SADNESS SET IN WEDNESDAY

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I didn't have to work Wednesday, so I asked the girls' Auntie Maureen if she'd like to go out gallivanting around with me. Maureen expressed a willingness to gallivant that pleased me greatly. 

I picked up Maureen in Steve*, the redmobile 🚗🚗🚗, and off we drove, two gad abouts. Before we could continue our good times, I had to stop by the office to see my favorite IT guys briefly. Wouldn't take more than 10 minutes. I couldn't take Maureen in with me (secrets abound within), but she didn't mind waiting with Steve.

The security guard, Will, met me at the office door, only to tell me IT is no more. "Bob" & "Brian" had been fired as part of a sweep across the country to get rid of IT employees. I know the company is switching over to AI, but does that mean IT people are no longer needed to discipline our computers when they misbehave? 

Bob and Brian were long-term employees who had assisted me numerous times in the office or over the phone after I became a remote employee. They were kind, always made information clear, and sometimes we shot the shit for a few minutes. I hope they've moved on to better jobs where they are appreciated, because the company I work for appreciates no one. Values no one.

Will walked around the floor with me as we talked about how much the company has changed for the worse. The fourth floor of the office building that the business spent more than a million dollars to remodel is a ghost town. The return to office was a failure. Most employees simply wouldn't do it. They quit and got remote jobs if they weren't granted a work-from-home accommodation as I was.

Workers are also sick of ever changing metrics that can never be met, benefits taken away, wages that don't come close to meeting the cost of living. You'd think we're Wal-Mart employees. I have a college degree and multiple accreditations and licenses. I was criticized recently for saying okay too many times during a phone call with a client. How many more nits are there to pick? 

I told Maureen about my beloved IT guys as we took off for Town Center (an upscale shopping center I seldom visit because it's far away and the traffic is horrible), where we planned on having lunch. The rain already coming down hard at the office became a deluge through which we could barely see.  ⛈️🚘😒

But we arrived safely and enjoyed a nice lunch together before heading home in rush hour traffic that began before 4 p.m. We used the time between slow-moving vehicles to vent to one another about how much we despise 🟧 and ICE.

The two best dogs in the world greeted me when I returned to our home. But I felt a heaviness that wouldn't go away. A sadness for employees who have done nothing wrong but are fired after years of hard work. The never ending anxiety for our country and what the felon did yesterday, today, and what he might do tomorrow.

I awoke multiple times Wednesday night and had nightmares in which I saw the face of an ugly, old white man threatening me.

Some good news: Alice is making progress. She learns from Princess. Princess' training included a Princess, sit at the conclusion of a walk. I take off her leash, stroke Princess's head, look into her eyes, and say, Princess, free. Then she is allowed to run off to the family room or wreak havoc somewhere else in the house.

After Princess takes off, Alice now sits, waits to have her leash removed, allows me to pet her (which is a big deal), and waits for me to say, Alice, free. 

I'm such a proud dog mom.

Junebug, free.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

*My vehicles are usually ladies. Steve is an exception, named after former Indiana University basketball superstar Steve Alford, who is now the coach of the Nevada Wolf Pack. He plans on retiring at the end of the 2026-2027 season.

 

Steve the basketball player, not the car
oo la la
🏀⛹️

WHERE WEDNESDAY: WHERE'S YOUR SAFE PLACE?

 I thought I had this post set to publish Wednesday at 6 a.m. Clearly, I did not. I hope it works on Thursday.

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Most of us have safe places where we like to put important items. Then we can't remember where the safe places are.

One year Mother bought a blue girdle to give to my oldest sister for Christmas. She put it away somewhere. When it was time to wrap gifts, Mother wandered around saying, Where in the hell is that blue girdle?

She found it the following summer in an entropy-laden closet. She had looked for it there, but I think the blue girdle hid from her because Mother was as mean as a snake.

After my beloved Franklin died a couple of years ago, Dr. G and his staff sent me a nice sympathy card. Also in the envelope were Franklin's paw and nose print, and some of his soft, thick fur. 

I appreciated their thoughtfulness so much.

I knew I would want to frame Franklin's paw and nose print with a photo of him in the future, but at the time, his death was so recent and my mourning so painful that I decided to put the special items in a safe place. 

