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Monday, January 23, 2017

Four Natural Cancer Fighters │ Towel and Sheet Laundry Etiquette │ Indigestion Medication and Severe Gastrointestinal Infections

Recollection fails me where last night's bedtime is concerned, but it was definitely before midnight; I just cannot say if it was before 11:30 p.m. Maybe.

I expected to sleep better than I did. Getting to sleep is not the problem ─ remaining there is. Possibly I can blame a too-meagre supper: two boiled eggs, a wedge of old cheddar cheese, and a number of nutritional supplements.

Perhaps my system needs to be weighed down with more than that.

Whatever the case, it was 7:01 a.m. when I rather restlessly checked the time and decided to get up. My youngest step-son Poté was already up ─ once again, his overnighted girlfriend must have had to leave early for work.

I got busy finalizing a new post at my Amatsu Okiya website, and I managed to get the post published just after mid-morning: Geisha Scans Übel Blatt II. But I was not feeling properly rested; otherwise I would have undertaken work at another of my six hosted websites.

With no desire to weather the day feeling as I did, I returned to bed and probably spent at least 80 minutes there, with considerable dreaming. It was difficult forcing myself to get up ─ lying there in bed felt unusually sensuous. That feat actually took several minutes.

Not too long thereafter, I decided to go out to the backyard shed and engage in some exercise there. It was rather chilly ─ the day was sunny, but we had some frost overnight, and the backyard was still in shadow.

Once finished, I came back into the house to discover that Poté had gone ─ probably to work. This was a very good thing, for otherwise I never would have gotten involved in some cleaning-up after the supposed rat we reportedly have dwelling in the house.

Poté had told me Sunday morning that he had finally seen the invader Saturday night, and it was roughly the size of the mousetraps we've been fruitlessly using to try and catch what we thought was probably a mouse.

My younger brother Mark's bedroom door was closed this morning after he had gone to work for the day ─ he normally never closes it unless he is within sleeping.

I had occasion to go into the room during the noon-hour, and saw why he likely closed it ─ the description beneath the photo is from the Google album where I filed the image:

I took this photo on January 23, 2017. This bald-spot in the carpet appeared overnight.

It is midway in the doorway of my younger brother Mark's bedroom. The lighter carpet is within his bedroom, while the darker carpeting is along the upstairs hallway where our bedrooms are.

It would appear that something tried desperately to either exit the bedroom, or else to enter it.

Or else the rodent was simply vandalizing.

We have known since Boxing Day that at least one vermin has taken up residence, but it has no interest in our many mousetraps, nor have those glue pads had any success.

My youngest step-son Poté said that he and his older brother Tho saw it Saturday night ─ and according to them, it is a rat.

We do not wish to poison it and have it hole up in a wall or someplace like that to die, while its decaying corpse fouls the atmosphere for...months?

What I am trying as of today is repelling it by setting up small containers of ammonia in key areas where the creature has had the most activity. I have been using those small fast-food condiment containers that salad dressings and so forth come in. Three squares of toilet paper folded up four times insert nicely into them; and then I just pour in a quantity of the ammonia.
Undoubtedly, Mark will have much to say when he comes home this evening.
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Anyone concerned about keeping cancer at bay might appreciate the following article from Dr. Marc S. Micozzi:

DrMicozzi.com

I cannot afford to add the herbs to my supplemental regimen ─ my pension is inadequate as it is. But I do take 4,000 I.U.s of vitamin D daily. I just can't bring myself to increase my intake to 10,000 I.U.s, but I certainly would if I became ill for any reason.

I sure wish that finances were not the concern for me that they are.

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The following came to me this past Friday from NewMarketHealth.com:
No matter how frequently you toss a load of clothes into the wash, there's one item that just might not get included as often as it should.

I'm talking about that bath towel you reach for after showering.

Experts are saying that if you use the same, unlaundered towel every day for a week or more, you might be actually making yourself dirtier than you were before you stepped into the shower.

Sure, that sounds crazy. After all, we're clean when we use it, right?

But the problem is that damp towels are the perfect places for germs to breed. Not only do they offer all the conditions microbes need to survive and thrive, like moisture, warmth and a neutral pH, but food for them as well – the secretions, dead skin cells and the like that come off your body.

Also, the bathroom is an ideal environment for microorganisms to flourish. One way is from droplets that can spread from the toilet. And if the towel is hanging where other family members or guests might use it to dry their hands, it only adds to the bacterial buffet.

The expert consensus is that a bath towel should be used no more than three times at the most before laundering. And that's assuming that it dries completely after every use.

As for hand towels, however, since they're used more often, they should probably be changed every day or two.
I come nowhere near to this recommendation, but apparently the advice has been around for a few years ─ check these articles out:

HuffingtonPost.com

BusinessInsider.com

Esquire.com

I don't bother drying my hands on any of our hand-towels ─ that stopped as soon as my two step-sons arrived here from Thailand in September 2008. But I am egregiously guilty of not frequently washing my bath-towel or sheets as often as recommended.

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Do you take any medications for indigestion or heartburn? If you do, then you are running the risk of allowing dangerous bacteria to get past your stomach's natural acid protection, with sometimes deadly consequences once those organisms start breeding in your gut.

Here are a couple of reports on a latest published study:

ScienceDaily.com

JacksDailyDose.com

Indigestion was a bad recurring problem for me in my young adulthood, but it faded away when I gave up gluttony.

The final statement of the study is important:
Whilst acid suppression therapy is often considered relatively free from adverse effects this present study suggests that there are significant adverse gastrointestinal non-infective and infective consequences of their use. 
Stay clear of commercial medications, and research alternative options. And don't eat more than your stomach can handle.

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Our $1,600 monthly mortgage is supposed to be debited from our chequing account on the 21st of each month, but it never happens any earlier than the 22nd. Yet here it is the 23rd, and it still has not happened.

My wife Jack and I had to borrow $300 from her oldest son Tho in order to have enough cash in the account ─ this was done last Thursday, I believe.

There is less than $1,639 in the account, and I keep dreading that some small scheduled debit I have lost track of is going to strike first and leave the account with insufficient funds.

Meantime, I have no money to do any shopping. My monthly pension might show up this week, but it might also not arrive until early next week.

So I sit here all bloody day in utter impotence, fretting about the status of the account, and in need of some food supplies ─ my brother Mark and my step-sons have their own incomes and are able to see to their own needs.

The meal I had earlier today ─ I only eat twice a day ─ was comprised of some strips of chicken, cooked white jasmine rice, turmeric, a clove of garlic, some ginger root, and two hot red chili peppers. I had put it all into a pot and brought it almost to a boil.

I ate it with some nutritional supplements.

In all likelihood, my supper will be similar. 

Perhaps my wife Jack will show up from Vancouver late this evening, bringing home some supplies.

And of course, there was nothing in my AdSense account for today when I checked just prior to starting this post. It was three days ago that it last earned anything ─ 1¢.

My life is a sick, cruel joke.

I finish now with a journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting the small space in a house located on Ninth Street, and one or two houses up from Third Avenue.

I worked just one day a week ─ usually Friday ─ at a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that is today known as Fraserside Community Services Society. I was a swamper on their blue pick-up truck.

In those years, S.A.N.E. was housed in a building that now does not exist, but it was located on Carnarvon Street, roughly where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station opens up onto Carnarvon Street today.
FRIDAY, January 23, 1976

I got up about 5:30 a.m.

For breakfast I filled up on 32 ozs of cottage cheese with some bread, but the feeling didn't last long.

Since 8:00 a.m. I noticed myself evidencing need of further sleep.

I mailed Ron's letter on my way to S.A.N.E. 

Esther had a meeting, so Joe drove the first part of the day, spending much of it in Vancouver after picking up Dwayne for our help.

There was quite a lot of sun today.

I blew $2 for lunch in Van at the Knossos Restaurant.

When we returned in the afternoon, Esther took over.

I had a full day. 

I got a ride to 9th St & 3rd Ave, arriving home close to 5:30 p.m.

I ate of my homemade granola, not noticing any bitterness this time; I've one helping left of this first recipe.

I finished reading Phoenix in Obsidian.

I know I'll sleep well tonight. Bed at 9:00 p.m.
The letter I mailed was to American pen-pal Ron Bain.

Esther St. Jean ─ a great lady in her early 40s ─ usually drove the truck. I am no longer certain, but I think that "Joe" may have been an enormous young Indigenous Canadian.  And perhaps "Dwayne" was Dwayne Johnston or Johnson.

I have no memory whatsoever of a place called "the Knossos Restaurant."

I was given a ride practically to my door after work. And then I just spent the remainder of the day entirely alone, speaking to no one.

Sometimes I feel like I have been alone most of my life....

Sunday, January 22, 2017

Opioid Pain Medications Are for Short-Term Use at Most │ The Brain-Restoring Power of Hour-Long Naps │ Superbugs: We Are Already Falling Over the Cliff

Although I seemed to be the last person up last night when I retired at 10:58 p.m., there was to be considerable activity where my two step-sons and youngest step-son Poté's girlfriend Priyanka were concerned. I was to learn of it this morning from Poté.

I rose this morning at 7:18 a.m., quite fresh from a dream whose details were lost, but it involved my old friend Norman Dearing. I think we both were of an age approximating our heyday back in the 1970s, oddly enough.

When I came downstairs to make my morning's hot beverage, Poté was up ─ his girlfriend must have had to go to work earlier. He greeted me with a "Good morning," and then commenced his account of last night.

I am unclear on just who it was that became aware of noises in the den area where Poté's bed is, but it might even have been his older brother Tho.

I have a dresser down there comprising five drawers in which are my various tee shirts amassed over my working life. However it was discerned, the three young people zeroed in that the scratching and rustling seemed to be coming from the bottom of that furnishing ─ which is against the same wall separating it from Tho's bed..

We have known of a rodent that has been resident here since at least as far back as Boxing Day ─ that was when my wife Jack first brought its damaging evidence to my attention.

Four mousetraps and a pair of mouse glue traps have yielded nothing, even though one of the traps was apparently sprung.

Well, the boys pulled out the bottom drawer of my dresser, and came face-to-face with the culprit ─ apparently a rat. It was transfixed, staring at the three humans who were equally immobilized. This face-off endured some while until Tho moved to see about getting something with which to contain the vermin.

At his movement, the rat made a bid for escape and reportedly fled up the four or so carpeted steps that lead to the kitchen, but made a sharp left towards the living room ─ another set of carpeted steps right there leads to the upstairs.

But kitchen, living room, and the upstairs were all in darkness, so the boys could not tell just where the varmint fled to.

I guess Poté had been doing some research this morning and has determined that maybe investing in some ammonia will be the best method for repelling the animal. Soaking some rags or cotton housed in a can or jar, which is then placed in areas the rat frequents, is supposed to be overpowering to its sense of smell, and will thus keep it from returning to that area.  

Unfortunately, we would need quite a few such deterrents spread about throughout the house, for it has definitely also been upstairs ─ I know of it being here in the room where I use my computer, and my younger brother Mark has discovered it to have been in at least one of his dresser drawers.

There is no sense poisoning the damned thing if it's just going to retreat into a wall or some such place to die, treating us to the stench of its decaying corpse for an indeterminate period of time.

Poté never had to work yesterday, and also has today off ─ most odd for someone working in the retail field. He has two part-time jobs over in Guildford.

My brother Mark had spent the night at his girlfriend Bev's home. When he came here this morning to shower and so forth, I do not believe that anyone communicated with him about the events of last night.

Just ahead of noon, he headed away for the afternoon. His girlfriend Bev works in a bar and is quite involved in the NFL playoffs ─ there is a key game on today at noon.

What manner of company will he be for me this evening, I wonder?

Our mild weather continues, and it has been very lightly raining much of today.

Before I forsake this account of my day thus far, here are a few photos taken (I think) on November 1, 2016, when Jack was back in Thailand last Fall to see her mother after more than 3½ years.

Jack's sister Penn is in the first two photos with her own son Daniel; Jack will be wearing the white tee shirt in the other photos. My guess is that the setting is likely the Nong Soong area, very near to Udon Thani.








This last photo just below seems to have been an attempt to photograph a collage of other photographs that might have been taken on October 29, 2016, in Bangkok when the Grand Palace was first opened up for the people to file through and view the funeral urn of their late King Bhumibol Adulyadej:


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It was just yesterday in this blog that I included information on opioid pain medication, and how some researchers have concluded that quite apart from addiction and a host of other harms, the medications actually start to cause the pain to aggravate in the long term.

