Bring Me That Horizon

Welcome to jennyweber dot com

 ........................................

One imagination at a time.

Don't shoot the messenger, babe.

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We're not big on logic

but there's no shortage of irony.

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I can name fingers and point names.

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

  

InfozGuide

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

In The Market, As It Were

 

 

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Columbia Cemetery

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

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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!

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.

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Dying is a wild night

and a new road.

Emily Dickinson

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REMEMBRANCE

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

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Keep To The Code

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You Want To Find This
The Promise Of Redemption

Blessed is the man that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in the seat of the scornful.

But his delight is in the law of the LORD, and in his law doth he meditate day and night.

And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in his season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.

The ungodly are not so: but are like the chaff which the wind driveth away.

Therefore the ungodly shall not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous.

For the Lord knoweth the way of the righteous: but the way of the ungodly shall perish.

Psalm 1

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

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Daft Like Jack

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


And We'll Sing It All The Time
  • Dream With Me
    Dream With Me
    by Jackie Evancho
  • Danny Wright Healer of Hearts
    Danny Wright Healer of Hearts
    by Danny Wright
  • Dreams
    Dreams
    by Neil Diamond
  • Standing Ovation: The Greatest Songs From The Stage
    Standing Ovation: The Greatest Songs From The Stage
    Syco Music UK
  • A State of Wonder: The Complete Goldberg Variations (1955 & 1981)
    A State of Wonder: The Complete Goldberg Variations (1955 & 1981)
    Sony
  • Bach - The Complete Brandenburg Concertos / Pearlman, Boston Baroque
    Bach - The Complete Brandenburg Concertos / Pearlman, Boston Baroque
    by Johann Sebastian Bach, Martin Pearlman, Boston Baroque, Christopher Krueger, Marc Schachman, Daniel Stepner, Friedemann Immer
  • Lead With Your Heart
    Lead With Your Heart
    by The Tenors, The Canadian Tenors
  • A Musical Affair (Amazon Exclusive Version)
    A Musical Affair (Amazon Exclusive Version)
    by Il Divo
  • Rachmaninoff plays Rachmaninoff
    Rachmaninoff plays Rachmaninoff
    RCA
  • Perfect Murder, Perfect Town : The Uncensored Story of the JonBenet Murder and the Grand Jury's Search for the Final Truth
    Perfect Murder, Perfect Town : The Uncensored Story of the JonBenet Murder and the Grand Jury's Search for the Final Truth
    by Lawrence Schiller
  • The Dictionary of Cultural Literacy
    The Dictionary of Cultural Literacy
    by James Trefil, Joseph F. Kett, E. D. Hirsch
  • The Gorgeous Nothings: Emily Dickinson's Envelope Poems
    The Gorgeous Nothings: Emily Dickinson's Envelope Poems
    by Emily Dickinson
  • Till I End My Song: A Gathering of Last Poems
    Till I End My Song: A Gathering of Last Poems
    by Harold Bloom
  • 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
  • The Closer
    The Closer
    by Mariano Rivera
  • Forbidden Grief: The Unspoken Pain of Abortion
    Forbidden Grief: The Unspoken Pain of Abortion
    by Theresa Burke with David C. Reardon
  • 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
  • Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter's Dictionary
    Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter's Dictionary
    by Frederick Buechner
  • The Black Bard of North Carolina: George Moses Horton and His Poetry (Chapel Hill Books)
    The Black Bard of North Carolina: George Moses Horton and His Poetry (Chapel Hill Books)
    The University of North Carolina Press
  • 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
  • Curtains: Adventures of an Undertaker-in-Training
    Curtains: Adventures of an Undertaker-in-Training
    by Tom Jokinen
  • 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
  • Fierce Patriot: The Tangled Lives of William Tecumseh Sherman
    Fierce Patriot: The Tangled Lives of William Tecumseh Sherman
    by Robert L. O'Connell
  • 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
  • The Undertaking: Life Studies from the Dismal Trade
    The Undertaking: Life Studies from the Dismal Trade
    by Thomas Lynch
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
    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
  • Knuckleball!
    Knuckleball!
    starring R.A. Dickey, Charles Hough, Phil Niekro, Tim Wakefield
  • Dodsworth
    Dodsworth
    starring Walter Huston, Ruth Chatterton, Paul Lukas, Mary Astor, Kathryn Marlowe
  • 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
    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

~ JAVIER ~

Columbia's Finest Chihuahua

Simple. Easy To Remember.

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One Word, Luv: Curiosity

Wednesday
Oct012014

Wordless Wednesday :: First October

 

Tuesday
Sep302014

A-goatless we shall go

So here's the thing.

