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


I am a Blue Star Mother




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






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.

Blog Post Archives
We're Square
Powered by Squarespace

Two hundred fifty miles for a hamburger and a cannonball

To continue the saga of our recent Peach State peregrinations, on Friday evening TG, Erica, and I deliberated for some time over where to dine out.

We'd dined in the night before, quite spectacularly I might add.

(If you want the recipe for the delicious and ridiculously easy chicken parmesan we made, shoot me an email.)

Watching Guy Fieri roll out a year or so ago on the Food Network staple Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives (or Triple D as its fans say), I learned of a venerable Atlanta restaurant called The Colonnade.

I lived in Atlanta and never heard of the joint but they praised it so highly on DDD that I felt compelled to pay them my custom should the opportunity ever present itself.

So it was that, relaxing on Erica's sofa on Friday afternoon, I began doing some Internet research.

More to the point, I read several reviews of The Colonnade.

And the more I read, the nervouser I got, especially when I Google-Earthed its location and found it to be in a rather, ah, shall we say seedier location than I'd anticipated.

Plus which, there were several references to tired, outdated decor, to include much-stained carpeting, that put me off my feed.

I fear I shall never visit The Colonnade but I'm okay with it.

More dining-specific dithering ensued. Mammy's Shanty is long gone. One could always resort to Mary Mac's Tea Room but at that moment it struck me as such a bourgeois touristy choice.

I was not in the mood for pot likker anyway. But it's possible I made a mistake. We shall never know.

Because we finally settled on Houston's, a restaurant about which Erica had heard much from a friend.

It's near where Lenox Road intersects with Peachtree, in the immediate vicinity of Lenox Square and Phipps Plaza, two major Atlanta shopping destinations.

In the summer of '77 I worked at Pix Shoes, across the street from Lenox Square, to which I rode the bus each morning and ate crispy bacon, two eggs over medium, hash browns, hot buttered grits, and a jelly biscuit while occupying a booth at Walgreens, working the Jumble and slurping coffee as I munched, before heading over the way to sell jeweled sandals to blue-haired ladies.

Trivia: I was arranging size-ten soles in their cardboard coffins on a hot August afternoon when it was announced that Elvis had died.

We set out for Atlanta, passing Truett's along the way, where we ate the next night. Now as I done already tol' y'all, that was a winner. You basically cannot go wrong unless you're allergic to simple goodness.

At this point I could write ten paragraphs about how we became a trifle enmeshed in the fierce snarl of traffic that crawls like a million-head herd of beef critter over metropolitan Atlanta on any given evening, but in this case kicked up by it being a Friday and the Friday before Thanksgiving.

Then we sailed right past Houston's because it is a restaurant with the darkest, most ill-lit signage I believe I have ever seen. Like the Isla de Muerta, it can only be found by those who already know where it is.

Houston's, we have a problem.

And yes, we have eyes and yes, we had the address and certainly we can count and no, we do not have GPS.

What we have in lieu of GPS is TG. Step off.

Suffice it to say, a full ninety minutes after we left Erica's cozy cottage in McDonough, we were giving our names to the hostess at Houston's, we no longer have a problem because at last we found you.

Houston's is my kind of place. Dimly lit inside (just like outside), all exposed brick, a merry fire in the fireplace, lots of people, the buzz of happy diners, gleeful anticipation of a solid menu and splendid service.

Now this next part may not be appreciated by some but it fairly put the starch back in my somewhat-lagging spirits (I was hungry and the trek there had been arduous).

There was nowhere to sit down while we waited, so Erica and I were leaning against some of that gorgeous exposed brick. I moved aside for a moment and that's when Erica saw it.

It was a plaque proclaiming that the brick from which Houston's was built is recycled from Atlanta's once-great Loew's Grand Theater, which was gutted by fire in 1978.

That's where Gone With The Wind premiered on December 15, 1939.

So I stared at that brick and I thought, maybe Clark Gable or Vivien Leigh or Olivia DeHavilland or Laurence Olivier or Margaret Mitchell herself (Author! Author!) brushed up against this brick. Maybe one of them breathed on it. And I was just leaning against it.

And I was gobsmacked by that and forgot my hunger and forgot to even talk for about twenty-five seconds.

That may be a record.

Then we were seated and I was attempting to decide between a Thai Noodle Steak Salad and the Hickory Burger which featured Canadian Bacon, and I implored the waiter for help, and that's when he said it.

And I quote:

"That salad is good but we have the best burgers in town."

The best burgers in town? All of town? The entire town of Atlanta, Georgia?

Now, you may not know this about me but if I am not a bona fide burger aficionado, I am within a skinny pickle chip of being one.

My mouth began watering and I ordered the Hickory Burger. Erica got the same thing and TG got a burger too. As the waiter faded away we all sat back, sipped our soft drinks, and smiled smugly at one another.

At a mere fourteen dollars apiece we were about to savor the best burgers in Atlanta.


The burgers came and they were good. Earnestly good. But the best? Huh-uh, nope, not. Not even. Negative.

I've had a better burger at Five Guys.

But it was fun. The bricks were from the Loew's Grand. Don't forget that part. Ambience counts big.

Four hours after we'd left Erica's place, we got back to McDonough. Four hours for a good (but not great) fourteen-dollar hamburger accompanied by shoestring fries.

The view of Atlanta by night was breathtaking. Even with the eighty-five-million taillights.

Next day we set out for Thomaston, Georgia, an hour's drive south. We were going there because Erica Jean had done some Internet research of her own and determined that Thomaston is well known for its Mayberry-like atmosphere and the existence of no fewer than thirteen covered bridges that dot the surrounding countryside like wooden treasures.


When we got to Thomaston (seat of Upson County), there was nothing there.

I doubt we saw five human beings. Maybe one greasy spoon was open. The charm has departed.

TG talked to a few folks and was told there was exactly one covered bridge, ten miles and approximately fifty-nine million pine trees outside of town.

Except, one helpful person pointed that-a-way and the other helpful person pointed the other way.

And then there were no more people. Only a stately old courthouse already decked out for Christmas, many magnolia trees waxing emerald green against an overcast sky, and a veritable outdoor museum of war monuments.

And the cannonball.

Which I will have you know, purports -- engraved in stone, no less -- to be the first cannonball fired at Fort Sumter, Charleston Harbor, South Carolina, to begin the War Between the States on April 12, 1861.

Not the second cannonball, or the third. Not a relic of the first volley.

The first cannonball fired.

And yes, I touched it.

So~! Shall we recap?

Within 24 hours we drove two hundred fifty miles for a hamburger and a cannonball.

Of course, it was supposed to be the best hamburger and it was said to be the first cannonball.

When I told TG about the cannonball he smirked, pointed heavenward, and began chanting: We're Number One! We're Number One!


Meanwhile our cruise director, when she wasn't prancing gracefully around the Upson County Courthouse sipping her Beacon Drive-In tea poured over a cup of ice she'd paid a quarter for at the Ingles supermarket on the outskirts of town, was hanging her head in shame at the decidedly boring turn of events.

My advice to her: When you have out-of-town guests coming to visit, first think of taking them to places close to home. Like in her case, the McDonough town square, or nearby Heritage Park. Which I've heard of but never yet actually seen.

I'll see it next time.

If there's nothing close to home, ask the locals to tell you about worthwhile daytrip excursions.

Oh. Lest I forget, there was the one covered bridge.

Just the one! And we did see it.

More on that subject later this week.

Merry Christmas! Happy December!


Occupying the Peach State

Apologies for the lag in posting. I've been a trifle busy.


Let the catch-up games begin.

The weekend before Thanksgiving TG and I wended our way south and west for our first visit to McDonough, Georgia, since Erica moved there on the first of August, 2010.

Actually I believe it was my first-ever visit to McDonough (say McDonna).

Trivia: TG and I were married in Decatur, Georgia, a scant thirty-five miles from where Erica now lives.

On the first full day of our stay in the metropolitan Atlanta area, we checked out the school where Erica teaches fifth grade.

Peoples Baptist Academy is a ministry of Peoples Baptist Church.

This is the view of her church and workplace from Erica's driveway:

Convenient, no? And yes, she always drives it.

You can't tell from the picture because I zoomed in, but there is a busy road she has to cross.

The lobby area is sparkling and inviting.

Erica's students were in computer lab when we arrived so after providing us a brief tour of the building, she went to fetch them.

They walked briskly and quietly before stopping to form two lines. The armor-alled vigil-keeping mascotian knight figures are everywhere.

After I took my pictures and said hello, the children were introduced to Mr. Weber.

Later in the day Erica asked her students to give their impressions of her parental units.

From one child: "Your mom is nice and her hair is really cool."

From another: "I think if your dad looked right at me I would turn to ice."

There you have it. I'm nice and he's ice. Out of the mouths of babes.

After our time with Erica and her charges, we left to meet an old friend of mine in Marietta (say Mayretta), about an hour's drive north, above Atlanta proper.

Right on schedule we connected with my longtime girl pal, Sydney, and went to Sugar Cakes Patisserie for a late-morning breakfast.

Isn't she darling? 

In addition to being a loving wife and the mother of two high-achieving adult offspring, Sydney is a successful real estate broker.

Sydney and I had not seen one another since we both lived in the greater Chicagoland area over two decades ago.

She, her husband, and their two children moved back to Georgia in 1990.

Sydney reads this blog and will always be one of my dearest friends.

TG listened patiently to the girl talk while we awaited the arrival of our quiche.

Sydney gave me a beautiful cast-iron fleur-de-lis doorstop that could double as a bookend and vice versa. It's in use as a bookend at present because I can't bear to put it on the floor.

Thanks Sydney. You're a love and it'd better not be another twenty-plus years before I see you again.

After bidding Sydney farewell (she had a closing, yay!) we drove two blocks to a cemetery.

But not just any cemetery. I'd been planning to visit this one for some time: St. James Episcopal.

Wherein lies a special grave.

Fifteen Christmases ago six-year-old JonBenet enjoyed her last Christmas Day, her last Peace on Earth.

I love the True Crime genre. If you want to read a good book about this haunting and heartbreaking unsolved case, I recommend Perfect Murder, Perfect Town: The Uncensored Story of the JonBenet Murder and the Grand Jury's Search for the Truth by Lawrence Schiller.

JonBenet's mother, Patsy, is interred nearby.

Elizabeth Pasch Ramsey, John Ramsey's daughter from a marriage previous to Patsy, lies beside JonBenet. Beth died in an automobile accident in 1992 at the age of twenty-two.

Her boyfriend, Matthew Derrington, also perished in the crash.

Patsy Ramsey's mother, Nedra Paugh, rests a few spaces over.

If JonBenet's grave is directly at your back, this is the view:

The Garden of Peace.

St. James Episcopal Cemetery is perfect in size and situation as well as ambience and age. TG and I spent a contented quiet hour there.

TG has become my spotter when graving. I'm always looking for unusual monuments, names, epitaphs, symbols, and date patterns.

My man knows the exact tone of voice to use in a cemetery (one does not holler) and he intuits what will please me.

No, Clark Gable isn't buried there. Members of the Clark and Gable families are. But it's a great picture, don't you agree?

For a good twenty minutes I was absorbed in photographing gorgeous examples of nineteenth-century markers and wrought-iron fencing detail.

Then TG found this tersely humorous grave tablet and waved me over:

Well I never. He couldn't grow grass and now he doesn't have to.

This was my first time to see a star engraved beside the birth date and a cross beside the death date. It was everywhere in this cemetery. If you know the origin of that practice, please do share.

I'm too lazy to Google it.

I circled back around to see JonBenet one last time before we had to go. Pink camellias were blooming like mad so I picked one from a tree near her grave and left it for her.

The shadows were graying and cooling her spot. There was no hurry and practically no sound.

We drove back through thickening traffic to meet Erica for late-day and evening plans which we hoped would include a good dinner.

Therein lies a tale I'll tell you later in the week.

I was so bored while riding, I resorted to taking pictures of myself taking pictures.

And that is all for now, because I must go and decorate a tree.

Merry Christmas!


Say hello to Marcel the shell ... with shoes on

I happened upon this YouTube and thought I'd share.

You're very welcome.

Happy Thanksgiving!


Eet mor chikin

I'm a sucker for the Chick-fil-A Cows. And Chick-fil-A fare.

Don't rat me out to the Cowz but I do love me a hamburger too.

Know what's better than Chick-fil-A?


Which is Chick-fil-A but in a retro diner format, with darling waitresses to serve your meal on real dishes, no styrofoam or cardboard in sight, and a little train chugging around a track above your head.

The whole thing is named after S. Truett Cathy, founder of Chick-fil-A.

Erica treated TG and me to supper at Truett's in McDonough, Georgia, on Saturday. We'd been hanging out with her since Thursday evening just having a high old time but Truett's was a definite bright spot in the visit.

With my perfectly prepared Chick-fil-A chicken breast (sans bun) I had creamy rich macaroni and cheese and creamy crunchy rich light-as-a-turkey-sigh sweet potato souffle.

Oh, and lilliputian cornbread muffins with real butter.

And a frosty oft-refilled Diet Coke with fresh lemon wedges.

THEN because Erica is personally acquainted with one of the managers of the restaurant, a fine fellow named Sam St. Cyr (when you say it in the din of a crowded dining establishment it sounds like Sam Sincere, and honestly, he is), TG and I were greeted warmly and courteously tableside and given complimentary little pies for being first-time patrons of Truett's.

Mine was peach.

It was sublime.

Don't be jeal.

Now I am home but I am playing catch-up.

Happy Thanksgiving!


Devotion to something afar

Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good fame,
Plans, credit, and the muse;
Nothing refuse.

'Tis a brave master,
Let it have scope,
Follow it utterly,
Hope beyond hope;
High and more high,
It dives into noon,
With wing unspent,
Untold intent;
But 'tis a god,
Knows its own path,
And the outlets of the sky.

'Tis not for the mean,
It requireth courage stout,
Souls above doubt,
Valor unbending;
Such 'twill reward,
They shall return
More than they were,
And ever ascending.

Leave all for love; --
Yet, hear me, yet,
One word more thy heart behoved,
One pulse more of firm endeavor,
Keep thee to-day,
To-morrow, for ever,
Free as an Arab
Of thy beloved.

Cling with life to the maid;
But when the surprise,
Vague shadow of surmise,
Flits across her bosom young
Of a joy apart from thee,
Free be she, fancy-free,
Do not thou detain a hem,
Nor the palest rose she flung
From her summer diadem.

Though thou loved her as thyself,
As a self of purer clay,
Tho' her parting dims the day,
Stealing grace from all alive,
Heartily know,
When half-gods go,
The gods arrive.

~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

/(*_*/) >< (\*_*)\

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

~John Donne~

/(*_*/) >< (\*_*)\

Life owes me nothing. Let the years
Bring clouds or azure, joy or tears;
Already a full cup I've quaffed;

Already wept and loved and laughed,
And seen, in ever-endless ways,
New beauties overwhelm the days.

Life owes me nought. No pain that waits
Can steal the wealth from memory's gates;
No aftermath of anguish slow
Can quench the soul fire's early glow.

I breathe, exulting, each new breath,
Embracing Life, ignoring Death.

Life owes me nothing. One clear morn
Is boon enough for being born;
And be it ninety years or ten,
No need for me to question when.

While Life is mine, I'll find it good,
And greet each hour with gratitude.

~Author Unknown~

/(*_*/) >< (\*_*)\

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -–
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

~Wilfred Owen~

/(*_*/) >< (\*_*)\

One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it;
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;

One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother;
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.

I can give not what men call love;
But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above
And the heavens reject not, --

The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?

~Percy Bysshe Shelley~

/(*_*/) >< (\*_*)\

God, though this life is but a wraith,
Although we know not what we use,
Although we grope with little faith,
Give me the heart to fight -- and lose.

Ever insurgent let me be,
Make me more daring than devout;
From sleek contentment keep me free,
And fill me with a buoyant doubt.

Open my eyes to visions girt
With beauty, and with wonder lit --
But let me always see the dirt,
And all that spawn and lie in it.

Open my ears to music; let
Me thrill with Spring's first flutes and drums --
But never let me dare forget
The bitter ballads of the slums.

From compromise and things half-done,
Keep me, with stern and stubborn pride.
And when, at last, the fight is won,
God, keep me still unsatisfied.

~Louis Untermeyer~

/(*_*/) >< (\*_*)\

i thank You God for most this amazing
day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any -- lifted from the no
of all nothing -- human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

~e.e. cummings~

/(*_*/) >< (\*_*)\

Photographs taken by Jennifer Weber at St. John in the Wilderness Episcopal Church and Cemetery on November 14, 2011

East Flat Rock, North Carolina

/(*_*/) >< (\*_*)\

Happy Thanksgiving!

Remember to love somebody real good today.

And to thank God He gave you somebody to love.

That is all.

You know. For now.