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

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
The Courage Of Our Hearts




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


Not to brag, but ...

... he went to Jared.

I am pretty crazy about Pandora cubic zirconia jewelry.

The quality and beauty are abundant and the pieces are affordable.

Errybody wins!

I hope your day is just as beautiful.


Happy Tuesday :: Happy Valentine's Day


Dag Dagged and a Dot

Last Sunday I was sick so, instead of being in church with my family, I was at home.

Therefore I didn't take the above picture; Audrey took it, with her iPhone.

Dagny was at her sartorial best that day. She's ever a fashionista but sometimes even she can kick it up a notch.

The dress has a faux-fur skirt and matching trim down the front. Dag was happy to model between Sunday School and the main service, beside the pew where we sit.

Yes; we hug the right-hand side of the sanctuary. Webers always go toward the right.

I didn't say we are always right; I said we go right. There's a difference but at the same time, the more you go toward the right, the more right you'll be.

At any rate, TG came home that day describing how Dagny had upped the toddler fashion stakes, true to form, and that Audrey had taken a few photos.

I quickly texted Audrey and asked her to send me said pics so that I could monkey with them.

After playing around with the pictures for a while, I decided to Daguerreotype the Dagginator, including adding a vintage-type frame.

I like the otherworldly spin the mercury-vaporish Daguerreotype editing feature puts on modern photos.

Turns out Dagny had been photographed by her mother before church too, in their back yard where there is a glut of pine cones and pine needles.

The sun was streaming down and Dagny, as is her wont, was loving life.

So I Dagged that photo of Dag too. Isn't she something?

Meanwhile, I don't suppose I've told you this yet but TG got me an Echo Dot for Christmas. 

I therefore have Alexa now, to use as an egg timer and to ask to play random songs for me, and to put various questions to, such as, Alexa, who won the 2016 World Series?

Because I like to hear her say: Chicago Cubs won the World Series in Two Thousand Sixteen.

I never get tired of that.

Or I can say Alexa, play Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto Number Two.

And she will. It's amazing.

Audrey has a new Echo Dot too, a Christmas gift from one of her siblings. Dagny, a quick study, has learned to engage Alexa.

At first Dag had difficulty because she thought we were calling Alexa Allissa, the name of one of Dag's cousins.

Alexa does not respond to being called Allissa.

But Dagny soon learned how to put the "X" into Allissa and get Alexa, and now she approaches the Dot with confidence.

Alexa! She'll say (always loudly, as though Alexa is hard of hearing).

The Dot lights up all blue and green around its rim, signaling that Alexa is listening.

Good Morning! Dagny semi-shouts.

And Alexa, in her calm, measured AI voice, recites her factoid(s) of the day corresponding to This Date In History.

But I don't know what Dagny said to Alexa the other morning, when, as it happens, Dagny had spent the night with us and I was in the kitchen making her breakfast oatmeal.

I heard strains of Mozart coming from the family room. Dagny wandered into the kitchen as if she's always accompanied by Mozart.

We will never know what was said to induce Alexa to go classical. But the music was beautiful.

Later we went outside, where it was also exceptionally beautiful. I did take this picture, with my own iPhone. Dagny never tires of pitching pine cones over the retaining wall.

Rizzo was over there rooting around for acorns, and I'm pretty sure she was trying to get his attention.

It's those simple pleasures that mean the most.

And that is all for now.


Happy Saturday :: Happy February


The dog days of winter

I promised to share with you how we came to acquire Rizzo.

It's a charming story.

When Javier died last April, I said what lots of recently-bereaved dog owners say: I'll never have another dog. Never. It hurts too much when they die.

But then weeks and months go by, and the dog-longing begins with just missing so much their sweet presence beside you in the chair. Missing their little puppy ways and cute antics. Not to mention their unconditional love.

Kind of like when a sleep-deprived new mother thinks, I can never do this again! But then, in practically no time, she's struck with baby hunger.

Naturally the longing is offset -- for a while, at least -- by the freedom from responsibility.

No dog means never having to worry about whether he's inside or outside, if it's time to take him on walkies, the possibility he'll pick up fleas, giving him baths and clipping his nails, getting his shots updated, how far to go (read: how much to spend) when he needs medical care, and does he really like his new sweater or is he just enduring it?

You know. Things like that. And on and on.

At any rate, and all of the above notwithstanding, three-or-so weeks ago I became afflicted with a serious craving to obtain a new dog. It wasn't the first time, but it was by far the worst time.

I told TG. Lie down until the impulse goes away, was his sage advice.

