scrumptious monkey

so much more than an amp -- and yet, not.


Have a Safe New Year's Eve...

Single girls especially; here's a REAL party dress.
(click pic to enlarge)

Loses some impact unless you give it a goood look...

oddly, I think it's rather charming -- and cleaning
(assuming you'd wear it again)
would be a simple hose down and drip dry.



Not only have I not been inside a movie theatre 4 years?
I have only started to catch up on DVDs since... well.. YOU know.

so far we've picked up a 5 buck copy of True Stories, and a previously viewed copy of A Mighty Wind.

We've rented
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
The Kid Stays In the Picture
Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy
The Triplets of Belleville (MUST get the soundtrack to this one)
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Spirited Away (another soundtrack that's been haunting me)
Sideways (ugh -- I heard such raves about this -- I wouldn't want to spend 5 minutes with anyone in this film (well that's the self absorbed calling the Narcissists fuchsia, innit?), I can't believe I watched the whole thing)
Yellow Submarine (wow -- added scenes and really nice job on the digital transfer)
Festival Train

I always knew I'd get happily sucked into the DVD "bonus features" (still getting the hang of the remote and it's many-many function buttons. sheesh. My favorite? the Zoom so I can read the bloody credits / cast listings!) because I genuinely enjoy "Making of" and Interviews and being furnished with the filmmaker's comment track while watching for the second time.

Soo many DVDs -- so little "worth" seeing...
but that won't stop me from watching =)


Gotta Resolution!

Your Horoscope New Year’s Resolutions

‘Tis the season to make New Year resolutions--and to break them just as quickly, at least partly because the very language of most resolutions (“I will lose weight! I will stop smoking!”) is punitive and belittling to the soul. But our horoscope sun-sign can point the way to a life-affirming resolution your spirit can really get behind.

These resolutions speak a powerful, positive language that our spiritual selves respond to, in accordance with what is best in us, and working hand in hand with our deeper purpose in life. Find out the affirming resolution for your sun-sign, here:

Aries, March 21-April 19: I will allow my courage to blaze new trails in my life.

Taurus, April 20-May 21: I will focus on my inner garden, growing what I truly need.

Gemini, May 22-June 20: I will share my ideas with ease, finding playmates of the spirit with every word I speak.

Cancer, June 21-July 22: I will trust that my sensitive heart is continually nourished by pleasant memories and creativity.

Leo, July 23- Aug 22: I will know that my vital imagination is the fiery force that can change my life for the better.

Virgo, Aug 23-Sept 22: I will give thought to the messages of healing my body is sending me, and the ways I can give my body what it needs.

Libra, Sept 23-Oct 22: I will create something beautiful today out of my deep love for Beauty.

Scorpio, Oct 23-Nov 21: I will rise up again and again, filled with the power of renewal.

Sagittarius, Nov 22-Dec 21: I will speak the ideals of my heart clearly and with compassion for my self and others.

Capricorn, Dec 22-Jan 19: I will begin behaving as if my most important responsibility is to express my true nature.

Aquarius, Jan 20-Feb 18: I will be open to fresh new ideas that help me strengthen the bonds of community.

Pisces, Feb 19-March 20: I will believe that my deep intuition is a benefit to all my relations.


pick pick pick SHOVEL...

I am so uncivilized at times.
Robin wrote a poem:
Love's Ebb and Tide



Where is it that love goes when it dies,

Does it just fall apart, left where it lies?

Does it, waiting to be rekindled, remain,

A force nothing on earth could restrain?

I have seen and felt Love's ebb and tide.

Seen ressurected, what I thought had died.

Is a love you have given, yours to take back,

A piece of yourself that you'll forever lack?

In the giving Love, is it the giver that gains,

If naught but ashes, forever there remains?

(c)Stansbury 2005
which itched at me til I wrote this as an answer.
Love does not grow nor does it die
Though when forgotten it will reside
In memory until we die:
Then rolls away, like the tide
To wash ashore and climb inside
Another soul where it may abide.

Better to pity the lonely who
Have called to Love but never knew
Love was always there in view
But when no duet ensued
All other efforts were refused:
So they sigh, and wait in gloom.

You who have loved and know the cost
Do not fear that love is lost
For like the fruit that has a season
You know the taste of what's good eatin.
Love longs to dance with us again
So play the music and whirl, my friends!

© Jeen Lilly

Now -- Robin politely praised my poem, but she added this:
One thing...just a double take on your poem. I respectfully say that love DOES grow. Sometimes it appears out of thin air, and blossoms, sometimes a tiny little thing, like a sprig of honeysuckle, grows like wildfire, until the whole fence is overtaken, and sometimes love grows from ashes long since grown cold. But grow? I think so!
to which I countered:

I respectfully say it is our Awareness of Love that grows -- just as it is our (with the help of "the other" of course) perception of love diminishing or even ending.
We change.
We embrace love and glorify in it's wash of emotion,
even as we also suffer for it.
We fail love.
Because we are only human --
and Love is the true food, the breath, the existence of the Divine.
How can that possibly change?

And how can we...not?


Robin followed that, with this:
I think the difference in opinion here, is really a misunderstanding. I was writing about romantic love, you speak of the kind of universal love that we all come pre-hard wired for, and remains constant. Now, I understand. Thank you for taking time to help me understand.

Which wasn't what I meant. So I wrote a longer reply -- and I thought hard before I sent it. The whole experience has turned out adversarial -- NOT my intention.
But I guess by countering her poem with my own, that constituted a throw down challenge. Was I challenging her?
again. NOT my intention -- but if that's how it comes across, that IS the effect.
ugh. I am losing my mind, my footing, and all hope that I can actually communicate what I think so it is palatable to other people.

Anyone of us could be open to Love -- be it romantic love; Karuna (Universal-Compassionate "Mother Love" i.e. as embodied by Kwan Yin); Sisterhood; the love for a child... (and of course it goes without saying I mean the nobler, beneficent love for children!)

