Saturday, August 12, 2006

God's Country

This is a pic that Robin sent me that he took when he was quading. It continues to amaze me how beautiful that part of the world is.

Here in Toronto, I try to explain to persons at work how nice it is, but I can't do it justice. How does one tell someone that that part of B.C. is far more scenic and varied in it's geography than anywhere else. From Radium to say Riondel, one can see so many different 'kinds' of countryside.

I was impressed with the Cabot Trail, the drive from Banff to Jasper, the drive through Switzerland way back when, going through parts of Oregon and Washington state, but nothing can compare with 'God's Country'.

Relatively speaking, it is still untouched. I personally don't like to see new golf courses opening up, housing developments being built, and new businesses establishing roots (even though new jobs keep the graduating kids at home and/or going to university and then returning home to work productive lives). Let that happen elsewhere (as in the Okanagan). Why does it have to happen there?

Hello (revised)

I'm about to retire to a cave. And that may be too easily found. I just write a few words what I think and I really don't want any responses or feedback. If anyone likes this blog good. It is what I do.

I only have so much time to get everyone in it. Now I got Robin. The Douville, not the bird.

I apologize to Jim, I didn't mean to tell him he looked funny in an Aussie hat.

Presumably not a soul finds what I write interesting. I don't associate with persons who do find it interesting. Because anyone that does should be put away and I will be first one to lock them up. And throw away the keys. I'm slightly neurotic, it doesn't show when I'm out there. It's a good thing someone is. "Jim?" "have you moved in the last half hour?" "Ger?" "would you shut up" "Kev?" "why do you annoy me when you don't even do anything?"

And I'm about to turn sixty-one. Today I'm going to bike through the back alleys of the bad parts of TO, hoping to get stabbed. The problem is that when one is sixty-one, no one wants to stab one. And I'd probably run into an old friend. I can't win.

So I biked to work on Wednesday, and Thursday, and yesterday. Most normal person's would say: "yay, not a bad thing". Not me. On the way home from work (knowing I had a beer or two in the fridge), took the long way home and had to pass everyone on a bike, uphill. And I have go for a check-up next week: "hi Don, ooh you've lost weight" "it's the cancer, it's eating me up" "your heart-rate seems normal" "I've been sleeping for sixteen hours a day lately" "why did you come to see me?" "I'm trying to get on disability" "on whom?" "disability, I walk funny" "so does John Cleese" "but I got the forms for you to sign" "Donald, come back in about sixteen years and be serious then, you are a picture of health" "but I can't walk, I can bike" "exactly, have fun"