Last June, a few days before Dagny was born, while driving not far from my house, Audrey and I experienced a goat sighting.

As in, there were multiple goats chilling in a field, behind a fence.

No doubt looking as though I'd seen a goat, I exclaimed: Oh look. Look! Goats!

Because you may or may not know this but I am a total goat enthusiast.

Little suckers crack me up; what can I say.

They may be a trifle silly and they'll eat just about anything, but whatever they are or aren't, they just up and own it.

And to that I can relate.

Erica can actually talk like a goat. I mean, when that girl is on, if you didn't know better you'd think a goat had sashayed right into the room and begun telling you what's what.

But I digress.

Unable to stop and photographically chronicle the subject goats' antics on that day, I vowed to go back.

Well, that was over three months ago. We have been busy adoring Dagny.

Yesterday however, you my adored readers were on my mind because I could not think of a single thing to say to you.

And I know you depend on me so I was somewhat distraught and, as I went about a few household chores, the thought struck me:

The goats! I can go get pictures of those goats for them! They will love that.

It was sprinkling but I grabbed my purse and my camera and set out anyway, bound for the place I was sure the goats had been.

Well, to be honest, it was bound to be one of two places. I couldn't remember exactly. A lot has happened.

So I went to the place I was ninety-nine percent sure we'd seen the bleatin' critters.

No goats. I double-checked.

So I proceeded to the place I was sort of sure they'd been if they weren't at the other place.

No goats.

And there you don't have it! No goats, no pictures, no Monday blog post.

I did get the picture you see above, taken with my iPhone as I returned home across the Valley of the Dammed.

(hat tip: Beth P)

Proof positive that I tried. So there's that.

In other news, and in the interest of this post not being a total loss, goatless as it was bound to be, I would like to report that TG, with the help of a stellar citizen who happens to be the manager of the Blimpie sub shop where the identity thief recently used our money, has found video of the crime as it went down.

That's because we were able to give him a description of the perpetrator(s), an exact date of the dirty dealings, an approximate but very close time of day at which the thieves used our money to buy sandwiches, and the precise amount of the transaction.

People! Cameras are everywhere, watching all you do.

One of the female miscreants was known (by sight) to an employee of the establishment -- was a regular, as it were -- and when she returned to do business there again, the manager got the high sign from the employee and stealthily obtained the wrongdoer's vehicle make, model, color, and license plate number.

TG revealed this excellent intel to the police, who are investigating. We hope to hear soon that the crimebusters have prevailed and that the lawless lassies are, if not behind bars, at least being temporarily detained in the general vicinity of where the book is being thrown.

Meanwhile some cute wee goats are out there somewhere wondering why-y-y-y-y-y I don't come and take their picture. So if you have intel concerning their geographical coordinates, please inform me immediately.

I leave you with the ultimate paean to goat frivolity: a YT you've likely already seen, but which, much like Charlie Bit Me or Ultimate Dog Tease, is worth watching again:

We are so young and reckless, born to wreck this
thing that we call love
We are so sweet and mindless, never mind this
thing that we call love
We are so strong and willing, heads are filling
With this thing called love
How we used to be so naive
Changing with the seasons like falling leaves
We are so overrated, completely jaded
Because of teenage love
We are so ostentatious, with different faces
with this thing called love
We are so headstrong, kids with nothing to live for
but this thing called love
How we used to be so naive
Changing with the seasons like falling leaves
We are so same and different, ugly visions
Caricatures of love
We are so numb and senseless, we all can sense this
thing that we call love
We are so incapable of understanding
this thing we call love
How we used to be so naive
Changing with the seasons like falling leaves
Back then the days were longer
The night went on and on
We filled our heads with pointless thoughts
Never knowing what was wrong
How we used to be so naive
Changing with the seasons like falling leaves
How we used to be so naive
Changing with the seasons like falling leaves
We are so picture perfect
Because we finally found this thing called love.

= Jamie Knowles =

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Happy Tuesday

Friday
Sep262014

Measured hundredweight and penny pound

For pondering today: Johnny Cash's epic The Man Comes Around.

Associated reading: Revelation Chapter Six

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Happy Friday ~ Happy Weekend

Wednesday
Sep242014

Wordless Wednesday :: wonderful baby

 

Monday
Sep222014

In which I almost trespass, almost get busted, and almost care

It was a close call.

All I'm saying.

I refer to the South Carolina State Lunatic Asylum on Bull Street Incident which occurred last Saturday at approximately Nineteen Hundred Hours.

The whole thing began when, after a full day of company at our house, TG, I, Andrew, Audrey, Erica, Dagny, and Rambo decamped and headed downtown.

