THE POLITICS OF LONELINESS

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm writing to you on Sunday evening. It rained hard Saturday night. A cold front is coming. Lake Junebug is pretty full. I wonder if Princess and Penelope will end up ice skating. We have a winter storm watch Tuesday evening though Wednesday afternoon. We might get some snow and sleet. I know how to drive on snow and ice. The natives do not. I will not leave my house. 

Fritz visited the girls Saturday afternoon. They were thrilled. He stayed with them while Rebekah and I went out gallivanting around. I needed to go to UPS to send a package (the reason for sending the package might be a good story for another day), and we each needed a few groceries. We also went to a diner. Rebekah had an omelet and I had a cheeseburger. I seldom buy red meat, but I'll indulge in a bit when I'm out and about. As you can tell, Rebekah and I have pretty wild times. 

Monday is a day of mourning for me. Even if I didn't have to work, I wouldn't watch the goings on in D.C. I won't use its name anymore. Carol uses only a lower case t. I've been referring to them as President Melon Musk and his wife Dawn. I don't know what other name I'll use, or if I'll use any name at all.

A while back I watched Making Manson (2024, streaming on Peacock, 3 episodes), the latest documentary about Charles Manson. It includes tapes of phone conversations some guy had with Manson for years while he was in prison. I didn't care about that. What interested me was the women in the "Manson Family" talking about how they ended up with Charlie. Over and over, they said, I was lonely.

Look up information about more of the women and you'll see the same thing: They were lonely. They ran away from home, or were kicked out by their families in some cases. They had no place to go until they met Charlie or another member of the family, who welcomed them.

I've also seen numerous newspaper articles about the epidemic of loneliness in the United States. Fewer people live near their families these days. They don't have the traditional church families of the past. Divorce is more common. Influencers tell young adults to cut off their parents because they're toxic. 

This loneliness helps me understand how the political cult developed. People joined because they wanted to be part of something where they felt accepted and understood. They found others who shared their opinions. They could even let loose their basest desires to commit violence and be open about their hatred of the different among us, the people with skin of a different color, the people who follow religions they don't understand. 

They could go to exciting rallies where loud music played and the orange-faced man rattled on and danced and swayed on the stage and told them to beat up protesters. It's okay! He'll pay your legal bills. Throw a punch. Kick. Let it out. You'll feel better. And if you see someone on the street who's different, someone to blame for your troubles, punch and kick again, or at least call names. What a relief to let those bastards know they can't replace you or they brought disease to your country. Send them back to their countries! Kill them if you must!

A lot of us have a cult member or two in our families. I've also seen plenty of articles on how to deal with difficult conversations over the dinner table during the holidays. Sometimes it's an older, conservative family member. It might be extended family living in a different part of the country. Or it's someone who is just plain fucking stupid. 

However you know these people, they've joined a cult because they found someone who welcomed them the same way Charles Manson welcomed teenaged girls into his family. The women in the Manson family said Charlie could figure out their weaknesses and prey on them. He could also make them feel welcome and loved, before he started threatening them and beating them.

The political cult will not treat its members well. That's already been proven. It didn't pay their legal bills. It broke up families. It mishandled the pandemic, leading to unnecessary deaths, business closures, and lost jobs. Remember empty shelves in grocery stores? And oy gewalt, what an embarrassment on the world stage to have a country run by a cult leader who worships dictators. 

The cult leader won't do better this time around. It will reverse much of the good President Biden has done. We know. Some of the members figure it out and leave the cult, but the cult finds new members to replace its defectors.  

The leader is not an intelligent man. In spite of his college degree, he is not an educated man. But he is a very good con artist, a barricuda of a cheater. He was raised on it. Then his talent and his mental illness were brought out and perfected by his mentor, Roy Cohn. Cohn was ruthless. He taught the cult leader to attack, attack, attack, to lie no matter what the facts are, and to never give up, never quit.

That is exactly what the cult leader has done.

So yes, today is a day of mourning for me. I've put away some Christmas decorations, but the tree is still up with the lights on it, little blue lights of hope. It provides me with some comfort. When the insurrection took place, I was in the middle of taking down the tree. I put it back up and put the lights back on. Joe Biden urged Americans Sunday to "keep the faith in a better day to come." 

I'll try, Joe. It's going to be very difficult, but I'll try. 

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

FEEL THE BERN

IF I COULD TURN BACK TIME

O HEAR US WHEN WE CRY TO THEE FOR THOSE IN PERIL ON THE SEA

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's still chilly in Florida, and today it's dreary and raining.

Eternal Father, Strong To Save was one of the hymns sung at Jimmy Carter's funeral. I'm sure it was chosen in honor of former President Carter's service in the Navy and his education at the Naval Academy because it's considered the Navy hymn.

Lately, it's been Princess who cries out because she thinks she's in peril. When our relationship was new, she allowed me to clip her nails when she was lying on my her bed. She also had a manicure at the vet's office without a fuss. But in the past year she's become less cooperative. 

Her nails were pretty long so a couple of days ago, I approached with the clippers. I managed to clip one nail on a front paw and then she rebelled and cried out. We battled and she yelped as I trimmed a couple more nails. I finally gave up when she fought so hard I feared she might injure herself.

Sunday evening it was time to try again. Since force hadn't worked, I tried negotiating. In my left hand I held cookie pieces on a plate, and in my right hand I held up the nail clippers. Princess, I told her, you get some cookie for each paw we complete. 

She gave me the paw we had almost finished. I only needed to trim one nail. Then she had her cookie reward. I asked for another paw. Negotiations broke down. Princess went on strike; I fumed.

I decided to clip Penelope's nails as a means of exerting pressure on Princess. Penelope remained motionless during clipping. I praised her extravagantly and provided generous cookie rewards. 

Princess acquiesced to reopening negotiations. She wanted larger cookie perks. I wanted greater paw access. I was willing to provide more cookies, but she didn't want to provide the paws. 

I had to try a different approach. I got out her leash and led her to the living room couch, where I set the plate of cookies and a box of dog treats. She hopped up on the couch to go after the cookies, while I went after a paw. She balked. I removed the cookies. 

We tried again, and finally, she gave in. With cookies and some treats from the box, we finished nail clipping in record time and I told her what a wonderful, beautiful Princess she is. From first to final nail clipped, it had only taken about 48 hours. 

My teammates and I have also been experiencing some peril at work. No one is grabbing our paws, but more and more often, our clients shout and curse at us over the phone. One of my teammates spoke to someone during December who called her a c*nt and last week another was called a bitch. Recently I had to tell a man that he'd received a warning message because he hadn't signed a document required for his account. He went ballistic. 

DON'T TALK TO ME AS IF I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING. I'M NOT A CHILD. DO NOT TALK TO ME LIKE I'M A CHILD. I'M 41 YEARS OLD. DON'T TALK TO ME THAT WAY.

I was shocked. I hadn't spoken to him differently from the way I talk to other people. I told him I was sorry he didn't like the way I spoke and I didn't intend to treat him as if he's a child, but the document needed to be signed.

He remained furious. I couldn't say anything without him accusing me of speaking to him in the wrong way, so I told him I would reach out to a supervisor for him. He said, YES, YOU'D BETTER GET A SUPERVISOR BECAUSE I'M NOT TALKING TO YOU!

Getting a supervisor turned out to be a problem. When J is working, he responds to us as quickly as he can, but he is overloaded with his own team and our team. He was not working that day so I had to go to the "General Chat" to request assistance. Some supervisors were promoted, and they are not being replaced. We had a problem in the past with not enough supervisor support, and we're returning to that unfortunate situation. 

It took quite a while to find a sup, and then the first two times I tried to call him, the call didn't go through. On the third try, he could hear me, but I couldn't hear him. I tried to connect him to Mr. Angry, but I think my complainer had already hung up. I provided the sup with the number he had called from. I don't know what happened from there.

This crap is getting old. 

My teammates keep asking, What is wrong with our clients? Why are they treating us like this?

I think I know what's wrong with them, but I can't say it at work. It's the incoming president they elected who has given them permission to treat people like shit. We're not in physical danger, but it's discouraging and unnerving. Who wants to go to work only to be called names in exchange for trying to help people?

After our supervisor, B, died, we were told we wouldn't get a new sup. Then we were told we'd get a new sup after the first of the year. Knowing this company, that could mean next December. And who knows what kind of a person they'll find? There will never be another sup as good as Bryan (my original sup). We might get another B, who shouted and threatened. We might get a T, who worked with us for a little bit after B's death, and threatened and lied to me. I will be 66 years old next month. It's a while before I reach full retirement age, and I don't want to change jobs. I just want a decent supervisor and clients who know shouting and cursing isn't allowed.

In spite of these problems, I'm feeling a bit better––as long as I don't think too much! 🤣

My accomplishments: I scrubbed the master bathroom and scrubbed me. I organized some papers and threw out some stuff I no longer needed. I've put away a few more Christmas decorations.

When I cleaned the master bathroom, I used some little plastic containers to help organize my lotions, potions, eye of newt, and toe of frog. Rita, I think you'll like this. If you don't know my beloved friend, Rita, you should drop by SoulComfort's Corner to say hello. I'm not sure how long Rita and I have been friends, but I rely on her. I pour out my heart to her in letters and emails. Rita is wise. She gives me such good advice. We have a lot in common, including a love of organizing. 

All of those little bottles and tubes and soaps are in the containers that can go in the dishwasher for a good cleaning. 

Rita and I tend to like a lot of the same TV shows and movies, too. I also remember one day when we realized we had seen the same interview with Lady Gaga and we both liked her. I still like Lady Gaga. 

Well, this has been another long post and I still haven't written my farewell to 2024 post. So much to see and do this year. Maybe I'll never say goodbye to last year and just continue to pretend that Joe Biden and Kamala Harris are still in office. 

*sigh* But facts won't allow me to pretend.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I've just finished watching Jimmy Carter's funeral, which was very moving. President Biden gave a magnificent eulogy. As the president returned to his seat, Hillary Clinton smiled and nodded her approval, while I cried because the eulogy was so good and because we're losing a man who returned decency to the presidency. 

The presidents, vice presidents, and their spouses were appropriately somber and respectful, with the exception of donold, who always looks restless, itchy, and bored. Eventually, he closed his eyes. I guess it was too much for him to even pretend to pay attention. 

I noticed back in 2018 when donold and melanoma attended George H.W. Bush's funeral they clearly didn't know how to behave in a church. They didn't sing the hymns or follow the order of the service. donold is held up as a savior by so many "evangelical Christians," but he––and they––don't really have anything to do with Christianity, certainly not the kind of evangelical Christianity Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter embodied.

I also cried when Garth Brooks and Tricia Yearwood sang Imagine. Jimmy Carter was known for his love of music. When he was running for president, The Allman Brothers Band played at a fundraiser for him. I don't remember who mentioned it this morning, but it drew a laugh when someone brought up that Jimmy sang On The Road Again with Willie Nelson.

 

I didn't recognize Garth Brooks at first. In fact, I didn't recognize a lot of people because they've aged and changed. It was a good thing their names popped up on the screen. Of course, I could put a name to all the presidents and vice presidents without help, but George and Laura Bush are showing their age. I picked out Marilyn Quayle right away because she still has the same flip hairstyle (I don't mean that as a dig; it's a fact). Barack Obama looked lively. I'd love to know what he said to donold. Michelle Obama wasn't there. Joe Biden looked good for someone who was supposed to be too old and stupid to be president. Jill Biden, Kamala Harris, Doug Emhoff, and Hillary Clinton looked great. Al Gore still appeared robotic. I don't think Tipper was there; she and Al have been separated for years. Melanoma is also showing signs of age. She wasn't as thoroughly made up and carefully coiffed as usual. I wonder if donold will replace her with a younger model. I'm looking at you, Ivanka.

Anyway, we can now consider Jimmy Carter well-eulogized and remembered. His casket is on the way to his home in Plains. 

I thought I would have to play hooky from work to be able to watch the funeral today. Instead I'm on what I hope is a short-term leave of absence from work. Sunday I developed an infection. Monday I saw a nurse practitioner at my PCP's office. She prescribed an antibiotic and sent the script to the pharmacy I use for immediate needs. (I have as many 90-day supplies of meds mailed to my home as possible.) I went to the pharmacy immediately to give them my new prescription insurance information. The person at the pharmacy asked, This is for workers' comp?

Uh, no. This is my prescription coverage associated with my healthcare benefits through my job.

Pharmacy person: We probably just need to call them. We'll do it after the lunch break.

I drove home to call the insurance company. My coverage was active and in place, but the representative told me there was a known issue with employees from my company going out of network to get their prescriptions filled and the pharmacy being unable to accept the insurance. The rep gave me a phone # for the pharmacy to call and made that pharmacy my preferred location. I have no idea how that pharmacy could be considered out of network since we're allowed to use any pharmacy we want.

I waited a while and went back to the pharmacy. The "system" still didn't accept my insurance. I gave the pharmacy tech the # to call. He said, I can't call now (they were very busy), but I'll be here till 10 so I'll call later.

I can't drive after dark. How much does the prescription cost?

$22.10. I paid with my Health Savings Account and went home. But from the time the script was sent to the pharmacy and the time I received it, six hours had gone by. Six hours of my going back and forth to the pharmacy and making phone calls while feeling terrible because of the infection and a lovely IBS attack, probably triggered by the infection and anxiety. 

I feel better now. Antibiotic conquers infection! But I'll take all of the pills as directed.

I wasn't able to work at all on Monday because what should have been simple turned out to be a punishing because our prescription coverage changed (I'm also finding it's lousy coverage. My prescriptions cost 3x more than they did with the previous company).

So I logged in Tuesday morning, thinking I was ready to work. You know what? I think I need a nap. I have to finish this later. You all might need naps, too, because this post is so long.

Hi! I'm back. I couldn't sleep, but I rested for a while and ate an early supper. Fed the girls, too. So back to Tuesday morning, which is when we start the day with our team meeting. This week's topic was filling out our self-appraisals for 2024. I had a shit year at work, so it was no fun for me. The way we fill out these things changes every year. We have to enter numbers, percentages, percentiles, blah blah blah, how we think we improved, what our goals are. 

We were filling out our individual appraisals but everyone was talking at the same time and asking questions about what to put in where and how to use the calculator that gave us a median for one part of the appraisal. I could not think with so many voices speaking and a couple of times when I asked questions, wanting an answer from our supervisor, instead someone on our temporary team, someone I dislike intensely, answered me. It became too much for me. I broke down and sobbed.

I work from home and I muted my microphone so no one knew. I PMed J, the supervisor, to let him know I was done and would sign back in later if I could.

I couldn't. 

So I knew I needed at least a short leave of absence. It has to be a leave instead of taking sick days because I don't have any sick time.

My anxiety has been on overload. The holidays are hard for me because I miss my kids so much, and early January was the time of the attack. Thinking about the attack has bothered me more this year than it did last year because I would like to lift the restraining order. The attacker is doing well and has moved to another state. I have some things that belong to him that I'd be happy to give to him if he wants to return to Florida to pick them up. I've emailed him twice. I don't know if he receives my email. I don't know if he has the same email address. I don't know his address. I emailed his dad to request assistance and received no response, which isn't a surprise. Somehow anything that someone else does wrong ends up being my fault.

Another big contributor to my anxiety is the upcoming inauguration of President Melon Musk and his wife, Dawn. All this talk about taking over the Panama Canal, Greenland, Mexico, and Canada is insane and embarrassing. Massive deportations will be a mess. I dread the next four years, and what if he manages to stay in office after that? He talked about wanting to be president for life. He wants to set aside the constitution. He could do it and we of the opposition are in the minority.  

