Tuesday, October 21

berfdays.

fourteen.
mmhmm.
my daughter, harvest, is fourteen today.
yeah.
years, neighbors.
fourteen years.
in a row.
teenaged for a minute now,
and turning taller and older and everything.
today, tho-
today is the day.
the berfday.
and that means connecticut is where i'm headed.
ugh.
family togetherness and paternal activation and cake.
yep.
there will be cake, too.
obvi.
it isn't a berfday without berfday cake.
that's a thing.
and of course,
i'll be bringing it with me.
otherwise, i wouldn't get a slice.
vegan baked greats aren't invited to the party, usually,
unless accompanied by an expert.
lucky for me, i don't just know one, i flippin' am one!
i mean, sure, i have to bake it in new hampshire and bring it with me,
but active participation is kind of my thing anyway
(damn. b.y.o.c.      because box mix is for jerks,
and applesauce eludes the egg-dependent instructions-followers)
anyway,
i'm on that vanilla x14-type sh!t.
check the happy-berfday-harvest-type teleport:
yum.
what?
you think i went a little overdramatic with the photo?
oh.
well, how about you maybe shuuut up a little bit?
word.
it's dark out and it's raining, and it's an all-white cake,
and that calls for a double light source, and an eagle's-eye view. .
i used a LOT of frosting.
i mean, a LOT.
the cake math on this science treat?
okay-
i used 1.5x the frosting for a cake .75 the height of a regular one!
that's double, duders.
why?
because too much is the right amount.
you know that already.
so, there's goobieblops on top of swirls, and blarps on the sides and everything.
if there's still frosting in the pastry bag, you gotta keep squeezing.
rules is rules, after all.
and another 'nother rule for berfday cake?
sprankles.
seriously.
and since i'm reppin' a double circle of spirit and memory for the crumb,
with a wholeheartedly unholy helping of vanilla in myriad incarnations,
and even a little bit of top secret vegan white chocolate tapioca.....
(the kid likes plain cake, but i don't know if i can ever all-the-way hang out with that.)
anyway,
i've got my ring of cakey hottness,
and i've got so much frosting in so many bloppy drops,
which means all that was missing to take it to eleven, for fourteen's sake,
was to get the sugarglitter all up on it.
so,
i figured we could all do well with a punch or three of seasonal color-coordinated
site-specific harvest-hued sprankles!
yuuuuuuuuuup.
i made it work, neighbors.
***********
my kids are busy.
really.
like, they're so busy.
like, they're SO busy i'm on a lightning-striking viking voyage to connecticut
for a blitzkrieg of berfday family magic fun times,
because they've also got other other stuff to do.
hmm?
yes.
it's berfday cake, after berfday dinner, after berfday shoppin',
and all before seven p.m.,
so homework and studying can get done.
i will most likely see 'em for less time than i'll be carbound on the trip to get there.
and that's just in one direction.
however,
the alternative is to see the for NO hours, and that's no kind of option.
it's cars and crap and traffic and congestion,
a little tiny bit of overlap with the rest of my blood relatives,
and cake,
thank the heavens for cake.
*
harvest skye ruth.
a little wet pink squawking raisiny naked mole rat.
babies are just such waterlogged little grossies-
but that was the most beautiful thing to me at the time.
that's what i remember about this day, fourteen years ago.
and crying like a F*ing giant diaperbaby my own self.
my firstborn child, my little daughter...
now,
she's practically a person.
it's too soon, but it's also just right.
i mean,
events unfolds the way they're going to,
and time travel only goes in one direction,
and i sure am grateful for the time and direction that i've been given.
it's all really happening all the time,
but that's especially true today.
a big ol' sentimental heartful.
that's it;
never quiet, never soft..... 

Sunday, October 19

pie or cake?

BOTH.
obviously.
sometimes, a pie just hasn't got the girth, guys.
i mean,
they're generally not the stout bombers i'm craving, anyway.
but,
they've got all the flavors i want.
what do we do when faced with a choice?
we choose the wrench.
c'mon.
and we choose both options if they both have positives to enjoy.
hybridization is nature's way of making things more successful at existing.
therefore,
knowing that nature wins in the end,
it has to be mad-scientist bakery time in the woodlsy goodness.
doesn't it?
yes. of course it does.
apple pie cake.
that's a thing.
i know it is,
because i made it happen.
check the crumbly-cakey-type-teleport:
knobbly, bumpy, baked blocks of burly self-contained apple magic.
that's what's up.
graham crackers pulverized into flour,
and rolled oats ground up into the same,
apples, peeled and minced, and cooked with maple and cinnamon
and mixed into an extra buttery (creamchee' accented),
soy yogurt smootherized floury nutmeg-infused vanilla-bean activated
batter, and beaten into shape so all the best parts touched each other?
yep.
so expert.
and then that cinna-maple creamchee' frosting for your face, too??
in the middle, gluing it all together, because that's what pie is missing.
and on the top, dollop after dollop-
goobiebloppin' a little pretty princess swirl for that extra sweet treat happiness.
all the fall flavors are there,
and all of it is really happening.
where you been?
i mean,
you might wanna pop on by and scoople one up...
because otherwise you're missing out real hard,
and that's no joke.
*
the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress is all about apples and/or pumpkins,
why?
are you serious?
what do you mean, why?
what are you?
an A*-hole?
.....um, maybe because it's october,
and those are the rules.
neighbors,
the seasonal creations are in full swing.
whenever i'm not working or crafting,
i'm baking.
i haven't cooked anything fancy in a minute,
but i've been dominating that oven on the regular.
the thin gs i'm not doing are the things that don't need doing.
that's the way i'm looking at this month.
events unfold along the grid of squares on the calendar,
and this line of blocks is filled with cake and connecticut.
my time is accounted for,
and there will be presents to account for soon enough.
all of this, all the time,
that's what it's all about;
never quiet, never soft.....

too many hats.

so,
i've got an expert leatherette aviator cap,
with scrappy straps and flippy-flaps and crap all over the place;
i've got a daring derby of barbaric burly brown bowler dome dopeness;
i've got that whiz-bang word-up wide-top topper hat, too....
that's real, neighbors.
i got a lot of hats for hallowe'en.
the thing of it is-
they didn't go super well with my sergeant steampepper custom coat.
nope
not even one little teeny tiny bit.....
y'know what that means, don'tcha, duders?
that's riiiiiiight.
i had to have a whole other 'nother snazzy dazzler for my big bald pate.
mhmm.
because too much is always the right amount.
that's for real.
but, with that in mind,
i'm just sayin'-
i figure that if i'm gonna dress like a baron of baller-A* doodietwankles;
or an earl of expertism to eleven;
or even an archduke of activational loud, fresh, hardness,
i can't show up wearing some headgear that doesn't denote
the level of elite rank and pomp and substantial circumstantial site-specific personal style
and all of that sort of selfish self-righteousness my new hottness is is all about.
i can't be all bringin' that weak-sauce to hallowe'en, now, can i?
no way.
so i made myself something a little more appropriate
for an imaginary admiral of my presumed rank and standing.
check the general-gendarme-type teleport:
yeah!!!
and that insignia?
yeah, the big gold earring, with stuff on it.
that's what i mean.
a shield(button) and rivets(brads) and crossed axes!?!
that's what's up.
the barbarian outer provinces, guys.
that's where i'm thinking i'm hangin' out.
whatever that means.
at any rate,
that's the skulltop skillset i'm reppin' now.
one side has a ch-ch-chain hangin' off of it:
because that's manly,
even if the four types of ribbons and trims aren't.
the other has a dingle-string tassel dangle:
because old-timey armies liked fancy dazzlers all over the place,
and didn't believe in camouflage.
(as a result, they mostly got shot a lot)
what?
oh, yeah, definitely.
i love putting that overkill to it.
that's my thing.
i don't just do it,
i over do it, and add the fire and explosions to it.
what can i say?
i don't just talk about it,
i be about it, too.
hmm?
well, originally,
it was a german alpine ski patrol cap from the army surplus shop.
the thing is,
the germans have nice gear,
but throughout history, they're sort of the baddies, y'know?
so lacy crinkles and ribbons are very necessary for goodguyification of the goods.
really.
*
all day tattblastin' today?
yup.
all night craft-attackin' later?
lunch and/or dinner in there somewhere?
maybe.
i'm super busy,
and i'm super tired,
and i'm super motivated to take as few breaks and pauses as possible.
can i do it all?
probably not.
will i collapse at the close of business on all-saints day?
undoubtedly.
will i stop with this Q&A conversation soon.
yes, i will, right now;
never quiet, never soft.....

army armor arm.

well,
the gloves i had were the wrong ones.
yep.
just wait a minute, and i'll explain-
my daughter isn't quite 13 yet,
and she has very tiny hands.
like, tinier than a size small glove, even.
that means that without her here to wear an example of her specific
appropriately-sized hand-clothes,
i had to improvise.
but, the small gloves were too big.
lame.
so how was i spanning my saturday night,
after a loooong day of tattblastin' girls en masse,
complete with entourages of encouragers, well-wishers, naysayers, and pouters?
well,
after enduring that for not nearly enough compensation-
i took my hard-earned gains, and went to the department store.
saturday night is the exact time when the beastliest creatures ooze out
of whatever bog or semi-rotten stump they've been sleeping under,
and talk overloud, in their stained sweatpants, down every aisle, at the slowest pace.
and also,
it's when i buy gloves there.
hmmm?
yes.
i had worst time,
and i may have used the guilty-by-associative-property of worth-assessment
to really do a number on my previously adequate self-esteem.
yuck.
but the good news is that i got the gloves.
yes i did.
and when i got home,
i made a little gauntlet activation for the tiny-handed kid.
check the teleport:
robobotronic magic?
maybe so.
a steampunkish auxiliary artillery arm?
for sure.
what's better than power armor?
nothin'.
c'mon.
get a look at the sides:
righty-tighy.
i think the rivets are the best part.
or maybe the thumb.
or maybe the pipes.
heck.
i'm just excited for her to get it, and get fresh for the best holiday.
oh, yeah,
and the other other side:
lefty-loosey.
so,
that's what i was doing last night.
my big burly barbarian business was with small hands and stretchy fabric.
i s'pose it could've been worse-
i could've had to do what everyone else was doing.
this was definitely better.
***********
neighbors,
it got cold again.
out of nowhere, or really, out of the northwest.
(that's where the winds blow in from 'round these parts).
that means autumny blankets and fleecy sleepy pants,
and an extra cover or two.
that's good for nighttime comfort,
and it's great for climbing into all those comfy-cozies
after all the hot glue has cooled.
mmhmmm.
i'm on a time constraint,
and i've got acres of activation to engage in before the final bells toll.
i guess sleep isn't invited, and i presume that the nights,
while getting darker, earlier,
and gonna get a whole lot harder and even longer before the deathly hallows
do what they do.
we've got moves to make, kids.
we've got a job to do-
and this is it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Friday, October 17

green-eyed monstrous victoriavision.

more goggles.
yes.
for real.
i said i was making another 'nother couple sets.
and i meant it.
i tell true stories.
you already know that.
so,
i guess this time right now, we'll try a few less words,
and get going with more pictures.
that's  the plan...
neighbors,
check the teleport:
green is good.
and a little brown bow, just so you know they're for a lady.
check the details:
cameos and hearts are fancy.
they just do what they do, which is mostly look cool and be shiny-
and sometimes, that's what we need.
isn't it?
yeah. i thought so too...
and how about that trick-or-treatery night-vision activation:
word up.
red is also good.
mmhmm.,
red and green on hallowe'en is expert.
.....just as long as we agree to no purple.
i mean,
really now, friends,
stop it with that sh!t.
seriously.
*
ugh.
i probably won't win any dad-of-the-year-awards.
i understand that, empirically,
i'm accumulating quantifiably less than enough points for the title.
however,
if my name is in the running for active participant and devoted duder of the day?
yuuuuuuup.
i got that sh!t on lock.
me and mine are making time to make magic memories of family togetherness.
we doo-doo that father-daughter-style sh!t.
believe it-
i'll be spanning time with my girls next week,
for the 14th yearly berfday shoppin' spree,
 and cake (obviously), an' that sort of stuff.....
AND for early hallowe'en delivery of all this dopeness.
there will be big fun, and non-stop action for all of us,
the whole trip.
that's what's important, after all is said and done-
making all the moments matter more.
you could have regular times,
but what's the point of that?
just be dope, or F* right off.
that's the thing.
you know the deal,
and you love it;
never quiet, never soft.....

Thursday, October 16

treats don't wait.

driving all over the place;
craft-making into the smallest hours of the night;
working almost single every day;
neighbors-
responsible adulthood is pure butthole.
there's just so much to do,
and there is never a time when there isn't something i've left unfinished
for the next day to start under the pressure of completing yesterday's work.
damn.
that's a hard style.
however,
even when it seems like i've barely stopped moving,
and it was dark when i fell asleep, and dark still when i woke up,
which means i probably didn't rest anywhere near enough.....
there's this little voice in my left ear.
why my left?
i dunno.
it's the devil?
anyway,
i hear it whispering to me.
and i listen up.
what is it saying?
oh, y'know, secret recipes.
mmhmmm.
and when i'm up at six, with the oven preheated,
and the warm stove melting butterish pats and dissolving three kinds of sugar,
i know that the day will work itself out because it HAS to.
and also,
there will be treats to help it along.
that's IT!
check the october-rust-hued-hottness-type teleport:
ka-BOOM.
pumpkin pecan chocolate chip gingerbread minis?
holy sh!t, kids.
my whole face was filled with all that autumny expert explosive lusciousness.  
all the spices, as usual,
and oven-roasted pecans,
and little tiny cute-as-heck chocolate chipsters,
and pumpkin by the patchful.
baby breads are so cute,
and they totally taste full-size.
no joke.
what about that drizzle, on the diagonal drip-drop tip?
cinnamon and chocolate and vanilla for the victory.
so much flavor,
so dense and deep and delicious and heavy-duty dope.
the morning?
started correctly.
the rest of the day?
powered by cakey nutty activation.
it will all resolve itself, friends....
***********
i love treats.
that's why i make treats.
and that's why i eat treats.
i need treats.
in my kitchen.
in my oven.
in my mouth
in my life.
i pick my spots carefully.
and i fill them with goodness.
that's pretty much my goal.
all the good places, all stuffed full with good.
i've got treats aplenty,
and tons of flour an' that to make even more.
too much is the right amount,
and that means i'm right where i'm supposed to be;
never quiet, never soft..... 

lenses.

goggles means the same as steampunk to most folks.
i'm pretty sure that's a thing.
at least,
as far as the questions i've gotten so far....
mainly-
'what about your goggles?' and variations thereof.
if you cursorily know what steampunk is,
then it's very likely you probably just figure it's goggles and a top hat.
i GOT that top hat situation down pat, super solid.
so,
i guess i need those eyecups, kids.
because i'd hate to look like a green and gold sergeant pepper,
or have folks think i'm just doing a poor michael jackson impersonation,
i s'pose i had to activate the qualifier.
y'know?
rules is rules after all....
besides,
making things is pretty dang good for my brain most of the time.
and also,
making a recognizable and obvious attempt at something archetypal
has got to be a sure-fire way to escape having to talk to people
about what my costume is supposed to be.
you already know what the worst part
about having hallowe'en times in the woodsly goodness is-
uh-huh.
all these camel-colored corduroy-collared carhartt-coat-clad stoopidheads
who don't dress up, don't hand out candy, and dislike anything creative,
interesting, or different.
yep.
up in these mountains, adult dudes in costumes,
who are not walking a five-year-old to their neighbor house for candy
are like virulent gay-ebola.
that means i already have created a due-proof forcefield just by leaving the house.
expert.
but, what about al the other other people of this valley?
i'm just sayin'-
nobody knows anything about what's good.
and that's no joke.
and what eats bigger balls than trying to explain to some necktards
just what the F* a steampunk airship stratospheronaut is?
right?
ugh.
what even ARE all those words?
they're not for them, that's for sure.
fancy craft crap is absolutely not invited to the backwoods mudpits
and the budweiser-and-hockey-mask bonfire sh!t that goes on there.
of course,
neither am i.
the thing of it is, neighbors,
i LOVE dress-up times.
luckily,
as far as anyone who isn't a hill-person, a trailer-oozer, or an old person,
video games may just save he day.
because video games sometimes have steampunky stuff.
of course,
that pretty much means weird goggles.
alright.
fine.
i know, i KNOW, I KNOWWW.
i already did it, anyway.
check the teleport:
yup.
that's how it's gonna be.
with that ambervision jauns in 'em, too.
here,
get a good look at all the gluing and cutting and strapping an' that:
mmhmm.
and the other side:
triple magnifiers.
pretty neat, no?
oh.
well, i thought that was cool.
one more?
ok.
one last one, for your face:
goggles, y'all.
see how i snuck a little elastic back there?
that's the stuff my big dumb head needs to hold these snugly in place.
that's real.
this set is the first of three planned pairs.
the next ones are for my daughter maple.
those are destined to be some green-eyed fancy dazzlers.
she gets the improved techniques,
because she is presumably an improved version of me, anyway.
*
and that's it.
orange lenses,
brown and burgundy straps and stuff.
wire.
brass.
copper.
brads. and so much hot glue.
this cheater-version, without stitching or riveting still takes some time.
and i'm running especially low on that these days.
long nights, hard nights, warm nights, really....
i'm spanning time, with difficulty,
as slowly as i can take it,
wile it goes along so damned fast.
it's all really happening;
never quiet, never soft.....

