Monday, June 29, 2020


Dear Eight-Track Tapes And Console . . . and Maxwell,

My darlings, for years I've longed to play you again. What some people might think was annoying about you––the tape can fall apart, you might break up a song into two parts––never bothered me. You were part of my high school days, when I sat on my bed and played Cat Stevens' love songs over and over.

But I couldn't listen to you. No, not even you, Fleetwood Mac. I bade farewell to my eight-track tape player years ago. But, you my tapes, I refused to let you go. I was sure you would play again.

And now you are. When Favorite Young Man discovered this console at the Salvation Army Thrift Store, I jumped at the chance to add you to my bedroom because you . . .

have an eight-track tape player, seen here with the radio. And you work.

To put the icing on the cake, you have a turntable. Oh, how I adore you.

You appeared to have never been used. You came to me in perfect condition, complete with the paperwork that shows you were delivered to a man named Ronald in 1972.

And now you are mine, all mine.

According to your instruction book, the space at the top could be used for a small TV, which Ronald must not have ordered.

It's okay, Ronald. I don't mind. The rest of the console brings me such joy. Shall we listen to America next? Sister Golden Hair Surprise?

One more pleasant part of our happy home is Carol, so pretty in pink.

Infinities of love to you, Eight-Track Player and Console. I promise we'll never be parted again.

Janie Junebug

America, will you please sing us out? I've seen you in concert five times, so I think you owe me.

Monday, June 22, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

My back is better. I'm off the muscle relaxers but still using the heating pad.

I admit I enjoyed the empty seats in Tulsa on Saturday night.

His Trumpness bragged that tickets went to one million people--an absurdity since the venue couldn't hold nearly that many people.  According to, about 62,000 people were there. Or maybe it was 6,200. Or 620. I didn't see any masks or social distancing efforts in spite of the empty seats. I will take no pleasure in the number of people who test positive for the virus.

When all the lying was done, Trump looked deflated. I think someone stuck a big pin in his belly and let some of the air out.

I like that look on him.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, June 16, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to check on your Lake Junebug reservations. The day that the post appeared about the glories of a Junebug vacation, I bent over to pick up Lappie, and WHAP! PAIN! Terrible pain in my lower back. Carol! Help! ARRRRRRRGH!

Carol came running to smack me in the head hard enough that I wouldn't notice how much my back hurt.

It didn't help.

My doctor said it's a pulled muscle. I'm on muscle relaxers, but I'm not quite as relaxed as I would like to be. It gets better every day, though.

Be patient with me and I'll get my castle on Lake Junebug ready for visitors.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Look at this doggy who wants to show off his teddy bear:

Tuesday, June 9, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Thanks to a few days of heavy rain, I invite you to make your reservations at

The Lake Junebug Resort & Rumpus Room

The lake has the most water it's held in quite some time, but it's strictly BYOC (bring your own canoe).

You'll enjoy the view from the deck:

Don't you just love the way the sun sparkles on the water?

The gas grill has totally rusted through, but if you want a gourmet burger, I can slap it on the George Foreman.

The water runs all the way up the driveway to the garage, so for the little ones who aren't yet swimmers, they have plenty of splashing room.

Don't worry about COVID-19. You're more likely to get diphtheria here . . . hahaha  ha.

The Rumpus Room is a brand-spanking-new added attraction. It's under the house and can be added to your vacation package for only a few hundred dollars. It's a great place to play "Let's throw darts at the rats."

For those of you who are crafters, take a look at this deck:

Think of all the fun you can have repairing  decorating and staining it. For a small fee, you can take a rotten commemorative board home with you.

Who doesn't want to visit the land of the Junebug? Franklin will allow you to pet him; Penelope will curse at you; Carol will preach a great sermon on Sunday mornings; and as always, mispronounce one of my favorite words and I'll edumacate you to within an inch of your life.

Call soon or leave your comment letting me know when you'll arrive and how many of you I can expect.

I think we're gonna have a full house.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, June 5, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I know I haven't been around. I ain't got nuttin' to say. Franklin isn't in the mood to write a post. I can't trust Penelope. She's a little too eager to get involved in blogging again, which is not a good sign because that girl has developed a filthy mouth of late.

I think she learned those words from Grandma.

That's a joke because I've only heard an inkling of profanity come out of her mouth once. It was several years ago. She was upset and she said "damn."

I know, I know, shocking beyond belief.

My back hurts because Penelope's 20-pound bag of dog food arrived. I had to carry it to the laundry room to put it in the dog food container. Now my back is crying, but fortunately it's not crying real tears because that would get my jammies wet and I have on my favorite summer Snoopy jammies.

I received an email from Google about not being allowed to have ads anymore because I violated adsense policy. I have no idea what I did wrong. I haven't put any ads on my blog. Have any of you noticed anything offensive about me other than the stinky gas I have from time to time?

I deleted the email. We'll see if it dares to rear its ugly head again.

Oh, I almost forgot. A lizard is living in my closet. He's too fast to grab, not that I want to touch his ugly little self anyway. I open the closet door to get a pair of shoes and he's skittering around on some papers, making faces at me and shouting, NANNY NANNY POO POO YOU CAN'T GET ME.

I made an agreement with the lizards when I moved in. They're not supposed to come in the house. This is a fight to the death.

I'm also out to get the green gecko on the Geico insurance commercials. I can tell he looks down on us ordinary people with his English accent and his fancy ways.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Grammar, you are sacred.
I will not allow the world to ignore you.
Get up out of that coffin now!!!!

Tuesday, May 5, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm sorry I haven't been around. I got out of the habit of writing posts and now I can't get back into the habit.

Besides, I'm extremely busy doing nothing.

I've noticed that some people on our street are no longer interested in social distancing. Example: the guy with a teenage daughter. She was out in the street today in front of their house with a conglomerate of her male buddies. They love to drop the F-bomb, but they don't merely drop it. They scream it.

I swear if it's going to be like this during the entire summer, I'll have to take some action. I don't know what it will be.

My pink-camo mask is missing. It's a good thing that Carol had a blue camo left. A few years from now I'll probably find the pink one.

For those of you who don't wear masks and don't trouble yourselves with social distancing and other precautions, please do not darken my door. When restaurants, bars, playgrounds, and beaches re-open, I expect to see a spike in the number of confirmed cases and, sadly, the number of deaths.

We can't give up now.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Penelope is such a fashionista. Recently she wore a cap that matched her bandanna. In spite of her pride in her appearance, she still takes off when Carol and I try to photograph her.

She looks downright appalled in this photo,
but what's the point in dressing up if you won't allow
anyone to see how great you look?

Monday, April 6, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I finished my taxes today. I have a headache.

How is having the kids at home working out for those of you who have children, or grandchildren whose parents work and the kids can't go to preschool or daycare?

I love this video of an Israeli mom ranting about home schooling. She's more than a little frustrated, as I would probably be if I went 30 years back in time when the oxymorons were youngsters.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

And a bonus funny:

I'd be the teacher drinking on the job.

Wednesday, April 1, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I usually take time off from blogging during April's A to Z challenge, and this year is no exception. However, I'm so bored that I might end up publishing some posts anyway, and I'll check out your blog posts as I'm able to do so.

After my most recent, somber post, I have to give you something funny, so I'll ask Chris Mann to sing us out.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Monday, March 30, 2020


Gentle Readers  . . . and Maxwell,

Jennie-o of Procrastinating Donkeparticipates in Poetry Monday. She and her poetry pals choose a topic each week. This week's topic is writing. I hope you'll visit Jenny-o to read her poem and enjoy the funnies she posts.

I have shared a poem on Poetry Monday once or twice. I am too tired to try to come up with a poem (Did you notice to try to? To try and is incorrect.).  Jenny-o took writing and managed to come up with a poem about handwriting. I want to take the topic in another direction, so my not-a-poem is  writing, as in writing words that we read. For some reason, after copying and pasting ANOTHER SPACE, ANOTHER PLACE, I could not find it again (I'm holding my eyes open with toothpicks); therefore, I can't tell you when I wrote it. Probably during 2010.

If you're very kind, perhaps you will think that my writing is lyrical enough to be a type of poetry. Here's ANOTHER SPACE, ANOTHER PLACE:

Recently I was standing on line in a coffee shop behind a lovely young man in the uniform of the United States Army. He turned and asked me how I was, and I replied that all was well, so I in turn asked how he was.

He said, "It's always a good day when I'm not in Afghanistan or Iraq."

We chatted for awhile about the military and my own family history with members of the armed forces. Then I told him about my parents' trip to Hawaii and their visit to the USS Arizona Memorial.

My mother told me that soon after they arrived at the memorial, my father became extremely upset over the Japanese tourists smiling and laughing and taking pictures and they had to leave.

The young man told me that when you visit that memorial, it's an awe inspiring experience, that you're surrounded by a special feeling.

I brought up the Vietnam Memorial (The Wall) in Washington, D.C. He said, Yes, it's like that.

Every time I've been to The Wall, at least one veteran in uniform has been leaning against it, sobbing. When you visit The Wall, you're in Another Space, Another Place. It's a holy feeling. It surrounds you the moment you come close to The Wall.

