OFFICIAL WIFE: Butter Lamb

pu-tuh TEW TEW TEW

*you have entered an Old Navy*

pu-tuh TEW TEW TEW

Go on and bob your head. Say it out loud, if you're brave... or no one is around.

pu-tuh TEW TEW TEW

pu-tuh TEW TEW TEW

pu-tuh TEW TEW TEW

Heart rate elevated? Now that that's over-- I decided to be super rational about my butter lamb this year. Not that I am ever not super rational... 

...about my butter lamb.

But let me go back to the beginning. Alex's mom sends him a lemony pound cake cooked in a coffee can every Easter. This goes into a basket that has been lined with a lace-trimmed white cloth, and carefully selected fruit is added along with a beeswax candle. This is how I knew that there were Easter baskets for adults. Sometimes you just know things; y'know?

Then. THEN. THEN!! I found this. (As an aside, everyone who's anyone reads this lady's blog, but no one seems to know her.) There are rules. There are instructions. I have a diagram!! --a diagram with meanings!!! This is all I need in life!!!!

So, from the beginning, the most fascinating part of this ensemble was the butter lamb. I imagined how the butter must have been carefully molded with fingers and cheesecloth, sunk into the well to harden, and presented to all who would see-- as an achievement at least as big as five birthday cakes in an era where refined sugar did not exist.

Boy was I disappointed that year.

But I kept trying. I tried with margarine, too. I carved and regulated my breathing. I got Kitty to help me. I smushed it down and reformed it, kneading the butter. I used sharp knives, toothpicks, skewers, and, of course, butter knives.

It looked vaguely lamb-like, but not anything I'd want anyone to see. I pouted. It's ridiculous how much emotional investment I put into the Easter basket every year.

Another year passed. Another succession of failures.

Then, I was talking with one of my friends (who represents 50% of the friend population) who happens to be Orthodox (the remaining 50% is an unaligned Christian, very similar in beliefs to myself). On top of the fact that I was doing a basket at all (They are more traditional American, with baskets of candy for kids.) she thought this was hilarious, "You tried to carve it?" lol "I can't believe it! No." lol "No. That's too funny."

I raise my eyebrow at you lady. Yes, you. I raise it!

Within moments she had returned from the intertubes with a link. I started laughing.

Oh, self. You crazy you.

Well, it's still kinda hard... Last year was the first year I was able to complete the diagram. There were many attempts at the butter lamb before I could place the final version in the basket. I sat for hours with a toothpick in hand (which isn't unusual).

So!-- as Lent began this year, instead of putting the butter in the freezer, then later letting it thaw, then later letting it get to moldable temperatures, I skipped the freezer. I coated two sides of the mold with regular butter, then made honey orange butter to fill it. The idea was, the outside would look the same, but the inside would be extra flavorful, and wouldn't that be nice on lemony pound cake Easter bread? Then, I wrapped up the remaining flavored butter, and it all went into the freezer.

Well, I pulled it out, hit auto defrost on the microwave (haha), and put the two sides together:

There's still time...

I'm sure CNN will keep you up to date on this important dish.

Oh, I want to do this next. I also want to keep bees and make candles. You may think I'm ambitious, but I just call it long-term planning.

I planted the Kitty-squished lettuce sprouts in the Eastern container. It looks pretty horrible, but the water will pull the roots down and the sun will pull the leaves up and it'll be right as rain next week. Yep. Uh-huh. *spits*

Being a good little girl from the country, I insisted on having a garden once I owned dirt. (The mosquitoes won. I'm terribly allergic.) One year, I planted a 2'X2' area of spring mix. The red romaine still volunteers:

 --then above that--

--another--

It tastes awful, though. We don't have "sweet" dirt, but SomeBunny doesn't want to lime it. Oh, well, I can container garden. Meanwhile, he'll tell you about adventures with toilets.

I need to put something in this:

Let's have a vote! A contest! Put your suggestion in the comment section below. What should I plant in here? Am I just trolling for comments? Well... I must admit that I bought a six pack of Sweet William (old lady speak for dianthus) and a 6" of Lavender Trailing Lantana (In old lady, this is yarrow which butterflies like, but I've only seen it in warm colors before.) from the reduced rack. Ninety-four cents and a dollar respectively. We'll see.

 This is where I put the paperwhites, which were for my side of the couch, while I took that picture.

AND. In case you think I showcase one of my six animals above all the others (pooh hah! Like I wouldn't be fair) here in all his chairback glory is the Tots. You can call him Trotsky.... or Pond Scum. He was covered in ringworm when we got him. Alex took me out for a drink for my birthday, and we came home with a ickle wickle kitten witten... from under a cabbage leaf.

Trotsky is male, but he has built in make-up. I like the markings around his eyes, in particular.

Love and not-cookies-but-still-really-really-cool-and-pretty-healthy-wait-until-you-see-tomorrow,


Alex's Wife