Monday, December 23, 2013

Rock Star Butter

I started my day with a hurricane lamp denting the center of my forehead-- just in time for those extra special Christmas morning photos.Later in the afternoon I hung out at the airport McDonalds for several hours awaiting a tow truck; the decaf coffee was better than I expected. 

As Christmas draws ever nearer, it feels as if I need to focus on the small things like that whirring noise my car made and I ignored last week or using a step stool for that extra inch instead of wildly lobbing things overhead. Alas, in the moment I am swept up by things that vie for my attention. Until I conquer that issue, it's the material of the moment that makes the list which is only perplexing in retrospect.

Recently a friend mentioned baking with Irish butter (same butter my Irish friends in Bahrain swore by). I said, "But it's salted." Her head swiveled side to side. Tonight, trawling the Kroger aisles, I saw a lone bar in the way back. I reached in to pull it toward the front when the Honey Baked Ham guy said, "I saw a Rock Star buying that!" I smiled, knowing Athenian that I am, and said, "You mean Jorma?" He replied, "It's just cool that a genuine rock star lives here." Yep. 

Today I was both brained and towed, but I've also got rock star butter. (-_^)