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So many buttercups in the fields this year. They're practically yellow. Not that coarse, eye-melting yellow of oilseed rape, much prettier.
 
I hope this tastes as good as it looks in the recipe. Should I just go ahead and tweak it now, or follow the directions? :confused:
 
I posted 2 masturbation videos on xtube today. See how quick it is before I lose my nerve and take them down.
 
I think that she's beginning to realize just how hard this is going to be. It's a little humbling, I'm sure.
 
Fire.

The slow burning fire, in particular.

The fire built with wood that isn't completely dry, wood that hisses a little from the sap still locked within the cells and fibers. Built on the ashes and charred wood from memories of old fires in the past.

It's not easy to get this fire going, it takes patience.

Perseverance.
Attention.
Feeding.

You have to start with baby steps. Wood shavings, tiny wood chips, twigs. You need fuel.

Strike the flint carefully, make sure the spark is strong and bright. If your aim is true, it will fall exactly where you want it, in the middle of your tinder.

Blow. So gently, blow on the spark, increase the oxygen to feed it. Watch the spark brighten and then die back. Inhale, exhale, slow and steady. One final breath and the flame appears.

This is where you may be tempted to make a mistake. You might stop here and throw on too much fuel; don't do that. Continue blowing on it until the little flame starts spreading. It won't spread fast, you need to feed it, but not too much. Don't choke the flame with your eagerness and impatience to feel the warmth.

You need a solid foundation for your slow burning fire. You want coals that can be banked at night, coals that can burst into flame quickly when required. This fire has staying power day after day. It can last through high winds, driving rain, violent storms that appear unexpectedly and depart just as fast as they arrived.

He is the spark.
The spark wants tinder so it can flourish and expand.

I am the tinder.
The tinder needs the spark to transform it, give it purpose.

He wants me, and I need him.

He consumes me, transforms me into something more, something deeper, warmer, richer. From an insignificant sliver of wood into a glowing coal. Constantly shifting, alive, changing, scorching away the past and replacing it with the future.

The slow burning fire has strength, passion, sizzle. It won't flare and die quickly; that's for amateurs, the weekend warrior playing in the woods.

This fire is just getting started.
 
AKentuckyLady said:
Fire.

The slow burning fire, in particular.

The fire built with wood that isn't completely dry, wood that hisses a little from the sap still locked within the cells and fibers. Built on the ashes and charred wood from memories of old fires in the past.

It's not easy to get this fire going, it takes patience.

Perseverance.
Attention.
Feeding.

You have to start with baby steps. Wood shavings, tiny wood chips, twigs. You need fuel.

Strike the flint carefully, make sure the spark is strong and bright. If your aim is true, it will fall exactly where you want it, in the middle of your tinder.

Blow. So gently, blow on the spark, increase the oxygen to feed it. Watch the spark brighten and then die back. Inhale, exhale, slow and steady. One final breath and the flame appears.

This is where you may be tempted to make a mistake. You might stop here and throw on too much fuel; don't do that. Continue blowing on it until the little flame starts spreading. It won't spread fast, you need to feed it, but not too much. Don't choke the flame with your eagerness and impatience to feel the warmth.

You need a solid foundation for your slow burning fire. You want coals that can be banked at night, coals that can burst into flame quickly when required. This fire has staying power day after day. It can last through high winds, driving rain, violent storms that appear unexpectedly and depart just as fast as they arrived.

He is the spark.
The spark wants tinder so it can flourish and expand.

I am the tinder.
The tinder needs the spark to transform it, give it purpose.

He wants me, and I need him.

He consumes me, transforms me into something more, something deeper, warmer, richer. From an insignificant sliver of wood into a glowing coal. Constantly shifting, alive, changing, scorching away the past and replacing it with the future.

The slow burning fire has strength, passion, sizzle. It won't flare and die quickly; that's for amateurs, the weekend warrior playing in the woods.

This fire is just getting started.
Click to expand...

DAMN! :eek:
 
AKentuckyLady said:
Fire.

The slow burning fire, in particular.

The fire built with wood that isn't completely dry, wood that hisses a little from the sap still locked within the cells and fibers. Built on the ashes and charred wood from memories of old fires in the past.

It's not easy to get this fire going, it takes patience.

Perseverance.
Attention.
Feeding.

You have to start with baby steps. Wood shavings, tiny wood chips, twigs. You need fuel.

Strike the flint carefully, make sure the spark is strong and bright. If your aim is true, it will fall exactly where you want it, in the middle of your tinder.

Blow. So gently, blow on the spark, increase the oxygen to feed it. Watch the spark brighten and then die back. Inhale, exhale, slow and steady. One final breath and the flame appears.

This is where you may be tempted to make a mistake. You might stop here and throw on too much fuel; don't do that. Continue blowing on it until the little flame starts spreading. It won't spread fast, you need to feed it, but not too much. Don't choke the flame with your eagerness and impatience to feel the warmth.

You need a solid foundation for your slow burning fire. You want coals that can be banked at night, coals that can burst into flame quickly when required. This fire has staying power day after day. It can last through high winds, driving rain, violent storms that appear unexpectedly and depart just as fast as they arrived.

He is the spark.
The spark wants tinder so it can flourish and expand.

I am the tinder.
The tinder needs the spark to transform it, give it purpose.

He wants me, and I need him.

He consumes me, transforms me into something more, something deeper, warmer, richer. From an insignificant sliver of wood into a glowing coal. Constantly shifting, alive, changing, scorching away the past and replacing it with the future.

The slow burning fire has strength, passion, sizzle. It won't flare and die quickly; that's for amateurs, the weekend warrior playing in the woods.

This fire is just getting started.
Click to expand...

Finally! Fire starter instructions!
 
Please, please let tomorrow be the day the kiddo gets his eviction notice. I'm close to waddling and want to sleep in my own bed.
 
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