dos mariposas

Whine Time

2006-08-31T21:15:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the complete absence of my genius. Too busy being morose and discouraged about my knee, which collided with our dog's stupid, cinder block head a few weeks ago. It is getting better, but it is slow going. I can't run, and I miss that. I really do love running. In the meantime I am on my sister in law's elliptical, which is a great, perhaps superior workout. But it doesn't feel like running.

Also reading the pope's 'Deus Caritas Est' and will comment more on that anon. Actually, I will probably not comment on it, because I am too stupid to do so. Instead I might excerpt lengthy passages therein.

Hot Hot Hot

2006-08-11T16:30:00.000-07:00

This is turning out to be our fifth hottest summer on record. It was 42 C/107 F yesterday. The record was in 1936, when it actually hit 47/112. Ugh!

On Wednesday I took Toby for a quick stroll at 7 pm. I definitely should have waited an hour--it was like opening the door of oven that has been on all day. It was hard to even breathe. And, with not a cloud in the sky, the sun is blinding.

I had a nice serendipity yesterday. First, I have to give the background. We visited my grandmother over the weekend. On her nightstand she has a book that her Sunday school group (she is Church Of Christ) used recently, called The Journey To Desire. It is really pretty good, explaining that desire itself is from God, but that too often we either ignore good desires or else supress them, thinking anything so strong must be bad. As a result a lot of people succumb to bad desires instead, like pornography and food, etc.

The book's main point (I think--haven't read it all) is that we must be honest with ourselves and discover what our desires actually are and how they can help us find God, since He is our greatest desire, whether we are conscious of this fact or not. It also points out that some of these desires and longings will only be met in heaven.

ANYWAY: I was at the bookstore last night planning to buy this book. I couldn't find it at first, and in the meantime my eye was caught by a whole shelf of Henri Nouwen books. I've heard of him, and people have recommended him to me, but I must have confused him with another writer, as I've never been interested in him. I picked up one of his books, called Here And Now, and it really speaks to me and my state of life. He has the most reassuring tone and seems full of common sense, but in a spiritual/supernatural way.

I liked it so much that I found another of his books, one that has meditations for the whole liturgical year, on Amazon and I've already ordered it. It is so refreshing to have some spiritual writing that has depth, is thought-provoking and isn't sappy or sentimental or overly pious.

One of the themes he seems to return to over and again is the human preoccupation with 'oughts and ifs' and why we find it so difficult to actually live in the present moment. This is certainly always a challenge for me!

I Know You Are, But What Am I?

2006-08-01T07:35:00.000-07:00

Here's the link to that highly accurate personality quiz:

http://www.blogthings.com/threequestionpersonalitytest/

Rational? Really?

2006-08-01T07:31:00.000-07:00

Your Personality Is

Rational (NT)
You are both logical and creative. You are full of ideas.You are so rational that you analyze everything. This drives people a little crazy!
Intelligence is important to you. You always like to be around smart people.In fact, you're often a little short with people who don't impress you mentally.
You seem distant to some - but it's usually because you're deep in thought.Those who understand you best are fellow Rationals.
In love, you tend to approach things with logic. You seek a compatible mate - who is also very intelligent.
At work, you tend to gravitate toward idea building careers - like programming, medicine, or academia.
With others, you are very honest and direct. People often can't take your criticism well.
As far as your looks go, you're coasting on what you were born with. You think fashion is silly.
On weekends, you spend most of your time thinking, experimenting with new ideas, or learning new things.

Don't Look Back

2006-07-25T15:14:00.000-07:00

Can anyone tell me why the wife of Lot is turned into a pillar of salt? I've been reading this passage, and it is interesting how hesitant Lot is in the first place. When the angels exhort him to get moving, it says, 'but he lingered.' His attitude seems to be one of lukewarmness or comfort (and the love of it) or complacency.

But is his wife destroyed simply because of her disobedience? This is what Patrick thinks, but that doesn't seem to fit the rest of the passage, when they get several chances to save themselves. Is it the horror of what she sees, or that she is too attached to what she's leaving (which is why she looks back) and so is destroyed by her own lingering? I can't figure it out, although I suppose attachment is a universal stumbling block and probably ruins lots of souls, or else stunts their growth.

