Family · June's stupid life

Sad news

Today is a sad day over at the Gardensalad/GonnaEatThat household.  Marvin Gardensalad's grandmother died.

She was approximately 797 years old. Seriously, girlfriend was old, and if her pictures from her youth are any indication, it seems like she had a full, fun life. But no one wanted to see her go.

Grandma Sophie was about five feet tall, with a flaming head of red hair. Every time she saw me, she'd say, "Did you get taller? Why are you so tall?" I never told her she was a Shrinky-Dink and that was why I seemed like such a giant.

She had one of those "I'm old and I'll say what I want" kinds of attitudes that I admire and can't wait to have. There was little politeness filter going on with her, and every single time I saw her, she had me in stitches. She was hysterically funny, and oh-so-blunt.

Once we were at a funeral, Grandma Sophie and me, and the funeral director asked her how she was. She said, "I'm standing. In this place, that means I'm doing pretty good."

So, goodbye, Grandma Sophie. You were one of my favorite people on earth. You told me over and over that you had the soul of a cat. I think you lived your nine lives, and then some, with humor, grace and vivid red hair.

Family · Health · June's stupid life

Good night, Detroit!

I am back from Funeral Tour 2008. Did you miss me? We flew out of Charlotte on Monday, only to land in Detroit and learn of ANOTHER death as soon as we got there, so we went to two funerals in a 24-hour period.

Marvin Gardensalad's grandmother's funeral was really very nice. They captured her perfectly in her eulogy, and it was good to see everyone. One of my nieces is a genius, and I do not say that in a she-is-my-relative-and-I-have-an-inflated-view-of-her way. Seriously, she is scary smart.

The grownups, which frighteningly includes me, were talking one night and every time we couldn't think of something we'd call her in. She is nine, and we kept looking to her for the answers to life. She is like human Google.

"Emma? What's the difference between alligators and crocodiles?" She totally knew. "Emma, where are the Galapagos Islands?" She not only knew, she knew about the Galapagos Islands being famous turtle islands. (Don't even act like you knew that.)

Anyway, the thing about funerals? And all the funeral activity after? Eating. People eat eat eat. Why is that, do you think? And Marvin's family have all these traditional Jewish-y things that they eat, which includes red meat and MANY ding-dang sweets.

But I want you to know I did pretty well. I did have two bites of seven-layer cake, which would make it 14-layer cake, and I had lamb chops, which I have no idea if they are fattening or not. But I really ate a lot of the vegetables, one single slice of cheese, and decaf coffee or water instead of soda most of the time.

We didn't do a lot of exercising, unless you include the 46 times I walked from Marvin's parents' house to his aunt's, which are a block apart. So I have to catch up on the exercising.

Which brings me to another point. One of my commentors, who shall remain nameless but whose initials are Nancy Donnelly, suggested I train for the Iron Man triathlon or something so I can be more inspirational. First of all, Nan, I've got two words for you and they ain't "let's dance." I think I have to know how to ride a bike before I can train for a triathlon. However, I was reading Oprah Magazine again on the plane ride home (because I continue to be not cool at all), and there was an ad for one of those breast cancer walks, so I am thinking of training for that.

Years ago, when I trained for a marathon, I got in the best shape of my life simply because I was too horrified not to. Run 26.2 miles? Yeesch! I'd better go practice. It was the perfect incentive, or incenative, as my grandmother would have said.

And finally, in closing, I do have to tell you that today was not what you'd call a healthy eating day. We left Detroit early and headed to a small town called Essexville, where a good friend's father's funeral was today. I am so glad we got to go to this other funeral, as my friend spoke eloquently about his dad and it made me wish I had known the guy better, and also? Essexville? Either I have changed dramatically since I moved out of Michigan 15 years ago, or that town got really cute while I was out of the office.  Heart Essexville! Am I crazy? Michiganders? Your thoughts?

Anyway, we left in the a.m. without eating, went straight to the funeral, and then had to dash back to Detroit for the airport. So I am sorry to tell you that I had Taco Bell somewhere in there. And then? When we landed in Charlotte? We went to Barbecue King, which was absolutely delish.

But have I mentioned that I was going to let myself have one day a month to eat badly, just so I wouldn't lose my mind? My IDEA was that I was going to let myself eat badly the third Sunday of every month. I have no idea why. But I thought it'd be better to schedule it, or else I'd start off every day thinking, "Today will be my screwup day!" So I didn't plan today, but there is no way to deny it was screwup day for sure.

Okay, getting out of these black clothes, finally. Been doing my Johnny Cash impression all week.  Hello. I'm June GonnaEatThat.

Family · June's stupid life

There is a lot of “guess” in this one. No Guess jeans, tho.

Guess who's visiting? My father! He arrived last night. It was kind of a last-minute thing.

Guess who lovFatherdessert_10es to cook? That'd be my father. He is all up in cooking, and has all kinds of cooking gadgets that no one actually needs in real life.

Anyway, since I had to work all morning, and he was here, guess who I made finish off my dessert for me?

Also, I dragged him to Garden Club, where we had a lovely vegetarian lunch. I tried to go heavy on the salad, light on the quiche. And I had unsweetened tea.

See?  You old pal June is doing great. Oh. And I had one bite of the dessert that almost killed us all.

Family · June's stupid life · My pets

Climb Every Mountain

Last night, Marvin Gardensalad and I went to a lecture about Mt. Everest. That lecturer told a lot of tall tales. BAH!

Did you know that the people who actually live under Mt. Everest have a whole different name for it, and then when the British people decided to start rushing over there and climbing the thing, they just named it "Everest" after some British guy? Doesn't that make you mad? I think we should all start referring to it by its actual name given to it by its native people, and this argument would be a lot more powerful if I could remember what the name of it is. Something foreign-sounding.

In the meantime, Tahlula, — which is what we are now calling the dog, because Marvin hated the name Lulabelle and I did kind of just come home with a dog and all — spent her first hour in her new crate. She and I drove to MONroe together yesterday to go to PetSmart, and turns out? She is kind of afraid of automatic doors such as the kind found at PetSmart. Also? She is afraid of Cocker Spaniels, mail trucks and construction equipment. She is going to have to man up, for heaven's sake.

Anyway, we put her in that crate. You guys. You'd have thought we were KILLING her.

Then, at night? We put her in there again. Do you have any idea how many noises of sadness a puppy can make? There is the ar-ar-ar-ar-ar whine where she sounds like a dolphin. There is the mmmmmmmmmmm whine where she sounds like brakes. Then there is the oh-so-easy-to-sleep-during rrowwwwwwwww! howl.

I am looking forward to the part where you all say she will come to like that crate.

At any rate, in case you haven't noticed, I hope you know, that it is the end of the month. It is a leap day. Are ya leaping? My Aunt Kathy is flying today, and she said she keeps thinking that if she dies in a plane crash, her kids won't be able to think, "It was a year ago today mom died in the plane crash" because February 29th won't happen next year.

It's fine, really. My whole family thinks this way. Recently I played with a five-year-old member of our family? And she wanted to play funeral. We are practically the Addams Family.

My morbid roots aside, it is the end of the month, and I must adopt a new healthy thing to do for March. Remember? How I was gonna add something new each month? So, here we go. For March, I will try meditation every day. I am thinking I will try to do it in the evening, when Marvin gets home, because meditating with a puppy in the morning sounds fruitful, doesn't it?

I also thought that alternatively, I could meditate in the church before or after work. That church in the middle of the day, with no overhead lights and just the stained-glass windows? So pretty.

Anyway, that's the plan for now. Meditate, rename that mountain, muzzle that dog. Yep.

Family · June's stupid life

Another good one? I like it when you see a lamp lit through a window.

Is there anything that inexplicably makes you all happy and cozy? Or really depressed?

I once read that Gloria Steinem hated a radio playing in an empty room. Apparently that plummeted her into depression. I hate the sound of sporting events on TV. Ugh. Those whistles, the announcer, the crowd. I am depressed just writing about it.

I am pretty sure this is because when I was a kid, my father spent about 86 hours a weekend watching sports down in the TV room. Oh, he'd get mad. He'd yell and swear like a sailor when his  team lost. He would drink Cokes and eat Brach's chocolate stars. Perhaps his sugar high put him in a snit.

Sometimes I'd go down there with a cup and he'd pour me some of his Coke. Oh, it always tasted better when he was sharing it with me. But I think the whole "dad is swearing downstairs" thing made sports depressing for me.

Also depressing? National Public Radio. Those CALM voices, the utter lack of noise in the background. That cloying All Things Considered theme music. Do do DO do do do DO! ACK! Make it stop.

THAT one is because NPR would always be playing in the living room before dinner, and it meant I had to stop having fun and go eat. I always had to be really well-behaved during dinner. I couldn't curl my legs under me, I had to use my utensils correctly. And as I recall, dinner was always a fancy affair. I may be remembering wrong, but I remember always having cloth napkins, and candles, and bread in a covered basket. I'm not saying that was unpleasant, but I think NPR signaled to me, "It's time to act grown up and hold your fork right." Blech.

Now, something that makes me happy? When I am driving at night, and someone's garage is up, and there is a light on and someone is working in there. Do not ask me why. I have no idea.

I think this must have been something I saw a lot growing up. In Michigan, everyone worked for the auto industry, so every dad would tinker in the garage. So I think it's just familiar.

Another one that makes me happy? In the evening? One small light on in the kitchen. Like, maybe the light over the stove, or just the one over the sink. I can trace that one easily. Very often after dinner we'd go to my grandparents' house. Grammy would have just finished cleaning up the kitchen (which is also why I love the smell of Palmolive dish soap), and she'd turn off the lights except for the one over the sink. Then we'd all sit in the living room and talk.

Sometimes, when I got bored, my grandfather would take me back into the kitchen, just us, and we drink Cokes in there, with just that light on. Cokes figure heavily in my childhood, don't they?

Anyway, I have no idea how I got off on this tangent, except that I saw a light in a garage last night and got to thinking of it.

Tell me your "cozy for no real reason" stories. Or your "that plummets me" tales.

Family · June's stupid life · Marvin · My pets

Seven really boring facts about me

Three a.m. designs, which is not how the blog is spelled but I couldn't stand to begin a sentence with a number, has tagged me to write seven random facts about myself. But really, how random can they be? I have to sit here and think 'em up first.

1. Today, just as I came home from work, I sneezed and peed myself a little. This is a sign to me that I am getting really, pathetically old. I am 42 years, seven months and 25 days old. I changed my clothes, by the way.

Ruby

2. This is my cat, Ruby DeLuna. She is the eldest of my four pets. Well, five pets. We have a fish who lives in our blender, named Smoothie. Ruby is 11 years, eight months and 11 days old. Ooo! In a few days she'll be 11, 11, 11! Anyway. I got her when she was a kitten.

Rubykit_2 

Here she is, being a kitten, sitting near the dog's dish. We lived with a Sheltie then, which could be why she is relatively okay with our puppy now. She has lived with me in three different states. She knew me when I was a single, slutty gal. Okay, I had one boyfriend, and then Marvin Gardensalad, during her lifetime. Woo! What a Jezebel.

3. Marvin Gardensalad and I dated in college for three hideous months. They were hideous because I liked him about 75,000 times more than he liked me. We broke up. For 10 years.

Rd

Here is what he looked like when I met him in 1985. Oh, I adored him. And his indifferent self. That phone is probably ringing during the picture. I am calling again.

We kept in touch, for no apparent reason. I have generally stayed in touch with all my ex-boyfriends, though.

Anyway, he came to visit me in Seattle and we hadn't seen each other at all in that 10 years. Four months later, I moved to LA to live with him. A year and a half after that, we got married.

Married

Nice acrylic nails.

4. Supposedly, my great-great grandfather was the first person to walk over Niagara Falls on a tightrope. He is mentioned on a Trivial Pursuit card. The "supposedly" part is the part where I am not convinced this guy was actually a relative. It could just be my family trying to get above our raisin.

5. I have no spleen. It was removed during a bad accident I was in at age 12. I do not miss it. But I have to get shots so I don't get pneumonia.

6. When I was a kid, I used to model for my father's company. He was a photographer. I was the national [insert really famous flower company name here] flower girl when I was five or six. Then, two years ago, I worked for a competing flower company. But not as a model.

They used me as a model because believe it or not, I was really quiet and shy, so they could sit me under hot lights for hours and make me do horrid things like make me drink milk and I would not act up.

