No Bullies

I stumbled across a short reel that contends that humans don't really have alpha males in the way that other primates do. It is brief (2:58), easy and interesting (to me, at least) on a Sunday morning. Hint: it was because we both lead and follow by consensus, and we have a tendency to deal with those who try to bully us.

I had never thought this before, so I simply post it as an interesting thought to ponder. Make of it what you will on this final Sunday of February

200 steps

Sue's recent photo prompt was to photograph something within 100 steps of our house. We walked to our Dark & Deadly Cafe, which I am afraid is more than double the prescribed, or maybe even more. So, I don't know whether she will use any photos that she took, but I am about to do just that.

You've been to this coffee shop before, and we will likely all get there again.

I sat down beside a good-looking fella who was wearing a hat, just like mine, but I think he was up to some sort of skullduggery.

That ↑ was my photo; the next three are Sue's. She had me pose next to a rather tall and frightening dude. I was frightened, but I must do as my lady demands.

It's hard to resist selfies, even if they are taken using the mirror, rather in our more traditional way.

Back to another of mine: I returned to my seat like a well-behaved scaredy cat. I glanced cautiously around and decided to life my phone and take a shot of a candle sconce. Why not, eh?

Have a peaceful Saturday and weekend as I try to still my rapidly beating heart. 

Upkeep Required

We pass by the former St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church on our main street often, but it took us until now to have a closer look and to see how the front stonework and windows require some attention. Of course, our phones came out, and the snapping began. But first, here's bit of a historical overview.

St. Andrew's Presbyterian Church in Carleton Place has a rich history dating back to its establishment in 1888. The church was constructed of native stone with Beckwith stone trimmings and features a basement finished for Sunday School rooms. It was the first Presbyterian congregation in Carleton County and was served primarily by itinerant preachers until the 1840s. The wooden church was replaced by the present brick church and spire in 1884, and it has continued to be a hub of religious and social activity for Presbyterians in the village and surrounding farms.

What I cannot easily remember or find is when the church was sold, but I am guessing that it was perhaps around 2012, and what was left of the congregation merged with the Almonte Presbyterian Church. If I recall correctly, the building was sold to an All Nations Church, and it is now a Kindred House congregation.

Onto the photos, which after some experimentation, I decided to convert to b&w. 

Sue took her own angles. I haven't seen hers yet, but she will probably save them to use for a suitable prompt.

I have a final photo of the window in the turret on the other side of the door. I don't know if you can tell, but some of the panes are missing entirely.

Just for fun, here is another version of Sue taking her photo. I decided on using selective colour, even though her outfit isn't especially colourful. I like to experiment with this style every now and then.

Delightful Dawn

When I gazed out my den window at 6:30 yesterday morning, I spied a lovely sky. This is of note since they are rather scarce at this time of year, by which I mean all winter. At first, I thought, that's nice, and then I thought that the moment required a photo. I grabbed my phone, put in 8x zoom to miss as much of the roofs (why not rooves?) as possible, but I still had to crop a little afterward.

I guess that is nice enough, but editing is like kissing someone. Occasionally, things just take off, and you never know where you will end up. In this case, I just made this touch and that touch and ended up with something that I never envisioned.

Metaphorically speaking, kissing can take you to pretty exciting places.

Pizza and Chips, Here and There

Yes, credits are needed for the hungry, but for some reason, I began to wonder about British pizza. It seems that whenever I see people passing around pizza on British telly, the slices are very thin and cardboardy stiff. I assume that it is a prop for tv, but when they are already spending gazillions of £ on production, why don't they get a realistic pizza? I mean there is surely good and proper pizza in the UK. Yes?

I no longer purchase chips on a regular basis although I do miss them greatly. I don't mind various flavours including the occasional Salt & Vinegar, but we usually purchase plain because that's what Sue favours. I guess I favour flavourless too, but I am also apt to enjoy other flavours. Of the various flavour options, I probably most enjoy Sour Cream & Onion.

Ketchup chips are available in Canada, but they aren't my preference. I understand that they are not widely available in the US, or perhaps I am wrong. I have heard the same about All Dressed in the US. Our grands seem to like All Dressed, and I don't mind them but probably not as much as other flavours.

There are a lot of favours and flavours in this post, now what flavour do you favour? And don't forget my pizza musing if you have something to add. Tell me that Brits can get thick, gooey pizza. It’s the land of my ancestors after all, and I presume many current relations of whom I know nothing, and I am concerned for them. lol

The Sidewalk Rule

The sidewalk rule is an etiquette practice that originated in medieval times, where men would walk on the street side to protect women from waste and other hazards. This practice demonstrated chivalry and protection, forming part of a broader code of honor that guided social interactions. It was considered a man’s duty to protect his companion while walking, reflecting the expectations of the time and the law surrounding pedestrian safety.

The concept dates back to medieval chivalrous behavior, where protective actions towards women were expected from knights and gentlemen. Knights were guided by a code of honor that emphasized loyalty, bravery, and generosity, which evolved into a course of social norms for courteous behavior in a world where chivalry mattered. Sidewalk Rule Defined - The Accident Network Law Group

On our daily hobbles, I simply must walk on the street side of the sidewalk even when that results in Sue walking on my cane side, which can be a tiny bit awkward at times. However, neither of us can deal with me on the inside as in the photo.

My mother and I once encountered my beloved grade 5 teacher and her beau walking toward us. He was on the inside. My mother was scandalized, thus irrevocably searing the sidewalk rule into my young brain.  She couldn’t have been much more troubled had she witnessed a mugging  

I don't know if The Sidewalk Rule fell out of favour for some time, but if so, it is making a comeback.

The sidewalk rule has gained traction on social media ... as a test of chivalry in relationships and as part of a traditional course of dating etiquette. The rule suggests that a man should walk closest to the street when walking with a woman, positioning himself as a protector from oncoming traffic and other hazards. This simple act of chivalry has gained significant attention and sparked discussions about pedestrian safety, relationships, and etiquette.

The trend has been viewed millions of times, with many users sharing their own experiences and opinions on the matter. Women often praise men who follow this rule, viewing it as a test of a partner’s care ... Despite its seemingly simple nature, the sidewalk rule has raised important questions about the role of protection in relationships and the broader implications for pedestrian safety. Sidewalk Rule Defined - The Accident Network Law Group

Good intentions aside, winter conditions often shrink the sidewalks, making them too narrow to proceed side by side, so I am left to walk the respectful 6 paces behind my noble beauty.

Tough walking conditions

Funny Walking

Me on a typical morning when Sue

makes me go on a typical walk.

Speaking of walking . . . 

Not about walking, but I'm in a mood now.

Happy Monday. Have a good week. 

Sue has come in and told me that I should repost our Silly Walking video from COVID days. 

Icicles and Me

The temperature is beginning to rise, at least sometimes. After dropping over to Nick's to watch a tennis match, I went walking with Sue, who required something with red for her daily photo, it being Valentine’s Day. As you know by now, I have a red coat. I also have a red cap.

Wie tried various poses, but I am not a good model. I am told that I have a good smile, but I find it difficult to fake it. I guess I find it difficult to a fake anything. I like this photo, but Sue favoured the second pose for her post.

The two downtown old mansions both sported impressive icicles.

Happy Sunday and week to all.

Valentine's Day Breakfast

As you know, we tend to celebrate special days with breakfast out although, sometimes, we opt for lunch. You may also recall that we usually go out either before or after the special day, particularly if it's a special day for all, such as Mother's Day. This time we drove a little outside of town to Generations Inn on Mississippi Lake, which is part of Mississippi River before the river passes through our town, just to the north or east.

Whatever its history Generations Inn is a restaurant, particularly for boaters in season.

We were the only customers on a late Wednesday morning, but we had confidence that the absence of diners did not portend negatively against a positive culinary experience on a bleak, midweek winter's day, and we were not disappointed.

The main dining area is on the glassed-in porch.

A fireplace make it very comfortable.

We were not disappointed with the food. In fact, I've never had a breakfast quite like it.

Of course, it was very pricey, but it was worth it, and I am glad that we did it once. Maybe we will return someday for a fish 'n chip lunch or supper.

From the dining room, we see the very white snow on the lake beyond the trees. As we have mentioned in previous posts, here the Mississippi River widens into what we call Mississippi Lake. If you squint, you may see two ice huts out there. If you can't, I have zoomed in and enlarged that portion from the second photo in the third image.

A section of the same photo as above but enlarged somewhat to aid the viewer to, hopefully, see the
two ice fishing huts. One is somewhat obscured by the bush, but the vague shape is present.
The other is just to the left of the bush and is partly red, and if you look very closely,
you might see two people way out there by the red hut.