Disappointment

2006-07-19T17:11:00.000-07:00

I have just given up on North and South, by Elizabeth Gaskell. It's not that there was nothing of value in it. There was - I just couldn't shake my dislike for serials smushed together to make a book, and I couldn't bear any more descriptions of Margaret's noble beauty, dignified beauty, queenly beauty, quivering tremulous beauty, and so on and so forth. And poor Bessy - the girl had had a horrible life, and was clearly dying in a slow and dreadful way, but all I wanted to do was slap her, and tell her that hoo's not a bonny angel sent to hush the clemming.

This is what happens when you've read the greatest novel ever written, I suppose. Female solidarity alone can no longer enable me to enjoy a woman's book.

When There's No One Left To Talk To...

2006-07-14T04:33:00.000-07:00

Our newspaper had a wonderful article yesterday, about a Creek-Indian woman's 106th birthday. Mrs. Berryhill is her name, and at her birthday party she sat patiently slumped in a chair, taking in the many accolades and well wishes from friends and family. The article pointed out that no doubt she'd heard the exact same things on her 100th, 101st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th. But then a woman addressed her in the Creek language, and Mrs. Berryhill sprang to life, and motioned to the woman to translate for her as she told stories about her parents and her upbringing and early days.

She is one of two remaining original allottees, given 100 acres when she was 18 months old, in 1901. That just boggles my mind thinking about.

They also gave her a traditional tea, made from corn and honey (doesn't that sound way too sweet?), which also set her reminiscing. It was a fascinating vignette. It makes me wonder what goes on inside the minds of elderly people who, for whatever reason, no longer speak. Have they just given up because no one from their own days is left? That often seems to be the case with Patrick's grandmother--she has no remaining contemporaries, and can't trade memories with old friends. Interesting to consider.

NOT Archival Quality

2006-07-06T19:53:00.000-07:00

Funny how marketable the term 'archival quality' has become. Even dime store notepads will boast that they are made of 'neutral ph, non-yellowing' papers. We seem to want things to last, even things that aren't worth the acid/lignin free, quality surface to which they've been entrusted.

Which matters more: the essay/poem/story/letter, or ourselves? Which are we trying to save? I tend to think it is only ourselves we are attempting to preserve with these tools for permanence.

So much of what we say or think or write does not matter--the more of it we create and preserve, the less space and silence we are left with, making it difficult to create other, new things which might actually mean more.

Of course, here I am blogging this very type of musing; the pot calling the kettle black.

I, too, am Bert

2006-06-19T03:59:00.000-07:00

I just took the Sesame Street Personality Quiz. I, too, am Bert! I just reported this to my sister, who said, not quite scathingly, "You are so Bert."

By all accounts, yesterday's Eucharistic Procession from St Patrick's, Church Hill, to St Mary's Cathedral, Sydney, was a great success. About ten thousand people walked, praying the Rosary and singing; the hymns and prayers were broadcast over a local radio station.

Some Bible-only Christians also turned out, to heckle. I thought afterwards, they would not be here if it were not for the Eucharist. Our Lord drew us to that procession, because we love Him in His Eucharistic Presence, and that same Presence drew them, even if it was to deny that Presence. However mistakenly they denied it, they did so because they love Him, and the Eucharist drew them into a public declaration of that love. He was calling them.

Under The Oklahoma Sun

2006-06-18T16:18:00.000-07:00

I don't know if it is just the summer, its attendant dust and heat, but I keep thinking of all the lonely roads and highways around here.

They are bleached in the sun, made of waves: heat and oil and a neverending approach to the horizon. The turnpikes, especially, can feel desolate this time of year, even though they are clogged with traffic. The whole phenomenon has a depressive effect on me: sunlight takes on a delusional intensity; it is entirely too bright, and gives me headaches. All is turnpike and sunburn and loneliness. No one around to see another's struggles, not for a hundred miles.

Stubby Pencil Solution

2006-06-09T10:02:00.000-07:00

Here are some photos of a new use for short, stubby pencils. Office Depot sells thin, plastic Mead brand index card cases. They hold 50 cards. I've discovered that they can also hold a small pencil-- the ones I don't use because they've gotten too short, but are still functional. Moreover, a few index cards can be secured to the outside of the case with a rubber band, a la Levenger's much more expensive index card holders!

You Learn Something New Every Day...