7. Marvin Gardensalad and I collect pictures of people we don't know. Below is a picture of a couple who started our obsession. Tons of their photo albums were for sale at a junk store, so we bought them, then set to work learning all about these people. We found where they were buried, and used to visit their grave on Mother's Day and the like.

We now own a ton of other albums and loose photos of strangers, and we also have framed photos up of strangers, too. So when people come over they always have to say, "Now, is that your grandmother or a stranger?"

Anyway, due to this strange hobby, a guy is making a documentary film about us. He has filmed us a bunch of times. I have no idea when the movie will be done.

Nv

Okay, so I am supposed to tag seven people, but I will let you pick yourselves. Tell me seven things about you either in my comments or on your own blogs. But let me know you did so and direct me to your blog. Take me to your leader.

Family · June's stupid life

Puppy Love

Thanks, everybody.

I agree that meditating on this job is a good idea. I AM supposed to be meditating this month, remember? I picked a bad month to do a slow-down thing. I picked a bad week to stop sniffing glue.

So, I got the Holy Tuesday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday bulletins printed! Just 150 Easter bulletins and I am good! Wooo! Woo!

Also? I am proud to tell you I just got done running four miles. Sweaty much? Right now I'm looking a bit like Elvis in concert in 1977. If you'd like, I could throw you one of my silk scarves.

My Aunt Sue has one of Elvis' silk scarves. She practically knocked another woman out to get it. You don't want to mess with my Aunt Sue. Really. You don't.

Now that I have filled you in on my workout, my work, my potential work and Aunt Sue's prowess, I must touch on a subject that is …delicate. If you are related to Marvin or me, you might want to bleep over the next paragraph, as it could eek you out.

How do you have sex when your puppy watches every move you make all the time? You guys! It is so disconCERTing! She watches and jumps up and down and makes puppy noises. I felt like we were having three-way with Chewbaca.

I guess we are going to have to do it in the guest room for the next year. Oh, sorry, relatives. I told you to only skip over one paragraph. Oops.

Oh, man, Intervention's on. Gotta go. LOVE me the cable.

Family · June's stupid life

The Getter Got Gotted

So, Miss April Fool over here only managed to fool a few people, and I am thinking I need to retire for a few years. Wait for people's defenses to be down.

So in the meantime, I went about the rest of my day. A man named Mac Davis came over to fix our dishwasher, and I am proud to tell you I did not make any Mac Davis jokes. If you were born after 1972, you probably do not even know who Mac Davis is. But he was the dung for awhile. He believed in music. He believed in love. And he believed in big white man 'fros.

So, late in the day, I get an email from my cousin. I have mentioned her before. She is technically my mother's cousin, and she shares my name. Which, sadly for her, has meant her name has been Big June since I was born. Despite this, she seems to like me.

Big June gave me her mother's bedroom set last time I was back home, at Thanksgiving. This bedroom set rock rock rocks. It is from the '40s or '50s, blond wood, and it screams my name. Not literally. That would make it hard to sleep.

Not only is this furniture totally my style, my great aunt was one of my favorite relatives. She was funny, she was understated, she had a bird nest.

You know how I am about bird nests. Well, my great aunt, who owned this bedroom furniture, had an Easter basket she put right out her kitchen window every year and birds would always build a nest there. She would actually put newspapers on her kitchen window, like a crazy person, so the birds could do their business and she wouldn't disturb them. She left a teeny crack in the paper so she could spy on them.

She claimed the birds really liked to come to the nest right when she was watching Jeopardy at her kitchen table. She surmised they really liked Jeopardy.

You can see why I liked her. And you can see why I was particularly honored to have her bedroom set.

Well.

Big June emailed me today and said she was really sorry, but she wanted the furniture back. She and her husband were willing to drive TWELVE HOURS next weekend to come get it.

Now. You cannot fool me. I wrote her back and said are you trying to April Fool me, because I am not being fooled. No, no, she said. Really. She wanted the furniture back. Could they come next weekend.

You guys. I was so SAD. I have already put that furniture away in my new house. You know, in my mind. I was SO LOVING the idea of my '50s furniture in my '50s house. I could not BELIEVE she was coming to get it back.

I read to Miss Lilly today, and I talked to her about it. "Oh, it's an April Fool," Miss Lilly said. No, no, I said. I asked and she said no. "You tell her you won't GIVE it back then," Miss Lilly told me. Miss Lilly, who wouldn't say boo to a goose, over there telling me to be aggressive.

When I got home, walking like Eeyore through the door, the phone was ringing. It was Big June. "I forgot to tell you one thing," she said. "APRIL FOOL!"

Okay, that is so not how I play this game. If someone says is this an April Fool you have to then admit it. That is SO NOT how Big June played. Oh, she was tickled with herself. She laughed, she chortled, she hugged herself a little.

"This warms my heart," she told me, "getting you after all these years of you getting everyone else." "WHAT heart?" I asked her.

Whatever with Big June. At least the furniture is still mine.

Family · Health · June's stupid life · My pets

Feet and teeth

How much do I heart y'all? It is nice to have friends, even tho you wouldn't know me if I spit on you. Thanks for cheering me up. I do feel better.

My favorite comment was the woman who said if her husband had a bad day at work, it meant someone couldn't see, but my bad day means I have a ".?"

Anyway, the dentist was not bad at all. I went to one in Charlotte, because I am a snob. It was in a fancy neighborhood! Man! The houses there must cost two hundred thousand dollars!

Now I'm just being obnoxious to annoy my LA friends. Really, though, it was a fancy part of Charlotte called Mint Hill, which seemed to contain no hills and no mint. I chewed the ground in several places. Nothing.

The dentist had to do some drilling, but he didn't have to numb me and it didn't hurt. I grind my teeth something fierce, and I wear a sexy night guard, but apparently I grind them during the day, which I think means I need to look into more relaxing hobbies such as yoga or heroin. He had to smooth out the many places I have chipped my teeth, which again? Alluring. Relaxed, is what I am.

Then, when I got home, Tallulah sauntered to the door with complete dignity, sat down and smiled at me with her blindingly white puppy teefs. This makes me think she read my blog while I was gone and said, "Holy mackinerny. I'd better be good today." And she was. She was nice all day. She didn't even pull on her leash, nor did she put it in her mouth and try to walk herself.

And who is giggling at the thought of her sitting like a person in this chair, clicking with her claws to get to my blog? "Buybuypye….no. Hmmm. Okay, bibipi…. woof! crap! okay. biybiypiy….grrrrrrr…."

My Aunt Mary, the one who has seasonal jewelry, called me today to say she has bought Tallulah a Christmas present. It is APRIL.

Who is excited she has another person to shop for? You think she got Lula seasonal jewelry?

My Aunt Mary, who started doing pottery as a hobby to keep her off QVC for seven minutes a week, has become sort of wildly successful and award-winning and stuff. She has a new website, and I am going to plug it, because I know you are over there thinking she is making coffee mugs and ceramic clowns, and I need you to go over and see how fricking weird and cool her stuff really is. Then I want a psychological assessment of her. Discuss.

Finally, tomorrow is my weekly Chic Critique 'column.' I have no idea what I am going to talk about tomorrow, because I sent dcrmom about 87 posts in advance, knowing that things will be nutty for me in the weeks to come. So I will be discussing body hair or lipstick or rabbit stew or calculus or something.

Oh! I almost forgot! The other day I told you I had to run a time trial and I had no idea what it was. All it required was a simple five-minute walk followed by a five-minute run then four acceleration gliders and a three-minute walk and a one-mile run which had to be timed and then a warm-down, which involved doing all those things in reverse.

Okay, Jeff Galloway? I am certain you are my demographic, and that you check this blog daily. This is why I feel it is appropriate to address you directly and say HOW IN THE SAM HILL DO YOU EXPECT ANYONE TO REMEMBER ALL THAT? I had to tape a list to my treadmill, and he doesn't even WANT you to do a time trial on the treadmill.

Jeff Galloway, we are a dumb people, we Americans. Only 50% of us can find the U.S. on a map (I am, sadly, not making that up). We can't find our OWN LAND, Jeff Galloway. WHY, then, do you think we can remember a five-minute walk followed by a five-minute run then four acceleration gliders and a three-minute walk and a one-mile run which had to be timed and then a warm-down, which involved doing all those things in reverse?

All I have to say to you is, .?

Family · Friends · June's stupid life

Put off posting to persue pasta, pesto and pansies

Perhaps you're thinking, "I wonder if that June is ever gonna post anything today." Perhaps you are living your life and you hadn't even noticed I'd posted nothing today.

Today was a busy day. There was very little health going on.

Here is first thing this morning, when everyone jumped on the unmade bed. Did you notice in my extremely scientific survey that it was just about 50/50 of people who did and didn't make the bed?

Unmade_4

I had to pack today, for the whole moving to Greensboro. I packed sheets, my old coffee maker, work clothes and a pen. That about sums it up.

Marvin needs stuff here, too, so we have to split everything up, like we're getting divorced, without the getting-to-date-new-people part. I made sure to take HALF the forks, and to leave him a large number of bowls. I took one tube of toothpaste, and left him the other. It was all very nit-picky.

Also today, I went to see Miss Lilly for the last time. Tomorrow the van will be here and I was worried I wouldn't have time for her. I am sorry to tell you the goodbye was sort of anticlimactic. I thanked her for letting me read to her, and told her how much fun I had, and she said, "Me, too! Okay, bye!"

I think this may have had something to do with the fact that I came at an unusual time, and she had been watching her stories. So she was kind of okay, heifer, smell ya. One Life to Live is on. Maybe she'll miss me tomorrow at our regular time.

I also had my final Garden Club meeting. It was funny, because we went around the town changing out the flowers we had planted back in October, at my first Garden Club meeting. (In case anyone is worried sick, we replaced pansies with begonias.)

Also, just like my first meeting, there were ham biscuits.

The Garden Club gave me some beautiful note cards with photos of flowers on them as a little going-away. I asked them all to drive up some meeting and landscape my yard as that month's task. They ignored me.

Then, Tallulah, Marvin and I went out to the country, as opposed to this urban metropolis here, and had dinner with a couple we have come to know and love. They live way out, on 20 acres of farmland that has been in their family forever, in an old cool house with bead board and hardwoods and crystal doorknobs and basically I spent the whole night trying to mate with their house.

Before dinner, we took a big walk across all their property (and by the way, they had these FAKE SNAKES scattered here and there to scare me. Mother of Pearl, it scared me every time. Bluch.), and could Tallulah have had a better time? She kept LEAPING through the wheat fields and was so excited she was going "Raaaaa, raaaa, raaaaaahhh" trying to break off of her leash. Also, these friends have a beautiful orange cat named Rusty that she was trying to snack on.

I am pleased to tell you that she did manage to clean out Rusty's cat box later. If you know what I mean.

Dogs are disgusting.

Anyway, at least that part of today was healthy. We had really, really good salads, and delish pasta with pesto, and French bread with some sort of salsa-y dip that if I were remotely sophisticated I'd know what we had, and man, it was good. I mean, that with cat poop makes a complete meal.

So now we are home, and Marvin is already asleep with all his clothes on, and Winston is eating the bag my new work clothes came in, and really I think tomorrow will be just as dinglity danglity busy.

One Life to Live is on. Smell ya, heifer.

Family · Health · June's stupid life · My pets · Proofreading/Copy editing

Lula and Hardee’s

I was all comfy-umfy in my leopard pajamas when I remembered it was May 1 and I have to do my measurements today. Crap. You'll be thrilled to hear that I did remember to bring a tape measure with me in this otherwise spartan household.

So, my weight went down three pounds, I think (click on Progress a la Mode. I can't remember exactly. It's down, though, to 142), and I have lost inches in my hootie-hoots. Okay, thanks. Don't give me a smaller arse or anything. That's just what I want. Smaller hootie-hoots.

Oh, how my hippie parents are looking back sadly to the days they taught me to refer to my body parts by their real technical terms, and I am over here saying hootie-hoots to the world.

Peace out, mom and dad. I am free to be Me and Me. I still respect my body and know all about bad touching.

Speaking of which, Lula and I just spent an hour and 15 minutes sniffing the butt of everybody at the dog park. You guys, she is doing so much better at not being horrified of other dogs. She even took a stick from a full-grown Lab! She had a great time with a giant Schnauzer and other similarly big dogs.

There was a bloodhound puppy there who was the same age as Lula. Let's talk about that behemoth. His eyelash was the size of Tallulah. His paws were bigger than my hootie-hoots.

I just wanted to say hootie-hoots again.

Also today, I finally got some feedback on some editing I did at my new job. I have barely done any work at my new job. They really prepare you thoroughly before they give you anything, so I have shadowed people, I have looked at old work, I have read every pamphlet and catalog and ad and website we put out in the world. Trust me, I have researched the dang job.

So then when they finally said, here, edit something, I was secretly, what? I can't do this! I have no idea how to edit anything!

I do this every time. Also, I panic because I think I am going to forget all the rules of grammar. And you know what? I do forget them. I read a sentence and know it sounds stupid, but I don't go, "My, what terrible use of passive voice. And that participle! Man!" Instead I just kind of instinctively fix things.

At any rate, after being on pins and also other pins all day, my boss said, "You did a marvelous job on that [insert what I do here] article today."

Why do we always feel like imposters when we aren't? I am so afraid I am going to be found out as someone who doesn't know what they're doing, and yet I know I DO know what I'm doing.

It's stupid.

Anyway, I like everyone's idea that I don't do anything healthy this month, but what I have decided to do is tell you everything I eat every day. Because that should be humiliating and maybe will make me healthier.

So, today.

Black coffee. Seventy cups.

An Oatmeal-to-Go thing. It's like a cookie, but you tell yourself it's oatmeal.

Coffee cake that was free at work. Free to be coffee and cake.

Peanut butter (creamy) and jelly (grape) sandwich on whole wheat.

Cup of canned peaches (packed in juice).

Wheat Thins.

Bacon cheese fries from Hardee's. Yes, really. Nutritious and filling. You got your vegetable, your dairy, your meat.

Small cheeseburger from Hardee's, which I ate half of cause those fries were delish and filled me right up.

Dr Pepper. Cause I love me the Dr. And did you know Dr Pepper doesn't have a period after "Dr"?

A banana.

That is all. I'd say that's enough. Exercise? Two 15-minute brisk walks at my work breaks, and a really brisk walk/pull through the woods with Lula, maybe 12 minutes total.

I hope you all had a good May 1. Today is Barry Gibb's dog Barnabus' birthday.

And yes, I understand that I am pathetic.

Family · June's stupid life · My pets

Ruby Rosie Lemons

Did anyone else see that full, lemon moon tonight? Oh, it was beautiful. I know I totally sound like my mother right now. Whenever I am around my mother, she is forever pointing out things in nature.

And she calls me Harry–June, which is my stepfather's name and then mine.

"Oh, Harry–June, did you see those pretty flowers?"

And now I have become a person pointing out nature. Oh, Harry–BlogReaders, did you see the moon?

Do you think my mother is actually trying to tell me I need a depilatory?

Anyway. I got to see the full lemon moon because Tallulah and I were coming home from puppy obedience class tonight. We learned our names. So, there was a Boxer next to us named Rosie, and the trainer was demonstrating on her. "Rosie!" she'd say, excitedly, and just one time. If Rosie actually looked, she got a treat.

Within four seconds, Lula was totally on to this game, and every time the trainer said, "Rosie!" guess who went over and sat and totally tried to pretend her name was Rosie. Who was getting a fake ID before class was up and a big "Rosie" tattoo on her arm?

But the good news is, and I hope you're noticing this is actually about health, the trainer said I can RUN with Tallulah as long as it's just for half an hour twice a week, and only at my brisk 14-minute-mile pace.

I am so glad! Do you have any idea how hard it's been to come home, walk the dog, get back in the house, put on running clothes and go out again? Pu-leeze. Actually, I did that tonight and when we got to obedience class, I was a tomato and everyone must have thought I was a little overly aroused about being there, with the panting I was doing, and also sweating in rivulets.

Sexy. I'm too sexy for my obedience class.

Plus, I forgot to mention that along with 12,000 more boxes, because we apparently have emptiness in our souls and fill them with stuff, Marvin also brought Winston with him this weekend.

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Now, he was supposed to bring Ruby, as she needs medication from time to time, and last week Marvin sent an email that just said, "I had to pill Ruby. It wasn't pretty." So, I thought she should come here, where I can pill her in a millisecond.

But, Marvin couldn't find Ruby in the house, so instead he brought Winston. I guess he figured any cat would do. It is nice to have my Winnie here, and you can see DustBuster likes it too.

Finally, I leave you with a picture out my front door as I left to run tonight. Oh, Harry–Lurker, isn't it nice?

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Faithful Readers · Family · June's stupid life

Duck, duck…

Sorry I didn't write yesterday; it was a run-aroundy kind of a day. My stepsister and her spouse are coming this weekend, which is going to be fun for them since this house contains one chair, no table, one bed and 400,009 boxes.

At any rate, I was preparing for their visit and all of a sudden it was 10. Which is when I go to bed. I am very persnickety about getting enough sleep. There is a woman I work with who has a 14-month-old and twin six-year-olds. Humans. She gets around four hours of sleep a night. I would kill myself daily.

Did I mention her husband works third shift? Have I mentioned I would kill myself daily?

Even though I just met her, I am forever trying to think of a way to solve her life difficulties. As though she hasn't explored every avenue in her own head.

Oh, and speaking of life difficulties, I know I mentioned there are new baby geese who flew into work. Onto the "campus." Whatever. Anyway, there are three adult geeses and three babies. Do you like me for saying "geeses"?

I have become obsessed with why there are three adults. Are these well-to-do geese and the third adult is the nanny? Is the male a polygamist? Or are they three adult women geese who are being single moms together? Maybe they all got the runaround from the same player male goose.

Alternatively, perhaps one of the adult geese is really a teen, who was a baby last year, who is somehow slacking and refusing to leave home.

I really need more to do at work.

Anyway, yesterday at lunch I was reading a book — because what's better after a morning of proofreading than a lunchtime of reading? — and the geese honked so much it got my attention.

There were the three adults…and just two babies. Oh, you don't know. You don't know how sad I got. I walked all around the "campus" (sigh) and I saw all the other, older goose families, and all their kids were in tact. I looked behind bamboo, in doorways, I looked everywhere for that baby. I do not know what I would have done had I found it. Picked it up and delivered it to a giant, hissing, pecky goose? Probably.

When I took my 3 o'clock break, the goose was still honking, like every 10 seconds. It was awful.

But I am happy to tell you that at the end of the day, as I walked to my car, I saw the family in the distance, and I actually dropped everything and ran over there to make sure I saw it right. The third baby was back. I'm sure no coworkers thought I was nuts, dancing around and screaming "YES!" over by the geese.

Oh, I was so worried a hawk had swooped down and gotten his downy little self. Maybe someone at work went out and bought a new baby goose so I'd shut up.

Also, I keep forgetting to tell you that The Nester and her sister came to see me this past weekend! Nester's sister and I have emailed because she is familiar with Greensboro, and she was basically my off-the-record real estate agent. So, they knew where I lived, generally, and when they drove past, Marvin and I were unloading the car from our daily $5,000 expenditure at Target.

It was so exciting! And I know Nester already mentioned it in her blog, because one day earlier this week I had 9 million visitors before noon, and when that happens it always means Nester mentioned me in her blog. If I am getting her sloppy seconds, I cannot imagine how many readers she must get.

Also too, Nester's mom was in the car, absolutely appalled that her daughters were dropping in on someone they really only knew cyberly. I told Nester that my mother is always appalled that I tie my bra on my head at wedding receptions, when everyone knows it's totally acceptable these days. Moms are so picky.

I had better actually shower, as although it is casual Friday, I do not think the pink pajamas and blue robe are what they had in mind. Maybe I'll wear my "I'm Obsessed With Geeses" tshirt.

Family · June's stupid life

The Voracious Knee

Well.

One way to be sure to eat well is to have out-of-town guests come in. Yeesch.

My stepsister and her husband came to visit us. Normally they live in LA. We took them to IHOP, cause we're classy. We took them to a minor league baseball game, because they have a black Lab who brings the balls out with her teefs. We took them to a fancy dinner tonight. Actually, we split the check. So "we took them" is an exaggeration.

At any rate, you can imagine the fine food we consumed.

Are blackened green tomatoes bad for you? Cause I had that tonight as an appetizer and man, it was good.

I do not need to ask you if smores are bad. We had those too, in our back yard.

And by the way. Do you remember how my insane dog walker stole the neighbor cat because she convinced herself it was a stray? And then I made her give it back because it BELONGS to someone and she is a NUTBAR who makes animal lovers look like zealots?

Well, that cat is outside ALL THE TIME, and so her is stripey orange sister. And I am forever petting them and giving them food and water. Now, I know the woman next door loves her cats, I really do. But now whenever I open my door, they come inside and sit with me in my house like it's normal. They are just little, like maybe six months.

Do not let me steal these cats. Please stop me.

Have I mentioned how pretty they are?

Oh. And another thing. I have taken back up with the running, and it was all going well until the other day when my KNEE started feeling like it was full of molten lava. It's very unsettling.

Why do people always describe lava as "molten"? Is that an actual scientific term, or does it just mean really hot and people always say it like they say voracious reader and not, you know, greedy reader?

So, has anyone experienced the molten knee before? The voracious knee? What does it mean? Am I dying? Should I not run 7.5 miles tomorrow? Sleeping Beauty, my half-marathon partner, said I should ice it and not run. Is she full of crap? Am I full of Lava Soap or actual lava? Can I make a lava lamp out of whatever is in there?

Do you wish I'd stop now?

Family · Health · June's stupid life · Times I Amused My Own Self

Chick filled, yay.

I hate to say it, but I had the best salad today at Chick-Fil-A!

Chick-Fil-A is a fast food restaurant that I think is only in the South. They sell chicken things. Which I guess you could glean from the name. Unless you thought hot women sold filets there.

At any rate, I had to go to the mall at lunchtime, because my father has the nerve to always have his birthday right at Father's Day. His birthday is June 17. You can see how annoying this is. So I have to get TWO cards and TWO gifts. I try not to do that phony "This gift counts for both" thing that those poor December birthday people always have to put up with.

So I was there at the mall, pickin' out the cards, and Chick-Fil-A was the only restaurant in the whole mall. Sometimes I miss LA so bad I could spit.

And let me tell you something. People in the South? They do not move as quickly as I would like them to. And also? Everyone around people who are not moving quickly? Do not seem to mind that things are moving slowly.

After waiting seven hours and fifty-two minutes, it was finally my turn, and this OLD MAN cut in line and said, "I don't have time. Get me a lemonade." Can you believe the nerve? How I wish I were a person who could say mean things. Instead I sighed heavily and looked at my watch. I'm sure that made all the difference in the world to the guy.

Getting to the salad is taking as long as my wait in line. So, it had lettuce, strawberries, grilled chicken, grapes, apples, granola, sunflower seeds and carrots. Oh, did I ever like it. And filling? I wasn't hungry all afternoon. Of course, I was writing about wax worms all afternoon, which can dampen any appetite.

So that's my salad story. It seems like I had other crucial things to tell you. Oh, yeah, I am dogless this week. It is so chaotic here with all our stuff, and I have to do freelance work at night, so it was just easier to let Marvin have Tallulah this week.Sea

It's just me and an ocean of cats. Who continues to amuse herself? Who is the starfish of her own show?

Family · Food and Drink · June's stupid life

Riding the wagon wheel coffee table with Clark Gable

I am home from work, and Bitey the Pit Bull is in here with me. She is spread out on the concrete floor, cause why is it always so hot in the South? You never saw Scarlett O'Hara looking perspire-y, except for the day Atlanta fell, and anyone would be sweaty if your whole town was on fire. And you were sitting next to Clark Gable on a wagon.

Do you have a list of favorite men from different times? Or is that just me? I have Clark Gable circa 1938, Jim Morrison circa 1968, Barry Gibb circa 1978.  Years ending in "8" are apparently good for men. Oh, and Cary Grant anywhere from 1940-1965.

My in-laws are in town and will be here shortly to go to dinner. I am sorry to say that we will likely be returning to Pastabilities. I am only sorry to say it because the name still makes my asshole pucker up and twitch, as my grandmother used to say. Other than the dumb name, the food is delish.

Also, my mother-in-law said I could just not blog about it if I got dessert yesterday, but I did have one bite of pots de creme — one bite of the vanilla and one bite of the chocolate. But that is ALL. And we were sitting outside at dinner yesterday, and as a result I felt not all that hungry, so I had three side dishes of vegetables for dinner. The fact that one of those vegetables was some creme-filled, pretentious version of scalloped potatoes is beside the point.

Aren't scalloped potatoes wonderful? Who invented them? Could you ever get tired of them? I don't think I could. Whenever I am at a buffet, I go for the potato/cheese things first, way more than I would sweets. Am I alone on this, like I might be alone on Barry Gibb circa 1978?

And I guess after all that waxing about potatoes, you will all be glad for me when you hear that the nurse at work is starting up a Weight Watchers on site. I am excited. I remember back in 1992, at my first real job, they started a Weight Watchers and I wanted to join up just to be like everyone else, and they wouldn't let me because I weighed less than 127. I want to go back in time and date Clark Gable, then slap myself.

Family · June's stupid life

Some bloggers do giveaways. I do poop-ins.

To anyone who was worried I might be crappin', I'm fine. I had only given up meat for a week when I had my carnivorous extravaganza.

When I was in high school, I spent many a dinner at my best friend's house. My friend's brother Buddy and I spent an inordinate amount of dinnertime thinking up all the pooping euphemisms we knew. Why her mother didn't stop us is beyond me. At any rate, 25 years later they all still kill me: building a log cabin, laying some cable, got a turtle head poking out. And so on.

If you know any others, I beg you to mail them in. I need fun, over here.

I have begun my treacherous next few weeks of working full-time during busy season at my job, driving 40 minutes home, then working on a FOUR-HUNDRED-SIXTY-PAGE BOOK at night. I did not even realize it was that big until last night when I proofread the table of contents.

Does anyone have any of those big jugs with the XXXs on them? Send like 50 of those while you send your poop euphs, too.

Last night it occurred to me that this extra work is something I'm doing because I was too scared to say no. It is not work I have to do to pay the bills. That's what my regular job is for. So I asked Marvin, "Can I just buy myself something good with this money?" and he was too afraid of me to say no. I am a little testy as of late.

I'm gonna have at least a thousand dollars to blow, which will be a nice thing dangling in front of me when I spend sunny weekends and warm, firefly-filled nights bent over a statistics book. It will kind of be like the time I ran a marathon, and my mother promised me she'd have a bottle of champagne for me at the end. By mile 19, it was like that thing was on a stick dangling in front of my head, you know, like donkeys and carrots or dogs and rabbits or whatever.

When I finally crossed that finish line, I searched the crowd for mom and her bottle. Where was mom? Where was my champagne? WHERE!?!?! WHEEEERRREE!?!?! Then I saw her.

"Honey, I left the champagne in the car."

It is one of those things I will never get over, like the time my father had my cat put to sleep when I was six. Which I'd tell you about but for Father's Day this year my father said, "How about for my Father's Day gift I never have to hear about that %^*#@ dead cat again?"

So I am not allowed to tell you.

At any rate, I looked on the Internet for what I might buy with my torturesome freelance money. And now I wish I hadn't looked. Because of course I found the most beautiful ring you have ever seen. The most beauuuuutiful ring the world has ever created. And it's too expensive. 

Go look at it. It's lovely, isn't it? And I don't need it. I have actually bought myself two, not one but two, ruby and diamond rings over the years. But oh! It's so pretty!

Anyway, I'd have to work like 50 hours on this book to afford it, and it's only gonna take me 40, probably, and no I am not going to lie to the client and say, "It took me exactly $1700 to proof this book. Hmmm." Maybe instead of an invoice I could just send them that link.

So what I'll probably do is get something for the HOUSE, which, zzzzzzz. My mother suggested it.

But of course she is the one who deprived her only child of liquid after that child had run 26.2 miles.

Family · Food and Drink · June's stupid life · Marvin

Nuttin’, honey

I'm blogging at work again, which is going to make Tee decidedly nervous. I'm on my LUNCH hour, what possible harm does it do to blog at lunch? I guess I will find out when they fire me and I have to wear a barrel.

Why did people wear barrels? Weren't there potato sacks or Nordstrom's or anything they could have utilized instead? I mean, how dramatic. Barrels.

So, regarding my post yesterday, I was NOT trying to let you all know my birthday was coming up; I would never be that subtle. Besides, I won't even be reachable on my birthday, as Marvin and I will be at my mother's cottage in northern Michigan, or "up North," as they say. Not at all redundantly.

Next week is not only my birthday, it is also the 10-year anniversary of being married to the Gardensalad. Who I got really mad at about cream cheese this weekend. Anyway, we are taking Tallulah and driving to Michigan, where my mother is going to give me some furniture that she has been wanting to give me just forever, but I always lived in California and it was not possible to get said furniture to me.

Well. I didn't ALWAYS live in California. If I did, my mother would not have ever met me.

Anyway, after the receiving of the furniture, we will all drive en masse to my mother's place on what I guess you could call a lake, but that makes you think of some massive body of water, which isn't really accurate. Maybe we could say my mother's place on a pond.

I just love it there. There is a dock, which is basically my favorite thing in the world. I love sitting on a dock and watching the water. There is also badminton, which is my second-favorite thing in the world. There are also board games, which my mother will try to get me to play for the 6,740th time, and which I will refuse to play for the 6, 740th time.

After our days on the pond, Marvin and I are returning to the bed and breakfast where we got married, and we're spending our 10th anniversary back in the wedding suite, where we hope to again open lots of checks.

Okay, I'll just tell you, cause you're all gonna comment asking what about the cream cheese. So, since I am working full-time and driving 80 minutes a day and then proofreading that 468-page statistics textbook in my "spare" time, I told Marvin that he had to take over everything else for now, including food. So when I woke up Saturday I asked Marvin to go get bagels.

He came back 487 minutes later, because it always takes Marvin a lot longer to go do things than it takes me, and he said, "Now, don't get mad."

You guys. So many, many times, Marvin and I have gotten in fights because I have sent him to get something and he came back with the wrong thing. Like, once we were having a party and I was doing everything frantically and I gave him a list of things to run and get at the store, and he came back with half the stuff on the list. "Where is the garlic?" I asked him, naked with wet hair and 15 unblown balloons in my hand. "I figured we had to have garlic, so I didn't get any."

You do not know the blows we have come to. Don't even ask about the time he got tomatoes and not tomato paste. One wonders why I don't just give up and go get the stuff myself, but I always seem to forget that these tragedies are gonna happen.

So on Saturday when he said, "Don't get mad" I knew I was gonna be mad. It alllllll comes rushing back to me every time it happens again.

Marvin got (are you ready?) onion bagels and HONEY WALNUT CREAM CHEESE.

Now, what freak would think that was a pleasant combo? How did the bagel store even allow him to leave like that? Don't they have measures in place?

