that's the secretly dope thing about winter in a vacation town.
on an actual snow day,
when actual flakes are dropping from the sky,
only the reddest of necktards are out on the roads in their trucks,
a zillion poor-motor/social/navigation-skilled turds will flock to the area,
and F* up the roads, the restaurants, the retail shopping experience,
and of course,
they love a post-snow day weekend funtime in the woodsly goodness.
heck, we all do.
i'll be tattooing some sort of sh!t salad sandwiches,
while the driveways of all my destinations all get iced-uphill,
and increase the risk of calamity, and simultaneously,
the risk of calumny regarding my vehicular operations,
as i slide into the studio, or back out into traffic,
on the luge slalom we call an entryway
or again, afterwards, when i'm sure to skid into slickened parking space
at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
sideways, and screaming at the sky.
i doo-doo that curse-and-oath-type sh!t.
snow day snow magic has a few predictable catches cached just a wintry wisp
away in the cause-and-effect category,
but otherwise, almost ANYthing can happen.
here's looking forward to single lane lame traffic lines,
and big-wheeled tall trucks turning corners on just two of 'em,
and all the worst ideas flooding the tatzap shop,
because heaven forbid you just enjoy the silent sweetness of a winter wonderland.
come and give me those movie checks.
i'll spend them on spanning time in solitude,
or maybe with my main man crabtree,
IF he can stop eating all the pillows in the house long enough to hang out a bit.
snow day cake?
i think that's what's up.
check the teleport:
apples to apples, neighbors.
dried fuji apple chunks, crushed up, and included in that soft, sweet, vanilla-beany,
soy yogurt-smoothed, buttery grammie-style cake.
a suggestion of succulent apple fruitiness,
sneaking into your mouth, and gently massaging all those tingling tasetebuds.
it's really flippin' tasty, too.
surprisingly especially exxxtra-awesome.
it could be the streusel.
it is most probably the streusel.
pow-powdered sugar, and butterish, and more crushed apple rings, and oats,
and vanilla bean paste,
mashed and smashed and stirred together, until that lumpy, bumpy,
crumbly crucial german-type hottness held in all the moisture in the cake,
and browned up just enough to catch a crawnch and take the taste up another level.
what am i having for MY slice?
oh, y'know. no bog deal, just a little whirl of vanilla creme,
and a dusting of gently-warmed cinnamon.
it's really falling from the sky.
sheets and blankets of iced-up hexagons,
and all of them are sticking and slicking and stacking up.
we're in for it,
before it warms up and really starts causing problems.
winter is forever kind of an A*-hole,
it sure looks real F*ing good at first, every time.
i think i might love winter?
i DO have a type.
oh, stop it.
for real, c'mon.
that's just dumb-
i've got a shovel,
and i can't tell if i'm digging myself out,
or just in deeper;
never quiet, never soft.....