Friday, December 20, 2019


HI! Hi! Hi hi hi! Hihihihihihihihi! I loves every buddy!

Do you know it is almost Kissmas? Santa Paws brings presents for Kissmas!

I'll tell you what my presents are after Santa Paws brings them.

This year I gots an early present. I have somethin' I never had before. A grandma! Her name is Grandma! Isn't that amazeballs (Ewwww. I shouldn'ta said that. It reminds me of something I'm missing.)?

Mom calls Grandma by another name. It's Carol. Her real name is Grandma.

I had seen Grandma lotsa times. Mom would go to pick up Grandma or Grandma would come here and Mom would go dashing out to her car. Mom always explained that they were going out gallivanting around but I still don't know what gallivanting is.

Now Grandma lives here with me. She usually doesn't close her bedroom door all the way. That means I'm supposed to go in her room whenever I feel like it. I go in to lie down on the rug unless Grandma's hands are not busy and then she rubs my head and tells me how bootiful I am.  Sometimes her hands are busy but I lift them up from what they're doing because I need her to pay attention to me.

This pitcher is of me and Grandma. You see I'm lying down and those things with the hearts are Grandma's legs in her jammies. As soon as Grandma moved in I got friendly with her by resting on her foot.

Mom looked up what it meant when a dog likes to lie down on your foot. It means that Grandma is part of my pack.

If Mom had asked me, I coulda told her that.

Grandma is the very bestest Grandma ever. Sometimes she feeds us and lets us outside, especially when Mom swishes outa here in a dress to that dumb werk thing.

It kinda makes me a little bit mad that when Grandma is making a fuss over me that Penlapee comes over and sticks in her big concrete blockhead so that Grandma has to pet Penlapee, too.

Whatever, Penlapee.

I wish you all a big Merry Kissmas and I hope that if you don't have a Grandma that you get one for Kissmas.

Okay I love you bye-bye.

I need to rest after doing all that writing. Maybe I will sleep till after Kissmas and when I wake up I'll find my presents from Santa Paws.

Wednesday, December 18, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

The two children who disappeared on Jacksonville's West side have been found. Two firefighters discovered them yesterday afternoon. I didn't know about it until today.

May God bless the many city employees and volunteers who went out to search for them.

They had been gone for 52 hours and wanted a cheese pizza. They got it.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Monday, December 16, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Illness prevented me from writing this post immediately after Carol arrived, so many of you already know that she's here with me as my very own snow bird. When I was in so much pain and had to go to the emergency room, one of her friends told her, Carol, God always puts you right where you're needed.

And I have definitely needed her. I hope she's happy here. I know she's glad to escape the cold and snow of Wisconsin.

Carol arrived in October and will probably depart in May. She used to stay with one of her daughters, but the daughter moved back to Milwaukee and now lives in Carol's house there. I was happy to invite her to stay with me.

At 80-years-young, Carol is sharper and stronger than I am. In fact, I'd venture a guess that she's sharper and stronger than most everybody.

Carol and I met when I was hired as a crew leader for the 2010 Census and she was on my crew. I asked her to be one of my two assistant crew leaders because I could see that she had the intelligence and the patience for the job. She tells everyone that I was her boss. I always respond that I could never be her boss.

We like to go out gallivanting around together, even if the gallivanting only takes us to appointments with my doctors and to Costco.

Although it took me quite a bit of time because I tire easily, I've decorated for Christmas more this year than I had in a long time. Favorite Young Man never got his butt over here to get the decorations that were in the attic, so I asked the adorable young man next door if he could get them out for me. He could and he did. He just might become my new Favorite Young Man. I have promised him a batch of my best Norwegian cookies, but he might not receive them until after the holidays because the pain in my right shoulder won't allow me to stir the thick dough.

I decorated the living room, and I asked Carol if she would like to have a smaller tree that only had lights on it in her bedroom. She said, Sure. Then she decorated the tree so beautifully that we put it in the family room. Here's Carol at work:

So now we have a gold tree. The larger tree in the living room has all my other decorations. We've decided that next Christmas we want a gold tree, a red tree, and a whatever's-left-over tree. Here's the living room:

My mom painted the Santas and gave me many of the ornaments on the tree. I also tried to make a practice of buying special ornaments when we traveled. One was a woolly little sheep made by a member of the von Trapp family (we once stayed at their lodge in Vermont). Sadly, the sheep is no longer with us because the late, great Harper decided it was a doggy toy. He thought some other decorations were doggy toys, too. He taught me to put anything that might be considered a doggy toy up high on the tree.

And as angry parsnip says, here is your pretty for week. It's Carol, who looks so beautiful in her church-going finery:

I also have a photo of Willy Dunne Woofers (we changed his last name because he loves the dogs) naked and sprawled out on my bed. Be glad that I don't share that photo with you.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Some of you might have seen on the news that we have two missing children here in Jacksonville. The Amber Alert came out yesterday afternoon. They were last seen playing in front of their house. They are six-year-old Braxton Williams - Male, 6 and his sister Bri'ya Williams - Female, 5. Please remember these children in your prayers or in whatever way you communicate with the universe. I burst into tears when I saw the alert. It hasn't been very long since a little girl disappeared in Jacksonville and her body was found in Alabama.