Wednesday, October 15

XV on the fifteenth.

hey guys!
guess what?
today is the day.
like, for real, it's the one.
a big one, even.
mmhmmm.
today makes it officially fifteen F*ing years since i began tattooing.
that's a thing.
it's been fifteen years since i tattbombed my very first one.
back on on my old friend metal mitch gibbs,
and when i did it, oh MAN....
i did it very poorly, unbelievably slow-paced,
and with nervous trepidation about my dearth of applicable skills.
i doo-doo that terrible learning curve-style sh!t.
yup.
fifteen years later,
i'm at least a whole lot faster at it, anyway.
for serious.
dudes,
fifteen YEARS.
a decade, and then a whole other 'nother other half of a second decade.
gross.
when i was fifteen years old,
i couldn't even imagine doing anything for as long as my whole life up until that point.
don't get me wrong, neighbors.
tattooing has been good to me,
like a semi-abusive codependant stockholm syndrome sort of a thing.
i mean it.
it keeps me hooked, even when i hate it.
and sure,  through this career path, like a pathogen pathway,
i get systemic destruction.
a little lower lumbar brokeback white mountain sh!t,
sideways fingers pointing at an awful angle,
and a whole slew of unfortunate alterations to my original packaging....
and that was pretty busted to begin with.
awwwwww, man.
and don't think i'm not grateful.
because i AM.
tattooing and the collateral activation that comes with it affords me all the means
motivation and opportunity to do lots of other stuff.
and yeah, very little of the stuff has to do with tattoo culture,
most of which i actively shun and/or reject.
i do what i do.
and i do tattoos, too.
it's part of a big picture.
a symphony, really,
and tattooing may be the flutes and piccolos.
necessary for all the minky nancypants parts,
but by no means the F*ing tubas.
the rest of my life is the big brass section, and the kettledrums....
but,
in my version of peter and the (were)wolf,
those flutes are still pretty flippin' important.
-
anyway,
i have the day off.
there was, for a little moment, the temptation to mark the occasion with a tattoo,
inflicted on myself as a little tribute to the milestone.
then,
upon immediate reconsideration,
i realized the very last place i wanted to be today was in a tattoo studio.
so instead,
my lady and i went downeast,
and tuned up a terrific celebratory lunch.
check the teleport:
man oh man,
i must be getting even older than i thought.
we munched up hours ago,
and i'm STILL feeling disgustingly full.
that's a good thing, though.
it just means i did it right.
***********
fifteen years gone by.
all of it, every moment, every minute;
every town, every state, everywhere and every when;
every terrible ending,
every exciting new beginning....
tattooing has been the hub the rest overlaps and revolves around.
it's all connected,
and all of it is part of the worst true story i've ever heard.
this is my real life,
that's the most comforting and uncomfortable thing;
never quiet, never soft, never enough.....

