Friday, October 16, 2026

DISCOMBOBULATED

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I didn't provide you with a WHAT WEDNESDAY this week because I thought Tuesday was Wednesday and it was too late to prepare the post. I swear even Alexa told me it was Wednesday on Tuesday. Then the next day arrived and it was Wednesday all over again and once again, too late.

Changing days to confuse me must be part of a vast right-wing conspiracy. But I know what day it is today. It's Sunday, or maybe Thursday, and don't you forget it.

The summer and now autumn have been nasty to me by encouraging my eczema to spread and itch. Currently I have eczema welts under my boobs. I am not taking a photo to share with you because you would probably get a peek at my amazing bosoms. I know some of you long to see my fabulous tits. I'm not naming names. You know who you are. It's you, and it's YOU. 

Shame on you.

Alice has to see Dr. G today to get her bordatella vaccine. The poor girl will panic at Dr. G's touch.

I have all sorts of projects underway in the house. One is in the refrigerator.  It's not finished, but I'll show you what I've done so far.


See the black-and-white liner under the milk and big Tupperware bowl of salad? 

The liner is fabric and it can be cleaned in the washing machine. 

As I add the liner, I'm washing the shelves and walls of the refrigerator and I'm reorgranizing the shelves. Some of the shelves won't go back in because I never have enough storage space for tall items.



The liner is a bit thick, so it provides a nice cushion for all the drinks and food that have to live in the refrigerator.

I'm happy with it.





I haven't lined the fruit/veggie drawers yet. I don't have any fresh veggies at the moment ––only fruit, so I have lime in one drawer and strawberry in the other.






















I got my flu and COVID vaccinations yesterday, both in my left arm. If my arm is sore, I've been too hard at it to notice.

I'm relieved the felon backed off from live streaming the execution of Nidal Hasan, but it never should have been up for discussion. 

This post is my last for this week. I look forward to seeing you all on Monday. Hope you have a great weekend.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Monday, October 12, 2026

MEME MONDAY



VOTE BLUE!

VOTE EARLY!

I've already voted. Have you?

💙💙💙💙💙💙












Mowing lawns, pushing a broom, scrubbing toilets -- any of those jobs would be perfect for Little Johnson.












































I'm about as worried by books in a school library as I am by drag queens reading to children. 

When I see someone whine about children being harmed by drag queens, I say, "Give me names, dates, and locations. Tell me how the children were harmed." Then I provide information about school shootings––the real danger to children. 

The whiner never responds.
Children are in danger because of GUNS.

Everyone in the US is in danger because of ICE. 

Live streaming an execution is so crude and ugly that it defies credence, but nothing is too low for Hegseth and 🟧, the rapist.There's really no difference between the felon's "grab 'em by the p*ssy" and the frat "boys'" "free p*ssy."





Thursday, October 8, 2026

I LIVE WITH TWO DEVILS IN FUR COATS

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It rained all day Tuesday. Non-stop. Princess demonstrated great bravery by running right out for potty breaks. Penelope used to be the brave one, while Princess preferred not to have her perfect fur dampened. Then I remembered Princess took Penelope's place as 

Protector and Comandor

so it made sense that Princess took the lead on going out.

Alice declined to join her best friend. After a while her eyeballs turned yellow and she had her legs crossed so tight I didn't think she'd be able to uncross them. About 10 p.m. the rain stopped for 15 minutes and with a lot of encouragement, Alice followed Princess into the rising waters.   

If you've known me very long, then you know what happens to my back yard when we have serious rain. Lake Junebug is full. Here's what it looked like Wednesday morning.


So I figured I'd better go out to hook up the pump and send some of that water out to the street. I haven't needed to use the pump in at least a year so I had to get it out, clean off the cover, untangle the hose, untangle the extension cord, get everything in the right spot, and on and on and on. I was out there wading around for a little more than an hour. The girls had to stay inside because the gate was open.

Finally, everything was done and water was running out of the hose at the end of the driveway. I headed for the door, happy I could take off my wet sandals and slide my tired feet into the fuzzy purple slippers that waited for me in the laundry toom. Yeah, those nice, comfy slippers that were between the washing machine and the dryer. Where I left them, right? 

Except they weren't there. 

No problem. I also had some blue slippers nearby. 

Blue slippers? Only one was there.

I walked into the kitchen and found one of the purple slippers.

Yup. There it was. Upside down in the doggy water bowl.

What the hell? I said.

Princess went one way, and Alice went the other way. 

I put on the single blue slipper and headed to the family room, where I found the other purple slipper on the couch, sopping wet. It must have taken a bath in a doggy water bowl, too. 

The mystery of the missing blue slipper remained. I found it later when I went in the bathroom.

It was in the toilet.

Charges have been brought against two dogs who were previously named as persons of interest in the case.

PRINCESS –– LEADER OF THE PACK. Charge 1. Engaging in Major Shenanigans, including the theft of 3 slippers.  Charge 2.  Impersonating a well-behaved dog who graduated from an expensive training school.   Charge 3. Laughing at Mommy when she found a slipper in the toilet.


ALICE  ––  MEMBER OF THE PACK.  Charge 1. Aiding and abetting Major Shenanigans.   Charge 2. Impersonating a dog too frightened to engage in bad behavior.   Charge 3. Hasn't stopped snickering at Mommy since Mommy stomped into the family room wearing one blue slipper.