Months went by. I wanted to look into framing the items. So I went to get them from the safe place, which I was sure was a drawer in my dressing table.

They weren't there. 

I checked the drawers in the wardrobe, because the wardrobe could be a safe place.

Nope. 

The dresser drawers? It didn't make sense that they would be my safe place, but maybe . . . .

Nothing.

I asked Maureen (the dogs' Auntie Maureen) if she remembered what I had done with the precious Franklin items . She was here when the envelope arrived. Maureen suggested looking under the couch. Good idea. We were sitting on the couch when I opened the mail. If the things weren't under the couch, maybe they were stuck in the couch. 

Zero. 

Zip.

Nada.

I continued to search, on and off, checking every drawer and shelf in the house, until I was convinced the prints were gone. I must have accidentally thrown them in the trash.

Then a couple of months ago while I was cleaning up some stuff in the extra bedroom, my eyes rested on one of my filing cabinets and suddenly I knew the second drawer was the safe place. 

 I was so happy. It had only taken me two years to discover the safe place.

Now, how about you? Where's your safe place? Or safe places? Have you put something important in your safe place and then not been able to find it? 

I hope you didn't lose my oldest sister's blue girdle.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. Years later I mentioned the missing blue girdle and no one else in the family remembered it. They thought I was out of my mind. I am out of my mind, but that doesn't mean there wasn't a blue girdle.

He loved asking,
Can I drive you to the store, Miss Daisy Jane?

A WILLY DUNNE WOOTERS POST FROM THE PAST: WILLY DUNNE WOOTERS, THE PALMETTO BUG, AND THE ANTIQUE PLATE FROM NORWAY

This blog post is from 2014. 

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Sunday evening Willy Dunne Wooters and I watched the season finale of Last Tango In Halifax, a romantic show on PBS that we love (WDW says we are just like the main characters). Then we stopped by the bedroom for a visit, just to make sure it hadn't disappeared as rooms sometimes do. After that, we cuddled on the couch in the living room as we said goodnight.

Suddenly I saw a ginormous, gihugic palmetto bug hanging around just below the edge of the fireplace mantel. I squealed and pointed. Willy Dunne Wooters said, Good God, that's a big one (I, too, had made that statement when we checked on the status of the bedroom).

I ran to get one of my yellow shoes, the yellow shoes I don't like very much because they aren't a true yellow. They're mustard.

I used the yellow shoe to try to smack the palmetto bug. The bastard escaped (they always do at first; they like to create a real competition in the area of Person v. Palmetto Bug) and ran up the wall and hid under a plate that's hanging above the mantel.

See the plate with pink roses above the other plate?
He was hiding under the higher plate.

I can't take down the plate to hit the bug, I wailed. Why not? asked WDW.

I'm afraid I'll drop it and break it, I wailed, and my great grandmother brought that plate with her when my family left Norway to live in the U.S. That plate is a Norwegian antique. So is the one under it. 

I'll get the bug spray, said Willy Dunne Wooters. Where's the bug spray?

It's on the cart at the back door where I keep the cleaning supplies, I wailed (lots of wailing in this post). But we can't get the spray on the plate. It could damage the plate and my great grandmother brought it to the U.S. from Norway.

Keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't escape, said Willy Dunne Wooters.

Then I heard all this fumbling around with the cleaning supplies on the cart at the back door, while I stared at the plate and saw an antenna poke out just a tiny bit at the top of the plate.

Willy Dunne Wooters returned. I can't find the bug spray, said Willy Dunne Wooters.

Jesus Christ, I wailed. I gave him the mustard shoe and went to get the bug spray.

See the big red and white container on the top shelf?

It has a spraying wand on the side that resembles a bright red penis.

That's the bug spray Willy Dunne Wooters couldn't find.

I guess I shouldn't expect much.

He is the man who complained that my glass cleaner was 

absolutely worthless when he was actually trying to clean

his glasses with laundry stain remover.

I returned with the bug spray and very carefully sprayed a tiny bit under the edge of the plate. Then a bit more under the opposite side. Then more under the bottom.

