Good NEWS!!       The new book is up on Amazon.ca. (For those of you not in Canada it will be on the US site and others within a day or so.)

Proper title:   ACCIDENTAL FUGITIVES –  The FBI’s Most Wanted Seniors

My own personal review is that the writing is not all that hot but it’s a cut above amateur and a few cuts below REAL author professionalism.  Another knock: it’s only about 275 pages and I like to give readers at least 300.  But, this one just didn’t have 300 pages of story involved.

The good review would be that it is kind of a page-turner.  The story is good.  NOT great.  But good.  You kind of get on the two-wheeled plot and it’s a quick read all of it downhill.  Most people will blow through it in a two-reading session.  Maybe three.

Sally says: It’s a fun read with an underlying message about immigrants in the US. We had a great time writing it. David is too hard on himself (and me)! 

Brief description of the book: Snowbirds Charlie and Nancy Moon are vacationing in the sun one minute and desperados wanted for murder the next. Hampered by creaky limbs and gimpy knees they battle their way out of MAGA Arizona and flee toward the safety of sanctuary states and Canada. They fight off vigilantes, stay one step ahead of the FBI, and befriend domestic refugees and other victims of Trumpian America. You’ll keep turning the pages—guaranteed.

Other good news – Julia is our most recent Woofer.  She’s a native of Germany, 36 and a great help for us as we get in next winter’s firewood.

First, we collect logs from the beach or that float by.   Then I cut them into manageable lengths. Then we haul up the logs from the beach using the highline and Honda powered winch.    Then, when they are at the top, I buck ‘em into rounds, Julia ‘wheelbarrows a few from the bucking site to the splitting site about 75 feet away and drops the load at Sal’s feet.  Sal then flips ‘em on the splitter and then stacks them in the shed which is right by the splitter.    From‘wrangling strays’ to lying nicely in a stack is a nine-step process for a piece of firewood.

The old saying goes, “Firewood heats you twice (getting it in and then burning it)”. Ours provides us with even more.  Lucky us.

But we don’t push it.  A few hours each day.  After a few days, we have our wood in and all is good.  Well, that has been our experience until this year.  This year, the old muscles were not quite ready and so each day of work for us was started with groans and reluctance.  Typically, that is the case but after a day or two, we have adjusted and the groans stop and the work day lengthens.  Not this year.  Despite Julia’s help, the groans continued and the work days shortened. We were kinda pathetic this year.  It is now day five and I am just getting ‘into it’.  This morning was the first without groans.

PERSONAL REQUEST:  If you are so foolish with your finances that you squander some loose change on the new book (thanks) PULEEEEEEZ review it on Amazon.com and or .ca.  I don’t care if the review is good, mediocre or even bad (well, I am lying about that last option) because ANY review is better than none when dealing with Amazon.  Seems normal readers won’t try a book anymore if it has no reviews.  So, let loose.  Let your inner critic out!  Sal can handle just about anything and she’ll screen out the bad ones for me so I don’t get too upset.  

Well, not really…….but kinda…..

It seems a newish local decided to do some burning on his property a few days ago.  He wanted to clean up the bush around his new building site.  He did his thing and then hosed it all down.  Then he left for the weekend.  But he didn’t know what he was  doing.  The fire had gone to ground and so the roots were left still burning.  And the wind was up .  The wind was REALLY up.  And a forest fire ensued.

He has a partner and the partner showed up later and saw the fire, freaked out and ran for help.  He ran to the nearest neighbour.  The neighbour has  a phone.  The newbies don’t have one (at least not one getting reception).  Neighbour is on satellite service and together they phone 911.  Mildly hysterical.  911 answers.  911 on satellite is answered in Houston, Texas.  Operator there doesn’t know from BC.  Doesn’t know from remote islands.  Satellite 911 less useful than the fire.  Hysteria escalates. So does the fire.

Neighbour gets on VHF radio.  Calls neighbours.  Most neighbours are not monitoring VHF but enough are.  Mind you, the ‘enough’ are mostly 65+.  Still, a dozen golden oldies and a woofer show up with shovels.  Smoke everywhere.  So thick is the smoke, they cannot find the flames.  More VHF calling gets through to the BC Fire Service and, within a few hours helicopters and a water bomber are on site.