Even with this leave, my anxiety is bad because of all of the above and I'm accomplishing so little. Yesterday my major accomplishment was trimming my toe nails. This evening, if nothing else, I am determined to take a shower. I am stuck in my inability to do things because anxiety overwhelms everything I try to do and I break down and cry. At least I have a reindeer who comforts me.

When I'm upset, Princess comes to me and stares directly into my eyes. She knows when something is wrong and she longs to make it better.

Princess is such a devoted dog. She is glued to me most of the time. I'm so glad I adopted her while Franklin was still with us. Having her here has made life better for me and for Penelope as we carry on without Franklin.

Princess is wearing her sweater because we're experiencing a lengthy cold snap. We've had early morning wind chills in the 20s and afternoon highs in the low 50s. As Maureen said, I thought we were in Florida.

Our cold weather is nothing compared to the cold and blizzards much of the rest of the country has gone through while Los Angeles BURNS! My Little House On The Swamp, built in 1940, and other homes in the area, weren't constructed to stand up to cold weather, but we're fine. I'm using a small space heater in the back of the house where the girls and I spend most of our time, and I have an electric blanket. 

We're pretty much closed up in the house since the dogs don't want to spend much time out in the cold, and one of us has gas that could peel paint. I'm pretty sure it's not coming from me. Besides, dog gas can be extra amazing. I don't know if the culprit is Princess, Penelope, or both of them.

If you want to enjoy some laughing gas, I encourage you to visit one of my favorite people, Debra, at She Who Seeks. Furthermore, Debra, I see your Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 and raise you Cello Suite No. 1.

At long last, let's wrap this up and say good night. I'll take my shower soon and maybe I'll even manage to clean up a thing or two and start putting some Christmas decorations away. I've joked that if I don't put away the ornaments and and lights, it means I'm already prepared for next Christmas, but I don't really want to have the tree up in July. 

I'll be in touch. I have fun things I want to tell you, too.  

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

MOVIE WEEKEND: BLITZ

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

My word for the World War II drama Blitz is arresting (2024; PG-13; Written, Produced, and Directed by Steve McQueen; Streaming on Apple TV+).

I was drawn to this movie because I'm a Saoirse Ronan fan, and as a student of history, I usually enjoy period dramas and fact-based movies. I wasn't disappointed by Blitz.

Blitz is about the people of London dealing with the horrors of German bombs raining down on them during World War II, and about the evacuation of children from the city. Blitz is short for the German word blitzkrieg, which means lightning war. The Germans believed the people of London would be so terrified by their nightly bombing raids they would demand peace. Instead, they faced civilian deaths and the destruction of homes and shops with great bravery and stoicism.

The special focus of Blitz is on Rita (Saoirse Ronan), who lives with her father and 10-year-old son, George (Elliot Heffernan in his screen debut). George is half Black and subjected to a lot of bullying. In flashbacks, we learn his father was deported to Grenada. 

As the bombings become more and more intense, Rita gives in to the demand to evacuate George from London. He doesn't want to go and after being teased on the train, he escapes to make a dangerous return to London. Along the way, he meets various characters, some kind and some hideous––even Dickensian.

Elliot Heffernan is particularly good in his role. We see so much of events through his expressive eyes and face. Ronan is good as always, but not great. I saw one or two mentions of the possibility of a Best Actress Oscar nomination for her. I'm certain that won't happen. 

The striking images of the night sky and the city lit up by bombs make Blitz stand out, along with the fear and solidarity of the citizens of London taking shelter in tube stations. Then in the daylight we see the ruin caused by the attacks of the previous night. 

Blitz is a fine film. It's not brilliant, but it's fine and I found it worth watching.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

CHIP CARTER REMEMBERS HIS FATHER

I'm sure the Carter's children and grandchildren have a rich store of anecdotes to share about their parents. I particularly enjoyed this one.