Taking a Year Off

Millarville, Alberta

This is what civilized politics is supposed to look like. Opposing parties debating policy issues, while following an orderly, democratic process.

Unfortunately, humanity has devolved from practicing advanced political discourse, to the screaming, feces-flinging rancour one would expect to see in a zoo.

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I decided not to watch the US election unfold on Tuesday night. I went to bed at my usual time, but checked the results when I woke at 2AM. The election outcome wasn’t what I had hoped for or expected, and I lost an hour of sleep stewing about it. I eventually fell back into a restless slumber, but a hollow feeling lingered in my brain.  It was still there in the morning.

I couldn’t bring myself to read or listen to all the gory details when I got up, so I opted instead to take a day off politics.

The results have been transformative. I thoroughly enjoyed my day.

I went for a hike with a friend after breakfast. I explained to him that I was taking a political holiday. He concurred, so we hiked and coffee’d while talking about real life things.

My barber is apolitical.  Our banter was about local goings-on, kids and ex-husbands, when I got a haircut later.

I steered away from radio and TV all day and read a book in the afternoon. Skeletons on the Zahara is a true historical account of 19^th century sailors shipwrecked and enslaved by Saharan tribesmen.

Many people are harbouring disappointment this week but not one of us had to drink camel pee, or sleep uncovered in the desert.

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I had a meeting with some contractors in the afternoon. Neither of them even acknowledged an election had happened, their focus is 100% on building me a new deck and they seem better for it.

Bear was out with her lady group in the evening. I skipped the evening news and went back to my reading my book.

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The shipwrecked sailors have now been enslaved on the desert for 60 days, without adequate food, water, or shelter.  They have lost half their body weight and are reaching a point where they don’t much care if they are ransomed or die.

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My problems seem benign by comparison.

As I got ready for bed, I reflected on what a great day it had been. I haven’t felt this emancipated for years, free from political rhetoric, focused only on the good stuff.

It was so enjoyable to eject politics from my life for 24 hours, I decided to do it for a year.

I quit. I don’t care about the red team or the blue team. I don’t care about left and right, I don’t even care much about up or down.  For the next twelve months I am going to focus on what matters, family, friends, travel, learning, food (no goat tripe or camel pee for me, thanks).

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If you are looking for a neutral zone, a place to go without political banter, you’ve come to the right place.  Where politics is concerned, WellWaterBlog is …

…taking a year off.

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Gervais made contact post-election morning before our walk. Knowing my political leanings, he asked if I was still sober at 7:30 AM. I said that I was, but that I would bring us each a barrel of brandy to wear around our necks while we walked.

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It is true, sort of.

A group of monks maintained a monastery and hospice on the Great St. Bernard Pass in the Alps near the border between Italy and Switzerland, as early as the 1550s. The pass was popular with mountaineers and tourists. 

The St. Bernard monks kept a hardy breed of dogs adapted to mountain conditions.  The Mastiff-Great Dane-Great Pyrenees crossbreed took the name of their benefactors and worked alongside the monks in their remote monastery.  

The monks and their mutts were often called upon to rescue hikers who fell or got lost on treacherous mountain slopes.

The rescue dogs were equipped with a first aid kit fastened around their necks.  The kit contained a small amount of brandy to be used as a painkiller, or antiseptic.

So yes, St. Bernard’s sometimes wore brandy kegs around their necks.

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