Finally the bastard scooted out and headed for the safety of the ceiling. Willy Dunne Wooters stood on my cedar chest, which lives in front of the fireplace that I don't use, and smacked the hell out of the palmetto bug. He hit that m#f! so hard that palmetto guts splattered the wall.

I'm sorry this photo is kind of dark.

Can you see the cedar chest in front of the fireplace?

It has a tapestry on top of it.

I was pretty darn impressed with the way that my WDW

jumped up there and smacked the palmetto bug

with the mustard shoe. 

The late Mr. Palmetto fell on the mantel. I scooped him up with some toilet paper and flushed him. And, yes, I wailed the entire time.


Wooters + Junebug = 100 points

Palmetto Bastard = 0 points


Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

MEMIE MONDAY MITCHIE MOE

Did the nurse forget to put in the old man's dentures? 

Or is his face like this because of a stroke?

He clearly doesn't know what he's doing. He tried to vote with the Democrats and had to be told to change his vote.

The Romney family no longer takes their dog along on vacations.

The felon often has that same toddler look, but it also extends to tantrums.

Get out of there before the bomb goes off!

Princess says, Ich werde ihm das hässliche Gesicht abbeißen.

Alice says, Grrrrrrr. And we are Shepherds -- not Shepards.

WHAT WEDNESDAY? A TOUCHY SUBJECT

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell, 

I used to ask a question every week on my blog and I've decided to start again, even if it doesn't happen every week.This week I've chosen something sensitive. I trust you all not to engage in fisticuffs.

The question is the following: What do you think about the recent trial––or perhaps I should say mistrial––of Lindsay Clancy?

Clancy was charged with three counts of first-degree murder for killing her three children on January 24, 2023: Five-year-old Cora, Three-year-old Dawson, and Eight-month old Callan. She was also charged with three counts of suffocation or strangulation because of the method of death. These charges were dropped as redundant before the trial began.

The trial began in July, 2026. Clancy's lawyers argued an insanity defense.

When the arguments ended. jurors deliberated and were unable to reach a verdict because of one holdout juror. Eleven jurors voted to acquit Clancy. One refused and was described as acknowledging he held doubt about Clancy's guilt but would not follow the judge's instructions to apply that doubt to his vote.

Now, I want you to vote. Lindsay Clancy: Guilty as charged or not guilty by reason of insanity. What do you know about the case that led you to your decision? 

I'm not going to tell you what I think, yet, but I bet you can guess.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

MID-SEPTEMBER MEME MONDAY

Update: Knock me over with a feather. Mitch McConnell is alive, and he's in D.C.

Another Update Now That I've Thought About It: Mitch is in D.C. being pushed around in a wheelchair. That doesn't mean he's alive. The man has been brain dead for a long time.

A few weeks ago, Senator Mitch McConnell's staff said he would return to work on September 14th––today. The 14th morphed into not knowing when McConnell will show his dried-up prune face. 

If you think I'm obsessed with Mitch McConnell's disappearance, maybe it's because I am. The governor of Kentucky has demanded proof of life and received nothing.

Many people have criticized Governor Beshear for not bursting into the hospital or rehab center where McConnell is allegedly a patient to see McConnell for himself. But even  a corpse has rights under HIPAA. 

Flags in St. Augustine, Florida, on 9/11. Each flag bears the name of someone killed on that day in 2001.

Honoring The Dogs of 9/11

WE'RE WALKIN' HERE

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

During the month of September, Princess, Alice, and I are walking at least a mile every day for an American Cancer Society fundraiser. If you are on Facebook and feel inclined to visit us there to make a donation, we would appreciate it.

You can go to https://www.facebook.com/janie.goltz.7/. I've pinned the fundraising post to the top of the page.

Walking the girls at the same time gives me some serious exercise. Princess walks beautifully at heel and serves as a mentor to Alice. Alice starts out walking on my left before she starts to bob and weave as if she's Ratso Rizzo in New York City traffic. Princess remains calm while Alice wanders and I get our new kid back into position.

I've lost some loved ones to cancer. Carol's daughter, DeeDee, whose birthday was the day before mine, was taken from us several years ago. It's a pain that doesn't leave Carol's heart.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug