sunday in the park,

so who else knows about stained glass?
i mean,
i could ask shawn 'take forever why don'tcha?' hebrank,
but it seems he's got his own transatlantic hot-leaded glazery to deal with.
so, anyone else?
i'm just sayin',
i've got a holy helluva lot of thin-paned mullioned hottness over here.
seriously.
well over fifty panes of pain, in fact,
and it ALL needs a little churchin' up;
mostly with the glass;
the stained part is already taken care of....

i tattooed about a billion little words of wisdom,
inspirational and otherwise,
on ian the hippie's upper thigh today.
what a nice guy, ya'll.
it seems as if the secret universal plan has already scheduled a slew
of good peoples to boost up my positive mental attitude of gratitude.
it's workin', too.
after i zapped his ass into novel novels of grandfatherly adages,
i headed back to the homestead.
and let me just add,
the fortress of Folk Life & Liberty was full of big action big fun...
we smoked up on some stumplestiltskins,
cohibas, even,
and grilled the mess out of a whole garden's worth of veggies.
the cucch rode a bus from waterbaby weak sauce wallingford to be here,
and our other other buddy jim showed up, too.
did we skewer up on some epic kabobs?
oh, hell yeah we did,
and asparagus, and oyster mushrooms,
and pasta flippin' salad,
and new pretend meaty vegan fake chicken burgers as well.
we topped it all off with super screamin' soycream sundaes.
with 'nilla 'nola, and grilled peachy fruit slices,
and sprinkles, too.
i can strongly opine that today was the day.
active participation at it's most active;
summer felt good today, mutha 'uckas.
worthy.
grateful.
good.
surrounded by goodness,
surrounded by woodsliness,
surrounded by a fresh, developing well-conceived plotline,
alongside amazing characters,
in a series of fortunate events.
pure protagonism, no secondaries, subplots, or static.
we doo-dooed that august august, ya'll.

summer is waning,
and the impending wacky waxing of woodsly goods
is poppin' off like wet gremlin backbottom baby blops.
this time, right here, however,
is just right.
spanning, kids.
all wrenched up, with nowhere else to turn;
never quiet, never soft....