mocha.

sweetened chocolate powder,
and cocoa,
and chocolate chips,
and chocolate syrup,
and instantaneously activated coffee time,
melted and meshed and melded all together,
in one big warm gooey fudgy pot of hottness,
and then baked into a big ol' brick of brownies.
yes, neighbors,
that's what happens when baking day rolls around.
what else would i do, really?
y'know?
it sure seems like i do some gooey chocolaty things with my oven.
yeah.
and just to make it a little itty bitty bit nicer to nosh my gnashers on,
i melted up a little custom saucy ganache-style treats drizzle,
and gilded the brown with even more brown.
expert?
indeed.
check the teleport:

c'mon!
i get really excited to eat all these treats, friends.
no foolin'.
the thing is,
i don't want to be a great big fat person.
blarping out is just not sexy,
and that's no joke.
so,
i'll have one sweet little rectangle for myself,
and i'll save the rest for all of y'all.
you win, i s'pose.
except that i still don't deliver,
so you'll have to stop by if you want a piece.
there's enough for everyone,
so don't be shy.
the Folk Life & Liberty Test Kitchen is cranking out,
some full-steam-ahead-type bakery jauns,
and i'm not gonna stop until i've assembled an armada
of awesome desserts to fill your bellies,
and make hole in your sweet teeth.
no.
stop.
you're gonna brush and floss.
i know.
it's okay.
***********
am i spending all my days off in the kitchen?
yeah.
i doo-doo that busy little homemaker-type sh!t.
well,
actually,
i just make a lot of stuff,
including a great big ol' mess.
uh-huh.
i get dirty,
and i spread out all my stuffs,
and i leave a trail of crumbs and chips and dust and debris.
i can't help it, kids.
it's the way i create.
there's a lot of collateral clutter involved.
sprawling spirals and expanding circles,
webs, almost, of tricky, sticky strands of spun sugar and spilt syrup
catching as catch can all the causes and effects and affectations
of spanning time as a really real life crafty hermit in the woodsly goodness.
yup.
it's what's happening.
every damn day.
there are things to show for all the intention and effort,
but they all get eaten up and pooped out eventually.
hard styles?
probably.
unavoidable?
inevitably;
never quiet, never soft.....