Friday, June 29, 2012


Dear Elisa and Melynda.

Before I continue, Gentle Readers . . .  and Maxwell, I must explain that today I am writing a private letter to Elisa 



about Elisa's brother, Shane. If you feel you must share in this private moment, then go ahead and read my letter because for you I have nothing better. PAT HATT, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!

Let's try again.

Dear Elisa and Melynda,

I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse: I am willing to take Shane off your hands. Melynda, lure Shane to Elisa's. Between the two of you mini-mights, stuff Shane in a box, bound and gagged. Since he's gagged, he won't need bread and water and it won't hurt him to have wet pants.

I have calculated that the cheapest way for you to send him to me will be mailing him parcel post. That will also take the longest, so he'll have a lot of time to think about how grateful he'll be to get out of his box. Then, when I open the box and he sees me, he'll be so happy he'll forget all about what the two of you did and it won't even occur to him to press charges.

Now, Elisa, I know you're thinking, Even though Shane is a pain in my little behind and the prank war with him is driving me crazy, he's my brother and I can't give him away, even to someone I love because of course I love Lola very much.

Elisa, You must not be so selfish. I have wanted a brother since before mine died. Plus, I promise you that you will forget him quickly. You'll look at my blog and one morning you'll see a video of Shane playing the guitar and I'll be singing, and you'll think, He looks kind of familiar.

But you'll laugh at our antics and forget that you once knew the goof ball.

Melynda, you will read my blog and laugh about the body parts I put in Shane's meals. No more Shane to bother you. You'll forget him too, and love Lola even more.

Don't be selfish, girls. Shane will be delighted to have a chocolate-covered penis for breakfast.

You will be so happy without Shane. After what he did to you, I don't know how you can stand the sight of him anyway.

To see what Shane did to Elisa and Melynda, click on the link to Shane's blog:

Middle Damned

Who wouldn't be willing to give up this kind of harassment?

I'm older and more experienced than you are, Elisa and Melynda. I can take Shane in hand, and I'm talking about a firm hand, and I can give him the paddling he needs. Shane will be so pleased when he's under my control.

And we'll still have fun. Did you see the comment I left at his blog?

I said: Shane, Thank God you're not my brother (he's dead anyway). I laughed so hard at this post that it almost makes up for not having sex in 10 years. Almost. I'm going to follow you bad boy. I hope you follow me.

Shane is a wise fellow, from time to time. He took the hint, and now he's my follower. He's almost in my web and my bed, girls, and you can help him to come the rest of the way.

Infinities of love,


Thursday, June 28, 2012


And so, Gentle Readers, we bid farewell to J.D. Salinger, the man who finally proved he would stop at absolutely nothing in his quest to escape his fans.

Allegedly, he ate a rather strange diet and drank his own urine. He also died at home of natural causes, which can mean all sorts and varieties of deaths in my active imagination.

Jerry goes to kiss his considerably younger wife. "You ain't kissin' on me no more Pee Mouth," she hollers. And so it's only natural that she strangles him.

By the way,that was her nickname for him - Pee Mouth - affectionate at one time but not so much after the many years of frigid New Hampshire winters spent in hiding with the One and Only, the Great and Powerful.

The man who was said to be obsessed with a hatred of phoniness and desired getting at the absolute truth . . . hmmmm . . . he doesn't seem to have been so genuine and sincere. Jerome "Jerry" Salinger took a dump on a number of women during his life. If you must satisfy your curiosity about the man who created the Glass family, read Joyce Maynard's "At Home In The World" and Margaret Salinger's "Dream Catcher." I recommend the books. They are interesting and well written and probably more genuine than the man.

It's been many years since I last read "The Catcher in the Rye." My favorite younger man told me recently that he thinks it's his favorite book. I'll have to reread it and see what I think. Will the star dust have faded or will I still think it's good? I certainly never considered it my favorite, but it has legions of fans. It made the Top 100 list of greatest novels of the last century, coming in at #64, according to the males-only board of Modern Library.

Salinger also supposedly wrote a number of novels, which he locked up in a safe at home, after he stopped writing for public consumption. If those novels are released, how can they ever live up to his rep?

