favorite of his finds. It's an old alcohol jigger:


This illustration made me laugh so hard! No alcohol for rabbits, apparently. I bet it has something to do with how promiscuous they are. 

Men get twice as much booze as the ladies. 

Obviously, if you're in the three ounce zone, you're a pig that drools on vacationers. 
And well, nobody wants to be the Jackass!  Hic-Haw! 
As an additional bonus, this little jigger came from Rock City where the Mister and I were married so there are little scenes mixed in like the swinging bridge. 

Here we are on that same bridge on our wedding day. Thankfully, not getting drooled on by a giant drunken pig!

Though in retrospect, the Mister probably could have used a few more ounces of elixir. 
Here you'll see him taking Lover's Leap a little too literally. And this was only mere minutes after our wedding. Can you imagine how he must feel years later?  I love how the tourists don't even notice that some guy is about to jump. 
And speaking of "about to jump", I'd better get back to the packing so that we can enjoy one last weekend before the dust starts to fly again. I hope that y'all have a great weekend! 
Until next time,x's and o's,Eartha