Sunday, March 29


there's too much snow.
so much snow, in fact,
that the animals are getting grumpy, and taking it to the streets.
that's real.
the wild is encroaching,
and it's sending mixed messages.
check the good-morning-deer-type teleport:
and before you start with your animal-friendly 'awwwwww' sh!t...
save those sappy stoopid sentiments for a second and look a little closer...
so gross.
that little jerk is eating my bushes.
oh, yeah,
she's a hungry, desperate A*-hole, for sure,
i still don't recall inviting any living creatures over for a spring sprig buffet.
i'm sure it's not her first choice, either,
but what the heck else is she gonna munch up?
i'm sayin',
it's all still snow everywhere up here.
ma nature just put too damned much of a blizzardly batch of
overstayed and unwelcome arctic sauce on the woodsly goodness,
and the shoots and sprouts are all still sleeping under the frozen earth.
i mean, it's eleven degrees.
and that's actually not that awesome, y'know?
why do those dirty brown F*ers have to come up in MY spot,
and start crackin' off some property damage?
for real,
why not wreck some of the other other homes on the hill?
nobody even lives in most of 'em.
it's like the animals around here all know that the vacation-style mansions
and manors of my neighborhood are obviously off-limits,
since those are where a better group of people
i've got such suckier people occasionally living nearby,
and they'd probably not even notice the nibbles on their nasturtiums or whatever.
i have to wake up to nature trying to wreck all the new growth in my backyard.
nature wins by eating itself?
that's true, i s'pose.
i just don't want to eat a deer.
.....maybe i'll just throw a rock at her tomorrow.
not that i haven't done that every year already,
and she's still here snacking on the flora of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
i throw stones, frequently.
my house isn't all glass, after all-
despite the panoramic picture window situation
through which i view the woodsly goodness.
i don't like looking at animals.
that's a true story.
i'm glad they feel safe here with me,
and that they want to snow white scamper through the snow white acres....
they're not invited to dinner.
i'm not running a charity over here.
nobody eats for free.
remember that;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, March 27

six in a row.

i did six tattoos yesterday.
in a row.
no breaks.
just steady grinding through a fast-paced sh!t-salad slalom
to the bottom of the barrel.
well, c'mon, neighbors,
think about it.
if i can do six tattoos,
and still leave work at the regular quittin' time?
there's no WAY those zips and zaps were ever gonna be awe-inspiring
fast-track at-attackin' career-makers, if you catch my meaning.
the three tandem walk-up afficionados of boku big drinkies
who took up the empty middle space between tattoo appointments
were totally expert.
i love duders who hate stuff i love,
and love stuff i hate.
that's not a joke, either.
if i can connect, converse, combat and conquer those folks,
then that's a worthwhile span of time.
you do what you do to get through the doo-doo buttery bits of your workday,
and i do what i've got to to endure mine.
word up.
jaw-bones making sounds that make sense is how i get my funtimes in
when i'm tattooing.
it keeps me and my clients occupied,
and it gives me an opportunity to interact with people i'd otherwise
almost never ever encounter in my day-to-day-doings.
i s'pose that's a way for the secret universal plans of interconnected
and overlapping spirit and memory to test my resolve....
can i hold back from my lyrical attack long enough to make some loot,
OR will i power through an opposing viewpoint and somehow still
bulldoze all the initial resistance to the steady stream of fire-spat filibustering
bluster i blister their ears with???
i know that's complicated,
but it's the truth.
i'm not about to pretend i can hang out with anyone.
we all know better than that.
can i score points with my adversarial opinionated pinions
and get a grudging laugh from a hostile audience,
all while screaming through some middling mamby-pamb'd ideas on skin?
i made muffins.
nothing fancy to look at,
but top-notch in the taste and texture departments.
chunky brown blops.
with chocolate-style chips,
and yet, so much more than that.
sour cream and yogurt, veganized and activated,
mixed into a batch of coffee crumb cakey batter,
and risen like cthulu from r'lyeh-
which is to say-
ugly, but dope, unless you're an unbeliever. that case, you're proper F*ed.
it's not a great day,
but it could become one.
that's right.
and i'm thinking about ordering a falafel.
i'm thinking about ordering TWO.
it is friday after all,
and that's the day i'm in love...
...with falafel.
i'll take my victories where i can find them.
i'm doing a tazmanian devil tattoo today.
i swear that's true.
i only deal with hard styles,
because that's the type of stylist i am;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, March 26

tea biscuits.

