THE TRUTH ABOUT COUSINS

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I made such a mess of the post about second cousins. It was too long and too complicated. At first I thought I'd rewrite the post and break it up into two posts and then do third cousins.

Then I realized that we'd all be better off if I share the comment made by 

Jean, who blogs at  DelightfulRepast.com and describes herself as "an amateur genealogist from way back."

She simplified the cousin issue for me, so I can simplify it for you.

Here's what she said:

Sibling 1----------------Sibling 2 = Siblings

Child of Sibling 1-----------Child of Sibling 2 = 1st Cousins

Grandchild of Sibling 1--Grandchild of Sibling 2 = 2nd Cousins

Great Grand of Sibling 1-Great Grand Sibling 2 = 3rd Cousins

Now how about if we say thank you to Jean and leave it at that? We're all cousins of some sort.

Thank you, Jean!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

THE BAD MOOD THAT MIGHT LAST A WHILE

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Mama's not happy and when Mama's not happy, ain't nobody happy.

Favorite Young Man has been doing so much work around the house, which I adore and appreciate.

But remember the post when I told you he was going to take care of something that I've been waiting for many years to have done? 

Yeah, you know what's coming: 

HE DIDN'T FINISH!!!!

That's why I'm not happy, and I might stay this way for another day or two.

I keep telling him that perhaps I'll pick up the reins and do the work and he won't like it because I'll mess it up and then he'll have to finish the job while repairing the damage that I do.

Anyson, I don't want to post the first photos that I took until he actually shows signs of finishing the job. Like getting out of bed. That would be a sign. Yeah. Maybe.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Have you voted?

I have because I voted by mail. I received a notification that my ballot was received.

I was––tee hee––naked.

And by the way, do any of you have solar panels? I'd love to know if you are happy with their output and which company you used to get them.

SHOCKED THE HELLOUTAME

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Sunday evening, Favorite Young Man strolled in and sat next to me in the family room/library/TV room. 

I've been thinking, he said. I want to get some supplies to take care of blank blank blank blank.

That will be w-w-w-wonderful, I replied. 

So I'm not going into detail until he finishes, because I want to surprise you with progress photos. I took the first two shots on Tuesday. 

We'll see what happens next. These are repairs that I've been asking him to make for about eight or nine years.

Procrastinate much?

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

TIP TUESDAY: WHO'S YOUR SECOND COUSIN?

I screwed the pooch with this post. I'm going to rewrite the info about how we're related to various people.

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Last week on TIP TUESDAY we learned about first cousins and first cousins, once removed. If you missed out on that lesson, you can click HERE. I should also add something I missed last week: Your first cousin once removed is your first cousin's child, but your first cousin, once removed can also be your parent's first cousin.  I apologize for leaving out the part about the parent's first cousin. 

Now, as I promised, we move on to second cousins. My dad had a first cousin named Helen, who lived in Minnesota. She and her husband Gordon were lots of fun. We loved visiting them because we got to sleep in the attic, which had been Helen's mother's apartment before the mom went toes up. 

Helen was my first cousin, once removed. 

Helen and Gordon had one daughter named Carol (not to be confused with my good friend Carol). As my parent's first cousin's child, Carol is my second cousin. 

Carol never had children, so that ends her story––for our purposes.

Let's try my dad's cousin Maxine instead. She lived in Denver. I don't remember the names of her husband or all of their children with the exception of a boy named Jeff, who was older than I was and very nice. Maxine was my first cousin, once removed, and Jeff is my second cousin.

Furthermore, I know that Jeff got married and had children. Because Jeff is my second cousin, his children are my second cousins, once removed. Note: At first I said Twice Removed, and then a lovely lady corrected me.

The next part sounds kinda tricky to me. My Grandma Goltz, whose name was Frances Esther Weber Goltz, was the oldest of seven sisters. The seven sisters had seven brothers. That's a lot of family. 

Grandma's mother, who not only popped out a boatload of children, also had plenty of second cousins (her parent's first cousin's child or children). Grandma's second cousins were also my second cousins, once removed.

Are we clear on second cousins and second cousins, once removed? 

I hope so. 

Next week we'll finish up with third cousins. I can't go any further than that.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Now you know why I'm not a genealogist.
It's too complicated.

THE BUG IN THE BED

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Before the pandemic, I spoke to a couple who had gone on vacation in Norway. They had so much fun that they decided to extend the trip by two days; however, they had to change hotels, which they thought was no problem. 

They settled into their room and continued to have fun, only using the room to sleep and shower. When they headed back to the U.S., though, they started to feel uncomfortable. They had nasty, itchy rashes. 

Yes, it turned out that the second hotel had bed bugs. They had one damn long trip home.

As you know if you've read my blog steadily, we Floridians have charming palmetto bugs, or as my nephew who grew up in Arizona calls them, sewer roaches. I've lived in my house for 10 1/2 years. As each year goes by, I see fewer palmetto bugs. I was especially pleased last summer because I could go out on the deck with the dogs after dark and see one palmetto bug. The deck used to have a dozen or more every time I went outside at night.

One night last month I went to bed and rested my head on the pillow. I felt my hair move, so I patted it down and wondered why my hair would move on its own.

 Within 30 seconds, my hair moved again. I sat up to look at the pillow. Although it was dark and I didn't have my glasses on, I could see the large palmetto bug on the pillow.

AIEEEEEEEEEEE! I screamed. I'm surprised the neighbors didn't hear me and call the police.

I pulled the sheets and pillowcases and quilt off the bed and washed everything. 

But the palmetto bug had disappeared, never to be seen again.

Perhaps he's lurking in a corner, waiting for a night to strike. Go away, you bastard.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Remember when Penelope enjoyed killing palmetto bugs? Maybe she killed the bug in my bed. 

Maybe, but not likely. She jumped out of bed as soon as the scream left my mouth.

RICK WATSON IS GONE

The sky is bluer

The clouds marshmallows

 Rick has gone to his glory.

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

As you're aware if you visit my blog regularly––or try to visit––I haven't blogged much this year. In fact, I haven't blogged a lot for a couple of years. When I did blog regularly, something I counted on every day was reading Rick Watson's blog posts. 

But I didn't blog much for quite some time. When I resumed posting recently, I kept wondering, Where's Rick? I went to his blog and read that he'd had an infection back in July. Then he seemed to disappear.

I tried to email him as I had so many times before and didn't get a response. I didn't think to visit Jilda's blog. Then I asked the big question in the comments on my most recent blog post: Where's Rick Watson? Elephant's Child very kindly answered to let me know that Rick had died and Jilda is struggling without him. 

Rick and Jilda met in high school and were married for close to 50 years. I know that she adored him, and he absolutely adored her. Based on my dealings with him, I'd describe Rick as kind, compassionate, calm.

I'm glad to be able to say that I reviewed and promoted his books and sent a few friends to read his blog and they became his followers. His writing was a cool, gentle breeze in a blazing world.

After I read Jilda's description of his illness and death, I sobbed. Simply sobbed. Cried harder than I had in years. Someone I never met, yet he was such a good friend.

Rick Watson was the kind of man who made the world a better place. It is a lesser place without him. 

Rick, I haiku you.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

MOVIE WEEKEND: DICK JOHNSON IS DEAD

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Last weekend on Netflix Streaming I watched a documentary that I loved. Actually, we're talkin' LOVED! It's called Dick Johnson Is Dead (2020 PG-13).  I laughed and I cried over this chronicle by filmmaker Kirsten Johnson that celebrates the life of her beloved father, Dr. Dick Johnson, while she helps him––and probably helps herself at the same time––prepare for his death.

Dr. Johnson was a long-time Seattle psychiatrist until dementia forced him into retirement. He's also a widower: Kirsten's mother died from Alzheimer's Disease (and I swear to God the next time I hear someone say Altimer's . . . well, I don't know what I'll do). 

When it was no longer safe for him to live alone, Kirsten helped him move to New York City to live with her and her two children. But she also came up with an idea to ease her anxiety over losing him and to help him get used to the idea of dying: "Dad, what if we make a movie where we kill you over and over again until you really die? And he laughed."

Using a filmmaker's techniques, Kirsten comes up with inventive ways to "kill" her dad. With ineffable good humor, Dick Johnson plays along. He even suggests: "You can euthanize me."

I'd love to tell you everything that happens in this documentary, but then I'd be a party pooper. Instead, I recommend that you see it for yourself as soon as you can. 

Happy Viewing!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

TIP TUESDAY: WHO IS YOUR FIRST COUSIN, ONCE REMOVED?

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I have some info I hope you'll find useful about the terms used for relatives, and no, they don't all consist of four letters. 

I have a first cousin named Kathy, who has beautiful red hair. I know that Kathy is my first cousin because my late Aunt Evelyn (a.k.a. Evilena) was Kathy's mother. Aunt Evelyn was my mother's older sister. 

My first cousin Kathy gave birth to a passel of daughters, who also have red hair.

Not my cousin Kathy's daughters.

Now the big question is How am I related to my red-haired first cousin's red-haired daughters?

It has come to Your Queen's attention that many people think that those red-haired daughters are my second cousins. Not true, dear ones.

They are my first cousins, once removed.

How do I know? I read it in a magazine, the same way I learned about Bennie's electric boots and her mohair suit. 

Today if I want to know the term for something, I Google it. But in 1994, we weren't Googling. I really did learn these terms from a little piece in a magazine that I cut out and have kept to this day because I used to get so tired of The Hurricane asking me over and over about how we were related to people so I would tell her to get out the little piece from the magazine so she could see for herself.

Oh, my goodness. I'm out of breath after that sentence.

The Hurricane no longer asks me a damn thing, but I kept the magazine clipping, which lives in a little drawer on the shelves with my office supplies.

When the passel of red-haired daughters who are my first cousins, once removed, have children, those children will be my first cousins, twice removed. When the twice-removed children have children (if I'm still around), the children will be my first cousins, three times removed. 

And so it goes, and so it goes.

I have a nephew named Joe, who is Favorite Young Man's and The Hurricane's first cousin, still named Joe. Joe has three children, who do not have red hair; however, they are FYM's and The Whirly-Twirly girl's first cousins, once removed.

Are we strong on our first cousin, once removed information now? I hope so because I'm not telling you again. So there!

Remember how teachers would say "there's no such thing as a stupid question," and then they'd yell at someone who asked a question? Ah, those happy memories of school days.

Next week, I hope, we'll move on to more terms for relatives, and you still won't get me to apply nasty words to them––no matter how tempting it might be.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

WHO SENT THE FLY?

Here's the story of how a little baby meme was born:

A silly man––who thinks he's married to his own mother––has a head full of poop. Naturally, a fly landed on the silly man's head. 

The question is Who sent the fly?

Well, we all know the answer to that.

My favorite post-debate tweet.

Do you think we can be done with debates now? Pretty please with sugar on it?

A SONG FOR PENELOPE: THE WHOLE DAMN THING

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Favorite Young Man (a.k.a. Human Brother to Franklin and Penelope) learned of Penelope's wish for a chicken and found a special song for her. I'm including the lyrics because I can't understand all the words they're singing so I suspect you won't understand them either.

I got drunk and i ate a chicken
i ate the chicken i found in my kitchen
not just the leg, and not just the wing
i'll like to let you know i ate the whole damn thing

Well, i was pretty drunk, i must have been half-blind
but when i found the chicken, i knew she was so mine
i don't know where she'd come from, how long she's been
but i ate her anyway because I was drinking and i didn't care

I got drunk and i ate a chicken
i ate the chicken i found in my kitchen
not just the leg, and not just the wing
i'll like to let you know i ate the whole damn thing

Well, it turns out she's been there for a while
but it don't matter to me
she was heading for the garbage
and the big bad bird was for me

I got drunk and i ate a chicken
i ate the chicken i found in my kitchen
not just the leg, and not just the wing
i'll like to let you know i ate the whole damn thing

Well, i'm sitting in my kitchen
and i'm wondering where's my chicken
i don't know what to do, i feel so alone
'cause the only friend i have is a pile of chicken bones!

I got drunk and i ate a chicken

i ate the chicken i found in my kitchen
not just the leg, and not just the wing
i'll like to let you know i ate the whole damn thing

MOVIE WEEKEND: MAUDIE

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Maudie came out back in 2016. You haven't heard about it from me before because I didn't hear about it until recently. The fine folks at Netflix delivered the DVD to me. It's rated PG-13.

Maudie is based on the true story of Maud Lewis (Sally Hawkins), who lived in rural Nova Scotia with her grumpy, old s.o.b. husband Everett (Ethan Hawk).

The Lewises didn't have electricity or running water. Their cottage was small and unattractive––until Maud started painting cheerful flowers and animals on it and ended up becoming a Canadian folk artist whose work is now on permanent display at the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia, along with their restored cottage.

I like the movie very much because of the excellent performances by Hawkins and Hawk and because it depicts Maud's persistence. She had rheumatoid arthritis, yet she never gave up painting, and she never gave up on Everett, though I think giving up on Everett might have been a good idea. 

One of her big problems, and the reason she ended up with Everett Lewis, is that Maud didn't have anyplace else to go. I suspect she's not the only woman who has dealt with a difficult life with creativity.

Now that I know about her artistry, I'd love to see her paintings in the museum. I've long wanted to visit Nova Scotia.

Here's the real Maud with one of her paintings in front of the cottage that she decorated so beautifully. Maud Lewis died in 1970.

I like folk art and would love to add a Maud Lewis painting to my home. These cows are adorable:

Whether you find Maudie and watch it or come up with some other movie you'd like to see, I wish you happy viewing! 

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

DEAR NEW BLOGGER: I HATE YOU

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I've seen a number of you complain about what a pain new blogger is. Now I've experienced the pain myself. 

After Penelope wrote her post describing the horror of being taught to sit, Favorite Young Man found a song that he was sure Penelope would like.

I tried to write a post and present to all of you, my dear ones, A SONG FOR PENELOPE. I never finished the post. That's why you haven't seen it.

I couldn't embed the link to the video of the song. I looked up multiple answers to the question How do I embed a video with new blogger?

The answers weren't complicated. If I recall correctly, the method for embedding a video hasn't changed. It was the outcome that was different and left me irritated. 

I clicked on Insert video at the top of this post. Then I found the video. No problem so far. Then I copied the link to embed the video and pasted it in my post while in html. 

All I got was an image of the video with no ability to play the song.

I struggled for what seemed to be forever to get the video to work in my post. I finally gave up and went to bed in a bad mood.

With old blogger, I added videos to my posts with no problem. 

If you know something magical I can do so I can add videos to my posts again, then please tell me. Please, my darlings. I'm frustrated every time I use new blogger. 

For a while, I could go back to old blogger. No more. Old blogger is gone, gone, gone. The reason for that, I think, is that so many of us became comfortable with old blogger. When you learn how to do something and it works well, don't you think it gets taken away to make you crazy?

I've had some other problems with new blogger, too. 

Are you fine with new blogger or do you have a complaint about it to share?

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

 

TIP TUESDAY: A LITTLE BIT OF THIS AND A LITTLE BIT OF THAT

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I've noticed that the past tense of certain words is quite often incorrect. I think I've written about some of these problems before, so I want to go over it again.

No, this post does not mean that you drive me crazy with your writing. Our blogs are for fun. It's casual writing. Besides, I make misteaks to two and too. 

lead - led

Franklin led me to the park.

The error I see is lead used as the past tense.

pet - petted

I petted Penelope until she fell asleep.

The error I see is pet used as the past tense.

shrink - shrank

The error I see is confusion about shrink, shrank, and shrunk.

The movie titled Honey, I Shrunk the Kids should have been called Honey, I Shrank the Kids.

Myself is another problem area that we've discussed in the past.

Myself  is a pronoun. 

The error I see is myself used as a noun as in

Myself and Dave went to a concert.

Correct use: Dave and I went to the concert.

Notice the I? It's not correct to say Dave and me went to the concert. How can you remember the I? You would say I went to the concert, right? 

If you would say Me went to the concert, then I'm done. I'll give up my title as The Queen of Grammar; I'll return my Grammar Police badge.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

OCTOBER HAPPINESS

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

October tends to be a good month for the Junebug household.

During October, the heat of the summer leaves us. This year, it cooled off especially early––during the last days of September.  Our highs have been in the 70s. We don't need the air conditioning, which saves a lot of money.

No doubt we'll have some warmer days before the month ends, but it will turn nice again. Franklin and I have already enjoyed some walks to the neighborhood park.

October is also a month of happy anniversaries because Franklin and Penelope came to live with me during October.  Franklin has been here for 10 years. Penelope has put in five years of rigorous work, trying to reform us all. 

Franklin is about 12 years old. Penelope is six or seven.

This photo of Penelope is the one that had me headed to Claxton, Georgia, to adopt her from a rescuer. How could I resist that sweet face?

Penelope was born under a house. A woman who has an all-volunteer rescue organization had taken in Penelope, her siblings, and their mom.

Claxton does not have a humane society. The woman had about 100 rescued dogs in kennels in her yard. God bless her.

This shot of Franklin is one of my favorites. He sits so proudly, always happy to be the good boy. And he gazes at me with such love.

I look forward to the vice-presidential debate on Wednesday. I suspect Mike Pence and Kamala Harris will be better behaved than Donald Trump and Joe Biden.

As a former debater I can tell you that if we had interrupted our opponents, lied, told an opponent to shut up, engaged in racist antics, made a personal attack on someone's family––any of those behaviors would have led to forfeiting the debate and getting kicked off the team by the debate coach.

What happened last Tuesday night was not a true debate.

One more point for today: WEAR YOUR DAMN MASKS. AND NO, LETTING YOUR NOSE HANG OUT IS NOT OKAY.

Certain people who don't wear masks, who lie to the public about masks, who go out of their way to put other people's lives at risk, are sick now. I have no sympathy for them.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug