Thirty-seven and a half days ago we were doing pretty good. The birds were singing. No one was licking food out of bowls. Life was great. Until….the whip cream incident.
The day started out as any other, normal, day. We stopped early to gas the camper up. Mr. C. Cow made chocolate chip pancakes with homemade whip cream. I had gotten in my required morning coffee intake. Breakfast was delicious, as usual. Things felt pretty marvelous until I noticed the whip cream bowl on the camper counter…..
Someone wasn’t just putting it on top of breakfast. The majority of this whip cream was not making it onto a dish. Someone was licking it out of the bowl during breakfast. I was horrified! Had Mr. C. Cow reverted to licking food out of a bowl before serving? Were we back to wondering if our food had been cow tongue attacked before it was given to us? Had thirty-seven and a half days of restraint been destroyed by a fluffy pancake topping?
I was apprehensive at the thought of having to pull out the interrogation lamps. Making Mr. C. sweat it out under the lights while I asked him how many dishes he had licked before serving did not sound like the normal day that we had started out with. Was all of our progress back to zero?
Before I had a chance to get out the questioning chair, Mr. C. started cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. He noticed I was staring at the whip cream bowl with a mixture of horror and sadness on my face. As I opened my mouth, Mr. C. Cow produced a spoon that he had used to eat the whip cream. No one had licked the bowl. No one had used a spatula to shovel food into their mouth. A spoon, not used more than once, had been used to eat. Double dipping had not happened. Our thirty-seven and a half days were safe. So was our appetites.
Lesson learned….sometimes you need to not jump to conclusions before you know all of the facts. Trust in your friends. Even if it involves breakfast.
Photo taken by me.
Actual photo of whip cream that we made. No one double dipped into the bowl. Huzzah!
Mr. C. Cow likes to collect antique milk cans. Do to the cans being so large and unable to fit into the camper properly we usually have to ship them back to our home base. I think that we probably have a few thousand milk cans just hanging out in a barn out back of our house somewhere. None the less Mr. C. Cow keeps collecting them anytime he sees one that tickles his fancy. It’s getting to the point that we’re either going to have to buy a second barn or he’s going to have to start giving people milk cans for the holidays.
Today was, in all honesty, the perfect day for Mr. C. Cow to go antique milk can hunting. We had found the perfect seaside town brimming with antique malls and I was itching to try out my new portable submarine I bought on dbay (or is it gbay? I can’t remember.).
This submarine had all of the bells and whistles. Radio that got a signal underwater, sweet paint job, seats that accommodated someone of my short stature. I’ve never actually driven a submarine before so I was careful to not run into the various sea creatures, boats, and shoreline I would quickly come up to.
I would like to apologize to that large sailboat I ran up on quickly while screaming “Stop Submarine!! STOP!!”. I wasn’t sure where the brakes were and thought they might just bow down to my commands. Sorry about that.
When it was time to leave I had figured out everything from doing donuts to quickly maneuvering around fish. Mr. C. Cow had come away with not one or two milk cans but at least twenty-seven. I tried fitting them all in the camper. Some sat in the shower. Others were stuffed under the bed. I even tried to put one in the glove box but it wouldn’t fit. I’m afraid to take all of these milk cans to the post office for shipping because it will probably cost me more then they are worth just to send them back home. I’m not upset with him buying milk cans (I did just buy a submarine off of an auction website). I’ll pay the shipping costs to keep him happy. After that I’m finding him a help group for milk can collection addiction issues. Or at least talk him into sending a few to friends.