.dropcap {float:left; color:#4791d2; font-size:75px; line-height:60px; padding-top:4px; padding-right:8px; padding-left:3px; font-family:Georgia}

Google+ Followers


Wednesday, May 17, 2017

The Unexpected: A Visit Home from My Wife Jack, and a Temporary Attack of Esotropia

This day certainly has not gone as expected. Accordingly, it will be a short post today.

I was in bed last evening at 10:53 p.m., and as yet my youngest stepson Poté was not home. During one of my several breaks in sleep overnight, I took the opportunity to use the bathroom and drink some water.

And although I am now unsure, I think that it may have been after 6:30 a.m. before I checked the time and rose for the day. Poté was in bed, but his older brother Tho had gone to work ─ as of course had my younger brother Mark even earlier.

I got to work compiling content into the post I am working on at my Lawless Spirit website, but broke mid-morning to ready to get out and do some grocery shopping at Deepu's No Frills supermarket around four blocks away in the Cedar Hills shopping plaza at 96th Avenue & 128th Street here in Surrey.

Poté was still in bed when I left here at (I believe) 9:32 a.m.

My outing was uneventful; and I returned to continue work on the post. However, by the time that I was completing what I wanted to do with it today, I was growing very groggy.

If I had not gone shopping and thus had instead finished work on that post considerably earlier than I did, I would have sought a nap without having eaten yet. But it had become too late in the morning to forsake a meal.

And so I ate.

Soon enough, the noon-hour was well underway. And then Tho was brought home by a co-worker ─ they must have had a short day of it at work.

Yet, still Poté remained in bed.

With Tho home, I finally sought that nap, and was down for nearly an hour. It resuscitated me.

But I had no sooner risen than ─ at possibly 2:00 p.m. or so ─ my wife Jack suddenly came through the front door downstairs. I had no such expectation of her showing up like that from Vancouver. I hadn't even gotten a start on this post, and would not have my chance for nearly another three hours while she was busy having a shower.

And that is essentially where I find myself now ─ it is 5:14 p.m., and she is back downstairs in the kitchen. There is absolutely no way that I will be spending the sort of time that I usually do with a post ─ not now. 

By the way, I don't know what's going on with that lazy kid Poté, but he never got up until after his mother was home. I have no idea why he never went to work today.

Well, Jack left us around 5:35 p.m. to return to Vancouver. At least supper will be a little more varied than I had expected mine was to be ─ she's a superb cook!

I scanned some old photos today that belonged to my mother Irene Dorosh, and while researching them for location, my bad right eye went askew. 

I was wearing a pair of UVEX safety goggles with orange lenses that are supposed to block blue light, and I had a pair of non-prescription reading glasses over those to help with clarity.

I began feeling some unusual strain on my bad right eye, for which two decades ago a pronouncement was given me during an eye test that I was legally blind in that eye. 

Anyway, I removed the two pairs of glasses, and discovered that my right eye had crossed ─ perhaps it had pulled inward towards my nose. I didn't refer to a mirror to see.

I kept my alarm in check, and just shut the eye and kept working. After some while ─ a fair number of minutes ─ I opened it to test it, and it had normalized its position and focus.

So most definitely, today's post will be short.

I will leave this talk of my day with this old scanned photo of my mother's ─ the description beneath is from the Google album where I filed the scan:

A photo of my mother Irene Dorosh (from her collection of photos).

I can only guess that the photo was taken during the decade of the 1990s.

I thought that the elevated Vancouver SkyTrain was there in the background, but the only information I can find concerning an Fr6 Restaurant is that it is a relatively small business in Pueblo, Colorado.
By the way, I have been using both pairs of glasses for many weeks, and for hours a day. Why my right eye suddenly reacted as it did mystifies me. At present, I am not using any eyewear, for the orange lenses make print too indistinct.

However, the brilliance of my computer screen is reduced anyway because I use the free version of Iris "software for eye protection, health and productivity." Even so, I know that the free version does not block all of the blue light, and so I was using the goggles, too.


To conserve my bad right eye, I had better close here and now with this journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster. I was renting in a house located on Ninth Street, and perhaps two houses up from Third Avenue.

I had recently been hired full-time by a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) on what may have been a three- or four-month contract. 

I had previously worked for S.A.N.E. for many months on a very part-time basis ─ just a day a week. However, I had been a swamper on their blue pick-up truck. Unfortunately, my full-time employment with them was spirit-crushingly boring because I had no purpose ─ there were no duties for me.

This day was to be my eighth, and the start of a new full week. I am certain that I was feeling quite low ─ especially since I had lost an Olympic Lottery held the evening before that I had prayed would save me from this waste of my life.

S.A.N.E. is today called Fraserside Community Services Society. However, back then, it was located in a building that used to exist where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station now spreads out onto Carnarvon Street.
MONDAY, May 17, 1976

I slept fitfully, arising at 6:00 a.m.

I hope I'm not confronted about living over Art with Judd.

I sure am disappointed about being obliged to work today.

I'm pretty weak this morning; I'd like to return to bed awhile. I have the shadow of a headache, and am feeling anxious about having to go to work. I badly miss my days of freedom on welfare.

On the phone last night mom suggested she might drop in at S.A.N.E. today, but I still hadn't seen her when I left at 1:00 p.m. for lunch, buying a $23.45 money order for Black Vulmea's Vengeance and Other Tales of Pirates by Howard for me, and The Night Land by W.H. Hodgson for Jean. I'll mail this order on my way back to S.A.N.E.

Time drags!

Night 4:00 p.m. I went shopping and at Army & Navy I bought 2 pairs of work socks.

I returned to S.A.N.E. to have Mike tell me Art phoned to have me drop by after work. However, he phoned back and personally asked me.

I went. 

I had some Red Devil, and a supper; Angie took the 2 girls to a Guides / Brownies supper. He said Judd moved in with their sister; maybe I'm free of the co-habit dodge I was facing.

I left for home short of 9:00 p.m., taking a National Geographic with a Pacific Crest Trail feature, and a large striped T-shirt.

I found a note on my door from Bill; he gets off work at 6:00 p.m. tomorrow, so I'm not to go out and meet him after work.

Bed at 10:00 p.m.

Art got 65¢ from me.
Art Smith was in his early 40s ─ he and I had been co-workers at S.A.N.E. for a goodly spell when I was swamping on the truck, and we had hit it off very well. He was married to Angelina (Angie), and they had three kids.

Judd (Gerald) was Art's younger brother. On Saturday evening, Judd had been all hyped up about he and I renting the top floor of the house Art was living in ─ Art and family were renting the bottom, larger area of the house.

The prospect had me transfixed with dread. I would never have privacy, and Art would try to enlist me every day to be his drinking companion. And I would also have the discomfort of avoiding adultery with Angie, who was in her early 30s...and demonstrably too interested in me.

I still have that Robert E. Howard book. The Hodgson book was destined for an American pen-pal I had, Jean M. Martin (née Black).

The note on my door after I had gone back to my room from Art's home ─ where I must have had some of the Red Devil wine I had brought over to his home on Saturday ─ was left for me by my old friend William Alan Gill, who was renting a bachelor suite that mightn't have been much more than four blocks from my room.

Bill worked at Royal City Foods, a cannery that used to be on the shore of ─ and which had extended right out over the waters of ─ the Fraser River, just barely downstream from the Pattullo Bridge.

I don't know why he was letting me know that I was not to go over to his car and wait for him after I finished at S.A.N.E. the next day ─ I never recorded anything about the two of us getting together.

And why did I mention the 65¢ Art got from me? Believe it or not, I had such little income that even that amount of money was missed.

Now to conclude concerning the right eye problem I experienced earlier, it may have been an episode of something called esotropia. As I said, though, I never resorted to a mirror to look at my eyes ─ I just felt the awful pull of the eyeball that seemed to be out of my control any longer, and the strain felt like the eye had turned inward toward my nose.

It would have been dreadful to have remained so, but closing it for the period of time that I did has allowed it to normalize.

Maybe I will just risk using the Iris software without bothering with the additional two pairs of glasses. The UVEX lenses are superb at blocking all blue light, but they are far too difficult to use for hours on end as I require in working upon my websites and this blog each day. They obscure print far too much. 
Post a Comment