Right here at the base of Green Mountain in sunny Fosterville, NB, the sky is clear, the sun is shining brightly and the temperature is slowly climbing to its High of -6C - time to break out the cold beers, swim suits, lawn chairs or pull up a hunk of ice and bask in the sunlight. I just finished hauling enough wood from the woodshed into the house that should keep us warm for a week, unless the temperature plummets to -30C and stays there for quite some time. My fingers are still a bit numb from handling the frozen chunks of wood and my toes are a bit tingling - expect they're beginning to thaw out. Climbing into bed at night can sometimes be a rude awakening for my wife, especially when my icy 20 toes search for warmth on or under her warm body. I can't believe she doesn't complain about my wee icicles but then again, I don't complain when she does the same thing to me.
The wood stove in the studio is cranked up high; expect before long, I could actually begin sweating, which isn't good because if one goes outside, icicles begin forming on a persons forehead, arm pits and other more delicate areas I don't even want to think about; it's down right bloody painful when the crack of my ass is frozen shut and I have to eat about a gallon of beans just to bust the ice loose. I can't believe I actually brought out the paints and one of the brushes yesterday; it hasn't been used for so long, it thought it was retired and expecting a pension. And while I'm on the subject of pensions; what about that guy Harper; he's like a little dictator isn't he? He wants the older people to work longer before they can collect an old age pension, which he's considering cancelling; now that really gives old people a lot of incentive; doesn't it? I can understand his wanting the older generations to continue working, because they're not like many of the younger people I know who don't understand the meaning of work! And getting paid, unless the amount is enormously higher than welfare, younger people just aren't interested. For all the taxes we pay over the years, you would think the government would be happy to give the old people a bonus. But you know what; maybe they should do away with the old age pension and just keep CCP - the more you work, the higher a person's pension should be when he or she reaches the age of 65; I mean just because a person lives to be 65 doesn't really give them the right to collect a pension if all they've done is bleed the welfare system all their life or are filthy fucking rich, but then I guess it's all based on the reasoning of keeping low-life, slime-ball serial killers like Olson and Picton alive. Oh my gosh, I'm on a roll; I'm ranting again; one more kick at the cat! And our illustrious leaders; what about their ridiculous pensions that they collect? Imagine only getting elected for a short term and then receiving a pension - what kind of pure, unadulterated bullshit is that?
When I was living in Nanaimo, I used to get together with my good friend Ubo, a somewhat stubborn Dutchman but what Dutchman isn't bull-headed? You know what they say about the Dutch, "Wooden shoes, wooden heads and wouldn't listen." I can say this about my friend Ubo because he doesn't have a computer; he's not plugged in by an invisible umbilical cord to the Internet like the rest of us virtual babies. We used to get together every couple of weeks or so, sit down, knock back a few beers and just rant about whatever was on our minds; be it politics, women, relationships, getting old, etc., the subject didn't really matter. Just telling someone and listening in return can be very satisfactory; take a shit load of problems off one's shoulders and deposit them in the great porcelain bowl of frustration and flush it all away. I don't have that any more and I miss Ubo for my ranting; I admit the rants can be sometimes useless and are meaningfulness but still, just to hear your own voice hit those high notes of anger that would put a soprano to shame can be really worth it. Now I rant on here to people I don't know, except for a few friends and relatives; mostly to people who never say anything to me and it's not the same; I feel like I'm talking to myself, which I do, but it's not quite the same as having a sounding board; someone to agree with what I say or tell me I'm full of shit and my head is up my ass.
So much for ranting and even though it's made me feel somewhat better, I realize nothing has been solved. But now, I actually feel hungry so I'm going to walk briskly from the studio to the house and feed my gut - perhaps knock back a mug of rather potent apple cider I made this autumn. I don't know what the alcohol level is but I know the feeling it gives back is almost as good as a good rant - cheers, eh!
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