Bring Me That Horizon

Welcome to jennyweber dot com

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Home of Jenny the Pirate

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This will go better if you

check your expectations at the door.

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We're not big on logic

but there's no shortage of irony.

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 Nice is different than good.

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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

  

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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

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I am a Blue Star Mother

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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 =

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Represent:

The Black Velvet Coat

In The Market, As It Were

 

 

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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.

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.

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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

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

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Daft Like Jack

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

And We'll Sing It All The Time
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That Dog Is Never Going To Move

~ RIP JAVIER ~

1999-2016

Columbia's Finest Chihuahua

Simple. Easy To Remember.

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Monday
Oct312016

Don't fall for it

It was scary.

I refer to a day three-or-so months ago. It's a day I've been meaning to tell you about.

So here we go.

To begin, it was triple-digit hot with high-double-digit humidity.

Not just that day. Every day.

Let's make it worse: We were in the midst of fairly extensive renovations affecting several rooms of our house.

As in, just for starters at the time of the events in question, everything from my front room was in my kitchen while flooring and painting and general redecorating took place in said front room.

Don't worry. There was a narrow path to walk through the kitchen. I could get to the sink and the stove. And the refrigerator, for ice-cold Diet Coke.

If you knew me better you'd know how much I loathe everything being upended in my house.

And did I mention how hot it was? That alone is enough to tank me.

So let's consider the mise en scène. It's boiling outside. I'm inside (where it's also boiling, even with the A/C cranked down to snowball), attempting to function in all the confusion, upheaval, and general discombobulation besieging the household.

Andrew and Rambo were staying with us for the few weeks between the time Andrew returned from the Middle East and the time he moved into his new house across the dam in Lexington, and started his new job.

He was helping TG and me eighteen hours a day to make the mini-reno happen in record time. At the very moment of the day we are presently recounting, he and TG were out back, by the pool, resting for a minute.

I vaguely remember hearing a sound. It was outdoors, but not near. Not necessarily far, but not near either. From the front of the house, maybe the street. Then came a shortish silence. And then the doorbell rang.

I staggered to the door. Who could this be.

It was our mailman. The one who has been the recipient, more than once, on holidays, of my largesse in the form of freshly-baked banana-nut bread. 

But on this day, the heat -- or something -- had gotten to him. There was no smile, no friendly greeting. He glared at me from behind sweat-fogged glasses.

Over his regulation-blue shoulder I could see that the peevish postman had pulled his mail truck into the bottom of our steepish driveway. It idled, blinking, there.

Did you not hear me? He demanded in a decidedly schoolmarmish way. Real bossy. And I'm like, ?????

I dimly recalled that the sounds I'd heard several minutes earlier could have been a beep beep of sorts.

But I was speechless -- not tracking -- so he continued: I had to pull into the driveway because your dog was in the street.

He waited, eyes on my eyes, still fuming. When I found no words with which to answer -- honestly it was just too hot -- he jammed a package and several pieces of mail into my hand, then huffed back down the steps to his waiting wagon.

It was most rude.

I turned back inside and closed the door, thinking: Rambo must've gone down into the street again.

(Rambo loved to rack out on the porch -- one of the coolest outdoor spots -- but occasionally he'd wander down the street to check his messages. It's no problem; everyone knows him. Once in a great while a neighbor would herd him home but they were never mad either at him or at us.)

Walking through on the narrow ceramic-tile path that was my kitchen, I glanced out back. TG was sitting in a chair by the pool. Andrew was standing nearby. Rambo was lying at TG's feet, panting. All present and accounted for, not guilty of that of which he had been summarily accused.

Wait a minute ... I thought. And I wished I'd had the presence of mind to say to the meanie mailman: We don't have a dog. Our dog died on April eleventh. So there. And by the way, since when do I come running when you beep from the street?

But before I could even complete the thought, I realized something was very wrong.

For one thing, TG had all at once begun shouting into his phone. He was sitting forward, tensed and upset. Even from where I stood, I could tell he was trembling with agitation.

Which daughter? Which daughter? He bellowed into the last flip phone in North America.

This isn't my TG. Not at all. He's the calm one. I threaded my way through stacks of books and pictures and lamps and chairs to the door which leads to the pool. I opened the door.

Andrew looked over at me. As well as I can remember, he asked loudly where Audrey was. I said I thought she was working. She's self-employed so her hours vary, but I was pretty sure that's what she was doing.

Call Erica! Call Erica! Andrew shouted, punching at his own phone, nearly as agitated as his dad. Call Erica, whose hours are more predictable, and who I was certain was at work.

But I think I called her. I don't remember but it may be a moot point because Erica is infamous in our family for not answering her phone.

Sorry but nothing else about the incident is clear to me. This is all I know:

A call had come through to TG, who answered because although he didn't recognize the number, he knew from the area code that the caller was local.

When TG answered (because, also being self-employed, he always answers local calls), the caller -- who sounded angry to the point of violence -- said that a male relative of his had been involved in a car accident with our daughter.

And that TG had better come down to where the incident had taken place and pay them some money, because the whole thing had been our daughter's fault.

And that if TG didn't show up with payment for damages, the caller promised to shoot her in the head.

Now. You know and I know that when a person gets into an automobile accident -- no matter how minor -- the proper procedure is to call the police, check for injuries, and exchange insurance cards.

You don't hold women at gunpoint, call their fathers, and demand that they come immediately and write a check if they want their daughter to escape death.

But that's what the caller said, in language I cannot and would not repeat here: I'm holding a gun to your daughter's head. 

