Talcum X
Photographed at Eagle Point/Anshai Sfard Cemetery, Rossford, Ohio, January 15, 2011.
Welcome to jennyweber dot com
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Home of Jenny the Pirate
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Our four children
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Our eight grandchildren
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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.
> Jennifer <
Causing considerable consternation
to many fine folk since 1957
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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
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 <
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.
I am a taphophile
Great things are happening at
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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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.
Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many.
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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
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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
Photographed at Eagle Point/Anshai Sfard Cemetery, Rossford, Ohio, January 15, 2011.
Reader Comments (7)
Sad, but funny!
Oh my goodness! Funny and a lovely picture!
Very sad. I don't see the comedy in it at all.
@Mari ... agreed.
@Donna M. ... thanks luv! I consider that stone a great find!
@Debbie ... I think it's just the sweetness of the play on words that strikes people as funny in a decidedly sad way. I myself admit to laughing out loud when I saw it ... not because I thought it was funny that a little baby died, but just the ironic simplicity of the words "Baby Powder" on a tiny baby's grave. But then, it's a joke in our family how I insist that no baby can ever be bathed and/or diapered properly without baby powder. It's what makes babies smell like babies! I hope precious Baby Powder's parents had more children and, better still, that they're in heaven today with their little lost loved one.
I actually know a couple of ladies who's name is "Baby" I wonder? It is a unique play on words though.
SO Interesting!! Great shot sweetie!! I ALSO found this:
Recorded in various spellings including Podder, Potter, Powter, and Powder, this is an English surname. It is occupational for a maker of drinking and storage vessels, from the Olde English pre 7th century word "pott", itself derived from the Roman (Latin) "pottus," meaning drink or draught. Job descriptive surnames originally denoted the actual occupation of the namebearer, and became hereditary when a son followed a father into the same business or profession. In the Middle Ages the term "potter" covered workers in metal as well as earthenware and clay; the potter was sometimes a bell-founder. The surname has been variously recorded in England and early examples include Geoffrey Poter in the Curia Regis rolls of Leicestershire in 1196; John le Potier in the Pipe Rolls of Essex for 1197; and Lambert le Pottur in the Curia Regis rolls of Essex in 1214. Other later recordings showing the surname development and taken from the surviving registers of the diocese of Greater London are those of John Powter at St Martins in the Field, Westminster, on February 14th 1717, and George Powder and his wife Caroline, who were witnesses at the christening of their son Godfrey at St Mary Whitechapel, Stepney, on November 18th 1759. The most famous namebearer is probably Beatrix Potter (1866 - 1943), the English author and illustrator. The first recorded spelling of the family name is shown to be that of Seuard le Potter. This was dated 1172, in the transcripts of charters relating to the Gilbertine Houses, during the reign of King Henry 11nd of England, 1154 - 1189. Throughout the centuries, surnames in every country have continued to "develop" often leading to astonishing variants of the original spelling.
Read more: http://www.surnamedb.com/Surname/Powder#ixzz1CdondiSZ
@Irene ... first name Baby? For real? Interesting ... I could live with that.
@Donna ... great link! I knew of course that the stone marked the grave of a little one (likely a stillborn) given no first name but whose parents' surname was Powder. This being a Hebrew cemetery, unusual names are the norm! I did not know that the name Powder was a derivation of Potter, however! I thought Potter indicated the vocation of the namebearer, as in a person who worked in clay and ceramics! Not sure where I would have assumed a Powder would work! In the talcum factory, maybe ...