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August 31st, 2009


12:00 am - Moon Introduces Tuesday

Sunday, August 30, 2009

 
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<!-- Begin #content --> <!-- Begin #main --> <h2 class="date-header">Sunday, August 30, 2009</h2>&nbsp; <a href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17161784&amp;postID=7200386328125087581" location.href="https://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=17161784&amp;postID=7200386328125087581;"> </a><!-- Begin .post --> <a name="7200386328125087581"></a> <h3 class="post-title"> Moon Introduces Tuesday </h3> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g1B4VCA2HBs/Sprc4VUl9uI/AAAAAAAAAPs/b355AK63ebs/s1600-h/bonnie2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 221px; height: 166px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g1B4VCA2HBs/Sprc4VUl9uI/AAAAAAAAAPs/b355AK63ebs/s400/bonnie2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375851965574412002" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />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, who 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. <br /> 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. <br /> 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!<br /> 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.<br /><br /><div class="zemanta-pixie"><img class="zemanta-pixie-img" alt="" src="http://img.zemanta.com/pixy.gif?x-id=88bec2e1-b07c-8bc6-8558-ec2c7e25ab23" /></div>

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July 31st, 2009


04:29 pm - Chuckfuck's Psychic Reading
Facebook | Jaynee A. Levy-Polis: chuckfuck
chuckfuck:
big dog. steps. rug in living room. He's watching tv. wife brings him something. He expects that. Needs to feel special. Picked on as a kid. Had pimples, ugly, wore big thick glasses, and fat. Son. May have had son who died. Filmy. House is small. 3 floors though. His feet hurt. Took off shoes. Change in pocket. Angry. Would like to break my neck. Thinks I'm far far away. So angry. Angry like a bull seeing red. Yells at his wife who shudders. She's cooking. Will eat in the kitchen. Need new roof and repairs but can't afford them. Annoyed at neighbor playing loud music. Neighbor doesn't like him. No surprise there.
His mother has white hair. Angry woman. Another brother--acct.--and sister.
Steps to the door. Can't wait to get in. He puts out the trash. Says hello to someone on the street. They stay away from him. Stubs his toe. Had a broken ankle once, still hurts sometimes. A very angry man.
  That was a reading of chuckfuck, the administrator I "talked" with. Some people pour out evil they can't control. Every opportunity is a confrontation, a fight. chuckfuck looks and waits for them. No neighbor trusts him. His family has moved away as far as possible. At family gatherings, he criticizes, tries to take down... Read More any little piece of optimism or compassion. Those don't exist in his world. How does he (or anyone like him) get anywhere? Why do those people get jobs? Why aren't they rushed immediately to a shrink's office? EMERGENCY! QUICK! That would be right and nothing else makes sense in a truly human world. But PeggySchmeggie (the stuff in your belly button) and chuckfuck are just two of the rule makers, the reigning crew. Donald Rummy and Chains are the same. I wish we could cut them out, like the worms in an apple but they would cut us out first. Still, I wish they would disappear.



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July 20th, 2009


03:03 pm - The Romance of Port Orford
Today is my last day in Port Orford, Oregon. Tomorrow, my brother will drive me back to Portland to fly home Thursday. If I had realized how much I would enjoy being here, I would have scheduled at least another week. Bruce and I tend toward the same relaxed schedule, arising late morning and watching movies into the late night. I'm not interested in doing more than sitting by the beach and drawing. Once I found gifts for the kids and Harry, my work was done. Today, after this library visit, I'll go sit on the beach and draw again, or I hope I do. It's getting late. It's always gettomg late when you awaken at noon. (It's a good life though!) I cooked steak last night, and tonight, it's to be pork chops. I've never made them before, but they'll be good.
The beach is overlooked by cliffs, where I have to stay. The way down and back from the beach is precarious. Bruce and I walked on the beach a couple of days ago, but it was terrible for me trying to walk back, into the wind, slogging along in the sand. There are jade rocks buried in the sand, into the cliffs. The monoliths stand guard on the shore and miles out into the ocean. There are mountain ranges in the distance. The water is warm now and Bruce tells me Great Whites come in when the ocean warms like this. I missed the sea lions the sharks feed on. The whales have gone north and won't be going south till next month or so.
I wander into galleries. The owners are all my age with long grey hair and beards. Nobody wears makeup or dresses fashionably. It's wonderful. Bruce says he wants to open a gallery when he retires here. I'll help him, I say. When I come, I'll take everyone elses work down, and put mine up. He laughs. I pray I can return next year, perhaps for a month. It's not a place for Harry. There is nowhere to go and nothing to see. Just the ocean and maybe, the fishing boats. Ask me and I'll tell you it's heaven, or close to it. I probably should have moved to the West Coast when I was young. I've always liked it better out here. I would never leave my kids though. And I like Delaware fine. But Port Orford is my place to be in the summer.
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April 20th, 2009


04:13 pm - 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.

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03:55 pm - Goodbye Nanny job
  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.


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March 28th, 2009


12:58 am - Painting
 

I'm waiting for the work to begin on my bathroom. Things keep coming up to put it off for another day. My daughter has a bad cold so I didn't go to Philly. Nothing's happening yet anyway and I had to clean the kitty litters. I started another "fruit" painting. I've got huge oranges and apples on it. I'm thinking of converting them to cantaloupes. Once I realized this was what I wanted to do, I'm on it. I'm enjoying it. I have a little one that I just finished, but I don't think it's really finished. I have to figure out what's wrong.  I'm leaving it where I can see it.  I'm thinking of showing them at the Art Alliance without framing them.  My idea is to price them ridiculously low hoping somebody will buy them, and at a low price, they can frame it.  I won't do that for anything I really like.  If this new one comes out alright, I probably will want to hang it in the dining room with the other food paintings.  I love the idea of paintings reminding me of the season I love best and my plants.  I love my plants like little babies.  Honestly, I like that about myself.  




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March 3rd, 2009


12:20 pm - Just Me Yearning for a Healthy Weight
http://i306.photobucket.com/albums/nn245/painterjayne/justmarried08l.jpg

Okay! Photobucket. I have to use it!

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.
Current Location: Delaware
Current Mood: worriedworried
Current Music: whirring of the computer

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December 20th, 2008


10:58 pm - Life
  Nothing is happening. It's quiet. I'll start reading soon. I didn't get to paint today. I printed Christmas cards and fought with the printer for each one. What a drag!  I probably should put the gold frame on the plant painting. I want just to read though.  I'm drinking wine; I have to watch out; I get sick easily. My inner ear is effected. My nervous system is screwed up from Lupus, and alcohol recently has been causing reactions. Of course, it doesn't stop me from having a little taste. I really do have just a little.
  Harry made a beautiful dinner today. He cooks all day sometimes. He made fancy grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and then those big crab legs for dinner. With a spinach salad and roast potatoes. 
  Too knocked out to write.

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December 11th, 2008


06:00 pm - My Story: Tigger

HARRY
MARTIN POLIS
, poet-philosopher



E-mail: harrymartinpolis@yahoo.com


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


ICQ #
10954537


 


TIGGER:  MY STORY


Keke and Tigger


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.


 


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December 8th, 2008


11:15 pm - my Story: Tigger
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.



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.




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