Napanee Autumn

Gobblers on the road last night. V’s of geese honking in the sky.  Sounds of shot guns duck hunting early morning. Leaves changing colours.  Gold, yellow and orange splashes paint the woods.  Pumpkins by the side of the road. Halloween costumes in the store.  Witches and goblins.  The northern nip scents the air.  White morning mushrooms spoke the forest floor on walks with the dog.  Black and brown squirrels gathering nuts run across the lawn and tarry beneath the bird feeding station.  A rabbit stares from beneath a bush. Osprey and raven circle above on thermoclines. 

I’m visiting family for the wedding of nephew Alan and Meagan later this week. Adell, my truly accomplished sister in law has been making family meals each night, haute cuisine. Such variety. Last night pepper steaks with local grilled mushrooms and mashed potatoes with dill and peas.  Simple but elegant. I look forward to her meals.  Dessert of walnut stuffed pear with maple syrup and ice cream.  

I visitted my yacht yesterday. The paint is lifting and spots of rust are showing. I ‘ve not been doing maintenance a few years. I had it trucked here from Vancouver and sailed it on Lake Ontario a few years past.  Paid family to sand and bottom paint. I did that myself every year or two at most. Sand blasted the boat every 5 to 10 years. So much maintenance. Now it needs a couple of weeks of loving care.  I am of two minds about the work.  I borrowed a step ladder to climb up into the cockpit.  That was a trial and the effort left my back sore in the night.  I didn’t have a key for the main lock. While I was climbing up into the cockpit Laura had held the ladder and watched Madigan who tried to climb the ladder after me.  

 On the way back to Hay Bay we drove through Napanee and I picked up a skookum bolt cutter and lock replacement at the Canadian Tire. I’m due to return today.  Just standing in the cockpit causes an ocean of memories.  I shudder to think of them. Being knocked down in the 40 foot seas and high winds after the hurricane.  The night of anchor running the engine full open throttle to assist the anchor in the hurricane force winds of the exposed harbour rode full out and the seas smashing the rocks behind.  Trees plucked out of the earth flying through the wind.  Climbing the mast after the safe harbour in Astoria with 60 knot winds in harbour only to have the antenna the antennae dislodge and smash about at the top of the mast. I climbed it on autopilot with 20 foot seas the boat flopping back and force so I could have touched the sea on either side. Bungee cording the antennae to safe the mast.  Juan de Fuca channel mouth, 40 foot steep seas 50 knots winds, crossing, knocked down three times.  

I was thinking of keeping the boat. Remembering drinking coffee below in the cozy cabin with the diesel flame.  Making love in the v birth at anchor.  Fair winds and following seas, tropical trade winds.  Manta rays jumping in Sea of Cortez.  80 foot whales swimming alongside off the California coast. The rich loam scent of the Hawaiian Islands.  

Dolfins dancing off the bow waves.  Catching tuna and salmon and ling cod.  Great barbecue. Nights of guitar and song under the canopy of stars.

A love and fear relationships with the GIRI.  

“I’m getting old and thinking of selling my sailboat. It’s two big for solo sailing.  I’m thinking of a smaller lighter sailboat I can handle more easily.”  I told the young man working in the Loyalist Cove Marina.

“You and 85% of the other yacht owners here,” he laughed.  

The dogs, Eva and Pepper are barking at the squirrels outside.  Madigan is in dog heaven. He’s convinced Pepper to chase him round and round the sun room.  Dogs will be dogs.  Eva the oldest likes to watch and bark. 

Graeme just came in and said he would be ready to go back to the Marina.  

“If you’re even thinking of selling it, probably a good idea to make sure there’s not underwear lying about.”  he said last night.

I thought I would unload personal items and things that I wouldn’t want to go with a sale just in case. I thought I could come back next year and how I’d enjoy working in the boat yard for weeks repainting and outfitting the boat. I could carry on with the plan of sailing down to the Caribbean.  Get a crew.  Have the boat as a southern home away from home.  

The happiest days of a boat owners life though are the day he buys it and the day he sells it.  I’ve and RV and land and prefer a low maintenance life these days.  It’s a challenge I must face.  I really don’t have to do anything but look today.  Bolt cutters as back up keys. Memories.

Hay Bay Famiy

I woke to the quiet of the country.  The air was sweet.  A light rain fell as I walked Madigan, the cockapoo,to the water .  A slight mist rose from the still Hay Bay.  Madigan was uncertain about the slippery wood on the dock.  So much is new to the little guy. Honking Canada geese lifted from the water and headed towards Quinte on Lake Ontario. 

