Dog Scare

Sunday started dark and wet. I was head-to-toe in rain gear when I went on the dog walk; it was raining rather hard. By the end of the walk, I was carrying my coat and glowing under clear blue skies. 

On the afternoon walk at Rollo Park, a dog named Tibo ran up to me, jumped against me and snapped at me in the face. Its bite was millimeters from my nose. John, another dog owner who was there and who knows me, went ballistic at Frank, Tibo’s owner. Frank did not punish Tibo, nor did he apologize to me and John was furious. Frank leashed Tibo and left the park.

After Frank and Tibo left, Isobel and Mitch arrived with their two Poodles and Sheba and Baxter exhausted themselves playing. It was wonderful to watch them play together and to come down from the shock of the dog attack.

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I’m still stunned that I seem to have quit Marijuana. I found it very strange that this has happened with no premeditation. But a lot has changed since my breakdown; I guess this is just another aspect of my evolution. My experience has confounded my understanding of addiction; I’m not craving it at all or suffering in any way.

But then I remember when I smoked cigarettes.

One day I went into a store and bought a brand new package of smokes, and when I came out of the store, the light turned red and I had to wait to cross the street. So I opened the package and looked around for a place to put the cellophane I’d removed and saw a little trash bin attached to the telephone pole beside me.

In went the cellophane; green went the light, and without any premedication, in went the whole package of cigarettes and my smoking days were over. And then, like now, I experienced absolutely no desire for a smoke from then on. Either I’m rather unique or addiction is not the as difficult to overcome for everyone.

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Rain. We’re back to it. Thank God for reading by the fireplace for days like today! 

Rand is Dead

“Rand” is gone. I used to be able to speak using a fake South African accent when my real voice failed, but no more. The loss has made verbal communication impossible; hence, my return to Dr. Shoja and the impending visit of the Gabriola mental health nurse. I am not getting better. (Thankfully, I can speak fluently in my C+ French.)

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Thursday and Friday, for no reason and without any plan or forethought, I had very, very little Marijuana. Yesterday, for the first time in decades, I had none. I have no idea if I’ll ever use it again. I’m not adverse to it, but something’s going on.

I’ve been a champion used for fifty years! Suddenly, I have sopped without planning to do so and it’s shocking me at how easy it is and that I’m not missing it at all.

I felt addicted. But I’ve been able to so stop without any symptoms of “withdrawal.” Go figure. Stopping, I reckon, will be excellent for my asthma and pocketbook. And No! I did not make a New Year’s resolution to stop. It just happened.

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Saturday, I was euphoric most of the day because of the sunshine. Even though it was a chilly 3°, I could not stay indoors on such a day. So after our first walk together in the early morning, Sheba and I went to Drumbeg. The park was packed with people and everyone was waving and smiling because of the remarkable weather. Beth writes that it’s even warm in Toronto. 

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I’m not quite finished The Staircase, but man-oh-man it’s interesting. It’s riveting to see how “justice” is reached. It’s a detailed examination of one case—possibly an accident and possibly a murder. Coincidence may be a player; corruption is definitely a player.

What appalled me was the sisters of the deceased. They decide the man charged is guilty and they have absolutely no neutrality, no regard for truth and no respect for fairness. Their conviction and behavior—they—are revolting.

I learned so much from the series and felt a lot of emotions. It’s an extraordinary story of everyday people. 

The Staircase

The sky is clear. What a break for us. But of course, it’s cooler.

I’ve to chop wood today. That’s the only chore on deck for me today, so Her Highness and I may go to Drumbeg for our walk. We haven’t been there for quite a while.

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I’m watching The Staircase on Netflix. I find it riveting.

I was once arrested and charged with assault. Anyone who knows me, knows I am not an aggressor but the police arrested and fingerprinted me. I was so naïve that when my trial date came, I went with no lawyer. Why? Because, as I told the court clerk, I was innocent.

They got a public defender to represent me and he got the trial delayed and I got a lawyer. I was, of course, found not guilty and the woman who lied about our encounter was reprimanded—as was the prosecutor. The judge apologized to me and my soul was instantly voided of its sense of fear and doom. It was that experience that got me interested in movies like The Staircase.

The access the lawyers, prosecutors and everyone involved in the case give to the filmmakers is extraordinary and the case is full of twists. 

I’m only part way into it, but the defendant, Michael Pederson, spends an estimated $800,000 in his defense before the trial even begins. It’s shocking how expensive defending yourself can be.

I have never seen anything that reveals the complexity of going to court as this film series does.

The sunset ceremony in Varanasi was a
highlight of my life.