HONEY, I'M HOME

 Dear Hearts and Gentle People,

I thought I should drop by to say hello so you know Princess and I are well. I haven't been blogging because I haven't had much to say. 

I don't want to discuss the bruise on the 🟧 blockhead's hand or bring up his swollen legs for the kajillionth time. He's not going to drop dead from a bruise or some swelling. We aren't that lucky. 

Alligator Auschwitz has been dismantled. Funny how

obeys some court orders. 

All that money spent to build it; all that money spent to tear it down; people lose their benefits; the world keeps turning round. 

I'll try to think of something to say to create a real blog post.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

LED LED LED

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I know I've written about this issue before and I know I'm preaching to the choir, but this error will be the death of me. I see it in articles from legitimate news sources. I don't think editors exist anymore. One of the reporters is going to kill your Junebug with this horrendous mistake. 

Lead is not the past tense of lead. The past tense of lead is led.

LED 

LED

LED 

Please help me continue to fight the good fight. 

It doesn't help when the Idiot In Chief can't master a decent sentence. A reporter asked him about Harvard recently and he talked about Harlem. The person commenting on the video said if Barack Obama or Joe Biden had done such a thing, the Republicans would have been preparing articles of impeachment. Furthermore, when he lies, no reporter calls him out on it. They listen to him blather on. They know if they say anything they'll be banned from the White House or sued. Why can't a group of them work together to say That's not true? If I were still a reporter, nothing would have stopped me from speaking out. Of course, I was never in a position to question the president. 

In my last post––written quite some time ago––I said that Princess was feeling poorly. She is fine now. She had her well-child exam with Dr. G. Everything is good except I'm embarrassed to say she gained 10 lbs. She now weighs 80 lbs. Dr. G scolded me and said he doesn't want me to bring her back a year from now weighing 90 lbs. I admitted I gave her too many treats after Penelope's death. We also didn't walk enough during the spring because I was so depressed. We have already cut back on treats. Since the loss of Penelope, Princess is more devoted to me than ever, and I am devoted to her. 

Stay cool. Stay hydrated. And please remember led led led.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug 

OY WITH THE POODLES ALREADY! IT'S K'S BIRTHDAY!

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Favorite Young Man and his beloved came for a short visit recently. He wanted to get his very large tool box from my garage for use at his current job, which is going well.

So I got to meet his beloved, K. 

If K were a movie for me to review, my word for that movie would be lovely. Or brilliant. I wouldn't even be going too far if my word choice were perfect.

Today is K's birthday. I hope everyone pampers her and spoils her and treats her with the appreciation she deserves.

Did I mention her grammar is excellent?

I'm sure I'll see her again some day.

Princess seems a little off. She didn't eat her breakfast yesterday and only ate part of her supper. She barfed a bit on the bed so I had sheets to wash. She also slept all day yesterday without making a sound. 

Part of her behavior is a reaction to losing Penelope. Princess wants me in her sight all the time now. When she's eating, if she thinks I'm moving to a spot where she won't be able to see me, she stops so she can run after me, even if I'm not really going anywhere. 

It's almost time for her yearly wellness exam, so I went ahead and made her appointment with Dr. G. for today. If anything is wrong, I want to know as quickly as possible.

As for Israel, Iran, and the whole mess, Netanyahu found the perfect combination of stupidity and mental illness in the felon and made Tiny Hands his pussy.

It's hotter than hell here, and I know many of you are experiencing life under the heat dome, too. Stay hydrated and try not to get overheated. 

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

A FINE DAY FOR A BIRTHDAY PARADE

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Saturday was Trooping the Colour in London, the annual celebration of King Charles' birthday. His birthday is Nov. 14th, but the monarch's birthday celebration is held in June when the weather is nicer. 

King Charles rode in a carriage this year, rather than astride a horse, on the advice of his doctors. He has handled his cancer diagnosis and treaments with grace and dignity. 

Here, the king salutes the troops. King Charles served in the military from 1971 to 1994.

You might notice the black mourning armband he wore with his unform to show respect for the victims of the Air India crash on June 12th.

The Princess of Wales and Princess Charlotte were in good spirits. Princess Kate wore a sky-blue dress, with Charlotte in a somewhat lighter color. 

Someone else also had a birthday parade. The convicted felon birthday boy got up off his assets to salute. The only people who looked happy to be there were Hegseth and what's his name next to him. They must have smoked a big, fat doobie before their attendance was required. Melanoma looked miserable and the felon was bored.

Enthusiastic crowds always turn out for Trooping the Colour.

Meanwhile, in Washington, D.C., not so many people were there to watch.

Prince George and Prince  Louis are a good pair of brothers. George is 11 years old, and Louis is 7. I suspect Louis looks up to his big brother.

I know it's hard to tell, but this is Prince William. He spent seven-and-a-half years in full-time military service. 

Prince Harry (currently persona non grata) served in the Army for ten years.

The troops are always a sight to behold. It's a display of pomp, pageantry, and precision.

In Washington, D.C., troops in fatigues shuffled along.

King Charles is 76 years old. Long may he reign.

The felon in the White House is 79. Quickly may he disappear.

Celebrations were also held in other parts of the country.