These drugs were never intended for use longer than three months at most.

I do not wish to link to the same material all over again ─ as I said, it is all in yesterday's post. But I do want to point you to this excellent diatribe lambasting these drugs and the physicians who continually prescribe them:

JackDailyDose.com

It truly was unfortunate that the late musician Prince had to die from opioids as he did, but I still do not fathom how he still gets commended for following his religious beliefs and shunning alcohol.

He shunned alcohol, yes; but instead, he became a drug addict. Better, I think, that he should have relied on some alcohol to ease his pain, and stayed entirely away from the opioids.

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Also in the past day or two, I posted of another study wherein researchers concluded that older folks who managed a daily nap of about an hour's duration actually improved in brain function.

Who's to say that the same benefit would not accrue for anyone younger? After all, the study just happened to comprise seniors ─ not a broad swath of the population.

Anyway, since I have come across a few more reports on the study, I am going to present them now:

DailyMail.co.uk

JacksDailyDose.com

ScienceDaily.com

Alas, I never had my nap today ─ nor yesterday. Blogging usurps too much of my time.

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I had not heard about this incident until today ─ the headlines make clear what the incident involves:

STATnews.com

DailyMail.co.uk

TheAtlantic.com

HSIonline.com

Nothing is going to change.

We have far, far too many lazy physicians who can't be bothered to deal with their bounteous annoying patients seeking help for every sniffle and sore throat.

Nor do mega farms and concentrated animal feeding operations have any intention of changing their ways. Government recommendations just will not do ─ they need to be made rigorously enforced law.

We are indeed already falling over the cliff.

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I see that my younger brother Mark must have brought home this morning a couple of mousetraps, and maybe even at least one of those mouse glue pads.

I must close now, and will do so with this journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster

I was renting my small space in a house located on Ninth Street, and likely one or two houses up from Third Avenue.

Apparently I went to bed at 6:45 p.m. the evening prior.
THURSDAY, January 22, 1976

Well, I managed to get to sleep last night, though it wasn't steady; I came around for good shortly after 3:30 a.m., I guess. 

I managed a WD. I was attending a school, and a class I was in went outside for a lesson, all of us sitting about on a pile of rocks. The teacher was a woman, and quite attractive in her pants suit or whatever. I sat next to her. She was asking us to link sentences by completing a word or phrase to that offered by the person called ahead of us. Anyway, while we were absorbed in study, this seemingly officious woman (I believe we were proximal due to the difficulty of finding seating on the rocks) began to unobtrusively and casually caress me and, belike, rub closely against me with her body with obvious intent. I came. Thence, I lived in fear of my actual life at the school, trying mightily to avoid this teacher, and a male one as well, a tall, middle-aged, all-business sort with an interest in her.

It was quite ridiculous though at the time rather scary.

My suite was really cold this morning; I was most reluctant to get up.

I delivered my declaration for assistance to the welfare office, then went to the health food store and spent $2.05 on a pound of almonds, a price cheaper than Safeway where I bought powdered skim milk ($2.79) and a toothbrush for a total there of $3.68.

I came home in a thick spray of rain.

I typed up a letter to Ron.

I retired for a nap about noon, and was aroused near 1:15 p.m. by Mark & Cathy who brought me 2 information books on BCIT education; Mark left with Almuric and Dennis Dorgan.   

Around 8:20 p.m. or so Bill dropped by for about 5 minutes; he left when he saw that I was pretty deep into The Waltons and didn't care to miss any going to his place to watch them.

I'll bed at 10:00 p.m.

Going to the toilet for the final time tonight, I found 2 letters in my box: one from Jeffs requesting I come for an appointment the 29th; and one from dad requesting I visit, else he will on the last Saturday of the month. He was looking for me to show last Sunday.
I sure do miss having erotic dreams!

I worked one day a week through an employment initiatives or incentives progarmme in place between my employer and New Westminster social services. The former would pay me a monthly pittance of something like $50 through a grant that they had received, while the latter would pay me the going social assistance rate for a Single person.

But each month, I had to submit a declaration indicating that I still wanted and needed to be involved. 

