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Thursday, August 18, 2016

September 30 (2016) ─ Canadian Dual Citizens Traveling Abroad to Be Required to Use Canadian Passports to Return to Canada │ The Declining Stature and Escalating Bodyweight of 'Average' Americans

Check out this photo ─ the description beneath is from the Google album where I have the image filed:

My younger brother Mark ─ deep into his beer ─ got up from his chair last evening (August 17, 2016) as we were watching 2016 Rio Olympic Games' competitions; and he busily set about composing these two notes and affixing them to a kitchen cupboard door above the counter.

"I'm tired of cleaning up everybodys mess from sink and garbage off counter.  Use dishwasher and garbage or it all goes in garbage food included"

And:

"I want clean sink in morning OK ☺"

He wasn't wearing a happy face, though.

The message was for my two slob step-sons who are currently 21 and 18 years old.

Each day before Mark leaves for work, he washes a variety of vegetables and sometimes fruit that he takes to eat over the day, but too often he is confronted with a sink filled with the boys soiled dishes.

They also think nothing of leaving egg shells in the sink instead of the nearby compost pail; and last evening there was a saucer on the counter bearing eggshells and a banana peel.  And lots of other dirty dishes were piled about there, too.

I'm interested in getting my wife's reaction when next she comes home.
Perhaps I am misremembering, but for some reason 12:12 a.m. is in my mind as my possible bedtime last night.

I think my first serious break in sleep was around 6:00 a.m., but so little further sleep resumed that at 6:59 a.m. I decided to get up for the day.

My youngest step-son Pote was up ─ his girlfriend had spent the night, and earlier this morning left for work or wherever it is that she goes from here so early some mornings.

Pote never left to catch his bus to work until well past 10:00 a.m.

I took that photo during the noon-hour, but perhaps I should have turned on the kitchen light ─ the notes look very murky.

I had hoped to get out this morning for some local grocery shopping, and to mail off a credit card payment due on Monday.  However, I became too engaged with working upon the post I started earlier this week at my Lawless Spirit website.

It still is not finished, and I may not have the time tomorrow morning to invest in it ─ I must ensure that I get over to Surrey Place (Central City) a mile or so distant here in Whalley to mail that bill payment at Pearl Cleaners (the postal substation).

The string of hot, sunny weather continues; and at 1:13 p.m., I commenced just over an hour of sunbathing on the backyard sundeck whilst wearing a pair of brief shorts.

A recurring stiff breeze helping make the experience fairly comfortable insofar as the heat was concerned.

It is just 3:05 p.m. at this moment, so I have pretty much caught up my day thus far.

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I have just learned that any Canadian dual citizen traveling abroad as of September 30 (next month) will need to produce a Canadian passport before he or she will be allowed to board a flight to return to Canada.


My wife Jack and her two sons both have Canadian passports, but she has (I believe) applied to get their expired Thai passports renewed.

It probably makes it much easier for a Thai citizen like Jack to enter Thailand with a Thai passport ─ particularly if she was ever wanting to remain there longer than 30 days.

A Canadian like me would require a visa in order to be in Thailand beyond 30 days, so I would think that Jack's Canadian passport would incur the same liability if she was to use it to enter Thailand. 

Their record would indicate that someone with a Canadian passport had exceeded the maximum 30-day limit that is allowed on just a Canadian passport, and it would get flagged the first time she presented it at a Thai airport once those 30 days in-country had been surpassed.

So I think she would be foolish to enter Thailand on anything but a Thai passport.

However, beginning September 30, she would need her Canadian passport in order to board her flight to return to Canada; and consequently, she would need to bring along both passports.

Her two sons are in something of a different pickle, however.

This is the short story on that ─ the opening sentence from a Wikipedia article military service from the perspective of Thailand:
The Military Service Act of 1954 states that all male citizens of Thailand are obliged to serve in the military upon reaching 21 years of age.
As I mentioned earlier in this post, one of her sons is already 21, and the other 18.

And both of them are Thai citizens as well as Canadian.

To my mind, it would be courting too much potential drama for the boys to travel there on a Thai passport if some database record in that country has it that neither male Thai citizen ever showed up for military service selection.  

Anyway, I am definitely going to have to let Jack know about this new requirement that is coming  September 30 ─ she has spoken of making a trip this Fall to see her mother again.

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Ever since I was 19 back in 1969, I have weighed in the low 180s over the ensuing years ─ and at a height of maybe five feet and 10¾ inches.

