Although I did not post here yesterday, I did not do so legitimately ─ that is, I had justification.
First, though, I wish to report on a few things about the day ─ for one, it was so very sunny and hot. Sleep is even more problematic, and the house has a number of fans running throughout the days and nights.
After I had joined my brother around 10 a.m. that morning to watch some T.V. via our Android TV Box, at his suggestion we sampled a video that had been recommended by Odessa Orlewicz in a video of hers that we had watched on Thursday.
The recommended video was hosted by someone ─ most likely Canadian ─ who calls herself Amazing Polly: Are Leaders Being Threatened by the International Public Health Mafia?
The video was 42 minutes in duration, and left me so very impressed that I am going to now make her material 'must' viewing henceforth as are Odessa Orlewicz's videos ─ we have watched everything Odessa has put out ever since I 'discovered' her sometime last Fall.
Anyway, my wife had to work the full day yesterday, so she of course had to rise and soon enough leave on her fairly long drive for her 11 a.m. start at her friend's Thai restaurant. I still don't know where exactly she went Tuesday evening to go 'camping' (she only returned early Thursday evening), but through her Facebook posts, I understand that there were three other probably-Thai women, and two Farang guys like me.
I don't know who they ─ the White guys ─ belonged to.
Everyone had obviously gone into the mountains; and some photos were taken at what she reported as being a "rest stop" at "Loon Lake". Unfortunately, Loon Lakes are not exactly uncommon.
At their camping spot, I saw that there seemed to be at least one tent; and a motorhome.
But enough said about that.
Both of my stepsons were away to work in the afternoon yesterday, so after my brother left to "play pool" early into the afternoon, I was free to do whatever I wanted to without restriction here in the house.
Despite the heat, around mid-afternoon I somehow managed to keep the day's session of exercising out in the backyard toolshed. However, I had to reduce the number of overall pull-ups and chin-ups I might otherwise have totalled in those exercises because the thick bars I have to use to work from quickly became slick to the grip; and the raised atmosphere in the rafters where the bars are stretched across was sweltering.
Then I had just lain down with the intention of sunbathing when it occurred to me that I could honourably dispense with that heated experience by instead making the four-mile round trip to the nearest government liquor store to purchase some Scotch for my younger brother's upcoming birthday.
I tried checking out the websites of two different private liquor stores that are closer, but neither of them offered any description of their spirits. I am a pensioner who must heed his financial limitations, so the more distant destination became unavoidable. I need to know prices beforehand, and only the government liquor store offered those online.
I made the trip, but it took me some time before I was finally able to get myself away from here ─ in fact, it was almost 6 p.m., and my youngest stepson had just newly arrived home.
I ended up buying my brother two 750-ml bottles: one each of John Barr Blended Scotch Whiskey, and The Famous Grouse Smoky Black. I also bought myself a half dozen Cariboo Malt (8% alcohol).
On my way back home, I had a wretched incident approximately a half mile from here.
I was coming along one of those enclosed walkways that take pedestrians through various neighbourhoods, and this one intersected with another similar walkway.
Well, just as I was coming to that intersection, I could hear the unmistakable sounds of a slathering dog. Then, just as I was arriving at that intersection, a young South Asian man appeared who was just ahead of another South Asian companion who had a grotesquely enormous dark brown or maybe even greyish-black pitbull on a close leash.
The two guys were in their 20s or maybe even their 30s.
The first one appeared somewhat taken aback to find me almost upon him, and I arrived at the intersection of walkways just as the second guy and the grotesque pitbull arrived.
There was no warning for any of us that this coincidence of pedestrians was about to occur.
I had the Scotch bottles in a tote bag in my left hand, and the beer cans were in a backpack that I was carrying upright by a convenient strap handle that I had gripped in my right hand. The man with the dog was at my right as well.
The enormous dog immediately erupted into a slathering, snarling lunge, its open jaws so wide that it appeared they could have encompassed my entire head. Fortunately, my pack was betwixt the beast and myself.
Oddly, despite some surprise, I was not as shocked or startled as I would normally have been ─ I most certainly would have reacted in extreme distress in the past, even if I was not displaying it.
The monstrous dog could not reach my body because the pack was something of a barrier between us, and its handler was struggling to reign the beast in.
I never paused or showed any sort of reaction as I kept my easy pace onward, and actually said softly in a sarcastic manner, "Lovely. Just ... fucking ... lovely."
As I passed between the first young man (who was essentially now walking backwards) and his companion with the dog, and I steadily proceeded on with the same slow pace that I had been using all along, I heard him say to the dog-handler, "I knew something like that was going to happen."
By this time my back was to the trio, but I could hear the monstrous dog still viciously choking and slathering in its insanity to get at me.
I honestly have no idea why I was so inexplicably calm throughout this encounter ─ I never would have been so in my past.
Curiously, of late before this I had been thinking a lot about dog attacks, and what might be the best defence in a life-and-death situation. I have wondered if maybe the thing to try and immediately do would be to somehow break one of the forelegs of an attacking dog instead of just wildly lashing out with a defensive kick.
Break one of its legs, and its attack is over. I think that I had even been musing on this scenario earlier in my hike.
In the case of my real experience, however, I was in no position to deliver any such blow. Nevertheless, perhaps I somehow still had some confidence and did not feel completely powerless despite being 71 years old.
What the experience has done, nevertheless, is make me realize that it is best to have some devastatingly effective weapon or two. Say, something with which to swing and break bones; and also maybe a large blade such as the "Guardian" machete that you can read about here and here.
I have wanted to own that very blade for several years, but it is very expensive ─ and I am Canadian, so those U.S. dollars would be much, much higher after being converted into Canadian dollars.
Unfortunately, even if I could afford the Guardian, I could hardly be bearing it about without immediately being confronted by the police every time I went anywhere. And I sure could not be walking into a store with the thing strapped to my back.
Yet if I had some bone-breaking device and a smaller deadly knife for close-quarters deployment if ever need be, that would be perfectly acceptable.
After that experience with the pitbull yesterday, I am going to be more serious about acquiring first some effective bone-breaker, and then I will look into knives. As long as I can in short order break some attacking dog's leg with something I was carrying for that purpose, I could thereafter do with the beast as I pleased ─ even batter it into oblivion.
Any irresponsible dog owner who forces me into such an action had better not interfere!
I conclude this unpleasant dog talk with this cute dog cartoon:
Anyway, so much for yesterday's walk. I later celebrated the outing with two cans of that strong beer.
It is so damned hot! Google claims that here in Surrey where I live, at 6 p.m. today it was 37º Celsius, or 98.6º Fahrenheit. Sleep is practically unattainable for any length of time.
Even so, I put in some sunning this afternoon after an abbreviated exercise session in the backyard toolshed. It was so sweltering in that shed that just climbing up to where I could grasp the bars I use for pull-ups / chin-ups, reaching up to grasp those bars immediately started the backs of my hands and my arms to bead with perspiration. And the bars were hot!
That was without even attempting a pull-up! This is ridiculous.
Yet I sunned afterwards. Beginning at 2:25 p.m., well over a half hour for my back, and then well over another half hour for my front, all while wearing just a pair of swimming trunks.
My brother had gone for the afternoon by then, but my wife was home dutifully preparing a meal for us all. And then around 4:00 p.m. or so, she left us ─ probably to go in to Vancouver. I don't expect her back until tomorrow or Monday (such is our sorry marriage).
It is presently approaching 7 p.m., and I have just put two cans of that strong beer into the fridge freezer. I normally drink my beer at room temperature, but I have a pronounced hankering for cold brews this evening.
And with that said, I am going to bring this post to a close.
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