Homemade Butter Tutorial

I had always thought that it was going to take shaking a mason jar of cream for thirty minutes or Little House on the Prairie garb with a butter churn to make my own butter, but I was oh so wrong.

I was scrolling through one of my favorite blogs (The Virtuous Wife) and she had a brilliant way to make butter and buttermilk!

The cost of the heavy cream was the same amount as the store bought butter, so I thought I really didn't have a good reason to actually make my own butter, but you also get buttermilk out of it.

It's kind of a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'm things. 

You get to have fun making butter AND you get buttermilk for biscuits or making your own ranch dressing. 

All you need is:

Heavy cream (it doesn't matter how much)

Cheesecloth or kitchen towel

Mixer with a whisk

                                

Pour your cream into your mixer and start it our on a slower setting

I put a towel over mine because cream WILL fly everywhere

It will start to thicken some, turn up your speed

You'll start to get a whipped cream consistency

It will become even more whipped-creamy

Don't stress, it's supposed to look this way!

You'll see that the butter and buttermilk will start separating. You can add salt at this point if you're making salted.

I know it's getting close because the buttermilk will start flying everywhere. Keep going.

Your butter is finished when most of it clumps together in your whisk. See the buttermilk in the bottom?

I like to slide my cloth under the whisk and over the bowl. Hold your cloth while you get the butter out of the whisk.

Once you've gathered your butter squeeze it over your bowl of buttermilk. Yes, it's messy. Then repeat with what butter is left in your buttermilk.

Butter!

The thing with homemade butter is that you don't have those nifty measurements that are on store-bought wrappers. I actually take a tablespoon and measure, then place in an ice tray. That way I know each cubicle has 1 tbsp of butter.  All it takes is 10 minutes! Sa-weet!

 

 

   

    

 

 

 

 

 

Blogging is my Therapy

Okay, okay, I know we all like to read happy blogs about fashion, DIY-ing, recipes and such. Sometimes I share blogs like that and I don't mean to write depressing blogs. Really, I don't. However, this blog is mine and it's meant to record the ups and downs, good days and bad. Unfortunately, my blogs about my good days seem shallow and I don't feel inspired to write when I'm having a good day. I do have some recipes and happy-day blogs sitting in my draft folder waiting to be finished. Those are coming soon. But today is a day I need my therapist (my blog). 

I've mentioned before that my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in January. She lived with us for awhile and then she went to live in an assisted living facility. Long story short, Medicaid screwed up and she had to come live with is again on Sunday. I had high hopes this time around because she seemed to be doing better. I was wrong. 

We had trouble from day one and my sister and brother-in-law had to come over every day to help me calm her down. Yesterday, we hit a climax. 

For no reason, she decided to try to walk to the police station to report that we were "abusing her". There was no abuse, obviously, so Josh and I had to try to wrangle her back into the house. She was trying to walk into traffic. We called Miranda and Daniel to come and help us. When they got here, they were trying to get her back in the house. She threw water on Daniel, kicked Josh, and Miranda had to literally drag her in the house. Mom was screaming obscenities  and pushing while Miranda called the ambulance to come and get her. My kids were home and fortunately were in my bedroom watching Mickey Mouse. They saw none of this. When the paramedics got here, she was yelling at them and telling them horrible untruths about Miranda an me, stuff that never happened that could have gotten us in serious trouble. 

We got to the hospital and apparently she told the hospital she didn't feel safe at home and that we pushed her and twisted her arm. We had to speak to a kind officer (who was a childhood friend's husband) and wait at the hospital for hours. Finally, a social worker came out to speak with us and she is a God-send. We told her what happened at home and with the Medicaid. She was livid about the Medicaid and she said mom was a danger to herself and definitely a danger to us (she had threatened my life everyday she lived with us) so she was a prime candidate to be admitted into our  hospital's   geriatric psych ward. She'll be there for a long time while they try to stabilize her meds. 

We aren't going to see her (by recommendation of the social worker) because we agitate her. I don't know what will happen after all of this is over. 

So here's where the therapy part comes in. 

My feelings are so all over the place. My mom had damaged me in many ways over the years. There are many things that have come to light recently, so the wounds that I thought were healed have been opened again. I have seen where she went wrong and I have repaired faults in my heart. I've learned from her mistakes. I don't dwell on the past much anymore because I CAN'T change it. However, when the past is being screamed in your face everyday, it's hard to move past it. 

Everything is so raw. 

I had written mom off as my mother last night. She was just another person. I can't look at her as my mom and take care of her at the same time. There's too much hurt to do that. 

She said she never loved us, she was through with us, we never helped her, ever. 

The thing is, you all would assume this was  the Alzheimer's talking. Nope. Those are things that she said almost daily to us growing up. I'm convinced she had us so she could have someone to blame for her struggles; "I'm a single mom and these kids are brats. Look how hard my life is. Feel sorry for me."

What the Alzheimer's has done is taken any part of her that was kind away. Now all that's left is the urge to harm, be it physically or emotionally. 

This morning, I went to clean up her room (stuff had been strewn due to her fit). 

When she was at the assisted living facility, I had written "I love you to the moon an back. Love, me." On her dry erase board. 

It was mostly erased during the move back here. 

I looked at it this morning and I guess yesterday morning, she had filled in the gaps that had gotten erased and signed it "Love, Mom"

Seeing her shaky handwriting and imagining the hopelessness she may have been feeling at that moment broke me open. 

I had thought there was no good left in her last night and that she hated us. That made everything a little easier. 

But now I have this flood of emotion because I'm scared there's still some of her goodness left. Now she's alone in a new place and she may wake up this morning and not even know how she got there. 

I hate these yo-yoing of emotions. This push/pull of what to feel. 

I feel like this last year has taken 10 years off of my life. I am absolutely lost. 

Have any of you had to deal with this? What did you do?

How did you cope?

Please let me know. 

Why are women cryptic? My answer to the age old question

I see men on my Facebook feed posting memes, jokes, and their general frustration about why women are cryptic and give the silent treatment. I admit, I have questioned this myself. I have at least part of the answer (in my opinion) right here spelled out just for you.

1) It's part of our nature.
Yes, this is kind of an excuse. However, I feel like I excuse men for many of their tendencies and I chalk it up to the whole "Women are from Venus and Men are from Mars" theory. There are some things that are just bred into us. That doesn't mean these are things that we don't have to work on. Yes, it's human nature, but there are lots of tendencies that individuals are born with that need work and maintenance.

2) 90% of the time we have already told you what the problem is.
Don't believe me? Ask the lovely lady in your life. I know personally, once I have nailed down exactly what's bugging me, I express it in Layman's terms for my darling hubby. Why would I make it harder for him to understand? Why would I intentionally prolong the fixing process? I wouldn't. That's more work for me and I find it incredibly silly that you men would think we would like to make it a game. Obviously there are exceptions. Some people thrive on games in their relationships, but I would hope to think that's not common.

3) At some point we tire of repeating ourselves. (Silent treatment)
I hate, hate, hate feeling like a nag. Men joke about their nagging wives often. Have you ever stopped to think that we have to nag ourselves to death because our needs were not met, even after expressing them? Hmm? If your wife has entered the silent treatment phase, she's pissed, and you have some work to do. For me, when I'm to this point, I have expressed my needs and concerns, they were not tended to, I have repeated them, an they were still not met. Sooo... What else is there to talk about?
The silent treatment isn't about making you feel guilty or bad. Believe it or not, when she's silent, she's actually considering your feelings. When I'm to this point with hubby, if he asks me what's wrong, I will spew everything out in feeling vomit.
It's not productive and I'm needing time to process so I can kindly tell him (yet again) what's bothering me. No games, just processing it all.

4) Know what? You SHOULD know what's wrong without us telling you. (Being cryptic)
I feel this should only be the case if you have been together for a long time. At this point in my marriage, we have been together for 8 years. I feel that we have had enough talks about annoyances and feelings that he should have a good idea of why I'm irritated. So, yes, I can be cryptic at times because I feel like I shouldn't have to spell it out for him. Likely, I already have told him (see above) and that he should know me well enough to look at what's been going on lately and discern where the problem lies. Am I asking too much? Maybe. But I feel I give him the same courtesy. If he seems stressed and says it's nothing, I (over) analyze what's happened recently, draw my conclusion, give him space to work through his feelings, and then when the problem is spoken about between the two of us, I continuously make the effort to meet his needs. Why is it hard for men to get that? To me, it's just being respectful and kind to your spouse, right? Common sense.

These are my speculations about the crypticness of women. Men, if you actually got through all of this feeling crap, then I have to congratulate you. Here's a reward for you, a nice pair of boobies.