use real butter

it’s my blog, and i will cuss if i want to
Not too long ago, my dear Tartelette posted about a friend who is ill with terminal cancer. A commenter had complained that her posts were too depressing. And yesterday I posted about what *I* look for in blogs and got a commenter telling me that my posts were negative and angry, that my criticism is harsh and arrogant, that I shouldn’t hold people up to the same high standards I have for myself. Anyone who has been paying attention to this blog for more than ONE HOUR knows that I am not writing to make others feel good. I write for me. The folks who join the ride have a good inkling of what to expect. If you can’t handle the reality, this is not a blog for you. I don’t pull punches and I am not about to sugar-coat my life and my observations so as not to disturb the sensitive feelings of blokes in their imaginary world of Happy-Go-Lucky. Yes, please stay the hell fuck* away from my blog. As Tartelette said, “You will not be missed.”

*used for emphasis, to indicate that I have strong feelings about this directive

anniversary dinner
Our eleventh wedding anniversary was in March and my ILs sent us a gift certificate to The Flagstaff House as a gift. It was incredibly generous and sweet of them. We decided to postpone dining there since I felt like crap, couldn’t taste food, and probably wouldn’t enjoy the meal as I was in the middle of (frakking) chemo. But at last, we made excellent use of the gift card and enjoyed the 9 course chef’s tasting menu Friday evening.

The Flagstaff House is the premier restaurant in Boulder, boasting a wine tome rather than the usual wine list, that consistently garners the distinction of making Wine Spectator’s Top Ten Wine Lists in the World. We have had the very very good fortune to dine there four times. The first time was after Jeremy was offered his faculty position, the second time was for our tenth anniversary, the third time was for the same anniversary but with Jeremy’s parents (they wanted to celebrate with us), and now!

complimentary: blue cheese and fig on top, house salmon on the bottom

**Jump for more butter**

Recipe: citrus almond salad

Did you know that this here blog, Use Real Butter (urb?), was born of surgery? I had a blog I started back in 2004 by the same name and it had everything in it: personal, rants, cooking, more rants, politics, life, more rants, work, funnies, rants, photography, relationships, and rants. Use Real Butter was more a directive on how to live life rather than how to cook – but it works for both. When I found myself wanting to participate in the food blogging world, I couldn’t. I didn’t want all of my personal baggage dumped into the public arena (I still don’t). I split my blog into Siamese twins, so to speak, and this is how you are reading the public twin which retained the original name.

When I met up with Cindy (Katie and I call her Figs, and I discovered that they call me Butter, and now I wish I had named my blog Lady Deathstrike or Badass Ripchick…) we talked about blogs that suck. I mean popular blogs that we think are *yawn* boring. My own biased deduction is that the readers have no life, which would also explain why so many crappy movies and television shows have so many viewers. Then again, those readers could accuse me of having no taste.

So what makes a blog interesting enough to keep *me* coming back?

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Recipe: german roasted potato salad

With the exception of our dysfunctional ghetto neighbors to the east, the rest of our neighbors are truly wonderful people. One day as I was walking Kaweah past Marcus’ house, I asked him how their vacation was. He replied from their deck, “It was great! But it’s also nice to be home. I think that’s what a good vacation is: feels good to get away, feels great to come back home.” I would have to agree with Marcus 100%.

familiar fountains at denver international welcome us back

And it *is* good to be home because a cold spell has barreled through our region and it was down right chilly last night – near freezing. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me, to think of crisp fall days and then… TELE SEASON! But I am getting ahead of myself here. It was chilly enough that we used warm water to wash Kaweah after picking her up from Camp Crazy (doggy camp). Yes, this dog who dives paws first into freezing ice cold alpine lakes slinks away from us when we use warm water for her bath.

not everyone was thrilled to get home

**Jump for more butter**