that's expert.
delicate and light,
subtle, but distinct,
and with a happy disposition.
that's a thing.
green tea powder,
all color and flavor,
dusty and dope,
and just what i'm lookin' for on a cool spring morning.
i made cookies, and i made 'em right.
like, righteously correct, even.
buttery, sweet, crispy, and fully-activated with that well-matched
mix in of matcha to make 'em more magical than ever.
that's real.
check the teleport, and then i'll tell you more about 'em:
so kyoooooot!
green tea biscuits,
with orange icing in the middle.
and a goobieblop swirl on top,
with the cutest little crawnchy spring flower on top.
i mean, c'mon, neighbors,
have i got my baked greats on point or what?
i'm sayin',
and that frosty frosting filling, friends?
so good, so creamy, so balanced with those cookie circles....
you know how i get down, don'tcha?
i got 'em going with orange juice, freshly squeezed from the orb,
after a tight little zest session,
with a splash of vanilla,
and a dash of orange oil essence extract!
what happens when that gets added to a whipped-up wondrous
whirling bettercremey cyclone of sugary elemental fury?
you get a dose of sweet citrus at it's best,
and it damn if it doesn't make those cookies taste twice as rad.
oh, yes, it does, duders.
for serious.
i don't always get it right,
in fact, i sh!t the bed on those brownies,
and the bad taste of defeat is lingering at the edges of my mouth, a little bit.
these jauns are spot on,
and they go down so smoothly.
a little too smoothly, maybe.
i may demolish the whole tray before anybody else even gets one.
ah, well, that's the danger of doing things to eleven.
exponential interactive indulgence is a serious side effect,
when participation and appreciation collide.
i'll be a fat pig, but i'll be happy while it's happening.
(it's the aftermath of overdoing it that fades faster from memory)
consequences aren't ever as discouraging as rewards are encouraging, are they?
pleasure-seeking behavior in the woodsly goodness,
for your favorite hard-hearted hermit,
is generally restricted to books and baked goods.
i s'pose the ramifications of an expanded mind and an expanded waistline
are relatively benign, in the bigger picture.
the short term goals of green tea and vitamin c,
are to be inside me right this very instant.
i think i can achieve that pretty easily,
so the real question becomes-
should i?
too much is the right amount,
so i guess we'll have to see where the line gets crossed.
here we go;
never quiet, never soft.....

a hill of beans.

what's better than when a meal is all compliments and harmony?
when all the food goes together like a mutha-effin' symphony
of textures and flavors and colors an' that?
that's right!
NOTHIN' is better than that,
or, at least,
nothing is better than that in the moment when you're sitting down
and munching up on whatever perfect storm of kaleidoscopic
rainbow expert flavor magic you've prepared.
...that's real talk right there, y'all.
last night,
hot on the heels of hard-styled day-wastin' time-escapin' slipstream slippage,
i brought out the big action,
and made more than a little magic start poppin' in the pots and pans
of my Folk Life & Liberty Fortress's fancy kitchen.
i got 'em.
holy sh!t......i got 'em to eleven.
damn, duders-
them jauns ain't exxxtra over here, i told you that already.
check the elite-beans-on-beans-on-beans-type teleport:
red beans, red onions, scallions, jalapeno, poblano, green pepper, garlic,
lime juice, black pepper, and parsley.
that's what's up.
sweated out and wilted up,
sauteed and married together in an amicably arranged situation.
that's dope.
what're they're sittin' on?
shredded scallion and parsely white corn polenta!
c'mon, kids. that's the hot grain hominy right there.
are those grilled leeks?
you know it.
all those green onions are great,
and grilled jammies are twice as good.
with all that blackened flavor,
and all that light onion essence,
activated with olive oil like abracadabra an' that.
can y'feel it?
i know you can.
how about that tofu?
stripper-cut into straight stixxx,
rolled in cornstarch and g.p.o.p., and baked enough to firm it up fully.
then, pan-seared with cayenne and cholula, a little mustard powder, and coriander.
das IT!
topped with a tsp. of cafe noche salsa.
all the heat, all the spice, all the hottness, and twice the flavor.
and how about that low fat crawnch style we're reppin'?
cucumber chips for that elite guac.
(and my guacamole game is officially gone all the way to eleven)
the triple pepper blend, green bell, poblano, and jalapeno, is key.
lots and lots of cilantrio,
fresh crushed garlic,
red onion, scallions,
black pepper, salt, lemon AND lime juice,
and perfect avocados, mashed up chunky as F*.
when it's too smooth, it's trying to rep that store-bought bullsh!t,
and i can't hang out with that at all.
believe it.
what's that orange blop?
it's sriracha hummus, my friend.
chick peas, olive oil, garlic, spices on spices on spices,
and whipped up by my dinnertime companion, ampy d.
it's nice to have professional appreciators around when there's deliciousness
waiting to be professionally appreciated, y'heard?
i'm 'BOUT that food love,
i'm 'BOUT that food life,
and i'm 'BOUT that Folk Life just as much, and maybe even a bit more.
i'm cookin'.
i'm eatin'.
i'm plannin' and preparin',
and i'm doo-dooin' it all to the best of my ability.
there's usually room for improvement,
but this one was flawless.
it all went together the way it was ,meant to,
and i couldn't have been any happier.....
unless there were somehow third helpings available.
secondsies were molto filling, however,
so i s'pose it's for the best that my shark-gluttony didn't get the best of me.
the highlight of my day off was food.
the low point was too.
i think my world is shrinking,
but it's becoming more concentrated.
like an ocean becoming a sea becoming a lake becoming a puddle,
i'm F*ing salty enough to turn all the rain in the world into tears.
THAT'S a hard style,
but that's how it goes.
my focus is shifting,
and my lenses are complex, convex, and concave, magnifying, inverting,
and channeling all the unbearable lightness of waiting
into heavyweight dark spots in my vision
and black-and-white distinctions in my grey matter.
real life unfolds, continuously,
and while i'm feeling like there's less of it,
what there is certainly feels more intense.
when you lose one sense, the others purportedly overcompensate.
so, maybe my lack of good sense, and my long lost innocence
are being replaced by nonsense and in equal but opposite quantity?
you like it.
i do too.
but liking it or not doesn't ever matter,
because it's really happening regardless.
salty, salty, and salty,
i'm with that hyperactive tension,
and i've got some blood-boiling pressure to expand
beyond the surface of my self-contained self-imposed boundaries.
today is the day;
never quiet, never soft.....

for the birds.

every once in a while,
i get ahead of myself,
or i get too full of myself,
or maybe the secret universal plans have a typo-
the day slips away,
the accomplishments are few if any,
and even the things i've got relative proficiency in take a hot sh!t.
as in- yesterday.
i started the day off with brownie squares,
figuring i had an easy win with a tried and true recipe.
boy oh boy was i wrong.
i made some of the suckiest suckbombs that ever sucked,
and they somehow kept getting worse.
that's no joke.
the crawnchy outsides became bricks of ironclad, impenetrable crap,
and the insides were denser than the woodboogery necktards that
i deal with at the tattbomb studio.
do you understand what i'm sayin'?
i F*ed up.
and that is not a good beginning to any day,
let alone my only day off.
check the missteps-and-slip-ups-type teleport:
awwwwwwww, MAN.
these doo-doo blocks are all-the-way-'sgusting.
all my attempts at repairwork only worsened a preexisting condition,
which is to say, they aren't very good.
at all.
what the heck happened?
i'm pretty sure it was the ganache what undermined my freeform concocting.
ganache is basically soft chocolate chip material,
and when it lives inside of a brownie, IN the batter,
it only stays as soft as the temperature stays high.
so it crisped up on the edges,
and it stiffened up in the middle,
and it basically made the cake in them taste amazing,
if you could only somehow crack into one without cracking your teeth first.
it only got worse from there.....
for instance, that beige, blarpity caramel filling?
that's that melty, formless, house-of-wax-in-the-summertime-lookin' sh!t.
the best and worst part of it?
it just tasted like frosting.
it's brown enough to fool your eyes,
and there's definitely homemade caramel sauce IN it;
but buttery sugar mixed with buttery sugar doesn't do much to deliver a better flavor,
the pow-powdered sweetness was overpow-powering to the cooked bits,
and together, the warm and the cool sure as sh!t didn't do one damned thing
about improving the consistency.
oh, it's okay.
i mean,
everybody effs up once in a while, i suppose.
i'm still salty about that poop-brown glass-like caramel icing on top.
hard styles plagued this project from the jump off.
that s'posed-to-be sticky jaunswas harder than diamonds,
heavier than lead,
and wholly unrewarding.
one bad morning's worth of failure can undermine a week's worth of success.
believe it.
i didn't let myself get too bummed out.
after all,
whatever else i make is gonna seem even MORE expert after this debacle.
where are they now?
i sailed 'em across the muddy, semi-melted swampy snowmush surrounding
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress, so the crows can have a go at 'em.
they're always down to chow on some filthy business,
and i figure it can't hurt to have a murder of those muthas
hovering around the grounds of my haunted castle.
so, i'm turning my mistakes into birdfood,
and i'm letting myself learn a lesson or two from this failure.
no ganache in stuff,
and no more caramel frosting.
got it?
it's ALL really happening.
that's the whole point.
true stories, told truly, even when they don't have happy endings;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, March 25

good one.

