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My Coffee Monster

31/12/2023

Snow Covered Apple Trees

Some months ago, I stopped at the Dancing Goat. While in the line-up, I mentioned to a friend that coffee and I don’t get along.

However, I was in a party mood. I thought, at my age, I shouldn’t have to think about my past coffee experiences. After all, I have been able, from time to time, to drink coffee without too many negative repercussions. So, I gambled that I would be just fine.

So, I ordered an ice coffee. I then drank the ice coffee. I felt like I was a normal person drinking ice coffee.

We then drove around the Cabot Trail. I stopped at certain stores where I gave them some copies of my novel to sell. I was happy and revved up.

The next morning I woke up with a slight migraine. The scariest part was that I also had a migraine aura. That’s where I lose partial vision for about twenty minutes. I get to look at lightening bolts in my head.

Bad enough, you would think. However, I also had a sore throat. I thought I might have snored too much and that was why I had a sore throat, but I wasn’t sure. It could be covid or the start of some other bad disease.

I also had a lot of phlegm. I tried and tried to cough up the mucus. Suddenly, as I hacked and whacked away at the phlegm, I felt something in my throat. It felt solid. Not like mucus.

I now aggressively and anxiously tried and tried to cough it up, but I couldn’t get it out of my throat or down my throat.

That’s when I thought, “Oh my god, it’s a tumour.”

I then took a quick glance at Dominic. How would he get along without me? I could die from a throat tumour? Poor Dominic. Poor me.

I kept trying to cough up this attached chunk of something. Then I tasted blood. God! Now blood too!?

I rushed to the washroom and spit out blood into the sink. I spit and spit until I finally managed to clear the blood out of my mouth, but by this time, I was in full caffeine panic.

You see, my caffeine experiences can set up some pretty authentic reactions and scenarios. Why wouldn’t I go rat poop crazy with this caffeine reaction?

Sue's Memorial Bench up High on Left Side of Photo

God love me. I made a decision. I rushed to the Inverness hospital. Where I discovered that my blood pressure was somewhere above the ceiling, my tumour was called a uvula, (which is a fleshy part of my throat, and had every right to be there), the blood came from a harmless canker and I was suffering from coffee madness.

I felt better.

Some other good news. Going to the hospital had scared the crap out of my sore throat.

I still drink coffee from time to time. I’m a gambling kind of guy.

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BAD WEATHER CLOTHES

27/12/2023

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My wise hiking buddy, who makes wise statements, said that there was no bad weather, only bad clothing.

So, we decided, on a day that had bad weather, that we would hike the Salmon Pool’s Trail.

It was exciting. The river was having a blast as it roared and tumbled towards the salt water. Misty cloaks covered much of the highlands and because most people don’t follow my wise friend’s saying about bad weather and poor clothing, well, not a creature stirred on the trail, not even a mouse.

Dom Loves My New Foot Stool

Her proper clothing was a colourful raincoat poncho and mine was a never been worn yellow raincoat and pants.
It rained the whole hike. However, we planned to get to the little cabin.

You can see this cabin on my Facebook photo. I intended to light a few candles, eat lunch, drink tea and be merry. After-all, it was close to Christmas.

When we got to the cabin, we discovered that we couldn’t get in. We thought the door might be stuck. I tried some kicks and punches, but it wouldn’t move.

Very Muddy Trail

So, it was raining out, our outerwear was wet and we couldn’t have a sit-down in the cabin. Take a break kind of thing.

Morning Sun

I suggested that we might eat in the old run-down looking out house. It was open and dry, but what a stupid idea, and was I serious? I don’t know.

I did go into the little washroom to see if there might be a key hiding inside. After all, it is my cabin, in my mind, and also on my Facebook page. Other than an awful stench, I found no key.

My hiking buddy, discovered that the cabin’s eaves hang out pretty far. She was already standing under them and eating her lunch.

I decided to be the man and put together some benches. I carried four, semi-rotten logs and placed them by the wall. I then found some small planks and laid them on top of the logs. Then I invited my buddy to trust my woody construction, so we could sit down.

We sat down, ate our lunches, drank tea and admired the fabulous scenery. You see, the highlands hover over this little plot of heaven, while the mist hovers over their forested heads.

was startled by a shout of surprise and maybe a little fear or anxiety. My poor buddy was falling backwards off of my heart-felt desire to produce an operating lunch bench. She managed to stop herself from going ass-over kettle, but spent the rest of the lunch time standing. She had no trust in my handiwork. She is wise.

View From Cabin

I stayed on my side of the bench and was okay. Why? I don’t know.

However, as I was sitting there, I made a discovery. My brand-new rain pants were torn. There was a long tear in the leg. Brand new pants. Brand new, bright yellow, crappy rain pants.

When we got back to my truck, I entertained my hiking buddy by how I removed my really awful rain pants. I literally tore, cut and stretched my brand new, yellow, rain pants from off of my legs leaving my partially dry under-jeans on.

On Saturday, I took a load of garbage to the dump. If you happen to go to the dump take a look at one of the wagons. If they haven’t emptied them yet, you will see a pile of bright yellow plastic bits and pieces. They would be my brand new, bright yellow, piece of the poorest quality rain pants you’ll ever find on any store shelf.

Snow Sculpture

If they aren’t there, but you are serious about seeing them, you can drive into the big building where they put a lot of the garbage. You can go in there, and while listening to the pigeons cooing from the rafters and while keeping an eye out for the rats, you might see the bits and pieces of my brand new rain pants.

Watching River

It was suggested that I use the bits and pieces as trail flags, but I passed on that idea.

We Had a White Christmas

Meanwhile, I’ve got to see about getting my cabin door open. The door is of the finest quality and extremely difficult to damage.

Wild River

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Health Media Frenzy

19/12/2023

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“Be careful about reading health books. You may die of a misprint.”
Mark Twain

I’ve been thinking of dumping my television. I’d kick out the whole social media thing, but it has its uses. My blog for example.

But my god! Take the health advertisements! It’s amazing that the majority of us aren’t hypochondriacs. Maybe we are.

I guess money has a big part in this. You think?

We are educated about so many diseases, and then, on top of them, we have to deal with the real, in-our-face illnesses, which we or others are suffering from. It’s a heavy burden.

And apparently, to make it even worse, I’ve learned that some bugs have no empathy and don’t care. Not a Christian among them. Humbug!

A Little Dog By His Mail Box

We also have all the tests which are posted on the social media. For example, we can check to see if we’re getting dementia by studying how we shower or sleep. We can also do self appraisals on our bodies, so we can discover what other bugs are sneaking up on us. It’s a massive’ Find Waldo’ situation. And if we do discover Waldo or think we’ve found Waldo, then what? Spinning like a hamster in a cage. We must take the appropriate action. Which may be to dump your television and other mouthy media utensils.

Ghostly Forest

However, whatever you do, please don’t do the luddite test on me. If you do, make sure you wait for fifteen minutes before you take a look at the results. Will you find out that I have Ludditis. Ha

Hiking on Big Baddeck Highland Trail

No wonder we feel anxiety when we’re constantly reminded that there are strange, unsympathetic diseases hiding in our bodies. Waiting in ambush.

Oh yes, and there’s a drug for most of these diseases. And most of these medications have side-effects. Some of the side-effects’ explanations take up over half of the commercials. Some of them can kill you. However, they play soothing music while they’re listing them off.

A Happy Hiker

It’s not that I don’t think that most of these diseases are real, but having to hear about them all the time, is like living with a hypochondriacal uncle.

They say that a coward dies many times. I think television and social media makes us sick many times.

So, this is one of the reasons I have thought of dumping my tv. I’m tired of educating myself about so many illnesses. I don’t want to know.

Moss Critter

Therefore, I use the ostrich approach. For example, I don’t read the warnings on any pills that I take. If I’m taking a prescribed pill and all of a sudden I’m peeing out Christmas cane coloured urine, well then, there’s a good chance that it’s the pills.

On Our Morning Walk

You see, I have a good imagination. If I read the warnings and see that Christmas coloured urine warning, well then, I’ll be anxiously waiting for the multi-coloured urine to appear, and I’ll probably also begin suffering from attacks of too much health education vertigo.