And what's worse is when he does this, he acts like I am the fussbudget. Like annnnnnnyone else would be HAPPY to eat an onion bagel with honey walnut cream cheese, it is just diva me, over here, who cannot abide by it.

Anyway, terse words were exchanged, although I did apologize later. And I ate the onion bagel with the honey walnut cream cheese. If I am lost at sea for a week and a half, and the boat that finally rescues me presents me with only onion bagels and honey walnut cream cheese, I promise you I will wait till we get to shore.

Anyway, we're celebrating 10 years of this next week. I think 10 years is the honey walnut anniversary.

Family · June's stupid life · My pets

Say yes to Michigan. But don’t say yaaaaaa.

I came down to the basement to blog, and now my mother is sitting ONE INCH from my head, in the rocking chair next to the computer, hoping I can come up with a dinner plan for tomorrow.

Okay, has she MET me? If it were up to me we'd all be eating Lean Cuisines tomorrow.

So, my mother's dog attacked my dog. We were worried about this. We met in a park, hoping the neutral territory would make Gus less attacky. Instead, when my mother opened the back window of her SUV, Gus JUMPED out and directly onto Tallulah, and Tasmanian Devil-y said, "Rrrruuuruuublablablaruu!"

And Tallulah said, "Yipyipyip!"

We don't think teeth ever really entered the picture, but it was scary enough and now Gus is at the kennel. I used to like Gus.

Gus

Here he is last fall, at my mother's place "up North," where we will be going without his bitey self in about an hour.

Other than dog drama, things are fine. We went to a Greek restaurant last night and I had spinach pie and some sort of Greek potato thing and man, it was good. And yes, my mother-in-law DID run with me yesterday, and for whoever asked, she is in her mid-60s. She works out like 750 times a week. She'll go to three classes in a row at her gym and stuff like that. I know I am totally making her sound like an exercise bulimic right now, but she isn't.

I had better go get ready to be northern now. I am interested in seeing whether Tallulah will swim. Oh, and I think I forgot to tell you that we pulled over to see Alpacas the other day, and Lula? Not such a fan of the Alpacas. I'm thinking her dream of retiring and owning an Alpaca farm will not work, seeing as every time she sees her moneymakers her hackles will go up like a pterodactyl and she'll say, "rrrrrrrrrrrrrRORRORORORORORORWWWW!gggrrrrrrrrrrr…"

That is the third dog sound effect in this entry.

Oh, and speaking of sounds? People of Michigan? YOU DO NOT HAVE TO SPEAK THROUGH YOUR NOSES! Seriously! Try this. Say, "dot com." It is not "daaaat caaaaam." Really. You have a whole larynx and voice box and everything. Give your nasal passages a rest. I beg you.

Now that the whole state hates me, I will go partake in your northern prettiness. In the caaaaabin.

Family · June's stupid life · My pets

Chili Cheese Dog Park

A friend asked, "Did your decline in readership begin about the same time as the purchase of your webcam?"

Okay, SHUT UP. My webcam ROCKS. It is perfect for me. All I need is me, writing about me, while taking pictures of me and putting them up on what I wrote. About me.

Besides, my readership is up up up! I think. I can never do the math. Anyway, who cares? Remember I wasn't gonna care?

At any rate, I am trying to write you while I am being STARED at unblinkingly by SOMEONE in the canine family who might have heard me say "dog park," so I must get right to it. There is nothing more penetrating than the stare of a dog. Well, I mean maybe surgical instruments are more penetrating. Perhaps a huge javelin coming at me at 5,000 miles an hour is more penetrating.

You know what I mean.

FIRST of all, which really technically is third of all, as I have already touched on so many important topics, my diet is HORRENDOUS as of late. I had another chili cheese dog from Sonic today. Could someone get me banned from there? They are my kryptonite. My Samson's hair. My Samsonite.

So right now I am being GAZED AT with an intensity UNBEKNOWNST to anyone previously while I am sipping a smoothie. Okay, so a smoothie has 9 hundred billion calories. Still, there is fruit involved. And yogurt. IT'S BETTER THAN A CHILI CHEESE DOG, OKAY? Just cut me some slack, man! I'm tryin'!

I am still trying to be vegetarian, despite the chili, hooves, and snouts lunch. Marvin has done a really marvelous job of providing vegetarian dinners when I get home, so I just have to do better at lunch.

Speaking of Tallulah, which for once I wasn't, several people today have sent me the story of that poor child named Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii. Have you heard about this? Her parents named her that and she got to be a ward of the court and change it.

Okay, seriously. This is why I don't have kids. I would TOTALLY name my child Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii if I thought of it. "Well, we're thinking Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii if it's a girl, and Snaphappy Fishsuit if it's a boy."  I really, really would! And this is why they invented birth control.

Plus, I think Talula Does The Hula From Hawaii should lighten the lei up. It's a GREAT name! It conjures up happy Hawaii plumeria images, don't you think?

But perhaps my perspective is skewed.

When I was a kid, my parents were total hippies. They will deny this, but please. They sat on the floor and drank tea. We made tie-dyed  snowmen. They came to PTA meetings wearing caftans (especially dad).

So, being the big hippies of Michigan that they were, we used to get together and have awareness sessions where we would drink our tea and discuss our feelings over a big fattie. (Okay, there were actually no drugs in their hippie life. It sounded authentic, tho, didn't it?)

Anyway, one night around the hookah my parents said, "June, man, you're your own person, man. Your name is June right now, but whenever you're ready, you tell us what your name really is. Man."

I was four.

I mulled it over for a week or two, in between protesting the war and campaigning for McGovern, and finally I said, "Pam, John, sit down. I have my name." (Yes, I really did call them Pam and John. They did not go in for labels. Man.)

"My name," I announced, "is Sparkly Rose Blossom."

Thank everything they said no. Cause what would I have done with that name? I'd totally be on the pole. Workin' at Scores. At age 43. Mmm. Pretty.

But if you know me, and maybe even if you don't, you know, Sparkly Rose Blossom was really a good pick. I love all sparkly things, and everything should be pink and flowery, if you ask me. So, I have to hand it to myself that I encapsulated myself pretty well. It was way more me than had I chosen, say, Joan Beigesuit or something.

SERIOUSLY that dog has no PATIENCE! Grow up already! Yeesch. I guess Hula and Sparkly better hit the park.