So I went to Borders this afternoon to buy a book. Just a cookbook. That’s all — one of those in and out trips. I knew what I wanted and went straight to the desired section and would have left immediately except for this epic weakness that I have.
I like journals.
It’s a little weird. I don’t necessarily buy them, or even use them. (Well, full disclosure, I do now, rather obsessively. The using, as in actually filling them up as opposed to just standing in front of them and coveting them). So naturally I went to look at the journals and selected a nice sturdy one that would take some abuse. But I digress, this is not about journals. It’s about the display next to them.
There was this heinous fuchsia sparkly statue of Mary. Oh, and there was a silver one of Jesus. They are banks…with slots on their backs and rubber stoppers on the bottom.
It makes my soul cry a little. I mean, I like kitschy and fun as much as the next person, and I have been known to be a little irreverent. Maybe. Just a little.
But this? Too. Much.
