THE BIG DAY

 Dear Hearts: Will it take until this baby is grown up for us to have an election result?

Will Bernie Sanders become president if you don't vote? I swear Robyn wouldn't vote if it meant that her beloved Bernie could be president. 

But I suspect that a lot of us have already mailed our ballots or dropped them in a ballot box. I voted early by mail and was able to confirm that my vote was received and counted.

It's still an important day, though, so if you aren't among those of us who have voted, please get your butt out to your polling place.

I wish Carol had run for president. She'd be the best one ever.

Carol has already voted. Now, how about you?

A NEW ROUND OF DOGGY TOY SNEAKERY

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's been a while since I wrote about the game of Doggy Toy Sneakery, but this is a good time to bring it up because the game changed Saturday night. We have a new player.

Doggy Toy Sneakery has always been a game between Franklin and me. Each autumn when it cools off––as it is now––Franklin picks up a doggy toy. He's furtive about it. Very sneaky, as if he's a secret agent.

He takes the toy to the backyard. I go out to pick it up and bring it back in the house.

Sometimes I don't see that he's taken a toy, but I discover it when I go out back. As usual, it comes back in the house so he can take it out again.

Saturday night, Franklin picked up a green ring toy. I watched with joy as he took it outside.

The game had begun!

But Penelope also watched. Within minutes she marched outside and brought the toy back in, where it has remained thus far.

I shall keep you apprised of any updates on the game.

It's been a joy to finally see Penelope gain confidence and develop relationships with other people. It started with the lovely lady who lives across the street. Penelope allowed herself to be touched because the lovely lady kept her back to Penelope but held her hands behind her. Penelope responded by touching her hand. Soon she allowed complete petting.

Then Penelope bloomed while Carol was living with me. Penelope trotted in and out of Carol's bedroom all day long. Carol responded by sharing snacks with Penelope. The snacks and love from Carol helped Penelope to open up the same way my tea roses do.

Isn't this the sweet face of a happy little girl?

And here's the face of a sneaky boy.

It's time to shop for Penelope's winter wardrobe. She'll be pleased to have new clothes.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

You know what to do this week if you haven't already done it:

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.

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