Keep cold, young orchard. good-by and keep cold,

the biggest one yet, ya'll.
i ran out of steam, and tape, at dusk yesterday.
he'll be up in the trees, and on here, by tomorrow.

it's thursday.
time for some week-off weak-off back-to-work weak-sauce woes.
i have no idea what the day has in store for me.
but,
i CAN tell you guys that i will be rushing in headlong, headstrong, whole-hearted
half-cocked with both barrels blazing hot fire move-making magnums,
with a lightning chaser...

i got all the bones i've been talkin' about yesterday.
the moose skeleton is actually just some leg bones and a few other slimy nubs and lubs.
it's really very flippin' disgusting,
but once its cleaned and i represent on them with a wood-burning pen thingie,
a dremel, and some jute,
those osseous objects will be doooooooooooope.
the beaver skeleton was somehow even more flippin' disgusting than the moose.
it had petrified paws with pudding pus oozin' on out.
and of course, since i was SO looking forward to having it,
the skull was mashed into muddy shrapnel.
but beaver bottom jaw slices are still intact,
and also kinda cool lookin'.
all this ornamentation of everyday objects is drawing to one point:
i'm making modern day mythological mayhem.
dwarves, vikings, dolls, big heads, sagas;
i sometimes wonder where all this creepy druidic battle-bard viking fairietale business even comes from,
and why i am consistently the conduit for all that kind of stuff.
seriously.
i mean,
yeah, i WAS the dungeon master when i was a teenager,
but is that a predisposition to feelin' the flavor of furious fantastic and feral folklore?
it's like i'm almost a more dorky bookworm battle-beast now than even back then.

i used some seasoned fox bits to make these fresh talisman battle-beads.
this is just a preview of some of the berserker boullion i'm flavoring the battle boxes with.
these first ones are gonna get hung off of my viking walking stick.
icelandic godi hottness,
warrior poets gotta hike in style, y'heard?



we shot some .45 caliber thunderclaps yesterday afternoon.
rounds and rounds of 230grain lavaspit.
i shot my new fnh fnp-45
14 shots in the magazine.
if there's ever a zombie invasion, ya'll.
i'm sayin',
hit them in the head.