Bring Me That Horizon

Welcome to jennyweber dot com


Home of Jenny the Pirate



This will go better if you

check your expectations at the door.


We're not big on logic

but there's no shortage of irony.


 Nice is different than good.


Oh and ...

I flunked charm school.

So what.

Can't write anything.

= Jennifer =

Causing considerable consternation
to many fine folk since 1957

Pepper and me ... Seattle 1962



Belay That!

This blog does not contain and its author will not condone profanity, crude language, or verbal abuse. Commenters, you are welcome to speak your mind but do not cuss or I will delete either the word or your entire comment, depending on my mood. Continued use of bad words or inappropriate sentiments will result in the offending individual being banned, after which they'll be obliged to walk the plank. Thankee for your understanding and compliance.

= Jenny the Pirate =

Hoist The Colors



Insist on yourself; never imitate.

Your own gift you can present

every moment

with the cumulative force

of a whole life’s cultivation;

but of the adopted talent of another

you have only an extemporaneous

half possession.

That which each can do best,

none but his Maker can teach him.

= Ralph Waldo Emerson =



The Black Velvet Coat

In The Market, As It Were






Columbia Cemetery

To read my articles, click HERE! And don't forget to subscribe.


Contributor to

American Cemetery

published by Kates-Boylston

A Pistol With One Shot

Ecstatically shooting everything in sight using my beloved Nikon D3100 with AF-S DX Nikkor 18-55mm 1:3.5-5.6G VR kit lens and AF-S Nikkor 50mm f/1.8 G prime lens.

Also capturing outrageous beauty left and right with my Nikon D7000 blissfully married to my Nikkor 85mm f/1.4D AF prime glass. Don't be jeal.

And then there was the Nikon AF-S DX NIKKOR 18-200mm f:3.5-5.6G ED VR II zoom. We're done here.

Dying Is A Day Worth Living For

I am a taphophile

Word. Photo Jennifer Weber 2010

Great things are happening at

Find A Grave

If you don't believe me, click the pics.


Dying is a wild night

and a new road.

Emily Dickinson



When I am gone

Please remember me

 As a heartfelt laugh,

 As a tenderness.

 Hold fast to the image of me

When my soul was on fire,

The light of love shining

Through my eyes.

Remember me when I was singing

And seemed to know my way.

Remember always

When we were together

And time stood still.

Remember most not what I did,

Or who I was;

Oh please remember me

For what I always desired to be:

A smile on the face of God.

David Robert Brooks



 Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.


Keep To The Code








You Want To Find This
The Promise Of Redemption

Therefore seeing we have this ministry, as we have received mercy, we faint not;

But have renounced the hidden things of dishonesty, not walking in craftiness, nor handling the word of God deceitfully; but by manifestation of the truth commending ourselves to every man's conscience in the sight of God.

But if our gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are lost:

In whom the god of this world hath blinded the minds of them which believe not, lest the light of the glorious gospel of Christ, who is the image of God, should shine unto them.

For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord; and ourselves your servants for Jesus' sake.

For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us.

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair;

Persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed;

Always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body.

For we which live are alway delivered unto death for Jesus' sake, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our mortal flesh.

So then death worketh in us, but life in you.

We having the same spirit of faith, according as it is written, I BELIEVED, AND THEREFORE HAVE I SPOKEN; we also believe, and therefore speak;

Knowing that he which raised up the Lord Jesus shall raise up us also by Jesus, and shall present us with you.

For all things are for your sakes, that the abundant grace might through the thanksgiving of many redound to the glory of God.

For which cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.

For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory;

While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.

II Corinthians 4

Freedom is a fragile thing and is never more than one generation away from extinction. It is not ours by inheritance; it must be fought for and defended constantly by each generation, for it comes only once to a people. Those who have known freedom and then lost it, have never known it again.

~ Ronald Reagan

Photo Jennifer Weber 2010

Not Without My Effects

My Compass Works Fine

The Courage Of Our Hearts




Daft Like Jack

 "I can name fingers and point names ..."

And We'll Sing It All The Time
  • Elements Series: Fire
    Elements Series: Fire
    by Peter Kater
  • Danny Wright Healer of Hearts
    Danny Wright Healer of Hearts
    by Danny Wright
  • Grace
    Old World Records
  • The Hymns Collection (2 Disc Set)
    The Hymns Collection (2 Disc Set)
    Stone Angel Music, Inc.
  • Always Near - A Romantic Collection
    Always Near - A Romantic Collection
    Real Music
  • Copia
    Temporary Residence Ltd.
  • The Poet: Romances for Cello
    The Poet: Romances for Cello
    Spring Hill Music
  • Nightfall
    Narada Productions, Inc.
  • Rachmaninoff plays Rachmaninoff
    Rachmaninoff plays Rachmaninoff
  • The Pity Party: A Mean-Spirited Diatribe Against Liberal Compassion
    The Pity Party: A Mean-Spirited Diatribe Against Liberal Compassion
    by William Voegeli
  • The Art of Memoir
    The Art of Memoir
    by Mary Karr
  • The Gorgeous Nothings: Emily Dickinson's Envelope Poems
    The Gorgeous Nothings: Emily Dickinson's Envelope Poems
    by Emily Dickinson
  • Among The Dead: My Years in The Port Mortuary
    Among The Dead: My Years in The Port Mortuary
    by John W. Harper
  • On Writing Well, 30th Anniversary Edition: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction
    On Writing Well, 30th Anniversary Edition: The Classic Guide to Writing Nonfiction
    by William Zinsser
  • Green Hell: How Environmentalists Plan to Control Your Life and What You Can Do to Stop Them
    Green Hell: How Environmentalists Plan to Control Your Life and What You Can Do to Stop Them
    by Steven Milloy
  • The Amateur
    The Amateur
    by Edward Klein
  • Hating Jesus: The American Left's War on Christianity
    Hating Jesus: The American Left's War on Christianity
    by Matt Barber, Paul Hair
  • In Praise of Stay-at-Home Moms
    In Praise of Stay-at-Home Moms
    by Dr. Laura Schlessinger
  • Where Are They Buried (Revised and Updated): How Did They Die? Fitting Ends and Final Resting Places of the Famous, Infamous, and Noteworthy
    Where Are They Buried (Revised and Updated): How Did They Die? Fitting Ends and Final Resting Places of the Famous, Infamous, and Noteworthy
    by Tod Benoit
  • Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies, and Jays
    Bird Brains: The Intelligence of Crows, Ravens, Magpies, and Jays
    by Candace Savage
  • Gifts of the Crow: How Perception, Emotion, and Thought Allow Smart Birds to Behave Like Humans
    Gifts of the Crow: How Perception, Emotion, and Thought Allow Smart Birds to Behave Like Humans
    by John Marzluff Ph.D., Tony Angell
  • Righteous Indignation: Excuse Me While I Save the World!
    Righteous Indignation: Excuse Me While I Save the World!
    by Andrew Breitbart
  • 11 Principles of a Reagan Conservative
    11 Principles of a Reagan Conservative
    by Paul Kengor
  • Mind of the Raven: Investigations and Adventures with Wolf-Birds
    Mind of the Raven: Investigations and Adventures with Wolf-Birds
    by Bernd Heinrich
  • Talking Heads: The Vent Haven Portraits
    Talking Heads: The Vent Haven Portraits
    by Matthew Rolston
  • Mortuary Confidential: Undertakers Spill the Dirt
    Mortuary Confidential: Undertakers Spill the Dirt
    by Todd Harra, Ken McKenzie
  • America's Steadfast Dream
    America's Steadfast Dream
    by E. Merrill Root
  • Good Dog, Carl : A Classic Board Book
    Good Dog, Carl : A Classic Board Book
    by Alexandra Day
  • Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation
    Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation
    by Lynne Truss
  • The American Way of Death Revisited
    The American Way of Death Revisited
    by Jessica Mitford
  • In Six Days : Why Fifty Scientists Choose to Believe in Creation
    In Six Days : Why Fifty Scientists Choose to Believe in Creation
    Master Books
  • Architects of Ruin: How big government liberals wrecked the global economy---and how they will do it again if no one stops them
    Architects of Ruin: How big government liberals wrecked the global economy---and how they will do it again if no one stops them
    by Peter Schweizer
  • Grave Influence: 21 Radicals and Their Worldviews That Rule America From the Grave
    Grave Influence: 21 Radicals and Their Worldviews That Rule America From the Grave
    by Brannon Howse
  • Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow: The Tragic Courtship and Marriage of Paul Laurence Dunbar and Alice Ruth Moore
    Lyrics of Sunshine and Shadow: The Tragic Courtship and Marriage of Paul Laurence Dunbar and Alice Ruth Moore
    by Eleanor Alexander
Easy On The Goods
  • Waiting for
    Waiting for "Superman"
    starring Geoffrey Canada, Michelle Rhee
  • The Catered Affair (Remastered)
    The Catered Affair (Remastered)
    starring Bette Davis, Ernest Borgnine, Debbie Reynolds, Barry Fitzgerald, Rod Taylor
  • Bernie
    starring Jack Black, Shirley MacLaine, Matthew McConaughey
  • Remember the Night
    Remember the Night
    starring Barbara Stanwyck, Fred MacMurray, Beulah Bondi, Elizabeth Patterson, Sterling Holloway
  • The Ox-Bow Incident
    The Ox-Bow Incident
    starring Henry Fonda, Dana Andrews, Mary Beth Hughes, Anthony Quinn, William Eythe
  • The Bad Seed
    The Bad Seed
    starring Nancy Kelly, Patty McCormack, Henry Jones, Eileen Heckart, Evelyn Varden
  • Shadow of a Doubt
    Shadow of a Doubt
    starring Teresa Wright, Joseph Cotten, Macdonald Carey, Patricia Collinge, Henry Travers
  • The More The Merrier
    The More The Merrier
    starring Jean Arthur, Joel McCrea, Charles Coburn, Bruce Bennett, Ann Savage
  • Act of Valor
    Act of Valor
    starring Alex Veadov, Roselyn Sanchez, Nestor Serrano
  • Deep Water
    Deep Water
    starring Tilda Swinton, Donald Crowhurst, Jean Badin, Clare Crowhurst, Simon Crowhurst
  • Sunset Boulevard
    Sunset Boulevard
    starring William Holden, Gloria Swanson, Erich Von Stroheim, Nancy Olson, Fred Clark
  • Penny Serenade
    Penny Serenade
    starring Cary Grant, Irene Dunne, Edgar Buchanan, Beulah Bondi
  • Double Indemnity
    Double Indemnity
    starring Fred MacMurray, Barbara Stanwyck, Edward G. Robinson, Porter Hall, Jean Heather
  • Ayn Rand and the Prophecy of Atlas Shrugged
    Ayn Rand and the Prophecy of Atlas Shrugged
    starring Gary Anthony Williams
  • Fat Sick & Nearly Dead
    Fat Sick & Nearly Dead
    Passion River
  • It Happened One Night (Remastered Black & White)
    It Happened One Night (Remastered Black & White)
    starring Clark Gable, Claudette Colbert
  • Stella Dallas
    Stella Dallas
    starring Barbara Stanwyck, John Boles, Anne Shirley, Barbara O'Neil, Alan Hale
  • The Iron Lady
    The Iron Lady
    starring Meryl Streep, Jim Broadbent, Harry Lloyd, Anthony Head, Alexandra Roach
  • Wallace & Gromit: The Complete Collection (4 Disc Set)
    Wallace & Gromit: The Complete Collection (4 Disc Set)
    starring Peter Sallis, Anne Reid, Sally Lindsay, Melissa Collier, Sarah Laborde
  • The Red Balloon (Released by Janus Films, in association with the Criterion Collection)
    The Red Balloon (Released by Janus Films, in association with the Criterion Collection)
    starring Red Balloon
  • Stalag 17 (Special Collector's Edition)
    Stalag 17 (Special Collector's Edition)
    starring William Holden, Don Taylor, Otto Preminger, Robert Strauss, Harvey Lembeck
  • The Major and the Minor (Universal Cinema Classics)
    The Major and the Minor (Universal Cinema Classics)
    starring Ginger Rogers, Ray Milland
  • My Dog Skip
    My Dog Skip
    starring Frankie Muniz, Diane Lane, Luke Wilson, Kevin Bacon
  • Sabrina
    starring Humphrey Bogart, Audrey Hepburn, William Holden, Walter Hampden, John Williams
  • The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer
    The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer
    starring Cary Grant, Myrna Loy, Shirley Temple, Rudy Vallee, Ray Collins
  • Pirates of the Caribbean - The Curse of the Black Pearl (Two-Disc Collector's Edition)
    Pirates of the Caribbean - The Curse of the Black Pearl (Two-Disc Collector's Edition)
    starring Johnny Depp, Geoffrey Rush, Orlando Bloom, Keira Knightley, Jack Davenport
  • Now, Voyager (Keepcase)
    Now, Voyager (Keepcase)
    starring Bette Davis, Paul Henreid, Claude Rains, Gladys Cooper, John Loder
  • The Trip To Bountiful
    The Trip To Bountiful
  • Hold Back the Dawn [DVD] Charles Boyer; Olivia de Havilland; Paulette Goddard
    Hold Back the Dawn [DVD] Charles Boyer; Olivia de Havilland; Paulette Goddard
That Dog Is Never Going To Move



Columbia's Finest Chihuahua

Simple. Easy To Remember.

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One Word, Luv: Curiosity


Luvvys gonna love

It was one of those things that happen when you're not expecting anything to happen.

Much less what happened.

Good grief, you may be thinking. What on earth happened?

It won't seem like a big thing to you. But then, you weren't there.

Allow me to elaborate.

A couple of weeks ago Dagny and I were out back by the pool with several other family members. The two of us were sitting on the new black swing in some early-fall, late-afternoon shade.

As we swayed, she was mentioning her notice of avian activity in the area.

Saaaaaa birdie, she said. Pointing up for emphasis.

The wingy things flitted and perched and called and twittered, happy in the sky and in the branches of the tall pines and especially the big oak.

Then my own little thing turned to me. I glanced down at her. She looked straight into my eyes.

You want a kiss? she asked, matter-of-factly. With no warning or preamble and within no particular context. I'd give anything if you could have seen her face.

(And heard her voice. She has a southern drawl; "kiss" is two syllables mashed into one. Keeyus.)

I said I sure would.

Dagny neither puckers nor smacks. She simply lifts her face, lips parted. Her kisses are so brief, you have to be paying attention or you'll later think you imagined it.

No more than a whisper-touch. But so sweet, too much would be almost unbearable.

We settled back and swayed a time or two more. She looked up at me again.

You want a hug? she said. Like, to go with that?

It happened pretty fast but my eyes had a chance to mist. I said yes.

Up drifted her tiny white arms. Like her kisses, her hugs at such times are minimalist, sometimes barely qualifying as an actual embrace.

(When in extremis, she clings and can become quite the barnacle. In non-alarming times, she's much more casual.)

But Dagny's pretty squared away in the display-of-affection department. She knows to put her hands around your neck and bend her head so as to ensure hug-like pressure from her cloud-soft cheek to yours.

That was it. That's what happened.

I hope you won't accuse me of hyperbole when I say, it was a profound experience. It was only later, after Dagny had gone home, that I realized how profound.

While drifting off to sleep that night, I relived it. A few tears of joy may have dropped onto my pillow. Much like the ones in my eyes right now. And I knew I would never forget Dagny's two questions, and that I wouldn't trade the memory for any amount of money, or even for more time in which to remember.

So that's pretty much it.

But in perilous times when so much is at stake; when there is so much to be gained and so much to be lost hinging on the actions of so few, so soon; when merely cruising by a news channel for less time than it takes for a Dagny kiss makes you feel as though you require not just a shower, but to be hosed down with industrial-strength antiseptic, it's memorable to encounter innocence.

And it's necessary to remember every day as we encounter the mercy and grace of God, Who blesses us as Americans with more peace and freedom before breakfast than many people of the world experience in their entire lives, that in this very moment and a few critical moments to come, there is a great deal to be fought for.

And a whole lot to be fought against. Don't forget that part.

I love to sit on my front porch, which gives me a lofty remove from the street, and watch the cars go by. There aren't many; ours is a quiet neighborhood for one so large.

The boughs of the just-orange-yellow-reddening oak sigh while acorns pop off by the handfuls and dive-bomb the roof. The hummingbird feeder hangs still and ruby-like, no tiny beaks nosing around. Although we're having Indian Summer, the hummers have all gone for this year.

When I'm expecting one or more of the children to arrive for a visit or a meal, I watch as each car approaches around the bend for the make and model I recognize.

I thrill to see the gray Honda with the pink backseat front-facing car seat containing the only grandchild (of four) that I get to see enough of. The other three, I'm forced to miss most of the time although they are never far from my mind and always in my heart.

Audrey tells me that Dagny has taken to saying Hi dawling, when they come around the bend and she sees me waving from the porch.

That's because when she walks through our door, often the first thing I say is Hi, darling!

Unless I call her by one of her other many pet appellations: Sugar, Sugarlips, Little Love, Angel Heart, Sweet Thing, Punkin' Girl, Peanut, Precious Beautiful, et cetera. You get it.

Or I just say, Hey Luvvy.

Because when it comes to these little ones, the little ones with the great big hearts, the ones so as-yet unravaged by the things that will one day inevitably hurt them, that's what it's all about. Just love.

And that is what I wish you today.

And that is all for now.


Happy Tuesday


Shot? Not.

Yesterday morning TG taught our adult Sunday School class.

He occasionally performs that office for our pastor.

His lesson had to do with essential things to teach your children, or, if they are gone from the home, your grandchildren or any young people who may come under your sphere of influence.

Two of the things he stressed were the importance of learning respect for God-ordained authority, and being taught a solid work ethic.

I had to chuckle because our son, Andrew, age twenty-seven, was sitting beside me.

Andrew is one of the hardest-working people I have ever known. I'm not sure anyone could keep up with him, although I admit my girls are diligent workers too.

Eight days a week. There's not a slacker -- or a tattoo -- among them.

Their dad and I have been known to deliver an honest day's work for a day's pay as well.

And we did teach our children the concept of God-ordained authority -- starting with us as their parents -- and the necessity of having and demonstrating respect for authority throughout one's life.

So why did I chuckle during the Sunday School lesson? You may be wondering.

Because when Andrew arrived and slid into the pew beside me that morning, he had an announcement.

I got pulled over on the way to church, he said. And I didn't get shot.

Well, many in today's ultra-whiny race-baiting society may say. That's because you're white.

No. It's not because he's white.

It's because he stayed in his vehicle and did exactly as the law enforcement officer told him. And then some.

Then some?


You see, Andrew carries concealed. Legally. As in, he was armed.

I first asked why he was pulled over. Speeding?

No. He changed lanes in the middle of an intersection. That's a no-no. A moving violation, as it were. A ticketable offense.

I wanted to know how he handled the whole thing, in light of the fact that he was packing heat.

He told me that first, upon pulling over and stopping, he rolled all of the windows down in the F-150 pickup.

Then, he said, he put both hands high on the steering wheel.

When the officer appeared at the driver's side window, Andrew said, Officer, I'm armed.

He lifted his elbows. The policeman peered in and got a visual on Andrew's holstered Glock. His eyes scanned the rest of the vehicle's interior.

That's fine, he said. Just don't reach for it. Then: Where are you headed?

To church, said Andrew.

You should know at this point, when Andrew is bound for -- or at -- either work or church, he strongly resembles an FBI or Secret Service agent. He's lean and fit. Dressed in a sharp suit and tie. American flag lapel pin. Clean shaven. Regulation haircut. 

All that's missing is the telltale earpiece and wire. Plus he doesn't talk into his wristwatch. That I know of.

