General

I do not like dog owners: My rant for 2016

Having given it some thought, I’ve come to the conclusion that no, I do not like dog owners.

I should add that I am only referring to ones I’ve encountered. I have no opinion on all of the others–yet.

But of those I have met, yep, I don’t like most of them. They are irresponsible and selfish, they often have poorly-trained dogs and show little regard for the safety or comfort of others.

Dogs can be dangerous, even tiny toy dogs can bite hard and if they’re not healthy, they can spread infection or worse. A dog that is off-leash is not under the owner’s control, no matter what the owner may think. “Oh, he always comes when I call!” may seem ironclad because that’s always what has happened before, but if the dog decides to ignore you, your ability to control it lies in how long it will take you to get to it and grab it by the collar–assuming it doesn’t turn on you.

Tonight I went for a short walk through Hume Park and back. I follow the usual route I take when running, going down the stairs to Lower Hume Park. Just past the bend on the trail is a large dog sniffing about. It’s off-leash. There is no way to physically get past the dog without getting within range of its mouth, which is presumably full of sharp doggie teeth. The dog hasn’t noticed me and may very well be as friendly as all get-out. I have no idea, as I’ve never seen it before. Its owner is not within view. I back off and decide to wait thirty seconds or so, thinking by then the owner will have caught up and both dog and owner will move on.

That doesn’t happen. Instead the dog is still there. I wait again. After the third strategic retreat the dog has moved over to the parking lot and is standing next to the open door of a truck, which presumably belongs to the owner, unless the dog has the amazing ability to drive motor vehicles. I am then able to proceed forward on the path without facing imminent potential mauling.

I’ve been attacked and bitten by dogs before, having done nothing to provoke them. I’ve just unluckily been within proximity when they decided to flip out for whatever reason. My childhood was a series of tetanus shots. I don’t wish to repeat this as an adult.

This could have been avoided by the owner simply leashing the dog, as required by law. But the majority of dog owners I see don’t do this (I should add that a lot of them do and are nice people and usually the leashed dogs seem pretty nice, too).

I walk up the hill past the off-leash dog park. This is a fenced-in area that nonetheless has signs warning people that they must still keep their dogs under control at all times. As I walk by–keeping well away from the fence–a large dog with the coloring of a doberman runs up to the fence and starts following along, growling at me and taking on body language that says something to the effect of, “I would like to snack on you.” This does not amuse me.

The dog’s owner is oblivious.

I mutter obscenities and finally offer the dog advise of a carnal nature, while continuing to walk along. The dog either listens to my request (doubtful but not entirely impossible) or more likely reaches the end of the imaginary territory it needs to defend and backs off. The owner continues to remain oblivious.

A responsible dog owner would not have a dog that would follow and growl at a stranger when in public for no reason. An irresponsible one would.

I do not like dog owners.

Also, here’s a sign that’s posted on the same path I was walking along. If only all dogs were this cute and cartoony.

Your dog shall not poop nor be free

I’m not sure if the fine is for having your dog unleashed, not cleaning up its poop or a combination of both. What I do know is $2,000 is a heck of a lot of money to risk for the sake of letting Spot walk around unleashed.

Also, that cartoony dog is apparently owned by the invisible man.

Ubiquitous Flying Objects

I’ve always been intrigued by UFOs. I loved Close Encounters of the Third Kind when I saw it at the age of 13. I wrote my own spin on the subject after seeing the movie, cleverly calling my story “The UFO Experience.” I watched every episode of NBC’s ill-fated Project UFO series in the late 70s, which was based on Project Blue Book and came about after the success of Close Encounters. I read books about the subject and continue to do so to this day.

The fascination has several sources. One is simply the tantalizing mystery of the unknown. Another is that UFOs–or at least some of them–carry the possibility of confirming the existence of extraterrestrial life. With our pop culture inundated with science fiction and its depiction of aliens in all forms, the idea of not being alone in the universe may not seem as immediately striking as it once was, but getting actual proof would still result in a profound change in how we view our world and everything beyond it.

Mostly I think it would freak a lot of people out.

In recent years it seems the number of UFO sightings has exploded. Smartphones have made it far more likely now that people will capture footage of sightings, even if that footage typically remains grainy, blurry, shaky or otherwise iffy. Maybe in another ten years Apple will have a super-amazing camera in the iPhone 15 that will capture shots of UFOs with such clarity you’ll be able to clearly see the little green men waving from the windows.