But he said it with a twinkle and I knew if I went through with it, he would like a new dog as much as me. (I don't mean he'd like the new dog as much as he likes me; I mean he'd like the new dog as much as I would like the new dog.)

A breed we've both admired for years is the Dachshund. I know all of the problems inherent with the breed; trust me. I do. But they're adorable and besides, I was more or less fixated on getting a miniature.

So I began my online research about breeders of miniature doxies in South Carolina and Georgia.

What did I learn? Well. First I learned that a purebred miniature dachshund from a reputable breeder can cost anywhere from nine hundred to twenty-five hundred dollars. 

And up.

Okay. That wasn't exactly within my budget -- you'll learn what that was, later -- but I kept looking and even put out a few inquiries and talked to one or two breeders who had puppies available from new litters.

I spent most of an entire rainy day working on it and went to bed dreaming of soft brown eyes and scritching warm little ears and practically imagining I smelled a whiff of puppy breath. The whole canine yards.

And then I woke up the next morning. It was that extremely cold Saturday we had recently. There was even a dusting of snow.

As I made my coffee I was chuckling inwardly. A DOG? Whatever had I been thinking? Silly idea. Forget it. Or at least table it.

I told TG that he could stop worrying about my having contracted dog fever. He pointed out that at any rate there was no need to rush. You can pick out a dog any time, he said.

I agreed. There are always dogs in need of loving owners. TG left to run errands. I settled in to drink coffee and look at more dogs on the Internet.


And so it was that I stumbled -- I use that word because I have no memory of how I arrived at it -- upon a website that featured dogs in dire need of rescuing. It was one of the dog services outfits in Columbia. One I'd never heard of.

The site said each dog cost seventy-three dollars. Cats were sixty-eight. Idly, while sipping, I scrolled through pictures. And I came to this:

There was a short bio. His name was Stevie. He was a Chihuahua mix, about a year old, and housebroken.

I was ninety-nine percent sure this was my dog. Forget waiting. Waiting is for sissies. I called the number.

The lady who answered was so nice. I asked how they knew Stevie was housebroken. She said the folks who had brought him in to the shelter had found him on the side of the road. They'd kept him for two weeks and reported that he was polite about asking when he needed to go outside.

After learning what time the shelter closed that day, I said thank you and hung up. We had just enough time if we left within the hour. But wait! Was there any need to rush? I mean, was it a life and death situation?

I called back. A different but no less nice lady answered. I asked if, in the event I did not come out that day and claim Stevie, there was any chance he would be euthanized (I wasn't sure they weren't the dog pound).

Oh no. No, no, no, no. Certainly not, she assured me. And they were closed the next day -- Sunday. Chances were pretty good Stevie would still be up for adoption on Monday.

But I had to see Stevie that day. And so we went. The nice ladies told me where to find him -- down a hall and to the left, open the heavy door, look for cage number thirteen.

I'm sure they're doing the best they can with what they've got, but it was awful back there. Cold, dark, cramped, and most unfortunate-smelling.

We found cage number thirteen -- a six-by-six concrete space with a chain-link gate and a steel slide-up doggy door leading outside. Stevie came through that door just as we approached. Another small dog -- Waffles, according to the sign -- also occupied the tiny cell.

I opened the gate. Waffles wandered out. TG caught him and put him back, and picked up Stevie. He handed Stevie to me and I took him in my arms and we left that terrible place and went out to the Get Acquainted Area. They had given me a lead for him and I took him outside for a two-minute walk.

I picked him up and carried him back inside. I looked at TG, who only smiled. I went to the desk where one of the nice ladies looked at me. Yes? she said.

Yes, I said.

That will be thirty-five dollars, she said. 


THAT was my budget. (Turns out there was a special on Stevies that day.) I grabbed my wallet and handed her a fifty (yes; my wallet is stuffed with fifties) before she changed her mind.

Stevie -- who by the way is half Chihuahua and half Dachshund, or a Chiweenie -- came with recent neuter surgery (December 28th), all of his shots for a full year, and a microchip. He'd been tested for heart worms (negative) and they sold me a year's worth of medication to keep him that way, for only thirty-eight additional dollars.

A few technicalities later, Stevie was mine. I held him all the way home. He seemed a tiny bit scared but not enough that he cried. We stopped at the pet store to buy him some supplies, including soothing oatmeal shampoo, kibble, a crate, a leash with matching harness, food and water dishes, and a chew toy.

At home he got a bath and we settled in to snuggle. Erica came over to meet Stevie, who by that time had been renamed Rizzo. (First Baseman for the Cubs, my favorite player on my favorite team. Our previous dog, Javier "Javy," had been named by the kids after the Atlanta Braves Catcher.)

He really is housebroken. Rizzo's worst flaw -- other than, mostly he refuses to come when called -- is that he seems to think he's a squirrel. As in, he incessantly nibbles on acorns to the point that the back deck was becoming heavily littered with shells. 

TG and I performed an intense acorn clean-up as they are toxic to dogs. But if there is an acorn out there, Rizzo will find it. He begs to go outside for that very reason, but mostly I watch him carefully so as to save him from himself.

Rizzo is everything I dreamed of in a new dog. He's young enough to still be cute like a puppy, but old enough to enjoy lots of cuddling and long naps and getting massaged and nibbling at my fingers while we watch TV and just in general being there to love on and play with.

He sleeps all night in his crate without complaint. He's clever about moving the baby gate so we do have to be creative with that when going out and leaving him alone, so that he's confined to the kitchen.

I have a dog. I love my adorable thirty-five-dollar dog. I wish everyone a dog as precious as my darling Chiweenie, Rizzo.

And that is all for now.


Happy Tuesdog


Make America Great Again

Years ago I acquired a book entitled The Lüscher Color Test.

Within the book are eight small oblongs of cardboard, each a different color.

What you do is, you line up the pieces of variously-colored cardboard and you look at them. Then you begin choosing the colors in the order in which they appeal to you.

You can't spend too much time fretting about the actual shades of the colors. They're not what you might expect. No matter; they are what they are.

The idea is to simply and honestly choose the eight colors and line them up in the order in which you like them, from best to least. Someone (maybe even you) makes careful notes of your selections (the cards are numbered on the back).

Then you do it a second time, without attempting to consciously make the identical selections you made the first time. Again, notes are made of your picks in correct order.

At the end of all this, either you or a friend can consult the part of the book that is designed to explain what your selections mean.

Because yes; they mean something. Turns out (if you buy into the whole thing, and I do), they mean a lot. It's actually an intensely revealing psychological test, not just a parlor game.

That's all I'll tell you about the Lüscher Color Test. If you want to know more, buy the book and have fun.

The reason I'm conveying all of this to you today is this:

The test's author, Dr. Max Lüscher, insists that the colors you reject are every bit as important as those you accept.

In other words, just as much can be read into the color(s) you pick last, as the one(s) you pick first.

Here's the takeaway.

On election day I rejected a candidate to exactly the same degree that I selected one. In fact, I would have voted for just about anyone rather than cast a vote for Hillary Clinton.

I would've let my hand wither and drop from my arm before doing that.

But that doesn't mean I was firmly aboard the Trump Train at that time. I had my reservations -- as in, some nagging doubts that this unpredictable, unscripted man was the best choice to be the forty-fifth President of the United States.

But no one else presented themselves as a better choice, and I was adamantly, vehemently #NeverHillary.

Besides, there's something appealing about a politically-incorrect loose cannon. To me, anyway.

And it's not as though anyone expected him to win.

During the tumultuous election cycle, my TG (a Cruz man until that dream went by the wayside) made a wise observation:

Let's say you have a dozen eggs. Six are rotten and six are cracked. You can do nothing with rotten eggs, but you can do any number of positive things with cracked eggs.

Cakes and omelets come to mind.

Mr. Trump may be slightly cracked, but Hillary Clinton is rotten. It's practically her middle name. She's all the rotten eggs. There's not one thing you can do except throw her out.

I've grown to love Donald Trump. It happened before the election; I was so thrilled on election night, I could not sleep. I could not stop rejoicing and no, it wasn't only because it wouldn't be Hillary. It was because it would be Mr. Trump.

My doubts were gone, and for all his faults, they remain a thing of the past.

Looking back, I believe the turning point for me began with listening, riveted, to Mr. Trump's seventy-five-minute speech at the Republican National Convention in July, during which he graciously accepted his party's nomination.

Here is one minute of it:

When he said I am your voice, I felt both elated and grateful. Finally. Finally I may have a President who speaks for me. It had been a long, long time since I felt that way.

My elation has sustained itself and it has grown. Today I will be watching every moment of the inauguration. Tonight, we are having a party with family and friends, to celebrate.

I'll wear my Trump tshirt and my two commemorative buttons.

All day (and every day) I will be praying for Mr. Trump, for his safety, for those who work so hard to ensure he is kept safe, and for his family.

Most of all, I will pray for America, that the destruction of the past eight years may by God's grace be reversed, and that our beloved country will truly be made great again.

As President Trump says: Greater than she has ever been before.

And that is all for now.


Happy Friday :: Happy Inauguration :: God Bless America


New year. New day. New dog.

Meet Rizzo the Chiweenie.

I'll tell you all about how he came to be ours, next week.

And that is all for now.


Happy Friday :: Happy Weekend


With this I leave you

No; I'm not discontinuing my blog.

You should be so fortunate. Relax. I've lots more to say.

I just mean, this is it for Twenty Sixteen.

Also it's about leaves.

As in, a week or so ago, on a chilly rainy morning in which I had very little to do and all day in which to accomplish it, I was sitting in my quiet house.

I was reading. And enjoying the quiet, and the softly twinkling tree, and it being Christmas.

Let's pull over and park here for a mo.

Among my favorite things (year round) is this simple concept: Silence.

When I'm alone, that is. When folks are around, I more or less enjoy the noise they generate.

Not always, but most of the time.

But when I'm home alone, unless I'm listening to music or watching something, I love the quiet.

So it was that I became vexed when, without warning, the morning rainy quiet was pierced by the loud, insistent whine of some sort of lawn equipment. Outside.

Like, a leaf blower. That's what came to mind, once you got over the feeling that a giant insect had happened into the area.

I couldn't see anything; I was downstairs, in the back of the house. I could only hear it.

But our neighborhood is large, with large-ish yards, and there are trillions of leaves.

So the sound of leaf-blowing is anything but unusual, except, it was raining.

Normally one does not do yard work of any kind in the rain.

And so I was annoyed.

But I managed to settle down and after an hour or so, I barely noticed the loud whine of the leaf-blowing (or whatever it was) apparatus disturbing the peace out of doors.

I didn't even go to the window or door, to look, to figure out which neighbor to be mad at.

Until at one point around noon, I did go to the door. I opened it.

And guess where the leaf blowing was taking place? You guessed it: In my yard.

Now, we have an extra-large front yard and it is dominated by a massive White Oak. There are lots of leaves. Lots and lots and lots of leaves.

TG and Andrew and Joel had worked on leaf removal (phase one) at Thanksgiving. When they were finished, the lawn was fairly pristine and leafless. Leaves had been blown from the roof and out of the gutters.

And sixty percent of the leaves were still on the tree.

So then later, a few weeks ago, TG did phase two. By himself.

When he was finished, the roof, the porch, our many steps, the driveway, the front walk, and roughly one-sixteenth of the yard was visible. The rest was still nothing but leaves.

Many of the leaves had been blown and pushed into a long wide pile just beyond the front walk. Past the long wide pile was a single layer of leaves still covering ninety percent of the remainder of the lawn.

Then TG had to leave it because he was too tired to do the rest.

And now my eyes beheld total strangers struggling to load a tarp full of wet leaves from my yard, into a work truck near the road.

Another truck -- a pickup -- sat in my driveway. A person unknown to me was blowing leaves in the side yard.

I quickly closed the door. They were at the wrong house! A leaf-removal crew was removing leaves from the wrong yard! And they'd expect me to pay them when they were finished!

A deciduous sort of panic ensued since I knew I hadn't been the one to arrange for leaf removal, and no way had TG -- a do-it-himselfer from way back -- done that. It's a rare-if-ever occurrence for him to part with cash in exchange for yard work.

So I called TG and said Babe! There are people working in our yard, taking our leaves!

And TG said, I know. That's Arthur. I asked him to do it but he said they were coming tomorrow, after the rain. Anyway you need to pay him a hundred fifty bucks when they're done.


I wanted to say, Who are you and what have you done with my husband? But I didn't. I said, Okay bye, and trotted off to get the checkbook.

Some time later, Arthur -- a kind, courteous, youngish black man -- rang the doorbell. He laughed when I told him I had a scare upon realizing people were in our yard, removing what I thought were the wrong leaves.

So I called my husband, and he said you were scheduled to come tomorrow, when the rain was over, I said.

Arthur shrugged as though he and his crew preferred soggy leaves to dry ones. Actually, it's easier to get them into the tarps when they're wet, he said. They don't blow all around.

Makes sense to me. Arthur and I wished one another a Merry Christmas, and he drove away with our leaves. And our money.

Later TG admitted he just couldn't face round three with the leaves. I said I didn't blame him. At least now, the White Oak's branches are bare.

Except, today was an exceptionally windy day and our yard is once again covered with leaves. Many neighbors contributed said leaves from their very own yards.

Something tells me these leaves will lie there all winter and be ground to powder with the Cub Cadet the first time TG mows the lawn in the spring.

You'll find me inside the whole time. Enjoying the silence. I hope it rains.

And that is all for now.


Happy Friday :: Happy New Year


The angel atop my tree


Merry Christmas

The hap-happiest season of all


Merry Christmas and Happy New Year