I recommend reading "My Losing Season" by Pat Conroy. The entire book is excellent, but I am especially moved by his description of his visits to The Wall.

Quite a few years ago, my husband and middle-school aged child and I went to Washington, D.C. for an art exhibit. We couldn't get in. We got within six people of the door and that was it - everybody who was getting in for the day was in. I'm glad we did not make the cut because when we returned a few weeks later and were among the first six admitted, I learned that the last people to get inside had to stand on line for hours before actually getting into the exhibit.

So there we were in lovely D.C., and what to do for the day. Said Child wanted to visit the Holocaust Museum. I did not want to go. I have seen enough images of the Holocaust and they frighten me.

Said Child really wanted to go, and I gave in. It's important for us to teach our children about the Holocaust, about Cambodia and Pol Pot, about genocide everywhere.

We went in the museum and I found it to be awe-inspiring. It is beautiful in a way that defies my feeble words.

The most amazing moment of the visit for me came when we entered an area with some actual wooden bunks from Auschwitz. Once upon a time, real people, barely surviving human beings, were packed into those bunks to sleep.

A Woman was leaning against one of the bunks, crying and patting the wood. A tour guide? security person? told her, Ma'am, You can't touch those.

She said in her heavily accented English, You don't understand. I used to sleep in these.

We were in Another Space, Another Place.

For a fleeting second, I was with her in Auschwitz.

My husband left me many, many times, but he always came back. And every time he left, a little more of me died.

Finally, he left me for another woman. I went into shock. I was in Another Space, Another Place, and it wasn't good. It wasn't solemn and holy. It was terrifying and sickening.

He came back, but nothing could ever be right again. I was a fool to take him back, but he was sick and I was in it For Better or For Worse. I'm glad he finally left for good.

Now I'm in a safe space, a safe place. Away from him.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, March 27, 2020

Thursday, March 26, 2020


Favorite Young Man has a birthday this month: his 40th. I wrote this poem for him when he was in high school


Boy, don't you fly so high.
Your daddy done warned you.
It ain't safe up close to the sun.

You gotta learn to listen.
You don't clean up the left-over wax and feathers like you told to.
You get too close to that ugly ole Minotaur.

Minotaur, he eat you up, boy.
And it because you don't listen.
Don't do like you told.

You a good boy though.
Don't complain livin' in the Labyrinth.
You good to Theseus.

You just gotta remember to listen to your daddy.
He smart -- he the one called Artificer.
He say keep low, keep low and close to the water.

Yeah, but I know.
I know you.
You do what you want.

Don't listen.
Get ready to swim because you goin' down.
Gonna fall.

It's o.k.
I see you -- I find you again some good day.
You gotta fly your way.

Sky's yours.

Wednesday, March 25, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

As I prepare this message to you, I'm waiting to see my doctor. Sore throat, body aches, fever and chills--none of it guarantees that I have COVID.

I found a chart that shows symptoms of COVID v. flu v. a cold. My symptoms line up well with the flu and yes I had a flu shot. Or maybe I feel crummy because I had a flood in my house on Sunday. It's not all cleaned up yet. I'll probably write a post about The Great Kitchen & Laundry Room Flood of 2020.

I'll get back to you with my diagnosis after the plumber deals with the cause of the flood.

And, by the way, will someone please explain to me why we're supposed to bump elbows instead of shaking hands (except for the orange catastrophe in Washington, D.C.) when we've been told to sneeze and cough into the crooks of our elbows. Does this protocol make sense to you? The virus can't spread from the elbow to the crook of the elbow?

I haven't elbow bumped anyone and don't intend to do so.

Something else ridiculous, but it's too serious to be funny or silly: No one is going to stop his Royal Assness from saying China Virus. I swear he spits up this crap and it's a not-so-secret code telling his followers to go out to attack Asian people.

I'm tired. Chris Mann, will you please sing us out?

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, March 24, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I came across the phrase semantic satiation and thought it was interesting enough to share with you. I'd never heard of it before.

Semantic satiation is a psychological phenomenon in which repetition causes a word or phrase to temporarily lose meaning for the listener,[1] who then perceives the speech as repeated meaningless sounds. Extended inspection or analysis (staring at the word or phrase for a lengthy period of time) in place of repetition also produces the same effect.

If you'd like to learn more about this odd circumstance, then hop on over to my source, Wikipedia.

My mother used to repeat the same words repeatedly and repeatedly repeat things she heard on the news.

Her speech often sounded as if she were an "adult" on the Charlie Brown/Peanuts TV specials. Wah Wah Wah Wah Wah: she was convinced she was using words but I only heard noise.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Monday, March 16, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm always looking for ways to cut back on the use of plastic. Plast-icky dependence is a big problem for our beautiful Earth.

Carol taught me something new a few days ago (actually, she teaches me something new pretty much everyday).

She bought some pulled pork. We used part of it and it was delicious. We had quite a bit left over, so Carol said we should cover it. I went to get the plastic wrap from the cabinet.

Cling Wrap pretty much clings to itself in my clumsy hands, but before I could get out the box, Carol showed me a better, re-usable solution.

A shower cap!

No problem with clinging to itself. The elastic edges stay on perfectly.  And we can wash it out and re-use it when we're done with the pulled pork.

Brava, Carol!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Monday, March 9, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's been a while since we had a Movie Weekend, so start the popcorn. I'm happy to report I'm glad I spent time on Once Upon a Time . . . In Hollywood, although it's two hours and 41 minutes (2019, Rated R, I got the DVD from Netflix but I'm sure it's streaming in more than one place).

We never know what we'll get from Quentin Tarantino other than an interesting story, violence that's as carefully choreographed as a ballet, and cool characters. I'd say that the overarching theme of Once Upon a Time . . . In Hollywood is Old Hollywood merges with New Hollywood (New Hollywood is 1969). *Note: If you've seen this movie, please don't reveal the conclusion in your comment. It would ruin the movie for potential viewers.. However, if you want to tell us that you liked or disliked the movie, feel free.

Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio), along with his stunt double, Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt), represent Old Hollywood. The TV show Dalton starred in is over. He looks for parts in other shows and even sings on Hullabaloo––anything to stay in the public's view and keep working.

No wonder we have doubts about Dalton's ability to have a successful career. But then a number of incidents bring Rick Dalton and his best buddy Booth into New Hollywood. I'll mention only one of these events because this is a movie that should be allowed to unfold before you without a lot of information about the plot.

One evening Dalton and Booth head out and we note they live on Cielo Drive in Los Angeles. They see the "neighbors" in their car: Roman Polanski and his beautiful, budding-actress wife Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie). Dalton hopes to meet Polanski so he might get a part in a movie.

Margot Robbie
Sharon Tate

That's it. That's everything I have to tell you about the plot, other than the end of the movie gave me hope. I also want to mention that when Brad Pitt took off his shirt, I drooled. He's as gorgeous as ever at age 55.

Let me know if you like the movie. I'm always curious. I understand, though, that some people won't watch a Tarantino movie for any reason.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Sunday, March 8, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Congratulations on waking up to celebrate 

International Women's Day!  hint: Did you change your clocks last night? Please remember that it's Daylight Saving Time, not Savings Time and not Saving's Time and not parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme.

I feel a bit militant.

But not in a bad way.

In a productive way.

I wish you a beautiful Sunday!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, February 25, 2020


Hello. It is I, Penelope. I have been waiting and waiting to get my paws on Lappy (what a stupid name). I know you are absolutely dying to see what I got for Kissmas. I am even more fashionable than usual.

Let's start with my sweater because I have definitely needed it. It has been cold. I don't know why Mom Mom allows it to get so cold.

Isn't it a lovely pattern? It's soft, too.

 Mom Mom wanted me to get up while she photographed me, but I wasn't in the mood.

I know I'm adorable. You needn't tell me over and over––unless you really want to do so.

Now, these are my red jammies.

Aren't I sleek in them? Mom Mom says I'm getting love handles from all the pretzels and cheese puffs that Grandma shares with me. Love handles? How absurd.

I get sleepy when I wear my red jammies. I want to take a nap.

That idiot Franklin dressed up for Kissmas, too. He has lots of fur and doesn't need jammies and a sweater the way I do because he is never cold, so he wore a banana. HAHAHA! It's not a banana. It's a bandanna. I bet some of you believed me when I typed banana! HAHAHA!

All right. That is all.

Signing off as Supermodel Penelope.

Don't tell anyone, but I really like the food Grandma shares. I even like Grandma.

Thursday, February 6, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

A couple of days ago I went to the pharmacy to pick up some prescriptions. I had quite a few that needed to be filled at the same time.

When I arrived, I was concerned because their card reader was down. I pay for almost everything with a credit card.

I REALLY needed my prescriptions and didn't have time to come back with cash. I had $37. I needed about $50 more.

A man who went to the cash register before I did and paid cash was still there when I was trying desperately to figure out how to pay. I asked if I could write a check. The cashier said yes, but then I put my head in my hands because I realized I didn't have any checks. I seldom pay for anything with a check these days.

I probably looked like this:

I never have no anxiety.

