solo flights.

my wife is leaving me.
hey, now,
take it easy.
she's only going away until friday.
she's headed to weak-sauce waterbaby world.
yep.
connecticut,
land of the worst,
home of the lame.
of course,
there's a sparse few folks down there
deep in the doo-doo butter,
who AREN"T totally awful.
she's going back home to see most of them.
i know.
the good news is that jess is bringing back
my delightful, devious, darling daughters.
harvest & maple are headed up for april vacation.
and that's dope.
big fun, good peoples, all of that.
but not until friday night.
in the in-between times,
it's just me and the dog and the fortress.
oh man.
what am i gonna do up here
all by my lonesome an' that?
....so many things.
first up:
pecan raisin oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.
that's the baited lure, y'all.
it's how i entice visitors to hang out.
dangling a parcel of sweetness out front.
and there will be plenty of treats.
(but i'll be here, too... sorry)
and after that big big plan of action,
all sugar and chocolate and nicey-niceties,
well,
we'll just have to wait and see what happens.
***********
speaking of waiting and seeing.
the early bird is clearly a robin.
i know this because he's the only bright-chested
mutha-licker out back in the yard slurping up worms.
and he's busy getting busy with it, too.
everybody else just hangs out,
and patiently waits for the seeds.
really.
-
dear rockin' robin,
take your time,
i mean,
who wants to settle for vermicuisine?
just wait five minutes.
be easy,
and we'll get you a whole bunch of tasty sunflower bits.
love,
xoxoxox,
albie
-
***********
my b!tchin' butcher block kitchen countertop
needs oiling.
my firepit and my compost pile need excavating.
the mutha-suckling bathroom isn't stained.
still.
and this morning is rushing right past me.
how many chores will get done?
what with me left to my own devices,
without home improvement imperatives
delivered down from the lovely lady of the house?
it doesn't look good.
what about hot fire?
what about manly man-times?
what about Folk Life Fortress sh!t?
i'd say the odds are slightly skewed away from
chores and boring b!tchsappery,
and far and away in favor of flavor freshness,
in the form of fuego and funtimes and ferocity.
for the next three and a half days,
i am the tyrannical terror,
the savage sovereign,
and the diabolical dictator of this place.
the despot of dopeness.
it's all really happening.
right here;
never quiet, never soft.....