But the more questions TG asked, and the more he insisted on speaking with whichever daughter was in mortal danger, the more profane and incoherent the caller became. Until he ended the call.

By then, Andrew had reached Audrey, who was safe at work. She had not been involved in an accident.

I don't remember who first talked to Erica, but she was busy at work too. No fender bender on her part.

We have a third daughter -- Stephanie -- but as she lives in North Carolina, it never occurred to us that she was being held at gunpoint. Plus, unlike her lead-foot sisters, she's a super-careful driver.

TG took a few moments to settle down. He called back the number of the threatening caller who'd called him first. Someone answered but quickly ended the call again, not wanting to engage in apres-scam chit-chat.

TG called the police to report the incident and to provide them with the caller's number. Law enforcement said there was nothing they could do. Nobody had committed a crime; it's not illegal to call someone and speak threatening words.

So we'd been the victims of a mere prank. An exceptionally cruel one, but a prank no less. Suck it up, buttercup.

As it turns out, similar scams are attempted all over the country. We'd never heard of such behavior but recently it was being discussed on talk radio.

ABC News, only two years ago, characterized this type of thing as the oldest scam in the book.

Really? Absolutely the oldest? No scam older than this one, of which we'd never heard? We don't consider ourselves out of touch, but it's clear to me that we must be.

A Milwaukee, Wisconsin, news outlet says it's a new scam going around.

Either way, some of the phony kidnappers actually collect thousands of dollars.

So there you go. It could happen to you. When it does, don't fall for it.

At the very least, follow the advice of the late-great President Reagan: Trust, but verify.

In other words, do be diligent but don't be a chump.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday

Reader Comments (10)

Wow - Wow

I must live under a rock because I haven't heard of this either! So, the scammer I presume, somehow guessed you have a daughter. Then, what would have happened if TG had gone
to the so called accident; would he have been robbed? Lordy mercy!

Love the photos though, especially little Dagny - she gets more beautiful every time I see her.

xoxo

November 1, 2016 | Unregistered Commentersally

@Sally ... I think it's a shot in the dark more than guessing that we actually have a daughter. If the person called doesn't have a daughter, they just say so and that's that. Since we can easily contact our daughters though, we wouldn't have gone anywhere. But many have done what the caller said until they COULD reach their daughter and find out that she was safe. Have people nothing better to do. xoxo

November 1, 2016 | Registered CommenterJennifer

Jenny, this is just awful! I can't understand what anyone would get out of doing something so cruel. And what is with the mailman. There were all sorts of crazy things going on in that heat wave. I think he forfeits the next loaf of banana nut bread!
I'm sorry...
I do love your photos today, and of course Miss Dagney is just as cute as can be!
PS - I could have predicted that you don't like things out of order. I don't either. I'm much more at peace when everything is put away and looking good!

November 1, 2016 | Unregistered CommenterMari

@Mari ... all the upheaval turned out to be worth it but honestly, when the last thing got put back into place, I was one happy girl. And no, I don't think the mailman will get any bread on Thanksgiving. He just should have been more patient that day. But it was awfully hot. As for the scammers, may they rot. xoxo

November 2, 2016 | Registered CommenterJennifer

Good Grief! I would have been terrified!!!
I only get the scam calls from the IRS telling me they are taking me to jail unless I pay up.
Isn't it nice though, to have our living rooms back where they belong instead of our kitchen. I got real tired of sitting in my recliner with my TV 2 feet away from my nose, squashed in between all the other stuff in my wee kitchen. Like you, I had my paths.
Hoping for cooler days ahead for you.

November 3, 2016 | Unregistered CommenterJudy Miller

@Judy ... Girl, you said it ... so nice to have my spaces back, cool and spacious and neat and clean. Your place looks so nice. We are happy and content with all that we did but I don't ever want to go through it again. It was almost as bad as moving. We've got highs in the 70s coming at us so no complaints here. Lovely weather. xoxo

November 3, 2016 | Registered CommenterJennifer

You sure can set the scene! My heart is pounding, and it's not from heat. We have had some scams but none as awful as this. Of course, we screen most calls both at home and on cells. I hope there isn't a limit on blocked calls! As for the mail person, I personally am not surprised. We have terrible mail service in our town, and we don't even have the privilege of home delivery. We get to stand in line at the PO. Glad your renovations are complete. Your fall/Halloween decorations are great!

November 3, 2016 | Unregistered CommenterBarb

@Barb ... I block 'em by the dozens too, but for me it's almost never local calls. TG has to answer those and for some reason (I think he doesn't know how), he never blocks. Thanks for the compliments and the house does look nice -- I really should show it off on here and maybe I will -- but the big boar was a window decoration in a market in Newberry. Haaahahaha I'd like to have him but he wouldn't fit in with most of my decor. Our mailman? He just needs to retire. xoxo

November 3, 2016 | Registered CommenterJennifer

Hey Jenny! Those phone calls can surely put a person in a spin. The scammers around here call grandparents and claim their grandchild is in another state and needs money. They name the grandchild and impersonate him. Fortunately, none of my grandchildren drive! I received a call from a volunteer who is calling for the police benefit. I didn't even wait for his spiel. I hung up the phone. But, I am so sorry that you had to experience this esp. since you have three girls. It puts one in a tail spin.

Little Dagny looks so sweet in her pink ruffles. She is so cute!

I hope that one day you will show us your new décor. You know me, I like to snoop around in other people's houses to see if I can get some ideas for my house. I will be blogging about that thought soon.

November 6, 2016 | Unregistered CommenterCheryl Arment

@Cheryl ... I will do it! I promise. xoxo

November 7, 2016 | Registered CommenterJennifer

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