Okay Campers, here's another reason why we should roll up the house in bubble wrap just to let the teenagers walk around. When you walk into the house in an unassuming manner, that is, just another day, you would think everyone would pick up on this unassuming vibe and play along. But I walked into the kitchen to find the four most wonderful men in my life standing around as if they were all going to pee themselves. The reason: someone broke one of my rooster canisters. I love roosters! Maybe I should have been born on a farm, I love roosters. Now one thing about me, I overreact to almost everything. Almost, but I did overreact when they told me the canister was broken. Heads were not going to role, but someone was going down. I looked from face to face. The only reaction was bigger eyes, more horror and slowly stepping away from me. I calculated in my brain (I can) that I should shift my body language and facial expression to a kinder, gentler mode. I did, they stopped and we began the conversation to find out the truth. The truth in who was responsible.
I arrived home at 5:08 p.m. on Tuesday, June 17, 2012. Nothing happened, all was well. But you would have thought aliens had set up camp in the yard, strolled into the kitchen and taken all the condiments with them for a barbecue. All this is about is a trio of canisters with roosters on them in bright, reds, oranges, blues and greens (think Fiesta!). I never paid extra attention to the canisters. I did clean them regularly but I never told anyone to not touch them. They were not off limits, no tape, no booby traps if you tried to touch them. No big deal. But they still went out of their way to make this out to be a horrific happening.
Needless to say, I read the situation pretty well, decided to play with them and almost started to cry and wonder aloud where I would find a replacement. I would have to begin my search online and probably have to pay double (got them at Kohl's @ $50.00). There was no other way around it. The set was ruined. Two roosters cannot do the job of three. That was the end of that.
Apologies were extended, hugs and kisses too. I rushed them all out so I could begin dinner. But it was a sad, sad time cooking being one rooster down. This matter will be rectified I will triumph and find replacement canister.
No worries Campers, campers always survive and move on. I shall move on to another set of canisters, and if I can't find the ones I like.... color palates will change, and there will be discourse in the Lawson household until my kitchen can find solace.
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