i have been complaining about blarping out lately.
too many burritos,
not enough exercise, i guess.
the thing is,
my solution is usually to bake up a cake or something,
and it turns out, that's not really actually a solution.
it's pretty much exactly the opposite.
but, i LOVE food,
and i want it in my hands and in my mouth;
i want to crush it between my teeth;
i just need piles of warm, tasty, salty, sweet, spicy hottness in my life,
all the time, every minute, until i explode.
that doesn't sound healthy, does it?
don't worry, though-
even in the face of severe shark-gluttony,
this is where the situation improves drastically and dramatically.
we all know i'm into cooking up some stuff.
did you know that my homegirl ampy-d gets busy in the kitchen, too?
on that healthy low-fat jauns, even.
that's real.
i came home from work to a pretty flippin' fancy dinner,
and i'll tell you what, kids-
it put the D in delicious for sure.
check the teleport:
home-cookin' from the future!
that's chopped up cauliflower 'rice';
with lime and cilantro and tamari an' stuff;
with spicy baked tofu steaks;
and cinnamony refried beans;
and baby kale salad;
all garnished with scallion sprankz.
who was the luckiest one yesterday?
ew, no-
i think it was me, actually.
healthy choices for my face,
and possibly a considerate woman showing growing concern for my growing waistline.
i'll take the gesture at face value- kind and caring,
and i'll take the food in huge mouthfuls- because i'm always so hungry.
you gotta be wary when you're a food lover, y'know?
it's true.
especially when you aren't a great big fat person already.
blarping out is a hard style when you're skinny.
well, no-
it's not getting fat, exactly,
it's what it sounds like- blarping.
shapes that aren't specifically human,
bulging off of your frame, in shaky, sloppy slabs of flesh.
it all costs something, kids.
cake is great, but a slice don't come for free.
that's the nature of the beast,
and beasts and nature both seem to win every time.
that's tough, but fair.
y'feel me?
you want some cake?
you should get some cake.
you want to avoid the blarp?
you'd better do WORK, son.
you know the rules,
and that's an advantage;
never quiet, never soft.....

people and places and things.

more and more and more,
i find treat-making to be the best way to relax.
i can't be unproductive and then feel any good about anything.
that's real.
if i've gotta get busy to loosen up,
and there has to be results or i'm less relaxed than when i start,
then there's got to be treats.
plus, if i make treats,
then i get to have treats and that is expert.
the cucch was only here for a little minute,
and i couldn't send my bestest friend on earth downeast to work in maine
without a care package from the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
i mean,
what am i?
an A*-hole?
no way.
it wouldn't be right to slack off on the treats when my homepiece
is in town for a day or two, since treats are a hallmark
of fresh-to-death Folk Life active participation.
so we made treats.
because that's a thing.
check the beige-on-beige-on-beige-type teleport:
molto loco coffee coconut cookies.
they've got coconut flakes and coconut sugar and coconut flour,
and that's heavy duty hearty textural comin'-correctness....
but they've also got coffee crushed up in the crumb,
and coffee extracts (cut with vanilla) all up in the wet half of the dough.
they have a molasses-cookie consistency,
and a crawnchy outer shell, too.
when it comes to making up some weird science withour exact measurements,
i'm ALL about the handfuls and the pinches,
and it seems to be working out overall, y'all.
these cookies are pretty dope,
and that coffee icing with those coffee-infused toasted coconut sprankles
are only making them even MORE dope.
i mean it.
there's an overabundance of flavor, and that's a good thing.
after all,
too much is the right amount,
and that just means i'm doing it right.
spring cleaning.
a winter's worth of stuff,
piled high, bundled up, stashed in corners, spread out on every available surface.
i'm definitely not a neat freak, duders.
the increased light being allowed into my dusty windows is grossing me out.
i s'pose i'll need to start a big ol' cleansing campaign
in these fingerprint-stained walls.
i can see that i've really been preoccupied with any-and-everything else,
and now the rugs could use a good vacuuming,
it turns out, i might be 'sgusting,
and that's not cool at all, guys.
tell you what-
a few brownies, maybe a pan of tarts,
and i'll get all kinds of domestic within these wrecked rooms.
first things first, i'm preheating my oven.
i'll worry about where the vacuum might be hiding afterwards;
never quiet, never soft.....

