I wonder if they sell handbaskets to match the backsplash?

So, you know how I'm giving my kitchen a makeover?
I picked up some knobs. I'm not sure which, if any, I will keep but I love them and maybe if they don't jive with the kitchen I'll put them on the laundry room cabinets and put the laundry room knobs in the kitchen.

And I think I would rather go with shelves than hang a cabinet. It's just finding brackets that are deep enough to hold all my crap. I took the old ones down because they were only eight inches deep and I'm the kind of girl who needs more than that.


Who knows.

So, I also need some glasses. I need your most honest opinion. I have this obsession with those Jesus and Mary candles that you can buy in the Goya aisle. You know the ones, right? They are something like $2.39 and are wedged between the coconut soda and the canned octopus? It's like a sickness for me. I go to the store to buy some beans and I end up staring at the VoG for like a half hour. As if there is an answer to my problems that can be found in aisle 4 at ShopRite.

How fast would I go to hell if I bought up some of those candles, burned them all the way down, and then served drinks out of them?

Like, would lightening strike me dead immediately in my own kitchen if I mixed you up a vodka tonic in something intended to receive the prayer of Mexicans? Or would it just be something that I might need to explain at the end of my years?

I'd be all like "listen Jesus. I thought you looked adorable and way kitschy on those cheapy candles, and the bright colors really went with the new Mary-Hoodie-Blue that I painted my kitchen walls so I just went with it. Think of all the good I did for the world. I mean, come on."

And He would be all like "of course, my child. When you were there in your kitchen, I was with you. When you were spending quality times with your loved ones, drinking out of old candles, I was with you. With all of you."

And I would be like "but Jesus, what about those times? Those times when I was all by myself and crying and sneaking three or four fingers of whiskey in my You Cup? I felt so alone."

And He would be like "No, my precious, precious Lora. I love you, and I would never, never leave you during your times of trial and suffering. When you thought that you were all alone in your kitchen, drinking whiskey from your Me Cup, it was then that I was with you. Watching you, loving you, for I was the glass from whence you drank".