Neighbours are sent home.  The pros are now on the job.  And this crew, it seems are good.  They go at it and within 48 hours or so they have it contained and likely under control.  They don’t say that but it feels that way.  The reason they are reluctant is that the larger fire has also gone to ground.  They know about that and need to do post-flame fire fighting.  In comes a big pump and down goes a few miles of temporary pipe and hosing.  Pump runs for two more days.  Firefighters camp overnight.  When they are established, they quit the camp-out but continue the dousing.   Two more days of pumping and drenching.

The fire is out.

They did good.

Sal was at the post office today.  The mail plane complete with five tourists came in.  When they landed, the pilot ran into the office, “Can I use the phone?”  Informed that there was no phone, but (get this!) he managed to hail another plane from the ground.  Sal has no idea how he did it because the reason he wanted the phone was because the electronics on his plane went down and when a plane drops communications, they assume it has gone down.  He was trying to head off a air/sea search launch.

The second plane relayed a message back to base.  Two planes were then sent out to retrieve the tourists.  Pilot then borrowed the small tool kit at the post office and fixed the electrics using PO duct tape.  Sal gave him a muffin.

He hugged everyone and flew off.

Neighbour came in wanting to buy one of our books.  No money.  Traded goat cheese.

Sal had been there late.  Just came home.  Another day.  Another adventure.

No, NOT a rant about my aging or failing muscles.  NOT THIS TIME anyway but it seems to be a favourite topic these days amongst the 65+ ‘local folks’ and friends so I’ll get back onto that rolling hospital bed soon enough.  This topic is different.  This is about the Health Care INDUSTRY, the business of it all, the politics of it all and, like so many things I think about these days, the sheer madness of it all.

Is everything stupid?

Canada has a medicare-style healthcare system.  In theory, you don’t have to pay to get treated for sickness.  In practice, however, a great deal of money exchanges hands and, of course, the patient pays directly and indirectly.  In Canada, we have chosen to assume the ‘insurance’ model where everyone pays in one way or another and then those poor unfortunates needing service can claim it without having to sell their home or go without.  It’s a concept I support and happily pay my share.  I like the concept.

But, it is essentially a ‘basic’ service and all sorts of things NOT covered are just as essential for good health.  So it is greatly wanting.  Like prescriptions, eyes, teeth and receiving expedient treatment.  And, more and more actual medical ‘tasks’ are being left off the free list, too.  Socialized medicine is not always the answer and, to be frank, it is all unnecessarily expensive in the aggregate.  It’s a huge drain on the society where it does not have to be. That part is disappointing.

No, the American system is worse.

That ours doesn’t work all that well is also mostly acceptable to me (except when it doesn’t work for ME!) because, for the most part, I am relatively healthy and inclined to self-medicate, self-diagnose and even self-treat much more than many do.  It’s not that I have the knowledge so much as the experience.  Plus I have diminishing faith in the system.  At 70 I am suffering more and more from things I have suffered from before.  New bloody cuts and burns are going to be treated like old bloody cuts and burns were treated and so I kinda know what to do by the fifth or sixth time breaking or wrecking some new parts in the old familiar ways.  Seen twenty stitchings, seen ’em all.

No, once again, this is NOT about me.

OK. Maybe a bit.  At 70, I have finally found a good, competent and – get this – CARING doctor.  CARING.  SHE CARES!!!  Can you imagine that in this system?  She calls to inquire as to my improvement after an appointment.  She reminds me of issues I raised before.  She does her part promptly, efficiently and uses common sense.  And she’s very intuitive.  A great diagnostician.  She’s GREAT!!!!!

But she’s leaving.

Family ties are calling her home and that is very far away.  She’s going.  The best doctor I ever had is going.  So she asked me and a few others to help find a replacement (I used to run a medical clinic in Vancouver and so it was assumed that I have something to offer the interim find-a-new-doctor committee.  I don’t.  I crack jokes, demand tea and avoid most of the meetings.  Still, I am on the committee.)

It seems there are two ways to pay a doctor in our provincial system (same as the 70’s when I was involved in the clinic).  Fee-for-service and salary.  Doctors who wanna make a buck choose fee-for-service because, in that way, they can ‘assembly-line’ their so-called service and have three exam rooms the size of closets constantly filled and they can zoom from room to room dispensing drug prescriptions in under five minutes per.  My previous doctor had more than three and had it down to under four minutes and all that was done while not looking up from his computer.  He made money but wouldn’t be able to recognize half his patients if he bumped into them.