But romantic love -- the concept of what "Romantic Love" is; the sort of irresistible force that you are helpless to stand against (if you are familiar with the story of Tristan and Isolde; they "accidentally" consume a love potion (meant for Isolde to bond with her future husband) and suffer their joy in each other as a persecution of their values that makes hypocrites of both. But what else can they do? they have no choice! )

Romantic Love is seen as a bolt of lightning, a maelstrom, -- some force of nature... and I submit that it is the individual lover who is at a particular crossroads of understanding and "gets the doors blown off" his or her perceptions. It may seem to be a random act of attraction. The object of affection may just be the idee fixe of the Lover.

It's called falling in love
but love does not grow --
People do.
We grow into it
We grow away from it.

I suppose it could be argued that if love is truly a constant, then shouldn't the one I love, love me?
If s/he were you, with your understanding and experiences and perceptions, or if s/he felt drawn to the sort of traits you projected -- well yes -- the Other's awareness of you would be as acute and would quicken at the thought of you.

But we are all so individual. We are all growing and changing, every minute of our lives.
We may dream of a love potion or spell to bind us forever to the Other: as if this moment, and this feeling could last forever. As if we would always act as One.

But each of us -- Chooses to love.
And most will never come close to understanding "love" beyond the physical realm that bites back with the onset of puberty. This is why men chase young, physically attractive women and leave "old reliables". They are simply looking for the buzz of conquest and discovery.
Some women are like that too.
One can say there is no growth of any kind for them -- and they will attempt to defy their chronological growth as well.

But what do I know? I'm so disillusioned by being rejected by a man who says he loves me -- and won't LOVE me. (I'd insert a wisecrack here -- but that would be the height of irony.
brump bump.)

Lonely and Horny


David Sedaris...

It is the birthday of humorist David Sedaris, born near Binghamton, New York (1956). He is best known for his collections of personal essays Naked (1997) and Me Talk Pretty One Day (2000). Sedaris is one of six children and he spent most of his childhood in Raleigh, North Carolina. His father, Lou, worked for IBM and his mother, Sharon, was a homemaker. Sedaris had Tourette's syndrome as a child but it was never formally diagnosed.

Sedaris worked many odd jobs, including a dishwasher, an apple-picker, and a writing instructor. While living in Chicago he made a living by painting apartments and squirrel-proofing houses. The job he liked most was being a housekeeper because it allowed him to keep up with his favorite soap operas.

For most of his life Sedaris had kept a diary in which he documented at least one incident from every day of his life. When he moved to Chicago to attend the Art Institute, he began reading from his diary in front of audiences. His readings became so popular that he caught the attention of National Public Radio, and in 1991 he gave his first reading on the air, "The Santaland Diaries," a true story about his job as an elf at a Macy's department store one Christmas season.

Sedaris soon signed a contract with a major publisher and his collections of essays Barrel Fever (1994) and Me Talk Pretty One Day (2000) became best-sellers. But even after he had become a successful writer Sedaris kept his job cleaning apartments for a long time. He said, "I can only write when it's dark, so basically, my whole day is spent waiting for it to get dark. Cleaning apartments gives me something to do when I get up. Otherwise, I'd feel like a bum."

His most recent book is Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim (2004).

~ from the Writer's Almanac.


Christmas Cookies...

These are the cookies I remember making every Christmas when I was growing up. I found the address for the reproductions (15+ years ago?!) -- and bought several sets: for my Mom, elder sisters, and one for myself.

Two years ago I gave my set to a friend on the Internet who had never heard of them. I'm pleased to see there is a website (click title of post for link) and they have all the Aunt Chick cutters and little extras for sale.. as well as a feedback area that will make you cry.

The Santa face cookie is one of those simple-but-impressive, delightful sugar cookies to create and give away. Our family used a smooth royal icing of confectioners sugar and eggwhite (and a drop of vanilla) to frost Santa's fur hat, eyebrows and beard; red sugar for the hat and rosy features; halved raisins for the eyes (the raisins are baked into the cookie). Using the smooth icing rather than a decorators bag with textured icing allows the details of the cookie mold to show.

oddly enough -- I never made the cookies after I'd gotten decorator training... figured I wouldn't want to make a batch of those cookies again and gave the cutters away with that decision fixed; happy to help make a tradition for another family.

Christmas cookies... the stocking, the tree, the star, and Santa. My sister Gypsy (ummm not a title, that's the name she uses online, “GypsySoul”) made them this year with her four year old, eleven year old, and husband all helping to decorate them. I'd been reminiscing on another site about them (funny -- the most contact I have with G.S. these days is through the various groups we belong to on MSN) and she pulled out the set I'd gotten Mom (G.S. inherited them fair and square) and tackled the project full steam ahead...

Which reminded me so strongly of the major production of Santa faces we would do for the Children's Hospital Gypsy spent a good chunk of her childhood in. There had to be boxes and boxes of those Santas: so that every child got a Santa, as well as the Nursing Staff; and extras for the waiting room.
We made them by the gross. Santa was always a hit, with everyone.

We wore the original cutters out: they were made of a brittle red plastic typical in the 1940's -- even with careful handing the cutters cracked and disintergrated by the mid 70's. (Miraculous -- the actual cookies never broke, though I suspect it might have been the hard shell of royal frosting that kept them intact.)

Decorated sugar cookies -- a simple homey thing.
A touchstone of memory.

I just ordered another set.
A gift to myself, really. =)
sorely tempted to get all of them...

From the Writer's Almanac:

Today is Christmas Day, celebrated by Christians since the 4th century AD. Early Christians believed that the only important holiday of the year was Easter, but in the 4th century, a heretical Christian sect started claiming that Jesus had only been a spirit, and had never had a body. The Church decided to emphasize Jesus' bodily humanity by celebrating his birth.

Most Christian theologians believe that Jesus was actually born in the spring, because the scripture mentions shepherds letting their animals roam in the fields at night. The Christian church probably chose December 25th as the official birth date because of competition with pagan cults, who celebrated the winter solstice on that date.

The problem with combining Christian and pagan traditions was that the winter solstice had traditionally been a time of drunken feasting and revelry, and many Christmas celebrations became similarly festive. Many preachers began to speak out against the celebration of Christmas, and after the Protestant Reformation, Puritans outlawed Christmas altogether.