Tuesday, March 24

p is for pizza, and for paulie.

the cucch!!!
don't pretend he doesn't look like a hun in that hat.
i know, right?
a real attila-type barbarian,
straight off the steppes.
this guy is my bestest friend,
my most solid, and stalwart, and staunch supporter,
my ace numero uno hetero lifemate,
my main man,
my broskimoski,
he's up here,
and we're spanning time,
and when we're both in the same spot,
you KNOW we're making a big ol' fat mess in the kitchen.
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress knows what's up when we
start in on some ovenly lovin' and dough-stretchin' dopeness.
the whole house seems more alive when good food is in the makin'.
that's real.
and what kind of good food are me and my dude all about?
so what did we do?
what even are you?
some kind of an A*-hole?
don't be dumb, duders.
clearly, we doo-doo'd a two-pie eyeful,
and a heavy daiya(rrhea) reality for our butts and guts.
we else would we, could we, should we do?
it's a rule,
and that's no joke.
we love that pee-eye-zee-zee-ayyyyyy!
check the tossed-and-embossed-type teleport:
underchee' is the secret hottness from the future,
and it has changed the way i enjoy pizza forever.
bacon-style pink parts and caramelized onion,
with green onions, parsley, and smoked gouda?
smoked gouda?
it's pretty good-a.
definitely wetter, and also a bit better, than i would've expected.
we terrorized it in record time,
and sat digesting for a minute or two before this big baby was ready:
same ingredients, mostly,
with different chee' in different places.
not-zerella daiya on top,
but also all of that baconical onionized expert excellence on there, too.
two bigger than our usual, heavier-than-appearances-suggest pizzas,
for our faces,
shared in this cold cold northern wind tunnel,
with bestest buddies, and really real talk between us.
it made for a good night.
i have to say it, because i mean it-
i am grateful for the time i have been given.
the good parts are really good.
and that's saying an awful lot.
good enough is not enough,
so you can be positive i'm telling the truth.
(i do that)...
me and my peoples span time, break bread, share stories,
and keep our small, secluded, specialized woodsly goodsly Folk Life
with us wherever we end up.
that's what we do, and that's why it works.
the longest nights,
the coldest days,
the worst work,
the farthest distances,
not one of those, or any of the myriad other other hard styles is going to
take away what we keep protected on the inside.
no joke.
enduring is what we do,
and that's just the way it is;
never quiet, never soft.....


it's ALL about the food.
that's real.
i should've written more yesterday,
but i was molto busy making pancakes.
that's a thing.
but, anyway, there was more than just burritos and cake involved
in my trip down to my homeland, homies.
i'm tellin' you-
after that adorable junior high-style play wrapped up,
and the curtain was surely stayin' closed,
i absolutely HAD to get with the traditional cheshire, connecticut 
consolation prize on a cone.
i took my ma, my father, my daughter, and my ride-or-die b!tch
out for those icy cream hottness jauns.
rules is rules
and when you're in that crackery-A* craptown.
there is only one totally expert way to span time.
check the teleport:
emergency tofutti!!!
with those fancy sprankles.
word up.
that's that good thang, right there.
there was a whole lot more food to get involved with.
and you KNOW i actively participate, don'tcha?
damned right i do.
for my ma's belated berfday dinnertime,
late in the evening,
on a collegiate street-level downtown saturday night,
getting live down in dirty gun wavin' money-cravin' nueva haven,
we beat up a double plate, and a whole exxxtra side plate
of diapery doodieblops and glops,
straight outta the freaky-diki depths of my ethiopian spot.
check the teleport:
and there was MORE, obviously.
check out the other other other stuff:
diaper bread injera and alllllll those blops,
and a jazz pianist tickling the ivories all evening.
the piano was less headachy than you might suspect.
food, y'all.
i love it.
and that ethiopian earth-toned pretty tony supreme clientele action
is the ultimate late night indulgence for people who know about what's good.
.....and me and mine know about what's good.
that's the truth.
negative degrees, every damned day,
and poor scheduling,
and poor people,
and petty individuals and petty situations that my crew goes through.
it's all hard styles,
and all of it is really happening.
if it was easy,
then it wouldn't be choosing the wrench, though, would it?
killing me softly,
and slooooowly,
despite my loud fresh hardness-
one wrench is all it takes,
and even the most well-oiled machine is wrecked;
never quiet, never soft.....