Los Angeles, California

Portland, Oregon


Louisville, Kentucky

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

San Francisco, California

The White House

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

MY LITTLE GIRL

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Penelope was a sweet, gentle soul. For years after she joined us, she spent most of her time hiding behind various pieces of furniture because she was frightened of everything. Her Auntie Maureen, who loved her so much, helped her come out in the open to make friends with more people. 

Here, I couldn't put the foot rest down because Penelope
was hiding under it.

Penelope loved her human brother, her daddy (Sweet Cheeks), her Auntie Rebekah, and when Grandma (Carol) lived with us, she loved visiting Grandma in her room because if she stayed long enough, some Skinny Pop Pop Corn or Cheetos would come her way. 

She liked wearing jammies, jackets, or sweaters
when it was chilly.

A few years ago, she began limping. Dr. G. diagnosed her with arthritis. She took a joint supplement, and if necessary, a pain pill. I knew when she was in pain. I could see it in her big, brown eyes.

We had two prolonged cold spells this winter. The first one didn't bother her too much. After the second one, her arthritis seemed worse, so I responded accordingly with her meds. 

But then Penelope became much worse. She dragged a leg behind her at times. I hated taking her to Dr. G. He's very kind but leaving the house was terribly stressful for her. The dragging became worse, so I made the appointment.

Dr. G. needed to take x-rays. He left the room with Penelope and came back with sorrow on his face. He said he had never seen before what had happened to Penelope. Her right hip was fractured and her left hip was about to fracture. She had arthritis all along her spine. He couldn't do anything for her, and he was shocked. At her last wellness exam, she had been fine. All her blood values had been where they should be. Her arthritis was under control. She loved running and playing with Princess. 

I said, Put her down as quickly as you can. I don't want her to be in pain one second more.

He and the tech prepared. Penelope hid underneath me to the extent she could. I reached down and put my hand on her and spoke to her about what a good girl she was as she breathed her last. 

Princess was shocked when I returned without her best friend. We went through weeks of sorrow as Princess and I adjusted. Princess would lie on the floor with her chin on Penelope's bed. She wanted to go outside every few minutes. I knew she was searching for Penelope. 

Based on the information Dr. G. gave to me to look over when I wanted, she probably had some fast moving bone cancer. 

I'm sure Princess would like to have another dog friend, but we're not ready for that yet. For now, it's Princess and me taking care of each other.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

BRIAN WILSON IS GONE

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

All three Wilson brothers are dead now. Dennis––the drummer, the cute one, the only one who surfed––drowned in 1983 when he was 39. Carl played lead guitar, served as the band's musical director, and produced many of their albums when Brian's illness left him unable to do so. Lung cancer killed Carl in 1998 when he was 51. Brian's death was announced today, June 11, 2025. Cause of death hasn't been announced, but he was being treated for dementia. His 83rd birthday was coming up June 20th. Tributes to his genius have poured in. John Cusack, who portrayed Brian in the 2014 movie Love & Mercy, described him as having an ear that heard the angels. 

I published this post September 12, 2016, after Favorite Young Man and I went to see Brian Wilson in concert. It was a magical night, so I'll share it again now.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

No introduction. He didn't need one. He and his band simply walked on the stage.

He slumped at the piano, overweight and far from the kid who created The California Sound.

It didn't matter. Within seconds, everyone in the St. Augustine Amphitheater wished "they all could be California girls."

He turned over vocal duties to the bandmate at his side, from-the-beginning Beach Boy Al Jardine.

A few songs from Al and then he said, This is the first song I ever wrote. I was nineteen years old.

Al's son, Matt Jardine, sang, "Do you love me, do you surfer girl?"

My son shouted in my ear, That guy has a great fuckin' voice. (The fruit doesn't fall very far from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.)

It was true. Matt Jardine carried the vocals for the evening, backing up other singers or picking up in the middle of a line when Brian Wilson, seventy-four years old, reached the falsetto part that he once sang like an angel.

Matt Jardine would have and could have been the star of the show, but he was on the stage with the man who wrote the songs, the man who arranged the songs, the man who produced the recording sessions with a precision that defies my comprehension.

It's the Fiftieth Anniversary Tour of Pet Sounds, the album The Beatles admired so much that they responded with Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.

Several songs in, Brian said, Now we're going to do Pet Sounds.

And they did. One song after another, with the exception of the pet sounds, but it's not exactly a song. Following God Only Knows (Our Song, meaning Sweet Cheeks and me), a standing ovation led Brian to say, Thank you for the applause. Please be seated.

Through the album they went, until he said, This is the last song from Pet Sounds.

I mouthed Caroline No.

Good Vibrations followed Pet Sounds, but the night wasn't over.

They sang one much-loved song after another, until my throat hurt from begging Rhonda to "help me get her out of my heart."

Brian Wilson didn't sing much, and when he did, often it was more talk singing. He stayed behind the piano that he didn't touch often. Sometimes he swiped his hand across his forehead because it's September in Florida and it's hot and humid. Once he raised his hands as if to conduct the excellent, excellent musicians. He started the audience clapping along to one song.

No, he doesn't do a lot, but he doesn't have to and doesn't need to because he is Brian Wilson presenting the work of a lifetime.

About an hour and forty-five minutes in, he sang Love and Mercy and left the stage the second he reached the beginning of the final note. The others wandered off the stage. As we shuffled out of the amphitheater I could see Al Jardine still talking to people in the audience.

It lasted forever, yet it ended in a flash.