Cedar Canoe Bailer

Our neighbours over the way are pretty funky.  They know this kind of lifestyle (off-the-grid) and they like to live it. They grow, they build, they forage and they ‘craft’ stuff.  They can ‘go native’ with the best of them.  All of it is pretty neat.  They are pretty neat.

One day when we were visiting, Sally admired a cedar basket they had and, of course, that led to them saying, “Well, you can make them, you know?  And this is the right time of the year to do it.  Waddya say we go get materials tomorrow and make some?”

Gathering Material

I demurred claiming that I had to clean my room and wash my hair but Sal was keen and so this morning they all headed off in moccasins, so to speak.   A while later they came back with some cedar strips and, wanting to include me, they came to our back deck where I was working on a little side-table from ‘found’ materials…but with clean hair. We all sat down to ‘do’ baskets.

And then another local, ‘can-do-anything-type’ dropped by.  Since I hadn’t foraged and I wasn’t an expert in anything, I was dispatched to make tea and gather goodies.  “Would you like sugar and milk with that?  Can I get you another napkin?”

Sushi

Normally I limit my gracious-hosting to scotch-pouring (and sushi-making) but this time I had to be the chatelaine.  I was pretty good.  Gracious to a fault.  Perhaps lacking in the charm and visual appeal somewhat.

Removing outer bark

While I was busy scurrying about looking after them, they got busy.  And the pictures testify to their work and skill.  An hour or so out foraging in the woods, a couple of hours spent crafting and drinking tea and eating sushi (yes, I had made some the day before and it was still presentable) and the day was half done.

Pleating the ends

Carving a handle

Residing in paradise, living with Pocahantas, enjoying myself all the time…..well, it isn’t as easy as it looks. Sometime it is me who has to make the tea!

First stage completed

Just ordered a bunch o’ lumber, plywood and crap to continue building the studio.  It will come by barge likely in the first week of June.  The barge is a helluva deal.  About $150 (+ or -) a ‘lift’ and the barge can ‘lift’ about a ton at a time.  My order may be two lifts, might get lucky and only be one.  Worst case: $300+.

Compare that to schlepping 40 plywood sheets on a small boat.  We’re talking days.  We’re talking lots of small-boat gasoline.  We’re talkin’ coronary.

I love the barge.

And the 3-member crew of the barge (run by Inlet Navigation out of Campbell River and Menzies bay) are great guys.  Real human beings.  They come and drop their load and we ‘kill’ a few minutes cracking jokes and bein’ guys. Saying stupid stuff and laughing at ourselves and the world around us.  It’s good.  I look forward to their visits.

This delivery will also form the main stock for my summer activities.  It will keep me busy and entertained – albeit slowly as my pace is somewhat zombie-like nowadays.  I will be ‘stocked up’ in building materials for awhile.

There is something very satisfying about being stocked up. Stocked up is a tenet of living off the grid.  Ya gotta be independent to be living out here and, to be that, you gotta be stocked up in whatever it takes to feel, well, stocked up.

It is a weird kind of circular logic (if there is any logic at all) because the ‘stock’ in question is just a barge load or a town-day away but it is that part of the lifestyle  that makes you feel vulnerable somehow.  Ideally, I would have two years supply of potatoes, two years supply of scotch and two years supply of building crap.  Just for starters.

I have two years supply of wasabi.  And Thai chili sauce.  And light bulbs.  But some things are consumed at a faster rate and it is hard to keep a two year supply of say, toilet paper.  Impossible to keep a two year supply of wine.  I’d have to buy another 1100 gallon cistern.

………..hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm………….?

But we do have a two year supply of fire wood.  And we literally burn through that.  So, it can be done.  Sal and I are on the final cord of putting away the wood for the second winter from now.  This is good.  This is satisfying.  This is a perfect example of stocking up.

It is also a perfect example of a growing dysfunction.  We are considering keeping at it so that we have three years!  And you know where that will lead, don’t you?  Three won’t be enough and we’ll have to start on year four!

Stocking up, if not managed properly, can get crazy-making.  And I am a bit vulnerable to that, I must confess.  Whenever we go to Costco, Sal says, “Now, for God’s sake, we don’t need any more Thai chili sauce.  Don’t even think about it.  We have a life time’s supply.  Even for a Thai family!”

“You sure?  I just used some the other night?  Maybe one more…?  Just to be safe?”

