Moon Introduces Tuesday

Hi, my name is Moon Polis, and I'm a Maine Coon Cat. I am the head of animals here at home. There is a new member of the family trying my patience. Honey brought a puppy here to the house, whom she had just adopted here the other day. I have to admit she is cute, but she is already bigger than me and her paws say she will be a lot bigger than I am when she grows up. What is the matter with these people? Aren't cats enough? I put up with Autumn, and two years ago, Mom insisted on bringing two street cats in. Of course, they recognized my authority immediately.
I allowed this new puppy--her name is Tuesday--to greet me even though she did not show me the proper respect. She collected all the cat toys she could find and put them in a pile, then ran around like a greyhound! Mom says she is mostly a Catahoula, the Louisiana State Dog, with a little German Shepherd. Nobody is mentioning Catahoula's are dogs that bring down bears and boars. Knowing that, I understand completely why the other cats hid.
I was around when Honey's dog Tree--a German Shepherd mix--and Sammy--a purebred Red Golden Retriever--were alive. Sammy used to give me baths, as if I needed them! I knew he meant well so I tolerated the drool washing. Max, the Yellow Lab from across the street, comes to visit too. You can see I am a feline dog expert. The other cats do not have my experience though. Before Max puts one paw in the door, they are history!
People ask a lot from cats. I should not have to deal with Tuesday, the Catahoula puppy. It is hard enough getting sufficient pets and finding comfy places to lay. So even though I vote against her, Tuesday the puppy, has officially joined the family. However, I'm drawing the line at baths.

Nausea, Nausea, Go Away. Don't Come Back Some Other Day

Lupus. It's always ready to surface and bit you on the butt. Yesterday, I started the day slightly nauseous, riding in the car up to Philly, I was headachy and a little car sick. I forgot my iced coffee, and I was driving, so I pulled into a Philadelphia Dunkin Donuts and ordered a large mochachino. It turned out to be gigantic, but delicious, so I drank the whole thing. I thought 3 PM was early enough and the coffee would stop my hunger pangs. After visiting Bubba Freda, we drove up to Randy's a Northeast Philadelphia restaurant. The two good things I had to eat were my Bourbon Manhattan and my peanut butter mousse cake. The fish tasted fishy and I thought the sauce was simply very hot hot sauce. Harry didn't rave about his either and the waitress quoted us the wrong price and then denied it for Bobbi's veal chop.
Fern and her new boyfriend came by and they went home to Bobbi and Marvin's to wait for us. Fern wanted to know my psychic uptake on her boyfriend. I'm no Sylvia Browne; I'm just a normal Lupie whose brain damage has caused an awareness of everyday psychic stuff. Anybody could do it. I picked up lots of stuff like he leaves his socks, stuff from the kitchen, and cups, anywhere and everywhere. I saw he worried about money and how afraid of being hurt again he was. I knew when the phone rang at Bobbie's, it was Fern wanting her psychic information. That was fun for me.
It takes a while to drive back to Delaware from Philadelphia and it was Harry's turn to drive. I didn't doze, and I didn't doze later. In fact, at 3:30 AM, I was still very awake. I felt drunk. Nine hours before, I had had one Manhattan. Sometimes when that happens, I take Ambien, and I did that last night. Today, I awoke with a hangover. I have decided, when that happens again, I'll just stay awake and watch movies. I recognized how my body felt all that day and night as a taste of my lupus. I'm very lucky. I just had a friend die from her lupus. Not only have I not died from it, I won't. I don't believe lupus is one disease, or else it has SO many levels.
About a week and a half ago, I was still in Oregon, visiting my brother. I wish it were easy to visit him. It's so expensive and I feel pretty bad when I have to leave. Life is so frigging complicated.

Central Nervous System Lupus and Psychic Awareness

I haven't written here for a long time. I've written only a little on Facebook and one article on Lupus for SCOOP,USA. I go in and out of things. For a long time, I was giving psychic readings on spark people. I did well, if you're not looking for Sylvia Browne. I can still get information, which hopefully, I interpret correctly. I ask "Bubba". Initially, I thought I was asking my husband's very beloved grandmother. I realize though, the spirit answering could be my mother's mom, also my Bubba. Any of us can direct questions to the spirits who love us. Then, just sit tight, focusing on something like breathing, and the answer will come.
I developed my slight psychic ability through Lupus. My flares were ones that hit my central nervous system. One day I didn't know anything, and the next day, I could sense spirits. Lupus. I was never sure,and still can't be, that anybody was sending me anything. Then I saw Aunt Millie. During another lupus flare, I awoke to see Aunt Millie, my neighbor's aunt who'd passed away a few years before, standing by my bedside. She was filmy and not looking at me. When I talked to her too much, she started fading, so I asked her to please, please stay, and she did. We didn't have any communication; I figured she either meant to go next door or she wanted me to give her niece by marriage a message. They hadn't parted on friendly terms so I assumed the message was a kind of apology and I told her niece.
When my very beloved cousin passed away, I grieved terribly. I don't think I'll ever get over his death. Not more than a year after he died, one night he started to communicate. First, his photo flew off the mantle (by itself, with no other photos moving), to the floor, landing face up, without breaking. One sneaker did the same. My keyboard put itself back with my staring at it. MY shade took itself up two inches. A couple Christmases ago, Harry and I were driving home and our car filled with cigarette smoke. It happened again a couple of nights later. (Jerry was a heavy smoker.) One morning, someone touched my cheek; I thought it was Harry, but he turned out to be in the shower. I think I heard Jerry's voice another time, but I don't remember clearly.
I had one creepy psychic visitation from a spirit I apparently brought home from a night's stay in the hospital. That was awful. In the hospital itself, spirits visited all night patting me on the knee, reassuring me.
I'm sixty-one, hopefully not close to dying; but having someone you love suddenly sicken and die really gives you perspective. Most of my problems are arthritis or joint problems. I'm out of shape and overweight; that's a terrible combination. Occasionally, I use a cane. I've started to hand-paint them for other people in addition to painting at my easel. It's lovely sitting in my studio, overlooking our backyard. Right now, the trees are in leaf, the lillies and hostas are blooming. The birds are always at Harry's birdfeeder, chirping away. It's lovely.
Life isn't easy for anyone. It's all relative. I have been very lucky with Lupus though. I can walk and talk, think, and paint, plus communicate a little with spirits. That isn't always the case with lupus survivors. People don't always survive. I look at my life and I'm kind of amazed.

My Cats

Two of my cats are looking into and under everything here in my room. Tigger was walking around making plaintive sounds and looking. Keke is just looking. Moon is somewhere else and Autumn is up on her bed sound asleep. God, I love them. They are so precious and I get such a kick out of them. Autumn is the shyest cat I've ever had. My cats were always friendly to everybody. Moon is over friendly. He expects pats and ongoing attention from anyone who comes through the door. He is the head cat. He eats first, making his "apprentice", Tigger, wait. Autumn though can come up and just knock Moon away from the food and he lets her. Until this week, when people came in, the only cat they saw and were forced to pet, was Moon. Lately, Tigger and Keke have been venturing out. They ignore visitors; they don't really trust human beings except for us. We feed and pet them. I change their kitty litters which doesn't actually make them happy. They don't like me fooling around with it. Especially Tigger and Keke expect the litters to clean themselves. Or whatever.
Keke likes to sit in my lap and Tigger flops on me in the bed. Tigger is still wary even of me, but he's getting better day by day. Both of them are easily startled. I don't know how long they were outside. Because Tigger's brother showed up recently in South Philly, where Tigger came from, I can see Tigger and Keke were kittens. Or I think so. Tigger's brother has a huge Tom head and Tigger doesn't, which means I got him fixed before he was fully grown. Keke has learned to put his claws in when he sits on my lap. His little paw pads are so soft, like little baby toes. I have never doubted animals have souls. I am the guardian of my little colony of four. And I love them.

Nanny Job Goes South or Somewhere

My little nanny job went south. The woman didn't even call me; I called her to tell her I'd be there. She had been worried I would allow her kids to do whatever they wanted, and even though I told her that wouldn't be the case, I think she decided "No", after all. She told me she'd received a letter today laying her off and I took her at her word, but I think her word was worth nothing. Who gets a letter and that day, they're laid off? Hospitals, which is where she works, give you notice. And a person with manners calls as soon as possible and preferably, tells the truth. I would really like to work for someone I trusted. I don't need the job; I wanted to work with children for a couple days a week. I get a very bad feeling about that young woman. I think she talked with someone else and decided to hire that person. Maybe her children liked that person too. Good. It's underhanded, but lots of people are sneaky. First off, I'd like to work for a person who liked me at least. Appreciation would be a big deal. I guess I shouldn't expect that. But I do want honesty. Not somebody telling me a ridiculous story like this woman did. I imagine another nanny job will come down the pike. Women have to work, and young college women finish school and want to work in whatever field they studied for. Usually, being a nanny isn't a career.
I'm upset, disappointed. I doubt I would like working for someone who wasn't even going to call me and tell me I wouldn't be needed. Ugh! It's like the Art Galleries. Jeez, aren't there any honest people left? Now I know why my friend Nancy is so picky about her clients. I'm not used to this, but it's a good idea for me to work at.

Getting Clean

All I'm gonna do is complain. My weight has gone up. I'm trying to get "clean" like in OA and so far, I'm not making it. What I want to do is stop as soon as I get the signal. Even before that, I want to set out a portion for myself. Last night, I mixed a big glass of Bailey's and seltzer. I didn't need that. And I inhaled a tuna hoagie, which I guess was better than inhaling an Italian hoagie.

My weight has been climbing. I thought I would get back down to 190 and stay there, but instead, I've gained weight. I know I want my body to be acceptable to my vision of myself--chunky, but not a overtly pear shape. To me, I look like Humpty Dumpty. I don't have big breasts; it all goes to my butt, or now, my belly. Waist? What waist? And what's that? That might be menopause, but it's too big. Of course, I want to eat whatever I choose, and at most, guestimate the calories. I'm forgetting that fat is building up in my carotid artery. (Like I'm gonna care about that. Don't we all live forever? Does our fat influence our health? Our bodies, my body, doesn't believe it.) Harry is a major undermining factor, he has yet to cut down. His office is candy and junk food central. And I eat it. I can't blame him really. He's not ready. His risks are greater than mine, but we're both blind. No wonder our health-conscious daughter has given up.
I believe my weight shot up after I started anti-depressants, but I'm certainly not willing to risk depression to lose weight. My acceptance is sitting there and could be tapped. I'm giving myself time and the use of the Sparkpeople tools. And I'm hoping.

Pulling My Life Together

Pulling My Life Together
Current mood: busy
Category: Life

It looks like hundreds of people--just short of 500--have read this blog. That doesn't seem likely, unless they look, then realize I haven't written about Art or politics, or whatever they want to read.
I went shopping today, for one Hanukkah gift, a hat, and some other things. I hit only Boscov's; they had it all. Now that it's very cold, I'm wearing a down jacket, but I lost my red hat to the mice in the garage. (I dumped everything.) I bought two much too small nightshirts that stretch. I liked them and I hope I lose weight so they won't look so awful. I love to shop and sometimes I buy too much. That happens when you grow up poor and wanting things you'll never get. After that, it's hard to say no to what you want.
When I was a young teenager, my fellow students dressed in beautiful clothes, with leather handbags and shoes that were expensive. Kids like to dress the same, and everyone who could did. I came from the same background they did, but my family couldn't afford those kind of clothes if they could afford any at all. I wore hand-me-downs from my older cousin in New York. My mom didn't sew well and neither did I, but we took in Cousin Sharon's dresses and jumpers. We hemmed. I must have looked strange. I think I was the only Jewish kid who dressed poor. I felt "less than", deprived, angry, and in pain. Junior High School is always torturous, but my experience was hell. I made it hell because I didn't know how to deal with my pain and anger. My mom thought my reality was my imagination and that left no one to tell. No wonder I couldn't wait to get out of that house and school.
Nothing improved, and I got crazier, until when I was nineteen, I started psychotherapy with an unusual guy. For a long time, looking back, I denigrated what he did for me, but finally, I realize he brought me out of psychosis. I'm still wacky, and I like wacky people. He used to call me a kook, but working with him, I was able to live in reality, and eventually, to have another child. (He thought that was nuts too.) I used to get fired regularly, but I see now that was okay. I was telling the truth, and bringing light onto the insanity of the work situations. Never a good idea, but I just couldn't play along. I still can't, but now I don't want to. Don't have to.
I went for more therapy later. That stint helped me delve into my deepest feelings and accept myself.
The moral of the story is that therapy can give a desperate person a satisfying life. Definitely worthwhile.

Sunday, December 21, 2008


Max’s Opinions
Current mood: busy
Category: Pets and Animals


MAX'S OPINIONS

Jaynee's friend Max is a Yellow Labrador Retriever who lives across the street. He read the articles by our cats and feels he should have an opportunity to speak his mind too.

Hi, I'm Max. The dog biscuit lady is my good friend. When I go outside, I like to spend my time with her. I remember when I lived there a little bit. I enjoyed eating the cat food and I could go up and down the three staircases. She fed me meat from her plate and gave me lots of pets. I loved running around her backyard too, it was perfect. She has no crates in her house. I would like to live there, with the biscuit lady. I tell her this every time I see her, but she doesn't understand.

My dad takes me outside and uses a hockey stick to throw my ball far away and I go catch it. He yells at me when I take care of doggie business on other lawns. I know I'm not a person; I'm a dog, why does he get angry? I sometimes get to talk with Moon when I sit by the woman's door. Moon says he wouldn't mind me living here if I could convince the biscuit lady to get better food. He says he has two brothers now, and his sister is still here. He's disgusted she's getting special food and he isn't. I assured him I would help him get lots of goodies.

I have certain beliefs that should be universal. Cars should be forbidden and junked. People should walk outside most of the day. Dogs should be able to walk without leashes visiting other dogs and people. People and dogs should eat the same food and share the table. There should always be meat for meals, particularly steak. Television should have one station—Animal Planet. Every evening, the dogs and families should relax and watch Animal Planet together with snacks being served at dog level. Cats should be kept in one room only. Their claws are dangerous. People should be de-barked so they do not yell at their dogs or each other. Hitting or beating a dog should be punishable by death. I am sure these maxims would ensure a better world.

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Crazed Email From a Guy in Delaware
Current mood: rushed
Category: News and Politics


HARRY MARTIN POLIS, poet-philosopher


E-mail: harrymartinpolis@yahoo.com

http://www.poet-cop.com/

ICQ 10954537




WHY WE LOSE FRIENDS

This is a long story… When we moved down to Delaware, Jaynee began illustrating a book for two authors. As time went by, we all became friends. We enjoyed dinners out with these two couples and a friendship was brewing.

Jaynee likes to send my articles to friends and acquaintances. She included These authors and their spouses in her email list and sent them my articles. We usually get feedback from people. However, one of my articles lauding Obama got a different response. Here is a copy of the email sent by the female author's husband:



Obama is a very left-wing liberal democrat who has had a long relationship with a racist pastor and church, refused for the longest time to wear a US flag pin on his lapel, has one of the most liberal voting records in congress and NEVER tells the truth. he pretends to now because he's running for the Presidency. The GOP didn't lead us into two wars. they just finished what the dems started but didn't have the guts to finish! Clinton was handed Bin Laden on a silver platter back in the mid-nineties and let him off the hook. he also stripped the CIA of much of their power and funding, during his presidency, which resulted in the bad info Bush got.

How any intelligent person can be fooled by this rookie, wet-behind-the-ears phony is beyond me. You should thank GOD that Bush at least has the guts to fight the terrorists on their own ground rather than ours. If Obama wins this country will be doomed! If you think the terrorists want to be our friends and get along with us you are very naive.

People in this country had better wake up soon before its too late. Obama is a traitor and un-American just like the Dems. there's a very good reason why all these terrorist groups want to see him win!! I think people who support Obama must hate their own country because there's no logic behind this kind of support. A vote for Obama is a vote for defeat.

Later, the same man added:

there are a lot more criminals and killers who get off the hook because of some legal loop-hole found by their slimey lawyers. that happens a lot more than so-called 'innocent' people being in person and getting executed. how come THAT doesn't unsettle you!!?

I don't know who's a bigger threat to this country - Dems, liberals or terrorists, its a toss-up!
This is why we are no longer friends with these people. I am aware there are many conservative Americans, but I think this man's philosophy goes way beyond conservative. It's creepy.

Currently reading :
Dead to the World (Southern Vampire Mysteries, Book 4)
By Charlaine Harris
Release date: 2005-05-03

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Tigger: My Story

HARRY MARTIN POLIS, poet-philosopher
E-mail: harrymartinpolis@yahoo.com

http://www.poet-cop.com/

ICQ # 10954537



TIGGER: MY STORY



Keke and Tigger

Hi, my name is Tigger. I'm the Ginger cat in the photo. The little black and white cat is my adopted son. We met on the streets of South Philadelphia. I had been surviving for a couple of years on whatever I could find. I usually hung out behind the shopping centers near the river with other cats. Life was hard. One day, in the summer of 2006, I took a walk into where the houses were and found Keke. He was pitiful. I took him under my wing and showed him how to search out food and stay safe. We enjoyed our time together and it was great to have a friend. When the weather started to cool off, I took Keke into a little residential street with me and we settled under a tree. Away from the river, there just wasn't any other place, but I though we would be okay there, in our little hideaway.

While we huddled under the tree, I watched the people who lived in the houses. One young woman looked especially interesting. There were cats in her house who I could see in the windows, and she talked to the little female cats who were strolling by. I didn't trust people, but I decided to ask this woman who loved cats if she would help us. I approached her on her steps a few times, and she told me she would look for a home for us. Success!!

Just a few days later, the young lady and her boyfriend, tricked us into cages and drove us out to Delaware to the lady's mother. Life became amazing and wonderful! They made a lovely home for us in the garage, fed us canned and hard food--no more trash!--and gave us the run of their yard and the park beyond. Keke loved the mom, and let her carry him around. I let her pet me and I could see she knew that was a great privilege. This summer, the mom brought us into the house with her other two cats, Moon and Autumn. Keke and I still cry. We can't help it; we remember our old life and we worry that we will have to live on the streets again. We're waiting and watching, but we're also enjoying our home.

Heaven Visit

You know I believe I go to "the other side" in my vivid dreams. I believe I did last night. My guardian angel took me, and with my agreement, she handed me over to a friend of my mother's, who took me around. I was in a huge room filled with women sitting around tables that were around columns. They were all thinking. That's it. (It sounds almost identical to scenes I've seen before.)The first table turned around to see me. The first person I remember was my husband's aunt--our favorite. I hugged and kissed her. Then I saw other women I didn't know who looked like women I had known. I was too shy to just go up and hug them, and talked to my guide about it. She encouraged me. There was a wonderful feeling of love coming toward me from those women. I awoke then.
Later, I was upstairs at our old house or my parent's house. My husband's aunts were downstairs and I knew they were agreeing on their negative opinion of my housekeeping. I was disturbed by that and that I didn't get any points for painting.
I hope I told you about my brother coming to my husband. I think I'm getting this because I'm meditating again. I hope I keep it up.

Autumn's Late Fall Report

AUTUMN’S LATE FALL REPORT
Hi, this is Autumn Moon again. Now that the election is over, my family is finally getting back to normal. They were so worried; they were forgetting to buy me special treats and food. I’m glad Obama was elected; I don’t think that Navy guy liked cats. He got too angry and I didn’t trust him. Now, Mom has that special chair in her room and I can sleep with her in addition to helping her on the computer. I know she’s more relaxed all the time from my sleeping on her legs. I do that.
Since my last report, those two stray cats who lived in the garage, moved into my house. I can’t stand the little black and white one. He tries to climb on Mom and sleep with her, and that’s only for me. I really hate to lower myself to anger, but I hiss at him, warning him away. Usually, it works, and the other times, I have to hit him. Occasionally, I allow him to have a little Mom-time so he doesn’t get depressed. Depressed felines take all their human guardian’s times.
The little black and white cat has a friend who came in with him. His friend is blond and beautiful like me. His fur isn’t as long as mine is, but most cats do not reach my high level. However, I accept this blond furball because he respects my superiority. He kisses my fur and goes away. Wonderful!
Mom has been feeding a gray cat on the deck. I have been telling her to stop, but she is still doing it. I have not given up. I also told her to contact the Obamas and tell them to get a couple of cats. They are such good people; they deserve the kind of devotion only cats can give.

Editor’s Note: Autumn Moon is a gorgeous, affectionate Main Coon cat but it’s hard to convince her she is not the center of the earth.

Our Election

HARRY MARTIN POLIS, poet-philosopher

E-mail: harrymartinpolis@yahoo.com
http://www.poet-cop.com/
ICQ # 10954537



OUR ELECTION
Last week was unique. It was wonderful. First, the Phillies won the World Series. Then, our candidate, Barack Obama, was elected the 44th President of the United States. All over America, people were crying and dancing in the streets! There was Jesse Jackson, Oprah, and even …….. Matthews crying. And me. For the last two years, along with many other people, I have prayed Barack Obama would become our President. I read the Philly, New York, and Delaware newspapers, and watch the pundits on MSNBC. I understood why it was imperative for our nation to elect Obama. And we did it! I thank God that President Obama won 52% of the vote.
The people who fought for and laid down their lives for Civil Rights are crying for joy. No one believed we would see this day. Children called their parents to share the joy. We have not arrived yet, but we are on the road. It was the time for celebration.
From Kansas and Hawaii, from parents American and Kenyan, a brilliant leader has emerged. We all pray he can bring us out of the pain and sorrow President Bush has brought on us. Truly, there is no one more able. We have elected a man who has a good chance of being great.
Copyright 2008 by Harry Martin Polis and edited by Jaynee Levy-Polis
Harry is available for lectures and entertainment with stories and poetry. Contact SCOOP USA, or e-mail Harry.

OBAMA

Obama won the presidency! I still think Americans are stupid, don't look for facts, and elect presidents on personality. The economy is in the toilet, so they rejected the Republicans. I never knew college graduates in particular voted for W in the last election. That's definitely a statement and a half. I'm truly thrilled Obama has been elected. Hallelujah!

Spiced Rum Now

For a reason I don't know, I can't get Saturday Night Live on TV. I was watching a Zombie/Vampire movie and turned that off to see SNL. I've been watching it since they started the Sarah Palin stuff. I'm sipping way too much Spiced Rum and chillin'. I drink too much and I'm concerned about Alzheimer's and brain damage. OBS My dad had Alzheimer's from age 78 on. I didn't want him to live the walking dead routine I'd witnessed in nursing homes. I worried. Luckily, he passed away just when it started to get worse. One thing was funny. When anybody called and Dad picked up the phone, if they wanted my mother and she was out of sight, he said she was out shopping. It seemed like she spent an awful lot of time gallivanting around. He was a very nice man. Smart.
My nature is like my dad's. He was a social butterfly, and when I get out of the house, I am too. He had a lot of disappointments and he didn't get to blossom. I don't know that I've had much of that sorrow, but I'm still depressed. As long as I'm not suicidal, I'm okay with it. Especially if I can have some spiced rum on ice at night. During the part of the day when I'm awake, I try to do at least some of what I think I'm supposed to do. Plus, I have lots of coffee and read the newspapers. I feed the cat outside who visits. And later on, I paint. I think I'm finished the flowers and I don't have that much to do on the apple. I can't tell. It's cute. I want to frame the flowers before I take a picture of the painting. I'm really happy painting with no thought of galleries or fame. Reputation. Any of that crap. Eventually, I probably will have to do some kind of open studio or something, to get rid of some of my work. So far, I'm getting ready to store all the watercolor/pastels that don't make me happy, and hang oil paintings in their stead. That is, if the particular oil painting makes me feel good.
Uh oh. The peanut gallery has to close. It's going on 1AM.

As Good As It Gets

My leg hurts. Nine days ago, I had arthroscopic knee surgery to repair a torn meniscus and hack off some arthritic gunk. I wondered why not just my knee, but my leg hurt. It turns out, to do the surgery, they take the blood out of the knee by applying a tourniquet. Ugh. I found out that down the line, my knee pain will increase, but new knees don't come with my problem. Great news. Not.
I sleep from about 2 AM till 11 AM, then read my email and messages till about 12 noon. My day starts for real, maybe about 2. I often end up painting till 9 at night. That's fine. I feel as though I'm not doing enough though. I have lists from months ago that I never did. I feel like all I actually DO is paint. I'll go back to the water exercise because I have to. I don't like to be bothered. All I want to do is paint, read the paper, play with the kittens, and watch television. And sleep. I should be painting the canes. I keep saying I will, but I haven't. So much gets forgotten that I wish I had done. Wish I would do, but probably won't.
I'm lonely. I wish I had friends down here. So far, everyone I meet is either conservative or too religious. They don't know Jews down here. It's like we're exotic creatures that live somewhere else. I was friendly with one woman and found out her husband was something of a lout. Intelligent, but ignorant. I don't want to start up a friendship with a woman married to someone I can't stand, unless the woman is really my kind of person. That kind is liberal, progressive, open-minded, honest, smart, and open. Kooky is good too. How many people in Delaware, or anywhere, are like that?
Delaware is a great state for Harry and I, in that everything we need is within about fifteen minutes driving time. That includes all the shopping. The doctors and hospital are five minutes away. We couldn't have afforded a house in Pennsylvania where that would have been the situation. I know it's not possible to have everything. I have a lot here. I still love my house and our front and backyards. I'm thrilled to be here. I guess I kinda wish the neighbors and people I see around would be my type of people. I know now why my mother used to say Delaware was full of "hicks". I wonder what she thought of people in Ohio?
So, I think I'm depressed. I'm taking what I think of as tons of psychiatric medications to brighten my mood. I guess they're keeping me out of bed and away from the knife container. Probably, the shoulds are killing me. I wish with all my heart that Jerry was still here. He had the patience to read philosophy and know all the world's religions. He gave me one piece of the most important information I know: 'All I need to do is be.' I need him now. I need to know more, but I don't want to open the books. Fantasy is so much easier. Even history. Those books only tell me that we're all crazy and not getting any better. (Tell me how people like W, Hillary, and the rest of them aren't depressed. Why not? How not? Is that actually possible?)
I'm mixed up. It's okay to go right into death being confused. There are lots of things that are worse. Natch. Well, I'm 60, I'm not ready to turn to dust. I still have painting to do, and I enjoy my kids and kittens. Harry is looking better with his gray hair, albeit cranky and not feeling well. That's as good as it gets.

Our Fur Babies

My Keke
A year ago, our daughter discovered two cats living under a tree across the street from her house. She works with a group who catch, neuter, and return feral cats to their previous homes. These two though were being beaten up by other male cats in her neighborhood. Our daughter asked us to consider allowing the two cats to live in our garage. She told us they would die living outside with no protection from the weather. We agreed to take the cats if she would help. Our daughter did everything necessary, including setting up a little warm house for them and putting in a little cat door into the garage.
Tigger, an average size light ginger cat, was very afraid. Little Keke, a black and white tabby, was friendly immediately. They loved roaming the little park beyond our backyard. There were suddenly no birds, mice, or squirrels in our backyard. This past summer, Keke and Tigger both sat with me on our swing out back. Tigger wouldn't get up on the swing, but he began to run in front of me and lay down in my path. I would lean over, pet him, and walk on. Tigger would keep running ahead of me and laying down. He wouldn't allow me to pick him up.
Finally, at the end of the summer, I brought both cats into the sunroom for the veterinarian to examine with the intention of making them part of our feline household. I was really afraid of their getting hurt. (We live in Delaware where a kitten was tortured to death in the Spring.) The vet finally gave them the okay, and they joined Autumn and Moon with the whole house as their territory.
Tigger now comes to me and cries to be petted. He still rolls over but won't get onto the chair or anywhere more convenient for petting. Keke is a total joy. He's fearless and adorable. He ignores Moon's hissing and growling and does whatever he wants, including chasing Moon or Autumn. The vet judged Tigger to be six, and Keke four, by their teeth. I can't believe Keke could be four. He's the size of a six-month old kitten and soooooo affectionate. Little Keke slept with me last night and he gives me cat kisses on my hand and does the cat nose rub. There are many homeless kittens and cats waiting for homes. They take very little care if they stay indoors. No fleas, no disease. Each cat needs at least one kitty litter and they're not difficult to clean. Cats live on average live from twelve to sixteen years old and they give love and affection differently, but as much as dogs. If they have a special corregated cardboard to scratch, they leave the furniture alone and they rarely scratch their family except by accident or if you are playing "cat" with them. Cats are independent, as smart as dogs, but they learn to respond to their names. They are endlessly curious and it's very hard not to think of them as "our furry babies".

House A Mess

HARRY MARTIN POLIS, poet-philosopher

E-mail: harrymartinpolis@yahoo.com
http://www.poet-cop.com/
ICQ # 10954537



HOUSE A MESS
I need to complain for a minute or two. Jaynee has wanted to put a full bathroom in the family room since we moved in. We had a tiny powder room, a deep closet, and a larger laundry room in the intended area. Nothing was quite large enough and they were already cluttered with paint and tools when we came. It took a few months of investigation, and Jaynee found a small company to do the conversion. Jaynee sat down with Eloy Sosa, who owns the company with his brother, and planned the new bathroom. Jaynee always planned to have a shower, and because Eloy is a master tiler, this bathroom would have tiled walls and floors. When the walls were knocked down, the space was too small for the washer and dryer, so vertical units had to be purchased. The window was too close to the washer/dryer “closet”, so a new one had to be installed. Two doors were closed off and the walls redone. Probably the most difficult part was drilling the cement floor to extend the water line and drain.
Meanwhile, the entire house is filled with dust. It is not obvious how the two new cats add to the furry dust; they have blended right in with our other two cats. For a long while, our washer and dryer were in the driveway. The guys set up their machinery on a part of our garden, but were careful of the holly bush. Our beautiful family room has two pathways now. The furniture is pushed together in the center and it’s all covered with dust.
The shower doors and the vanity will take a while to get here. There is no sink in the downstairs bathroom for now. The bathroom is gorgeous though. Jaynee picked out medium blue tiles and they go all the way up to the ceiling. When the bathroom is done, and I can’t wait, it will be special.
Copyright 2008 by Harry Martin Polis and edited by Jaynee Levy-Polis
Harry is available for lectures and entertainment with stories and poetry. Contact SCOOP USA, or e-mail Harry.

Michael's Restaurant

I had a question so our waitress explained I would have to ask the manager, so I went looking for “Bob”, the manager. Bob turned out to be the man tending bar. He apparently did not intend to answer me at the reservation desk, but I was not going away until he did.
Mr. Bob was rude. The man was already touting a miserable facial expression and demeanor. Apparently, it took very little to set him off. Bob is one of Michael’s managers and he seats customers. I wrote to Michael’s about what happened to me. Mrs. Moskowitz—she and her husband own the restaurant—answered, promising to send me some kind of coupon. Since she supported her manager's behavior, I wrote again complaining about how their manager had acted. She did not answer and needless to say, I never received any coupon.
I do not patronize restaurants where staff is surly. Michael’s fare is mediocre at best. Their salad bar is their draw. While not comparing with Charlie Brown’s, it is a good one. For a slim or small person, going there is a waste of money. Harry and I call this kind of restaurant a “Tie on the feed bucket” eatery. The salad bar is misleading; a name closer to reality would be “Joe’s Eats”. With that name, a glowering host/manager and completely uninspired meals would be no surprise. I definitely do NOT recommend this gussied up hole-in-the-wall. One problem and the customer would find a very nasty brick wall, not the family-owned friendly face for which one might be looking.

The Bounty of American Liberals

The Bounty of the American Liberals

One of my favorite columnists is Bob Herbert from the New York Times. Recently, he wrote a column about all the advancements made by liberals: Social Security; Medicare; Medicaid; Food Stamps; Unemployment Compensation; Head Start; Legal Aid; USDA; etc. The list is very long. Jaynee went to college on a federal program that was cut by Ronald Reagan. All these programs were fought “tooth and nail” by the conservatives but Liberals succeeded in getting these programs established despite Republican dirty fighting and personal slurs. If the reactionaries—that is what conservatives really are—had their way, our nation would have4 the rich and poor with no middle class. Only the rich would have real rights and services. For the poor, the working conditions of the 1800’s would still be the law.

The Republicans support the base who support them—the wealthy Americans. After the Civil War and Jim Crow, the Republicans captured the Dixiecrats because the Democrats had become the liberals, gradually increasing their support of the worker. Through code words clearly stating their distrust and fear of minorities, educated people, and facts, the Republicans were able to bring rope in working people who were afraid of the new age, true freedom, and new ideas. The fight against The Age of Aquarius that started in the 1960’s is still being fought. The working fools vote for the Republicans believing they can hold back the tide. The best they can achieve is putting a lid on America’s future. Thought and insight can never be stopped, but the freedom to speak it, the acceptance of change, and goodwill toward our brother man, can be thwarted. Ultimately, without consciously pursuing that goal, is the Shangri-La of the Republicans and their working class troglodytes.

Copyright 2008 by Harry Martin Polis and edited by Jaynee Levy-Polis

Harry is available for lectures and entertainment with stories and poetry. Contact SCOOP USA, or e-mail Harry.

Bush, McCain, The War....Obama

I watched a soldiers' video on Facebook, it gave some insight into what our young people, over there, are going through. To think that a coterie of sociopaths or evil doers--take your choice--Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, et al, with no provocation, for personal vendettas, invaded a sovereign nation, and brought this on. If you hated Hussein and wished he'd been knocked off, I understand. But sending and allowing our precious children to be maimed and die is pure evil. We all know how Hallburtin has been involved and how their trucks didn't have armor. We can't watch the firefights or their coffins coming in to Dover. While our young people are being slaughtered; nations who were our previous allies have turned against us; and our television news shows puppies. I call it the puppy news and I adore dogs.
The Iraq War is a Oil Occupation, and I guess now, it's being settled because McCain needs it to be even though he is prepared to be there for 100 years. McCains life, his heart, is wrapped around wars and soldiering. Why choose a soldier for president? Especially one who isn't exactly all there? At 72, he is in older middle age, and he just isn't sharp. I think he's not very bright. He's gone off and chosen a Miss Alaska runner-up who has virtually no experience and already has violated laws. My goodness, who would want her running the nation if he died suddenly? It sounds incredible to me.
Opposing McCain are Obama and Biden, I think, a dream team. Hearing Obama, I hear JFK and MLK. A brilliant man, I do not see Obama and Biden either continuing to allow our children fighting in Iraq to stay there, nor do I envision their starting another war. Additionally, with so much hate foaming in the United States, God Forbid, but if anything happened to Obama, behind him stands a seasoned, long term, sensible legislator. Obama is, I believe, a political phenomenon that occurs rarely in America. In Delaware, where Joe Biden and I both live, Joe is known to be a good guy. More importantly, Joe's politics are good.
I do not understand how anyone can overlook Obama or vote for McCain and Palin unless that voter is very rich. Even though McCain and Palin are anathema to working people, they promise more tax relief to the very wealthy and big business, especially oil. That is the traditional Republican stance. Democrats work for and represent working people. I am old enough to have seen the difference. During my lifetime, I experienced Lyndon Johnson's Great Society only to see it torn to pieces through the presidencies of Reagan, Bush I, and Bush II. (I can't clearly remember Nixon destroying the programs, mostly just Watergate and watching his minions on television.)
I pray Obama is elected. For the good of America, for our future, Obama is a new direction. Our electing a man of color is, for us, a big step into

Bush, McCain, The War....Obama

I watched the soldiers' video that's below here, it gives some insight into what our young people, over there, are going through. To think that a coterie of sociopaths or evil doers--take your choice--Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, et al, with no provocation, for personal vendettas, invaded a sovereign nation, and brought this on. If you hated Hussein and wished he'd been knocked off, I understand. But sending and allowing our precious children to be maimed and die is pure evil. We all know how Hallburtin has been involved and how their trucks didn't have armor. We can't watch the firefights or their coffins coming in to Dover. While our young people are being slaughtered; nations who were our previous allies have turned against us; and our television news shows puppies. I call it the puppy news and I adore dogs.
The Iraq War is a Oil Occupation, and I guess now, it's being settled because McCain needs it to be even though he is prepared to be there for 100 years. McCains life, his heart, is wrapped around wars and soldiering. Why choose a soldier for president? Especially one who isn't exactly all there? At 72, he is in older middle age, and he just isn't sharp. I think he's not very bright. He's gone off and chosen a Miss Alaska runner-up who has virtually no experience and already has violated laws. My goodness, who would want her running the nation if he died suddenly? It sounds incredible to me.
Opposing McCain are Obama and Biden, I think, a dream team. Hearing Obama, I hear JFK and MLK. A brilliant man, I do not see Obama and Biden either continuing to allow our children fighting in Iraq to stay there, nor do I envision their starting another war. Additionally, with so much hate foaming in the United States, God Forbid, but if anything happened to Obama, behind him stands a seasoned, long term, sensible legislator. Obama is, I believe, a political phenomenon that occurs rarely in America. In Delaware, where Joe Biden and I both live, Joe is known to be a good guy. More importantly, Joe's politics are good.
I do not understand how anyone can overlook Obama or vote for McCain and Palin unless that voter is very rich. Even though McCain and Palin are anathema to working people, they promise more tax relief to the very wealthy and big business, especially oil. That is the traditional Republican stance. Democrats work for and represent working people. I am old enough to have seen the difference. During my lifetime, I experienced Lyndon Johnson's Great Society only to see it torn to pieces through the presidencies of Reagan, Bush I, and Bush II. (I can't clearly remember Nixon destroying the programs, mostly just Watergate and watching his minions on television.)
I pray Obama is elected. For the good of America, for our future, Obama is a new direction. Our electing a man of color is, for us, a big step into

The Bush/McCain Possibilities

The Democratic Convention just ended. I'm praying and hoping, Obama & the Democrats campaigning with him can wake up working people so they stop supporting rich people & big corporations. I think conservative white working class people are blinded by gay rights, the possibility of working people gaming the system--like corporations don't--black people "overrunning " the gov't & somehow, getting everything, leaving them out, and basically, their lives turning to sh*t, they're voting for more money and support for the wealthiest chiselers alive. Remember, McCain thinks people making under $500,000 are middle class. No wonder he supports only the wealthy! Really, our infrastructure is falling apart. Jes, people are falling into rivers from bridges collapsing. That's horrible! Our electric lines need overhaul because they can't support the higher energy of wind power. Our lives are now shorter than every other industrialized nation, plus some just coming up too. We have more babies die than they do too.
I wish people would look beyond Obama's name, his color--which not only is mixed, the person who raised him was a Kansas grandmother--and see our country as it is. Can't they see Republicans do not support working people and in fact, throw obstacles in worker's way? Look at the Supreme Court's decisions since they have moved to the right. The rights of the disabled and working people have been cut. I feel as though I am living with cretins, people who do not read newspapers, or think beyond the outright lies and slanders fed to them at election time. To give one vote to somebody because they would love to have a beer with him, is idiocy. That person left human beings to drown in New Orleans, then threw the thousands of survivors into a stadium with no water or bathrooms. He used up our surplus of money and threw us into debt. He used our armed forces to pursue a personal vendetta killing thousands of innocent people, both soldiers and citizens. He's made a mockery of our constitution, bending and twisting it out of shape, to jail, spy on, and justify him and his staff evading congress's investigation.
The friendly brush cutting, bicycle-riding "president" may not be an evil (or he may be), but certainly his cronies are evil-doers. I pray there is a reckoning and they are punished for the pain and catastrophe they have unleashed.

Keeping My House Clear

Tonight, I'm sleeping at my daughter's house. I'll probably be here for the weekend or maybe till Sunday. She has a normal keyboard and I'm having a hard time with it. I'm bored to death and yeah, I miss everything about my house. I'm in love with my house. I guess that's okay except that houses aren't forever like love. A house is just a material thing. Okay, tell that to my heart and soul. It's the house of my dreams. I need to ask my spirits if I should bring the outside cats in. My house is perfection and I do not want to create chaos. I feel as though I increased my connection with my spirits by at least 70% (which means nothing). They're closer though. Well, no time for bullshit. My hands are cramping.

Blessings

I still can't believe I'm in this beautiful house with a garden in a quiet little suburb amongst the trees. I walk down the steps at night sometimes to check on our barn cats. I unlock the front door, then the side door, and step outside, into the clean air. The grasshoppers are chirping, but there is no other noise. I walk up to the sun room, my studio, and look out from there too. I look at the yard, the patio, my garden, and I say, "It's mine." I look around at this beautiful house and I feel so lucky, so blessed.
I have lost weight recently. I work at it hard, and I pray for it to continue. I know I am a sugar addict as well as an overeater. I'm a small person with a huge desire to taste, to enjoy the food. I like to eat--a lot. So I ask my family and the spirits who attend me, to help me, to give me discipline, and the will to eat healthy. I have to think every time I consider food and the consequences of that food. It's not really voluntary, but my weight is destroying my joints, my feet, my lungs, etc. For a long time, my butt has looked like a table and my belly looks pregnant. My thighs are beginning to have dimpling all the way down to my knees and the skin on my upper arms is hanging. I now have a double chin that does not complement the lines forming on my face.
I appreciate this lovely house even more for the privacy it affords me. Dressed in my painted up work too-tight clothes, I can walk around my garden, sit on my deck and rock on the swing, or read underneath my trees on the brick patio. I'll feel more confident about my body when the fat melts off, God willing, but being in the process of losing it, and living in the house of my dreams, is wonderful. I'm still amazed.

Spirits on the Road

I just remembered I forgot to wash my paintbrushes. Ugh! Well, I'm glad I finally remembered especially before I got to bed. I want to tell what happened yesterday. We drive up to Philly once a week to see my mother in law. Yesterday was our weekly trip. We stopped at CVS to buy her treats. Harry went into the store and I stayed in the car. I closed my eyes, too tired to read, but not ready to nap. I heard the car door open and Harry got into the car. I felt his weight come into the vehicle, except Harry was still in the store. No one was there when I looked up, expecting to see Harry. Was I afraid? Nope. I don't know why I wasn't scared. Today, I reflected that Harry and I were discussing how spirits ride with us in the car. I usually blast the radio and literally sing to my family while I drive. I talk to them too. I just never expected one to climb in and get ready to drive. But he did. The he was probably my father who loved to drive. In my lucid dreams, he is usually driving and I am pretty sure it was my dad. So welcome Dad! You can help me drive any time! Be my company and know I still love you. xoxo Jaynee

Life On Earth As We Know It

That was my old house in Philly. I don't miss it, I don't want to see it, and I just want to forget it. I wanted to insert my drawing of my new house here, but it's not on my website...and a ton of the links don't work...and worse than that, I left out the landscape page links entirely. I'll never know if this is Lupus brain damage or just the forgetfulness of getting older. Same with the arthritis and bursitis. Who knows? If I don't, then most likely, no one will. Over the years, a Lupie finds doctors, if they suspect or believe something, will most often not say. If the tests don't confirm everything, then there is nothing.
I wanted to talk about watching myself age. Seeing my skin get thinner and crinkle, but it's late and Autumn is sitting on my lap.

Spirits on Vacation

11:22 pm - Spirits on Vacation
My brother has returned home. Gradually, I'll get back to my normal schedule. I've been painting the whole time at least. Sometimes, my brother would keep me company. I've had a number of little psychic adventures beginning right before my brother left. There were three, which are: 1) my easel sinking about two inches while it was totally secure. 2) Someone touching my face when no one else was there. 3) Last night, when I was dancing in my room, my brother joined me. I could feel a lot of family in the room. I think there is another one, but I can't remember now. All that makes me very happy, knowing my brother is here with me. (No, it's the OTHER ONE.)
A friend saw Big Sammy with me. I love that dog with all my heart.
Current Location: home
Current Mood: blank
Current Music: Daily Show

Tags: spirits

Nothing Doing

My brother is visiting from Oregon/California for a few weeks. It has been busy. I've been doing psychic readings on the web. It's very cool to get that stuff right. I've had a couple slight psychic adventures in the last few days too. And I like the painting I'm working on too. That's all.

Manny, Moe, and Jack

Trolleys with windows that opened. A woman collecting tickets in the back in the 1940's. Watching the sights on the way downtown. There go Manny, Moe, and Jack on North Broad Street. They were still alive then. Old wooden trolleys and fancy metal ones on Germantown Avenue and most everywhere else. I liked the buses though. Little did I know. Coming into Center City on the train. All aboard! The train station.... Walking around the giant barn. Exciting. Dirty. Noisy. How do we get on the right train? How do we avoid getting killed by another train that's pulling out. So many tracks. Everyone dressed in high heels, white gloves, suits and ties.
Eating in posh restaurants. Aunt Betty telling me which fork to use and how to sit. Up straight. Not to be round-shouldered like my mom, she says. Blum's, Snellenberg's, Gimbels, Lit Brothers, so many stores. Back to Broad Street. I loved Broad Street. Walking at night with Aunt Betty down Broad Street to one of the three movie houses. So bright, so many people, so busy. So much fun.
Then New York on the bus. Christmas to the Radio City Music Hall. In summer, to the library and always to the restaurant with seltzer on tap with the water. I could station myself there and drink seltzer for dinner. We could always go there. What did they serve? Seltzer! And the Automat. Play with the coffee and sandwich machines. Put in a nickel for a cup of Joe. But nobody called it Joe. It was coffee. Why wasn't I bored? But never. Tears come with the memories. How can I ever say how good they were.

Our Kids At War

I'm feeling uncomfortable with the holiday today. I mean our kids are being killed in Iraq and Afganistan. Like most people, I'm used to the sales and barbecues on holidays. Today, I just thought about our soldiers and worried for them. I was one of those people who questioned the invasion of Iraq from the beginning, probably because I didn't trust Bush or his cronies. Plus, I knew it would be important to chase bin Laden. Our soldiers and our allies' soldiers are suffering and dying in Iraq, in my opinion, for no reason. We would all love to see a real democracy in Iraq, but the chances of that are nil. As bad as Saddam was, if we wanted him out, I can't understand why we couldn't have picked him off. Well, we didn't. We've spent all of Bill Clinton's surplus and put our grandchildren into debt supposedly making over another nation. Our nation needs a totally revamped program of education, health, and infrastructure, but we went in to Iraq and made a mess out of that country. Now Bush is hinting about the danger of Iran? Gov.Bush is like a black cloud. Everything he touches turns to sh*t. (I'm not convinced the governor has truly won any election since the governorship.) Anyway, American, Brits, and Aussies are over there in danger's way, so I said a prayer for them. Whether one believes we had an obligation to invade Iraq or not, our soldiers are there. A large number of them joined the Reserves and National Guard because of the college tuition, not expecting to be in the trenches. But there they are. They fight in our name and rightly, this day belongs to them. God Bless and keep them.
The Faeries

Artificial Bliss

Thursday, June 26, 2008 12:30 AM

My brother is in from California; he came in yesterday. He'll be here for three weeks and I'm glad. His friend came in with him for ten days. I miss him the rest of the time. I didn't get up this morning till about noon and everybody was upset. My daughter had driven down from Philly and she kept calling in to me to get up, but I was just too tired. I should have; I'm sorry I didn't. Last night, my gut had hurt badly and I took the only painkiller available right then--Hydrocodone. I don't think that was why I couldn't get up though. When I awaken frequently in the morning but I'm too tired to actually get out of bed, it gets progressively more difficult. Last night, I had finally gone to bed at 2:30 and that's late for me. I usually sleep nine hours; I'm a sleeper as opposed to those who cannot fall asleep or stay asleep. My brother sleeps like our mother and doesn't. My daughter inherited that pattern and my son got mine. He sleeps soundly and often. Anyway, we brought the food to my son's house and he barbecued for us. My brother's friend bought a lot of fruit and cut it up for everyone. It was like having dessert for an appetizer. Now, I'm sleepy and a little depressed. Even the good stuff is stressful.

Flunkin, Dunckin, and Munckin, Attorneys at law

On television is the Puppy News. According to the TV, nothing is wrong in the US. Maybe weather, but that has to do with nothing. War? What war? Killings and drugs show up occasionally, but I guess that's entertainment.
Another Sunday gone.Suddenly, I'm 60, and half-way done with that. I really don't mind, although I notice the years flying by. Life after the Shrub..It's more difficult. It's impossible to believe the Americans who voted for that idiot had any intelligence. People used to vote self-interest, but everyone knew he and the other republicans were serving rich people. Of course, the democrats do but to a much lesser amount. They owe average people and the republicans do not. Plus, it was obvious W was not intelligent and never succeeded at anything on his own. Of course, he stole the election--well, it was stolen for him, but some people actually voted for him. And they weren't all wealthy. Time for the artist to hit the hay, or at least the bathtub. Hi de hi.

Confused by Facebook & Anything That Isn't Immediately Obvious. Instructions? Nah!

Confused by Facebook & Anything That Isn't Immediately Obvious.

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Today at 12:11am | Edit Note | Delete

I'm so sorry I haven't been sending notes, answering notes and barely understanding the little flowers, pokes, and butterflies. I guess I'm missing stuff because I usually zone out watching TV--if there's anything I like--at night. I check email and stuff during the commercials. I still haven't finished fixing the links in my website or getting the new photos together of my two newest paintings.
I try to paint during the day, but it's getting harder and harder. I'm doing my water exercise class at least twice a week hoping for three times, I'll be walking one morning, and still going to Philly once a week. Now, I had to start PT too. I promised to volunteer at the Art Center and I'd kinda like to do more. I tried volunteering reading to little children, but didn't like seeing the miserable parents picking up their kids. If I could have volunteered early in the day, it would have been fine, but I'm a late bird.
I still haven't gone to get new glasses either. I will. Oh, not the canes either. I really don't have to make excuses, I just want you to know you're important to me and I haven't figured out facebook or My Space because I'm doing other stuff. And I'm really slow. I waste time. When I feed the outside kittens, I'm out there an hour playing with them or whatever. Mostly playing. I stand and look at my plants when I'm watering them or in between waterings. I read the newspapers too. I've been reading the Newark newspaper too, and it's different. The emphasis is different.
Well, tomorrow is the first walk & I've got to get moving toward the bed.
xoxo
Jaynee

Parrot. Illustration for book by Cyndi & William.

Soft-Shelled Crabs Nibbling At Our Toes

Soft-Shelled Crabs Nibbling at Our Toes
Current mood: argumentative
Category: I don’t play video games Dreams and the Supernatural

That's Picnic Dancing. I gave that to charity and they raised money with it. So this is supposed to be about "the other side". Hmm. Well, they haven't been in touch lately. I talk to them every night, begging for their help with my eating. While no spirit has landed on the dining room table, I have begun to do better with my eating. Don't get me wrong. I've actually seen at least one spirit, literally been touched by them, and had them talk directly into my ear. I have wonderful lucid dreams spending time with my family too. It's important because I especially miss my cousin, who was virtually my older brother. It's the only way I can spend time with him. Anyway, I didn't mean to really write about this.
I made dinner today, which is very unusual. I made soft-shelled crabs. I have an excellent recipe given to me by my alcoholic evil sister-in-law. She's a good cook, and when she gave it to me, I didn't know what she really was. I'm kind of dull when it comes to seeing inside phony people. I'm not throwing around the word "evil" either. This is a woman who stole food money from our eighty-something year old mother in law. She did it for years and I believed my mother in law was hiding the money like my sister in law said. The truth was our mother in law was borrowing money from her neighbors to eat. This sister-in-law also, one night when she was probably drunk, threw pages and pages of racist hatred at my son's girlfriend. The girl was only sixteen and the stuff that woman threw at her was horrible. Later, the woman denied she did it, but I'd seen it on screen. The kids had wakened me because they were so upset, and I came downstairs at one in the morning to look at the crap on the computer monitor. Ugh and Feh.
Oh, well. Life is far from perfect. Actually, for most people, it's horrible. Even in America, we're just serfs with refrigerators and washing machines. We entertain ourselves and don't notice our legistlators stealing and chipping away at whatever freedom we were previously allowed. It's all bullshit, but I pray the populace doesn't elect McCain. Our nation is really hitting the skids with these guys. Nobody has to embrace Obama's policies, his philosophy, or anything. Doesn't it matter to people that our kids are getting killed in Iraq for no reason? Who cares what color Obama is? Or what Reverend Wright said? Do white people really think black people don't have grievances? Oh, well. I hope people don't even think about it and just vote against another four or eight years of the shrub.
When I look at my neighbors though, I hope they're not the typical voters. We're in trouble if that's true. When I worked, I noticed people didn't read the newspapers. They read the Daily News mostly, which was like reading the third grade newspaper with mob pictures. They made up what they didn't know. And worshipped the congressmen who kept them in jobs. Not me. I was Civil Service, but lots of those "workers" were political hacks paid out of the school district budget. Yes. That's true. Don't wonder where the book money went.
I don't know why I'm smiling in the picture. Things aren't that good, except for right here, in my house, and maybe yours. Our president is a psycho and most of our law makers have no morals and don't care about America or you. I don't care who any of them are in bed with, unless it's children or coercion. I care about this country, my family, friends, and me. That means I have to care about you too. I don't want to, but I can't have my rights if you don't have yours. Probably. Well, I hope Obama gets elected. We desperately need a semblance of sanity and the constitution in the White House and Congress. Having people who at least look different from W and his ilk will help our image and maybe get us through the doors back to diplomacy. W didn't believe in that, sorry. But that's how our nation got by and in a world so shrunken, we need it again.

its a mystery 2 me

That was a commission. They exist. For real. They're usually portraits. Okay, that was the job part. I am, at this moment, breathing in Autumn's beautiful golden fur. She's waiting to get back on my lap and get my full attention and pets. This typing is very annoying to her. She's patiently waiting until I put my arms down to get back to where she likes to be. She's my neurotic kitten with runny eyes. (The vet says she's okay.) She's presently exhausted. Her eyes are closing, she can't help it. She's losing her mom's belly time to this pesky machine. She likes the television machine, which offers moving pictures and mom's belly. Two good things. This is Autumn Time, and she knows it. If I don't get to the business at hand--her little head and body waiting--she's going to investigate the interesting objects on my desk. Oh, she's given up. Poor baby. Time for reading in the bathtub anyway. She'll come sit on the edge.

xo

Hope the Other Shoe Never Drops

Tomorrow is Philly again, that is, if it isn't pouring. In that case, we'll put it off, hopefully not to Sunday though. We're supposed to go to the museum down here then to see a particular show. I've been working here on the computer for a while while I watched a mediocre Linsay Lohan movie. I was dying to watch TV to zone out and I finally found that. I've had malware attacking my computer since I downloaded some program that didn't even come through. It got down to something called adzgalore which could drive a dead man crazy. Really, it wasn't that bad, just ads blasting through whenever I went to a new url. I just x'd them. but since I have a neat adblocker on here, I wanted adzgalore off. I'm hoping I did it just now. I've been running all my spy programs over and over for a couple weeks.
Earlier, I painted for a few hours. I like the new father and son in the forest. Nobody seems to see the figures, but I know they're there. I ran out of this beautiful purple and the replacement I got at Utrecht, (in Philly last week), is more red. They didn't have the purple I wanted. It looks like I need a yellow plastic paint too for the frames. Or a tealy kind of green. I figured I could mix it up. I don't have much of that kind of paint. I just started using it for frames last week. Acrylic! That's the right name.
I paint as though there's a market for my work. Most likely, I'll be storing hundreds more paintings in the garage. No surprise. I have hundreds of watercolor/pastels from the "turn of the century" in there. I hope Cousin B. is willing and able to actually convert the garage. I really love this house. I'm crazy about it. I'm planting more shrubs, moving plants around. Starting more bushes... I'm in love with this place. I feel so lucky to be in a house I adore. I know it's a privledge. It's like, for some people, life clicks. Situations lead to generally good things. I don't want to give myself any kinahorras. I'm pretty superstitious, even though I know it's spurious. Nutty, but in this case...
People are conditioned to believe if one is a professional, a real artist, then one survives by the sale of one's paintings. I don't know where that idea came from. Mostly, that kind of life went out with DaVinci. Rarely can an artist actually eat with painting profits. One would definitely starve. I figure one is a professional if he or she went to art school and paints all the time. I know art school isn't really necessary. It's a luxury. I got it and I'm grateful. I'm glad I exhibited because, even though it was mostly shit and a waste of time, having friends come was like a party, and the fact that I showed in galleries convinces people I'm the real deal. If I started now, I'd probably never bother with galleries. I did sell sometimes in them, probably more than from home, but I still hate the whole process. Well, I'm a mess dealing with that. I guess, at sixty, I give myself the senior citizen escape clause. And the ignore it clause.
Turns out that crappy shit is still on here. Motherfuckers.

Senator Kennedy & Death

Senator Kennedy & Death

Senator Kennedy is dying. He's been a great defender of liberal causes. Of compassion and working people. I'm so sorry. I wished he'd had ten more years. Sad. I'm live the fantasy that nothing will happen to me for another twenty years. I'm shocked when I feel pain in my knees. Flabbergasted when I fell and broke my front teeth. Worried when I drive, because then, I am aware of my and other drivers' failures. When I stand at the top of the steps, I'm careful. All of this stays in the back of my mind. My cousin, who was more like my brother suddenly got sick and died about a year and a half ago. It broke my heart and I guess brought my thoughts of mortality to the surface. I asked him before he died, if he could, would he let me know he was around. I forget how long it took, but wild things happened--one picture flying off the mantelpiece filled with photos, the car filling up with smoke--twice--and more. Years ago, I'd seen the spirit of my neighbor's aunt, so every time I get incredulous, which is actually frequent, I remember Aunt Millie's spirit. I pray Jerry's spirit knocked the picture and the shoes off the shelves; raised my window shade two inches; pushed in my keyboard; and smoked in our car. I hope.

Kepping Up With All Those Blogs

These programs, like facebook, plaxo, my space, plus one other that's dedicated to business...drive me nuts. Actually, each one has good things and people I care about. I just don't have much time and I want to do everything. I've been painting almost all the time. The almost happened because my friend was visiting and our Philly trip was the next day. I think I had to paint at night the next day because Harry needed me to go with him to the doctor, and then we went to the Y, to the treadmills. I take a book and read while I walk or bike. I like that because I never have enough time to read. I go to bed late, sleep late, then aim for the easel. If I can. I love vegging out watching TV at night. And I write this stuff while I watch TV.
I'm not busier than when I worked. Then, even though I worked only three days a week in an office and could draw at my desk, I couldn't paint. And I hated to be there. I did have a studio and I painted, but my output was usually less. There is no comparison. The best thing...well, there are so many best things. It's a different, and better, life, even with arthritis and invisible problems growing in my arteries. Even with bursitis driving me slightly nuts.
I'm almost finished my mandala painting and my father and son in the garden is getting done too. Oh, if anyone reads this, I need other opinions. A friend of mine told me I should charge about $1200 a painting instead of maybe $350. He says people will value the paintings more and buy them. He thinks I'm selling myself short. I think selling them at reasonable prices helps them sell. The people who buy my paintings usually couldn't afford $1200. I think his argument is naive. Opinions? I think I may have at one time, had high prices on my work, but you know, I forget.

My Moon baby.

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Painting Isn't Real Exercise, like maybe swimming

My lose-weight diet has helped me gain three pounds, not what I wanted. This morning, I was disgusted and depressed just after weighing myself, but I'm feeling better now because I kept a journal (on-line) of what I ate and the calorie count. I'm expecting to lose. I hope I'm right.This has been a long haul; I've fought my weight gain for a couple of years, always giving up or forgetting. With my medical reports which I may have read wrong, (hopefully), I'm afraid of the currently mild serious problems becomeing stroke or heart attack worthy. All those bowls of ice cream and candy bars are catching up to me. I haven't lost one ounce not eating them, and I forget why I'm not. The hard candy sits in my drawer, I hope, to go stale and be thrown out.
My knee is still a problem and my other knee threatens to become one. That horrible shot stopped the pain under my kneecap but not on the left side. I stand at the easel and paint--I'm almost finished a new one!--and my feet burn. That may be my weight. I'll know only if I eventually return to a normal weight. I hope for me painting is like meditating because I never remember to meditate. My big activities are reading the paper, painting, and reading books. They're my favorites. I eat while reading and reading is the only thing that makes the treadmill bearable. I do lots of other stuff including gardening, but other than caring for my children, cats, and friends, painting is my most important activity. Life isn't right without painting in the mix.
Lately, I'm using up my sable oil painting brushes. I guess I used to paint at a much slower rate. I'm worried about spending all my very hard earned painting money on a studio gallery. I may have none left for painting supplies. Cadmiums that run $30 a tube. Art supplies were basically robbery before the price of oil shot up. I think I'm being careful cleaning the brushes, but they're deteriorating. Some of my big brushes from art school--back in 1975--are still around. I'm sure a bunch of them are from as far back as 1971. It's a shame I don't paint those huge canvases anymore using the fat brushes.
The painting I'm finishing is what I call a mandala. It's far from a normal mandala. It's one of those tight designs that I do. It's different painting every day; I think the frequency pushes freedom and experimentation. A lot of the time now, I fool around and just see what comes out. It's like coloring as a kid. It's exciting and not one quarter as stressful as painting used to be for me. It's fun with a tiny bit of worry. For me, it's nothing. I don't know why I'm saying this. It's fun. The two other paintings I'm working on are a little figurative. I'm still beginning them. I think the small one is on it's way though. That's the hard part--finding the road. Seeing where it's heading.
My friend William was bothering me yesterday about not being ambitious or feeling pushed to make money as an artist. I just want to paint. I think marketing is a job. William thinks I should put high prices on my paintings and that they'd sell faster and better that way. I have no idea if he's right, except that I haven't sold anything for more than $650, I don't think. I'm just not getting to wealthy patrons. So far, the people who've bought paintings from me are working people who wouldn't have $1200 to spend on a painting. At least, I don't think so. Pricing artwork is difficult anytime. All the time.
That's the Dot Abstract, the last painting I finished. It's about 18 x 24", oil on canvas.

Spelling and Politics

Wasn't she beautiful? I thought so. I also believe that frequently African-Americans have much better color than Caucasians. Well, I like color, especially the bronzey color some people have. Beautiful.
So, with that in mind, I can say Barack Obama, is not, in my mind, a good-looking guy. He needs a lot more hair to deal with those ears and his mouth is the size of Miami. However, I don't vote according to looks or rhetoric. He does rhetoric well. I would vote for one of my cats to get away from W and his party. I do think Obama is okay. He's an academic, and the fact that he's of African heritage will get the US some currency in Africa. His personal diversity is a huge plus for America. Seeing that the Shrub bankrupted our standing, our surplus, our economy, and our army, with Obama, there is nowhere to go but up.
I suspect political aspirations motivated Obama's church membership. That church is the place to be in Chicago. I don't imagine Reverend White's sermons were usually insanely paranoid. Regardless of many white people's belief that black people have made great gains, there is tremendous inequality and reason to be angry. It seems to me that often people who are not the targets do not see the discrimination. It's not really a case of being blind, some education is needed. Dialogue.
I was going on, but my critique of American intelligence can come later.

Work Bullshit vs Real Life

So what is the story with artists? How about fat people? Are we all nuts? In France, they say, "Dumb as an artist." Actually, artists can be anyway, anybody. So can fat people. I just happen to be mildly misfitted, as I suppose, are many. Perhaps I have hidden secrets years of psychotherapy did not "cure". Does psychotherapy cure anything? Or just make people feel okay about their inadequacies? I don't feel okay about mine when I wake up wanting to stay sleeping for another day or two. I have been told that is why alarm clocks exist. Who would want an alarm clock once he or she didn't have to hit the trail that day? I continue to feel as though I beat the system, although I really did retire from my (three day a week, draw at my desk) job, the normal way. I'm still sticking my tongue out laughing, "Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!" To whom? Who cares? Who thinks about me or wishes I was there to suffer the avalanche of paper I left? I did. I couldn't help it. I couldn't concentrate. I still can hardly count, or make sensible lists. At work, I felt guilty, and wanted to get out before someone "caught" me. I never didn't do anything that would hurt anybody, but the useless paperwork wasn't getting done. It's hard to feel guilty when I know I was one of many who weren't filling out reams of paper, and the others had no excuse. I had Lupus. What a job! Truly the Great Spirit smiled on me when I transferred into there. From the time I started working in Civil Service--I won't say where--I worked for almost all crazy people. Mostly certifiable, which I should have some idea about, having a degree in Therapeutic REcreation at which I worked in a Psych hospital. It's possible I wouldn't know, but I do. First I worked with clients and when I got onto the business end of the stick, my job got better and better. I couldn't appreciate it, mostly because I hated the people, but it was good. If I'm paranoid, it has nothing to do with anyone else. My working life +could have stayed terrible, but I was given the gift of improvement. Silly, but good. I was always rebellious and anti-authority. I was tortured by my mom for it, but at the same time, I learned my lessons at home. I totally can't stand bullshit either, and business is mostly lying and bullshit. Cheating legally. I can't be serious about most things. Titles. Authority. Rules for rules sake. And breaking the rules because no one is looking. Not me. Some rules are for safety and they're not the ones to break.
My rant is done. My Autumn has fallen asleep on my desk in front of me. Time for more reading of The Glory and the Dream by Manchester. I just got A Voyage Long and Strange which is supposed to be good too. I also have Sarah Vowel. From where I sit with Autumn, at least two of those people are great historians, if anybody is listening.
Good night and God bless you.
Jaynee

Art Stuff

To be an artist... can mean many things. Playing an instrument, working in illustration or commercial art, or painting whatever the angels send; they are all art. I have been very lucky to have somehow caught the joy of drawing when I was a little girl. Attending Art School was never easy, not when I was thirteen, or when I was twenty-three at the Academy. I wasn't the best; I was not able to paint the way I would have chosen. I had to work at drawing. But one thing never changed; I loved using oil paint and drawing with ink. People seem to believe those are the two most difficult types of art; but they both feel good to me and that's what counts. To pursue your heart's desire, one has to please oneself, not do what other people think looks good. The point is that the highest forms of Art--painting; music; or writing--are forms of self-expression, not what sells. And then from there, it becomes tantamount that the artist finds some way to support herself and her family.
I chose not to attempt Art as a career, and that choice paid me well although there were disadvantages. Working in "normal" jobs takes the artist out of the art community. Often artists are non-conformist as I am, and that can be hard on the psyche. Fitting in with average white folks was an impossible challenge for me. It never really worked. I wasn't living in artsy communities, and they knew I was strange. Oh, well, such is life.
Now that I live in a Delaware suburb, on my own garden, no one, except who I choose, know me well. Whatever my neighbors think about me remains their secret as I re-enter my house and close the door. Out in the sunroom, paintings are always in process. I have been painting abstracts. They have been fun, even though even abstracts are work. But I have grown from the need to represent people and scenes on the canvas. Yes, they were always serious challenges, but I think I may be done with them. Perhaps it's time to simply enjoy myself painting. I've come to sixty years; painting has always been a large part of my identity. I am finally old enough to paint whatever flows from my brush. I have railed against galleries for years and I allow myself to forego their bullshit. If I can, I'll open my studio to show my work. I cannot look for glory and accolades in the art world. That, in itself, is hard, discouraging work. One needs to live and know people in the artworld, and that means Manhattan really. I would need to sing "The Impossible Dream" day in and day out. It is too much work. I just want to paint.

Passover. I'm soooooo tired. G'night.

So Serious...Dashing to somewhere..

I love this goofy drawing. I know it has the guy's penis in it, so that makes it explicit, but it's supposed to be a joke. He's had a "Eureka!" moment, and ran out forgetting to put on the rest of his clothes. Oh, well. I guess you had to be there. I used to do these at work and amuse myself.
I got my pain doc's report today. Everything is wrong with my neck and my lower back isn't so hot either. My neck has serious problems though that could cripple me gradually. I'm sixty. I'm not looking to live into my eighties. Some people are healthy and maintain their independence, but I'm not trusting. I've always left the games early, worrying about what might happen if I stayed. This is no different, but I'm not ready yet. Even though my one knee is very painful, I feel otherwise okay. Able. I'm still painting up a storm. I am upset to read about all the problems I've got sitting just below my head. Ugh. I need to exercise.
Tomorrow is the Jewish Passover. I printed out twenty-seven pages of a secular humanist Hagaddah. I hope it's worth it. The old one made no sense for irreligious people.

Living to Paint (and loving it)

That's The Birds. One was my daughter's Conyer and the other was one she worked with at the Philly Zoo. Birds are incredibly beautiful. So are cats and my little girl is climbing on me now. She just moved off because I had to lean forward to use the mouse, but she'll come back. She goes back and forth and I notice she's sleepy.

My tummy is big and full, certainly big enough for Autumn for sit on. I just ate, I guess, about a cup of spagetti with garlic, anchovies, and olives (with cheese). At 11:30 PM. I have a "procedure" tomorrow morning and I'm nervous, so I ate with the expectation that I wouldn't eat tomorrow. We'll see. I always eat.

I'm getting another epidural in my lower back. This time it's to deal with the pain radiating from my knee down. I kept off my feet today so I wasn't in much pain. I sat on my padded stool while I painted. I finally had to get up because my butte got numb. I like the painting I'm working on. I liked it yesterday when I'd sort of covered it in white. I'll still work on it, but it's virtually done. I hung the yellow one on the wall just to my riht. It makes me feel good. I love the texture, the yellows, golds and reds. All the colors and they're all there. Before I started the Funny Fine Art, I usually wasn't satisfied with my paintings. Especially my paintings. I got such a kick out of my funny paintings; I loved my drawings; and now, I love my paintings. They're not Rembrandt or Manet level. I don't have that kind of talent. I would use contemporary painters, but I can't tell how much talent they have. Even Alice Neel, but she was very good. Anyway, I did get to paint and that's what counts.

I also put the plastic wear, nested, into a huge plastic container. I had them in the sunroom and there is too much stuff in that room. We do a lot in there: plants; painting; relaxing; and kitty litter. It doesn't sound like much, but there are tools for each activity and it's not a large room.

I'm really tired. The weekends are busy. I hate for the weekdays to get busy again. Right now, I'm not swimming or doing Tai Chi and I love being home, painting. That's all I want to do. My body will fall apart though. My life is very easy, but, well, no but, I guess.

Life on the Farm

Something different. Wasn't that a pretty picture though? That one sold through the web to a guy in Germany. Eventually, I sent it to Belgium, where he'd moved. I had to take it off the stretchers. I like the fact that nothing sexual is really shown. Just a hint, and it's so erotic. Oh, well. I see mistakes now and they would bother me if I had the painting. I'm glad I don't. I've got too many hanging around already.
I cleaned a ton of kitty litter today. I've got seven--four outside and three inside. The outside kitties like it too, and one of them seems always to be in the closed one. He's decided I'm not to be trusted because I tried twice to put flea medicine on him. I tried to close up their route to the little park also stopping the big old tomcat who was eating their food and scaring them to death. I'm hoping the inconvenience will keep him out. Let him go bother the raccoons next door.
I did a lot of physical work today and my knee swelled up and it's been hurting. I never got to paint, but I knew I shouldn't anyway. I am not used to sitting on anything while I paint. I miss painting terribly when I don't do it, but I really did have too much to do. Of course, I'm not up that long anyway. I worked on my website tonight and late this afternoon. God knows, it needed the work. I fixed the abstract page and knocked out stuff I can't keep up like New Work or My Life Through Pictures. I don't even like the Life page. I think either I, or Harry's host, knocked it off his site. It's not relevant anymore. Harry's right, I do go through phases and eventually, they're done. I'm grateful all those folks posed for me. I may be interested again sometime, but not now. They were so good about it.
I was going to write the incredible stories from my jobs, and maybe later. I guess when we work, we come across amazing people. My cousin ran into brilliant people and I came in contact with political "drones", nice people, and nuts. Some of them thought I was nuts. After all, I never followed their quaint customs. I never fit in and some people were bothered by that. I sound so snotty. I really wasn't though. It killed me to be treated like an outsider and not be trusted. When I worked out in the boondocks with Poggy Horsemanure, I think her trouble with me was that she was insecure. Like I wanted her job, or that I looked down on her because she got her job through having sex with the boss of the department. As though that's unusual. She was blonde and he liked blondes, especially those who would sleep with him. He never made a pass at me. I guess I didn't seem the type and I wasn't. So she was. So what. I put her down because she was a "company woman". Screw the clients and please the boss. Ugh. I had one supervisor who I think of as "The Cancer Woman" because she was dying of cancer. She lied to my face, knowing I knew she was lying. Cancer or not, she was disgusting. One of my bosses, Edmund Fitzgerald, was crazy, but honest. He drove me totally crazy, but I respected him. I had to finally take Xanax every time I was going to meet with him, but I still have good feelings about him. Honesty is a big deal. He was a religious guy and he stuck to his morals. I give him credit for him.
Poggy actually tried to have me arrested! after I escaped from her and Mr. Fitzgerald. I was stupid, but she was a witch. All she was missing was a cauldron. I'll talk about her more later. She ruined other people's lives. How does one do that and sleep at night. I think Edmund Fitzgerald did people in too, but not out of pure malice.
I have to stop now; I'm so tired. I don't care if Poggy recognizes herself, but I don't want strangers to stop her on the street and say they read about her. She doesn't deserve the fame, good or bad. I've prayed for her, but most of me thinks it's right for her to stew in her own hatred and misery.

Me

Me My BackyardThat's my painting of my backyard. Right now, in April, it's still mostly mud, but it's beautiful in summer--not that beautiful, but lovely to someone from a rowhouse in Philly. We moved to a single house with a big yard and a little park run behind it in Delaware, from Philly, in August of '06. Except for the lack of creative artistic experimentation, I love it here. I never tried to have my work shown in the best Philly galleries, so I don't know whether they would have accepted my work. They do hang it down here, but except for my buddy's, who grew up and went to Art School in Philly too, none of the work reaches gallery level. It's too much work for me to exhibit in Philly or Wilmington. (I really SHOULD send emails to the Philly galleries. Hmm) I just can't take work in for them to see and decide. That's work! Taking paintings down, carrying them, and then hanging them back up is big-time work. They sit against walls for years. I don't hang them all either. Right now, I'm kind-of working on building a group of abstract paintings. Let me see if I can add one.Well, that didn't work. I'll try another one. Not that one either. Okay, I can't take anymore. No more pics. They're on Plaxo and I think, Facebook, and hopefully, my website at http://www.painterjayne.com/ I haven't added the last two abstracts though. Maybe today.xoxoJaynee

The Art Show

Here I am down here. Almost totally exhausted. Got up "early"--just before 10:30, cleaned, painted, set up the dishwasher, and went to the Art Alliance here for the show. The opening. all the "Intelligentsia" must have been there. Almost all the work there, other than Ken's and mine, was either awful, beginner stuff, vacation photos, or badly hung. Except for Ken's wall, most of the walls were badly hung. My Celebration Circles hung next to three black and white photos the same size as the painting. The photos were artsy and bad, okay, or great family vacation photos. I felt like a nasty snob. The people looked like nice upper middle class people and the center did a great job with food and entertainment. It was done beautifully. I don't really know about the monthly art show in one big room. It had two stand out pieces, I know. They were a pair done by one woman. A wall hanging was nice too. That part was hung okay, if boring. In Philly, I don't think the bad part of the show would have stood. Somebody would have screamed.

I went. My kids came and went too and Harry. Both of my legs were killing me. I found out yesterday at my pain doctor's that I have some serious problem in my neck that is probably causing problems I attributed elsewhere. My neck hurts a lot when I try to sleep.

I'm falling asleep. Better get busy on my teeth.

Driving

Tomorrow I review my neck MRI with my pain doc. I've never had one on my neck and it's been bad for about thirty years. My mom's was and so is my daughter's. Tells you something. My knee is spasming right now. I was standing and painting with gloved hands. I still have my Philly clothes on. We went today. We have been driving all the way up past Philly for one doctor and I have to find one down here. That's ridiculous. As soon as we moved down here, we saw a difference in drivers. It's not always or everybody, but it's better. But drivers are so much worse all over. I learned to drive in 1964 on a 1954 Chevy with regular steering and brakes. There was no such thing as seat belts or power steering. (People regularly went through windshields in accidents.) There just weren't as many cars on the road. My dad used to think women were lousy drivers and my aunt, another experienced driver--older than my father, born about 1902--used to yell about people getting their licenses at Pep Boys. My dad loved to drive, as did most of the family except my mother. Driving fifty MPH was fast and there weren't as many cars. We had no highways in Philly or nearby New Jersey. We drove to New York on Route 1 and down the shore on the back roads. We cruised in cars as heavy as Mack trucks. It wasn't a great time, but it was a good time for driving.xoxoJaynee

Jerry

A number of times, when I was asleep, I believe I visited "the other side", to a place like an auditorium where people sat staring straight ahead. I've seen my brother at least once in one of those although he was in a smaller room. I've been praying for him to be in a place he chooses, with our family, doing whatever he wants. I don't know what that place is, but it's not a happy place. Not horrible at all, but I don't like it. It feels like a lost place. So I pray for him.One night, when I'd been depressed for a day or two, he came, hugged me, and just showered me with love and compassion.Last night, he came and hugged me, needing compassion and I held him. I hope I'm not keeping him tied to earth. My heart breaks for having lost him, but I feel very close to him now regardless. I wish I knew what really goes on.xoxoJaynee

My Day

Not much is doing here. I'm painting the frame on my newest finished painting. It turned out that yellow was the right color. I like the lattice stripping frames because they don't intrude on the paintings. Even though it hurts to stand for a long time, I'm still painting. I'm more forgetful because of the pain. I didn't go to Tai Chi or swimming this week because I was afraid of the pain. Both involve standing for an hour. However, I did go shopping three days in a row, and yesterday, I spent at least an hour at Penny's. I'd been looking for another quilt or coverlet for our bed. The pretty one we bought--turquoise to match the bed frame and walls--was dirty. Our cats, especially Moon, are big shedders. I wanted another quilt so I could change off and keep them clean. I wanted turquoise though and that was impossible to find. They had one online, and I probably should have stuck with that, but I finally found and bought one that's light blue-green. I can't think of the name of the color. I also bought two new sheets because ours are wearing out and they were on sale at both Penny's and Kohl's. The only store that's not nearby is Target, and Whole Foods for gourmet food. Every time I go to Philly, I'm very thankful we've moved to Delaware. Delaware is so much more livable. Anymore, I hate to be in Philly. Drivers honk if you make a turn, or pull into a parking spot because it slows them down. They honk if you don't rush into traffic the second the light turns green. And people run the red lights every time, usually long after it's turned. On city streets cars drive up to seventy miles an hour and people are surprised pedestrians are killed so often. At least once every couple of weeks, there is a hit and run of a child. I guess the adults aren't as newsworthy. A nun was run down about five months ago and no one was ever charged. Philly is changing. The nature of it is becoming meaner. xoxoJaynee

Mostly Cat Health & My Knee-Ruled Decisions

Susan G's husband gave me three copies of The Enquire. I love them (till I can't stand them anymore). So I guess I'll enjoy the mags(Entertainment).
I just woke up; I have to decide whether to go swimming. I want to go to Kohl's. Dear Hubby has a "thing" about the rain and I have a "thing" about the pain in my knee. Standing for an hour in the pool is painful. I'm using my cane to walk on dry land and it helps a lot. I guess that is my decision. I haven't done the exercises. I did the shoulder exercises while I was in the shower and just done my shower. That worked; this doesn't and that sucks. I have to figure out a way. I also have been eating bad stuff, such as a pepperoni roll for dinner last night. I cannot eat it again; it tasted lovely, but my weight scares me. I found out my wonderful trail mix, instead of being 140 calories for a bag, according to the print I previously ignored, is 420, supposedly it's to be shared by three people. That's likely.
I forget what else I ate--oh, yeah--we ate in Philly the night before. No wonder. I still have the seafood salad too. It was full of crab meat, scallops, and shrimp and good. I had half Dear Hubby's dessert too. Ugh.
Harry's been feeding the kittens every morning which is good. He likes them a lot and they return it. I feed them around dinnertime. They come up on the deck often when I paint and that's a lot. Autumn was just sitting on the top of my chair cleaning my hair. The mousse offended her. I had to hold her little hand to get her claws out of my forehead. She doesn't notice I have no fur on my face. I love when she fools around with my hair, but it's not a good idea to let her lick mousse. Not the cat who eats $23 dry cat food. I bought her two kinds yesterday. The $23 one, I forget, it might be Venison. I really need to switch her to Venison or Rabbit. She still has the little sore on her lip and that's an allergy sign. I might try Paul Newman's dry food because it has no wheat. I doubt she's allergic to chicken although I do want to try Venison for her. Or Rabbit. (Ugh) I spent a very late hour last night on here looking at dry cat foods. I am going today to compare prices of the Venison stuff with the food coop.
Well that's everything. I'm feeling guilty about swimming. I do stand the whole time when I paint, pain or not. What I really should do is put my leg up and relax (without eating). Tendenitis responds to rest. I think that's REALLY it.

Little Note on Ethnic & Racial Distrust

♠Not doing anything right now. Too tired to paint a frame. I think the abstract I’ve been working on is finished. I’m working on two others too. I had wanted to sell the landscape. I’d been offered money for it, but it wasn’t enough. Hopefully, later that will show up. My landscape page--at = is messed up and I guess I’ll fix it when I get off here. My website is old and I don’t update it often enough. I’ve sold work--a lot of work--from it, but what I like to do is paint and in the evening, watch movies. When I used to have a job (three days a week), I worked on that site and talked on line all the time. I guess I was starved for normal human contact. I worked in Civil Service with mostly South Philly politicians. Nuff said. I loved their spirit, but they thought I was from Pluto. After all, I’d gone to college and I was an artist, no less. I wore flip-flops during the day, my God! (My feet always hurt.) I had Lupus too and everyone knows anybody who can walk is not too sick to work like everybody else. Lupus had to be a put-on. Of course, they knew everything and there was no arguing. I still got a kick out of them. The only people who talked to me like another human being though, were my African-American colleagues. They were my favorites.
Actually, switching the subject a little, one of my co-workers passed away shortly after she retired. I’ll call her Brenida. I liked and had great respect for her. I’m somewhat psychic. Brenida kept appearing in my dreams. I was happy to see her, but something was wrong. I could see she didn’t really trust me. She was there for a purpose. When she showed me a picture of her husband, which looked like the young boy murdered down south for whistling at a white woman, I realized why she was contacting me. I called her girlfriend from work and told her Brenida was popping up in my dreams and I thought maybe Brenida wanted me to tell her she was okay. After that, Brenida never appeared again. I believe she had overwhelming dislike for people my color, and she had every right to feel that way, but I truly liked her, and I was sorry. I wanted her to be my friend and come visit. I wanted to know what Brenida thought and felt.
Thinking about Brenida, and then Obama, I believe people of my light color do not appreciate the resentment darker people feel. We don’t notice the little (and big) slights they receive. The fella I hope will be my son-in-law is of Mexican heritage. In the Southwest, he grew up feeling prejudice. One of my friends visited the other day and complained of the same weird responses sometimes. She’s of Filipino heritage (and beautiful). She thought it was her big breasts. Who knows? Surely not me. I know I got plenty of prejudice at work for being Jewish. A lot of people accepted me once they knew I didn’t fit the stereotype, but I was physically assaulted by another worker because of it. Most of the world is anti-semitic, especially with Israel being strong and fighting the Arabs. Of course, it’s not me. I think even the Israeli’s don’t know what to do, and I’m an American. Not that I don’t care about Israel. I read history. Ain’t too many countries who would take me and mine if this country gets totally crazy. You don’t think that could happen? Look at W and all he’s done and not done. One horrible strike and we’d be in the Dark Ages.
Well, that’s enough for me.
xoxo Painterjayne http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LnBhaW50ZXJqYXluZS5jb20=
7:45 PM -

Just a note before I lay me down to sleep. Dizzy from Dilaudid which I took for torturous knee pain. Painted anyway. Have been. Still painting the abstracts but one little one has fish in it. Should take photos and try to get opinions. The first one could be finished.

Painting like a house-afire and enjoying it. In pain most of the time from my knee. Haven't cleaned the house, or today, washed the dishes. Will do that very soon. Then, I'll go back to painting. Worked last night from about 11 to 12 or so, and during the afternoon yesterday. don't get up till about 11 or 12. I like all this. Best way for me to live my life, or so it seems. Will try Tai Chi tomorrow morning and back to swimming Tuesday. Knee hurts when I stand and walk and hurts in the water too. Went to a doctor who seemed as goofy as me, with 1970's pants. Not keen on his advice. Can't do one of the exercises at all. Wouldn't send me to "my" PT folks. Strange. I wish people had warned me first, instead of agreeing with me later. I love old fart doctors after I'm okay.
I hope people like Pogie H., and I forget the names of her cronies, read this. I should really pray for them because they're soooooooo messed up. If there's such a thing as reincarnation, they've got a number of lives in front of them. I pray for me too, because I still harbor hate for them. I can't see the humanity in them. Only anger and destruction. I just can't see it and I almost always do. Is it their guarded nature? Noncel Spore, I forgot her. She's another one in whom I cannot see humanity. I guess it's their overriding anger or righteousness. Noncel, I think, had a very tall wall up, in order to survive in her working world. I can't stand those kind of people and there are so many of them. I think of them as corporate people. Are they shut down? How do they do it? My kids are not like that, but then they're not corporate. They're both scientists (of which I am mightily proud.) Read it and weep Poggy Horseman! I'm not giving your name Poggy. And I'm not telling about how you're the mean, rotten kind of witch, not the Wiccan kind. What about your dedicated car-dealing office manager friend, Mory, or Futzie, or whatever her name was? Boy oh boy, she couldn't see past corporate policy either. And Flower, your secretary. Floozie? Fucknozey? What was her name? How do these people function? Is it their Catholic education? If anybody reads this and understands, please enlighten me. I have no idea.
Now that I've figured out funny names, I can tell my work stories! That's a joy. Poggy Horsenose. She was a pretty lady, actually.

Just want to check in. No paintings done. Covered over two new ones. They sucked, big time. Enjoying painting the new one over the porch flower painting. Ah well. Big time painter.

Didn't paint today. Dragged myself out of bed and made a great grilled cheese sandwich with my hot chile cheese and wonderful thickly-sliced cheese bread. I almost never cook and I love my grilled cheese sandwiches. I also redid my Abstract page on my website. Two accomplishments.

I'm missing posting paintings regularly. I take as long as it takes to paint in oils. And it usually takes a long time for me to be satisfied. I love the painting Celebration Circles. I have two more coming along that are similar. It's much prettier in person. That's not a great photo.

I'm not a bad painter. Somewhere in the middle, I would think. Of today, anyway. That's a huge blessing and I'm very grateful. The adjectives are deserved. To love anything that much is a gift and to be able to create is something special. I really do have to thank my family for encouraging me.

Knee, not the knights

Oops. Drunk. I'm drinking Spiced Rum like some people drink Coke. Seems like I can put it away and enjoy it. Not so great.
Painted all day. Been painting. Got two abstracts going. One, so far, is flowers. I like the purple and glad my dear daughter suggested using more than basic colors. I was just using my favorites. Even used the Rose, which I don't much like. The purple is beautiful though. Didn't get to use Cobalt Blue but I will. My knee hurt so much, my leg hurt, but while I was painting, I didn't notice. When I sat down to look at the paintings, I was really exhausted. I ate later. Just realized I drank beer with my Pastrami, Cole Slaw, and cheese, and then Spiced Rum. I'm okay though. Luckily, I'm sleeping again, so no drugs. Nothing helps the knee except the Tens, when it's on. Can I do Tai Chi tomorrow? I'll see. Might go with my bathing suit on so I can go swimming afterward. I like being in the water because my knee doesn't hurt then. Gotta get up early so off I go.

I've painted almost all my life and I enjoy it more now than ever. I'm disillusioned with galleries and that process is exhausting anyway, even if I felt good about them. Right now, I'm working on two more paintings that may relate to the Circles painting. Except for old abstracts, this promises to be a larger group of "pretty" paintings. I'm painting to please myself and I like them pretty.
I forgot to take pictures of the porch flowers painting. I entered it in a Wilmington show that's purely amateur with a big etcetera. People have talent but the show is major boring. Almost no one used red or bright colors in general. Everything was "quiet". My friend Ken Se gal, also an artist who now lives down here too, encouraged me. He comes from near where I lived in Philly and went to Tyler. So, I'll see if those folks like the paintings. He keeps saying the landscape will win a prize, but I'm not confident. We're talking about people's taste.
I worked today on my flowers painting and also on my current abstract. I like how they're coming along. I didn't like the abstract and couldn't figure out what to do with it, and started "fixing" it today. I also went swimming. My knee hurt me so badly every time I bent it, I just had to do something where it wouldn't hurt. I enjoyed being in the water. A lot. I hoped that when I got home I'd have the energy to paint, and luckily, I did.
I think my daughter had a good idea about using colors other than primary ones. Those are my favorites, but variety is kind of neat. I used Naples and Yellow Ochre, in addition to that mud red that takes forever to dry and "spreads". I've been using Viridian again too. I'd like to find a way to use a rose red if I could. I generally don't like it. I'm crazy about Ultramarine and Thalo Blues. Maybe I should look for my Cobalt Blue. I may not even have any. Sometimes I don't use color for so long, the tube gets hard. I poke them in the side or the top with a toothpick and paint from that. It's messy, but I'm messy.
Being able to work in the Arts is truly a gift from God. I dream about singing and dancing, but I love, adore, cherish, painting. I feel blessed.
I realize I'm somewhat of an atheist, believing in the highest level of spirit energy is God or Gods. Maybe that's not an atheist, because I believe in angels and the whole magilla. Last night, I had another dream of the other side. I think "the other side" is different from what I see, but whatever it is, that part of existence is not horrible. I would doubt, but then I remember Jerry's flying photos and the rest. Plus Aunt Millie--her spirit. In the dream, I looked into a mirror and saw spirits. Of course, I wanted to see Jerry, and was reassured I would eventually. I had a chance to dance on air, and looked at a huge swimming poor where a couple of women were doing the Dead man's Float. I realized finally they weren't coming up for air and tried to give one of the women a tap, saying something like, "You go, girl!" I value those little visits. I didn't see anyone I knew, but I learned. And I couldn't wait to go swimming!

Just taking a break. Hammering and sawing. Done that.

Philadelphia

Getting ready to relax and then go to sleep. Been having trouble lately falling asleep. Wasn't feeling good today. Was in Philly. Can't stand Philly anymore. It looks shabby and the driving is more hazardous than here. My old neighborhood has hardly any of the same stores and lots of empty storefronts. I like the new mayor and I hope he can stem the violence and the bleed of taxpayers running away. But I don't like Pennsylvania either. I don't want to see the corruption here; it's the same all over, but I worked too close to it in Philly. I knew then, even if nothing illegal had occurred, it looked suspicious having so many children of supervisors there, and moreover, quickly climbing the ladder to administration. I can't believe there was no help given, at least .

I was never a good employee though. I always did a good job and was never, ever complimented, not that I expected that. I was open and honest and that's stupid in business. I am still anti-authoritarian, and I suspect, a socialist. What can you do? I was raised that way. This is probably the point where I say how awful the people were I worked with. I was never consoled by the good ones, so yeah, I basically loathed them. And before I hated them, I tried to see the good in them. Everyone has some decency and I found theirs, but they treated me like shit anyway; I didn't sufficiently conform, so I guess I was scary. However, I didn't know the codes to fit in no how, no way. Also, one thing I am not mentioning was I witnessed, experienced, the murderous lying rage that will kill an innocent person--me--for an insult. I had a few witches go after me. They would have loved to ground me into the dust regardless if it meant their lying, cheating, perjury, whatever. After that, I would never completely trust the Justice system. Those people indulge their personal anger and compromise other people's lives. They ruin whole families for little hurts of their pride. It's really sick. Truly horrible. We rarely hack people, especially children, to death, but we consign them to unspeakable horrors for the rest of their natural, or unnatural, lives.

Well, it's time for relaxing. Shame on you, Elizabeth H. and the rest of you bottom dwellers. I pray you someday realize the error of your ways and bring some joy and peace to other people.

Goodbye Outlook Email & Here Are The Paintings

My Outlook email won't send. This has really knocked me for a loop. I've spent about four days either trying to fix it with comcast, myself, or with Brian. Nothing has worked. I'm uncomfortable and having problems with the other emails for Harry's column and just living. Everything on here is harder.

I've started back at the pool. The first thing I did was lose my goggles. I can't swim without them. That hurt. The pool was packed too. I've gained back all the weight I lost and I'm trying my best to knock it down again. Here are my two latest paintings.

My Day

Just saying "Hi". My tooth has a big crack in it and I keep sticking my tongue inside. Isn't that what we do? The tooth is in the back, so it's not obvious to anybody but me. And what else is going on? The children just left; they took Nancy with them. I picked her up Thursday and she stayed. Harry made lovely dinners. He's making presentations. I got to paint this afternoon while he was cooking. I'm working on my landscape of the backyard. I guess I should have used the backyard photo.

I think there is a lot going on; I just can't remember. Gotta go take medicine for my jaw pain.

Oh, the big news is Tigger is getting used to my touching him. He's tolerating it for as long as he can. Then he moves away. He lets me kind of grab his tail when he rubs against me when I'm getting their food ready. I think he's Keke's brother, either from the same litter with a different father, or a previous litter. More likely the same. Tigger is always rubbing against Keke. Sometimes, Keke will lick him. They're very affectionate to each other. Keke is the original lovebug anyway.

I go out to the garage to feed and be with them at least twice a day no matter what the weather is and right now, it's freezing. They have that big dog house and the cabinet I set up for them. I think Keke uses the cabinet. I can tell because the baby shoes that were in there were thrown out. I'm expecting eventually they'll come inside the house. I can't imagine them living in the garage for their whole lives. They go outside in general and I can see they have a good time. Usually, Tigger follows Keke. I think they hang around Helga's backyard and hunt the birds in there. I'm glad they're not bringing any wildlife home. They're not hungry, so maybe they're just pretending. They love their combination Meow Mix and Friskies.

And I'm happy painting.

Just Talkin

Just a word or two. Doing little psychic readings that seem to be accurate. Makes me pleased. Trying to write a note more frequently in here. Picked up on the My Face thing that a woman I know started for me. Have three pages to put up on my website. Working a little on fixing the links. They got messed up when my page was summarily shut down at tripod. This is such a narrow-minded nation. What would it have been like to have grown up in a liberal country? I would have been more free and probably less rebellious. Maybe.

I'm burning up with anger now. No real reason. Should be painting. I'm happy when I paint. Tomorrow. Cleaned today. Company tomorrow and Sunday. Family room especially gets sloppy. Got the garden cleared of all the crap that falls from trees. Now, the gate will open to the little run behind us. To have trees... A gift. So grateful.

Hope scene of tanks possibly on American soil does not come true. Jerry showed me but he could be meaning something other than what I thought he meant. Finally, I'm so happy with my life and my surroundings. My children are both grown and good people. This is my time to enjoy, if I can, above the arthritis and exercise. I sure as hell don't want to see this country attacked again. That shrub can't get out of the White House fast enough. I gotta think Americans are generally ignorant. How could any middle, working class, or poor person dream that shrub could or would do anything that would help him or her. I could see wanting him as a fun neighbor, but the guy hasn't shown an ounce of brains before or after he stole the first election. Now we have a totally polarized nation and legislature. Great. If we're mostly a middle class nation, why do we have Republicans running things? They give the money and perks to the rich. Oh yeah, they hate African-Americans and people who hail from south of the border. I forgot. They throw black people in jail and send people of color if possible, to their previous country if possible. And white people think this is normal. Not all white people, no. I figure it will take at least a few hundred more years for real color blindness. But there will still be craziness. And poor people.

I think of the murdering--slaughtering--in Kenya, Congo, and Darfur and realize we can't get it together in even one city. How can we help them when we don't know how to help ourselves?

I pray to be free of hate and anger. I know it's not that easy. So I ask to learn, to see why, and how I am. If I'm still a mess after all that counseling, God knows how other people are. I can see, most people are flying through life, not looking at themselves or what they're doing. It's all a rush, I know. We're too busy. I just didn't have that luxury.

Oh, I've been warned not to pour my heart out on here. I've made enemies in my life. And my sacred message to them is, "Fuck you and the fucking horse you came in on." I'm very cooled out.

Not Much Help Needed

The cane looks awful, but, for a cane, I think it looks good. I don't have any new artwork to put up there. I'm back working in oils again and each painting takes a month, or months. The two I'm working on now are from the summer. I started them then. (That reminds me; I still didn't pick up my work from that gallery where I backed out of the show. I should never let my work out because I am not timely picking it up.) Anyway, I'm painting again after my shoulder surgery so I'm happy.
Actually, I'm not happy. I'm not unhappy either. I'm a little annoyed. I'm annoyed at me for leaving my paintings at that gallery. What an idiot! Not the guy, me! I had a Reiki session today. It was my birthday present from our daughter. The lady was great, but I don't have faith in Reiki per se. However, the woman is more like a shaman. She's psychic and perceptive. She picked up Jerry's personality and that he is around me. I was very glad to get that validation. I didn't need it, but to hear felt good. She also picked up on my aunt's ring that I wear and the love that had gone into the ring. I know my aunt is pleased that I wear it. I redid my other aunt's ring, etc. I told her how much I love jewelry and that's the truth. I don't buy expensive stuff. Just copies, but I enjoy them so much. I bought myself a silver watch for my sixtieth birthday just now. I'm waiting for it to have an extra piece added. Guaranteed I'll enjoy it. I'm just very visual and into decoration. My earrings, of which I have many, are BIG. That's it for big. I bite my nails and pick at my cuticles, so my rings are conservative, but I love them too. I wear bracelets but no necklaces, except rarely. I have a couple of things I inherited. I bought two pieces of technibond too. That's it. Kaput. I just have to keep buying clothes though because I've gotten so fat. And now, my feet hurt all the time. That's one of the body parts that hurt. My knees are now storming, cracking, and failing occasionally. One is. I am having a good time though.
I still love being retired, except that no one is ever really retired if you take care of yourself. Jerry didn't, but he knew what he was doing. I hate being in pain, so I'll be back at the pool and on the machines. I hate the idea, let alone doing it. I finally started volunteering to read to itty bitties at one of the day care centers. The program is run by a non-profit agency. I enjoyed my first day tremendously. I wish I had grandchildren, but I don't. I'm lucky to have good kids.
My daughter and her boyfriend are coming down tomorrow, Sunday. Every time he comes down, he fixes something for us. He's a godsend and a lovely guy besides being handsome.
Well, time for my bath and graphic novels. I LOVE them. I love reading and these are so much fun and I'm learning about another way of looking at life too. With no effort. I wish I could lose weight with no effort. I wish I could do what I want one hundred per cent of the time too.

Christmas Miracle

Autumn is coming onto and leaving my lap, so this has to be short. The two kittens above are Tigger, and KeKe. Keke is the little grey, black and white one. They live in my outside studio that is actually, still a garage. They were living under a tree, so my garage with regular meals and kitty litter, is pretty comfortable. There is a big dog house in there for them, but I don't think they're using it. The reason I wanted to write today wasn't because of the cats, although I adore them. Keke is a lapcat and a little bundle of affection. It's hard not to adore them.
However, today's story is about a Christmas miracle. Christmas morning a friend online wished me a Christmas miracle. We had a lovely day visiting our cousins in southern Delaware and we were driving home. Suddenly, I became aware of cigarette smoke gagging me. I told Harry and he said he smelled it too, but didn't want to mention it. Then we realized it was Jerry, my beloved cousin who passed away last January. This was the second time he showed up by manifesting smoke in the car. Harry and I thanked him and I kept talking to him all night. Neither of us complained about the smoke because we knew it was Jerry and the smoke wasn't going to hurt us. (Jerry smoked like a chimney in winter.)
Harry and I are both amazed, and I'm thrilled, that Jerry can do something like that. He's thrown framed photos, shoes, upped the shade in my room two inches, and stuff like that. I wasn't sure he did all those things, but now I am.
My son gave me a hundred reasons why the smoke was a natural occurrance, but it wasn't real smoke. I have driven since 1964 on all kinds of roads and I have never had this happen. Smoke comes in only if the car is next to someone puffing away. And you can tell the difference between real smoke and Jerry's. I think my son is wrong. He's a scientist though, and I wanted to hear the rational reasons for our experience. Since the rational reasons didn't make sense, I'll go on believing this was a kind of miracle. I'm Jewish, and having a Christmas miracle is a little weird, but I'll be happy to accept it. I don't mind celebrating Jesus' birthday anyway. He was a Jewish rabbi. I forget if Jews think of him as having been a prophet. Maybe. Anyway, not bad for a tiny race. Jesus, Solomon,Einstein, Disraeli, Freud, Marx. Forgot Moses. Jesus is the most famous. I think he'd be so disappointed by the horrible acts committed in his name. And how people often don't, no matter how pious they appear, live by his words.

Keke Joins the Family

Probably, I'm home too much now. I tripped Saturday night and fell into a wall--on my injured shoulder. Since then, I've been sleeping in Harry's lazy-boy chair. I'm doing better today, but I'll still sleep there. The two pillows and cold thing around my neck in addition to the little pillow for my neck and the big one for my knees, make sleeping in my bed a logistics problem.

Really, I don't want to go anywhere or do anything, especially physical therapy or any kind of exercise. I want to eat ice cream and cookies all day with my meals. And watch Jerry Springer on television. No feeding the outside cats, or changing the kitty litter for my two little furbabies who don't set foot outside. I thought I was finally free, then I realized I had to exercise at least four times a week so I could pick my legs up high enough to get onto the Senior Citizen's bus. I have to practice standing on my toes and walking like a little kid playing so I build up my balance. Falling into walls and holes for plants isn't really acceptable. It's just a matter of time until I break a bone. It's no surprise to me that my rotator cuff tear was immense. It's the kind that doesn't heal easily because it was so big. I don't think the tear bothered me. It was the bursitis which can't be addressed by surgery. This was a waste of time and energy. I was wrong to go through with it. There is wisdom in "Let sleeping dogs lie."

Autumn is circling my chair. Here she is. She is now on my lap, leaning over the keyboard. The new little kitten is so psychic, he's made me notice again Autumn's and Moon's requests. I'm their adopted mom or their servant. With cats, one never knows.

The picture above is Keke. He's our new kitten. Our daughter found him and another kitten under a tree across from her house in Philly. So now they live here in the garage. They're feral cats, so they wouldn't really want to live inside. I don't think any cats want that, except maybe Autumn. I think Keke would like to live inside but roam around outside. I'll see what happens down the road. Right now, Harry is stuck feeding them because my arm is not cooperating. He's doing everything because I really can't. I can hardly dress myself now; he helps.

My Life

I'm relaxing for a few minutes. My shoulder is stiff today, and after PT, it really hurts. I'm coming along very well. Apparently my movement is better than expected. I'm pleased, but it's annoying to have to baby my right arm. Also I was upset that I had so much trouble getting in and out of a truck yesterday. I started standing on one leg whenever I think about it. I need to improve my balance. My legs are weak too. I need to walk, but I can't yet because I need to hold the cane in my right arm. The cane is to help prevent my falling. I have fallen twice since the end of September and that's not counting last night, pretty much falling out of the truck.
The truck was to pick up a wooden dog house for the neutered feral kittens I've adopted. My daughter and her boyfriend brought them down. They had been living under a tree and getting picked on by one of her outside males. She takes care of four. So now I have these babies in cages in the garage. One has let me pet him, so he's not too feral. My daughter tells me the other one is very friendly too. They're traumatized by having been caught and being in cages. They each have little warm kitty houses in their cages and they can see each other. In a week or two, I'll let them roam the garage. If my arm felt alright, I'd go out and talk to them. I hope it will be okay soon. I want to go out and feed them again. I really do love animals. My neighbors dog would probably live here half the time if he had the choice. That's Max, the Yellow Labrador Retriever. He's still a wild puppy at 10 months or less, but he's full size. If he grows anymore, he'll be the size of the Burmese Mountain Dog next door. I throw dog biscuits over the fence to him and his "sister", Cinder, the Rotweiler. I was standing on a crate, but this morning, I was in a hurry, so they may have thought the dog biscuits flew off the fence by a miracle.
Speaking of miracles, I've had some lately. Jerry did at least three things. When I visited his grave, just afterward, the card filled up with smoke. Then, when Harry and I were watching a television program about a haunted house, Jerry's framed photo on the mantelpiece flew off to the floor. None of the others moved. Then, a few days later, I was sitting here at my computer, facing the windows, and one shade went up two inches. That's it. It didn't snap; it just went up the two or three inches as though I did it. The psychics I know said one of my aunts or mother pushed Jerry to do it and he did. The woman had dark hair and a hat and was in the photos I had been looking at. It was probably my Aunt Pauline, Jerry's mother, who was wearing the most hats.
I think that was the most psychic stuff that happened. It's later now. The kittens have eaten twice and they have hard food in their cages. The little one, Kiki Squeaky purrs and rubs against my hand. He cries to come out. Tigger, the orange one is depressed and doesn't come out, but he does eat when I'm not there. Kiki seems normal. He wanted to see what my son was doing making noise. And he has this tiny meow like Autumn. It's very cute. I hate to leave him outside. (He's in a cage, covered by blankets, on risers, in a little bed covered by a box so he can feel safe. Both of them have everything they need in their crates. He's very young though and clingy. I guess time will tell.

I fed and talked to the cats this evening. I made and ate too much popcorn. I am not researching how many calories or carbs it has. Our son was here for dinner and that was nice. I need to work on my website but haven't. I need to start working on the canes, but haven't. And I guess I need to stop writing and go take a bath and go to bed. Or watch Colbert. My left eyelid is twitching like mad off and on. I had a bleed in that eye too. Life happens. That's just how it is. I forgot, I sold the car too. And visited my outside plants. It feels like a pretty good day.

FEAR OF REALITY

Blood Diamonds is on TV, but I couldn't watch it. Real, horrible violence is frightening. I love mysteries and lots of stuff that doesn't get to that level. I remember the horrors of Sierre Leone, and now, Darfur. What goes on in Africa is even more heinous than some of the other genocides in our world. I think it's the mindless violence. In Bosnia, the victims knew their murderers. They were often next-door neighbors. Same with the Holocaust. Not so in South and Central America. There it's more political and power stuff. It's kind of in the middle. Dropping tied up students into the ocean from an airplane, is, I guess, more terrifying than being shot at random, but perhaps not in the same league as Darfur. Who knows? That is a horrible comparison to have to make. We make the violent apes look gentle. But, that's us.

We're stupid too. Why would people given the marvelous right to vote choose someone on the basis of a better drinking buddy and ignore that person's persistent failures, prejudice, and the fact that the person represented ideas opposite to the voter's self preservation? The Republicans stand for big money keeping their money and cuts in services to needy and the general public. So why would working people in Michigan or anywhere else vote for Republicans? I know lots of working people resent poor people getting services for free. The worker wants to see personally the disabled person is starving. That's sick. The same worker gives up college help for his children, infrastructure repair including safe bridges and protection against floods. When we don't help black people on roofs in a flood, white people give up clean beaches and open libraries. You don't get new highways if you don't build new school buildings. The only people who would stop health care for children are the same ones who let bridges deteriorate to the state where they fail and cars with people inside them drop into the river. No matter how many times the statistics are printed, shouted, put on tee shirts, people still believe what they feel. Forget facts, like they don't count because the facts don't uphold the prejudices. I'm truly sick of it but I'm used to it and ignoring it.

Just like everyone else, I live my life in a cocoon that I assiduously maintain. I shut out my neighbors because I suspect their ideas would clash with mine. I pray they haven't sought out my artwork because I fear they'd think me a pervert. No, I'm not, but most people don't understand free spirits and I seriously fit into that category. Taking up life in a single house with a garden and a private driveway is a panacea, or a step toward it if you've lived all your life on one street sharing steps, patios, and driveways. I realize that if I become disabled, rather than survive in a group living situation, suicide should be my answer. I'm assuming this will not happen for a good long time, but whenever it might occur, I will look for Jerry and hope he takes my hand and leads me to another place. Meanwhile, at this moment, Autumn lays on my desk, her tail ringing the mouse. She waits for me to go to sleep, forgetting she has to wait until Harry awakens in the morning before she can sleep on my chest. My furbaby wants my attention.

The Artist's Workroom

It's Saturday at 3 in the afternoon. I'm still in my nightgown and I'm relaxing in my workroom. All my clean, washed clothes are sitting on my drawing desk waiting for me to, perhaps, shelve them. Errant shoes, one of each pair, are strewn around half the room. Jerry's albums are stacked near me, ready to be advertised and sold. The orange fabric for the second half of my curtains and the middle lay abandoned on the drawing table and over the sewing machine. A bra needing minor repair lays over that. It's quite a mess, but I love every inch of it. It's mine and every little piece speaks to me. Right now, my right shoulder is healing. I have done more with it than I believe I was allowed, but I'm impatient. I see the doctor Monday.

Harry is doing all the housework he can tolerate and the rest isn't being done. I'm working at relaxing. Right now, I'm in my workroom. It's quiet here. From where I sit, I look out the window to the tops of trees, still green with their exuberant leaves. It's wonderful. This "morning", I sat out on our deck on the swing with the overhead cover. I talked on the phone while the acorns shot noisely from the sky. It's hilarious unless I happened to be hit by one. This past week, I finished planting the trees and plants that had arrived while I was in the hospital. Two days ago, the Weeping Willow came and I have to figure out how to plant it. I fell into the hole dug for the creepers. It took me a long time to get up, mainly because I couldn't use my right arm and my legs are so weak. Harry would have pulled me out but he wasn't home. I hurt a little extra the day after, but I'm as fine as I could be now. I'm on Percocet now, instead of Oxycodone. Percocet isn't as good, but it will do. My other choices are Ultram or a morphine derivative. Maybe before the end, I'll remember the name. That shoulder surgery has a painful recovery. I doubt any of the other ones are less painful though. But that's what pain killers are for.

I am setting up volunteering and doing it too. I've been volunteering for an on-line mentoring program for underprivileged teenagers. I have a few active kids this year and I enjoy them. They keep me busy. I also signed up to read to small children for Delaware Read Aloud, a state funded program. And I just told the Pennsylvania lupus group if they need me, I'll help them down here. For that, I'd mostly talk or give out information. That is, if they trust me enough. I'm really a loose canon. Political talk just pours out of my mouth, and does whatever else I'm ruminating. I would want me, but I like me. I don't know about conservative people who fit in. I doubt I'm their woman.

I guess that's it for now. I'll review my day later.

We watched the movie 1408 downstairs. It was pretty exciting, written by Steven King. Earlier, we had dinner out. I have most of mine in the frig. I had their onion soup as an appetizer and it filled me up. It's hard to pass up, it's delicious and it comes with dinner. We have a couple of nice restaurants in town and some in the malls. I think the best are in town. In Philly, I was fourteen miles from Center City and there was almost nothing left in our neighborhood. It was going down fast. We escaped to our dream house in the country.

Painterjayne Cane? Art Garage?

My Gorgeous Cane that took three months to paint, but it was worth it. I'm planning to make them for sale now.

This is probably my last post before my shoulder surgery Tuesday. Tomorrow, we go to Philly from the early morning and won't get back till late at night. The surgery is Tuesday and I have to be there at seven in the morning. I'm tired now. Jerry's--bless his immortal soul, kiss kiss--friend is here today to pick up concert shirts and tickets Jerry left him. For years, they went together to all the heavy metal concerts in the Delaware Valley. Russell, the friend, helped me with the garage. I was able to throw away a trash can full. Brian picked up the treadmill yesterday and soon he'll get all the stuff we stored for him while he was in an apartment. Then I'll see more boxes and get rid of what is in them. With Russell, and yesterday, with our daughter's boyfriend, I figured out the way to use the garage. I am so pleased and excited. Most of my life, since I'm almost sixty, I have wanted my own gallery. Maybe I'll call it Garaje or Cochera Painterjayne. Those are garage in Spanish. Or Cochera de Painterjayne. Nah. Garaje Painterjayne sounds better. Or Garaje Atelier. Garage Studio. There are a lot of Hispanic people here though, and I'm not. I don't want to give the impression I am. People will come in looking for paintings of bullfighters on black velvet. Tableaux--whew and wow! I do like, no, I love the sound of French. I have to mention it's a garage. I like Art Garage too. That would allow me to show other people's work too. That would be fun.

I put my cane up on here as the picture today. I'm planning to paint and sell them. A lot of people like them and most of us are fat with knees that are buckling under avoirdupois. (Isn't that a marvelous word for fat hanging down!?) I know it's embarassing, but I'm fat so I feel entitled to tactlessness. Honestly, most people who consider themselves fat don't look bad to me. If I spent big bucks for clothes, I could look good too. Anyway, it is true that being overweight is hard on our joints. So is Lupus, balance problems, Arthritis, etc. So I'm hoping I can provide a cane that's an abstract painting for about $75. I have to see how much everything costs.

Cancelling the Exhibit..

I'm not feeling well at all right now. I've taken medicine for migraines but it hasn't worked completely. Today, I cancelled my exhibit scheduled to start next week. The gallery owner is a young kid who has been driving me nuts. First, he wanted to varnish three ancient paintings for $50 each and I said "No". I think he was angry about that which appeared to be reflected in his very terse press release about the show. Not only was it pretty empty, but it identified me as a Delaware native. Then, for his opinion, I showed him a photo of my newest painting and the price for which I was selling it. He wanted one-third of the price and threatened me. Although we hadn't discussed it, he thought he was my Delaware representative. My feeling was he was just showing the work we'd agreed on for the month of October. I think I was at fault for asking if he would permit me to show the painting already sold before the show. Normally, galleries wouldn't expect a cut of a painting's sale sold before an exhibit. In fact, I never heard of that. The fellow appeared to believe I desperately wanted gallery representation and would go along with anything he said. However, that idea is far from my personal feelings. I can't stand galleries and all their snobbery and total bullshit. My dream has always been to show my own paintings on my own. Period. The only reason I agreed to show in his gallery was that he asked and seemed low-key. I don't approach galleries anymore and I never sent any money for anybody to review my slides for a show.

I'm thin-skinned about my paintings. Each one is a piece of my heart. If I could handle rejection of my work, I probably would have done better financially. It's probably my downfall. But, then again, I'm blessed to be able to paint and I'm eternally grateful. I don't by any means think I'm the best or anything in that realm; I'm just grateful to be able to pick up a paint brush or use my fingers to apply paint to a canvas, eventually designing something I'm proud of at least for a minute.

Joy of Children and Frustration of Doctors

Today was a lazy day; I didn't have to be anywhere or do much of anything. Harry watered the plants and I emptied the kitty litter--one day early. I cleaned the wood floors on the first floor and the steps. That's all of it. Yesterday, I told my little neighbor friends if I didn't answer my front door to come around the back, to the sunroom. Today, two of them did; they told me all about school. I think they're absolutely great and having six little girl neighbors is the bestest ever. I'm sending in an application to read aloud to itty bitties at a daycare center. I saw an ad in the Sunday paper and called. I offered to volunteer for hospice patients but they didn't seem to want to work around my time schedule and the only one they called me for was in Wilmington and she had to be convinced. No thanks. I had told them at first, I didn't want to go out of Newark--my town. Oh, well, what could be better than reading to children? Other than hanging out with my kids, painting or reading?

I'm pretty conventional in what I like, progressive(?) in my politics and such, and totally nuts about animals. I love staying up late forever reacting to the strictures of childhood. And I revel in Jerry's dictum of all I need to do is be.

Next week my being will be getting shots in my back to perhaps kill the pain. After packing and unpacking to move here, I had back pain every day and it only got worse. I'm glad there is such a thing as pain specialists who have tricks to deal with pain. My right shoulder became excruciatingly painful a few months ago. Gradually it improved, and when I got shots in it, the pain was almost gone. Except it didn't all go. The ortho said my rota tor cuff tear was/is the problem and I'm having surgery on that Sept. 25. I'm nervous about the pain afterward and looking forward to sitting around watching TV. I could work it out to do that some days, but I don't. Not getting my shoulder wet sounds like a real nasty, uncomfortable, dirty challenge. I don't know if the surgery is worth it. I'm just careening toward it blindly. Not good.

Yesterday, a different doctor basically told me I was a nut case, although maybe he didn't mean that. When he said my shortness of breath and chest pain was not caused by my heart, that was good, but then when I asked him, he said reflux couldn't cause it either. He was wrong. I knew before reflux could have been the problem, and last night, I researched it, and I was right. Jerk! Arrogant piss-ant, overpriced, dressed up special bean. Boy, do I resent doctors! Medical school confers sainthood, left hand of God hood on smartass know-it-all jerks. Having a chronic disease confers the knowledge of doctors' lack of knowledge on the poor suffering patient.

LUPUS ACOR LIST OWNERS SHOW RUDE BEHAVIOR!

Last month, I thought my email program was infected. Suddenly, I didn't see my emails on my lupus online support group. I examined every inch of Outlook but couldn't find any problems and I continued sending my questions and answers in. After a while, I realized my emails just weren't being printed so I contacted the "owners" who never answered. I'll never know if I offended them or sent them an email that was meant for one of my friends or what. I had been involved with that group for about five years and I was a major supporter. I'm not a professional trained writer, but I didn't ramble, and I'm intelligent and educated. I research everything connected with my lupus. I was one of the smart, informed people in that group. And they threw me out with no explanation. I think their behavior was rude and callous. How do you do that to someone who relies on your support who you supposedly cared about? Knowing how lupus is triggered by stress, how can people allow themselves to hurt other people they know also suffer from lupus? Now, I know why other members just disappeared. Maybe my asking where those people got to bothered those "owners".

On a regular basis, those "owners" sent in a list of rules and I think everyone, including me, tried to honor the "owners" requests. But it wasn't enough. I believe, just like real-life, when we break off a friendship, it behooves us to explain why if we are asked. It is hard to do that, I know, but we owe it if another person has shared a friendship with us. Also, living in God's good grace, we are required to be compassionate. Every other human being has mountains to climb, battles to fight. Whatever those women who ran the group objected to in my email, it would have been appropriate to say what it was.

I am always shocked by the coldness of some other people's words. They don't try to be gentle. Even though they are not angry, their words are cutting. Why am I not that way? Perhaps I think less of myself, or maybe I don't see myself as an authority on anything. I'm not. No one is faultless though. I may be more polite than most, but in the end, I can't throw stones either. I'm angry at those "owners", but they too have sorrow. Fuck it! I hope their list folds!

Need Dog

Max, the Yellow Lab puppy who lives across the street, came in tonight. My neighbor said it was okay, and he's been urging me to take Max during the day. I love having a dog around me, so I'm thrilled. Bubba, the twelve year old black Lab who's a little demented came too. He couldn't stand to be left behind. But Bubba wouldn't come into my house and when the dog biscuits ran out, Bubba walked across the street and back into his own house. Max was perfectly happy to be in my house. Moon, my long-haired Maine Coon, who knows about dogs, was interested in Max. Max licked Moon's face and then kept his distance. I watered the garden and cut off dead limbs from the trees and Max stayed right by my side, except when anyone walked by. Then, he was off ready to jump up and welcome anybody to his life. He's too big now to be jumping on little children. I don't know what to do about that. I don't have a fence in my front garden. Maybe I can't take Max till I'm in the back.
Having a dog around lightens my heart. Why? It means so much to me. Cats too. I need both. I'm really nuts.

SADNESS AMONG MY FAVORITE THINGS

I'm depressed, well, at one level. I'm happy about my children--my daughter just got home from a two-week retreat and I missed her badly. My son lives near here, but he's all grown up, almost married, with his own house and cat. That's all good. One of my two fur-babies is on a little window shelf in front of me taking her day-long nap so she can be ready to play tonight. (She cries at my door at night for me to be available. She likes to see me when she is awake.) I'm recovering from a heart catheterization and the terror that accompanied my getting ready for it. I thought I might die, and hoped that at least the cardiologist would fix whatever was causing me to be short of breath. It turned out the hole was the kind that studies say do not cause symptoms, except maybe migraines. When the doc asked me if I had any neurological symptoms, I said "No", because I figured that was his way of pigeon-holing me and then forgetting me. He was being honest though. He checked the numbers twice for the size of the hole, which I appreciate.

I think the exacerbation of my heavy breathing is really from the stress around my brother's dying. It started when he was in the hospital, or, it got much worse then.

I'm feeling now, like if I went to sleep for a couple of days, maybe a week, that would be fine. I don't feel like doing anything, maybe just buying jewelry and plants. Yeah, I still love my garden. I think I may be having a lupus flare, but who knows? Maybe I'm just depressed because my breathing can't be fixed and it scares me. Today, right now, I'm sad. I don't want to see anyone or do anything.

newspapers

This is an article for Harry's column in SCOOP, USA that I just wrote, reflecting on how much I like reading the newspapers (especially the wacky stuff in other countries!) I really do think the more understanding we have of other people, the less likely we are to invade their nations and kill them. Or make up ridiculous fantasies about them and deny them their equal rights. Sooo, I'm hopping off my soapbox as I type this. Let me know: Was I too heavy-handed? Intense? Not heavy enough? Stick to writing about nasty art gallery owners? I send you all love and my thanks for not telling me to stuff these articles. Love, Jaynee
E-mail: harrymartinpolis@yahoo.com
http://www.poet-cop.com/
ICQ # 10954537

NEWSPAPERS
This week, Jaynee writes about one of her passions.

On Sundays, Harry reads the Sunday Inquirer and I read the Sunday Newark Journal. We switch interesting articles with each other and pet whichever of our feline babies is relaxing on the newspapers. This week, I could not remember what else I had to do, so I read the paper and drank coffee. Harry stayed until the Phillies came on, but by then, he had finished the newspapers and looked over all the advertisements too.
Harry reads the Inquirer and watches the television news every day. I skip the news many days and read only the New York Times and at least some of the Inquirer. Friends tell me they cannot read the newspaper because it is so horrific. Perhaps, I distance myself from the news, or, I hope, I am a witness to the suffering of too many people. To me, the newspaper connects me with the world in more ways than just learning of genocide, murder, and totalitarianism. The parts I like best are the human-interest stories. I love reading about the dog poop machines cruising the streets of Paris and the butter sandwiches of London. If there were an international newspaper, I would take out a subscription. It would be enlightening to read not only what our government is doing, but also what the rest of the world thinks of it. I read about the Turkmen and Muslims, but as much as I appreciate the New York Times, the people’s own opinions would, I think, be different.
Reading the Newark newspapers is interesting and I like them. I wish I could read all the newspapers. People are all idiosyncratic; not just us, and our stories are fascinating. I was raised in the 1950s, when America was the best, the free-est. and always right. Of course, that was a lie and a fantasy. There are people who still cling to that idea, disregarding the facts that assault us from our own nation and abroad. Really, reading the newspapers does not bring home the reality of everyday crime or mass mutilation. Rather, the papers bring us closer to our fellow man, recognizing our commonalities and humanity shared. We all want the same thing and we are only separated by manufactured boundaries.

Just a little later, but not an article. It's been almost a year that we've lived in Delaware. I like living in this tiny state for a lot of reasons some of which are: less traffic and more enforcement of traffic laws; how close shopping is; how close everything is; and our house. Standing outside on the lawn, I feel good looking at the flowers and shrubs I've planted. I thought it would be difficult to dig holes for plants, but it was no big deal. I stand in the sunroom and look out at our rear garden and the trees, and my heart swells. People around here take these things for granted but I can't. I come from the cement of Philadelphia. I guess I'll never forget dragging myself up the cement steps in front of our old row house. They were probably the main reason I had to move. We have, I think, four steps from the ground floor to the first, and eight up to the second floor. The old house had thirteen up to the second floor and thirteen down to the basement and the tiny backyard. There were those sixteen concrete steps out front though.

This single house costs more, of course. There are repairs and paying for the lawn to be cut. One guy wouldn't even consider it; the garden was too big. It's one of the biggest in this tiny little community. (And I love it.) Our son moved close by into a similar house backing on a big park. He has snakes in addition to the regular animals who investigate trash, plants, and little warm spaces. Our son and his fiance swim in their pool and play on the computer. I think those are their hobbies. Ours are different. Mine include: computers; dogs; cats; movies; reading; sleeping; eating. Harry loves to cook; shop; read the newspaper--I love that too--and watch sports.

Autumn is looking lonely so I have to go. I understand cats are as smart as three year olds, so I'm taking this seriously. < >

Good Morning everyone! (anyone) We had a thunder and lightning storm here last night and that means I don't have to water the flowers! Watering a lot of flowers changed my attitude about rain. So! Two things. I'm so happy. I've cut my portions mostly in half and generally stopped eating sugary stuff. I am doing this--here comes number two!--by asking my guardian angel and all my angels, in addition to my family (spirits), my guides, and God, to help me. I'm such a compulsive eater and sugar gobbler, I couldn't do it alone. What seemed to get me started finally was asking my angels to please help me. I think they are. I didn't see or sense them, but I believe I'm getting help. I guess number two "A" is that I went to the pulmonologist yesterday who said my lungs were okay. I don't have fabulous capacity, but apparently lupus does that, and I know it's been that way forever. I'm short of breath and I have a minor heart problem that hopefully will be repaired soon. It's called a shunt, or ASD, just in case somebody else on here has it. Very common. So, time for breakfast here! I forgot! blood first.

Later...We went out to dinner with old friends. It was a new branch of an old Boston restaurant. It was good but not worth $80 for two people. I think any entre over $20 should be marvelous, but they're the same as the old $17 entrees. I know I sound ancient, but I do remember when an entree was a dinner than included salad at least, and it was maybe, $10 at a fine restaurant. At least, I think so. We've been going out to fancy restaurants for about forty years. Our daughter used to sit under the table and now she's forty.

On the way up to the restaurant, I got lost and finally found myself in Lansdale. I was on the Pennsylvania Turnpike's Northeast Extension. I read the signs, but they were so confusing, I thought I was going west. I think Pennsylvania has the worst signs. Of course, lots of places just have none and that's fun too.

We went up on the highways and came back on a good old reliable route that took us right home with relaxed driving. I keep looking for those kind of roads up to and back from Philly. Having to use I-95 is worrisome. So often, there are crashes or work being done on there. Today, there was a woman laying on the grass beside the road with a very smashed up car on the shoulder. At first, I thought she was dead.

Bed is calling, so off I go.

Month to Month

Just wasting time..for a bit. Time to go water the plants and paint. In a couple of hours, I have to cook dinner. I compromised on the time because I want my painting time. Pretty soon---next week--I'll be swimming Mon, Wed, and Friday. That's a little too much on a regular basis. I used to swim twice a week and that was okay because I liked it and I went later. Now, it will be in the middle of the afternoon. That's the only one we can do because Harry has a medicine that needs to wait five hours before he gets wet. So that's it.

Our son has his house and our daughter, hopefully, has met the man for her. I prayed for a good guy to come onto her scene and it seems my prayers were heard. It seems he is a slight slob and has to be told to do stuff. Sounds like he's a dreamer. He plays the guitar and is a big thinker. I like that and I like him.

I wrote that 6/13 and now it's 7/1. I'm not writing enough. Just watered the front and back yards again. Other than weeds overtaking the flowers, everything looks good. I just glory in the flowers.

I have just a little time now and none later. My shoulder hurts; it aches. It doesn't usually do that because I take Ibeprofen and Neurontin which knocks out that and my back pain. I had more to do today than I had time. I painted for a couple of hours when I "should" have been doing the other stuff. I'll do what I absolutely have to and screw the rest. I have to water the inside plants. I put a lot outside and could put more. It's easier to water them outside. I don't have to take their temperature.

My painting is lovely. I've got two going and I worked on the outside one while the weather was good. I'm painting the garden and having fun doing it. I'm not wearing my glasses so I can't see details well. That's what I want; a kind of soft quality with beautiful color. I was intending to do a "turquoise" painting for over my bed to take up the color of the room; but the painting isn't turqoise. I don't know what color will turn out to be prominent if any. But it won't be turquoise, I'm sure of that. Maybe I can do a fish painting for above the bed. My friend Joalice said it's good for Feng Shui. I'll have to ask her again to make sure. I'm not sure I want fish over my head. I don't really like fish all that much, unless I'm eating them with sauce. When I was a child, I had goldfish and I didn't even like them then. (I like dogs and cats.)

I have to go take Ibeprofen; I'm in too much pain.

Life After Jerry Is Gone

I want to write often, but I get busy with my psychic diet on-line group, and then I don't have the time. I value psychic phenomena; it fortells future events and also brings me to my beloved family who passed. My abilities didn't return the way they were, but occasionally I can feel a spirit. I still have those special dreams and they're wonderful.

I've got to go. I'm taking orientation to volunteer for a hospice patient. All I want to do is visit once a week, but that's enough. Back later!

I just don't feel like writing everything that's doing and that's a shame.

Superior Moving, Rodney Huff, and Bob O'Neill: Not Recommended

Searching on the web, I can find only one place to place a complaint about a contractor and I can't figure out to put mine on there. So I'm going to complain here. The worst were our movers. Even though I knew they were awful from past experience with them, Superior Movers were the only movers in Philadelphia who would pick up and store our boxes until we moved. I didn't really have a choice. When we moved, there were boxes that never got here and it seemed as though they never looked in the storage areas for them. Instead Superior referred us to their insurance company who would pay $.06 cents on the dollar, I think, with receipts. One of the pieces they lost or destroyed was a small hand-made table made by my uncle, a superb craftsman. The table belonged to my parents and came to me when they passed away. How do you put a value on something like that and what can you do about it? The other stuff that never came were boxes of paintings and kitchen stuff. So, who are they? SUPERIOR MOVING
Use Superior Moving at your risk. I think they are the worst ever anywhere.
Superior Moving.
Next...When we needed a contractor here in Newark, I looked in Service Magic. That's the place I can't seem to put my rating in. We hired Rodney Huff. That's Rodney Huff. He's an electrician. He does good work but he didn't usually call back or come after a while. He appeared to be one of those gradually disappearing guys. He had two other guys who worked for him. One usually had alcohol on his breath, I believe. He was Robert O'Neill, also known as Bob O'Neill of Townsend, Delaware. Bob was slick. He crossed out his personal phone number on his card and his phone number is unlisted. After we paid him and the work was still not completed, he never came or called back. That's Bob O'Neill of Townsend, Delaware. Rodney Huff promised to get Bob O'Neill's address, but he never did it. The other guy who worked for Rodney Huff was Chuck Protack. He was not only a nice man, but he was honest and did nice work. The only problem with Chuck Protack was that you got Bob O'Neill with Chuck and Bob O'Neill was a problem. Maybe Chuck Protack stopped working with Bob O'Neill and by himself, Chuck was excellent.
So, the three people or businesses I would warn you about are Superior Moving, Rodney Huff, and Bob O'Neill. I hope this blog comes up when people google their names.

i STILL MISS SOME OF THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE

I've written so little for so long I feel I have to write something now. I was writing/participating in an on-line diet group which turned out to be specialty groups for every interest. I loved the psychic group because their ghost stories were fascinating and I believe them. I started reading Sylvia Brown although I can hardly tolerate her awful writing. I just want to increase my awareness of spirits. I want to be able to sense them, if not the way I used to do, then in dreams. My family does still appear in my dreams and when I ask, Bubba or Jerry give me answers to my questions. It's easy to believe our connections to spirits are imaginary and they may be. The only reason I truly believe is my having seen Aunt Millie, my one ghost. Also those special dreams are convincing. But Aunt Millie--not my Aunt--was the clincher.

I want to note I still miss Jerry. I can still picture him in his jeans and flannel shirt walking and talking. And I still cry. I still feel abandoned. Until now, I wanted to be cremated when I died, but I've changed my mind since there's a grave next to Jerry. Yeah, that's the story. It's hard to live without him. I can, I am, but I miss knowing he's here.

I'm printing an article I wrote for Harry's weekly column in SCOOP. I liked it and I'd like to share it.

LIVING IN THE STATES
Everyday, I read the newspaper and I try to watch the news. As repressive and dishonest as this administration is, I still thank God every night that I am here. I believe the elections were stolen, the Supreme Court is partisan, and there is great and horrible injustice. Sometimes the hurt our officials mete out is as terrible as the worst holes in the world. Anger and assumptions trump justice and truth. But I thank God I am here because in most of the world my life would hardly exist. As a woman, I would have been genitally mutilated as a child. If I survived, I would be less than a second-class citizen, belonging to a father or husband to do with as he chose. Work would extend into hours meant for sleep and pregnancy would give no respite. Disease and starvation often visit and there would be no medicine or doctors. In some places, women can walk many miles carrying children to see a doctor only to be turned away at the door because she has no money.
Women under the Afghanistan Taliban, which is taking over again as we back off, cannot leave their homes or work. Women cannot drive in Saudi Arabia, nor can they vote. In India, the world’s largest democracy, many people live on the street their whole lives. There are “untouchables”, the lowest class by heredity. They never escape their classification and are allowed to do only the dirtiest jobs. Yes, it is reminiscent of this nation, but gradually, despite the ingrained hate and stupidity here, opportunity happens inch by inch.
We lack of health care here for millions, and deaths are caused by neglect or malfeasance. Europe does it but we do not. In some ways, our country is backward and mean-spirited. There is no excuse or justification. No on should go hungry or be without medical care in the United States, let alone the world. We are only at the dawn of the Age of Aquarius and I pray we survive to bring forth the love and peace that is promised.

A DAY IN MY LIFE

Maybe today will be for me, with no cleaning or entertaining. Usually, Harry invites company down on Sundays, and in fact, our neighbors will be visiting, probably for a short visit. I have to ask Brian's fiancé's parents for next Sunday. I guess I have calls to make today. Maybe I can do them faster. I really want to hang the turquoise fabric over my bedroom curtains and start making my window coverings. (I forget the right word. I'm truly exhausted.) I had to sleep downstairs on the sofa bed because my own bed is so uncomfortable. It needs to be turned over but because Jerry died, there's no one to help turn it. I'm sleeping on Harry's old place and it's tilted. My pillow keeps falling out and there is nowhere for my arm. My shoulder is still sore and sleeping there hurts.

Yesterday, I went to Jerry's house with my son, his fiancé, and her mother to work. That's most likely why I'm so tired. It still looks disheveled, but that's a huge improvement. I took a lot of books, but there are boxes still to be given away in addition to boxes I need to go through. Jerry read religious books from every major religion. I wish I could read them but I know I don't have the interest or discipline. I'm giving them away so someone else can benefit. I took the books on Judaism and the history of the Jews. That's all I can handle.

We'll have to figure out how to get the furniture I want down here. There is a table upstairs and one downstairs in addition to a couple lamps and Jerry's one good rug. There is one torch lamp I love--it's very old and adorable. Not too big but cute, like Victorian. Jerry may have taken it from his dad's basement when Uncle Moe died. If that is the case, it may have originated in Bubba Jenny's in about 1910. I think I should look it up on here.

At Jerry's, when I was finally getting that funny feeling in my throat from all the dust and everybody else was falling down tired, we left for the King of Prussia Mall. Brian and Christina love the Cheesecake Factory. I can understand why--the food is good and it has a y generation feeling. We waited approximately 2 1/2 hours, mostly walking around the gigantic mall. We finished about 10:30 and there were still young people camped out--lounging on the floor outside the restaurant--just the way they'd been since when we first walked in. I ordered a Bourbon because I was kind of riled up, then a Cuban sandwich, and for dessert, a piece of the best cheesecake I ever ate--Peanut Butter and hot fudge. Sort of. I ate half the sandwich and the cheesecake. I still gained weight, of course. I don't need nachos, fried calamari, or cheesecake. And not eating at night either. Next time, McDonald's. The bill for two people at the Cheesecake factory was $60 something dollars.

That's my rant for today. I forgot. Because it's raining hard, Harry won't go out. He usually shops Sunday morning and brings back a Delaware Sunday newspaper for me. Oh, well.

I don't know if I'll have the energy to go up to King Tut in Philly Wednesday. WE have tickets. I hate being tired. Shit!

Dancing With Keanii, the Burmese Mountain Puppy

I'm not writing about the gorgeous parrot but instead about the return of my second sight. A couple of years ago, I stopped being able to sense and "see" the spirits around other people. Recently, I joined an on-line discussion group talking with a number of psychic women. I was encouraged to have faith in my ability and it would return. I started meditating before I went to sleep every night. (It's the only time I remember to do it regularly.)

Yesterday, a woman stopped by to take a piece of furniture I was giving away. We sat and talked for a long time. At one point, I began to sense spirits around her. I was thrilled! I'm still thrilled! She wasn't tremendously interested except she wanted to know that her old boyfriend who'd died was there. I couldn't see a spirit of his description, but I did see a guy, an old woman, and another woman with a scarf on her head. It seemed the guy might have been her father, the older woman her grandmother, and she didn't know the woman in the scarf. I thought the second woman might have been her guardian angel or someone like that. She didn't look like a regular person.

This morning, I saw Harry's uncle and grandmother--smiling!--behind him. Then when my cousins visited later today, I saw my uncle and aunt behind my cousin. Absolutely his dad for sure. I didn't say anything though because I get upset when people are incredulous and I'm not a psychic. I can't see them well--at least not yet--and I can't get their names or too much information. At the same time, it's just a fun thing for me. I love seeing them.

Yesterday, in my dreams, I saw Sammy Dog. It was one of those vivid dreams. I'm thinking he crossed the "Rainbow Bridge", but I can't find out. I loved that dog and if Harry hadn't hated him and all the damage he did, I'd have him still. Or would have had. I'm doing the noon care for the dogs next door while my neighbors are on a week's vacation. I love playing with the giant puppy. I didn't like the dogs fighting over me, but it's hard not to favor him. He's about St. Bernard size at ten months.

GREETING MY FRIENDS IN HEAVEN

It's been such a long time since I've blogged. Right now, I'm feuding with my son. I've created a monster who listens to no one and thinks he or his fiance know everything. Later...My daughter talked with him and I see what I contributed to the fracas. It's painful for me to have my son angry at me. Then again, I don't want to talk with someone who thinks I do everything wrong. Or who yells at me. The best part of growing up (and retiring) is I don't have to take that shit.

On another front, I'm getting itchy to do my work again. I really haven't drawn or painted since Jerry got sick. Today I worked on my sewing project a little. I'd really like to buy the fabric to make curtains in this room, my workroom. The ones in here are for little girls, old ladies, or a very dressy room.

I still haven't gotten over Jerry's death, but he has come to me. I saw him twice in dreams, the second time he hugged me. I believe we communicate in dreams with those who have left this plane. I've read the veil is thinner in dreams. Anyway, Jerry's hugging me changed my feelings. I understand it was his choice and he didn't mean to hurt me. Previous to his visiting me, in a dream of Harry's, Jerry accompanied Harry to see a new Toyota, but in a Chevy showroom. It seemed odd to Harry but only I knew Jerry had told me if he bought a car, it would be a Chevy. That was a junior message. And right after his death, he went to my friend Nancy telling her he was alright.

My son ranted at me yesterday that I shouldn't compare myself to Jerry. I loved Jerry with all my heart but what Brian said hurt.

Back to "dead" people. Two nights ago, I dreamt I was picking a patient up at a nursing home which turned out to be Perkin's, where I worked for a number of years. The ass't. adm., Mary Alice Dade, supported me through multiple blunders and stupidity. After I left, I could never contact Mary Alice and I missed her. Then two nights ago, there she was, younger and looking gorgeous. We hugged and I told her how much I'd missed her and how glad I was to see her. I saw her mother months ago and had been happy to see her too. I couldn't find obits for either of them, but I'll continue looking.

I feel rotten tonight, but being able to see people on the other side is a gift. It makes me feel good.

First Friends, Then People in Whom I Saw No Good

So many friends have come and gone. I try hard to hold on to those with whom I've made a connection; sometimes I succeed and sometimes not. I've made one new friend over the last couple of years--Joalice and her husband Kevin. And Susan before that. I may even have made a new friend just now, here in Delaware. She's named Susan too. But I'm trying hard to hold on to Theresa and I lost Tye. Of course, my lifelong friend and cousin is gone.

There was a bunch of people I was hanging out with and I still like most of them but our interests diverged and I just don't see them anymore. We weren't good enough friends to be calling and doing other things together. I send them Harry's and my articles as a way of keeping in touch and although it's a little like lecturing, the articles are probably way better than visiting. I liked them but mostly there was no meeting of the minds and I too often sat there mute or trying to hard. I know I "threw out the bathwater with the baby", but I wasn't able to single out the people I liked for conversations without seeing people who upset me. I think because I'm older and was raised by folks born just this side of the Twentieth Century (and before), I can't deal with people talking about events in my presence to which I wasn't invited. It was rude and I was hurt.

I've never gotten over not having been invited to some party in Fourth Grade when half the class was. Instead of doing something fun, my mom encouraged me to stage a rival party in the same place. That wasn't a good idea and it burned a slight into a scar. Nobody grows up without pain, I understand. I could kick myself for letting a misogynist European get under my skin. There were a few ego-challenged guys there working hard to be dominant and a lot of women catering to those fellows.

I ran up against that same kind of crap when I worked with too many people who'd gone through Catholic School. What is it with that patriarchal society? It doesn't seem to stick with Italian women nearly as much as the Irish and Germans. The Italians are a lot like the Jews and they question authority. The others hated women as much as the men did. Get ahead and they'd cut you down faster than a man would. (That's why I can't see Hillary winning.) I know the nuns do good work and they're dedicated people. I have a hard time with the women who grew up obedient little girls.

The older I get the more I believe in the values of the 1960s. Question authority. Down with the establishment. Peace and love forever, especially peace. Love comes later. Free love. Do your own thing as long as you don't hurt anybody else. Black power. Freedom. Be yourself. Love yourself. The truth will set you free.

I have some truth that's been sitting inside me waiting for the cork to blow. I must leave a nasty message for the evil doers I've known:

Margaret with a Jewish last-name who isn't Jewish is a heartless, conniving witch who tried to fire me and trumped up bullshit to try and throw me in jail (of all things.) She got ahead by having sex with the boss. It wasn't a secret. Every educated intelligent woman was a threat to her.

The secy who worked for the head of the agency is a hateful miserable woman who believed all women should follow the Catholic School example. She loathed me. I didn't think of her.

The assistant's "office asst." is a nasty excuse for a woman who absolutely couldn't contain her resentment of aware women. She loathed me too. I used to walk the long way around her, away from her and glory in her being unable to channel her anger toward me.

and Rosa is a sneak and she should only suffer the illnesses she dismissed in others.

And one of the worst people I ever knew was another secy who gloated--celebrated--other people's misery. I actually ran into her after we both had retired and she acted as though she didn't know me. Good! I didn't know what to say to her. What can you say to someone who hates all human beings and longs to see them tortured?

I enjoyed talking to R and N who hated each other. N believed all the crazy conspiracy theories that float by and R had ongoing ailments, a depressed husband, and a delicious Italianess oozing out of her. I was an anomaly to her but she was friendly.

All gone and I will never miss them. Those were people I've known and learned from the encounters in places I couldn't wait to escape.

Sleeping With the Kitties

My computer is ill and I'm using Harry's. Yes, I'm still broken-hearted about my cousin's death. I'm grieving but I'm beginning to get used to the idea of his not being here. When I think of it, I still cry--like now--but I think the idea is getting familiar. I still can't believe he's gone, but part of me knows it.
I'm sleeping downstairs tonight--eventually--with the kitties. I love sleeping with them. They make no noise and I have all the room I want. I miss Harry though so if I don't go back to my own bed later tonight, I will tomorrow. Even if his breathing machine makes a racket.

Jerry's On My Mind

I wrote this for my on-line Lupus support group and I wanted to share it here. I know I'm repeating the same message over and over, but I'm grieving and Jerry's on my mind.
I haven't been on for a few weeks because I was either staying at my daughter's or at my brother's. Jerry was legally my cousin, but he was always the best big brother anyone could wish for and a second father to both my children. After having been in the hospital for about a month and a half with a week's break during January, Jerry went home against medical advice because he wanted to die at home. He was only 61 and had appeared and felt in good health until he got what seemed to be a bad cold after Thanksgiving.
After one night with no supplies with no help, the aides and Hospice kicked in. Jerry's organs and his skin were breaking down at an incredible rate. A rash that started in the hospital spread over all his body taking off the top layers of skin leaving open sores. He wasn't in pain though, and he didn't seem afraid. My daughter, son, and I were with him and holding his hands when he died three days after leaving the hospital.
I've never missed anyone or grieved this much. Jerry was my pal for all of my fifty-nine years. My son had medical and legal power of attorney and now, the executor of Jerry's will. He's twenty-three. Jerry kept every paper, bill, unopened boxes of electronic stuff, and family heirlooms regardless of their condition and he didn't ever clean. He was a lifelong bachelor who retired at fifty from engineering to build replicas of WWII ships, go to heavy metal concerts, sports games, and grow plants. I'm protecting his plants, but I swear they miss the European soccer games from the TV and Jerry's smoke.
I'm okay; I strained my back yesterday so I'm hobbling, but doing nothing. I need time and space to grieve anyway.
Love,
Jaynee

Jerry, hi....

Jerry, I hope you can hear me; I hope you're near. I talk to you every night, hoping you're there with the family. Honey and I both feel you're okay now. We don't feel confusion. I'm depressed though, really grieving. I never did before, but that's not important at all. I hate having to go out and act normal. I know this crying will pass and I wish I could wait till then. We always know what we really want to do. When you were sick, I wanted--needed--to be with you. Fooling around down here in Delaware didn't feel right and I'm glad I came up and stayed with you. I wish I hadn't wasted a moment, hadn't stayed in Delaware for that one week, but I didn't know. You were going downhill at racer speed, and I missed seeing you, being there with you.

Bruce came in; you know that. He felt sad, and talked about you're having been his big brother and how much patience you had with him. He talked at your funeral. I couldn't and neither could Ho. We had a nice rabbi Jer. You would have liked him, I think. He didn't understand you; we weren't able to communicate your spirit well enough. I think he focused on your chess championships and you just stuck the awards in the drawer. I put both of them either in or on my corner curio cabinet. I'd like to do something with your plaques; maybe hang them in the pantry. Or maybe put them on the bookshelves if I can get them to stand up. We don't know about all those ships though. Eventually, we'll get to them. Meanwhile, Harry and I are bringing the plants home with us. They're doing fine. I'll bring the big orange tree home and put it in our living room in the window. I'm talking to all of them Jer. I'm praying they'll be okay. After all, they're used to you and cigarette smoke. (That's not a dig.)

I don't know about all your food. We'll get it out. I'm trying to work out holding your bed for when Brian buys a house. He has only one now, but it would be nice to have a bed for either children or company. He loves all your stuff. Byll isn't talking but she really liked you. She came to your funeral and she didn't go to any from her family.

Fran wrote you know. She said that even though she hadn't seen you in a long time, she couldn't imagine a world you weren't in. That was nice. Bruce came across all the sad stuff you drew after she left you. I'll burn them unless you give me a signal to keep them. You knew, didn't you, that you'd never want anyone else? I wish you'd been able to date though. I think you might have enjoyed it even though it's kind of a pain. People were telling me how handsome you were. I always thought so but I knew I was prejudiced. So I bet other women would have liked you too. Especially a heavy metal fan like you were.

Harry's downstairs making steak sandwiches. I'll have to go. I have to clean the downstairs bathroom too. People sleeping over and all.

All my love...and tears,

Jaynee

Dearest Jerry

Dear Jerry,
You have left me in the middle of my life; you were in the middle. You helped me go through boxes and you carried them back and forth the house when we moved here. We drank champagne you brought after the settlement. And you had been there.
I knew I could talk to you about anything on my mind and I did. You were my confidant and my pal. I cry every time I remember our walking down Chestnut Street to the Deli for lunch. You talked about the architecture of the old buildings to our right and the electrical engineering bringing the light. Before the deli thrilled you with New York corned and roast beef, we went to the Irish Pub every week. You drank three diet sodas for every sandwich. And you always paid for me.
I miss cutting out the New York Times crossword puzzles for you. Throwing them away was a stab in my heart. I had not known your friend was designing Sudoku puzzles for you. I had not known how close you were to Russell and your work friends. Russell’s love for you was touching. I am glad you had such a good friend and that you and he great times going to all those rock concerts and sports games. You brought a smile to me when you watched European Soccer while you were dying. Even then, you could tell us who was who.
Jerry, our family dinners and especially the Passover Seder will never feel the same without you. You ran the Seders, and no one else can read Hebrew the way you could. As Brian’s “second father”, why didn’t you show him the joy you took from religion? I can’t complain. You took him under your wing as a baby and taught him integrity and a love of math. Brian’s long hair matched yours, as did all his hobbies. When I think about it, Brian’s hobbies were twins to yours, except perhaps for Chemistry.
For our daughter, you were an uncle with an open door when she went to school in Center City. You sent her on an archeological dig in Sardinia, which we could not have afforded. You took care of her.
You were always my big brother. When I was a child, I always said I wanted to marry you and our family hemmed, hawed, and made funny faces. I did not understand and it did not happen. My dad told me later you had been adopted so I understood. I was a little wistful. You were my cousin, but Jerry you can see, I loved you much more than that. My life will always have a hold where you were.

Never Never Goodbye

Jerry died Tuesday morning.
It's almost impossible to understand Jerry isn't here anymore. He was a mainstay in my life and suddenly he's gone. I knew he'd gotten sick a month and a half ago, but he'd seemed healthy. Nothing hurt. Suddenly he became weak and a month later, he was dead. Jerry, who I loved more than anyone until my brother was born, then my children, is gone.
I don't feel "Why me?", I just don't understand. I know everybody loses people they love and it's the same for them as for me. It feels like a knife in the heart. I'm not bitter; I'm lost. Yeah, Jerry was brilliant and eccentric, but he was my beloved brother. I've bitten my nails off and down as far as they'll go since he's been sick.
The "spirit" light blinked on and off when we talked about Jerry tonight and Bruce thought he saw Jerry last night. Honey and I believe he's okay now. I asked him to let me know and I think he's trying. I won't be convinced until I see him. I can't believe he's gone.

Jerry! Get Better!

I just had to fill out fifteen forms to write on my blog. These sites change programs and we're supposed to change and remember new procedures and passwords. Blegh!
My cousin/brother Jerry is at the hospital again; my children took him this time. He doesn't have Lymphoma, thank God, but he needed blood again and he's very sick. He wouldn't go via 911 by himself. Bubba Freda goes by herself. It's got to be scary, but I accept the fact that when you're sick, you're stuck. Jerry WAS admitted and he's back in Pulmonary ICU. He'll have different tests this time because he needed more blood. BUT, it turns out he doesn't have Lymphoma! So maybe he'll have a chance to actually get better this time. I pray so.
Time for dishes and movies by a roaring fire.
Movie and fire done. Nothing doing except Jerry. He's been next to me my whole life;
He's been special to me. My big brilliant cousin. When Brian was little, Jerry carried Brian on his shoulders. He has been a best friend to my children all their lives. When Honey was 19, he sent her on a dig in Sardinia. In high school she had pretty much lived in his apartment in town. Then Brian lived in his house when he went to Germantown Friends.
When I was eight, I missed Jerry; he was playing basketball. (He was six feet tall at eleven.) I would go to the playground and swing waiting for him to finish and we'd go back to his house and play. If I had realized the pain his smoking would cause me, could I have stopped him? Would anything have made him put them down?
The "spirit light" flicks on and off, on its own of course. I know the spirits are worried about him. Or about all of us. I saw my Aunt Betty and my mother the other night in one of my special dreams. I always assume the spirits are visiting. She doesn't come too often. I wanted to stay and talk to her; my choice was to talk to her or Jerry. I think I was going to Jerry. I'm purposely meditating again so I can sense the spirits the way I used to do.
I never knew the torture of loving someone and worrying that they'd die. I had friends who died. My father and then my mother. I had wanted my mother to see Brian BarMitzvahed but she didn't make it and I cried. But Jerry is my loss. My fear.

Staying Alive

These have been difficult weeks. First my cousin who is very much my brother, almost died. He had what doctors call The Trifecta--pneumonia, heart attack, and internal bleeding. The doctors said most people do not survive the Trifecta; but Jerry came through it. He has been diagnosed with Heart Failure and Emphysema so far. He may have Lymphoma too, but test results are not in yet. Today, our daughter took Jerry home and anguished over Jerry's weakness and his ability to sustain himself alone in his house. I may have to go back to Philly and bring him down to our house in Delaware. He will make that decision.
Through these weeks, it has been an emotional roller coaster for all of us. Jefferson was just about to send Jerry home more than a week ago, then he began to run a fever. Suddenly, his lungs were seen to have an opaque white surface. So more tests were run and Jerry stayed at Jeff. His house was broken into; the back door was smashed, but nothing was taken. The family divided trips to Jerry's house to water his plants. Jerry has a very green thumb with beautiful huge trees to little baby plants in every window. Our son kept track of Jerry's bills and kept everything running smoothly.
But serious illness puts a strain on the whole family. I had my first formidable lupus flare in more than a year. Our son and daughter have run themselves ragged trying to work, attend classes, run a household, and look out for Jerry. Jerry himself is very frightened and still ill. This situation is not just happening to our family--it is occurring across the nation, sometimes much worse. I am most grateful we still have Jerry, and that we, and he, had the wherewithal to get to this point.

I HATE EXPLORER 07 & VIOLENCE

Today is New Year's Eve. Harry made lobster and the whole deal. Our daughter slept over last night and she'll be going home today for parties in Philly. We went tax-free shopping this afternoon. I'm pretty tired but I do have things I'd still like to accomplish.
To my surprise, Jerry is doing great. He's probably cured and almost ready to return home. His house was burglarized Friday but nothing was taken. Whatever the thief was looking for, it wasn't there. Jerry's been busy alienating me and my daughter. I can't bear to talk with him; he's dismissive and disrespectful. Not a great combination.
For the last two weeks, I spent the work week at my daughter's in South Philly so that I could visit Jerry in the hospital. I know it was more comfortable for him to have me there, but his comfort never translated into treating me nicely. Life is complicated sometimes.
I went through a flare of my lupus, which now is fine. I wondered what would happen to me in Jerry's circumstances. Would the hospital monitor my response to the stress? Would they medicate me if lupus acted up? I suspect not because nausea and dizziness are of little concern to them. It's the strokes and visible inflammation they worry about. I'm hoping to titrate my prednisone further, hopefully to discontinue it. I came down from twenty mgs. quickly, so maybe I can do it. I'm afraid of what could happen if I don't.
2007? I'm fifty-nine years old. I feel about forty-nine, but even fifty-nine doesn't seem too old. When I was a kid, this century seemed to loom ahead but never to happen. And then it did! Surprise! I thought I'd be old and decriped, or maybe dead by now. 2007 was unimaginable.
Uh oh, It's 2007, midnight has passed. And I definitely like Explorer 06 better than 07. Where is my filler? What happened to stuff that used to be on top? And why did they kill Saddam? Wasn't that a bad idea? But then again, Nixon died a free man and I'd bet W and his minions will too. I don't believe there's a hell, but if there were, I'd like to think people like them go there. I think of the immeasurable cruelty in this world and find it hard to believe I can be concerned over problems of such little importance like Explorer. I know it's all relative. Lupus compared to W sending thousands of kids to risk their lives and die for cheap oil or personal revenge. Saddam murdering thousands including children. Oh, and since the world is somewhat funky, and down here in absolute suburbia, not perfectly pro-Israel, I'm for Israel. Just a note. I can complain about Saddam, W, Cheney, and this guy Gene who I used to work for, and I'm a liberal, but I'm for self-preservation, which means I'm for Israel.
I read a review of a bio of Nadine Gortimer today and the author accused her of hypocracy since she worked hard against apartheid--she's South African--but she isn't 100% for the idiotic government there now. Gee, she's gotten old and she's not demented yet. Comparing myself to Gortimer, a renowned author and a Jew, I was assailed by an angry black woman at my work a long time ago. How could I be a liberal and be obnoxious? The Jewish liberality is suspect today. I think people of color are disappointed we are not still marching. But some of us are. We haven't forgotten our folks were thrown into the ovens and would be still by those wonderful palestinians and arabs. The outcast arabs may be the underdogs today but that's only because the Israeli army doesn't stand for any shit. So I'm a liberal, still against the power players of this world and appalled at the hate here that allows Americans to drown because they're poor and black, and people including children to be hacked to death in Durfur. Lupus is a little problem compared to being sent to my death by W, or chased down by arab horsemen to ethnically cleanse Durfur.
Son of a Bitch! I can't correct my spelling! Damn!

Miserable Me and Sick Jerry

Jerry is still in the Pulmonary Intensive Care and I'll be spending another week in Philly. We had an emergency with my Jerry this week (when he took all the tubes out.) The hospital called me and my son, daughter, cousin, and I went. We read him the riot act and everybody cried. He needs the support so I'll stay at my daughter's house again this week, from Tuesday on. (I keep wondering if I should go tomorrow, but my daughter will be in New York with her friends and won't be able to pick me up if I took the train.) I'm not happy to have to go back and stay there again, but I will. Her house is at least 100 years old with steep steps and no shower mat. (I'll bring one this time, or buy one.) I can't work her downstairs TV and she doesn't have a sofa or regular chair there anyway. I have to watch in bed. And she's a vegetarian, who like me, really doesn't cook. My son, like his dad, likes to cook. Lastly, she has no computer or land-line phone. But I'm very blessed that she doesn't mind my staying. My 20 mg. flare seems to be cooling down, thank God. I'm decreasing prednisone every day, expecting to get back down to four eventually. I haven't had a "big" flare in more than a year, and I never remember how to titrate, but then each time it feels different. Later: My gut hurts. Now it seems when I eat beyond a tiny amount of sweet food, my gut gets irritated. I suspect more than sweets irritate it so I'll pay closer attention. I notice every twinge and that's not normal. Aches and pains are part of life as we age, but I get antsy about pain beyond arthritis, bursitis, carpal tunnel, and lupus cheeks. The higher dose of prednisone could be attempting to shred my intestines. And I'm just this side of lupus exhaustion.
I've been thinking about a painting I want to do when I'm home again for a while. I was thinking of doing the "little people" and designs I do on paper, but this time on canvas sort of the way I used to do. I have the painting of Dukie, our family beagle of blessed memory--and he definitely was--on my bedroom wall. I want something different, more reflective of me. Poor Harry. I'm so egocentric; it's disgusting; but that's how I am right now. (And always have been.)
Maybe I'm not so egocentric. I cherish my family and friends. And my animals. I feel surrounded by comfort, when I look at the walls covered with my paintings. My daughter advised me to put up only work that made me happy and I'm still working on it. Or I will be when Jerry is healthy again.
Later: Getting ready for bed. Seem to be packed except for morning stuff. I have a regular packing list for Harry and I. It's saved a lot of frustration. It's hard to be with Harry right now. I'm cranky from both Jerry and the prednisone--being on it and titrating it at the same time. Harry comes from a self-involved family who were rigidly against change. Unless it suited them. That was okay. Right now, his mom isn't talking to him because he wouldn't come up every Monday with her weekly money. His brother is willing to put the money out on Saturdays but she doesn't like to "bother" the brother. Harry goes up to her every week and sets up her medications. He orders them, picks them up, fights with the insurance company and the doctors. He's obtained every existing program she qualifies for. Driving up to Far Northeast Philly from Newark Delaware every week, rain or shine, is not fun and Harry hates it. But he does it. Anyway, that's his family. He idolizes his dad, but his dad wasn't exactly a great prize either. Harry gets cranky and somewhat freaky when anything changes, he has to do something new or extra, or I'm not with him. He's seriously hard of hearing and has little sense of direction, so part of his need for me is self-preservation. But another part is support and lack of companionship for three days. Men. Women usually have friends to talk with, to reach out to. Men have too little. Just football.

Back To Philly

JERRY
This week Jaynee writes about our cousin Jerry.
From the beginning, one of the few men in my life was Jerry. He was my brother more than most brothers ever reach. He walked me to Kindergarten, and let me touch his Queen Elizabeth Coronation figures. He taught me to play chess and poker. When he grew up and lived in his first apartment, I painted his sun mural on his wall. We have shared our secrets for my fifty-nine years.
Jerry had a cold that seemed to hang on for three weeks, but that was not a surprise because he smoked heavily. But when I called Jerry this week, he had become weak and short of breath. Our compromise, since Jerry does not like doctors, was that if he were not well by Saturday, I would take him to the emergency room. When I called Friday night at midnight, he was worse, and my son and I drove up to Philly. At Jefferson, he was taken immediately into Triage and eventually moved to the Pulmonary Intensive Care Unit. Pneumonia had lodged in both lobes of his lungs, his blood pressure and hemocrit was close to not functioning, and his stomach was full of blood. Doctors and nurses kept telling him he was very sick. Up in the intensive care unit, suddenly he could not breathe and the docs installed a ventilator.
I have never seen Jerry helpless. Jerry and Brian talk endlessly about poker, math, and science. I am very proud they are both brilliant. Brian’s hair is long like Jerry’s. He went to Drexel University like Jerry and is as much like Jerry as he is like Harry, Brian’s dad. I am praying endlessly for Jerry’s recovery. Even at fifty-nine, it is a shock to find neither we nor those we love are immortal. For me alone, I do not want to give Jerry up to eternity.

This IS an especially busy and stressful time of the year. The roads and stores are clogged and slower. There is pressure to have everything including presents and a clean house ready. I told my girlfriend today, who was overwhelmed and saying she had to CLEAN, just to dust where people put down their food. That's one table. Nobody even notices any of that unless their shoes either stick to the floor or it's crunchy underfoot. I think it's fine but people have complained about the animal hair from my furniture and car. I guess it's not fine, huh? But especially for people with an autoimmune illness, it's important to take it easy. Stress can cut us down to size in a New York minute. I ate somewhat terribly today and that tells me to write down the yucky stuff that made the trip to my stomach. Ah, well, trying to lose weight is a struggle, especially in the beginning.' I'm feeling hopeless over food. Not only did I binge on raisins and nuts when I was hungry this afternoon, but I ate ice cream and cookies after dinner. The dinner was reasonable but Harry buys ice cream--for himself--and it's like a beacon to me. I realize now that once I eat sugar, I want more. That's where the cookies came in. I purposely froze them in the hope I'd leave them for company. That's still my hope and if I hit them again, I'll give them to the kids nearby. Or I'll try.

THE I DON'T CARE EATER

I joined this new group to lose weight. It's good for me to have to write down what I eat. Except that this group seems to be made up of sweet, friendly ladies who all cook. I don't. Harry cooks. I can't even navigate the page and don't have the patience to learn. That sucks. Their diet page assumes people will follow their or a normal diet and I don't. I eat whatever Harry makes or whatever is closest if he didn't cook. I kid around that if I made Thanksgiving, we'd have the Thanksgiving hoagies. Harry is appalled by some of my food suggestions and I guess that's why he shops and cooks. I have to get to bed because I need to be up early tomorrow. My little Autumn is sitting happily on my desk. She likes to be with me now. But as much as I love to watch my own words form on the page and watch Autumn sleep, I have to go.

Symptoms That Aren't Going To Show Up For Tests

Here are Moon and Autumn, my kittens. Only Harry, our daughter and I ever see Autumn because she is so shy. So here is her photo, to prove she exists!
I'm still under the weather and I should be in bed. This is barely a flare, just the Lupus fatigue. I went with Harry to Philly today to see his mom's social worker and go with Harry to his doctor. His doc thought that my docs should be taking my painful feet seriously. He urged me to switch doctors. Tomorrow is my pulmonary function test at Christiana Hospital. What worries me is that I'll be fine for the tests and the problems I have won't show up. I want to know what is wrong. I believe whatever it is isn't serious; it's just slightly beyond normal. But what is happening?
I have procrastinated finding doctors down here and even before that, making a list of my previous and present symptoms. I have old lists from the times I desperately needed them but none recent.
I could just stay in my house, never stepping off the property. I'm happy here.

A Lupus Day & The Art Scene Sucks

Another Lupus flare hit, but this one isn't quite overwhelming. I'm feeling under the weather. This morning, when I was getting ready to meet the two Delaware authors, I realized I was afraid I'd faint if I went out. I didn't feel light-headed, but I knew fainting could be on the horizon. So I looked for their phone numbers for hours and couldn't find anything. Later, I was able to manipulate the downstairs telephone, and got one of their home numbers.

With me, it's usually aggravation that raises my blood pressure, then causes inflammation in my nervous system and "Voila!" Lupus flare! I have serious tests coming up beginning Friday for a couple of long-time symptoms. One is my swallowing "down the wrong pipe", which is apparently dangerous. For years, I've been coughing regularly even when I'm just swallowing saliva. But the test won't show anything if the swallowing thing doesn't occur when I'm being tested. Isn't that the way of things?

Another test coming up is for my shortness of breath at any time. That's also "sometimey". It would be nice to find out what causes these two annoying events; but I definitely don't want to take any more medications. My body is now addicted to at least six or more serious medications. I am concerned as I grow older about the side effects or what will happen if I need to suddenly come off the drugs because of another problem.

I'm surprised I can type. I was too tired to try earlier and it's an effort now. Music always helps me. I put on Putumayo (World Music) music from all over Africa. It's so soft, like folk music here except I can't understand the words. It's beautiful.

I'm sitting here at my own desk, in my own room, looking out my windows and at my artwork. I've been reading The Lost by Mendelsohn and one piece of his schtick is class, education, and style. Nearing the end of this book, that crap is turning my stomach and also bringing up the questions, "What am I doing? Where am I going? Is backing away from everything I don't like okay? Am I required by some higher ideal to show and sell my artwork? Is looking like a frumpy weirdo not okay? Am I somehow less because I am not upper-class and hanging out with college professors? (That's total bullshit.) But the question that rankles is, am I shorting myself or my children by not showing my artwork?" I always enjoyed the attention in my openings and I loved being Artist of the Year and having articles written about me. I felt like a child looking for acceptance, validation, going to galleries, seeking their backing. Actually, I'm pretty sure I could go back to B-Square and she would show my work but I don't want to be bothered. And I loathe the phoney art scene. No matter what I say, I won't be approaching anybody to show my work. My friend Alexis will be showing it in late Winter in Philly and that's enough. I was forgetting about how the nice young woman at B-Square insisted I frame my work one way and hung ones I didn't want up leaving out ones I liked. And the way she hung it, I thought was bad. I was right. And the gallery before that hung it fine but I had problems getting the work back and when I did, one was missing and the frames were damaged. Before that, I'd have to look at my information because I forget.

Being an artist, being able to draw something I like from my heart, is a gift, a blessing. I thank God, never forgetting how blessed I am. I am not marvelously talented; that's not necessary. What I have is enough. My artwork has brought joy to my life, all my life. No one has to endorse my artwork for me to love it. No one has to buy it. All that needs to happen is for me to do it.

P.S. I destroyed that painting. First, I accidentally put my foot through it. Then, after I repaired it, I decided to redo Gaiea, and that was the end. The pictures of the painting are what I like. The painting I really wanted to use today is an old one from 1974. It's a complex painting, but on maybe one third of it, I'm painting. I have no photos of that painting.

Anger As a Positive Emotion

Here's the parrot illustration I did for the "Delaware authors".

Today is my birthday. I have to write later because Moon kitten just let me know he wants me.

Later...I mostly cleaned today because we have friends visiting tomorrow and Sunday, plus I like when the house is clean. When I don't clean, it gets to be too big a job and daunting. I had the little robot going and I learned how to clean it. It did a decent job and my hope is to leave the Family Room to the robot. I also put together the cuckoo clock with Harry's help. Moon Kitten thinks it's a bird teasing him. He sat there staring at the clock just waiting for that little bird to come out again.

For the time being, the house is virtually finished. We need to replace our quilt and I want to make some orange curtains for my office. Also a little screen for the kitty litter in the sun room. (They need privacy, right?)

We went to Deep Blue which was rumoured to be a fancy restaurant. My food was very good but the restaurant had problems. It was big, too well-lit, with no atmosphere. Service was in high gear--meaning too fast. No sooner had we ordered soup than it was there. I loathe restaurants where the clean-up staff circle the room like vultures waiting, watching diners for the fork to go down for twenty whole seconds. I don't understand why a restaurant would set that up unless they're trying for speed dining, which this seemed to be. I was very disappointed.

Tomorrow my son is taking me out to buy a robe for my birthday. He's a very sweet boy. Too sensitive I guess. Can't imagine where he got that. Ugh. I still am hurt by the three people I used to talk with at work--who I didn't especially like--didn't call me after I retired. What is that? I would much rather watch television or cut my toenails than talk with them. They were the only people at work with whom I shared any interests. (The others discussed Politics--they were the bottom layer; making money--anything goes; and anti-gay; anti-feminist; anti-education; anti-semitism and last, but not least, anti-black conversations were the rule.) Since I was a weirdo, I talked with the other outcasts, and since we were friendly only because there was nobody else to be friendly with, they didn't really like me either. They would never call me. This was a rant, brought to you by some cranky patch I'm experiencing today and yesterday. I haven't changed my medication and I can't see any reason why I'm looking for a fight. All I can think of is I'm growing; I'm able to allow more negativity to surface. That's a good thing. So since I'm now recognizing my nastiness as a positive event, I guess it's time for nasty pictures of the creepy people I worked with. Or maybe their stories in fictional form. I hope I can remember to do it.

SuperJew

The dishes are waiting for me. Lots of stuff is waiting and none of it is what I want to see. My feet are freezing. There is no draft; it's just indoor weather where you need long sleeves and big socks. It's a distance coming from being the row house queen to a lady of the single house.
Later....I borrowed cds from the Library today and I'm listening to the Kronos Quartet. It's beautiful, gorgeous, a combination of classical and African music. Some, like the one I'm listening to right now, is completely classical, almost Baroque. Harry listens to music from the 1920s with little interest in modern pieces. How music influences your mood doesn't change though. Eddie Cantor brings joy to Harry's day just like this music, new to me, makes my heart sing. My heart feels as though it's grown two feet out of my body and it's dancing.
Later...I'm watching The Daily Show. One of my closest girlfriend's dogs got out of her yard. One is a puppy and neither had tags on. No one will know these adorable little doggie babies are Joalice's loved furballs. I pray they'll be okay and she finds them. I wish I were still psychic and could sense where they were; but I never was that kind of psychic anyway. I do feel they will approach the wrong house to try to go home.
And my friend Sydney is in the hospital with a brain infection. He's only 31 with a wife and baby. Sydney is an artist too; he does epic heroic comic characters. I'm not sure he's comfortable with narratives. Right now, he can't draw, think very well, or walk. I hope nothing else bad happens. I worry deeply for both my friends
This afternoon I visited with my neighbor and when she asked if I were of partly German heritage, I admitted that I was but that I was Jewish. As it happens, German Jews were very German. I'm the third generation of my family born here--that side emigrated circa 1860-1870; somebody fought in the Civil War. But even that removed, my dad still followed all the rules. So because this community is so small, I have told everyone. My neighbor seemed shocked. She later alluded to her education under Hitler's rule and the fact that people were afraid to help the Jews. I understood way too much from our conversation and I'm sure it was that way for her too. So SuperJew is now a known representative of the race in Cherokee Woods. Do I need to erect a giant star of David in the front yard?
.

My Feet Hurt!

My afternoon...This is my evening, at 11:45 PM. I'm in mild pain. On a scale of 1-10, just for my feet, it's a 6 now on a day and evening of hills and valleys of pain. My right big toe inner edge has been numb for about six months and it's spread now to a whole half my toe or so. That seems such a puny complaint, but peripheral neuropathy-- if that's really what it is, and I believe so-- keeps spreading.
When we got home this afternoon, after the long drive to Philly and shopping here, I felt under the weather. My feet burned and didn't stop. I was afraid to take Neurontin even though that's what Neurontin is for. The medication never stopped the pain though. So far, nothing has. I tried Irish Whiskey tonight and that didn't help either.
I finished the picture of the parrot for the author folks. I used a conure, which is a parrot, but it didn't occur to me until after I was done, they may have pictured a green parrot. Conures aren't typical, although I guess people could tell it was an exotic bird. It's a pretty drawing and I'll put it on here probably tomorrow. I have to give the drawing to the authors, and I hate to do that. I'm willing to part with drawings I like only when I get paid and even then, I'm not too happy. It's never enough if I am really attached to them.
My daughter got me to hang the paintings I really like. I need to frame a couple new ones. There are only a couple I'm crazy about. One is the Little Guy and another is The Singer. Oh, I forgot, also the few I hung in my office: Alexis, Beaded Lady; Officer and Mrs. Polis; and the one with the bearded guy in a dress. I guess I like a couple more too. We've got Dukie, the dog, in the bedroom, with Miami Moon and Blue Nude. I do love Miami Moon. I have to shut up; this doesn't feel right.
I have to get ready for bed. I'm tired. My book is downstairs and I might like to read a little. I'm trying to finish "The Lost", about the holocaust because it's 500 pages and a library book. I haven't been buying books and I wish I owned this one. The guy is a great writer and it's not like great writers grow on trees. (They write on them. hehe) Okay, good night.

Thanksgiving

My computer is sick. I don't know whether it's a virus or a new program is in conflict with an old one. I'm on my husband's computer and for my sanity, I'm so grateful he has one. This one came from our son's girlfriend. She plays all kinds of games and this one wasn't fast enough for her, but for us, it's a speed demon. (Later..My son fixed my computer!)
Today is Thanksgiving and Harry is downstairs cooking. I've been putting up paintings and I need to go downstairs and clean the bathroom. Mom-in-law is downstairs watching TV and her sofa bed is still open with the blankets on it. I'm happy with that sofa; it's pretty and it matches the leather one. I'm happy with the whole house. I feel blessed with it. Uh oh. My cousin may be here and I'll have to go. He'll be helping with the heavy stuff.

Later...My daughter redesigned my bedroom and it looks better. Cousin Jerry and my daughter hung a big mirror and paintings. Later, dinner was very fine. I made Challah (egg bread) filling yesterday and Harry made everything else including roasted chestnuts. Our son and his girlfriend came and I said stupid stuff about our friend's grandchildren going to Catholic School now. (Their mom, our friend's daughter is Jewish.) I assume most people are proprietary about their heritage. Why I would want my grandchildren to carry on a history that draws hatred and murder sounds nuts even to me. We Jews, I think at least partly because of the hatred directed against us, are often more solidly rooted in our Jewishness. I suspect this is common among scapegoated cultures. It feels like every Jewish child lost is a jewel squandered.

I'm reading The Lost, a book by Mendelsohn about his six relatives murdered in the Holocaust. I've read probably dozens of books about the Holocaust. I'm driven to read them. But I do also read about the genocide in Darfur and the other governments in the world that periodically break down and hundreds--thousands--of people are cut down. Iraq is basically beside the point. That is insanity sparked by an idiot?, a zealot?, a megalomaniac.

So our Thanksgiving was fun. Bubba gave orders and I talked about Jewish children and Catholic school thereby embarrassing our son's girlfriend, who was raised Catholic, even if they both are confirmed atheists now. She's sweet and shy and I was so sorry, but once something leaves your mouth, it's out there.

It's already 12:30 AM. I still have my night stuff to do. But I do give thanks this day for having been gifted with so much. I have a husband who adores me; wonderful children; a close loving family; good friends; adorable kitties; reasonably good health; and my dream house. And more. I'm truly grateful.

The Ugly Freezer Searching For Its Home

Just writing for a minute. Have another headache and I know if I don't take meds, it will only get worse.

Furniture came today. Family Room looks cozy. Paintings are up and fireplace tools are out. Freezer can't go in there but I worked out where it can go. My daughter made a good suggestion & I'll follow it through. Kitties will lose their kitty litter spot, but it will be okay. Wish I had more room but I've never had so much room. House will be full up. Guess next we'll be furnishing the attic. Actually, if I could manage the steps, I'd use it for storage. What it is is that all the rooms are public rooms. There is no convenient basement for needed stuff that's too ugly for the living room. That's the problem. Everything is pretty with no hiding spots.

Definitely headache time.

Mentioning A Migraine

It's time for bed; but I've got a migraine trying to begin. I cut it off at the pass by taking Frova, Meclizine, and the med for nausea. I listened to my neurologist who I know from experience, doesn't know how to taper medications other than prednisone and I suspect he learned that one because I bothered him so much. He's told me before it was okay to stop taking a medication that caused me an awful withdrawal. This time he told me I could cut Lamictal, a seizure cum everything medication from 50 mg. to 25 mgs. That was what I wanted to do and I knew he'd say it was fine. I know I'd do well on 25 except that I didn't figure in that I might be addicted to the stuff. Well, I am. Of course, that may not be why I'm getting migraines like this or feeling slightly nauseous at times during the day. That's probably a migraine without the headache. I learned that from my excellent neurologist who just doesn't know about withdrawals.
It's very odd for my lupus to act up this way; that's why I suspected the medication withdrawal. I had been feeling that lupus exhaustion and kind of off for a while; but I figured it was due to the stress of having workmen in the house eighteen hours a day and having lupus as a bottom line. I still think that.
The painting is almost done and we're just about out of money. We've got a couple of things to buy and we're done. A sofa bed and bar are coming Saturday We'll probably buy a freezer and a little frig that we'll use for holidays and such. We need the freezer for Harry's cooking and the breads that come to live in our freezer. It will be a relief to be alone with Harry and the kittens in the house. I still haven't brought in most of the paintings for the walls and the ones that are in, are sitting where the sofa and the bar will go.
Meanwhile, back at the desk, Autumn is swishing her tail on the keyboard. She wants pets. My headache is under control and it's getting later. I wanted to write about the place I worked and tattle some on them but it will be another time. This time is over.

Lupie and Bored

I'm so tired and I'm upset because I can't do what I want. The cat is The Winking Cat for a story by two authors I'm working with, but right now, it feels like a very tired cat, maybe a little dizzy, who's so tired he can't keep both eyes open. That's me. I went shopping with Harry and he went ahead to check out while I used the Ladies Room. While I was walking to the front to meet Harry again, I felt so exhausted and my legs felt as though they were going to give out. I freaked a little; I just wanted to get to the car and not fall onto the floor in the store. I know I should have been more caring to myself but I felt embarrassed.
This is hours later and I still feel dead tired. When we first got home, I just sat up here wanting to change and go paint the mirrors that will hang in the house. I couldn't do it. I could talk but typing was an effort.
Today were the mid-term elections and later I'll watch Jon Stewart and Colbert do the elections. I voted earlier and expect the dems to do well this time. If they don't, I'll know it's more republican chicanery. My feeling is we are living in a dictatorship; that we experienced a coup d'etat in 2000 and fraud in 2004 in order to maintain republican rule. I believe W, Cheney, Rumsfeld and the rest of their crew are war criminals and people like Baker, Jeb, the Supremes, and that woman in Florida perpetrated a mockery of our election process.
I don't owe anything to W. I'm very grateful for all I have and that includes being born and living in the United States at this time in history. It may be this is the beginning of the end of our republic and that's sad. But it never was perfect. Jack Kennedy got all the votes of the dead in 1960 and I understand Truman didn't really win either. Apparently, the political parties have been playing loose and wild with our government for a long time. That doesn't make it right.
Other nations have long past us in health care, education, and care of the elderly. Too many of our jobs are being shipped overseas but the stuff we make and send out is shrinking. Our roads are holy messes--that's a pun!--and our citys' infrastructures are held together by duct tape. Forget rescuing people hit by floods or the failure of those crappy pipes and dikes. We live in the time of Katrina. Nothing the government tries to do works right. What are we going to do? This stupid war is bankrupting us and killing thousands of kids. For nothing. Things are worse in Iraq now than when Saddam was the "president." At least they had electricity and we had live kids and money in the bank.

ARTIST OUT OF CONTROL

That's me in the gray hair. I'm a mess. I've got a cold--the first in about two years--and I am lupey again, or still. I can't get started in my day. I haven't taken my blood, had a bath or shower, and of course I'm still in my (moose with a bell) pajamas. (These PJ's make me smile inside.) My weight is still the highest it's ever been in my entire life and I feel helpless about it. I'm out of control with my eating and I feel hopeless. It's hard to go out in the evenings and I especially don't want to now but going to Overeaters Anonymous is the only thing I can do to address my eating. I just have to go. Feeling lousy makes going very hard.
Last night instead of going to bed early, I started the winking cat drawing for the authors I've been working with. It's okay. I think I needed to do something successful. He looks fierce. I like the other drawings too and I'd like to put them on-line when I remember.
My children and my cousin visited yesterday and they brought my gigantic cousins painting inside. It wouldn't fit on the family room wall so it's going on the upstairs living room wall behind the sofa where it lived in the other house. It takes up the entire wall from the top of the sofa. I got cold feet about hanging it though on the newly restored wall, so I'm going to ask the guys how to hang it or if they'll hang it.
I still haven't taken my blood, bathed, or eaten and it's getting late. I'm daydreaming of food now so maybe I'll venture downstairs in my pajamas and eat something.

The Adventures of Moon and Autumn

Moon, my two-year-old beautiful Main Coon kitten, was through the vents again two days ago. One of the guys painting our new house left the utility room door open AGAIN. I've asked them to keep it closed only a few thousand times and Moon has already been under the house through that door too many times to count. I understand the dead mice and possibility of rats and other vermin are too hard for him to ignore or so he seems to say when he emerges--if he emerges--dusty and hunter-like. One of the guys was guilt-ridden so he spent a full hour sweating, screwing in wire fencing to bar Moon's entry into that forbidden world. I still would prefer that door closed because I know cats are imaginative. Moon taught himself how to maneuver a door knob and he lets himself and our timid little girl kitten, Autumn, out of our bedroom when we definitely want them to stay put.
Yesterday we bought a pretty little collar for our little girl and next, we'll get them both new tags that say they now live in Delaware, not Philadelphia as Moon's tag now says. I'm sorry we didn't spring for the tag that is surgically implanted in the animal's ear. These kittens mean so much to Harry and me. Our children are grown, living on their own. Somehow these furry creatures have become our babies. Their brushes live on every table and they have the full run of the house and counters. We buy whatever food they prefer. The only activity we say "No." to is sleeping with Harry or entering Harry's office. Harry's little crystals are cat-sized and just right for batting around, especially hanging on the window. And with sleeping, Harry awakens shocked when the kittens jump up and down regularly during sleeping hours. They can sleep with me because I sleep through their jumping and playing.
At this moment after lunch, our kittens always nap. Moon is relaxing on my desk in front of me and Autumn is resting on our bed. They heartily approve of our new house as we do. Moon and Autumn bring us a lot of happiness. They're our little fur-babies.

My Mother Dresses Me Funny (That's my story & I'm sticking to it.)

That's how I feel--I'm fighting off a cold, apparently not very well. I've been lupusey all week; I think from the stress with the workmen in the house all the time and the house being disrupted. It's scary for me--someone with balance problems--to climb and descend steps covered by tarps. I worry about our kittens, both of whom have gotten outside. Moon, our hunter, zipped through an open vent, through the crawl space under the house to the world outside and didn't want to come back inside. Autumn, our timid little girl, escaped outside when the workmen were coming her way. She was terrified and not ready to travel.
The kittens were locked away last night on our neighborhood Halloween. Some of the neighbors with small children sent around a flyer setting up Halloween for last night so their children didn't have to be out late on a work and school night. We'll still have the regular Halloween for the teenagers. Our son and his girlfriend came over last night to give out candy and enjoy the holiday. Our son noticed the work done on one hallway wasn't good. That's all I need: to have more work done over and spend more money. We're spent out now. The house painting cost a mint and there are so many more things wrong. Keep looking and you just keep seeing more. Nevertheless, I love living here. I love the house; I enjoy it. The neighbors are friendly too; it's a little community, like a tiny town.
I hope the people here don't reject me as they did at my work. Well, they didn't totally reject me, they just never let me in. I didn't really want "in"; I couldn't help it and neither could they. I couldn't loosen up and if I had, I think I might have been judgemental about them and their attitudes. I didn't fit in and my ideas were too radical. Plus they didn't trust a Jewish woman who was educated and liberal. They had all kinds of crazy ideas about me. If folks here are prejudiced too, it will hurt. Reading the newspaper and questioning accepted ideas gets me into trouble.
A woman stood in the aisle near me in K-Mart today. She openly stared at me as though I was dressed in my underwear for what felt like a long time. She wasn't admiring me. I had on one of my funny cute 90's jumpers and footless tights, so I might have looked odd. Nobody wears that stuff here. I wouldn't have wanted to hear her thoughts unless she was actually trying to hold back gas. Sometimes it feels awkward to be me.
Today was our neighborhood Halloween tonight and we all enjoyed it. We had more kids here than ever on Langdon Street. Every time kids came to the door our son, his girlfriend, my husband and me all crowded around at the door. We'll do it again Tuesday on the real Halloween if anybody comes. And maybe I'll wear another 90's jumper. It's a shame I didn't buy striped tights

My Mother Dresses Me Funny (That's my story & I'm sticking to it.)

Those dancers look like they're dead and that's how I feel. I'm fighting off a cold, apparently not very well. I've been lupusey all week, I think from all the stress with the workmen in the house all the time and the house being disrupted.
My son noticed the work done on one hallway wasn't good. That's all I need: to have to have more work done over and spend more money. We're spent out now. The house painting cost a mint. Everything cost a mint and there are so many more things wrong. Keep looking and you just keep seeing more. Nevertheless, I love living here. I love the house. I enjoy it. The neighbors are friendly too; it's a little community, like a tiny town. I hope the people here don't reject me as they did at my work. Well, they didn't totally reject me, they just never let me in. I didn't really want "in"; I couldn't help it and neither could they. I couldn't loosen up and if I had, I think I might have been judgemental about them and their attitudes. I didn't fit in and my ideas were too radical. Plus they didn't trust a Jewish woman who was educated and liberal. They didn't trust me and they had all kinds of crazy ideas about me. But I am a liberal educated Jewish woman and if these folks here are prejudiced too, it will hurt. Reading the newspaper and questioning accepted ideas gets me into trouble.
A woman stood in the aisle with me in K-Mart today. She openly stared at me as though I was dressed in my underwear for what felt like a long time. She wasn't admiring me. I had on one of my funny cute 90's jumpers and tights, so I might have looked odd. Nobody wears that stuff here. I wouldn't have wanted to hear her thoughts unless she was actually trying to hold back gas.
Today was our neighborhood Halloween tonight and we all enjoyed it. We had more kids here than ever on Langdon Street. Every time kids came to the door our son, his girlfriend, my husband and me all crowded around at the door. We'll do it again Tuesday on the real Halloween if anybody comes. And maybe I'll wear another 90's jumper. It's a shame I didn't buy striped tights.

Auntie Em For Sale

I'm putting off working, sitting here daydreaming about candy and cookies. We're paying to have the living and dining rooms painted but I have to paint the upstairs bathroom and my room. And I'm not. I'm just sitting here. My plan is to start taking my artwork out of the boxes in the family room and begin hanging them. We found life in suburbia is expensive; it's better, but it costs more. Especially when the person preceeding you in the house didn't keep up with the maintenance.
My personal money is down and since this house is something of a money pit, I'm intending to start doing pen and ink erotic drawings to sell on Ebay again. I don't want to hit the family money for little things. This time I'm going to limit them to just pen and ink though and get the mattes from one of the craft retailers instead of cutting them myself. This will be strictly for income, if they'll sell. I guess if they don't, I'll have to figure something else.
I can't even find Aunt Em on there. Ugh.

The Fat Lady Sings (Unintelligibly)

Worries about money. Workmen not showing up. Key-Kae doing lousy work and then leaving it half done for us to finish. Still not light enough and I have to paint after all. Ugh. Do I love this house? Let me count the ways.
Going to bed later...after The Colbert Report, my favorite show..Usually.
I dance now and like it. So I'm exercising. My weight is horrendous but I'm back at OA after fifteen years. I do one thing for three years. It's forever. And then I just stop. Good bye. I'm gone. I wish I kept up till I decided to stop.
Biting my nails; nervous. Times are nerve-racking. Money out and out and out. Depressed? Nothing is perfect but can't expect that. Back selling artwork on Ebay. Want to make some money & I have the work. Gonna do work just for there too.
oops. Time for bath. Nighty night.

Goodbye Langdon Street

Blackie, the Black Lab/Pit Bull mix looks for me. Where are the boxes with the meat and the dog biscuits. They're in my new house, Blackie. Where are you, food lady? I'm faraway baby and I miss you. Why did you leave me? Was I a bad dog? No baby, you are a best dog, a special dog, and I wish you could have come with me. You would have chased and maybe hurt Autumn and Moon, and dug holes in my yard. Then you would have jumped my fence and run around the neighborhood. Trashcans would never be the same and neither would the house. The little hole you made to stick your head out of your doorway would have repeated itself on my screen door. And you belong to someone else. Everybody loves you Blackie. I still love you and all the people who pat you everyday do too. You'll always be in my heart sweetie pie. Even if you really have no idea who I was and that I've gone.
My Japanese Maple stands serene; it knows it's the queen of the lawn. In the Spring, she is glorious. No other tree can challenge her beauty and they don't try. The street is concrete and plain cement. None of the other lawns can compare with the loveliness she gives.
Only Blackie knows I've gone. Maybe the ivy I planted will look for my presence and admiration. I don't miss Langdon Street. There were too many steps and I was too far away from our children. I always yearned for more trees and grass. A single home in the country. Somehow, Harry and I are living in our dream house and it feels like a minor miracle.

THE DIRT SAYS, "Hi!"

I hope nobody takes offense at the painting. I'm thinking about cleaning the new house and that's the only painting I've ever done about the disgusting subject. Cleaning in the painting looks a lot more fun than I've ever thought it was. And this place is big. Really big. I fell in love with my paradise without noticing it had three floors and no rugs. Rugs are good because you don't see the dirt. You can't miss the dirt now. It screams, "Look at me! Hi! Don't step on me, I'm the house dirt!" Or something. Moon and Autumn, my wonderful kittens are spreading the love around in the form of their leftover fur. The boxes, tools, pillows, and not-put-together lamps don't help.
I looked up Roombas on the web last night and people recommended them. I wish there were more robotic stuff. Dusters for instance. I don't want to be bothered with housework. Ever. I happily do the dishes because Harry cooks and I can't stand to have dishes in the sink. Actually, I can't stand dirt and stuff laying around. I do love the house and the three floors are easily navigated since it's a split level house. The room sizes aren't much more than the row house, but there are two more rooms and one is very large. Well, as soon as the boxes are torn apart or stored, the lights are up, and all the detritus is put wherever it goes, the roomba will be on my shopping list.
Tomorrow is Yom Kippor, the most holy day of the year for Jews. It's a day of atonement and I won't be cleaning the floors. Or painting the door. Our children are coming to have dinner with us. I had wanted to attend services--they're free here--but my son told me they're all day and incredibly boring. I let it go. It is a new year in a new house.

Bliss

The dishes are waiting. My new sinks are different; first off, there are two, and one doesn't have a garbage disposal. I'm really really busy now, that is, if I can keep it up which I mostly can't. I'm off for the middle floor, the dishes, and spray painting. Thank you God, I just did my dancing. I prayed for the will to exercise and came upon dancing in my studio. I love dancing to my music. And in my own single house in a wooded lot in Delaware. I am aware of how blessed my life is. In our world, with so much struggle and needless suffering, to have two grown children, two very smart children, both educated and reasonably healthy..is a gift. That they care for me and their father, worthless though I feel we are, is a blessing. To have worked at jobs for which I was consummately unprepared and certainly unfit for thirty years and come away with a pension and social security, is a gift from God. And then to be led to this beautiful house that's all we asked for, everything we wanted... And get it. My Social Security Disability was granted at once, so I don't have to worry about finances.
It's much later now and while I still feel grateful, I'm also tired. It's time for bed.

Relaxing Amid the Boxes

We've been in the new house for about three weeks. It seems like a year. With boxes all over and things we use everyday buried somewhere to be found someday. Nevertheless, Newark is a wonder to us and our house is paradise. Harry and I each have offices, there are two living rooms--one a "great room"--a sun room and a deck. The floors are dusty now, the ceiling has holes from drilling for ceiling lights and the attic steps are broken. In a short while though, it will be beautiful. I'd love to plant an evergreen in our backyard, but I don't have the energy. There's too much else to do. I haven't painted yet either but I will soon. In between, I'll be painting walls.
Sometimes I think this is a dream. I'm not really a Delawarian; I'm a Philly woman. And I'll always be from Philly. But it's a relief driving on big highways where drivers usually follow the rules. No more closed and closing stores and driving miles to buy nice food. There are shopping centers at every turn and in between. Everything is at our fingertips and then some. Life is easier.
But would I trade my years in Philly? Probably not especially not my college experience. I wasn't comfortable at the Academy--it's hard to deal with other people--but when I was alone in my studio, it was good. And the feeling I have of the Academy is pride and the joy of creation. For me, there is no Academy without Philly. Also, it means something to have been an artist in Philly.
So now I'm an artist in suburbia. I can't care anymore about exhibiting. I don't even look at the invitations to send work. Ah, well. That's the way it is.

MOVED!

We're in our new house for about ten days now. Everything is still a mess; things that should be stored in the garage or attic are still taking up space in the rooms. And pots, cooler weather clothing and shoes are still hiding in boxes in the garage. The pantry in this house is a true mess with graffitied walls and a cement floor. We haven't stored anything there so we're short of space for the things we haven't found yet. The bedrooms which will eventually be Harry's and my offices are strewn with heavy boxes blocking the closets and storage. It's a mess here, but we love it.
We now live in Newark Delaware in a very small development hidden in the trees. Our son and his girlfriend live nearby in New Castle, ten minutes away. The steps that caused us so much pain in our Philadelphia row-house are a thing of the past. Suddenly, in the evening, it's only us; there is no other noise. It doesn't feel right yet. We're used to hearing basketballs, dogs barking, and other families. We live just off a main highway and there's shopping all around us. In Philly, we had to travel a half-hour or more to get to nice stores, but now, they're all here. Newark is a mix of all socio-economic and ethnic groups. Our development has all kinds of folks too. We feel as though we moved to heaven.
The weeds on our very substantial grounds are growing high and I haven't the time or the tools available to tame them. Our driveway has a big dip and the icy winter will be a challenge as will the narrow street. We have a huge garage but it's not connected to the house and not easily reached. Our daughter is further away and her cats are very ill. We're too far away to be enough help. Our friends are mostly all in Philly, not here. And we still have to come to Philly every week to help Harry's mom. Nothing in life is perfect, and although this house will ultimately be more comfortable than the old one, it's got a long way to go.

Jeanette, Then Sammy Dog, and Now, Evangeline

That was Jeanette. My Jeanette; I loved her and couldn't, at the end, take care of her. Protect her.
Jeanette changed my life, my point of view. And now, there's Evangeline, running from the Liberian civil war, stuck living by the side of a building in a hellhole refugee camp.
I called the UNHCR today and finally got someone who knew what the organization does. But every time he went to specifics my connection seemed to break up. If I understood him correctly, if someone will sponsor these kids, which means take them in once they come to the US, the UNHCR will pay their airfare and for their education. If the kids come without sponsorship, they are responsible for everything. Since I couldn't hear the man right--it sounded as though he was shouting from Africa and occasionally an airplane went by and blocked his whispery voice.
Nobody but me wants to do the legwork right now and that's discouraging. No, what is discouraging is I can't just bring them over and have them live in the garage. Or my basement which I don't have. That sounds cruel but I know I need my privacy. I'm too fragile emotionally and I know I can't promise. It broke my heart that I couldn't care for Jeanette when she needed a mother so badly. I couldn't see past her mental illness and couldn't live with it. I just didn't have it. I know most people wouldn't either. She had serious problems. Most people would have felt justified pushing her away, but I didn't. Most people wouldn't have felt they failed. But I did. I really did fail. I couldn't help it, but I'm sorry with every fiber of my being. I still love her, miss her, and I'm still horribly sorry.

They're Murdering Children While I Pack

Gee, I'm even fatter than in that picture! I'm growing out of my clothes..again! My stretchy cotton knit shorts are the tightest I would wear them. I keep eating though, ignoring what I resolved in the morning after I weighed myself. By the night time when I'm tired, I'm ready to eat whatever is handy and my weight keeps climbing. It isn't as though I'm eating so much more. I have to cut out desserts--will I?--noooooooo. I need to eat only very carefully in the evening or not at all. Will I remember? I don't know. And I have to stop eating right away when I feel I've had enough. Is that easy? It's one of the most difficult things I've ever failed at. And every day after dinner, I feel guilty, and later, before I go to bed, guiltier.
I'm still packing only now, I'm getting down to the nitty gritty. Or so I think. We went to my mother in law's apartment today to help her and she wants to give up her cat. Unless her other son wants him, Pumpkin has to come to us. Not only does he have thyroid and chronic ear infection problems, but he's a very lovable one-cat-household-only cat. He's pushy and rough to his fellow felines. He's beautiful, but that doesn't count. He's lived all his inside life with one older woman and I guess he isn't about to accept a brother and sister. Not if he can help it.
And I still haven't gotten the information for Betty and Evangeline. I called Africa this morning and couldn't get through. Then I forgot. I'll try tomorrow morning. So far, it looks as though Evangeline is telling the truth. And Buduburam Camp is a horrible place. Who could blame her for exaggerating, if she is. There is so much worse going on in the world. And way too many orphan or needy children for a world where we can conquer aids and build smart bombs. We are mad chimpanzees massacreing children and their parents, tearing them into pieces with machetes or blowing their brains out with rifles. And if we're not working to stop the murdering, we are supporting the genocide. We can ignore it, move away as I'm doing, and stay in the house as I plan to do. But that doesn't absolve me. I live in a peaceful little world only because others died to make it so. That includes the slaves who built this truly great nation and the Arab oil barons who, with our money, supply the guns to the rebels. The Jinjaweed chase down children and kill them with the money we spend at the gas pumps. It's that simple and that horrible.
Now back to packing because life goes on even when people are dying for no other reason than having been born. I just found a closet half-full of paper. I guess it's good I found it now.

Little Betty on my Mind

Life begins. We're all the same. Just imaginary beings with the appearance of being held together by something solid. But nothing is solid, not even rocks. I spent all day packing on our first floor. There were pots for every type of cooking, and implements to turn anything over, stir, or whip. Lids of every size and color, and enough silverware for weeks of meals. And that was just some of the things I put into boxes. In between, I talked with Evangeline and when I mentioned coming to America, the spirit light went on. I'm being more careful than ever before, not promising anybody a bed in my house. I know I can't tolerate other people very well. We are the same but she has no pots, no warm clothing for the cold nights and no place for her little sister to sleep. I will buy clothes for little Betty so she can look like a little American child. Not poor and hungry.
I just thought of another religious friend who might help. And her family is all racially mixed which would be helpful. This is beginning to sound feasible. Possible. Tomorrow is our settlement on our new house. It's an early day so I'm off to bed.

The Angst of Packing

Harry's taking a nap so I'm taking a break. I worry, like the woman in the painting, that I won't get done, and like her, I'll feel embarrassed. Nobody will actually care, just like her girlfriend looking on.
I was swindled out of that painting. When I participated in an art fair in NY, a guy asked me for two pieces in exchange for his writing an article in a magazine he showed me. Stupidly, I did it. He took pictures and then carried the artwork off never to be seen again. And of course, the article was never seen either. At that same show, I gave one of my BEST pieces to the organization holding the fair and they were supposed to give it play. As far as I can tell, they didn't. I think it's a good organization though at least, even if they're full of shit. I think the reason they wanted it was the hunky guys pictured in it, not the gray haired woman between the two. Live and learn.
This morning, I called Africa since I can't so far get any of the American agencies to return my calls or emails. That includes the State Department. It sucks. Well, I did call and the UNHCR, who supposedly pays for the kid's airfare didn't know anything. The guy with whom I spoke said to call back Monday. It's not easy to understand the African accent. It's as difficult as the Scottish accent, or maybe one from Arkansas. None of us English speaking folks can understand the other. Unless one of us is from Europe. They're really clear.
What a bunch of boring shit! I get tired I think from the Lupus. Harry gets tired because he gets up early. If I didn't say so before , I have had a numb yet painful toe for a couple of months now, and months last year. It seemed this morning the other foot was getting into the act. My doctors gave me some goofy diagnosis, but I've already been diagnosed with peripheral neuropathy of which this is a part. I can't expect doctors to know anything but the common stuff, right? What I didn't know that I found out through research--at the Mayo Clinic--was the problem I have with getting overheated is part of that. A few of my passing symptoms are actually peripheral neuropathy. My rheumatologist and regular doctor couldn't figure that out. Both act like whatever I have is just a shock to them. They're never seen it before. Frustration is a big lupus symptom.
Harry's awake so it's time to pack again.

My African Story

I'm always foiling around with the fonts on here, so it's a triumph when, like today, the font I want comes up.
I'm in the computer room smelling the cat feces; they like to do their business in this kitty litter. No amount of encouragement seems to change that. So I'm sniffing some ungodly stink while I type here. The "spirit" light is on. It blinked on and off this morning telling me to get on with my business and then came back on. I've been downstairs eating dinner and now I'm back here singing along with Pippin, one of my favorites. So I guess my family is stuck listening to me sing. I believe this light is the way my family talks to me during the time I'm conscious. Sometimes the light goes on and off responding to what I say to them. That's exciting when that's happening.
On-line today I spoke with a teenager who fled the civil war in Liberia. She's been in a horrible refugee camp in Ghana with her brother and little sister. They lost their parents to the war. I don't know how she found my name or whether she simply tried many people at random to find someone who might help them. Or whether it's all a scam to come to the US. And does that matter? A while back I sent her $25 to get whatever she needed and she didn't ask for more. She did not bring up the subject of coming here; I did but I did not offer to bring her. I thought it was impossible. However, she says she is being given tickets for her and her sister and brother if someone will call and say they want them. I've told her I can't actually take her; I'm too old and don't want the responsibility. I'm ready to be a grandmother, not a mom. She's only sixteen, her brother seventeen, and little Betty is two. She's called often on the phone and I've even spoken with Betty. Betty happens to be an irresistible baby. What baby isn't? I worry about jumping into another situation that's too hard for me. Another one I can't handle and have to break another heart. It's happened twice already and I want that to never happen again. Evangeline is the sixteen year old and she's very much a teenager. She isn't lying about the camp; I've read about it and it's exactly like she said--you pay for everything including toilets and food and if you can't, you sleep in the street, relieve yourself in the bushes at the mercy of child soldiers, and starve. There are so many orphans. I don't think Betty is really Evangeline's sister; a woman gave Betty to Evangeline saying that's what Betty was.
I asked the spirits why Evangeline contacted me. They clearly told me I had wanted to do something about the genocide in Africa and now I could. I could help someone. And today the light came on. Then Evangeline asked me to call for her.

A DAY IN THE LIFE OF A PACKER

We're planning where to put our furniture in the new house. I'm still packing, now down to the second floor and the basement mostly. The house is filling up with boxes. No, I don't mind; it's fine. It won't be fine though when we've moved. I'll have to work fast to put everything away. I find it depressing to be closed in by boxes and things that are in flux.
I'm so much looking forward to moving; to being there. Our little neighbor girls left today for a few years in Jordan. They're Palestinian and their parents want the girls to learn their culture instead of becoming average American brats. The two younger adorables will come back home after Mom's two month vacation. Mom dressed in the Arabic schmata outfit, hardly spoke English, but was a good neighbor by my estimation. She is a beautiful young woman, not surprisingly. The Palestinians and Israelis have the same DNA. Anyway, we'll be moving before they return and I'll miss the little girls.
It would be nice to have grandchildren but I can't simply order them. I love children and I'm good with them. I'll have to enjoy my new little neighbors.
I'm a little drunk right now, having had wine with dinner. It's time for me to do the dishes and then relax, but I love to write on here.
Time has passed; it's late and I'm not drunk. The dishes are done and I'm almost ready for bath and bed. I'm on the phone ordering house dresses from Lane Bryant. Yeah, I got that fat and that old. I like to work around the house in house dresses. All I need now are orthopedic shoes. I guess sneakers would do and I have them.
Nothing else is doing other than waiting on the phone line. I'd rather go pick out the clothes and they would probably be cheaper, but I don't have the time and I have only one of those dresses I've come to love so much. So it's time for google, the order and bed. G'night.

A PALACE WITH THE WORK OF GOD IN THE BACKYARD

I sold the painting above to someone who loves it; I never did. But I did love the tree and what I used to see out my studio's sliding doors. The grass, the tree, and the boat made my view far better than the bricks. The tree was magic. Not long later the tree was cut down and the boat was sold. All the grass was cemented and there was nothing more to see. I left that studio for the air-conditioned and heated middle bedroom upstairs where the view was of white curtains.
I always believed I'd live in this house until I was too old to manage it. Even though the steps were more and more difficult, I belonged here. Every room had memories and when we finally were able to renovate the house, I enjoyed the hardwood floors and the new bathrooms. Then Lupus forced my retirement, our son moved to Delaware and graduated from college. The steps were hard and I started to dream about living in the suburbs. Eventually, after looking at houses in every Philly suburb, we thought about Delaware and long after that, we found our new house.
I'm packing day and night with only two weeks until the movers come. I'm trying to leave all our daily stuff available and maybe I'm doing okay. Everything in buying this house cost much more than we ever expected and we may have nothing to add a dishwasher and conveniences like that. Knowing we may have only our old furniture and the bricks to look at doesn't make us regret our decision. We both feel lucky. I can hardly believe I'm moving into the suburbs, to a single house with a quarter acre. I'll have a sun room in which I can paint the trees I love. I can plant whatever trees I can afford. I'll have the space and no one can force me to cut the tree down. I can read a book by the fire, or sleep in a different room with the cats jumping up and down. Harry will have his own room where he'll keep his papers and nick knacks and I can have a clean dining room table. I won't have many steps and I'll even have an attic.
I'll have to watch Moon, our male feline because when he sees other animals he tries to get to them. He's a sissy when they come back at him, but fierce originally. And fast.
Moving to this house is a gift, I believe. I prayed, I asked my family--all of whom have passed-- to help me find the right house, and then for them to help us get it. The light in this room came on the day we found the house and the day they accepted our offer. I never thought I would live in what I think is splendor. To me, it's as good as a palace. The house is as much perfection as I've ever dreamed of. I don't need more; I'm content and I'm very grateful.

LEAVING PHILLY

We found our house about a week ago. We must have looked at fifty houses, some in the Philly area originally, and eventually in Newark, Delaware. We listed all the things we wanted: very few steps; central air conditioning; gas or electric heat; etc. This house had almost everything we wanted. It's hard to believe we're leaving our house and Philadelphia after having lived in this house for thirty years and in Philly all our lives. It's cheaper to live in Delaware and it has the suburban atmosphere we would like to experience at least once. We've lived in noise and in the middle of activity forever with a high school across the street and neighbors all around us. We've been lucky to have had nice neighbors, but there's never been much privacy and never any quiet. It's crowded and busy here. The house in Newark is in a very small development with its own driveway, nestled in a wooded area. There are neighbors but they live at least twenty-five yards away. We may be overdrawn and eating hot dogs, but we'll be able to relax.
Right now, we're packing. I keep boxing up items Harry hasn't used to years only to find he needs them now. We have eighty-one boxes, chairs and tables in storage and our dining room is packed with boxes too. We're not done either. There are calls to be made and papers signed. This house is selling; at least we hope it is. I think we've fixed everything and the bathrooms and kitchen here are lovely. Nicer than we've seen anywhere else, including our new house. I'm looking forward to Newark, but for now, I'll enjoy taking baths in our beautiful bathroom.

My New House!

All I know is building a half-Ass website

I can't believe it: Harry's and my websites are off the air. We didn't renew the domains so--pouf! I just paid so they'll be back..whenever. I had no idea. I've been busy either cleaning this house, looking for a new house, sleeping, eating, or taking baths. That's it. But we went to Delaware Tuesday and found OUR house. I tried just now to paste in a pic, but it won't take it. Oh, well. The house is beautiful, as close to perfect as anyone can get in a house. It's the same size as ours now except the dining room is smaller and there are two more rooms, one a gorgeous sun room. And there's a giant garage behind the house. It's a split level with a quarter acre. I don't feel like writing so I'll have to say more next time. I guess I'm aggravated about the websites and my total lack of understanding relating to that.

Maybe Selling The House

This is one of my favorite pictures even though I don't believe in the philosophy behind it. I like the way it came out and the closeness you can see between the man and woman. The guys all loved the way she was built--she normally wore short, sexy clothes to parties with her boyfriend--but I didn't really understand what was going on. Why did she acquiesce to his desires and act as though she didn't want to? But they were happy and didn't need me to understand. Sometimes I don't have the capacity to get inside another person's brain and see life the way they do. I knew she was an unhappy person and he was brimming with anger and ambition. She seemed to feel beaten after a bitter divorce, but she had a career and probably more to offer than he did. I forget how little work matters outside what can be bought with the money you make. He had flair and determination..and the will to rule her life. It satified him and I guess, kept her from taking responsibility. Ah, well, you meet a lot of people in life and painting them gives me some insight most of the time.
I hope when we move I have some different subjects to paint--trees, places, and people. Plus my abstracts. We had our first and very possibly only offer on the house. Apparently, it looks good even though it's way less money than I hoped. The paperwork will be in Philly Saturday and we'll find out whether it's a go. Tomorrow Harry and I are meeting a realtor in Newark, Delaware to look at some houses. I wanted to go look at neighborhoods but my nature surfaced and I couldn't resist going inside. I'm hoping the sale goes through and we're moving on to the next phase of the moving process. There are a lot of things I'd like in a new home and the more of them I see the more what I want becomes clear.
By the way, the reason I haven't written for a while was our electricity--the box--was repaired but not correctly and the air conditioning and lights were off in here. It was unbearable between the heat and the kitty litter. This is the box the kittens poop in and sometimes I feel as though I'm going to pass out either when I'm cleaning it or just being in the room while they're relieving themselves. (I do change it frequently.)
I think everything that's fixed or not will stay that way if the sale goes through. I'm so tired of painting and working till 8 at night. Today, I polished the stairway on my way down to go out. More people were looking at the house when we left.
It's time to get to bed, or relax. I'm not sure which right now. Hopefully, I'll get some new pics in here if I'm done painting. I've kept drawing and decided not to add color unless I feel moved to do it.
G'night.

I can only write for about two minutes. (I know the picture is upside down. I started it from our balcony in Cancun about two years ago.) I can't stand the heat in here. The electricity is still screwed up. I told KeeKae we needed more amps and he didn't listen so the same circuit breaker has broken down, unable to be switched back on, four times. This time he slashed his hand while working and can't come fix it. So the AC and the lights don't work in here. A lot of the lights won't work including our bedroom. The kitty litter doesn't reek now so at least that's good. There's one in here. I change it all the time, but poop stinks and I think the kitten doesn't believe in covering.
We just had the upstairs painted because I realized I couldn't do it. I still have to do all the woodwork though. But it's the last of the painting I think. I finished all the woodwork downstairs and in the basement. Not all the lights work around there either so I hope it looks good. However, all the furniture is wacky because Bob the painter didn't put it back. He's coming back tomorrow and that will be the end so I'll be glad to live normally. I get depressed when the house is messed up.
We're doing all this painting and now a 200 amp service but nobody is coming to see the house. Not for two weeks. And when they did come, they ran through in literally five minutes. And didn't like it. They didn't pay any attention to the information about the house and so they were looking for a garage and stuff we don't have. Oh, Autumn's here for petting so I have to go.

Sensible Reflections on Moving While the Kittens Destroy the Downstairs

Just saying hello. Been painting some walls and lots and lots of woodwork in my house because dirty woodwork is what people notice instead of new bathrooms and windows etc.
Probably have to stop writing because Autumn wants my attention. She and Moon sit on my mouse table usually using the mouse as a pillow--at least she does--and want to be brushed. That came from Sammy Dog. Moon saw how Sammy loved being brushed and now Autumn saw how Moon loves it.
Tomorrow is July 4th. Another deep Summer. It's really hot here and our car air conditioning is broken again. One of our circuit breakers is out too which means a whole lot of electronics are on hiatus too. There are extensions across my walkways waiting to trip me. But I really enjoy my house and my life. I worry a little that I'm not pursuing Art, friends, or activity like I believe is appropriate. But I really enjoy my leisure. Of course, I'm not relaxing now; I'm painting walls every free moment. The floors and rugs are covered with newspaper to limit the amount of paint splatters. I make a mess with this kind of stuff. I'm nervous about what a new house will mean in terms of space, work, and money. I think we're getting in over our heads because of how often Harry likes to eat out and costs of medication and assorted single house costs. In four years, my work medical coverage will end and we'll be on Medicare and Part D if that still exists. I'm doing a "Gone With the Wind" and not thinking about it. I don't know what to do; what would be the best thing to do. I don't want to stay here and mostly it's about for once in my life having a nice house. Before I die. Also living in a different place. Living near Brian. But our doctors and everything besides our kids are up here. This is not sensible; it's psychological heartfelt need.

Sleepy stuff

Just caulked the bathroom floor. I'm getting good at caulking . Going downstairs to continue on another floor! Still working on our house. Seven people have come through but no offers. We don't get feedback either. Can't tell what isn't okay but I think it's the school and no parking. We cleaned up the garden yesterday to show there is parking. But I don't know. People have these monster SUVs now and they probably wouldn't fit.
Autumn had her surgery. She's now not able to have kittens, not that she'd ever been in heat at seven months, but I knew it had to be done. My friend doesn't do that with her animals but we always did. Years ago, when we moved here, our little Anise, a black persian mix, got out. She'd been spayed and luckily she came back to our doorstep. She was a little baby too, like Autumn. Next time Moon, our male Maine Coon, goes to the vet, I want him to have a chip put into his ear. He tries to get out and if he ever does, I want to be able to find him. He's a wonderful cat.
I guess it's back to work now.
Back here after dinner. Maybe tomorrow I'll paint the rest of the upstairs hallway. I did very good caulking jobs. I should coat them with polyurethane but I really don't want to spend the time. I'm annoyed that the house didn't sell yet and I know that's silly.
Last night gorgeous Alexis visited. It was difficult to get my tongue off the floor long enough to drink two very strong martinis but I did it. And after that I told him everything. Of course! He's lucky he got away. We haven't seen Alexis for about a year and he just looks edible. I know I said that. Just Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. So I lectured him on WASPs and God knows what else. I'm glad he laughed.
Today, Lynne called while I was caulking and I told her I don't go to Rocco's anymore because I don't like some of the people. Lynne loves gossip but it's actually no secret. I'm working on the hurt I feel when jerks don't recognize what I possess. It really doesn't feel like a loss for anyone. Maybe it's just not meant to be. We can't all be on the same road.
I am so tired. Ugh. I should do:
drawing
scanning in pictures I did
get the Epson thing running. I don't want to though.

Painting the house & looking for ghosts

No color today. I miss it. Nope, can't get it. Started painting woodwork today. Looks very good. Clean. Makes me dirty though. Getting the downstairs and upstairs hallway professionally painted. Should fix the back parking space too. Would be smart. People can't imagine parking there. Looks too small. Have to work on that. Too much to work on.
Dreamt of ghosts last night. Pretty un-scared around them if they're one at a time. See (dead) family in my dreams all the time & believe they're visiting. Saw one of my old neighbors here once when I was awake. A ghost. Very hazy. Thought she had the wrong house maybe. Used to sense spirits but can't now. Miss them. But I don't meditate & should. Forgot/ forget.
Time to brush MissAutumn.

Mini Insight

I've been taking and collecting pictures of the family cats. This is Hannibal and he lives up to his name despite having been such a sweet kitten.
This hasn't been an especially long day but I'm headachey and tired. For the first time, I cemented or plastered--whatever--a hole around our basement door. Harry tells me it was a mouse hole. If I'd known that, I would have plastered it a very long time ago.
The basement looks okay. It's half-filled with stored stuff--luggage; tools; old televisions that should have been given away; my old easel and other miscellaneous things including odds and ends.
I'm not happy. Well, maybe I am. I'm content and I enjoy my life for sure. But Harry tells me I'm selfish, and I think I am. He does all the cooking; shopping; wash; money--which also gives him control; car repairs etc. Takes out the trash too. I do the cleaning, sleep, paint, eat, and not too much else. If he didn't cook, I'd be eating microwaved and delivered food mostly and my clothes would get cleaned when I needed them. It would be a different life. But I'd be lonely too and it's better with him than without him. His sex drive bugs me; I'm super liberal but my libido was never ha cha cha even though yeah, I appreciate bodies. I never even wanted to get intimate with those guys. I do like sexy poses etc. but still, nope, I enjoyed it but didn't want more. So I'm forever running away from him or annoyed. Well, he gets aggravated over small stuff like traffic and time and he bugs me. He gets mad, pushy, and I back away. Bullish. I haven't gotten over that behavior yet. I don't think I'll live long enough to accomplish it either. Well, not everything gets worked out. (I still don't want to reincarnate to keep working on that or any other issue. Life is really scary, especially in lots of places.)
I forget what's happening tomorrow, but I know I should probably get to my nightly activities like brushing my teeth and my finger stick. One more thing. My old job came back to me today because my former employer is going after people who aren't following one of their rules. HaHa. It's enforced some places with heavy artillary but in other places, like where I worked, the bosses winked at the "offenders" if the offenders were in the "in crowd." I couldn't afford to break their stupid rule; we were paying for our son's education and had to stay in a city row house to have the money. Working seems like another lifetime or a fantasy, no longer real. And that's very good. I believe in looking inward; striving for power or lots of money is a waste of our time here on earth. The people I worked with had no idea.
I guess it's time to make the donuts. Thanks for listening.

Our Family Cats

My baby, Autumn

King Tut
My Moon, then Tip Tip

Older Artwork

MONEY MONEY MONEY

It's taken me hours of work over a number of days but I finally repaired my Page 1 on my website. I finished my front page a couple of weeks ago. After Tripod threw off their pieces of my website because of the nudes I assume, I had to redo all the links etc. I wanted to change a lot of the pictures--cut the pages down again. I had intended to make the pages shorter but I think I'm ending up making them longer.
Most of my days recently have been devoted to getting the house ready for sale. I think I've finished packing everything laying around and the house looks bare enough but it's not very clean. The downstairs is probably as good as it's going to get, and I have yet to do the upstairs. The basement is okay. I'm waiting for an estimate for painting the downstairs. I'd like to have it done but I can't afford much now. We spent so much; we've basically run out. Time to move on.
Speaking of moving, my brother will be here tomorrow from LA. He's coming in for our son's college graduation. We've been paying for our son's education from the time he was one, I think. So, finally, we're finished.
I'm writing all about money. I don't like that; don't want to do it. Our third Epson Photo whatever went bad today. I can't believe it. It's under warranty so they'll send us another one and we'll send this third one back to them. I hope this is the last one.
That's really all I feel like saying. Oh, I'm going to have to stop seeing my old (very good) therapist. I've been seeing her about once a month since I had that horrible experience with depression when I cut my prednisone too fast. She's too expensive though. More money stuff. My insurance doesn't cover her and besides being a raging maniac inside (from childhood issues of course) I'm fine. I'm not that ragey I guess. I've seen way worse. There are things--experiences--I can't ace. Things I'd like to be able to do, but I can't. There aren't many and even though I'd like them fixed, I don't think it's going to happen. I do believe people can change if they have the determination and ability. I used to and I did. I pray I never go through what I did last year though. My therapist is getting way old and I'm terrified I'd be lost without her if that happened again. She understood and didn't try to give me impossible advice but she did help me through it. It's just that I freaked out when I got that horribly depressed. I don't think I'd be calm if that or anything else bad happened. I was hysterical last year. I think I had a nervous breakdown out of terror.
I just noticed it's late. Gotta get to bed. Note: This thing will not pick up pictures.

Falling for Lupus

Harry is honoring me today, using this article in his weekly column for SCOOP, USA. That's a small Philly weekly free paper; he's been writing for them for twenty-five years and hasn't missed a week. Well, in a way he has because when he wants a break he asks me to write. Until recently, I wrote mostly about Lupus feeling I was doing a service. My case is relatively rare and difficult to diagnose. Because of that, I needed to do most of the research myself and go through a lot of doctors before I was finally given respect and a diagnosis. So I shared my knowledge with Harry's readers because most people don't want to spend hours in libraries and on the computer wading through medical journals.
For the last few years especially this last year after I retired, I've felt better than ever. Stress impacts severely on all autoimmune diseases and that includes Lupus; Diabetes; Multiple Sclerosis; and "events" like heart attacks and strokes. Once I recovered from my last horrible flare, I didn't really care what mistakes the doctors wrote as long as I felt okay. But today I fell again. Before I applied to retire, my balance had gotten so bad I was using a cane, (which was like a third leg and just as annoying,) and going for physical therapy. I couldn't afford to keep going to P.T. so I continued to do at least two of the exercises at home. I don't follow through or exercise either so some of this falling is my own fault.
Once my balance is compromised, and just walking through narrow spaces will do it, I often fall. Not every time, but too often to feel safe. Today I fell walking into my studio. I took with me the whole implement side of my drawing desk and most everything on my little extra table. I haven't picked anything up yet and I must because my cats like to eat my sable brushes. Still, it's my second fall in two months. My arm now has a long red cut from above my elbow to my wrist. I can kid and say it accessorizes the giant black and blue mark and lump on the backside of my arm and the few on my upper arm. I'm really a mass of bruises. Somehow my arms swing into things and I also miss the item I'm aiming for. Uh oh! There goes another spot. My whole body is polka-dotted.
I didn't know if the ease of bruises would cut down as I decreased my steroids but I hoped it would. Instead, it's stayed the same but my funny head stuff increased. People with Neuropsych Lupus would probably understand. We get migraines and strange head feelings of many varieties. It's just a shame it's not just ice cream. That would be nice except of course my weight is horrible so ice cream wouldn't be an improvement. Lupus is just no fun and neither is the frailty that comes with any disease or just aging. It's no joke that illness and aging are only for the brave.

Suburbanites

I've been left out of the Sunday group I used to attend. Do I want to see those people? Some, never, others, maybe when I see them. They were the remnants of the mostly young surfacey D/s group who used to pose for me. My ideas were always different; none of them are liberal and I argued with them. I liked a few but I was left out from the beginning because I didn't fit. I was older with what I think is a more mature attitude and I just couldn't be a pretend sadist. Maybe it's just that I've always been different. Shy, bossy, ambitious, quiet, smart, dopey, and introspective.
Years ago, a sharp friend told Harry and I we were "kooks." Yeah, we are. Just having two kids eighteen years apart proves it. We're too intense, too serious for lighthearted fun a lot of the time.
I don't guess anyone can have everything. I do have good friends who I wish I saw much more often. I'm too lazy and involved with Harry. I just keep doing what I do which now is packing. I wish I were not so creeped out by a person (in a room of say, of forty people,) ignoring me. I think it's because that person is being fawned over by the majority or all the people there. I call that guy "The Italian Guy" because he literally comes from Italy, has a heavy accent and the belief that only men are special. Maybe I couldn't bear not to be the special one, although I don't think that was it. I couldn't have made nice to that guy if I were paid to do it.
So now I see the dynamics because I'm writing about it. Most of those folks were very nice to me. They liked my artwork and posed for free. They were friendly and generous. The only thing I could ever hold against them is their "voting" for the tall, skinny nasty man and maybe "W" too. And definitely their suburban attitudes. (I hope when I move to Delaware, it won't be a sea of isolated suburban bullshit.) I know it would be more suitable to move to Glenside or somewhere artsy but I don't have the money. It takes lots of cash to look and live like a liberal, artsy person. So I'll wallow in suburban muddy waters, treading water and staying in the house.
Pictures won't come out today. I hope they work soon.

WHAT IS LOVE?

Picture is "Stop Work"
I wish there were more prints on here; I love visual media. Oh, well.
Today was another busy day; it's pretty cool that it feels as though my job never existed and I'm too busy. I didn't get to pack at all today. Because I'm spending my "free" time packing, I haven't fixed my website which is very screwed up. Just when we were leaving today, we remembered the plants we'd ordered a couple of months ago that needed to be potted today. We did them all, mixing houseplants with outside plants because they weren't sufficiently labeled (for those without knowledge of that kind of green stuff.) It will be nice to see them grow; I love my plants and Harry wanted most of these so hopefully, he'll be watering them.
While we were driving, the engine light came on and our daughter called complaining of her boyfriend/fiance. As long as we could get where we were going and home, I was okay with the car, but not with our daughter's situation. I was upset about that. We've been very lucky with our children. They've both focused on the sciences and have done well. Both are lovely intelligent people--good people. Our son has a fiance/girlfriend with whom he's lived for a few years already. He wants children, so maybe someday, we'll have little ones we can hug and kiss. I believed our daughter had finally found the right man for her, but she's used to being alone and independent, so we'll see. She's very critical when it comes to guys. It would be nice if guys were like women--warm, loving listeners and confidants. Pals, buddies. My Harry is like that pretty much. But then nobody can be everything for anybody. That's not reality and why God created friends, books, newspapers, movies, restaurants, and shopping. And private time.
We visited one of my close friends today and were discussing what love and marriage really is. We came to the conclusion it's friendship, companionship, and comfort. I think respect and compassion fit in too. The neat thing is Harry and I married when we were babies, went through hating each other, finally developed understanding, and we're good friends now. It's not easy, but it's better than being without him.
That's a lot of what friendship is and probably why no one from my old job ever called me. I could say they were a bunch of money-worshipping soulless ignorant jealous people, but I wouldn't be doing them justice. It would be accurate to say the seventies, women's liberation, etc. passed them by and although most of them were '"Democrats"', they were tremendously suspicious of educated, liberal Jewish women and the "'cultural elite'." (Sorry about the strange grammar.) I liked a number of them, but...well, I always had horrible jobs. I ended with the best one and my best boss ever.
I have wanted to talk about my crazy co-workers and bosses but I can't work up the interest anymore. With my last job, I understand it wasn't really just them; it was my fault too that I wasn't taken to their bosoms. I stand behind what I said just before; it's totally true, but it's all gone. They never existed and I'm free.
I have been very lucky in a hundred different ways. My marriage stayed together. I earned a scholarship when I was twenty-three that totally paid for my college. Even though I got fired pretty often, I got hired just as often, for more money. I can paint, write (I think), and I'm still a "handsome" woman. I was given my social security disability right away. And I'm okay. I went through years of psychotherapy and even though I still have issues, (which I hate), I love my life and I'm happy. Satisfied. I have good friends who I love, my cats, my plants, books, and I'm getting ready to move to my dream house sort-of in the country. I kind-of say all this because I was actually hurt by those folks I had worked with by their never calling, even the ones I ate lunch with and saw socially a little. I was so sick for months--five, I think. And I'd like to tell them how good everything is for me while they still have to drag into an office for a job they hate and see people they loathe.

Sometimes The Golden Years are Golden

I remember people talking on television about "The Golden Years" when I was a child. I think other voices near me, laughed cynically. But I find some truth in the old cliche. In our nation, if you're retired with a pension or other money coming in; good health and doctors; a good roof over your head; and family and friends who love you, there are Golden Years. With our bodies still functioning--maybe not ideally, but acceptably--from our fifties through our early seventies with no one giving us orders, the sun shines right into our hearts. Or at least on our faces because we can be outside when the weather is beautiful and not be couped up in an office or factory. Our time is our own and it feels good.
No one can expect anything, but we can hope. The majority of us live easily until past our mid-seventies. We've had several friends die in their forties and that's a shock. We can't take any day in our lives for granted but we can hope.
I'm still getting away with too much sugar and junk food and that's only because I'm still in my fifties and taking diabetes medication. I'm aware my irresponsible behavior can go on only for so long and then I'll end up on the needle so I'm praying for sanity. Our friends who died had no warning, no chronic illness that could be controlled by being sensible.
Perhaps in a few years I'll be spending time babysitting a grandchild. I'm looking forward to buying little outfits and giving a little somebody hugs. In a month, after twenty years in school, our son graduates from college. He and his girlfriend have lived together for a few years and he's become close with her family. Since the kids think nothing of stopping at her parent's house with us in the car, we've gotten to know her parents too. Actually I worked with her parents last week to move the kids to Delaware.
At first when I retired, I felt lost. I was sick and fearful. I had expected to work for another year, but couldn't. In a short time, I forgot working and realized retirement is a true gift. I'm one of the lucky ones--my career was in an old system where greedy CEO's couldn't dip into pension funds. I escaped early while I could enjoy a permanent vacation.

Autumn Listening to Me Read Her the NY Times

It feels very good to have the means to repair my website. I can't use a number of programs that I badly need but there's enough working for me to function. Because I backed up a lot on my external hard drive that I didn't used to have, I am able to see what programs I used--because I don't remember--and to get back some of them. I have hope this time my computer won't fail. Who knows really? In the long run, it doesn't much matter.
I meant to write for only a couple of minutes and I do need to either buy or borrow books. I'm looking forward to reading in bed. I have two books I'm reading now that I can't stand. They both seem so stupid. I'm also reading Bob Herbert's book about America, but I can't read that in bed. It's one horrific story after another about the wrongs here, and they're very serious. All kinds of things happen--in the vein of Katrina--and they're almost never admitted and the people suffering don't receive apologies. I think the US for many people is horrible, but maybe a lot less horrible than most other countries. It seems most of the westernized nations are more fair, but I couldn't testify to that. I don't know enough and I've lived only here. The good thing is most people realize W is breaking the law--it may not be most--and the bad thing is that he can get away with it. That's nothing when people are convicted and killed for crimes they didn't commit and the government has proof they didn't but kills them anyway.
Living a solid white middle-class life gives us people a totally skewed vision of life here. I've heard that prejudice is in people's imagination; things are fine now. When kids want to learn, they can learn anywhere. Our people pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. Definitely etc. I argue, probably wasting my breath, but thank God, I know better. I'm not better, I just know all those sayings are a total bunch of shit. It's the line the government and most media put out. Color blindness that is a complete lie and using "code words" to alert haters to the real message. I snuck that in. Everyone except cognitively disabled people know what politicians mean when they spout certain words and phrases. Their skirting political correctness while subtly giving a very different message. That's not just in the US either. I notice French politicians do it well too. (New York Times informed by reading all the human interest stories.)
Well, it's time to exit the kitty litter room carefully stepping over the pile of papers I'm planning to file sometime. It's time for bed. G'night anybody.

NO PICTURES BUT I'M STILL PACKIN'

Everything has changed from when I last wrote; Harry and I talked everything over and I can't say he's gonna be better, but he has been improving over the years. I printed out and gave him a copy of my last blog. The morning after, he started working in the basement while I was still asleep. Our friend, the realtor visited a couple days after that too. Harry is following her instructions and putting away clutter. We're working all over the house at one time which seems, to me to be easier right now. I did start working on thirty years of stuff on the basement shelves. Unbelievable the trash we kept and the beautiful memories we hid away.
My own computer is back and Harry's is in better shape thanks to me. I'm re-populating my computer with my programs. For a couple of days Harry's and my websites were down. Since I haven't been able to reach my webhost for about eight months, I assumed she'd just let it lapse. So I found different webhosts for both our sites. All the pages I stored on Tripod vanished down the toilet of fundamentalism I guess. They're gone. I was planning to redo the site anyway, so now I am. It's not a welcome job, but it's there for me. I put Harry's right back up but mine has all kinds of links etc.
I'm eternally grateful our computers are not down the basement. Right now, it's too depressing to stay in for long. Not that this room is a pleasure either. It's too crowded and dirty. When we move, I plan to keep cat food in one place, same with kitty litter. This room has both in addition to copies in the kitchen.
I don't think I have any more patience to write now. I don't feel like it. I've been trying but it won't do pictures...still.

Marriage Sucks Sometimes

I'm depressed and upset; Harry's been verbally abusive again for a while. He thinks he's just angry or talking; he has no idea. He barely helps me organize stuff for moving and complains when I do it myself and he doesn't like what I've done. We went out to lunch with my cousin today--I usually do on Fridays. Cousin Jerry would only go to the Home Depot near my house so I told him to just drop us off. That's a depressing place and I try to avoid it. So I got nothing done except Bubba's kitty litter because he did stop there. Both Harry and I were angry at Jerry; I have to agree with Harry that we wasted our time. But Harry's walking around like a powder keg and I'm nervous around him. I love being in my house but it doesn't feel good. There's nowhere comfortable for me to watch TV or sleep away from him. I can see a fourth bedroom in the new house would be a very good idea.
If this were the last day of my life, I'd feel pretty sad. It's been miserable. I did put away my shoes and then of course, had Harry yell at me for doing it because he felt he had to move it and I guess he thinks I should have known what he'd think. All I knew was that he didn't move his clothes and if I had, he would have made a terrific fuss. Mostly, marriage is no fun. It's companionship and sharing, but too often there are days of hurt and misunderstanding. Harry resents but never says he does my going to bed and arising late. He believes in order for him to work on the basement or other chores needed for selling the house or helping me, I need to be there. Last week, I asked him to use the big vacuum on the carpet downstairs because Moon, our beloved mouser, left a dead mouse there. I remind him frequently but he hasn't done it and won't until and if I fight with him.
When I told him today it's rude for a man to put himself first in front of his wife while waiting in a line, he said I was just angry and bothering him. We've been married for forty-one years and I still find that behavior ignorant and now that I really know what it is, it's selfish. Harry used to give himself the best and biggest cuts of meat, chicken or whatever there was. Once when a dog was barking and running toward us, Harry pushed me out of his way and Harry ran. If we had a fire, I'd expect him to save himself first.
It's nice that he puts me on a pedestal; I'm the lady with brains and he reveres me. But worshipping and being considerate are not necessarily the same. He was thrilled when I retired; I could hang out with him all the time. And I'm so agoraphobic unless I really work at it, he has what he wants. I'm going to email this to him. Maybe he'll read it and maybe he won't. I don't care.

Harry's Talking to the Son

Here's Harry's article, since I can't type it anywhere else.
Being smart is not an excuse for lacking common sense. Our son is a smart, good boy but sometimes I wonder about his common sense combined with his stubborn streak. We all went on a vacation together to Boston recently and our son was our driver. It's great being driven except for the fact that he drives too fast and doesn't practice defensive driving. Jaynee and his girlfriend both told him he drove too fast and he should slow down around curves but he refused to listen. He just didn't take their complaints seriously. Jaynee was nervous and I was worried but there was nothing more we could do other than tell him.
I am grateful he has his own apartment because I couldn't deal with him and his bullheaded attitude. I suppose that belief goes with the territory of being young and immature--although like I said he is extremely intelligent. But you cannot put an old head on a young man. It would be better if our son took note of what his mother and father say; I think it would be helpful. Perhaps he will grow up in the not too distant future; I hope so. He has a lot to learn about life.
Some people feel they need to know everything and cannot tolerate being wrong or "shown up" as less than the most knowledgeable person. Luckily our son doesn't reach that point. We all need to learn from each other. Being wrong isn't a character flaw.
Feeling as though you must be right all the time is an impossible task and a serious personality problem. I wouldn't want our son to fall victim to that obnoxious behavior. There aren't many areas in life where he thinks he has nothing to learn. I think his driving owes a lot to young male hormones, highways and not having seen tragedy. I hope he will accept whatever wisdom we can offer. There's no need for him to invent the same wheel we experienced as young people.

Just a Note While Waiting

I'm waiting for Harry's computer to finally come up with the page I "requested." All done.

A MOUSE IN THE HOUSE

Finally, I found my log-in and I can write in my favorite blog again! I've been writing in Live Journal, but I can't put any pictures in it, so I like this much better. It's much more attractive too. The news is: my hard drive went bad and I'm using hubby's computer; there's a mouse in the house; we're going to look at houses in Delaware because we really can't afford the houses and taxes in Delaware County and we'd like a nicer house with nicer everything. So, first, I'll have to put everything back into my computer whenever it comes home. Second, Moon had the mouse in his mouth; I picked him up and he growled. Then I looked and boy, did I put him down fast! Little Autumn has been watching him but not trying to get the mouse. Third, we have to figure a way to buy a new house and maybe to pack up our stuff. Fourth, I'm really hungry but I'm not going downstairs with a mouse down there. Uh oh, I messed up the picture. Well, it's 1% better than nothing.

Passover and Eat, Eat, Eat!

Sunday night. There's noise outside; the dogs aren't barking yet though. I'm almost ready for bed. Last night we held our Passover Seder; we did it late because our son had classes at the normal time, but it's still Passover. My cousin did the prayers and we did something different this year; we talked about freedom sliding over into the situation in Sudan and now Chad. I always loved the Passover service but this was relevant which that never was. Nobody, even my cousin, knew who the rabbis who were mentioned and the language was so arcane. Discussing our freedom and how little there is in a lot of the world felt right. We didn't even have to get into W or his cohorts.
And our daughter's new boyfriend joined us. They're very serious and we like him. Plus, he brings cakes! Probably, that's not the best thing for this family, but they are awfully good. I gave away some at Harry's suggestion, but I've been munching on everything from last night and when I'm not into them, I'm eating my strawberry/coconut bread. I froze it as I do most cakes so it doesn't go bad. I can eat frozen cake and cookies in case you wondered.
But my new thing is eating cereal for dinner Monday through Thursday. I can't take my eating anymore. Those fat deposits on my hips drive me crazy. My brother suggested walking for twenty minutes a day. I forget, but I know it's a good idea. I forgot; my daughter and I made a french custard too and Harry and I polished that off tonight also. Creme Brulee. It was marvelous. As were Harry's potatoes and meat. Our daughter made the green beans and our son, the caesar salad. We really did have a terrific meal. Now it's time for cereal.

The Freedom of Choice in Retirement

Tomorrow we start looking at houses again; the first one is unaffordable. I just looked it up; it's gorgeous, new, but out of our reach. Oh, well, it will be fun anyway I guess.
I just ordered jersey shorts; every year I think I have to buy new ones. I weigh a little less but I'm built far worse and it's harder to find clothes. Suddenly, I have a lump of fat over each hip; where did they come from? The dimples on my backside have spread down my thighs and are becoming uglier; they're transforming into old lady lumps. I need to move soon so I can get back onto my treadmill and maybe start riding a bike sometimes again.
I'm painting a lot and enjoying it too. I'm loving retirement in general. For the first time in my life, I'm totally free. I have no mom or dad--although I wish I did--or bosses to tell me what to do. I can go to bed late, read in bed, and get up when I feel like it. Everything I do is voluntary. There is an absence of additional stress. Whatever emotional garbage I experience is from inside me and that's my choice too. I choose to see the pain that's been pushed down all my life so I could function. At least, I'm trying to look at it, experience it, and help myself see life completely through my adult eyes. That's how I describe my goal now, but it may change. All I know really is that I've always had a river of pain coursing unseen through my heart. I believe it was born when I was a child, lonely and desperate. I wanted to die; I didn't believe, couldn't imagine, ever getting what I needed. But I have and that desperation still flows, escaping infrequently as rage or overwhelming blind pain. I didn't recognize it, didn't even know it was still there, until July when I had a horrible reaction to prednisone or the lack of it. Suddenly, I felt the darkest pain for which I had no words, just paralyzing agony.
I thank God I worked; thank God I have a pension; and get down on the floor, on my knees to say thank you from the bottom of my heart, for this retirement.

Moving Thoughts and Bread

Our daughter visited today with her new boyfriend. He is cute; she was right, and he's a nice guy--smart with a heart. We'll see what, if anything, comes out of this. My girlfriend Nancy was here too; she was really the only person who I expected before today, but it's always good to see them. I expected more time with Nancy but they took her home, so we were cut short. Nancy's an artist too, and I wanted to go over my new work, so I'll just have to pick her up again. I'm just a lazy driver; I get tired.
I'm now making breads in case anyone visits; I hope I keep it up. My breads are terrific. The one I made yesterday is Coconut/banana/strawberry/raisin/nut. I love coconut and the bread's pretty excellent.
My freezer is full of bakery breads, rolls, ice, junk, and my breads. And the house is sort of jumbled; I'm waiting to move even though we haven't even looked at more houses since the last one went bust. I lost a lot of steam with that; it was a big disappointment. I have a list of houses to check with our agent though and maybe I'll look more tomorrow.
I'm thinking of trying to keep the cost lower than I planned, if that's possible. I'm worried about health care, prescriptions, and real estate taxes as we get older. It won't get easier and we're in the middle class who really shoulders the burden in this nation. (Even though the poor are truly oppressed.) I think I'm being short-sighted and selfish and if I really thought it through, I'd stay in this house and count my blessings and my money. I'm pining for my dream house but just because I'm pining doesn't mean it's a good idea. I loathe living in a row house looking out on trash cans; seeing neighbors up close and personal all the time; fighting for a parking space; and struggling with the steps. That still doesn't make it a good idea. I do love traveling but I'd rather live in a good house. I can answer my traveling bug by visiting my brother, which to me, is just fine (and I think it's actually okay with him.) I think I will find a house and we'll move and that's the way it will be because I just don't have brakes where maybe they should be.

Autumn Kitten's Photo and An Artist's Life