It was only in the mid 19th century that Christmas became a domestic holiday associated with family. The transformation was due in part to government crackdowns on wild street parties. In 1828, New York City organized its first professional police force in response to a violent Christmas riot. Eventually it became more fashionable to stay at home with family than to go out to big parties.

One practice that endures from pagan traditions is the singing of carols. The word "carol" comes from the Greek "choros," which is a circular dance accompanied by singing, usually to celebrate fertility. After most Europeans became Christians, they began to write and perform folk songs at Christmas time to express their joy at baby Jesus' birth.

But the church often discouraged the singing of carols because they were considered too secular, and the practice of caroling almost died out under church pressure. When Christmas became a more domestic holiday in the mid-1800s, there was a carol renaissance, and many of the most popular carols were written in that period, including, "Away in a Manger," "O Little Town of Bethlehem", and "Silent Night" written in Austria in 1818.
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God rest you merry, Innocents...

best known for light verse and wicked wit, these verses were a surprise gift -- and the last verses are sadly fresh sounding and particularly appropriate for Christmas, 2005:

God rest you merry, Innocents,
Let nothing you dismay,
Let nothing wound an eager heart
Upon this Christmas day.

Yours be the genial holly wreaths,
The stockings and the tree;
An aged world to you bequeths
Its own forgotten glee.

Soon, soon enough come crueller gifts,
The anger and the tears;
Between you now there sparsely drifts
A handful yet of years.

Oh, dimly, dimly glows the star
Through the electric throng;
The bidding in temple and bazaar
Drowns out the silver song.

The ancient altars smoke afresh,
The ancient idols stir;
Faint in the reek of burning flesh
Sink frankincense and myrrh.

Gaspar, Balthazar, Melchior!
Where are your offerings now?
What greetings to the Prince of War,
His darkly branded brow?

Two ultimate laws alone we know,
The ledger and the sword --
So far away, so long ago,
We lost the infant Lord.

Only the children clasp His hand;
His voice speaks low to them,
And still for them the shining band
Wings over Bethlehem.

God rest you merry, Innocents,
While innocence endures,
A sweeter Christmas than we to ours
May you bequeath to yours.

~ Ogden Nash

"Her name was McGill, she called herself Lil..

..but everyone knew her as Nancy"

As a poet-of-sorts, I've always been just a little tweaked that my given name is so fusty and unrhymable. I recently joined a poetry group (good grief those Yahoo groups are like popcorn..) and sent this as my intro
I am 27 years past my 18th birthday.
Not as much covering my age of consent as digging it out and brushing the dust off it.

I write a lot. I have a blog I should write MORE into, but I seem to do my most inspired work in comments on other blogs! (and websites, and emails, and chatrooms; Oh My!)

I started writing poetry before I could write.
blame the Cat In The Hat, for that. =)

Jeen Lilly is a talismanic name, with the "family name" first, and the personal name after.
well... several billion Asians can't be wrong, right?
Not that I am physically Asian (although perhaps -- in dreams -- I am mostly Animé).

riiiight... so what's so talisman-ic about it?
The Jeen part is wholly fabricated from pieces of people I admire. Several Jeans -- both male and female, e.e. cummings, Nash (Ogden, that is), and the obvious, of course. Muahahahaha

The Lilly is "the personal element".

If I had to pick one flower I identify with, it's Lillies. There are so many types, in several colors as well.. Stargazers, callalillies, daylillies, lily of the valley; all Lillies are symbolically feminine. The most famous Lillies are Elaine the Lily Maid (a/k/a the Lady of Shalott), several actresses, singers, and writers come to mind...even a Leslie Caron movie! while in Christian symbolism the Lily is Mary -- and a major symbol of rebirth.
These are attributes I need in my life.

What's curious is that my subconscious answered to it a long time before my mundane awareness picked it up.
So what the heck.
I've decided I can be one thing inside and out. Without apologies.
and look -- a capitalization of the first letters!

(brave) Lilly.


Happy Thoughts...

I was thinking -- what is it that really REALLY makes me happy?
I like having the idea surrounding my thoughts (like a cozy wooly-bear sweater) that EJ (truly a "good-vibe-emanating" artist) is probably making music right now, somewhere in the world.
Yeah -- in Austin. [lol.]
It would be nice to be there -- but strangely enough... I'm just happy Austin exists. Physically ~ and the emotional / spiritual real estate.
Kinda like *the North Pole* (go Santa! go Santa! Yee-ha!)
or Narnia.

it's all interconnectedness, isn't it?
We are all wrapped up together in this life experience.

The more we realize it the happier we are.

It's a subtle and very deep thing though.

If we look at the surface we may see only the differences and forget that there is even a soul center, much less that we all share it, inextricably linked at the very core of our being.

The first thing is finding the peace of our own being, our connection with the wind, the trees, the sun, the moon, the stars.

Then the inescapable conclusion comes that we are all connected to those things. The richness of our world, the universe, brings us together. The peace I feel beneath the night sky or the majesty of a great oak is a shared thing. Our awe for the mystery is ultimately the same no matter what words we place upon it.

And when we deeply feel our own connection, the universality of it comes rushing through with a sense of oneness that births love, compassion, caring, connection with all living things.

Awareness of the connection may come and go, irritate, fulfill, but ultimately, the deeper we go the more beautiful it becomes.

Copyright © 2005 by John MacEnulty

May all our days be scored with beautiful music, happy grooves, joyful noise.

Love you all,

The Twelve Cats of Christmas..

I just wanted an excuse to use this cute graphic...
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On the first day of Christmas
when I brought home my tree
My 12 cats were laughing at me

On the second day of Christmas
I saw beneath my tree
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the third day of Christmas
I saw beneath my tree
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the fourth day of Christmas
I saw beneath my tree
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the fifth day of Christmas
I saw beneath my tree
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the sixth day of Christmas
I saw beneath my tree
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the seventh day of Christmas
I saw beneath my tree
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the eighth day of Christmas
I saw beneath my tree
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the ninth day of Christmas
I saw beneath my tree
9 chewed-through light strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the tenth day of Christmas
I saw beneath my tree
10 tinsel hairballs
9 chewed-through light strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the eleventh day of Christmas
I saw beneath my tree
11 broken branches
10 tinsel hairballs
9 chewed-through light strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me

On the twelfth day of Christmas
I looked at my poor tree
12 cats a-climbing
11 broken branches
10 tinsel hairballs
9 chewed-througlight strings
8 shattered ornaments
7 half-dead rodents
6 fallen angels
5 shredded gifts
4 males a-spraying
3 missing Wise Men
2 mangled garlands
and my 12 cats laughing at me


Yule And J.C. ...

