over-wrought.

check 'em out, ya'll.
all the way to eleven, on the 11th;

barbarian crucifixion spikes!!!

oh relax, jesus,

they're for the floor in the super-sexy bathroom.

decorative heads!

hand-cut iron wedges!

black, burly, battle daggers!

i finally got my not-so-speedy delivery.

special order treats are what i love.

i guess that the wait was worth it;

holding these heavy metal hunks of hardware

gives me a very special feeling.

super-fancy and very necessary-

not just any inexpensive weak-sauce fasteners will work.

and regular baby-b!tch-sap tacks just would not

pass muster on my wide, white, knotty, pine planks.

deluxe dopeness.

that's how it happens,

and it ALL keeps happening.

on the real real.

***********
did i get a relaxing day off?

c'mon,

what are you?

an A*-hole?

i was as busy as ever,

bopping back and forth between businesses,

buying a bunch of ingredients for Folk Life liveliness.

i managed to squeeze in two more trips to the 'depot.

snagging some sets of odds and ends and bits and pieces.

it's all the forgettables that make my days of memorable.

roofing felt?

why would i ever think to get roofing felt for an indoor floor?

because it's a squeaky-noise-eliminating vapor barrier.

ohhhhhhhhhhh.

and then,

after my double dose of depot,

i got to go get another other 'nother batch of woodsly planks.

again.

i'm bored of buying boards, ninjas.

you'd think that a small remodeling job

would be easier to plan and prepare for.

...and you'd be wrong.

designing on the fly,

without blueprints, sketches, numbers, figures,

or any other firm plans,

is how we doo-doo that secret universal sensitivity training.

we just pay attention,

and let the hottness design itself.

passive reception,

active participation.

you've got to feel it, kids.

that's word.

***********

tomorrow mornin',

i drive to 'assachussetts,

to suffer the massed mess of

sauceless weaklings in the least fresh state in the union.

why would i do that?

because i'm picking up my daughters.

and without the bitter, ninjas,

the sweet's never ever as sweet.

yeah.

it doesn't get much sweeter than my two little lovely ones.

and mass. leaves the bitterest bite on my palate.

still,

i'll be making the most of the minutes i get-

there's never enough of a good thing, after all.

ten days of delightful daughterly dopeness,

but it'll seem like seven seconds before it's all over.

black history, president's weekend, winter break.

vacation.

lots to do, lots to talk about.

for them, at least.

by high noon, i'll be laden with ladies,

and trekking back to the really real world

of the inestimably incomparable woodsly goodness.

then,

it's big busy business, bouncing back and forth

between enjoyment and employment.

switching between friendly fatherliness,

and flesh-flaying ferocity.

life is way more like a box of

baking chocolates, ninjas.

regardless of what you get,

it's not supposed to be delicious.

ouch.

i like my styles like i live my life:

HARD;

never quiet, never soft.....