It's been more than 24 hours. They could be almost anywhere by now. Please watch for them. 

Tuesday, December 10, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Many of you are probably aware that my health hasn't been the best during 2019. During the first part of the year I learned I had hypothyroidism and a sleep disorder after I started sleeping 20 hours or so a day with the desire to wake up but not the ability. My thyroid levels are now where they should be because brilliantly beautiful Dr. Driver prescribed the correct medicine and has monitored the levels. I'm not crazy about the CPAPCRAP, but it's not the end of the world.

Recently, though, I had quite a health scare that sent me to the ER in intense pain: lower left quadrant of the abdomen. The slightest movement made me squawk.

The day before, a Monday, I didn't feel right at work. I went in late (usually I'm early). I had stomach cramps but didn't have diarrhea. Had a terrible headache that wasn't a migraine. Nausea. Can't remember everything although I wrote down all my symptoms on my account of my day that I left for my kind manager. Oh, lower back pain. That was another one.

I got home at 1 a.m. that night, or you can call it very early Tuesday morning. I took ibuyprofen. The pain intensified. I was able to fall asleep at 2:30 and awoke at 5:30 in even worse pain. I lay in bed and didn't move until I absolutely had to pee. I knew that my snow bird housemate (I know I haven't written a post about Carol living with me this winter but you understand I haven't had a chance), a retired RN, would find me. I heard her come toward my room mid-morning, asking why I wasn't getting ready for work. I squawked, and it was Carol to the rescue. She called Dr. Driver's office and told them about the pain. Dr. Driver's assistant, Bailey, called back a couple of hours later to find out if the pain was still bad. Yes. Absolutely. Bailey said Dr. Driver wanted me to go to the ER.

The ER doctors and nurses were great. I didn't wait for hours to be seen. I heard the first nurse who saw me tell someone that I needed to be taken care of immediately. A scan revealed some kind of thickness on my colon that accounted for the pain. I was given fluids and pain meds through an IV. The doctor asked if I should spend the night in the hospital to manage my pain. I said, Not necessary, and pointed to Carol. I went home with prescriptions for pain medication and antibiotics. The antibiotics were supposed to help shrink what was on my colon so I could have a colonoscopy to determine if I had cancer.

I admit I was pretty nervous for about two and a half weeks as I made an appointment with a  gastroenterologist, who saw me pretty quickly and kindly got me scheduled for a colonoscopy and an endoscopy on Saturday.

I DON'T HAVE CANCER. Whew! I'm glad to be able to tell you that. The mass on my colon was gone, which means it was an infection that was killed by the anitibiotics. I do, however, have gastroenteritis. What is gastroenteritis? I'll let you know when I figure it out. I was pretty loopy when I came out of the anesthesia. Carol says that the gastroenterologist was concerned that something is wrong with my digestive system, but higher up, as in a worse than good ole heartburn kinda way. I'm now taking a medication that he prescribed, and I'm supposed to mix Metamucil in water and drink it every day. I bought the Metamucil today. I'm excited to taste its deliciousness (you know that's sarcasm). I'm supposed to see the gastroenterologist in a few weeks, and today I have an appointment with Dr. Driver. I know she'll help me understand what's going on. If I look up my health problems online I'll probably just frighten myself.

Now let's take a minute to dish about someone who is not so nice: Dr. X. I haven't said much about him for quite some time. I want to leave all the nastiness in the past and live the life I have now, which is not so bad in spite of health problems and some other stuff.

Years ago I asked X to please set up direct deposit for me. I never knew when his checks would arrive. Although I'm supposed to have them by certain dates and often don't receive them until I reach the point of feeling a bit nervous about whether they would arrive in time to keep up with the house payment and the electric bill, I never reported it to the court. I lived with it.

Recently I made the direct deposit request again. He acquiesced. He claims that his bank has rules about how much he can send and how often he can send it. I suggested a way to deal with it. He said okay but didn't do it. It's made a mess of my finances, for which he blames me because I asked him to please deal with his bank and get it straightened out. Moreover, he was very nasty to me while I was waiting to find out what the creature on my colon was. I told him what I was going through and he only got nastier. If you're reading this asshat, you are an asshat. An ugly, mean asshat, and I pity your wife.

Why can't we just live our separate lives without him turning a simple request into a major brouhaha?

I've always liked that Alanis Morissette song, You Oughta Know. Although I don't think I was ever perverted as Alanis describes herself in the song (she has said that the song is based on an experience in her life so I'm not calling the speaker in the lyrics a poetic persona), the words in the song have a lot of meaning for me.

I saw Alanis wearing a wig and doing a segment for Jimmy Fallon's show where the two of the them busked in the New York subway. They did Little Drummer Boy. Then my girl Alanis launched into You Oughta Know. Thank you for writing a song that expresses my feelings, Alanis.

I also watched Jimmy interview Alanis on his show (online--I don't stay up late enough to watch Jimmy Fallon's show). I admit that I was pleased to see that Alanis has put on some weight. She's no longer super thin. I AM NOT FAT SHAMING HER BECAUSE SHE'S NOT FAT. She merely has some curves now, as do I. I am not the only person who went from being super thin to being rather curvy as I aged. In my case, I put on the weight because of an antidepressant I took during the waning days of marriage misery. I've never again taken an antidepressant that made me want to stuff fistfuls of food in my mouth, but I do continue to take an antidepressant, which helps me a lot. I lost some of the weight, but I don't know if I'll ever get it all off. Dr. Driver says I don't eat enough to lose weight, which I'm sure is true. I'm not all that hungry--especially of late--so my body thinks it's being starved and fights to keep the weight. I also work at a sedentary job. Now that I'm recovering from the colon infection and taking medication for the problems that remain, I hope Franklin and I can walk to the park more often.

It was 78 degrees today. Not that you should feel jealous.

Again, I beg your forgiveness for my inability to visit your blogs regularly. I miss you and wish I had more time and felt better. I don't expect to have more time, but I do expect to feel better.

Isn't it crazy that I couldn't stay awake for the first part of the year and then I went through that period of not being able to sleep? I've slept well lately with some notable exceptions caused by pain.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Alanis, will you please sing us out?

Saturday, November 30, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

So many posts run round my head. They want my fingers to type them, but I'm somewhere else instead.

I hope to put up Christmas decorations soon. I don't know if it will happen. I'm angry because the last couple of Christmases I haven't had all of my decorations because Favorite Young Man won't get them out of the attic for me. I can't get them out on my own (not strong enough to pull them through the attic opening, especially while standing on a ladder because of my fear of heights).

If FYM won't acquiesce to my requests for help, then I might not decorate this year. That'll teach him because if I don't decorate he won't have gifts under the tree.

You have no idea how tempted I am to give you his phone number and ask you all to call and text him with a reminder that I'm the mama who changed his diapers and fed him at my breast and dealt with all his teenage crap and still deal with all his adult crap, so he should get his ass over here to help me.

I won't do that, of course.

Nope. Not gonna do it.

I apologize for not visiting your blogs. So much going on, and one day, I might have time to start telling you about it. I hope my fellow Americans enjoyed the Thanksgiving holiday. Wait till you hear the story about how I dumped the contents of the gravy boat on Uncle Fred's head because he said we don't understand how brilliant Snuffatrumpagus is.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

I wonder if Colton is a public high school.
If it is, then their sign is (sadly) what I expect of a public school.
If it's a private school, then put away your wallets, parents.

Friday, November 15, 2019


Dear Ones,

I'm sorry I haven't been visiting your blogs and haven't published any scintillating posts. I'm just plain busy with work and editing and even having some fun.

Don't ever think that I've forgotten you.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Wednesday, October 30, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Put a comma before too at the end of a sentence or in the middle of a sentence if too means also.

I want to see Green Day, too. 

I, too, would like to see Elton John.

No comma for too in You are just too full of crap.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

When I have new writing on my blog I usually post a link to it on Facebook. Facebook or something won't let me post the link now. I wonder if it has something to do with the struggle I went through last night to get rid of Messenger, which should probably have a nastier name. I somehow let Messenger take over and then I couldn't text. I got rid of Messenger, but now I can't post my link on Facebook. Weird.

User opted out of platform: The action attempted is disallowed, because the user has opted out of Facebook platform.

What have I done now to make the Facebook gods angry with me?

Saturday, October 26, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm sorry I've been AWOL. I've had a lot going on that I'll share in future posts.

I'm happy to say that I'm sleeping better--most of the time. I combined your tips with suggestions I read online.

I've cut back on Diet Pepsi, especially after 6 p.m. I wash my sheets twice a week and like the white noise provided by a sputtering fan. I am learning to relax in bed instead of being upset that I can't sleep. I've even discovered that if I'm awake all night, it's not the end of the world. I accomplish a lot on sleepless nights.

I was afraid of going to work without sleep and then driving home at midnight. But I did it once and I wasn't at all tired and didn't feel sleepy while I was driving.

A yoga studio has opened near my house. They're going to offer private lessons sometime soon. When they do, I'm going to give it a try to see if I can do it. I think relaxing and stretching will be good for me. My biggest fear is that I'll get down on the floor and won't be able to get up.

Work is much better. I have a new manager. So far so good.

Some happy things are going on in my life (more to come).

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, October 8, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

"To sleep, perchance to dream" is from Hamlet and actually refers to death and the hope for a dreamlike state without problems. I don't want to die. I want to sleep at night and stay awake during the day, but I thought the quotation worked. Does it? I can't think clearly.

My sleep problems keep getting worse. I couldn't sleep Saturday night. I made myself stay awake on Sunday. I was so sleepy.

So I went to bed about ten o'clock Sunday night, put on my C-PAP, and I lay there hour after hour, wide awake. I took off the C-Pap. Couldn't sleep. I finally decided to get up and read at about 4:30 a.m. Around 10:30 I fell asleep and didn't wake up until about 6 p.m.

So of course, I couldn't sleep last night (Monday). Here I am on Tuesday morning. What do I do?

This sleep thing is causing a serious problem with my work. I've tried all sorts of things that I've read online. Don't sleep during the day. No caffeine after 6 p.m. Get some exercise. Practice good "sleep hygiene," which means having clean sheets and a comfortable bed and pillows, no internet or looking at your phone, use your bed for sleeping--not for reading or watching TV.  You name it and I've probably tried it.