I have climbed in weight into the mid-190s, sure; and been as light as the low 170s.  But for most of my adult life, I have registered in the low 180s.

I was a little surprised to read that in 1994, the average American weighed about 181 pounds at a height of five feet and 9¼ inches.  Yet today, the average male American of that height weighs about 196 pounds.

The average U.S. woman?

Well, in 1994 she was five feet four inches tall, and weighed 152 pounds.  Really?  That much?

Today, a woman of that same height in the States is ─ on average ─ 169 pounds.

What's happening?

Concerning height, back in 1896, the U.S. ranked third of all nations for the tallest men in the world, while its women ranked fourth.

Today?

As a nation, its men are ─ on average ─ the 37th tallest in the world; and U.S. women are the 42nd tallest as compared to the rest of the world.



Doesn't that say a whole lot about the quality of diet and the overall environment?

There weren't the processed foods in 1896 that are around today; and there certainly were not the countless non-food chemical ingredients around then that are today in virtually any processed food that there is.

It all takes a toll, even though the so-called authorities and all of the many food manufacturing corporations claim otherwise.

I have no doubt the GMO ingredients are also going to contribute to the damage being done.

We've got to get away from this hazardous way of life.

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I close now with an entry from my journal of 41 years ago when I was 25 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

The house I was renting at was located on Ninth Street at Third Avenue.

For whatever reason, I see that this was to be the second consecutive day in which I would be hiking out to the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey to visit my mother Irene Dorosh ─ and to check for mail, for her home was my main mailing address.

That lovely little house is now gone, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.  To hike there from my room in New Westminster would take about 1½ hours of some fast walking.
MONDAY, August 18, 1975

I awoke about 6:40 a.m., finding soon that I was very hungry.  I shall probably eat considerably at mom's, cause I will be there quite early (shortly after 10:30 a.m.) and the day will be cloudy with possible showers.

I wish I could get some decent mail; it would be nice to have a personal letter to occupy my time with in response.

Bill's car was home as I began my walk, one which proved to be the most sedate in memory.

In the way of mail, my hope was fulfilled, for I received a letter from both Terri and Jean.

As predicted, I ate heavily.

Mom said evidence (Phyllis) indicated Mark & Cathy Friday were at the Surrey Inn.

Coming home, as I was approaching Agnes, I believe I saw Cathy turn up 1st toward Royal, but whomever took off as I was within a couple cars distance; I'll keep clues of the vehicle in mind and check them out when next I get the chance, do I remember.

Bill's car was still home.

My $50 S.A.N.E. cheque was here.

At about 7:55 p.m. I think Art was knocking.

Bed about 10:00 p.m.

It never rained today. 
My old friend William Alan Gill was renting a bachelor suite fairly near to my room, but I now cannot recall where his suite was.

Those walks had become rather boring, and even irritating where traffic was concerned.  Yet for some reason, the walk this day was without any adverse impact whatsoever.

"Terri and Jean" were U.S. pen-pals that I had back then.  I cannot recall Terri's last name, but the other lass was Jean Michelle Martin (née Black...or maybe it was the other way around).

Phyllis was my older maternal half-sister ─ she had reportedly told our mother that my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther were drinking in the Surrey Inn Friday evening, two days before.

I remember that Phyllis had worked in a few bars serving drinks ─ maybe the Surrey Inn was one of them.  The Inn doesn't exist any longer, but it used to be near the King George SkyTrain Station.

It was on the return hike that I thought I might have seen Jeanette ("Cathy") driving in New Westminster.  I would have been working my way from the Pattullo Bridge towards nearby Agnes Street.  The car I saw had turned off Agnes onto First Street and was climbing towards Royal Avenue.

The cheque I found awaiting me back at my room was for the day per week in which I worked as a truck swamper at the New Westminster charitable organization S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that is today known as Fraserside Community Services Society.

Art Smith also worked part-time at S.A.N.E. ─ it was he whom I suspected as having come knocking that evening.

I liked Art ─ an older chap in his early 40s.  But whenever he came calling, it was just about always to drag me back to his place so he would have someone to drink with for the remainder of the day.

I was not in the mood to end up my evening like that ─ and have a late night that would find me feeling wiped out the following day.

So I feigned being absent and did not answer the door.

I rarely answered my door blindly.  I kept my only window covered up with heavy blankets.  Close friends and family realized that I would not answer the door and would use a special knock and/or call out to me so as to clue me in on who was there.

Anyway, so much for this day in 1975.
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