Monday, March 23


that's where i went,
that's where i was,
and it's even where i'm from,
albeit no longer even kinda where i'm AT.
school play jauns were in full effect,
and that meant heading down to the southern extremes of new england,
in the snow and rain and lameness of highway lanes and windy,
awful faux wintertimes in early spring.
it sure wasn't like this last year, duders-
that's no joke.
everything was worse, except the play,
which was way better.
i did a whole lot of driving, neighbors.
a whole holy helluva lot,
back and forth,
to and fro,
over and over and over.
and i saw that drama unfold, or comedy, or musical,
or whatever,
and i watched my daughter maple prance around like a pied piper.
for real.
there was dancing and singing and all the sorts of voice cracking
early teen adolescence presence felt by every last person in the audience.
i mean,
seeing my kid all confident and happy was totally expert.
did my heart leap a little?
it did.
was i all emotional?
i was.
proud papa sh!t was at a year-to-date record high,
and that was good.
y'know what else was good?
the 'hood chipotle in hamden, ct.
it wasn't good, actually, at all...
but daaaaaaamn there was a whole lot of it.
check the triple-wrapped-type teleport:
and guys,
do i like poopy guacamole?
was there about a pound of it?
and even though it costs exxxtra,
that's still a huge loss on those margins.
that's a monster burrito, on every level-.
with over-serving at every station, and way-out of proportion portions,
it was as big as my head,
and they had to call the master wrapper out from the back to come roll it up.
that's a thing.
it wrecked my whole b-hole,
and also, my other other b-hole.
bellies and butts and burritos, all at once.
the hardest part was that it wasn't that great,
but we ate 'em all up anyway.
in fact,
it got such a bad review,
and not just because of the dirty doo-doo buttery urban atmosphere,
(that guac' was butt-nasty, y'all)
we had to hit up a whole 'nother 'nother spot,
this time in new hampshire, for a little wrap-slap redemption.
....and it was waaaaaay better the next day, in the good spot.
and even though it was still huge, (double-wrapped, obvi)
it couldn't compare to the massive monstrosity i mashed into my mouth on saturday.
check the teleport:
road trips are for gluttony,
and i'm salt-bloat fat like a balloon of blarp.
my daughters are good kids,
and they're a lot of fun to be around.
my ma and my father are good, too,
and we had some cake with 'em.
(that cake was the TRUTH)
there was a lot of traveling within the three cities we stayed in,
all of it to get more food.
that's the stuff.
a thirty six hour round trip feast.
with family togetherness and good times for everybody,
in between car rides;
never quiet, never soft.....

Saturday, March 21


peanut butter.
that's right, neighbors.
i put a stick of butterish;
a few glugs of soymilk;
a handful of chocolate chips;
half a jar of peanut butter;
a cup of sugar;
and a quarter cup of cocoa in a pot,
and melted all of it together into a big ol' tarry sludge.
no way!
that's just the half of it....
there's a whole lotta oats and coconut waiting in a bigger bowl,
and when they meet each other?
a super spell of sorcerously magical hottness
evolves both into something so much better,
like a voltron pokemon of cooked foodstuffs.
and you know i can't let it go at that, right?
once it all sits pretty and sets up a bit beyond the chunky wet stage,
it becomes essential to maximize the activation,
and freak it off with a little somethin' extra.
you know what i mean?
would you like to?
then check the no-bakes-three-ways-type teleport:
silicone molds are rad, and they are useful for all kinds of cool stuff.
in this instance,
flowers and hearts make the cookies so flippin' cute!
flowers of unmodified choco-p.b.-coconut goodness,
hearts with more and more chocolate on top,
and hand-formed circle jauns, with added coconut, for added textural complexity.
they all are expert in their own ways,
and i think you'll need one of each to believe me.
that's a thing.
connecticut, here i come.
there will be acting, and feasting, and so much driving.
this is the way the weekend unfolds.
i'm hoping for warmer weather in the blacktop paved tarscape of the nutmeg state's
inescapable suburban sprawlways and highways and traffic jamborees.
i'm gonna eat all the treats i've been missing out on,
and then,
when i can't fit any more?
i've gotta get myself another mouthful.
it's impossible to say the wrong thing if there aren't spaces for words to form
between bite after bite of every last tasty morsel in new haven county.
that's the truth.
i'm on a mission-
family togetherness,
responsible adulthood,
dutiful son sh!t,
fun vacation dad sh!t,
and shark gluttony.
this is how saturday unfolds;
never quiet, never soft.....