King St. John's Jim

Friend, I have noticed some neighborhood cats with red or purple lips. I thought you might want to know more.

Let me introduce you to another interesting couple nearby. Winnie and her sister Pathy. They have been living together since the 80’s — they both got divorced at nearly the same time and decided to pool their resources. Pathy moved to St. John’s from Florida: She was one of the original Girls Gone Bananas in 1957 and had entertained her way into the personal lives of some very influential politicians there. She finally married into the power circle, but when her marriage went on the rocks, she was left with a choice: Grab what little you can and leave quietly or stay and get snuffed.

Winnie, on the other hand, had stayed behind in Portland and lived in her parent’s house. She had done better in her divorce settlement, and promptly retired keeping all her assets in the name of her parent’s estate. Winnie and Pathy have become leaders in sustainable living for the neighborhood.

Winnie is likely the best “found material” artisan in Oregon: she can turn a toilet float into a kid’s party balloon. And Pathy has a green thumb that can make a horseshoe grow roots.

I’m talking with Pathy and Winnie in their house: Pathy is repotting seedlings on a table in the middle of her harum of cats. I counted seven, but Pathy said “There are lots of them but many of them are dead now, and some come and go for days or weeks at a time. There was Elvis, he was the first, and he jumped into my car when he was running away from a Florida ‘gator. I had him for twelve years until…”

Winnie broke in and asked me if I wanted a glass of milk or a Blood Orange cookie: She had the manner of a high-octane granny, full of crafts and Old School home economics, like how to make lipstick for hens out of cow placenta. Winnie said: “It’s a miracle substance! There are over 80 ways to use the goodness of placenta in a sustainable fashion.”

I thought better than to ask how to prepare any of those 80 ways. I had to sit through about three of them anyway. Don’t ask, but I’ll likely never eat any of Winnie’s “Blood Orange” cookies.

I had trouble following all that Pathy and Winnie had to say because they both were watching TV. Different channels. At the same time. And talking to me, to their TV sets, and to each other at the same time.

Pathy tunes into a daytime talk show with a guy who specializes in interviewing sociopaths, arranging family interventions with sociopaths, and generally recognizing it as the natural behavior that it is: “Let’s remove the stigma of Sociopathy” — That day he is interviewing Adaman Eaves, the ousted finance minister of the National Bank of Cash. “Ever since I readSnakes in SuitsI realized I wasn’t ALONE! That there were people with the same condition, and I no longer felt the victim of my “terrible malady” — I broke down and cried when I realized I was a sociopath and I could be proud of it!”

All during this, Pathy was saying things to the TV like “My Sam did that too.” or “It’s OK. Lots of them feel they are just doing their duty, too.” Or even: “Keep on trying!” Pathy’s cats pawed the screen every so often.

On the other TV, just as loud, was Boujie P. a local video Crock Jock who goes out on the street to show the most fabulous ways to decorate and brighten up using common Shopping Mall ingredients. He is giving a street person a make over with a bedazzler. The in-studio audience oohs and ahs as he shows how to use a little spray on snow to turn blackberry vines into family heirlooms. Finally, he turns to the camera, and says: “Next week, we will explore exiting neon light piercings for that Moose Head on the mantle. Bye bye, Portland’s Bourgeoisie, I’m Boujie P, my glitz challenged friends: OK, now everyone - Hold your breath!”

All during this, Winnie was moving around the house and jumping up and down and shouting things to her TV like: “Boojie! You’ve got a gift for glitter!” “I can do that for half the price!” or “I sent him that idea, he loved it!” — Winnie showed me the autographed photo Boojie sent her.

I think it explains the sustainable supply of red and purple lipstick for our neighborhood cats. Just thank the Daough Sisters.