My motto as an editor: Authors are the authority on their work. I'm a full-service editor. For a reasonable fee, I'm your writing coach from the first suggested revision to the correction of the final typo.
Hi Everybody! Mom is letting me blog today. Yeah, me. Franklin. I'm wagging my tail at you and kissing the screen in front of me. Can you feel my kisses? I know I slobber some.
I get to do the blog because Mom doesn't feel good. She says it's mental paws. I dunno what that means, but I hope it goes away soon.
Mom is the bitch in our dog pack (I learned from Samson that that's the word for girl dogs). We're all boys except for Mom.
Besides me, there's Scout:
And Harper, who is my best friend:
I'm telling Harper a secret in this picture.
And, of course, we have Mom:
We love Mom a whole bunch. She has thumbs and can do stuff we can't do.
But the problem is that lately she's grouchy. Last week we were getting ready to go for a walk. I was excited like always when she got the lead out of the closet. I started wiggling around and wagging my whole butt really hard. My butt was just following my tail.
Mom got mad and stomped her foot on the floor and yelled at me: Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!
Like I didn't hear her the first time.
I was so scared I peed a little bit. Mom never yells at us.
I think it must be the mental paws. Mom said she was sorry, but we want the mental paws to go away. And fast! As fast as Harper runs when he catches a bird.
I'm tired now so I guess I'll take a nap.
Thanks for reading my new blog! Oh. Mom says it's still hers. She's kind of a selfish bitch.
Watching Call The Midwife (PBS Sunday evenings) has me thinking about the size of families. I mentioned in the post I wrote about the show that one of the mamas in Nurse Jenny Lee's care had her twenty-fifth child, which prompted my good friend Lotta Joy to ask if the babies just fall out of the mom at that point.
So now I'm wondering, how many siblings do you have? Do you think you come from a large family? Do you think your placement as oldest, middle, or youngest has affected you?
I once met a man who came from a family of 34 children -- eleven sets of twins and the rest single births. I couldn't verify the 34, but I did find the eleven sets of twins on a Web site.
When I was a reporter, I worked with a woman named Barb in Waynesboro, Pennsylvania, who came from a family of 18. When I was a geriatric nursing assistant, I worked with a woman named Robin from Waynesboro, Pennsylvania, who came from a family of 18. I asked, Do you have a sister named Barb who works at the newspaper? She said, No, but I have a sister named Barbara.
I thought it was interesting that little Waynesboro could boast of having at least two families with 18 children each.
These families make me feel that my five siblings and I didn't come from such a large family after all, but when I was a kid and the last in line to use our one bathroom, I thought our family was huge.
I've read that the oldest child in a family is usually a leader; the middle child or children keep quiet and go with the flow; and the youngest tends to be artsy and creative -- maybe even flaky.
Well, I'm the youngest. I hope I'm creative.
I'm definitely flaky.
My placement in the family has affected my life, and I'm afraid it's not a positive effect. I'm 53 and my four living siblings still treat me as if I'm the bane of their existence. I kinda feel as if I'm punished because our mom made the older kids take care of me. They would get in trouble if I got hurt or was fussy.
Thus, I stay away from family gatherings. I prefer to be treated as an adult, which my friends do.
Now, how about you: How many siblings do you have? Do you think you come from a large family? Do you think your placement as oldest, middle, or youngest has affected you?
As always, I eagerly await your fascinating responses.
This adorable little girl is Good Youngman Brown's niece. Her parents have entered her photo in a Cutest Little Monster contest for Halloween.
Not that she's monstrous in any way, but the favor I want to ask of you is that you go to the voting site and vote for her. Click here to vote, pretty please with sugar on top.
Hint: You can vote once a day, every day, until the contest ends.
I have no idea what Good Youngman Brown's name is -- other than Good Youngman Brown -- but I think it's sweet that he loves his niece. He also adopted a dog recently, and he loves his dog. Loving niece and loving dog make him worthy of our support, which we can do with a click for this little girl.
Today I present three movies for your consideration. All are available on DVD. I don't go to movies in theaters because it's ridiculously expensive, but I kind of hope someone will take me to see Anna Karenina. I'm not crazy about Russian writers, but I do like poor Anna. I guess I could see it alone, but I like theater going to be a shared experience.
Now, on with this week's movies. The first is Big Miracle.
If you want a movie for the entire family, then this one is your choice. John Krasinski plays a reporter covering the story of a family of whales trapped in the ice at Barrow, Alaska. He gets his former girlfriend, a Greenpeace worker played by Drew Barrymore, involved in the battle to save the whales.
This movie is not perfect by any means, and I don't endorse it wholeheartedly. First, it's extremely unrealistic, but that probably wouldn't matter to children. People are out in temperatures well below zero, yet they aren't dressed properly for the weather. Even so, no one is shivering and shaking. One character is splashed by one of the whales, but the water doesn't freeze on his face. Some brief clips at the conclusion of the movie show the real people (yes, this movie is based on a true story) so we know how they actually had to dress, and we see a man with ice crystals in his beard.
I also don't like it that this movie has a little bit of profanity. I admit it's just two or three words, but they are totally unnecessary. If profanity isn't something that's expected of a character, then why add it?
You should also be prepared to discuss death with your children if you watch this movie.
I give Big Miracle The Janie Junebug Halfhearted Seal of Approval.
Our second movie is Friends With Kids.
Just don't even bother with this one. Two friends want to have a child. So they decide to have a baby together and share custody. The arrangement works -- until it doesn't. The last line of this movie is, I want you to f*** the sh** out of me.
I mean, really? Hell to the no! I give Friends With Kids The Janie Junebug Seal of Disapproval.
