Thursday, July 16 is completely open to anyone who’d like to suggest a National Holiday.
I’m going to suggest National Butter Day. It might already exist in some other month, but until I come across it, I’m picking today to celebrate.
It’s the time of year for festivals and street fairs, which makes me think of Ohio. There was always something going on… the Pataskala Street Fair, Reynoldsburg Tomato Festival (YAY!) Kirkersville Pigeon Swamp Festival, Millersport Sweet Corn Festival, Sherman’s March on Lancaster… oh wait, that was Atlanta. And then, what used to be the Grandaddy of Central Ohio Summer – at least to me – the Ohio State Fair. Back in the 70’s I would long for this two week extravaganza of cotton candy, riding the air-tram-thingy from one end of the fairgrounds to the other, and seeing such incredible acts as Donny and Marie, the Bay City Rollers, Mac Davis… the list goes on. The 70’s. Who can get enough? Not me.
So the Ohio State Fair was the first place that I ever saw a “butter” anything. After wandering through the tents with the freakishly large tomatoes and squash that looked like Richard Nixon, I happened upon a life-sized statue of a cow – completely made of butter. The butter displays got better as you moved through the queue… culminating in a life-size statue of Bobby Rahal. Honestly. A Butter Bobby Rahal.
I want to know who thought of using butter as an artistic medium. Did they just run out of pastels one day and had copious amounts of butter on hand? And why Bobby Rahal? Are there rules as to who can have a butter statue in their likeness? Like the United States Post Office requires a celebrity to be dead for 10 years before they can have a stamp honoring them? Does the candidate need to have high cholesterol? Butter churning skills? One who just says no to “I can’t believe it’s not butter”? Fabio could never have his own butter statue. But the bird who smacked him in the nose on that roller coaster ride could have his likeness immortalized in butter.
Alas, a butter statue can’t last for long, can it? If I ever made a statue of a butter anything, I’d make it of the Wicked Witch from the Wizard of Oz. That way, as I watch it dissolve into a buttery pool on the floor I can say “I’m melting. I’m melting.”
Oh, who cares about butter statues? This is what happens to my mind when it is terribly stressed out – like it is currently. My Ben. The bad news is that he has relapsed. But the good news is as follows: his blood counts were completely normal (meaning his white cells weren’t trying to fight anything in his system). His urine test came back completely fine (meaning that there doesn’t appear to be much tumor activity – before we could always tell what was going on with his disease by a simple urine test). His MIBG scan showed NOTHING (an MIBG specifically picks up Neuroblastoma cells). His bone marrow biopsy is clean (meaning there’s no metastatic disease at this time). All results point to a healthy Ben with the exception of that nasty little tumor hanging out in his chest cavity. AAaaaaarrrrrgghhhh! So flipping frustrating.
As I write this, Ben is asking if he can wear the same clothes he wore yesterday. If he didn’t have healing wounds that needed to have a germ-free environment, I’d tell him to go for it. But I’m playing the heavy and making him change into something fresh. I guess I’ll go do that, too. I’m kinda stinky myself. Stress will do that to you.
OK, enjoy today and whatever holiday you choose to celebrate. You don’t have to go with my butter holiday, but I’m in the mood for extra butter. I don’t have it all that often, but every once in a while it’s just good to be all buttered up.
More when my mental status allows… 🙂