Okay, so I'm not keeping my schedule. Busy, busy, busy!

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas ya'll.

Ya'll guys rock!

-Curt G. Jimenez

Top Ten Butters!!!!!!!!

Hello Butter Enthusiasts!

This was a "hard" and exciting list to compile. Hard to pick just 10 butters and exciting reviewing all the posts from this past year. So much has happened! A buttery deluge of events! I love all my butters. I don't have children, but like to imagine that my butters are like children--I love them all. They are unique, wonderful, and most importantly, edible.

Enjoy!

10. A good butter. Take it or leave it, man.

9. Vision quest butter.

8. Lemon butter.

7. First person butter!

6. A new place, a classic butter.

5. Butter to remember detasseling.

4. "Kitty" butter.

3. A "butter" for a cake for Stella.

2. Mexican pepper butter. To warm things up on President's day.

1. Ginger pine nut butter, minus the pine nuts.

The Greatest Show on Earth

It is the shortest day of the year.

Last night, there was an eclipse. The Ghost kept talking about it, saying that, "...it was going to be the greatest show on earth!" I didn't believe him, but The Ghost said it with so much conviction, that I almost did.

I don't know much about the moon. You'd think, after having lived for more than half a century, I'd have some kind of understanding about waxing and waning, or full and new, but I don't, not more nor less of an understanding than when I was five. The moon is the moon. It hangs up there in the sky when it's dark out, and sometimes, it even sticks around during the earliest parts of the day.

"The greatest show on earth!"

I am an intensely curious person when it comes to certain things--the moon is not one of these things. Then how come, last night, I set my alarm for 3:30 am to see the eclipse? Was it because The Ghost did convince me after all that the eclipse was going to be "...the greatest show on earth!"?

When I looked out my window, I saw nothing. Well, I saw clouds and snowflakes. I saw dark streets. I saw a cat. But I did not see the moon, and I was disappointed, so much so, I thought I was going to cry.

Today, I am going to make a butter. It will be orange, I think. I will shape it into a ball and eat it in front of Warden and Regrette. I will put on the greatest show on earth.

The Year in Butter

Like so many others on the "blogosphere", I have decided to start doing some year in review posts so we can reflect together on the journey we've taken together this year in the Better Butter Blog. So many things seen, so many butters made, so many posts posted.

Here is the plan:
Thursday 12/23: Top Ten Butters of the Year
Sunday 12/26: Top Ten Favorite Posts of the Year
Weds: 12/29: Top Ten Whatever else I Feel Like Remembering

Stay tuned!

The One That Got Away

I was eight, when the one got away. I don't really remember what happened, or what it was exactly that got away, but after it happened, Dad said, "Curt, that was the one that got away." I've tried many times to think about what got away, and from whom, and why. The easiest thing to do, I suppose, would be to ask Dad what it was that got away when I was eight, but it's not so easy when there is a strange tension broiling beneath the surfaces. And then, what if Dad doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about? Worse yet, what if he does, but pretends that he doesn't?

Sometimes, I wonder if its even worth thinking about anymore. But no matter how hard I try to forget about what I don't even know, I find myself thinking about the one that got away even more.

These are the things I remember about that day:
It was a bright day, Mom and Dad were in the house, so it must have been a Saturday or a Sunday, I was out back with Tony tossing a football, it was not hot, and it was not cold. There might have been a sound, some noise, a car? Then, later, Dad said, "Curt, that was the one that got away."

It's December. Nearly Christmas. I decided that I would make butter and wrap this butter up so that people could use this wrapped butter as stocking stuffers. Guy says that it's not such a good idea, on account that stockings usually hang on fireplace mantles and that it can get very "warm" there. I am going to make these stocking stuffers, regardless. I am going to make them and think about the one that got away.

Jersey Cows

I forgot how tough it is to deliver papers on winter mornings. Everything is cold. The inside of the car. The papers. The rubber bands. My hands. The streets are icy, sometimes. There is usually a fine layer of ice on my windshield. It's tough. It gets me thinking about things. Today, delivering papers got me thinking about the library and how long it felt since I'd last been. I couldn't picture how the library appeared. I could and I couldn't. Everything was blurry, like I needed glasses to see clearly again.

