WELCOME TO THE JUNEBUG MEMORIAL LIBRARY

Do you buy books or borrow them from the library? 

What's your favorite book?

Your favorite author?

Do you read on a kindle or is a book you can hold in your hands absolutely required? 

Fiction or non-fiction?

Romance novels or biographies?

Historical novels?

The great classics?

How do you organize your books?

Do you have books you got as a child? 

What was your favorite book when you were growing up?

What are you reading now?

Do you read one book at a time or do you flit from one book to another?

Do you pause to look up unfamiliar words or do you guess at meanings from context?

 Any autographed books?

Have you written a book?

Tell us how you feel about books.

Please.

PENELOPE SPEAKS: MOM MOM SHATTERED MY DREAMS

 Hello. It is I, Penelope, a sorrowful, sullen, disgruntled shadow of a dog who was formerly filled with cheer.

When last I spoke with you about my plan to access the secret passage to France, I had closed my eyes to rest for a moment. 

Not even a minute. Only seconds. 

During those seconds, Mom Mom clapped handcuffs on me, put me in a straitjacket, and thrust me in a cage with a padlock. What could a poor, little doggy have done to deserve such ghastly treatment?

I soon figured out what Mom Mom was up to. She dashed out the backdoor and replaced the broken flower pots to keep me from my dream of climbing the stairs to France!

Yes, she is that selfish and uncaring. She hasn't gone to France, so she doesn't want me to go.

Mom Mom laughed with glee at the destruction!

She thinks she is so funny, but she's not funny at all.

Now, all I can do is visit the site of my youthful longing to look at Mom Mom's ugly, stinky flowers.

I thus and therefore do hereby declare my denunciation of Mom Mom. She is no longer my Mom Mom; I am no longer her dog.

That is all. Goodbye from the saddest and most disappointed dog who has ever lived. At long last, I shall give in to my desire to weep. 

A SHORT-FINGERED VULGARIAN'S* GUIDE TO REGAINING THE PRESIDENCY

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm sure you know by now that don john will be reinstated to the presidency in August, and it looks as if his plan will come off without a hitch.

Uh-oh. I can hear your thoughts and you are thinking that you don't know what the plan is, or if you know what the plan is, you're thinking it can't possibly work.

Oh ye of little faith . . . in the my pillow guy. What is wrong with you? Rejoice in the plan! The big-handed one is on his way back.

Now don't go spreading this news around. The element of surprise is vital.

Here's the way Sweet Cheeks explained it to me:

1. Someone from Florida (I don't know who it is but I hope it's Matt Gaetz) resigns from The House of Representatives, requiring a special election. 

2. Trump is elected to The House of Representatives.

3. The members of the Congressional Black Caucus decide to vote with the Republican members of the House because the my pillow guy will reveal all the evidence he's collected to prove Democrats are blood-sucking pedophiles/satanists.

4. The House gets rid of Nancy Pelosi.

5. The House elects Big Hands as its Speaker.

6. Joe Biden and Kamala Harris are impeached––and convicted––because they were never elected (such an interesting paradox).

7. The Speaker of the House becomes President, and we all know who that will be.

Yippeee! He's back in action!

If, for some reason, the plan doesn't go through in August, then it surely will during the 2022 mid-term elections. Get ready to move out, sleepy Joe.

If you don't like having don john in charge again, then don't worry about it because you're going to die from COVID anyway, or be executed by some redneck good ole boys who take great pride in themselves.

That way, everybody's happy.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

*Graydon Carter's description of Donald Trump in Spy Magazine, 1988. Carter is the  former editor of Vanity Fair.

DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING? SINGING THE SONG OF ANGRY MEN

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Remember that sequence in Dog Day Afternoon when you thought Al Pacino's character was shouting Attica?

He's really shouting SCIATICA. He gets the crowd all worked up because they've had enough of that certain pain that burns and stabs its way around the right hip and lower back. 

Yes, it's sciatica, and that's what's causing my pain. I had it once before, about 15 years ago. It doesn't hurt as much as it did last week, but it isn't gone. 

At least I can sit down now and bend over without crying out in pain. I need to do everything in slow motion. 

But I'll leave you today with The Far Side because laughing is much better than crying.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

BECAUSE DIRTY WHORE WAS TAKEN*

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I have a pain on my right side, not in the front and not in the back so it's kind of in between but not exactly on my side, and it's a little above my hip, but not far enough forward to actually be above my hip. I guess it's hip height but toward the side. I've had it for three days.

Anyway, the pain bothers me enough that when it strikes, I let loose with an ee. 

Then this morning I stood up and felt a muscle spasm on my left side, though not exactly on my side, more toward the front and sort of under my ribs. The new pain causes me to emit an ii.

If I get a third pain, I plan on making it an oo so I'll have a perfect ee-ii-ee-ii-oo. Animals everywhere will adore me. I'll probably marry Old MacDonald.

In the interest of feeling better so I can romp with Sweet Cheeks (you know, The Man photographed with his butt in my bed) on Saturday night, I probably won't blog for a couple or a few days. No matter how desperate I am to mop the floors, wash the windows, mow the lawn, and do lots of heavy lifting, instead I'll sit absolutely still (perhaps with the addition of a pain reliever, a.k.a. margarita), but not here in my house.

I'll be in Stars Hollow, where Lorelai and Rory make everything better. I'm on season two, which means Jess has arrived.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

*Emily: (about Lorelai's shade of lipstick) That's a pretty color. What's it called?
Lorelai: "Vicious Trollop."
Emily: Now why do you say things like that? (Lorelai shows her the lipstick tube). Now why would you name a lipstick that?
Lorelai: Because "Dirty Whore" was taken.

TIP TUESDAY: WILL PAST TENSE BE LEFT IN THE PAST?

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I've written before about the lack of past tense in the writing of some folks, especially those of the younger variety. Now I notice it even more often. It distracts me from the point the writer wants to make because I'm deceived by present tense when the event occurred weeks ago.

One such abomination I note is lead as the past tense of lead. What's wrong with led?

The lack of led has led to mislead as the past tense of mislead. I beg of you: Be misled.

I could go on and on, but I know I'm preaching to the choir. The rest of the world will continue to misuse words and pay me no heed. I'll mope and whine and try to recover from such unholiness as I pet Franklin yesterday. 

Infinities of love, 

Janie Junebug

OY WITH THE POODLES ALREADY

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I've been having some blog trouble. Back in May, some very ugly people left some very ugly comments on my blog.

I was shocked and distressed, especially because I'm related to those particular trolls. I enabled comment moderation on my blog, but then I didn't blog for several weeks and really wasn't sure if I would return to blogging at all. 

But I missed blogging, mostly because I missed all of YOU. I decided to return. The assholes could go straight to hell. But page views and comments were way down. Was it because those of you who saw the trolls' comments believed them and thought I really was such a horrible person (yes, I was that paranoid)? Or was it simply because I hadn't blogged for a while?

I hung in there, and then one day I made my usual visit to a friend's blog and noticed her blog roll. Wait a minute! The post listed for me was from five weeks ago. My blog wasn't updating.

I went to settings and had no idea what was wrong. So I turned to the Blogger Help Community. A very kind person let me know that my Feedburner URL was broken and told me how to fix it. My blog updated and you returned! 

But last week, my belief that I was the unloved child returned.

Wednesday's blog post = 1 comment

Thursday's blog post = 0 comments

Franklin Friday = 0 comments

How could anyone resist commenting on Franklin's post about Mom not wearing unnerware? Had my blog stopped updating again? Blog rolls showed the most recent post.

I asked The Man why my blog wasn't getting comments. He answered: You posted that picture of my butt and they think it's pornographic. 

I assured him everyone loved his butt. He came up with another idea: Ask one of your friends.

So I emailed a certain reliable someone who answered that my blog had updated and he had commented. But still no comments. Oy with the poodles already!*

I clicked on Settings and discovered my email address had disappeared from its place, so the comments were no longer going to my email. I corrected that problem. Then I clicked on Comments and god's bodkin, there you all were in your commenting glory, awaiting my moderation. 

Of course, some of you mentioned in your comments that something seemed to be wrong.

Yes, it was wrong, but now it's right . . . for the moment. I hope I'm done with Blogger vexation.

And you love me! I can't deny that you love me, or at least you kinda like me. 

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

*Gilmore Girls: Lorelai: Heh, you know what I just realized? "Oy" is the funniest word in the entire world. Rory: Hmm.   Lorelai: I mean think about it, you never hear the word "oy" and not smile. Impossible. Funny, funny word.  Emily: Oh dear God.  Lorelai: "Poodle" is another funny word.  Emily: Please drink your drink, Lorelai.  Lorelai: In fact, if you put "oy" and "poodle" together, in the same sentence, you'd have a great new catchphrase, you know? Like, "Oy with the poodles already."  Rory: Hehe.  Lorelai: So from now on, when the perfect circumstances arise, we will use our favorite new catchphrase:  Rory: Oy with the poodles already. Lorelai: I'm telling you, it's knocking "Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" right out of first place.

FRANKLIN FRIDAY: MOM WASN'T WEARING UNNERWARE

 A note from Franklin's mom: Franklin first told this story in 2017. I like to share it again each summer when it gets hot.

HI! Hi! Hi! Hi hi hihihihhhihihi Every Buddy! It's me. It's me. It's mememememememememe. It's Franklin the Bordernese and here in Florida we never freeze!

Mom says that lots of sad things have been happening in the world so it's a good idea for me to take over today. She thinks I'll cheer you up. She also says that next week she'll continue the story about how she was pissed.

Oh.

She says it's phished, but that doesn't make sense to me because that's not a word but I know Mom is pissed a lot. We love her even though she's grumpy and always saying Chicago prefers, Chicago prefers. Who cares what Chicago prefers? I don't.

So anydog, this funny thing happened in the backyard. It was a super duper hot day. Penlapee was wandering around, sniffing every blade of grass before she could decide which one she wanted to pee on. Penlapee is like that.

I was getting hotter and hotter waiting for Penlapee and I noticed a shady spot underneath Mom's nightgown. She hadn't gotten dressed yet because she says people who work at home get to work in their jammies, but I never see Mom do much of any work.

Because of the shady spot, I stuck my head under Mom's nightie. And you won't believe what I saw there. You really will not believe it. MOM WAS NOT WEARING UNNERWARE!

It was the funniest thing I've ever seen. snicker snort NO UNNERWARE! snicker snort Mom looks so funny under her nightie without her pink granny panties! I would describe everything to you but I'm snicker snorting so hard from remembering it that I don't think I can explain it. You have to take my word for it that Mom looks hilarious without unnerware. snicker snort

The man next door was out in his yard. He's nice and he likes me a lot. I thought he could use a good laugh so I took my head out from under the nightie and I barked to get his attention. I tried to say Hey! Come over here and look under Mom's nightie. She's got no unnerware, but I was snicker snorting so much that I couldn't tell him what there was to see. He said, Hi, Franklin, and he went in his garage. Boy, he missed his chance for a snicker snort. snicker snort

I'm so tired from telling this story and snicker snorting so much that I need a nap.

Before I fall asleep, would you like a kiss? Put your face down close to the box with the light in it, and I have my face up close. I'll give you all the kisses you need. I love to kiss, but I'm not kissing Mom under her nightie with no unnerware. Nope. I draw the line there. But you can have a big kiss on your cheek or smack dab on your mouth. Ask me for a kiss anytime. My kisses make every buddy feel better.

Okay. I love you. Bye-bye.

A GOOD DAY FOR THE FAR SIDE OF VICTORIA'S SECRET

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

So Elsa was here. It rained all day. I don't have a comparison photo of Lake Junebug because I didn't want to go out in the rain, but the storm wasn't too bad.

It was a good day to enjoy my purchases from the Victoria's Secret semi-annual sale. Yes, it's true. I am a Victoria's Secret woman and have been for a long time, to the horror of the farm women I knew in Illinois. Much of what I did horrified those poor souls.

Let's begin with my slippers, which arrived in their very own matching bag. It's a good thing I read the care instructions accompanying the slippers: DO NOT IRON  DO NOT DRY CLEAN

I don't know if I would have sent the slippers to the dry cleaner, but I definitely would have ironed them. Now I know better.

The pink-and-white tie dyed item is the world's largest sports bra, which I'll use for making sport in bed. 

The jammies are cotton in a day and age when too many jammies are made of polyester. I don't know Polly and I don't know Esther, and I don't want either one of them on my butt. Unlike the slippers, the jammies can be ironed. Like that's going to happen.

No slinky panties for me. I wear cotton briefs. My undies definitely have a crotch. The kind of rose-colored thing is a lounging bra––perfect for me because I lounge regularly and often.

Mostly, it was a good day to nap and laugh at old Far Side cartoons.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Try not to be shocked: It didn't rain Tuesday. We even saw the sun for a few hours. I'd forgotten what it looked like.

 Tropical Storm Elsa should arrive in a few hours and stay all day. I hope she departs quickly on Thursday.

Here's Lake Junebug at 6:45 p.m. Tuesday. It's a big improvement over the video I took on Sunday. The pump, which I circled, has been working steadily. 

I can go down the deck steps to the concrete without getting my feet wet. 

I've put away the pump for now and will get it out again when Elsa has passed. I'll try to get another photo of the backyard at the same time Wednesday so we can make a comparison.

In addition to all the fun items I ordered on Prime Day, I also placed more practical orders with Amazon and other companies having sales. 

My emergency weather radio no longer worked, so I replaced it.

If I keep this little guy turned on, he'll automatically provide alerts about urgent matters. He also has a flashlight (the bright light coming from his bottom in the photo) and a horn I can blast that's so loud it frightened all three of us when I tested it. I doubt I'll use that, but I will keep him close.

All of my gadgets are charged. We expect high winds and heavy rains.

I'll enjoy this addition to my kitchen:

I now have two of these Mason Jar drinking glasses with glass straws––that's right, glass! No plastic to add to the world's garbage pile. 

This one is filled with my favorite drink, Diet Pepsi and lemon, but if I should decide to switch to a margarita, the lid makes me less likely to spill when I'm tipsy.

I have plenty of clean water in the house and enough to eat.

See you post-Elsa!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug