Ah spring. That time of year when I obsess on purchasing a water pump and setting up a fountain. Or wind chimes. The theory being that if I do I will sonically sequester the yard and it will become an oasis of serenity. With tea.
Despite the inevitability of much more rain, I have pulled the indoor/outdoor carpet and the two wooden chairs out of the garage and installed them at Cafe John. Cafe John needs something, though; either a screen or a string of party lights or a mediaeval or classical statue or something. Je ne sais quoi... but the BBQ grill, garden hose spool, and saw-horse workbench ain't it. I want to sit down with tea and scones and feel fantastic -- in the fantasy sense -- not like I'm in the garden section of a hardware store.
Oh! And in related news, Mark made home-made strawberry "Pop-Tarts" this weekend. They were a touch on the salty side, but very good.
It's official. Second Life is bad for my writing. I've been spending way too much time on it translating a kind of history of Neo-Paganism into a museum display and logyrithmic timeline of written texts and artefacts. It's sort of like doing reseach on the holodeck, which explains the appeal. What is iteresting to me how everything clumps together around 1900 CE, 350 CE, and 400 BCE, and how modern cultural values of identity, society, deity and nature are used to interpret ancient artifacts.
Perhaps I should be a museum curator in my next life.
Anyway, the challenge for me is to say, "I only have a 20 minute span of uninterrupted time, I should write (instead of hop onto Second Life).