Our plan was to walk on the grounds of the old abandoned mental hospital, taking exercise, being curious but not nosy. Something I have done a couple of times before, the last occasion very recently.

What you need to know is that there are no gates or any other structures impeding the progress of either motorists or pedestrians who wish to gain access to said grounds.

If there are signs indicating stay out or don't use a camera, they are invisible or all but.

The last time I was there, I roamed for nearly three hours unmolested. I saw a few cars and a few folks on foot, but like me, everyone minded their own business.

There are tall black chain link fences around Babcock, the main hospital building which dates back to 1822 and has been abandoned for decades.

And sure, there are "No Trespassing" signs on the fences, which are locked. So I never touch those.

And there are similar signs posted in the windows and doors -- also locked, at least as far as I know -- of the old falling-down smaller buildings that dot the huge campus.

So I never touch those either.

All I do is walk and take pictures. Harming no one.

Such was the scenario on Saturday, except I was accompanied by my family.

We were in two cars: ours and Andrew's.

Our party consisted of two handsome and considerate men, three non-threatening women, a three-month-old baby, and a mild-mannered Labrador.

All hard-working, law-abiding (as far as we knew) taxpayers. Well, except for the baby and the dog, who are guilty of tax evasion.

And again: We were out for nothing more subversive than an evening stroll.

But apparently, we trespassed.

And that's a no-no, and I get that, I really do, and I am not one of those who goes around with a chip on my shoulder and the attitude that the rules don't apply to me.

But you must believe me when I assure you: We did not know.

As in, we did not intentionally and egregiously set out to trespass or in any other way break the rules and certainly not the law.

So imagine my surprise when, thirty or so minutes into our meanderings, while wandering down one of the many paved streets that delineate the property, I sensed an official-seeming vehicle with blue emergency lights blazing speeding towards me, Audrey, Erica, Dagny, and Rambo.

There was no siren. We were spared the trauma of a siren's wail piercing the stillness.

TG and Andrew had left us a few minutes before, to fetch our cars and bring them around to where we were.

I was in the midst of taking a photo of the Babcock cupola with setting sunbeams gilding its broken panes, when in my peripheral, I perceived the wildly blinking blue lights.

Since I was blissfully ignorant of having committed any kind of an infraction, I figured the po po were after somebody actually doing something wrong.

In fact, "They must be driving through," was Audrey's verbal observation.

And then the car stopped. In front of me. So I lowered my camera.

My eyes met those of a person I can only describe as the angry black female incarnation of Barney Fife.

I mean, this lady was livid. In fact, for the next several minutes she was practically incoherent.

Her tires making a cloud of dust around us, blue lights still winking madly, the security guard demanded to know what I was doing there.

I said we were just walking, not doing much of anything really.

Not bothering to conduct herself in a way even marginally friendly, cordial, or respectful, not to mention professional, the security guard informed me that we were trespassing on private property.

Her tone, if not her actual words, implied that as such we were in gross violation of any number of rules, regulations, restrictions, ordinances, edicts, decrees, commandments, precepts, mandates, codes, orders, canons, covenants, charters, assizes, writs, laws, bylaws, and legislative injunctions.

I refrained from smiling real big and answering: "Pirate."

I mean, Girl! Clap me in irons. For reals.

The guard further insisted that everything on my camera would have to be deleted. Immediately.

Although I was vehemently disinclined to acquiesce to her request, I said: "Okay. No problem."

(BTW if you think I deleted so much as a frame from my camera's card, I can only say bless your little pea-picking heart.)

But the subject female security guard's demeanor was so harsh that Erica -- my gentle baby Boo! -- spoke up from behind me and in a quiet voice, trust me, not at all disrespectfully, asked the lady:

"Why are you so angry?"

On account of, the aggrieved gendarme's level of hostility was distinctly and markedly disproportionate to our crimes.

Suffice it to say, that question went unanswered.

I pointed out that there were no gates prohibiting entrance to the property, that it was in fact wide open, that several cars had passed us in the short time we'd been there, and that I did not violate a single "No Trespassing" sign posted on fences or doors.

Also I said, the only reason I ever came here in the first place is because online, there are hundreds of photos and videos of not only the grounds upon which we stood, but also the interior of many of the buildings.

Prompting additional rage, the kind that indicates a person has been pushed over the edge.

"All right. I need to see your ID," the security guard snapped, "and I need to see your ID," she glared Erica-ward.

You would have been proud of me, I think, because I did not outwardly exhibit the depth of vexation I felt.

And yes; I have a temper too, and I have been known to temporarily lose track of it.

I will thank you not to snicker.

