broccoli + bread = dope.

i'd like to make a statement:
being vegan isn't hard.
i mean it.
how difficult is NOT baking a roast?
c'mon.
being vegan isn't difficult,
but making a many-pounds-heavy loaf
of tasty baked-up broccoli bits sometimes is:
just look at that midriff!
are those stretchmarks?
looks like somebody just had a newborn broccoli baby.
gross.
and that's after the cosmetic sugery, too-
it's actually a dough graft, my ninjas.
even the best kneaded yeasty beastie can have some issues...
...and blowouts may occur.
it couldn't be helped, really.
consider it a rapturous rupture,
not a rancorous rip.
exploding with goodness, yeah?
the gooey, chewy, nootch-laden broccoli florets
were especially delicious.
and wet.
you duders already know wet bread is a disaster waiting to happen.
unless,
you've got that high-gluten dough in action.
you are all well aware by now that i doo-doo
that vital wheat gluteus maximus.
that's right.
for a super-stretchy, crusty, resilient shell, accept no substitutes.
damage control was integrated into the original design.
-sorry, wheat allergy waterbaby whine-A*s,
but we get busy with the real stuff over here.
brown rice flour can suckle it.
hard.
you saw the patchwork repair kit flavor on the middle of the loaf?
yeah,
that's just a little application of my philosophical approach to cookin';
be ugly, be dope.
recognize.

and do y'all see what i mean about the extra-gooeyness?

yeah.

i don't make much up.

i don't need to-

it happens as it happens.

we ate the whole entire flippin' thing.

...and quickly, too.

i'm proud to report my shark gluttonous self single-handedly

tuned up both butt-ends,

AND another other 'nother slice, too.

i am the fattest on the inside.

munchin' up double heinies?

i got them jauns.

***********

the woodsly world is smallish,

and semi-self-contained these days.

kids have very immediate needs,

and as such, the future,

even an hour from now,

may as well need a time machine to get to.

making the minutes matter more, folks,

like it or not.

this afternoon is a distant destination;

we're on our way, for sure,

but the minutiae are monumental,

and the mountains are covered in snow.

also,

there aren't any molehills,

but chipmunk burrows are dead ringers.

stuffed dinner bread,

cotton yarn,

foam-block printing.

it's all really happening.

big fun on the small-scale.

i am grateful for this time i have been given,

no matter how long it takes;

never quiet, never soft.....