And now…

let me pull a rabbit out of my hat:

Did you enjoy that?

Here’s another, though not rabbits this time, still extremely cute:

Just my little way of saying thank you for putting up with me.  And making me smile when it’s really hard to pull that off.

So thanks!

Janey Got Back


From Saffire — The Uppity Blues Women (thank you Craig for reminding me):

And how could I forget this?  Again, thanks to Craig:

Original post follows.

Thank goodness for my booty!  Yes, you read that right – my booty!  My backside, my tuches, my keister!  For anyone still unclear – my butt.  Thank goodness for my butt!

I was on the bus the other day when this wave of gratitude washed over me.  Another passenger stood up when the bus arrived at her stop.  As she waited for the driver to open the door she hiked up her jeans and her action caught my eye.  Then of course all I could see was that she had no backside. None. Nada. Zilch  There was nothing there to assist in keeping her pants up!  That’s when I realized that without my curvy derriere I might have the same problem.

I know, I know, sloppy, falling-down pants are in right now.  But I don’t care how fashionable some people believe them to be, you’ll never see them on this body.  Never, ever.  And honestly, does anyone really like that look?  I mean really?  Pull up your damn pants!  No one wants to see what’s under them or worse, that there’s nothing under them!

Thinking along these lines lead me to realize how grateful I truly am for my posterior.  Even ten years ago I would have laughed out loud if someone had told me one day I would love my butt.  I mean come on, it’s big people – not circus tent big but definitely above average.

If the media is to be believed a great number of women obsess about the size of their bottoms.  The actual number may even rival those who obsess about their breast size, but that’s a topic for another day.  If I’m honest with myself, I still have days when I’m not too happy with the backside.  But then JD will grab a handful when I least expect it, giving a little love tweak and I’m good again.  (Sorry if that’s TMI, it’s part of my evolution to loving the butt so it has its place here.)

I truly believe women should be celebrating their behinds.  From what I can see, a lot of men seem to enjoy them.

Bob Seger sang about Her Strut in the 80s.  While this isn’t specifically about a full-figured, round behind, it definitely refers to a female butt and the opposite sex’s appreciation of it.

“She’s totally committed to major independence, but she’s a lady through and through. She gives them all that they can handle, she’ll bruise some, she’ll hurt some too. But ohh, they love to watch her strut!  Ohh, they DO respect the butt!”

Then there’s Trace Adkins’ pleasure in the feminine anatomy not so long ago:

“…how’d she even get them britches on that honky tonk badonkadonk?”  And later, “We hate to see her go but love to watch her leave.”

From the lyrics you can surmise that it’s a larger than average posterior they’re talking about.  Too bad the official video used slimmer women who in my opinion, had almost non-existent butts.  But social media’s influence is everywhere, isn’t it?  And big butts aren’t politically correct.

That brings us to Sir Mix-A-Lot’s Baby Got Back.  The beginning of the official music video shows 2 Valley Girl-types discussing a Black woman’s behind.  “I mean, her butt, it’s just so big…”  The downside to this homage to a nicely shaped rear is that it’s very sexual.  It’s completely inappropriate for your pre-teen even if it might help boost her self image. My introduction to it was in the movie Shrek of all things.  And then I saw this:

I can’t recall how I discovered it but I watched it one day at work and had to force myself not to dance along.  They had so much fun with this that I could disregard the lyrics and just have a great time along with them.

While tracking down the videos for this post I also ran across this clip which I had never seen.  The best part starts about 4:44 but feel free to watch all 5-ish minutes.

I’m sure I’ve missed some obvious tributes to the female anatomy so feel free to suggest them in the comments if you wish.  I’ll wind this up with one last video that tickles me:  All About That Bass, by Meghan TrainorMy favorite part is the big guy’s moves, and boy can he move!

As the lyric goes, “I’m bringin’ booty back!”




Unintended Irony

Last night I had to go for a pedicure.  And by “had to” I mean HAD TO!  My big toenails tend to become ingrown if I don’t have regular pedicures, and as I was overdue by about 2 weeks I knew it was past time to get my feet in there, while I could still walk.

I’ve been going to the same place for around 4 years off and on.  Sometimes I’ll be in another town visiting family or my best friend and we’ll go to their nail salon, but usually I give my business to one of the local places near my home.  It’s bright and cheery and often very, very busy.  They’ve always had a spa chair sized for children too in case you want to bring along the little ones and introduce them to the joys of a nice foot soak and/or bright polish.  That’s about all they do for the kids; there’s no cuticle trimming or pumicing – why would there be?  They have baby soft skin after all the little brats!  Uh…um, sorry, I meant the little darlings!  Of course I did.  You can’t prove otherwise!

Anyway, to get back to my point (I think I have one here somewhere), they recently updated their child’s chair.  I’ve not yet brought any of my grandkids with me so I never had any reason to notice the original chair.  Last night though I found myself really seeing the new chair which looks like this:

Child's pedicure chair

In case that image is too small, check out this detail:

Child's pedicure chair - detail

See it?  Do you see it people?  A mermaid.  And quite possibly a cousin or other relative of Ariel from Disney’s motion picture at that.

See what I mean about irony?  Unintentional of course.  If you’re not getting it let me expound.  You know how I love expounding!

One of Merriam-Webster’s simple definitions of irony is “a situation that is strange or funny because things happen in a way that seems to be the opposite of what you expected”.  What the heck is a mermaid doing on a pedicure chair when a mermaid has no feet?!

See?  Unintentionally ironic.

It’s a slippery slope

It started innocently enough:  an occasional early morning visit with my friend from the billing department, and only when I had a gift card.  I was adamant about that…in the beginning.

Then work got busier, more stressful and I found myself looking for excuses to get away from my desk, get outside, get away!  The visits became more frequent, and now I was spending my own hard-earned money.  With the weather growing chillier it became even easier to justify stopping in and dropping a few bucks on my way to the train.  Hell, I even took the time on my way back from the chiropractor the other day.  Then I stopped again on my way to catch the train home.  Twice. In. One. Day!

It’s a slippery slope my friends.  If you aren’t already addicted to Starbucks* stay away – it’s a TRAP!




*We’re not talking fancy coffee here either; I almost never get anything other than a grande drip Pike for heaven’s sake!

Warning: Plot Complication! Warning: Plot Complication!

Well it was bound to happen eventually. I like the blogs I follow, go figure.  I enjoy reading others’ comments or responses to my comments.  That’s natural, right?  But I suppose I shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable doing it on my phone while sitting next to JD.

Yesterday I shared a post from the blog dearlilyjune which I follow and I was reviewing and clearing the likes when JD asked what I was doing.  Well I fibbed slightly, and said I was reading comments on a blog post.  I say “fibbed” mainly because I didn’t say it was my blog post, and if you want to get technical I guess it wasn’t a fib at all.  All I did was share it, I didn’t write it.  Way to justify a fib Janey!

Anyway, it isn’t the first time I’ve used that response when in actuality I’ve been reading comments on my own posts.  This time however, JD trumped my fib and said that since I liked reading other people’s blogs so much why didn’t I write one of my own?

Falling back on an old excuse, I claimed I just didn’t have the time to write a blog.  JD pointed out I could spare five or ten minutes on the train in the morning (WTF? Is he spying on me?) or after work before dinner.  Then, because I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the last I heard of it, I admitted I had started a blog some time ago, but that it was now gathering cobwebs due to the aforementioned lack of time.  I remarked that perhaps I could dig up the log in information and check out where I’d left it and possibly fire it up again.

I’m not sure whether I will revisit my old stomping grounds but if I do I’ll have to sanitize the existing posts so there’s nothing offensive or too revealing of family.  Because you know if he realizes I’m blogging he’s going to take credit for it and want to read it.

It would be an interesting challenge to see whether I can keep two blogs afloat.

And if you don’t “get” today’s title, check this out – the applicable reference is about 2:11 into the video.  You’re welcome.



To Tweet or Not to Tweet

That is so not the question.  I started to join the Twitterverse back when my old blog was active but it just never clicked with me.  Every now and again I will get emails from Twitter reminding me that someone I follow has posted something COOL, or AWESOME, or INTERESTING.  When I get those emails I do what comes naturally – DELETE, DELETE, DELETE.  I’m already way too plugged in to electronics to voluntarily add another tether.

But I saw this image on which made me almost want to sign up again. Take a peek and see what I’m talking about:


It helps if you’re familiar with this song by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis:

Was that awesome or what?  Hey, would Janey steer you wrong?

Thank You Dear Stranger

Tuesday’s aren’t my favorite day of the week.  It still feels a bit like a Monday, it’s a day short of mid-week, and it feels like there’s a reallllly long time till the weekend.  Then this morning I get to the station just in the nick of time to jump on the train, with the result there are very few seats left.  So yeah, Tuesdays suck.

Because of the dearth of seats I was forced to look for one upstairs.  I don’t like riding on the upper level of the train, I’m not sure why.  But this morning I’m glad I did because I got to see you, Dear Stranger and that made my Tuesday so much better.  On my way past you I caught a glimpse of the screen on your tablet and saw a few people wearing brightly colored garments which might have been uniforms.  While I can’t claim to recognize the specific program you were watching, I recognized the style I guess you could call it.  The brief look I had reminded me of the old BBC show Red Dwarf or something from a similar time period or genre.

I took the seat across from you and for several minutes I tried leaning my head back and closing my eyes, earbuds streaming my playlist to drown out the recorded PSAs and neighboring conversation.  One of the problems with being on the tall side is that seats designed for the average person aren’t all that user friendly.  In order to properly make use of the headrest I find myself slouching, which necessitates stretching my legs beyond my approved area.  Eventually I gave up and sat up straight.  Pulling out my own electronic device, I took my turn at Trivia Crack, blowing a really easy question and bouncing the first game back to my brother before picking up another crown in the game with my gal pal and then missing the very next question.  Switching to Solitaire City I glanced out the window while the game loaded.  With the sun still in hiding the glass was so reflective I caught sight of you shaking in your seat.  It took a second but I realized you were laughing and it made me smile.

Turning back to my phone, I played a few hands of solitaire and listened glumly as they announced the train would be delayed just outside Seattle.  “Let’s call it ‘freight interference’” the guy said.  Really?  You’ve just informed a train full of commuters they’re going to be late for work.  Does it matter what you call it?

Again and again my eyes were drawn to you, whether your reflection in the glass or your in-person face across the table from me.  You wore an almost perpetual smile and every now and then you would shake with laughter at something you saw on screen.  And every single time it made me smile.

So thank you Dear Stranger.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you for making my Tuesday so much better than it might have been.  I hope your Tuesday is as nice as you’ve made mine.

Work Stations

Our work areas say a lot about us don’t they? Here’s a peek at one part of Janey’s work station.


So what does this say about me, hmm? For one thing, I am truly appreciated by the partner I’ve worked with for almost 17 years. That’s the “AWESOME” cubed card if you couldn’t guess.

Then there’s my off kilter humor – the coffee quip illustrates it nicely.  Plus I have quotes from a couple of my favorite writers prominently displayed so I recognize that I need to be inspired throughout my day – don’t we all?

Finally, my “Is this the life or what!” sign and the reminder to breathe in AND out reflect the daily struggle to function and remain as positive as possible.

Hmm, I like that – I may have to make a new sign for my cube wall.


Has a nice ring to it.