Now for Susie and Johnny looking pleased with themselves.

It’s a Toque

It's a toque, or occasionally tuque, but most definitely not a wool hat, beanie, or toboggan. I don't care where you are from, you must immediately, henceforth and forthwith, use the proper, Canadian, appellation.

For one thing, this is a toboggan.

And this may be a beanie, a non-serious piece of headgear

That aside, I really want to tell you that I sometimes wear a toque in bed. Well, not really in bed but in chair on a cold night. I don't wear it to go to sleep exactly, but I leave it by the side of my chair and sometimes grab it in the middle of the night because we let our house get quite cold, and I have a lot of bare scalp up there. Those who have a nice head of hair probably don't appreciate just how well it insulates your head.

When I settle in my chair on a cold winter's night, I decide between donning my hoodie or engaging my heated throw. When I opt for the heating, assuming I remember, I place my toque by the side of my chair just in case my head gets chilly while the rest of me is comfy cozy. Come 4 or 5 o'clock when the house is at its coldest, I may reach blindly for the toque.

That is what this silly, old Canucklehead has to do in his silly, elder years, and yes, that is how I sleep, or try to, non-horizontally in my recliner. I think it is the ledges (arms) on which I can use to prop my legs that make it better for me than a flat bed  

Not a Gutter

On the light side of life, I don't know a gentler way to tell Americans this, but . . .

When I posted this on FB, I had an old blog friend, whose first language is not English, ask how we would pronounce it. She speculated eaves as in leaves and trough as in tough but with an r added. I wrote yes but then added that trough would be pronounced more like trawf, as in raw and straw. 

Her name is Iona, but she hasn’t blogged for a long time, so probably none of you know her, but I’m mentioning her just in case she might be a former blog acquaintance of yours. 

By the way, we do know what a gutter is, and some people do, indeed, have their minds in them, but eavestrough seems to be the favoured word by most Canadians.

Showering With a Friend Or . . .

. . .  fiend? Whatever the case, I recently enjoyed showering with a being who looked something like …

⬇️ ⬇️ ⬇️

She was fairly near the faucet when I turned on the shower. I was prepared for either eventuality, whether she were to be swept down the drain or if she were to escape that watery fate. I was hoping for the latter outcome, and by golly, she made it to the outer shower curtain, protected from the thundering hot stream beyond the barrier of the inner curtain.

I was wondering if she would continue hang around the bathroom or depart to obscure, hidden recesses, but by next shower, she had apparently chosen the latter option. Good for her.

I am not sure if I would have felt as sanguine about sharing the tub with a large, fat, hairy arachnid, but I was willing to accommodate a daddy long-legs, even if it were a mommy.

The Pholcidae are a family of araneomorph spiders. The family contains more than 2,000 individual species of pholcids, including those commonly known as cellar spider, daddy long-legs spider, carpenter spider, daddy long-legger, vibrating spider, gyrating spider, long daddy, and angel spider. The family, first described by Carl Ludwig Koch in 1850, is divided into 94 genera. (Wikipedia)

I don't like killing things and often will try to take insects outside in summer, but she wouldn't not have survived in February, so I let things take their course. I don't like killing mosquitoes or houseflies either, but I do it: not gladly but out of what I deem to be a necessity.

More About My Back

I have decided to double-post today because my queue is getting long again. While some of those putative entries will likely be trashed, I will still have too many gathering cyber dust.

When I posted of the 1994 Olympics and my back attack, some readers had questions. I think these excerpts from a 2010 post answers at least some of those questions. I've added the headings to make it a bit easier to follow.

The Onset

My troubles had begun one Sunday after I had gone to the gym. I hadn't done anything terribly strenuous that day but had spent quite a bit of time on the Stairmaster. On the way home, my back felt uncomfortable, but I thought little of it as I had experienced spasms and twinges from time to time for several years. It was the same on Monday morning, but off I went to my teaching job with my fellow car poolers, and I became more and more uncomfortable as we drove past the flat fields of rural Lambton County.

