I LIVE WITH TWO DEVILS IN FUR COATS

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

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

Protector and Comandor

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

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

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

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

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

Except they weren't there. 

No problem. I also had some blue slippers nearby. 

Blue slippers? Only one was there.

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

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

What the hell? I said.

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

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

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

It was in the toilet.

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

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

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

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

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

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

BEFORE THERE WAS LINDSAY CLANCY THERE WAS ANDREA YATES

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

MOO MEME MONDAY

A NEW FRIEND

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

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

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

WHERE WEDNESDAY: VIRGINITY

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

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

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

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

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

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

That didn't happen. None of it happened.

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

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

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

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

Okay. I've revealed my secrets. 

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

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

RANDY STRIKES AGAIN

 

Below are two of the ads the felon and his villains have created using OUR money. I understand if you don't want to watch them, but I urge you to do so. He's telling us what he's going to do, the same way he told us what he was going to do before January 6th.

FINAL MEME MONDAY OF SEPTEMBER

 This is no meme. Yesterday was my beloved Carol's 88th birthday. The snow bird will return to Jacksonville before October ends. She has not yet met her new granddog, Alice. If you would like to wish Carol a happy birthday, please say so in your comment and I will convey your good wishes to her.

Now, on to the memes.

With all the troubles we have in these United States, Tommy Tuberville, idiot senator from Alabama, is worried the airlines have been taken over by pilots, air traffic controllers, and attendants who identify as furries. I am not making this up, but he is. And of course, Democrats are at fault for this catastrophe.

Tuberville gave a 20-minute speech on the floor of the senate, not about gas prices, food prices, or the Epstein files, but about the airline furries. He said passengers might be flown by a pilot with a "deranged fetish of dressing up like an animal."

🟧 banned CNN, MSNOW, and Politico from covering him last week and took away their press passes at the White House because their stories are "fake news," according to the biggest liar on the planet. A judge ordered their credentials be restored temporarily, which kinda, sorta happened, before 🟠 banned them again. When the press banded together to not step in for CNN as the press pool, it was about time, but it was also fine with me if I didn't hear the sound of his ugly voice while he kissed up to the communist dictator of China.