Today, I thought it only fair to share a more understandable habit, one that has some family history to it.
Understand, I only cook with butter.
I don't do margarine.
It's against my religion.
My culinary religion, that is.
So I buy butter by the brick. Often. In large quantities.
Understand, I don't eat a lot of butter. With my running/training way of eating, a half-pound of butter that I would slather on white flour pasta would be frowned upon.
But, boy, would that taste good.
Give me a moment.
Okay, back to my butter disclaimer.
So I enjoy the creamy goodness of real butter once every couple of weeks. But I bake with butter. And I feed the kids butter. And I allow them to slather butter on my baked goods.
'Cuz you're only young once. And had I known I would be taking butter off my daily list as an adult back when I was seven years old, I would have eaten much.more.butter.
Except my mom always bought margarine.
Oleo, as they say in the South.
My devotion to butter has been shared and exceeded by my progeny. Particularly 2 of 8. She, as a five year old, would dig in the fridge for a snack and unwrap a stick of butter.
And eat it.
This genetic trait has now been passed down to yet another Octamom spawn.
And that would be 8 of 8.
Wait long enough, and you'll see the predator stalking his prey...
*Photography Disclaimer: Mike wants to make sure that you all know that we did not knowingly allow our son to wear a purple velvet embroidered-rose encrusted blouse---this falls under the exception known as "Octamom should be doing laundry but she's been preparing for her class and has been posting audio on inappropriate sites and then taking it down and then decided to go running over doing laundry and then played on the computer some more and then there were soccer games and dance practices and besides, laundry just gets dirty again and 8 of 8 is so manly that he can pull of the purple velvet embroidered-rose encrusted blouse....plus, the laundry load has been a little heavy due to twin naptime activities...*