Mountains of things.

The title is stolen from a great song by Tracy Chapman.  Although I gotta say, my favorites are Fast Car and Baby Can I Hold You.  Behind the Wall is brilliant, chilling, and sad.  Since I am volunteering on a domestic violence hotline as I pen this, I avoid listening to Behind the Wall.  It's too real as it could happen to someone I speak with.

You can check out our website for more information or help with domestic violence: http://www.caring-unlimited.org/

I watched a sugar documentary and in some parts of the U.S., there's something called "Mountain Dew teeth."  It's just what it sounds like: a person loses her fucking teeth to high Mountain Dew consumption.

He actually is missing one tooth.  It's because he wouldn't let go of a toy in tug o' war when he was a pup.  His other person lifted him up with the toy, so the dog was hanging from the toy off the ground.  Tooth popped out, dog did not care.  He is balls to the wall. Look at those crazy eyes (and three of my toes and my messy laundry).

I was trying to paint this sunset thing with silhouettes of trees.  But it's turning into a mountain and perhaps a lake, too.  My friend said it looked like bacon.  So I'm calling it Mount Bacon.

I always wanted to live near the mountains, or even in the mountains.  It's my dream to have a cabin by myself with a ton of books and some dogs for company.  

There I am in my mountain abode, hunting a pesky salmon salad.  Tarnation!  

Here's the problem though: is crispy salmon salad indigenous to the woods or to the mountains?  Alas, it is not.  It is mainly found in Asian fusion restaurants which are usually located in a city or a suburb. 

New Orleans was a great city.  The creative energy there was almost overwhelming.  I aim to be creative and productive, however, I'm this House of Cards binge watching shitbag today.