rise and shine,
and don't forget your booties,
because it's COOOOLD outside today.
...and here's a prediction:
march 20th. spring. every year. relax.
but still,
bill murray kind of rocks it, anyway...
top hats, sushine, shadows, meteorological clairvoyance, apocalyptic prophecy.
punxsatawney is the place to be today.
and speakin' of marmota monax,
anybody know my favorite nickname for 'em?
BING!! right outta the box.
yep. land beaver!!
c'mon. that rules.
anybody know the other one?
BING!! again.
whistlepig!!!
groundhog day is already awesome,
based solely on nomenclature.
word.
i have a confession regarding concessions.
i conceded curiosity to the cuisine couture of sportsbar flatscreen aficionados.
we made vegan nachos.
refrieds & black beans, flame-grilled green chilis, black olives, faux chicken nubs,
some kind of 'not-cheese', and thick yellow corn tortillas.
i will say this;
nachos do NOT photograph well.
but they ARE delicious.
it doesn't matter what the land beaver sees, my ninjas.
today is also known, in celtic crazyperson circles,
as imbolc, or st. brigid's day,
and it focuses just as heavily on burning stuff as weather forecasting.
do you have any hot fire?
because if you do,
you could always use a little more...
am i right or am i right or am i right?
right right rightrightrightright.
small towns are curious organisms.
a collective, overlapping, encompassing mindset seeps into it's inhabitants.
anyone even a little bit different becomes an anecdotal focal point for the mediocre majority.
and it never helps of you're a loudmouth, smartypants, wisecrackin', barbarian,
battle-beast with 3 tight buns...
(i wear my hair up in one, and that makes 3)
pretty soon,
even stuff you didn't do gets attributed and appropriated.
tall tales cast long shadows.
and larger-than-life types are about as tall as they come.
sore thumbs stick out,
whether they're up, down, or just hitchhiking,
and up here, compared to where i'm from,
i'm much more than just opposable.
what's this all about?
well,
today marks the sixth year anniversary of my refugee march up to the woodsly goodness.
and i'm just spreading a little self-aggrandizing gratitude and appreciation out
to the great white mountainous northlands.
i never imagined it would become an integral, inseperable part of what i'm all about,
any more than i would've imagined i'd become a part of it...
and after 6 long years of lightning striking viking, berserker battle-bard ballyhooing,
the Folk Life folktale foibles have fortified fortuitously and fulfilled their functions.
i guess there's a chance my sun-spot silhouette may reach all the way to pennsylvania,
so on the positive side,
maybe it'll confuse the whistlepig and we'll get an early spring anyway....
and if so,
make sure and give out some props to the rock-solid rural really real life.
i am grateful for the time (and the places) i have been given.
never quiet, never soft....
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