Trial scheduled to commence October 20. Snowbird Gramma scheduled to return October 16. Devils in fur coats will be found innocent before trial begins.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

This post is my last for this week. See you Monday.

Wednesday, October 7, 2026

BEFORE THERE WAS LINDSAY CLANCY THERE WAS ANDREA YATES

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Instead of asking you a new WHAT WEDNESDAY question, I want to return to the subject I brought up Sept. 16 in WHAT WEDNESDAY: A TOUCHY SUBJECT.

I realize some of you don't know who Lindsay Clancy is, or you don't want to think about women who kill their own children. But the more I learn about postpartum depression, and especially about the horror of postpartum psychosis, the more I realize this issue pertaining to women's mental health does not receive the attention, and thus, the treatment, it should. 

That's no great surprise since it only happens to women and doctors so often ignore women's symptoms and women's pains and women's fears and women's thoughts. 

For more than 20 years, I told every doctor I saw that I had a headache nearly every day. Terrible headaches. Every. Damn. Day. We moved around quite a bit, so I saw a lot of different doctors. The doctors who delivered my babies. My primary care physicians. Doctors in Kansas, Indiana, Washington, two parts of Maryland. 

They said you have tension headaches. They said you have sinus headaches. They said there's no reason for these headaches you say you're experiencing. If you take this antihistamine it should make your headaches go away. If you'll rest for a while it should make your headaches go away. There's really nothing you can do for these headaches since there's no reason for them. Take some Tylenol™.

My head hurt so much that at times I felt as if I couldn't think. It was a constant battle to function. I was tired all the time. I never got enough sleep. And I was irritable. Boy! Was I irritable. I could explode in anger. The hopelessness was probably the worst part. I was nobody and nothing and I was never going to be anyone. 

Then when I was in my early 40s, X became ill, and because of his illness, I saw a therapist who told me I should see a doctor to ask for an antidepressant. I followed through. Within a week of taking the new medication, the headaches went away. I tutored a college student who pronounced the word chimney as chimbley and it didn't infuriate me. 

I was still tired, and I'm tired to this day. I have chronic fatigue. As for the hopelessness . . . let's not go there.

But the headaches, the exhaustion, the irritability, and the hopelessness are all symptoms of depression. I certainly told doctors I was worn out and felt like life was difficult. Not once did a doctor ever ask about the possibility that I could be depressed. I get migraines now, at times, but when I have headaches, Dr. Spooner (my beloved psychiatrist) says they're probably depression headaches and he found a medication that helps with them (off label). I also continue to take an antidepressant and a medication that helps keep my anxiety in a corner instead of bursting out all over the place.

It took more than 20 years for me to start getting the help I needed. As I commence learning about postpartum depression and psychosis, what I have already seen is how difficult it is for women to get help. 

I'm going to take time to research these issues, especially as seen through the lens of two famous cases: Andrea Yates and Lindsay Clancy. If reading about them and what they did to their children is unbearable to you, then I understand, but I sincerely hope you will brace yourself and join me in learning about this plague that afflicts only women because you never know if a young mother in your neighborhood might need help, or your sister who had a baby at 43, or some woman you've never met before who is hearing voices telling her to kill her children and you could make the difference between whether she gets help and those children live. Let's educate ourselves about what happens to these women and what symptoms and signs we should anticipate.

The latest news about Lindsay Clancy is she will be retried. She remains hospitalized. 

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thursday, October 1, 2026

A NEW FRIEND

This little guy is living in my bathtub. I've moved in there with him. We've become close friends.

Protector and Comandor Princess brings us gnats to eat. Alice turns on the water sometimes. 



This post is my last this week. I'll see you Monday.

Wednesday, September 30, 2026

WHERE WEDNESDAY: VIRGINITY

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm getting pretty nosy this week, but some curiosity between blogger buddies can be fun.

My question today is the following: Where did you lose your virginity? For bonus points, you can tell us how old you were. For even more bonus points, you can identify your partner, as long as it won't cause harm to that person. 

To get the fun and games started, I'll answer the questions myself. I lost my virginity in the backseat of a blue Ford Mustang 💙 on Valentine's Day 💖💖when I was 17, but about to turn 18, because my birthday is February 23rd. 

As you probably know, the backseat of a Mustang is small and cramped, or at least it was in that old Mustang. The year was 1977––also the year I graduated from high school. But I was young, skinny, and nimble, and able to perform sexual gymnastics in a confined space. 💋💋💏😘😗😙😚 

The boy and I were desperate to lose our virginity together. We were madly in love and thought we would get married and adore each other forever. We were going to have three children and name one of our sons Paul for Paul McCartney because we loved The Beatles so much. 💕💞🥰💘💗💖💓💑💘💝💕

That didn't happen. None of it happened.

His name was Tom, and he broke my heart the following year. 💔💔💔💔💔

I was a freshman at a college in our hometown; he was a year younger and still in high school. He was busy with high school stuff, including high school girls.

Boo-hoo. He was such a brat that he wanted to be involved with other girls, yet he wanted me and didn't want me to date anyone else. That was not going to happen. He was a huge cry baby about it. The stress and anxiety were terrible for me.

I was glad when he was completely out of my life, but at least he performed the task of breaking my hymen so I didn't have to wonder when, where, and with whom it would happen.

Okay. I've revealed my secrets. 

PLEASE SHARE YOUR ANSWERS IN YOUR COMMENT!!! THE WORLD WANTS TO KNOW.  

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug