To Grandmothers House We Go

 

I only have a few memories as a young kid at my Grandmothers house. The one that I remember the most was eating cinnamon buns fresh out of the oven. For some reason everyone else was gone for the afternoon, and I snuck into the kitchen (making sure not to wake Grandpa Rawlings who was asleep in his chair) and took as many cinnamon buns, loaded with butter of course, and snuck back down into the basement where I would eat them and play with barbies. This is just the beginning of my love for butter.