Hey y'all. Prepare yourselves for nothing short of a miracle.
So, I'm playing the piano in our church for primary singing time (singing with kids) and the songleader pulls out this jar of white stuff.
She's all, "Today, in honor of Pioneer Day [okay, for non-Utah peeps, this is a Utah holiday, honoring the day the pioneers settled Utah] we're going to make butter!"
My first thought is, dude butter comes from the store. There ain't no way that little jar of white liquid is gonna become butter. (Apparently, my thoughts speak in "hick")
But, I play the piano anyway, instead of bursting their pipe dreams.
The kids sing the songs, and shake the jar, and at the end of singing time, they have... cream. Not butter.
But it's okay, because the songleader brought her own butter she'd made the night before.I'm all, "We've been had! We never had a chance of making butter!"
For the next group of kids (the older group) they wanted to start their own jar, not work on the one the younger kids had turned to cream.
I'm thinking to myself, suckahs. Don't get your hopes up.
But then, because I still believe in Santa Claus, I grab the younger kid's jar, and start shaking. In between songs, I shake with two hands. During songs, I shake with one hand and play with the other.
And you will not believe what comes next. At the end of the hour, the white stuff in my jar congealed, and separated from a milk-like substance. I stood up and pumped my fist in the air, and said, "I have created... Butter!!"
The song-leader said, "Hey kids. Look. Sister Ashton made butter."
And I'm all, "From a Jar! ... A JAR! and WHITE STUFF!"
The song-leader started to drain the milky stuff, and I'm all, "What is THAT?"
Her: "Buttermilk."
me: "It's BUTTERMILK?!?! This just keeps getting better!"
I took my jar home, and did as instructed. (Placed the butter on a clean dishtowel to soak up any excess "buttermilk") and Sam had the nerve to say, "Stop ruining my dishtowels."
And I'm all, "When God created the Earth, do you think his spouse was all, 'Honey, stop wasting dish towels'?"
I used my home made butter to butter the corn. (Check that out, butter as a noun and a verb). And then I took the corn to Sunday dinner, where no one was impressed at my accomplishment.
They were all, "Were you sick the day they made butter in Kindergarten?"
I was all, "Yes. Yes, I was."
I'm planning on selling the fruits of my labor. You'll know it's home made when you see this in the store:
I'm leaving on Thursday for the SCBWI conference in L.A. Anyone else going? I'll have a blog on Wednesday, and then I'll try to blog from the conference.