The outcome? Andrew was dismissed with a warning. No shots were fired.

But then, he didn't exit the vehicle. He didn't give the officer any guff or disrespect. He didn't hold the loaded weapon in his hand. He didn't walk backwards or forwards or sideways or any way. He remained in the driver's seat with his empty hands in plain sight.

No matter what color his skin, I promise you that if my son had gotten out of the truck and walked towards that police officer armed with a loaded gun -- in his hand or not -- and refused to obey direct orders, the chances would have increased exponentially -- and quickly -- of his being stopped with deadly force.

I don't suggest that every single time an officer ever shoots a person on the side of the road or in a parking lot or an alley, that it's one hundred percent justified.

I do say that unless you were there -- and sometimes even if you saw a video -- you don't know exactly what went down.

And I do say that the average person who gets up every morning, takes a shower, dresses, goes to work, declines to break laws, minds his own business, and, when confronted by an officer of the law for any reason whatsoever, does exactly as he is told, is not going to get shot.

And I would like to say that all of those who believe people get shot by law enforcement just because they're black and for no other reason, were probably not taught the simple things my husband outlined in his Sunday School lesson.

More's the pity.

Work hard. Every day. Obey God-ordained authority. Every time.

Although truth is stranger than fiction and I admit that on any given day anything can happen, if you observe those rules, the probability is higher than you likely need it to be that you won't get shot by a cop.

And that is all for now.


Happy Monday


Black Dresses Matter

For Dagny's second birthday in June, I was determined to buy her a closetful of at least one little black dress.

So I began clicking and faster than you can say Coco Chanel, I found the little-little black dress shop.

Booyah. I ordered two.

Dress one is sleeveless with an empire waist, tiered skirt, and a rosette at the shoulder. It is made of the tiniest baby-wale corduroy I've ever seen.

Erica promptly made a pearl necklace for Dagny to wear with the dress.

We popped the glamourous garment on our Dag and right away she knew it was special.

She didn't have to be told to pose.

Dagny is comfortable in front of the camera.

Even so, she surprised me that day.

Normally she's exceptionally buoyant and giddy.

But when she put on the LBD and was placed barefoot on an armless velvet loveseat, she began to emote.

As we moved her from one spot to another, she seemed to become more, rather than less, contemplative.

And although there was plenty of laughter throughout (as well as some frustration because I never feel I'm getting the shot I really want), I'll remember it as a shoot of Dagny being uncharacteristically serious.

Serious about wearing black? She must be my granddaughter. Work it, girl.

Because black dresses matter.

And that is all for now.


Happy Wednesday


Looking good

So I'm bopping along in the grocery store last week.

I had a list. No snack cakes were on my list.

Perhaps I should explain.

In my kitchen is a large jar. It is meant to hold treats for all and sundry who may be in my kitchen and be in need of a treat.

However, since we were so busy all summer (more on that later), the jar has been empty for weeks.

It was like, if you're dropping by, best BYOT. Bring Your Own Treat. There was plenty of cold water on hand with which to wash your brown-bag treat down.

But with autumn looming and summer's dust settling, I got all snack-cakey again.

One day I trolled the Little Debbie section looking for pumpkin-type cakes. None were evident, so Star Crunch and Zebra Brownies were purchased and appeared in the jar.

The Zebra Brownies went over like a ham sandwich in a synagogue. I ate one and had nightmares for a week.

Andrew took one bite and threw the rest away. They are truly horrible. Do not go there.

Somehow only three two-packs remained and when I saw my grandchildren a few days ago, I gave them each one. I warned them of the disgusting nature of the Zebra Brownies but they appeared unfazed.

Ah, youth.

So anyway, I was waiting for Little Debbie to come out with some fall-inspired cakes. On the day in question, however, snack cakes were not on my radar.

Then, as I strolled by the cookie and cracker aisle -- having no need to turn therein -- a pretty lady accosted me.

Her anxiety was apparent. Do you know where the Rice Krispies Treats are? She asked, grabbing the handle of my grocery cart as if I might try to get away.