And you thought that I was building a studio!  Ha! You should see the storage I plan to put in that puppy!

Still reeling from the election.  I was wrong again, of course.  But I was even wrong about the victor!  The bad guys won.  Even they were surprised!  Mind you, the good guys were hardly good.  Just less bad.  And even that judgment hinged on wishful thinking.  We’ll never really know.

I somehow need to rid myself of the poison and vitriol streaming through my system and I cannot.  Not yet.  This kind of thing eats at me like a cancer.  It is so wrong on so many levels.

One of those levels, of course, is that this blog is supposed to be about living-off-the-grid.  So, I am kinda wrong just to be writing about politics.  So, I’ll curb my tongue for awhile.  Again.  You know how it is for me.  I can only go so long without ranting but I’ll try to stuff the spleen back into the bag.  For a while, anyway.

Still, I have a bit of a tangent rant to share today.  Something  indirectly related but not specific to the election. Kinda philosophical.  Here it is: Capitalism and democracy are, in our current thinking, good things.  If not good, then better and more efficient than many other such systems.  Democracy for the voice it gives the people and Capitalism for the efficiency and supposed egalitarian nature of markets.  And I think to some extent there is some truth in those views.

But what about the combination of them?  And, even more important, is that all we need?

Prior to the ascendancy of Democratic Capitalism or Capitalist Democracy, we had morals, value systems and a number of things in life that were not commodified, not monetized, not boiled down to dollars and cents.  We would not engage in slavery, for instance, regardless of how much money could be made, because it was morally repugnant.  We had values.  We had ethics and we had things that money simply could not buy.

That has all changed.  Now we will sell and buy anything we can.  Human organs, political favours, degrees from universities, even wombs are for rent.  We have put a monetary value on virtually everything.  And in doing so, we have sidelined morals, values and the Golden Rule.  The result is rampant greed, corruption of institutions and focusing of governments on the almighty dollar.  We have become a society – an international society – of whores.

One could argue that it is not my business if someone rents out her body in  surrogate motherhood and, I suppose, it isn’t.  Nor, I suppose, is it my business if they are prostitutes.  And I suppose anyone can choose to take drugs or not.  Freedom of choice.  But those decisions, when combined, can lead to destructive lives, sick children and incredible social costs, not to mention sadness and tragedy.  In the past, we intervened in that person’s life on a moral basis.  And we had the morals to back us up.

Now we don’t.

Today, the governments of the world have abandoned morality as a factor in their deliberations.  Gambling is legal.  Prostitution is mostly legal.  Surrogate motherhood is legal.  Organ donor selling is legal (and where it isn’t, it is hidden by fake organ donations).  We sanction anything we want and we usually want.

None of this is enough for me to even write a blog.  Honest.  Ugly and sick is part of the human condition.  Old news.  But when Capitalism and Democracy co-mingle without morality present as a chaperone, trouble can and does ensue on a large scale. They create wars, for instance.  Next thing you know, that pair could screw up the planet.  And then, like social and cultural decay, we have environmental decay and then we all suffer.

Put more succinctly: it is yin and yang.  Again.  Capitalism and Democracy together sometimes merge the worst of both, it is not always for the best.

Sometimes the egalitarian, for-the-greater-good aspects of Democracy are eroded by the avarice of Capitalism and sometimes the efficiencies of the markets are turned into amoral monopolies by manipulation of so-called democratic systems.  The rich get richer and poor people don’t get elected.

I believe that is what is happening all over the world.  In all walks of life.  It is not just Microsoft/3M/Starbucks/Google becoming ubiquitous, it is their ‘way of doing things’.  Starbucks morality.  And Starbucks morality is profit oriented.  The Capitalist way.  The values of the local people are expunged if they want to work at Starbucks.  To be a citizen of Starbucks and work there, you drop the values you were raised with and you adopt the new corporate ones.  It’s better.  You get more money.  Starbucks gets more money and your Islamic grandparents are left scratching their heads.  So are the Catholic grandparents of your co-workers.  Their values are no longer their children’s values.  Money is the only guide.

And, of course, sometimes the Starbucks/Microsoft/corporate lawyer gets elected.  And governments start to think like Starbucks.  They consider selling naming rights to civic buildings, selling exclusivity rights to Coke in schools and selling ‘fast-lanes’ in government line-ups at the borders.

We sell out.

Is it any wonder that our governments are so inclined given that they are made up of so-called successful people who have mainly just drunk the kool-aid?  Is it any wonder that ‘bottom-line’ is more important than clean air or water?  Or profits take priority over nature?  Is it any wonder governments, that just a few decades ago would have been jailed, are now re-elected with their crimes and faults fully exposed?  All they have to do is chant, ‘Jobs!  Money!  Prosperity!’ and they will be re-elected despite evidence of corruption and evil.  They can even show disregard for the common good.  Why?  Because we have accepted that Jobs, Money and Prosperity are the most important things.  We don’t want jobs and prosperity for all.  We want it for ourselves.  Pass the kool-aid. 

Doing the right thing?  Fuggedabout it!  Wealth is the new false idol. And Democratic Capitalism is sold as the most efficient way to get it.

We don’t need no stinkin’ morality.  

The above title refers to the election we are enduring in our province that ends tomorrow night.  That is my prediction.  And I have never been right in an election call ever.  Hard to believe.  But I have a perfect record of being wrong.  So, take the title and content of this blog with salt and, if you are so inclined, a glass of scotch.

I also think Christy Clark (our current ditzy premier) will lose her seat. PLEASE!  If there is a God!

Reading and listening to the poli-speak for the last few months (and before, actually.  I have a weakness for this crap) I am inclined to believe that the numbers estimated don’t really mean much.  So what if they (the victors) win by 20 seats or two?  In our system of democracy (fatuous nonsense and lies) if you win by one seat, you rule like a tyrant.  So the actual amount of the majority is less important than simply having one.   And I think folks know that.

One’s vote is diluted or ‘stepped on’ in so many ways by our system.  Deep down that is likely the single greatest reason that people do not vote.

Well, that and the fact that each government seems to be like the last.  We are always voting in the clones or the clowns, it seems.

I also don’t think it matters a whit what they say when they are campaigning (they being politicians).  Politicians all lie.  But few electors realize that they  have to.  Well, they want to, as well.  They belong to a party and they all believe a party has to speak as one.  Ergo, the majority are not speaking their own truth, let alone the elector’s truth.  Fuggedabout the real truth.  So, they lie.  You know, to show a united front?

Most gangs and thugs operate like that.

Whatever the excuse – they lie!  From the get-go.  And then from then on in.

So, if their lying-all-the-time is a given, why vote for anyone?  (Doesn’t that just encourage the bastards?)  Answer: we do not know what else to do.

Neither do I.

So, I rant now and then.  Call me crazy.  I have kept it to a minimum this time.  Give me that!

Still, I would like to offer up a radical alternative to the current status quo.  Whoever gets in passes a law that makes political lying illegal punishable by removal from office.  ANY lie.  If you tell the reporter you had a burger for lunch when, in fact, you had a BLT?  GONE!  And I mean gone from the building.  Back home you go.  Tail between legs.  Never allowed back.  Ever.  Boy would that re-incent the media to ‘dig’ and do investigative journalism.

Yes, I know it would never work.  For one thing that would mean we would have vast empty government buildings a lot of the time, wouldn’t it?

It is hard to imagine my thoughts being right about this but they are definitely right for me.  I think that mankind is naturally inclined to be more nomadic than as fixed-in-place as they generally are.  I think people like to roam, change and wander.  Go sailing, trekking, rv-íng and touring.  Pick up camp. Shift to light speed.  I think people need to move.  It is natural.

And I think two week vacations are a poor and minimalist sop to that basic human requirement.

I think the Bedouin and the Tuaregs and the First Nations and the Polynesians are more indicative of a natural way of life than are members of strata-title condo villages, high-rise apartment-dwellers and crowded subdivisions.  I don’t even think traveling in buses, trains and airplanes counts as real travel.  Too crowded, too managed, the route too fixed.  Not even warp speed. 

Having said that, there have been people fixed in place for eons, from farmers to sheep herders, so I could be wrong.  But the current state of congested urban living just doesn’t feel right.  Not to me.  The idea of being able to hear my neighbours party, work, converse or flush their toilet is just appalling to me and more so now that I have the luxury of no longer having to.  I do not think I will ever live amongst the people (in any numbers, anyway) again.  Separation is not just a preference, it is now a necessity.

No, I do not hate people.  I would opine that we have a few too many but that is more an expression of my antipathy to cities – where the congestion is so visible.  Maybe if 7 billion people were evenly spread around reasonably livable parts of the planet, it would not seem so ‘populated and polluted’ and it would not seem like too many then.  Hell, I might even come to like some of them. 

I mention all this because I was motivated to move off-the-grid for a number of reasons and lack of enough ‘personal space’ was one of them.  Now I have enough space and I appreciate it.  It is good.  Very good.

It is as if a subtle burden has been lifted.  I didn’t really know I wanted more cat-swinging room til I got it.  I didn’t really know I needed such space until the always present mild claustrophobia of living in the city was lessened, if not eliminated. Crowded elevators and mass transit, classrooms and office blocks, department stores and traffic jams should have been a bit of a clue but I didn’t really get it til I got out of it.

It was a bit like growing up with some kind of physical handicap and then, by way of surgery or medicine, getting relief.  It was like someone finally undid the bench vice and I took my hand out. In football they call it ‘running for daylight’. The hockey player ‘breaks open’. Prisoners ‘break out’.  We got off the merry-go-round, out of the rat-race and off-the-grid.  All are similar ways of expressing some kind of freedom-seeking.

And I think that is natural.  Rare, nowadays, but still part of who we all are.

The internet is not really freeing.  Maybe a little bit.  But it is really part of the problem because it feels like a large part of the solution.  The internet promises a new kind of freedom and anything associated with the concept of freedom is being embraced.   I am saying people need freedom, not the internet.

The city is getting tighter, society is getting more controlling and rights and freedoms are being reduced.  But people can ‘break for virtual freedom’ cheaply and easily on their computers and so they do.  Some go virtual for many hours, even days at a time.  But virtual is not real and so that kind of escape will not prove satisfying in the end.  It will become yet another part of the grid and it will trap the player instead of free him.

“Dave!  Thinking that way would have to include being trapped by having to live on the planet.  You can’t define the jails for others.  They choose their path.  Lighten up!”

Of course you are right.  Almost anything can be restraining.  I know people who would willingly go back to their cells should the doors accidentally open and offer them freedom.  In their case constraint is security and comfort, not restriction.  And neither cities nor forests are exempt from that conundrum.  I know that.  But, still, it feels like there is inherently more choice, more freedom, less restraints, less constraints, fewer restrictions in the forest.  It really does.

Mind you, if I could, I would take a job on the Starship Enterprise and boldly go where no one has gone before.  Now that feels like even more freedom…………

Living off the grid has a romantic ring to it, don’t you think?  It implies adventure, challenge and an element of survival.  Right?

Well, part of that is definitely true.  There really is some of that.  But much of the time, like sailing or being a soldier, the bulk of your time is taken up with the tasks of everyday living.  Chores.  And everyday living tasks take longer than they would if in the city.  In other words: our life, fun as it is, is outdoors, simple and mostly just task-oriented.

We are basically engaged in survival but not because we are fighting for it, repulsing enemies or prevailing during hurricanes or tsunamis but simply because we have to work harder to do the simple things that make up the bare necessities of life (sung to a Disney tune).  And there is no one else to do it but us.  If civilization means anything in the aggregate, it primarily means easing up on the personal time and efforts required for the providing of the basics in life.

One of the contradictions I have marveled at out here is the universal desire to get back to basics and then everyone manifesting that desire by building systems to make the basics easier and easier.  In effect, we try to build the mod cons of the city in the forest.  Kinda weird.  But human, I guess.

I am certainly guilty of that.

But that is not my point – well, not directly anyway.  Here’s the point…….Sal’s motor needed some maintenance.  All motors do.  This one was slightly overdue.  Sal is capable and she scheduled it in for herself yesterday.  ‘Should take an hour or so.’  That chore was set amongst all her other chores.  She was doing the washing, cleaning some equipment, re-filling feeders, stocking some shelves, doing some paperwork and we were also going to put in an hour or so of wood-getting. Plus cooking dinner.

Not a big day for her but a busy one.   And I had my list (shorter, I admit)

The motor needed an oil change, a lower-leg lube, a zinc anode replacement and a few tiddly-up things that were optional.  Had we taken it in to a mechanic, we would likely look at $100-$150 for what is one hours work by someone set up for it and a few minor parts.  Very few.  But taking it in is a huge chore and no one ever does anything right away and, in the marine industry, no one ever does it right the first time, either.  So, we do it.

Back to basics.

Sal started at 10:30 am, just after starting the genset and putting on the washing. By 11:30, she was still at it and had returned from the dock for more and more tools.  Even tho I had been warned off helping her, I went down anyway.  Some things were on too tight for her to loosen.  Some things were a bit confusing.  So, we worked on the little outboard together.  And Sal went back to the house a few more times to swap washer loads, hang up laundry and get more tools.  As it turned out, we both struggled quite a bit on that little chore.  What should have been an easy task, took us the day.  This was partly due to reluctant bolts, newly revealed chores and the fact that we now had half the tools we owned down at the dock.  May as well do a few other things since the tools were present.

We returned home (1/8 of a mile away) in just enough time to feed the dogs.  It was 5:00 pm.

Sal was tired.  I was tired.  We had done one basic chore that a ‘shop’ could have done in an hour.  Plus she had done a few other little things like laundry and ‘tidy-ups’.  It had taken us 6 hours.

To a large extent, that is living off the grid.  Simple, basic, living chores take more time and more effort than they do in the city.  In fact, some of lifes basics in the city are invisibly provided.  They are delivered by the grid.  The romantic part of doing it our way is doing the chores while lying on your back on a dock in the sun while the sea laps at your feet and wildlife fly and swim by.  Your dogs sit nearby.  There is no pressure. The work takes longer but is much more pleasant in the doing.

The alternative?  I could have driven through heavy traffic from my cul-de-sac home to the mechanic, paid $150.00 and picked up the motor a week later.  (An exercise likely to be repeated within a month because it is the marine industry)  Total elapsed time for the urban process: optimally, three hours and $150.00.  Here in the wilds: on a difficult day, including a few extra chores, 6 hours and $10.00 in parts.

Apples and oranges.

Interesting times……….

He who says out loud first what everyone else is already thinking is dubbed brilliant (i.e. Malcolm Gladwell).  He who says out loud what is true but which no one has been thinking is a genius (Einstein).

I find that I often say out loud something that was already clearly debunked in the Vancouver Sun or even Reader’s Digest a few months back so my status as a thinker is pretty low on the register.  Still, I can’t help saying stuff out loud.  Often.  I think I operate on the theory that if you have no clue, say a lot of stuff out loud and hope some things may turn out to be right.  By luck.  Kind of a personal variation on Big Mouth mixing it up with the law of big numbers.

I didn’t say that the Canucks would implode early because he who says out loud what is too bloody obvious and everyone already knows it, is a doofus.  But I was tempted.

I could say that the NDP will likely form the next provincial government but I have never ever predicted an election right and I don’t want to curse them.  So, on that score, I have to keep quiet.  Mind you, I do want to curse the Liberals but in a more profane way.  Well, in every way.  So, I’ll keep that to myself also.

I will predict that this will be a hot summer.  ‘Cause, OHMYGAWD!  We had temps of 25C/80+F in the first few days of May already.  The prawn fishery will be bleak.  Real estate prices will go lower….still.  The NDP will screw up early and often.  Jimmy Pattison will hire Christy Clark (I have no idea what that is about but it is likely).  The Green party, regardless if they get any seats will have become a much more credible political force as a result of this election.  It is not because of Jane Sterk – it is because their platform is starting to make sense.  They are talking economy now and other important issues.  Whew!

I think Harper is done.  I hate the idea of a spoiled brat, no-nothing using his name to lead a political party but the Federal Liberals will regenerate from  choosing Justin Trudeau.  It is disgusting.  But it is true.  Ugh!  And the Fed NDP are staying the course and, tho not gaining in strength, they are not losing it.   Harper (cagey politician that he is) is still simply alienating people and doing bad stuff.  That has to have consequences.

The quiet revolution will continue apace.  Digitally.  And locally.  Life will change.  Things will change.  Work, food, homes….family structure and culture will change.  More radically.  Faster.  It has to.  The boomers are bowing out and Gen X and Y are way more adaptable to change and more comfortable with it.  That will show up more and more.

Plus the rest of the world is on the move.

Here’s a weird one: Animals are on the move, too.  You will start to see different animals in different places.  Yep!  You heard it here first (well, I read it in an old Reader’s Digest).  Just for instance: an Eastern Gannet has been living off California on the Farallon Islands for over a year.  They are a North Atlantic bird.  This the only one to have ever shown up there.  The first one, actually.  Animals are already moving off traditional routes in their adaption efforts from the urban coyotes and raccoons to the explosion of feral/domestic cats in the wild. Bees, amphibians, mosquitoes.  The whole bio-world is adapting to climate change.

While we still (in a few places) argue climate change, deer populations are exploding, salmon, caribou and polar bear populations are declining and anything that can move is.  I think we will be reading more about this….for what that is worth.

The Chinese Curse:  “May we all live in interesting times”.

Sal went to electoral procedure class yesterday in town so that she can ‘work’ the coming election.  I was busy buying hardware and second hand doors.  After shopping, I went to get her.  While I was waiting the women at the front desk were receiving the public and the public were voting.  Not revolting as usual but, in this case, voting.

“Is this some kind of advance poll?” I asked.

“Yes.  There are only two of these advanced voting stations in the province.  The other is in Port McNeil.  BC is the only province that has advanced-advance polls.  They are because so many men are going North and staying in camps, this gives them a chance to vote.” 

I noted that the people I had seen so far vote were all very elderly, hardly the types to go north to work in camps.  “Well, that’s because the senior’s centre is just around the corner and they like to have a little outing.”

“Am I allowed to vote, too?  I am a senior.  I like outings.”

“Of course, dear.  Show me the right ID and you can vote, too”.  Her voice had changed so as to accommodate my newly recognized senior senile status.  And she gave me a fake smile as a bonus.

The reason I chose to vote early is because Sal is going to be an electoral officer and, in anticipation of that I had asked her, “When you are behind the desk and I show up, surely you are not going to ask for my ID.  You’ll just give me the ballot, right?”

“No way.  You have to show me the proper ID or you don’t get to vote!”

“But, but, but Sal!!  We’ve been together for forty four years.  You know me.  You do not have to see my ID.  You know who I am!  What the hell!?”

“Sorry.  Rules are rules.  No ID, no ballot.  Don’t try to cause trouble, now.”  

“OK.  That’s it!  That is now the craziest thing you have ever said and, believe me, there are a lot of them from which to choose.  But this takes the cake!  Imagine demanding ID from your own husband!  I am going to show up without ID.  I promise.  And then you’ll see trouble!”

After that conversation, Sal had sneaked my ID into her purse so that she could pull it out on the 14th when I showed up without any.  She was going to provide me with ID whether I wanted it or not.

I share this with you all because I love Sal and we are pretty close.  But she is as mad a hatter and you have to know that.  You know, in case I snap one day?  I may need character references.  GOOD character references.  I have plenty of the other kind already.

But I knew that she had secreted my ID away.  I knew she was going to go all bureaucratic on me when I showed up without ID.  She was prepared for me and my idiosyncratic ways.  I knew that I was gonna get processed properly.  And it rankled me.  GAWD!  Being married for almost half a century should count for something, don’t you think?  Shouldn’t I get a pass on the ID check?  From my own wife!?

So, when the chance came to by-pass that little fiasco-in-the-making, I took it.  I voted in the advance-advance poll while she was learning how to vet out potential impostors such as me.

Yes, I know that I had to show the smiling woman at the desk my ID.  Don’t bug me!

And you thought our relationship was simple.

My neighbour came by yesterday to check on our ‘studio’ progress.  Finally, we have the foundation completed and are just awaiting the energy to go get 30 sheets of plywood.  It is not a chore I am looking forward to.

He just stared at the joists and the posts and the squareness and level of it all. After a long and appreciative pause, he said, “Geez, Dave, you are starting to do work like Roger!”

It was a compliment.

Roger is a mutual friend who does everything perfectly and then does it again with reinforcement so it is done even more perfectly – just to make sure.  Roger is a perfectionist.  If 1/4 inch steel and one bolt is enough, Roger employs 1/2 inch steel and four bolts.  And then he worries that it will be strong enough.  He built his dock so strongly, I was compelled to say, “Geez, Roger, The Spanish Armada wasn’t built that strong.  Only an American Aircraft carrier is built stronger.  Sheesh!”

I immediately regretted my statement.  Roger started to worry about an aircraft carrier tying up to his dock.  It might not be strong enough.

To have my work compared to Roger’s is both a tribute and a worry.  Am I getting obsessive?  Was that extra bolt and steel plate overkill? 

And therein lies the problem with getting better at building…………..when in doubt about something we say, “Hmmmm…….what would Roger do?”

Some people say, “What would Jesus do?”  Not us.  (Jesus would hire a contractor.)  We ask what would Roger do if the matter had anything to do with strength and durability.  If it is a question of skill and finesse, we ask, “What would Gary do?”  And, if the problem is unusual and needs a creative and outside-the-box-type solution, we ask, “What would Doug do?”

These three guys are our models, our shining examples, our quasi-mentors.  They are not our real mentors because they don’t mess with our little projects.  They are too busy with their own to notice us toiling in their shadows admiring them like groupies.

We try to keep a distance which, by the way, we prefer.  The other day Doug was going by and seeing us at work, he turned his boat and headed in to visit us.  “Oh, God!  Oh, God! Sal!!  Doug is coming!!!”

Sal didn’t hesitate.  She placed a piece of ply over a sloppy bit.  I quickly put a board in place to cover another.  We looked around and, together, freaked!  “Ohmygawd.  He’ll say it will fall down.  He’ll say we didn’t do something we should have.  Oh God!”  We trembled in anticipation of his scrutiny.

Doug looked everything over like he was the president of the company and we were temporary interns with more than a few developmental challenges.  “Well, he said, ya don’t need those braces, ya know….the ply will tie it all together.  they were unnecessary.” We hung our heads.  Ashamed at the profligate bracing.  Sheer gilding.  He was on the verge of offering up more observations but, over the years, has come to accept that we are hopeless and so just wrapped up everything with, “Well, it only has to last twenty or so years, right?  Not like this is Europe, eh?  Now they make things to last!  This should do ya, I think.  We can only hope, eh?”

Sal and I breathed a sigh of relief.  This was high praise indeed. For him. We beamed at his over-the-top compliment.

But Doug, my neighbour, Roger, Gary.  They can’t help it.  Neither can we.  The thing (healthy) people don’t really understand is that, once you have turned your hand to building, you can’t go anywhere without looking at the standard of construction.  We visit people and, instead of seeing a nice tapestry or piece of art, we look to see if the corners of the room are square.  We drag our feet to feel the floor surface.  We check out the construction.  And Sal is just as bad as I am.  “I saw you looking at that corner.”

“Yeah, I know.  I can’t help it.  It was off a bit, ya know?  I could see that the line was out.  They fudged it to get it to come together.”

“I know.  Saw it the second I walked in.  Roger would have fainted.  Doug would have snorted in derision and I think Gary would have gone to his truck and gotten his tools.  He would have torn it out and fixed it!”

“Good idea!  Should we………..?”

Sal goes postal today.  But the weather is good and I have plenty to do by myself.  And it is a beautiful day.

But not for working hard.  Not today.  For the most part, we try to work together whenever there is some kind of potential danger such as when falling trees or even working with heavy and awkward stuff.  It’s safer.  Sal keeps the first aid kit close by.  Without Sal nearby with the bandages, I stick to the lesser challenges these days.

Plenty of guys work alone falling or blasting or building or fishing or whatever and I respect that.  But I am simply not experienced enough in that kind of work or even confident enough in my own abilities to push it anymore.

Well, better put: I am experienced enough at pushing it and I have plenty of scars reminding me not to do so anymore.

Today will be filled with the small, leave-it-to-when-Sal-isn’t-here list of chores.  I started with the dishes.  Maybe change the oil in the genset.  Then I may go add some trim to something.  You know, basically just putz?

I mention this because these are the best days of all.  Well, the very best days of all are when Sal is here and we are both just putzing at things together.  Even if we are working on separate things, it is all good.  But second best is when I am just putzing around on small, easy things that are unlikely to inflict bodily harm. I sometimes even do something artsy.  And I sit a lot, looking out at the sea.  Watching stuff.  So much easier on the back.  And there is no blood loss to speak of.  Usually.

Mind you, I have been in shorts for the last few weeks and the ‘shorts’ season is also the season of blood.  One tends to forget that old skin tears more easily and the nerve endings have also been somewhat dulled with age.  Typically, at the end of the day, I walk back home from some chore with blood-covered legs and red streaks on all my clothes.  Colourful, to say the least.  But it is only surface scrapes.  Doesn’t mean anything.  Sal used to shriek but now she is used to it.  The first aid kit is not wasted on small cuts and scrapes.

No, today is just a good day to be.  And so I am off and being.  See ya.