Along with the increase in the number of sightings has come a parallel increase in UFO TV shows. Where Project UFO stood out due to its subject matter, you can now watch Hangar 1: The UFO Files, Close Encounters, UFOs Declassified, Ancient Aliens and a bunch more than have come and gone or feature UFO incidents as part of their regular subject matter (The Unexplained Files, etc.) The approach of these shows ranges from relatively serious and sober (Hangar 1) to completely bonkers (Ancient Aliens, or as I refer to it, that show where you hear the phrase “ancient astronaut theorists say yes” roughly a billion times per episode).

All of this activity and interest has been greatly entertaining for me, even if much of it happens outside of mainstream media (though the TV shows do appear on channels like Discovery Science, of all places). The one thing that puzzles me is how some still deny the existence of UFOs.

I think it goes back to the freaked out thing.

A UFO is literally an unidentified flying object. If a runaway weather balloon is seen in the night sky but is never positively identified as such, it is by definition a UFO. Even if only a handful of sighting remain truly unknown, that’s more than enough to definitively state that UFOs are a real phenomenon. There are objects in the sky that we cannot always identify. So why deny the possibility?

It’s commonly (and logically) thought that any extraterrestrials that have made it to our planet would be technologically advanced and that frightens a lot of people. They think of Martian death rays, planetary conquest, enslavement, basically all the horrible things we humans have always done, just on a grander scale and with more sophisticated tools. And done by evil aliens instead of us.

I think if aliens were here and they wanted to turn us all into soylent green, they’d have probably done it already. But that’s part of what makes all of this so interesting for me–the possibilities are endless.

I couldn’t say what is behind most UFO sightings, whether they’re ETs from across the galaxy or from a parallel dimension, or even humans come back from the future for whatever reason. Or maybe they’re all runaway weather balloons. I keep an open mind on the subject. The universe is a strange place and we know very little about it. Heck, it’s been less than 50 years since we started wearing digital watches*. We’re still taking baby steps when it comes to technology and getting out to check our cosmic neighborhood. We have only ever had a single spacecraft leave our solar system–Voyager–and that was never the probe’s purpose, it just happened to keep on truckin’ after it completed its mission.

Having written all this, I’m not hoping for some weird abduction experience or implants or anything. I’m mostly content for the world to remain predictable and stable. I don’t think either is true anymore, if it ever was, so I’d like to think I’m prepared for whatever comes. I’ve got a smartphone with a decent camera, anyway.

* remember when digital watches were cool? Smart watches are the new digital watches. I’ve owned both because that’s what a good nerd does.

A dialogue with myself on how special I might be

Am I Special? A dialogue

I think I’m special.
Are you familiar with the Special Olympics?
Yes.
Do you think you’re special in the same sense as the Special Olympics?
I think I’m special in the sense that I’m unique and interesting, perhaps even a smidgen fascinating.
I don’t think fascinating comes in smidgens.
Almost fascinating, then.
All right, let’s take a tally.
A tally?
Yes. This is almost scientific. Describe yourself.
What do you want to know?
Start with the very basics and go from there.
Okay. I’m human.
Neutral. No points.
No points?
No points. We’re all human. Go on.
I’m male.
Negative ten points.
What?
You heard me.
It’s not like I can’t help being male. I protest.
Protest noted. Continue.
White.
Negative ten points.
Again?
Yes. Don’t feel down. Keep going.
Well, I’m left-handed…
Two points.
That’s it?
Have you been traumatized over your left-handedness?
Sometimes, when I try to use a pair of scissors.
Point taken. Or in this case, given. Three points. Go on.
I wear glasses.
Two points.
Not three?
No. I’m not budging on this one, either.
Fine. I’m Canadian.
Six points. One point extra just because of Trudeau.
I’m also gay.
Ten points. Congratulations, you have offset being male.
That’s it?
You’ve come a long way, baby.
But persecution still exists.
True.
And people are still hurt, even killed for being gay.
All right, twelve points. I think that’s fair. Continue.
I think I’m creative and somewhat artistic.
A smidgen artistic?
Ha ha, very funny. How many points?
Five points.
That’s less than I got for being Canadian, which isn’t even particularly unique!
Are you familiar with the term “starving artist”?
Yes.
It’s because there’s so many of them. Five points. Anything else?
I’m nice.
Neutral. No points.
Neutral?
Not everyone is nice but the expectation is that everyone should be. Do you dispute that?
Well, not really, I suppose.
Is that everything, then?
It’s all I can think of offhand.
Your total is eight points. This gives you the rank of Pedestrian. Do you want to try again? Y/N?

This is the sixth post I’ve written today

In an effort to get in 31 posts for August (an average of one per day), I have been forced to crank out six posts on the last day of the month. This has by necessity put the focus on quantity over quality, but I look at it as a sort-of extended free-writing session, something that will stimulate my creativity and ultimately lead to something better, even as anyone reading the current results is left confused, angry, bored or a combination thereof.

I promise to put more thought and effort into September’s entries.

My promises don’t always stick.

But I try.

Also, here’s a picture of me with a freaky filter from Prisma applied:

Weird photo filter fun

How I miss my green organic hat. 🙁

(Trust me, it really was green, not decorated like the bus from The Partridge Family.)

(The bill split open when I washed it and MEC doesn’t carry it any longer, so it’s gone forever, like the dodo or your favorite dinosaur.)

What the heck happened to Lucky Charms?

Oh, they may still be “magically delicious” but what happened to the traditional weird little marshmallow things they used to have in Lucky Charms? You know:

  • pink hearts
  • orange stars
  • green clovers
  • yellow moons
  • blue diamonds

Now there are rainbows (which make sense), shooting stars (which make sense if you believe leprechauns are from outer space, I guess), something that looks like a rotten tooth (I think it’s a hat?) and an hourglass so you are reminded that soon it will be time to visit the dentist if you don’t remember to brush after eating this stuff.

The simplicity, the magic, if you will, has diminished in the quest to put in more stuff. Also, the cereal is now being pitched at adults because if kids and adults eat your cereal, your profits will be magically delicious.

While I can’t say I yearn for Lucky Charms nowadays it was probably my favorite cereal as a kid, saving the marshmallows for last, of course. And even with today’s weird collection of marshmallows, Lucky Charms still has the benefit over Cap’n Crunch of not lacerating the roof of your mouth when you eat them.

I skipped lunch today

Technically I had “lunch” in the form of a Clif bar, but I didn’t actually take a break, I just kept working. In part it was due to the weather turning wet and making a walk unpalatable, as I have no umbrella nor the desire to spend the afternoon working in soggy clothes. I was also partway through a large task and didn’t want to lose momentum.

Unfortunately I had not slept well last night so the combination left me feeling tired and gross by the end of the afternoon. I feel a little better now, just in time to go to bed and try sleeping all over again.

Tomorrow I am taking that break. Kids, don’t skip your breaks! If the mean supervisor tells you to march straight back into that coal mine, you tell him you have rights and you’ll work that much harder if you get your break first. Also, you probably shouldn’t work in a coal mine if you’re a kid. Or human. Those places are dangerous.

And so endeth Vacation 2016 (and mostly good riddance)

This vacation has been weird. Because my partner just started working a new job last month, we were unable to plan any kind of trip/camping together so I was largely left to devise my own set of fun vacation-type activities.

I failed.

Not only did I not plan any fun vacation-type activities, I did the opposite–I planned things like annual checkups, getting my ID renewed, and giving samples of urine and blood for science.

The first day I went for a run it rained. The last day I ran it was 30ºC at 9:30 in the morning. But at least I completed all nine runs, as I’d set out to do. Last year I ended run #1 with horrible pain in my right leg and didn’t run again until the new year. So there is that.

Of course, run #6 was highlighted by the infamous tree root incident, in which I snagged my left foot and went down hard on the gravel (the bruise on my hip is still spectacular-looking nine days later). I walked the Conifer and Spruce Loop trails again today to survey just how potentially hazardous they are if I decide to start running on them again (runs 7-9 were done sans optional side trails). What I discovered was one super large tree root that spans the entire width of the trail and is in a clear area. The only way to trip on this root would be to approach it with your eyes closed and maybe with your shoes tied together, too. The only other tree root was…the one I tripped on. If I run counter-clockwise it’s on the other side and out of the way. This means that the Conifer and Spruce Loop trails are actually a lot safer than the Cottonwood trail, a 2+ km stretch that is unavoidable and rife–rife, I say,–with all kinds of roots and wooden planks sticking out of the earth from when the area was a logging operation.

What else happened on this curiously unfun vacation?

On my run route I saw a python and a bobcat/lynx. A man approached me at the end of a run to say he’d just seen a bear up ahead, the way I was heading (I did not see the bear). If this was Australia I’d probably have been bitten by several poisonous things by now.

I lost my wallet. Granted, it was recovered about 15 minutes after I realized it was gone, but now I’m paranoid it’s going to again leap from my pocket as if it were both sentient and capricious.

Today–the last day of vacation–I witnessed a car accident. It was only a fender bender, fortunately. From my perspective it looked like a silver car was heading east down Government Street in Burnaby and a black car was turning left onto the street from the nearby Costco parking lot, filled with 10 gallon jars of mayonnaise. The black car went wide into the lane occupied by the silver car and physics asserted itself, with much scraping following and at least one piece of something or other popping off (a side mirror, I think). I walked down the block, crossed over to the other side and made my way to the cars, now pulled over with hazard lights blinking.

The man in the black car asked for my name and number. I provided them. The driver of the other car, an irascible older man, approached and asked what I saw. I told him. He responded, crankily, “So you’re saying I’m at fault?” I told him, no, I wasn’t saying who was at fault, I was only reporting what I saw, which was the black car hitting the silver car. He grumbled and went to confer with his wife. The driver of the silver car told me he tried to get out of the way. I shrugged. I couldn’t tell. I went home. I haven’t heard from anyone. I hope I don’t.

What else happened?

On the plus side, I did not get sick. This kind of amazes me, as it was a natural given the way things went. I could still wake up with a head cold tomorrow.

My weight remained pretty much the same, despite numerous runs and long walks and reduced snacking.

I have had difficulty sleeping at times. My mind whirs like that top in Inception. I have often gotten up and gone for a walk because of this restlessness, this weird inability to sit still and just relax (note: I do not get up and go for walks after going to bed, I just flop around like a fish but smell much better).

I’ve cooked and cleaned a lot. More than I normally would. I broke the Swiffer mop and had to buy a replacement.

I saw the new Star Trek movie. It was better than the previews made it look, but it was still just good, not great.

I intended to start reading a book or two. I did not. I bought several, though, and I’ll try starting again tonight. So much free time to read and all I managed was a few magazines and some websites.

I tried to write. I am not too far off one-post-per-day on the blog, though a large part of that is due to those nine runs. I have not written any fiction. Writer’s block? It feels more like paralysis right now. I sit at the keyboard and my mind freezes. I know all the tricks, I know I should free write or try a prompt. Instead I push away from the desk and pace about or go for another walk.

I am an expert at walking.

I don’t really want to go to work tomorrow. I feel like I still haven’t unwound yet. I need a holiday from my vacation. At least the Labor Day weekend is only a few weeks away.

The last seven paragraphs have started with “I.” I am talking about myself a lot.

I am sorry (ho ho).

Anyway, that’s about it. Next vacation I’m going to actually plan things out. I may go away somewhere. Somewhere nice, without bobcats or tree roots or car accidents. I’d like that.

The cat in the lake

Today I decided to go for a nice walk around Burnaby Lake because it was really hot and I’m kind of dumb. But it did allow me to see that the resurfacing of the Southshore trail is pretty much complete, so my nemesis the excavator will probably not be there to try to run me down tomorrow.

Probably.

In the meantime, as I walked and sweated on my clockwise jaunt, I crossed the 4 km mark, ventured over the rowing pavilion parking lot and entered a stretch of the trail that is characterized by tall grass on the lake-side, giving the area a kind of everglade feel to it. At least it’s what I think an everglade would feel like. I confess I haven’t been to one, not even a fake one like they probably have at Disney World.

I noticed a not-quite-small brown dog sort of shimmying into the tall grass, perhaps to get out of the sun. It was an odd kind of move and looking at the trail up ahead I could not see any kind of owner for said dog. Also odd.

But it was not a dog. It was this:

Big kitty at lake
I think this is a lynx, a bobcat or more likely a lynx/bobcat hybrid. A boblynx.

I apologize for the less-than-stellar quality of the shot. The cat was in the shade and I was reluctant to call it out into the sun, since it was a wild animal and could have ripped my throat open if so inclined.

My first thought was a lynx. I later looked at lynx photos and it appears to have characteristics of both a lynx and a bobcat and hybrids are possible, so I think this was the possibly rare boblynx.

It seemed a bit skittish and unsure and wasn’t acting at all aggressive. I remained calm, trying to remember what I’d seen on one of those TV shows, Survive or DIE! or something like that. They were talking about what to do when you encounter a mountain lion but maybe the advice would translate on a scaled-down wild cat. As I recalled, you are supposed to make noise, stand your ground and if American, shoot it repeatedly with the assault rifle you’re probably carrying. Also something about throwing rocks to prove you’re the alpha. I didn’t have any rocks and throwing them at a non-aggressive animal literally less than two meters away from me did not seem like a good idea.

I clapped my hands and told it to shoo, to scoot. It stood there and seemed embarrassed for me. I don’t blame it, really. I then took a few pictures while it just hung around, undecided on what to do.

At this point I had three choices:

  1. Turn around and head back
  2. Proceed forward, giving the cat as wide a berth as possible
  3. Stand there until one of us got bored and left

Option #1 seemed unwise. Turning your back on a wild animal is never a good idea. Turning your back on a domestic animal is never a good idea. I don’t trust bobcats or cows.

Option #3 seemed problematic as I have a high threshold for boredom and it’s possible the cat had no concept of boredom and would wait until it got hungry instead, at which point I would be the most convenient food source.

I opted for #2 and as soon as I took one step forward, the cat majestically leaped into the grass and disappeared. I mean, that sucker cleared about a meter from a standing position. It was scary and impressive.

I continued my walk, keeping an eye behind me until I was safely out of the immediate area.

I expect to see a giraffe the next time I’m at the lake.

I call it Un-Vacation

How is my vacation progressing? Let me provide an update!

At 8:30 this morning I went to a nearby medical lab (one of the perks of living near a hospital, these things are more omnipresent than Starbucks) and submitted myself to the tests my doctor wanted. This involved collecting urine, blood and poop (ew). The urine was the ol’ “pee in a jar” routine, though it was actually a small bottle. I’m still surprised at how easy it is to pee on demand, as if our ancient ancestors needed the ability for survival and we still carry the trait today.

The blood was a bit of a concern. The last time I had blood taken a few years ago I fasted a lot longer than necessary. They recommend 8-10 hours and I fasted something like 16-18 because I went later in the morning. The net result was partway through the blood collection I went very pale and felt like my blood was being literally drained away–which it was, but it felt more like all my blood was being drained away, not just a sample of it. The person taking the sample asked if I wanted to lie down. I did, but not there, as it seemed too much like admitting defeat to a simple medical procedure to lie down right there in the lab. Plus my place is only two blocks away, I could crawl back if I had to. I felt weird and gross for a few hours after. Tip: don’t fast for hours more than you need to before giving blood.

This time I had fasted appropriately and the whole thing finished quickly and without incident.

The poop needs to be applied to a small stick. They give you paper to poop on and a sheet of instructions on how to poop (I’m not sure if you can also poop on the instructions, but it wouldn’t surprise me). Pooping on demand is harder than peeing. I felt weirdly self-conscious even though I was alone (you poop at home, not at the lab). When I was done, I put the stick in the provided container and the Biohazard-labeled baggie. Could my poop kill someone? Maybe, I’m no expert. As instructed, the sample is in the fridge until I take it to the lab tomorrow. I’m pretty sure this is the only time I will have my poop in the fridge.

After donating nearly every form of liquid and solid my body can produce to science, I thought, “What else would be fun to do on vacation?” and it came to me: sweeping and mopping. Yay! Here’s a typical vacation list as proof:

Things to Do on Vacation
Swim
Surf
Relax in the sun or shade
Sip lemonade
Play games
Sweep
Mop

See?

I swept the kitchen and then got out the Swiffer WetJet®™ to mop. After a few majestic strokes, the floor was looking cleaner, but I heard a distressing crack from the handle of the Swiffer. Just as I was finishing the top of the handle broke off. This made the last bit of mopping–or swiffing, if you prefer–rather tricky. I was bummed, partly because I’d have to spend money on a replacement, but mostly because it meant I’d have to go out and actually get the replacement.

In checking the price online for said replacement, I noticed in some customer reviews that the handle breaking is apparently a common issue. I guess I should feel lucky ours lasted as long as it did. Maybe some duct tape will fix it? I could get duct tape instead. It’s cheaper than a new mop and more versatile, to boot.

Now you’re thinking, you donated blood, urine, poop, swept and, with some effort, mopped. Surely this vacation day is done.

But no, there was more!

I thought a nice walk around Central Park would be nice (the logic is infallible), followed by a trip to Metrotown for some window-shopping (not actually shopping for windows, more like books and stuff). I took the SkyTrain to Patterson station, tapped out like a good little Compass card tapping-person, and sauntered off into Central Park, where I zigzagged through the many trails, utterly failing to navigate the “Terry Fox 5K walk”, despite numerous signs pointing the way. I swear the signs have arrows actually pointing at each other.

After about 45 minutes of quiet contemplation (well, except for the regular rumble of the nearby SkyTrain) I headed over to Metrotown. I scoped out Indigo and spotted the book Aurora by Kim Stanley Robinson. I’d heard some good things about it so I pulled out my phone to note the title in my OneNote app (I have a section for books). It was when I put the phone back in my pocket that I noticed something was wrong.

To be more precise, something was missing.

To be even more precise, my wallet was missing.

Little alarms went off in my head.

I had not taken my wallet out since tapping out at Patterson so I was puzzled as to how it escaped. I keep it in a front pocket so if someone tried to pick the pocket there’s a decent chance I’d see or feel something (“Is your hand in my pocket or are you just happy to see me?”) but perhaps pickpockets have stepped up their game. More likely I failed to put the wallet all the way back in the admittedly shallow pocket and it shimmied up and out as I strolled about.

Stupid wallet.

Thinking there was a chance I had accidentally pulled the wallet out along with my phone in the bookstore, I scanned the immediate area. No sign of it. I had a staff member check to see if some Good Samaritan had already turned it in. Nope. I left, retracing my steps.

About fifteen minutes in I get a phone call from an unknown number.

“Is this Stan James?”
“It is.”
“Did you recently lose a wallet?”
“In fact, I did.”
“Were you in Central Park?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
“Your wallet has been turned in here at the community police office [gives directions].”
*excited noise*
“I’ll be there in five minutes.” I was literally two blocks away from the office when the staffer called.

I didn’t find out who turned my wallet in, other than it was a pair of women the community police office staffer thought were “GVRD workers” based on their dress. Anyway, I can’t thank them in person but I can thank them here so thank you, nice ladies!

The wallet was untouched, including the $10 in relatively worthless Canadian money stuffed in it. Ironically I started putting bills back in my wallet after I was pretty sure I’d lost a $10 bill from the same pair of shorts with the same shallow pockets. I shall now call them Devil Shorts, for that is what they are. Tomorrow I may go looking for cargo shorts or anything with a zipper on it. Maybe a chastity belt than can also hold ID and some keys. Something.

Finally, my partner came home, complained about how the long commute to and from his new workplace is, claiming it leaves him no time in the evening to do anything except go to bed and start the whole thing over, like some kind of Groundhog Day thing. This apparently renders life as not worth living, though he loves the actual new job. He then went to bed two hours earlier than he needed to as an ironic twist. People are weird.

And that was my vacation day today. Technically there’s still time for a mongoose to attack me, so I’m staying on my guard until I go to bed. Hopefully there is no mongoose in the bed.

Have I posted from an iPhone before?

The WordPress dashboard is surprisingly complete on my iPhone 6 but I can’t say that pecking out a post on the tiny onscreen keyboard is exactly fun.

Consider this then just another in my ongoing efforts to post to my blog on every conceivable type of device.

Next up: posting from a television!

Bug bites bite

I did not sweep, do laundry or buy toothpaste today. You may wonder then, what did I do? Did I simply laze around on my second day of vacation? Did I join the 500,000 or so downtown at the Pride parade (featuring Justin Trudeau’s third appearance but first as prime minster–the first time in the parade’s 36 year history that a sitting prime minster has taken part. Kind of sad when you think about it)?

The answer to these questions is no, I did not. Instead I went shopping and bought nothing.

Determined to get this consumerism stuff right, I went out again and this time bought several bags of groceries. I have eaten some of them since then. The groceries, not the bags.

By early evening my watch was telling me I’d only hit about 50% of my move goal. I wanted to hit 100% because those stupid numbers really do motivate me, especially when I have a streak going. So I went for an 8K walk, in part around Burnaby Lake. As reward I got bit three times, once on my left hand and twice on the back of my right calf. I applied chamomile lotion to the bites and within minutes found a reason to wash my hands and immediately had to re-apply the lotion. The itching could be worse so I guess I’m a little thankful that these were baby bugs or bugs in training or something.

And then I did laze around, part of which was spent pondering how I have yet again failed to write a post per day for another month, though I’ve come closer in July than the last few months. Onward to August!