{"id":5422,"date":"2012-08-31T16:01:47","date_gmt":"2012-08-31T21:01:47","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/spookyblue.com\/spookyblog\/?p=5422"},"modified":"2012-08-31T16:08:57","modified_gmt":"2012-08-31T21:08:57","slug":"what-doing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/spookyblue.com\/spookyblog\/what-doing","title":{"rendered":"What doing?"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Spookyblue<\/a><\/p>\n

It’s late. The radio buzzes interference from the overhead florescents, and an occasional electric cough confirms the approach of a thunderstorm. Muffled thunder rumbles in that peculiar echoless way that makes it impossible to judge its distance. It sounds eerily like a giant rolling boulders down the hill behind the house.<\/p>\n

The larger moths have stopped divebombing the workbench and now alight high on the walls to escape the breeze that stirs the sawdust at my feet. I can hear a flag whir and pop somewhere out in the dark.<\/p>\n

Grumble, our scarecrow (egregia cum laude), glares down at me with smoldering eyes from his tall perch. His dusty Jack-o-lantern head is wreathed by moths. He says, “What doing?”<\/p>\n

“Maybe it’s time to call it a night,” I think to myself. A flicker of cyan races across the sky, and another boulder rolls down the hill.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

\n

It’s your old pal Spook here. “What doing?” is a popular topic that’s been appearing in my inbox a lot lately. That, and “where do you buy your scarecrow heads?” Gaah<\/em><\/strong>.<\/p>\n

Doing and talking about it become mutually exclusive when the doing<\/em><\/strong> occupies a certain number of hours past one’s bedtime each night. In any case, here’s a sample of what’s been doing. The list includes Mrs. Spookyblue’s anniversary present, an alien mask sculpt, and the “AC-426 Slaughterator”. The Slaughterator<\/em><\/strong> will appear in a movie that is slated for release at the end of the year.<\/p>\n

\"Spaghetti\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"Mrs<\/a><\/p>\n

\"alien-mask-sculpt\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"alien-mask\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"cannon-assembly\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"cannon-barrel-driver\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"cannon-shaft-assy\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"cannon-assembled\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"cannon-primed\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"cannon-finished01\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"cannon-finished02\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"cannon-finished03\"<\/a>
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It’s late. The radio buzzes interference from the overhead florescents, and an occasional electric cough confirms the approach of a thunderstorm. Muffled thunder rumbles in that peculiar echoless way that makes it impossible to judge its distance. It sounds eerily like a giant rolling boulders down the hill behind the house. The larger moths have […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[277],"tags":[296],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/spookyblue.com\/spookyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5422"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/spookyblue.com\/spookyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/spookyblue.com\/spookyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/spookyblue.com\/spookyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/spookyblue.com\/spookyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5422"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/spookyblue.com\/spookyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5422\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/spookyblue.com\/spookyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5422"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/spookyblue.com\/spookyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5422"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/spookyblue.com\/spookyblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5422"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}