Soon after I started walking around the school, my back became even worse, and I realized that I wasn't going to make it. Fortunately, the first period of the day was my spare, so I had time to prepare some materials and drag myself around the school to photocopy some handouts for the supply teacher. I called Sue to come and get me after informing the vice principal that I had to go home. "I'll see you in three days," I said, because my history with muscle spasms had informed me that I should become ambulatory in that time frame

On the Floor

Except it wasn't muscle spasms this time around but a bulging L4-L5 disc. For weeks, I was unable to sit or stand for more than a few minutes without terrible leg pain, for that's where the pain was always worst. I could barely get through a shower before I was forced to throw myself on the floor in search of relief. Thankfully, I could be fairly comfortable when I was prone, preferably on my stomach.

I say that I was on the floor for six weeks, but I think it was eight weeks before I actually got back to work. In the subsequent years, I have experienced constant numbness in my left leg and foot, but I have never had a total repeat of that back incident. However, I remain constantly aware of how fragile my back is, and I have to be very careful how I sit and move. Fortunately, despite some limitations, such as giving up tennis, I have been surprised to be able to carry on a normal life, for I thought that I would have experienced another major incident or two by now. In the back of my mind, I still rather expect worse to come to worst someday, but I also remain hopeful.

More of Sue in White

Awhile ago, I posted a photo of Sue on the town hall staircase, dressed in white to fulfill one of her photo prompts. I said that I would get around to posting more photos, so as a man who tries to keep his word, here we are.

When I saw the window light at the top of the staircase, I thought we should try some more photos using that light. They are more traditional portrait photos (although by phone), but I like the above photos better. I often prefer the compositional aspect of seeing the subject in situ. But here are the others regardless.

    

Sue did not use any of the photos that I have posted either here or in the initial post for her group. She chose one on the stairs but with her sunglasses on. You can see it here on her Flickr newish stream if you like.

In the previous post, someone wondered about her hat. Actually, it is a Linda Lundstrom headband, which Sue purchased more than two decades ago. I don't have further details, but this link takes us to the general site, and I have copied and posted their blurb, below. Sue has a Lundstrom coat; it is considered to be somewhat upscale winter wear.

Linda’s experience spans over 34 years in the Apparel Industry designing and building the Linda Lundström brand and a state-of- the-art Canadian Lean manufacturing facility. Recognized by the fashion industry, business, manufacturing, educational institutes and the community. She is the recipient of numerous awards, including three honorary Ph. D.s. She was named to the Order of Ontario in 1995, and the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal in 2013. She is recognized as a champion of First Nations awareness and ethical manufacturing practices — proud to use the label ‘Made in Canada’.

No Reminders Required

I am not amongst those who are mesmerized by the Olympics, but I will turn them on occasionally out of a sense of duty. On Saturday morning, among other events, ski jumping was being featured. Aside from finding it boring in the present, I was reminded just how mind-numbing it was back in February 1994.

There I was, lying very uncomfortably on the floor in the middle of the night. I tuned the tv to The Games and was treated to ski jumping — hour after interminable hour, or so it felt like and still feels like in retrospect.

I had been mostly on the floor for weeks after a back attack of bulging discs. I could barely sit at the table long enough to eat a quick meal before the pain in my leg would become overwhelming, forcing me back to the floor. We had a waterbed at the time, which wouldn’t have been helpful for a misaligned back, so I also slept (sort of slept and sort of not slept) on a mattress on the floor beside the bed when I wasn’t lying downstairs in the family room  

That particular morning, I had been about to leave for physio (I could drive that far in a few minutes) when I had a severe spasm that instantly put me onto the floor almost unable to move. I pretty well stayed there throughout that day and then throughout that long, lonely, miserable night. It was before the internet, and all that I had to occupy my hours was the tv, and all that the tv had on, or close enough anyway, were the Olympics. Unfortunately, the thing that was playing was ski jumping. 

It was a rather dismal night. I don’t think I got any sleep in my uncomfortable predicament even though hour after hour of ski jumping should be enough to send anyone into a state of stupor.

I was more or less out of commission for two months, and my body has never been the same as it used to be since then. 

So, on this past Saturday morning, as I sat in my chair, doing this or that on my tablet, probably reading blog posts, I was not at all amused to be aware of ski jumping being featured. After a time, I extricated myself from the chair, wobbled over to the computer, and turned it off because the ski jumping was only bringing me back to that miserable night within a miserable two months.

It happened thirty-two years ago, but I really don't require any reminders.

Brutal Weather

What a Friday night — apparently! I emphasize "apparently" because I was unaware of the weather conditions at the time due my poor hearing. Sue, she of highly acute hearing, reported that the howling wind and rattling windows affected her repose greatly. I was unaware, even though I was experiencing a rather light and restless sleep.

