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> Jenny the Pirate <
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.
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
>>>>++<<<<
THE DREAMERS
In the dawn of the day of ages,
In the youth of a wondrous race,
'Twas the dreamer who saw the marvel,
'Twas the dreamer who saw God's face.
On the mountains and in the valleys,
By the banks of the crystal stream,
He wandered whose eyes grew heavy
With the grandeur of his dream.
The seer whose grave none knoweth,
The leader who rent the sea,
The lover of men who, smiling,
Walked safe on Galilee --
All dreamed their dreams and whispered
To the weary and worn and sad
Of a vision that passeth knowledge.
They said to the world: "Be glad!
"Be glad for the words we utter,
Be glad for the dreams we dream;
Be glad, for the shadows fleeing
Shall let God's sunlight beam."
But the dreams and the dreamers vanish,
The world with its cares grows old;
The night, with the stars that gem it,
Is passing fair, but cold.
What light in the heavens shining
Shall the eye of the dreamer see?
Was the glory of old a phantom,
The wraith of a mockery?
Oh, man, with your soul that crieth
In gloom for a guiding gleam,
To you are the voices speaking
Of those who dream their dream.
If their vision be false and fleeting,
If its glory delude their sight --
Ah, well, 'tis a dream shall brighten
The long, dark hours of night.
> Edward Sims Van Zile <
>>>>++<<<<
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.
I don't know who they are and I don't know about everything, but I know this:
For the first time, a photograph of mine comprises the entire cover of a high-quality glossy magazine. Inside is an article I wrote about Bonaventure Cemetery in Savannah, Georgia, and even more of my pictures!
Now, don't drop everything and run out to your local bookstore to buy a copy.
I daresay you won't find it on the shelves at Barnes & Noble or anywhere else.
That's because it's the November issue of American Cemetery, a to-the-trade magazine that is subscribed to, I would think, primarily by funeral homes and cemetery companies.
I sure don't get a copy in my mailbox! Although perhaps I should.
The pensive tombstress whose photo I shot last May while at Bonaventure adorns the grave of one Thomas N. Theus, a Confederate soldier who died in 1903, and his wife, Eliza Wilhelmina, who died in 1895.
The funny thing -- Donna M., you're going to like this -- is that I remember distinctly the minutes I was poised before the impressive tomb framed with Spanish moss (the monument, not me), trying several angles in search of the elusive "money shot."
Which I'm smart enough to know that if I got, it would be due to sheer dumb luck.
I recall being a little bit embarrassed because as I aimed my modest point-and-shoot Nikon Coolpix L20 for about the fourth time, a lady stood beside me doing the same thing.
Except, she was using the kind of camera I only dream about.
But it's my picture that's on the cover of American Cemetery, because I'm the one who wrote an article about Bonaventure and sent it, along with my pictures, to the editor of said publication.
There's a lesson in there and it's not lost on me.
Just send it out there. Do it and send it out. Be like me: use the shotgun approach. Don't think! Much. No matter what your dream!
Pepper the landscape with your sincere efforts, amateurish though they be.
And as to equipment? Do what my mother has always counseled me to do: Use what you have.
You never know what you might accomplish. And you never know the window that may open as a result ... or what door, for you to walk through.
>+<>+<>+<>+<
If you haven't already and you'd like to read the article I sent to American Cemetery, and see more pictures of breathtaking Bonaventure Cemetery, go here.
Photo of Josh Groban courtesy APOK I love it when this happens.
Let me give you the backstory.
At our house we like a lot of things and a lot of people but we're huge fans of three performing artists in particular: Johnny Depp (well, that's mainly me, with Audrey on my heels, but everyone else is on board too, especially when he plays his seminal role of Captain Jack Sparrow), Il Divo, and Josh Groban.
I've written on these topics at various and sundry times so if you've been paying attention, you already knew all this. But if you're new here, this will be useful information I suppose.
So, Josh Groban's latest album, Illuminations, came out on Tuesday. For many weeks we'd been ticking off the days in anticipation.
Coincidentally, on Wednesday Erica would be headed home for a visit.
She went out on Monday evening to find the album in advance of Tuesday's announced release date, and to be sure, a few stores had it ... but the price was jacked up a trifle.
She called me, ostensibly to present her dilemma and seek a solution, but I think she just wanted to talk about Josh and his new album.
"Wait until Tuesday and get it as cheaply as you can," I counseled. "Then save it for your drive home Wednesday night. It'll make the trip less boring."
My children so enjoy having a mother who is both whip-smart and penny-wise, that the Boo literally gasped.
"That's a fantastic idea!" she enthused.
Of course what I didn't mention was that I preferred she buy the album so that I don't have to, just in case it's a flop.
(Yeah, right. Kid's not thirty yet and artistically he can do no wrong. They could record him sighing and the resulting product would vault from store shelves like fleas onto a shaggy dog.)
More to the point, I can sneak Erica's CD from her when she's not looking and copy it onto my computer, saving myself any expense whatsoever.
Ninety percent of the time I'm sitting in front of my computer anyway.
There! I think that solves it.
(I felt -- and still feel -- no guilt. Hear that, ASCAP? And I do believe Mr. Groban's pockets are already handsomely lined with cash, and after all I am a pirate.)
Just to clarify, Erica should be considered the chief Josh Groban fan in our house, although I would venture to say that I and Audrey run a close second. Neck and neck, as it were. TG and Andrew bring up the somewhat less enthusiastic but still respectable rear.
Stephanie's too busy potty-training a two-year-old to care. I do believe Josh Groban could show up on her doorstep with a gold-plated version of Illuminations, signed and dated by himself, and she'd ask him for potty-training tips.
(I hope Allissa would pull up her slightly dampish big-girl panties before charging to the door and asking "What's dat boy doin'?")
Back to the story.
Erica called again on Tuesday night.
"Mom! Guess what!" she crowed.
"What," I said. I was mad about something or other.
"TheyhadtheCDatTargetfornineninety-nineforjusttheCD --" she burbled.
"-- anditwasonlythirteendollars!" she concluded exultantly.
"WHAT? REALLY?" I whooped. I might've done a Snoopy dance without getting out of my chair.
(We love Josh's "making of" DVDs.)
Erica called me again on Wednesday while en route from McDonough to Columbia. She sounded morose.
"What is it?" I demanded. Nothing bad, I hoped.
"It's nothing bad," she semi-soothed in the same bottom-lip-dragging-the-pavement tone. "It's just that my Josh CD is skipping all over the place and I know it's not my CD player's fault."
Really? I thought. Just how does she know that? Her brand-new Susan Boyle CD did the same thing, as I recall. While I'm not the Sherlock Holmes of automotive electronics, I do believe I see a pattern developing.
I commiserated as best I could (I have problems of my own!) and told her to just get home safely and we have a Target right around the corner and she could read them the enraged Grobanite version of the riot act on Thursday.
She got home late that night and the first thing she said, walking up the driveway as I stood there shivering, was that her CD had "warmed up" and began playing fine.
"I knew it would," she declared airily.
Oh, okay. I never would've guessed. When you called to tell me of the snafu you sounded a tad depressed, but what do I know after all? I thought.
By then we were in the house. Barely. Erica brandished her new Josh Groban CD in my face but did not offer to let me touch it.
"Okay," she began. "My favorite song by far is Galileo."
"What?" I might've whined. I'd noticed the song's title on Josh's website but to be honest it didn't sound like a track that would interest me.
(I judge all books by their covers, just because the conventional wisdom is that you're not supposed to. Pirate!)
"Yes! Oh my goodness Mom, you won't believe, it is so amazing," the primary Grobanite effervesced.
"Well, I can't talk about this or listen to it now because I have to go to bed because I have to drive all the way to Greenwood tomorrow for a ten o'clock start and that means I have to get up early," I grumped.
Next morning as I was leaving, barely eight o'clock, I saw the CD winking in bright sunlight on the kitchen counter.
I wanted to listen to it on my way to Greenwood. Just to make sure it wasn't a bad CD or a flop or anything.
Dared I pilfer it?
No.
Abscond with it and leave a note saying "HAHA I took it"?
Ahhh... no. Do unto others.
I hollered up the steps to Erica's room.
"Hey Boo?"
"What." (sleepily).
"Can I take the CD and listen to it on my trip pleeaase?" I wheedled.
Long pause.
"Okay."
"You're a diamond, mate!" I skedaddled out the door before she could change her mind.
After all that parental psychology I was in the car before I realized I'd left the CD glinting in the sunlight on the kitchen counter.
I got out -- harrumphing, possibly -- and retrieved said allegedly skip-prone disc.
I'd gone about five miles on I-26 West (without the CD skipping a single time) when Galileo -- track three -- began to play.
How did I know it was that track? Elementary, my dear Watson! "Galileo" is the first word.
And by the time I'd gone ten miles on I-26 West, I was sniffing back tears so as not to smudge me pirate eyeliner.
Turns out Galileo is not a new song. It's been around for awhile, written by Declan O'Rourke, much recorded.
But I'd never heard it before, and that's what counts. Now it's my favorite song of all time.
Almost.
Like I said at the beginning ... I love it when that happens.
I hope the powers that be don't yank the track from YouTube before you get to hear it here on IHATH. Especially after this big buildup.
If they do, go out today and buy yourself a copy of Illuminations. They have it at Target.
You won't regret it ... even if Galileo is the only song you like.
But it won't be.
>+<>+<>+<>+<>+<
Dedicated to my darling TG
Galileo fell in love as a Galilean boy And he wondered, what in heaven -- Who invented such a joy But the question got the better of his scientific mind And to his blind and dying days He looked up high and often sighed, And sometimes cried
Who puts the rainbow in the sky? Who lights the stars at night? Who dreamt up someone so divine, Someone like you, and made them mine?
Love can make you ask some funny questions now and then But just remember the alternatives For I remember when I was lonely and unhappy And my lips were cold as ice But you kissed me and good heavens -- now I’m here in paradise!
So if ever I'm not kissing you or looking in your eyes I won’t be blind and I won’t cry I’ll look up high and gladly sigh, and thank the guy
Who puts the rainbow in the sky Who lights the stars at night Who dreamt up someone so divine Someone like you, and made them mine Someone like you, and made them mine.
The Motown Turkesses are back with a holiday number that is strangely "in tune" with recent events on a national scale.
Use your imagination! Turkeys fly. Yes, they do.
I'm staying on terra firma this Thanksgiving ... like I do all of the time unless I'm up in the air harping about something.
(Which, come to think of it, happens with alarming frequency, but which -- as of this writing -- requires no security check.)
However, if you do avail yourself of the "convenience" of traveling via commercial aviation in your journey to Grandmother's house this Thanksgiving, maybe you can serenade your friendly official TSA patter-downer with a verse or two of this timely ditty!
Is that light at the end of the tunnel me about to start on the last of a stack of deposition transcripts? Huh? Is it? So that I can begin to plan my Thanksgiving menus and look forward to my favorite holiday?
Or is it merely the twinkle of my recently-acquired pirate tumbler with rhinestone skull-and-crossbones and jet-bead black eyes?
I got it at TJ Maxx for two ninety-nine plus tax.
What does it contain in the above picture, you may ask?
It is a low-calorie, low-fat chocolate banana milkshake.
You make it by putting one cup of ice-cold 1% milk into your blender. Add several chunks of frozen banana, a heaping tablespoon (or two) of Hershey's unsweetened cocoa powder, and a packet of Splenda.
Blend until smooth and ice-creamy.
Rather nice when you need a little something in the late-ish evening after you've eaten virtuously all day and don't want to ruin it.
Yum yum. All gone.
In other seasonal news, do your best to ignore the needless apostrophe in the title of this hilarious clip from Everybody Loves Raymond.
It's worth it to see the ever-beleaguered Debra Barone rassle a cold, uncooperative turkey into the oven while a hapless Ray stands by in stunned silence.
We'll be doing our own tangoes with turkeys in just a few days!
Speaking of cold turkey, guess I'd better get my oven fixed. It's newly on the fritz.
Copyright, copy, and photographs, 2007-2025: Jennifer Weber. All rights imaginable one-hundred percent reserved.
WHAT THIS MEANS: IT IS ILLEGAL TO COPY ORIGINAL CONTENT AND/OR PHOTOGRAPHS FROM THIS WEB SITE WITHOUT MY EXPRESS PERMISSION.
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Sunday, November 21, 2010 at 08:44PM 