I grew to resent him.  And the system that made him that way.

The Hippocratic Oath is left much less fulfilled under the fee-for-service system.  And, strangely, it is more expensive.  One example: it is much more efficient (for a business-type GP doctor) to ‘refer’ any REAL medical ‘work’ to a specialist.  If my GP removes a mole, her fee is low.  If she refers the minor surgery to a dermatologist the fee is much higher and requires two visits bare minimum AFTER the initial ‘peek’ from the GP.  Instead of one visit, three visits are billed to the system.  There are additional costs to the system as well.  Two separate doctors have two separate offices and staff.  Plus there is a ‘TAP’ system for those of us who use the ferry.  BC MED pays my ferry fare when I go off-island.  AND BC Med pays more for me to go off-island than I would pay for myself.  Why?  I get a senior discount on my own dime but TAP riders pay full fare. The TAP system costs the taxpayer as much as the fee for service to the GP.  THAT’s insane.

And that madness permeates the system in dozens and dozens of ways.

Far and away the stupidest part of the system is thanks to the college and the BCMA and the CMA (medical associations).  Like unions, they work hard to keep the ‘credentialed’ ranks small so that salaries, fees and services can be valued higher.  Basic supply and demand model.  Good ol’ Capitalism.  “Goodbye Hippocratic oath, get my accountant on the line”. Still, that might just be normal greed at play if it weren’t for the fact that there are simply NOT enough doctors to go around.  The same doctor-centric philosophy that wants to be in demand, is now announcing, “Sorry, we cannot take any new patients.  We are full.  We are rushed off our feet even with our four minute turnover.”

So, our doctor will leave.  We will be without.  She has to live her life and no one begrudges that at all (however, I intend to drive 1500 miles once a year to see her and will ‘save up’ my complaints for then).  But attracting a doctor is like prospecting for gold.  It is easier for a pimply-faced 17 year old geek-boy to get a date with a super-model than for a small community to get a good doctor.

And, get this: starting salary for a salaried GP that only writes prescriptions and makes referrals?  $190,000.  Rising with experience to $300,000.  Nine to five.  NO business effort.  Salary.  And a lot of people will flip out when I say this but, it’s true, “…..for doing what I can do at least 50% of the time. And for doing what a nurse practitioner can do 98% of the time.”  I would be even more critical of the system if I hadn’t finally encountered a good doctor who cares as much as my current doctor does.  Those four-minute guys? Don’t me wound up any more than I already am.

This is a system that has some kind of weird ‘do not touch’ status and it needs a great deal of ‘touching’ (maybe some slapping around).  The irony is that everyone knows it.  Even the doctors.  It is just that no one wants to rock the boat and so the patients, the citizenry, the tax payer and the needy suffer.  And that is just plain stupid.

I’d refer the matter to a group of psychiatrists but the waiting list for a psychiatrist is two years……

…..is everything this stupid now? 

……on what’s been happening in my head.  Short answer: not much.  Nothing of any importance anyway.

Caught a fish Monday.  About seven pounds….maybe six.  Ling cod. That was good.  I think that makes it the third fish I have ever caught in my life that didn’t have a middleman (fishing guide) in the middle of it all.  This was just me, the primal guy, with the junk gear fishing for dinner.  Aaaargh!  Well, OK, primal guy and his wife.  Aaaargh.

We’re looking for some Woofers – Willing Workers on Organic Farms.  They are usually young people traveling the world on a small budget and they swap a few hours labour for a place to kip down and scarf down some meals.  Every Woofer we have had was great except for two and they were fine.  NOT great but OK.  That’s a ratio of about ten to one.  It’s always interesting, often fun.

But……

…..seems the W’fers are getting a bit flaky these days.  They say they are coming and then, a day later, say they are not.  That’s fine.  I guess.  But it makes it seem a bit flaky to me.  I have no idea why this is happening but it is not peculiar to us.  Oh, well……..some will come.  They will be fine.  Life is good.

The boat is great.  The boat is GREAT!  Been using it for about two months and love it!

Trump?  Just makes me gag right now.  “Canadians are spoiled.”  THIS insult coming from  Donald Trump!  Unbelievable.

