Thursday, December 11

ginger baker.

gingerbread, man!
yup.
blackstrap b!tchslaps of heavy-duty super-syrupy tarry starry-eyed cane sauce.
yeah!
that's the other other thing that makes gingerbread taste like it's s'posed to.
besides the ginger, you big dummy.
word up.
gingerbread is one dense bomb of holiday hottness, for sure.
and sure,
the cookie variety is perfect for constructing all kinds of people and places.
i'm not really into that.
i like that rich, decadent, cakey bite,
the solidly stolid, reliably rugged, stoic and heroic heaviness.
you can pot gumdrops on your house or whatever,
but i'm using vegan nog in and on mine, to make sure that they gimme shelter,
but, like, from hunger an' sh!t.
y'heard?
word up.
neighbors,
in the interest of december's children(and everybody's),
i got into it with gingerbread cupcakes,
holiday-nog-moistened, and spiced up hard.
check the teleport:
kaboooooom!
yes,
those are stars and trees in the sprankles blend.
it's F*ing XI-mas, after all.
seasonally appropriate color coordinated fancies are what i use,
because keeping it really real, and really fresh, is what i DO.
nutmeg and nog are what's poppin' with that stay-frosty frosting, too.
c'mon.
you like it.
i mean, even the muffin-cup papers are holiday accurate,
that gingerbread is just so dang dark,
it overshadows the pattern like a mordor of molasses.
real talk.
*
i like baking.
but you know that already.
more specifically,
i really like baking when there's a reason to get nice with the treats.
i mean, so i'm not just being a weirdie in the woods with flour and sugar.
that's hansel-and-gretel-with-type bullsh!t,
and that's not where i'm heading, guys.
berfdays, or holidays, or special flippin' occasions.
it lends a little direction to the otherwise nomadic niceness
of my oven's ambitions.
mmhmm.
a man needs a purpose, or he's not a man.
of course,
mine is to be a real housewifey warrior poet,
awwwww, MAN...
that's just it.
it doesn't ever have to be what you want,
it always is what's really happening.
there are worse things, after all, by a wiiiide margin.
sometimes,
the wrench chooses you;
never quiet, never soft.....

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