My wife Jack arrived home from Vancouver in the latter afternoon yesterday; and as it turned out, she was here to spend the night.
That meant that I had to sit up a little later than I like, for it was 11:45 p.m. before I was in bed once she had gone there herself. I was tired, but 45 minutes later, I was just about as awake as when I had gone to bed.
I know that Jack is a very light and problematic sleeper, so I try not to shift my position much in bed. I had not donned earplugs, either. And I was having an additional problem in that as I lay there upon my back, anytime I began to approach falling asleep, my jaws would spasmodically enact a bit of a chomp or nip, and a few times I risked lacerating the inside of my lower lip or a cheek with a bite.
Fortunately, about 12:16 a.m. Jack rose to go to the bathroom, and I was able to grab my earplugs from just beneath my side of the bed, as well as my blindfold. That latter is nothing more than a bandana neatly folded until it is about three inches wide. I place it across my eyes, and hold it in place with a headband that I wear under my chin and stretched up across the top of my head.
The headband serves the purpose of holding the bandana in place; but it also helps prevent my jaw from spasmodically taking a chomp of my inner lip or cheek.
That risk is only when I find myself dropping in and immediately back out of a fall into slumber. I think everyone is familiar with that bit of a start we all feel at such times, making us twitch or even jolt enough to disturb ourselves.
It's the same effect that we experience when we imagine in a light dream to have stumbled or tripped at something like a street's sidewalk curb, or maybe a tree root.
But it was not a good night's sleep; and I know that Jack got up at least one other time, as did I to make use of the bathroom.
My night ended when her eldest son ─ 22-year-old Tho ─ rapped on the bedroom door just after 6:00 a.m. to rouse his mother so that the lazy prick wouldn't have to use a bus this morning to get himself to the SkyTrain so he could go to work.
I cannot imagine practicing such selfishness upon my own mother back when I was his age.
And of course, Jack got up, dressed, and drove him as he desired.
I got up when I heard her start the car. And soon, I was at work compiling more content into the post I am assembling at my Amatsu Okuya website. I actually managed to put in what would normally serve as about a day-and-a-half's work.
Jack rather promptly returned to bed after she got back home, but she rose again around mid-morning and got busy cooking. I was to learn that an assumption I had was to be proven correct ─ she had in mind a trip to Wat Budhapanyanantarama, the Thai Buddhist temple in Burnaby. On such visits, she usually takes along some dishes that she has prepared for the monks.
She left here around 10:38 a.m.
And was back by about 11:30 a.m. with everything that she had taken ─ the monks had gone somewhere. She had shopped, shortened her sleep, cooked, gotten dressed up, and made the trip all for nothing.
She said that the monks usually indicate on Facebook if they are going to be 'closing shop' because of some event they would be attending, but Jack had seen no such mention.
However, she also said that she just about always phones ahead to make certain that they will be there, but she didn't bother on this occasion ─ the first time she didn't phone, she claimed.
She did further cooking; and then perhaps in the neighbourhood of 1:30 p.m. or soon thereafter, she left me and drove off to Vancouver, saying she might be back tomorrow or possibly Sunday.
The day has been a mix of cloud and Sun, but it is nastily cool ─ and I am getting truly fed up with this chilly weather so late into the year.
Speaking of Thai Buddhist temples, yesterday I posted some photos taken at Wat Pa Phu Kon, which is in the Na Yung District of Udon Thani Province.
Jack had gone there with some of her loved ones when she charged up the trip last Fall to go back to Thailand to see her mother in the family village of Nong Soong, which is maybe a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.
I think that the photos were taken on November 14, 2016.
The ones I posted yesterday were from outside of the temple. Let's now look at the inside:
This is my wife Jack taking a selfie:
And now a quick look back outside:
Now Jack is posed before the camera with the reclining Buddha in the background:
Jack's brother-in-law was supposed to be taking a photo of Jack and Lumpoon, the eldest of Jack's two sisters, but the chap must have kicked the camera into video mode before he realized it. This clip is no more than maybe six seconds, unfortunately:
This is the culprit brother-in-law posed with Jack:
The view just beyond must be absolutely spectacular:
Some of that great view:
And this is where I am going to call a halt for today ─ there are lots more photos.
You have most likely heard of the sweetener stevia, but did you realize that the leaves of the plant itself are the part of the plant that is sweet, and that it is becoming something of a popular plant to grow for personal use?
If you're curious about what's involved, since it is a somewhat tropical plant, try this 2013 article at MotherEarthNews.com: All About Growing the Stevia Plant.
Research just recently published has made some wonderful findings about the health benefits of stevia ─ just don't trust the crap you're likely to find liberally available commercially. Here are a couple of reports:
I wouldn't mind getting a hold of a few of these amazing plants!
A few months ago, I was seeking to avoid eating bread any longer. But thanks to information I have been reading from John Douillard, I returned to bread ─ but I try to ensure that it is as naturally-made as possible.
This video covers much of why bread and gluten may not be the villain they have come to be portrayed as:
This article supports the video:
It's no wonder why that so many people cannot tolerate store-bought bread. We have fallen away on the proper methods of baking it; and even the wheat itself is becoming corrupted.
More and more, I feel like our planet is becoming too unsustainably tainted to support health anymore.
It is always beneficial to be periodically reminded about the health benefits of certain foods ─ we can easily become less aware of just how valuable some of the plants around us are.
Here is one such reminder:
I cannot afford to have blueberries on a daily basis, but I sure would love to!
Maybe when that big lottery win finally happens....
There are very few people who need to be concerned of their cholesterol levels, but the Pharmaceutical Industry and its bought-and-paid-for 'authority' mouthpieces will not let the public understand that fact.
Look at this artful construction designed to cause concern:
American Heart Association survey finds patients uncertain about how to best manage their cholesterol
This is what's really in play where a report like that is concerned:
Sadly, when it comes to health and well-being, corruption and deceit abound.
I am badly rushed for time, so I am going to close out now with a 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 my tiny nook in a house located on Ninth Street, and about two houses up from Third Avenue.
TUESDAY, April 27, 1976I arose about 6:20 a.m. after having a wealth of dreams, one being quite erotic but which raised my consciousness before the sought result; I felt very langourous this morn, and not at all like getting up.At Woodward's I blew $3.73 on groceries; I won't get through next month without benefiting from a lottery win.Mid-day found me very horny, to be blunt; if I had the means, I would have employed the outlet.All my days at home drag so! I do wish God would favour me with a win; I would be a victor of life!Bill came over this eve; he wanted me to go with him to pick up Billy for a trip to the Newton Inn.Also at Nell's were Randy, Alan, Wendy, & Donna. Alan came too ─ to the Scottsdale. We had 2 beers apiece, thanks to Bill, and watched an unsightly stripper.We were on our way back to Nell's when we decided to look at the Newton Inn, and after finding no stripper, we left it.Before we got out of Nell's, Alan talked us into agreeing to go to the U.S. on Saturday night, with Mark & Cathy if possible, to somewhere we could dance and drink. However, I do not wish it.At Mac's, Bill bought me a large glazed bun, then took me home.Seems Mark finally has his truck; it's supposed 1972 or 73, and a ¾-ton. No cabin, though.I retired 10:40 p.m.
Woodward's was little more than three blocks distant ─ up on Sixth Avenue. It used to occupy what is now the Royal City Centre Mall. My expenditure for groceries was difficult for me at that time, for I had excruciatingly little income. This was why I was always quoting what seem now to be such tiny amounts.
I must have forsaken my pornographic magazines, judging by what I wrote. I had to withstand my randy frame of mind.
My old friend William Alan Gill was living probably little more than about four blocks from my room. He was renting a bachelor suite ─ working man that he was. He also had a new car.
I expect that it was William (Billy) Little that wanted Bill to come over to my maternal Aunt Nell Halverson's home off in Surrey. Billy was rooming there ─ she always had a large household.
When we went to her home, also present were her eldest son Randy Halverson; whomever "Alan" was ─ I now forget him entirely; Randy's youngest sister Wendy Halverson; and her school friend Donna Montroy.
Anyway, it would seem that Bill and I left there with both Billy and Alan. The Scottsdale Inn no longer exists, but it was located in the area of 72nd Avenue & Scott Road (120th Street). Scott Road serves as the boundary between Surrey and Delta, and the Scottsdale Inn was comfortably into Delta.
Back then, just about all of the hotel beer parlours (or pubs, as they were coming to be known) had stripper entertainment.
Upon leaving there after the disappointing show, we decided upon the Newton Inn ─ it, too, no longer exists, but it was in Newton, and not too far from 72nd Avenue & King George Highway (now Boulevard).
It rather sounds like dear Bill may have been footing the beer tab for us all, so it is no wonder that we never hung around if we didn't have the draw of lusty strippers.
Why cannot I recall who Alan was? Whatever the case, he wanted us to go drinking in an American tavern on Saturday ─ along with my younger brother Mark, and Mark's beautiful girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther.
If I didn't have the cash, of course I would have been reluctant about it. I was merely giving him lip service ('giving approval or support insincerely').
Mark had been without wheels for several weeks after incurring a traffic accident that wrote off his car, but apparently he now had a pick-up truck.