I did feel something when I recited this and lit a new candle (and I'm thinking I need a Yule log next year!):

Farewell, Darkness, you've served us well
You've brought peace and calmness with your spell
You've helped us regroup and regenerate, too
And for those reasons we honor you
The time has come, though, to say goodbye
Farewell, Darkness! Go now! Fly!

Goodbye, Old King----- hail, New
With this log we honor You
the old reign's gone--- the new has begun
We welcome now the newborn Sun

From Yule by Dorothy Morrison

I had a nice solstice celebration. =)

I have to admit I came up with a "new name" for what I collectively call what-I-believe-in:
"Campbellian Witch".
I hope Joseph Campbell would have seen the humor in that.

from Myriam's Muse for yesterday:
Today I feature one my my mental mentors: Joseph Campbell who finally taught me that God is to big for any one religion.

“When you follow your bliss... doors will open where you would not have thought there would be doors; and where there wouldn't be a door for anyone else.”

“We must be willing to get rid of the life we've planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us. The old skin has to be shed before the new one can come.”

“Every religion is true one way or another. It is true when understood metaphorically. But when it gets stuck in its own metaphors, interpreting them as facts, then you are in trouble.”

“We must let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the one that is waiting for us.”

“Find a place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.”

“Life is without meaning. You bring the meaning to it. The meaning of life is Whatever you ascribe it to be. Being alive is the meaning.”

“God is a metaphor for that which transcends all levels of intellectual thought. It's as simple as that.”

“Myths are public dreams, dreams are private myths.”

The influence of Joseph Campbell and the Power of Myth is most powerfully shown in modern cinema culture in the works of George Lucas and his introduction of Star Wars. Lucas had already written two drafts of Star Wars when he rediscovered Joseph Campbell's The Hero With a Thousand Faces in 1975 (having read it years before in college). This blueprint for "The Hero's Journey" gave Lucas the focus he needed to draw his sprawling imaginary universe into a single story.

Until tomorrow may the force be with you and pass a low-carb donut to dunk in that Java.
I was happy to see this.
This time of year when the Unawake think dreams are what's advertised and money can buy them, I wish I could grab hold of both ears and open a few minds to the writings of Campbell... unfortunately, it does require a few brain cells to bang together to throw sparks -- catch those ideas and start a fire...
The good kind. =)



This is one of "those" lists. I'm nailing it here because I need to remind myself...

No matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.

True friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.

You can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.

It's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.

You should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.

You can keep going long after you can't.

We are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.

Either you control your attitude or it controls you.

Regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place.

Money is a lousy way of keeping score.

My best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.

Sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down, will be the ones to help you get back up.

Sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.

Just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have.

Maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.

It isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.

No matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.

Our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become.

Just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.

You shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever.

Two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.

Your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you.

Even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help.

Credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.

People you care about most in life are taken from you too soon. (so don't take them for granted while you're both here!)

Loving Thoughts
Lonesome Lil.

The Shortest Day

The Shortest Day
By Susan Cooper

And so the Shortest Day came and the year died
And everywhere down the centuries of the snow-white world
Came people singing, dancing,
To drive the dark away.
They lighted candles in the winter trees;
They hung their homes with evergreen;
They burned beseeching fires all night long
To keep the year alive.
And when the new year's sunshine blazed awake
They shouted, revelling.
Through all the frosty ages you can hear them
Echoing behind us - listen!
All the long echoes, sing the same delight,
This Shortest Day,
As promise wakens in the sleeping land:
They carol, feast, give thanks,
And dearly love their friends,
And hope for peace.
And now so do we, here, now,
This year and every year.
Welcome Yule!



"If it looks like a duck..."

"If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, we have at least to consider the possibility that we have a small aquatic bird of the family anatidae on our hands." -- Douglas Adams
I had noticed that even my wimpy MS dominated browser didn't like the blue template as much.

I went looking for the first template I'd used (now that I know how to add my sidebar stuff and a little more about code)...
and it's the ONE template the Blogger site cut!? [dismay].

so I Googled "Blog Templates" and found this basic orange-purple combo -- same general format as the discontinued "Bluebird" -- After supper and the few away-from-the-keyboard bits I needed to do, I started poking-it-with-my-pointy-stick™ ( I love to tinker with Html -- I am a Geekess, I guess).

The only colors I kept from the original were the orange header splash (that is one of my all time favorite colors #FF9900) and the white text. The original purple was a less juicy #996699, and I don't even remember the light-light purple of the body -- the color I went with is "RosyBrown" which to me, looks mauve [mauve-ellous! *snert* yeah, puns are the lowest form of humor, so glad to have company in the gutter, Sister Blueberry *-)] went through 30 font faces before settling for Verdana.

the title font, though, is "CluffHmkBold" -- which since you don't have it in your computers; defaults to Verdana, I believe.
I think I should be able to PSP a header for this, so it's only temporary anyway. =)

you think it's a little manic depressive?! just a tad.
Muahahahahaha haha ha.

~ (Nilly) Lilly

···edit··· ~ update as of 12.24.05 ~ ···edit···
the orange purple was too basic and I'm just not capable at this point of writing my own template from scratch. So this is a rounders template with the edges filed smooth and the colors customized. Not bad -- and it should be view-able on a Mac...


YES!!!! yes-Yes-yEs-YESSSSSS....

oh, what else?
Can I even begin to say how wonderful this DVD is? FINALLY, a really really GOOD clean copy of EJ doing his thing.

the sound is superb.
The performances of the pieces exactly what you would hope to see in a live setting i.e. -- yes, true to the recording... but MORE so =)
oh SchweeEeet!

If I want to be nitpicky, I can bitch that there's no evidence of the man's wit and charm -- it's *just* a display of virtuoso playing across the various genres he's mastered.

That's VERY nitpicky.
gotta Respect the Mastery, here.

since I've been playing this, I've noticed everything around here is soooo much more pleasant.
Including me.

Can't wait for the new one...
*deepest sigh*
Good gawds -- it's 17 years later -- and he's only gotten better with age!


Not exactly a Hallmark card...

...but the card I send to you, dear ones. (and you oughta know who you are!)
picture stolen from Ptelea; essay from GrannyMoon and panhala..

written on Christmas Eve, 1513

I salute you. I am your friend, and my love for you goes deep.
There is nothing I can give you which you have not. But there is much, very much, that, while I cannot give it, you can take. No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in it today. Take heaven!
No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instant. Take peace!
The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. There is radiance and glory in darkness, could we but see. And to see, we have only to look. I beseech you to look!

Life is so generous a giver. But we, judging its gifts by their covering, cast them away as ugly or heavy or hard. Remove the covering, and you will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of love by wisdom, with power. Welcome it, grasp it, and you touch the angel's hand that brings it to you. Everything we call a trial, a sorrow or a duty, believe me, that angel's hand is there.
The gift is there and the wonder of an overshadowing presence.
Your joys, too, be not content with them as joys. They, too, conceal diviner gifts.

Life is so full of meaning and purpose, so full of beauty beneath its covering, that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage then to claim it; that is all! But courage you have, and the knowledge that we are pilgrims together, wending through unknown country home.

And so, at this time, I greet you, not quite as the world sends greetings, but with profound esteem and with the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and shadows flee away.

~ Fra Giovanni


Live From Austin Texas...eventually.

Well now. As I wrote on December 10th in the forum...
I don't actually have it at the moment -- Yesterday I received notification my copy has shipped: I DID order it late (had a small matter of [cough] joining the 21st century and buying a DVD player to attend to) so as additional punishment I got two previous emails that my selection was backordered. And -- no one in my area had it in stock, either. It's in stock again at the Borders one of my Bud's works at -- but the dang thing shipped YESTERDAY.

I did go looking for it back in November, settled for ordering it online.

on the one hand, I'm ok... I'm familiar with half the show thanks to PBS.
on the other hand -- [insert tantrum here.]

This perditionous waiting has had a bright spot, however: I've noticed if I don't get a daily intake of EJ, I get fiercely irritable. Deciding -- what the heck, die happy -- I loaded the CD changer in the livingroom with Merry Axemas, Tones, AVM, Venus Isle, and Bloom -- and hit repeat. I've been running around cleaning things and repairing stuff and actually throwing out pack ratty junk since "The First Nowell" gave me a hug Yesterday. Aha! So that's what's been missing!

The CD changer is from Borders -- one of the units they use to set up their listening stations in the CD department; it's a great little do-hicky, because all it does is play 5 discs. At least -- that's all I've ever asked it to do. Rob's ex-roommate and good friend works at Borders and took the working units home (rather than tossing them out!) when the systems were upgraded. Free is nice. Free and actually working is even better.

I think I've finally broken Rob of the habit of investing in spaceage audio/video equipment: this is a man with a decent thinking block on his shoulders, but I swear to god he worships gadgetry in an unclean and gluttonous way. Is this typical of all penii weighted brainiacs? I fear I regularly drain him of testosterone when I quickly grasp a bit of technology and explain it to him. Yeah -- I am the one who programs the remotes, sets up the answering machine with the correct date; day and time; and I have lost track of the computer tricks I've shown him. What's more horrific than Venus with arms?... A Tech-Chick. No wonder I drive him to hissy fits. I've never claimed to KNOW EVERYTHING, I just pick up and retain an indecent amount.. of bits of information.

speaking of bits of information --

I use Google's Gmail as my primary email address, and they recently added an RSS feed on top of the letter frame. (me speak no tech, just putter around with it.)
These Google gods are sooo my denomination: there are links to spam recipes when you empty the SPAM folder, recycling tips when you throw out the trash. I have never felt freaked out that the column of ads collates according to keywords in the body of my email -- quite a few times I've found the ad a lagnaippe of sorts: gimmie more info about what I'm aready interested in! yeeha!

besides, Google's corporate motto is, "Don't Be Evil".
Gotta love that. Perhaps it's an ideal... but it's nice to hear about a corporation that has one.

darn dang daaamn that Eric Johnson kid. I'm feeling so perky, I even feel like sending out Christmas cards this weekend.


Vetch and Vetch... a good name for a Yiddish Law Firm.

Now that I have Uncle Joe's address -- I don't know what to say.
I suppose I can wish him Happy Holidays... lame lame lame.

You know.. I'm a Curmudgeon. I am. I revel in it. I want to be an old raisin shell with my same (ageless) unseasonable fruity brain... part of me feels there's no time left at all on my corporeal parking meter, and the other part of me is convinced I'm already dead and in hell.

come to think of it -- that's pretty much how I've felt my whole life.
Except for those glorious floating moments immersed in a sea of music.

It is now the season of horrible despair and awful circumstance.
Winter of Discontent?
You Betcher Ass.

keeping in mind the adage, "The More You Complain, The Longer God Lets You Live" here's a list of 10 random vetches of the moment.

1. It's pathetic that if I actually compile this list -- I'll have a feeling of accomplishment.

2. It's cold. Single digit Fahrenheit cold.

3. I haven't been out of the house since November 27th. (Out to the porch to get the mail does not count as "out".)

4. I still haven't gotten the Live from Austin DVD.

5. My insane husband has decided he LOVES DVDs and wants to replace all his video tapes. Right Now.

6. There is SNOW all over the ground. I hate snow. Individual flakes are fine, but when they all gang up like this, it's thuggery.

7. Everything Christmas makes me cry. I seem to have an Immunity deficiency this year -- the opening credits to Christmas movies have me sobbing. Christmas music on the radio starts up major water works. Please -- no Christmas greetings. No presents and no decorations. My eyes will flood right out of my head.

8. I have just now gotten into Rob's bourbon. This won't be good.

9. I made the most amazing pot of Rhode Island Clam Chowder -- a work of art fit to grace a Yankee Magazine cover. Rob devoured it -- and continued to binge eat for the rest of the evening until he took himself to bed. I was fully expecting to have to clean up exploded Rob.

10. I'm not that bad off. Yes -- that pisses me off. My abusive husband is self centered and neglectful and drinks too much -- but that's it. My life is ok. It lacks excitement, sex, affection, exercise, and stimulation of any exterior sort, but it could be much much worse and I am thankful that it isn't, believe me: but doesn't it seem fucking weird to tread water all one's life? Never hitting bottom, never getting pulled up into a lifeboat, never sighting dry land -- but when the water is calm enough -- just lying back and floating. That is my life.

Two slugs of bourbon is my limit: the first one for the burn, the second because even a burn shouldn't be this lonely. lol.
and 10 pissant complaints are more than enough to inflict on the four people who read this blog.

(droopy) Lilly.

In memory of George Lewis, Great Jazzman

What a terrific, amazing poem this is.
the link in the title takes you to the whole week of WA newsletters

In memory of George Lewis, Great Jazzman


Man is the animal that knows
the clarinet

makes his living
on the docks, a stevedore,
110 lbs., carrying what loads
he can

the Depression comes along,
his teeth rot, no money, and
he has to accept silence


Thirteen years
they put the instrument
back together
with rubber bands
bought him
new teeth
and then he began








One song they say

was pure
uninhibited joy
cannot tell you

survived so long
in those empty jaws


He lived and died
Had a New Orleans funeral.

Leading the mourners
his old friends' band
to the cemetery, heads
down, trombones scraping
the ground, slow tones of
"Just a Closer Walk..."
helping to carry
the solemn mud
of their steps.

words said, tears fallen,
they turned
to walk back;
a few beats on the big
drum, then soft plucking
of a banjo string—
in another block
the clarinet wailed
and then suddenly they were
"The Saints..." full blast
and people jumped
and shouted and danced
just as he'd known they would.


Alright. There is a frailness
in all our music.
Sometimes we're broken
and it's lost.
Sometimes we forget
for years it's even in us, heads
filled with burdens and smoke.
And sometimes we've held
to it and it's there,
waiting to break out
walking back from the end.


poem: revenge is a dish best served with a light cream sauce

"I was so miserable without you
it was just like having you around..."

Yes you're obnoxious and rough
and I've had enough
of being treated mean and so cruel
instead of turning the other cheek
I've quit being so weak
the expressway of pain ends here, fool.

While you've been out
I didn't just pout
and wonder who was scratching your itch
I had me a notion
to mix up a potion...

You really shouldn't piss off a witch.

how's the soup? Care for more wine?
oh there's plenty of time;
relax and get comfortable dear
are you sweating? Then I'm betting
you'll find this upsetting
you'll soon have a new form to wear.

No, I haven't eaten yet, I'm waiting a bit
and sharpening more than my hunger
are those feathers you're sprouting?
and --quelle surprise! -- squawking, not shouting
now your eyes have gone wide -- no wonder!

The law doesn't care, hates "domestic disputes"
decries the paperwork; seems there's no absolutes.

So who needs a lawyer, the sheriff or witness
when it's just between us, this unfinished business.

Now excuse me dear, while I put on this apron ~
Here's poetic justice -- I'll be dining on Capon.

mmmm tastes just like chicken.

© Jeen Lilly


or maybe my diet has just been lacking in tree bark...


Cinnamon Girl...

Eat Cinnamon.
It's good for you.

Cinnamon is a sweet spice, a non-carbohydrate, with a mess of medicinal properties.
Mixed with small doses of raw honey it's a natural fix for everything from weight loss to arthritis. hmmmmm. Anyway -- I figured the cinnamon part couldn't hurt, and started adding half a teaspoon to each mug of tea I made.

well -- I like cinnamon to begin with, I always have.

Fresh cinnamon IS sweet, and refreshing.

and suddenly... Well over a few days, I noticed I had more energy, my aches and pains were much less, my digestion processes were staying where they belonged, my cough cleared.

and this is rather weird...

Rob actually made a pass at me.
But that could be the effect of Freya'a spell, too...


The First Song

Now this... this one gets me. gee -- I wonder why...
A tale of how Yule got its name

This is the story of the very first song;
it is a true story, as all stories are,
if you believe in them. This story begins
a long, long time ago, when the Earth and
Sun gave birth to the first beings --
the very first plants, and animals, and people.

It was springtime, and the Sun shone warm
and bright from his high perch above,
and Earth, proud mother that she was,
held and fed her newborns and
relished them with tenderness and love.
It was a time of joy,
it was a time of great delight.

The Moon waxed and waned
timeand again in the night sky,
and the children of the Earth grew
well and strong through summertime.
They played and danced,
and Earth and Sun watched over them.

Then autumn came, and the Earth began
to sleep much longer every day.
She grew tired and pale,
she could no longer feed her children,
and had no strength to grow new life.

High above, the Sun grew distant,
and took longer to return each morn.
The nights grew longer, and cold winds
blew where none had blown before.

And then, one day, Earth went to sleep
and never did wake up. She wrapped herself
in a blanket of snow, and rested her tired
head on pillows of dried leaves,
and she did not wake up; Her children
could do nothing to rouse her from her slumber.

They prodded her, they called to her,
but she would not awaken. In the sky,
the Sun was nowhere to be seen,
and the children of the Earth felt fear,
and also felt despair. This was the longest
night that they had ever known.

"What shall become of us?", they pondered.
"Earth Mother sleeps, and Father Sun is
oh so far away that we can barely see him
in the sky. He is much too far to hear
our call. What shall we do?"

So they brought their questions
and their fears to the Moon,
the sister of the Sun,
for they knew not where else to turn.
She closed her eyes, and took a slow,
deep breath, and looked within herself,
and awoke thoughts that had never
been awakened until then.

She opened her soft eyes,
then said, "When hope is lost,
the best way to get it back is with a song.
Climb you the tallest trees,
the biggest hills, the highest mountains,
and yule a song to reach the Sun".

(yule is a word from one of the most ancient tongues.
It is related to words like yell or yodel,
and it means to call out in a song).

But the first beings had never heard a song,
so once again they sought the Moon's advice.
"How shall we yule?", they asked.
"How shall we sing a song?"

