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Tuesday, August 30, 2016

Fabulous American Ninja Warrior Jessie Graff

As I reported at the end of yesterday's post, my wife Jack had arrived home and was busy in the kitchen.

In expectation that she might be here for the evening and even spend the night, upon publishing the post I forwent my day's final mini-session of exercising and instead had a fast bath.

When I finished and came downstairs, Jack was gone.

And she never returned.

At least I had some fabulously exciting American Ninja Warrior action to behold last evening in the performance of absolutely awesome Jessie Graff!

This woman is undeniably magnificent ─ if I was a young man again, I would be in love with her.



I find it interesting that I cannot remember if I made it to bed before or after midnight last night ─ I always make a point of checking the time once I am in bed, but recollection now fails.

At least I know that it was 7:14 a.m. this morning when I checked the time, and decided that it would be best to commence my day.

My youngest step-son Pote and his girlfriend have today off work, so they were home together in bed.

I got a lot of work done at my Lawless Spirit post that I've been working on the past few days ─ I could even have finished and published it, but I felt that I had spent enough time on it for the day.

I found myself feeling sub-par.

It depresses me having Pote and his girlfriend here ─ I had no heart to try and exercise.

And compounding matters was the noisy brown hound beyond the backyard fence ─ its vile owners have shut it out of the house and it has barked and whined for many hours.

I wish that it would just die ─ it's incessant, merciless baying and barking have tortured me for three or more years now.

I suppose that it may have been around 10:30 a.m. that I opted to return to bed to try and nap ─ earplugged and blindfolded.  If I was not to be exercising, then I wanted to get out and have a good long walk.

And since I doubt that I have enough rum to last me until Friday, a visit to the government liquor store seemed sufficient motivation.

I am sure that I did manage a little napping, but mostly I was in a limbo state where I was unaware of time's passage and I was content to remain sequestered away in my bed and my brain fog.

However, when I finally checked the time and saw that the noon-hour had begun, I rallied.

I had not yet eaten anything, so I ventured downstairs and gathered together some fare.  I could hear Pote and his girlfriend talking in bed, and knew that they would probably get up once I left the kitchen.

I ate up here at my computer, and then began getting myself ready for the hike.

It was my intention to undertake an exceptionally long hike ─ possibly putting in as many as seven miles.

And as I left the front door at 1:34 p.m., I set off with that in mind. 

But after a couple of blocks, I had dissuaded myself.  The day was too old ─ something like this needed to be undertaken considerably earlier.

And so instead of working my way via a most roundabout route to the government liquor store at Nordel Way & Scott Road here in Surrey, I decided to just go to my usual government liquor store at 108th Avenue & King George Boulevard here in Whalley.

But since I had put myself somewhat out of the way, I chose to add a little more distance to the walk and take a route that I normally do not travel.

The morning had been overcast, but the early afternoon had a fair amount of sunshine as well as cloud.

My direct walk to the liquor store and home again takes about 1½ hours at a leisurely pace.

Today's trip was nearly two hours ─ in fact, it was 3:33 p.m. as I approached the front door of the house at my return.

I had bought a bottle of rye, plus a half-dozen cans of regular-strength (5.5% alcohol) beer.  One reason for the beer was just in case I felt like extending my time outdoors and drinking one or two cans somewhere.

But I did not.

Upon gaining the house, I immediately put some water in a kettle to boil for my day's second hot beverage.

I saw that Pote and his girlfriend Priyanka had left what must be some tiny potato cubes strewn on the stove, and there was even at least one on the floor.  The slobs never clean up their messes.

And she supposedly works in a restaurant somewhere!

In addition, they had opened up my younger brother Mark's back-up litre of half-and-half coffee cream (10% butter fat) that he bought yesterday, and that had been sitting beside the carton of cream that was already open ─ apparently the young jackasses are too good to use something that is less than absolutely fresh.

When he comes home drunk this evening and bitches at me about it because that's easier to do than to actually attack those responsible, I'll tell him as much.

They've done this before, and he says nothing to them ─ he somehow thinks bitching at me is the solution.

So I'll say so ─ I'll tell him that it's going to continue to happen if he keeps it to himself and somehow satisfies himself by complaining to me.

He's got to intimidate Pote if he wants bad behaviour to cease.

Dear God, I want out of this!

That damned hound keeps barking and barking; kids shrieking and screaming as high as they can and sounding like they're being murdered; and neighbours constantly honking their car horns.

There is no peace ─ no serenity or calm.

And there is not even refuge in my own home.  I'm so fed up with Pote and Priyanka being here all the time.

On top of that, a credit card bill arrived.  I've never used the credit card, but it's in both my name and my wife Jack's name.  She pretty much keeps it maxed out, and has long assumed the responsibility of making the monthly payment.

It looked like the amount due next time was unusually high.  So I checked the past month's transactions, and sure enough ─ no payment was recorded as having been made last month.

And so another hit goes against my credit rating.

Why can't I be free and at peace?

That hound out there is driving me bloody effing mad....

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The description beneath the following photo is from the Google album where I have the image stored:

This photo was taken on Koh Samet in Thailand ─ probably late in January 2003.

I can no longer remember when it was that I left Thailand during that trip, but I did arrive fairly early in January 2003, as I recall.

It was my first trip there.

Tukta is posing on the beach.

I had spent most of the trip in Udon Thani (city), and had grown very close to Jack (whom I married in 2005 on my third and final trip to Thailand).

Tukta had been in Udon Thani, and was instrumental in using her car to take me (and usually two or three other Thai gals) out to see some of the surrounding countryside.

When she returned to her home not all that far from Pattaya, she kept trying to encourage me to come out to Bangkok and she would pick me up and take me around to show me some of that part of Thailand.

So near the end of my holiday, Jack and I complied.

Koh Samet was to be the last place I was to visit before returning to Bangkok to catch my early flight home to Canada.

I think we spent three nights at Koh Samet.

"We" included Tukta, Tukta's sister and the sister's young son Earth, Tumma (a dear woman who spoke no English whatsoever), and of course Jack.
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I was raving about Jessie Graff early in this post.

The Washington Post published an article on August 15 reporting on a study involving  hand-grip and pinch-grip strength of 237 healthy men and women who were ranging in ages from 20 to 34:


Reportedly, "participants were recruited at university settings in North Carolina."

I am not going to get into the differences in the strength displayed by all of the various age groups of men versus women as compared to their counterparts in 1985.

All that really stood out for me was this ─ concerning men:
The average 20-to-34-year-old today, for instance, was able to apply 98 pounds of force when gripping something with his right hand.
And of the women:
Millennial women between 30 to 34 actually squeezed much harder than their forebears did, coming in at 98 pounds of force compared to 79 pounds in 1985.
Jessie Graff is 32 years old.

Did the researchers just happen to accidentally enlist a bunch of male weaklings who did not at all represent the norm of other men in the same age range?


I am not at all convinced of that.

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Here is an entry from my journal of 41 years ago to close off today's post with.

Back then, I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting the room in a house located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

I had gone to bed the evening before at 8:00 p.m., with the plan in mind to get an early start on a hike out to visit my mother Irene Dorosh who lived in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey.

That little old house is now gone, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue. 

For several years, I had hiked the most direct route to her home, and it would take me about 1½ hours at a good clip.

But just a few days earlier, I had begun taking a much longer route ─ from my room in New Westminster, I would hike the King George Highway all the way to Newton; and then from Newton, I would turn right on the railway tracks that cut through town, and hike all the way out to the Kennedy Heights area and where I could access 90th Avenue.

My mother lived just a few houses down the road from the tracks.
SATURDAY, August 30, 1975

It was after 4:40 a.m. when I got up; I had a period of wakefulness last night, at one point discovering the time to be 12:30 a.m.

I believe yesterday I neglected to record my purchase of a gallon of Calona Royal White wine ($9.66 total, I believe).

I am going to take one of my boiling chickens to mom's ─ via the long route of course, since I had a pancake breakfast ─ and try to get her to make a chicken pie for lunch; I shall on the start of my journey mail my 3 money orders (Western ticket, stamps, and Howard book) and a $5 tithe.

I am leaving here, in rain, at 7:50 a.m.

Well, I thought it was raining, but it wasn't.

I got to mom's just in time to meet her & Alex about to rendezvous with a bus; they were going to the P.N.E.

As they bade, I entered the house and made myself at home.  So much for my chicken feed!  Instead I filled as I usually do there.

Then, fatigued, I lied down, barely resisting sleep.

The phone commenced ringing later, and I answered it, finding it to be Bill.  He offered to come over, so I agreed.

When he did, I allowed him to pick as many blueberries as he cared for, then shook the plum tree, consigning the bounty to him.

On the way to town, we stopped at Econo-mart; he shopped some, but I gainsaid the selection of ice-cream.

So at a Mac's in town he bought us a pint apiece, which we ate at my place.

Nothing on T.V. or at the drive-ins appealed to me, so we parted company early.

He said Mark & Cathy were going to a party or something.

Tomorrow he plans the two of us to smorgasbord; I shall suggest the Islander in Whalley, as he offered to pay the difference between Sunday's meal and that of a regular day (at Country Boys, $1.49); the Islander costs $1.04 less than the Country Boy.

I shall again be abed at 8:00 p.m.
My old friend William Alan Gill saved me the walk back to New Westminster ─ I would have taken the direct route had I walked.  I had already walked quite far enough.

And on that walk, I had mailed money orders for a Western Lottery ticket, some Christmas commemorative postage stamps, and a Robert E. Howard hardcover book.

I probably mailed the $5 tithe as cash.  It would have gone to the Worldwide Church of God.

I hauled the stewing chicken for naught ─ my mother and Alex were catching a bus to go downtown and check out the P.N.E

The two of them had a healthy back yard ─ lots of vegetables; strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries; and various kinds of fruit trees, including a peach tree.

The plum tree yielded a fairly large golden type of plum.

The Econo-Mart that Bill and I stopped at was located at the Scott-Town Plaza (Scott Road & 96th Avenue).  Econo-Mart was a supermarket chain that has long since gone out of business.

Bill likely would have bought a huge container of ice-cream, but even though I deflected him from doing so, he still bought some at a Mac's store in New Westminster. 

He didn't live too far at all from me.  

He likely had invited me to come to his place to watch colour T.V. (I only had a black & white set), and maybe even later go to one of the drive-in theatres that were around.

However, I am sure that I was keen on keeping my new schedule of retiring early in the evening and rising very early in the morning.

"Mark & Cathy" were my younger brother Mark and his beautiful girlfriend, Catherine Jeanette Gunther. 

So the Country Boys (or Country Boy) was a smorgasbord ─ I had mentioned the place in my journal the previous weekend, but I did not remember just what it was.  

I have no memory of a smorgasbord in Whalley called the Islander.

Whatever I was trying to explain concerning their prices is lost on me now.

And I see that I have to wrap this post up ─ it is after 7:30 p.m., and I have a couple of things to do before tuning in some T.V. at 8:00 p.m. and getting in a little drinking.
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