Tuesday, August 22, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

In THIS POST, we talked about prefixes, suffixes, and root words. To date, that post has had more than 1,400 page views. I have no idea why it was so popular, but let's see if we can break that record by discussing more meanings of word parts (I'm not telling Willy Dunne Wooters about the 1,400+ because he'll say it's spambot; I'm sticking my tongue out at you, WDW).

According to our source, Vocabulary for a New World by Linda J. Palumbo and Frank J. Gaik, "learning the building blocks of words can help you to figure out and remember the meanings of many new words you encounter."

Palumbo and Gaik point out in one section of the book how the root "patri or pater, for father, spawns several related words."

Patri plus archy, which means rule gives us

patriarchy = rule by the fathers

Patri plus mony, which means wealth gives us

patrimony = the wealth of the father


patrimonialism = a system of authority based on inherited wealth

The suffixes -ic, -al, and -ous mean "made of or characterized by" and can be "used to turn some words into advectives."

poetic = in the form or spirit of a poem
porous = having pores
aquatic = of the water 

Do you recognize these word parts related to forms and measures?


Neo, of course, means new, as in neo-Nazi, but I'd say a Nazi is a Nazi is a Nazi.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thanks, fishducky!

Monday, August 21, 2017


But I don't mean obscene names for the president, Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

We've always been big on nicknames in my family. My mother used to call a young woman with short curly hair who lived in her neighborhood "Betty Boop." It became so popular that everyone who lived there started calling the woman Betty Boop––sometimes to her face.

But I also invent names for people based on certain facets of their personality or their behavior (not cruel names).

A few months ago I shopped at Target and no matter what I said to the cashier, he replied, oooookey doooookey. Based on the way he emitted his okey dokeys, I suspected he was as high as the sky.

Naturally, his name is now "the high guy." I have no idea what his real name is.

And how about those name tags some cashiers wear that say


I know it means that the person has been working there that long, but I always want to ask, If you've been George for seven years, then who were you before that?

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, August 18, 2017


And you do not want to deal with a Junebug in a bad mood, Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

When Donald Trump was elected, I was shocked. I didn't turn on the news until late in the afternoon on that fateful day. I looked at the available returns and polls and knew: She will win the popular vote, but he will win the electoral college.

For the next two weeks, I cried every day. But I was also in denial. I told myself and my friends, It's going to be all right. Somehow it will be okay. We'll be fine.

Then I looked at the glass in my hand and realized it was half-empty. I accepted reality.

Now we've had a tragic clash in Charlottesville, with bad people on both sides, according to the president. But why did people who don't even live in Charlottesville gather there to hold their White Nationalist shindig? The side with the Tiki torches may have had a permit to gather, but they didn't have a permit to incite violence. With a group like that, however, a gathering amounts to inciting violence. That's what these good ole' boys are all about, and Charlottesville was not prepared to deal with their numbers.

As each day passes since that event, I haven't learned to feel calm and at peace about it. I haven't said, This too shall pass. I haven't let it go and moved on.

Rather, as I learn more about what occurred from people who were actually there, my anger grows. I'm beyond being able to say, Let's find something to laugh about.

Favorite Young Man and I watched quite a bit of news on Saturday and Sunday. He expressed surprise that such a thing would happen in Charlottesville, a liberal university town.

I told him that Charlottesville has long been a town divided (no doubt town officials disagree with me), and, thus, ripe for the picking by the KKK, Aryan Nation, alt-right––whatever they call themselves, "they" are those who come in hatred.

I went on to explain to Favorite Young Man that white descendants of Thomas Jefferson wouldn't consider allowing the black descendants of Thomas Jefferson to join their organization until the black descendants took DNA tests to prove their lineage, and even then the descendants of the Jefferson-Hemmings union were invited to attend the white descendants' meetings as guests, not as full-fledged members. This occurred in spite of the fact that historians began writing about the children of Jefferson and his slave, Sally Hemmings, in the 1970s. This occurred in spite of the long-known "open secret" in Charlottesville that if one saw a light-skinned black person with red hair, then that person was likely to be a Jefferson family member. This occurred in spite of the knowledge that Sally Hemmings and her siblings were of mixed race and were half-siblings to Jefferson's wife. Hemmings' children were of mostly European descent. But one drop of so-called black blood? They're not the real thing, apparently.

I doubt if the white descendants ever had to take DNA tests to prove their status.

This refusal to acknowledge ALL of Jefferson's direct descendants is an emblem of the division in Charlottesville, a town that is predominantly white. And Southern.

Sadly, my theory about the town has been confirmed by some articles I've read and by comments from citizens of Charlottesville. One African-American woman stated that the master in Monticello had been looking down on them in the town for far too long. That doesn't mean we should knock down Monticello and disavow Thomas Jefferson as one of the founders of our country, but it does mean we need to recognize his role in the misery that was slavery. It does mean we need to recognize his second family.

We can acknowledge the grief and the mistakes of slavery in museums. We do not need statues of Confederate leaders in parks and city centers. To ask "where will it stop?" and suggest that statues of George Washington will be pulled down next is to demonstrate one's ignorance. Yes, George Washington owned slaves, but he wasn't a traitor to his country who suggested that the Union of States be divided.

I also heard someone say on television that having a statue of Robert E. Lee certainly wasn't as bad as having a statue of Nathan Bedford Forrest. Aren't they all traitors to the Union?

Plus, until a few years ago, my own city had a Nathan Bedford Forrest High School. It took many years to remove the name of the man who founded the KKK. Now, let's change the names of all schools named after Confederate leaders. We don't need Jefferson Davis High School any more than we need Robert E. Lee High School. Let's name our schools after peacemakers and heroes, not losers.

Yes, I am one angry Junebug, and I don't picture myself getting over it anytime soon.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

public domain photo

"Let us reject any among us who seek to reopen old wounds and to rekindle old hatreds. They stand in the way of a seeking nation. Let us now join reason to faith and action to experience, to transform our unity of interest into a unity of purpose. For the hour and the day and the time are here to achieve progress without strife, to achieve change without hatred—not without difference of opinion, but without the deep and abiding divisions which scar the union for generations."

Friday, August 11, 2017


Gentle Readers . .  and Maxwell,

I first published A FINAL EVENING ON LAKE JUNEBUG on October 6, 2014. It's had 232 page views, but it won't complain if more people look at it. I think it's a good time to read it again, or read it for the first time, because Lake Junebug overflows from daily thunderstorms.

A unique feature in this post is the appearance of the late, handsome Harper––a smooth collie/malinois mix. Harper plays two roles. First, he is the "wildlife." The he returns as the suave, dignified guest, Monsieur Malinois. Exactly the kind of dude you meet during a vacation on Lake Junebug.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug, proprietor

Many of you have written posts about the arrival of autumn. It's still warm here in Northern Florida, but it's pleasant. The humidity is tolerable. While the weather is nice, I recommend you take one last vacation for the year. You need an evening on Lake Junebug.

My prices are low (however much I owe the IRS so about $4,000 and that can be a group rate if you want to bring some pals or the whole family). It's rained a great deal lately so the lake is full. Notice the trees reflected in the beautiful clear water:

Architecture buffs will enjoy attractions such as the steps that lead down to the lake:

Look at the beautiful vegetation right next to the lake:

You'll feel as if you're visiting the Galapagos. Wildlife surrounds Lake Junebug:

Monsieur Malinois, I presume? You meet the elite when you vacation on Lake Junebug:

The dining area, where our chef prepares gourmet meals on the grill:

Another lovely view of the deluxe amenities:

The fence guarantees privacy should you want to indulge in a little skinny dipping:

I haven't set up the hammock yet, but it's a hammock for two. Romance guaranteed. If you bring the kids, they can sleep on the deck itself. They'll be thrilled by this outdoor adventure.

Be sure to book your trip soon. If you wait too long, the party will be over.

Tuesday, August 8, 2017


AND DON'T COME BACK SOME OTHER DAY, Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

With a thunderstorm nearly every day, Lake Junebug is quite full. I would suggest that you make your reservations for the Lake Junebug Resort, but it doesn't stop raining long enough to do anything.

I was out gallivanting around this afternoon when today's storm started. Going from a store to my car, I got soaked. I looked as if I had taken a shower with my clothes on.

Before yesterday's storm, it was somewhat dry just long enough for Franklin to roll in the muck in the backyard. His new name is Stinky.

According to the forecast, the weather system that's with us now is supposed to hang around and get worse by the weekend. I don't know how it can get worse, but anything is possible.

Lappie is fine now. She has no complaints about the duct tape holding her together.

I continue to apply for jobs, so I'm not blogging regularly. Previous interest from employers resulted in an interview for a job that I could have done in my sleep. Of course, I didn't get it.

The search continues.

Infinities of love,

A Soaked Janie Junebug

Lake Junebug looks a lot like this photo that I took after Hurricane Matthew visited us last year:

Wednesday, August 2, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

After a scan, I think Lappie is herself again--except that one corner of her case will be held in place by duct tape.

It's going to take me a while to catch up on everything.

Thanks to all of you who offered sympathy and advice.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, August 1, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

My laptop is home, but she is wounded and not working properly.

I should not have taken her to a repair store without talking to Willy Dunne Wooters first. He had a good experience with this chain of stores, but the place he used is in a different location. The store closer to my home is run by children. They might be self-described nerds, but they are not very responsible nerds.

They want $200 to repair her. Don't tell Lappie that I said this, but she's not worth it. She only cost about $400 in the first place.

Therefore, I'm not spending $200 on her. Yes, I can duct tape her together (it's the bottom case that came apart in one corner), but she'll have to be replaced at some point.

And she is not the same sweet Lappie I took to the store run by child nerds. Ads pop up on her all the time. Notices pop up that say Google is tracking my searches. I know I had some kind of blocker on her, but I can't remember what I did before to make her my darling Lappie.

Oh, dear. Oh, dear. Oh, dear.

I bet one of you will remind me how to make her into my Lappie again, or Willy Dunne Wooters will help.

I'm not thinking clearly after my terrible experience with the little boy nerds.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, July 28, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I apologize because I haven't done my Cephalopod Coffeehouse post about my favorite book that I read this month.

My beloved friend Laptop has cracked apart on the bottom left side. I hope she doesn't have to be replaced!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thursday, July 27, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Yesterday I reviewed the movie Hacksaw Ridge. I promised that today would be about the real Desmond Doss, who is played by Andrew Garfield.

Andrew Garfield

Desmond Doss
Spoiler Alert: If you are interested in viewing Hacksaw Ridge, then you might not want to read this post.

First, I thank those of you who set me straight on the length of men's hair during military service in World War II. The buzz cut required of future generations was not yet de rigueur.

While Desmond Doss was alive, he wouldn't allow a movie to be made about his exploits because he said it would be a typical Hollywood movie. Plus, he was a humble man. However, he did participate in the creation of a documentary called The Conscientious Objector (2004) before he died in 2006. I would like to see this film, but it's not available on Netflix or Amazon Prime. It can be purchased on Amazon. The DVD is a manufacture-on-demand item that costs $2.47. It's classified as an "add-on" that ships for free if included with a $25 purchase.

The most moving part of Hacksaw Ridge for me was the end: it includes footage of the real Desmond, his brother Hal, and some of his army comrades. Thus, I'm especially interested in the documentary.

Now, here's some information about The Real Desmond v. The Movie Desmond.

Movie Desmond [MD] insists on enlisting.
Real Desmond [RD] was drafted in 1942.

MD finishes training and heads straight to Okinawa for his initial experience as a medic during battle.
RD shipped out to Guam, then Leyte in the Philippines, and then to Okinawa.

MD nearly shoots his father while saving his mother when his father almost shoots her.
RD's mother broke up a fight between her husband and his brother and asked RD to hide the gun his father used to threaten his brother. RD vowed it would be the last time he touched a gun.

MD's father is an abusive drunk.
RD's father drank, but not to excess. He was not abusive.

MD first sees the woman he will marry when she's working as a nurse.
RD met Dorothy at church. She did not become a nurse until after the war. She did so then because RD was disabled and she needed to help support their family.

MD misses his wedding because he's put in a cell to await court martial.
RD--didn't happen.

MD is pulled out of bed and attacked by the men in his company.
Although RD was harassed, no such beating occurred.

MD is nearly court-martialed.
RD was threatened with court-martial by one officer, but another officer told the first that he had to respect RD's status.

MD's father shows up in his uniform from WWI to ask his former commanding officer to prevent MD's court martial.
RD's father called a church War Commission when RD was denied leave. RD was then given a pass so he could see his brother before he shipped out with the Navy.

MD treats Japanese soldiers and lowers them over the side of a cliff in the same way that he rescues Americans.
RD was told by the other men in his company that they would shoot him if he treated a Japanese soldier. 

All of the action in the movie appears to take place during a few days. The real Desmond Doss went through far more than is depicted. In fact, Mel Gibson said that he didn't show everything that happened to Desmond because people would not believe it:

"Mel Gibson stated there were aspects of this event that were true but that he couldn't include in the film because he felt people wouldn't believe they were true: Doss stepped on a grenade to save his buddies and was hit by shrapnel, but as he was being carried away by medics he saw another soldier hurt; since Doss himself was a medic he jumped off his stretcher and treated that soldier and told the medics to take care of other wounded soldiers; he then crawled back to safety while being shot at by enemy snipers."

By the time Doss reached Okinawa, he had already been awarded two bronze stars for bravery. Later, Harry Truman awarded Doss the Medal of Honor. He was the first conscientious objector to be so honored (Alvin York also received the Medal of Honor, but he carried a weapon and for a time denied that he had been a conscientious objector). 

No one is sure how many men Doss saved at Okinawa by lowering them over the escarpment. The unassuming Doss thought it was fifty. Others placed it at 100. The official number became seventy-five as a compromise, but Doss also treated numerous other men.

Desmond Doss returned to the United States as a severely disabled man because of his wounds and because he had contracted tuberculosis before his discharge from the military in 1946. He lost a lung and five ribs to this scourge and spent most of six years in hospitals. He was given an overdose of antibiotics that caused him to lose his hearing for twelve years. He then received a cochlear implant and regained his hearing.

He was married to his beloved Dorothy until her death in 1991. They had one child, Desmond T. Doss, Jr. 

My point about the movie is that the real life of Desmond Doss was more than enough to make a great movie. Gibson didn't need to embroider the tale and turn Doss into a Christ-figure. I can't imagine that Doss would have liked that. He did not want to have a typical Hollywood movie made about him. And Gibson thought that people wouldn't believe the extent of Doss's bravery? I believe the truth. Real, living heroes are not stock characters. They are not clichés. They are complex human beings who deserve to have their stories told without the distractions of unnecessary changes.

"Mel Gibson said that the battle scenes were influenced by nightmares he had during his childhood, when his father Hutton Gibson, a WW2 veteran who served in Guadalcanal in the Pacific theatre, described the horrors he witnessed as bedtime stories."

The horrors witnessed by Mel Gibson's father––NOT the horrors witnessed by Desmond Doss. Keep it real, Mel.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Sources: History vs. Hollywood, Internet Movie Database, Desmond Doss

President Truman presents Desmond Doss with the Medal of Honor.
Photo courtesy Desmond Doss Council
An aging Desmond Doss
Photo courtesy Desmond Doss Council

Note: Most of the actors in the movie, including a number of the American soldiers, are played by Australian actors. Gibson cast the Australians to attain Australian tax incentives for the making of the movie

Wednesday, July 26, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I believe that art transcends time, place, and even its creator. If it doesn't, then it must not be art. Mel Gibson, a misogynistic anti-Semite who would feel right at home in the White House, has created yet another piece of non-art with the movie Hacksaw Ridge (2016, Rated R, Available On DVD and HBO).

I was appalled––appalled I tell you––when Mel Gibson received an Academy Award nomination for Best Director. A nod from the academy tends to mean "we forgive you for being a drunken asshole because you have created true art." Ha! In Hacksaw Ridge, Mel Gibson uses stock characters and clichés to explore the paradox of a non-violent person in the middle of great violence. In other words, the theme is that one brave man working alone can become a Christ-figure during the hell that is war.

I did not add Hacksaw Ridge to my Netflix queue because I detest and despise Mel Gibson. But Hacksaw Ridge did receive quite a few award nominations, and won some, including two Academy Awards (thank God one was not Best Director for Mel Gibson). When it turned up on HBO a few nights ago, I thought, Okay. I'm not paying extra for it. I'll watch it.

I'm sorry I did except for the opportunity that it provides me to warn you that it is a hideous movie. Here are some examples of its stupidity:

  • Desmond Doss (Andrew Garfield) is the son of a drunk Virginia hillbilly who served in the Great War and deals with his PTSD by beating his wife and kids
  • Desmond follows his mama's example and becomes a devout Seventh-Day Adventist
  • Desmond falls in love at first sight with a nurse
  • Desmond feels he must enlist during Dubya Dubya Two
  • Desmond is a conscientious objector, whose commanding officer won't assign him to be the medic he was promised he could be
  • Therefore, the sergeant makes it clear to his men that they should beat the crap out of Desmond
  • He's about to be court-martialed when Hillbilly Daddy shows up in his Great War uniform and saves the day
  • Desmond goes off to the Battle of Okinawa and saves a shitload of men
  • Before the men go into battle a second time, they wait for Desmond to finish praying
  • Desmond saves a metric fuck-ton of men while running like Secretariat toward the finish line as glorious movie music plays and he chants, Please, God. Let me save one mo' (thick Virginia accent)
  • Desmond is finally appreciated
Some critics have called Hacksaw Ridge the first great war movie since Saving Private Ryan. No. It's not. Saving Private Ryan made me feel as if I were in the boat preparing to storm the beach. It made me care about its characters and what they experienced, no matter how awful it was. Hacksaw Ridge made me think about throwing up everything, including my toenails. It is repeatedly grotesque to the point that I would place it in the horror/slasher genre.

Tomorrow I hope to tell you about the real Desmond Doss, who was a true hero. Other than saying that Andrew Garfield gives a decent performance in spite of the dreck that surrounds him, I grant no Janie Junebug Seal whatsoever to Hacksaw Ridge.

View at your own peril.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

P.S. And what about the hair on these "soldiers"?

For a movie that supposedly goes to such pains to be realistic, why don't these guys have regulation haircuts?

Tuesday, July 25, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Words can have three parts: a suffix, a prefix, and a root.

A suffix comes after the root, as in added. The -ed indicates past tense. Pre means before, so a prefix is fixed before the word. The root is the basic word.

"In most dictionaries, a word part printed with a hyphen after it is a prefix. A word part with a hyphen before it is a suffix. Roots may appear anywhere."

Learning the meanings of suffixes, prefixes, and roots can assist you in your word comprehension. For example, son and phon mean sound.

sonorous: having or producing an impressive sound
sonic: of or relating to sound
phonograph: a machine that reproduces sound from a disk
phonetics: the study of the sounds of speech

audi = hearing
scop, spec, vid, and vis = see
ocul = eye
voc, vocal = voice, call
ped, pus = foot
man = hand
cardio = heart

I bet you recognize some or most of these roots and don't even have to think about their meanings when you see them.

We'll probably talk about more word parts next week.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

I leaned very heavily on my source to write this post. It's Vocabulary For A New World by Linda J. Palumbo and Frank J. Gaik.

Thanks, fishducky!

Monday, July 24, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

It's past time for my annual poust (in honor of British tradition I'm adding U to the spelling of as many wourds as poussible) on Trooping The Colour, which took place way back in June. It's an annual poust because I pousted about it last year and someone coummented that it was in very poor taste. I'm not one to miss an oppourtunity to shouw off my bad taste, so here we go again––better late than never.

Queen Elizabeth's birthday is April 21, but the official celebration of her birthday is during June when the weather is warmer, so the Trooping the Colour souldiers in their gigantic hats can stand still for hours and pass out from the heat. Soldiers who dare to pass out are shot immediately.

Trooping the Colour always features appearances by the Rouyal Family, especially on the balcouny. But why are they all looking up?

Of course! It's Queen Donald. He's oun the balcouny above theirs because he's more impourtant than anyone else in the wourld.

Royal? I don't think so.
I'm royal.
A royal pussy grabber!

Prince George thinks, Didn't I do this last year? I know they said I have to do this for the rest of my life, but I didn't think they really meant it.

While George perks up at the thought ouf birthday cake, William loousens his belt.

Queen Elizabeth wounders, Who is that little girl? I'm 91. I can't keep track ouf all these people, especially with Voldemort standing behind me again.

No one knouws who the guy on the left is, but they'll pretend he's suppoused to be there because of his fancy outfit.

The big day also included riding in carriages, as these foulks tend to do. Kate thinks, If I look straight ahead, I can pretend that hourse face isn't next to me.

Oh, gooudy. It's Princess Eugenie and Princess Beatrice. Or Princess Beatrice and Princess Eugenie. No one is sure, but oune wounders why the family budget didn't include mouney for their orthoudontic work.

And as the happy celebratioun coumes to an end, Kate and William are all smiles because they knouw it's really all about them.

Farewell Glourious Rouyals until Her Majesty has 92, yes 92, candles oun her cake next year.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thursday, July 20, 2017


I have an injury to my right wrist, so I'll take a few days off from blogging and commenting on your blogs to rest my arm and to ice it so the swelling goes down. Fortunately, it's not broken. Just sore.

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Our Island Home

for b.

When we walk on the grounds of
           Our Island Home
We wave at the neighbors off in the distance
We don't call out a hello because our voices
Would waft away on the breeze.
We are alone on the grounds of
           Our Island Home

When we play on the beach at
           Our Island Home
We swim naked and free
We make love in the waves
We rest in the sand because
We are alone on the beach at
           Our Island Home

When we walk to the restaurant near
           Our Island Home
We feast on Northern Italian
We drink red wine 
We wander the roads until
We return from the restaurant alone to
           Our Island Home

We are happy on our own, completely alone, in
           Our Island Home

Thursday, July 13, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Occasionally I visit a certain restaurant, and I swear Al Sharpton is always there. It's not really Al Sharpton, of course. I happen to think that this particular guy looks like Al Sharpton. You'll have to take my word for it because I won't invade "Al Sharpton's" privacy by photographing him.

Years ago, The Washington Post pointed out that then Secretary of State Warren Christopher

bore a very strong resemblance to

Kukla. Yes, that Kukla of

These days, I watch the news and every time I see Mitch McConnell

I wonder if his head will disappear into his shirt collar because he looks so much like a

I suspect we'll start to see more of the president's lawyer, Jay Sekulow, who has also played the part of

Mr. Burns' lawyer on The Simpsons (Favorite Young Man told me about this one; I can't stand The Simpsons).

And how about Jeff Sessions?

He's practically a ringer for

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug, who always looks like a queen (her tiara gives her away along with the frequent mention of "we are not amused")

Tuesday, July 11, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I'm a firm believer in spell check, but I admit that once or twice or twenty times I have ignored the red line under a word because I was convinced that I knew better than spell check. Being corrected by my loyal subjects has taught me to check a dictionary when that red line appears, which I can do without getting out of my chair because dictionaries are available online.

I know I'm not the only person who has ignored the red lines because I've received manuscripts from clients that have words with the telltale red lines that alert me to a misspelled word.

However, some writers turn off spell check because the red lines drive them crazy. If you can't bear the red lines, you can still spell check your Word document by going to the Review tab and clicking on the first icon that says Spelling & Grammar underneath a capitalized ABC.

As soon as the spell checker finds a misspelled word, you'll see a box that looks like this:

Source: http://www.electricteacher.com/wspell.htm

As you can see, you also get suggestions for possible correct spellings. If the suggestions all seem incorrect to you, or if you're convinced that your spelling is correct (and it might be), then it's time to ask the dictionary for help.

I lurve spell check because even Your Queen of Grammar makes misteaks.

I also have some good news for you. Employers have started to take an interest in Your Queen. As a results, I'm out gallivanting around (as Willy Dunne Wooters says) more than usual.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thanks, fishducky!

Wednesday, July 5, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

I haven't gotten lost.

I haven't run away, although I was tempted to do so yesterday when Favorite Young Man barfed.

I'm busy with my job search, learning new skills, and comforting Franklin and Penelope. They hate the fireworks. I hate them, too. If we only heard the explosions on July 4th, I wouldn't mind too much. The problem is that some of my neighbors start shooting off their mouths their firecrackers, Roman candles, and whatever else they have (including guns) the weekend before the 4th. The shooting off will continue until at least Saturday night so we experience the unhappiness of an entire week of blasting.

It's a good thing that Favorite Young Man has helped get the dogs out to potty before bed because they don't want to leave the house.

What Penelope's little face looks like during the fireworks:

See the big scaredy eyes?

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, June 30, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

Welcome one and all to The Cephalopod Coffeehouse, a cozy gathering of book lovers meeting to discuss their thoughts regarding the works they enjoyed most over the previous month.  Pull up a chair, order your cappuccino, and join in the fun. This blog hop is hosted by The Armchair SquidClick on the link to sign up to join us.

The best book that I finished this month is War Brides by Helen Bryan.

Although this work of historical fiction/romance/mystery is fairly long, I didn't want it to end. I can't say that the writing is brilliant, but the characters are so interesting that I wanted to know what happened to them. It was hard to put War Brides down at night and go to sleep. I think I even dreamed about reading it.

Five young women end up in the English village of Crownmarsh Priors during the second World War, and all––in spite of their differences––become close friends and war brides. Their romances take center stage, but they're also dealing with refugees, pregnancies, evacuees from London, working as "Land Girls," rationing (of very bad food), and danger. Their day-to-day lives are interesting enough alone, but when one of them is recruited to go above-and-beyond the call of duty by her country, she jumps in immediately to give her all.

In addition to loving the characters, I'm pleased that this novel focuses on how important "women's work" was during the war. Helen Bryan writes in her "Introduction":

In households I knew as a child, family photographs of uniformed men and women were yellowing and gradually consigned to closets and drawers to make way for wedding pictures, new babies, and family holiday pictures. I began to add to what I already knew about how women had coped in the war, not sure at first what I would do with this information. The preoccupations women of any period share––falling in love, marriage, looking after husbands and families, struggling in many cases with financial pressures to make ends meet or forced by circumstances into spinsterhood––remained the same as the war engulfed everybody. In terrible times, and despite the heavy added burdens of war work, rationing, and the threat of invasion, many women fought a personal battle for some kind of normality, with the kind of determined courage never mentioned in the history books. Elsie, Frances, Alice, Tanni, and Evangeline soon invented themselves out of the information I was amassing. They hung about, waiting for their stories to be written.

I'm glad Bryan couldn't get these characters off her mind without writing their stories. I must say that the conclusion of the book also has a twist that makes me long for a sequel, but I don't expect one since War Brides was published in 2007. I wish I'd known about it sooner. 

This book will make a great summer read on the beach, at the pool, in your favorite chair, or where I read it: in bed.

Happy reading!

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Tuesday, June 27, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

My job search has reminded me of how much I hate buzzwords. Some of the job descriptions I've read make absolutely no sense. One said that the employee's duties would include "onboarding clients." What? Put them on board? Is it a cruise?

Favorite Young Man calls this kind of writing "corporate speak." I don't know the language.

Unless you're writing for a specific audience, avoid buzzwords.

Here are some buzzwords I can't stand:

Face Time
Impact (instead of effect)
Paradigm Shift
Come-to-Jesus Moment

I'm also amused by all the Web sites that tell me if I have even one typo in my resumé, then the potential employer will toss it in the trash. But the job descriptions are full of errors!

One of them said that the employee needed to have 205 years of experience. Wow! That company needs to hire someone much older than I am. The descriptions have plenty of misspelled words and misused words, too.

Someone needs to hire Your Queen of Grammar to write the job descriptions.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Thanks, fishducky!

Sunday, June 25, 2017


Gentle Readers . . . and Maxwell,

When Favorite Young Man was a rowdy Favorite Young Boy and The Hurricane was so little that she didn't even show signs of becoming a tropical storm, we lived near Seattle. Every now and again, we'd hop on a ferry to visit the beauty that is Canada.

On one trip, we spent the afternoon in Stanley Park in Vancouver, British Columbia––one thousand acres of heaven.

We went to an outdoor show at the aquarium:

It was a perfect, early summer's day.

We also strolled around the park for a while, and stopped where we saw swings and children playing so Favorite Young Boy could expend some of his boundless energy. Now, you have to understand something about the person who is now Favorite Young Man. When I popped him out at the hospital, he came out screaming I'm gonna end up with all sorts of injuries and scars from skateboarding, roller blading, bicycling, and a bunch of sports. I'll cover myself in tattoos, too.

Therefore, Favorite Young Boy didn't find some other kids with whom to play tag or claim a swing. No, he ran off to climb a tree.

Before we could say, Where in the hell has that kid gone now? he had his foot stuck in the crook of a tree and was hanging upside down, well above the ground.

He has always sworn that his father and I simply stood there and looked at him while he swayed in the breeze, but in reality, we dashed over to pull him out of the tree. On that one occasion, he did not suffer any injuries.

The subject of You stood and looked at me while I hung upside down in the tree continues to come up, but now Favorite Young Man has changed his tune. Last week he told me that he wished we had left him in the tree so he could have become a Canadian.

Hell, yeah, I said. Some nice Canadians would have pulled you out of the tree, taken you home with them, and given you an excellent childhood. Now you'd be a happy Canadian. What a mistake we made when we saved your sorry now-tattooed ass.

No doubt the story of the boy in the tree in Stanley Park in Vancouver, British Columbia, will come up again, as these tales do. Until the day I die, I expect to be accused of standing around to watch as he hung upside down in the tree. But now, I stand accused of eventually rescuing him when he could have had a better life as a Canadian.

I can't win.

Infinities of love,

Janie Junebug

Friday, June 23, 2017


HI! HI! Hi Hi Hi Hi Hi! It's me me me me me me me, Franklin the Bordernese, and I'm with my sister Penla who Pees! Hahahahaha! That's not really her name, but I made a funny so I laugh.

Penlapee and me wanna talk to you today because we have something we want, and we don't always get it.

We have this Human Brother. Mom calls him Favorite Young Man. It's okay if Mom goes outside with us during the day when we potty, but before we go to bed at night, we want Human Brother to take us out. Sometimes he's not here at bedtime. Sometimes he's asleep. He should be here for us every night.

Mom doesn't understand about us wanting Human Brother. She says there's no reason we can't go out with her.

Here's why we want Human Brother:

Penelope––I am so sick of Franklin spelling my name wrong that I could spit. Human Brother knows that my name is Penelope and not Penlapee, and he's not afraid to tell Franklin that he's wrong. Mom Mom laughs when Franklin calls me Penlapee. I'm sick of it. Sick, I tell you. Human Brother is at work during the day, but sometimes he's here at night. I wish to take advantage of that time frame; therefore, he should be here every night.

Franklin––Human Brother is tall. He is so tall. He can see over all the fences so he will warn us if monsters come out of the dark.

Penelope––Human Brother is very nice to me. He pays attention to me all the time when he's at our house, unlike Mom Mom who goes off to get sloshed on margaritas.

Franklin––Human Brother is kind of stinky. He takes showers, but he gets stinky again right away. I love the way he stinks. I could sniff his butt forever.

Penelope––Human Brother is strong. He's the strongest person I've ever seen. He is strong enough to take care of us if something scary happens out in the dark while Mom Mom is sloshed on margaritas.

Franklin––Last year we had a hurricane named Matthew, who is Fishducky's son. Matthew made the wind blow hard. Matthew made the rain fall for hours. Human Brother stayed with us the whole time that Fishducky's son was here. Human Brother protected us from Matthew.

Penelope––Mom Mom is drunk all the time. We are safe with Human Brother.

It's up to me, Franklin the Bordernese, to finish up here. I think you understand now why we want Human Brother when it's dark and scary outside. But that stuff Penlapee says about Mom, who is not named Mom Mom, being drunk? It's not true. And my sister's name really is Penlapee. Okay I love you bye bye.

I'm not letting that dog have the last word. It is I, Penelope. That is all.