Sunday morning, May 29, 2022

I slept in. I woke refreshed. I didn’t have time to get ready and go to church. I really did want a cup of coffee. I enjoyed that cup of coffee immeasurably. Breaking up my routine I’d showered first.  Then after coffee walked Madigan to dump the garbage.  Met our neighbour and she’s told us about their new Schipeke, Kayla, who Madigan visitted with.  

It’s cloudy with blue sky.  I enjoyed seeing some preparing to go onward with their journey. Felt jealous. I’ve so loved expeditions and adventures.  I am hoping my camper will be  repaired and I can continue with the plans.  I’m hoping for a month in the south this year. One day I’d like to travel the southern US with the motor home. Alternatively I could put it in storage and just travel with the camper.

I like the idea of hunting in the fall. There’s a certain seasonal routine. Cammo dress.  Like the summer the summer used to be sailing dress and swim suits.  Winter ski wear. Now I’m hoping to add a southern season to the routine.  In a way I think each day and month I work is good.  I really don’t want to stop but want very much to have a long vacation. I so enjoyed Europe but that was driven by schedule and expensive. I prefer a leisurely camping travel and a few months open ended. I don’t mind and would like the continued workcation , virtual work.  

I’m happy with the gender adventure. Like acting. The parts we played and tried to maintain off the stage to achieve greater authenticity.  The insights into self. I’m really coming to terms with my own judgemental nature. I see myself the way I see others.  

I talked to a woman who was glad she didn’t have children and didn’t want to bring children into this world. I’m sure there’s more to it.  I wonder if I would have had a child if I was a woman. I don’t imagine I’d have an abortion but do know I’d use birth control.  I admired the women that had children but feel short changed. So often the women had children with bad guys and here I was a good guy , protector , provider, and loyal until late in the relationships.  7 years itch.  I wondered where was the child and why weren’t we having one as I realized the princess was glad to be the little girl as long as I was daddy.  I don’t know what all that was about.  

I was considering predestination and god’s will.  This incarnation I was not to have children. I certainly cared for a lot of other peoples children and served a lot of families. Yet here I am single with a girlfriend and a dog liking encreasingly to wear dresses. I imagine in the south I’d have less desire to wear dresses and be happy with shorts and sarong and tshirt. That was my life in Mexico that year. I wonder about going back.  

 I have at different stages in my life had challenges.  Being a dancer. Being a martial artist. Writing poetry Bicycling across Europe. Becoming an intellectual. Being learned.  Becoming a doctor. Being a country gp and rodeo doctor.  Being a flyin doctor with Northern Medical Unit. Doing community medicine and public health. Graduating psychiatry.  I did marriage. I did marriage again.  I published a lot of articles. I played guitar and performed in coffeehouses and bars. I had started out in surgery and ended as a psychiatrist.  I trained as a psychoanalytic psyvhotherapist and a hypnotherapist. I then became accomplished in psychopharmacology . I learned to be an off shore blue water sailor and ships captain. I trained in navigation, diesel mechanics and sailed to Alaska and down to Mexico for a year. I snorkeled an spear fished. Later I’d become an accomplished rescue scuba diver.  I’d be an island doctor in the Marianas,  I loved acquiring skills and having accomplishments.  

Unable to deal with my ex wife’s addictions and mental illness as well as work in that field I became clean and sober and remained as such. Another divorce.  I survived her attempts to kill me and us and her attempts to ruin me and all her lies and deceit.  I had this penchant for women who had such incredible anger at their mothers and their fathers.  The mothers hated their husbands and the rot was passed along.  I survived that.  I returned to work.  I survived the sexual abuse and lies by my mentor in residency and the betrayal by his friend my therapist. I survived their evil. 

I was blessed by Christians and my own Christianity saved me from the ruthlessness of the unwashed.  I really was paranoid for a year as I stayed sober and went to AA and struggled to deal with the evil.  Now I have some concerns as the evangelical Christians tried to exorcise the devil in me, that change that occurred with sexual abuse. I felt this anima growing in me  They don’t accept homosexuality.  I asked the Christian medical association about it but they’re now ‘praying at my back,’. I just don’t want to go to a nunnery and don’t  want to marry and have kids. Theoretically I’m supposed to go to the third world and take a wife and have children as a good Christian.  

I wonder about sex addiction and yet I don’t see the process addictions the same way as I see the chemical addiction. Gambling might be an exception but I don’t accept the culturally gynocentric sex addiction position.  Nonetheless they don’t judge homosexuality as sinful.  By gay standards I’m the least sex addicted.  I ve done decades of ‘fasting’ from alcohol and drugs. I’ve become a sub specialist in addiction medicine. I enjoyed those goals .

 I even pursued a masters in divinity/Christian studies and ultimately religious studies with comparative religions.  I’ve been a yogi disciple and meditated with the benedictines and been a member of churches since childhood doing various service positions.But each time I had a goal and challenge. 

I am pleased that I survived covid. The goals and challenges have been to survive persecution or to meet a challenge. Sailing San Francisco Hawaii 2004  solo through winter hurricanes was a challenge. I also motorcycled to Sturges and Back some 5000 km over a few weeks .  I published a couple of poetry books and a psychiatry and addiction clinical perspective book.  I was on a couple of boards. I continued to work and serve in my community.  I continue to attend church and AA. I’ve met the requirements of continuing education, the Royal college MOCOMP requirements.  I’m doing maintenance.

I’ve hunting big game shooting 30 something deer, 3 bear, 8 moose, elk and countless birds. I’ve become a chef and wild game chef. I’ve done the male and female roles .  

I have the idea that I’d like to complete the 3 books I’ve started.

I have the desire to work from the south.

I’m considering a sex change as the next adventure . I met the gender dysphoria criteria.  I’ve been cross dressing for decades. When I was with a man I wasn’t attracted to him but I did like how he made me feel more a woman. I believe that’s telling.  I don’t wish to be the ‘top’ person anymore. I chased and bedded women . I initiated sex forever. I faced all the marital emotional baggage later wives brought. I was cuckolded. I was neglected. I remember the last marriage when months went by without sex and she didn’t notice or care much more interested in drug and foods and clothes.  The whole shopping addiction is the foreplay issue that competes with the masturbation completion.  

Now I’m in a kind or limbo. Moving forward slowly. I’m actually rather blessed. There’s no crisis in my personal life and I’m kind of paddling forward doing the breast stroke. Waiting for death in some ways but not believing it’s any time soon.  I’ve Maslow’s physiological needs met but lack the certainty of relationship. I’ve simply not had anyone care that I have sex in relationships. I married with the idea that I’d give up chasing for home cooking and for months at a time the spiteful resentful angry women would withhold and do passive aggressive gaslighting manipulative shit.  Always acting out their aggression in the bed room and leaving me to mind read what’s the issue of the month.  Then the bipolar swings would go and sex would occur again and I would want to be moslem with several wives and understand how the men who had mistresses for back up are like me to day with a car and a motorcycle.  In my office I’d hear all this muddle too and nothing about duty or reciprocity or accountability. Just emotional slums .  Meanwhile the bad men and the pimps and the sex addicts were working the room and they were getting the girls into all manner of sexual novelty by playing hard to get and jealousy games. Inducing love addiction.I just wanted a partner and children at one time.Now I want to explore the female self and surrender.

Today I enjoy my friend Laura and remain open and available.  As long as I can wear women’s clothes which say I’m not ‘normal’ I seem happy.  There’s the kundalini and the erotic world. I feel more alive in panties than stanfields.  I don’t have spontaneous erections. I can’t rely on my erection as I did younger. They come and go and definitely respond to viagra. This friend that used to greet lovers hard just looking across the room is now only responsive to touch and tongue.  I still have morning hard ons but don’t sustain erections and my back hurts.  It’s like it’s lazy.  I don’t want to depend on  it. 

My erogenous zones were limited to the penis once but today I feel erogenous all over, breasts and anus and penis and just feeling my body caressed is evocative. I imagine myself a lesbian in a male body. I’m bisexual but really xeno phobic. My fantasy world is full of girl romance themes but in person when men have come on to me I’ve invariably shied away and been frightened.  

I’m not frightened of sex with women but frankly can’t imagine anything new and am more than satisfied with my friend though feel that I could be aroused by a stranger but feel after a year or decade I’d be dealing with the same issues. I believe I know love and love. 

What to do when they feel that I’m ‘safe’.  Good men finish last.  It’s such a dichotomy.  If the husband is the father of the children then clearly that bond is sufficient.  But when there’s just a couple the whole sexual matter is pleasure based and fun without judgement. If anything I like the LGBT community and transexuals especially because they’re thinking outside the box. Feminists ignore the centrality of children and family but I am an individual and individuality calls to me after a life of service,

  

I think of a road trip.  I really want the camper for that.  The dog and I ,like Travels with Charlie or Zen and the Art of Motorcycle.  I imagine completing the books though there’s nothing stopping me now. Instead of journaling I could be focussed on writing the novels and texts. The issue is dialogue.   I could set a three hour writing goal and focus on that complettng a book a month .  I expect I could publish too though in the past the idea of reward was a consideration. I don’t know about that now.  There’s so much writing .  I even have tried my hand at erotica and other genre’s with the consideration making money writing in retirement. 

It’s just that doing my work seems sufficiently lucrative now and though I am pretty certain I can get by adequately. Before I worked as service but now I’m continue to work to pay bills, I still do good work but I’m not driven. I’m not as focused or devoted. 

I’m not ready to take the leap of retirement. .  It would be different if I had a book written. But when I launched a book I had no real interest in marketting but if I was travelling I could certainly do that. I’d like dress up and meet the writer au femme .  My successes in the past were audrab.  I did sail in bikini’s changing once I left port. I hunted in cammo skirts. I have so long worn bras and panties under my suits as so many heterosexual cross dressers do. Yet I fear my ‘image’ as the alpha male is tied to my appeal. Again the shame and judgement

I am coasting now.  I really do consider these Cadillac problems.  I’ve sufficient identity and continue to come out in ways. That’s perhaps the adventure. Coming out. I joined WPATH again.  I’m talking to colleagues about health care as I’m embarking on a medical journey. So many have gone before. It’s not space flight. 

Thank you God for this day. Thank you God for Madigan. Thank you God for all your blessings. Thank you for sobriety. Thank you for spirituality.thank you for this day. Thank you for fresh air. Thank you for Laura, thank you for humor. Thank you for identity and character and challenges and goals. Maslow put purpose beyond selfactualization. Guide me to my new purpose. Thank you for Billie and Amber.Thank you Lord Jesus Christ.

Davie Street

I left the little guy at home. I can see him on the security camera.  It serves as my baby cam when I’m away.

I rode the Vespa to David.  I was wanting to start PReP. It’s HIV prevention. I suspect it’s PTSD from my time in the VGH ER during the height of the Aids epidemic. I’m not sexually active with men but I always fear I wouldn’t say “no’.  I’ve had condoms with me at all times for decades. When ever I cross dress and go out I’m feel vulnerable. When I learned that PReP provided 99% efficacy as prevention from HIV I decided I should take it. 

I’ve wondered too about estrogens.  I’ve been with Laura for a couple of decades, fairly monogamous relationship with rare exceptions.  After divorce and all the losses , personally, emotionally and financially I really regretted the women I did’t sleep with. I decided after the last fiasco I’d not make a ‘committment’ sexually.  I find that women have lost interest with more security and my committment.  Laura of course is the best. Sex has been great for a couple of decades. She remains gorgeous but I’ve declined with age. I told a friend that the days and nights of lifting women and impaling them on a rock hard member are past. The lifting would not work with my painful back and even viagra would only make a leaning tower of Piza, searching for the angle would not be good. We’re both heavier than when we first met and older. Not in mind,mind you. 

It’s fun to be cross dressed, an attractive old lady, a Mrs. Doubtfire at best. Not a sexual object. Estrogen takes away the sex drive in men. The weight of years of service and being forever in parental mode, on call.. I feel no compulsion to ride to the rescue, fix the car, solve the problem, save the day, fight the dragons. I’ve a life of that. In a dress I’m more concerned with breaking a nail. Let other girls wear cammo and carry guns and wrenches. I cross dress and I’m off the clock. I’m receptive and observing. It’s another mode. 

For years I only felt comfortable out of the country beyond expectations. Now dressed as an old lady, a modern Klinger, I’m beyond the chronic criticism and demand for perfection. I’m in ‘girls just want to have fun mode.”

Great Thai lunch with Laura on Davie. I felt right at home as several others passed by. Considering women have been crossdressing, pant suits, slacks, jackets and ties, it’s fun to be among men who challenge the restrictions on male, the military uniform equivalent or worker jeans Man as Tool. Well I feel light, playful and childlike in a dress.It’s freeing. 

. 

Thursday, May 26, 2022

I am thankful that I’ve regained my mobile bank access thanks to the bank manager at Scotia Bank, Granville and the bank staff at North Road Scotia bank.  

The mobile app asked me questions which I would only know if I could access my bank account.  Silly security person.  The need for access occurred when Apple Care sent me a new IPad to replace the one which had a crack on the glass after I slipped in the rain climbing Arthur’s Seat Edinburgh. It was 2 weeks and a half dozen calls to Scotia bank, with half hour waits or more during business hours, and a discussion with my bank manager. She suggested coming in and they’d answer the security questions with access to my account. I did this at North Road and they had it solved but with a temporary 24 hours solutions. I was notified of this in Seattle where I was on cellular roaming charges and learned phoning the wait would be 1/2 hour or more and because it’s a business account realized it might now be solved.  There is also something wrong where they don’t recognise me when the data is right, at the bank, and further they don’t get the notification to the device I set up their 2 step notification on. I think the later is because since doing that I’ve replaced the old phone so the message goes to the old phone. 

It really was a rabbit hole and I’m very thankful this is solved.  I have so many patient concerns and these distractions are very stressful. My paranoia kicks in when the Government of Canada is freezing accounts of peaceful demonstrations and Trudeau has become a dictator using all manner of Nazi/Communist powers so all of us who find him nauseated and have spoken out against his increasingly truculent despotism fear we could be next to be struck down.  It’s silly. No one would have thought the war measures acct for a peaceful demonstration. No one would have thought the utter abuse of powers with lockdowns and the cosntant use of the Communist dominated WHO.  

Davos is going on right now.  The Climate Change Religion is meeting and they’re doing their Repent and doom saying while they hypocritically fly private jets and party on the backs of the workers.  A total. Give the Cake scenarios. Meanwhile we have what we need right here I’m not hurting though word of starvation and shortages abound elsewhere.

I’m trying to live in the here and now.  24 hours.

I remember the Canadian Military Sergeant in Chilliwack saying to me after a meeting “you’ve got one foot in the future and one foot in the past . You’re pissing and shitting on your day. Get your head in the same room as your ass is.”

So I’m a big fan of Brother Lawrence and the Practice of the Presence of God.  Like the hippie era Be Here Now by Richard Alpert (Baba Ram Dass).  I think that was Zen or Hinduism.  

Now I’m faced with the misinformation and disinformation of media and the constant fear mongering by government.  Crisis creation and the illusion of ‘unplanned’ reactions when increasingly these ‘events’ of ‘crisis’ seem planned years in advance.  So the issue is ‘truth’.  

Truth is what I know. I place the greatest priority on what I experience.  I have been to Paris and know that it existed last month. It may not exist right now but I’m pretty sure it likely did. It was there when I was there and I have heard nothing contrary. I don’t know if the Ukraine exists but I have Ukrainian friends and they say it exists and share hearsay evidence of emails of family there in the war.  So I’m pretty sure there is a war between Russia and Ukraine and NATO. I don’t know whose winning.  I don’t know whose the Nazis.  I do know by history RuSsia in vase but it was also that Ukraine, east Ukraine was Little Russia and the Crimean was Russia. I read the history of the Crimean war.  

So there’s what I know and the truth is of lesser validity as I move from my actual knowledge which is Ukrainian friends who I believe tell me the truth.  It’s like a similiar hierarchy for ‘scientific truth ‘ and the scientific method of ‘judgement of the validity of research.’  Retrospective studies being less valid in general than prospective studies.

Since media is ‘owned’ and utterly propaganda and political on the internet I can only have very poor knowledge of even the ‘facts’.  Selective bias is the normal. They can even photoshop reality and create video and photographs that are staged and Hollywood.  I tried listening to both sides and believe some middle road but I no longer think that is true. Even the selection of the ‘story’ is rife with ‘opinion’.  Marshal MacLuhan said ‘the media is the message’.  

It’s not really in my day.  Whatever ‘threat’ exists is at a distance.  Today there is more threat from the Despot Trudeau with his inflation and tax burden and clown episodes.  That said I just accessed my mobile banking and I have my bills covered.

I’ve paid the rent. There’s food in the refridgerator. My dog is welll. I’m healthy

I would like PReP.  This is the medication that prevents HIV.  I fear when I’m out and about I carry condoms and have this distrust in myself that I might put myself at risk. A broken condom. It’s such catastrophising on the scale that the Climate Change nut bars take but I have carried condoms for ever and since working in the VGH ER witnessing the HIV epidemic I’ve been a total germophobe re STD’s.  It goes back to the first assault too.  I ‘m not that young man. There’s no rush. There’s no situation. It’s all psychotic.  But I’m crazy this way.

I fundamentally have a childhood and church induced shame about sex and sex is bad and disease comes from sex. I have friends who are festigious about food. I’m in a fantasy world where I’d like sex but am afraid of disease. Even if I had PReP I doubt it would change my behaviour or increase my risk.  I don’t even have sex. Years since a stranger. Only unprotected with one but what of their status.  I’m paranoid . It’s obviously a flash back to being raped.  I’m having a lot of the past intruding on my present now that I’m older. I haven’t had the nightmares. I am working on ‘surrender’ because I don’t seem to have much control and my chronic back ache and weaknesss and fatigue are harbingers of a future of old age Now so many of my patients tell of their being abused .  Elder abuse.  There I am like my Dad fearing the future. We talked of death , the old guys, out walking and that was the topic.  We’re closer and it’s not the death but the dying and the creeping decline. Further the thought that the government the Nazi/Communist enemy epitomized by the nauseating Trudeau would delight in all of us choosing MAiD today. The biological warfare from China with the feeling of betrayal that Trudeau and his sino Canadian vaccine and lies about chine and refusal to disclose the truth of chinese scientists in Manitoba. It’s all just frightening and I am through back to being raped and powerless, held down. Drugged too.  No one cares. I’m a man.  Yet I’m a fraud. I want protection on all levels and it’s just psychotic.  The only refuge is the Lord.  Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on me a sinner.   

Tied to that I think of going on hormones and changing gender.  I carry such a burden or work and life that I really want a new identity.  I feel I’ve done a lions share of heavy lifting working constantly and serving but being hated by women and society, the gynecentric society and open season on old white men especially Christians. I’d rather be an old lady.  I want to hide. I want to die sometimes rather than carry the anxiety of constant demands for perfection that I’ve lived my life against and judgment perpetually by junior doctors with arrogance oozeing from their privilege appointments ignorant bullies but nonetheless my experience and training has left me the ‘falsely accused ‘ and not even able to have ‘righteous anger’.  I am a loser in the standards of the day where the rich are the lowest government employee with ‘indexed pension’. Today I face inflation.

Identification with the aggressor. Eva Brawn’s the true HItler.  

Or the whole woke movement is what it appears a total lie

Black is white and White is black.

It’s 1984 and Animal Farm. 

Davos is happening today. 

Im happy with what I have.  I’m thankful today I’ve mobile banking returned and there is no discrepancy to be concerned about. I’ve now the capacity to address the financial issues.

Fear of economic insecurity will leave us.  Yet here I am concerned about status and finances.  I imagine that as a woman there is little expectation of me to financially support other women as I have all my life only to abused always by the feminists.  

The criticisms of the ex wife come back to me “you’re so lucky’ she ‘d say as a slur.

Luck is the evidence of a holy life I’d think. I’m wondering about God today. God is good all the time. I’m wanting to know what God wants me to do. 

Today I’m to go to work. I’ve a day of service to complete.  

I’ve got to shower now.

I will walk the dog.  I will say hello to neighbours.  I will maybe even swim this evening.  Tomorrow I hope to have the truck fixed. I phoned Frazerway RV to ask yet again when my camper will be completed or what they will do to replace it. The insurance claim have been done. It’s been there since last November.  

The other cadillac problem is whether I license my Harley for the weekend.  I don’t know. I”m just going one hour at a time.  Now it’s shower time.

I’m so thankful that this nuisance with the mobility app is solved. Thank you Jesus.

It’s a sunny day and nice weather is returning.  Thank you Jesu.  

The World is Doomed: Give me money

The World is Doomed

Give me money

Repent from using gas and diesel

Give me money

Monkey pox plagues and covid 19 

Give me money

The religions of aetheism, Communism, Globalism

Is the one true path

Give me money

Thou shalt be no other ideas but mine

Give me money

Another ordinary day

I’ve a day of work and a meeting planned today.  The excitement will likely be what I eat for dinner.  This is an ‘ordinary day’.  The ordinary days are the manure or compost for the garden days.  I’ve an appreciation for the hum drum because it gives a comparative dash to the less mundane days of my life. I remember the less mundane. Looking back I’m troubled sometimes that I find the threats and dangers and abuse and betrayals spring to mind so easily yet the ordinary days run behind all that drama and excitement. I was married a couple of decades but rather than focus on the relative marital bliss I knew for so many years my mind goes to the rather sordid years of divorce.  I almost forget or refuse to reflect on the incredible beauty of the bride and the pride I took in being the groom. I miss my first house.  She had liked it till her sister got a bigger one and then my home, my home, which my father had helped choose given his knowledge of wiring and plumbing etc, became the ‘starter home’ for her but she never focussed on children and sex was no longer the thrill it had been before marriage.  See my mind goes to the sense of betrayal. I worked hard was a good man and hoped for family and was denied but rather was increasingly criticized and in turn was judgemental.  That’s the inner dialogue that preceded the outward dissolution.  The fact was there was no future, no children and sex a chore rather than love. The song ‘she’s a young girl and will never leave her mother,’ played out and she was angry and resentful but that was all in the end, the last months ,the time after I’d begged her to come alone with me to renew our relationship but she’d rather be with her family and not spend time alone with me.  I watched her sister become a woman and be with her husband because they left and envied him the escape from that cesspool of suicide and alcoholism and death.  Her mother was a sad woman, hysterical and entitled.  But my mind is riveted by the memory of that time, the breakup and the sad causes.  Now the water skiing , the laughter on the docks , the canoeing, the little tents on the in land lakes are lost. The cycling and cross country skiing, the hot stews in the winter huts, the ballet and the gowns and suits and all those wonderful times. The visits with friends and the dancing. I taught her to dance and she was a lovely dancer. She and I did Viennese waltz about the rooms. She looked like a princess and we studied in libraries long hours weekends, together side by side , sharing pens, 10 minute breaks on the hour, coffee and back to the books,  laughter an a joke, going to the cafeteria for a quick bite, so much of those years of medical school linked to her, looking forward to seeing her, revelling in the friendship and melting at the depth and beauty of her eyes.  I’m so thankful to have known her and the chill of the morning, getting up first to use the washroom and turn up the heat, the warmth of shared bed in the northern winter, the huge duvet, then the hard wood floors and the oak furniture of the friend, hand made for us, the parties, the well dressed, lovely educated beautiful people, music, guitars, poetry, and always discussions that were of the times, ideas and learning.  Opinions and debate, the women we’re young and beautiful and their pheromes fill the room with perfumes and we drank red wine till too late and I was glad I didn’t have to drive home but cleaned up till much later with her till we went to bed to sleep in till late in the morning.  It was an idyllic time. Friends and family and home and love.  I was working in and out of town.  We were admired.  We were the golden boy and girl.  She began to call me names, like ‘lucky’ and criticize my parents who we didn’t much see while her mother was always in our face and was a disturbing overbearing woman who thought her self ‘superior’ and was so critical of her husband, a beaten down alcoholic, who my father liked Mano o Mano.  Mother didn’t like her mother as ‘she treats her husband poorly and thinks so highly of herself’.  I wasn’t paying attention, so fixed on study and saving lives, clinically desparate for skills and competence always catching up in the country and the north alone with my fears and frightening diseases and so much beyond the textbook becoming thankful for mentors and in with the heads of departments and deans who were the only ones that could answer my questions so complex and harrowing in the late of night. The nurse unable to get lines or oral with the girl seizuring so I told her to shove the valium up the anus and saved another life. So many celebrations and thanks and victories out beyond the wilderness.  Radio phones and bush planes and she was safe in the centre of her urban cocoon of the ‘middle class white gentile ‘team’.  I was a part of a motley crew from all over the world, exceptional sorts, female doctors who went on to serve in the arctic, nurses who flew around the world serving in war zones and outback’s, the Irish doctor and the English doctor, igloos and polar bears.  She asked me to take down the picture of the polar bear that I snapped before it ate me. She said it upset guests and didn’t belong in her house she’d painted pink. She wanted all my ‘junk’ in the basement.  I didn’t know what to make of this and frankly didn’t like her friends who didn’t like their husbands and men and they all talked so negatively of us and our avhievements and we were bullied and lost.

And the mind forgets the smell of her in the morning after a good weekend when she was happy and her mother hadn’t visitted and her sister and her had had a good time and I was not facing another exam or trying to find out the latest of the latest case of whatever by going through texts and journals. I read so much in those years. A half dozen medical journals cover to cover each week. Always studying .Always reading. Writing poetry and journals and playing guitar badly.  It was wonderful to go for coffee on Osborne and let out a sigh. I’d only have that time of meditation in the living room in the morning and late at night. Mostly I was on a treadmill with so many demands and we were running full speed in parallel and it was fun to drive to work with her when we were both in town and chat about whatever. She had such a lovely girl voice when we met. A sing song sweet voice that had fairy laughter woven into the fabric of it.  

I loved to kiss her and hold her. She was tall and slim and felt so perfect in my arms. Naked she was Venus.  Really.  That could be her stepping off of the shell. She touched my heart and soul.  I was another person. It was another time.  Another world. Another place. A fairytale princess and a young prince.  There were no children and she was pro abortion.  And I wondered what I was waiting for and why I was playing this game of barren house and accessorizing a little girls doll house.  I was so lost and confused before the nightmare really began.  I prayed and she didn’t like my talk of God and thought it silly.  She mocked me and I was unwelcome.  I never have stayed where I was unwelcome.  She was such a beatiful girl and person and we were seeing all the illness of th world thrown into the sickness and death and coming home trailing despair and disease trying desperately to love in the midst of illness and change.  

Seattle, May long weekend, Saturday

I could have been camping and bear hunting but the camper repair place and insurance have dithered since fall and I’m not outfitted.  This used to bother me but now I just change my plans.

I’d long planned a long weekend in Seattle.  I invited at friend for a girls weekend but they were busy with family. I had to settle on my beau Madigan whose a cockapoo and for any adventure.

I’d hoped to get away on Friday but there were too many errands so packed and dressed I headed out Saturday.  It was a 2 hour line up at the Pacific crossing.  I’m glad I hadn’t had a second coffee. 

The first rest area I pulled my Cooper Mini in for a break.  Madigan was definitely antsy and glad for a walk. I had a piddle as well.   Madigan is only one and a half years, not at all patient. He’d been quite put off by the long wait in line so it was good to give him a chance to stretch his legs.  I like this rest area. I’ve stopped so many time, in various vehicles, in various attire, summer, winter, on a motorcycle. Now I was on another adventure.

It was nearly 3 pm when I arrived at the Kimpton Hotel Monaco. There’d been traffic due to lane closures coming into Seattle. I stopped in front of the Hotel on 4th near University. 

“Staying with us,” called out the young man

“Yes, valet parking?” I called back.

“Yes, do you need a hand with your luggage, ma’am?”  He said. I was wearing a blue sundress and Rimmel red lipstick. 

“I should be fine, “ I hauled out my one big green eagle medium bag and slipped my purse and tech sack over my shoulder.  It was time to check. In. Madigan was glad to pee on the way to the door.  

Room 518. I’d phoned in the booking and glad to be here.  I’ve stayed at Kimpton’s often. Dog friendly.  

In the room I emptied my bags into the closet and drawers, putting the mess of toiletries in the bathroom.  I changed into the Reitman’’s season front cut skirt, blouse and pink striped jacket.  I was glad I’d remember my brown leather saddles. I’d forgotten the black buckled flats.  Just make up and ready.  Madigan always glad for an adventure.  

We walked down 4th to University then to first and took a left down to first where we saw Noi’s the Thai Restaurnt the conceiarge had recommended as dog friendly.

After I went back to the hotel and changed .  I had left the restaurant when I realized I needed a bathroom break but had Madigan along.  I’ve no problem using the men’s washroom dressed as a lady. I could have used the washroom at Noi’s.  My hotel room was only a few blocks so good excuse to head back.  Once there I was also able to change dresses. I’d packed a few so could mix and match and enjoy wearing clothing I’d accumulated through Covid. I shop at Amazon on line, of course.  Also I have clothing from Walmart,  En Femme and Reitman’s.  Part of the inspiration for a girl weekend was shopping for the spring fashions at Reitman’s this month.  Now I was walking all the way down First Street to Pioneer Square in yet another outfit.

. 

I came across  Parfumiere Nasreenat the Alexis Hotel and made my first purchase.  Such fun. A specialty Turkish perfume called Dilox. The scent will remind me of the weekend. It brought back my visit to Istanbul, the Sofia, the market and the exciting time I had touring that ancient city, formerly Constantinople.  Before Covid I brought a friend here and bought her one of the perfumes she’d said she so loved. A perfect gift!. 

I took pictures with my phone. I had a great time.  I’d fasted Friday so was glad to find Nois, the famed Thai restaurant recommended by the Monaco staff.  

I had this carpaccio type beef, called tiger, and a chicken salad.  Madigan was glad to have most of the beef while I enjoyed the spicy salad.  The weather was perfect for sitting outside, I loved the sun .

I loved the post Covid freedom. I loved being able to walk about in a sleeveless dress feeling the warmth of the sun and the slight breeze coming in from the ocean. The sea gulls were happy to patrol the streets looking for any food dropped around the outdoor cafe’s. Truly a blue sky day. Madigan sniffed everything.

Long Weekend

 I was really excited at the prospect of a four day weekend. I’ve been working Friday again catching up still from the month in Europe.  I’d hoped to be camping this weekend.  Today I’d even planned to be on the road.

Yet my mobility banking has failed for a week and I had to go into the bank to transfer money from accounts to Visa.  So many errands and so little time.  Friday is often an errand day just to support the work week.  

The bank didn’t solve the problem with mobility check in  but my other bank is doing fine.  

I’ve walked Madigan twice. He has a new hair cut from Cocoa’s and just shines.  I did some time in the hot tub and 10 lengths of the pool. It’s been helping my back.  I’m fasting.  

I did indeed handle some patient calls and dealt with pharmacy and another doctor. I’m not ever fully off. Which is why I like camping. I get off the grid.  I can answer calls on computer , wi if and cell but there’s nothing I can do immediately.It’s even better when I’m out of the country. Then I feel truly off.

Because the camper isn’t yet repaired due to Insurance and Sales people and general run around it’s not ready for this first camping weekend. Hopefully the June long weekend will be a camping weekend. Today I’d planned to do a trip across the border.  Shopping. The girls road trip with the guys sort of thing. I’m moving slowly in that direction.  It’s down to Madison and I.  

The sunshine here has been wonderful and I’ve enjoyed being outside and walking with Madison. I even thought of lying down in the lawn chairs. Maybe if I get moving I’ll still make the road trip but it may wait till tomorrow. I’ve thrown everything in the suitcase but figured I’d cull what I have rather than do all the heavy lifting. I’m overpacked when I do road trips and in the camper. Considering I did a month in Europe with a little airline bag I should be able to lighten up.  

I love that it’s a long weekend. I’m so enjoying the laid back ‘vibe’.  Summer I coming.  I’m ready.  So is Madigan with his short hair cut. 

Thank you Lord for this time.

 

The ugly

There’s a sense that humans are competing a lot. They may be but much of the time they’re not. Something called play may be a factor.

I was reflecting on the number of people who change their gender, male to female, or female to male. If we believe the Marxist feminists then men are superior and changing gender to male is an advantage but what of the men who change gender to female. I could accept the young where the attraction of being a sexy young woman without menstrual cycles and possibility of pregnancy might give one the possibility of advantage not just against their own sex but against men.  The slighter man shorter in a society where bigger huskier men have advantage might find success as a female. But he older male who is outwardly successful becoming an ugly woman who was gangly and really not competitive. What’s that?  Beautiful is in the eye of the beholder of course and it’s look shaming to consider the 6 foot 8 inch rug by player with the best of plastic surgery and make up and very nice clothes being at best able to compete with old Camille. She’s not going to be Lady Di and they both did get a prince.  I doubt this gives competitive advantage but rather comfort.

It’s like finding a tribe of trombone players in a world of violins.  There’s the recognition of difference and a life of fitting in but finally a desire to try to be the ballerina not for the audience  but for some thing inside oneself.  Of course there’s that sacred humour. An old lady takes up painting and/or violin and among her neighbours she’s welcomed not as Picasso or Luc Ponte but as one who is trying something new and frankly having fun. There’s a cage in the routine and learning new and rather useless things, quickly becoming antiquated in a world of dying romance and rising Maoism, the stockings and garter belt aren’t much.  Yet its light years ahead of the critic or those who judge.  The reformer is of course an enemy of anyone who benefits from the status quo.  

She’s been pretty and it’s served her.  Here comes an ugly and it’s a bit of mockery and well it’s not wanted.  People should stay in their place. The long hair and countless other challenges run counter to the militaristic norm MASH mocked.  Humour does that.  Hawkeye and BJ surgeons who were clowns and the understanding general and Klinger and a metaphor for medicine that has gone the way of the earth, bulldozed over by the need for a super intergalactic highway in the Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.  

I like wearing soft clothing. I really liked my first pair of stretch jeans and was shocked learn women weren’t having waist bands cut their bellies for some years before levy  dared allow a ‘relaxed’ waist.  

I would rather go nude and live with at most some shorts or a sarong on a beach in the tropics.  I’d not care if I was sexually approached by male or female, which ever one was going to lead on.  I’m so weary of leadership.  But of course I don’t particular trust the others.  Trust and belief and faith. All these are values that are worth reflecting on. It’s working for others but not for me. 

I’m waiting a lot these days.  For a phone call.  For a part. For a letter. I seem to have gone far ahead of the main body of the army.  One step ahead of the crowd you are a leader, two steps a Martyr.

I’m just bumbling along, a kazoo in the symphony wondering how I aimed for the top but now the top is corrupt and rotten and I want none of it. What can I do now that I’ve left the rat race and in the elder pool where people putter.  I’ve done enough to be respected.  I’ve got epaulets and such but I’d rather something else.  I don’t know what to do in this future and am again the explorer and adventurer.  I have a ship and I have geographical areas that I could experience but hiking through jungles doesn’t appeal to me. My sore back  has so much changed my outlook on life.  There is no joy and even fear in being on top. I may as well be in a wheel chair and yet I’m among people who don’t assist me despite my saying what I need. I feel betrayed and let down and imagine soon I’ll be in a wheel chair and hoping that a nurse or someone offers me a cup of tea because I wont be able to ask and I will depend upon someone initiating the conversation and coming to my assistance. I’ve been the doers and shaker and yet today I’m afraid.  

I’m left weak. I was only wanted strong. I expect the same will occur when I’m poor.  Aging isn’t much fun.  The emperor has no clothes.  

I wonder about these things and ask what it is that makes it all fun. Costumes and parties and the last hoorah.  The safety of anonymity.  The lack of expectation. The space.  I do enjoy the space.  I am certainly not invited to do another go at rugby or play any of the games of social form that I excelled in before and grew bored of. It’s hard to ‘chit chat’ at the best of times.  Someone really has to want to relate if they speak to the clown at the circus. There’s all the beautiful people and then there’s Cohen’s Beautiful Losers.

I’m not even sure where I am since I’ve been such a success considering the odds and the betrayals and denials.  There is no place for self pity and Andy Warhol said that everyone has only 20 minutes of fame and the perpetual victims have their own theatre and loudspeakers galore.  I am the introvert, the reflective one . Slouching towards writing.  

I could be bear hunting this weekend but instead I’ll hopefully write. Or at least explore and drive.  

I have some books to complete. 

I am thankful that God remains a fixture in my world and I meditate and pray and seek guidance and continue to trust God.  All shall be well. All shall be well . And All manner of things shall be well. 

Gratitude Monday

Thank you Lord for the coffee. Thank you lord for breasts and nipples, vaginas, cocks and all the naughty bits and taboos. Thank you for the spice in life, the mystery and suspence and thrills. Thank you for the dark and light. Thank you for the eclipse. Thanks for the sun and stars and rain. Thank you for this day.

Thank you for work and play. 

Thank you for bodies naked and entwined caressing sensuality.

Thank you for life and love. Thank you for the sleep and dreams. Thank you for wakefulness. Thank you for this day. Thank you for water and pools and showers. Thank you for cars and motorcycles.

Thank you for Madigan and early morning walks in the rain. Thank you for breathing and sweet after rain scents. Thank you for walking. Thank you for computers and tablets and iPhones and internet. Thank you for my fingers Lord.

Thank you for yesterday. Thank you for birth. Thank you for childhood and teen years and family and school and later years of university. Thank you for travel. Thank you for learning. Thank you for learning, Thank you for writing.

Thank you Lord for all your blessings.

Cleaning the refridgerator

I fasted yesterday.  I woke thinking of coffee and food.  I walked Madigan. He peed. I meditated for a short time. I was thinking of coffee and food. I found some bread and made toast. I seem to remember that breaking a fast is best with fruit. Certainly when I fasted for two week stretches only have orange juice and water I’d break my fast with salad and fruit. I figured peanut butter and jam on whole wheat toast  was close enough. 

Walking Madigan I was just between the rains.  It’s been spitting all morning. Cold and cloudy.  I had thought to insure my Harley and go for a ride today. I talked to Dave and he agreed waiting for more reliable sun was a better idea. 

I used to ask my Mom what to do when I was bored.  She’s say ‘why not clean your room.”  Mom was always inspirational.  I’d know then I didn’t want to clean the room and all the other choices would become more appealing. Dad used to say too, “if you’ve got nothing to do, why not clean the garage.”  I’d make myself scarce. Riding on my bicycle anywhere was a preferred past time.

I ended up cleaning the fridge today. It’s been a year I think. I had cleaners who I believe said they’d clean the fridge. Laura would say that was before Covid. I forget to add the two years of Covid to my memory. I was just surviving. I cleaned the fridge sometime, maybe a year ago.  It happens when the kitchen floor is flooding because the drain is blocked.  I found it blocked in the fridgerator. Once it was blocked at the back of the fridgerator.

It’s been 4 hours. It took two hours to clean everything out. I found some jars of stuff that must hid for several cleanings. I used to collect poisons and it looked like something from that era.  I found the bird wings I kept from last fall planning to teach Madigan to retrieve in the spring. He’s begun to take an interest in fetch. The trouble is one of the wing’s still had a bird attached so I’ll have to cook that well. It’s been frozen

I found a museum of ancient condiments jars. I  chucked them.  There were some dead lemons with fungus from outer space growing on them. If I’d not kept the door closed on the refridgerator this would surely have escaped one night and slid up my nose and smothered me.  I beat it with a stick before I put it in the trash. A dead potatoes became mush in my hand and felt like cadaver brain.  The smell wasn’t any too good.  An onion that had descided to sprout sometime last year was a bout of foot of greens.  I don’t usually go down in that box.  I just use it to put the fresh potatoes and carrots on. Some escape to the bottom, it seems.  I know people who would count the potatoes and carrots in the bag so thisi didn’t happen. I’m not one of those people.  

There’s Al Gore’s Arctic Ice Cap in the back of the freezer. I’ve had to put a heater in the fridge to keep it embarrassing the rich con artist fool fear monger. If it got out of my freezer it would be just another reason they changed the term ‘global warming’ to ‘climate change’.  I always think voters were never taught history.  They don’t even know horse racing.  The IPCC, Strong’s communist weapon, wins if it’s hot or wins if it’s cold.  A Trilliaon dollars and a whole lot of money has changed hands.  Lots of climatology jobs and everyone is afraid and wanting more government control. “The sky’s falling!!!! Give me more money!!!!”.  

So that’s the opportunity on the macroscopic level. Now on the electron microscope level there’s another crisis turned into a political opportunity. The history students will remember that the taxes for the war and income tax and such followed a crisis then never went away.

A cynic is just a realist today who used to be an idealist.

I’m watching the theatre of the absurd in politics and don’t know what’s better the Kardasians or Ottawa Parliament.

It’s been 2 hours thawing the Arctic Ice Cap. The arctic ice cap is still there.  I hear from friends who I know that it’s not changed.  I also hear their are more polar bears and I’m never short of honey.  The media lies.  The disinformation and misinformation is radical.  Propaganda constantly passing as news.  I’m beginning to trust what I know, mostly each day, one day at a time. I’m trying to keep my head in the same room as my arse, as my Canadian military sergeant friend once told me. Then I’m doing an expansion on Descartes ‘cogito ergo sum’ to include what my trusted friends and family have seen.  I’ve been to Russia, Moscow and St. Petersburg and know they exist. I’ve not been to the Ukraine but I have a Ukrainian friend who tells me her family are fighting the Communist Russians.   Communism is Marxist war philosophy.  Marx recommended perpetual war till his ideas won.  The Muslim religion of peace is kind of similar. There will be Peace when Muslims are in control.  I like the Christians , Hindus and Buddhists and Pagans who are trying desperately not to be persecuted.  Christians are the most persecuted religions with their god being crucified by the government and church. I’m convinced mothers in space let their teen age kids take the saucers for a spin only if they promise not to go near Earth. We’re definitely a bad neighbourhood.

I was on my knees behind Kirk Laidlaw read to kiss my ass good bye in a nuclear strike during the Kennedy Khrushchev Missile Crisis.  I like that Hiroshima has recovered but I’ve known patients who have had radiation poisoning, skin diseases, thyroid conditions, cancers because their Navy had them stand on boats and watch nuclear explosions.  

I’m finally done my genealogy study on my own. I know I’ve got some Neanderthal.  Despite the big shoulders and such for jumping on the backs of dinosaurs I think they’re the peacenick genes.  The human genes are the aggressive genes. We survived by being sneaky warlike and deceitful.  Neaderthal’s were wiped out.  I’m waiting for the lawyers to compensate me for the genocide of my ancestors.  You really can’t make this stuff up.  But the fact is my genetic make up is part flower. I was called  a ‘flower child’ when red necks were shooting guns at me and calling me a long haired hippy girl .  Some chased me through the woods with baseball bats.  I expect they’ve become CEO’s of tobacco companies.  I accept now they were right. I am convinced I have flower genes. I’m literally happy and blossom when the sun is out and wilt and close up like today when it’s rainy and cloudy again.  

I will be pleased when this refridgerator task is done.  4 hours, though two of it has been the freezer.  I have to keep sponging out the bottom.  Not much longer.  I think the take home from this experience is clean fridge before the Lilliputiatians erect a ski resort in my freeze.

Then I ‘ll take the dog for a walk and think of the beautiful flowers, the birds singing, my friends and family with babies and dogs.  I’ll even enjoy thinking about cats.  I loved talking to an older person the other day.  I love the green of spring. For a trillion dollars the climate change shits could have at least got the rain to happen at night or during the work week. I’ve got a nuclear physicist in the family and I tell him I’m still waiting for a nuclear power plant for my Harley. It’s not like I have much use for reproductive organs when what I really would prefer is power.  

I ‘m waiting for the brass band to celebrate this personal achievement.  Thank God for small mercies and blessings. I always say thank you in my prayers for the air.  We take air for granted.  I like air. Breathing is a hoot.  I love taking deep breaths walking the dog.  Thank you for the air God.  Thank you for the breath of life.  Thank you Jesus. 

  

Blue Sky in May

I have returned from walking Madigan. He’s now enthusiastically waiting for breakfast treats not knowing I’ve decided to fast today. I have my coffee and orange juice but no protein bar or yoghurt to share. Certainly no bacon or eggs

I’ve more work this morning.  Working helps me procrastinate about cleaning away winter clutter and tidying. I’m thinking I’ll learn to pull this big rig and to do that I will need to stow. 

I’ve been focussing on truth , that which I know is not hearsay but what I’ve experienced or even heard first hand by trustworthy reputable human source. I learned that Descartes did something similiar.  Knowledge.  Then there is memory.  What I know and what I believe. I’ve journals for this and yet there is little need to consult them. The liars persist in lying even when confronted with the truth and the courts continue to put politics before justice.  Even now there is censorship at all levels.

I’m happy this morning. I woke from good dreams, more of the peninsula and this time I had an apartment and looked out at the sea.  There is hope.  I had the back pain getting out of bed but walking it was gone.  It’s just the transition from lying to standing.  I’ve applied Balm of Ilead again. I’d wanted to go to the chiropractor now that I know the X-ray has nothing new.  Yet I let the deluge of work this week with the despearate and angry demands over ride my own needs quite again.  I miss the personal staff who once protected me by ensuring and remembering to not put two vampires consecutively. I was drained of energy before one morning ended and shuddered to face the afternoon.

I’ve been enjoying the dog walks with the black and white gang. Our little dogs, Dave’s Emory, Peter’s Luka and Bella.  Men walking and talking. Kind of like those A&W coffee meets of old men but here we’re walking and the dogs are happy in the gang.  I’m so much alone with work that the casual conversation is a treat.  Billy joined us talking about singing in the choir and his girlfriend .  He’s in his 80’s.  We’re older. George called and is helping. The other George has countless stories and experiences.  I worry about Murray and must call him. Barry called but didn’t leave a message. 

I’m connected this way.  I touch people and am touch.  We text and share social media as well.  

Each day I appeal to God.  I ask God what is my purpose. I ask for guidance. I would know God more clearly. I’m able to sense God .  God is an experience not so much an idea. I feel the presence of God. To do this I just have to detach from immediate cares and get out of the worries and fretting. Today I was just looking at the blue sky behind the clouds. Contemplating.  I was absent from myself for a bit there.  The ego is back of consciousness and the self and over self emerge.  

My mind is so often on tasks and improvements and things to do.  Business. I’ve been thinking of licensing my Harley or trading it in. I really would like to have my camping trailer. Frazerway has had it in their shop since last November and two insurance claims of $30,000 have been made but they wanted more money and frankly I don’t believe it’s worth it. They sold it to me and Laura and I heard their salesman promise there was no water damage. That’s a ‘precondition’ which was at issue in a previous rig so we were adamant about obtaining assurance about that.  I think he even said they peel back places and made sure there was no damage before selling the unit. The seals were checked by Erik that sumner.  I have my seals checked each year.  Then Frazerway said the seals needed to be checked every 3 months and no where is it suggested RV owners climb up on the roof and check the seals .  So the insurer is saying the water damage is pre existing but pre-existing the accident but that could only be a month to when the assessment was done but when the repair folk talk it’s like it’s months and years and they seem to suggest that they can tell the difference between 1 month of water damage and now it’s 6 months or more in their yard damaged so I really can’t see how they can know by observation and accuracy that the ‘pre existing occurred in 1 3 or 6 month.  The point remains they sold it to me ‘without water damage’. It’s only a couple of years since I bought it and now they’re saying this $40,000 unit has need of essential $50,000 repairs and I need to pay $20,000  more. It’s obviously a whole lot of ‘clever’ buck passing and I’m deluged with patients knowing that all my life I’ve worked under market value when I’m not doing charity work because of the ‘clever’ and quite inferior business work sorts nickel dining and playing insurance games.  I hate to think I’ve got to get a lawyer to deal with this sociopathy because they would rather wheel and deal than actually work but it weighs on me. I told this insurance company that I would have to ask a lawyer to deal with this because it’s no distracting and soul destroying. I hate the betrayal by the company. Either the water damage occurred after the accident or was there when Fraserway sold it.  I’d settle for parity but to have this abuse of elderly. We don’t have the potential years that these hustlers have and I can’t sell a unit in their garage.  

Given the St. Michael the avenger statue on the wall I know that God doesn’t want a good doctor abused and the consequence of the betrayal and deceit is as usually their themselves and their families being cursed for their evil.  It’s always happened. I look back my back trail and see all these cases of disease and don’t think it’s just me but the mental state that has one conniving is sickness inducing. Further as I’m a nice guy when this is done to me then it’s likely they must have done this to really bad people and a whole ‘list’ so the attraction of evil incarnate they have explains the apparent ‘random’ bad luck they experience. I don’t wish this on them though if I’ve cursed someone they see to be cursed by so many. I pray for my enemies and struggle to let go of resentments so that I can focus on healing but with the devolution of Canada to a communist dictatorship under an aethest pervert criminal the most unethical idiot in our history it’s hard to let go of resentments.  Jesus was killed by government and church .  We get the government we deserve.  I pray for healing and for all to be better.  All shall be well, all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well.  I will consult my mentors and the multimillionaires and those in construction and the judges and MP’s soon to see if I need a champion or advocate. I expect these folk are just scared and recovering from Covid and God will solve this conundrum. I may just license my Harley and get some wind therapy so I’m not distracted in my meditation by the distractions.

I really am blessed. My home is good here. I have to clean the fridge.  I shook out the carpet and cleaned the living room floor. I cleaned the toilet this week and last so I’m managing. There is clutter. My run to the storage locker was good.  I might have to consider another. It’s the weekend and I worry about losing potential errand and work time by whittling it away reading.  I have been thankful for my increased walks and swims.  

Right now I’m trying to get the apps and passwords working again on the replacement iPad,  It’s another task done.  I am thankful for this new iPad but hate waiting on the phone to deal with assistance. Yesterday a n hour on the bank addressing their online password,  Even the help couldn’t help and I was thorough frustrated by the offensiveness of their security people. I forget that the paranoids and sociopaths are employed and I only see the worst of them in my office. Whole industries celebrate paranoia especially now that there is war in Ukraine.  It’s like the constant threat of the skies falling. Now we’re back to being threatened by nuclear war to add to global warning and Covid.  There’s just not enough space in my mind and heart to handle the level of government hysteria and greed. I struggle to reassure patients they’re not going to die today and it’s okay to go outside and visit and yes wear a mask and yes get a vaccine but increasingly these are little more than burning sage the way the government arts students interpret the sciences and the lies and outright fraud in the sciences makes it all seem greed.  I continue to take vitamin D and pray for the sun.  I laugh to think that if Trump had been wholly pro vaccine and made a campaign for it then half of America would have rejected vaccines because of political affiliation. It’s seems to me the left wing moves emotionally and the right wing move intellectual meanwhile I’m afraid of the body of the bird where the beak and claws are an that great ever growing cancerous belling of the Beast of Government

I want to know more joy so must think of media and government less and focus more on the blue sky The sun has come out this morning. Hallelujah.

Thank you God for the sun, for skin, for air and blood and healthy hearts and healing and the children and the mothers and the parents and the fathers and the family and the friends. Thank you for the dogs and cats and safe homes.  Thank you for clean water. Thank you for all your blessings.  

Sunday, Sunshine, Swim, Walk

Madigan woke me at 6 am. I went back to sleep and woke at 9.  It was too late for church. I”d not thought I’d go anyways.  I never know what to wear.  I thought instead to walk and swim.  I had coffee.  I even roast Ethiopian Yergicheff beans.  I did another load of laundry. Last nights still not quite dry. I’m waiting now to hang up the wash as it’s done but I ‘ve not place to hang it yet. 

I sat in the hot tub and swam 14 lengths.  I actually swept the floor and shook out the rugs.  I have this binges of domesticity every other month. I need a cleaning lady but each time I’ve approached one the deal falls through, not through cost but some issue of theirs. I miss those who cared for me for years. Now I’m lucky to get someone for spring cleaning.  I keep thinking it’s CERB’s and such. Why work when you can stay home.  Covid did disrupt a lot. I’m at home and working and it hasn’t changed. I did have a holiday, I paid for, a month of visiting museums and art galleries and self treating the sadness and disillusionment and burn out I experienced with the questionable Omnicron response and the war between Russia and Ukraine.  

The disinformation and misinformation persist along side the outright censorship and the recent obscenity of Dictator Trudeau’s war measures act It’s all theatre of the absurd. I try to avoid media and politics.   

I’m interested in longevity research.  Metformin , interesting, a type 2 biabetes medication that reduces weight and increases health and longevity. I like the idea of fasting and increased exercise.  I’ve been feeling better with this. Even eating salads. I must get over late night snacking.  I’ve been enjoying first the Vikings and now the Last Kingdom.  Mayb e it’s the masculine protagonists.  I find the desire to leave this male identity and go off on a female identity adventure becomes less with the seasons of the moon and the shows I watch.  The mainstream tv is such a destruction of the white male justified on the past but there aren’t synagogues and mosques burning in Canada today but churches. The tv is pillorying men. Ageism against men and women is rampant. Marxist divided and conquer with its favouritism and historic revisions Im.

Sweden fell. The leadership say that the Merkel invasion of the Moslems has become and occupation.  A bit late. I’ve always wanted immigration by the South Americans and moderate Muslims. Trudeau hates catholics and prefers radicat terrorist Muslims.  I like Hindus and Buddhists but no we get immigrants that want gays killed and women not to wear bikinis. I want to wear bikini’s in solidarity.  

I’m reading another science fiction. I think the old rigid gender roles made sense before Marxist feminism.  Now abortion is the issues.  Roe versus wade is being re thought and I can’t say that young women want children but can’t afford them . While girls cry about not having a man or family while a fat man laughs as his 12 wives and 30 children live off our generosity. These are extremes. Who knows what’s true given the censorship

Climate change proponents still swagger about despite all their claims being kayboxhed.  The world hasn’t ended. War causes more planetary environmental damage but the nation lives for war.  Double speak

I’m happy in a hot tub,

i ‘m glad I fixed the scope on my riffle and am now happy with that gun. I’ve charged up the Electroglide and will get it insursured. It was good advise from Dave to ride it to Chilliwack and back and see if I’m ready to give it ups I wasn’t to test ride a Street Bob.

I’m considering getting my license to pull the big trailer but would like to trade it in for a smaller trailer . I should sell my boat. I keep thinking downsize.  it’s aging and weakening. I could be hunting bear but my camper is still in the shop and I don’t know when it will be written off or restored, I’m in limbo waiting. I’m working. Paying off the government taxes and visas. I’m even going into the clinics.  I like working from home most.  I plan to spend a month later this year in the south and don’t know which rig I’ll take south, Virtual workation. In spring anothe3r month of winter to reduce the burden of depression.  I’m looking forward to a shopping trip in Mexico too.   Madigan will like the trip.   I’m hoping to be in the same park as Peter and Larry in San Diego though I’d’ wanted to go to Yuma for the dessert air. Maybe I’ll take a week or so coming home there to compare.  The ocean is attractive but I want the dry air for my sinuses and lungs .  I become too ill in the wet winter here and really like working but need to attend to preventative health issues.  Pneumonia is the old man’s friend but I’m not ready to die.  I’m too blessed.

Thank you Jesus for the sunshine today, Thank you for the3 swim’s . Thank you for Madiga.

it’s Mother’s Day. Thank for the Mothers. Thank you Mom. My mother was as a saint and amazing and I really miss her. I appreciate my parents more and more as I age. I look forward to living longer than they did. That would be good with the health they had till the last years.  They loved their 70’s and 80’s.  

I keep thinking I’m supposed to write a book or three and yet don’t get round to it. So many thinks vy for my time and interest and attention,  

 

Gratitude, Wednesday

Thank you Lord for another day. Thank you for Madigan. Thank you for my bed and the heat, indoor plumbing and tools.  Thank you for the fresh air in the morning. I so enjoy taking a deep breath outside walking Madigan. Thank you for the colours. Thank you for the scents after rain. Thank you for the ex wives. Thank you for the old friends and childhood. Thank you for this day and tomorrow. Thank you for coffee and oranges. Thank you for honey. Thank you for friends. Thank you for lovers. Thank you for my eyes Lord. Thank you for family. Thank you for children and babies. Thank you for music. Thank you for memories. Thank you for hope. Thank you for vehicles.  Thank you for cars and trucks and motorcycles and scooters. Thank you for boats and sailing. Thank you for countryside and cities. Thank you for culture and old masters. Thank you for all your blessings. Thank you for being there, here and everywhere.  Thank you for faith and presence. Thank you for the fae.  Thank you for the sensuality, sexuality, intellectualism and emotions and social awareness. Thank you for sobriety and joy. Thank you for books. Thank you for creativity. Thank you for gummy vitamins and Advil.  Thank you for the internet and television.  Thank you for technology and flight. Thank you for NASA. Thank you for post covid. Thank you for the investigations into the fraud and theft and corruptions in government and agency. May there be justice, Lord.  Thank you for Law and Order and Peace.  Guide me in the coming days and week.  Help me to be camping again and prepare me for what it to come.  Thank you Lord for all your blessings. God is good. All of the time. 

Gratitude and Dreams

Thank you Lord for Gratitude and Dreams.  Thank you for this life. Thank you for the blossoms.

Plum and cherry blossoms

Lay like confetti along the trail

After thee wedding of earth and sky’s

Orgasmic rapture, moans and explosive rain

Nature had fun last night

While I slept and dreamed

I remembered her in mini skirts

I loved her laughter as we bicycled

Her long velvet gown at the ballet was beautiful

I was ever distracted by her breasts

She is there in a kaleidoscope of satin and lace

Perfumes and phenomes

There is no regret as I wake smiling from witches haze

Poor and old but rich in memories of youth.

Yes, I saved lives. Yes I sacrificed. Yes I studied and was on call.

But what I’m most greatful for is the feel of you in my arms

Your softness and beating heart against my nakedness

I only wish I’d spent more time in your embrace.

Now morning sends the night back with dreams

I awake to a new day.  I walk the dog and he pees 

All along the confetti strewn trail.

I believe he has a better life today but I have better dreams

And more to make

Come along little monkey mate 

I’ll get us breakfast and take you with me to work

Another day.

Thank you Lord for this sacred day, the miracles and magic and the Beltane

We suffered with Jesus on the cross remembering the banality of evil and the pompous men in fine clothes, judging.

Must I judge too.  I would rather float away in the embrace of Mary Magdalene, remembering. 

God is good all of the time.  I have such faith and trust in Creator.  What name has God?  Jesus Christ, Holy Spirit, Yahweh.  

I am made in the image of God.  When I look in the mirror I see a face and in that face is a kernel of truth.

The holographic message.  Smile.  Really. Just smile. Smile. And Give thanks. 

May

May is the month of sunshine and warmth.  April showers are past.  I want to go camping. I think Sun Dresses.  Seeing them even wearing them. Most I  enjoy the young bouncing and flouncing. The winter clothing challenges the aging body.  I’m longing for the lightness of being. My spirit is gay and my ideas range to all manner of activities. I dream activity. But I wake and my body aches. Not so much as to limit the age appropriate things.  But there is no way I’m going to wear a sun dress or twerk.  Im not going to climb a mountain today. I’m not going to be a soldier either.  I’m divided into lover and fighter and fear the fighter is gone.  There’s still some energy left for lover. I divide these into gender as well.  I look back on a life of fighting for good against evil.  Saving and protecting women and children.

I could be bear hunting but why. I once wanted to shoot big game and eat wild meat. I’ve done my share. Now I think I need to eat more fish and vegetable.  That’s aging.  

I’m thinking of trading in my big electroglide Harley for a Street Bob. The latter is lighter and has more versatility. I bought the big bike to drive to Sturges. I did that 5000 km roundabout trip and loved it. I did some more long distance camping trips and loved it. I have a vespa and I like that. It’s simply functional and  gets me where I’m going.  I’ve a truck and camper.  Even though I think I’d like a truck without the long box , the truck and camper are better camping than the motorcycle and pup tent. Older I like comfort and even  luxury.  

I’ve always been with beautiful women who liked bubble baths lotions, and scents.  They’ve spent hours each day give or take pampering. My psychoanalytic instructor called that  preening female masturbation.  Self love. A world of wankers.  I was always au hombre functional mode. I don’t even relax for long on a beach. If I’m not deep in meditation or reading I’m caring for someone. Not so much anymore. My marriage was drone bee and queen.  Always I sexually served the mostly passive judgmental complaining orgasmic woman. I was the classic top.  I wanted her to be pleased. I wanted to please her. I wanted her not to be angry or moody or depressed. I’d lived so long in the world of attitudes and passive aggression and manipulations and rolled eyes. .  I just did whatever to get the knives out of my heart. When she was sated sexually she could go back to sleep and I could get back to the garage. I loved the garage as much as I was criticized by her for spending my time there. I loved making things. I loved later writing.  So I bought her things and threw money at her and tried to keep her happy because she was always unhappy like their mothers, always critical of me. Their mothers were the same.  Now I think it’s identification with the agressor.

I’d rather go to the nail salon that hike about the woods with a rifle looking to kill a bear. I killed bear . I ate bear. I really enjoyed climbing mountains and hauling game back to the truck.  Now I’m happy to sit in the hot tub. I love jacuzzis.  I love healing hot springs.  At some level I’ve nothing to prove. I’m good with God. God is good all of the time. Now I say I work to give my dog a good life.

I’m thinking of trading my heavy sniper 300 winmag rifle and long distance  in. I gave away my American RugerMini 11 because Testicless Trudeau outlawed that rifle but allowed the Canadian and Israeli semi autos. I miss the rifle and load. I liked target practicing and shooting rabbits with that rifle. I don’t plan to shoot game long range any more. I’ve no need of a rifle that shoots 800 yards. I’d be exhausted walking to the kill, let alone getting it back to the truck. I’ve my deer rifle. It’s shot 90 % of my big game and will do. I like the 300 win mag as back up but a 223 as back up will do.  The irony is the American rifle Testicless Trudeau outlawed took 223.  The other rifles all take NATO 5.56 load which is not really for hunting but Testicless Trudeau doesn’t outlaw those rifle. It’s just money.  I don’t really need to do that. I can target practice with a 22.   But that’s where my mind goes on default, the resentment and how to get a lighter rifle I might use more than the back up.  I also considered an over under 306 or 3030 and 20 gauge. I’m always looking for the one stop shopping, the bird and deer gun the city and country bike,etc.

I think about a lighter smaller RV. I think about a lighter smaller Boat. My mind is on minimalization and lightening up. I took things to the storage locker where I see I could easily downsize but I don’t want to be indoors going through a locker. I did that a couple of years ago and went from two lockers to one. Most of the locker is office related and seasonal clothing and such.  I miss Mexico where I had shorts and a sarong and t shirts and only spear fished. I loved spear fishing though worried about sharks. I should fish more. ‘I’Ve been saying that for the last three or four years having bought several little inflatable fishing boats over the years with the idea of trolling in mind.  I loved ocean fishing but lack thepatience for floating about on a lake or even casting now.

I like partridge hunting with the 20 gauge riding about on the Honda ATV.

I actually liked ocean fishing because I could travel from island to island at 3 knots trolling and catch salmon and ling cod while going from anchorage to anchorage. I loved the autopilot , drinking coffee, tanning, sightseeing  and reading while I was travelling and fishing. I’d like to drag a line behind the motorcycle or car and catch something equivalent , maybe rabbits and have food when I stopped.

I imagine the western days with riding horses and shooting a deer from the saddle with the 30:30 rifle and then roasting steak by the campfire. Today I’d rather be served steak in a fine restaurant. 

I missed church.  I walked the dog and put on sweats to go outside. Dressing is a challenge. When I got back home I dropped the sweats and got comfortable in underwear and tshirt.  Boyshorts the girls call them. Stanfields is what guys call them.  I wouldn’t walk outside in underwear but if there was a delivery I wouldn’t necessarily pull on the sweats. Mostly I would but I haven’t cared to get the pizza in underwear.  Mom always wanted us to have clean underwear.  That’s why I liked Mexico. The sailing shorts and t shirt or sarong an t. Shorts or sarong  covered every occasion, being on the boat, dock, beach or even dining out at night. I never had to worry about covering my ass but rather I had to remember the tshirt and sandals because of the no shirt no shoes no service beach establishment signs.  No signs for no bottoms.

I was raised on stoicism.  I’m now more epicurean. I did a few intermittent years of hedonism, after a couple of divorces , descending into weekends of partying but mostly I still climbed hills, did kayaking and lots of time alone with the dog and a tent and a rifle or fishing rod.  I worked with people all week and weekends I liked to get away and admittedly I liked female company so I skied and danced and did all those things that led to a wonderful night in bed . Sex was great. Mostly  I liked one person.I had had a best friend.  Dog and girl.  

I don’t have any desire for winter. I don’t like going out . I don’t want to encounter crisis and danger. Even yesterday I almost caused an accident letting my mind wander on a motorcycle.  If I’m not concentrating I’m dead.  I liked Covid.  Delivery and pick up food. I got into a habit of staying home.  Dressing the way I liked. Casual. Working on the computer, meeting neighbours causally.  Retirement age and the world around it is like high school summer breaks.  There’s not a sense of upward mobility or competition. Most are trying to get by with what they are.

I never thought I’d live long enough to retire.  I did all the dangerous assignments.  I lived a full life.

I’m okay now.  If I had a garage I’d be building again.  I might have to get back into more little projects. Or take another course. I have books to complete but procrastinate. I could go swimming.  I think I’ll make another coffee and lie down and read.

Thank you God for this all, the mundane, rather effete, no work Sunday. A day of rest.  It is that. Last night watching tv and eating pizza.  I expect I’ll have an inspiration again. Theses doldrums pass.  I would be glad for sun and I could lie outside and read. It’s still sort of drizzly.  

Meanwhile Elon Musk Bought Twitter.  Russia wars with Ukraine making billions for arms dealers and innovation. Nothing like coming up with better ways to kill each other gets the creative juices going.  More erotic romance novels are being sold The pressure on men is seen in the viagra sales.  I had a yoghurt and Cliff protein bar for breakfast.  An identity change would give new purpose. I’m coasting now.  Covid took the wind out of the sales.  Meaning and purpose need to be explored.

 Yes to know God, to love God and love my neighbour as myself.  It’s okay. I’m doing okay.  Travel and writing is fun.  I’m looking forward to that.  Swimming in a lake is fun. I haven’t got down to the beach in years and might consider that.  I have lots to explore locally. Even dog parks.  My puppy likes riding on the back of motorcycle and motorscooters.  

Time to read. 

Chickendinner last week

  

He got his vaccination and tick and flea meds yesterday