However, I didn't in fact have my ID; I hadn't driven or even brought my purse. All I had was my camera.

I told the irate officer as much, saying I was sorry.

But she repeated that she was going to have to see my ID and also Erica's ID.

In a country where certain special people don't even need an ID to vote for a president or receive welfare, I found the directive a trifle amusing.

"My husband will be here any minute," I said. "And he has an ID you may see."

(Turns out the female security guard had already met TG and Andrew, over by our cars, and had initially gone off on them just as angrily as she would confront us, and had even threatened to write something down on a clipboard.)

I was still marveling inwardly at the way the thing had started out at an escalation level befitting Homeland Security coming down on a cabal of evil terrorists, or a souped-up Zamboni being used to exterminate a family of fleas, when a second car (no lights activated) calmly pulled up behind the first car.

A strapping black male security guard exited the second vehicle, smiling. In no hurry, he ambled in our direction and asked the name of our dog. Upon learning it, he warmly greeted Rambo, whose tail wagged in enthusiastic agreement that it was about time somebody used some manners.

I looked back at the female security guard, and as God is my very witness, it was as though she had been instantaneously and magically replaced with a sane version of herself.

In a manner I can only describe as helpful and courteous, she told me that in order to do what I was doing and not run afoul of the authorities (or, I assume, be required to produce an ID), I would need to sign a Release.

"Where do I get the Release?" I wanted to know.

"Down on Bull Street at the DMH," the female officer almost smiled.

Oh. That would be the Department of Mental Health.

And I thought: Girl it's you needs to visit the DMH 'cause you be cray cray. Get help. Get antipsychotic meds, anger management counseling, coping mechanisms, perspective training, hydrotherapy, shock treatment. Whatever it takes.

But I just smiled and said thank you, I sure will do that, and I wondered out loud if the Release would get me across the portals of Babcock to take some interior photos.

Whereupon -- again! -- with exceeding consideration, the female security officer told me that on occasion it was possible to partake of a guided tour for that express purpose.

Discussion of my camera's contents was not renewed. The camera itself was not confiscated.

A few moments later, Andrew and TG drove up to collect we womenfolk, the baby, and the dog.

I took one last photo of the sun setting behind the South Carolina State Lunatic Asylum, abandoned.

Hoping all the while that in doing so, I was not in unwitting violation of any laws written or unwritten, posted or implied, actual or imagined.

We went straight home. Nothin' but the taillights, my friends.

And that is all for now.

Call me crazy but in the interest of staying out of trouble, I think I should go and have a lie-down.

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Happy Monday ~ Happy Week ~ Happy Autumn

Friday
Sep192014

Say WOT?

So on Tuesday night as we sat peacefully in our TV room -- rather late -- relaxing, TG and I had what you might call a surprise.

Said surprise came in the form of an email received by my TG.

An email from the Phoenix Lounge, thanking TG for the generous gratuity on his order, and asking how he would rate the named drinking establishment.

?????

My first clue that something was amiss was when TG, who had been up to that time characteristically quiet, absorbed in surfing the Web on his iPad, blurted:

Somebody's spending my money!!!

I knew it wasn't me; I had not indulged in shopping that day. Not even the online kind.

And yet, one of our three accounts -- don't read anything into that; it's merely an organizational tool, not denoting wealth -- was being drained.

As in, our funds were being accessed as we sat in our TV room.

In fact, over the previous several hours, our money had been used to:

Fill a car with fuel;

Flll a few bellies with Blimpie sandwiches;

Scrape hair from a dog;

Stock up on supplies from a liquor store; and

Enjoy a late happy hour at a distinctly dive-like dram shop.

TG reached for his wallet and immediately realized the subject credit/debit card had NOT been stolen.

Within the next ten minutes, between the two of us we placed three calls: to the Columbia Police Department, to Wells Fargo, and to the Phoenix Lounge.

The lady who answered at the police department advised me that thieves can obtain your numbers in any number of ways and place your funds on any one of many different kinds of credit cards, including the pre-paid variety.

The lady at Wells Fargo cancelled TG's credit/debit card number, issued him a case reference number, and assured him we would not be responsible for the fraudulent charges.

The lady at the Phoenix Lounge told TG she knew -- based on the amount of the charges showing up on TG's Wells Fargo Activity Summary -- exactly who had been spending his money.

Because it had happened only moments before he called. 'Merica.

She described the perpetrators thusly -- and don't get mad at me, because these were her exact words:

It was two big fat black women! They just now left!

Again: that was a direct quote as relayed to me by TG.

Later in a second convo with Phoenix Lounge lady manager, TG learned that she'd sent a bouncer outside to detain the two women, but they were:

... speeding away in a white car!

Naturally.

So anyway the next night, as in Wednesday -- again, rather late -- a police officer came to our house and took a full report and encouraged us to do some investigating on our own. Provided we were willing.

Like, knock your lights out! Just don't break the law. As in:

Remember, we can't use fruit from the poisonous tree.

Oh yeah! I've heard that on a few po-po procedural programs.

And standing in my own front room, I was amazed that the police were asking me -- it was only me; right? -- to aid in their investigation!

Turns out the reason for that was, although the criminals had stolen a lot of money from our checking account, they had not stolen enough for it to be classified a felony.

Therefore police resources may be spread a trifle too thin to enable them to pursue our case with anything resembling zeal.

But he said if I/we found anything out, to inform them immediately.

So on Thursday -- yes, yesterday -- yours truly went sleuthing.

I couldn't locate my deerstalker and anyway it's still pretty hot here, but, armed with addresses and telephone numbers and in fairly high dudgeon, I was prepared to right wrongs and re-right rights.

First stop: S-Mart #119, where we unwittingly paid to fill 'er up. I was hoping for some video surveillance revealing a license plate.

They were nice enough but we are still waiting to hear back from them.

Next stop: Animal World. That's where the brazen thieves took their dog to be groomed.

The ladies in that small shop remembered a large black lady who they'd never seen before, accompanied by a child, bringing in a dog. They agreed that:

She was the last customer of the day!

Ah. It is exhilarating to establish a timeline.

With the date, time of day, description, the exact dollar amount of the transaction, and the last four numbers of TG's card, it shouldn't have been any problem for the ladies to find a contact number for the dog owner slash credit card fraud person.

But they claimed they don't keep those records on the premises, but rather at the proprietor's place of residence.

And we are still waiting to hear back from them.

Next I swung by Blimpie Store #11069 and spoke with the franchise owner, a very nice gentleman.

He later called TG and said not only does he have video of the perpetrators, based on the description, time of day, and exact transaction amount ($17.78), but that one of his employees says she remembers and could identify them.

For what that's worth.

Then on to the Phoenix Lounge, a nasty sort of place I did not want to enter but which, once I did, made me so glad I never go to places like that. What a sad life have those who frequent bars.

And where I learned nothing I didn't already know.

I declined to visit the Cricket Plaza Liqueur and Party Shop, as it's farther away and I figure TG can do that part.

So there you have it my friends! Identity theft: It can happen to you.

On my travels I learned:

That criminals may be taking phone-video of your card as they stand behind you in line, pretending to check emails, so keep your thumb over some of the numbers; that bad guys go online and buy devices that allow them to steal your numbers through your purse or wallet, so get a special little scan-proof pocket vault to keep your cards in; that ne'er-do-wells can (and often do) copy down your numbers in restaurants and convenience stores; that you can protect yourself by subscribing to LifeLock or a similar service.

All of which I already knew, intuitively if not from actual experience.

So that is all for now except to say, if you've read this far and are planning a comment in which you lecture me about where we went wrong, how not to let this happen, and what you know to do so that it can never in a million years possibly happen to you, please lie down until the impulse goes away.

Because I don't mean to be testy or any more curmudgeonly than is my normal wont, but unsolicited advice is simply criticism, and I haven't told this story in order to solicit advice.

It was just to make you smile. If it didn't, a thousand apologies and:

Hugs, kisses, and best wishes for a:

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Happy Friday ~ Happy Weekend

Wednesday
Sep172014

Wordless Wednesday :: serious silly cute priceless

Monday
Sep152014

Going nowhere, but moving fast

Please don't think us hopelessly bourgeois but we went to Cracker Barrel for Sunday lunch.

I am a trifle enamored -- momentarily at least -- of their lemon pepper grilled rainbow trout. Side of baked sweet potato, cucumber/grape tomato/onion salad, and cole slaw.

It's a tasty and satisfying low-carb feast if you ignore the biscuits. It could mean the end of all kitchens and all cooking.

At any rate we -- that being me, TG, Audrey, Erica, and Dagny -- had to wait a short while for a table.

So that left time for shopping.

There is a whole equine display -- books, clothes, toys, knick-knacks, accessories -- that's impressive, especially if you or someone on your gift-giving list (100 days until Christmas) is a member of the horsey set.

And if one of them happens to be a little tyke, may I suggest this exceptionally life-like (and energetic) animated singing horse.

If only we'd thought to bring sugar cubes, or an apple in our pocket.

Audrey's the one working hard to keep the runaway equine unit on the crate. And doing most of the cackling.

I'm the one taking the video, which gets pretty good at about 0:45.

Yee haw.

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Happy Monday