Seeing red...

My parents have never been to my house. To be fair, I am older than dirt, so you can imagine how old the folks are. However, one of their favorite supermarkets lives half a block away. Sigh. So, my mother is kind of flying blind when she buys me gifts for the house. One of them was this really goofy cannister set, beige with grapes and vines all over them, blue lids with little bunches of graped for topknots, and lots of curlyques around the top and bottom. If they sound awful, well, they were. But, loyal daughter that I am, I put them on my counter and stored flour and dried cranberries and nuts in them (don't bake anymore, and don't use sugar, coffee is in the fridge), for about eight years. And suddenly, I looked at them and said NO MORE. Today, I bought a set of ultra-sleek bright red cannisters with airtight lids, each with their own handy dandy spoon attached, four of them. At Target, for $19.99. Best $20 bucks I have spent in years. Every time I walk by them, my heart goes pitty pat. My kitchen looks like, well, MY kitchen. Okay, it's not much of a rebellion, but I think it counts. And when my mother goes to her reward, the kitchen table is going to the Good Will, too. Can't do it yet. She may want it back. Yeah, she's like that.