the worthy warrior poets have put aside their pens and swords,
and taken up wisks and measuring cups.
no jokes.
what is the battle about today?
oh, nothing really...
except,
what do y'all know about roasty toasted buttered-up
cinnamon-vanilla-sugar candied pecans?
yeah.
they're kind of a thing.
and when they're on top of a maplecreme pie?
word up.
soft yet firm, fully-formed italian-style pastry filling
in a autumny spiced graham-oatmeal-coconutty piecrust!
c'mon.
unless you hate things that are expert,
you love everything about that.
and you should,
because it's ridiculously simple, and even more ridiculously good.
check the teleport:
uh-huh.
it tastes like there's a harvest going on inside your head.
surprisingly light,
incredibly rich.
i know-
how does that happen?
elitist kitchen activation skills, obviously.
we take treats to eleven over here.
and by we, as always, i mean just me.
awwwwwwwwwwwwww.
i do my dirt all by my lonely,
so i can tempt the beauties towards this Folk Life.
there will be refreshments served, y'heard?
yep.
this is a life that makes perfect sense to me,
but it's fundamentally designed to be shared by two.
damn.
hard styles and soft treats and cold beds and empty heads?
indeed;
never quiet, never soft.....
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