There was not a huge amount of snow accumulation, but there was a lot of drifting. I went out momentarily to try to capture the drift by our front door, for it almost always drifts somewhat in there. I thought that the shovel would show how deep the drift was, but the snow was so compacted that I could not even force the shovel into the snow. There were probably at least 18 inches of hard snow below the shovel.

Then, I tried to take a video, so I could let blog people hear the how ferocious wind was howling, but apparently, I misfired and only captured the inside of my pocket when I beat a hasty retreat from the merciless cold and wind. The reported temperature was -21C/-6F with a windchill of -30C/-22F although I think the wind chill was even worse than what was reported. It was brutal.

Although I failed miserably outside, I did get a couple of pics from my den.

The drifting behind the satellite across the street is profound,
but other sections were swept clear.

An interesting shape on our garage roof.

It’s even colder (-25C/-13F) on this Sunday morning. No walkie again today, I guess. Meanwhile, I see that is abnormally warm on the west coast. 

Caturday 88: Out of Africa and Around the Globe

I have stumbled upon a very interesting YouTube channel: Sleepy Time History. Their presentations are usually several hours long and designed to help put you to sleep and not keep you on the edge of your seat. However, they are often so interesting that I would like to stay awake, so, I will sometimes switch to them during the day.

After having heard more than one anthropological podcast on the rise of our homo species, which I found both very informative and interesting, I came across two podcasts about cats. I am not sure that I kept awake all of the way through either one, but I found them interesting, and since it is Caturday, I will post a bit of what I think I remember, but don't bet your academic thesis on any of this without further corroboration. ;-)

Although there are various species of small cats in the world, every single cat of our somewhat domesticated variety is, like humans, African in origin — every single one, all over the world, and, apparently, the DNA from modern cats varies very little from that of the African wildcat.

The descent of cats from Africa is a complex and fascinating story. Genetic evidence suggests that domestic cats (Felis catus) are descended from the African wildcat (Felis lybica ). (Google AI)

African wildcat, Felis lybica 

Cats became honoured and domesticated in Egypt, probably at least 10000 years ago. This came about as part of the Agricultural Revolution, for as humans began to store grain, rodents were attracted and their numbers boomed. In turn, the plentiful rodent numbers attracted the African cats (Felis lybica). By feasting on the rodents, the cats became a great boon to human civilization by helping to preserve the harvest while also reducing rodent-generated disease.

Over time, the cats became venerated by the Egyptians, and I believe that one fact that I heard in my sleepy state was that a temple was discovered that had the remains of 30 000 cats — all embalmed, if you please.

Although cats were greatly favoured and protected in Egypt, some found their way onto boats, quite possibly smuggled in some cases, and they began to populate themselves throughout the Mediterranean region. For the same reason as before - rodent control - Felis lybica became important in Rome, both on land and on their hundreds of boats. They made as far as Britain by the first century CE and also to East Asia via caravan trade routes. 

The cats managed well wherever they went, living on the edges of humanity. Then, something unfortunate happened in 1233 when Pope Gregory decreed that associated cats—particularly black cats— might be used of Satan and demonically linked along with their humans. 

This became a very unfortunate time for, perhaps millions, of cats who were killed, and it has been said that some were tortured. If more cats had been around, perhaps the Black Death would have at least been mitigated somewhat, for with fewer rats, there would have been fewer fleas to transmit the dreaded disease.

Fortunately, the Reformation and Renaissance were beneficial for cats, and they then spread to the rest on the world on ships, just as they had earlier spread throughout the Roman Empire.

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I love the Sleep Time History YT channel and think it is possible that you might too.

Relaxing history explorations designed to help you unwind and fall asleep. Discover ancient civilizations, forgotten empires, and incredible human stories - told in a calm, soothing voice. Learn while you rest. Our stories are crafted with respect for history. We use AI tools to assist with research, script drafting, narration, and imagery, while we polish the final narrative. Our videos blend research with creative storytelling designed for entertainment and relaxation. They are not intended as formal academic or scientific sources. All images are AI-generated artistic impressions and may not represent actual historical people or events.

Two links to Sleepy Time Cat History

How Cats Chose Us: The Secret History of Feline Domestication | History for Sleep 

The ENTIRE History Of Cats | 10,000 BC To Today | HISTORY FOR SLEEP