No, I said -- I was bewildered and I'll tell you why in a sec -- Maybe in the cookie and cracker aisle?

She gestured helplessly behind her. No, she said. I just looked there!

Then, maybe with the Little Debbie cakes? I suggested.

(Because as you may well be aware, at Walmart the Little Debbie cakes are not on the cookie and cracker aisle. For some reason known only to the Lord, they are across from the pickles.)

But back to my bewilderment. I had actually been thinking about Rice Krispies Treats very recently.

I thought you had to make them. It has been twenty years since I made Rice Krispies Treats. In my opinion they are too much sticky back-breaking work for the payoff.

But -- you can buy them ready-made? The revelation was like a lightning bolt.

I looked at my frantic fellow shopper. I didn't even know you could buy Rice Krispies Treats at the store, I revealed, hoping for more information.

Oh yes! They come in a box! She assured me, then ranted: I have a little old lady friend in a nursing home and she is craving them!

The look in her eye was wild as she released my cart and turned away.

The vision of an elderly person wanting some simple treat they could not have tortured me. Someone had asked for my help. I was eager to serve my fellow man.

Plus I had a sudden burning need to know where Walmart kept the Rice Krispies Treats.

Thus I trotted to the Little Debbie section and quickly scanned the shelves. Nothing remotely resembling a Rice Krispies Treat resided there.

A brilliant thought struck me: The bakery! Sometimes there are snack-type treats on shelves in the bakery section. By the bread and bagels and buns.

I high-tailed it over there and ... bingo! Rice Krispies Treats! They were in a sort of cardboard tray rather than a proper box. Cellophane covered them. They were huge squares. My mouth watered.

I popped two packages of those babies in my cart and began searching for the desperate shopper who had wisely sought my assistance.

It took awhile but I was determined and eventually I saw her, approximately ten grocery-cart-lengths away. I began waving a package of the Rice Krispies Treats. 

Did you find them? I hollered. And even as I did, I spotted the iconic blue box in her cart. It looked like a box of Rice Krispies cereal -- silly-hatted Snap Crackle and Pop characters and all -- but it was an unfamiliar size.

My new friend lit up. Yes! she replied, and pointed. By then I was alongside her cart. The bigger-than-a-breadbox carton of Original Rice Krispies Treats took up a significant amount of room in the bottom.

They were in the cereal aisle! She pointed behind her because as it turns out, that's where we were. My little old lady in the nursing home will be so happy! These will last her a long time!

Indeed, the box seemed to be at least a 54-count. Secretly I prayed her friend would live long enough to savor every last errant crumb of gooey Rice Krispies Treat.

I declined to show the happy lady the cellophane-wrapped Rice Krispies Treats I'd found in the bakery section. It was clear I'd gotten it all wrong.

We said our fond happy goodbyes.

I wandered down the cereal aisle, wanting to appear casual but in fact, dead serious. I was looking for the name-brand ready-made Rice Krispies Treats. The kind that, six or seven minutes previously, I had not even known existed.

And I found them! Original and Cocoa Krispies kinds!

Yes. I bought both. Turns out they don't exactly taste like the ones you make but, like most highly-processed snack foods, the more you choke down, the more they grow on you.

And it's so easy. Simply tear off the wrapper and get ready for a primo sugar rush accompanied by a dash of blink-or-you'll-miss-it nostalgia.

The shiny blue-and-brown-wrapped Rice Krispies Treats filled my snack jar, to the surprise and delight of all who spied them there. There were so many bars, they wouldn't all fit. I had to stash some in the cupboard.

Those quickly filled space in the jar as the level of Rice Krispies Treats went down. Soon the jar will be empty. But not to worry. As my TG is fond of saying: There's more at the store.

Speaking of which: Little Debbie has come out with Pumpkin Delights and Fall Party Cakes. In addition to both flavors of Rice Krispies Treats, those got bought and dumped into the jar too, to keep brief company with a few leftover Star Crunch.

Prompting my sincere sentiment to you as we teeter on the brink of the Fall Equinox: If Little Debbie Fall Party Cakes come, can Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cakes be far behind?

I think not.

And that is all for now.


Happy Monday :: Happy Week


Save it for a rainy day

Yesterday, right on cue, the first acorns fell from the oak, hitting the roof like little grenades.

September first. Mmmmmm September. Next comes October, then November, then ...

Well. You know. My four faves, month-wise.

And today? Tropical Storm Hermine has made her presence known in a damp and determined way.

She's a gutsy lady. And loud. The rain has been drumming down for hours.

Tomorrow, sunshine and highs in the eighties are once again in the forecast.

I'm pretty sure the withering humidity is invited too.

We'll proceed with our Labor Day plans as usual. Maybe one last swim before autumn.

And that is all for now.


Happy Friday :: Happy Weekend :: Happy Labor Day


Happy FriDag


Happy Weekend


Thank you Miss Mari

Several weeks ago I left a comment on a blog I've followed for a long time: My Little Corner of the World. Mari had been asked to review a children's book.

I was incredulous when as a consequence of leaving the comment on that particular post, I won a copy of the book.

I don't normally win stuff. It's not that I'm unlucky; I'm just relatively uneventful.

Anyway. The title of the book is Would a Worm Go on a Walk? 

Naturally I was excited, since I have Dagny to read to, although at age two and generally so active she'd make a worm in hot ashes appear stationary, she isn't exactly capable of sitting through a whole story.

Peppa Pig videos keep her glued to the spot; books, not so much. Yet.

Next week Allissa will be visiting and I'm pretty sure her compelling storytelling skills will hold Dagny longer than mine ever could.

But Dagny loves to climb the stairs to the landing where the book is on display in a bookcase. We take the dust jacket off so she won't tear it, and she lugs the book around.

The message of the story is sweet, all the more so because it glorifies God our Creator. The illustrations are darling and inspire Dagny to babble happily as she turns the pages.

I was glad to learn that the author, Hannah Hall, has written several books. I plan to buy more of her titles for my grandchildren.

Meanwhile, thanks again, Miss Mari. From Dagny and from me too.

And that is all for now.


Happy Friday :: Happy Weekend


Cake drop

Henry turned eighty-four on eight-four. Henry's been married to my mother for over thirty-three years. He's a family treasure so when it's time to fete him, we do it up right.

It was a week ago Saturday and I'd planned a pretty good meal topped off by a store-bought chocolate cake.

Melanie was with us for a few days and she helped me do the shopping and pick out the dessert.

We were also drawn to these cute drinking glasses -- real glass -- in that most marvelous of colors, teal, with darling red tops and happy striped straws. I told Melly to put them in our basket.

Look at that butterfly! I mean, it's a one-way ticket to Cutesville. Am I right? We served two flavors of lemonade with the meal.

Afterwards, when it was time to slice the cake, Henry patiently posed for the OBP: Official Birthday Portrait.

I don't know why he didn't exactly smile there because Henry's a pretty easy-going fellow.

Anyway what you need to know is, right after I took this series of pictures, I picked up the cake stand and walked with it to the other end of the table where the serving tool and the party plates were.

You see that gold cardboard disc the cake is sitting on? The one that came right out of the clear plastic carrier that came from the store?

Well. As I was walking, it slid off my cake stand. And the cake went right along with it.

By the time I realized what had happened, everyone was pretty much laughing at me.

But you won't believe: The cake fell straight down to the floor on that cardboard disc and didn't flip over or anything.

In other words, none of it touched my (very clean) floor.

It was only slightly the worse for wear in that some of the icing had been jolted from the sides.

While Audrey and Andrew cleaned chocolate frosting off the floor, I served the cake. It wore a bewildered, somewhat indignant, faintly porcine expression.

But we ate it and all pronounced it good. No harm, no foul.

Meanwhile back before that little confection-centric drama, Henry had smiled when he switched the order of his candles.

When you get to be a certain age, sometimes you can do that and it comes out in your favor.

Let that sink in. Join me in wishing Henry a Happy Birthday and many more. And don't forget to smile.


Happy Wednesday