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Sticks & Stones: More Venom From My Online Stalker

Many of you who have been reading my blog since it began in 2008, know that for some time I’ve been harassed by a woman named Maggie Namjou, aka Margaret Powell, Margreta Kerr, Maggie Kerr, and Maggie K Namjou. After months of endless phone calls, including four on our wedding day where she left screaming obscenity laced messages on our answering machine which John saved for the police, multiple nasty comments on my blog posts and more deluded emails than I could have imagined anyone might send, I finally changed my blog to a WordPress site so I could moderate comments.

After receiving nightly phone calls until 3:00 a.m. and calls throughout my work day I was forced to change my cell phone number as well. I made the changes, married the man I loved and went on with my life.

Given that I had closed several of the ways she could reach out to me it appeared as though John and I had dropped off her radar. Not surprisingly, like most stalkers she has a pattern she follows where she bombards the people she harasses with constant email and phone calls for three or four months followed by three to four months of silence so that just when you think she has moved on to her next person, she comes back to start all over.

After a few months of quiet, she seems to be back trying to create chaos in our lives. Recently, she sent John an email and later she sent one to my email address which was addressed both of us. We chose to ignore them.

Now it seems she has decided to focus on us again and is trying to inflict damage to our reputation by way of several blog posts where she goes on and on about things which are just not true. She quite tragically portrays herself as an innocent victim who has been harassed and slandered by me. I find the whole slant of her story quite funny given the abuse that has been heaped on us.

I think that most rational intelligent people would be able to see her lies for what they are, but I am linking back to my earlier posts on another site at http://stalkerupdate.wordpress.com so you can have fair balance should you see any posts by Maggie Namjou or Margreta Kerr writing fiction about John or myself. I’ve seen her newest posts and it’s just more of the same.

With this recent harassment on the internet, I feel I must at least direct my readers to an explanation. I’ve written about how she tried to bully and control us with her behavior in the past and I’d rather not write it all out again here. Please click on the highlighted links if you need more of the back story.

I’ll be happy to answer questions and if you’ve had an online stalker or have been in a similar situation, please feel free to share it here.

People like this only win when we let them. I will not allow Maggie Kerr Namjou to trash my reputation. She can write whatever crap she wants and I will continue to post the real story.

For the record, even after months of harassment by her, I did not use her name on the internet until she left it herself. (see the Maggie comment)

* Since posting this message Maggie Namjou has changed the two initial blog postings of hers that had prompted me to write the Sticks & Stones post. Those changes make appear as if I was some big bad meanie who decided write the above alert to anyone googling my name simply in response to an email she sent me in November. If I were indeed the person she describes me to be and truly intent on destroying her life, I could have posted any number of the awful emails or photographs she sent to us as well as my correspondence with others who have been affected by her outrageous behavior in the past.

She mentions in detail on the post below in the second paragraph from the bottom, a woman who she had words with having forgiven her (I know the whole story and it is much more shocking than just words) I know this woman having commiserated through emails about our mutual problems with Maggie Namjou and emailed her after reading the post below. She informed me that she’d had no contact with her and had removed her comment from her own blog because she did not want to see it on there. So once again, no contact, no forgiveness as she indicated, just one more lie to try to make me look like an ogre.

She speaks of my desire to destroy her all because of her behavior during a difficult period in her life and nothing could be farther from the truth. She is a bully who tries to controls people with her nasty behavior and then pleads for forgiveness based on the premise that she was unwell at the time and in the middle of a nervous breakdown. Let me just say … this is not the first time she has used a nervous breakdown as an excuse for bad behavior. She cites several breakdowns in previous emails to us.

She has been telling everyone about her most recent suicide attempt over at her posting and how I am reveling in it. Again, she’s written endlessly in the past about previous attempts enough to recognize her as someone who uses a variety of ways to manipulate people including suicidal talk.

I certainly have no desire to see anyone harm themselves and would feel sad to see anyone take their life. I will not however be bullied into taking down my posts which protect my reputation. She has written about me before and as she points out on her posts about my words lasting forever, her lies about me can also be found on the internet.

Having been through this before, I had enough foresight to email her posts to myself because I know her pattern. I had an idea she would go back and change them in an attempt to cast me in a more negative light than she already has. So I’m posting them here to have truth in reporting. I am so sorry to sully even for a moment my blog site which is a place of delight for me to share bits of my life and photographs.

I know that those of you who stop by and have in some cases become friends would never believe her lies, but a stranger googling my name might not look for more information if it were not already out there and might assume there was some truth to her accusations so I feel I really must address it.

I’ll return to my normal posting with something more pleasant later and I hope like everything you never have to deal with someone like this in your life.  It’s a gorgeous day here and I am going to enjoy it secure in the knowledge that I have done the very best I can to deal with this intrusion into my life.

The two images below are the postings that prompted me to write this post.


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Trash Or Treasure

It’s 3:30 a.m. here and I should be sleeping, but the problem with that is that it’s only 10:30 p.m. in Atlanta and my body appears to be on Atlanta time.  John met me at the airport in London this morning and aside from a nap of about an hour during our 5 hour drive back to Cornwall, I haven’t really slept since I managed to get about 4 hours Monday night. I tend not to be a big sleeper anyway with 5 hours being a regular night for me, but I can’t believe I’m still wide awake right now.

I even took two Tylenol PM tablets on the plane, but nothing happened and I spent the whole flight watching hour after hour of movies and TV programs that I never see over here. I managed to read half of the paperback book I bought at the airport and having had no sleep on the plane, I thought by now I would be doing some serious snoozing.

Since it appears I’ve been deserted by the sandman, I’ve been going through one of the projects that I started while home for the past three weeks in Atlanta. I spent about a week of 8 to 9 hours days going through tons of old photographs, letters, and assorted documents scanning almost 6500 separate items into my computer.

It was tough. Seeing my own history as well the photographs and letters of family members no longer living waiting to be sorted was overwhelming and felt never ending at times. I finally just sorted everything into two piles, one for those being scanned for a digital next life and the rest into the pile marked for things no longer treasured but instead bound for the trash.

I’ll say more on this later because all of sudden I think I may be able to finally sleep. I’ll leave you with a few pictures to illustrate my point and I’ll be back tomorrow with a bit more.

This is a postcard sent by my great uncle Hugh three months before he died in France in 1944.

How can this be anything but a treasure…

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I’m No Pioneer Woman

I know it’s been a little while since I’ve been here. Have you missed me? I’ve missed being here, but I have been so busy during the last three weeks that I just haven’t had a block of time to write. It’s late here … almost 2:30 am and I still have to pack. Tomorrow I fly back to England and as much as I have enjoyed my visit home, I’m really looking forward to getting back to my life in Cornwall with John.

I have loads of stories to share, but tonight I had a chance to meet a special blogger who I’ve been following for the last couple of years. If you haven’t had an opportunity to check out this really lovely woman, scoot over here and have a look around.  Take your time there’s a lot to see and I’ll be here when you get back.

Right … I hope you took time to see what Ree Drummond, aka ” The Pioneer Woman”  is all about. I’ve been learning a lot from her over the last year or so especially in the kitchen. In fact, I think there are a few people in my village who might say I have really got the hang of this dish ( scroll down towards the end of the post) that I took straight from her website.

It’s no surprise that I found myself waiting to meet the Pioneer Woman on my last night in America ( for the next seven months, not forever) along with hundreds of other people. She was in town on a book tour to promote her cookbook which I am sure will make my kitchen experience a lot safer for my computer. I picked up one for myself, my daughter Miranda, and her former college roommate Emily. My good friend Patrice came to keep me company while I waited and after browsing through my cookbook, she quickly decided she had to have one too.

My daughter Miranda is a huge fan of PW and wanted to be there, but had to work so I snapped a bunch of photos so she could get a sense of what it was like.  I’ve been to book signings before and never have I seen so many people turn out and wait so patiently. It was a laid back group of mostly women with a smattering of men around taking pictures and helping with children. I did meet one man who was there to buy his wife the cookbook although he confessed that he had tried quite a few of PW’s recipes that he found on her blog. His wife reads the blog everyday, but he prefers to try out things like the cinnamon rolls which he confessed were too good to make very often.  That sounds like a perfect Christmas morning treat.

There were several surprises for me tonight which added to the evening making it even more fun. As soon as I walked upstairs, I ran into a woman I used to work with at a hospice organization in Atlanta. Carla was one of the sweetest people I met there and exactly the type of person you want walking you through things should you or someone you know ever need hospice care.  She was delightful as always and she gave me permission to post a picture of her that I lifted from her facebook page. She’s a newlywed as you can see by the photograph. She wasn’t there for the book signing, but I still raved about the recipes in the cookbook. So Carla if you’re reading this, go over to PW’s place and check out the brisket.

When Patrice and I finally made it to the line, (they called us to it in groups according to numbered color coded wristbands…very civilized ) we were talking with each other when I easedropped overheard two women behind us doing something that sounded familiar. Barely pausing, I quickly turned around and interrupted them in the middle of what I remembered as the torture that goes with the practice of selling drugs. I blurted out, ” Are you two drug reps? ”  They were practicing a sales call with one being the doctor and one the pharma rep. It turned out to be a migraine medication which is kind of funny since I suffer from them from time to time. If you’ve read my blog for long you know that I worked in the same field for too many years. They were in town for a POA (plan of action) meeting and even had a sales aid with them to practice while they waited. As much fun as they were, I am so grateful that my life is no longer like theirs.

Joyce is in red and Deb (go here to see her post) is holding the sales aid or marketing piece depending on how old school you are.

This is me killing time goofing around with my knitting which I brought in case I needed something to do. I just pulled it out for a photo opportunity as there were far too many people to watch and chat with to focus on knitting.

Still these girls seem to be able to focus on the task at hand.

I was too busy focusing on babies like little Helen here above with her mom and the sneaky pic of the sweetly sleeping child below nestled in her mother’s lap.

We waited and watched others leaving with their cookbooks and PW T-shirts… a great gift for those who got their book signed.

Looks like someone is going to give a lot of cookbooks for Christmas.

This is a fuzzy shot of Pioneer Woman going in to her signing area  … people were so happy to see her that they clapped when she arrived and she wasn’t late either …she was way early.

She spoke for a minute, but I couldn’t hear her very well. The sound system was iffy and I was too busy checking out her boots.

It was all go right from the beginning and the smile you see below at the beginning of the evening was still there…

…when I got my chance to say hello and have my books signed.

That’s me telling her all about the time I told my daughter about my blog (when it was new) and her response afterwards. After taking a look around my blog, I asked my daughter what she thought about it and she said, ” It’s okay, but you’re no Pioneer Woman.”  No Pioneer Woman…I was the one who introduced her to the PW in the first place!

She’s still gracious and smiling even after I asked Patrice to take about four pictures of us.

Patrice and I finished up the evening with a signature from Betsy & Hyacinth and after picking up a T – shirt, we said our goodbyes and headed for home.

One last shot before I go.

I may not be Pioneer Woman, but thanks to her cookbook I can sure cook like her now… so fire up the oven John, I’m coming home!  Oops… I forgot myself for a minute and started talking like a rancher’s wife.

I’ll be back in a day or two…blogging from our little village in Cornwall. See you then.

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A Grateful Heart

We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.

~Thornton Wilder

On this day of American Thanksgiving I want to take a minute to say a few words. In a few hours I will sit down with some of my family and friends to share a meal. Sadly they won’t all be here, but rest assured I will be thinking of them as my step-mother Cullene offers a Thanksgiving blessing that while it varies slightly from year to year has a familiarity that is as constant as seeing her at the door to welcome me whenever I come home.

I try to live in a state of awareness and gratitude for the everyday gifts of love and friendship that I am fortunate to be able to claim as mine. These are infinitely more dear to me than anything in shiny paper and string and just as important as awareness is for me, so too is acknowledgement.

Most of the time I think I do a pretty good job of letting people know how grateful I am for the connections we share, but just in case….

I’m grateful for every minute I get to spend with my now grown up girl

… and for the love and respect of this man I adore.

I’m grateful for Cullene who mothers me like a child of her own.

I’m grateful for my sister Margaret who lives almost as far from our home state as I do …

… and my sister Jennie who prefers to stay a bit closer to her southern roots.

I’m grateful for a chance to say hello to family I had not seen for years and goodbye to a place that has a special history.

I am so fortunate to have the friends I do and I wish I had time to post a photograph of each and every one of you, but the turkey is almost ready and people will be coming through the door in a minute so I need to say ….

