“Blog’s kinda off the main topic these days, don’t you think?” Neighbour BIG Doug and I were getting together to discuss him delivering some lumber over the next few weeks for the little projects I have planned.
“Yeah. Did my usual bit about the city again. Some stuff about the book. A few rants. I have strayed from the original theme, no doubt about it. You wanting more rants or more off-the-grid stuff?”
“No rants. Had enough. And you can skip the ravens. I am sick of them, too. Bloody nuisance, they are. Figure out a way to get rid of them without killing them and write a book about that!”
“Geez, no rants, no ravens. Waddya readin’ for?”
“Don’t got no TV, do I?”
“You don’t got no cedar, either!”
“No. Right. Sorry. Might cut some. Probl’y not. Lots of hemlock and fir, tho. Cuttin’ some alder soon.”
“Louie wants flooring.”
“I want cedar.”
And that is the way it is out here. Louie owning the mill determines what gets milled. Fair enough. Not a market driven economy, to be sure, but fair. I’ll build out of fir instead of cedar. Some decisions are made for you.
Well, that is not quite true. The outdoor shower has to be cedar. HAS to be. And I’d like the greenhouse frames to be made of cedar, too. Less worry about rot. So, I may have to ‘negotiate’ with big D who lives near BIG Doug. Big D (smaller than BIG Doug but still big) is a lumber hoarder. He always has dimensions of everything. Like a mini-custom home depot except WITHOUT any crap wood. Plus it runs in the family and his cousin up the way has some, too. One way or the other I’ll whinge my way into some cedar.
And I have the time. It’s not like I work fast. Hardly work at all, really. Haven’t done a thing since we schlepped back home last week. Peeled potatoes. Poured wine. Chose the last cheap B flick. That’s about it……
I’ll likely keep the GDP (Gross Dave production) to that lightning pace until the barge comes with all my ‘new’ tools. And if this sloth continues, I may just use them as barter for getting others to do my work! Ha! Only kidding. No one can do my work (‘cept Sal) cause I don’t have plans. I wing it. You hafta read my mind to know what I am going to do next. Tough enough for Sal to do and she doesn’t always get it right.
Which is annoying.
Anyway, I couldn’t part with any of that stuff and I haven’t even gotten my hands on it yet. Tool anticipation is a crazy thing. A bit like being horny but not quite. Weird.
Here’s something weird: This is DFO for ya…………..
Our area is closed to ‘fin fishing’ until sometime soon (that is why I was online reading the regs and getting my license) but even when it is open, it is closed to rockfish. They were fished out years ago and, like all DFO managed species, they close the area AFTER the species is wiped out. Brilliant.
So, anyway, no rockfish. Fine. I get it.
But then the regulations read: (something like) “Should you inadvertently catch a rockfish while fishing for other species, the fish will not be able to recover from being hauled up from the depths. You may as well keep it. And be sure to eat it, ’cause you can’t use it for bait – that is against the law!”
“Unh….I thought catching rockfish was against the law?”
IT IS! TOTALLY PROHIBITED! WE’LL CONFISCATE YOUR FAMILY IF YOU DO THAT!”
“But…you said….if…I catch one by accident….I should eat it…? If I eat it, doesn’t that mean I have to take the little blighter (biter) in my boat and you might catch me with it and then confiscate my family?”
YES. YOU ARE CAUGHT BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARDPLACE. LIKE THE ROCKFISH. YOU ARE HOOPED EITHER WAY. THIS IS THE GOVT. OF CANADA MANAGING YOUR FISHERIES AND, AFTER C-51, WE WILL APPLY THIS KIND OF LOGIC TO MANAGING YOU!
If only the rockfish could slip away as freely as my rants do, eh?