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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: Blog

Published: 08 October 2021

Hits: 974

And a couple of weeks ago, sitting at the kitchen table and I see...

Well, there's always things flitting out of the corner of your eye here, it's an old house, poorly lit, and - as old houses go, more than likely haunted. So these shadows caught from the corner of the eye, the clanging and banging of pots throughout the night, smashing of cups, always to awake the next morning with no damage done, auditory hallucinations, as it were, I'm used to it.

But this was different. And - watch the floor careful and it appears again. 

Damn, I got a mouse. 

Now - an unwelcome roommate for sure, but, I've got to say, of all the roommates I've ever had I'll tolerate a mouse any day. The rest of them, well, that's another story...

Anyways, long experience has taught me that if you too long tolerate one you'll soon have a family - or several, and so I go shopping for a humane, live capture mousetrap. I'm thinking one of the tip-and-release ones that I've used in the past - a plastic tube that the mouse enters, the trap tips, the mouse is imprisoned. $1.99 at any hardware store. 

Any hardware store but here. A tour of every store in town turns up nothing. Asking about "Humane" mousetraps and you get the "Kill quickly" section, which, arguably "humane" (arguably indeed!) seems a harsh punishment for a tenant that - just like everyone else out here - is just trying to get by and survive.

No, I want a live-capture trap, I can let it go in the overgrown field across from the house with a pound of peanuts and it'll be set for the winter. 

So I splurge, buy a tin mousetrap that promises to live capture several - dozens of the guys - even, $20.00, bait it, and set it out.

The theory is that the hole of the trap sits next to the wall, and as mice like to run along walls they'll run into the hole and be unable to escape. The bait, peanut butter and peanuts - that's just to sweeten the deal, give the mouse something to do until I can release it.

Set it up beside the fridge and wait.

And wait.

Mornings, up early boiling the water for my coffee. Step out for a cigarette. And turning around across the street I see I've interrupted 3 giant - I mean massive - raccoons that were in the process of raiding the leftovers of my garden. It's still dark out, but you can see their little masked faces under the streetlight looking over at me as they pile out of the yard, clearly I surprised them, but as I've crossed the street it doesn't seem I'm a threat and so they sit there on the path to my door debating what to do before they disperse. The middle one - ringleader (?) - is huge, maybe 2 feet high, as big as a mountain porcupine...

Back inside, the water's boiled, thermostat turned up, it's starting to heat up, put my feet up and drink my coffee.

It's early, quiet, and soon Mr. Mouse makes his appearance. It appears he's living under the fridge, and the theory of "Close to walls" is clearly not founded upon him. Nope, he's out, sallying about, in a top hat and vest, walking across the middle of the floor, crawling in my bag, under the sink, back out, middle of the floor, here, there - completely unperturbed, without an ounce of caution, I'm completely unobserved, and so I just watch him. I mean, you can TRY and capture him with your hands, but - well, I doubt that will happen. Although I'm sure there could be some amusing YouTube footage of me trying. 

It's been 7 days now. The trap - nights I hear it rattling - as if the mouse were inside, in a rage, trying to escape, in the morning - nothing, the bait intact, no mouse-footprints in the peanut butter, the nuts are still there, I can imagine the mouse - cartoon mouse, rattling the bars of the cage from the outside, making noises as if he were trapped, like Bugs Bunny feigning death, merely to humor me or get a reaction, meanwhile he (she?) makes his /her nightly rounds, into this, into that, crumb here, crumb there...

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: Blog

Published: 03 October 2021

Hits: 930

And feeling generally unsettled, like the weather. 

Grey, clouds, cooler - there's the wanting to make a final assault on Crystal Mountain, only there's the caution of knowing that a 6 hour drive will probably be repaid with snow. This working less, it's like getting out of a prison, it leaves one confused. The new job, it settles into it's rhythm, meet the people, new job a lot like the old job, only a lot less money and a lot less hours. Time more to remember myself, only I largely seem to have forgotten, review notes - what was I up to again that was so important?

There's finding a new place to live - this, with a mere 6 weeks to go - should be more of a priority - the place on offer in Queens Bay, it demands a car - and a willingness to drive that same drive all over again, in reverse, and I'm loathe to do it. So - start searching for a place in Nelson. Only 6 weeks to go. And there's the hoard of junk and art supplies to be dealt with, the repacking of the small locker, the jeep - still to be dealt with, it's like raiding the last 2 summer's tomb, the graveyard of hard work and foolish money, it needs to be done, but maybe not just RIGHT now...

That is all. Out of sorts, the change in season, weather, job, and soon to be accommodations, they're all taking their toll...

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: Blog

Published: 23 September 2021

Hits: 1024

First shift at the new job. Smaller dining room, patio, get it all set up and wait.

And wait.

And wait. 

And - before you know it - time to close. A complete and utter shut-out. Not a single walk in or reservation. 

Next weeks schedule - only 2 shifts. This pleases me, but - if they're shut-outs as well my income will be at best precarious.

So, as bad as the other job was perhaps I should have stayed put...

Nope. Nope nope nope. Time now to get on to other things, and this puts the fire under my ass...

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: Blog

Published: 23 September 2021

Hits: 1070

The last few days, murder. Slower and slower. Quiet days, a table at a time, maybe 2, nobody spending money. Evenings, when you've just resigned yourself to leaving, getting out of there early, the last feverish trickle of people - scattershot, my income, still good, OK, mediocre, dropping off....

Spend your mediocre tips buying the regulars you liked drinks, their meals, you'll see them again in Nelson. 

Finally, 1 day to go - and it drags. At 6:00 it's sunny, the weather's turned, there's a few tables on the patio, a few inside. Maybe the day will go late? Today's not the day to go late. A giant pink "furry" shows up at the door - it takes a few for the penny to drop, my Son, with his rave costume, found in a theatrical free pile....

Rushing the night, customers leave - the much anticipated 8:00 close might just be happening, the night, quiet - then enter a couple of bikers. 10 to 8:00. And for the first time it's "Sorry guys, tonight's an early night, take out only", and they get it, the place is empty, and we finish up and head out.

My last day. The staff - kitchen - and I, my son, we're all heading up a mountain - somewhere up past Kaslo, there's a Autumn Equinox party, I've bought the tickets, it's been years since the last gathering and no one in the Kitchen has been to one - no one, that is, except for Sean, but Ken, Chris, they've never been, and heard so much...

We follow the directions, out of town XX KM, then up the FSR, road connects to road, left, right, clocking the mileage on the odometer, never certain, and it's pitch black outside, the logging roads grow muddy, slimmer, slimmer, alongside cliffs and with no turn-arounds, could there really be a rave up here? It seems impossible, and we're second guessing every turn, when finally, crossing a muddy ditch we hear the music, find it.

A cut-out in the side of the mountain, cabins (who lives up here?), we're half an hour, more, 45 minutes off the highway, high up, it's cold, there's a rainbow haloed full moon shining, park the cars for our little convoy, walk down a muddy track and find the rave. 

It's a small party, maybe 20, 30 people, a DJ booth, lightshow, music, chill-down sofa, art shop, it's every other rave I've ever been to, only at a 20th the scale, but it's good.

The party begins. People chat. Dose up. Things get funny. Sean, he's spied a girl he fancies, gave her a dream-catcher he made. And then Chris, the 'shrooms kicking in, begins to hand out crystals to people he likes, all the girls, best not to be too picky, and it's pissing Sean off, he's undermining Sean's good work. Everyone's tripping and having a good time and the music, it's fine, moving through you, mighty fine. A man stands up, grey haired, youthful, 40's I'm guessing, tears off through the underbrush, off a cliff, everyone gasps - and then a moment later he's there again, climbing back up the cliff, he's fine, just fine, and standing close to the fire, too close, and the circle closes, shoos him away, ... don't need any crazy shit just yet...

Sean, Chris, Ken, they head back to the cars, need to get more beer, Ken is jumped by the guy, same guy, shouting "I Hate You! YOUR POOR!! I HATE YOU", they manage to pull him off, tell me about it laughing...

Time for me to head back to the jeep, top up my tequila, and - behind the jeep, totally naked and on his knees, is guy...: "I am a rich man! I own a cafe! I could buy all of you! I would do ANYTHING for a dollar!! I would suck your cock for a dollar!!!!", he's doing some sort of penitence, I think for a moment that he's been tied down there - restrained for his own good. There's a crowd gathered watching him, discussing what to do. Someone proposes wrapping him in a carpet, dropping him down by the highway, but that's a long drive. I ask what triggered him. 1 tab of acid. Bad trip. Hmmm. I ask if there's any more of it, but no one finds it funny...

I approach him, briefly, he's right behind the jeep, It'll be impossible to sleep with him there ranting, it's the same loop over and over, like a scratched record, a bad trip indeed. "Don't offer him a dollar..." 1 bystander cautions, "I tried that already. He didn't take it well....". 

Back to the fire, to the rave, everyone has dosed up, Sean, taking too much, his face like rubber, out of it, Chris, ever the fool, giving away his crystals, a pretty girl, his target, asking him how he charges them: "Come with me! I have a charger in my car!!!!", hilariously disingenuous, the girls' not buying it.

And Ken, double dosed, now becomes the self appointed security guard, dressed all in black, checking up on everyone every 5 minutes, "You OK?", walking everyone to their car, protection against the raving acid-crazed lunatic that's roving these alpine woods...

My son, back in his car, finds the lunatic sprawled on his windshield while trying to roll a joint, he's still raving, clawing at the glass, the boy, on his own journey made none the better by this show, then - later returning to find the lunatic has taken to letting himself into another person's jeep, writhing and screaming naked, pulling on the blankets, the owner, a hippie, outside pleading with him to get out: "C'mon man, please get out...."....

The night passes, I'm exhausted, have been all summer, but now, 22 hours awake, 10 of them working, I'm done. Sleep. 

The next morning, sun over the peaks, we're high up, everyone sleeping, a polite spirit dog by the name of "Loki" begging for pepperoni, time to go. Down the mountain, the road worse now that you can see the drop offs and cliffs, to arrive at the highway, to find your way to Kaslo, grab coffee, then on back to Nelson...the rain is gone, a blue sky, work is over, it's going to be a beautiful day...