Rescue 6-13

It was just one of those lucky flukes -- a matter of being in the right place at the right time. 

One of the many local construction sites, where a bundle of bamboo was being dredged out by its roots...when that dear man I know spotted it and asked if he could have it. 

Turns out that wasn't a problem. In fact the person taking it out helped pack it into the car, even gave us a bungee to help anchor it there. 

It must have looked like a forest parade, as we carefully went home, flashers indicating how slowly we needed to go. As for back-up accompaniment, it was the lovely sound of bamboo leaves swishing against the surface of the road. 

Once home it was a matter of fetching the old bathtub we'd rescued a couple of years back, always with the thought of having it become a home for another bunch of bamboo. 

A bit of a chop to the edge of the deck and the tub slid right into place. 

Some teamwork, and voila -- a new 'mini-forest' of bamboo for us. 

Privacy and all those lovely sounds...

Goodbye Personal Servant

Personal servant? That may be a bit much, though truly that little machine, our faithful GPS served in so many ways -- not only keeping us on track to many destinations, but keeping us out of trouble.

He (yes, I have no hesitation in calling him a 'he' -- after all, his name was Simon, and he had a lovely English accent) came into our lives in 2011, part of the acquisitions we made when we set out on our cross-continent tour in 2011. Wending our way through the complicated cloverleaf highways in the US would have been nearly impossible without him. At the very least, the relationship between the Dear Man and me might not have survived my map-reading skills. Call him a subtle peacemaker. Which way do we go? No arguments; just ask Simon.

Sure, there were a few times his satellite connections fed him information that was less than accurate, but generally these errors led us into strange and wonderfully off-the-beaten track surprises. Once we found ourselves not at the campsite we'd been seeking, but instead in the midst of horse-and-buggy 'traffic' in Amish territory.

Keeping us out of trouble came with his speed limit alert feature. So many little towns seem to rely on income from speeding tickets issued to tourists who might happen to miss the suddenly-low speed limit at the town boundaries. The warning sound Simon emitted was, fortunately, enough to get us to slow down from highway speed to the safely low numbers they expected. Whew! He more than paid for himself in fines saved.

This seems like the right day to bid him farewell, as it's the anniversary of when we got home from the big tour, eight years ago.

Despite poking around for better photos of Simon than the 'farewell' shot of him (out of focus, no less), I've failed. Best I could come up with was a link to this shot taken during the big road trip, where it appears we've gone off-road on some parallel trail. I'm pretty sure it was just a construction-induced detour.

It isn't that I took lots of pictures of him, but now and then, it just seemed too fun not to. Best were when we were heading across some body of water in a ferry. The little blue Volkswagen Beetle (his avatar) looked as though it was magically gliding atop the water. Silly, I suppose, but then silly generally is my middle name.

He's gone -- to wherever the electronics recycling items go, hopefully not back to the Philippines where so much unwanted Canadian garbage turned up. I like to think he's gone to where someone or thing gets to guide him for a change -- a bit of payback for all the gentle guidance he gave to us.

Rule of three

Not just because today is Orthodox Christmas (which is part of it) but for several other reasons, I'm celebrating.

One cause to celebrate is that today was garbage day in our neighbourhood. As you can see, we have three separate bins -- and ours (unlike most everyone else's) come in three sizes which I suppose you could call Papa Bear, Mama Bear, and Baby Bear.

Because we always have plenty of green waste -- branches and other debris from the many trees in our yard -- as well as food scraps from the kitchen, we have the extra-large size for organics.

The middle-sized one (standard issue from the city) is for recyclables. Because we still subscribe to a print news source, there's always plenty of paper. Tins, plastics, cardboard... well, there's always plenty of other items to put in there too.

The littlest one (a rarity, was even difficult to get from the city) is out and out garbage. Like the recycling, it only gets collected every two weeks.

This week, it was Mama's turn, the blue bin. Pretty much overflowing, mainly due to the crazy amount of (over)packaging from Christmas gifts. It got me wondering when all this plastic and cardboard and styrofoam nonsense began.

For sure, it had something to do with trying to prevent shoplifting. Remember those oversize containers for music CDs? A lot of that had to do with making it awkward for you to walk out of the store with a handful of them under your jacket, something that hadn't been such a problem when albums were still on vinyl.

And then there were the crazies who thought they were clever by messing around with bottled pills. Tampering with pain meds was the big one that got companies scared enough to add safety measures (packaging).

And the most recent excuse seems to be our addiction to online shopping, with the resulting packaging required for shipping.

When the blue bin went out this morning, it wasn't the only one on our street that looked to be overflowing. My resolution was to get rid of stuff, but this wasn't the kind of 'stuff' I had in mind. Still, I am grateful that the city has trucks that pick it up and take it away. As for where it goes, I can only hope.

But really, my main cause for celebrating this sunny Monday? For sure, my best reason of all is that a friend's cancer is beginning to retreat (yay!).

Season for recycling

It's again been the time of year when my friend and I make Christmas cards.

This year I took a somewhat different tack than usual. Rather than relying on the wealth of supplies I've accumulated over the years, I decided to try using as many 'old' cards as I could -- recycling them into 'new' cards by cutting and pasting and decorating them.

Some were easier to use than others -- nice, tight little designs that lent themselves to being reused, sometimes even in combination with bits from other cards.

The results, if I do say so, were pretty good, with a few I almost hate to send away.

And I'll admit, because I even tried to use cards from specific people to make 'new' cards that will go to them this year, it'll be interesting to see whether any of them notice their 'old' card coming back to them with happy holiday greetings.

"Are they mating yet?"

Some things in life just don't make any sense. Today's stumper for me is the mystery of the mismatched lids-and-containers.

How is it that when they get washed and put on a shelf, top and bottom are intact, but when I go to tidy their chaos, more than half of them are loners?

I haven't heard any arguments coming from their shelf, so I can't blame this disconnect on domestic discord or messy divorces. As for my question at the top of this page, some may recognize it from the film version of Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five. However it is that this disconnect occurs, I'll admit to being puzzled. After all, I don't think anyone's been sneaking into the laundry room and stealing lonesome bits of plastic for the re-use phase of recycling. If they are, I wish they'd take the lids to go with all those missing bottoms.

And while I'm not exactly saying that there's a black hole behind the washer (though who knows, maybe there is), if there is, maybe it's a companion to the one behind the dryer that keeps chomping down those singleton socks.

A loo with a view?

Or is this really just an inflated case of affluenza. Free toilets by the side of the road.

Sure, a toilet might need to be replaced. But all three at the same time?? Maybe white is no longer in vogue.

It's hard not to agree with the comment made by the graffiti artist: waster.

Death of an (another?) industry?

The boxes in the photo are paper products -- about to be recycled by a Vancouver publisher.

The way this works is that the publisher (a small business person) phones the recycling guy (another small business person) and arranges for the recycling guy to come and pick up the boxes of paper product for shredding and pulping.

At least that's how it worked in the past.

But now, Victoria (they don't even much bother to call it 'the government' anymore) has determined that BC residents will be better off if our recycling needs are met by a new kid on the block, MMBC. Although their business address is listed as North Vancouver, payments made to them go to Toronto. Huh?

Even though the new system isn't scheduled to come into effect until next week, our small business publisher has not only been billed, he's had to submit the first quarter payment (it sounded as though there might be penalties if he failed to do so) and the next quarter's invoice has already arrived.

So now, because he's paid his 'sin tax' (think carbon tax?) he's basically off the hook. If he feels like it, he can toss all that spare paper into any old garbage bin. Recycling? Why bother? It'd cost more. He'd have to phone the shredder/pulper guy, wouldn't he...

So now, the shredder/pulper guy will probably go out of business. And as for the publisher -- well, with postage rates and now this latest gouge, who knows?

As with too many decisions made by 'Victoria' these days, opposition doesn't seem to make a difference, even when some of it is coming from the very people who helped get this crew elected.

I love my shirt

I love this shirt. Out of a closet overly full of this-and-that, it’s what I’d wear every day if I could. Once upon a time, there was even a song celebrating just such a beloved piece of clothing.

But aside from long-ago pop songs, why is it that I love it so much?

It’s soft. It feels good against my skin. It makes no demands in terms of fashion sense. It lets me feel like my normalest self, no pretension about being something or someone I’m not.

When it came into my life, it was nicely pre-worn. Broken in and not all like a brand-new thing, too stiff to hold me close the way I want a shirt to do. And the price was just right: free.

It came from one of my very favourite shops, the free store on Denman Island (second only to in my list of faves to the free store on Denman’s next door neighbour, Hornby Island). And how long ago was that? Nearly a decade ago, I am sure.

Despite the fact that the collar is severely frayed – in danger of removing itself from the body of the shirt altogether – or that the elbows are starting to go through, this remains my best and happiest-making piece of clothing.

Time to go shopping for a new shirt? Not on your life. Especially not with tomorrow being Buy Nothing Day.

For now, I plan to keep wearing my best shirt – as long and as carefully as I can.

Taking a rest for the Earth

The 40th Anniversary of Earth Day, and this year I'm far away from home. I'm travelling with my sister who lives in North Carolina. Once again, our angels were with us -- or in this case, our guide might have been Mother Earth. While driving, we decided it was time for a rest stop, and where did we land but at what must be the greenest rest stop ever.

The facility opened last fall and boasts a raft of energy-conserving devices (the news story contains a short video that tells more). A rain-conserving system provides most of the water for toilets and urinals, solar panels pre-heat water for washing up, even the high-up windows are designed to let in natural light so they don't have to burn electricity to light the place. At night, the inside lights are even set to go off if they don't detect motion for 15 minutes.

Even though I'm on the road, I like knowing what's going on in the news back home. So for Earth Day, I see that Environment Minister Jim Prentice is going to distribute free passes to students to encourage them to learn more about the beauty of nature. At first glance, this looked like a terrific initiative, but when I read the story and saw the park passes were going to Grade 8's, my cynical side kicked in. If he'd been serious about doing anything more than getting parents to take their families on holiday, he would have given the passes to Grade 12's -- for the most part, they can drive themselves and might actually get out on their own and see the world with new eyes.

The world is on its way

With only ten days to go until the Olympics begin, it's becoming clear that Vancouver is putting on the finishing touches and doing its best to look good. Granville Street is filled with lanterns that make the evenings look magical.

The other day, when I was picking up family from the airport, it was easy to spot international visitors, including this one, who it turns out is one of the clothing providers for the Russian team.

But even though there's lots that looks great, some elements aren't quite in place. One thing I'm concerned about is the lack of public toilets in the city. Australia had no such qualms about hiding such facilities. Every little town had prominent signs pointing the way to the nearest loo.

And despite Vancouver's claim for being so green, I was unable to find recycling facilities for the plastic cups we were served from at an event at the Orpheum Theatre. Thanks to a Christmas gift, we were able to attend a concert that's part of the Cultural Olympiad. Oddly, when the emcee announced thanks, she credited Heritage Canada and the Government of Nova Scotia. Hmm. Go figure where B.C.'s arts money has gone, if not to these showy events. But nope, no recycling available at these, the greenest Olympics in the 'greenest city' around.

I've since heard that there won't be any garbage containers available -- all part of our Big Brother Security Show. I'm not sure who'll be looking after the streets, but this sight on Granville (admittedly from over a week ago) doesn't seem very welcoming.