spangled

I drove by the fields on the way to the post office, and all the cows were lumped lazily beneath the trees as if they had been pressed from a cookie spritzer. One was completely covered in birds; only a pair of sad eyes staring from between them as if to say, "Not this shit again." Bird-spangled cow.

It is banana time again. They have been mashed and bagged and frozen. Banana-spangled kitchen.

 

The house smells like banana bread. Which is good, because some idiot chemistry-happy person decided that the best, darkest, most secure place to breed enormous beakers of beer yeast was IN THE CLOSET WITH ALL MY WORK CLOTHES. Degree and Monistat haven't yet partnered to create a product for this type of situation, so I am casting my vote for a new incubation spot. Like his underwear drawer.

I smell like a donut. I am shopping for a sprinkle hoodie.

yeast-spangled

And I am making things, in the evenings when the kids are asleep and the man is out throwing darts at the other dads.

Things in alpaca, for when I need to flounce in a flouncy manner.

 

And things in tweed, for when I feel like tucking my hands into my sleeves and hiding.



Should knit the man a yeast-cozy. And then make him wear it as a hat.