Wham-bam toodle-oo, bamboo, and pictures, too — part four

So it works now. I have this nifty “visual” toolbar in my WordPress “Write” screen, along with my “code” toolbar, and it makes it way easier to place photos in the post. No more hassling with pictures running off the screen, etc. Once I import the picture I’ve cropped elsewhere  I have a little box I grab and yank 7/8th of the way across the screen and release, shrinking the image once, then grab it again and release, and then a third time and — ouila! A photo that fits inside my post’s column!

It’s probably been this easy for all of you all along, huh?  It makes me wonder how many little doo-dads work differently for all of us, and we never know because we don’t see each others internal dashboards and work screens.

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Out of the Bamboonies — part three

New little pointy-headed shoots of bamboo are peeking up in new places both in and outside of our raised bed. Being a weekend gardener/warrior (spawn of Schwarzenegger and Martha Stewart?), I rip out what I can on a Sunday, then am gone for the work week, and come back the next weekend to raise pick and drive shovel again, discovering their escape efforts. It’s as if the underground bamboodly rhizomes see the carnage going on around them and holler, “Whoa, Mildred, time to hit the road!”

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Ka-WHUMP! Bark-bark-bark-bark!

Sometime shortly after 7 last night, we had finished dinner and were transitioning toward evening activities when we heard a loud “Ka-WHUMP!” from the street. We felt it, too, especially the dogs, who immediately adrenalized into watchdog action: “bark-bark-bark-bark!” and the alarm was sounded. Almost simultaneously, the sirens began.

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The root of the problem — part two

Bamboo stalks and leaves are easy enough to whack away and dispose of. It’s the rhizomes that wear you out.

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Bamboozled – part one

I am going to write to you about bamboo, and what is entailed in its removal. This is part of why I’ve been so delinquent recently. Or remiss, at least — time spent with pick and shovel more often leading to collapse in the easychair than tapping a keyboard.

But first, some happy news on the photo front.

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Bottling beer, Moody Blues, and patiently waiting to celebrate

My friend Dave came over to help me bottle this winter’s lager. It was good to catch up, and he had the amusing news that he had been to a rock concert for the first time in, well, years. The Moody Blues were in town. Yup, dinosaur rock. Someone had canceled in the 11th hour, and Dave answered the call. He said it was a trip — and there was no need for mind-altering chemicals to take it, either.

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Ikea Tugs Rug out from Under the Danes

A friend, who knows that a passel of my great-grandparents emigrated from Sweden, sent me this news story claiming a novel form of prejudice.

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the full-on cold-water blast on a hot afternoon

Long ago we played a game whereby one kid had the hose with the spray attachment and the other kid tried to capture the sprayer, as he was getting the full blast of cold water.

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Fletcher’s — All the colors in black and white

“I don’t care if people think differently about me because I’m black,” Lou said, half-turned on his barstool to face Murphy. “Hell, I don’t even care if they like me. They don’t have to like me.”

Murphy chuckled uneasily as the bar went quiet. Karen and Cindy had been talking but now looked over, and Emil who had been musing quietly looked up. Only Ron moved, methodically ringing up a charge and making change, but you had a sense he remained deliberate to maintain a certain calm.

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