Alberta and BC and Kinder Morgan and Trudeau…?  Makes me gag all over again.  Too stupid.  TOO STUPID FOR WORDS!!!!  Jason Kenney (no rocket scientist himself) says flat out that Trudeau has the political depth of a finger bowl.  No attention span.  Can’t read a memo longer than a cocktail napkin.  And, if the TransMountain pipeline fiasco is anything to go by, he is understating the case.  I love Horgan for doing what he said he would do and I hate Notley for being a bully-bitch but the problem and the solution has been evident for years and look at this crew……pathetic.

How do these people get our votes?

But, it’s summertime and the pols will now go play at the beach.  They feel they have earned their pay.  Time to BBQ and have fun.  Frankly, the country would be better off if they just stayed at the cottage year ’round and left us all the hell alone.  It is hard to even get me riled when they are so bad.

Grandson doing good.

Sal quilting like a maniac.

Book delayed by an Amazon screw up.  Couple more weeks….

Here’s something that might surprise you….I think I should pay more – for my ferry service.  For years BCF has charged too much.  They still do for the Gulf crossings and they used to for our short, ten minute run from little island to BIG island.  With car, we paid about $30.00.  Steep.  Especially considering the boat was built in the 60’s (1860’s it seems), is rusted like a third world disaster waiting to happen and is always full.  Still…my gut-price said $25.00 was OK so the extra five bucks was no biggie.  THEN they gave us seniors discounts and that was good.  Got it down to $22.00 or thereabouts and that was a ‘good’ deal in my gutsl.  NO complaints.

Then the NDP improved that.  I now pay just under $15.00.  Sal and I and our car….$15.00 on non-weekends and that includes TO and FROM the little island.  $7.50 one way.  I cannot buy a burger for that.  It’s TOOOOOooooooooo cheap.  Who woulda thunk it?  I think I should pay more.  I really do.  There isn’t a hope in hell of getting a new, safe ferry at that ticket price.  There isn’t a hope in hell they can operate in the black at that price.  At that price….we are gonna sink!!

And I am a pinko.  I want everything for free.  I am a leach on the taxpayer (in spirit) and even I think this is too cheap.

I am thinking of putting up a collection can at the ticket office for donations to pay for a new boat. I wonder how that would go over?

Anyway…you can see where this blog going…nowhere.  Dave has no issues right now.  Dave is laid back.  Calm.  No axes to grind, no crosses to bear, no burrs under my saddle, no worries, mate.

Hmmmm…that worries me…..

As Sal and I were heading home after a hard (but short) day cannibalizing our old boat, Wasabi, we came across a gaggle of tourists at the end of the road.  There were six.  Five were women ‘of a certain age’ (meaning 55+).  One was quite attractive.  Sal was already schlepping stuff along the trail to the new (to us) boat ,Pumpkin, and I was coming down from the parking lot when they politely engaged me in some tourist-meets-local chit chat.  I’m usually good for a minute of charm-offensive (emphasis on the word offensive) and, as three of them were smiling a lot and regarding me as some kind of out-there, kinda-odd, hill-billy ‘character’, I was easily seduced. We chatted and had fun.

I think it was a somewhat unique encounter for them (and me) and it was actually flirting quite soon after the initial introductions and one woman was so attentive and animated that I found myself saying, “You should come out and stay one weekend.  Then you’d learn more about this lifestyle.”  (Yes, that was the attractive one.)  Of course, it was all said with a smidge of insincere, but polite, tone of double entendre and they all giggled at the hinted prospect.

Well, okay, it may have been gagging and choking but they maintained their smiles so I choose to interpret their guttural sounds as giggles.

I mentioned that Sal was at the boat . . .right?

Anyway, like all cougar encounters, this one was brief, exciting and I was left breath-taken at the beauty of nature in the wild.  I wish I’d had a camera.

My friend, D did. There she was . . . another attractive cougar…..just passing through on his side of the island.  Not even so much as a real encounter.  No flirting.  No giggles.  But he saw and experienced the beauty of the moment as well.

A few days later D. got the following photo:

Reflecting: the act of looking back for the purpose of understanding the present and maybe anticipating the future.   Is that even possible nowadays?

“Why would you ask that, Dave?” 

Because you can’t make most of the current present up.  How does one understand it all and know where it came from.?  Or where we are headed?

Small example: Stormy (porn star) Daniels is on a major TV show cracking jokes about having illicit sex with the president of the United States (is that fiction-humour or facts stated with grin?).  He denies everything which, in Trumps case, verifies everything (lying all the time is now the new norm?).  His lawyer admits everything, gets it all wrong and then repeats it all (presidential lawyers and press secretaries consistently contradict themselves?).  And the porn-star wants to reveal more (there’s more???).  And this gong show goes on and on and on.  Somewhere along the line, a porn star became the voice of reason and is leading the fight against a pathologically lying president.  Who could have imagined that?

Any idea what is real anymore?

But Trump is NOT my topic for today.  My topic is my own reflections on life.  Me.  Us.  Where are we?  How did we get here?  And where are we headed?

By ‘we’, I mean Sally and I.  Mostly.  I can also reflect on the larger ‘we’, those of us living off the grid and the even larger-again ‘we’, those of us living on a climate changing planet in more-than-just-interesting times.  There is a lot to reflect on.

But, at a gut level – I am starting with us.  We are here and loving it.  So, residing here is mostly a given for the foreseeable future. We are getting markedly older and so our future here will be different than it has been.  It is already changing.  We need to make some additional adjustments.  For instance: wood-getting used to be a three day blitz chore.  Maybe four.  Now it is a few weeks.  We have to do less per day so that we can do it all.  Blitzing any job is pretty much over.

Another element seems to be emerging – we keep planning on winters elsewhere. In the beginning (here) we left every other winter but, if we are being honest, we are slowly changing to annual snow-birds and it is unlikely we will ever stay more than one or two winters in future.  So, that needs attention.  Do I re-visit the insane, expensive and dangerous USA simply for the sunshine?  Do I look for an RV?

AND we have a grandchild.  Surprising what a schedule changer he’s become.

We may also have developed a writing habit.  Hard to say.  We’ve done three books in three years and enjoyed it more each time.  The reading public hasn’t, but we have.  So, it may be a habit, it may not.  Rejection and/or acceptance will determine that, I guess.  Writing is fun but selling them beyond a token number is essential to keep the ego motivated.  We’ll see.

Our bodies are basically good.  Very good for our age, I guess.  But that is no way to judge.  They have to be good-good, not good-for-the-age-category.  And bodies, like cars, surprise their owners now and again with breakdowns and repairs.  So far, we are good but a few months back, Sal had two flat tires (on her car) and so surprises DO happen to all of us.

Money is always a bit of an issue.  Not much because we don’t really care so long as we can eat and drink wine but it is of some concern because we are not rolling in it.  We live within a budget.  Which is fine…as long as you can REMAIN within the budget.  And the world is heating up in that regard.  BIG BUSINESS relies on inflation and the BIG BOYS want it back and want it bad.  They are trying to stoke the inflationary furnaces every time I look.

And it is working.  Slowly interest rates are rising.  Virtually everything we consume has gone up in price.  The official ‘cost of living index’ is a total lie currently pegged at around 3%.  Stats Can doesn’t buy gasoline in BC, I guess.  Nor avocados, wine or building materials.  THEIR (fantasy) basket of goods is Kraft Mac and Cheese, milk and maybe salt? Who knows?  But whatever it is, it ain’t real. My cost of living is up 10% over the last two years and climbing.  That will play a role.

Friends, family, society…….everyone is aging so some will pass.  Some will become less engaged.  Many fall into the margins of just-memories.  And society-on-the-whole holds less interest for us so we are less engaged overall.  Squirrels and gardens seem to appeal more, tho.  It’s all natural but it’s also another change.

This is a surprise: I read less.  Well, I read MORE, actually, but fewer books.  Two reasons – even tho I am NOT a good writer, my writing has improved and so I find myself less tolerant or accepting of poorly written stuff.  I should be MORE accepting because I know how hard it is but I am not.  If the book doesn’t grab me, I stop reading.  I do the same with movies too, now.  The second reason: my brain and eyes are getting old so, if it isn’t worth the effort, I don’t work ’em.  Weird.

I might fish.  I know…….who woulda thunk it….. but I like to eat ’em and I have slowed down sufficiently that doing nothing for hours at a time doesn’t drive me mad anymore and, if you are not reading as much, you may as well fish.  Right?  We’ll see about how that works out.

So, there you have it…a bit of reflection.  Where is Dave and where is he going?  Is he even moving?  Check his pulse.   

