C Market Coffee

I was inspired to get off the couch when Laura texted me that she, her sister and brother in law had gone for a Sunday drive to Squamish.  Madigan and I had walked in the neighborhood but here was an opportunity to get out. They laughed because that’s what ‘old people did.’ They used Molly the dog as camouflage.I decided on a local Sunday drive with Madigan.

I’m glad we did.  I found C Market Coffee with its outdoor seating.  There are so many terraces and patio’s in the city, especially on Commercial .  In the ‘burbs’ there aren’t as  many. Also the people watching isn’t nearly as exciting.  Still this is a find.

Fabulous coffee and as elegant cafe dining as could be desired.  It’s minimalist and light. The eggs Benedict had sold out this Sunday morning.  The menu is excellent for breakfast, brunch and lunch.  Lots of take out too,.  \

Despite having re purposed a bit of parking it was quiet and the air was cleaner than the city.  

We’re happy. The Egg Croissant with avocado, egg, lettuce, tomato and bacon was delicious .  Madigan was there to help with some of the bacon too. The Coffee bun was moist and delicious.  I felt like I was back in one of my San Francisco or New York haunts.  

As a dog owner I’ve become dependent on Blenz and Starbuck’s outdoor seating for destinations with my dog. I’ve been an epicurean snob and loved the atmosphere that Starbucks capitalized on. The American diner is fine now but when trucks stops and fast food joints were the only offering of coffee, the higher priced coffee was worth it for the ambience and conversation.  

Madigan likes it here too.  Who would have guessed. He likes coffee cake. 

 

Ethiopia - Lalibela - Traditional Coffee

Ethiopians maintain that coffee was first drunk here and recognized for his energy giving potency. Khalid the goat herder found it in Ethiopia goes the apocryphal tale. By 15th century coffee was drunk in Yemen’s Sufi Monasteries.  Coffee beans were first exported from Ethiopia to Yemen and Yemen was part of the extensive Axumite kingdom.
I do love the ritual and ceremony in the village.  With Endy, my guider the Yemrehanna Kristos Monastery by Bilbilla we stopped for coffee in the village after the climb to the cave church. I bought a silver Lalibella cross in the gift store there and did enjoy the unintrussive sales man.  The people overall in Lalibella have all been nice and non aggressive. I loved taking pictures on the drive up on the country side, where mud huts and grass roots.  Cattle, goats, sheep,  donkeys,  mules and chickens were everywhere to be seen.  Also little children waving.  Men with picks and shovels. Women with water buckets and bags on their necks and backs.
There was road construction with a relatively new dump truck and a plow being used. machinery being unusual in the rural land dominated by human power.
The fig trees and abyssinian bush was all over the land.

Thomasina's Cafe, Bistro and Bakery, Princeton, BC

I love Thomasina's Cafe in Princeton.  Laura and I found it first last year and looked forward to returning.  Great coffee ,great meals, great service, and great atmosphere.  We sat outside on the street with Gilbert watching the world of Princeton pass by.  The picturesque bridge leading to Tulameen a lovely view.

The coffee shop idea was made famous by Starbucks and Blenz but I remember the first one I encountered was in Marin County California. No doubt they developed in a lot of places in the late 70’s and 80’s. They were a distinct creation akin to the development of the English pub.

The Turkish coffee shop went back to the 1700’s but was really a place for men to smoke and drink. I loved the ones I visited in Istanbul.This western coffee shop idea was distinctive in it’s feminine elegance.  Thomasina’s decor is light and thoughtful.

The unique western coffeeshop often family owned, certainly has none of the factory efficiency of marvellous McDonald’s with it’s excellent McCafe coffee. Thomasina's had a much more refined ambience.

The trucker diner coffee was more about the meals and cowboys.   The coffee was at times questionable. The English tea house was all about the fine Wedgewood china and exotic teas. Living in London I did enjoy these.  In Victoria the Empress Hotel still has a fine high tea service. The western coffeehouse seemed to take off from this with an emphasis on coffee. In Amsterdam the coffeeshop was all about marijuana. It was hard to write at my laptop with all the second hand smoke.

Thomasina's Cafe not only serves a variety of coffees including the cappucino’s we enjoyed daily but also has fresh baked baquettes and muffins.  Locals came and went each day we were there clutching to their hearts loaves of fresh baked bread and pastries.  It was like a little sliver of Paris. The bread we had was utterly delicious.  They have a gelato and ice cream bar too.

They also sold local hand poured soy candles. We bought a sage grass one and burned it all week in our Riverside Cabin enjoying the rich fragrance it gave our room each night.  But candles and hand made pottery mugs are consistent with the western feminine coffeehouse theme.   I don’t believe these coffeehouses could had developed before the 60’s. They’re faintly reminiscent of times when girls wore flowers in their hair.  Then they really took off with computers and iPhones.

Thomasina's had the added bistro with quiche we loved and other sandwiches and light repastes. 

I remember the very first one of these coffeehouses that migrated to  Bombai.  It took a decade in an era when a decade was what it took for a meme to move around the world. Today given the internet and almost universal television the time is sometimes only days or weeks.   All the other cafe’s and restaurants in  the city now called Mumbai  were distinctly Indian yet here was this one cafe with white walls, flowers, special coffees and a touch of Marin elegance.  There were beautiful educated young ladies in colourful saris chatting safely. It was the mid 80’s. I think they served chai tea but I remember the espresso. With sufficient hot water this powerful brew was called an Americano. 

 It wasn’t long before the Starbuck’s chain became part of the Jetsetter routine.   Sitting in Thomsina I could be anywhere in the world and those sitting there with me might have flown in from any first world destination. Only the middle and upper classes would pay the price of designer coffees knowing they were paying as much for peace and atmosphere. Where the Starbucks has lost much of it’s original panache, the small family based coffee shops catering to local needs and to passing tourists have excelled.

I love these places for connecting to the internet.  The internet cafe’s were dominated by the digital geek while Thomasina retains the centrality of coffee, conversation and a light meal.  It’s omelettes were simple and unsurpassed.

