Shit For Brains

On the walk this morning with Buster, he proved that age old maxim that shit does indeed roll downhill. I felt a little silly following behind a tiny rolling object with a plastic bag on my hand, but it needed to be done.

Of course that rolling bit of excrement was all I could think about for a few minutes. The road apples that come from horses would definitely roll downhill and there is a good chance they could dislodge something else and start an avalanche. IF my memory serves, the scat from a bear might be able to roll downhill, depending on what it had been eating. I’m pretty sure that a diet of wild berries would end up soaking into the ground, but food taken from picnic baskets would be rolling material. It might even be musical with the odd bear bell tinkling away. Mountain goats would be like aerial bombers and their droppings would roll once they dropped from the cliff face.

Not all shit would roll downhill of course; anything that comes from a ruminant tends to splash and puddle. It does eventually dry and over the centuries it has been burned in fires, it is used as building material and recently the cow paddies have been used as Frisbees. Rural county fairs will often use a cow to determine the winner of a prise. They section off a large area of field, grid it and then sell the individual squares for a price, usually to raise money for charity. They will then let the cow into the area and when she makes her deposit the owner of that square wins the prize. I would probably have more luck with the cowshit than I do with the lotto.

I started out going somewhere with this, but I can’t for the life of me figure out just how my uncle and the book he had written, which gram tossed into the fireplace because it was so vulgar would fit in with Buster and the hill. Hmmm…nope, I’ve got nothing.

Well, I have shit for brains it seems.

Faith

In the faith that I was loosely brought up in, the concept of heaven seems to involve passing some kind of test to get into the gated community and once there as far as I understand, you hang out talking to everyone in your life that passed away before you did. Well, you are kind of obligated because I think that my loved ones will be waiting just inside the gate to welcome me. Once the “Hi’s” and “How are ya’s” are done with, I suppose I will lurk around the gate waiting for someone I know to show up. It doesn’t really sound that interesting; I think there must be more to it.

The Muslim paradise is said to flow with rivers of the purest waters, clarified honey and wine. All wonderful tasting of course as things should be in Paradise. It is interesting that on earth in this life all Muslims are forbidden to drink wine. I guess a river of wine is a reward for being faithful. But if it is a reward…

They are also promised a number of virgins who will stay virgins indefinitely. Why not, my religion has at its root a virgin birth. I’m not sure that everyone would want a bunch of virgins hanging around them all the time. I think I’d like to read in peace and it would be awesome to watch some shows that I missed. I have never heard what Muslim women get in Paradise. I don’t believe they get a supply of virgin men, but I suppose they can make use of those rivers of water, honey and wine if they so choose. I did come across something that said they will be made to look lovely and be dressed in the finest clothing and jewels. Maybe shopping is some women’s idea of heaven, but surely not all.

I guess kids deserve to be able to play eternally and never HAVE to do anything.

It is a mystery. A mystery I am in no hurry to get the answer to by the way.

I just hope that in the afterlife I get to do those things I want to do, when I want to do them without thinking about how my actions will impact on others.

It would be nice if those others didn’t let you down. I have faith that all will be well in the afterlife.

Sometimes

Sometimes I am pretty sure why I am alive.

Sometimes I wonder if I am alive at all.

Sometimes I wonder what the purpose, my purpose is.

Sometimes I just don’t care.

Sometimes I know why I am here.

Sometimes I wonder why you are here.

                                    You shouldn’t be.

Sometimes I don’t know how I could live without you.

Sometimes I would like to try.

Sometimes I am cold. Sometimes I am hot.

                                    Often within a five minute period.

Sometimes I just can’t figure out the point of it all.

Sometimes I just want to start walking and only stop when life stops me.

Sometimes I think that would be too much effort.

Sometimes I think this is too much effort.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if we all unplugged at the same time.

Sometimes I turn on the TV for company.

Sometimes I think the TV needs me to watch.

Sometimes I wonder why people keep writing songs when pretty much everything has already been said.

Sometimes I think the same for books.

Sometimes I just close my eyes and watch the images that play on my inner eyelids.

Sometimes I wonder if I am insane and nobody cares one way or the other.

Sometimes I look into other peoples windows and try to imagine their lives.

Sometimes I look out my window and try to imagine a life out there.

Sometimes I think it would be better to be an animal and not know of a greater purpose.

Sometimes I have to wonder what my greater purpose is.

Sometimes …

Snoring and Farting

We have a guest staying with us for the long weekend. Arwen and her family are in Red Deer for a lacrosse tournament and we have the pleasure of looking after Miss Lola our grand-dog.

Lola likes to visit us as much as we like to have her. It is possible the thought of a few days away from two high energy kids, appeals to her. She also gets to do pretty much whatever she wants to do. With extra treats for being a good dog of course. Buster tolerates the visit, and each dog pretty much does their own thing. We do have to hide Busters food because Lola can and will eat anything that comes close to her mouth. She is very shark like in that way.

Both dogs are around ten which is getting up there in dog years, so sleep seems to be a favourite activity. Dogs in general sleep a lot, and when they are in the wild the sleep is necessary to counteract those short periods of intense activity when they are hunting. The only search for food they have to do here is to follow the sound of kibble hitting the bottom of the bowl. It’s a dog’s life indeed!

I always enjoy it when Lola visits because I can blame the odd sound and noxious smell on her. No one farts like a bulldog farts! She also sounds sort of like a 747 getting ready for takeoff when she is sleeping. She is one noisy girl.

It comforts me to know that for this long weekend, someone else in the house holds the record for snoring and farting.

Long live Miss Lola!!!

Memories Don’t Bite

I have often mentioned my grandmother’s cottage and how much it meant to me that I was able to go there and be able to wander and explore at leisure. I have thought that if money were no object, I would try and buy that property to give my grandkids an experience like I had growing up. I am getting older and so are my grandkids and it doesn’t look good for that dream, so I will have to do the best with what I have.

Of course I only remember the good times and none of the bad. Come to think about it, there were very, very, very few bad times. I was a kid after all and lucky for me I had parents that felt that kids should be able to cling to childhood without having to do …chores. Perhaps it was living through the depression when they were young or dad’s time in prison camp. Maybe it was just a magical confluence of the planets. Thankfully I was able to live in those times.

Not everything was perfect of course. It was the country and there were flying pests that lived to suck blood. Sometimes the mosquitoes would drive me inside the cottage. Gram waged war on any place that she thought would harbour the noxious bugs and anything that ate mosquitoes were encouraged to thrive. Hence I was never allowed to hunt down snakes, frogs or bats. I was behind Gram 100% but the boy in me needed to capture frogs and snakes if at all possible. I had some success and managed to practice “catch and release” before it became a popular thing to do.

 

I am very nostalgic about cottage country. A friend recently spent a week or so enjoying springtime in southern Ontario’s lake country. From what I understand, she and her husband had a wonderful time even though it was just a little too cool for swimming. She did mention that the bugs were out in force. When I think of bugs, I think of mosquitoes. Age and fading memory has spared me from Deer flies, Horse flies and black flies which would take small parts of me to eat. The mosquitoes were a constant bother, but those other flies I always felt would devour me down to the bone if given the opportunity.

Lucky for me, dad was one of those people that seemed to attract anything and everything that lived on other beings blood. I say lucky because I would imagine that he would find reasons not to go to the cottage during the worst of bug season. I wasn’t privy to those decisions, but dad was pretty clever.

I’m glad that my friends had a good vacation, but I don’t think I could enjoy leaving parts of myself flying around southern Ontario. I guess I should be happy with my memories, they don’t bite.

Canada 150

The Dutch are not only famous for building dykes, windmills, inventing speed skating and having had the country saved by a little boy putting his finger where it did belong for a change. I was impressed as a school boy by how they managed to reclaim land from the sea by the use of dykes and windmills. The little boy in me wondered if they found sunken pirate ships when the ocean was drained off. The reality of what they found would have been centuries of garbage I would imagine.

 

The Dutch are also world renowned for their tulips. I can vaguely remember my mom rushing to the garden centre because “…the bulbs from Holland are in”. As I grew older, it seems even odder because the tulips we had were perennial and as far as I could tell they produced more bulbs to be used for the next year. I think my mom wanted the “NEW” tulips. Yeah, I don’t claim to understand my mom, but there were thousands or millions like her around the world.

Today on Facebook there is a picture of a tulip that the Dutch bred to celebrate Canada’s 150^th year of being Canada. The tulip looks like the Canadian flag! It has red bands on either side, a white field with a red maple leaf in the centre. It does kind of look like a painting that either melted or had the paint run, but still, an impressive feat of genetic engineering. I can’t imagine the knowledge you would have to have, not to mention the patience to do something like this. I hope that whoever managed to grow this tulip will be recognized in their profession and monetarily.

I won’t be running out to the store to get my “Canada” bulbs, but I am sure that many will want to have these popping up in their gardens next year. I would also, but there are a couple of thieving squirrels living in the neighbourhood who see themselves as modern day Robin Hoods. They take tulip bulbs from my yard and plant them God knows where. Truthfully, they are just putting them away for a late winter snack and forget where they are. The few tulips I have are purchased by my unsuspecting neighbours. I don’t feel guilty having their bulbs in my garden because I also have their cat’s droppings in the garden as well.

I do encourage everyone to go out and pick up some of these “Canada 150” tulips, my yard could use the splash of colour next spring with the help of my bushy tailed friends.

Toasty Fingers and Toes

It is a sunny day outside and I think the temperature is about 14ºC. That is a pretty nice spring day if the wind isn't blowing. However, 14ºC in the house is pretty damned cool. The windows are open so that the stale air inside the house can be replaced by fresh, cool air which is abundantly plentiful outside. My body is saying that all of the warm stale air has been replaced and isn't it time to close the windows and turn on the furnace?

As I sit here with cold feet and fingers that I haven't been able to feel for an hour or so, I can't help but wonder what it must have been like before civilization managed to come up with central heating. Surely that is the single most important discovery right after fire, the wheel, bow and arrow, metallurgy, the internal combustion engine, vaccinations, indoor toilets, running water, grocery stores, etc. Let's just say that central heating is in the top 100 inventions for sure.

I have been in buildings during the winter that only had a fireplace or wood stove for warmth and although they do and did give off plenty of heat, they are labour intensive and only heat a relatively smallish area. To keep a building warm using these methods, you really need to have someone tending the fire round the clock. That may have been possible a hundred years ago, but in this day and age, servants or wives want the same luxuries as the man of the house has. Not everything has improved over time.

If I were to live in this area a hundred years ago or earlier, my toes would only be warm for perhaps three months of the year and then only during the daylight hours. Perhaps wool socks and boots made from fur bearing animals would make all the difference. However, I suspect that as well as being cool, your feet would also be wet a goodly amount of the time what with fetching water from the stream, walking through dew soaked grass and being 100 years away from the invention of Gore-tex footwear.

I suppose that people were made of sterner stuff back in the day. There was nothing they could do but live with cold fingers and hands, so they just didn't think about it. Well, most people didn't think about it. There were some people that sat in cold draughty buildings and dreamt of a time when their great-grand children would sit watching cartoons during the winter with bare feet and be very comfortable, thank you very much!  

The Romans and Greeks had central heating, by diverting rivers and heating the water with fires kept burning by servants or slaves. I suspect that only the wealthy were able to benefit and those in my station in life just had cold fingers and toes or fed the fires. In this century and the last, steam, gas and oil were used to heat our homes and I will be forever indebted to those people who invented the different methods. Well, my toasty warm toes and fingers will anyways.

Now, if someone would just come up with a way to air out the house without actually using outside air…

Dried Herbs

Just a few years ago (twenty or thirty) I did some back packing. I enjoyed the test of my ability and the thought that I was walking where only a few thousand people have ever walked appealed to me. I also got to accumulate some very cool camp stoves, sleeping bags, pot set and all of the variety of things only back packers would appreciate. The key to successful packing is to keep the weight of your pack as light as is possible. There were things that you couldn’t do without, but I tried to ensure that every item had at least two uses.

Food and water was something that you couldn’t do without. I suppose that some people could live off of the land, but Parks Canada frowns on that sort of thing. Their credo is “Take only pictures…leave only footprints.” Generally you just had to carry enough water to get you through to the next source of water. Food had to be carried for the entire trip and although it diminished on a regular basis, it didn’t diminish nearly fast enough to suit me. I picked up a food dehydrator so that I could dry any number of things at home and re-hydrate them on the trail. Fruit and veggies dried would provide a nice snack, hamburger dried nicely and when re-hydrated you could make a very passable pasta dish. I always liked to take a supply of beef jerky for a snack on the trail. I kept making the jerky for years afterwards while the kids lived at home, but I have fallen out of the practice now. Perhaps just to save my teeth.

A month ago now, Louise asked me if I could dry a supply of Chives. I had heard that Chives lost a lot of flavour when dried, but I was willing to give it a try. They dried nicely thanks to the food dehydrator and we now have a large plastic bag of Chives for use in dips, and on baked potatoes. I will give it a shot in soups as well. However, as long as I can just walk into the backyard and cut fresh Chives I probably won’t use the dried stuff.

Last week I made some biscotti and in the first batch I used orange zest which gave it a very nice taste, A few days later Tornado came over for a visit and I made another batch but unfortunately I didn’t have any oranges about the house. It is hard to go wrong using flour, sugar and eggs. The biscotti was still good, but Tornado wasn’t impressed and it lacked that certain something. Orange zest!

I wondered if it were possible to dry citrus zest and with the aid of Google I discovered that indeed it is possible. Lucky for me I own a dehydrator and have now dried the zest from four or five oranges. I have yet to use it in the recipe, but I am confident that it will work well enough, if not as well as fresh zest.

Earlier today I was sitting at the kitchen table looking at what I had been drying lately and it reminded me of a time forty-five years ago when I was sitting at another kitchen table with a plastic bag filled with dried herbs and a vial of crystalline powder.

Baby Chicks

I was lucky enough this weekend to have Tornado spend a night. He is always welcome and always exhausting. Generally, Tornado only comes over with his big brother Hurricane, but Hurricane had a previously planned sleep over at a buddies place, and as we all know, “Bros before Grandparents!” It was really nice to have the one on one for a change.

We picked Tornado up and on the way home we stopped off at the WORLDS BEST PLAYGROUND, well the best one that is close to us anyways. When we got home he helped make the pizza for supper and we made short work of it. We spent some of the in between times looking at the world from the front window.

In the past few years I have put up a few bird houses so that we could watch birds flit to and fro with nest making supplies and I suppose food. I don’t particularly like birds that much, they are dirty little dinosaur descendants that would just as soon peck your eyes out than look at you. They are hard workers though and they nicely fill in the time that it takes to cook a pizza.

Today, I was on my own looking out the window making sure that the world was still turning. It was! You can imagine my shock when I saw a Magpie land on the perch outside of a bird house and pluck out a newly hatched baby sparrow. He tossed it on the ground and then proceeded to eat it. It turns out that they aren’t so much bird houses as they are Magpie feeders. Life is a bitch sometimes.

I couldn’t help but think that there is just a very thin layer of civilization keeping out the magpies of the world. We are so comfortable in our lives and rarely give thought to just how very lucky we are. This past week there has been a large wild fire in northern Alberta and the town of Fort McMurray had to be evacuated. Up to eighty thousand souls have been moved south to safer lodgings for the time being. Some of those have nothing left to go back to and will somehow have to start their lives all over again. They are the baby chicks, but thankfully we live in a country that feels a responsibility to look after its citizens. There has been a huge outpouring of assistance from all levels of government, charitable organizations and fellow citizens that are giving to those that have nothing for the moment.

The magpies of the world will just have to go hungry for now. 

Sometimes Enough is Enough

I think that if there is one thing that we as humans all have in common is that we all wish to belong. It doesn’t really matter the group, just to know that there are others who share interests during our journey through life. I don’t think that the interests of most other people are worth being interested in, but I would imagine they feel the same about me and my interests.

One of the ways that I connect with the rest of the world is by watching how other people manoeuvre through their lives. My favourite place to do this is in a coffee shop. There is a constant stream of people from all walks of life coming in and going out at all hours of the day. There are people coming in on their breaks, coming in to pick up coffees for the co-workers, people meeting to catch up on gossip, interviewing for jobs, reading the paper and some are there doing the same thing that I am doing. J.K. Rowling wrote an international best selling book sitting in a coffee shop.

My son lived in Montreal for a couple of years and one of the many things I liked was that there were neighbourhood restaurants. These tiny places would seat just a small number of people and the menu had very little variety. The people eating in these places generally live in the neighbourhood and are regulars. Often they don’t look at a menu and they have pretty much the same thing every day. Beats buying groceries. The owners work hard, but seem to be content having regular customers and are happy to make a good living. They don’t have the desire to open a string of franchise operations across North America; at least I don’t think they do. Sometimes, enough is enough.

 

Louise and I found one of these places in Calgary a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately, it isn’t in our neighbourhood but it is encouraging that there are some in Calgary. The place is called “John’s Breakfast and Lunch”. It is owned by John and staffed by family, John is the chief cook with the son helping out and his daughter and wife doing duty as wait staff. You are greeted with a welcoming smile and a cup of coffee if that is your poison. The food is typical fare, nothing fancy, but there is a goodly amount and so far we haven’t been disappointed. We have been three times so far and our faces and orders were remembered. By the end of the last time we were there, we were talking like old friends and left with a smile on our faces.

They have found their niche and seem to be happy doing what they were put on the planet to do. I am glad they are on the planet too and hope that more people learn to enjoy their lives working at whatever they choose to do. Hopefully, some of those happy people will open a new favourite place just around the corner from my house. Until that happens though, I can be happy that I will be able to walk into “John’s Breakfast and Lunch”, sit down and watch people move through their lives.

Sensible Clothing

The last couple of days Buster and I have risen early and headed out for our walk before the sun gets too high and too many students clog the sidewalks. We have been blessed with unseasonably warm weather in AB. Unfortunately the hot, dry weather has spawned wild fires that in the past day or so forced the evacuation of Fort McMurray. Countless homes and businesses have gone up in flames and only God knows how it will all end. We all wish them well and hope that their lives get impacted as little as possible.

I was never a member of any team in high school, being more interested in after hour’s activities. I have come to regret that decision over the intervening years, but I am what I am due to the choices I have made. I did have friends that would and did willingly give up precious sleep hours to go to the school for football, cheerleading, band, etc, practice. I doubt that they regret losing that sleep looking back through the years. Oh well, woulda’…shoulda’.

This morning I passed by the girls Field Hockey team practicing. I know very little about Field Hockey and the little that I do know I have learned from watching “The Belles of Saint Trinians”. It does look a little odd, having to hunch over those small sticks with tiny blades and attempt to coerce the ball down the field while the other team tries to stop you. Those sticks look very, very dangerous and I don’t trust that the girls will be demure and ladylike on the playing field. They were dressed in an assortment or sweats, t-shirts, shorts and probably yoga clothing, it was difficult to make out any detain due to the low, rising sun.

We kept walking and I couldn’t help but think forty five years ago the ladies would have all been wearing blue, shapeless jumpers whenever they did physical activities in public. The girls just hated those outfits. They hated them so much that last year when the 50^th school reunion was approaching, comment after comment was made on the facebook page about how horrible the outfits were. I guess if you were interested making a fashion statement or even intended to look nice, those were not the outfits for you.

That’s what the girls thought, but from a teenage boys perspective, the girls looked pretty good. There was plenty of skin on legs and arms to look at and imagination would fill in the rest. Besides, it was a one piece outfit and there was always the possibility of a clothing malfunction. It never happened, but teenage boys like dogs are eternally optimistic. We could look at a girl in that shapeless blue blob and think about how hot she was.

All these years’ later things haven’t changed very much for me. I can be sitting in the coffee shop and watch a woman get out of her car in the winter dressed in a ¾ length parka, red Canada mitts, a pair of insulated boots that nearly reach her knees, jeans, a scarf wrapped stylishly around her neck and topped off with a toque or fur trappers hat. All that is visible is a pair of frosted eyes and a red nose. I look at my buddy and say “She looks pretty hot! Well, warm at least, shows that she has the good sense to dress for the weather.” 

Sensible clothing will always be attractive to me.

The Next Study

A study was released today by a University of Calgary researcher about the benefits of having fluoride in our water supply. Calgary politicians knuckled under to a small, vocal, paranoid group of people that believe that the government is trying to poison our water supply for some inexplicable reason. One of the main arguments that these people used is that there wasn’t any regionally, definitive study on the subject. Well, now there is and the study shows conclusively that the children who have fluoride in the water supply have fewer cavities and just better dental health. This is what the dental professionals have been saying all along.

I am not and never have been a supporter of any government at all because deep down I feel that they have their own agenda and that agenda does not necessarily have my best interests at heart. Big business is the same, they are out to make profits and pay dividends to the shareholders, while filling their own pockets with as much money as possible without going to jail. They are not to be trusted!

However, I don’t think they are out to poison me, pump carcinogenic causing chemicals into my food and water or in any way bring about sickness and disease. Dead and dying people can’t go out and buy new cars and toasters or vote the local politician in for another four years. Yes, these things have happened in the past and will in the future, but I don’t believe it is malicious. The Flint Michigan water is an example of stupidity more than anything else. The politician responsible will never get re-elected and any one involved will suffer financially.

Now, our society is not one that puts health above profits. We like our toys and conveniences far too much to do what is best for all of us. We pump poisons into the air with our cars and we generate all kinds of toxins creating those things that we can’t live without. It is a trade off I suppose. Because of our high standard of living we have better health through drugs and good medical care. Our lives are much easier than those in third world countries, but the food they eat is grown organically and has more naturally occurring nutrients than our foods do.

I knew that the fluoride debate would be back sooner than later, and this time I hope that good dental health wins the day. Well, until the next study comes out…

Written on Feb 17,2016

Azariale

Jeez, the computer is making grinding like noises. I think that means the hard drive is having a difficult time. I don’t know what it is complaining about, the most that I do is check email, browse the web and every now and then I write a blog. None of these things should be very taxing for a machine. I mean, I could be hacking into the government sites or bit mining whatever that is; any of the many games available are memory and performance pigs. Well, not solitaire which is my game of choice. Sometimes I play a word search and the odd time if I am feeling especially frisky there is a jigsaw puzzle program that I like.

I suspect that Microsoft has sent little byte monsters to wreck my computer. They sent me a notice that the operating system I am currently using will no longer have their support. Well isn’t that just peachy! It was released in 2007 and is now obsolete. Nine years? I have underwear that is older than that and the elastic is still more or less still stretching. Not so much on the right leg and you would think both legs would wear at the same rate. It isn’t as if I decide to just use the right leg and let old lefty swing free.

I will bitch and complain lose some unimportant files and important photos before I go and buy a new, shiny, fast and noiseless machine that has ten times the computing speed and twenty times the memory. Maybe I will hack into the government sites just for fun. Maybe I will start playing video games and call myself Azariale the bastard son of a Gnome prince and an Elf maiden. Or, I could continue to write boring blogs and watch too much crappy television.

I hate Microsoft!

Not As Bad As Hitler

I thought of this a week or so ago, and I just can’t remember if I wrote it or not. There is a good chance you may have five extra minutes today.

I consider myself to be a generous kind of guy. I suspect that we all like to think of ourselves in a positive way. I doubt that even Hitler worried that his actions were detrimental to the world. Sure, initially, but history would show that he was on the right track all along. The Nazi’s and Hitler took the wrong turn just before arriving in Munich I think. I’m sure his mom loved him.

I try to give people the benefit of the doubt, trying to see their side of any issue, no matter how ill informed they may be. I give to charities. Okay, Louise gives to charities, but the money comes from our bank account and I get to claim the donations off my taxes. I reluctantly buy Girl Guide cookies when I am waylaid at the exit of Rona or Home Depot and haven’t been able to find a back exit. Five bucks for cookies! Louise always buys them without even looking for the back exit.

 

I try to avoid pan handlers if at all possible. I don’t know why, but they always seem to appear when I have pockets full of change. It is hard to say you don’t have any change when your pockets are ringing like Westminster Abbey. I do, but I feel like an asshole for it. I’ve practiced walking soundlessly, but I look like I have some serious physical disability. I live in fear that some pan handler will take pity on me and give me what he has collected.

It isn’t that I am not generous; it’s just that my generosity takes careful thought. Does this person actually deserve my money? Could he/she be gainfully employed and earning their own money? Does this person have more money than I do in reality? I suspect that some of these guys make a good living. Okay, that is just my justification for being cheap. By the time I make up my mind to give the guy some money, I am well away from him.

If you believe in reincarnation, I suspect that I have five or six hundred lives to go before I can attain Godhead.

So, I am not as bad as Hitler and not as good as Louise.