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Monday, October 17, 2016

💀 ☠ Nothing As Planned

Dissolution kept me up last night until probably at least 1:30 a.m. ─ why do I do this?  How bloody weak am I?

A turmoil of conscience threatened to have me getting up ahead of 6:30 a.m. this morning, and I had not slept ideally prior to that.

But a renewed effort succeeded in bringing sleep eventually; and the next time I checked the time, it was 9:01 a.m.  

Was I going to manage to accomplish anything today?

My youngest step-son Pote and his girlfriend were still in bed ─ they in fact did not rise till near noon.

I did some work on a post at one of my hosted websites, but broke off because I wanted to get out and do some local shopping.

The day was grey, and there were periods of drizzling rain.

I made that shopping foray, leaving here ahead of 11:00 a.m. ─ it was no more than a round-trip of about eight blocks.    

Upon returning, I could hear the young couple talking in bed.

They soon rose and took over the kitchen, making a noisy racket, as they always do.   I remained upstairs, wondering if this was to be my day.

But late in the noon-hour, a reprieve ─ they left the house with their backpacks, a sign that they would not soon be back.  I actually think that Pote likely had to go to work.

My wife Jack had asked me to alert her if her eldest son Tho used his car while under a licence suspension, so I sent her a text about that.

And then the next thing I knew, she was home ─ it could not have been much after 1:30 p.m.

Then around 2:00 p.m., Tho showed up ─ he must have had a truncated workday.

Jack harangued him for awhile, and then I got enlisted by her to try and understand what she was going to have to do with the Employment Insurance Job Search Form she is expected to submit. She has been sitting on it since at least last week.

All along she had been maintaining that it would be nothing to get it completed; but suddenly she expresses nothing but urgency, and she has little understanding of what she needs to do to complete it.

She is of a mind that she doesn't even need to complete every line of the form, but I am sure she does not realize that some further lines extend to the back of the form.

I have read that E.I. expects E.I. claimants to make at least five job searches a week.  

I don't know what the girl is going to do.

Anyway, she left mid-afternoon to go over to Surrey Place (Central City) to pay some bill, and she may try dropping off résumés at some of the stores.

I have a feeling that she will be home for the remainder of the day once she returns, and will probably spend the night.

As a consequence, I am going to make a shortened post today.

I wish at this juncture to present a photo that I now see is part of a set of at least two others ─ I will add them after the comments this first photo will have beneath it (they are taken from the Google album where I have the image stored):

That is my mother Irene Dorosh in the foreground, but I cannot guess where or when this photo was taken.

If I was to guess, I would think that the location was likely here in the Lower Mainland of B.C. somewhere.

And for the when, possibly the decade of the 1980s.

But those are definitely guesses.

 That is her husband Alex in the third photo.

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With so little time to blog today, I am going to finish with this 41-year-old journal entry, from back when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

The house I was renting the little unit in was located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

I only worked one day a week, as a rule ─ Friday ─ at a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that is today known as Fraserside Community Services Society.

Back then, S.A.N.E. was located on Carnarvon Street in a building that used to exist right about where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station now opens up onto that same street.

I worked as a truck swamper on S.A.N.E.'s blue pick-up truck, which was usually driven by Esther St. Jean, a dear woman in her early 40s.
FRIDAY, October 17, 1975

David came around 12:45 a.m. last night, scrawling on my door he would see me at S.A.N.E., whereat I shall be slightly late this morning, having to take in my welfare declaration and cash my cheque.  

It hasn't quit raining.

When I arrived at S.A.N.E., Esther wasn't there, so I went to Safeway and bought 2 jars of natural Sunny Jim peanut butter ($2.86) and TV Guide

Back at the store Bill and I learned from Verna Esther hadn't yet returned from a Wednesday afternoon trip to Merritt, so we were discharged before 11:00 a.m.

I went and awoke Bill; I visited awhile, and he agreed to visit me after his 3:00 p.m. medical appointment (he is still on Compensation for his cut finger, and hoping for more time) so we can get cracking on our active evening.

I plan to visit Art awhile (and pick up The Vultures) with some of our wine, then possibly do the same for David before heading off for Nell's.

I finished the last of my Granola; hence, any I have will have been created by myself!

Every situation tonight was amenable...until Nell's.  We just couldn't get away!  All that beer! and those calories!

Oh, my soul for a large lottery, and the resultant health!

Bed:  4:45 a.m.
My co-swamper was an older chap named Bill Sevenko. 

It was my old friend William Alan Gill whom I apparently woke up when I went to visit him after leaving S.A.N.E. for the day.  Verna (Williams?) who had discharged me for the day was in the capacity of manager of S.A.N.E.

I worked at S.A.N.E. through an employment initiatives or incentives programme in place between them and New Westminster social services. Each month I had to submit a declaration indicating that I still needed the help.

Art Smith ─ also a part-time S.A.N.E. employee ─ was in his early 40s, and always trying to get me to come over to drink with him.  He didn't live too far away from S.A.N.E.

My friend Bill and I had helped my younger brother Mark make some wine with fruit from some trees around the house Mark was renting; our share of the brew turned out to be four gallons.

I must not have had any trouble getting out of Art's clutches ─ he could be extremely clinging.

My old friend Philip David Prince did not live too far from Art's home, so I must have dropped in on him, too ─ and again, managed to get away.

Or maybe Bill was with me the entire time?  That would have made taking our farewells much simpler.

He and I were expected over at my maternal Aunt Nell Halverson's home out in Surrey.  The clan there loved to party!

Well, it is approaching 5:00 p.m. as I type this, and my wife Jack has yet to return.  She will have me locked up in her service with this Job Search business ─ she had even intended to try submitting some réesumés online to increase her 'job search' totals.

Anyway, I know my time is going to be heavily involved with her, so I had best publish this and rest my eyes whilst I still may.
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