LIKE FRANKIE SAID I DID IT MY WAY

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's my third blogaversary. Whoo-hoo, and I mean that in the most mean spirited and sarcastic way possible.

I chose the Bon Jovi song above because this blog -- this thing -- it's my life. I just wanna live while I'm alive.

Dr. X always discouraged me from singing. One of the nicest things Elvis Aaron Schwarz said to me was that I have a nice voice. He might have even said that it was sweet and beautiful, and that I'm sweet and beautiful.

Well, I can pretend he said that.

You know who I am,
and
I am not Dr. X.

So three years ago I sat down at my computer and set up my blog and my very first post was First Wife Hell -- Second Wife Heaven by Dumped First Wife. I didn't know then that I was going to evolve into that wildly pornographic Lola and then settle down into being plain old me, Janie Junebug.

Sometimes I worry I'm not as funny as I was when I was Lola, but you know, things change, and I'm one of them.

Now I have 151 followers, I've written 816 posts, and I've been checked out 40,762 times. I once had heady dreams of thousands of followers. Now I'm grateful for you 151 and anyone else who happens to stop by.

I'm also extremely grateful for the connections I've developed and the friends I've made. I never knew there was such a creature as a fishducky, and I love her so, along with Melynda and Rita and Dee and Sherry and Kianwi and loonysuse and The Frisky Virgin and Juli and Stephanie and Susan and Veb and so many other people, and I'm sure I'll be sorry I named names because no doubt I've forgotten to mention someone who is fabulous and fantastic and almost as adorable as I am.

If it weren't for blogging, I wouldn't have a middle child (Elisa), and I wouldn't have edited four books. I also hope to edit more, so if you're in need of a good but tough editor, then please let me know because I'll be glad to take your money and return your manuscript to you with corrections and suggestions for improvement. My email is dumpedfirstwife@gmail.com. I'm fast and cheap -- as an editor, that is. I gave up my fast and cheap ways as a woman when I met that scoundrel Elvis Aaron Schwarz.

Yeah.
You know who the fuck
I am.

I thank those of you who stuck with me during the time I had to take my blog private because a wicked witch who shall remain nameless but don't think I don't know who you are was haunting me with truly vicious comments. I am sad that my boy Maxwell stopped blogging, and really disappointed in dirtycowgirl, who said she would be my pretend lesbian lover and then dumped me so she could sell crap on ebay.

Something that's changed since I marked the occasion of my 700th post is my most popular post. For a long time my most popular post was Dumpy Men With Beautiful Skinny Wives. This post has dropped to the ninth spot in my top ten most popular list. It's been replaced by Lip Lock. I don't know why.

In second place is A Brief Tribute To My Father-In-Law, which touches my heart. Third place goes to Mr. Rogers Did Not Wear A Sweater To Cover Up His Tats. This post debunked the email that claimed Mr. Rogers was a grizzled war hero who wore his sweater to cover his many tattoos. I received that email so many times that I couldn't stand it anymore, and every time I receive an email that claims something stupid, like Obamacare calls for "death squads," then I'm glad I debunked at least one dumb email.

During these three years, the dog of my life -- my collie, Faulkner -- died. LegalMist doesn't post very often these days, but when she does, I'm there for her. She didn't know it at the time, but the night after Faulkner died, I was lying in bed, reading her comments on my then quite new blog. LegalMist got me through that long night.

Since then, Franklin has joined us.

 So when Bon Jovi sings "Frankie said I did it my way," he may think it's Frank Sinatra, but it's really Fankie Big Paws, the Mafia dog of Jacksonville, Florida, which at my blog house is Dogtown, where I live with the Z-Boys.

Scout

Harper Lee

Infinities of doggie style love,

Janie Junebug

MOVIE WEEKEND

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm afraid this news will come as quite a shock to you, but I saw a movie in a theater. The trip represented my first visit to a theater since August, 2011, when The Hurricane and I saw the final Harry Potter movie.

As you may recall, The Hurricane visits me even as I write. She insisted I see Lincoln on a big screen in an actual theater. She said it was one of the most amazing movies she's ever seen.

So, thanks to The Hurricane, we drove to the theater and purchased our tickets for the matinee, and I'm pleased to report that The Hurricane knew of what she spake. Lincoln is indeed an amazing movie.

Based on the book Team of Rivals by my heroine, Doris Kearns Goodwin, the movie chronicles the final months of the Civil War and the passage of the 13th Amendment to The Constitution of these United States. The Hurricane knew the outcome of the vote on this amendment to abolish slavery, yet she found the counting of the votes suspenseful.

According to the Internet Movie Data Base (IMDB, which in some circles -- including mine -- is now used as a verb, as in "I'm going to IMDB such-and-such a movie because I can't think of the name of the actress who was in it"), director Steven Spielberg spent 12 years on his research for Lincoln.

It shows.

I felt as if I were watching the actual events unfold. Every shot is beautiful.

I also learned a great deal about everything that was going on at the time. The Hurricane and I were amused by the fear some men felt at the thought of giving all slaves their freedom, because dammit, then they'd expect to vote. And if black men got to vote, then Dear Lord No! next it would be women at the ballot box.

Lincoln can also boast of lovely performances.

Daniel Day-Lewis IS Abraham Lincoln as I imagine him to be. I comment in this fashion because all traces of the actor are erased. Day-Lewis is so totally at one with this role that had I not been told it was Daniel Day-Lewis in the part, I wouldn't have known who it was.

The Hurricane and I predict that Daniel Day-Lewis will win the Academy Award for Best Actor for this role (if he wins, then I believe it will be his third best actor award).

Rather astonishing to me, though, is Sally Field as Mrs. Lincoln, or "Madam President" as Mary Todd Lincoln preferred to be called. She is outstanding. I don't know if she'll win an award, but surely she'll be nominated for Best Actress or Best Supporting Actress.  

The Hurricane also believes Lincoln will win the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay. How the dialog doth sparkle and move the viewer.

Thaddeus Stevens: Retain, even in opposition, your capacity for astonishment.

Lincoln has The Janie Junebug Highest Seal of Approval. If you're going to see one movie in a theater during this holiday season, then I recommend you see Lincoln.

Dee and Rita, I think you will like this movie. I'm warning the rest of you that it's not for children, and it might not be for you, Maggie, because of a sequence of upsetting shots when President Lincoln and son Robert visit a hospital for soldiers. There will be blood.


However, The Hurricane and I find ourselves intrigued by Les Miserables, which opens Christmas Day. Next week I might be recommending another film seen in a theater.

Oh! such wild times I do have with the fruit of my loins.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. The Hurricane and I also discussed our amusement over people who said President Obama had no experience because he was ONLY a grassroots organizer. What were abolitionists? Grassroots organizers. What were suffragettes? Grassroots organizers.

I could go on, but I think I've made my point that grassroots organizers can be rather powerful. Additionally, they are OF the people, and not above them.

HOMELESS IN HAWAII

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Here we are, just a few days away from Christmas, and, boy, have you screwed the pooch. You've done some shopping, but not all of it, or maybe you haven't even started.

The thought of fighting your way through the stores this weekend is more than you can bear. You don't have time anyway. Christmas caroling in the neighborhood is Friday night, followed by an Open House at the Bentternderfer's. Saturday night is the company holiday party. Sunday night the kids will be in the Christmas pageant at church. Little Katie will play an angel, and Matthew is a shepherd.

To top it all off, you need to finish a project before Monday, so you have to work all day Saturday, and then on Sunday after church.

Well, you've come to the right place. Mama Junebug can solve all your gift buying problems.

Have you heard of Amazon Prime? Go to amazon.com to join Amazon prime and for a small additional fee, you can have your items delivered in two days. So break out the laptop and get busy ordering. You don't have to hit the stores at all.

My primary recommendation for the adults in your life is the memoir Homeless In Hawaii. That's right: Give them all the same book and tell them you did it so they can have a book club.

And now here's a special Junebug tip. I'll give you some comments to make about the book so everyone will be impressed with your knowledge.

Here goes nothin': In Homeless In Hawaii, EC Stilson uses a journey-quest motif to develop the theme of a young girl's successful coming of age.

Elisa, a mere 17 years old, runs away from Utah with Cade, a young man she barely knows. They take off on a literal journey to Hawaii, while figuratively seeking adulthood. Elisa and Cade have frightening and fun adventures in Hawaii. Sometimes Elisa's naivete gets her in a little trouble, but she can be awfully cute, too.

To succeed on the journey to adulthood, Elisa must learn that although some people are evil, or are not as nice as she thought they were, most people are still good. Most importantly, she learns that Cade may disappoint her at times, but he's worthy of her love.

Stilson tells her story in her usual pleasant, chatty style that makes me feel as if I've gotten to sit down with a good friend who tells me all sorts of fascinating stories about her life.

When Elisa and Cade were homeless in Hawaii, they supported themselves by playing the violin and the guitar to earn tips. Watch and listen and you'll know why they were successful:







Now go to http://www.amazon.com/Homeless-Hawaii-Volume-EC-Stilson/dp/1468157728 to buy the book, or order the ebook at http://www.amazon.com/Homeless-Hawaii-The-Golden-ebook/dp/B00A9NGMLO/ref=tmm_kin_title_0.


Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

ANGEL'S KAT

To read the beginning of Angel's Kat, click HERE.

Kat grew older. Angel looked at pictures in her books while she read. He sat on Kat's lap when she watched television or talked to her parents. When Kat went to school, he waited patiently for her return. Then he rubbed against her hand, purring, always purring. Mama wondered if Angel might be Kat's guardian angel because he watched over her so carefully, never sleeping if he thought Kat needed him.

As Kat grew older, she also grew sadder. Once she had sung and played with Angel. Now she wept at the cruelty of the world. The other children at school were unkind, so unkind. Human touch brought pain to Kat, too. The children attacked her. They called her vile names, and a boy kicked her while the other children gathered around, laughing.

When Kat cried herself to sleep, Angel curled himself around Kat's head on her pillow, trying to comfort her. But Kat could not feel comfort. She sensed only pain. Mama and Daddy wanted to help, but they could not find a way. Nothing brought peace to Kat.

One night Kat felt particularly miserable. She fell into an exhausted sleep after her tears had finally passed. But during the night, she awoke to find Angel sitting on her chest. His golden eyes glowed. Kat saw love in Angel's eyes. She remembered the cruelty he had suffered. Somehow Angel had survived. He had not given up. And after his rescue, he had never refused solace. As Angel returned to his place on Kat's pillow, she allowed herself to feel his comforting touch.

Kat woke up in the morning, still feeling the glow of Angel's eyes on her face. She let the glow enter her heart. She felt ready to face the day.

Kat came home from school feeling sad, but not so sad that Angel couldn't comfort her. Every day, she took his glow to school with her.

And she survived. Kat grew older and found friends who were more like her. She met cruelty with strength. Although she didn't need Angel as much as she had in the past, he continued to sleep on her pillow. Mama would look in the door during the night and see Angel, his eyes wide open, still watching over Kat.

Angel continued to take care of Kat until he was sure she didn't need him anymore. After she went away to college, Angel tired of life. He was old. He was sick. He knew that Kat was all right, so when the angels came to take him to Heaven, he was glad to say farewell to the world and move on into the endlessly rocking cradle of God's sea.

ANGEL'S KAT

The cat had been beaten, her jaw broken. Then she and her two kittens were tossed in a dumpster and left to die.

But a kind stranger came along, fished them out, and took them to a shelter. There, caregivers saved the cat's life. And they named her male kitten "Angel" because he was so sweet. In spite of all he had suffered, he purred whenever they touched him.

In fact, the human touch that had once brought pain to Angel now seemed to bring him to life. Most of the time, he sat quietly, as if waiting for something. But as soon as a hand passed near him, he arched his back, rubbed against the hand, and commenced his deep grunting purr. Everyone loved him.

Then one day a family visited the shelter. They wanted a cat -- not a difficult task. Cats raced, strolled, or rested everywhere they looked. The mama wanted a big black cat with white socks. The staff called him Tommy. Tommy looked tough and strong.

But the dad had his eye on a little gray tabby. Over and over again, the father saw this bit of a tabby saunter up to their four-year-old daughter. The tabby arched his back; rubbed his chin and his head against the girl's soft, tiny hand; and let loose his deepest purr ever.

The daughter smiled her quiet smile. She held very still while Angel made her his girl.

"Honey," the dad whispered to the mom, "look at this fellow. See how he seems to love Kat already. I think he's the kitten for us."

The mama watched. She had to agree. The staff hated to see Angel leave, but they were happy he had a family.

Angel settled into his new home quickly. He was happy. He had his very own Kat.

Angel stayed by Kat's side every day and every night. When she and Mama played Chutes and Ladders, Angel tried to play along. Mama shooed Angel  away from the spinner on the game, fearing he would break it by trying to spin it with his paw, so he pawed at the picture of the spinner in the instructions. He wanted to make the wheel revolve, just as Kat did.

to be continued

MOVIE WEEKEND

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I have a good one for you this week: Hope Springs (2012 and recently released on DVD).

Kay (Meryl Streep) and Arnold (Tommy Lee Jones) have been married for a little more than 30 years. Kay and Arnold don't sleep in the same bed. Hell, they don't even sleep in the same room.

Kay is lonely. She wants a real marriage, instead of feeling she's married to golf, or ESPN. So Kay books a week of marriage renewal therapy in Maine with Dr. Feld (Steve Carell).

Oh, I can hear you right now. You're thinking that if Steve Carell is involved then the movie is silly, but I promise you it's not. Steve Carell has what it takes to play this part.

But more important than anything Steve Carell does, is that Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones are at their best in this movie -- not that I think I've ever seen them do anything poorly.

Arnold grumps and complains about going to Maine, about seeing a therapist, about spending money, about (though he probably doesn't realize it) leaving his comfort zone. Kay is quieter, less sure of herself, and feeling rejected.

Never have I seen a movie do such a fine job of capturing the loneliness that can occur in a marriage -- the feeling that you'd be less alone if you didn't live with your spouse.

I also want to thank Meryl Streep for being Meryl Streep. She inhabits every role she plays. She's not as skinny as a stick and she doesn't have her face so botoxed that her eyebrows meet her hairline. Meryl Streep is a real person -- open and giving, even when her character seems a bit shy and reluctant to complain that she doesn't want a hot water heater for a present.

Kay and Arnold leave Maine without resolving their issues. I'm not going to tell you if they stay together or decide to divorce, if the ending is happy or sad. I will tell you I cried tears of joy mixed with tears of sadness and longing.

Hope Springs has The Janie Junebug Highest Seal of Approval.

Dee and Rita, I think you will like this movie.

Happy watching and happy weekend, everyone! It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. Recently Elvis Aaron Schwarz said he needed to ask me some serious questions about my blog. Who is this Maxwell? he wanted to know.

Maxwell, I told him, is my lover who comes to me in the still of the night when the moon is full . . . and he lets me put my cold feet on him wherever I want. When Maxwell departs, my feet -- and the rest of me -- are sooooo warm.

Take that, Elvis Aaron Schwarz! My man must keep my feet warm!

ZELDA

If the nursing home held a contest for Most Hated Patient, the prize would have gone to Zelda with no need to take a vote.

It wasn't because the other patients hated her, though. They never saw her.

It was the staff who despised her. Zelda's call light lit up and buzzed constantly throughout the day and the night, and nothing could be done to appease her. And when Zelda was dissatisfied, watch out for your ear drums. She emitted a series of high-pitched screams and wouldn't stop until her daughter arrived and told her to shut up.

Zelda's room was on South Hall, my favorite place to work. I knew the patients well, and adored all of them -- except Zelda. Zelda seldom slept, and nothing could make her comfortable. Her call light went off every five minutes throughout most of the night.

"My neck hurts," was her usual complaint.

I would lift her head a little, adjust the pillow a bit, and place her head back on the pillow.

"No, it's not right," she invariably whined.

I would lift her head again, move the pillow a bit, and put her head back down. She would wiggle her head a bit.

"No, it's still not right."

After adjusting the pillow in every direction without any hope of satisfying Zelda, I would finally have to say, "Zelda, I can't do anything else. I'm afraid you'll have to put up with it the way it is."

"All right," Zelda would sigh.

Five minutes later her call light would buzz again.

I had some sympathy for Zelda. She had severe rheumatoid arthritis. Her movements were limited. She was also obese. She couldn't roll over in bed, couldn't life her arm to adjust her own pillow, couldn't walk. She had to be fed because her fingers were virtually paralyzed from arthritis. On the rare occasion she left her bed, we moved her in a sling, using a mechanical lift to place her in a chair for a short period of time.

Zelda never stayed in the chair for long. She always wanted to be back in her bed.

One night I was working with Betty, and the two of us headed to Zelda's room together when her call light lit up and rang.

"You hold her down," I joked with Betty, "while I put the pillow over her face and hold it there."

Betty laughed.

Zelda wanted her pillow adjusted, as usual, but Betty lifted her head roughly and dropped it back down on the pillow.

I felt guilty immediately. Had my joke encouraged Betty to handle Zelda roughly? Betty's action wasn't unkind enough to be considered abusive, but she wasn't nice, either.

"She just wants attention," Betty said as we headed down the hall to another room.

Wants attention. Why, of course Zelda wanted attention. Suddenly the reason for Zelda's neediness slapped me in the face.

Zelda had raised five children. Only one came to see her. Zelda had been married to a pastor, and no doubt had spent many years helping her husband minister to the needs of their congregation. No wonder Zelda wanted constant attention. She had spent years surrounded by people, and now she was alone nearly 24-hours per day.

Zelda was lonely.

To be continued.