After work, I decided to take a nice long walk to the library. I didn't take the dogs because dogs aren't allowed in the library, although, sometimes I wish they were. But, I understand. Not everyone picks up after their dogs!!!
I slipped on ice a few times and almost fell, but it didn't matter. I was on a mission, so to speak.

The library was the same. The same people were working there. For the most part, the same books were available to check out. The same kind of coffee was being served. The same people were milling about the stacks. It was nice.

I read a book on Jersey cows. Jersey cows produce delicious milk. Delicious milk makes better butter!

Winter Butter

I tried to make some Winter Butter with some fresh snow and rock salt. Guy was incredulous, but I told him what Eleanor Roosevelt said, "do one thing every day that scares you," and he jumped on the winter butter train, so to speak.

Of course, it was awful. It didn't really "butter up", and the snow just became water as the food processor heated up, making the whole mess a bit soupy. I wondered out loud what kind of combination would make a nice winter butter. Guy suggested winter squash and beets, which I still consider fall vegetables, more Thanksgiving than Christmas if you ask me. But thinking about Christmas got me thinking about chestnuts and candy canes, both of which seemed like reasonable veins to tap. I wrote the ideas down on post-its, and got excited for the future. There will be a delicious Winter Butter this year. It's important.

Talking

I like the way people talk. I like the way people hide things from themselves.
Sometimes, I wonder, "Curt, what are you hiding from yourself?"
Sometimes, I talk past myself, or at least I feel like I am, but only after I've talked to myself. What makes a good conversation? Moving further away, or getting closer to--
Uncomfortable. Urges. Closer. No. Why not?
Bring me sadness.
I think a fair amount.
Laugh at stupid things, things that aren't really funny. Laugh like this--"Hahaheeheehee!"
Will this make it easier?
Go away.
Think, "What am I reading?"
Think, "This is junk."
Pretend that nothing happened.
Grow pink.

A Circle Needs a Center

It's nice not to be lonely every once in a while. You get off work,and walk through the door expecting just dogs, and there is Guy! It's like a sitcom.
"Hi Curt!"
"Hi Guy."
"How was your day, you look very exhausted."

I have been told by more than one person that they feel like loneliness is the true central theme of the Betterbutterblog, and not butter. I don't have to tell you this is ridiculous. In fact, when people tell me this, I get a little angry. Sure, I am lonely at times, but we are all lonely at times! My dogs are always with me, and even if I am feeling lonely at any particular time, that's not something I am compelled to share here. That's not why you read this blog, I'm sure. Maybe I get away from it sometimes, but the center of the circle is butter here, if you know what I mean.

Having Guy at home is mostly nice. Sure, there are awkward silences, sometimes lots of them. Neither of us are very good at filling space. Maybe eventually we won't put so much pressure on the spaces, and it will be just silence, without the awkward. Maybe I should play more music. The only thing Guy likes to listen to is Neil Diamond and show tunes though, and I think I might prefer silence. Maybe we can do Christmas music for the next couple weeks.

Guy has been encouraging me to grow my mustache back. "It's you, Curt," he says. Maybe he is right.

A What-Vel?

The snow accumulated. It wasn't very much, but people were acting very, very serious. Everyone was out and about, tossing rock salt over rock salt. And then tossing some more for good measure. Just to be sure. Can never be too sure.

But I bet people were so emphatic because it was the first time in a year or so since these people tossed rock salt onto the sidewalk. Sometimes, it just feels good to do something you haven't done in a while, unless you killed someone. That's usually a been there done that kind of thing...

Then there were the shovels. And the wovel.

I was walking the dogs when I saw a young man using something I'd never seen before. It was like a shovel, only it wasn't. It had a giant wheel. "Excuse me," I said. "What is that?"

"A wovel," the young man said.

"A what-vel?" I said.

"A wovel, you know, like a shovel, but wovel."

He showed me how to use it and even took the dogs while I tested it out. He took an apple out from his coat pocket and bit into it. "Pretty fun, right?" he said.