A friend of mine is retiring.  He’s sixty.  He’s cutting back on his work commitments but doesn’t quite know how to do that and get into full-on retirement.  He gets up at the same time, does the same things and rushes to the family business still – out of habit mostly.  But now he stands around micromanaging the new manager until the stress cracks surface in both of them.  Then he realizes that he is being silly so he goes out and exercises and shops and does chores and dreams up ‘retirement’ ideas.  He maybe has a long lunch at a service club to talk about community commitments.

And then he goes back to the shop to ‘just check in’.   Stays until new stress cracks surface.

He’s driving everybody nuts. 

“Look!  I KNOW I am retired but, damn it, I still have a business and a huge family and four community gigs a week not to mention all the rest of the stuff……!”

“Your children are all grown.  Leave them be.  The new manager is good.  Leave him to it.  Four community gigs a week is too much.  And most of the ‘rest of the stuff’ was quasi business related anyway.  Get a grip, dawg!  Relax.  You are still biting off more than you can chew.”

“I know.  I know.  So that is why I signed up for the “Round the World Race!”

“WHAT!!!!”

“Yeah, I have to train for two months and then I sail from Capetown to Sidney.  Oooh, man, pretty cool!”  

“That leg is the Roaring Forties.  That’s the Southern Ocean!  Oh my God, the Southern Ocean!”

“Yeah.  Scary, huh?” 

“Maybe you and I need to have a talk about what retirement actually means; slowing down, bbqs, fishing, gardens, that sort of thing.”

“Fer sure, man!  Soon as I get back.  Gardens.  Yeah, that’ll be the ticket.  I am sure I will love gardening.” 

In fact, all my friends who went from working to retirement went through an individualistic transition phase.  No two were alike.  Some transitioned smoothly, others just took on new jobs and wrestled with the clock in a different way.  Some took up hobbies and some took up lethargy in the form of golf and TV.  By far, the most common was starting off by doing some cliche’ traveling.

But that doesn’t work for everyone.

Some got into ‘the cottage’ lifestyle and that, for the most part, has pretty universal appeal but, if there is an exception, it is that one of them has a lot of social ties back in the city.  Country guy and city girl encounter scheduling conflicts sometimes.

Health and family issues can keep people rooted in retirement at the same place as they were rooted in employment.  But, in this modern age, those two strong forces don’t seem as strong as they were in yesteryear.  Not for my guy at 60 anyway.

Sal and I transitioned rather well, actually.  But that was mostly because we leapt before we looked.  We kept the transition time short.  Hours, maybe.  And then we were engulfed and overwhelmed with the task we had undertaken and, surprisingly, the added task of surviving the learning curve.  You have to learn to swim quickly when you fall in the deep end.

But now that we have survived the initial shock, we have embraced retirement to the extent that we could not – not even for a week – get back on the merry-go-round again.  Too hard.  Just can’t do it anymore.  We’re slow.  Think slug-slow.

It takes awhile to get to slug-dom.  For me?  Ten years of transitioning.

And that is the point of today’s blog.  Slow is beautiful.  Slow works for me, now.  I like slow.  I am still impatient by nature but not with slowness per se.  If a sloth walks slowly in the forest, the sloth is enjoying himself and still getting somewhere.  I like that.  I am NOT impatient with that.  If a sloth watches TV and falls asleep and wonders why the hell dinner is late, well then I feel a little impatient.  As long as slow is an attitudinal choice and not an ugly personality trait, I accept it fully.  I think I have transitioned. Mostly.  Kinda….

….but I am now.  Man, oh man, I have collected a lot of weird stuff.  Lots.  Had some of it awhile, too.  I have stuff in boxes where the boxes have deteriorated to the point that things are spilling out and that is the mark of a bona fide pack rat.  Sal mutters ‘pack pig’ but it’s the same idea.

I am a pack rat for three reasons.  The first reason is that when we started on this mad quest, one of the few things I COULD do was shop, scrounge and salvage.  So, my imagining projects in my head generated a weird kind of wish list and shopping for those things exposed me to other crap and so the pile just grew.  I knew I’d need steel, for instance, so I picked up steel. I got some pretty good steel cheap.  I had no actual plan for the steel but it was cheap.  So, I got steel.  And, as life out here determines, you eventually use everything you bring and so the steel has been largely used.  I look like a genius.  

But I am just a pack rat.

The second reason for pack ratitis or ratatouille d’ pack is that once something gets here, it is a helluva schlep and a major mental obstacle as well to even think about taking it back. Once here, it becomes part of the family.  In fact, because it is HERE, it is MORE a part of the family than family.  Most of them (family) never come here.  But my junk stays forever.

The third reason for having excess junk is to help out.  I have square steel and round rings, I have plastic hoops and rubber hoses.  My neighbour has round steel, oval rings, brass ball valves, plastic hoses and rubber rings.  If I don’t have the right thing and John, Roger and Doug don’t have it, Steve or Scott likely does. Collecting junk is a community-building kind of thing.

Packing ratty stuff is a good thing as a rule.  A bit unsightly (Sal keeps stuffing junk out of sight which, ironically, is just a way to add more to the inventory.  “Hmmm, I could have sworn I had eight different armoured cables of varying length around here somewhere.  Guess not.  I’ll get some more when next in town.”).

But it can be a problem.

No.  I am not a hoarder.  Hoarding is different than pack-ratting.  Much less status to hoarding.  Pack-ratting done right elevates social status and allows work to get done.  Hoarding erodes social status and you can’t move for all the junk in the way.  Hugely different syndromes.

Same spectrum, tho.

The problem is when pack-ratting and getting older. The older pack rat can turn into a doofus pretty easily.  Trust me.  One, the rate of utilization starts to slow and shades of the hoarding syndrome start to loom.  And second, older people have trouble actually remembering what they have when keeping a million unrelated items packed willy-nilly in boxes stuffed everywhere out of sight and not well inventoried.  I kind of forget some of the goodies I have.  And, because Sal tidies up so much, I can no longer remember where to even look.

“Hey, Sal!  Remember that bronze hook that was big enough to hang a life ring?  I need it now.  Can you remember where it is?”

“Sweetie, that hook is off our first boat over forty years ago.  I have no clue.  But, I do seem to recall seeing it.  Try the old green tote with the cracked lid under the house.  Maybe up on the north side by the old tec cable.” 

She used to be right every time.  Now she is right only 60% of the time.

I blame Sal.   

As if any president ever went shopping for gifts.  PULEEEZ.  That’s the second main reason why Bill had Monica.  “Get yourself something nice and put it on my tab, Mon.  Maybe a new dress?  And, while you are at it, could you get something for Hillary, too? It’s her birthday coming up. Thanks, hon.” 

But Trump did say, “I got her a nice card.  A really nice card.”  Seems he snuck out of the White House long enough to shop for a nice card.  What kind of idiot would even SAY that?  Trump is on record as speaking total nonsense through gibberish but very few husbands are so stupid as to say THAT!

Kim Jong-un and South Korea’s Moon Jae-in have said they will denuclearize the Korean Peninsula.  HUGE deal.  This done after a successful Olympic Games that included both countries.  The Koreans are getting along.  My guess?  China had a word.

Emmanuel Macron cosied up to Trump only to diss him completely when making a speech before the US Congress.  He said Trump’s policies are insane.

So……which of the two ‘world leaders’ sounds better right now?  Kim or Trump?

Call me crazy but Kim is lookin’ better by far.

I dunno.  I have an appetite for politics and I confess that Trumpism is, if nothing else, a constant spectacle of political dysfunction and madness for me.  But that nutcase is addictive.  He reminds me somehow of the comedian Bobcat Goldthwait.   When I first saw the Bobcat, he was so manic that I thought a crazy person had accidentally gotten on stage.  His delivery was so insane and intense that, at first, it made me squirm just watching him.  His voice was screechy and he seemed to be unraveling right on stage.

But then I kinda got used to the Goldthwait shtick and, while still amusing, my getting used to him diminished his affect.  The Bobcat hysteria and the appeal (his and mine) waned.

Trump is doing much the same to me now.  NOT completely but some.  The more I am exposed to the voice, the rambling, incoherent illogic, the lies, the contradictions, the less he matters.  It’s weird.  He is still POTUS.  He still has the nuclear football and he can still wreak havoc and seems clearly intent on doing so but, like, I dunno….it’s something akin to watching a Chihuahua go nuts….it can still bite but, really…?

Anyway, consistent with that observation is my disinterest in that observation.  Right now, I am more interested in book 3.  ACCIDENTAL FUGITIVES will be released in a couple of weeks.  LOTS of fun.  It’s a quick read.  Approximately 275 pages (different number depending on the format – if it’s an Amazon print or a kindle e-book or a private, local printer, the page numbers change).  The story is an action adventure starring two old people.