So, Salinger, maybe you reveled in the attention you attracted by hiding in plain sight. Maybe your writing wasn't so hot anymore and you knew it and you kept your star shining by refusing to release your work. You let people speculate about you when you could have allowed your readers to get at the truth of you. You could have shed light on your writing and your process. You could have taught, but maybe you were so weird you were afraid nobody would have you. Or maybe you thought you were too good for the rest of the world. Easier to dazzle naive young women with your fame and with fake promises. Keep a woman at your beck and call. Engage a town in hiding you. Your own little world revolved around you.

The citizens of Cornish, N.H. admitted they got sick of all those people coming to town looking for Salinger so it was only natural that somebody finally came after him with a shot gun?



Wednesday, June 27, 2012


Gentle Readers,

Mathematics is an art form.

Intelligent, sweet LL thrust a book into my hands on Christmas morning, assuring me that it was beautiful. I find that The Housekeeper and the Professor is more than beautiful: Yoko Ogawa uses a graceful plot, cultured characterizations, and luxurious language to develop the theme of the splendor of relationships through the elegance of mathematics.

Translated from the Japanese by Stephen Snyder, our novel begins with the Housekeeper learning that her agency is sending her to care for the Professor, whose short-term memory lasts only 80 minutes because of  head injuries suffered in a car accident. The characters have no names. If they did, they Professor would not remember them anyway. He must write notes to himself and pin them all over his suit in order to know who the housekeeper is and sadly, his notes include, My memory lasts only eighty minutes.

The high school dropout housekeeper and the highly educated professor, who can remember mathematics and the glory of numbers, find common ground when the Professor learns that the Housekeeper has a young son. He insists that the child come to his home with the Housekeeper and then nicknames the boy "Root" because the flat top of his head reminds the Professor of a square root symbol. The Professor has not forgotten his love of children, nor his love of baseball -- shared by Root and learned by the Housekeeper. The relationship between the three develops into a fast friendship as the Professor teaches the housekeeper and Root about amicable numbers and elegant equations.

"What kind of mathematics did you study at the university?" I asked. I had little confidence that I would understand his answer; maybe I brought up the subject of numbers as a way of thanking him for coming out with me.

"It's sometimes called the 'Queen of Mathematics,'" he said, after taking a sip of his coffee. "Noble and beautiful, like a queen, but cruel as a demon. In other words, I studied the whole numbers we all know, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 . . . and the relationships between them."

His choice of the word queen surprised me -- as if he were telling a fairy tale. We could hear the sound of a tennis ball bouncing in the distance. The joggers and bikers and mothers pushing strollers glanced at the Professor as they passed but then quickly looked away.

"You look for the relationships between them?"

"Yes, that's right. I uncovered propositions that existed out there long before we were born. It's like copying truths from God's notebook, though we aren't always sure where to find this notebook or when it will open." As he said the words "out there," he gestured toward the distant point at which he stared when he was doing his "thinking."

"For example, when I was studying at Cambridge I worked on Artin's conjecture about cubic forms with whole-number coefficients. I used the 'circle method' and employed algebraic geometry, whole number theory, and the Diophantine equation. I was looking for a cubic form that didn't conform to the Artin conjecture . . . In the end, I found a proof that worked for a certain type of form under a specific set of conditions."

The Professor picked up a branch and began to scratch something in the dirt. There were numbers, and letters, and some mysterious symbols, all arranged in neat lines. I couldn't understand a word he had said, but there seemed to be great clarity in his reasoning, as if he were pushing through to a profound truth. The nervous old man I'd watched at the barbershop had disappeared, and his manner now was dignified. The withered stick gracefully carved the Professor's thoughts into the dry earth, and before long the lacy pattern of the formula was spread out at our feet.

LL, when you gave me this book of beauty to read, did you know you were putting Favorite Young Woman in my hands? F.Y.W. employs algebraic geometry. F.Y.W. of the long, delicate fingers and the healing touch is the elegance of mathematics embodied.

I am so grateful that you brought The Housekeeper and the Professor to my attention. With this novel in my hands, I hold my own daughter.

Infinities of love,


Tuesday, June 26, 2012


I shall be in summer reruns for the remainder of the week while I do some other work. This was a Valentine's Day post.

Gentle Readers,

Today we celebrate the L word, and for those of you who were hoping for some girl on girl action, no, it's not lesbian.

It's LOVE! Remember - What the world needs now? What do you get when you fall in it?

I remember love. I remember my first serious love.

Yes, Gentle Readers, I will share with you, and only you, that I lost my virginity with my first serious love on this date in 19**.

We had been building up to it. I had a bit of a reputation, undeserved, for being a loose woman, easy, a slut. But I wasn't doin' it. I turned everybody down.

Until he came along.

The first time we were alone together, at night, in the dark, in a park, in my car, I felt desire like I had never felt it before. It was months before we did the deed, and the first time, even the second and third times, weren't so great.

But then - sky rockets in flight! Afternoon delight. Yeah, we did it after school.

That love and I moved on in different directions eventually. But oh, boy, do I remember him every year when Valentine's Day rolls around.

But that's enough sex - for now.

I saw "As You Like It" at the Folger in D.C. quite a few years ago. If you ever have a chance to see a play at the Folger, go, go, go!

In "As You Like It," Shakespeare takes the romantic tradition and the language of love and turns it on its head. He plays with love in his play.

Here's some more sex: In "As You Like It," wrestling is a metaphor for sex. There's an entire book, just about sex references in this play, and it's serious. It's a real critical discussion of the play.

Anyway, Orlando and Rosalind meet at a wrestling match and find themselves "overthrown" by love.

Before long, Orlando is out in the forest hanging up his bad love poetry on the trees: "From the east to western Inde, / No jewel is like Rosalinde."

Somehow Rosalind manages to keep her head in the face of these magnificent protestations. In fact, she represents a practical view of love: "Men have/ died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love."

But, Rosalind and Orlando manage to get together in the end, and presumably, they do some hot and heavy wrestling.

So whether you're a realist when it comes to love, or you're a fool for love, at least you believe the L word exists.

Don't ya remember you told me you L'ed me baby? Here in my heart I give you the best of my L. My L does it good to me. Just an old fashioned L song. L will keep us together.

Still crazy after all these years.

Love, love, love,


Monday, June 25, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

We are in the midst of another tropical storm. It rained all night, and this morning the frogs said,

Dance, Sugar Pants. Dance, Sugar Pants.

So I had no choice but to Dance!
I just wanna know who told those frickin' frogs that my nickname is Sugar Pants.

Infinities of love,


P.S. Janie has too many irons in the fire. To avoid too many cooks spoiling the soup, for the rest of the week, she's going to share some of our older posts with you. Some of you will say, Oh, how very clever she is, or, I never knew she had such a filthy mouth, and the rest of you will say, This old crap again. Please be tolerant. It is summer rerun season.


Writer at work. Shhhhh. I'll be back soon.

Friday, June 22, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Since I haven't seen any interesting movies this week, I'm extremely grateful to have a question from Adorable Princess Maggie at Padded Cell Confessions.

Maggie asks, What position do you usually sleep in?

Oops. Sorry. While I was thinking about the question, I fell asleep.

Here are some possibilities:
I wish I had a photo of myself sleeping, so I could show you the money -- no, wait, that's a movie -- but I don't have a photo so I'll try to describe the position. Imagine a woman with her head hanging off the foot of the bed, her mouth hanging open, eyes closed, drool running out of the open mouth, and you can tell she's snoring.


I almost always sleep on my left side on the left side of the bed. I have two pillows under my head, and one pillow between my knees to avoid back pain. I sleep close to the edge of the bed so Harper and Scout have plenty of room. I wish Franklin would join us, but he prefers a doggie bed on the floor. My very most favorite thing is when Harper falls asleep with his back pressed against mine. It's Heaven. He's so soft and cuddly. Scout usually ends up curled around my golden tresses on the pillow. 

I wish I could tell you I sleep in the arms of a man who completes me, who is the peas to my carrots, the Forrest to my Jenny, the Tracy to my Hepburn, the Johnny Depp to Lola and me, but I don't. Maybe someday. If I can get my snoring under control.


Thank you for your question, Maggie. I hope I answered to your satisfaction.

Excuse me. I think it's time for a nap.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thursday, June 21, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm taking a little time off from the happy chore of reading and reviewing my friends' books in order to write this -- my 700th post!

And no, I am not going to tell you 700 things about myself. You already know me all too well.

But the current state of affairs is as follows:

I've been on Blogger since December, 2009.
3, 993 people have looked at my profile.
My blog has had a total of 23, 893 hits. 
I have 132 followers.

Does anyone know the identity of my very first follower?

That's right! The beautiful and ever-popular Little Chick! I love her so.

After a while, LegalMist came on board and started the ball rolling. She encouraged her followers to stop by my place to meet me. Before I knew it, I had 13 followers, and it stayed that way for quite some time. Then Cinderita wrote, How come Lola only has 13 followers? She encouraged even more folks to stop by and cop a squat.

And the little blog that could kept growing and growing, and I love each and every one of you. I wish I could name every person who has become my friend because of this blog, but it would take too long.

I have been Dumped First Wife, Lola, Janie Junebug, and now I'm a combination of Lola and Janie. Multiple personality disorder really can be fun.

The majority of my hits come from the U.S., with the U.K. in second place, and Ireland in third. Slovenia remains on the "hits" chart. I loves me my Slovenians, and they loves me back.

You still haven't seen me, except for the back of my head:
I hope you think it's a nice head. The Head was in San Francisco at City Lights Bookstore when The Hurricane photographed The Head.

As for search terms used to find me, I still think the funniest is "fucking my skinny wife." People who ask Google why Mr. Rogers wore a sweater may end up at my post explaining that Mr. Rogers was never in the military and he wasn't covered in tats. He wore sweaters because his mom made them for him.

Now a little information about this, the week that still is:

It's hasn't rained in a few days. The water has receded considerably. I have one swirling little pool of tadpoles desperate to stay alive. I think my attempt to start a tadpole farm will fail. Boo-hoo.

The Hurricane called recently to say she had been at rowing practice (she rows crew), and the coach told the team to row to a different dock than they usually use because something had been found in the water. The team went to the other dock. At their dock, they could see that the police and other rescue personnel had removed a body from the water -- a very sad sight indeed. The Hurricane's shoes were on their dock, so they became part of the crime scene. A member of the team drove her home so she wouldn't have to ride her bike wearing socks and no shoes. The police questioned The Hurricane because she had a murderous look in her eye. They wanted to know what time she was on the dock and what she saw, which, Thank You God, was absolutely nothing but water. Then they asked if it was Colonel Mustard in the dining room with the knife. 

The Hurricane felt a bit overwhelmed and wrung out by her morning. I hope this is her final experience with corpses. She used to row in a park, but at one point it was shut down for quite a while because murder victims washed in from San Francisco Bay.

When will killers learn they can't get rid of a body by weighing it down and dumping it overboard? Right, Scott Peterson? You nasty little so-and-so.

I filled out an application for medical insurance. It should be in effect next week. I have documents that go with it, and I thank so many of you for advising me in my insurance hunt that concluded with Miss Scarlet in the ballroom with the revolver.

Tomorrow, I have a question to answer. I need to work on a short story this weekend, and I hope to do more reading. When I post next week, the first item on my agenda is to review Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cats & Their Humans by our beloved Dulcy and Dee Ready. To purchase the book now, please visit

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. It was really Dr. X in the billiard room without a clue.

Wednesday, June 20, 2012


Ladies and Gentlemen,

I have a laughter buzz on. It's from reading Melynda Fleury's latest book, More Nonsense, available here:

This gem of a book is a mere $8.88. And it's eligible for amazon's super saver shipping, which means if you buy three books (one for yourself and two as gifts), then your shipping is free. It doesn't get any sweeter than that.

More Nonsense is the second volume, in a series of what will be three, of Melynda's posts from her blog, Crazy World. You can also click on the images of books on Melynda's blog to purchase them. If you don't have Volume I, you will most certainly want that.

Melynda, I am so sorry, but I laughed when you almost lost your "lady bits in a fight with a lemon slicer." Therefore, I was laughing before I finished the first post in More Nonsense. I wasn't yet following Melynda when she wrote most of these hysterical pieces. And the few I had already read on her blog were a joy to read again.

The thing I love about Melynda is that her writing style is so relaxed. Here's a sample:

Once the guys, at a car dealership I worked for, put me in four tires and rolled me around the room  'til I almost threw up. Their reward was a bunch of cookies laced with chocolate ex-lax a month later. 

My shoes getting put in a falcon's nest on the ceiling, resulted in my taking Saran wrap and individually wrapping their keys, desks, chairs and anything else I could find.

My car being Oreo'd -- basically they took a bunch of split Oreos and stuck them all over my windows --resulted in my putting pads all over their windows.

See what I mean?

When a mouse moved into their house and they couldn't get rid of it, her daughter named the mouse Fondue. Her young son answered the front door naked to get a bunch of little girls to stop ding-dong ditching. And when Melynda went to teach Vacation Bible School, she thought she had dropped a load in her pants. Then she discovered it was a dryer sheet.

But, true to Melynda, the book also includes posts that express her love for her husband, Phil; her love for all children; and her love of God.

I know I've asked you before to please buy books from my brilliant and amazing friends. And now I'm asking again. Melynda needs your gol' darn money. She and her husband have already lost their house because of medical bills. Her daughter has to walk to school. NINE MILES THIS GIRL WALKS. Now if that's not determination to get an education, I don't know what is. Melynda's sold darn near everything she can sell. And to put the icing on the cake, she has only a teeny-tiny bit of sight left because of the demon Diabetes.

Now I want you to get up and rock the boat. Go to to buy the book. Melynda's not asking you to do this. She doesn't ask for help. I'm asking you to do it. Besides, YOU GET THE BOOK.

I already have a jones on for Volume III.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, June 19, 2012


Dear Ones,

I'm reading Melynda's new book. As soon as I finish, I'll review it. That will be my next post.

I can tell you after reading the first 25 pages that the book is adorable, and it's a hoot.

Infinities of love.

Lalalalalalalala Junebug

Monday, June 18, 2012


Ladybug, Ladybug, fly away home
Your house is on fire . . . 

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Here's the scenario: Your house is on fire, but your entire family is safe, including furry children. The house is going to burn completely before the fire department can arrive. You can go in safely, and grab one thing. What item will you rescue?

Maybe you know right off the bat what you'd save from the burning house, but it's a very difficult decision for me. Do I rescue the two beautiful plates over the mantel that my great-grandmother brought with her from Norway? Do I grab the only photo album I have with pictures from my childhood? 

Ahhhh. Wait a minute. I do believe I have figured it out.

I'd save the laptop with all my writing on it. I don't really need photos. Although the Norwegian plates are precious to me, they're not as precious as words.

I'm glad I know what I would do.

Now, how 'bout you? What item will you rescue?

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug, who eagerly awaits your responses

Saturday, June 16, 2012


Dear Friends,

I'm in a medical insurance conundrum. I'd like to tell you my problem, and I would appreciate your advice. I'm sure many of you have more experience with making insurance decisions than I do.

Here's the situation: I have COBRA until November, but it costs about $635/month, which is putting me in debt. It's good coverage, especially with the prescriptions I need, but I certainly don't have $600/month in medical bills.

I spoke to an agent at a large well-known insurance company. She said that an individual policy would cost me about $1,000/month. Yikes!

I'm not proposing that I give up medical insurance altogether, but I see online ads all the time for health insurance options. So today I decided to respond to an email offering a health insurance quote. I spoke to an agent at  He said that I could get insurance through a group plan by joining an organization. The insurance would cost about $330/month. If what this man said is true, then the prescription coverage is quite good, and office visits are pretty well covered.

I told him I wanted him to send me information in the mail so I could go over it with Favorite Young Man and make a decision. He said he didn't have a conventional policy to send to me, but I could Google U.S. Health to get more information.

Now, here's the bad stuff I found. I Googled U.S. Health and found nothing. I also looked for reviews of and read a few complaints -- one from someone whose agents didn't give him up to date information about coverage and one that said to get insurance through that you first have to pay $100+ to join the organization and then you have to make your first insurance payment immediately. Another person said she had an information booklet her agent gave her and she could never figure out from looking at it what is covered and what isn't.

However, I also looked at a Web site about scams that said did not appear to be a scam. This was in one brief paragraph, and then the writer went on in detail about something that is a scam.

The Better Business Bureau sight said that has no complaints against it and no unresolved issues. Although I read those three reviews about problems, three is a very small number. When a company really is a scam, usually it's easy to find scads of complaints about it online. seems iffy to me because the agent can't send me information that I can look over to see what's covered and exactly what the costs are. But the BBB says no complaints or cases have been filed again multiplan.

Can anyone advise me as to what I should do? If I don't make a change now, when November rolls around, unless I've found a job with insurance, I'm going to have to get some sort of medical plan.

