back to baking.

get home,
get unpacked,
preheat the oven.
that's what everybody does,
right?
well,
it IS what i do.
because treats are what's up,
and even when i'm away for awhile,
that's not a good excuse not to keep producing.
really.
also,
i needed something to eat this morning,
and after a forever and ever ride north through new hampshire and vermont,
in a non-stop deluge that started as soon as we crossed into the northern half
of new england and didn't let up until an hour ago,
i wasn't really feeling a soggy and sodden shopping trip.
too many hours of squinting out the windshield at waterfalls of raindrops
as we cruised northeast forever and ever.
the thing is,
i got home and got busy anyway.
yeah.
i did.
powdered freeze-dried cranberries,
and chopped dried cranberries,
and small-sized chocolate chippies,
folded,
and quartered,
and folded,
and quartered,
and folded,
and so on,
until the sexiest scones were born out of the buttery batter i kneaded
and knocked around and sliced and sugared an' that.
check the breakfast-style teleport:

duders,
they are firm, and soft,
and sweet and tart and there's a little ground vanilla bean,
and spritzy splat of lemon zest,
and a generous clump of cream chee' in the dough, too.
they are expert, and that is real.
hmmm?
yeah,
and that's a sexy lobster mug filled with irish breakfast tea.
c'mon.
what am i?
an A*-hole?
no way.
i'm treating myself to breakfast because i deserve something great this morning.
not because i did anything incredible,
but because i do what i have to,
and because i'm not asking anybody else to treat me any better....
i'm doing it all by and for myself.
don't try to stop me.
although,
if you do show up,
i've got a scone or two with your name on 'em, too.
i'm not stingy.
i'm just self-centered.
that's a thing.
*
sleep never seems restful when it's raining.
it stays so dark,
and the sound of the drops on the roof keep hypnotizing me,
back into the bed,
back under the covers,
back to sleep....
it never feels like it's daytime,
so it never feels like sleepytime is over.
i'm up, awake, writing, documenting, thinking hard, getting ready,
staying dry, and wishing i was still curled up and dreaming.
the dreams i've been enjoying aren't lucid,
but they are lurid,
and they may not flow in a linear direction,
but they sure do make an impact on my nighttime rest.
waking up sweaty and gasping is fun when you're a grown-A* man.
or wait,
maybe i meant that falling asleep sweaty and gasping is fun,
and the opposite is truer more often than not?
i dunno.
i'm tired, and i'm wide awake.
today is the day,
and i've only got scones to keep me going.
that'll have to do;
never quiet, never soft.....