nature wins.

so we've got these hundred-year-old oak trees, yeah?
and we've got this snazzy metal roof.
full-moonshine love shack-style.
and do you know what you get when you combine those things?
pitter-pattery rain drips and drops, for one.
filtered and reflected sunshine, for another.
but,
at 3 a.m., by the light of the silvery moon,
far, far more often than not,
you get the bad dream wake-up call of assault weapons shooting at your face!
wait....what?
acorns, mutha-lickas.
i said it: acorns.
acorns come careening off of the mighty oaken branches like barbarian battle bullets,
ricocheting raucously off the roof.
staccato strafing fire, not sustained attacks, but still....
bumpin' moreso than grindin' my nights,
and things that go bump in the night,
excepting bumpin' uglies,
definitely hurt all my grinds,
except for my teeth, an' that.
word.
no jokin', it's the sound of the devil's pogo stick.
that sh!t is crazy loud in the still of the night.
maybe it's all the woodsly zombie preparedness i think on all the time,
maybe it's the soldier of fortune subscription i've been contemplating,
it could even be my last nerves gettin' frayed by all the steam cleaning goin' on,
but call me paranoid
(i'll answer, ya'll)
you ninjas already know i'm ready for duck-and-cover barrel rolls and return fire.
get busy time, indeed.

saturday.
busy holiday weekend wonderland.
the second-to-last hurrah.
pottery, farmer's markets, craft fairs, all of that,
is ALL really happening.
i've got a hearty hankerin' for a heapin' helpin' of my favorite sweet 'n' salty treat;
kettle corn is on it, like what's poppin'.
oh, c'mon.
and that big, hot, oily copper cauldron
is cookin' up kernels of crucial crunchiness like you read about.
i'm ON the mutha-ucka, yo.
after all,
what am i, an A-hole?
probably,
and you already know how corn treats A-holes:
never quiet, never soft.....