I have to admit, it was.

"Why don't you go ahead and wovel the rest of the sidewalk," the young man said.

"You mean it?" I said.

"Sure, I'll hold onto your dogs."

Well, an hour went by before I had to go, but the young man seemed very grateful. "Thank you," he said.

"No," I said. "Thank you!"

Clarification

Okay, Pike didn't say, "I've been waiting, Curt." He said, "who?" and then, "oh right, that old butter-making guy, yeah, cool, yeah." He told me that, yes he had started a homesteading club, and yes, it would be awesome if I joined, but that there were only three other members right now so I shouldn't think it was the biggest deal in the world or anything. I told him that that was cool, and that maybe it would be a little easier for me to do if I wasn't overwhelmed by mass amounts of people. Also, he said, all the other members live in the same house and don't really have official "meetings", just that they do a lot of hanging out and making stuff, and that they would hit me up the next time something was "going down." He didn't even know if it was appropriate that he called it a club, and he apologized. "It's okay," I said.

When I got off work today, Guy and I went down to the bar and watched the food network, and played Wordster. We kept arguing over whether to keep letters or not. I kept telling Guy that I just didn't think it was worth it if you didn't think you could beat the high score, and he just wasn't hearing it. "Everything's not about getting the highest score, Curt," he said, which was absurd, because frankly I don't think I'm a very competitive guy. He just can't deal with it if the second set has an 'x' or something in it. Regret. "Sometimes you have to take chances, Guy," I told him, which was also absurd, because he had just dropped everything and moved west to become a logger!

I feel very happy right now. It may be fleeting--it may just be the booze talking--but I'll enjoy the moment, and it feels good to share it with all of you who have been to the depths with me at times over the last year.

Waiting

Cold heavy cream.
Chives.
Salt.
Paprika.

I mixed these ingredients, watched as the butter and buttermilk separated. The butter was pink and green, a nice Christmas combination. I piped rosettes of this butter onto a cookie sheet and stuck it in the fridge. The butter was beautiful, like a bouquet of flowers, minus the stems, and on a cookie sheet instead of wrapped in paper. Guy admired my work. "Never knew how serious you were about butter," he said.
"I'm pretty serious about butter," I said. I told him about Pike and the Homesteading Club.
"Call him up," Guy said. "Don't be afraid."
"I'm not afraid," I said.

I popped a rosette of butter into my mouth. It was delicious! I decided I wanted to share my butter with Pike and the rest of the club, so I called him up. "Hello," someone said on the other end.
"Pike?"
"I've been waiting, Curt."

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BETTERBUTTERBLOG!!!!!

December 1. One year. 329 posts. Some good, some bad, some nothing, some maybe something to somebody somewhere. Happy anniversary, Betterbutterblog! Here's to the future!

So many posts. So much of my life shared. What have I told you about Guy? He is French. He was married to my sister for four years. He moved away to be a logger for a little while, but now he is back. I feel he understands my sensitive side, which I feel a lot of people don't. Sometimes I feel like I hardly have anything but a sensitive side. No wonder I feel so alone sometimes!

329. You know who picked me up on the day I got out of prison? Guy. You know who helped me find an apartment, and helped put me in touch with the Ghost after I got out? Guy. He is a good friend, and I owe it to him to be there for him now. I am grateful for Guy and his friendship, and if he wants to rearrange my furniture, so be it.

We enjoyed a few beverages last night, Guy and I, and I told him about this idea I have. I think they should do a modern day Dirty Dancing, like they did The Karate Kid, but it will be with the gender roles reversed, with Lady Gaga playing the Patrick Swayze character, and somebody like me, maybe even me, playing the Jennifer Gray role. I think it could be awesome! I mean, I can kind of dance, I think I have raw talent, and somebody with Lady Gaga's talent and charisma could really help me shine, you know? Why not? I know she is very guarded with her image, and it would have to be an awesome script, but she could totally carry a movie, and I think she's going to have to take that leap eventually. Maybe I will make that script my next project. If anybody has any plot ideas, hit me up!

I made a very special anniversary butter today. I will tell you about it tomorrow!!!