A POEM FOR THE DAY AFTER VALENTINE'S DAY

 Arachne's Song

I spin my web around and round,

Its silken threads securely bound.

Athena's gift, not meant as a blessing,

Has helped me to better my sweet caressing.

I use my punishment extremely well

To pull you into a delicate cell.

My weaving more wondrous than ever before

Mystifies men, so they call me whore.

Use whatever name you like,

I'll take off your head with a single bite.

But first my poison your struggling ends,

Numbness sets in, then to Hades you wend.

My pleasure leads to your deadly sleep,

Revenge for Leda, Philomela, and all who weep.

Come, Hermes, now ferry this one away,

I have performed my task for one more day.

Tomorrow I'll spin around and round

To bind another who'll never be found.

My web I'll spin to seize his heart,

And then my loving I'll impart.

SO WE'VE HAD A LITTLE RAIN

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

So many of you have cold and snow or cold and ice. It's been raining here, on and off for days and days and days . . . 

Yes, we have poor drainage here at The Little House On The Swamp. It's a swamp. My son bought a pump that works well, but I have no idea how to hook it up. I'll go out to the garage to examine it on a nicer day. If I wade out to look at it today, I'll only get frustrated.

We deal with the rain as best we can.

Penelope hides from it in my closet.

Franklin prefers my bathroom:

I decided it was a good day to bake banana bread, which I've wanted to do for a while so I could add chocolate chips to the batter as Mitchell's beloved San Geraldo does. Everything San Geraldo makes looks yummy.

I started some music and soon enjoyed the sound of Jack's nasally whine. Meg whacked the drums. 

Got out the mixer and all the ingredients (I thought).

Smooshed the bananas till they were dead and dumped in everything else (I thought).

Sat down to write this post while the bread baked and suddenly realized I forgot to put in the chocolate chips. When I went to Costco last week I bought a gigantic bag of chocolate chips. They remained unmolested.

I switched the music to Alanis.

Took the bread out of the oven and dolloped it with butter.

Decided everything would be okay.

Now I have a reason to bake again––and soon!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

MOVIE WEEKEND: KISS ME KATE

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Recently when I felt a bit down, I watched a classic movie––Kiss Me Kate (1953; I recorded it from Turner Classic Movies; also available on some streaming services for $2.99 to $3.99). 

Kiss Me Kate features a musical within a musical. Howard Keel and Kathryn Grayson perform as Fred and Lilli––two divorced, battling actors––but also as Petruchio and Katherine in a musical based on The Taming of

The Shrew.

Lilli: Do you really think *I* could play the shrew?
Fred: You'd make a perfect shrew!

Ann Miller plays Fred's new "girlfriend," Lois, to whom he gives the part of Bianca. 

While I appreciate Keel's rich baritone and Grayson's sweet coloratura soprano, it was Ann Miller's dancing that had me tapping my toes. 

Here, Miller and company perform From This Moment On, which includes Bob Fosse's first on-film choreography danced by Fosse and Carol Haney. 

Kiss Me Kate was originally filmed in 3D. That's why you see the actors throwing stuff directly at the camera.

I hope you have a great weekend.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

TIP TUESDAY: AVOID PASSIVE VOICE AND MARJORIE TAYLOR GREENE

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Avoid passive voice; in other words, "the form of the verb which shows that its subject is not the agent performing the action to which the verb refers but rather receives that action: The ham was sliced by Emily" (Harbrace).

Furthermore, "the passive voice also lends itself to . . .  muddied, heavy-footed writing" (Fundamentals).

Sometimes, "politicians and CEOs of failing companies use passive voice or similar sentence structures in an attempt to avoid responsibility for their actions" (Instructions).

I noticed an interesting example of usage last week when Marjorie Taylor Greene spoke of how she has been "condemned and crucified" for words she used in the past. Greene stated: "I was allowed to believe things that weren't true."

Strictly speaking, it's not an example of passive voice because Greene has the subject (I) right. But most of us would say I believed things that weren't true because we want an active verb and because we accept culpability. Greene also could have said I allowed myself to believe things that weren't true so I could get elected, kiss trump's ass, gain power for my cause and so on.

By saying "I was allowed," Greene deflects self-blame and lies. No one "allowed" her to believe insane claims.

I considered including more of Greene's lies here, but I can't. They're abhorrent. So as Penelope usually says at the conclusion of her blog posts, That is all. 

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Sources: Harbrace College Handbook, English Fundamentals, Instructions For Living by Janie Goltz 

WRITING FROM AND ABOUT THE PAST

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I want to share some blog posts I wrote long ago about working in a nursing home. Perhaps I'll write more stories about my all-time favorite job.

The following is the prologue I wrote for what I thought would be my first book. Fortunately, I learned from an x-ray and a thorough examination by a doctor that I do not have a book in me. The knowledge allows me to enjoy writing without feeling any pressure.

If you have a book in you, then you must write it. A surgeon cannot remove it for you.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Although it's been 20 years since I was there, I can picture the layout of the building perfectly. I know all the residents. I know their faces, how they look when they are smiling, how they look when storm clouds pass over them and the tears rain down their cheeks. Which ones have visitors, which ones have no family, and which ones have family but never receive a visit.

They are our mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles, grandparents. They cared for us and changed our diapers when we were babies.

Now, they have turned into babies. Dementia turns adults into toddlers. Alzheimer's often leads to violent tantrums.

I can still smell the urine––strong, a very strong odor because the elderly don't drink enough water.

I know the care each person requires. Vivie is in a wheelchair but can walk with only a little assistance. Gene could walk with assistance when he arrived, but his condition deteriorated. He no longer walks. Zora and Ann have to be moved with mechanical lifts.

Violet and many others have to be lifted in our strong arms––lifted from wheelchair to toilet, from toilet to wheelchair, from wheelchair to bed. All the residents are terrified when we lower the bed railings so one of us can roll the person on her side while the other washes the rear end.

If the people are rolled toward me, "I'll fall out," they cry.

"No one ever gets past me," I reassure them.

"There's a first time for everything," they always say in between cries and screams. "You're too skinny. You're not big enough to save me."

O.K. So I'm skinny. I'm quite a bit smaller than the average nursing assistant. But there was no first time. No one ever rolled out of bed when I was there to offer protection. People who work in nursing homes have arms made of bands of steel. How else could we lift people who weigh 200 pounds?

The patients are safe with me, and not just because I'm strong. I saved Zora when she coughed and her face turned purple. No one else took her illness seriously. It turned out she had pneumonia.  I demanded that the charge nurse call her doctor.

Nurses hate to call the doctor because sometimes doctors yell at nurses. Doctors abuse nurses. Nurses abuse nursing assistants. Sometimes nurses and assistants abuse patients.

I never "get tough" with the patients others call spoiled. I don't have it in me. When Pop tries to hit me, I hold up my hands so he punches my palms. Katherine throws her bed alarm at me. I catch it with my left hand and congratulate myself, laughing. Katherine doesn't know what she's doing. How can I be angry?

And I always try to find a way to make the residents laugh, whether it's something I say or by dancing my way into their rooms, pretending to be a clumsy ballerina.

I am hugged, kissed, told "I love you."

I am peed on, vomited on, told "I'll kick you."

The people in my safekeeping hold my heart in their shaky hands, hands with skin so thin it can rip as easily as tissue paper. 

I touch with love, with laughter, with recognition of the individual.

I am a caregiver.

LOVELY DAY LOVELY DAY LOVELY DAY

 Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

What a day it's been! No matter the weather, the sun came out at noon.

In spite of masks, in spite of social distancing, in spite of the necessity for a heavy National Guard presence, the inauguration was perfect. Joe! Kamala!! Jill!!! Doug!!!! Amanda Gormon!!!!! I'm in love with all of you. 

Can you believe a woman is the vice president? Can you believe a woman of color is the vice president? When Hillary wasn't elected, I was afraid a woman in the top spot wouldn't occur during my life. Joe introduced us to The Possible.

How nice to see three former presidents (Obama, George W., and Clinton) supporting the peaceful transfer of power. I'm sure Jimmy Carter shares their sentiments. 

I cried on and off all day, and every tear was shed in joy and gratitude. Fortunately, I've reached the point in my recovery that I can cry without experiencing pain.

No one can take my happiness away from me, but I'm glad to share it with every single one of you.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

A BIG DAY TOMORROW

Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

This afternoon Franklin and I watched the Bidens arrive for The Big Event. I cried a little because Joe is taking on such a burden for us. Franklin cried a little because he was disappointed that Champ and Major didn't get off the plane with the rest of the family.

Of course, I must keep my joy under control because we're giving up so much as 45 departs. Who can forget the way he's unified America? The crowd on Jan. 6th was the largest ever in the Capitol.

What a campaign 45 fought against Old Uncle Joe! Sleepy Uncle Joe!

Well, guess what, shit for brains? Old Uncle Joe kicked your ass! So did Sleepy Uncle Joe!

But as we prepare for the future, let's look back at the machinations of Joe Biden.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug