Oh noes. I have found a book.

It was here. In the shelter. I had just decided that I was going to book it out of Virginia… Then I found this book, this morning.

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Nice.

This is not what I meant when I said I was going to book it, Universe. This is not what I meant.

It is a trap. This entire trail is a trap. I was talking to a beautifully souled couple some months ago, and one of them observed, “It’s like Stockholm Syndrome.” Brilliant. The trail, he meant. You get onto it, for a while, you think. Only for a little while, and then the next thing you know you can check out any time you like, but you can never leave, because you have fallen in love with its endless eroded mountain nubs (hahaha sorry. That is just the best word. Nub. Hahaha. Nub. Nub nub nub) and its falling leaves and the stone, the stone underfoot it is glorious, and its lichens and mosses, and there are people all around who have fallen in love with it too, and then there you are. Trapped. In love. You know for the rest of your life you will never entirely be able to leave, because it has taken a part of your soul, and so much the worse for you. (Or better. Definitely better.) Then the couple gave me an entire bag of Munchies and my life was complete.

Anyways, here I am, eating pepperonis and colby jack cheese and my loaf of bread, reading the book that the universe dropped into my lap instead of hiking, and writing to you. I made broccoli cheddar soup last night, and dropped in some bacon, but instead of using chicken from the store for soup, I picked some mushrooms in the woods and used them instead. They looked edible…

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Chicken of the Woods. It is hard to mistake it for anything else. I don’t usually scavenge fungi to add to my foods, but for this, I will make great and delicious exceptions.

Anyways, I found some and cooked it and put it in my soup, and it tasted like chicken. Really. It is incredible. There are other things in the world than chickens that taste like chickens, and some of them do grow on trees and presumably evolved into chicken-tasting-things before chickens even did, which makes one question why we always say things taste like chicken. Expand your horizons, fungi and tuna namers, and alligator eaters! (Did alligators evolve before chickens did?*)

*Also, eggs definitely existed before chickens. Chicken eggs, now, that’s another story. Presumably what we would call the first chicken hatched from an egg, and therefore by definition the egg came first? But it was not a chicken egg until there was the first chicken inside it; therefore, I posit that they came into being simultaneously. You may argue with me, but you will be wrong. I think.

Wow. What a world we live in. In other news, Mother, I don’t make a habit of eating potentially deadly things in the forest unless I am almost entirely, sometimes only mostly, certain they are not deadly. I promise. Calm down.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy your weekend, my peoples! Every Saturday deserves to be celebrated. With cookies.

I CAN MAKE COOKIES TONIGHT

Ok so more like chocolate chip fry bread. But I’m totally down with that. Offski for more reading!

Sail(ing down the pages of this book like a small bean, the best beans, only the best of beans for the reading)**

**Not everything in life has to make sense, you know.

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