Infinities of love and thanks in advance for any help you can give me,

Janie Junebug

P.S. I just spoke with an agent from Assurant. He said they are one of the five major insurance companies writing individual policies. He told me about a plan that would cost 350/month. It covers major medical and all recommended services such as mammograms and colonoscopies are free. Has anyone heard of Assurant? Do you know anything good or bad about them?

I'll also research Assurant and look for customer reviews.

Friday, June 15, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Juli at has a question for me: What is the most positive thing that has come from your divorce?

I bet you have some interesting answers to this question, Juli. I hope you write a post on this topic.

This post is also for b., who probably won't read it anyway.

The most positive thing that has come from my divorce is that I am me. I know I am me. No one tries to force me to be something or someone I am not. The strength to be myself grows constantly.

I am Gaea and Cassandra and Heracles and Nike and Athena.

I can love the poet Sharon Doubiago, and she will not be taken from me and held up as if she is a trophy to own. I can love all my blogger friends, and you will not be taken from me as if I have no right to your friendship.

It's all right if I'm not perfect. I am good enough as I am, yet I can enjoy striving to be better.

I am  a ducky. I know people who would fight for me.

I am as sleek as a small cat and as beautiful as a big dog.

I am a volcano in Iceland.

I am the shore, waiting to welcome you. Please drift into me.

Infinities of love,

Janie Lola

Thursday, June 14, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

one lonely tadpole
We experienced a minor miracle yesterday (minor miracle seems an oxymoron to me, though). The miracle was that it didn't rain. The water in my backyard receded a bit, but a close look at the remaining water shows the tadpoles swirling and whirling.  

Take a look at the photo of one lonely tadpole and try to imagine hundreds, perhaps even thousands of the little monsters swimming in circles in my backyard.

Interestingly, the dogs pay no attention to them.

Most of the tadpoles won't have a chance to make the transition to frogs. Unless we have a massive amount of rain everyday for many days to come, the water will continue to dry up and flies will descend on the dying tadpoles, covering them as they scream in horror.

Then the tadpoles will be gone.

The really good news is that I no longer look like this:

The frogs are quiet now. Perhaps it's because they're too busy creating tadpoles. I'm grateful they aren't yammering anymore. When they chanted, "Attack the Earth," they went too far.

It's so much easier to sleep without heavy rain and croaking frogs.

Tomorrow, I'll present a question and answer Friday. Juli asked the question, and I have the answer. I'm surprised more of you don't ask me questions. After all, I am the most interesting person I know.

Of course, I only know two or three other people.

After a short period of feeling pretty good, I'm experiencing the blues again. I hope they don't last too long. I'm back to the perp walk -- that kind of bent over move because the troubles of the world are on my shoulders and my feet can't leave the ground and my head hangs low.

My posts may be sporadic during the next couple of weeks. I have ordered a number of books I want to read and review. Most of the authors are our beloved blogger friends. I look forward to lots of reading and then writing reviews full of praise.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. No tengo cucarachas.

Monday, June 11, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Here in Dogtown it continues to rain. I'm fascinated by the way one frog will croak out a particular word or phrase, and then all the other frogs follow suit. The first night of heavy rains, they all said, Damn, Damn. Last night they started with Dancer, Dancer, and then moved on to Attack the Earth, Attack the Earth.

I haven't seen another regular cockroach, but last night when I was getting the Z Boys in after their final visit to the great outdoors, two palmetto bugs ran in, screaming, We can't stand more rain. I screamed, Bastards! and ran after them with the vacuum cleaner and sucked them up successfully, completely forgetting that Little Chick had given me a nice can of buy spray.

Tonight I shall be prepared. When I open the door for the boys, I'll have the can in my hand. Just in case.

Now over in Gumption we have a What? Monday question.

Forrest Gump: What's my destiny, Mama? 
Mrs. Gump: You're gonna have to figure that out for yourself

Today's What? Monday question is Do you have a destiny, or are you blowing through life likes a feather?

Here's my answer: God gave humankind the freedom to make choices, but God knows what we will choose. Therefore, nothing is an accident. Nothing is coincidental. Sometimes I feel as if I'm a feather, blowing from one place to another, but God helps me make decisions if I listen to Her. She always knows where I'm going. If I get off track, then She brings me back to my destiny. But since I don't have a crystal ball that allows me to see my fate, Life remains a constant surprise.

Now, how about you? 

Do you have a destiny, or are you blowing through life likes a feather?

I look forward to reading your answers. You are such interesting people, with many different ways of thinking.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, June 8, 2012


Gentle Readers,

It's raining.
It's pouring.
But I doubt if I'll be snoring.
The frogs are so loud.
They gather in a crowd.
The plague keeps me awake all night.
I look like a fright.

This is me.
Although I am thankful for life-giving water after a year-long drought, my backyard is a pool, making it difficult for the dogs to find a place to go, if you know what I mean. If this downpour continues, soon I shall have my very own tadpole pool.

Well, let me tell you about two movies.

The first is We Need To Talk About Kevin.

This movie is brilliant. It's well made and the acting is superb.

However, it is frightening. It is shake-you-to-your-very core scary.

And I don't mean it has zombies. Eva (Tilda Swinton) is young Kevin's mom. John C. Reilly plays Franklin, Eva's husband and Kevin's dad. Two young men play Kevin -- one as a young child and one as a teenager. The young actors have an amazing talent for portraying Kevin's malevolence.

But why is Kevin evil?

Franklin is partly to blame with his boys will be boys attitude.

Some of the blame may rest with nature.

So how much blame rests with Eva? She can be incredibly patient with Kevin and incredibly cruel to him. Remember how doctors used to say that if a child was autistic it was because the mother was cold and uncaring?

I hate that (disproved) theory, so I was reluctant to blame Eva because although Kevin is not autistic, he is incredibly vicious and inhuman. But then I woke up and remembered that we see events from Eva's point of view.


We see what Eva allows us to see, and it is horrifying. If you experience health problems, are prone to sleepless nights after seeing something frightening, or are just plain very sensitive, then I recommend you not watch this movie. Otherwise, please watch and learn. You will see an outstanding film with a strange bluegrassy/country score that fits its weirdness perfectly.

We Need To Talk About Kevin is new to DVD.

A slightly older movie is my second choice for this week. It's called Limitless and stars eye-candy man Bradley Cooper, whose talent is so much better served here than in those dumb Hangover movies.

I started out thinking, I like this movie. It's stylized. It's cool. I like the score. I like the acting.

But it has a drug problem and needs to go into rehab. Cooper's character, Eddie, is a writer who doesn't write -- even though he actually has a book contract! What wouldn't we all give for that?

Then Eddie takes a pill that provides him with limitless abilities and intelligence. Before long, I started to feel that the movie glorified drug use. When Eddie faces death because of the drug, I started to think the movie was headed in the right direction -- because a drug used illegally and incorrectly can cause such harm.

I don't want to tell you what happens with the drug and Eddie. It would spoil the movie for you. But I was not pleased with the end. You might want to watch this movie so you can see that Bradley Cooper really isn't just another pretty face, but I wouldn't let kids watch it. If older teens see it, then you should have a family discussion afterwards.

I recommend these movies with trepidation and with warnings. If they're not a good fit for you, then watch a silly comedy that won't damage your psyche.

I hope you have a lovely weekend. I hope to see the sun shine.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thursday, June 7, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Reminder: You can email a question to us, and one or both of us will answer it on a Friday. I've only received two questions, and strangely enough, they both had to do with sex. Doesn't anyone else have a question you're just burning to ask me? 

Now, at long last, let's get started with today's post.

Here in Dogtown, communication skills have improved with one of the Z Boys.

Simple communication skills remain pretty much the same. It's 7 a.m. or 5 p.m., so the boys stare at me. Breakfast served at 7; supper served at 5.

When Harper stands outside and barks at the door, it means not that he wants to come inside, but that he wants Franklin to come outside and play. The bromance continues.

Scoutie hurls himself against the bathroom cabinet before bed because he's reminding me that he gets a biscuit at bedtime. So does everyone else, including me. Mmmmmm. I loves me a good Milk Bone.

All rightie, then. What's changed?

I'm about to tell you.

