Zen and the Art of Firewood Maintenance

We burn a lot of firewood around here.  I thought it would be fun to see if I could make burning wood even remotely humourous or poignant.  At the conclusion of this car wreck I’m not really sure what I accomplished but what the hell, it was fun.

With me being at home now we go through about 15 face cords a year.  I used to buy all my firewood.  This caused a bit of a paradox in the complicated folds of my wee mind.  Somehow I saw this as reducing the sustainability of the whole thing.  Obviously I would still be using far less electricity to fire the furnace if I’m burning wood, purchased or not.  But the idea of buying wood from what is effectively a wood factory kind of bugs me.  I understand that these guys probably manage their wood lots well, taking down only appropriate trees in order to keep the lot healthy.  It’s just that this leaves too many opportunities for unquestionable practices.  Yes, believe it or not this shit actually goes through my head.  So now it’s not just greed capitalist that can’t be trusted but Gaston Tranche Montagne from out back of Poltimore, who can’t be counted on to take down a tree properly.

God, I hope I’m not turning into a conspiracy theorist.  It’s recently been pointed out that I’m becoming a lot more reclusive out here.  I’m not so sure this is a good sign.  A buddy of mine told me on the phone the other day that I’m turning into Ted Kaczynski.  Don’t fret though; my revolution remains a peaceful one – we’re only building love bombs here baby!

Nelson Mandela (1918-2013)

When he was sentenced to prison, Nelson Mandela said to the court that had just convicted him, “I do not deny that I planned sabotage.  I did not plan it in a spirit of recklessness, nor because I have any love of violence.  I planned it as a result of a calm and sober assessment of the political situation that had arisen after years of tyranny, exploitation and oppression of my people by whites.”  

This could be the most honest thing anyone has ever said.  Madiba had immense balls!

My Father Has Dementia and I Ramble - a Lot!

It’s been an interesting bunch of months.  My Dad had colon cancer surgery about eighteen months ago.  It was a successful operation.

The mechanic who performed the surgery did a bang-up job.  All the disconnecting of hoses here and re-attaching of hoses there was done exactly according to the manual found in my father’s glove box.  I have a buddy who’s a marine mechanic and I’m awed by his ability around a specialized piece of mechanics too.

Unlike a marine mechanic though, the medical community has another aspect to their repair work.  They call it algiatry and it’s all about pain medicine and walking up the pain ladder for managing analgesia.

The white-coated cult has embraced this.  It’s become sacrosanct in their rituals to the point where this actual branch of medicine exists and medication has become of utmost importance.  I guess it’s been a natural progression.  As a species we’ve been looking for the magic pill almost since the beginning of civilization.  Cultures from all over time and place have enlisted sorcerers, witch doctors or medicine men; all of which utilized potions in the course of their healing rituals.