I don't know what I'm going to do, I told the cashier. I need these prescriptions and I won't have a chance to come back later. She said she was sorry, but she couldn't do anything to help me.

The man who had just paid cash was still there. He said, I'll give you $50 and my address. You can mail a check to me.

I darn near passed out. What a thoughtful and generous thing to do. He had no way of knowing if he'd really get his money back.

I thanked him repeatedly and the cashiers talked about it being one of the nicest things they'd seen anyone do.

I went home with my prescriptions, wrote a check for $60, and mailed it to the gentleman. I'm sure he would say that I didn't need to give him an extra $10, but to me it's a way of paying it forward. He can use that 10 bucks for something he needs or he can give it to charity or whatever he wants.

I've had a glow of happiness around me. Have you had a similar experience with a generous stranger?

What I looked like after I wrote the check and mailed it:

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. The man said I had an honest face.

Tuesday, February 4, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Before Penelope finally gets her turn to show off her Kissmas presents, you might enjoy seeing the way a friend of mine decorates for the holidays. She has a very large collection of nutcrackers, and I took some photos of them this year.

She has so many nutcrackers that I couldn't get all of them in one shot! Next year I need to get down on the floor to get some close-ups. The problem is that I when I'm down, I can't get back up.

Thank you, my dear friend, for sharing your nutcrackers with us.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Monday, February 3, 2020


Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!
Hi! It's me, Franklin. Do you like the way I made my HIs get bigger and be in different colors? That's something new that I figured out. I bet no other buddy knows how to do that.

Sometimes I sing my HI! Hiiiiiiiiiiiiii! 🎶 

Did you hear me? I hope you heard me. I am just as good as Randy Rainbow.

You already know about my very best Kissmas present. It's Grandma! I want to keep her furever.

On Kissmas we had treats and fun times, and then I got my next best Kissmas present. Santa Paws brought it.

Look! I have my very own sofa bed.

Last Kissmas Penlapee got a sofa bed. I got the not a doughnut. I never knew what to do with the not a doughnut. Mom says that some other doggy might like the not a doughnut and that I am definitely a sofa bed man.

It's so comfy and cozy. During the day Mom puts it in the family room and at night it's in the bedroom. I can curl up on it whenever I want.

Writing all this and looking at the pitchers makes me sleepy. Grandma wants me to sit on her foot, but maybe she can wait a little while because I need a nap.

Goodnight and I'll see you later.

Okay I love you bye bye zzzzzzzzz

Friday, January 31, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

A while back, I re-connected with a good friend from high school (Hi, Kimmie Sue!). We used to spend hours talking and now we spend hours talking again, but over the telephone because we live far apart.

Early in our renewed friendship, we danced delicately around the subject of the president.

Are you a Trump supporter?

No way!

Thank God.

After we'd established that we are not friends of the Donald, Kim told me about Randy Rainbow, who sings great musical parodies, often accompanied by "chats" with a political figure. Yesterday I heard a new Randy Rainbow tune that had Carol and me laughing so hard that it's too good not to share here.

In case you haven't met him, please allow me to introduce you to Randy Rainbow.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. Franklin and Penelope are unhappy that they haven't gotten to tell you about their Kissmas presents. I keep promising them that they'll get their turn.

Thursday, January 9, 2020


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I apologize for the spammy porn in the comments on the most recent FRANKLIN FRIDAY post. I hope that most of you didn't see it. I didn't look at my blog for more than a week and was pretty surprised by the comments that built up during that time. I deleted all the nasty/stupid stuff. If I have a problem again soon, then I'll go back to comment moderation.

I have a few more Christmas photos to share with you because of new decorations that were on the dining room table.

2019 was our first Christmas to feature a Charlie Brown Christmas tree, and little Peanuts figurines that make the tree look gigantic:

When I moved to Florida in 2009, I brought two Nativity scenes. My mom gave both to me. One is glass and one is porcelain. My mother made the latter in a class that she took. After I arrived, Baby Jesus was suspiciously absent from both sets. Carol came across a complete Nativity scene and even purchased a red place mat to put it on so it would show up better.

Baby Jesus in da house. I'm going to leave out the Nativity scene for a while because we can never have too much Jesus in our lives.

I'm sure that Franklin and Penelope will want to write to you soon so they can brag about their Christmas haul.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

John and Yoko, will you please sing us out? If possible, though, maybe can someone turn off Yoko's microphone? No? Too late now, I guess.

December 8, 1980, John Lennon died. My baby boy was almost eight months old. I was 21, soon to be 22. John Lennon was 40.

John and Yoko photographed by Annie Leibovitz
hours before he died.