Tuesday, October 14

aiguilettes, fourragere, epaulette.

neighbors,
there are a lot of parts to a military-style uniform.
more than i thought at first,
and more than i even knew the names of.
so,.
imagine my surprise when i needed to recreate some of that
for my hallowe'en costume.
a little bitty baby bit of background research led me to a lot of learning
about dress uniforms and the symbolism of all that fancy stuff hanging on them.
especially the expert adornments and ornamentations of regal,
royal, mega-majestic couture.
that's no joke.
turns out, your dude napoleon was all about giving out specific honors
in the form of ropes and strings and sh!t.
which explains why they're all named in french.
oui.
now,
depending on the side they're worn on, the style, the thickness,
the tassels and fobs, and the color, even,
all those spaghetti straps are for personal and/or unit rank, distinction,
and situational accolade designation.
holy crap.
that's a lot of stuff to keep track of.
i guess two hundred years hasn't made any of that less complicated.
that also means quite a bit of backstory is certainly acceptable to have,
for a well-fleshed-out character to fill in the blanks,
and the sleeves inside of the costume.
all that extra work, all that extra adhesive, all that extra measuring and cutting.
hard styles, friends.
this dressing-up stuff has a whole lot of 'em.
but,
rules is rules,
so i've been gettin' busy with my busy business.
check the french-words-type teleport:
epaulettes?!
yep.
brooms on your shoulders are what's up.
i did not intend to make an elaborate coat at first.
no i did not.
nope.
not one bit.
not at all.
but,
too much is the right amount.
i have to be true to my infinite nature, kids.
that means that keeping it simple is not invited over.
i started with the cuffs.
a little trim, a little strap, a button or two.....
and i moved along to the back,
a few buckles, a couple flaps, a little chain,
and by the time i got to where i'm at now?
i went from a dude who was wearing a sorta nice jacket,
to a full-blown admiral of the most elite and accomplished fleet.
damn.
three costumes.
that's what i've got going on.
not on purpose, just be default.
i mean,
i even started F*ing with the top hat again:
yeah.
vials?
mmhmm.
we always need more teentsy glass tubes, don't we?
it's those little things that make me happy.
semi-clever details.
you know what i mean-
i'm no leather worker.
and i'm no LARPer
and i'm definitely not a craftsman.
i'm just a crafter...
and my (very) hot glue gun and i are in F*ing full effect these days.
hmmm?
oh, heck no, i am not sleeping much,
and i'm eating a lot less, but of a lot worse things than usual.
no.
not jerky and doritos.
jeez. i'm not a quitter A*hole.
go easy.
it's just that i don't want to lose this thread of artsy art(ish)makey hottness.
there is only what there is,
and when it leaves the eaves of the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress
it doesn't come back quickly.
getting while the getting is good to go.
that's what is happening here in the woodsly goodness.
really;
never quiet, never soft.....

columbus.

