oh well, fair, farewell.

on a scale of one to ten,
10 being the highest,
this week had my food-fired furnaces go all the way to eleven.
TWICE.
holy sh!t, (almost literally, yo),
i chowed down on 22 falafels in 8 days,
like an adorable little baby bear getting ready for winter,
preparing for a cute, cuddly snuggle to stay all warm an' that.
except actually none of those things.
and now it's all over.
all the carnies and farmers and 'legal mexican augmented workforce ride attendants',
(that's actually what the sign said)
are all packin' up and headin' home...
until next year.
i'll have to get my falafels and my folksy funtimes fewer and further between.
all's well that ends well.
my guts are even kinda grateful that i don't have to wage war on 'em again today. 


i'm thinkin' i may be doin' some tatblastin' in connecticut in a few weeks;
depending on how many appointments i can line up an' that...
who wants some?
i should be down to blast it off on the 20th-21st...that's a monday-tuesday combo.
hit me up for mo' info, ya'll:
battlebeasteleven@gmail.com.
get in there.
i'm comin' down off the mountain because my daughter,
harvest,
she's gonna be 8.
that's some serious action right there.
as if all the gray hairs didn't already make me feel old.
an eight year old!!, my ninjas.
hip replacement, here i come....

i am back to making dinners again,
what with no fair food to funnel,
and that means barbarian bonfire baked potatoes.
don't even think about it,
be about it.
word up.
never quiet, never soft...