The season begins. One advertised, but driving around I find a few more. This morning's treasures:


A miniature accordion, a "holy toast" miracle maker, ...

Quite possibly the worst piece of devilish wire-wrapping I've seen. And I've done it.

And, finally, the one treasure of the morning:

a case with 2 gameboy advances, 2 chargers (one for the car), and 49 games. $40.00. 

Somehow I thought the kids would be a little more excited by this one, the nostalgia and all, but I have yet to have a nibble. In any event I won't have lost any money on it...

Somehow, as if overnight, in fact most probably overnight, rain, long overdue, and the lake comes up - to it's normal level, a meter at least, flooding fast, all the creeks are overflowing and miracle of miracles, every tree has turned bud to leaf, it's green, spring is here, rhododendrons and the dandelions and cherries have all blossomed, on Baker a fleeting hummingbird dances past the windows of John Ward. Spring.

Tuesday, May 2nd. It hits - on my phone - 29 degrees in Nelson. On Global News it says the high was 31.4 degrees. Celsius. 

This is weather typically reserved for late June. 

We're fucked. 

Anyways, days off, Gym, laundry, eat out, eat lots, eat all you can. Because now that you're working out your body's craving it and because you're in town and you can eat different things.

Somewhat different, not a lot. But it beats the same-old-same-old at the restaurant.

3 Bananas from Save-On and a thing of tequila salmon nuggets. Bananas, meh, old after one, by three I'm gagging them back. Not my favorite. 

More oil for the millstone, because - while it doesn't leak it, or blow blue smoke, it sure has a taste for oil. Mmmmm. Oil. 

Library, read my book, blog - my website was for a while blocked, Phishing, apparently it was hacked. But it's fixed now. And so I got it unblocked and blogging - when in town, will be an easier thing.

The weekend at the restaurant, fucked, Friday, Saturday, dead, Sunday, for some reason, we're busy. Only after I start, not before. Only after JR has fucked off to town after a cryptic "text me if you need me..." which means," well, you're on your own...because it'll take me at least an hour to get out there, so live with it.". He takes dog-fucking up 3 or 4 orders of magnitude.

There's hope (??) for the summer yet.

Friday night his mother-in-law is in town, an "occasional" waitress at the restaurant who has somehow conceived an infatuation with me, wants me to pick her up and take her out. 

By the time I show up she's sloshed and just wanting to go inside...her adopted daughter's house - and have a drink. 

It gets uncomfortable quickly, a family of hardened alcoholics, and, you know, I'm just not there yet...I discretely, politely, excuse myself and bail. "yes you are beautiful but never with know...". Bloody hell. Not my party, not my scene. 

In town, Big City Blonde is still holding court at the café in the morning, I caught her name, looked her up on Facebook, she's literally advised all of her friends that she'll be in town for 10 days and they can come catch up with her between...and .... at the café.

All right. This explains a lot. Although not the 3 changes of outfit per day, as I ran into her again at Cantina for lunch and the Cauldron for dinner. And she had a different outfit every time. 

Tuesday, the same, volunteer - a few treasures, an unopened Christmas present (that proves to be a box of chocolates), an old treasure chest that really needs to be filled with doubloons and reburied, coffee, sun in the park.


Wednesday - the restaurant, slow, training a new staff member and assuring her that yes, we will be busy. But we're not busy yet. Let her go at 7:30, cash-out, then a single guy walks in. Then another deuce, and another, and yet another...

It's misery this, the pass has been closed due to a slide, traffic has been diverted, we're getting the stragglers that want to wait out until the next ferry. 

I resign myself to a late night. A late night of no money earned, hostages of climate change and catastrophe tend not to be big spenders or tippers.


Mornings, wake up overlooking Queens Bay, a couple of Canada Geese have set up their nest on a pier, a great blue heron to the right casts a great reflection before flying away. I'll see him (??) every morning.


The next day, the same, the pass is still closed and we get hit in surges all day. People looking to spend time, not money, a 3 or 4 sailing wait on the Ferry, people coming in for a coffee or tea, the emptying out every sailing, in a rush to leave and pay, maybe they'll get on this sailing, then back again for the free refill on their coffee, killing another 2 hours, and it repeats, ordering to-go and then eating it in the restaurant as a work around to tipping, 

It's classic chaos, what we're known for, the night goes mad and late, the pass has re-opened but people that have come here are going to wait it out, these are the days of panicked running around for what amounts to fuck-all on your ring-out.


Which brings us to Friday, which is as slow as the previous day was busy, and I've swapped around my schedule for some Friday night social, which goes, this is why you live here after all, not all-work no play but a balanced life. These days at the moment, they're shorn of money and hope, debts still increase and my "ride", 3rd gear all the way up the lake and Sunday night I have to get to Kelowna at 60 KM an hour, this is a 6 hour trip, bloody hell...

Sunday, JR's back - better (was he ever sick?), keen to work hard from 11:00 until 2:00 when he's off to catch his Ferry. In 2 weeks he's worked almost 3 hours, he's trying to prove his worth to his parents.

I'm not making this up. 

The evening, slow, a very few tables but I have some regulars, preposterous tippers, that make up for the shortfall. 40% tippers. This is ridiculous.

One, a writer, author of a soon to be published spiritual autobiography, chatting to me at the bar, he's just having the final draft checked for it's "field of consciousness" rating. 

"Clayton?" I ask, referring to the owner of a particular machine that beams consciousness into the world, whom I've referred to abundantly before. A major Nelson employer.

And, small world, so it is.


Monday morning, volunteering at the thrift shop. Get it done. After which lunch, the library, thrift shops, a few errands. Listen to the ambulances come and check on the homeless people in a stairwell, underpass, fire trucks, the weather, so-so. 

Tuesday, up early, coffee, then Dentist. And this is the first time the hygiene tech completes the cleaning. The electric toothbrush, it's gotta be doing something.

Then, again, library, tacos, library again. Then to the Gym. This is the last of my punch pass, I've used it all up, musclebound and 2 weeks early. Now to buy another.

Treat myself with a trip to DQ.


The Car is proving a disaster. It's needing every fluid - gas (of course, they all do), oil, transmission fluid, power steering fluid, antifreeze, the fucking thing is leaky as a sieve, and there's no prospect (apart from my lottery ticket) of my buying another. Live with it.

These fluids need topping up every tank of gas. Not that I buy full tanks anymore, half-tanks only. But it's a snowball of debt just keeping it marginally on the road.


Wednesday morning, A* in the kitchen wants me to take her rock hounding. A few places, old haunts, we collect some garnets, fluorite, quartz crystals and silver specimens. 

I'm sitting on a gold mine if only I had a place to upcycle it. A toolshed. An apartment. Anywhere, really. But, as it is it just weighs down the car.

I'm feeling the need for a place to live, but I have to wait until I've slain a few more debts... 

Image: Osama Bin Laden

In which I write everyone's favorite advice columnist.

OK. I've been on a few internet dates. I confess this with the same reluctance I would admitting to masturbating, adultery, or excessive drinking and drug use. 

This is a list of some of my best -- AND WORST -- dates ever. Note that you gotta go on a lotta dates to get this kinda list, this kinda discouraged. And my online dating thing has been sporadic - an every few years kind of thing at best. Some of these dates go back 10 years, others are a little more recent. And to answer any people who might argue "It beats hooking up at the bar", well, you don't have to hook up at the bar, and at the bar you can see what your getting...

Anyways - apologies to the countless normal, decent dates that I went on but just didn't hit it off with. Memory is selective, it tends towards the extreme, and in this you will find the extremes...