Since his lordship destroyed his last scratching post it was time to purchase a new one.
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Thank goodness it came with instructions. I’m sure I would have had no idea where to put the screw otherwise.
Sigh.
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This was the picture on the box. A happy cat totally focused on exercising his claws.
In my world? Not so much.
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Oh, Lord Dudley Mountcatten ran right for it when I placed it on the floor. He sniffed it, rubbed against it and laid down in front of it. What he didn’t do was scratch it.
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Even after I purchased and sprayed it liberally with awesome stuff.
The instant I read this a mental image of my mother standing impatiently waiting for me to get to the point flashed through my brain.
I was a creative child who loved to read, one more apt to be found at the library than the playing field. A good story always held me spellbound. So when I’d come running into the house anxious to tell my mother something interesting… but in the telling ended up weaving a long disjointed tale that made me forget the original thread…. she’d always shrug her shoulders, turn away and say, “It must not have been very important.”
To which I always wanted to scream, “Now I remember! The house is on fire.” … like that would teach her to take me seriously.
WWII gas ration book, Army Air Corps ( precursor to the Air Force) birthday card and a warning from Uncle Sam.
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Vintage political.
And then there was this strange little booklet about the different lodges. When you read it, start with the number on the top… it’s a countdown.
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I’ll spare you the entire book…
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Long live the Elks! They know how to hold their liquor.
And finally, my personal favorite…
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An ad from the St. Louis chemical company famous for its miracle cures and odd skeleton graphics. Many products contained quinine and heroin but this particular flyer is for Antikamnia. The formula varied over the years but the main ingredient was acetanilide, a coal tar derivative which caused cyanosis… turning patient’s extremities blue from a lack of oxygen. Deaths were reported as early as 1891. No miracle there I’m afraid.
Yes, I’ve found another delightfully quirky book written by Mary Roach…. and you know I have to share some tidbits. This time it’s about war. Not the soldiers, not the battles, but rather the science behind the support of it. Weapons, uniforms, experimental tactics etc., and trust me it gets bizarre quickly.
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Ah, homophobia. Keeping men guessing in foxholes for generations.
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This definitely warrants further investigation.
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You can’t argue with that logic.
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Isn’t history grand?
And in case you think the book doesn’t include weird and wonderful graphics –
I like to consider myself well informed when it comes to current events. To be honest, I can’t help it since my husband is a news junkie and has it on what seems like morning, noon and night. But I also scroll through multiple sources on my iPhone feed. This is not always a good thing… as evidenced by an article I read the other day which concerned a Tweet about the redacted affidavit by Donald Trump Jr.
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And if drawing my attention to Donald Sr.’s nether regions wasn’t awful enough… there was this:
Facebook is always trying to sell me something. And since it depends on algorithms to choose the items … I have to wonder why it thinks I need organic underwear.
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A free range bra? That’s an oxymoron if ever I’ve heard one.
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High impact? Exactly how much impact do they think my girls experience…
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My car seats do not need a body guard. If I’m man enough to spill a drink while driving? They should just man up and take it.
Too many antique stores, too little time. Not to mention money.
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Mantiques? That sounded like trouble…. and as soon as we walked through the door of the large converted barn I feared my checkbook might not survive.
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1939 Rockola Art Deco juke box with unusual pop up speaker? Fabulous! The husband drooled on behalf of the man cave, but I broke his heart and refused to fork over $9,995.00.
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You know it’s not your every day thrift store when you see things like this.
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Embalming pump? That’s a coffee table piece sure to spark scintillating conversations.
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Any ideas what that is…?
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Apparently pumps of all sorts are popular.
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I got a huge kick out of the price tag description on this item.
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Lock the kids in the sweat box. That’ll keep ‘em quiet.
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If a naked blonde doesn’t encourage Junior to save his pennies, nothing will.
Three full floors of amazing items later we almost made it out the door without purchasing anything and then…
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The husband fell in love.
A long conversation with the owner followed. Photos of the Barn Mahal were shared, placement of the item was discussed. Meanwhile, I sought the price tag…
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And while slightly less painful than the first jukebox, it was still a tad more than I planned on spending that day.
Husband eyes were flashing that “I have to own it!” look and yours truly had to do some quick thinking.
A jukebox.
From 1946?
It only played 78’s!
Perry Como, Doris Day, Mitch Miller, Bing Crosby? Not man cave music. Nope. Not even close.
You might not be able to use it, but these things must be shared.
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No, not the Walking Dead kind… just zombie viral genomes. They don’t have a tv show but are still pretty impressive.
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That’s one bad ass prehistoric goldfish.
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There’s an America’s Best Restroom contest. How did I not know this? What are the categories… most comfortable commode? Most elbow room in a stall? Most stylish tampon dispenser? I need to know!
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Am I the only one who finds this disturbing?
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I.
Can’t.
Even.
😳
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Where there's only one step from the sublime to the ridiculous.
River's world..... 