My wife had arrived home into the second half of last evening after having worked the day at her friend's Thai restaurant, and so it was that she was to bed quite ahead of me ─ I was tied up operating our T9 Android 8.1 TV Box to entertain my younger brother and I.
The precise time I made it to bed now eludes me, but it was probably into the latter half of the midnight hour.
An unusually lengthy first block of sleep thereafter was to visit me, for it was not until something over four hours later that I was to check the time and then ease myself from bed to soon get to work on the day's content assignment for the post I have in development at one of my six hosted websites.
From how I initially felt, it was apparent that I was suffering a sleep deficit ─ I almost felt unwell.
But I stuck to the task, even though it took me until well after 8:00 a.m.
And since I did not know for certain if my wife had her usual 11:00 a.m. start at the restaurant that would necessitate she try and rise by 10:00 a.m. to begin readying herself, I felt I had no good choice but to bed down on the floor here in front of my computer to seek a little further sleep.
I keep my computer in a small room next to my bedroom; and when I do bed down here after my website work, I set my cellphone's alarm for 9:59 a.m.
This morning, I was not allowing myself much time for any napping.
Exacerbating matters, around 9:00 a.m. I received a call from someone unknown around 9:00 a.m. I never answer such calls.
As I tried for another nap stretch, it seemed to me that someone might be cooking something downstairs ─ the odour of cooking food was strong.
After my cellphone's alarm roused me at 9;59 a.m. and I rose from the floor, tossed aside the makings of my ersatz bed, and exited this room, I discovered that my wife was already up ─ and it had been she who had been doing the cooking.
My younger brother had of course been watching T.V. ─ basic cable programming, for he doesn't know how to operate the Android TV Box.
I had a documentary in mind ─ one whose title I had written down a long while ago and I no longer remembered anything about.
I attribute it to my younger brother's diminished mental capacity from his years of daily excessive drinking, but he has no patience for many documentaries. And he throws up a most miserable reaction as soon as he recognizes that I am not summoning up a movie.
Granted, the opening few minutes of the documentary were not to my liking, either ─ especially since I did not know what it was going to be about.
But my brother would not even give it 10 minutes. In a childish huff he rose after a couple of minutes and ─ practically glowering in disgust and censure ─ he left the room, not to return.
The documentary proved to be a powerful piece that I am very glad to have seen: Dear Zachary: A Letter to a Son About His Father.
It became apparent quite early into the documentary that the "father" ─ 28-year-old Andrew Bagby ─ was going to die. He was a dear friend of the chap who was making the documentary.
It turned out that Andrew Bagby had been murdered by his older Canadian girlfriend with whom he had broken off ─ she shot him five times, including once in the head and twice in the posterior.
It was clearly an act of rage from someone whom it was later found had a history of possessiveness where boyfriends were concerned, and had at least eight known restraining orders that had been issued against her in the past.
The woman killed Andrew in the States where he was living and working, and then fled back to her Newfoundland home.
The U.S. tried to get her extradited, but had to settle on a Newfoundland court handling the case against her.
Something like two to four months after the murder, it was revealed that she was pregnant with Andrew's child ─ who was to be named Zachary.
The purpose of the documentary initially was for a record to be made of Andrew so that Zachary could one day come to know his father ─ all sort of videos and photos of his father, and the recollections and memories of family and friends all over the States and even in the U.K.
The documentary took a few years to see a completion, but by then its purpose had been changed ─ Zachary was never going to see the film. When he was 11 or 12 months old, his murderous mother killed him and simultaneously committed suicide by jumping off a pier or similar structure into the frigid Atlantic one dark evening with no one else around.
The killer had never been incarcerated for long because too much bewildering leniency had been bestowed upon her by the likes of people such as Judge Gale Welsh, who deemed the killer to be no threat to anyone.
Anyone who knows nothing of any of this horrible tale and who watches the documentary will feel enmity towards that clueless judge.
And although all of this happened form 2001 to 2003, I do believe that the same judge still sits in judgment today:
- CanadianLawList.com: The Hon. B. Gale Welsh
I hope I am not linking to some other Judge Gale Welsh ─ it seems too much of a stretch that it could be so.
But to get an even better impression of just how bungling the Canadian judiciary system was in the killer's case, please refer to this 2016 post:
- ChristopherHDick.wordpress.com: Lack of Accountability With Appointed Judges
It is all so very wicked.
I would link to the video ─ it does crop up on YouTube ─ but I think it gets pulled in fairly short order. Perhaps copyright violations?
Nevertheless, maybe if you are quick, this link will still be valid: Dear Zachary - A Letter To A Son About His Father, A Kurt Kuenne (Documentary).
Anyway, my benighted brother eventually sought his bedroom to rest, and early in the afternoon headed away for the afternoon and will have eventually wound up drinking somewhere.
I had some exercising out in the backyard tool-shed after he was gone ─ first weighing in at approximately (and at least) 189 pounds dressed exactly as I would be during the chin-ups and pull-ups portion of the exercising.
The day was mostly cloudy, but it was almost warm ─ rain or showers are called for in the evening or overnight. If I had absolutely nothing better to be doing, I could have sat out in the backyard. However, with so much cloud up there at this early point in the year, the potential for developing any colour to my complexion ─ or the generation of vitamin D in my skin ─ was far too minimal to be worth the bother.
So I had a mid-afternoon nap instead upon enjoying a filling meal.
I have often mentioned in my blogging that I have very poor eyes and vision. I have come to the point where I consider my worst eye ─ the right eye ─ to merit being deemed as being diseased.
I have not read a book in years, and I used to love reading. But by the time I get through a single page of a book using non-prescription reading glasses, the eyestrain is too severe to continue.
And when my eyes are overtaxed, I need to take to my bed and recover. It can be debilitating.
At my weakest, I have wondered on whether to risk a LASIK procedure, but I know that this type of surgery is 'forever' and cannot be undone.
And now I am glad I have not taken the risk:
HSIonline.com
TheDenverChannel.com
RxList.com
Anyway, the way my life seems to be going at the age of 69, I may not be living long enough to have to be concerned about finally developing blindness.
I want to move over to a different topic now ─ it concerns a plant I have often heard mentioned in vampire T.V. series such as The Vampire Diaries.
And no, I am not referring to garlic.
HSIonline.com
I would love to experiment with this plant (Verbena officinalis) to see if it could help bestow better sleep and even alleviate some of my depressions, but I just cannot afford to ─ I learned today that I am far deeper into debt than I even realized, but that's a matter for discussion in my older and private blog.
I did an Amazon search for vervain at the top of this post using its scientific name, and found that there are quite a few products out there ─ and not exactly expensive ones, either.
But I just can't afford the expenditure.
I hope you're in better shape financially. If you are, and would like some further information, here are some other random articles about vervain:
- WebMD.com: Verbena: Uses, Side Effects, Interactions, Dosage, and Warning
- HerbsForMentalHealth.com: Vervain
- Drugs.com: Vervain Uses, Benefits & Side Effects
- DrAxe.com: Vervain: 5 Benefits of a Versatile Herb
- Mercola.com: Vervain: How This Vibrant Herb Works in Improving Health
It certainly does sound plausibly beneficial, doesn't it?
I will leave you with one other website reference ─ an article published five days prior to St. Patrick's Day and that actually praised the health benefits of the common potato, just in case you need some convincing that spuds are still good to eat (just be sure they are not genetically modified):
DrMicozzi.com
Before I do close, I have a couple of photos I want to present.
Google Photos notified me today that it created a two-image collage of those two photos that I uploaded into a Google Photos album on this day exactly six years ago (i.e., March 22, 2013).
Here is that commemoration:
The two photos in that collage are older than March 22, 2013, however. That just happened to be the day that I downloaded them from elsewhere and then uploaded into the Google Photos album.
These are the two photos ─ the first features my late Aunt Nell Primrose and her husband Earl:
The second photo features both of them again, along with one of Nell's sons ─ Jock (John) Halverson (I cannot identify the child):
My maternal cousin Jock, sadly, passed away from cancer around three or so years ago, I believe it was.
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