Today, I've been making statements about myself, to myself, and trying to decide if they are true: "I like people." "I'm a stranger to myself." "I gravitate to extremes." The more I think about statements like this, the less I feel I really understand. I'm not sure that it matters.
Butter matters though, at least as a distraction from the mind games I play on myself. I was going to make butter when I got home from delivering my papers, and I wanted extreme butter, that's all I wanted. Big butter, butter that I would love but would be embarrassed to serve, to Guy, or even my mother if she were still alive. I made my usual small batch (about 2 cups of cream), with half a strong Spanish onion, three cloves of garlic, and lots of cardamom, sage and lemon juice! Sure, I gravitate to extremes, but it fills some hole inside of me, and I'm not ashamed.
Then somebody who used to be very big in my life called, and started tearing me down, like this person always does. I worked a long time putting my life back together, and I can't believe some people don't respect that. I'm glad I'm a big enough person now to just absorb the punches, you know? Nobody else can beat up on me as bad as I've beat on myself, that's what I think.
But the butter was great! Good old reliable butter.
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