Mr. Russ Jeffs was my social worker.

The letter I typed was to an American pen-pal I had, Ron Bain.

My first visitors were my younger brother Mark and his beautiful girlfriend, Catherine Jeanette Gunther. I may still have those two Robert E. Howard books that Mark borrowed that day.

My next visitor was my old friend William Alan Gill, who only lived about four or so blocks from me in a bachelor suite that he was renting. He had a fairly large colour T.V., while I only had a smaller black & white model.

The mailbox I referred to was not located outside of the door I used to exit from my room into the outside world. Rather, the mail receptacle was just outside another door that led into the basement proper ─ I had a cubicle just outside that door containing a toilet and a shower unit. Thus, if I was not to use the toilet, I might not notice any mail left in that mailbox for me.

My poor father Hector had evidently sat in the lobby of his apartment building watching for me on Sunday to come and visit. He shared his apartment with his girlfriend Maria Fadden, but she and I had undergone a terrible row the week or so before Christmas, and I declared that I would not return.

He had written to me quite recently and asked me to come and visit him again, and said that if I did not come during the week, he would watch for me on the Sunday.

I had in turn replied back that I would not be coming...but my letter was returned. Like some fool, I had used his former address, and so he never knew that I was not coming to see him.

I feel bad reading about that.

Saturday, January 21, 2017

Good Sleep Pointers │ Opioid Medications Are NOT for Long-Term Pain Management │ Dietary Zinc Research

For some reason overnight, a few times when I was awake I felt almost like I was suffering a bit of a hangover. I had consumed no more alcohol than usual, so that was not the issue. Neither was I up particularly late ─ I was probably abed by 11:45 p.m.

Perhaps my supper was weighing somewhat heavily. I did drink water perhaps three times overnight.

I expect that it was after 8:00 a.m. that I rose for the day and was soon at work finally finishing and publishing a post at my Siam-Longings website ─ a post that I began back on the 11th: Thailand Adapter.

And that essentially took me to the noon-hour.

My younger brother Mark and my youngest step-son Poté somehow got into a discussion concerning the mouse or mice whose presence my wife Jack alerted me to on Boxing Day ─ Poté must have let Mark know about the traps that Poté bought a few evenings ago, but which have yet to catch anything.

Poté escorted Mark here to my computer room ─ formerly, my niece Rene's bedroom ─ to show him the trap that is in here.

It was not long after that Mark called to me as he was putting away some laundry ─ one of his dresser drawers contained several objects that had been gnawed. Specifically, a couple of ring cases. Mark surmised that the intent had been to chew off the fuzzy surface to the cases.

The culprit had actually made a fair mess with debris it had left strewn about.

So I suspect that Mark is going to start becoming proactive about the intruder(s). I never mentioned it to him, but yesterday afternoon I think I found a mouse turd on his bedroom carpet.

All of the foregoing interaction was after I had published the post I had finally completed.

I fixed myself up a nice meal of my wife Jack's cooking; and then after finishing it, I sought some further bedtime. Mark apparently sought his own nap during my downtime, for when I rose, his bedroom door was closed.

However, he was soon enough up; and not too much thereafter, he left ─ perhaps not to return until tomorrow morning, if he spends Saturday night at the home of his girlfriend Bev as he generally does.

I felt some pangs of regret at not being able to be outside during the morning, for it was brightly sunny and mild. Yet following my nap, I found that the day had become overcast, and there seems even to have been a rain shower.

Poté seems not to have to work today. His girlfriend had spent the night, but she was gone when I got up this morning. She, at least, must have had to work.

Before I leave this section on my day, I want to post two Google-created 19-second slideshows of photos that were taken when my wife Jack and some of her family were able to visit Ayutthaya last October 30.

I might have posted one of these mini-movies already in a previous post, but I want to place these two in juxtaposition to one another because of how similar they are ─ not only did Google select much the same photographs, but it even used the same melody.

Why would Google nearly duplicate something like this, I wonder?

video

video

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How well do you sleep?

I get to sleep fairly easily. My problem is remaining asleep. The latter half or so of my night is comprised of fractured sleep.

I do not see how these tips of Dr. Marc S. Micozzi can help me, but possibly you can apply them?

DrMicozzi.com

The first tip is impractical for me ─ I would need to live alone. And I am not guilty of the sin enumerated in the second tip.

The third tip is something that I could try, but I hate the idea of losing the first 15 minutes of my day doing nothing when I could be starting post work on one of my hosted websites. And what about these Winter months when a person often rises while it is still dark outside?

I already do practice tip number four; although if I did not feel committed to blogging for the hours a day that I do, I would probably be far, far more active than I am. Actually, I am considering forsaking blogging any longer later this year ─ it is not rewarding. In the previous 10 days, I have earned but 4¢ in my AdSense account, and there was nothing there yet for today when I checked just prior to this post.

As for tip number five, I take melatonin, so I may suspend doing that. But I cannot afford to be adding herbal remedies to the regimen of supplements I already keep myself supplied with ─ my pension is too sparse. I already get the B vitamins and magnesium within that supplemental regimen. As for the alcohol, I am not about to reduce my evening allotment. Again, I would need to live alone to care to make any such reduction ─ other family members are just too damned stressful for me. Nor am I about to start taking a warm cup of milk or some other caffeine-free beverage prior to bed.

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Research reveals that opioid pain medication is not designed for long-term pain. Believe it or not, apart from the addiction factor, the opioids can actually begin causing the pain to aggravate.

And among the other major issues with long-term opioid medication are depression, impaired sex hormone production, sleep breathing disorders, reduction in wound healing, infections, cognitive impairment ─ the list is long.

Here are a couple of reports on a recently published study decrying the use of such medication:

News-Medical.net

HSIonline.com

I did not see the actual study identified, but it is titled Opioids and Chronic Pain: Where Is the Balance? (doi: 10.1007/s11912-016-0558-1). Only the abstract is available for free, but I did locate the full study elsewhere ─ it ended thus:
The management of chronic pain should be clearly separated from acute pain. Opioid utility in the management of pain diminishes with duration and dose. There are significant delayed side effects and adverse events clinicians need to take into consideration when treating patients with pain.
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I believe that it was just yesterday that I posted about the latest impressive dietary zinc research, but I will do so again and explain why ─ first, here are a couple of reports on a recent study:

News-Medical.net

HSIonline.com

I reported yesterday that even though the zinc supplement I take has a potency of 50 milligrams per tablet, I felt okay about it. But after seeing the recommendation in that latter reference, I am going to begin trying to cut those tablets into halves, and look for a weaker potency the next time I resupply.

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'Tis time now for me to close with a journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting the cramped space in a house located on Ninth Street, and one or two houses up from Third Avenue.

My big plan for the day was a hike out to my mother Irene Dorsh's home in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey. The house she and her husband Alex shared there no longer exists, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue. It was my main mailing address.

To hike there from my room would take about 1½ hours at a goodly pace.

I had actually gone to bed at 7:00 p.m. the previous evening.
WEDNESDAY, January 21, 1976

Sleep did not come to me quickly nor steadily last night; I got myself up before 3:30 a.m. By 6:40 a.m. I was in the dark and on my way to mom's.

The only mail was yesterday's; my 4th Olympic Lottery ticket, and MuscleMag International #4. 

I ate a lot today, but spread out so that I never approached too closely that incapacitated feeling.

I felt guilty over a rising temper for mom who continued on during the morning with trivia while I wanted to direct my full attention elsewhere.

Phyllis (who came Monday as I was leaving with Bill & mother) visited about 12:45 p.m. for at least an hour, I guess. And about 2:15 p.m. an Avon lady came.

I put aside some fresh-baked cookies mom wanted me to take, telling her I really don't care for cookies unless I can soak them in whole milk, something I lack; I said I'd eat them when next I came. But she did give me most of a package of Rye-King crackers.

I left shortly after 4:30 p.m.

A light rain began just as I completed the bridge.

The whole trip back I felt carnal and sort of isolated from God; I've tried extremely hard this month to convince Him to allow me Sunday's Olympic Lottery win as a loan, and have made far-reaching promises does He so do. 

I haven't had manual release since November 27!

I've got one lottery ticket coming for the draw Sunday; I feel strongly that on the outcome depends my future more so than at any prior draw.

I suppose I should mention that Sherry had come home from school before I left mom's, but she soon went to play with Lisa; Phyllis is checking out a possible apartment availability.

I'm randy.

My right lower eyelid has been twitching quite steadily since the afternoon.

Bed by 6:45 p.m.

The letter I sent dad came back; like an idiot I sent it to his address just off Canada Way.

Mom also gave me a medium small onion.
My dear mother had a knack for droning on and on about people I did not know, and referring to them by their first names as if I was intimately familiar with them. She was incorrigible for that.

Phyllis is my older maternal half-sister, and Sherry her daughter. Back then, Sherry was practically living with my mother and Alex. I am unsure what Phyllis was up to ─ perhaps she was living with a boyfriend at his place and thus did not care to have Sherry moved in, too.  

Lisa was a young girl living right next door to my mother ─ she and Sherry had become friends despite going to different schools.

I had been visiting my mother two days earlier when my old friend William Alan Gill and his mother Anne Gregory showed up just to take me back to my room. I hadn't realized that this was all that they intended ─ I would have preferred to have remained at my mother's home so that I could walk back to my room, arriving there considerably later than was to be the case that day.

I was never to win a huge lottery prize, despite trying for decades thereafter.

My poor father Hector. I had a falling out with his live-in girlfriend Maria Fadden, and declared that I was never going to return. He had sent me a letter saying that he would watch for me, and even sit down in the lobby on the next Sunday. But I had replied back to say that I would not be coming.

And so he never did get the letter because I addressed it to his previous residence, and he likely awaited for me all in vain.   

I miss my father...and my mother. 

I miss having friends.

It sucks hard being too poor to get out and socialize like my younger brother Mark is able to afford to do. I just sit here shut up in this house just about every useless day of my dwindling life.

Friday, January 20, 2017

Fish Oil Proven to Reduce Heart Disease Risk │ The Cruciality of Naps │ High Blood Pressure Hysteria

When my wife Jack was not yet home from Vancouver after 11:00 p.m. last night, I decided to get myself ready for bed rather than keep sitting up. I had just reduced myself to my undershorts when I noticed through the bedroom window blinds that a car was turning into the driveway ─ she was here at 11:10 p.m.

I dressed again, and came back downstairs and turned on the T.V. to help bide time until Jack was ready to go to bed.  That was not to happen until after 12:30 a.m.

I suppose that I had a fairly decent night's sleep ─ I never bothered to get up to use the bathroom and drink any water. It was only when I realized that Jack was getting up and had then exited the bedroom, closing the door, that I checked the time.  It was well past 8:00 a.m. ─ maybe even after 8:30 a.m.

It surprised me. I wore earplugs and a blindfold, so I had been unaware that it was 'broad daylight' already.

I rose and dressed, despite still feeling inadequately slept.

I was to learn that Jack had her typical bad night's sleep, and I think that she may even have used my computer at some point.

She was in the bathroom when I exited the bedroom, and soon she was showering. And when she was done, it was clear that she was dressing to go out somewhere.

I am unclear on the details, but she said that she was going to her friend Fanta's home out in Langley ─ something to do with Fanta's mother. Perhaps the mother was visiting from Thailand or something?

I confirmed that Jack intended to return here later on ─ she averred that she would. At that, I then said that we could later talk about the mortgage ─ we are about $277 short, and it may be applied against our chequing account as early as tomorrow, although I suspect that it might not happen until after the weekend.

I suggested that we might have no recourse but to borrow from one or both of her sons.

She agreed, and was then away. I was free to put some further content into the new post I have been working on at my Siam-Longings website since the 11th.

Her youngest son Poté had gone to work before we got up, but her oldest son Tho was taking a third consecutive sick day off work. He definitely has a bad cold, but it sure didn't prevent him from hooking up with his girlfriend and/or friends for a few hours last evening. He was not to rise for the day today until after 1:00 p.m.

Once I had done the minimum targeted work that I wanted done on that Siam-Longings's post, it was into the noon-hour. I was hungry, but I went out to the backyard shed for some exercise before eating.

The day has had some sunny breaks, and it is quite mild. I noticed that the small strip of garden at the back of the house by our sundeck actually has lots of shoots of tulip plants already poking above the surface of the ground.

If I knew for certain just where any of the three or four daffodil bulbs in that strip of garden are, I would see about transplanting what I could find ─ last year, none of them produced a flower, and only one did the year before. Clearly, they are not faring ideally there.

But I have concerns of adversely affecting the tulips by digging around speculatively.

I noticed earlier that Google created a commemorative collage from our photos celebrating exactly five years ago:


I was able to locate the two original photos from January 20, 2012:



The second photo is one of a sequence in which I was photographing Jack probably driving off to work. I think she still owned Pattaya Thai Restaurant in New Westminster (406 - Sixth Street) at the time.

She tried and tried to keep the restaurant afloat, but she just did not have the customer base. And the poor girl had to deal with so much as the sole proprietor.

So she finally had to sell. Some Koreans took over and opened up a restaurant that was also to fail. There is an Ethiopian restaurant operating in that space now, I think.

Anyway, losing Pattaya Thai Restaurant hurt us both.

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A study published in the January 2017 edition of the Mayo Clinic Proceedings journal has revealed excellent news concerning fish oil ─ here are a couple of reports about it:

JacksDailyDose.com

Time.com

The Time author certainly lacked the enthusiasm that was displayed in the first report.

😻😻😻😻😻😻😻

Do you take advantage of naps?  I know it's impractical if you have to work away from home for a living.

But more and more is being learned of both the importance of sleep, and also of naps to perhaps tender some added mental and physical rejuvenation in the day.

Here are some reports on a latest study:

Consumer.HealthDay.com

MedicalNewsToday.com

HSIonline.com

I never sought a lie-down today, but I know that I could have used one. When Jack is a part of my day, there just is not the available time for a nap. For even when she goes out, I never know when she will return.

Also, on those days that she is around here, her temporary absences are my opportunity to perhaps blog and/or get in some exercise.

😻😻😻😻😻😻😻

If we are to believe the headlines concerning a couple of the latest studies, high blood pressure is rampant worldwide:

Consumer.HealthDay.com

Time.com

Economist.com

I much prefer this take on the whole contrived hysteria:

HSIonline.com

I haven't a clue what my blood pressure is, and I am not even curious. I haven't had it checked in many years. In fact, I cannot even recall with any certainty just how many years ago it was checked.

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My wife Jack was back home around 2:00 p.m., and she quickly got busy cooking. But first she had an exchange with her eldest son Tho, and I was then directed to transfer $300 from his account to our chequing account.

That ought to be sufficient to cover the mortgage payment that is imminent. However, I can do absolutely no shopping; and my monthly pension likely will not show up until late next week ─ if I am lucky. There is the possibility that it mightn't arrive until the final day of the month.

Around 3:00 p.m., Jack began readying herself to leave and return to Vancouver. Poté and his girlfriend arrived before she had left, however.

He got a hug from his mother, but I was not offered a token good-bye kiss when I saw her off. She never indicated when next she would likely be back, either. She was gone by around 3:15 p.m.

Just ahead of 4:00 p.m., Tho headed out the front door ─ I think someone's car was out there to pick him up. He was too sick to work these past three days, but he's perfectly fine for running around with friends.

Well, I am going to close off now with a journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting the small space in a house located on Ninth Street, and perhaps a house or two up from Third Avenue.
TUESDAY, January 20, 1976

I got up at 6:00 a.m., but doubt I'd have had much trouble trying to sleep longer.

The fog this morning is thick; I had the laundromat to myself.

At the Bluebird I bought the March Champions and Fantastic Four, April's Marvel Premiere, a "M*A*S*H" TV Guide, and Adrian Cole's Dream Lords: Lord of Nightmares.

Bored and chilled in the afternoon I tried for a good, deep nap; but it was a surface affair.

I rested again at 3:00 p.m., failing by near 15 minutes to arise by 4:00 p.m. for exercise. The place was pretty cold around then.

My day was definitely dull. Guess I'll retire at 7:00 p.m.
I believe that the laundromat was up on Sixth Avenue, near to the public library. However, I can no longer place the location of the Bluebird store ─ I cannot even remember such a store. Yet according to here, it was located at Eighth Street & Fourth Avenue.

This is apparently the cover of the TV Guide I bought:


Is my life never to improve?