2006-05-26T12:45:00.000-07:00

HEPHAISTOS, the smith god, is typically depicted as a grave, intense man wearing a workman's cap and immersed in his fiery craft. He had forges beneath volcanoes but also on Olympus where 20 bellows worked at his bidding. Famed for his artistry, he crafted works of wonder, such as Achilles' shield, embossed with a dramatic scene of life, and death, joy and grief, peace and war.

The Encyclopedia Of Mythology, Arthur Cotterell, p 69

Go On, Here's The Link:

2006-05-26T11:58:00.000-07:00

http://www.blogthings.com/thesesamestreetpersonalityquiz/

Surprise, Surprise

2006-05-25T20:16:00.000-07:00

You Are Bert

Extremely serious and a little eccentric, people find you loveable - even if you don't love them!
You are usually feeling: Logical - you rarely let your emotions rule you
You are famous for: Being smart, a total neat freak, and maybe just a little evil
How you life your life: With passion, even if your odd passions (like bottle caps and pigeons) are baffling to others

word of the day

2006-05-24T06:41:00.000-07:00

CONTEMPLATE: (1537; from Latin contemplatus, pp. of contemplari, from com + templum: space marked out for observation of auguries--see also TEMPLE)

To view or consider with continued attention: meditate on.

Possession

2006-05-17T18:23:00.000-07:00

Lucy: One thing I notice about Possession is that it sort of changes shape everytime I read it. The first couple of times it was Roland and Maude and the modern era that stood out for me; another time it was Christobel and Randolph, and what really caught me was their correspondence. Another time it was Sabine's journal, and I wondered how I had noticed it so little on my previous readings, and the fourth time it was Randolph's wife's journal that really caught me.

Ashley: I think the same thing: Possession does change with each reading. In my own case, I noticed Maude and Roland, and nothing else, the first time through, in part because I am a sucker for romances, and also because there were just so many layers to the whole thing, and I had to read it for a class and write a paper. So I didn't care about the several other story lines.

On the cover of my edition is the painting, "The Beguiling Of Merlin," by Edward Burke Jones. I've always thought it is an interesting choice to represent the story. The woman in the painting is Nimue, who enchanted Merlin. I don't know very much about Arthurian legend. I suppose what matters, so far as concerns the novel, is that the woman is holding the book, and the novel is about the various meanings and ramifications of ownership.

Possessed

2006-05-16T06:59:00.000-07:00

While everyone waits for me to provide my own keen insights about Possession, that wonderful book, here is a poem I once wrote for Lucy:

Return To Sender

What if desire arrived in packets
like Christmas presents,

bubble wrapped, Registered
with signatures and honest origin?

I'm sick of seeking after mystery
first cupped in my hands

then pulsing through veins--
it leaves no address.

Give it a Zip Code,
its own post mark:

fill arms with useless roses
and tell it where to go.

amen to that

2006-05-16T03:54:00.000-07:00

Having just read Ashley's Public Service Announcement, I offer my own heartfelt "Amen."

To return to a previous topic...I had the opposite reaction to Dorothea. She certainly did not seem faultless to me, but I found myself, straight away, caring so much for her in her situation, and wishing so much that I could sit down with her and compare notes about life. I wonder if that means people react to me as Ashley did to Dorothea? I do recall one of my best friends commenting that her first reaction to me was, "Hmmm...wallpaper." Fortunately for us both, she changed her opinion!

I noticed someone was considering tackling Possession. Amen to that, too! If Middlemarch had not been written, Possession would be a strong contender for the title 'Best Book Ever Written.' It is like an amazing piece of embroidery, which is actually made with high precision and minute attention to structure and pattern, but which, to the wearer or observer, feels or looks lavish and enchanting, rather than looking like a merely technical achievement.

On a completely different note, I served my first customer in Auslan (Australian Sign Language) today! Hurrah! I can't believe my banana-fingers and fingerspelling were actually legible to a fluent sign-er!!!

Public Service Announcement

2006-05-15T10:57:00.000-07:00

Here, for the edification of some and the amusement of others, I present

Ten Ways To Know She Is Absolutely Not In Love With You And Moreover Wishes You To Quit Bugging Her

1. She says you remind her of someone special--her grandfather.
2. She says your clothes are older than she is.
3. She brings each new boyfriend to meet you and
4. Introduces you as 'Uncle.'
5. You were once in love with her mother.
6. You also had a crush on her grandmother.
7. She thinks the 70's are just a tv show
8. You finished your Ph.D before she was born.
9. In ten years you will retire.
10. In ten years she will still have another ten years before she is even forty.

Too Bogged To Blog

2006-05-14T08:51:00.000-07:00

Excuse this haphazard posting of insights---a very hectic time of year when we are finishing up the semester.

In the meantime, a story about my cat, Neil:

As I was going to bed last night, I heard a series of 'thwap thwap thwap' sounds, coupled with the skittering of cat feet. I looked in the dining room to see something long and intestinal hanging from Neil's mouth. Since he has brought in four birds in as many weeks, I naturally assumed he was dismembering another. I called Patrick in to deal with things, only to discover, as we turned on the light, that it was not a bird intestine, but a garden snake that Neil was enjoying so much. Fortunately it was already dead.

Patrick disposed of the snake. Thirty minutes later, we are in bed when we hear more of the 'thwap thwap' sounds, this time accompanied by crash-pounce noises as stuff is getting pulled over in the dining room. We investigate once more, and find another, much larger and very alive and alert snake.

After putting this one outside, we close the doggie door, sliding its cover into place. Not long after, we hear, 'slide slide, CRASH, slide, slide, CRASH,': turns out Neil was pushing off the doggie door cover with his nose, but it kept falling down on him, guillotine-like.

This morning he had a bird.

Product Plug

2006-05-07T16:10:00.000-07:00

Some of you might be acquainted with my notebook/paper/writing surface obsession. Occasionally, the value or meaning of what I am writing takes second place to what it is being written on!

My preferences for compact (8.5 by 5.5) dimensions, spiral binding, and cream colored, heavy (65 lb) paper are difficult to find in combination. Oh, did I mention I also prefer blank paper? I can usually find one or two features, but not all. I've had to make do with sketchbooks.

UNTIL NOW!!

I have discovered KOMTRAK Refillable Sketchbooks (available at www.misterart.com as well as www.komtrak.com). Komtrak makes a wide variety of notebooks and folders and planners. The product that has 'Ashley's wish fulfillment' written all over it is the Refillable Sketchbook, loaded with 65 sheets (130 pages) of 8.5 by 5.5 CREAM COLORED, 80 lb paper, bound with their unique removable spiral binding. The binding is ingenious: two clips stabilize it at top and bottom. Remove the clips, twist the spiral out. Reorganize or reload the heavy duty plastic covers, and twist spiral back into place and return clips.

I love its portability, ease of use, and versatility. I am going to buy a ream of canary color (my second favorite shade for paper) copy paper, cut it in half and have it hole punched at the copy shop. It's a dream come true for this detail-obsessed papersnob!

Middlemarching

2006-05-05T05:57:00.000-07:00

I myself read Middlemarch last October, and still have not wanted to move on. As Lucy said, it is the best book ever, and for many reasons.

The only reason I picked up the book in the first place was because George Eliot's birthday had been mentioned on The Writer's Almanac, along with comments about Middlemarch and the main character, Dorothea. That same day, I saw the book at Borders and it was such an inviting volume. The first couple of lines pulled me in.

I did struggle a bit with the first twenty pages or so--I felt nothing whatsoever for Dorothea, with whom I was already exasperated after that first brief meeting.

Not only are the inhabitants of Middlemarch complex and richly drawn; they are as unpredictable as real people. The characters commit gaffes and create awkward situations for themselves. They act rashly, with dreary results.

What is especially wonderful is that the characters' outcomes are not as they 'should' be, according to the conventions of most novels. Their fates wind along the lines of what probably 'would' be, in real peoples' lives. For instance, the winningest, best hearted girl, Mary Garth, does not choose the winningest, best hearted man after all, but picks a good, weak fellow and their lives go on in a very ordinary way.

revelation

2006-05-05T03:49:00.000-07:00

I have just finished reading George Eliot's Middlemarch. Is this the best book ever written, or only the best book written in the English language?

I don't know enough about literature in languages other than English to answer the first question. The answer to the second question is, absolutely, undoubtedly, "Yes!"

The young woman who recommended the book to me said that she'd never cared so much about any characters as she did these. The blurb referred to the equal amounts of truth about, and forgiveness regarding the human condition which was contained in the novel. All of this is true. Never before have I wanted so much to step into the text, to rescue some characters, to comfort some, to slap some, or to tell others what their lives meant to me.

Admittedly, there have been two other occasions in my life when I have declared a book the best ever written. Once, in my twenties, I referred to Michael Ende's Momo this way. The only other time was when I was in Year Seven, so, about twelve or thirteen years old, and wrote a book review which began with the words 'This is by far the best book I have ever read.' Okay - it's not quite the same thing, but it's pretty close.

That book was about a woman who cut out her heart and swapped it for a vampire's heart, to save the vampire. I'm glad I have since read Middlemarch.

Lucy again...

2006-05-03T15:19:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking over your comments about adjectives. One of my lecturers at uni said once, "Strong poets use verbs. Weak poets use adjectives." Once that sunk in, I understood suddenly why I was so uneasy about so much of my own writing...

Another lecturer, also talking about poetry, suggested, "When you want to find the best, new metaphor for a thing, look at it. Look and look and look at it...until you see something else. Then you have your metaphor." This was also a revelation.

You Can Quote Me

2006-05-03T14:08:00.000-07:00

Some favorite sayings of mine. These get me through days, weeks, even months; whenever there's uncertainty.
-----------------

All language is a longing for home.
Runi

One returns to the place one came from.
Jean De La Fontaine

Unity in all that is necessary, freedom in all that is subject to opinion, and charity in everything.
St. Augustine

Rejoice when you see others working in a good apostolate. Ask God to grant them abundant grace and correspondence to that grace. Then you, be on your way. Convince yourself that, for you, yours is the only way.
Josemaria Escriva

In the garden of the Church there has always been, and there will always be, a remarkable variety of beautiful flowers, each with its own aroma, size, shape and color, a rich diversity that only serves to enhance God's glory--Josemaria Escriva.

Unity and variety. All must be different from one another, as the saints in heaven are different, each having his personal and very special characteristics. But all must also be as identical as the saints, who would not be saints if each of them had not identified himself with Christ.
Josemaria Escriva

Limiting The Palette

2006-05-01T15:13:00.000-07:00

I just got done reading a magazine article that had a superabundance of adjectives, mainly of the empty, space-filling variety: important, novel, favorite, breathtaking, incredible.

I recently noticed in some of my own writing that, on average, one out of every three nouns is ushered into existence by an adjective, as well. This cannot be good, and has gotten me thinking about what constitutes adequate communication.

Granted, adjectives serve a very useful function--language would be inadequate to most purposes if there were no adjectives to modify or describe the precise quality or quantity of a person, place, or thing. And yet, adjectives, the overuse of them, can become another bad habit, a tendency towards lazy speech. It is easier, if less interesting, to say that a girl has amazing features, rather than say that the girl has eyes like a doe, or the face of angel (excuse the cliche examples!).

I have to concede that without adjectives it is hard to write with immediacy and vibrancy. Mostly, I take issue with the empty, filler-type descriptors. Those words are the problems. They are a shorthand for details that we either don't want to articulate or are too lazy to put into words. They have their uses when talking about the weather or groceries, but should be used sparingly when one wants to write or say something meaningful.

Three reasons we gravitate towards empty adjectives:
1. lack of time or space needed for further detail
2. lack of imagination
3. lack of commitment; an unwillingness to describe a subject with specificity

So, I have created a challenge for myself. I've been reading about an artist who has been getting superb results in his work by limiting himself to using only red, black, and white. I am going to try doing the same thing with my writing, by going for interesting, lively, crisp nouns and verbs, and hopefully eliminate my adjective dependence.

p.s. The above applies to adverbs, as well. Perhaps even more so!

From the alter-idem

2006-04-30T00:05:00.000-07:00

Emma's alter-idem (described, for the first time in her life, in Emma's first post, as 'outgoing', and thoroughly pleased by it), was set to thinking by Emma's most recent post. I so often wonder how much of my old age can be determined today. Taking pride in the privileges of youth - such as fitness, or health, or such successes as may come my way - seems useless, when I can do nothing to prevent their loss to the crosses of old age. I can be sure that no disease or suffering will ask my permission first, before inhabiting me. I cannot choose my crosses...but I can't help wondering if there are some things I can choose.

For example, if I cultivate the habit of politeness now, and practice it assiduously for the next thirty or forty years, will that habit remain with me, even if I forget my own name? If I do not know where I am or who the person is beside me, will a habit of several decades still, almost like a reflex, cause me to speak kindly to those around me, making their days and their work more easy?

I suppose it can't hurt to try it. And if I am afflicted with physical suffering, I will need those reserves of patience and politeness even more, in a way, than I will do if I am not fully aware of my surroundings or condition.

"...Far From The Old Folks At Home"

2006-04-28T14:47:00.000-07:00

We visited my husband's grandmother, Ernie, at her retirement center last evening. She will be 93 soon, and is very spry and fit, but dementia and a near-complete loss of hearing have her at a disadvantage. She was moderately pleased to see us, and let us escort her to the home's "Spring Fling" Western Swing performance. Unfortunately the music was so loud our kids didn't want to stay in the room with it.

The center's other elderly inmates filled chairs and benches and settees all around the room. The minute we walked in with our four small children, many of them quit paying attention to the concert and concentrated on getting our kids' attention, instead. One couple scooted over, made room for us on their bench, and kept trying to make eye contact. Another fellow tried to get our daughter to dance in time to his clapping. It gave me the same feeling of helplessness that walking into an animal shelter does.

With her dementia and inability to follow conversation, Ernie is pretty oblivious to our attention. Yet those other residents would cling to us if they could. They are still holding tight to something I am probably taking for granted even as I write these words.

Daredevil Disciple Of Art

2006-04-27T14:19:00.000-07:00

"She demands of herself that both wine and bottles be new; which is to say, she requires that both her theme and her treatment of it shall be eternally fresh. She is interested in everything and... afraid of nothing, this daredevil disciple of art."

The above is a quote from the April issue of a fabulous, favorite magazine, American Art Review, in an article about American watercolorist Alice Schille. It makes a great mission statement for anyone pursuing the creative.

Indoor S'mores

2006-04-27T13:23:00.000-07:00

I have just invented a recipe for a treat that anyone with a microwave can produce. Using the semi sweet chocolate, rather than the usual campfire/candy bar kind makes it a fairly sophisticated s'more.

Needed:

vanilla wafer cookies

semi sweet chocolate chips

marshmallows

Melt 1/2 C (125 ml) chocolate chips in microwave (add a drop of water to faciliate smoothness). This takes less than a minute.

Spread melted chocolate on one vanilla wafer (round part down); top with two to three marshmallows.

Place another vanilla wafer (round part up) on top, then smash down. Microwave again for 10 seconds. Repeat as many times as you like, or until chocolate runs out. Yum!!

Best eaten warm. Graham crackers can be substituted for the vanilla wafers.

The Difference

2006-04-26T18:52:00.000-07:00

Here is an idea I have been trying to develop with some friends. It relies pretty much entirely on anecdotal observation, both my own and others'. I would appreciate it if anyone could point me to any hard data either affirming or contradicting my theory.

I've begun to think (probably not originally) that the main differences between men and women are issues of compartmentalization versus integration. That is, I think men, by necessity, have a capability for segmenting their selves: the warrior, farmer, citizen, father, son, lover. All very separate and distinct roles that they have, historically, kept separate and distinct. How else could men fight in wars and then return to hearth and home and their commuter trains?

Women, in contrast, integrate all their roles into one, whole, self. That is why they are complicated, since they approach every task and role with a messy amalgamation of their numerous roles of wife, mother, friend, sister, worker, daughter, whatever. They can't just be one of these at a time.

A potential problem arises with the modern emphasis on equality, or rather, gender neutrality. I think it pushes men to assume an artificial integration of their different roles. At the same time, women are pressured to compartmentalize what is essentially whole.

Most experts will peg 'communication differences' as the source of division and conflict, but that misses the whole point of fundamental difference.

All of which leads to the concept of inter-connectedness (a term I've appropriated for my own use),an element of perception that I am beginning to think is basically female, since it fits hand in glove with this idea of women being integrated--they do not separate observations and beliefs and experience into different categories. It is all part and parcel and a wonderful way to imagine God, and the divine, caught up, even if tangentially, in every single thing!

May She Flourish!

2006-04-26T18:16:00.000-07:00

I have the equivalent of blog stage fright--I will have to get my more outgoing alter-idem Lucy to help me with this project.