Yesterday he so enjoyed meeting his cockapoo aunties, Pepper and Eva.  They got on well with Adell sharing treats with all on their first walk. Then Pepper and Madigan were playing chase.

The pear tree my brother Ron planted the last year is ripe with pears.

Meaghan who is marrying Alan, Ron and Adell’s youngest, was up early this morning. I hugged her.  It’s been years and Covid since they returned from England for their wedding delayed till this fall. We all have vaccinations.  

I’m sitting in the fabulous sun room, this great lighted space we all love. The children, adults, play board games here. That was before Andrew and Tanya had Finn and Elliott. I’ve yet to meet Elliott. Graeme, Ron and Adell’s oldest, was exhausted when he arrived yesterday.  

“I’ve come from a day with Finn. He’s a regular energizer bunny,” he said.  We’ll be back in Ottawa at the end of the week for the wedding and to meet my latest great nephew.  

Mom and Dad must be watching from heaven. I remember their joy when Ron and Adell had Graeme and Andrew, little tikes, now grown men.  Alan came later. I loved getting to know him when he came for a week of sailing with me on the coast.  I loved meeting Meaghan when they began dating at the university.  Then Christmas with Ron and Adell and her mother in the Ottawa home.  Now they are both psychologists, grown. The cliches, time flies, and it was just yesterday, hold true.  

It surprises me, normally living alone,  feeling the  other family in this great spread of a house.  Graeme,upstairs at his computer,Alan and Meagan, in another room.  Laura is upstairs in the guest room on Facebook, last I saw, my adoring mutt, Madigan, lying on the bed at her sife.  Adell has gone back to the master bed room suite on the main floor after walking , Eva and Pepper.  The rain makes the forest by the lakeshore and the flowers on the deck happy.  It’s  cozy.  Inside, warm, watching the rain lightly falling on the deck and great lawn beyon.  

Graeme barbecued medallion steaks last night that melted in my mouth.  We sat on the on the deck around the glass table, the evening still warm but no mosquitoes,  under stars, a family meal.  Graeme told stories of playing in different bands, engineering school days.   Trumpets and drums.  I’d not been at a family meal since last I was here for Christmas, before Covid. It is comforting. 

I feels Ron’s presence, humour and love here.  I see Mom and Dad smiling and the grandparents, aunts and uncles peeking in. It’s all a blessing.  I’m so truly grateful.  

Sunday, Cogburn Wilderness Camp, Lake Harrison

Another night of unusual dreams. I do believe the clutter and chaos of the city get worked out and refiled when I’m in wilderness.  The roots of the trees and the forest itself surround us.  Sky and lake are the fabric of this housing. 

I woke with strange men in suits fighting each other and leaving me alone.  They’d somehow concluded I was valuable.  I didn’t know what their argument was.  Some boardroom somewhere. I’d just been sailing in my dream.

Here I’ve had a wonderful sleep.  Last night I ran the furnace before sleep, reading in the galley. I’d barbecued magnificent steaks and shared them with Madigan. He’s still such a puppy so enthusiastic this morning. The sky is over cast. The forecast is rain. I’ve slept in till 8. Now I’m having a coffee. 

I’ve been packing and stowing. A lot of work for a day of hunting, I have a grouse and memories.  Madigan is much more a bird dog than he was last week.

 I don’t hunt the morning I leave anymore. I’ve had 2 evening hunts and one morning hunt. Madigan killed his first grouse so is officially a bird dog. I’ve had two swims in the lakes. The celery has been magnificent. It’s been a truly wonderful wilderness break. Lots of quadding and lots of grouse that got away.

I have a list of repairs, I really must get the blind replaced. It was great till it suddenly died one day.  I thought I don’t need the ATV canopy since there’s nowhere to stow the poles. I’ll just get a slicker for hunting in the rain.  I really have too much gear for this little space. It’s like the boat that way.  If I was doing more than these long weekend hunts and camping I’d have to streamline it for quick set up and stow.  It’s definitely a pretty skookum deal.

“I love the adventurer camper,” a pretty woman said in the parking lot as we were both unloading our shopping carts,”.  My husband and I bought one a couple of years back and did 6 weeks travelling through Tombstone and Custer’s Last Stand.  I came home and said , “ why do we have a house.  I so enjoyed living in the camper. “

“I motorcycles that area a few years ago. Loved Custer’s last stand. I hope to take my Adventurer there next time.” I said.

“I loved Custer’s last stand, I loved everything. We had such a good time. I love our camper. Enjoy your weekend, 

“You too!”

I really look forward to travelling with this camper in the states visiting historical sites and galleries.  I’d not be taking a trailer only having the Vespa on the front. 

There was wood here for a campfires but I only like campfires when its warm ironically.id rather read inside with the furnace on and candles. I can sit outside around a campfire outside when it’s warmer not that I didn’t appreciate camper fires winter camping in igloos in the subarctic. I do see campfires in my future too. I’ve not played guitar much and campfires are great places for guitar,

I’ve a restless dog, He’s hoping we’re going hunting on the ATV but I”m just packing up,  I’ve got the slow ride out on the hard logging road.  It’s a challenge watching for potholes and going slow.  

It’s been a great weekend. So much wilderness eye candy. Great scents of the outdoors.  Madigan is in heaven.  We have to go back to the city and work. Time to return to the city . We’ll been back in the camper in a few more weeks.

  

Cogburn Wilderness Camp< Harrison Lake

It’s truly lovely here. I have the Adventurer Camper on my Ford F-350. The ride up Harrison East was daunting after I hit a pot hole last trip doing damage to the camper corner and breaking the actual bar that holds the camper down on the truck bed  The bar fell off on the road through Rosedale. I stopped and a couple of young girl stopped and offered to drive their car back to where they saw it fall off and picked it up for me,

“It was just a mile back, I saw it come off,” said another young fellow who stopped.  I’d had to wait till a safe place to pull over and  put on the flashers. Before heading up Harrison East I attached a tie down cord.  It was better than nothing. I was pulling the trailer and ATV.  Nice people,  Reassuring young people stopping and offering help.

The Cogburn Camp owner said they officially closed the week before but could take me as it was clear I wasn’t there to party. 

“We brought in a damage deposit and that stopped the loud partying set coming here.  My wife and I like the folk who like it here for the quiet and beauty.” He was a pleasant fellow. A bit like Hawkeye from MASH.  Tall, lean, blue jeans, clear eyes. 

“I thought I’d like to go for swim if it’s not too cold,” I said.

“There’s a dock with a chair on it and the beach stretches forever around the way,” He suggested a spot close to the beach.

I took the spot right away. There were only a few RV’s and I loved the isolation,

I set up the camper and unloaded the ATV. It was 6 pm when I headed back up to the logging road.  I didn’t see any deer but I saw 4 separate grouse. The first two flew up way ahead of me. I shot at the next two and was sure I hit one but it flew away into the forest.  Madigan was excited by all this action. I concluded I was using 7 1/2 shot. Good for grouse when you can walk up closer but I switched out my pocket for number 5. If I’d had #5 or #6 I’m sure I would have brought that one down. The ATV scares them when I’m further away.  It was already dusk after the last one got away. I headed back down..  I’d made it here and set up and actually got in a bit of the evening hunt,

I unloaded the guns and stripped off the hunting clothes. My jeans with a belt load of knives and ammo weigh a ton. Good to lighten up.  Next in my bathing suit wearing teva’s I walked along to the beach then waded way out in the cold water. The sky was beautiful.  The Big Dipper and Cassopeaa.  Mountain all around. The lake beautiful. I’d accommodated to the cold when I finally dove in and swam a bit, enjoying floating  on my back looking up at the endless sky of galaxies 

I’d left Madigan in the camper and he was really glad when I returned.   I boiled up some smokies. I had cole slaw and potato salad from the deli, fresh white buns.  A delicious meal. Madigan liked half a Smokey. He prefers steak.

I couldn’t put down Tanis Laidlaw’s, Tuesday Child, a mystery thriller, only able to fall asleep when I finished it after midnight.  Worried about the power and batteries I didn’t put on the heater but didn’t need it. It was warm.  I got up once to look outside. I just love the air and the lake and the mountains all around, the stars and nearly full moon. Awe inspiring,

I didn’t get a before drawn start. I made expresso and filled a thermos.  I had left the Honda 420 Rancher pretty well loaded. It was 730 when I headed out It was a blue sky day, I loved the early morning calm, the ATV chugging up the mountain trail. No grouse but great slash. I parked the quad, taking only my Ruger 30:06 stalking  up the trail off the logging road.  I could imagine bucks and bear but despite slowly walking uphill for an hour stopping and scoping nothing appeared. 

Madigan who loves the ATV loved this mountain hike.  A couple of hours of exercise and I turned around , glad to get back to the Honda and coffee. Madigan had water.  We shared a granola bar . Madigan jumped up on his seat ready for more road hunting.

On the way out I met a fellow in a 4x4 SUV. I was surprised he’d crossed the two cuts in the road, in his vehicle. They were veritable ravines. I’d wondered about doing it with the ATV, standing as I code up the steep sides.  We talked.  He was young and exploring. I’d just seen a grouse but it had skedaddled away.  AFter he left I saw another grouse. This one stayed down when I hit it despite it being a long shot and he was about to run.  

Madigan is two point tied behind me. He’s doing a veritable CARRIE swivelling round and round. Like  a kid in the back seat he’s keeps going side to side.  It’s then a challenge to untangle his leashes. I actually did this time before the bird died.  When I ran up to the bird still flapping he ran right by it then came back. That was an ‘aha’ moment. He pounced on the live squeaky toy and killed it.  That was it, He was now just too excited, I rescued my dinner and gutted the bird putting it in a green bag.  Meanwhile Madigan did circles and jumped on and off the ATV.

Excitement, Bird dog heaven. He’s learning,  

Back at the camp I went for another swim taking soap and conditioner,  I’d spent the afternoon reading a western  Rovky Mountain Saint, young mountain man Tate and his pet wolf,,, Lobo,  I’ve had the generator going charging everything up.  Even my satellite phone had died for lack of power mid call to Laura letting her know where i am. 

It’s really beautiful here, Like summer I love the beach and lake. Time to get ready for the evening hunt. I thawed out some steaks for later. The lantern is charged and I’ve potatos to boil.  

Madigan has been sitting at the picnic table while I’ve been here reading and writing.  He’s be so exited when I start loading the ATV.  

Hard Start

I’m glad for work today.  It was a hard start this morning.  Two hits almost three to the snooze bar. Vague recollections of hunting dreams.  I walked Madigan but have this feeling there’s so many things I have to remember and do but not really. No more than usual. But I have that sense of dread that I’m forgetting something. I’m not .  It’s an old trigger. Like the time I went bow hunting and forgot the bow.  Forgetting the generator the weekend the batteries didn’t work. I’m a life of recurrences. It’s sometimes harder to be in the day. Carpe diem.

I walked the dog. I dumped the trash. I did my bare minimum exercise and meditation. I prayed I made coffee. I love my expresso in the morning A new religion.  The toast and peanut butter and jam were good.  Madigan is a squirmy.  He’s unnerved by his haircut. More dependent.  He peed in the washroom when I was out. Months of being house trained and suddenly he reverts.  He needs more walks. He’s bored with fall.  Tomorrow a backwoods hunting day. Next week play with other cockapoo.

I’m glad for work.  Ritual.  Being useful. I felt useful yesterday.  Just necessary to the carousel going round.  A spoke in the wheel.

I want to travel but Covid and all the restrictions as well as the uncertainty and the negative mood make it wise to wait. I dream of driving around the US with a camper and truck visiting historic sites. I have the dog along. I only fear theft.  I think of travels with Charlie.  Route 66.  Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Racing.  The last road to the coast. Corner of Winslow Arizona. I ‘d like that. Campfires in the evening. 

I used to think of driving to Alaska and hunting and fishing but I’m not so keen on that. I still think of driving east maybe visiting the northern clan. It’s been years. I want to sail down the inside passage.  A different boat, smaller less keel.  Appropriate for the task.  I imagine this RV in Arizona. I want to winter in the south.

The onset of fall and rain with the recurrent winter bronchitis and the SAD worry me. I want to be in Mexico. I want sun and heat in winter not rain and cloud.  

I want to go to Aberdeen, see Grandad’s home. I want to return to Ireland and visit Venice.  I have to always think of Madigan. Road trips are his thing but since I love museums and galleries he’s not the best companion on European or New York trips or safari’s.  He’s a great companion camping and at home. I love that we walk three times a day. It takes so little to brighten his day. 

Wearing women’s clothes gives a new twist to the same old same old. I ‘m worn down by the repetitive.  I sometimes just want to ‘get through the day’.  I weary of ‘waiting for Godot.’ I feel time is running out and there’s so muvh done an undone. I don’t know what the next phase will be. I’m leaving one home and no longer doing renovations. I don’t feel I’ll be in this body much longer but I don’t know where I’ll be. I like the known, the convenient, the easy.  Challenges are waiting but for now I’m doing the same old.

The world is in turmoil. I’m waiting for war and the abscess to break. I’d hoped for a new party with the election. New hope. But there was only mor of the same encroaching tyranny.  Insanity reigns in the pseudoscience and political lies.

This too will pass. I’m glad I have work today. I can be of service and help.

