THE TIDE IS HIGH

. . . and so is the river. NO; we're nowhere close to being flooded, as some places to the south-west of us have been. It's just that there's a lot of water around — and a lot of jokes about it. (If I could remember some, I'd tell you — but my brain is even less functional than usual today). I recall something about kids thinking their dad had put in a swimming pool; dad had to explain that's the field where he usually grows his crops. Well, um, anyhow. . . .

I very much hope you have a reasonable balance of wet and dry, wherever you are. I'm scheduled for minor surgery in a few weeks; the doctor's going to cut out the webbing that's grown between my toes during all this wet weather. But he has quack yet to determine quack what quack to do about quack these strange noises that quack I've been making. Not ducky at all.

PLAYING IN THE RAIN

The long-awaited rain storm has arrived. It's just pouring buckets outside. Environment Canada's Weather Office has predicted some localized flooding.

And guess who wanted to go outside and play "fetch" in the back yard?

(Hint: It wasn't the Bear, who had on his storm suit.)

The only other possible character for this was Her Ladyship, Miss Sadie — the Standard Poodle. Her genetics tell her she's a retriever; she also has webbed paws, for working in water.

You can figure it out from there.

P.S.: We went out and played for 15 minutes. It wasn't Miss Sadie who wanted to come in at that point.

A PRAYER FOR THE GULF OF MEXICO

I originally put this on my Desert Epiphanies blog. But I thought I would get more readers if I put it here.


Thanks to Nancy at Life in the Second Half for sharing this.

CHANGE. AND PAPER WORK.

This is the kind of thing I'd usually post on my Bears Noting blog. But I'm putting it here instead because, well, because here seems the right place for it. Don't ask me to explain that. Also, please disregard the note on my May 20th posting; that was then, this is now.


    In our lives we go through a variety of changes. Some of these are socially defined, and are known to sociologists as “Rites of Passage.”

    Today, every one of them involves paper work. Lots of it.

    It hasn’t always been that way, but it is now. And increasingly, we are know, not by name, but by the number that is assigned to our paper work. 

    Birth and death are the two universal events. Normally in Canada, you don’t leave hospital until someone has filled in papers for your birth certificate. When you die, you cannot be buried, cremated (or whatever) unless there’s a Burial Permit (which is issued only after the more extensive paper work is done).

    In between — perhaps Drivers Licence, High School Diploma, Trade Certification, University Degree. If you get married, a marriage Licence and Certificate. If you have children, their Birth Certificates. All involve paper work.

    And on the farm, there is paper work involved with the transfer of farm ownership. Back in the 1980s, when I was reporting agricultural developments on radio and in print, intergenerational farm transfer was complex. It needed very careful consideration.  I don’t expect it has become any less complex. If anything, there are probably more things to consider — and more paper work.

    What got me thinking about this is the fact that I’m busy filling in paper work. Late this summer, I will turn 65. That, somehow, doesn’t seem right. I don’t actually feel that old. I don’t think of myself as being that old. I’m 64 going on 46, maybe. But my Birth Certificate tells me I’m going to be 65. In this case, the paper work doesn’t lie.

    According to my long-time friend and colleague, Ralph Milton, 65 is the “age of certifiable decrepitude.” Supposedly, you’re old and worn out.

    That, of course, was not true in Ralph’s case. Nor is it true in the lives of many others. In fact, in my years of work with “seniors,” I saw that many seemed busier in “retirement” than they had been during their “working lives.”

    But turning 65 means paper work — for government pensions, or private pensions, or both, that might just wear me out. I won’t get my money until the paper work is done. Even if the money is sitting in some account, somewhere, with my name and number on it. So I’m doing paper work.

    And even after retirement, I’ll be participating in the economy and community. I’ll have an income. I’ll be buying things. I’ll be with my wife and family. I will continue writing. I’ll continue to serve on a variety of ethics committees, in our community and university.  I’m already facing health challenges, but they haven’t stopped me, though I do need medications. And all of those will require some sort of paper work.

    And I hope the economy in which I live will continue to have a place for, and honour the hopes, needs and contributions of,  young and old, male and female, rich and poor, highly-educated and less-educated. That it will be, simply, a Moral Economy.

========

This originally appeared, in a slightly different from, as an Op-Ed column in The Western Producer, last month. It's my latest contribution to our "Moral Economy" series.

SILLINESS

We have had a lot of rain where I live. Either rain or clouds almost every day. It's too wet in many places to continue seeding, so the large crop predicted earlier may not materialize. Neither Her Ladyship, Miss Sadie, nor I are fond of long walks in the rain right now. And it's all making me a bit silly — waterlogged brain, I think.

So, I have an idea. We should change the name of our province from "Saskatchewan" to "Newyyd Cymru" (New Wales). Wales always gets lots of rain. Right? A more fitting name for us right now, since we've apparently had the wettest spring on record. Sigh! Of course, for New Wales, we would need a LOT of sheep; I'm not certain how that would go over, here in cattle country. 

Oh, yes; Miss Sadie is a year old, today. We'll head out for a celebratory walk in a few minutes.  

CHANGE

"Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative."
        
I have no idea where that quotation came from, but it's been in my head for years, maybe even decades. Probably decades. (I'm old enough to have memories which go that far back.)

To the point. I've been looking at my blog, and I've decided to change a few things. I don't know how many, or what this will look like when I'm done. It's a "work in progress." Or something to that effect.

So, please; Bear with me. (Yes, I suppose there's a pun in that.) This may look a little strange (or more than a little strange) during the process.

LIFE . . .

. . . is boring if you don't blog once in a while. So, here I am.

Lately, I've been distracted by a number of other things. Like retirement planning, fixing the house and yard, "training" Her Ladyship, Miss Sadie, and work on a number of ethics committees.  I've also been writing for money (and getting paid) and writing for fun and experience (elsewhere). 

So now I'm coming back here for a bit.

Actually, the next piece will be on my Bears Noting blog, in about a week. I'll give you the heads-up here when it's published there. (I don't mean to confuse you; this blog is for fun; that blog is for "more serious stuff" [said in the tone of Winnie the Pooh!].)