Our Snowy Pond

PS. At this moment I am anxiously watching the river getting higher and higher. It’s dangerously close to its banks and I have no ostrich philosophy that will help me with this in-my-face climate event. I’m hoping the rain lets up soon. Fingers crossed.

Turkey Tails

It’s times like these when I miss Sue’s quiet confidence. She could stare into the rising river’s eyes and not flinch. Her attitude made me feel safer.

PS. Two
Some of you might wonder why my photos mostly don’t go with the text. It’s part of my anti-AI battle.

Dominic Enjoying the Snow

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Battle Of Artificial Intelligence and My Gloves

10/12/2023

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Our Morning Walking Trail

I’d almost decided to finish with my blogs. I thought they were old fashioned and becoming redundant. Nowadays, people can talk to their phones and zip up information as quickly as a Cheeto melts in your mouth or your app goes redundant.

However, my publisher said my blog is a good way for me to sell my novel, Dead and Not Dead. So, let me at it.

Where Does He Get All Those Toys?

Okay. What do I write about?

What about artificial intelligence? It’s threatening a whole array of new professions.

For example, writing my blog. It might write a splendid blog.

So, I’m thinking, how do I beat AI?

Maybe I have an advantage.

What is it?

Being weird. Being unpredictable. Jumping off verbal cliffs that zip off into weird tangents. Having crazy grammar.

Maybe AI can handle that.

Okay, but can AI put emotions into its writing. Leave out quotation marks. Can it weep over a story? If it can’t, then maybe it is at a slight disadvantage.

If it can, then I’ll have to be more unpredictable and write things like, I’ve went. Really bad grammar writing and not just my kind of poor grammar. Bare my grammarly teeth. Make up my own grammar.

Makes me think of Dominic. A non-AI dog. Who found both my gloves, when I didn’t know that I’d lost them.

Here’s a quick non-AI story about Dominic.

Note that I’ve written this section so as to make it somewhat AI proof.

Torey Sitting By Fire

I am, as I get older, finding myself, more and more often, putting things down and then forgetting where I’d put them. I usually can remember where they are, if I concentrate on my action of putting down.

Looking At Sue's Beautiful Memorial Bench

Anyway, one day, in the twelfth month of the year, I apparently lost both of my favourite work gloves. I had no idea where they were. Even more interesting, as I’d mentioned, is the fact that I didn’t know that I’d deleted them from my thinking cubicle.

The Beautiful Site Where Susan's Memorial Bench is Located

Well, one coffee time, Dominic barked at the oven door. That’s his door bell. I opened it, and in his hairy ear was one of my gloves.

“Where did you get that?” I cawed.

“Meow, meow,” he answered.

I removed the glove from his ear and then went about searching for the other fifty gloves. I couldn’t bake it.

Morning Walking Trail

The next jour, I kept my oculars open for the glove. No Goochie goo luck. Seven and you’re out.

I would, from time to time, ask Dominic to find my other frying pan.

Morning Tea

One night, when I took him out for his bathroom break, he pulled me towards the bird feeders and then began to dig. He pulled out a frozen chunk of ice. Inside the ice was my other hand, wrist and finger thing.

Our Pond

Apparently, I’d left them on the deck railing while I’d fed the wee flying dinosaurs. A squirrel must have knocked them down.

Some of Sue's Family Around Her Memorial Bench

What happened was that after Dominic had brought in the first glove, climate change, which according to the square world people, doesn’t exist, kicked in and it snowed and covered the second glove, before the tropical rain had a chance to wash the black powdery stuff away.

It didn’t fool Dominic and he’d ploughed it up. I think he bang on in a fruit basket wanted to find it for me. He woves me.

I’ve thought of strapping a small cask of rum around his mighty esophagus.

And Dominic said, tweet tweet.

Hiking to Sue's Massive and Beautiful Gravesite

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My Coffee Monster

BAD WEATHER CLOTHES

Health Media Frenzy

Battle Of Artificial Intelligence and My Gloves

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