"Take the best of what you have", she said,
"the best of what you are. Take what you love,
take what you cherish most. Take your joys,
your dreams, your fondest hopes, and weave them
all together in a sound."

And so they did.

They climbed atop the tallest trees,
the mountains and the hills.
They stood on all the places that
would bring them closest to the Sun.
They shut their eyes, and thought and felt
the best of thoughts and feelings, and dreamt
the finest dreams. And, as they did, their voices
rang and made a bridge of song across the sky,
to reach the distant Sun.

He heard, and turned, and smiled,
and wrapped himself in all his light and warmth,
and sped to where the yuling voices called.
As he drew near, the sleeping Earth did stir,
and dreamed a dream of spring.
The wheel of life made its first round,
and hope and joy prevailed.
And ever since,
that time of year has been called Yule,
in honor of the song.

But the first song did not end.
It had such power, such eldritch allure,
that the first beings kept singing it throughout.
And then the second beings born of the Earth
took up the song, as did the third.
And so it ever since has gone,
through seasons and through years,
until this very day.

At times the song is very soft,
and scarcely can be heard above
the din and clatter of our lives.
But when Yule comes, it rises
and it swells in memory of that night
when the Sun heard,
and light and life were spared.

And so do we, upon this longest night,
gather with those we love and who love us,
and stand upon the body of slumbering Earth,
and light the log with last year's coal,
and lift our voices soaring to the Sun,
and join the song that first was sung
so very long ago.

We sing our thanks to those who went before,
and sing our fondest wish to those who come behind.
We bask in the returning light of reawakened hope,
and welcome Yule.

(c) 1994, Andras Corban Arthen, The EarthSpirit Community


Fiddling Aboot...

Messing around with the template, added a moon phase calendar and the birthdays link (from the brain site Blueberry found) to the sidebar.

I love that my friends collect such cool stuff. hehehe.

Next Monday is my quarterly check up with the Doc -- oh, joy. healthwise I seem to be treading water: just maintaining, not improving.

One thing I have noticed that's beginning to freak me out is how thin my hair is getting. I've always had baby-fine hair, but for the past few months I can't run a comb through it without pulling a significant amount of hair from said comb. I don't know if this is a complication of medication, body chemistry... but I'd like to not lose my hair like this.

bald men are beautiful -- balding women... not so much.

Like I need another thing in my life to dent my self esteem.


Musings from Future Fossil Fuel

Mystical_Musings seems to be full of convalescing-from-bad-relationships females.
hmmm... are there any other kinds of relationships?..
I posted a few of my Rob railings which just added my voice to the articulate stream of thought from some very talented women who write. This one bubbled up to the surface this morning:

Kathi(from MM)wrote:
"If this is "till death do us part"
I feel like I have died already…"

Musings from
Future Fossil Fuel

She looks at me
and sees only
the handsome man

in his best manners
that he doesn't bother
to wear for me

A perfect dish; served up
presentable, sociable
standing by my side...

Some men are like tar pits:
The surface is smooth
and appears substantial

until you step into them
and they suck you down --
and just before you've

dissolved, with your life
flashing before your eyes --
you see the next victim

being lured by the surface;
and you'd scream a warning
if only the tar wasn't nose level.

(c) 12/05/05 Jeen Lilly


stolen from a snag at Blueberry's..

NOOOoooooo -- oh jeez this is one guy I just can't stand...
oh the irony.
somebody medicate me.

you are Captain Beefheart!
Captain Beefheart... you are one of the first
modern fucked-up geniuses. When it comes to
creating, you rank right up there with the
likes of James Mangan, John Wilmot and Edvard

Which fucked-up genius composer are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

from the Pajama Library...

snagged this picture from Ptelea...

how snow transforms our worlds...

I mused:
If only a blanket of
thought could effect
such a change..
But it does.
My good intentions
so pure, fresh;
laying a unified theme
a purpose to my life...
so easily melted and
run off by the heat of
indifferent footprints
turning the perfect --
into slush.

© 12/4/05 Jeen Lilly

Fwd::Apples and Wine

Women are like apples on trees.
The best ones are at the top of the tree.

Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt.
Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but easy.
The apples at the top think something is wrong with them; when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

Now Men.... Men are like a fine wine.
They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp the shit out of them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

got this from a woman's group this morning... quelle surprise, eh?

Rose Ink for a BOS...

ok -- this ink would have to be reserved for spells, I think. wow -- what some witches will do...
This is pretty involved (!!) but makes a great ink for your BOS.

Rose Ink
By Aelwah Lodar

This recipe is simply a tincture derived from rose petals: it is completely non-toxic, and eco-safe, although I wouldn't drink it (I doubt it tastes very good) and don't spill it on clothing, it *will* stain.
As an ink, it will retain it's rose scent for about 2 days after drying when used independently, though if used in a BOS continuously, it will have a lingering scent.
This ink is a purpley-red on paper, although it dries relatively slowly, so give it some time.
After a while, it may turn brown on paper, depending on the acid preparation of the paper.


Petals from 2 red rose blossoms.
Ground Cinnamon.
White Vinegar.
Water (preferably distilled).
Ground Clove.
Vanilla extract.


Mortar & Pestle.
Small paring knife.
Small Funnel.
3 large test tubes.
2 Tablespoons.
Medium sized candle.
Filter paper. (or a coffee filter)
Test tube rack.
Test tube grabbers.
Glass stirring rod.
Cork (large enough to seal test tube).
Paraffin wax.


Heating: When heating the test tubes over the candle flame, hold the tube (with test tube grabbers) diagonally about a half inch over the flame to get the greatest heating area possible without spilling the contents or allowing it to boil over. It is also suggested that the tube should be moved diagonally up and down, with the flame passing only over the area that contains liquid, so that the liquid will be heated evenly, and scorching will be prevented. If the test tube grabbers being used are short, wearing a glove is advisable.


When filtering, paper should be folded in half, then in half again, unfolded, and formed into a cone to fit your particular funnel.
After filtering, paper should be twisted until the mush is an inverted tear-drop shape at the end of the paper, and then squeezed over the funnel to remove all liquid without breaking the paper. Filter paper should only be used once, then discarded.


Before beginning, label the test tubes; 1, 2, & 3.


