everything.

it's always something, isn't it, guys?
uh-huh.
and sometimes,
it isn't just something, but more like EVERYthing is going on
and getting in the way of getting anything done right.
however,
and this is the rarest of rarities-
in this instance, it's not everything going wrong,
but rather everything going totally together in the correct manner and method.
huh?
well, of course i'm talking about treats!
i'd never be such a jinxy jerk as to cultivate the coincidences
that inevitably collide in calamity.
success isn't unattainable, it's unsustainable, y'know?
warrior poets live by their feud against fate;
their crusade against the twin curses of nature and nurture;
they die by the pen, and live by the sword,
and every damned day is a mutha-F*ing hard-style.
it's not lightning-striking viking struggles that'll get us,
it's complacency masquerading as contentment breeding contempt
that is assuredly the noose we'll secure around our necks
all while feeling smugly secure in our success.
no.
no thanks.
good enough is not enough-
i'll probably never be satisfied,
and that's a long and lonely road, i'm well aware.....
the alternative is play-acting the part of tolerant and even-tempered turd,
settling for almosts and kind-ofs.
i can't hang out with that sort of middling mincey falsehood.
nope.
i can however, put all that vitriol in the hot-fiery furnaces
that fuel my head, hands, and heart,
and bake up some berserker barbarian battle-beastly greatness.
no foolin', neighbors,
i made some everything cookies,
and they are all-the-way expert.
check the groats-and-nubs-type teleport:

thin, crispy, crawnchy, knobbly, buttery, sweet, and still a bit bendy.
wooooooooooord.
like i told you.
they're everything.
and they've really got a whole lot of every sort of thing going on in there, too.
oats, barley, rye, wheat, triticale, flax seeds, large-flake coconut,
almond slices, almond flour, whole wheat flour, brown sugar,
almond extract, vanilla, AND cacao nibs all throughout these jauns.
i mean,
i already had that five-grain cereal sittin' pretty in the pantry,
and i always use my stirring and mixing skills when i'm feeling harried,
hurried, pushed, rushed, and in need of a good re-centering on my abilities,
instead of my lack of profitable activities......
so, i put all of that in one pot,
and i kneaded it, because i really needed it.
like, that's for real.
oh. c'mon.
anyway,
they spread more than i would've guessed,
which wasn't such a bad thing, because it made those very-buttery edges
get all kinds of  caramelized, and that tastes good.
i like good tasting things, despite being accused of having bad taste in other aspects.
ummmmmmm.......yeah.
i'm eating cookies because i like cookies;
i'm baking cookies because i hate idle time;
i'm taking my time because it's mine, and i hate seeing it wasted;
it's all really happening,.
and the struggle IS real;
never quiet, never soft.....

easter like sunday morning.

i'm sure there are folks F*ing around with those fart-stinkity hard-boiled
dead and dyed chicken-butt ovals;
trying to prevent their cats from eating cellophane grass;
biting the ears off of chocolate bunnies;
and generally bonnet-wearing in pastels an' that......
but,
over here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
we're frozen solid.
uh-huh.
the blower motor on the furnace sh!t the bed,
and it's a slow creeping sunday morning of ambient temperatures.
heat is risen.
that's the best i've got.
oh,
but that's not all.
it never is, is it?
there is also of this:

snow day!!!!
woohoo!
anything can happen, as long as it sucks.
yuck.
happy easter?
oh, F* off.
*
brunch is some sort of big deal today, right?
well,
i'm working, instead.
and i'm dealing with the sh!ttiest sh!t-salad sandwiches on skin while i'm at it.
so,
this morning,
in the snow,
in the cold cave of a home i'm hunkered in,
a filthy fat stack of fatness is the only thing i'm ordering off of the menu.
why?
because the only tool i have to fix anything right now is a wrench,
and the only utensil on hand is a spatula.
real talk,
that means i'll flip you for real, neighbors.
word.
check the pannie-bunny-cottontail-is-actually-snow-type teleport:

ugh.
too much is the right amount,
even when it's going to destroy you.
i'm feeling so full, and so cold.
i've got doo-doo butter to dispense on doo-doo duders today,
and i'll be returning to this frozen fortress when i'm finished.
that's probably what i get for voting for barabbas.
hahahahha.
ew;
never quiet, never soft.....

too often?

can we really eat too many falafels?
no way.
but,
can we actually be eating falafels too often?
i don't think so.
then again,
i'm one hundred percent dedicated to werewolfen full moonified
battle-beastly overactive overindulgence in all the good things i can gather
together in my claws and my jaws,
relative to the law of gnaws.
hahahaha.
what i mean is-
i'm flippin' out all over the place,
and all i even care about is falafel every day,
in every way,
always and forever.
at least until the full moon's iron-rich rusty waves
stop crashing like a blood-filled tsunami inside my raging savage
stormswept gypsy heart.
damn.
in the meantime,
while i'm rolling deep in the riptide of this animal magnetism,
you KNOW i'm gettin' down with some saturday night falafel hottness.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
check the teleport:

c'mon.
the object is not to have just the biggest and the most beautifullest,
it is, now and forever, above all else: MORE.
teleport:

and MORE.
teleport:

and MORE.
lots and lots and lots of super-official expert turbo-hot elite falafel jauns.
wordimus prime.
that's the best way to make sure the fullest of moontimes is saturated
in tahini-laced temperance and well-suited wolfen skins.
uh-huh.
-
lycanthropic lunacy travels by red blooded bestial infinite nature.
i can't say i'm turning into an animal,.
but rather, that the base and basic instincts of a beast are dominant
in word and in deed, for the duration of a brightened night or three.
my pulse is the pathogen pathway for high-pressure hyperactive hunting;
and for the howling mad magic of a heart-pounding
hard-styled haranguing as well.
it's carried to the extreme in my extremities by all that thick red sanguinity.
no joke.
the blood is compulsory.
they're all blood you see.
anybody?
well,
anyway,
i'm silver-bulleted and billeted in my bedroom,
sated and soporated by that massive meal,
but never satisfied.
nope.
never that.
good enough is not enough,
and too much is the right amount.
you know how it goes;
never quiet, never soft.....

mousse-pinch!

why?!
whyyyyyy?!
why are chocolate and peanut butter so damned good together?
hahahahaha.
yup.
neighbors,
i LOVE it when a treat exceeds my highest hopes,
and looks and tastes more amazing than my plans could've predicted.
is that obnoxious to even say?
it is?
well,
i can live with that.
huh?
because i got a big ol' fat deep double-layer tart that says i'm allowed
to indulge my ego's full headlong charge into over-inflated elation.
that's real,
don't believe me?
then you'd better check the teleport:

that's right, duders.
i'm using that tall scalloped quiche pan for a larger,
more in-charge, super-stout big bowl of new hottness.
graham crackers, coconut flour, brown sugar, vanilla and melted buttery pats,
for that crumbly crusty framework all along the edges.
that's prebaked and pressed firmly in place,
so that all the other good stuff has a safe place to reside while it sets itself up.
chocolate creme is expert.
always.
so, that's a no-question go-to when i need that soft, luscious, decadent,
dark dopeness to hold me down while i plan my next level of activation.
in this instance,
it was a whipped peanut butter and creamchee' mousse, kids.
YEAH!
mousse has all that fluffy loft to it,
and this stuff has the lightest touch.
confectioners sugar and vanilla, vanilla soymilk, a tablespoon of cornstarch,
and a spattering of tapioca,
plus a whole lot of whisked whirling,
and there it is, friends.
a second tier of top-shelf topping!
have i ever told you how much i prefer the little tiny chocolate chips?
well, they're great.
and,
they are just the cutest little sprankles, aren't they?
that's riiiiiiiiight.
the thing of it is,
i wanted this thing to go even further down the road to mega-deliciousness.
which is precisely why i blasted out a small batch of thicker-than-ever
chocolate peanut butter frosting, too.
mmmhmmmm.
that's what the edges are accentuated with,
and that's what it needed to go past a perfect ten,
and then continue on beyond eleven.
there's no overpowering anything in this one, either.
everything has it's own voice,
and together, it adds up to a pitch-perfect harmony of all the best flavors.
i love it when that happens;
never quiet, never soft.....

greenhoused.

i've got a whole lot of windows in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
but one room in particular is winning the most-glazed award by a landslide.
mmhmm.
with a whole wall of floor to ceiling see-through glass-housed hottness,
the super-long and extravagant sunroom, is the early april greenhouse jauns.
that's real.
so,
while the snow is still piled high on the lawn,
and there's snow still presently predicted to fall down upon the woodsly goodness,
i've got my own south x southwest facing framework standing tall,
and heating up,
well ahead of the great northern bud-and-sprout season..
that's a thing.
for example,
while everything else is figuring out what season it is,
my sweet peach tree is in full-bloomin' fresh-to-death full force,
and that's in F*ing full effect.
check the born-to-blossom-type teleport:

yeah!
nature wins,
and apparently, she can't wait around for spring to get here out of doors,
so there's plenty of flower-power every hour INside.
expert!
i like that i've got trees in my house.
i think that's a good look for a man's righteous fortifications, no?
c'mon.
peaches and hammocks and all sorts of twining vines laced along
the winning windows of the warmest room for three out of four seasons!
i appreciate growing things, neighbors,
and i appreciate that i've got time and space for them to flourish and flower
here in my distant domain.
that's what's up-
woodsly warrior poetic garden goodness within,
white mountainous wild woodland magic without.
the last lonely outpost of awareness and intention before the necktard north
assumes complete control.
*
and just how did i spend my friday night?
turning screws.
uh-huh.
what?
no!
i wasn't repairing things, or being manly......
what are you?
an A*-hole?
i just got finished gushing about peach blossoms,
and you think i'm gonna tell you about the small engine rebuild
you somehow think i might've followed that up with?
that's ridiculously unlikely at any time.
don't be dumb.
....i was building an aluminum triceratops.
because that's the only reason i'd be choosing a literal wrench
to while away my evening.
it's a pretty rad little abstracted model, in my opinion,
and i'm pleased to add it to my collection.
check the three-pronged-ceratopsian-type teleport:

woohoo!
neat-o nerd business is invited to my house for all the big funtimes.
at least,
if by big funtimes you mean me making a metal dinosaur and putting it in
my bathroom alongside the other thirty or so relatives i've collected this last year.
mmhmm.
teleport:

see?
that's that sexxxy bookshelf activation, made even sexier with MORE triceratops.
word.
***********
i won't say my day was unrewarding,
but i will say the triceratops was the highlight.
conclusions are welcome to be drawn from that.
it's cover-up tattoo time these days at the studio,
and as usual,
when people need solutions,
they seem to think i need their problems.
maybe they're right?
after all,
i'm the one jam-packed with crap attacks day in, day out,
one after another after another and so on.
i almost forget what blank skin for tattooing even IS anymore.
hard styles, and those figurative wrenches,
are all that awaits me this weekend.
more of all of it, happening and echoing,
recurring, relapsing, regressing, and repeating-
those movie checks sure don't come easy, kids;
never quiet, never soft.....

thumbing.

lemon and almond and buttery vegan yellowishness.
uh-huh.
we need those three items,
all at once,
because lots of each are very necessary when making yourself a quick batch
of from-scratch lemon-almond shortbread thumbprint jammie-jamboree jauns.
yeah!
the thing is,
shortbread tries to escape when it's soft,
and what's more, thumbrints sometimes get a little too flat once the filling
gets dropped and plopped in the dents our thumbs-down poking produce.
ugh.
that gets a thumbs-down from me, neighbors.
so,
i had a little idea, and i used a little brainpower,
and i circumvented the pitfalls with smarter working against those hardening styles.
mmhmmm.
the answer?
muffin-tin support.
yep, like, i pressed the balls of buttery dough into the tins.
where can they spread to when there are borders hemming them in?
nowhere!
and that's expert.
perfect circles, and indentations made by the convex dome of a steel cigar tubo?
that's uniformity, and that helps with portioning the jam in the middle.
huh?
well,
maybe just check the teleport:

cute!
red-and-black raspberry jam is effing delicious, duders.
really.
and it looks all dark and rich and decadent, too.
....because it IS, obvi.
lemon zest and almond flour,
and both of those extracts to activate the most taste in the smallest packages.
mmmmmm.
i doo-doo that concentrated overdose-dousing of repetitive echoing essence.
in fact,
there's vanilla, lemon, and almond in that diamond icing framework, too.
i'm just sayin', kids-
too much is the right amount,
and if you're determined to do it to it,
then maybe just OVERdo it,
with the hot fire and flavor explosions while you're at it.
*
i like to bake treats.
you know it's true,
but it bears repeating.
there's a finished product that comes from a strategic procedure,
and that completed concoction is absolutely utile.
you get to EAT it.
i really like that part.
the world i occupy, here in my immediate woodsly goodsly area,
is a very small one.
remote, reclusive, and reluctant would be the best words to describe
the places, things, and people that populate this place.
and then there's me.
one miserably inaccessible mad scientist,
making food and words and pictures,
sometimes accompanied by my lovely assistant,
and more oftentimes all by my lonesome.
doing my dirt, and keeping this captain's log to document the real life
that unfolds within the walls of my laboratory.
i'm doing what i do, without the sanction of the social climate in the area.
luckily,
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is one hell of a secret lair,
and like every good wizard/hermit/ghetto-philosophers' redoubt,
it stands apart and protected from the pitchforks and the torches of an
unsympathetic and pathetic people at the bottom the hill.
that's no joke.
i like to bake treats,
because they ARE the closest things to friends i have.
of course,
that makes sense-
since i build them up, only to bake and take from them,
and systematically devour every good thing about them,
until i ultimately extract every last nutrient,
and then sh!t them right out.
daaaaaaamn.
with friends like that, who the hell wants friends?
this is the best and worst, the worst and the best,
and there's no middle ground in a spectrum that comprises only black and white;
never quiet, never soft.....

fa-la-la-la-fel!

FALAFEL?!
why, yes, please, i'd LOVE some falafel.
again, and again, and again,
i'm getting pretty deeply involved in perfecting my falafel reality.
i'll keep going until i achieve eternal expert level-eleven excellence.
that's the truth.
last night,
i demonstrated some home-alonely sharp-focus and fine-tuning on my methods.
yeah.
and i beat up two fattie-fat-fat thick-folded beast-style sandwiches,
assembled asymmetrically,
but composed of the same ingredients,
on different gradients of quantity.
mmmhmmm.
i get busy when it's super-suppertime at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
word up.
and busy doesn't begin to accurately adjectivize the furious flurry
of knives and forks and spoons i had whirling around the cutting board.
chopping, rinsing, draining, rolling, frying, slicing, and assembling
with trembling anticipation of the final product.
plus,
i got my tahini-sauce drizzling exceptionally,
and it does go well with sriracha.
that's real.
so,
without any more preamble, let's start checking the teleport, shall we?

wooo-wooo- wooooooooo!
wouldja just take a look at how righteous that is??!
c'mon.
the greens are key here, kids.
watercress and parsley and cilnatro, with green onion all throughout the cut.
expert
now stop for a second,
and relish the view of that heavy folded hottness:

y'feelin' it?
i know i am.
tiny baby falafel balls get crawnchy on the skin, and so so moist from within.
that's that  nice-bite-type sh!t, neighbors.
i'm into it.
there's pea tendrils in there, and that red-as-heckfire tomato jauns, too.
and sweet spanish onion, those pickles, looking all extra-crankle-cut,
and diced peperoncini peppers, for even more big big flavor activation.
but,
here's the thing-
i had lots of leafy greens left over,
and the tomato was only half-gone, as well.
not only that, but i'd rolled plenty of extra falafel roundies,
and they were just sitting there all left out and left behind.
awwwwww, man!
now,
i know that i'm kind of a jerk sometimes,
but,
i'm not trying to exclude chick peas from the happenings and doings
and goings-on of a feast of this caliber.
besides,
too much is the right amount!
and that called for an immediate round-two rewind, y'all.
teleport:

wu-TANG!
i arranged the elements in a different order,
and damned if that didn't affect the taste.
just look at that thick sourdough dopeness, though:

recognize that i am an overactive participant in my own sustenance.
mmmmmmmmmmmm.
delicious.
they were both individually the supreme clientele,
catered to by my woodsly palette, and caliente connoisseurship,
so i couldn't tell you which one was better......
but i will say i thoroughly enjoyed their company,
right up until i ended their tenure as totally expert edible experiments
in future-perfect falafel theory.
yup.
i could eat it every day,
and i might do just that.
falafel everything,
and everything falafel.
it's all really happening,
and it seems like there's likely a whole lot more where this came from;
never quiet, never soft.....

nature wins, but doesn't learn.

doe,
a deer,
a female deer...

how often does an animal look surprised to see you in your own home?
right?
i mean,
is that the face of someone wondering what the F* i'm doing there, or what?
i'm just sayin'-
i pay the mother-effing mortgage,
and i provided that millet you're grazing on, honey.
ugh.
neighbors,
she's just not listening.
no, really,
i'm out there in my morning robe,
hucking objects across the yard;
i'm yellin' obscenities outta open windows,
i'm tapping on glass to get her attention-
basically,
i'm reppin' some 'hood sh!t in these hills in the hopes of scaring
the yard-prowling propensity right out of her.
but,
do you think her hunger is less than her wariness?
obviously not.
and now she's steady eating birdseed,
every dang day,
and barely caring about my presence.
i thought self-preservation instincts were supposed to dominant
in these faun jauns?
damn.
instead,
she's just another 'nother in a long line of well-fed females disregarding me.
womp womp.
nature wins, y'all.
i think it's because of a secret set of changeable house rules.
ew.
we all know those are tough to beat.
i'm sayin'-
rules is rules,
and somehow, even when you don't know 'em,
you're still expected to obey 'em.
that's a hard style, and an instance where ignorance isn't bliss.
.....and neither is being ignored by this deer.
it's good friday, but i'm about to be very badly behaved.
it's regrettable that i'm so much of a skeptic,
because i can't count on absolution for the evils i'm about to commit
in the woodsly goodness out behind the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
jesus would be pissed that he died for these sins.
i mean,
he'd be miffed about 'em if he ever came back, or whatever.
oh. c'mon!
anyway,
that's our daily dose of ma nature's magical creations,
live and direct from my masterful manse's gorgeous grounds.
uh-huh.
it could be caused by the caustic rays of the full moon, i imagine.
y'feel me?
like, why else would wild animals be giving no F*s,
and munching up like savage sharky gluttons on all the treats i have to offer?
full mooning seems a likely culprit.
after all, i know that's what i'm doing....
so why would it be any different for any of my stormswept raging
rangy, raring, recalcitrant battle-beastly brethren?
das IT!
it's bright, it's warm, it's all really happening-
it IS a good friday after all;
never quiet, never soft.....

frittata be kidding me.

neighbors,
i have got to tell you something-
falafel is the key to my happy place.
mmmhmmmm.
i'm not even joking around at all.
so,
even though i've beat up a batch of those falafel balls
a couple times this week already,
i'm always down to dominate another 'nother batch from scratch.
real talk.
...and last night was no exception.
only,
i also had to activate some complimentary flavors,
and some correlative texture components,
so that i had a whole meal's worth of next-level vegan hottness for my face.
word up.
falafel,
heavy on the parsley,
and cilantro, as well,
for that green gooey goodness we love to see in a mamoun's-type jauns,
with pureed cashews and scallions and shallots;
and spices on spices on spices;
garlic, and more garlic, and a little bit more garlic, too-
with garbanzo flour and flax seeds,
egg replacer and lemon juice.
mmmhmmm.
i got a whole other other style of falafel poppin' now.
that's expert.
i like what i like,
but love comes far less easily, and far less often-
but, duders, on the ones?
when we're discussing falafel:
i don't just like it.....
in fact, i don't even just like it like it -
i F*ing LOVE falafel.
lovely lovey-dovey, as in:
sittin' in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g, an' that.
and lately,
i'm kind of getting excited about falafel everyday...
...but never the exact same way twice.
yup.
i do that.
kids, i've got positive emotions about these divergent strains of protean protein,
and parsley.
all we need is to add in onions and garlic,
and maybe a stripe of black peppery lemon-tahini garlic sauce.
actually, tell you what-
let's check the heavy-duty-doodie-crankle-type teleport:

kaBOOOOOOOMfire.
hotter than hot,
and fresher than my breath after all that garlic, too.
what're the falafels sittin' on?
garlic'd braised baby kale.
i'm sayin',
we need our vitamins, don't we?
that's right.
that relish on the right is the TRUTH, too, friends.
orange baby tomatoes, chopped up, with a bit of parsley,
a clove or two of fresh-pressed crushed garlic,
white balsamic vinegar,
and toasted caraway seeds.
that saucy sauce is full-bodied, fully-operational,
and in F*ing full effect all day, in every way.
really.
a ways back,
some weirdie who waylaid me with unsolicited conversation
mentioned that caraway was expert with tomato.
i ignored it at the time, clearly,
because honestly who listens to weirdies?
ummmm,
apparently i do,
but their words need time to germinate and decontaminate and translate
into useful information down in my back-bottom brainstem, i s'pose.
it sure is good thing i dredged up that tidbit, though, for sure.
that stuff goes great with everything on the plate.
sweet, hot, spicy, tangy, and cool, all married together like sister-wives on my plate.
so good, and so simple, and so necessary.
-
the coup de grace, though, folks,
is that slice of pie for your eye in the back of the frame.
yep.
that's the big action, the bigger business, and the biggest deal of the day.
vegan frittata wedges are what's happenin' now.
mmmmmmmmmmm.
pressed and drained firm tofu, and half a block of silken sexiness, too,
added together with cornstarch,
and tapioca flour,
and flax seeds,
and g.p.o.p. and turmeric, cayenne, coriander, sage, thyme, and basil-
with nootch by the punch, smoked alderwood sea salt,
black pepper, and olive oil-
whipped together into a wet 'n' wild paste with allll the good taste.
but, that's not all. (it never ever ever is)
we got ourselves some sauteed shallots, and a few green onions;
and we dropped in a rough chop of parsley;
just a little of the leftover cilantro,
then, right before we mixed it together,
there was inspiration and sensation and activation to take it all to eleven.
yeah.
oyster mushrooms, shiitakes, and button baby bellas, with garlic,
all got browned up, and tossed in, and then we mixed it up into a chunky
buttload of exxxtra-sexxxy upper-echelon elite treatness.
........and with g.p.o.p., nootch, smoked paprika, and fresh dill on top?
 all it needed was a contrasting texture, maybe a mild grit, with a firm bite,
to help all that mooshy mushroom get itself a grip on being amazing.
no problem-
that's white-and-yellow corn polenta, boiloed with black pepper,
with scallions stirred right in there at the end of the simmering cycle.
i left 'em to set up, in a shallow bowl, for that sweet circular shape,
and when they were firmly affixed to one another,
they all got flipped and pan-fried for a skinny skin on the top,
guys,
if you aren't feeling all the good feels about this one,
you might very well be a total A*-hole.
c'mon.
falafel and frittata and lots of effort in-between.
it's always funny how all the careful prep and planning always becomes
a battle-royale in the final ten minutes of getting it right.
if it doesn't devolve into chaos,
the orderly aftermath doesn't count as much, i guess;
never quiet, never soft.....

cookiebutter.

biscoff biscuits are the SH!T!!
that's no joke.
so,
when they've been turned into a vegan peanut butter-style
spreadable cookie paste,
you know i'm all about it.
it's cookies turned into thick-as-heck frosting, neighbors.
maybe i'm not explaining it right-
it's cookies that you can spread on cookies!
or,
in today's instance,
cookie concentrate i can add to brownies.
yuuuuuuuuuuuup.
biscoff baby bunny brownie bites, for everybody.
mmmhmmm.
check the teleport:

woooohoooo.
chocolaty, biscoff-y, and totally expert.
i made 'em in two sizes, too.
look closer,
there's itty-bitty-minis,
and then just plain ol' ittty-bitties.
awwwwwwwwwww.
btw,
it's april already...
...and that means we put flowers on our treat plates.
mmhmm.
it's the little things, along with those little things, that make this a big deal.
i like my brownies like i like my income levels, neighbors-
rich.
and these small packages have got that big movie check taste.
even the frosting has extra butts,
and it's reppin' that biscoff butts in it, too.
it's so dense and decadent,
creamy. dreamy, and silky-smooth,
that it's almost as if there's a whole independent treat living on top
of the cakey biscuit battered brownie block on the bottom.
daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaamn, it tastes good in the woodsly goodness today.
that's no joke.
and it's a day off.
and it's sunny.
and it's flippin' fuh-reeeeezing cold.
oh.
kinda lost it towards the end, there, huh?
no worries,
i've got ideas for sugary snacks,
and i'm thinking hard about a real foolish april dinner, too.
too much is the right amount,
and this wednesday is all about setting new standards in getting right.
***********
duders,
i'm spanning time,
and the expanses between the hours feel like they're shrinking.
i've been a hermit up here in the woodsly goodness for a good long while now-
so long, in fact,
that the people and the places that filled in the empty spaces are long gone
from my daily routine,
and it's all still really happening;
and what's more, it's somehow still going by too quickly.
too much to do, even when there's less going on?
that's a new one.
but,
the oven is baking away,
all damned day long,
and the longview is stacks on stacks on stacks of treats.
i got some new jams.
but really. though-
new jams.
like, with a hint of lemon in 'em an' that.
and i'm about to apply those jammies to some fresh new jauns.
i'm gonna try some thumbprints in muffin tins,
and see how that goes towards preventing overspread.
worst case scenario,
i'm about to pop off some jam-topped blops.
and that's definitely not such a bad thing.
what about a peanut butter mousse and chocolate creme tart?
sure.
i mean,
i've got ideas, all of a sudden, in a sugar-rushing flood tide of inspiration.
i want allllllll the sweetness,
before i let the bitter bite me to the bone.
yikes.
april fool's day,
and nobody is around to play tricks on me.
i s'pose i'll have to keep fooling myself into thinking that this Folk Life
is working out the way it was supposed to?
ew.
maybe i'll stick to making dinner and remaining delusional;
never quiet, never soft.....

rabbit, RABBIT!

it's the first of the month,
and i'm looking upwards towards clear skies.
oh, yes, neighbors,
i'm sure there will be plenty of doo-doo buttery deluge days,
and mud-puddling floods of rain and water everywhere....
today, however,
is devoid of those seasonally appropriate april showers.
yeah.
this is it.
today.
the first one of the month-
a brand new calendar page of days and days to fill with fresh wonders
and fresh-to-death treats,
and fresh hells of our own devising.
mmmhmmmm.
what sort of frozen pit am i creating today, you ask?
no need.
nature has done all the work for me.
yes.
it was a bitter fifteen fahrenheit degrees as i awoke-
the chill in my bones oh-snap cold-snap slapping me to my senses-
and the very first set of syllables to escape my blue-tinged lips
and chomp out of my big chattering tombstone teeth?
c'mon.
rules is rules,
and today is the day, duders-
i said what i always say,
y'know?
yup.
the magic word, again and again,
out loud,
in fact, VERY loud at that;
into the aether and echoing through infinity
to cultivate coincidences of a beneficial and barbarian nature.
that's what's up, and that's the bottom line:
rabbit, rabbit!
spoken like an attentive and inventive effective invective,
iterated and immediately reiterated for maximum magic spellcasting.
you go right on ahead and do what you do,
i'll just be over here on some other other really real superstitious sh!t.
*
did i chase away that muthaF*ing freeloading deer again?
i did.
i can't hang out with a beige b!tch borrowing my branches for a buffet.
she's NOT invited, y'heard?
i've had more than my fill of doe-eyed dopes feeling entitled to my stuff
without contributing much beyond a pile of crap in their wake.
word.
that's why i'm twice as excited about coming home to this last night:

whaaaaaaaaaaaat?!
ampy d got it poppin' in the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress
with a big ol' fancy plateful of pad-thai-type vegetables and tofu,
over cauliflower for even more nutrient-rich superpowers every hour!
heck yes.
you know i'm a lover of food.
i want lots of it, and i want that to always be happening.
honestly,
what's better than a heapin' helping of home-cooked hottness
ready and waiting for your hungry face when you walk i the door?
nothin'.
i mean it.
i had a decent day the the studio beforehand, too.
regular clients of mine, gettin' zip-zapped, and hanging out,
while we shared treats and tales of todays and tomorrows together,
and then i came back to my castle,
and there was my best friend making me the best food??
wordimus prime.
i recognize how lucky i am to have a good day once in a while,
and i'm grateful for the time i have to span along these paths.
today IS the day, duders-
but it just might not be as expert as yesterday.
real talk;
never quiet, never soft.....