cinnamon girls.

...and not just because i'm rockin' in the free world;

i'm all about some neil young-type business an' that.

flannel and terrible voice and everything.

that's how we break our fast in the mountains.

that's how we start our morning on the last full day

of non-travelling vacation fun.

y'know,

eating cinnamon buns,

with cinnamon girls.

i take a big pile of comfort from these things.

these traditions.

and the tender flaky moist delicious dollops of dopeness, too.

our own tradtions.

the Folk Life flavor of my fantastic family of females.

nice, kid. nice.

***********

tony the tyrant turns 30.

today.

that's more of a despotic reign than most

military monarchs ever enjoy.

way to go, old man!!.

hip replacement looms on the horizon, i'm sure.

***********

it's the kids last night in town.

it's late-ish in the day,

and i'm just getting home from a day of wrenching it up.

the last minute last minutes, ya'll.

i've got peter and the wolf queued up.

i've got a house packed with people.

this world of my own making,

this fresh, worthy woodsly goodness,

is exactly what i need,

exactly where i belong,

and exactly the recipe for successful fatherly feelings.

there's sparkling cider around here somewhere,

and i'm looking to toast to the fates,

and fortunes,

of this real life.

as it unfolds,

it is documented;

never quiet, never soft.....