indigenous peoples day?
c'mon.
sorry, feely do-gooders, but i can't hang out.
christopher columbus was probably an A*-hole,
for sure,
but so was everybody else.
normally that doesn't excuse bad behaviors,
i mean, why would it?
the thing of it is,
for aall the racism and exploitation, and the inevitable overthrow,
he still sailed the boats, y'know?
yeah.
and for that, he got his day.
he got his day named after him, actually....quite a ways posthumously...
and a country,
and co-ownership of my nation's capitol.
also,
there's a big ol' a place in ohio, too..... but really....
that's gross.
don't be dumb.
-
plus,
don't forget- he's an italian guy.
that means that growing up where i did,
all the goomba dum-dums revere that mofo extra hard.
that's real.
for two blocks, there's everything columbus all over the place-
plus columbus square, a columbus roadrace, and a columbus day parade.
they love that sh!t.
i hate parades, and i hate running,
which is really just a worse, sweatier parade.
except a lot faster, which does help a little...
*
okay.
fine.
so, actually, in real life,
i don't honestly care much about actual real columbus stuff...
the day, the race, the city, the district, the man....
none of it, and not at all.
that's a thing.
i even saw his house in genoa many years ago.
weird that the only hovel still standing just happens to be his childhood home.
hmmmm.
i suspect a little bait-and-switch.
oh, those sneaky genovese.
awwwwww.
i do like columbo, though.
mostly because peter faulk was awesome, and also grandpa in the princess bride.
expert.
but, really, though-
when it comes to cities b!tching out and kowtowing to nervous perceptions
about equality and offensiveness?
i just hate nancying around with nomenclature,
to edit and waterbabeify history.
that's just lame.
sure, columbus was probably molto bigoted.
i mean, he was a grumpy old italian guy.
they're like that.
(wry stereotyping notwithstanding)
heck,
you should've heard the old folks in my grandma's neighborhood,
and they'd had five hundred years to open up their minds a lot.
i'm sayin'-
this dude landed his boats after a little minute on the previously flat earth,
met some brownish dudes whom he couldn't understand,
and that clearly meant the must be indian.
what an A*-hole.
of course, to be fair-
that was before they started speaking spanish in columbia.
ummmm.
hahaha.
noooo, YOU stop it.
an italian merchant-explorer guy gets a spanish-speaking cocaine spot?
yeah.
that happened.
and imagine if portugal hadn't been giant limp fraidycats?
we'd have schwa sounds all over the place up here.
-
long weekend?
who me?
no way.
that's not real.
i did a few tattzappin' jobs,
and then i went to joann fabrics.
...again.
maybe it was indigenous textiles day.
uh-huh.
sure thing neighbors.
let's just make everything the worst.
no pictures this time, and a day late, too.
i was up until this morning,
and i was up and at it again, before the sun rose to warm me.
not enough is the same as too much.
y'know?
not enough sleep is just too much awake.
that's the way craft store explorers tell time;
never quiet, never soft.....

Sunday, October 12

scone zone.

cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, allspice, mace, and cloves.
uh-huh.
get used to it.
that's the seasonal blend.
mmhmmm.
and it's flippin' delicious, too.
for realsies.
sometimes,
if i'm feelin' like poop;
and i have much too much going on (which is always the case);
and maybe i also spill pvc cement all over the big sexy rug in my kitchen,
and ruin it and my brain, with gluey gross toxic fumes;
and i'm freezing cold indoors with an extra sweater on......
well,
then i gotta get expert over by my oven for a minute or two,
that's it.
creaming together all that pumpkin and cream chee' and butterish,
softened and smoothed out and squished up into lots of fluffy flour,
and tapioca, and spices, and baking powder, and soymilk, and vanilla,
and a punch of brown sugar is good therapy.
and folding, and turning, and folding and turning and folding and turning,
about thirty more times than i just mentioned makes the dough soooo dope, duders.
that's no joke.
also,
that means i'm making scones.
and that means the oven is cranking out about four hundred degrees of hottness,
and that means everything is getting better.
so when it comes time to cut 'em into wedges, and dust ';em with cinnamon,
all that is rough and harsh and contentious has been equalized,
and the raging stormswept quarrels inside my pounding head are quelled.
nice.
and also, there are scones.
which is even better than all that.
check the pumpkin-spice-type teleport:
oh yes, neighbors.
they're so lovely.
hmm?
oh, well, there are roasted salted pumpkin seeds in there, for variety,
and for extra activated flavor and texture.
what?
yep.
good eyes, kid...
those ARE maple-soaked raisins, too.
little moisteners to keep the dry crumb situation at bay.
that's smart. all the cinnamon-complementary things go together.
and yes, those are cinnamon brown sugar icing drizzles.
it has to go to eleven, or why are we even bothering?
right?
that's clearly what's up.
breakfast today is great.
warm treats, hot tea, hot glue gun, all of it.
there is always time for baking something great,
even when there isn't even time to catch your breath.
really.
i'm panting and racing,
but every labored hasty lungful tastes and smells like pure autumn radness.
i'll take my little triumphs where i can get 'em.
today is the day-
just like every other day;
never quiet, never soft.....