Start by washing and removing all the petals from the two rose blossoms.

Take a few (about 6-10) petals and roll together into a small bundle, then with paring knife, cut the bundle into thin slices and put them into the mortar.

When all the petals have been cut in this manner, add two tablespoons of distilled water into the mortar, and reduce the petal slices into a paste using pestle.

Scrape the petal mush into the test tube labeled "1", be sure to get all the liquid as well.

Into tube 1, add enough white vinegar to cover the mush plus about an eighth of an inch, then add a pinch of cinnamon (be slightly conservative, too much here will ruin it, and you can always add more later) and a *very* small pinch of ground clove.

Mix well using glass rod.

Light the candle and begin heating tube 1.

Periodically stir the tube.

Continue heating tube 1 until it bubbles, allow it to continue bubbling while stirring for about 10 to 15 minutes, being careful not to let it boil over or scorch.

At the end of this time, the mixture will have darkened *slightly*.

Using funnel and filter paper, filter the contents of tube 1 into the tube labeled "2".
Be sure to squeeze all the liquid out of the filter paper, as this is what we want.

Put the mush from the filter paper back into tube 1.

Set aside tube 2 and allow to cool.

Add equal parts of vinegar and distilled water to tube 1, just barely covering the mush.

If the contents of tube 2 is very red, you may choose to add a small pinch of cinnamon to tube 1 now.

Repeat heating and stirring procedure on tube 1 for 5 to 10 minutes, then filter the liquid into tube 2, making sure to squeeze out the filter paper.

Discard mush.

Add 1-2 drops of vanilla extract to tube 2 depending on the volume of liquid; 1 drop for every 1 1/4 inches of rose solution.

Heat tube 2 for 10 to 15 minutes or until solution thickens and re-darkens slightly.

Filter the contents of tube 2 into the tube labeled "3" and allow to cool completely.

There should be no sediment left in tube 3, if there is, re-filter.

Cork tube 3 and set aside.

Cut a small piece of paraffin and liquefy it in the second spoon over candle flame.

Use the wax to seal around the cork of tube 3.

Lay tube 3 in a cool dark place to age for about two weeks, every couple days you should shake it to keep it reacting equally.

Total preparation time is about and hour and 15 minutes, plus two weeks aging

If refrigerated, the ink will keep for about a year.
If it ever turns brown, or starts smelling funny, it has gone bad.
The yield of this recipe is about 2 ounces.


Abortion and Minors

oh for fricking good grief -- and I thought it sucked to be a teenager in the 70s.

the question was asked:

Do you think a pregnant teenager should have parental consent for an abortion?

and that link (click title of post) was provided.

my response:

and why not have a corresponding law for boys? Obviously, there should be an alarm that blares from every teen aged boy's prostate when he has an ejaculation. PARENTS SHOULD KNOW. that semen MUST be properly contained so it does not willy-nilly crawl to an orifice of some hapless girl-child and spontaneously combust with lifeforce!

yes, that's sarcasm.

In the best of all possible worlds, every child conceived would be a wanted one, and guaranteed the love and support of two parents. At the very least.

But we do not live in the best of all possible worlds.

This is not a question of a child.
Once a female is viable for fertilization, she is no longer a child -- and anyone deluding themselves with dreams of a sweet innocent i.e. "untouched" little girl is just asking for being presented with this exact scenario. Any parent(s) who doesn't deal with their daughter's sexuality is going to get bitch slapped with it.

I would think that if you have raised a girl with genuine self esteem and she knows her worth as a person should never be determined by how willing she is to please ANYONE by putting aside her good sense to fulfill the "needs" of another person and therefore fit in with the standards of someone else: then you should get some kind of award and graduate to Asian Land War management.

The facts are -- it is much too late to be allowed to take an interest in your daughter's private life when the legal system has to officially notify you Little Precious Angel is preggers and looking to get an abortion.

If you genuinely care about her, and she knows she can trust you to help her "No Matter What" -- this sort of LAW would be ridiculous.

But -- most teenagers are as willing to talk about sex with their parents as parents are willing to discuss sex with their offspring: it makes all parties uncomfortable, it's "icky", and COME ON -- parents could not possibly, ever know what it's like to have free radical hormones and wanna get-somma-somma urges. Sheesh.

There ought to be a law that enforces parental responsiblity before your daughter has to become one. End of Argument.


Christmoose Romance in the air...

Image hosted by

some things conspire to wrap their cute quotient around my bah-humbuggery and make me do the Ho Ho Ho.
or at least, tee-hee-hee.
gotta love it...


adding graphics to posts

I've been fooling around with blogging for over a year now, and while there's only so much progress to be made by the poke-it-with-a-stick (and try to jump clear of it biting you back) method -- I have the time to crack rocks with a spoon.
lemme saw some BBs in half for ya! (ok -- there's my obligatory EJ content!)

when you open your create-a-post window, use the "Edit Html" option. then, holding down your ctrl key, click on the last icon on top of the "frame" -- it looks like a picture of a mountain.

a pop up screen will open that will allow you to either add an image from a file in your computer*, or add an image from a hosted URL** (like photobucket). you can also select a layout, and the size of the image -- which, even if you go with small / thumbnail size, can be clicked on (in your published post) to see the full sized image.

I have learned from experience that either a medium sized or small sized graphic works best if you want to have text wrapped on the right or left of the image.

remember, the preview screen is your friend -- it will give you an approximation of how your post will look. I generally work on my posts in the "edit Html" frame and if I need to make changes more readily accessible in the "Compose" frame -- I've gotten brave enough to switch back and forth.

it's much easier, once you get the hang of it, to deal with Html directly. I know it took me months before I realized I was capable of this kind of "meatball surgery".
Formatting at the source will save you hair pulling galore.

one last thing: there is a funny habit of this blogger tool to put in two of the first image I load, so -- just delete the duplicate. a minor hiccup.

*loading the picture from your computer, rather than the host site is usually the better option -- only because I tend to move around / delete things from my online albums for ease of access -- and in contrast -- once the image is loaded from your computer to blogger -- it's permanent for the life of the blog, whether it's still on your puter or not!

** gotta use URL / offsite hosting for animated .gif's!