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Saturday, January 20, 2018

Just a Post on a Rainy Saturday Spent at Home

With my younger brother Mark home last evening, and it being the weekend, I was to sit up a little later than usual. I also had two cans of strong (8% alcohol) beer instead of the single can that served me each evening during the workweek.

I don't recall just when I was in bed, but it was after midnight. Not terribly long after, though.

Mark had in store another Saturday early-morning chiropractor appointment ─ his third consecutive such appointment.

My sleep overnight was quite broken. And when I checked the time around 5:52 a.m. this morning, I felt myself to be done with scrabbling to find yet another short snatch of sleep ─ and so I rose.

I could hear Mark's clock-radio playing. Even so, he never rose for at least a half-hour.

The day was to be one of a drizzling light rain.

I discharged the morning's assignment of content supply at the new post I have started up at My Retirement Dream, one of my six hosted websites.

Mark was back from his appointment before I was done.

Then quite soon after 10:00 a.m., I returned to bed to accumulate some further needed sleep.

After a nice nap achieved lying on my left side, I pondered rising. However, a shift in position felt so delicious that I simply lay there enjoying it, and actually fell back into a brief nap of maybe a dozen minutes.

During it, I dreamed.

If I am remembering correctly, I seemed to be in a vehicle being driven by my eldest stepson Tho, and his younger brother Poté may also have been present.

There may have been one or more others.

We must have been in Thailand, for we were driving along what seemed a coastal road, and met with a colourful procession involving at least two or three elephants ─ the small specimens that certain mahouts can be found using in tourist areas to compel people into paying the mahouts coin in order to buy from them some short pieces of sugar cane to feed to their animals.

Tho of course had to slow down to a stop to allow the procession to pass, and I wondered if one of the elephants was going to damage the vehicle, for it was a tight squeeze.

That's all I remember. Perhaps I came out of the nap.

It still felt really exquisite just lying there in bed, so I probably expended at least another quarter-hour just delighting in the experience.

Why do I not feel so wonderfully comfortable in bed at the end of my nights? Often, I am eager to rise despite a bad night's sleep because it is just far too uncomfortable lying there.

Sometimes I feel physically abused, as if I had toiled at labour all the day before and was now suffering the consequences.

Mark was shut up in his own bedroom when I at last rose, but he was not very long in making his appearance. He could not have gotten much of a nap.

Then early in the afternoon he left without a word to me, but he was conversationally engaged with at least one of my stepsons.

Mark usually spends Saturday nights at the home of his girlfriend Bev, so I expect not to be seeing him until tomorrow morning.

It was not too very long after Mark's departure that I ventured out to the backyard tool shed for some exercising, but I was to find myself somewhat lacking in strength reserves.

The pull-ups were most taxing. Admittedly, I just wasn't into doing them.

I weighed myself afterward as fully clothed as I had been when exercising, and I was at least 195 pounds (at a height of about five feet and 10¾ inches).

Hauling up that much weight at my age (I am 68) is a challenge, particularly since I am not using a proper chin-up bar.

As I was typing this account around 2:30 p.m., Poté came upstairs to shut himself into the bathroom ─ his older brother Tho was downstairs, probably loafing in bed.

The doorbell sounded.

I do not get visitors. I have no friends nor family living anywhere near here. Thus, there was no doubt in my mind that the caller was not someone I cared to see.

For all I knew, it was Poté's new girlfriend, and she's already becoming an annoyance to me by how much time she spends here.

So I remained here, working on my blog.

The doorbell rang a second time, and that was it.

I could hear Tho talking on his cellphone directly below me where his bed is, but he never bothered himself responding to the doorbell ─ and he has a window affording him a direct view of whomever would be there. 

I would expect that he must have taken a peek.

Probably it was merely a religious proselytizer or two, or some sort of donation-seeker.

I noticed a notification from Google that it has created a collage from some photos in my Google Plus albums ─ the collage is supposedly a commemoration of this day exactly six years ago:

Google often gets lazy in creating these collages ─ it used the very same two photos last year:

The original photos back in 2012 depict a view of the back of our house from the tool shed that I exercised in earlier this afternoon; and at the front of the house and from the open-sided carport, a view that is looking left across a neighbour's yard at my wife Jack's car driving away from home:

My wife Jack is presently back at the family home in Thailand visiting her mother ─ Jack was scheduled to leave Canada on a 10:00 p.m. flight last Sunday.

Her flight to bring her back to Canada will not leave Thailand until March 5, if I have the dates right.

Her two sons may be leaving this next Tuesday evening to fly to Bali, Indonesia for perhaps 10 days. The plan is that Jack will meet them there, bringing along the boys' grandmother (Jack's mother).

Tho doesn't dare go to Thailand, for he is 23 years old and never presented himself (as a male Thai citizen) to the proper authorities at the age of 21 for the mandatory consideration for military service.

He was of course living here in Canada and is a Canadian citizen.

However, that may not exempt him. A Thai constitutional law is still a law.

So better to stay out of Thailand.

Poté will be in that same boat after his next birthday, for he is presently 20.

Anyway, the only way their grandmother was ever going to see the boys would be uniting with them in some neighbouring country, and Indonesia seemed to be the nearest that had a direct flight.

Other countries such as Laos have flights that first stop-over in Bangkok ─ something the boys cannot risk.

It is going to be very peaceful here for me each and every day once the lads are gone for those 10 or so days! 

There is little else to speak of going on here at home today, so I will bring the post to a close with this old journal entry of mine from 41 years ago when I was 27 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster

I was renting in a private home located on Ninth Street, and just two houses up from Third Avenue.

In the previous day's journal entry, I had described my plan for an extended hike that would ultimately bring me to my mother Irene Dorosh's little home in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey.

The home she shared with her husband Alex was my main mailing address. And although it no longer exists, its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.

To hike directly there from my room could be done in 1½ hours at a rapid pace.

But I was going to extend the hike by first following the King George Highway (now King George Boulevard) all the way to Newton.

From there, I would turn right, and then work my way to my mother's home.

I had not gotten to bed until 12:30 a.m. the night before, and it was my intention to get up at 4:00 a.m. to begin preparation for that long venture.
THURSDAY, January 20, 1977

Off I go, hopefully via the route listed last night, to mom's; leaving 4:15 a.m.


Chris' truck was again outside Bill's.

I lightly jogged across the bridge and up as far as Ravine Rd. and across and above A&W.

I walked to Townline (96th Ave.) and jogged to Newton (72nd Ave). 

It couldn't have been more than 7:10 a.m. when I got to mom's.

She was up, but Greta [a Dutch friend visiting her from Barriere] was abed.

Phyllis [my older maternal half-sister] came over later, and around 9:15 a.m. they all left for Bellingham.

I ate, of course.

Greta is supposed to leave for home today.

For mail I had a pouch of Western Express [lottery] tickets (February 9) on credit from St. Joseph's School, plus 5 more from B.C. Wildlife Federation as well as a Provincial [lottery ticket].

Mom gave me $5 before she left toward half of the other Loto Canada ticket I'm expecting.

I slept badly last night, so I left for Mark's before mom got back; Greta is treating her to a Reno trip February 13 (I spoke to her son Ron on the phone; he also called Thursday when she was out).  

Mark was sleeping, so I bedded too, but slept poorly.

In the evening shortly after 6:30 p.m. Jock [John Halverson, my maternal cousin] & Billy [William Little, a friend of the Havlersons] dropped by for 10 - 15 minutes to see if Mark would be free to transport some furniture Billy had bought that night; the answer was no.

Again, Mark went into town early, and I walked home; but first he phoned me at 11:00 p.m. for CKDA's frequency. 

I'm to expect him around 9:00 a.m.

Bed: 12:40 a.m., and I truly feel wiped out.

I discovered my "rebate certificate" from John's Driving School came today.
My old friend William Alan Gill was renting an apartment perhaps four blocks from my room. Chris ─ whose truck was parked near to it ─ was a young co-worker of my brother Mark.

I had noticed the truck parked very early into my hike that morning.

My younger brother Mark was renting a duplex unit less than three miles from our mother's home ─ I believe that the duplex was on Semiahmoo Road, and a fairly short distance from Old Yale Road.

I would have walked to there after leaving my mother's home that afternoon.

Mark was working a graveyard shift that week at a plywood or similar mill, and had to drive through New Westminster to get to it.

My intention was probably to ride back to town with him.

However, he was somewhat involved with a gal, so he was leaving for New Westminster earlier; and for some reason I preferred not to get back to my room that much earlier.

So I stayed at his suite for awhile, leaving later that evening and walking back to town. 

In all, I would have hiked (and jogged) a lot of miles that day.

But back to the present. 

Mark did show up just after 3:30 p.m., and loaded up into his van a number of dozen empty beer cans that he would be taking in for the goodly refund ($1.20 per dozen).

He had been away getting some repairs done on his work truck.

He never said anything about the following, but his parking spot in the carport near to our front door was occupied by Poté's car ─ or maybe it was Tho's girlfriend's car, for hers looks very similar to Poté's car.

In either case, Mark would have had to park a little farther from the front door to carry those empties ─ in several trips ─ than he likely cared to do.

Also, he would have needed to intrude upon whichever couple was here at home, for the empties are kept in the laundry room ─ which is accessed by walking through the boys' den area.

Poté has his bed in the den area, and Tho's bed is in full view of the area where the empties are accumulated.

Perhaps the couple had some snuggling interrupted by Mark's uncomfortable intrusion.

But so what? Neither working stepson pays a rent, so why should they be entitled to much concern for their privacy in situations like this? 
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