Thank you Jesus for meaning and purpose.  

 

Transcendent, Cross dressing, roles

I enjoyed watching the new series, Transcendent, several young transexual dancers in a San Francisco restaurant. They’re preparing to showcase at the SF Pride Festival. I confess I like dance movies.  I like the stories of the personal lives. “”None of my family know I’m transexual” says the youngest,, a college student . As she and her friend wait to see the doctor, a plastic surgeon who will be prescribing hormones.  Plastic and cosmetic surgeons have never been in conventional reality except in burn units.

It’s so far a delightful series. “I’d like to meet a man who wants a relationship not just a one night stand for sex.” Says one who pines for ‘love’. . They sound like any young man or woman I know these days.  “I’d like to have childdren’ says one. So say the young men and women who pine for families and the evil 50’s destroyed by the Marxist feminists. I always fought for choice.  Never though mothers were ‘oppressed’. I never saw or heard the world that is depicted by the college sociologists of today who celebrate communism with their limited Tolken minds. Post WWII was the greatest time for the most men and women in America, victors, with technological and sociological advances like nothing ever before.  

Women had choice. Women began cross dressing in the 20’s .  The whole Hillary Pant Suit expression began with Chanel in the 30’s.  Men continue to wear the male attire , the military suit variation that was the garb of the British Empire in the 1850.  Men dress for war at formal functions.  Women in 4 inch, fuck me shoes, and jewels and taffeta and lace are dressed as Trophies, the way Veblen saw them.  

You can’t question women today.  You couldn’t question men in the 30’s.  

Lister says Freud called female sex the ‘dark continent’. Which she says was good, ‘since he was lost and terrified of the inhabitants’.

Today women are more ignorant of men than men once were of women

Girls and mothers. Only grandfathers and grandmothers speak truth but only the grand children listen.

I cross dress. Today at the end of a long medical profession that began as a spiritual calling and was celebrated by a collective oath taken with Dr. Arnold Naimark perhaps the last the great profession, I made a pledge and signed a covenant. I bowed. Then one day a decade or so ago when Canada’s leadership became godlesss and the religion of aetheism , called communism took over, I began to be called a health care worker but I didn’t have a Union. I never had a union representative. I had an ‘association’ and as doctors we were overnight ‘stripped’ of all we held true.  The elite doctors made a dirty deal for pieces of silver with their masters, administrative doctors who forgot their oath or were too young to have taken it. I’m the last of a breed of ‘physicians’, ‘clinicians’. The Knights Templar of Medicine

Before I was a doctor, before I gave my life to duty and service I was a dancer and actor and wanted to be a writer, a play write actually. I was a poet at the time.  I performed on stages, developed an improvisation team that toured, acted main stage, danced on TV, trained with the world champions in London and loved.  It was only later I’d become an ‘intellectual’.  It was in those days I ‘sang the body electric’. It was later I’d become a monk. It was later I’d turn from God and turn back from God following the women I worshipped and living hedonistically and epicurean.

Today I’m spiritual

I’ve done a masters degree in religious studies and theology.  It turned out my divinity degree was lost when the university that bequeathed it was de certified. I loved the irony of that. I had a life long medical degr3ee but at the time my ‘subspeciality’ degrees were being marketed with a shelf life. The money squabbling university was no longer granting permanence but selling crackerjack temporary diplomas so that educational suckers would be hit three and four times .  Once you were hooked on the university they could squeeze3 you. I was teaching at the university at the time I became skeptical.  There was something truly mean and cowardly about the slavery of the student debt.  I didn’t have debt though every women I met I met wealthy and left a pauper and yet women were always portrayed as ‘victims’.  

Toxic masculinity because the halcyon cry.  A woman needs a man as much as a fish needs a bicycle,  Dead beat dad’s.  If I , an egalitarian, said have the evil things about women as women say about men publicly I’d be in jail. Play boy is faulted and Hefner a war vet discredited while 50 shades of grey becomes the women’s mainstr3eam best sellers nore pornographic than the Penthouse letters of old.

Vibrator sales and ‘erotica’ flourish. Pot becomes legal.  Trudeau an alleged Sex Offender buys off his students he abused and lies and lies and does more and more drugs but at least Clinton said ‘I didn’t inhale’. Obama admitted that he did cocaine as the black thing to do. Now we’re into hallucinogens and the Brothers comic predictions have come true.

I used to do guerilla theatre, improvisation theatre in the community, doing comedy routine with my other performers. I dressed in all the costumes.  Even played King Lear. I liked uniforms once. Loved my college professor look with tweed jacket cordoroy pants and leather elbows.

Today I liked best my cammo gear I wore hunting when I whispered in deer and touched them in their sleep, stalking and going about a night learning to walk and follow my cat soundlessly in the night. Today I prefer roaring about on my ATV. I liked the leather look riding my harley in uniform to Sturge3s.

I loved sailing in the tropics dressed only in canvas shorts or a sarong. I loved nude beaches.  I loved to ‘sing the body electric’ .

I loved all the passion and the sex and all the work when I was young carrying women across thresholds making love to them held up in my arm against walls. In fields, in 4 poster beds, in 5 star hotels and in sleeping bags on the side of mountains. I loved the girls. We had such fun. We still do but they’ve only so late come to own their anger and their fear and their shame.  They still blame their parents. Having lost fathers the single mother children blame the single mothers who claime that they did the work of two but it’s still about control,

Like suicide, I can’t control anything I’m out of control but I can kill myself and “I’ll show you’.

The symphony was so uplifting. Hesse and the Glass Bead Game.  I was transported. Dissociative divine experience. Uplifted. Tzaichovsky.  Otto Tausk a delight. The music heavenly and I touched that spot in my heart where God speaks. 

I’ve saved or interfered with thousands of suicides and now my aetheist consumer colleague does euthanasia for gre3ater pay and status and I’m not supposed to resent or envy. I’m still a wage slave but I don’t believe the MAID Doctors or the Abortionists do Buddhists Right Living. I’ve killed. I’ve done abortion. Women aborted my baby. I’ve been gagged and raped and beat and locked up and punished over and over again till I laughed at my own pain and self pity Poor me I screamed and then I knew

The story of Jesus is God came to earth and the government killed him.  God sent his son to visit creation and the government and the church killed him.  We crucified my Lord.

I’m aware when I spear the side of god or hammer nails.  

We’re all afraid. Jesus said do not be afraid.

I’m less afraid dressed as Klinger,  I’m old.  I’m enjoying looking on Both Sides. I miss being a hippy.  I miss the adventure. I’m facing the great adventure of dying.  God’s waiting room So many of my friends and family younger than me have died in the last few years.  It’s hard to keep up with grieving. My priest friends death hit me. Covid.  And the government keeps lying and the propaganda keeps spilling like bullshit and I don’t trust the Who, the UN or Tam or Fauci.  Trudeau is a sick sick boy whose mother was a drug addict and whose father was a communist.  Aetheism.

I just feel that aetheist don’t feel the ‘flow’ m the interconnectednessm the transcendent walking in the fore3st. I felt it last night in the forest. Fairies and mystery and the presence of God and hobbits and Fay I’m Fay. I’m touched. One tenths of my patients diagnosed psychotic were having a spiritual awakening.  I struggled to sort them out knowing the money was in putting them all down and keeping the factory going. I didn’t like the one size fits all of the institution. The psychiatric hospital was just a female designed jail. I worked in both. 

I’m afraid.  

I pray.  I meditate,  I walk about nude i swim naked I wear women’s clothes. I miss the tropics.  I want to move south. I want the sun. I am in pain. Joints ache. The family arthritis’s. Traumatic Arthritis .  All the assaults. I miss my boat. The gentle sway of waves and tides.  I’m on the hard earth,  

I am at an age where testosterone and estrogen are changing. Male menopause.  I like skirts. I’d wear kilts more if they were lighter and in lace and satin I asked the clan for a polyester kilt and they told me they had a table cloth.

I am today actually okay. It’s a lovely day. My dog’s hair cut has made him young and frisky. He’s a character. I’m preparing to meet family again. The struggle of that.  Drama of the Gifted Child. I would take a space shift to Mars and become a Martian than live a totality of life, like a high school reunion. My dream of showing up in a red dress, Fuck You and 4 inch heels.  What is it about drag queen and their mockery.  I just want to slip away in androgens. I’d like someone to care for me as I’ve cared for them. I want to reincarnate as a dog.

I’m afraid Aging.  I’d rather sit in a pair of pumps, nylons and black skirt , white shirt typing in an office, I was called a faggot for working as an executive assistant in England using the first computers wrapping my brains and finger around the Olivetti and the ATV BBC scheduling.  I was called a faggot and I was making more money than my friend made working on the oil rigs . I just was wearing a white shirt black trousers and black shoes and coming home each night to glory in sex with the most beautiful and sexiest woman in the world my dancer wife of the day.  We went to theatre every week and bicycle and ate fish in paper wrapping. I read Hesse and Tolstoy for the first time.  

