starry nights.

werewolf sleeplessness?
yep.
it's so bright out at night.
like,
the feet on feet on yards on feet of snow everywhere
are only reflecting and refracting and magnifying
the magnificence of the moon's big round barbarian brilliance.
no sh!t, neighbors.
it's a second daytime at nighttime, with a heavy dose of
ley-line magic and battle-beast gravitational tidal waviness.
yikes.
y'know what the right response is to that luminous lunar jauns?
uh-huh.
treats.
check the strawberry-galaxy-at-night-type teleport:

c'mon.
it's a star't.
get it?
star-tart?
no?
ugh.
duders,
i baked a bunch of almonds until all the aromatic activation
was filling the whole Folk Life & Liberty Fortress with hottness.
i ground 'em up extra good in my berfday-style food processor
until they were crumbled into coarse flour,
and i added a dash of almond extract and a splash of vanilla,
and some oat flour, and wheat flour, and sugar,
and a whole lot of butteryishness....
and once all of it was merged and melded and made into dough?
yep.
i pureed a pound of frozen strawberries-
that's a solid sixteen ounces of red hearts with seeds on 'em!
and i added in a dollop of three of jam to bring it up another level.
vanilla and lemon exctracts,
and lemon juice,
and confectioner's sugar,
stirred into a warm potful of that pulverized berry mash
made it thaw out and bubble up...
...and once the heat was right,
and the juices were flowing?
c'mon. you know what's next kids, don'tcha?
word.
i slurried a hurried heap of corn-style starch in to thicken it quicker.
perfection.
but that's not enough is it?
no way.
too much is the right amount,
and how can we get that poppin' in this b!tch?
how about with stars on stars on stars on stars on stars on top?
mmmhmmmmm.
the soymilky way, in shortbread sexiness.
five-pointed pentacles of turbo-elite sweet tart times,
for ALL our faces.
expert.
this is what i do.
the blood is pulsing through my body,
from my hard heart to my harder, itchier, hurtiet skinm,
but,
my hands are free and clear of claw and paw and hair and hate,
and they're tenderly crafting my fancy-style big-actyion-activated
cookie-cuttin' cakes and pies an' that.
i wish i was shedding my skin for that werewolfen berserker sh!t,
but i guess i'd be a mangy mad-dog wolfen weirdie if i did.
it's hot ovens and cold toes instead, i suppose.
so be it;
never quiet, never soft.....