I think that I will take it
'Cause it took no time to bake it
And I'll never have that recipe again...
In a juxtaposition of realities, I found myself seeing and hearing MacArthur Park referenced in several places over the past week. So it is little wonder that the song should come to mind as I walked out of the Rummage Shop with a cake that I was anxious to protect from the falling snow.

I didn’t even want to go into the Rummage Shop. I tried to convince Martha to drop off her own charity donations. But she went to work before the shop was open. Rick didn’t want to run in after he picked me up from work. So I had the honor. There was a payoff.

First, there was a pair gilded cherubs the size of hefty toddlers.
Ten dollars a piece. How could I refuse? I ran back to the car to grab my purse to purchase one. The one whose paint was in better shape. Just one is all I needed wanted. And more than we have room for. (Of couse, if the more distressed cherub is still there at a reduced price in a week or so, I could make room.)

While waiting to pay for my new friend, I noticed a nicely decorated birthday cake sitting on the counter. With a price tag. I couldn’t believe it. Plaster. Just like the plaster cake that we would have placed on our desks in first grade - no sugar orgies at my school. So I took that, too. It cost a lot less than a real cake. And with no expiration date.

Maybe next time Rick will want to run into the Rummage Shop. He certainly looked dismayed when I got into the car with a twenty pound gold cherub - is it plaster or metal - who knows? And told him that I had a beautiful, unedible, needs to be dusted occasionally cake in my shopping bag.

Join Rick in the refrain....

Oh, no!
Oh, no
No, no
Oh no!!

The cherub has already given us quite a bit of entertainment. Intended to lend a certain sweet je ne sais quoi to our home, the general response has instead been, “That scared the $#!& out of me. “ Sitting on the bench for storing boots, the little guy does appear to be hiding behind the front door, waiting to pounce as soon as the door is closed. No pouncing yet. And he’s already dolled up with Mardi Gras beads...