I’m so very grateful for those of you who take time to stop by GOTJ and especially those who leave a comment or two because that’s how the circle grows … increasing my good fortune and my group of friends.

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Life Changes & Family Reunions

The picture above was taken around 1995. From right to left we are … Becky, Shelley (with son Josh) McKenzie, Mikellah, and me. Since this picture was taken, all of the girls have children of their own and Shelley has added two more sons to her brood of three boys. Sadly, and it makes me tear up to write this, my cousin Becky, the mother of these three darling young women died suddenly last year of a heart attack.

I’m up early getting ready for my drive up to the North Georgia Mountains where I’ll reunite with my cousins at the One-Shot cabin. Since the cabin is up for sale, it will probably be the last time I’ll have a chance to be in the space that has such personal meaning and memories for each of us.

I’ve been looking forward to this reunion for quite some time. It has been years since I’ve seen the girls and I’ve not had a chance to meet their children yet with the exception of Josh. Life gets in the way of families getting together sometimes and you always think there will be more time. Maybe next year we tell ourselves and the years just pass us by. The last time I spoke with Becky I remember exactly where I was sitting and what we said. We both thought at our age that we had all the time in the world. Her early death last year reinforced how we may not always get another chance.

While I’m home for the Thanksgiving holiday with my family and friends, I’m taking time this time, to see Becky’s girls and grandchildren making good on that promise I made a few years ago to get up to the cabin again.

Even though the two women I associate most with the One-Shot cabin will be missing in body today, I feel sure that the echo of their distinctive voices will somehow be present. Both my great aunt Wylly, who named the cabin and infused it with her energy and her grandaughter, my cousin Becky, who raised her family there and called it home had the kind of voice you would never forget. I don’t even have to close my eyes to hear them now. I have a feeling I’ll be hearing them again today. Whether it’s a whisper of the past calling out from a corner of the cabin, or in the voices and expressions of Shelley, Mikellah and McKenzie, I think I’ll have that moment together with them all, for one last time at the One-Shot cabin.

Rebecca Anne St. John & Wylly Folk St. John

July 4, 1972

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Paying Less For More

In my last post I asked which light cost $698 and which one cost a more sensible $65. I took the picture of the boy above last Saturday night just before my friend Tina’s big birthday bash and he happened to be looking in the direction of the correct answer. He’s looking to the left which is the opposite direction that most people went. The bulk of my commenters guessed the light on the right was the one we had dangling from the ceiling. Interestingly, people thought the less expensive one which we choose was the pricey designer model. John emailed a picture he took today of ours as it looks in the master bedroom. Thanks to everyone who took the time to offer a guess.

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Resurrection Sunday – Flighty

Resurrection: Middle English, from Old French, from Late Latin resurrēctiō, resurrēctiōn-, from Latin resurrēctus, past participle of resurgere, to rise again.

or this

The act of bringing back to practice, notice, or use; revival

I’ve been thinking a bit about my first blog site where I left a few things behind that were important to me. Intimate and personal, they just sit there now waiting for someone to stumble across them. Sometimes, I feel a need to go back through my memories and resurrect some for another look. I find it interesting that my feelings haven’t changed much since I wrote the post below about year ago. This seems a bit silly on reflection because while I haven’t done everything on the list of ” shoulds ” that nag at me for attention, I really have accomplished quite a lot in the last twelve months.

I’m going home to America in a few days and while I usually rent a car at the airport, this time my daughter will be picking me up. This is the longest amount of time we have ever gone without seeing each other and I am so looking forward to spending time with her. Six months seems to go by so quickly when there’s a laundry list of goals you want to complete, but when you’re away from the people you love, it can feel like forever.

There’s a song from my teen years that was a hit for an English band you may remember called Bad Company, it’s a remake of a Little Feat song and it’s been more recently associated with Alison Krauss. When I hear it in my head, it’s always the rockin version that Bad Company sings, but the best I could find was the version below by Alison Krauss. It’s a good one too, but a little tame for the amount of excitement I’m going to feel stepping out the doors of the airport.

If you have a minute, take a listen to the soundtrack that keeps running through my brain today … because as confused as I get going forward sometimes, my heart still knows the way back to Atlanta.

