i've grown to hate this blog. i know you're loving to read this.
anyway, i can't figure out how to reconcile the different interests here. i mostly write to process, and i dont want to turn this all livejournal, mostly because i havent got the anonymity that would require. i could resort to photoblogging, but i was trying to make it more personal than that.
and i dont have any idea what people actually want to read here, want out of me, and this.
i guess i could find some way to squeeze a narrative out of finding an old half-rotten log under the pile of fliches (cut offs) next to the saw mill, and squeezing enough cured heartwood pine out of it to start the staircase.
how about attempting to rewire my solar batteries more efficiently, and it not working till i put them back the inefficient way? what's the story there?
or nada's first attempt at canning, tonight. not quite epic, but certainly a trial.
there's so much strangeness that you dont know - maybe i need an anonyblog, i feel there're things i could tell, but not to my friends and family (assuming that's who's reading this). life is strange. and i'm not going to vent/process here. there're enough variables involving hurt feelings when i know who i'm talking to.