Last, but not least, is the somewhat quirky Newlyweds, an Edward Burns film. I like Edward Burns.
The newlyweds think they have the perfect marriage because one works during the day and one works at night, so they don't spend too much time together. But, of course, relatives have to interfere, so what will happen to the newlyweds? Can they maintain their supposedly wonderful marriage? You'll have to watch it to find out because I'm not revealing too much plot.
I give Newlyweds The Janie Junebug Seal of Approval, but I give it conditionally. This movie is not for children, and if you decide to watch it with your sweetie or by yourself, don't expect something spectacular.
I realize I haven't given you anything great to watch this weekend, so what I really recommend is the following: If the weather is decent where you live, then get outside and have some fun. Play ball with your kids. Ride bikes. Go for a walk with your significant other or with a friend, and maybe the two can be in the form of one person. OR go to a fall festival. That could be a lot of fun.
If the weather is lousy, then play a board game and read a good book. Take a nap.
When I asked about mentalpause yesterday, I mentioned that I would also have a question today.
Some of you may remember that I started writing the rough draft of a book here on my blog. It was something about Love, Laughter, and Poop. I decided to continue writing it on my own because I was afraid no one would consider publishing the book if it had already appeared on my blog.
Well, guess how much work I've done on it since then. Go ahead. Guess. I'm waiting.
Time's up!
Other than a little revising, I've done zero, zilch, nada.
I don't seem to be able to write unless I'm doing it for a specific reason, such as the Open Doors anthology or this blog.
Do you think it would be okay if I started work on the book again -- here on this blog? Will anyone ever consider publishing it if it's been on my blog? Does it matter? Cuz it can't get published unless I write it.
What say you all?
It's won't be book blog every day because I've rediscovered my ability to write about nothing, and I shall continue to do so.
I have two questions. I'll ask one today and one tomorrow.
The first is about the mentalpause (term stolen from my FORMER friend dirtycowgirl at Left Alone With A Full Moon. I love dirtycowgirl but she's irritating the hell out of me because she hardly ever blogs anymore. She's too busy selling stuff on ebay. She has abandoned me, and I don't feel one bit guilty about stealing "mentalpause" from her.)
So here's the story, morning glory. Gentlemen, you might not want to read this.
I'm having trouble remembering how many years ago it was, but I think it was about eight. I went through menopause, though I didn't figure out what was wrong till it was over. I had hot flashes followed by chills, breast tenderness, night sweats, and I was so emotional that I managed to get fired from my crappy shitty job for laughing at a doctor. I worked in his office and he didn't like it when I laughed at him but he really was a moron.
Eventually, the mentalpause subsided, and I thought it was alllllll gone.
But now it seems to have returned.
Hot flashes, night sweats, chills, breast tenderness. Can't think clearly. Did I mention I'm forgetful? I'm not particularly grouchy, though I don't know how anyone could tell because I'm always at least a little grouchy, but I am down in the dumps. Everything makes me cry. If the dogs look at me because they want their supper, I cry. The price of toilet paper went up by two cents? I cry. I miss the things I left in Illinois, and what do I do? Cry and complain. And then I cry some more. And then I forget why I'm crying. The words that usually pour out of me onto the computer have dried up. I'm also forgetful.
I had a hystericalectomy more than 20 years ago, so I can't judge what my body is doing to me based on periods. Or maybe it's all in my head.
But what's not in my head is that my neighbors' gate squeaks. It's right outside my bedroom window and even with the window closed I can hear as they go in and out of that squeaky gate at all hours. Sometimes 3:45 a.m., which happened last night; therefore, I have been up since 4 a.m. Lotta Joy, please come to visit and bring your gun, or at least some WD-40. I can't even sneak out there to WD-40 the gate without backup (lotta joy with her gun) because those people never seem to go to bed. In and out. In and out. Squeak. Squeeeeeeeeeeek!
I wanna get out of town. Big time. I need a break I can't afford. I want to see something other than palm trees, Spanish moss, ant hills, and palmetto bugs. I want health insurance, and I want it now. I want a job, and I want it now. For Christ's sake, I've been job hunting for three years. Isn't that long enough?
So, anyway, my question is the following: Have any of you experienced this problem? Does the mentalpause come and go and then return? Has it been lying dormant in my system all this time, just waiting to attack Elvis Aaron Schwarz? He doesn't really understand what's going on -- not that I do.
Hi! Remember me?
I'm Elvis Aaron Schwarz.
I don't understand my baby doll right now.
She's turned into a big fussy baby doll.
Please tell me I'm not going to be like this forever. I don't want to scream in agony every time Elvis touches my boob (not that he would do something that personal). I don't want to cry every time I look at my dogs' sweet faces. I don't want to wail and flail because I haven't seen The Hurricane in such a long time.
Even if you have to lie to me, please tell me that this crap shit mentalpause will go away soon and won't come back. Once should have been enough.
Bollocks. That's all I have to say right now. Bollocks. And ass hat. I feel like saying ass hat. Romney. Piss off. And maybe I also feel like dropping the F-bomb the way I did when I got kicked out of Bible study. I still don't know why those women were so upset. You would think they never dropped the F-bomb and I'll betcha they have cuz they went through the mentalpause.
Infinities of love,
Janie Junebug
P.S. Please don't advise me to see a doctor. I don't have insurance and I'm not going to the doctor unless it's a HUGE emergency. However, I will get a flu shot, but not the extra nasty flu shot that's for old folks because I'm still young at heart and in years. I'm just old in mentalpause.
We love Mom a whole bunch. She has thumbs and can do stuff we can't do. 
