Jiggerypokery as in like, Halloween isn't for 31 days, ya know. BUT- if you really want to know, I went to a costume ball in September and the theme was fairy tales. You know me, I'm the goose that laid the golden egg. By the way, those are giant bath bombs that reeked of lavender. I barely made it out of the event alive with my "Golden Eggs". Those of you who know me will know why.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
I probably didn't mention this tomfoolery either
Jiggerypokery as in like, Halloween isn't for 31 days, ya know. BUT- if you really want to know, I went to a costume ball in September and the theme was fairy tales. You know me, I'm the goose that laid the golden egg. By the way, those are giant bath bombs that reeked of lavender. I barely made it out of the event alive with my "Golden Eggs". Those of you who know me will know why.
maybe I didn;t mention it?
I had someone draw 2 very beautiful pictures on my forearms. Lucky for me and you we can look at them always and forever onwards. 
I
I
Saturday, September 26, 2009
a little story
So I stayed late to finish and finally decided to ride home- at about 11 pm. I know. It was a bad night to begin with. But I get home, have to pee madly and rummage around in my bike bags looking for the elusive keys to my apt. I give up when the pressure on my bladder is to much to bear and tear under the porch steps and drop'em.
The return to the search for the magical instrument that will allow me refuge in a warm apt remains unfulfilled. It begins to dawn on me that I don't have my keys. Oh well, at least the landlord is home. The lights upstairs are on and I sheepishly knock on the door. More than once. I knock again a little louder. No luck. The only thing now keeping me warm are the tears rolling down my face.
At this point, slight desperation sets in and I try every key I have in the faint hope one of them will work. Panic develops when I realize I may be outside for the night. I ponder my options and realize I have no idea where the closest hotel may be. Is it that run down hole on Kingsway? Do I go back to work? Knock on the neighbors? Go to a friend's? Who?
I walk around to the back door and encounter 3 raccoons fighting for the fat red grapes hanging off the mangled and tangled vine that snakes up the house. Last night's memory of coyotes in the front yard make for a night outside a little less appealing. I try one of the many useless keys and find I can get into the laundry room. Great. I have a tent and worst case, at least I have shelter and now.. tools.
My first attempt to readjust the security bars on my bedroom window proves to be fruitless when I discover I no longer have the hips of a 8 yr old. I try the bathroom window and take out the kitty screen. Yup. I still don't have the hips of a child. This isn't going to work. I'm wondering if anybody has noticed me walking around the house trying windows.
The raccoons are fighting and screeching for territory on the roof. Surely there can't possibly be anyone upstairs with all this racket. I go back to my bike and get my light off and go to the kitchen window. I knew you'd thrown my other set on the floor when you left. I had visions of finding them, finding a stick and somehow being able to cleverly catch them and reel the in like some kind of golden fish that would solve all my problems. I don't see them. Instead I see my apartment, the one that I'm not allowed in.
I get a bit desperate and figure if I can cut the lock that is securing my security grate over the open window, perhaps my 38 yr old hips will fit. What about my fat head though. I get some wire cutters to cut a lock. I'm grasping at chewed on straws, but sweet Jesus it works and the lock snaps. I swing the bar open and get a bench to stand on. With one foot in and then the other, I'm going in backwards and fully expect to knock every dish on the floor or get stuck and that I'm found in the early dawn by the coppers.
I'm able to slither through and land jubilantly in my apt to find that you put the keys down on the counter under the window- all within reaching distance the whole time. It was some kind of weird feeling that the entire time I panicked and cried and hand pangs of desperation, my little golden fish flopped into my boat and cocked it's stupid eye at me and said.. I told you so.
The return to the search for the magical instrument that will allow me refuge in a warm apt remains unfulfilled. It begins to dawn on me that I don't have my keys. Oh well, at least the landlord is home. The lights upstairs are on and I sheepishly knock on the door. More than once. I knock again a little louder. No luck. The only thing now keeping me warm are the tears rolling down my face.
At this point, slight desperation sets in and I try every key I have in the faint hope one of them will work. Panic develops when I realize I may be outside for the night. I ponder my options and realize I have no idea where the closest hotel may be. Is it that run down hole on Kingsway? Do I go back to work? Knock on the neighbors? Go to a friend's? Who?
I walk around to the back door and encounter 3 raccoons fighting for the fat red grapes hanging off the mangled and tangled vine that snakes up the house. Last night's memory of coyotes in the front yard make for a night outside a little less appealing. I try one of the many useless keys and find I can get into the laundry room. Great. I have a tent and worst case, at least I have shelter and now.. tools.
My first attempt to readjust the security bars on my bedroom window proves to be fruitless when I discover I no longer have the hips of a 8 yr old. I try the bathroom window and take out the kitty screen. Yup. I still don't have the hips of a child. This isn't going to work. I'm wondering if anybody has noticed me walking around the house trying windows.
The raccoons are fighting and screeching for territory on the roof. Surely there can't possibly be anyone upstairs with all this racket. I go back to my bike and get my light off and go to the kitchen window. I knew you'd thrown my other set on the floor when you left. I had visions of finding them, finding a stick and somehow being able to cleverly catch them and reel the in like some kind of golden fish that would solve all my problems. I don't see them. Instead I see my apartment, the one that I'm not allowed in.
I get a bit desperate and figure if I can cut the lock that is securing my security grate over the open window, perhaps my 38 yr old hips will fit. What about my fat head though. I get some wire cutters to cut a lock. I'm grasping at chewed on straws, but sweet Jesus it works and the lock snaps. I swing the bar open and get a bench to stand on. With one foot in and then the other, I'm going in backwards and fully expect to knock every dish on the floor or get stuck and that I'm found in the early dawn by the coppers.
I'm able to slither through and land jubilantly in my apt to find that you put the keys down on the counter under the window- all within reaching distance the whole time. It was some kind of weird feeling that the entire time I panicked and cried and hand pangs of desperation, my little golden fish flopped into my boat and cocked it's stupid eye at me and said.. I told you so.
Friday, September 25, 2009
1000th post
I've been busy. I've been pondering and procrastinating on what exactly the 1000th post on More Kisses Please should say. I want it to be fabulous and witty, but did I mention I've been busy.
All I ever wanted to say is the world and me needs more kisses. It's really hard being alive and having feelings and reading about all the horrible things happening down the street and across the world. It's hard being a girl. I suppose its hard to be a boy too. We're all a bit backwards in our pursuits of luxury and possessions.
So, my friends.. tell people you love them. Hug them and tell them they're pretty and lovely. We all need to hear it and for heaven's sake, give more kisses please.
Love Jill.
All I ever wanted to say is the world and me needs more kisses. It's really hard being alive and having feelings and reading about all the horrible things happening down the street and across the world. It's hard being a girl. I suppose its hard to be a boy too. We're all a bit backwards in our pursuits of luxury and possessions.
So, my friends.. tell people you love them. Hug them and tell them they're pretty and lovely. We all need to hear it and for heaven's sake, give more kisses please.
Love Jill.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Dirt River
Personally, in a very heartfelt way- I sincerely believe this is the best photograph I have ever taken. Its a painting.
I went all the way to Manitoba and all I got was 23 photos
I few weeks back, I went to Manitoba in search of my past. I didn't find it, but I did find 23 wonderful photos.
You can see the set here.
You can see the set here.
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