Yes, I have a lot of worries, but I don't think they're keeping me awake. I don't know what's keeping me awake. My doctor knows I have this problem. The last time I saw her she became irritated with me, to put it nicely. She thinks I'm not doing what I should. Now I don't feel like going to see her.

I do have odd work hours. That gets in the way of regular sleep, but even if I'm off work for a while, I can't sleep at night.

After not sleeping for 24 hours or so, I feel pretty uncomfortable about going to work because I have to get home at midnight. What if I can't concentrate at work and screw up something important? What if I fall asleep while I'm driving? How do I stay alert enough to get through work and get home?

I'm a mess.

You probably have suggestions for me. I welcome your ideas, but please forgive me if I'm grouchy. I'm tired.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Update: I appreciate your sympathy and suggestions. You came up with some things that hadn't occurred to me or that I didn't read in all the articles about how to fall asleep. I'm ready to turn off the computer for the night, drink my milk, and read for a while or watch something relaxing on TV. I'm experiencing something right now, however, that really has me thinking. As soon as I looked at the time and thought about bedtime approaching, I felt the anxiety grab me--that clenching in my stomach and the thought that I'll get no sleep. I believe now that my anxiety plays a much bigger role in this problem than I thought it did when I wrote the post this morning.

Monday, October 7, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Everyone's favorite donkey, jenny_o, who claims she is a Procrastinating Donkey, said that paper is the theme for this week's Poetry Monday. I've never been good at writing a poem with a particular theme. My poetry shoots out of the top of my head, lands in pieces on the floor, and then has to be put together.

So I'm trying to remember if I've written a poem in the past that has something to do with paper. Let me take a gander at my old poetry posts. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back. Probably.

Look at the photo of the cute donkeys while I'm gone:

Okay. I'm back. I can't think of a poem that has anything to do with paper, and I looked at some of my older poems. Nothing about paper. Furthermore, I realized I've written some freaking weird poems.

No poem today, but visit Procrastinating Donkey. jenny_o will probably have a poem.

I'm writing this post on Sunday morning. It rained earlier and the temperature is only 81 at 10:35 a.m. I'm trying to stay awake so I'll sleep tonight. I get my days and nights mixed up. I told my nice neighbor across the street that I was born to run the streets at night. I'm a real wild child.

Willy Dunne Wooters suggested that I start using my blog as therapy, the way I did when I started blogging. It helped a lot then. I don't know if it will help now or if I'll just feel whiny.

Willy Dunne Wooters has been and might still be in the hospital because of an infection. He actually called an ambulance instead of calling me to take him to the hospital. I swear I think the man is so terrified that he'll be beholden to someone that he would rather spend a fortune on an ambulance than let me take him to the hospital. I emailed him a while ago to ask how he is. He hasn't answered.

I'll let you know how he is when I find out.

Paper . . . I still have paper on the brain.

Nope! Can't think of a thing.

And I'm so sleepy. I have a long day of trying to stay awake ahead of me. Arrrrrrrgh, all I really wanna do is take a nap.

Oh! Something else happened that was weird. Sunday night--I think it was Sunday night or maybe Monday--I was spraying something with WD40. The can stopped spraying, but I knew it wasn't empty. I stuck a pin in the schnozzle in case it was clogged. Nothing happened and then all of a sudden it started spraying really hard and of course I had my face close to the can so I could see the schnozzle and it sprayed me in the eyes! Mostly my left eye.

It hurt. I might have cursed some. The can said if you get it in your eyes to flush them with water. So I did.

My eyes stung and watered a lot. But they got better the next day.

Ooooooooh, I'm so sleepy. My kingdom for a nap.

As soon as I find out about Willy Dunne Wooters, I'll let you know, and I'll tell you if I was able to stay awake all day. I want to give in and sleep, sleep, sleep . . . .

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Paper . . . still thinking paper . . . .

The Paper Caper--sounds as if it could be a good title for a mystery novel, but why would someone steal paper?

I think that Julie Andrews not being able to sing anymore is one of the saddest things in the world. I saw her on Broadway (second row seats) in Victor Victoria. She was wonderful.

It just occurred to me that maybe Willy Dunne Wooters made up the whole thing about the infection so he can sneak away from me.

I'm so sleepy that my mind is wandering all over the place.

Update: Willy Dunne Wooters is out of the hospital and resting at home.

Tuesday, October 1, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Bildungsroman has been my favorite literary term for a long time.

I don't remember having a favorite before bildungsroman. I like other terms, too, but not as much. Synechdoche is awfully good.

Bildungsroman is a German term used to describe a coming-of-age novel. Bildung means formation;  roman means novel. Pronounced bill-dungs-rome-ahn.

It's my favorite for two reasons, at least at the moment. I might think of more reasons later.

First reason: I like saying it. It rolls off the tongue with a lovely combination of consonants and vowels and sounds so mysterious.

Second reason: The best essay I wrote in college for my beloved Dr. C. was about A Portrait of the Artist As A Young Man by James Joyce, which is a bildungsroman. I also structured the essay as a bildungsroman. Dr. C. always spoke with us students before we began writing (I'm sure it averted many catastrophes). He liked to see an outline.

He didn't think the bildungsroman approach would work for my essay. I assured him that it would. I had outlined ways to write it using other methods. I could see that the bildungsroman was the right way.

Fortunately, I was right. If I felt a bit better (I have an upset tummy), I'd dig out the essay from my files and share his comments on it with you. Sometimes when I'm sad I get out one of my old essays and read it. Dr. C's comments always make me feel better.

I got an A+. It was the beginning of a string of A pluses that lasted until I graduated.

Oh, my lovely Dr. C. He changed my life.

A Portrait of the Artist is in the #2 spot on my list of my favorite five. The Great Gatsby occupies first place. The Sound and The Fury is in third. It was also part of the late, great Faulkner's registered name. Officially, he was Faulkner of Sound and Fury. The dog of my life.

Do you have a list of favorite novels? Perhaps a favorite bildungsroman? I'll be surprised if you have a favorite literary term.

Some other examples of a bildungsroman include

Please tell us what your favorite bildungsroman is.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Two examples of a bildungsroman: could Boogie Nights and Anne of Green Gables be more different?

Monday, September 30, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Darling jenny_o of Procrastinating Donkey  participates in Poetry Monday. This week's topic is beauty.

Although I don't plan on being part of Poetry Monday or a regular basis, I want to share a poem that I wrote several years ago. I hope you will think it's a beautiful poem, but more important to me is that it represents the beauty of a connection between two people. Connections don't always last. They can be beautiful while they do.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug


I get into my cold bed at night and
I whisper the silly nickname
I have for you and then
I talk to you softly about 
what it would be like if
you were here with me.
We would sit in the afternoon sunshine
with our books and 
share a kiss and a cocktail.
Then I would prepare a fine feast 
for us and we would dine 
at my whimsical blue table
while the blue clock behind us
quietly ticked off the minutes
until evening.

Then we would walk the 
dogs to the park
and talk about our books
and hurry home
to softly slide 
down the hallway
to my beautiful bedroom.

We would climb into the bed,
now warm,
and hold each other 
until you rested your ear
on my breast
and told me my 
heart was beating,
gently and kindly,
as it should.
Then we would make love
in the moonlight
until our two hearts grew together
and we realized 
the glow of the moon
came from 
within us.

Sunday, September 29, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

The anti-vaxxers frighten me. They will allow their children to spread preventable illnesses that can be very serious and even cause death. Anti-vaxxers endanger all of us, but especially children.

The last time I saw my doctor I requested the measles vaccine (actually MMR for measles, mumps, rubella--none of which you want to have).

"Before the measles vaccination program started in 1963, an estimated 3 to 4 million people got measles each year in the United States. Of these, approximately 500,000 cases were reported each year to CDC; of these, 400 to 500 died, 48,000 were hospitalized, and 1,000 developed encephalitis (brain swelling) from measles. Since then, widespread use of measles virus-containing vaccine has led to a greater than 99% reduction in measles cases compared with the pre-vaccine era. However, measles is still common in other countries. Unvaccinated people continue to get measles while abroad and bring the disease into the United States and spread it to others." (source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

I was born in 1959. My mother swore that I never had a childhood illness, but I know I had chicken pox. She didn't see it because my eczema was so bad.  She also didn't like to be bothered by our illnesses. I can't imagine that I had the MMR vaccine when it came out, unless my mother was forced to get it for me or didn't know that I was getting it.  *Note: I'm not saying she was an anti-vaxxer. She didn't know anything different from kids having childhood diseases, and as I said, she did not like to be bothered by us needing a doctor's care.

I haven't gotten my flu shot yet, but get it I will as I do every other year. I can get it for free in the Wellness Center at work, in my doctor's office, or from a pharmacy. I know some people believe that the shot gives you the flu. It's a killed virus. It can't give you the flu. You might have a reaction to it, but the reaction is usually a lot easier than being sick with the flu.

"Flu vaccines that are administered with a needle are currently made in two ways: the vaccine is made either with a) flu vaccine viruses that have been 'inactivated' and are therefore not infectious, or b) with no flu vaccine viruses at all (which is the case for recombinant influenza vaccine)." (source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention)

The CDC states "that flu vaccination reduces the risk of flu illness by between 40% and 60% among the overall population during seasons when most circulating flu viruses are well-matched to the flu vaccine."

Each autumn when I get my flu shot, my arm is sore for a day or two. Sometimes I don't sleep well during that time because moving around hurts my arm. Some years the shot hurts a bit more than others. 

I'd rather feel kind of crappy for a couple of days than end up in the hospital with the flu: "But in the United States alone, 36,000 people die and more than 200,000 are hospitalized each year because of the flu." (source: Harvard Health) I am very much aware of the fact that the flu vaccine does not guarantee that I won't get the flu. I prefer to take my chances with the vaccine.

I also asked my doctor about a shingles vaccination. The last time I inquired, I was told that the vaccine was very expensive and wasn't covered by insurance until age 65. That's changed. My doctor says it's now recommended that [almost] everyone 60 and older get the shingles vaccine. I have to call my insurance company to make sure they cover it. If they don't, depending on what the price is, I might pay for it myself. Shingles bite the big one.

The vaccine is made from a live virus, but the virus is weakened so the vaccination should only be a problem for people with weakened immune systems. You can get the vaccine at a pharmacy or at your doctor's office. Your doctor will be able to tell you if you should not receive a vaccine. 

Shingles is a re-activation of the virus that causes chicken pox. I saw it frequently when I worked in a nursing home. My sister-in-law had it for a long period of time. I don't know if it ever went away. She has dementia now and is no longer able to write letters.

I'll let you know when I've had my flu shot, and I'll tell you what I learn about the shingles vaccine. My doctor says it's called Shingrix.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

By the way, if you're an anti-vaxxer and you want to get nasty here, don't even bother. I'll remove your ass. However, if you have something intelligent and provable to share about why some people can't be vaccinated, then I'll be interested as long as you are polite.

Oh, and by the way, how many of you are aware of the flu pandemic of 1918? Approximately 16 million people lost their lives because of the first World War.

Approximately 50 million people died in the flu pandemic. Bodies had to be piled in the streets. Coffin makers couldn't keep up. I suspect a lot of people would have been grateful if there had been a flu vaccine.

Saturday, September 28, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Recently I went in an Ikea for the first time. So much . . .  stuff. Everywhere.

And the people. Hordes.

And although I had never been to Ikea, I knew that buying stuff there can end in a suicide attempt or a divorce because everything has to be put together. You want a basket? You have to weave it.

I thought I might get through life without ever going to Ikea, but Favorite Young Man wanted to look for a rug for his new place so we went. My eyes rolled back in my head. Then my head spun around like the girl in The Exorcist. Oh, the horror.

I turned to look at something I will never own and when I looked back, Favorite Young Man was gone. Had the other shoppers eaten him, or had he gone to the place called Lost?

I had to call him to beg him to find me. I sat down on a bed and told him what the closest sign said. He got to me about six hours later. I was so grateful. I really needed to pee.

But the title of this post is A SONG HAS BEEN FOLLOWING ME, and it started following me in Ikea. I heard this song I knew but the voices were strange. It was a cover of Deacon Blues. It took me about an hour or ten to figure it out because I was in Ikea and I couldn't think and when I finally recognized it despite the weirdness of it, FYM said he'd never heard of Steely Dan.

I gave up on humanity in that moment.

FYM is the one person I can count on to know important information.

I can no longer rely on him. I guess I might as well give him up for adoption. Surely someone wants to adopt a 39 year old who can keep your car running.

But then, using my Harry Potter magic skills and with the help of a dragon, I escaped from Ikea and came home and late that evening when I had pretty much recovered (I just had a slight rash that I treated with lots of drugs), I watched a movie. What did I hear?

Deacon Blues. Thank God it wasn't a cover.

A couple of days later I watched some TV show. I don't remember what the show was because they played Deacon Blues.

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell, Deacon Blues is stalking me.

Where will it turn up next? I like Deacon Blues, but what if it keeps following me and ends up attacking me?

You know this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't gone in that damn, sick Ikea. I'm surprised I survived it.

Where will Deacon Blues turn up next? Help me, O Lord. I am thy humble servant (although I don't cook and clean for you or anyone else). Please save me before Deacon Blues goes from being a great song to being a big pile of manure that buries me.

I also must say that I looked up Steely Dan and I was pretty shocked to learn where they got the name Steely Dan. I'm not giving up that information. If you want to know, then you have to find it yourself. I'm just sayin' that William S. Burroughs must have spent a big chunk of his life stuck in Ikea and when he finally got out, he became a heroin addict.

And remember that if you buy something at Ikea . . . let's not even go there. Push it out of your mind.

SAVE YOURSELF! Soylent Green: it's made out of people who were captured in Ikea.

Oh, the humanity.

But, um, since we're such close friends now, Steely Dan, will you please sing us out? I think you know which song it has to be.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug, who survived the hell that is Ikea and lived to tell the tale

Why does the Steely Dan guy at the keyboard keep doing that Stevie Wonder-type thing where he throws
his head around? And he's wearing sunglasses. I am so confused.

Sunday, September 15, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

This post is the last one about Fosse/Verdon, and it's been a long time coming. Other events have distracted me. Fosse/Verdon has a number of Emmy nominations, but it's up against stiff competition. The Emmy Awards will televised on Fox on Sept. 22nd.

When Fosse choreographed All That Jazz for Gwen Verdon and Chita Rivera, he had to make concessions to the decreases in Verdon's abilities and stamina. It was her final starring role on Broadway.

After Fosse's death, Verdon worked with Ann Reinking (they had become close friends) to keep the Fosse legacy alive. In 1996, Reinking created the choreography––in the Fosse style––for  a revival of Chicago, in which she played Roxie Hart. As of 2017, Chicago held the record for the longest running Broadway musical.

In 1998, Reinking participated in bringing the revue Fosse to the stage to showcase his work.

Verdon supported these successful efforts, and also helped to create the Verdon Fosse Legacy to teach dance, raise money for charity, and encourage recreations of Fosse's choreography.

By no means did Verdon sit at home and mope. She dated. She starred in such movies as Cocoon. She appeared in TV shows.

Nicole Fosse went through some tough times when she emulated her dad's drinking and drug use, but she recovered, married, and had three children. When Nicole's husband died, Verdon moved in with her daughter and her grandchildren to support and assist them.

She wasn't there very long before she died of a heart attack. On October 18, 2000, the lights on Broadway dimmed in her honor.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Sing and dance us out, please, Bob and Gwen.

Tuesday, September 3, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

The hurricane for which I prepared last week that decided to vacation in the Bahamas should finally be here, allegedly, in a few hours. Dorian, why not spread the misery around a bit instead of dumping everything on Bahamians? Those poor people.

The last forecast showed that the hood will get one inch of rain (not even enough to fill Lake Junebug so I can open the resort) and wind gusts up to 45 mph. I've been pulling down dead branches for days. The few I can't reach might come down tonight or tomorrow. Then Dorian will move on and probably continue hiding off of the coast. Or if you're Donald Trump, Dorian will be in Alabama.

Jacksonville is so dead because of lilapsophobia that the buses aren't even running. I told Favorite Young Man to bring coffee with him. He was sure that Dunkin Donuts would be open. Now he must suffer a coffeeless life. DD closed at about noon today. However, The Waffle House is still open. I think every Waffle House is open because the one at Jacksonville Beach, an area under a mandatory evacuation order, is open. I guess if FYM gets desperate enough for coffee, he can walk to a Waffle House. It will be a long walk, but that's life in a busless society.

I used hurricane waiting time to do laundry and clean the floors in my kitchen and dining room. Made a pasta salad. If Dorian is worse that expected, do not fear. I have food and water and Diet Pepsi. If given a choice, I would like to keep the electricity on. It's supposed to be reeeeeeallllly hot after the storm. We're talkin' humid and in the high nineties. I suppose Dorian won't ask me about the power. 

To add some special entertainment to the waiting period, I activated a free Showtime trial because I'd heard that the seven-part series Escape at Dannemora is good. FYM and I watched and thought it was great.

Directed by Ben Stiller and based on the true story of two inmates who escaped from Clinton Correctional Facility in 2015 with assistance from a prison employee, the series provides further proof that truth is always stranger than fiction. 

Joyce "Tilly" Mitchell and her husband Lyle, played beautifully by Eric Lange, make the perfect almost-too-dumb to be believed married couple. Patricia Arquette portrays Tilly and manages to give the best performance in an outstanding cast. I've been pleased to see Arquette's success in recent years. 

We are big Benicio Del Toro fans and he didn't disappoint us. He and Paul Dano––who is great, too––play the inmates with whom Tilly becomes much too friendly.

Despite the tension involved in a prison break with inmates who managed to lead the police on a not-so-merry chase for almost a month, the series has some laugh-out-loud moments. The show is slow paced, but that's appropriate. It's not a story that should be told in a rush.

Favorite Young Man joins me in recommending Escape at Dannemora, which is not for children. Teens, maybe. I always suggest that parents watch first to decide if it's okay for the younger members of the family to join them.

Well, that's pretty much everything I have to say for now. I've posted some hurricane updates on Facebook. If anything exciting happens, I'll be sure to let you know––unless we really do lose power.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, August 27, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Sometimes it doesn't matter how many times we proofread. We still make mistakes and don't spot them because our brains automatically correct words that are close to being spelled correctly.

When I was a newspaper reporter, we received dozens of complaints from readers if we had a single misspelled word. Callers would tell us how stupid we were. They'd laugh at us. They'd shout at us. I once said to a colleague, We get thousands of words right every day, but we make one little mistake and people go crazy.

I once wrote manger instead of manager in a graph on the front page. I checked the graph several times. An editor checked it. The graphic artists checked it. Manger still still got past us.

At least I didn't work at the newspaper that made this error:

Keep proofreading! We can't give up even if a mistake gets past us every now and then.

And let's not "shits to Boston."

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, August 23, 2019


Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!

It's me, it's me, Franklin the Bordernese, let's talk quietly please.

Come down here close to the box with the light in it so you can see my face real good. Mom is resting.

Me and Penelope are not happy. Mom going to werk is bad, bad, bad, bad, very bad. You know I'm serious because I didn't tease Penelope by calling her Penlapee.

Some buddy A human bean person said bad things to Mom at werk. The human bean has said bad things to Mom since she started werking at that werk. The human bean said even worse things not too long ago. Mom had to be a tattle tale because she didn't want the human bean to say bad things to other ladies.

An instigator called Mom and asked her questions and questions and questions and questions until she got so tired that she cried. Me and Penelope were upset. Mom doesn't cry very often, and usually when she cries, it's because she's happy.

The instigator asked other people questions, too. The instigator decided that there wasn't any evidence that the human bean person said what Mom told about. The human bean also said he didn't say the bad things.

I say that if there isn't any substantiation (wow that's a big word) that the human bean said things, then there also isn't any substantiation that he didn't say them. And why are that human bean's words worth more than Mom's words?

Me and Penelope never bite. I've never growled. Penelope has only growled once. I think that we can figger out biting and growling. If we find that human bean person, we will growl and we will bite him because Mom is our Mom. She's the only Mom for us. No human bean should be bad to her.

That's all I gots to say except that Mom's bruises are all going away.

Okay. I love you because you are not that human bean person. Bye bye.

I am practicing my growl.

We gots Daddy Dunne Wooters and Human Brother on our side, too. I wonder if they know how to bite and growl. We can teach them if we haf to.

This is how Daddy Dunne Wooters shows that he cares.

Wednesday, July 31, 2019


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

If you don't know how I became a work of bruised art, take a look at my previous post about the tow truck and the way I flew from the steps as though I were an acrobat working without a net.

The working without a net part was not smart.

If you have read about the tow truck, then you have an idea of what my right leg looks like. It is swollen and covered in bruise paint. A true artist took a brush to me and gave me dark, purple spots. I look forward to sharing the bruises with you as their colors change. Before long, they will turn into softer shades of green and blue.

I like pastels. They are soothing.

Now that you know what my right leg looks like, I want to share a real beauty from my left arm.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. Please forgive me for not reading and commenting on your blogs. I am in rehab for my addiction to bruises.

I'm sorry the photo isn't better. It was kind of hard to get a good shot in the bathroom while holding up my left arm with my camera in my right hand and not show off my nightie, which you don't need to see (although it's one of my favorites). I also see that the housekeeper hasn't done a very good job of cleaning the mirror. It's streaky.

I think this shot is more interesting because it kind of looks as if I have two left arms with matching bruises. I took the first photo in the hall bathroom used by Favorite Young Man and Willy Dunne Wooters. This one is in my bathroom, which allows you to see the pretty frame around the mirror and the very nice tile in the shower. The purple on my arm is out of place with the rich gold and brown in the bathroom, but sometimes a splash of a different color is fun.

Monday, July 29, 2019


Dear Ones,

Last night I drove Favorite Young Man to a church. Then I headed toward home, taking the same route I use to get home from work. Familiar roads.

I was on I-95 North headed to I-10, where I get the exit to my hood. Heavy traffic but not bumper-to-bumper people sitting there. People driving really fast.

A couple of miles before I-10, the green Junebugmobile suddenly lost power. I was in the center lane. I managed to hit the emergency flashers. Pulled over to the right shoulder with drivers swerving around me and honking as if I dragged my ass and had my flashers on for fun.

Terrified, but I made it.

Texted Favorite Young Man that it was an emergency, but he had no way to get to me. An Uber wasn't going to drop him off on the interstate. Called Allstate Roadside Assistance, which I've had for many years. It was only my third call for help in eight or nine years. Excellent service from them in the past.

Gave my location. Explained the car was dead but it wasn't the battery. Car made chugging sound like the little engine that could when I turned the key. Probably the alternator. So I began the wait for the tow truck.

State trooper stopped and jumped the car. Didn't start. He said he was sorry he couldn't go to the church to pick up FYM. He had to deal with other cars that needed to be towed and would be back as soon as he could.

Tow truck driver calls and says he can't find me. I get a text from Allstate and send them my location on my phone. I see the map. My location according to the phone is correct.

Driver calls repeatedly and says he can't find me. I read what the nearest sign says and tell him the names of businesses I can see from the car. He wants me to take a picture of the sign and send it to him. I tell him I can't get out to take picture. I will get hit by a car. He says that if I won't send him a picture then he can't find me and he can't drive all over 95 looking for me. FUCK HIM. FUCK HIM AND THE HORSE HE RODE IN ON EXCEPT IT WAS A TOW TRUCK THAT NEVER ARRIVED.

I call Allstate. They get another tow truck company. Say they will "escalate" what happened with the first driver because he shouldn't have tried to force me to put myself in danger and he shouldn't have given up.

Second tow truck driver calls. He can't find me. I dial 911. I give my location. Within minutes a trooper arrives. How come he can find me but no tow truck driver can? I put the trooper on the phone with the driver. Trooper gives driver directions.

Driver says he's on his way. Second trooper arrives. Driver calls again. HE CAN'T FIND ME ON THE SIDE OF 95 APPROACHING 10 WITH TWO TROOPERS BEHIND ME FLASHING THEIR LIGHTS.

I get the trooper back on the phone with the driver. Gives driver same directions as before. This driver doesn't give up and he finally arrives. Gets his truck in place. Gets me out of the car safely. I go to get in the tow truck. Troopers still there, thank you God.

I step on the first step of the truck. So high off the ground. I get caught somehow as I'm headed for second step. I fall. I make sure I don't land on my back because a piece of bone is pointed at my spine from the time I broke my back in five places. If bone shifts could paralyze me. I'm falling and screaming for help. Trooper rescues me and helps me get in the truck.

Driver turns out to be nice guy. WOULD NOT GIVE UP UNTIL HE FOUND ME. Gets my car home and puts it in my driveway. Helps me get out of the truck. I give him 20 bucks to get a drink or whatever. I don't owe anything else because I'm a Roadside Assistance Member.

I get in the house. Take dogs out. Ice my bruises. Sob.

Can barely walk today but I'm alive. I'm not sure how long I was on the side of the road. Two hours? Three hours?

FYM gets off work at six and says he'll Uber here immediately.

I should have seen my doctor today or gone to urgent care but I don't have the strength to get dressed and have an Uber take me someplace.

As Penelope says, That is all.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug, who is frightened and hurt but will get better

Why were people shot in California last night? Why are some of them dead? Guns don't kill people. People with guns kill people. Especially assault-style weapons.