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Flighty

October 17, 2008

Like these birds, who could not seem rest for more than a minute or two, I feel flighty and unsettled. I watched them yesterday as they duplicated the same pattern over and over. Back and forth they went, flying across the same piece of ground never going more than a few feet from where they started before going back to the beginning. Appearing as if they were assembling for a grand take off on an important journey, they would lift off in mass with a great flap of wings only to fly around for a minute and go back and start over.

As the seasons change, I feel a sense of anxiety to get certain things done. None come easily and all require a fair amount of self education. I struggle with the need for perfection and I’m never quite satisfied with my writing, my photography, or the pace at which I allow myself to develop. It’s about fear really, fear that there won’t be enough time to do everything before the seasons change, both literally and metaphorically and I am out of time.

Today, while my head is filled with flighty unsettled thoughts, my spirit, like the birds going back and forth, is struggling to stay focused and serene. Instinctually, like the birds, I know the direction of my journey. Lord knows, I’ve been working out flight plans in my mind for years. Today, I resolve to just be grateful for motion, even if it’s scattered, and tomorrow, well, maybe tomorrow will be a day filled with full flight.

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Choosing The Path

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I saw the surgeon today for a follow up appointment concerning my hip. In case you missed my news about the big decision I’m facing, you can go here to catch up.

Go on … have a look and I’ll be waiting when you get back.

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Right … so now that you know all the gruesome details, let’s get back to my doctor’s visit. First, I want to explain for any American readers that in the UK, a surgeon is addressed as Mr, Mrs, or Miss instead of Doctor. After so many years of calling on physicians in my professional life, it’s tough to break the habit of saying Doctor when addressing my surgeon. Today I had an appointment to discuss the findings of my MRA and Mr Surgeon repeated how this surgery could make it possible for me to continue doing the things I enjoy. I went in with a ton of questions along with a good bit of research including this useful article.

Because I had spent so much time reading about the procedure, I went into the appointment thinking that I would not have the surgery, but just tough out the pain instead … knowing that eventually I would need to have a hip replacement at about sixty or so. I am a long way from sixty though and my conversation in the surgeon’s office made me reconsider the possibility of having the surgery.

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John and I walked 105 miles of the TMB last year through the French, Swiss, and Italian Alps and we have been planning a return trip in September when I turn 50. These pictures are some of the images I captured last year. The surgeon thought without the surgery, activities like this along with running would need to be shelved and replaced with the more sedate form of exercise … swimming. Have I mentioned how much I really dislike swimming?

I’m including a few more pictures from the TMB (Tour du Mont Blanc) for you to see … while I go back to my research and try to make up my mind.  As always, your thoughts are appreciated.

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Veterans Day – Family Extensions

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Extending my tour of duty

In 1978, I stood with a group of strangers and holding up my right hand, I promised to “support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” I went on to raise my hand two more times when I extended my military tour for six months and later when I joined the National Guard under a program called SMP.

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Being sworn in for SMP National Guard and ROTC

Soldiering is never easy, but it is particularly difficult now when so many face the possibility of life altering injury and death everyday. I enlisted during peace time and although I was trained and ever ready for the possibility of battle, my daily life was relatively peaceful with my biggest threat to my safety coming from the sexual harassment from others who wore the uniform. To borrow a phrase from Charles Dickens, it was the best and worst of times for me in many ways and while there are many stories I could share on another day, today’s post has a different purpose. This is the day that Americans honor our living veterans.

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Basic Training - Ft Gordon, Georgia - 1979

Today, there are many wearing the various uniforms that make up the different branches of the American military family. Men and women who fight every day committed to the words they repeated on the day they volunteered to serve, ” I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me.”  I use the word family with great intention because once you have assembled, trained, and lived with people in anticipation of a life threatening mission, you begin to see them as an extension of your family of origin. For many who grow up in less than ideal situations it may be the only family they know.

There are three veterans in particular that I like to think of as part of my family and while we never served together, I have heard bits of their individual stories over the years and have an understanding of the collective cost of their time in service. While my path was easy, these three men who fought in Vietnam, Jamie, Joe, and Bill have a different story to tell. I know what it’s like to be ready, but they know what it means to go.

Today, as advertisers hawk big sales on various goods or you sit in frustration outside a public office closed for the day, please remember the real reason for Veterans Day and offer those currently serving or those who have served, a much needed and simple…thank you.

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