Although my younger brother was home early last evening ─ I was still at work on that day's blog post, and it seems to me that I wrote of him being home (from wherever he had been drinking) by 6:11 p.m. ─ it was to be an exceptionally early evening for me.
I hastily finished and published that day's post, and intended to go downstairs and join my brother in the living room to watch some T.V. over the evening as would have been provided by our T9 Android 8.1 TV Box...but he had already passed out with the news channel we can receive as his entertainment.
I wash my hands of him when I find him to be in such an inebriated state, but it was not yet 7:00 p.m. ─ too damned early to be going to bed.
I managed to while away some time; and then not 10 minutes past 8:00 p.m. I was into my bed.
However, I was soon enough very warm, and sleep not at all interested in visiting me. My makeshift blindfold was doing a fair job of keeping out the remaining light of day, at least.
Anon I became aware that my wife had arrived home from wherever it is that she spends her weekends in Vancouver ─ she had come into the bedroom and was stirring about.
When she finally exited the bedroom, I peeked at the time and saw that it was by then after 10:00 p.m. My brother would still be up watching T.V. downstairs, so I rose and stealthily made use of the bathroom immediately adjacent to my bedroom.
That area of the bedding where I had been entombed was damp with perspiration. It was unusual that I should be so very warm, for I had only eaten one actual meal that day, and I believe that was quite early in the afternoon ─ I should not be overwarm from metabolic reasons. I did eat ere going to bed, but that was only a minor helping of some naturally fermented vegetables ─ some sliced up red cabbage and beetroots, along with the potent rich juices.
To be speaking true, lying sleeplessly in bed on those occasions when I am awaiting my brother's elected bedtime can become something of an ordeal.
When eventually it seemed that my wife might soon be coming to bed, I decided to get up ─ midnight was not far off by then. With relief, when I opened my bedroom door I saw that my brother's was shut tight ─ he had already retired for the night.
I was free to come here to my computer and get to work on the new day's content assignment at the new post I have in development at one of my six hosted websites.
Nevertheless, I did have some communication with my wife, seeking her out downstairs in the kitchen for some banter.
She had an 11:00 a.m. scheduled start this morning at her friend's Thai restaurant ─ and a goodly drive to get there ─ so she was soon to go to bed. She was just having a final small meal first.
I was back here at my computer upstairs ─ I keep it in a small room immediately next to my bedroom ─ when I heard her about to come upstairs. Both of her sons must have still been up, for I heard her enviously enquire of them if they both had today off work (today is the Victoria Day statutory holiday).
I was unable to hear aught from them, however. Even so, when my wife came upstairs and was passing by the room I was in as she headed for the bathroom to clean up for the night, I sympathized with her by expressing aloud, "Poor mum!"
She responded with an emphatic, "Yes!"
I stayed the course and completed that website content assignment, by which time I was the only one still up from bed in the house ─ but of course, the night was starting to fade by then. Heck, it was 4:30 a.m. by the time I was back in bed.
I had found when I carefully entered the bedroom that my wife had turned on the ceiling fan when she went to bed, but she still stirred when I did my best to come to bed unnoticed.
The fan not only kicks up quite a breeze, but it creates enough noise to almost serve as a pair of earplugs ─ its noise masks other sounds that might have been disturbing. We tend to keep the bedroom window open by about a foot, so noises from outdoors do intrude sometimes.
I slept almost as intermittently as I had been doing before I first got up, but at least this time I was quite comfortable in bed.
I managed to remain in bed until after 9:00 a.m., carefully extricating myself from bed and the bedroom, and expecting to find my brother downstairs watching T.V.
But he had not yet emerged from his bedroom.
I went downstairs and fixed up my day's first hot caffeinated beverage, and then brought it back upstairs here to my computer to amuse myself.
It was after 9:30 a.m. before my brother had showered and emerged from his bedroom. I let him watch some T.V. news until after 9:50 a.m., and then I came down to join him ─ I had already heard my wife's cellphone alarm. She likes to try and be up by about 10:00 a.m.
Mainly as a concession to my younger brother who does not know how to operate our Android TV Box, I spend the latter morning with him tuning in shows for us to watch until he feels ready to return to his bedroom to rest up before he takes off for the afternoon to eventually end up drinking somewhere again.
The intention I had this morning was to lead off with a documentary called Smell ─ Our Most Underrated Sense, and then I would tune in the usual material that we watch.
This is the write-up for the documentary:
Smell is our most ancient, but also our most underestimated sense. In a recent survey of young adults, just over half said they would rather lose their sense of smell than their access to technology, like laptops or smartphones. In this episode Anja Taylor investigates the hidden powers of smell, and how smell influences many aspects of our lives in ways we often overlook.
My brother immediately squirmed in annoyance and distaste and groused, "Put it on something interesting!"
I was steadfast, declaring that it would be soon enough, and that it was not very long ─ it was well under a half-hour in duration.
Until he figures out how to operate the Android TV Box, he is going to pretty much have to watch what I choose to provide when I want to tune in something special like this.
He did watch it through, and seemed to find it interesting. I think that it helped that hostess Anja Taylor (aka Anja Coleby) happened to be quite an attractive Australian blonde.
Incidentally, I had tuned the programme in via the YouTube 'app' that is downloaded into our Android TV Box.
My wife was to leave on her drive to work shortly after the programme had finished. By then, it had begun to lightly rain, and it continued to do so for much of the remainder of the day.
My brother sought his bed rest in the latter half of the noon-hour. I took the opportunity to have some exercise with my 43½-pound dumbbell, and then I fixed up my day's first meal.
By the time I had eaten that, my brother was back out of his room, and he quickly readied himself to head off, wondering if there was too much rain for him to enjoy a park walk somewhere before he hit whatever bar he would end up in.
As ever, my meal weighed me down, so I resorted to a return to bed, and managed a bit of a needed nap.
And now here I am at 4:50 p.m. Ultimately before too long, I plan on getting out and hiking the four or so blocks to do some grocery shopping at Deepu's No Frills store in the Cedar Hills shopping centre at 128th Street & 96th Avenue (Google map) here in Surrey.
When I was first up early this a.m., I came across an article that I found of considerable interest ─ it told of how a 76-year-old French chap who had been fathered by an American soldier whose name the French son never knew, finally came in contact with his American relatives.
The story I read was titled 75 years on, D-Day history still being written, but it seems to have been renamed as DNA test uncovers D-Day love story 75 years later ─ sources for it include Bakersfield.com and NationalPost.com.
My father was stationed overseas in Europe during World War II, although I don't think he ventured beyond England and the Netherlands.
When my brother and I were boys, I recall that my father had an abundance of memorabilia from his time abroad ─ things like photos, post cards, and letters.
I can remember him talking about a beautiful Dutch girlfriend he had ─ a redhead.
Just about everything my father had accumulated and saved has since been irretrievably lost, it pains me to say. I remember at least one photo of his Dutch girlfriend, and maybe a post card and / or a letter ─ but those are no more.
I would love to know the names of people whom he had come to know abroad, but nothing like that now exists.
My brother and I were so damned stupid ─ we should have taken a deeper interest in our father's time overseas.
My father died of a heart attack 10 days after his 62nd birthday in February 1983, and all of his wartime history died with him.
If only I had names, maybe it would be possible in this day and age to find family members of people he knew and became close to back then in Europe.
Another example does have a photographic record ─ I think this photo shows a family my father may have been billeted with during some of his time in England:
I've enlarged the image, so I hope that it isn't too damaged ─ that is of course my father in uniform.
But where in England was this? I haven't the remotest idea.
I wish that I could somehow get in touch with any of that family's descendants...but of course, none of them would know anything of my father, nor his time with their family members in that photo.
Doesn't it seem that the family may have been somewhat well-to-do? Or maybe they just got dressed up for this special photo?
Like I said, I have no idea, and do not see how I ever can know.
I wish that the news account I linked to had mentioned what DNA testing group was involved. I am not expecting that any of my father's possibly 'sown oats' had borne fruit...but there was that Dutch girl, so who knows?
I want to close today's post so that I can get out and do that shopping, but I want to link to two sets of somewhat related articles that deal with blood sugar, prediabetes, and type 2 diabetes.
First, though, have you any familiarity with a type of seaweed called wakame (Undaria pinnatifida)?
If you are diabetic or under threat of becoming diabetic, then maybe you should familiarize yourself with it:
HSIonline.com
Here is one other article on this seaweed:
The other related article I want to present gets into the meat of how it is that so much of the world seems so vulnerable to blood sugar problems and diabetes:
LifeSpa.com
Just to see what turned up, I made an Amazon search beneath this post using the term "wakame" ─ for a seaweed that Wikipedia says has some recognition as being among the world's 100 worst invasive species, it sure doesn't look to be very commonplace as judged by the prices of some of those Amazon products!
There is much to be said in favour of living near an ocean, I suppose ─ as long as tsunamis and climate-driven rising sea levels are not an issue, of course!
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