Faulkner the smooth collie (July 26, 1997 - July 27, 2010) was amazingly communicative. And it was pure instinct. If I dropped something, he wouldn't stop staring at it until I picked it up. He saved me from losing mail out in the driveway on the second day he lived with us because he refused to walk to the house when I didn't notice I had dropped an envelope. If one of the other dogs needed to go out during the night, Faulkner put his cold wet nose directly on my dry warm nose. If that actually failed to awaken me, he put his long collie nose under my head and lifted it off the pillow.
He had a variety of barks that only I recognized. He had a bark for Oh My God, the school bus is in front of the house and ugly kids are disembarking; a bark for Someone is on the way to the door, so Mom, put some clothes on; a bark for Get out here right now because it is a freaking emergency.

He also used the head jerk, pointing in the direction of the water bowls if H2O was lacking.

When Franklin came to live with me 1 1/2 years ago and learned three commands in the first 24 hours, I was pleased that he was so intelligent. But he didn't seem to have the instinctive intelligence that Faulkner had.

That's changed.

Franklin has become much more communicative, and he figured it out for himself. If I call Harper and he ignores me because he's playing in the yard or napping, Franklin runs to Harper, nudges Harper on the shoulder or forehead with his nose, and Harper comes running to me with Franklin. Harper might not obey me all the time (or any of the time), but Harper always obeys Franklin.
A few days ago I told Scout to stop digging a hole in the backyard. Scout gave me this look that mumbled, I'm agonna stop for now, but the minute you go in, I start agin.
But Scout didn't start when I headed for the house because Frankie Big Paws stood over him to make sure Scout did as told.

When someone he knows arrives in the driveway, Franklin fires off a brief warning bark and then comes to get me.

When someone he doesn't know arrives in the driveway, Franklin stands up at the front door and gives that person holy hell. He scared off some Jehovah's Witnesses recently.

So Franklin has the instinctive intelligence I thought he didn't have. He communicates with me, and with his fellow Z  boys. If I needed him to herd sheep, or cattle, or cats, or whatever, I'm sure he could learn to do the job.

Well, maybe not cats. And definitely not cucarachas, though we haven't seen any.

But I'm thrilled that Franklin has turned out to be so intelligent. I don't know if he kept his instincts hidden for a time, or if they've gradually risen to the surface.

I do know he's one darn good dog.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Wednesday, June 6, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I have a video I want to share with you. Fishducky sent this to her "Duckies" last weekend.

Obviously, I am a Ducky, and someday we Duckies will take over the world. You just wait and see.

But for now, we present Einstein:

My favorite part is when Einstein "calls the dog" because in my house, Einstein calls, and three dogs immediately run into the room to find out why they're wanted. The most interesting thing to me is that I do not call my dogs by whistling. But somehow they know they are being called.

Tomorrow I want to write about how communication is changing with the Z Boys here in Dogtown.

We leave you with some of our favorite photos.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, June 5, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I wasn't going to do this. I had a different post planned for today.

But now, in honor of little AR, I must ask you to go to Melynda's blog and vote for the photos I submitted of our darling little girl. They are the first two photos on her blog, so in the Comments section just say you vote for #1; and no, that does not mean you vote for pee.

Voting for #1 means you vote for this:

Could this little girl get any cuter? Well, I bet the boys will think so when she's older. Then Daddy and Favorite Young Man will frighten those boys into keeping their hands to themselves.

Please note that AR is reading the book upside down; therefore, it is funny no matter how you read it.

Melynda's contest is to choose the funniest, cutest photo of someone reading her book. Obviously, AR is funniest and by far the cutest.

I realize that many of you follow Melynda's blog and have already voted. It's all good, mama. But if you haven't voted yet, or if you don't follow Mel's blog, then would you please go to and vote for #1?

It will mean a lot to little AR, and to Mommy and Daddy.

AR is our star!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Monday, June 4, 2012


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Today's question is quite simple, yet it may be difficult to answer. I know I could give dozens of responses.

Uh-oh, here we go: What are your favorite songs? Or do you have a particular type of music that you prefer, such as classical, without having a favorite piece?

This question does not give you carte blanche to whine about rap. I've heard it all before. Don't bore me. Reach out and grab my interest (NO! Not there, Coffey).

I'll limit myself to three answers.

And, finally, I think the third is my all-time favorite.

Now, how 'bout it? What are your favorite songs?

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. I know I stuck to oldies (they don't really seem so old to me), but I like a lot of what I hear now, especially Bon Jovi and, yes, Lady Gaga. And don't you dare make fun of me.

Bonus favorite: