That’s why the Juney is a tramp.

Why does Edsel have to go outside and bark bark bark? The neighbors must hate me. Can't he just enjoy outdoors? Sniff a rock and survey his domain in silence, the way Tallulah did? But no. Instead, he tears over to one of the four backyards we face (one is sort of in the corner. And it technically shows us TWO yards) and barks endlessly at anyone who has the nerve to be in his or her own dwelling. Particularly if any of those people happen to be dogs.

Is this a Carolina Dog thing? I need to get on my Edsel Support Group page on Facebook. We're all forever checking in on one another. "Does your Carolina Dog make prank phone calls? Does your Carolina Dog always burn the chicken?"

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Do you karoline dog ROCK DE INTERNET?

Speaking of chicken, I've ruined the chicken and the egg so far this week. On Sunday I went to the grocery store and got things like yogurt and nuts and fruit and spinach until Ned finally said, "What's gotten INTO you?" and I explained to him how tired of feeling fat I was, a thing he can identify with because he can't work out with his bulging disk and he abhors his own self currently.

He's been out of town all week, Ned has, and each night I come home and make something sensible and do Tracy Chapman and so far I've gained six pounds.

Anyway, the first thing I did was never cook the chicken breasts I bought, and now they've gone bad. They're using the wrong form of "their" on Facebook and protesting soldiers' funerals cause they hate gay people.

Then last night I made the eggs. "How do you hard-boil eggs?" I asked Ned when he called me from the airport. He's not staying at an airport; rather, he was coming home. His plane was delayed, natch, and it made his mood sparkling. He got in late last night and has to get up for physical therapy at 8:00 today, so.

He gets too tired for PT at 8:00. He likes the theater and always comes late. He's extra into whatever he ate. That's why my boyfriend-for-90-days-same-as-cash is a tramp.


That song makes no sense. I mean, MY version totally does, but the real one. How do any of those traits make you a tramp? I mean, you could just apply any trait and be all, "Tramp."

She blogs for too long; for work she is late. She's dragged to movies she knows she will hate. If she and Ned fail, she wants a rebate.

That's why the Juney is a tramp.

I have no idea what we were talking about. Let's move on. And that's why the lady is a tramp. No matter what your comment is today, I want you to follow it up with telling me why that makes you a tramp. You know how I get. That's why the blogger is a tramp.

She talks about her crap with barons and earls.

Okay, I'm over it. No, I'm not. I'm like Edsel in the yard. I can't get over it.

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I finished my 10-year-anniversary-of-blogging video last night. I came IN here to write something for Purple Clover (I know, right? They asked) and after, I took a gander at my video and then sat here for 29 hours changing it again. I did not use the photo above, where Ned looks pensive and deep but really he was checking out the menu at Steak and Shake. But I've always liked that Ned shot. That's why the lady is a tramp.

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You probably saw this cute Iris photo on Facebook already, unless you are officially my mother, who is not on Facebook. While I was home, I noted if I typed Facebook into her search bar, it just leaped right into my FB page. Mom'd been bemoaning missing out on family things by not being on, and I said, "If you want, just get on Facebook through my page. I don't care."

So she took her laptop and typed it in and started perusing my wall, till she came across a political post she did not appreciate. Did not cotton to. Did not care for the cut of that Facebooker's jib. "How do I leave a response?" she asked. And that is when I took FB away from mom.

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I took this photo of The Poet's dinosaur bag to show Ned, and then I never did. Please see: Ned is in Chicago Being President-y. But now you can all see it, and congratulations. Please see My Readers Aren't Presidents of Anything.

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Speaking of readers, did I show you this? A bunch of readers got together and got this artist woman to make a needlepoint of my Luis! Oh, Lu. Look how she got every detail right. That's just where her ears fell. And her little Pitty jaw.

Here's what I do when there's sadness. I feel sad at the TIME, but then I rally and I'm all okay, I'm okay. I can do this. Let me just adopt a Stanley or something. And then I feel bad months later, for a really long time. I have a delayed reaction, and it's worse the second time. Like, my grandmother died, and I still feel the impact of it, whereas at the time I was all, oh okay. I can do this. I can handle this. And then it turns out, no you can't.

That's how I feel about Lu. I feel worse now than I did when she died. I hate fucking grief. I think we're better off not liking anything. And that's why your blogger is a tramp.

How did I go for a thousand words about nothing? If a blogger types a thousand words, then why can't I say anything resembling anything? These words will never show the you I've come to know.

And that's why this blog post is a tramp.

44 thoughts on “That’s why the Juney is a tramp.

  1. Oh! Those moments are the worst.
    I’ve had many like that, more in the days right after she died but randomly since. It’s such a natural thought and sometimes it doesn’t dawn on my for a few minutes that I even thought it. I’ve also picked up the phone and/or thought, “I better call Mom.”

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  2. My mom lived on the street right behind me. On my way home from Christmas shopping today, as I got to the intersection of her street, I thought, I wonder what Mom’s doing today. Don’t know where that came from. On December 21 it’ll be ten years ago that she died unexpectedly.

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  3. I never got a chance to check in yesterday so this morning it was like I had a whole post just for me! Then I saw all these tramps left comments.
    I also hate grief. It was the same when my mom died. We knew it was coming and yes, I was sad, and there were tears and grief but I was able to do everything I was supposed to do and held it together really well. That was almost 7 years ago and now the strangest things will hit me and my knees almost give it out from the weight of the grief. It’s strange how that happens. Maybe it’s something our brains do to protect us. We cannot comprehend the entirety of the loss immediately because if we did it might kill us.
    Deep thoughts from silly Jan this morning. That’s why I’m a tramp.

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  4. I love how you say “I have no idea what we were talking about” like we’re chatting on the phone and you can’t recall the rest of the great story you were telling. Like what you were saying isn’t just right up there. Scrollable.
    I’m sitting in front of the fire, getting up seventeen bazillion times to let my dog in, then out, then in. And so on. I guess that’s why I’m a tramp? I seem to remember more fun reasons, lost in the mists of time…

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  5. Dying. I have an ironclad policy of not commenting on my kids’ Facebook pages, but their aunt doesn’t and leaves comments that really should have been sent as a personal message. It’s agonizing. AND my husband refuses to get his own Facebook page, but then he’ll use MY Facebook Messenger to talk to the grown-and-flown kids. Only, he writes messages in this weird, stilted manner, as if he doesn’t quite know English. “It’s a chat,” I tell him. “Write like you talk.” Which, come to think of it, is sort of stilted, as if he doesn’t quite know English. Never mind.
    Anyway, I wish he would get his own Facebook page and stop embarrassing me.

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  6. I don’t know if Eds has been a barker all his life. My puppy is almost 13 and just recently went from barking maybe 18 times in her entire life, to barking at least 3 times I day. I talked to the vet about it, and he said it may have something to do with her getting older – that her wiring may be changing in the brain or that she doesn’t see/hear as well as she used to and it it more of an anxiety response. I don’t know. But it scares the shit out of me when she does it, because it is so unexpected.
    I have recently become President of the Cheese Cake/Roll Around on the Bed to Zip Up My Pants club. No one wants to be a member.

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  7. Okay yah whoever lady is a tramp but don’t forget…*he’s* a tramp. He’s a scoundrel. He’s a rounder (?). He’s a cad. He’s a tramp but I love him. Yes even I have got it really bad. You can never tell when he’ll show up. He gives you plenty of trouble. But I guess he’s just a no count pup, but I wish that he were double. He’s a tramp….
    But that’s life (that’s life). That’s what people say. You’re riding high in April. Shot down in May. But I know I’m gonna change that tune…when I’m back on top, back on top in June.
    And maybe that’s why the lady is a tramp?

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  8. My mother-in-law has facebook and why?? She commented on a picture of a good looking guy with “Yum.” I told her to never do that again. That is why she is a tramp.

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  9. Also, I just love that needlepoint of Lu! What a thoughtful gift. Friends of mine had a portrait painted of my sweet male cat, Silver, when he died, and I cherish that picture.

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  10. My nephew’s (who lives with me) girlfriend’s (who comes up to stay with us every other weekend) pup is a Barky McBarkerson. I’ll be petting him and talking to him, walk out of the room, walk back in a minute later and he barks at me as if he’s never seen me before. He’s lucky that he’s so cute. And that’s why he’s a Trampy McTramperson.
    I think that grief never leaves you. It only quiets down and flares back up. You just get better at not dwelling on it and keeping it calmed down. When my fiancée passed away, I think that I handled the situation very well, considering how incredibly shocking and difficult it was. But four years later, I will see a car like his, smell his cologne or hear a voice similar to his – something out of the blue that reminds me of him – and will feel the familiar gut punch of grief and the whole unfairness of it all hit me like a frying pan. It is a physical pain that almost doubles you over. Same with my kitty-girl who passed away last November.
    That being said, there are things that I do to ease that pain. It seems very cathartic to yell “FUCK YOU!!” to every diamond engagement ring and what your wife/husband wants for Christmas commercial, this time of year.

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  11. Can we get a linky-loo for the pet artist? That would be a great gift for my sister who is mourning the loss of her sweet Lab.

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  12. I need help getting my mother off Facebook. She’s 77 years old and clueless but wants to be hip. (Which is probably how my own kids describe me, minus the 77 year old part.) She thinks every notification she gets that someone posted something is a personal message sent only to her. Hence she feels the need to read us everything everyone posted, which we’ve all already seen. She recently bought a printer that she was told will allow her to print from her phone. Why? So she can print the Facebook notifications to show us later.
    Yesterday she sent me a request to follow me on Instagram. My life is over.
    And that is why I am a tramp.

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  13. Eggs! What about the eggs?
    My mom uses my FB page, too. So I don’t follow all the trampy things I WANT to, trying to not completely horrify her.
    Does that make this lady a tramp?

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  14. “And that is when I took FB away from mom.” Mother is a tramp.
    The needlepoint of Lu is absolutely awesome!
    Grief is terrible, but if we never love we never have to grieve.

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  15. Mom’s and Facebook.
    This morning on Facebook I liked a Photoshopped Time magazine image of Trump humping the globe and I have fully disappointed my mother.
    That’s why Rinaldi is a tramp.

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  16. Ned: hot-hot-hot photo. He looks good in the scruffy beard. “I’m the President of all this, so I can wear what I want.” So Ned’s lady IS a tramp.
    Saw the needlework last night, and checked out her page on FB. She is really talented. Even gets the fluffy & scruffy dogs with texture. I’d like her to do my long-haired Siamese, and enjoy it while she is still with me.

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  17. Edsel feels he is “doing his job” protecting all that is his and you. He is part working dog and that is how they roll.

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  18. My dog rarely barks. And only if she has a reason that is important to HER, like she has to go out. People at the door? She barely raises her head. Except when my daughter’s boyfriend comes over. She likes him. And that’s why my dog is a tramp.
    Phyllis, the aloof, skittish Siamese, also likes the boyfriend. She allows him to pet her. And that’s why Phyllis is a tramp.
    I’m not even sure my daughter likes her boyfriend as much as the dog and cat do. And that’s why my daughter is a tramp.

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  19. My dog rarely barks. And only if she has a reason that is important to HER, like she has to go out. People at the door? She barely raises her head. Except when my daughter’s boyfriend comes over. She likes him. And that’s why my dog is a tramp.
    Phyllis, the aloof, skittish Siamese, also likes the boyfriend. She allows him to pet her. And that’s why Phyllis is a tramp.
    I’m not even sure my daughter likes her boyfriend as much as the dog and cat do. And that’s why my daughter is a tramp.

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  20. My dog rarely barks. And only if she has a reason that is important to HER, like she has to go out. People at the door? She barely raises her head. Except when my daughter’s boyfriend comes over. She likes him. And that’s why my dog is a tramp.
    Phyllis, the aloof, skittish Siamese, also likes the boyfriend. She allows him to pet her. And that’s why Phyllis is a tramp.
    I’m not even sure my daughter likes her boyfriend as much as the dog and cat do. And that’s why my daughter is a tramp.

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  21. My coworker has barky dogs in their neighbor’s Yard. They bought this little birdhouse looking thing on Amazon and put it in their backyard. Whenever the dogs start barking it makes a noise that only the dogs hear and makes them shut right up. They say it works real well.

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  22. I was diggin’ on that picture of Ned thinking it was beadhead. And that’s why this Betty is a tramp.
    Lovely post, June the tramp.

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  23. I guess I should have put oofread (autocorrect) proofs and ad (autocorrect), damn. I’m trying to say PROOFREAD. I hate this damn autocorrect.

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  24. Awesome post, as usual. Love that needlepoint of Lu. Your blog is the first thing I pull up every mornings ng. And that’s what by this lady is a tramp!!!

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  25. The needlepoint of Tallulah is amazing. Kudos to all the readers who arranged this for you. I’m sorry for your delayed grief for Lu and your grandma. Apparently, Edsel is trying to distract you by barking at every ding dang thing. My neighbors dogs are like that and take exception to our going outside every.single.time they are in their yard. And that’s why they are tramps.

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  26. two mornings ago i had a cry-ey dream. about my ex. i still grieve over my loss. yes, he’s a dick. but he wasn’t always a dick.
    so, grief. and every ding dang time i think “am i done now? can i be done now?”
    and that’s why i’m a tramp.

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  27. “She blogs for too long; for work she is late. She’s dragged to movies she knows she will hate. If she and Ned fail, she wants a rebate.”
    I am dead. Good one, June!

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  28. In Chicago where the snow is starting to fly. This city is a tramp. I have a girl cat that does not stop talking, and it is in a high pitched squeaky toy voice. All day long when I am trying to work. If she manages to go outside and sees another cat she will chase that cat until Kingdom Come. Kingdom Come is a tramp. Agreed grief is a tramp.

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  29. Maggie and Howard are barkers, too. We have block wall fences so they can’t see the other dogs in the surrounding backyards, but they can smell them and hear them. I have to run and bring them in the house as soon as they start.
    I really like that picture of Ned
    I’m so sorry about Lu. It’s not an overstatement when I say that I don’t even know how I will go on when Maggie isn’t here anymore. I’m sorry you’re still having a hard time. She seemed like a once in a lifetime dog for sure.

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