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Saturday, October 20, 2018

Love and Fear and Uncertainty ─ Remembering

Bedtime was approximately midway through the midnight hour last night, for my younger brother Mark retained consciousness all evening after he was home from wherever he had been drinking.

He had tuned in a CFL game on T.V. soon after he got home ─ a match of the BC Lions versus the Edmonton Eskimos. It was half-time.

The Lions were five points behind at that juncture, but they ultimately were to win the game.

When the contest was over, I wielded our Android TV Box to tune in two episodes of The Shannara Chronicles ─ episodes seven and eight of season two.

I sure do like the young gals on that series ─ they're all so darned fetching and inspiringly athletic! If this series existed when I was a teen or into my early 20s, I would have been agog over the series, and an enormous fan of at least one of the actresses.

The evening was topped off with an episode of The Ranchepisode 16 of season two (or episode six of Part 4 if you prefer breaking each season down into two halves as Wikipedia does).

I am not at all eager to see the last of actor Danny Masterson's character Rooster. Thus far, I have avoided trying to find out how he's going to be written out of the series. I would just rather not know.

I had a little more spiced rum than maybe I ought to have had, prior to opening my evening's one can of strong (8% alcohol) beer. Maybe that's why I felt more ill-slept than I think I should have when I rose before 5:00 a.m. to soon get to work on the day's content assignment at the post I am building at one of my six hosted websites.

My youngest stepson Poté was still stirring downstairs ─ he had his girlfriend here to sleep with, so maybe they watched a movie on a laptop.

Then just ahead of 6:25 a.m., I heard someone unlocking the front door and coming into the house ─ as suspected, it was my wife Jack. She had worked the day yesterday at her friend Fanta's Thai restaurant in Langley.

She seemed to be in a good mood, goofily announcing in a theatrical whisper, "I'm home!" as she passed by the room I have my computer in, which is right next to our bedroom.

She quickly enough got herself to bed.

The website post work was more involved than anticipated, so it was 9:30 a.m. before I was bedding down here on the floor in front of my computer to have a nap. I prefer not to disturb my wife Jack's essential sleep ─ she still has to work for a living.

Mark hadn't yet risen ─ the hard liquor he seemed to be doling himself last evening probably exacted a toll.

I don't nap too well on the floor, but I got some benefit, and it was 11:00 a.m. when I checked the time and rose again.

It had been thickly foggy early in the morning, and high fog was still blocking out the sky. However, it is now 12:22 p.m., and there seems to have been clearance. I ought to be able to get in some time sitting out in the backyard early this afternoon to allow my face and shaven head some further colouring.

A couple of days ago, I saw on T.V. that if we get a sunny Monday out of this string of sunny weather (Tuesday was projected to have rain), then it will be the fourth longest run of rain-free October days on record. Two full weeks rain-free, whereas I believe that the record is 24 days back in the mid-1980s, I think.

Obviously that does not signify that tomorrow and Monday will be sunny and cloud-free, of course. They might easily be cloudy ─ just days without rain. So I had best take fullest advantage of each sunny day we get, for there will not likely be much more weather this year that's going to be warm enough for me to just sit outside basking in the sunshine.


It is now 5:26 p.m., and I took quite a lengthy break.

I did not expect it, but after typing out that previous section and then going downstairs to fix up my day's second hot caffeinated beverage, Mark proved to be interested in some T.V. before seeking his midday rest ─ even though it was already just abut midway through the noon-hour.

So I tuned in two episodes of Schitt's Creek ─ episodes 11 and 12 of season four

And I see that those are supposedly the final two episodes of the season; yet it seems to me that there was still one episode remaining ─ according to the roster of episodes listed at the Terrarium TV 'app' that I have downloaded into our Android TV Box.

I will definitely have to get around to checking this out.

Anyway, Mark did get on up to his bedroom thereafter to seek his rest, and I then headed on out to the backyard tool-shed for my dozen minutes of exercising.

Then at 1:49 p.m. I sat outside for just over 40 minutes, gaining that sunshine I earlier wrote of. And fairly late into that session I could hear that my wife Jack was likely busy in the kitchen, finally up from bed.

I returned into the house just as Mark was dressing up to head away for...well, maybe for the entire day, since he usually spends Saturday nights at the home of his girlfriend Bev. 

As for Jack, she was to have to go to work again, beginning in the latter afternoon at her friend Fanta's Thai restaurant. First, though, she did some cooking.

And just before she left for the day, so too did her youngest son Poté and his girlfriend ─ the pair of them finally got up.

I saw my wife off, and then had the house to myself. And I finally had my first meal of the day.

As usual with the day's first meal, it required a lie-down afterward, and I probably dozed.

And now here I am!  

Google Photos notified me today that it created a two-image commemoration of this day (October 20) back in 2012. Tho is at the left, and his younger brother Poté at the right:

Here are those two original photos that were taken back then, retrieved from the Google Photos album that I had filed them in:

As I recall, the first photo was taken in a restaurant that my wife Jack took her two sons and I to for a meal ─ it was at Shang Noodle House in the Queensborough area of New Westminster:

The second photo was one of Jack that I took with her posed on our backyard's sundeck:

She and I were still intimate back then, so looking at photos of that day rather saddens me....

Hey, it is exactly 6:00 p.m. right now ─ I really do not feel like blogging further, so I am going to bring matters to a close with this old journal entry of mine from exactly 40 years ago.