I can’t recommend it because doing so is kinda self-serving and obnoxious not to mention egotistical and pompous but, what the heck..you know me by now….so seriously consider getting it and do so with the complete understanding that your money will be wasted.

Do it for Sal.

On a closing note….the water pump is pumping, the funicular is funning and the new fuel tank is in place (lifted and placed by Sal and I – NOT easy).  Sal’s boat motor soon to be serviced, the garden starting to go in and a little soiree planned for tomorrow night.  All is currently right with our world…..mostly….

….a few aging friends are of concern.

Oh!  And get this: Grandson, Leo is 6 months old and doing fine.  My son called last night to tell me, “Leo ate his first clam tonight.  Actually ate two.”

“Clams?  Leo is eating clams?  What the hell….?”

“Yeah.  Seems to love ’em.  Mom put a clam between her fingers and he sucked and chewed at it till it was gone.  So she did a second.  He likes clams.”

“That’s hysterical!  Weird.  Sheesh.  Who woulda thunk it.  Thanks for sharing that.”

DAVE!  Why tell us your grandkid eats clams.  You losing it?

The way I see it is this: POTUS is insane.  Trudeau is barely a man-child wanting to act in dramas of his own making and the Korean clown that was Kim Jong-un is starting to look good to me.  Is reporting on my grandkid’s appetite for clams any more insane than all of that?

That’s me.  I have TVC.  Thin veneer of confidence.  I have HFS, too.  Hollow fragile smugness.  It’s why I drink.

They say that, “If a job is worth doing, it is worth doing right!”.  I’ve even said such nonsense myself, now and again.  Usually when talking to younger people.  Amongst my contemporaries, however, no such pretense is ever uttered.  We incompetent old guys know better.  The rule of thumb we operate by is, “Get ‘er done.  Just get ‘er done!”

My ‘most capable’ neighbour has a much more realistic approach.  “Everything breaks, Dave.  Just haywire it together using baling wire and duct tape and plan on doin’ it again next year.  Now, let’s get er done and get back to havin’ fun!” 

He’s a professional mechanic.  But I think most doctors operate on the same principle……

When we were building the house, we had a lot to do and little (read: none) experience with which to do it.  Plus we had little time.  So, we read books, asked for advice and got used to doing everything twice….OK…maybe more than twice…plus we did the first and subsequent tries as quickly as possible.  Had to.  Two fools can take forever building a house from scratch if they try to do everything right.  They’ll die of exposure.

Another term that came into play during those days, “It’s good enough for the girls we go out with.”  (Sal couldn’t use that term effectively but once she did and it was hysterical – maybe you had to be there?).  Or, sometimes, “Never mind, no one will ever see it.  It will be covered up by the whatchamacallit.”

All this is by way of introducing why the blog has been silent as of late.  I have been trying to make some ‘old’ established systems that I DID NOT install properly but which worked well for the past fifteen years (thus the TVC and HFS) but which unexpectedly quit on me over the last few days.

‘Bloody incompetent workers!’

My funicular (a total cobble) crapped out on me leaving 1000 pounds on the lower deck which Sal and I had to slog up the stairs.  Degree of difficulty: I carried a new genset up those stairs!

And, to add grime and sweat to an already grimy and sweaty situation, the water system went down.  No shower.  No running water. The pump went on the fritz.

Bummer.

So, the last few days have been machine focused. I have been giving my water pump my full attention and yesterday I got it working.  ‘Bout the third or fourth attempt.  HFS shattered.  But now it’s a beautiful thing.  Showers – one of the great modern inventions that are rarely fully appreciated until you don’t have them.  You can add flush toilets to that list.

Now to the impossible: the funicular.  The funicular has a Siemens motor controller (a little grey boxed computer) that does some magic but it’s written in German – what madness!.  It also has twenty or more wires coming and going from various switches, buttons and such.  I haven’t a clue as to how it works.  Not a friggin’ clue. 

But I have mastered whining and complaining and sharing my dilemmas.  I cried out into the wilderness (literally).  Lo and behold, Scott.  Seems Scott knows motor controllers.  Who knew?  So, we may have a solution in good ol’ Scott.  We definitely have a dinner guest in good ol’ Scott.  Dear Scott. Miss him more than I knew.  Hope he comes soon.