I do the next right thing

I serve but my taxes go to pay terrorists and to buy the enemy coal mines for the war against our former allies. I’m in Nuremberg in my mind struggling with the Banality of Evil. The election could have been worse but it was bad enough. I am afraid. Totalitarianism and the reign of terror. The loss of rights. UN and Agenda 21. The WEF and Davos all are mechanisms to entrench the elite and hurt the poor and middle class. It’s Marxist. Elite and peasant Dictatorship of the proletariat The Supreme Court serves the clown wearig a mockery of the last supper sweatshirts.  Forgive them for they know not what do.  Some are sicker than others.  

I would rather lie in the arms of a lover and feel protected. I don’t feel I can protect anyone anymore.  My last wife stoned on coke and psychotic tried to kill me and I was only thankful she didn’t kill me and my dog. She was so insane.  That’s not the story that was told.  The government backed the lying crack head prostitute who prayed on my practice then lied to them and they used her as their Trojan horse to punish me and I really felt afraid. All of the false allegations and the courts revel in them.. It’s a story contest which the best dramatist making the best poor me story and the drug addicts and psychotic borderlines gas lighting but the old administrative grandfathers loins are hot with the hope that if they help the lusty young woman they were get the blows jobs her eyes promise. I can’t compete.  I know too many who fucked their way to the top I was at the top when I was raped.  

Rape is inevitable.  So lie back and enjoy it.  Days of fasting and deprivation. Alone in hurricanes. Igloos and polar bears. Nights of reflection.

A good life, An adventure story and a romance.  A thriller. A western.  And all the while healing.  A good doctor.  

Roles.  

Donovan, “the doctor bit was so far out, looking through crystal spectacles, I believe I had your fun’.  

I’m actually pretty happy. Life is good. God is good all of the time.  I’m grateful for the depth and breadth and design of my life. This comic strip of reality I live in.  It’s actually some days a novel or a documentary.  More like I’m still playing the kazoo in the symphony of life.  I dream of meetings with angels and god and family. Last night I was learning sewing in my dreams, repairing a patch on a sail.  I had a new machine and there was no rust. Like the time I repaired the ham radio in Mexico or the days I overhauled the Diesel engine in the Hawaiian islands

Two new deep cycle batteries are sitting in the vestibule to be taken to the camper for the weekend hunt.  I’ve work to do on ensuring the electrical system works with faults when I don’t have my generator along. I’m installing solar panels in the fall. Soon my camper will be as survival proof as my offshore yacht.

But am I ready for death. When i was unable to breathe, feeling my lungs didn’t work, when I still ed th panic liked I did when my scuba tank went 3empty and i had to rise slowly to avoid the bends and I lay there in Feb 2020 and prayed and stilled my heart and breathed and thought I was going to die not remembering a flu that was like this every before and day or so when by and my lungs released and the panic stilled and I breathed and I thought ‘that must be Covid’.  But I didn’t feel prepared to leave. I didn’t feel ready to die. I dfidn’t feel fit .  I have meditated more prayed more, talked more with God and done my work but reflected on my life 

Keep the lamps lit as the master could arrive any day.

My dog needs me.  I want to live to care for him till he’s 20 I cared for Gilbert, blind and back injured and I carry myself along and am my own mother and father, lover and friend..

Thursday Morning - thankful

It’s a plain fall day. No jewels. No boas. No make up.  Plain. Natural. Lovely in it’s own way. A gossamer veil of white cloud softening the sun.

I’m here.  Madigan is here.

I’m blessed. God is good all of the time. I pray to appreciate grace more and to develop a deeper attitude of gratitude.

I’m here. Madigan is here.

I pray Holy Spirit Come. Use me. Fill me with Joy. Show me the Way. Thy will be done not my will.

Thank you for this day. Thank you for family and friends. Thank you senses and the world.  Celebrate!

I’m working hard. Long hours. Much pressure. So many demands. My mind is flitting here and there hoping I don’t miss something. I’ve so many little things to do.

My filing system has been faulty for so long but I can’t rename the boxes on the computer so when emails come in I file them in close proximity to what they should be . If I needed to find them I could but it’s just one of those ‘alright’, ‘jury rig’ office matters because I have no time to call Apple and learn again how to reorganize my computer file email system.

I m aware of the mess. Everything below the knee is Madigan. I clean frequent picking up pieces of things he’s destroyed. I vacuum frequently but it’s a bit of a mess. Dog toys bones and balls everywhere.Right now he’s on his back rolling back and forth biting a squeaky toy. It’s so cute.  What can I say?

I have ordered batteries for the camper and will remember the charger but I’m wanting solar panel battery charger now and trying to have that ready before I go to the nephews wedding. 

I have to get a present yet. 

I must find out why the computer is not opening the Oscar file when I’m not at my desk. It’s like Oscar has locked out Apple. 

I’ve not found the time to reconfigure the camera blue tooth with the computer. I get these programs set up and then months later with a virus patch or new upgrade of software the interfaces don’t work again. It’s all timely and I don’t like to sit to these tasks because in the past they’ve been rabbit holes with long delays waiting for techs and one glych needing fix only leading to another glych and another fix.

I feel always pressured for time.  I’m on the clock. I’ve a factory Shute of patients each day and a long list of phone calls and emails and no time for the multitude of tasks. I actually got a little caught up yesterday but missed my meeting. I wasn’t finished work till the meeting time anyway and was exhausted.

I’ve not ridden my Harley much at all. I put it away in October.

I wanted to sell my boat but the only thing that limits it’s sale is the rusted out stanchion base. I have to fix that before I can put it up for sale. I want to do that when I’m in the east.  

I haven’t the license to pull this trailer and while I like it as a home I don’t know about pulling it about.  For now I can use a tow truck.  But one day will I downsize .  

I have too much excess in my storage locker and want to downsize.

Will there be war?

Will I die soon.   I don’t feel like it. I expect I’ll live  another 20 years plus. I’ve got to take care of Madigan and he’s going to live to be 20.

I have this thought it would be fun and more peaceful to live cross dressed.  A nerd. Travels with Amber.  It just gives spice to the possible.  I don’t want to be restricted to conventional much more. I miss the dance and theatre days before the duty of medicine. I’ve served my life and clearly the reward hasn’t been as promised.  Yet I’m thankful. It’s been a blessed life. But what I want to do now is not bland. I don’t want to be loud. But discrete old lady listening.  I want to be receptive to the Holy Spirit. I’ve been so much in command. So much having the answers. So much the caregivers. I read of friends going to gyms and spas and swimming each day and body beautiful and I am still rushing to eat lunch and grab a coffee in the pressure of the day and the weekend goes too soon.  

I have a down weekend .  Hunting season is always pressured. No one’s fault but mine.  Yet it’s when I lose weight and get healthy with exercise as well as have a 180 change from my day. I’m so active hunting and camping.  At home I spend too much time on the couch reading and watching Netflix.  

I really am blessed.  There’s a mundane same old same old quality to this life and I’m not used to the pace. I don’t have any desire to work in hyperdrive. I used to always rise to the occasion. Now I’m pacing myself.  It’s okay.  I’m learning.

This age of retirement is difficult for me. I don’t really want to but I really would like a longer vacation. I”d like 3 months off . Or a year sabbatical. I’d done more years of work in the field and time on the front lines than most I know.  So many of my classmates have retired.  Friends are gardening and fixing homes and doing art projects . Others before Covid were travelling poorly.  Now I look forward to the post covid travel again.  I’m restricted by the world. There’s no need to push against the bars of the prison. There’s so much good here in the middle of the siege. So much I can do and consolidate.  Solar panels are my latest idea. I’ve lost track of the solar panel I had a few years back with an earlier generation of RV.  

I don’t need anything. I must manage my ‘wants’ and let them be. I have been blessed with so much.  Be satisfied. Be thankful.  

Even getting to the pool and hot tub are a challenge with covid but I’ve got the BC Vaccinate card and have been signed in and can just go there.  I have an electrical fencing for protection and solar motion lights but haven’t even needed them. I’m protected .  There was a bear in the yard nearby and people warned me. I first thought of getting my bow or gun and only after thought of the risk to Madigan and then I thought of my camera. My mind is peculiar these days.  With the proximity of the cougar I never thought of physical safety a couple of weekends back but instead thought of getting my camera out the gun right there.

I’ve enjoyed driving around the back country on my ATV.  Now I just fear theives. My patients have been broken into. I’m wondering where I can camp and be safe. I won’t take laptop perhaps.  I worry about theives , not just the government, but common theives.  It a worry of thieves.  This concern about not having what one has.

I’m so blessed with all I have. I’ve had such a full and exciting life and I have such extraordinary memories. Yet I want what I haven’t got.  I want leisure when I’m busy and busy when I’m at leisure.  A contrariness is in the works. I need more acceptance, patience and joy. 

Thank you Jesus for the life . Thank you for the time. Thank you for the experience.