Dragoncaller (dragoncaller) wrote,

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My soul spills out from the base of my spine.

The colossal mechawork sat sad and rusting on the lawn with its massive quartz oculars looking down at me expectantly. With every move its joints squealed and cried. Such a harsh winter. It stood stalwart against the soft falling snow, the hard driving freezing rain, the howling winds and quiet, cold, cold nights. Now its tracks are splattered with mud and moss is growing up its upper deck. A gaggle of mushrooms bloom off-white dots across its gathering claw.

It wants a bit of oil. P'raps a metal brush taken to its brass fittings.

Standard spring care.

The humming bird has returned to the feeder. A chipmunk has moved into the apartment at the bottom of the front step.

Dandelions roar as they lean back and yawn!

And I'm watching it all, miserable. My back is still killing me and ahm not happy. Spring projects are not getting done and it is bothering the crap out of me. There has been no work on Gen (still waiting for the new coil) and I've not welded anything yet although I'd like too. I'm spending too much time not doing anything because my back is killing me. Bah!

I did manage to drain and re-fill the hot tub and refill the bird feeders.

I did some work on my latest manuscript. Amanda has surprisingly told Marshall to go to hell. I didn't see that coming. But it's still moving forward.

Facebook is brain dead.

Here's my theory. Facebook is like sitting on the couch and channel surfing with a friend. Neither of you want to 'Do' anything, neither of you have anything to say to each other, but you still want to be with them, hang out with them, enjoy their company it silence.

It is impossible to do that with friends across the country, across the globe. And so we have Facebook.

So everyone on Facebook, I would like to sit on the couch with you and channel surf.
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