In Winnipeg the first of these elegant third spaces developed in Osborne Village.  I remember leaving a week of medical call, emergency and obstetrics, to enjoy a light lunch in the Village.  It was such a reprieve from the hustle.  Sometimes the cafe’s have had the international papers. They’re 20th and 21st century creations, the best of the best.  

Thomasina’s made Laura and my stay in Princeton all that much better, especially being able to sit outside on the patio with our little dog reminiscing about our patio dining in Rome.  There vespas drove by us whereas in Princeton it was Harley's.

Journal Jan. 11, 2016

Jan. 9, 2016
I am sitting in Blenz.  I love Blenz.  Great coffeeshop with good wifi.  I’ve just been to another meeting.  Cakes. It’s the time of year of New Year Resolutions.  The winners are celebrating.  It’s not all dregs and remorse.  Losers never pick them up. They stop trying.  Some even deny the journey. TheY lay in wait like trolls to discourage travellers.  Yesterday and today I celebrated with the celebrants.
Jan. 11, 2016
I’m sick with this infernal flu.  Yesterday and most of Saturday in bed. The nose is a faucet. My sinuses are swamps.  I’m exhausted simply going to the washroom. I’ve had antihistamines and fluids and Laura made me chicken noodle soup.  She’s walked Gilbert.  He’s licked my face. I’ve slept and watched tv and moaned. My body aches.  I took tylenol for the headache.  I figure the trigger was the complaint, a man who relapsed on drugs and alcohol and blames the drastic turn for the worse his life took on everyone but his dealer and himself. He’d been doing so well for several years, a true success until he relapsed. Now he bites the hand that feeds.  Blames all the doctors.  Threatening and abusive.  Wants to hurt everyone.  Wants money.  It’s sad but I’’ve been through this before.  I’ve seen how well people can be when they stop drugs and know the temptation when all is going well to just dabble a bit.  But one drink leads to 10 and the shit storm starts.  But it’s so much work to deal with the anger and destruction.  I had enough work. Frankly I was overworked. I’ve no reserve.  Age and family concerns seem to leave me unable to give another quart of blood at the office.  I’ve given 200% for years and now old and weary I don’t see any reward in this obsessiveness.  I lose faith in my self and the system.  The criminals are the politicians are rewarded more than the workers.  It’s hard to separate them given that they’re getting paid from the general revenue of ‘vice tax’.  Corruption we thought was in Africa is now full blown here.  I’m feeling like the last boy scout but more like a  cub scout.
David Bowie died today.
Cologne gang rapes by Migrant North African and Middle Eastern are blamed on all men and German men especially. I can’t wait till Feminists are required to pay for their decades of ‘slander’.  Everyone is using terms like racist and sexist but Mr. Drosang the former NDP Premier of BC asked quite astutely why multiculturalism ‘excludes white culture’.  Dr. Flamengo put out a video “I’m an anti feminist’ saying that the women’s liberation I fought for was ‘egalitarian’ but today feminism is just sexist anti male privilege with campus girls becoming bullies.
North Korean tested an hydrogen augmented nuclear bomb.  Saudi Arabia killed an Iranian Shiite Iman.  The Saudi embassy in Tehran was attacked.  Syria continues to have Assad and Russia.  Isis keeps chopping off heads of Christians.

Persecution of Christians by Muslims is documented for 1400 years. They especially like our women as sex slaves.  With the feminists attacked Canadian men and blaming them for everything there’s a sense that this matriarchal Canada would be better off if we let the Middle East take the shrews and harpies. Instead young men are gravitating to radical Islam where women are still ‘chattel’ and one can actually own a ‘sex slave’.  With all the condemnation men got for buying a Playboy, now women are celebrating opening the 50 Shades of pornography, and adulating the rich men alone, the attraction of overseas war and ideology and women is no different from what the young sought in Spain.  All’s fair in sex and war.  Amazing that women are attracted.  For Whom the Bell Tolls all over again.  If I was a woman I’d be more attracted to the Amish.  They certainly are the polar opposite of the decadent shallow opportunistic Kardashians.  Double standards and privilege.
It’s all above my pay grade.
Meanwhile the Chinese economy has tanked. Oil commodities are down.  Canada is hurting financially and irresponsibly Justin Trudeau and the Liberals are about to bankrupt the country with their wild and crazy spending sprees and the corruption so evidence from Quebec’s Charbonaux Enquiry.
I’m supposed to be hopeful.  I’m sick. That’s a negative state. I couldn’t punch my way out of paper bag.

So I’ll pray and get back to bed.  Thankfully Angel has cancelled the day and emergencies are addressed.

Croissanterie Cafe, Vancouver

Laura and I loved the Croissanterie Cafe on Granville Street.  We’d been shopping on Robson and were coming down Granville on our way to Granville Island.  This perfect little cafe suddenly appeared.
“The hot chocolate is real cocoa, “ Laura exclaimed.  “I’ve been wanting a hot chocolate since the rains began.”
I enjoyed  my Americano and croissant.  The beautiful hostess had been particularly pleasant. The ambience was decidedly European.  The weather had been balmy. Laura and I had walked through Vancouver enjoying it as much as if we were in Belfast or Milan. Tourists in our own town.  

Journal - Saturday

I couldn’t believe it.  Gilbert let me sleep in. Everyday, around 6 or 7 am he lays his little body across mine.  This weight wakens me and when he sees I’m away he attempts to squirm forward and lick my face.  I counteract this and push him away.  Normally this results in a delay. He lets me sleep a few minutes or a half hour later.  It’s the snooze bar on Gilbert.  When he comes back the next time, he slinks in and goes right for the sloppy face licking alarm clock routine.  During the week when I have to go to work this usually works and I get up before the actual alarm. Gilbert is ecstatic at my wakening and jumps on my chest and crotch making the getting up part for me a tad complicated.
This morning I only recall pushing him away once maybe twice.  I never got the face licking.  I got up when he was lying on top of me and got through the happy dog gauntlet. On the other side of this morning welcome I looked at my watch and found to my surprise it was 9 am. I’d gone to bed around 10 to 11 so I must have been really tired.  As I ‘ve aged the long days at work, sometimes still 10 and 12 hours really whack me.  I get home and collapse after making and eating dinner.  My mind feels like my body used to feel when I did construction. By Friday I’m drained.  Often I have difficulty concentrating on detailed numbers and avoid doing reports Friday now, fearing making errors in complex details.  My work week continues to be about 50 hours of patient contact. There’s administration and research and calls on top of that.  I can’t get over how the paper work has multiplied and ads so much to the burden of work.  I’ve dozens of faxes from mostly pharmacists and then there’s all the reports that are necessary.  My assistant is always on me for notes. The courts and college have an endless demand for more detailed notes and more irrelevant reporting. So much doesn’t serve the patient or me but is the political correctness beaurocratic ‘fashion’ of  the week.  When I see these latest demands for documentation I am certain without a doubt that the committee that came up with them didn’t have enough work of their own to do or they wouldn’t expect others to do such petty and ridiculous recording.
The failure of the legal system of the west is found in the fallacy of the ends against the middle. One person burns themselves in one location on a too hot cup of coffee and everyone everywhere has to have a ‘beware of hot coffee’ sign written on the cup.  One day in the future the scientists will conclude that space flight and colonization of the solar system, all poverty and all disease in the world would have been possible before 2000 if it weren’t for the stupidity of the peace time legal and beurocratic systems that continue to work as if time was not a factor in their activities.  Where all judgements occurred in hours to at most a week, judges today take years to come to a decision.  Beaurocracies work at snails pace. Government works move at a tenth of the pace that those in private industry work.  Some have said that wars exist to revolutionize the legal and beaurocratic systems which become increasingly ineffective over time.  Work at the legal and beaurocratic levels expand to fill the time available.  As someone else usually is paying in the court and the bureaucracy there’s no incentive to move at anything faster than the slowest speed. Only in war is this changed when the winners of wars usually are those whose legal beaurocratic processes were superior as much as technologically.
This is a resentment.  It’s an institutional resentment.  Defensive medicine accounts for as much as may 90% of the cost of health care.  When I look back on my life I see this onerous costly soul destroying process of interacting with legal beurocratic systems that seemed primarily to parasitize the central process of doctor and patient and the ‘medicare model’ .  The frustration of my work for a decade has been getting patients what their illness warrants by fighting individuals and systems who have grown with the pure intent of delaying.  Legal beaurocratic systems are principally covert aggressive systems.  They become rich by attrition and siege.  I can’t recommend anyone go into medicine anymore because the frustrations far outweigh the compensations. If I was young again in this present system I’d do what so many of the young doctors do, which is the least possible.  Increasingly medicine and psychiatry are defined by reductionist processes and cherry picking and avoiding sick people is the most rewarded.  Indeed the richest doctors increasingly are doctors who don’t actually see patients but focus on administration, policing, and business aspects of care, not the clinical basis.
Now where the hell did this nonsense come from. I was just thankful that I slept in.  I was really happy to that I got dressed in shorts and t-shirt and runners and ran with Gilbert for a couple of miles.  Maybe it’s a mile. I don’t know. It’s about a half hour of running and I used to walk 5 miles an hour.  When I was younger I ran a ten minute mile.  More and more I’ve been actually running the whole distance. Today I walked for a few minutes halfway because Gilbert met another dog. I pull him on a leash. He wants to piss and sniff everything which we do when we walk but running is all about forward motion.  Today I was dragging the poor little guy, thanks to his crying wolf stops before that, and here I looked back and he was of course squatting and trying to shit.  We have his daily walk for a shit in the early morning which he’s very happy with but the long walks or the runs are an added delight.  I feel badly though when he gives me that face he gives me when I realize he’s stopped not because Fifi left a love message but rather because his bowels are active.
I have been thinking about the boat and the RV and houses.  I write more on land.  I loved sailing and anchoring but I ‘m not as relaxed and able to work in the sailboat as I am when I’m on land.  I do my writing here. I can do reports and work on land better. I can read and watch tv and relax and journal a bit on the boat but I don’t tend to do the kind of writing that I do on land. Flying I’ve written a number of short stories that went on to be published.  I’ve been blogging for a few years and naturally I can do that. But I’ve also been working on books and that doesn’t seem to progress on the boat.  I used to hate stationary living but I’m beginning to really enjoy it.
When Laura’s been over for the weekend I’ve really enjoyed sitting outside with her and the simple cooking and cleaning around the RV.  I find myself incredibly nostalgic about my first house, a little 2 bedroom bungalow with yard and one car garage in Riverheights Winnipeg, that my Dad helped me pick out.  It was so very functional and not that different from the house I grew up in.  I’ve had huge houses and acreages since but that’s the one that I think I enjoyed the most. I did love the acreage and turkeys and chickens with the clinic on site but today I’m just enjoying this RV and think a lot about that first house.  I’ve not particularly liked apartments though my last one I have fairly fond memories of.  I think my feelings about it began to change with the crazy neighbour coming around and complaining about noise when I hadn’t been home.  Then getting away every weekend the storage locker and the elevator problems in a first class apartment buildings, it all got to me. I loved living on the boat after that.  The condo I had was really nice.  I loved the elegant living. That was in Riverheights in Winnipeg too and I liked it better than the house in Shaughnassey.
Now here I am after a run, having really enjoyed the morning coffee, having had a shower, dressed in t shirt and underwear, my favourite clothing combination next to t shirt and sarong  or skirt. I just loved wearing wraps in Mexico and the Marianas Islands.   My favourite all time clothing was my worn sailing shorts.  That’s all I wore sailing in the heat and it was freeing.  We sailed nude in the Sea of Cortez but kept our wraps handy for chance encounters with other sailors.  Nudity is great.  But I’ve resisted the temptation and kept out of jail or public records.  I loved the halloween costumes and dress up as a kid.  I fully understand the kids and adults who are running around in superhero costumes.  My favourite halloween costume in recent years has been the witch.  That came out of a costume I wore for a night at Rocky Horror Picture Show.  The most fun was when the girls and they guys all got into costumes and went to dances and parties.  There’s always been someone socially incompetent who doesn’t dress for the occasion but more and more there’s been participation in the those who are good sports.  Even at hockey games it’s seen in those who go the extra little bit and wear team colours.  Gilbert had a canucks sweater which he doesn’t like to wear.  He doesn’t like to dress up at all.  My nudist friends have said how onerous it is to get back to clothes after a weeks retreat.  I wish I’d done that when I was younger and my body was toned.  It’s not really about that though. It’s a state of mind. It’s about maturity and freedom.  I miss the YMCA days when we all swam naked as guys. The best times were the nude swimming with the girls in our 20’s and 30’s .  The girls were so beautiful in the moonlight. I remember those times so fondly.  It was fun too.  I imagine if I ever stop working and retire I’ll get back to the simpler life and times, those camping and canoeing weekends and weeks.  Now I’m outfitted with RV’s and quads and trucks and motorcycles. Then it was hiking with a back pack or canoeing. My father got into canoeing again in his 70’s and 80’s loving it until it was too much trouble to get the canoe off the van.  I imagine seeing myself doing that. There’s a fellow I met who had sailed the Atlantic ocean back and forth a few times in his 80’s. He was so inspirational. 85 years old when I met him. I imagine doing that. I hope I can do that.
My lifestyle is fairly expensive today yet I had the finest time in my student years.  Travelling on bicycle and staying in youth hostels was incredibly inexpensive.  I suppose when I quit work I’ll scale down and have time to breathe.
I reflected last week on work and realized that there are hundreds of people right now whose lives I make easier.  I’m not indispensable but I’m an integral part of their lives.  I have a lot of very sick people I care for and have known for many years.  Theres’ importance to this longevity and reliability.  I’m wanted. I’m the known substance.  I’m trusted.  I might not be the best but I am far from the worst.  I’ve been reliable and often I’ve ‘saved’ lives. I’ve certainly gone above and beyond the call of duty, and always been unconventional. I regret this some days because I could be a millionaire today if I had done what I was told rather than doing what I thought was needed. Certainly more people would have died but I’d be richer and more successful.  I’ve given far more time to people than the system paid for. I even have some people who think they’re very clever in taking more time than allotted insisting on it only as an entitlement but we’re working on that trait.  It’s been a problem of how I see myself. The woman at the College of Physicians and Surgeons of BC condemned me for caring so much for my patients insisting ‘It’s just a job, Dr. Hay”.  I had this weird sense of ‘calling’ and have always thought the profession was more than a ‘job’ but those who treat medicine and psychiatry as “Just a job” have become rich and been promoted to the highest ranks. Those who practice the ‘business of medicine’ giving the ‘least for the most reward’ and focusing on the ‘maximum profit’ are now the ones who mock me.  I’m a has been and my life is a waste.
Then I think of how my marriages failed because I focussed on my work over my home and if I’d just gone to work like it was just a job I could have been a better husband . I could have had more money to buy women gifts and had the time to meet their demands for attention and luxuries.
I’ve roughed it a lot in my life.  Living on a sailboat for years. Living now as trailer trash.  I wonder now what my life would have been like if I’d just stayed in that first house.  Sedentary. None of the adventure and experience.  Safe.  None of the risk and perils that I’ve known.  But at the end of the day when friends and family seem more important I find myself nostalgic for high school reunions and family suppers.  This moment I don’t even want to get in the truck yet I have to go over to the boat to pump the water out of the dinghy. We have had a lot of rain these last couple of days. It’s necessary for the vegetation and to stop the forest fires.  It just means I have to make a trip to the boat when I’d rather lie about and maybe watch tv like we did as kids on a saturday when the black and white westerns were on.  We didn’t do it often but it was a treat like going to the BDI ice cream parlour, the hike there along the river bank making the ice cream sundaes even better.

Now I’ve written a chapter of the book and blogged this drivel. It’s time to get dressed and do something else, or maybe just lie down for a bit and read more of Cornwall’s Waterloo.  I love historical fiction.
Yes I think I’ll make lunch and read. Apart of me is counting the days till IDAA, the annual addiction medicine conference I attend where I get together with mentors and colleagues and celebrate working and being alive another year.

End of day, new office

I’ve done more than a day’s work but I’ve had a lunch hour. Normally today I’d drive out to a meeting but I didn’t wish to face traffic.  Besides Gilbert was here so we stayed together. Angel has brought a new Bosch coffee maker that takes the Tossimo coffee packs. I bought some cafe latte last week and had the first this morning.  It tastes like the coffee my sister in law, Adell makes me at her place.  I’m drinking a second cup now.
I don’t know why I woke at 4:30 this morning. Friends and patients described the exact thing.  Something in the atmosphere or matrix.  I’m tired today.  A long day of work but not as tired as yesterday. Wednesday was a tough day. Not surprising it’s called the ‘hump’.  Today was definitely downhill.  I’m sorry I got behind and people waited.  I wish somehow decades ago I’d learned to be harsh with time, kicking people out of the office at the strike of the clock.  I wish I was more regimented, more military, more businesslike. Looking back I realized I passed over so many opportunities for money and power squandering my time with patients.
The lung surgeon I worked with told me that. “You’re an excellent doctor, great hands. You’ll make a great surgeon. You just have to spend less time with patients." He’d do his rounds before the patients woke, waking them with his good bye.  A smart man. A rich man."
The administrative doctor at the College of Physicians and Surgeons told me I had to stop caring so much about patients, “It’s just a job, Dr. Hay’.  I feel like I never have enough time. I feel like I have to make sure the patient is not going to kill themselves.
When I took the job the government promised me there’d be beds for emergencies.  There haven’t been. They promised me that there would be nurses and community workers for support. There haven’t been. They promised every patient would have a family physician. That’s a lark.  For ten years I’ve done as much general medicine as I did when I was a family physician but the government doesn’t pay. I’m a mark.  Why pay doctors when they won’t strike, won’t let their patients die, won’t stop caring.
Give all the money to the bankers, administrators and judges. You have to pay them because they wouldn’t work for free.  Doctors, nurses, teachers, and even lawyers work for free. The police do too.  Now I’m juggling to pay for surprise expenses and resenting all the past mistakes.  God will provide. God always has.  This too will pass. I have no real reason to be afraid.  I have wealth beyond my wildest dreams. There’s endless resources with God. I will pray.
Others are working hard these days. There’s Greece and a whole bunch of countries struggling with the financial situation.  Austerity and depression are being written into the history books.  I just came from Ireland where they were starving in the potato famines. Always there have been times of disease and need. I’m growing old like the rest of the baby boomers and we’re looking seriously at death.  Perhaps we’ll dream an immortality, call ahead a resurrection, watch the planet transform into a spiritual dreamscape of love.
Otherwise it’s the same old same old and as the day goes it’s more and more tiring. Vancouver is a costly city.  I’ve done a day of work and will pay an ounce of blood in taxes.  The white collar and blue collar welfare are a burden that can break a man.  There’s all the demands.  Then times of easy sailing.  l resist decisions, delay and because of delay face more challenge.
There’s nothing I can or will do today.  Time to go home. It’s been nice though in this new office, sitting at my desk, writing. I think how my fingers have been worn out for bureaucrats and legal documents. I’ve typed a lifetime of mostly silly drivel and I thought my fingers would have been much better employed writing a play, like the one we saw in Abbey City.
I’m coming to an age where my fingers are already hurting and I might not ever want to see a written word again. I’m used up in the beaurocratic endless increasing demands.  When I began I wrote one word, a diagnosis and a billing code.
Now they threaten me and call me a liar. The courts are bullying doctors and the pay master. We should have had a union that held out insisting that we’d not write only a line for a thousand, like the new CEO. I learned they’re making $5 to 6000 an hour.  There’s never been an equivalent productivity in public sector performance.
But it’s so easy to scapegoat the father, scapegoat the parent, blame the CEO , blame the government, throw out the king, kick out a president or primeminister

We just want ‘Change’.

The politicos learned years ago that nothing need change except the face on the coin.  I’m weary.  These thoughts assail me when I’m tired. In the morning I do gratitude lists but now before dinner I’m just weary.
Self pity and resentment are common at the end of the day. Addiction flare for the working man.  The drunk stops at the bar on the way home from work and misses supper with the kids. I myself worry and fret and write drivel that in summary is just self pity and fear and negative and envy.
Character.
That’s what I need.
A little back bone. A little more character. A little more stamina. A little gratitude.  Don’t compare with the few rich above you but compare with the masses. Somewhere there are millions of people that only made a couple of dollars today.  You’re going to eat like a king. You’re going to ride in a car. You have a pet.  You’re here after a day of work writing on a computer that’s connected to high speed internet.
That’s why I’m here. I want to download a movie at work with high speed internet and play it on my apple tv at home. That’s a cadillac problem.  I found out that it would cost me $500 to get satellite wifi and if I wanted satellite tv I couldn’t move my RV.
So here I go trying to find a way to watch a new movie.  Poor me. I have netflix but those are old movies and I’ve seen so many. And Turner Classic Movies is on my tv.  I watched so many of those in Saipan. But I downloaded ex machina right off the presses for $5 and would love to do that again. It’s like being at a friends with shaw cable rent a movie or being in a hotel room or on a plane.  Luxury.
That’s my challenge to day, to get more luxury and I’m complaining.  Poor me. Right, you idiot.
Thank God for Grace.

Journal, Feb. 9, 2015

Thank you God for a wonderful sleep.  I’m on my boat and enjoy the rocking motion in this harbour.  I would have liked to have headed out for the weekend but it’s been raining so much and chilly, cloudy grey too. I’ve not tested my heater. The dock is so crowded I’ll not be able to moor again without some one on the dock.  It all seemed overwhelming. Instead I read. I’ve been a major slouch.  Enjoying it only for it’s novelty.
Gilbert has kept me busy throwing the ball about the boat. I heard him snacking. He’s resting now.  We had a late night walk so I’m sure his bladder is fine. He barks at the door if he needs to go out. I took him up yesterday morning this time and he turned around after facing the rain and returned to bed.  My little dog of comfort. Without his heavy fur coat I think the heavy rain is uncomfortable. He doesn’t mind the drizzle.
I’m not particularly joyous and free today but that usually follows sloth and illness:
There’s work I could be doing on the boat.  I might just measure one piece of wood that needs replacing or get a real latch to remove my several year old jury rig with bungee chord.  Bungee chords are marvellous but they weren’t meant to be permanent solutions.  I could clean up the loose cables and even run the new cable from the tv to the radio so I could have better speaker accompaniment.  There’s a lot of tidying that needs to be done in this boat but it’s likely to wait till I decide to go on some expedition where the boat needs to be lean and mean.  That’s the ultimate spring cleaning time for a boat.  It’s really close to offshore ready right now.  If I didn’t have work I’d begin various projects knowing I had an open ended schedule to finish them.  It’s so easy to put off today knowing if I ran into a snag I’d not get the time for possibly weeks to complete the thing.  Better to hire someone so I can work while this work gets done.  I love working on my boat but not when I’ve got a full time job.
I thought of driving down to the US yesterday and could today especially with the nexus to ensure no lengthy delay at the border. Yet driving is it’s own kind of work these days.  I’m really entrenching my sloth here.  Swimming was a consideration and a meeting too but then there’s Gilbert and I don’t like leaving him in the car with all the dog thieves about. I do leave him at times but figure the least number the better. (I just saw my older neighbour going by in his Harley Davidson jacket.  He’s now one of the dock old guys. There are several.  We’re a loose community.  The couples are here too, coming and going and seeming more ‘normal’.  Some of the other guys have kids that come and visit but not ex wives. Then there are the girlfriends.  Weird world this boat world.  When I was in the RV I felt more like suburbia. This is definitely a different space.
I could paint my chain again on a sunny day.  The depth markings wore off years ago.  I’ve siliconing to do.  The roof just dribbled down onto the table.  It’s so little I just put a paper towel down and remember to keep electronics away from that place.  (There, I just tightened a hatch screw and think I’ve stopped it.)
I keep thinking of getting another stainless steel rifle.  I’ve the new membership to the rifle club and thought of driving out there and shooting some targets.  It’s covered over so even in the rain it would be a thing to do.  I don’t know if the rifle store is open.  I even thought that going to the states I could stop at the big new Cabelas store across the border and look at rifles.
I like my 223.  It’s really rated for deer and rabbits and such.  Too small a load for hunting bigger game.  I have the 22 but it’s really only rated for rabbits and birds.  So when I’m out in he woods during hunting season and see ruffed grouse but am really hunting deer if I had this caliber I could shoot the grouse as well as the deer or shoot a rabbit as well. I had the 30:30 which was overkill for grouse but good enough for bear and deer.  My 30:06 is good for everything and my 300 win mag is ultimately for moose and big game.  The 223 I have is the ultimate target rifle.  I got it on sale, a Chinese rifle.  I actually planned to give it away when I got it, knowing if I liked it I’d want the stainless steel model because I hunt mainly in the wet. Further if I sail up north I’d take it with me and only stainless does okay in the sea air.
Bear hunting season starts in a couple of month.  Goose hunting season opens next week. I have the perfect double barrel 12 gauge goose gun but don’t know if I’ll be able to make the time.
I really should have been fishing this weekend. Or writing the great canadian novel.  Or doing sit ups.  I’m fat and ornery as a result. I could be socializing too.  There’s a lot of ‘shoulds’ in my internal world which I rather happily ignore as left overs from a more focussed past.  I lack he discipline I once had but have something else in stead. I think it’s called ‘surrender’. I also have more balance and some self care.  I read more schlock and watch more movies when in the past I really was intent on learning.  Now I tend to study in an applied way.
I ve a book launch for my book Psychiatry and Addiction, Personal Perspectives on March 1st , 6 to 9 pm at the Alano Club Granville and 7th.  I think how much better I could have written that.  But I’d have needed more stretches of time. I laughed learning my academic friends who write a book a year have 5 mornings a week for study and writing.  Here I’m seeing patients 12 hours a day, preparing countless med legal reports, studying what I need to know for the patients I see,  living a weekend life of boating and motorcycling and doing a number of activities and yet somehow with the help for friends get a book done.  It’s the first one, not counting poetry books.  I’m excited by it because I can see how I can write more with more time and focus and less distractions.
I look forward to retirement one day where I could ‘book’ my mornings to write to a specific purpose.  Then I think also of taking a few weeks to write a book. I could do that as well.
I’ve just reviewed the notes I’ve done on Sexuality and don’t really think I have enough to say but under the topic of spirituality I’ve more material so it seems like I’m going forward with that as the next project.
I am tempted to write a volume II to Psychiatry and Addiction - with all the latest brain chemistry and genetics and MRI data. To do that I’d need some weeks of study and writing time.  I know now I could do a good job.  Writing this book was like writing my first paper. Once I got the first one done the rest followed easily.  I feel I’ve definitely gone over a hurdle.
I like thinking about God more than dopamine.  I know about salience and up and down regulations and all that but I really prefer to think and write about God.  My relationship with the unknowable is much more interesting to me than the mechanics of pathways and glucose utilization.  The God thought is a love story.  I’m happier when I’m considering that more than when I’m thinking about neuroanatomy. That’s very functional whereas there’s art and beauty in the infinite.  I like looking for words to describe the relationship I have with this mystery.
I even enjoy somewhat arguing with those who insist they know God more than I do.  I’m suspect of those who hear God’s message as a call to arms.  To me it’s a wee small voice but at times it has been more. I’ve actually had the sense that God has put me on the ice and I’ve been chosen to play though mostly I feel I’m on the bench.  Right now I’m on the bench.  I’m sitting here knowing God is all and everywhere but that doesn’t answer my question what I’m to do today.  Certainly I know I’m not meant to chop someone’s head off.  I’m muddling along. Muddling is the best description of my journey right now.
That’s okay with God though personally I’d like a little more inspiration.  I”m older. That’s a telling factor.  Older I recall all the dashing about.  I recall all the promises too. I also think it’s good just to sit here and maybe get back to reading.
People think I should make more money but I was just reflecting how in Canada when I make a lot of money by working a lot harder than the herd, the parasites take the excess.  There’s  no longer a sense that there’s any protection in our community. Right now I’m waiting to hear if the banks lost or took my savings.  Every day a new lawsuit afflicts my fellows and the easiest way to make money is to attack someone on false accusations.  The politically correct are stealing by the minute.  But that’s all fear based thinking.  It does sap my will to get up and do something useful. The people who I employ take advantage of my extra work and generosity too so it’s always a question of why work harder.
In Canada the welfare state is so strong that everyone gets by coasting.  And there’s little benefit in running ahead carrying extra loads. It’s not like communist countries where those who do that are punished but the reward for extra work is punished here by higher taxes and more and more condemnation.  It makes spending a day reading and watching tv seem reasonable.  If I'm truthful I'm really hiding out.  I'm isolating.I'm hibernating. I'm social phobic.
I remember that week I sat in a bar for the first time in my life.  I’d been in bars and worked in bars but never hung out in one for a week.  We were waiting out storm and there was little else to do in the port so it seemed like the thing to do, hang out at the bar.  We chatted and drank and time passed.  It was the most useless I’ve ever been in my life but it felt good as a ‘change’ from the disciplined focused responsible way of being that is my norm. Now so many of my superiors are the folk who sat in bars and 'networked'.  They get huge grants and keep the money to themselves.  Lots of vague down time and lots of committee and even new names for phoney research.  I'm never invited because I'm not seen by the 'government sort' as a 'team player'. I've been a 'whistleblower'. I've been the one to stop killing and expose graft and corruption so I'm not 'welcome'.  Live and let live is my motto today.  No good deed goes unpunished. Yet I can say I've stopped directly personally a half dozen killing machines in the system and survived the back lash by those who were supposed to protect people and didn't.
The other such time of extended sloth was when I watched the NHL play offs.  We were working on an old car and watching the play offs.  A group of guys. None of us working.  I was waiting to start a new position while the guys I was with were all on disability or comp.  It was an amazingly laid back existence.  Upward mobility is really costly compared to downward drifting.
It’s like today.  I’ve no real demands. There’s lots I could do.  Even things I should do but I’m just thinking of reading this old Robert Ludlum book and the new William Gibson book. The Ludlum I picked up in a book bin, a paper back so enjoyable to read. The William Gibson latest, "The Peripherals' is a kindle. I've been reading it on my iPhone.  It's typical William Gibson genius, incredible writing and genius ideas. It's just that I can only read my iPhone for a time before my eyes bother me.  That's still the advantage of real books.  If I had my kindle reader in the larger format it might be easier. I still enjoy real books more for long stretches of reading. Digital is great for research and short reads but nothing like a paper back for hours of reading.
I think another cup of coffee is in order.  Gilbert and I walked over for a burger on the saturday that was like this too.  Rainy day.  I might get out the guitar.  If I had more of these days I ‘d start sketching for sure. I really wanted to sketch better. It’s practice. I could be studying a language too.  I remember last year I made my way through a major theology textbook and read a neuroanatomy text along with a new physiology text. I also tried to learn another language.  All heavy reading. Today it's light reading. Great past times.
Today I’m not even motivated to get off the couch and go look at another rifle.  Walking around stores is fun. When I was with Laura last week I got some shirts and underwear to get me through the week. I love the new Calvin Klein underwear material. It doesn't bunch up in the ass when sitting at the office. I could drop my laundry off.  I’ve got clothes for a few days. The freezer needs  cleaning. I could change the sheets on the bed.  There’s more tidying to do.
This weekend I’ve been recovering from the flu.  Each day I’ve been better with less sore throat and less cough. My sinuses are no longer constantly stuffed. I only had a little fever yesterday.  Sunday was a great day especially with Kevin and AJ and the god kids.
When I got home though I’d thought of taking the boat out but my fever was back ,I was exhausted and after a nap it was too late to go out. I don’t know what time the fuel barge is open to and didn’t want to compound setting out with the variable of darkness.  I’m so much more cautious with age.  More laid back too.  After the nap I felt well again but didn’t like the cold rain and wind so thought my recovering ‘cold’ would benefit from more rest. Yet maybe if I’d gone skiing at Whistler or taken the boat out it wouldn’t have made any difference to the outcome of the cold.  We say rest but I’ve been taking it easy for a couple of weekends because elf this silly flu and don’t know really if it speeded up the healing. The fact is I’m getting better steadily so shouldn’t pull up the plant to look at the roots to see how well it’s growing. I think illness,especially my own, is such a lousy excuse for sloth and gluttony.
Sloth is so politically correct too.  No one counts the ‘sins of omission’. The ‘system’ kills daily with delays, negligence and incompetence yet any ‘sin of commission’ is attacked furiously.  While some of the government and courts slide further into the past the sciences are flying ahead spectacularly with mars expedition, anti vitals, robotics, new probe planned to Saturn, organic computers. It's amazing. I loved the personal helicopter being developed.  Stem cell research is exciting too.
It’s not like I haven’t ‘identified’ the things that need doing. A whole lot of people like to get ‘administrative’ jobs because they think they’re good at ‘identifying’ problems. They’re ‘critics’ and ‘critics’ are a dime a dozen.  I’m a great consultant.  The trouble is that there’s a real excess of chiefs and not enough Indians.  Even here the administrator in my mind has identified the ugly task of cleaning the freezer and my Indian hands would rather type the doggerel or hold a book.
Cleanliness is next to godliness. I thought having a wife or girlfriend who was obsessive compulsive this way would be a great thing but I always hooked up with girls are kind of dirty and happy to leave things to gather dust or  who like to order me to do these things for them.  I remember one marriage particularly tainted by her bossiness.  In retrospect I really never was that good of a mate.  I made a great wife at times.  No child reward. My cohort live for their children and grand children. It gives them their motivation.  So many are trying to make their places attractive so their kids will visit.  I've got Gilbert. He's happy if I keep him well supplied in tennis balls. He'll go anywhere I go.  Any hour now he'll want me to take him for a walk.  Children come and go but dogs stay.
There’s that bitterness that creeps into my thoughts.  Self pity and bitterness are easily identifiable. I have to forgive and let the past compost.  It was never one sided either. It was ‘us’ and always ‘us’ and not the paranoid ‘he did, she did’ that makes the courts such a money game.  Pseudo war. I’d rather go over to fight the IS but my back hurts.  War is a young man’s sport.  I figure all I could be today is a sniper because it’s a lying down job.  The kids are all lining up for the office jobs of flying drones.  It’s just like video games.
Brad Pitt in Fury was a great movie. I could drive a tank but really expect if a war happened I’d be immediately on a ship like this one and somehow expected to heal people rather than kill folk. My training and skills are all in healing. Yet now the Supreme Court with the typical lawyer ignorance of medicine wants us to ‘assist suicide’.  Lawyers don’t have a hippocratic oath so their fundamental ignorance about our profession is destroying it.  I’m a dinosaur.
Oops that’s another thing that’s upset me.  Work gets under my skin. The mixed messages and the ‘new medicine’.  Doctors can lose their licenses for hugging patients but not for killing them. The abortionists are the richest most protected doctors.  I feel like I alone am the only one who sees the blasphemy of the supreme court deciding doctors can assist suicide.  Fundamentally shouldn’t that be a decision made by the Canadian Medical Association. but the law has no respect for doctors and over rode us pushing marijuana and now death. What’s become of this country?
Oops, there I go again. Not being ‘accepting’. God’s in charge. All is well.  It’s the Charge of the Light Brigade. It’s Gallipoli.  It’s all those lemming charges into the ocean. It’s basically fear and I have to live in hope. Someone is sane.  The media always confuse the issue to sell passion but still it seems thanatos is trumping eros these days. Again negative thinking.
Be positive. Be hopeful.  Trust.  Cognitive Behavioural Therapy is a bitch when the errant one is your own ego.
Back to the book.  Thank you God for this time of ‘waiting’.
Some recent pictures: George Laura's new cat is big on hiding. He's probably still under the bed.  There's a lot to be said for this hiding out. It's okay. If I'd taken the boat out and anchored somewhere I'd be doing about the same thing but feeling more 'accomplished'.  George is just thankful for another day under the bed probably.  We both have water and food and litter boxes or their equivalent.  Gilbert's napping. Maybe a nap would be the thing. No I think I'll read some more.  I showered last night.  I've avoided getting dressed too. Still in t shirt and shorts.  Thank you God for 'time out'.

East Van Roasters

East Van Roasters is a delightful little store where the finest of people make chocolate and sell coffee. The coffee is delicious. I’m sold.  The chocolates are to die for. I’m sold.  The atmosphere is almost as delicious.  A wonderful addition to the community. 

Skagit Valley - Quadding and Bear Hunting with Gilbert, the Cockapoo

It wasn’t a break of dawn start.  I got out of bed, said prayers, and brought the truck around.  Gilbert was ecstatic with all the loading. Guns, ammo, gear, gps, satellite phone, warm and dry clothes. Forgot Gilbert’s yellow rain coat. Had to go back. Forgot the keys to the ATV, had to go back. Sat in truck doing mental checklist.  (When I finally arrived I had the wrong rifle for back up, that’s why I like having a back up rife.) It was raining hard.
In Abbotsford I stopped at the Hub for more 300 short win mag ammo.  Then it was Macdonalds for Egg McMuffins.  Gilbert shares. Normally he gets his own sausage paddy but today I gave him half my second egg McMuffin. Hunting trips are a dogs life.
Skagit Valley isn’t much for hunting usually. More a fisherman’s paradise.  The park limits the options.  I’d been here years before but in fall hunting season the place in a human zoo. No room for animals.  Spring seemed a better idea especially since I wasn’t sure if I just wanted to make a day outing.  I think I'm coming down with a spring cold.
I saw deer crossing the road on the way in. Always a good sign.
The rain let up and sunshine came out of the clouds. I unloaded the Yamaha 450 Kodiac without killing myself.  Moved the gear from the backseat of the Ford F350 to the quad's compartments.  Gilbert had a spa hair cut this week so I had to put him in a hoodie with a yellow rain jacket over him, then a harness to attach him to the  seat.  With my new Winchester Model 70 300 short win mag stainless steel coyote light rifle, I was ready for bear.
At least we did a lot of 4x4ing. Great views of snow capped mountains. Snow in the high reaches blocked me a couple of times.  Great trails.  One is part of the transcanada route and wove through miles of forest.  I liked best the logging road I found that ran along a lot of clearcut.  The rivers are all rushing with spring off run. All the water rushing full of life after a winter lying about as snow.  Road along a river bed which had overflowed onto the trail.
On the main road I actually saw a big black bear.  Unfortunately he saw me.  He was coming up from the river and he took off in the bushes up the side of the mountain. I revved the engine and sped to where I’d last seen him, jumped off the ATV, forgot the keys in, ran into the woods, Gilbert whining behind me, looked up the mountain and there he was a hundred yards above me, looking down. I’m still feeding shells from my pocket into the chamber, slamming the bolt home,  lifting the gun to my shoulder. But even as I was bringing the sight to bear I saw him disappear behind a big rock.
Wow!  Was that exciting.  No bear to take home but so close. A moment more and I'd have had a shot.  What a gift.
After that we just enjoyed 4x4 ing. No more bear sighting.  Talked to a couple of other hunters and they thought it was still too early.  They’d seen some scat but no bear.  We talked about the weather. Great that the rain let up.  Occasional drizzle.
I had a thermos of coffee and cheese.  Down by the overflowing rushing river I had a cup of java and shared the cheese with  Gilbert.  Whenever I stopped I let him run about and sniff everything.
When dusk came on around 8 pm I got back to the truck and loaded up.  Again I didn’t kill myself driving the ATV onto the truck bed.  By the time we got to the highway it was dark.
I drove home, got back and unloaded by 10:30 pm. Will have to get to the gun locker tomorrow, unload the ammo and guns there.  So many locked storage places makes me miss my suburban childhood when there weren't so many thieves.
What a busy active day, though.  Amazing to me.  So many moving bits. A whole day of activity and back home at night.  Loved this.  Thank you, God.

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Cookin Kim's Country Cafe, Harrison's Hot Springs, BC,

Cookin Kim's Country Cafe has hands down the best morning coffee and take out bacon and egg sandwich in town.  I've just finished a grilled cheese sandwhich  and chowder soup lunch take out and it's been unbeatable too.  Were it not for Gilbert, whose company we adore, Laura and I would have sat inside and enjoyed the cozy atmosphere at the Country Cafe.. However, we have a lovely room at the Executive Hotel where Gilbert is most welcome.  Hence the take out. And the immense appreciation for such fine home cooked meals.  The service at Cooking Kim's was quick,  friendly, pleasant, informative about the locals, and definitely  pretty. .