FAMILIARITY.

i eat all the pizza,
and i eat a lot of pizza,
and i often eat pizza.
that's how favorite foods work-
when things are good, you celebrate with pizza.
when things aren't so good, you get comforted by pizza.
when things are too wild,
the familiarity of pizza is there to hold you down,
and when things are too mundane,
a pizza with unconventional toppings really weirds it up.
for real-
pizza is what's up;
and here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
experience has taught me that i may not ever be able to rely on others,
but i can always count on pizza to carry the day.
word up.
here's another 'nother day saver, dudes:

PEE EYE ZEE ZEE AYY!!
white pizza with potatoes?
man,
you already know i'm no sucka-A* chumpy punk when it comes to apizza-pie,
but you might not have known just how expert y'boi gets on the no-sauce jauns.
uh-huh.
oven roasted potato wedges, baked on parchment while the oven preheated,
olive oiled and tossed with smoky hot paprika and salt and pepper-
guys,
that's exxxactly what sort of hottness these days demand.
lucky for me, that's also exxxactly the kind of hottness i've got.
cashew-garlic chee' AND daiya mozzarella?
obvi- too much is the right amount.
this version of cashew chee' is especially awesome, btw-
-
1 cup soaked and drained cashews;
1 block of firm tofu;
salt and pepper;
1/4 cup olive oil;
3 cloves roasted garlic;
3 T nootch;
1 tsp ea GPOP;
blended until uniformly smooth-
then, (and this is the key to good pizza activation)
withhold 1/4 cup of the chee', and add 3 T non-dairy milk and 2 T nootch,
stir, and soften and let sit to thicken a bit-
spoonfuls of THAT will blow your effing mind, neighbors.
i'm serious.
little off-the-cuff ninja upgrades make my day, and you may consider another day made.
-
add on some fresh springtime asparagus,
and red onion wedges,
a few thinly sliced grape tomatoes,
red pepper flakes,
fire roasted tomato sprankles,
fried garlic sprankles,
and parsley sprankles,
and you've got yourself a championship pizza.
-
the other thing of note is that i went straight up on the dough-
flour, water, yeast, salt.
just to be sure i still had the right touch without all the fancy-pants specialties.
...and it was awesome.
very happy to report that i'm still ON it.
-
i like a hot oven, 480℉ convection circulation is what does it for me.
on a stone, of course, for maxxximum crust activation.
it seems to be the right call for this kitchen, and i call upon it often.
thank goodness for pizza.
without it, i think i would personally be a much much sadder person.
but,
lucky for me, i've got the tools and the skills and the resources
to stay steadily stocked with epic edible excellence for some time to come...
***********
in other, fouler-smelling and more concerning news-
my dog is still effed up.
yup.
and that's not good.
his attitude is identical to always-
enthusiastic and energetic and indifferent to human preferences-
but his digestive system is in turmoil,
and that means that on bust days, like yesterday, his stupid crinkly b-hole
can't contain the muddy waters that're breaching the dam.
and damn, damn, DAMN, there's not enough detergent on hand
to handle the hot fire he's spitting out the back.
this dog is NOT an easy one.
not one bit.
in fact,
he's a challenge, every day, and as often as he's a comfort, he's a major inconvenience.
he needs more attention and more careful supervision, even after years of instruction,
to keep him from killing himself.
he's truly a berserker battering-ram juggernaut-
and that wouldn't be so bad....
even though half my cupboard doors are blasted off the hinges thanks to him-
even though he's literally pushed every woman out of the picture, or at least off the bed-
even though his penchant for eating suicide shrapnel at least once a season is expensive-
all of that wouldn't be so terrible,
but the sh!t, bro-
the sh!tstorm of diarrheally filthy lava and tar that he spouts out during these episodes,
for unfathomable spans of time,
in quantities far larger than the amount of nutrition he's consuming,
all over himself, and his surroundings, and all of my possessions-
that's the part that truly ruins my days, even when there's plenty of pizza.
yesterday,
i came home to him with sh!t on his head.
on his head!
and he didn't even seem to care, at all.
an actual sh!t-head dog, smiling at me!!!!
yeah.
oh, yes, there was plenty of it everywhere else, too.
and before we all say ' awwwww, the poor poor little thing-
this is a trap of his own design he's caught in.
i don't know what he's eating on the sly,
since i'm constantly staring at his untrustworthy self to stave off these episodes,
but he is determined to get some sort of gutwrench in the works,
and consequences are NOT something he can comprehend.
the immediate satisfaction of dooing something self-destructive
is far greater a reward than the unavoidable fallout of that poor choice.
he cannot understand, so he'll forever make the same terrible choice.
it's instinct, but not an instinct to survive and thrive, just to indulge.
...
HOLY SH!T,
I WAS JUST DATING THE HUMAN VERSION OF MY DOG!!!!
how's that for an in-print epiphany, huh?
well,
that's discouraging,
but, there's no time to dwell on failure,
i've still got the equivalent life-lesson, on twice the legs,
ready to literally sh!t all over me.
(i think i preferred the figurative gesture from a far fairer face) 
it's all really happening,
and it all F*ing stinks;
never quiet, never soft.....