Blog Jam

With apologies to Grannymar who really dislikes the term "BlogJam"  but it's my blog and I like it as it's like a big jar full of unconnected thoughts and observations. Much like bramble jam which has all the wonders of the late summer in it, rosehips, blackcurrants, late rhubarb, gooseberries. Not that I'm saying this post is full of wonders, mind you. 

It's Black Friday. I'm so, so glad I don't have teevee as I'm sure I've been spared the spectacle of the near death experiences of insane shoppers hunting down the latest can-opener or camping for 7 days outside a Best Buy or a Walmart. Black in the truest sense of the word. Soul death.

Log Toasting

 

I imagine it is symptomatic of the time that's in it. How can we all be going to hell in a handbasket if we can shop will we drop? This way for a massive disconnection. The experience is so far removed from the little farmers' markets and fairs I see around here. Where you get to know the maker of the hat or the mittens or the table runner or the gorgeous canned goodies. Where things are kept simple. Not that we don't have Black Friday here. They tell me you can't find parking in all the major shopping centres for the past week. Imagine. How would we behave if we could Skype the workers of our latest gewgaw (fridge, stove, washer, I-Everythings) and have a chat with them? But no, they remain anonymous. We are completely detached. We don't want to know of forced labour and sterilization, or child labour, or dormitories and unregulated hours. Otherwise our flatscreens would cost $5,000, wouldn't they? We are all culpable in the outsourcing of our manufacturing industries.

I was with dear friends last night who replaced their 4 year old noisy dishwasher with a more silent, far more expensive, one. The old one, hardly used (it being noisy 'n all) will go to the dump for they wouldn't inflict it on anyone. And we complain about the constantly increased costs for the disposal of our detritus. We are all mad.

I was putting the fire together this morning. And marvelling at how connected I am to the source of my heat for the winter. The wood is harvested on my land and hewn into kindling and logs. Some of the wood was slightly damp but I've learned to dry it on top of the stove. It dries quickly. But you pay attention as it could get too hot.

Log Harvesting
 

A friend is dying, he was brought into palliative care last night. Actually an ex-friend. Which is weird, you know?  We had a few heavy disagreements where he revealed a truly ugly side to his nature. I went so far off him as to be on another planet. And yet. He's dying. I called a few times over the past few weeks and was not surprised when he didn't return the calls. My mind races ahead to the funeral (selfishly, abominably) as in wouldn't I be a complete hypocrite if I showed up? And yet he haunted my thoughts for hours this morning as I lay in bed. Nearly always, I can take the bad with the good in a friendship but I felt there was a hidden side to him. A darkness, his rage was so ugly. And frightening. And I told him this at the time. How unsafe I felt. He did not acknowledge my feelings  at all but demanded a book back that he had lent me on the effects of WW1 on Newfoundland.

Black Friday. Indeed.