By Elizabeth Alexander
My mother loves butter more than I do,
more than anyone. She pulls chunks off
the stick and eats it plain, explaining
cream spun around into butter! Growing up
we ate turkey cutlets sauteed in lemon
and butter, butter and cheese on green noodles,
butter melting in small pools in the hearts
of Yorkshire puddings, butter better
than gravy staining white rice yellow,
butter glazing corn in slipping squares,
butter the lava in white volcanoes
of hominy grits, butter softening
in a white bowl to be creamed with white
sugar, butter disappearing into
whipped potatoes, with pineapple,
butter melted and curdy to pour
over pancakes, butter licked off the plate
with warm Alaga syrup. When I picture
the good old days I am grinning greasy
with my brother, having watched the tiger
chase his tail and turn to butter. We are
Mumbo and Jumbo’s children despite
historical revision, despite
our parent’s efforts, glowing from the inside
out, one hundred megawatts of butter.
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Quickie as we unexpectedly got to have dinner with Adam! My day was otherwise relatively uneventful; a walk in the park because it was gorgeous out, and working on labels for holiday cards which as usual are going to get mailed later than I intended before I actually started putting cards in envelopes. I got distracted reading about the impending death (well, murder) of Tumblr and rumors that Chibnall is leaving Doctor Who.
Adam stopped at home to pick up his camera since he was nearby at his NIH internship. We stopped at my parents' to give my mother a Chanukah present, then went to Grand Fusion and ate way too much General Tso's and Thai basil tofu. After he left for College Park, we watched this week's Legends of Tomorrow (awesome and funny) and Doctor Who (surreal and sad, though the frog kind of undercut the emotion for me). Just a few pics:
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