I was 29 years old, chronically unemployed, and with a bleak outlook on my future due to limited self-esteem.

Actually, all I had going for me was my ongoing motivation to be as fit as possible with the lack of means available to me. And since I did not drive, walking was a huge part of my life.

Fitness was the only feature of my life that I felt I was any good at ─ the only thing I had going for me. Other than that, my life was naught but a source of depression.

But I was unhappy with the area where I was staying ─ especially the stretch of street where the old rental was that my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Jean Cooper were renting here in Surrey.

That house is no more than a memory today, I bet; but back then, its address was 8205 - 144th Street (Google map).
OCTOBER 20, 1978 (Fʀɪᴅᴀʏ)

Possibly cause I've been sleeping excessively lately, I woke up what seemed long before my alarm rang c. 4:45 a.m., and so almost stayed abed; besides, it had been pouring for quite some time.

But I did get up at last, and by 5:00 a.m. was on my way to try for 20 laps.

[My destination would be the track at Bear Creek Park (Google map). Up at the right corner of the park by 88th Avenue & 140th Street, there was a fitness circuit back then which I would use for a series of sets of different types of chin-ups, as well as four sets of dips on its parallel bars, and even some sets of push-ups on a low-lying set of parallel bars.] 

Alas, I say. Ere my first mile, I was afflicted with what seemed a kidney ache on the left, and two joggers independent of each other had come.

They were no problem, really, being shorter and less fit than I, and my pace was not hurried. But the pain centering on the left half of my back soon was diagnosed by me as a strained muscle, though why it hit me jogging and not while I was exercising my arms at the fitness circuit earlier piqued me.

Just before my 11th lap, the pain having steadily grown, I was stricken with such a seizure that my lung movement was arrested. It was my final lap.

I went on to mom's.

[Bear Creek Park was roughly midway to my mother Irene Dorosh's home in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey ─ the house was about three miles from that of Mark & Jean. It does not exist anymore, either, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue (Google map).]

Melody's call was her fault.

[My ex-girlfriend of a couple years earlier had called there the day before and gotten Mark & Jean's phone number, and then the lass had phoned me ─ my mother apparently admitted passing along the phone number. But I had no desire to be seeing young Melody St. Jean at this point in my life. Heck, I could not afford to meet up with her, even if I wanted to!]

Mom also said Kathy had told her a birthday party was held for me by some of Nell's crew, though that cannot be true.

[My maternal Aunt Nell Halverson and her large household were also renting in Surrey, having moved there just a few years earlier. My birthday had been October 11, but I had not been with any of my Halverson relatives around that time ─ there was no party that I had attended. I'm unsure now, however, who "Kathy" was that my mother had spoken to.]

I early took a much needed nap, and since mom hadn't returned from the New West market, I tested my ability to exercise. 

I could do headstand press-ups and regular push-ups, but could not do my stomach work, the muscle in my back painfully cramping up.

Due to kindly urging from mom, I had more to eat than I wanted, and alot of it poor quality, such as a few boiled and some mashed potatoes, plus white rice pudding. Oh well, it's forgivable.

I left for Mark's shortly after 1:00 p.m. to avoid the school-out and rush-hour crowd.

It was a windy, sunny day in spite of the pre-dawn weather.

Now, without further ado, I wish to tersely record the substance of two dreams I partially remember having during the week.

The first was of the betrothal of Colleen and I. Evidently it was somehow for her "convenience", while I just went along with it out of lacking concern for alternatives in the future. It was an arrangement and no more, neither of us being "in love", as I can recollect.

[Colleen was my maternal cousin ─ one of my Aunt Nell's daughters.]

The other dream was of some manner of gathering that included people of my past, Harry Klassen and possibly Barry Williams coming to mind.

[Those two were from my elementary school years ─ Grades two, three, four, and part of six ─ at Surrey Centre Elementary School.]

Jean said Mark went to assist someone move, so if she'd known last night, she could have worked today instead of hoping he'd show up early enough to go picnicking, sitting around idle in her hope.

I just wish to hell they'd go out!

At 4:00 p.m., or shortly after, Jean passed the phone over to me: bloody Melody again. 

I detest phones! I'd vow never to answer another if I could be sure of not forgetfully breaking it.

She suggested we rendezvous tonight, but I demurred using Mark as excuse.

She's to phone tomorrow, but I won't be here.

Mark didn't get in till well past 6:00 p.m. Jean was bathing, and after I'd communicated she was upset, he joined her.

They thereafter retired to the bedroom.

Daboda had been loose since I'd gotten here. 

[Daboda was Mark's German shepherd.]

Around 7:15 p.m., I heard a car screech its brakes, and felt gripped with concern for him. So, I left the door ajar. It remained thus till Mark and Jean stirred at 10:00 p.m., with no visitation from the dog.

Jean went ahead and prepared his meal, then went outside, returning with him.

He walked in, stiff and unsteady, close-mouthed and very docile in expression. His movements were very economic, and he prepared to just lay.

Mark found what he felt was blood at the side of his mouth, yet he showed no sign of pain when stroked about the ribs and belly, nor did he have any broken bones judging from his dispirited walk.

He had no interest in food, but drank water.

Mark phoned to reach a vet, and we are now awaiting his follow-up call.

And that's how I am leaving the situation as I retire, largely fasting since being at mom's. Her sisters, Lucy and Maddy, are expected on Monday.

A further note on Daboda: I retired at midnight; Mark decided to give the dog time to see his progression.
Daboda was to live, relatively unscathed insofar as we could tell ─ or so I now believe. However, I do think that Mark always felt that Daboda from that time lost his great ability to leap upwards into things like a pickup's bed ─ or just to jump directly up into the air as he had always done when he was chained up and alone in the yard and excited to see somebody coming home in one of the vehicles that he would recognize.

As for dreams, I had one of considerable note just two or three mornings ago of a romantic nature. I was a younger version of myself, and somehow involved with a group of probable young people who were being administered in some helpful capacity by a lovely young woman who was apparently a British princess. 

It's possible that I did not know her rank, but she and I were becoming close.

There came a point in the dream where some manner of official ceremony was taking place in which a procession of dignitaries ─ including her ─ were filing past these young people and myself.

The princess was of course interacting with those she knew as she slowly progressed along, sometimes even embracing certain persons.

When she came abreast of me where I was either seated or kneeling, she did the same with me, and I melted against her as she lovingly held me; I pressed my face against her upper encircling arm and professed my love for her, entirely losing myself to her and the wondrous scent of her warm skin, while she returned my words of love.

I came out of the dream thereafter, but the strength of the emotion I felt ─ the overwhelming love ─ was unbelievably real. It was as genuine a feeling as ever I have felt.

It is truly quite amazing how powerful human emotion can be ─ even when it is the product of a dream.

Friday, October 19, 2018

Sunny Friday Reflections ─ Home All Day

It was another into-the-midnight-hour bedtime for me last night, for my younger brother Mark held it together after getting home from wherever he had been drinking.

And so were were to watch episodes three, four, and five of the second season of The Shannara Chronicles. And we topped off the night with the final episode of Future Man from season two.

I have of late been having a couple or so ounces of spiced rum ere enjoying my usual can of strong (8% alcohol) beer. I think once the bottle is done, I'll replace it with a bottle of dark rum.

Anyway, I was half-expecting my wife Jack home at some point yesterday, but she never showed.

I slept unusually well, and was not to awaken enough to care about checking the time until 6:59 a.m., so that put me into a very late start on the post I am developing at one of my six hosted websites.

My eldest stepson Tho had not gotten up and gone to work, and he never did go to work today.

But as I added content to that website post, right around 7:25 a.m., I heard what I correctly concluded was my wife Jack unlocking and then coming through the front door of the house.

She got to bed smartly without a word to me; and as I type these words, it is 2:59 p.m. and she is still shut up in our bedroom.

Due to the late start I got on that website post, I was still working on it when Mark emerged from his bedroom. And when 10:00 a.m. was approaching (I often join him in the living room at that hour to tune something in via our Android TV Box), and I was still some distance from finishing the day's content assignment, I broke off and went downstairs to catch some T.V.

Please note that it was mainly due to conscience that I did so. Had Mark not been down there watching very old T.V. shows, I would not have bothered with television, for I am not a daytime viewer of my own accord.

I tuned in an episode of the current season of America's Got Talent ─ specifically, it was episode eight and featured Olivia Munn as a guest judge.

The actress's name was unfamiliar to me, but I recognized her when I saw her. She and Katrina Law (playing recurring character Nyssa al Ghul of Arrow) look practically like twins to me.

I was hoping that Mark would head on up to his bedroom at the conclusion of that episode of America's Got Talent so that I could get back to that website post, but he wanted to watch something else of maybe an hour's duration. So I tuned in the final episode of season three's The Durrells.

But that still was not enough for Mark! So we ended the daytime T.V.-viewing with an episode of The Last Man on Earth ─ episode 14 of season four (the final season, for the series has been cancelled).

By then it was quite late into the noon-hour. Once Mark had gone up to his bedroom, I opted to get my dozen minutes of near-daily backyard tool-shed exercises out of the way.

And once that was done, I then opted to bask in the sunshine for just over 40 minutes beginning at 1:09 p.m. ─ my face always needs the colouring.

Only after that was done did I finally return to my computer and finish the day's content assignment at the post. Mark headed away for the afternoon, but I failed to pay attention to just when ─ let's just snatch 2:45 p.m. from the air.

And now at 3:25 p.m. I have just heard my wife Jack emerge from our bedroom and go into the bathroom.

I never expected to get in this much time to work on a blog post today, so unless she has plans to soon go off somewhere this afternoon, I am unlikely to get in too much more work on it. Nevertheless, both of her sons are still home, so maybe she will become involved with them.


I guess only Tho was home for Jack to exchange with. But she was not home long ─ within five minutes of the arrival of 4:00 p.m. she left to drive to Langley where she must have been scheduled to work beginning late this afternoon at her friend Fanta's Thai restaurant.

This freed me up to finally start putting together my first meal of the day ─ during which Tho also took off, leaving me home alone.

My youngest stepson Poté must have had an afternoon / evening shift, and needed to leave for work just before his mother made her appearance from our bedroom.

Well, there's no sense adding any further boring details about my day, so I am now going to present a few more photos taken early this year when my wife Jack and her two sons arranged a small reunion in Bali with five of their Thailand family members.

I am only going to put up two photos this time, both of them taken in some clothing shop in Denpasar, Bali.

I have been identifying the young lass as Kæ̂m or Gâaem, but she identifies herself as Milada Gamz. The older woman with her is her mother-in-law, Lumpoon ─ who happens to be one of my wife Jack's two sisters:

The two photos were probably taken in the afternoon of January 29, 2018. 

Now I can close today's post ─ and here to do it with is an old journal entry of mine from exactly 40 years ago when I was 29 years old.

I was chronically unemployed, often depressed, and with poor self-esteem.

Since I had no income, I was accepting the charity of my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Jean Cooper who were renting an old house here in Surrey.

I am confident that there is no trace of that old structure today, but back then its address was 8205 - 144th Street (Google map).

Rather than just sit around all day, I was quite the walker ─ and since I didn't drive, there was scant choice about that.

However, I was becoming exceedingly downcast about the area I was staying in ─ the street seemed to have the most thoughtless residents whose threatening dogs were always loose.

Also, it was wearisome having so many schools around, with their floods of students at key hours throughout the weekdays ─ I absolutely hated getting caught up in their congregations during my walks.
OCTOBER 19, 1978 (Tʜᴜʀsᴅᴀʏ)

I tried. I left Mark's and got just past David Brankin Elementary before I wholly gave up, returning.

[Back then, David Brankin Elementary School was located where today is Invergarry Adult Education Centre at 88th Avenue & 128th Street (Google map).]

Certainly not the ten miles I intended. But all the traffic! And worse, the cheeky school kids of all ages, and the vicious dogs, just seemed to have mounted a conspiracy of harassment against me.

I thought how easy it would be if my parents were dead; I could then take from life what I want (need), and kill any if I had to. And all I ask from God is $1,000 to free me of the pressures that make my feel this way.

[I can scarce believe that I wrote that, but I was despondent and filled with impotent anger that my life was what it had become. Most likely, I wrote it right after I had returned home while I was still stressed to the extreme.]

Note: on the other side of the King George on Kennedy, I guess I saw Jock and Larry, and they me, in the trash truck.

[Kennedy was 88th Avenue, so it was somewhere to the left of the intersection shown on this Google map that I saw my maternal cousin Jock (John) Halverson and Larry Ernest Blue in one of the Haul-Away garbage trucks ─ Haul-Away had the trash collection contracts all over this part of the country back then.] 

I've been restricting my calories the past couple days, and was rather relieved that Jean got home at her regular time (c. 6:00 p.m.) with Mark, for she had a predominantly sauerkraut and sausage mix in the slow cooker all day which I was delighted to partake of.

I only had a large helping that left me hungry, but I grew accustomed to it possibly because of some drink and tea.

Bill phoned me at 8:00 p.m. to say Melody called to locate me.

[Melody St. Jean was a younger unfaithful ex-girlfriend usually resident in New Westminster ─ we had been involved during the latter Summer of 1976, if I am recalling aright.]

Well, we'd no sooner hung up than she phoned, evidently getting the number from mom (and hers from Nell's.)

[Melody had been determined! Nell Halverson was my maternal aunt, and also my cousin Jock's mother ─ Melody knew them all from the time we were briefly together.]

Fortunately she didn't blab too long, but she expects to phone again on the weekend to arrange meeting me somewhere (at a bar) in Surrey. She's moving on the weekend from her New West suite at 6th Ave. and 12th St. [Google map.]

I of course intend to avoid her. (150 pounds, Bill says.)
William Alan Gill was an old friend of mine who knew Melody very well.

Melody was fairly short, and quite buxom back when she and I were involved romantically and sexually for maybe three months. I'm not sure that she could carry 150 pounds and be particularly appealing to me at that stage, but it's not impossible.

I just didn't want the hassle ─ nor could I afford hooking up with her at some bar or pub. To what end?

It is truly unfortunate that she had been so fickle and dissatisfied when we were together. I seriously considered marriage with her.

Just last year, I believe it was, I discovered that poor Melody died at the age of 33 in early 1990, still resident in New Westminster and unmarried.

But to the present briefly ─ not once today did I seek a rest. However, while I was sitting outside basking in the Sun, I did nearly drift off into a nap twice ─ both times I came around as a result of a hypnic jerk, painfully biting the left edge of my tongue the second time. 

Thursday, October 18, 2018

Where Do the Days and the Hours Go?

Oh, my poor wife Jack!

She went out early last evening to visit her friend Fanta, who lives in Langley ─ and also has a Thai restaurant in Langley city.

I warned her not to let "the little monkey" get her drunk, but Jack just assured that it wasn't going to happen, and she would be home awhile later that evening.

Well, my younger brother Mark and I watched the first season finale of Runaways, and then the first two episodes of the second season of The Shannara Chronicles.

We topped the evening off with the second-to-last episode of the first season of Future Man, and still Jack was not back.

It was into the midnight hour by this time, and after I got to bed I had some unease about my sleep being disturbed by Jack's homecoming, so there was some initial difficulty falling asleep.

Once I did, I checked the time at least once before doing so again around 4:14 a.m. and deciding at that point to just get up so that I could soon get to work on the post I am building at one of my six hosted websites.

First, though, I had to get out to mail a credit card payment due next Tuesday, so I dressed and staggered off to do that at a mailbox no more than a block from here.

Then after I was back at home, perhaps just ahead of 5:25 a.m. Jack showed up.

She seemed disappointed with herself for being so foolish as to allow herself to get caught up in whatever nonsense she became involved with, and revealed that she was likely only going to manage three hours of sleep before she would have to get up because she was scheduled to work the day at Fanta's restaurant.

She wasted little time in getting to bed.

My eldest stepson Tho rose awhile later (around 6:00 a.m.) to get himself ready for his workday.

I felt seriously in need of more sleep, so once the day's content assignment for the website post had been met, I sacked down here on the floor in front of my computer ─ which is housed in a tiny room next to my bedroom. I did not want to deprive Jack of any of her essential sleep.

I did not nap well, but I did benefit. Even so, I was back up just ahead of Jack's emergence from our bedroom to start getting ready for her long day.

It was at that point maybe 9:40 a.m.

I joined Mark downstairs where he was watching T.V., and Jack wasted no time at all in readying and taking off for Langley. She looked as tired and miserable as she probably felt.

She sure didn't have much to say.

Anyway, I had a movie in mind to watch with Mark via our Android TV Box: A Ghost Story.

Mark started bitching about the lousy production almost immediately, and it definitely was a pathetic movie for anyone wanting to view something straightforward that was perfectly understandable.

In a profane pique Mark finally announced that he was done with it, and he walked off not 20 minutes into it, only finally returning when the credits were rolling after its conclusion.

I had to refer to that Wikipedia article that I linked to in order to get some sense of the storyline and plot, and now the movie seems even sillier.

I don't care what plaudits some artsy reviewers may have given the movie, it was just about a total worthless waste of time.

But with Mark back, I felt constrained to tune in a couple of other shows, so I called up the series premiere of The Conners, and then the premiere episode of the third season of Zapped.

With those two shows watched, Mark was ready to seek his bedroom and some rest, and I was soon out to the backyard tool-shed for my almost-daily dozen minutes of exercises out there.

I skipped yesterday's session ─ I found doing so to be necessary in order for me to find the wherewithal to get out early into the noon-hour to do some local grocery shopping.

You see, I hate those exercises; but the only way I can justify missing a session is by getting out and performing an errand. So if I did not have that reward before me, I mightn't have managed to get out and brave the world ─ even if I only had to travel about four blocks to get to the market I went to.

I simply do not like being out in the public.

But yesterday was very warm and sunny. I was able to spend just over 40 minutes sitting out in the backyard wearing nothing but a pair of cutoffs with the legs pulled up to expose more of me.

I was perfectly warm.

Today, even though it was again sunny, the blue sky was somewhat dulled by a light haze; and it was sufficiently cool that even though I was fully attired (apart from being barefooted) ─ including a sweatshirt overtop a tee-shirt ─ I was almost uncomfortably cool at times.

That session of just over 40 minutes commenced at 1:33 p.m. And I think that it was around 1:45 p.m. that Mark announced through the sliding glass door that he was heading out for the afternoon.


It is now 6:09 p.m., and I must drastically reduce this post. I became involved in other matters this latter afternoon and now do not have the time for much further material.

I do want to include a few more of the Bali photos taken early this year when my wife Jack and her two sons arranged a small reunion there with five of their Thailand family members.

I would guess that these five photos were all taken reasonably early in the afternoon of January 29, 2018.

No one among the eight holidayers are in any of these photos, incidentally. They just happened to be five photos that my wife Jack must have felt like randomly taking:

I was not there ─ I sure can't afford to travel!

However, two of those photos provided me enough information that I have just now been able to figure out exactly where the location depicted is ─ a hotel, and specifically, the Discovery Partika Plaza.

Apparently Qatar Airways has their Bali city office at the Partika Plaza (South Kuta Beach in Denpasar, Bali, Indonesia).

It is now time to close out this post with another old journal entry of mine from exactly 40 years ago when I was 29 years old.

I was chronically unemployed and with no prospects and very little self-worth. Since I had no income whatsoever, I was being given shelter at the old house that my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Jean Cooper were renting here in Surrey.

There likely is no trace of that old house today, but its address back then was 8205 - 144th Street (Google map).

Jean worked for BC Hydro, whereas Mark worked as a first-aid / time-keeper at what was probably a remote logging camp.

Since he had to put in 10 days straight at the camp before being flown out for a four-day break, he was presently away.

I tried to get in as much walking as I could ─ often I had no choice, since I did not drive. But I would go to some extremes for the activity.
OCTOBER 18, 1978 (Wᴇᴅɴᴇsᴅᴀʏ)

I arose after Jean went to work, rather unhappy with the early awakening so common to me.

I despise day walking, but am too beat at night.

I chanced Alex being at work, and found him so when I went over to mom's.

[My mother and her husband Alex lived about three miles from Mark & Jean's home. Alex had just gotten back the day prior from at least two weeks away on some sort of "health" tour that was probably over to the U.S.S.R. or Ukraine. Their little home in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey is also gone now, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue (Google map) ─ it was my main mailing address.] 

I wrote a letter to Roxanne while she napped, and she said she'd mail it when she got to Scottsdale to bowl.

["She" was of course my mother; Roxanne Halverson was my younger maternal cousin who was then living at her family home in Calgary. Scottsdale is the area around the intersection of 72nd Avenue & Scott Road (Google map) ─ a major shopping area even back then.]

So, I exercised some, ate some, and before noon had left to come back here.

Before 3:00 p.m. I had yielded unto vileness.

Then I had a nap, figuring later at night to go for a long walk or jog.

But I'm in a hellish fix here. Jean refuses to close her bedroom door, and sleeps lighter than any young person I ever met. My nocturnal comings and goings can only disturb her.

I must face that life here is not conducive to my physical needs in the way of exercise. The whole bloody area is a congestion of dogs, school kids, and traffic.

I must insinuate myself back into Bill's place; at least I had privacy from dogs, and it was only a relatively short distance I had to face where roamed traffic and people ere I had the great peace I lack here of a Burnaby Lake circuit.

I'll try to sleep.
My old friend William Alan Gill was sharing residence with his mother Anne Gregory in what may have been half of a house they were renting in Maillardville.

Until (I think) the end of May 1976, I had lived in New Westminster since moving there in 1969 or even 1968. So very often, I had walked from wherever I lived in town, hiking all the way out to Burnaby Lake (Google map) and travelling right around its far end before returning back to whatever apartment or room I lived in. 

Bill's residence was starting to seem attractive compared to what I found myself having to put up with here in Surrey. Jean could be an absolutely wonderful young lass; but she could also be almost unbearably moody, and very snarky.

I felt bad enough in that I couldn't see a future for myself ─ I didn't need this young thing belittling me further.

Wednesday, October 17, 2018

A Token Wednesday Post

This is but a token post ─ it is 5:09 p.m., and I have just finished speaking via phone-call with my wife Jack. She said that she is driving, and on her way home.

I will have no real time to blog once she is here.

She had said on Sunday that she would come home yesterday, but that never happened.

Anyway, the only reason I feel I must post is to house this old journal entry of mine from exactly 40 years ago. Had there been no such journal entry, then I would not bother posting here today.

Forty years ago I was 29 years old and chronically unemployed. As a result, I had to accept shelter at the Surrey home of my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Jean Cooper.

I am sure that old rented house no longer exists, but back then its address was 8205 - 144th Street (Google map).

For probably nigh on two weeks previous to this, however, I had mostly been staying at the home of my mother Irene Dorosh in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey.

Her husband Alex was away on a tour overseas.

Their home doesn't exist anymore, either, but it was about three miles from that of Mark & Jean. Its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue (Google map). 

Since I did not drive (even if I could have afforded to, for I had absolutely no income), walking was a way of life for me. I was in the practice of trying to get out every day to do some distance trekking.

I see that Alex must have been due back on this day, so my time staying at my mother's home was coming to an end.
OCTOBER 17, 1978 (Tᴜᴇsᴅᴀʏ)

I spent my final night at mom's.

I got up early and by 4:00 a.m. was off on a lengthy walk, using roughly 88th and 72nd Aves. as boundaries, with 144th and 120th Sts. the other edges, totalling about 10½ miles; it was just gray, not too much after 7:00 a.m. when I got back.

My breakfast was ample.

It was another mild night.

My walk didn't leave me unaffected, for the soles of my feet burned and my outer right ankle reminded me of its weak condition. However, mom drove me over here to Mark's before she left to meet Alex at the airport at noon, so my walking has been met for the day.

She's a grand gal; I just wish my condition were improved so that I would own a better disposition.

I thought it would be a breeze spending the day here, but it wasn't; I guess I missed living at mom's homey domicile.

My nap didn't seem adequate, but I guess it was.

I found Mark and Jeanette's old photo albums, and came across some (two) good ones I was in. I seemed a far better and good looking man then, and took some courage that maybe a return might be in order.

And I remembered Jeanette (Cathy), and how much I loved that dear girl; I rather felt her loss.

I thought to try eating nothing today but my breakfast, and I believe I'd have succeeded, but Jean offered me some bean salad and a slice of some dark berry pie which I felt socially bound to accept.

Mark apparently phoned her.

Seems she intends to take Friday off.

Sometime when Mark was last home, he discovered a very severely killed cat in the back.
The cat most likely fell victim to Mark's German shepherd Daboda ─ a wonderful dog, except where any other kind of animal was concerned. Daboda had no problem with people; he just happened to seem to hate all other living creatures and had truly deadly intent. 

Jean had a good job; Mark also worked, but remotely ─ that is, he worked as a first-aid / time-keeper at a distant logging camp and had to put in 10-day shifts before getting flown out for a four-day break.

Catherine Jeanette was Mark's previous girlfriend ─ they were together for at least three years, I would estimate. She had two beautiful little girls ─ Michelle Lee Gunther and Pamela Susan Gunther.

But Mark stupidly broke off with her. 

My mother and Alex loved Jeanette and her little girls ─ they were family to us. That breakup was around the end of September or early October 1976, if I am remembering right.

If only I had a reliable job back then ─ I would have thrown in with her and offered sanctuary and myself to her. But even then, I was without means nor any prospects whatsoever.

I was a loser ─ especially in my own eyes.

Anyway, my wife Jack got here well before I finished typing out that journal entry, and I had to spend some time downstairs with her. 

I am now finishing this off and will proofread and publish the token narrative.

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Apatone (CK3) Therapy to Best Overcome Cancer │ Two 'Apps' Ideal for People Living in Hurricane Regions

My wife Jack ─ who had spent Sunday night here at home ─ was not to repeat the overnight stay last night.

I saw her off on her drive back to Vancouver early last evening in the chill dark. At the time, she said that she would be back today, but at this moment it is 3:04 p.m.

If she has begun working again at her friend Fanta's Thai restaurant in Langley (Jack has been away to Thailand for a month to visit her mother), then at earliest she would not be showing up here today until the latter evening.

But if she is back working, then why go to Vancouver last evening? Certainly she spends most of her time in Vancouver, but our home here in Surrey is a much easier drive to Langley than is Vancouver.

Also, she would not have to get up as early as she would in Vancouver.

Obviously I don't know what is going on.

Mark held it together when he got home last evening from wherever he had been drinking, so we sat up all evening watching T.V. via our Android TV Box.

We led off the evening with the final two episodes of the first season of The Punisher ─ gosh, that series can be gruesome. However, the violently evil deserve their comeuppance.

I was just now reading a little about the actor (Jon Bernthal) who plays Frank Castle "The Punisher" ─ it was a bid by me to see if his rugged features were moulded from involvement in competitive boxing or some other martial art ─ but there seems no traumatic reason that he looks like a "pug" (an ex-boxer or "pugilist").

But I did find myself surprised to read that he is married to a paternal niece of Olympic gold medalist and professional wrestler Kurt Angle.

Anyway, after the two episodes, Mark and I then watched an episode of Runaways (episode eight of the first season); and then we capped off the evening with an episode of Future Man (episode 11 of the first season).

We had wanted to watch episode 10 of the first season of A Place to Call Home, but we can't find any working links for the episode. I sure bloody hate to have to skip it and move on, but that may be where we are.

Bedtime was sometime during the midnight hour, and I had enjoyed a couple or so ounces of spiced rum and a can of strong (8% alcohol) beer over my evening.

I believe that it was around 4:00 a.m. that I rose just to turn on and log into my computer to have it ready for me later. I returned to bed, but was to rise around 5:00 a.m. in order to soon get started on the day's content assignment at the new post I am constructing at one of my six hosted websites.

I had failed to meet yesterday's content assignment that morning; but after getting the day's blog post published here, I was then able to return to the website post and discharge the obligation.

It took me longer this morning than I expected, but I was back to bed ahead of 9:00 a.m. before Mark had gotten up for the day.

Incidentally, my eldest stepson Tho rose dutifully around 6:00 a.m. to ready and head away to work.

It has been a sunny day, but I remained home. I never felt up to going anywhere by the time that post's content assignment was finished with.

Mark and I tried to watch that episode 10 of A Place to Call Home this morning, but the result was the same ─ none of the 27 or so links worked.

Instead, we watched an episode each of The Durrells (episode seven of season three) and American Horror Story (episode three of season one).

The noon-hour was upon us by the time we were done, so Mark sought some time back upon his bed, while I was soon to ready and get on out to the backyard tool-shed and have my dozen minutes of exercising. And since it was sunny and reasonably warm, I then commenced just over 40 minutes of facial sunning at 12:41 p.m. while barefooted.

At about 1:15 p.m., Mark opened the sliding glass door to announce that he was heading away for the afternoon.

Once my facial sunning was done, I finally had my day's first meal. And then early into this post, my youngest stepson Poté proudly announced to me that he had just had his second gym workout ─ his first was on Sunday.

He wants to try and maintain regularity with it, and I hope he does. He is dreadfully slender.

Toward mid-afternoon he then headed away to work ─ his job is at a 24-hour call centre for a bank's credit card.

I read a couple of things today that might be of interest to anyone visiting this post.

The first concerns a natural cancer treatment or therapy:
Chemo drugs can kill off cancer, but they can’t necessarily keep it from coming back. But there’s a groundbreaking combination of vitamins C and K3 (CK3) that’s annihilating cancer cells AND causing them to kill themselves off. And that’s how you keep your cancer from coming back… and put your doc out of business!

I cannot say that I have ever heard of Apatone or CK3, but a Google check shows articles about it dating back more than a decade.

If I had a cancer diagnosis, I would certainly prefer to be able to opt for something like this instead of chemotherapy or radiation therapy.

But most of us wouldn't be able to afford to go off to some distant clinic and get treated, and health insurance sure isn't likely to cover it because it isn't the mainstream B.S.-treatment.

I found an April 24, 2017 article at Edu.EmersonEcologics.com (Vitamin C and K in Prostate Cancer) discussing a favourable 2008 study using oral capsules of CK3 ─ the dosages of vitamin C and vitamin K3 were listed.

The test subjects took 10 capsules a day, each of which contained 500 milligrams of vitamin C and five milligrams of vitamin K3 for a period of 12 weeks.

The vitamin C would be no problem for me to purchase ─ in fact, I can get 1,000 milligram tablets very easily and reasonably.

But vitamin K3 is something else ─ it and K2 only seem available in microgram doses. For instance, I have a bottle of combined vitamins K2 and D3. Each tablet is supposed to contain 1,000 I.U.s of vitamin D3, but a mere 120 micrograms of vitamin K2.

I don't even know where I could buy vitamin K3 ─ it would probably have to be done online.

A Google search shows one brand of vitamin K2 (not K3) wherein each tablet contains 500 micrograms. There are 60 tablets in the bottle, and they cost $23.37 (Canadian).

To get five milligrams' worth each day, a person would have to take 10 of these, since 500 micrograms is just half a milligram. The bottle would last six days.

And the $23.37 was on sale ─ apparently it normally costs $7.01 more.

But at least it would be worth a try, I suppose, if attending some remote clinic was financially impossible.

However, for anyone taking any kind of blood thinners, I seem to recall that vitamin K may have the same effect and would make the blood thinners a huge (as in deadly) risk.

Anyway, the other thing I read about today concerned a couple of 'apps' that could prove extremely helpful for folks living in places where there are threats from events like hurricanes.

This information came from SpyEscapeAndEvasion.com.

The first 'app' is Hurricane (from the Red Cross) ─ and it's free:
This app is a great all-in-one tool that can provide you with hurricane forecasts as well as real time tracking.

Plus, it has a communication system that can connect you with social media and will direct you to the nearest shelter.

The app also includes step-by-step instructions on what to do before, during, and after a hurricane and has helpful features such as a flashlight, strobe light, and audible alert functions.

One of the best things about this app is that most of the information contained in the app will still work even if you are unable to connect to a cellular network.

The Hurricane American Red Cross app is free to download.
The second 'app' is Life360 ─ also free, apparently:
This app is a real-time location-sharing app that is ideal for staying in contact with family and friends.

This app sets up a personal network where you can share your location with others, as well as communicate by text on a secure network.

In addition, you can set up alerts for when someone leaves a specific area such as their home.

Essentially, you would be able to track loved ones in case they evacuated to another location to get away from rising floodwaters.

Lastly, this app can be used to share your location on social media in case you need help or are in any sort of danger. 
There was a third one called Scanner Radio, but I wasn't much impressed with it ─ you can find out about it for yourself.

I have to rush this post to a finish.

First, here are some more photos from early this year when my wife Jack and her two sons arranged a small reunion in Bali with five of their Thailand family members.

I am of a mind that the photos were taken Monday morning, January 29 (2018).

The selfie photographer is my wife Jack ─ and I believe that is her youngest son Poté (20 years old) in the second photo.

And now I finalize with this old journal entry of mine from exactly 40 years ago when I was 29 years old.

I was unemployed, and with no prospects.

And although I was being given shelter at the home that my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Jean Cooper were renting here in Surrey, for about the past two weeks I had largely been staying maybe three miles away at the home of my mother Irene Dorosh.

Her husband Alex was on an overseas holiday, so that is why this became possible for me.

Neither of those houses exist any longer, but that of Mark & Jean was at 8205 - 144th Street (Google map); and my mother's was at 12106 - 90th Avenue (Google map) in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey.

I never drove, so walking was a way of life for me.

My usual hiking routine from my mother's home was to head back to Mark & Jean's house ─ both of them would be absent because they had jobs; and then after doing whatever I was there for, I would continue following 144th Street all the way to 72nd Avenue. 

I would then turn right onto 72nd Avenue, and follow it along until a short distance beyond the King George Boulevard where railway tracks crossed 72nd right by the mouth of Hall Road (Google map).

Then by turning right onto the tracks, I would head 'up' that map and follow the tracks until they passed by within a block of my mother's home.
OCTOBER 16, 1978 (Mᴏɴᴅᴀʏ)

I arose at 5:00 a.m. to prepare for my needed morning walk.

Just after crossing the King George on 88th Ave., I was rather disturbed by a bus that slowed to my pace, fluttering its door at me to attract my attention so that the driver could enquire if I wished to board.

[That memory still bothers me, for I ignored the poor driver, despite his probable attempt at a charitable act. It seems to me now that it was raining and windy, but the journal account does not indicate anything of the sort. Anyway, I was walking alongside the roadway beside Bear Creek Park. I didn't want a ride ─ my whole purpose was to be getting exercise, and I was bound for the fitness circuit that was located back then at the corner of the park nearest 88th Avenue & 140th Street (Google map). However, I could have at least been civil ─ I just remember that I was in a foul mood.]

I was, I found, in sad shape at the fitness circuit.

I didn't go into the house as I usually do so to water Daboda, for Jean had not gone to work ─ unless she left her car; so either she was sleeping in, or else was taking the day off.

[Daboda was Mark's German shepherd.]

It's amazing how mild it was, compared to the recent string of past nights.

While I was having my lay-down to compensate for my early morning, Nick was here to visit mom.

[Nick Phillips was a neighbour who lived almost across the street from my mother & Alex.]

About mid-afternoon, I went with mom while she did some shopping, then all my stuff was dropped off at Mark's. Jean was gone, and Daboda dry.

In spite of my need to diet (I've given up weighing myself), I ate a lot today. Once back at Mark's, I'll have to severely take up jogging, providing my left knee and right foot allows.

If David is exact enough about his weight, he's five pounds over me. 

[Philip David Prince was an old friend of mine I had visited and gotten extremely drunk with two days previously.]

He claimed to have attained 215 at Alouette. He's sure got it around the midsection; even his arms have accumulations.

Mom took off for the evening with Phyllis and two of her friends to bowl in New West and see about signing up for a Monday night team.
David had recently done time at what was then known as Alouette Corrections ─ probably for public vandalism. However, the only details I can find now about the institution is that it houses female inmates. 

Phyllis is my older maternal half-sister. My mother loved to bowl back then and was in at least two leagues at one point.