Today my buttermilk was one day past the expiration date. So I did the only thing that seemed appropriate for such a situation. Husband stared on with a smirk on his face, an expression of amusement mixed with a healthy dash of alarm as I danced, twirling my “baby got back” around. They are in the oven now, the aroma slowly wafting through the house, the music still jumping around in my head.