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Sunday, April 2, 2017

☠ 💀 Is Sleeping Well As Important to You as Winning a Small Fortune? │ Don't Fall for the Headlines About the Repatha Study │ Baby Steps Win Out

Well, I was certainly wrong to have expected the worst in my younger brother Mark last evening. I had expressed that because he had left home quite early yesterday morning and never returned for his usual Saturday nap, then he most likely was going to be utterly pickled come evening's end.

And I wanted naught to do with him if that was so ─ he usually spends Saturday nights at the home of his girlfriend Bev's, and that's how I wanted it this time, too.

To explain, someone he knows from a bar he drinks at had offered to do a repair to Mark's work truck. They were to meet up around 9:30 a.m. at a welding shop or wherever it is that this fellow has access to, but it was a fair drive from where we live ─ we're in the Whalley area, and the shop was in either Aldergrove or Abbotsford.

However, Mark first had to drive his van out to the parking compound where he keeps his truck ─ possibly off on Annacis Island, and basically in the opposite direction.

Mark arrived pretty much on time, but the other dude was a no-show. Nevertheless, Mark was able to phone him, and the guy arrived about an hour later.

Neither of them anticipated what was ahead.

Apparently the job took until at least 9:00 p.m. ─ Mark said that it was after 9:00 p.m. before he was driving back.

By the time he got his truck back to where he keeps it secured, and then drove his van back here to Whalley, it was well after 10:00 p.m. In fact, I estimate that it was as much as 10:40 p.m. when Mark arrived home.

I was upstairs here at my computer, and had finished with T.V. for the evening. My plan was to soon get to bed.

I heard Mark crack open a beer downstairs and soon have on the T.V. Not wishing to become involved with him in what I expected was to be an utterly besotted state, I went to bed without a word ─ it was 10:58 p.m.

I was to learn from him today that he never had a beer that entire day until he arrived home, so he was actually perfectly sober. How could I know? That was so unusual that it was actually highly improbable.

Mark estimated that if he had taken his shop to a commercial business to have the work done, it would have cost him well over $1,000 for the labour alone. I think he said that he had only given the chap who did the repair job the $50 the guy had originally estimated would cover his trouble; plus early on Mark also had used the guy's truck to go and buy him a bottle of pop and himself a coffee. In doing so, Mark saw that the truck was so low on fuel, he wondered if he would even make it to a service station. However, he managed to, and once there he filled the guy's gas tank for him.

I doubt the fellow will be so eager next time to blindly offer someone his services for one of his days off work.

Mark said that if the guy happens to suggest that maybe he could use a little more cash for his time spent working that Saturday, Mark won't begrudge him ─ not in view of what Mark would have been faced with had he needed to get the job done commercially.

Anyway, I had my typical night's sleep ─ not too bad until around 4:00 a.m., and then it became very spotty. I am not even sure if I derived any further sleep after 5:00 a.m., but I held out until checking the time just after 6:00 a.m. before I got up.

My youngest step-son Poté did not have his girlfriend overnight, so he was still asleep in bed.

I put work compiling more content into the post I am working on at my Thai-Iceland website, and actually had a usual day's effort under my belt when I heard Mark rouse in his bedroom and start readying for his morning shower.

I wanted to get a little more sleep, so I waited until I could hear that he had finished with his shower before I returned to my bedroom. It was 9:28 a.m. when I was under the covers.

I think I remained there until just after 10:40 a.m. It wasn't a solid nap, but I was very comfortable. It was with some effort that I rallied myself to leave the bed, for the bedroom was unpleasantly cool.

We have a fairly sunny day, but there is a darned chill wind blowing. And all four rooms here upstairs have a window open to one degree or another, so the chilly air is circulating.

Awhile after getting Mark's account of his Saturday, I decided to try sitting out in the sunshine in the backyard. I put in just over 25 minutes. That wind is definitely unpleasant, but the sunshine is otherwise very warm.

Unfortunately, I happened to choose the precise time that the neighbours beyond our backyard fence decided to stick their damned brown hound outside. It is an utterly weak marshmallow, and cannot bear to be separated from its people, so it barked and emitted its piercing whine on and on throughout my time outside.

If not for that infernal mutt, I might have remained outside longer, but 25 minutes was all I could bear of the aural abuse I underwent.

That thing needs to be silenced for all time. And I would love to perform the deed.    

Finer things, now.

Yesterday I posted some photos taken at a wedding that my wife Jack attended ─ possibly on November 12, 2016 ─ that was very likely held in or near her home village of Nong Soong.

Nong Soong is perhaps a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.

There are far too many photos to present in any one post, so I still have some ways to go before I will get them all included.

I am surmising that it is the bride who is a maternal relative of Jack's.

We shall lead off today with these two photos of Jack and her sole surviving brother Santi:



It looks as if Jack was reaching to take back her camera, and not expecting that another photo was being taken in that shot above.

Some of the other guests where the meal was set up:


I only know this gal as Jack's "sister-cousin":


Thai weddings seem to generally involve a sort of procession for the groom ─ that is what I suspect this is in the next photos that you will see below:


I would love to know this cute little wedding guest:


For some reason, Jack must have felt this ornamental plant-holder was worthy of photographing:


And this colorful rooster or whatever the small statue is:


Jack was clearly distracted by the garden thereabouts:


It appears that this fellow has a microphone and is either about to say something, or else he has just finished doing so:


Did every single adult guest get his or her own fish to eat? That would be quite a haul of fish!


More of the procession:









And I must stop here ─ there are still so many more photos!

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My wife Jack charged up the flight fare to make that trip to Thailand, adding to our already huge debt load; but she hadn't seen her mother in person since March 2013.

I have tried all of my adult life to win a life-changing lottery, but I have never been blessed ─ nor has my life.

I have no idea what the personal circumstances were of the people involved in the study these three reports are discussing, but there is no bloody way that I could possibly equate sleeping solidly through the night to the sort of euphoria I would experience if I ever managed to win a small fortune:

Telegraph.co.uk

DrWayneAndersen.com

JacksDailyDose.com

Unless the study participants had won a small fortune at some point in the past, there is no reasonable way that it can be concluded that the effect of sleeping well matters just as much to their moods.

To be absolutely accurate, what would need to be done is to have the people fill out that General Health Questionnaire once they have started sleeping well; and then at some later juncture, surprise each of them by awarding them that small fortune, and then have them fill out the same questionnaire identifying how they were feeling about it!

People are prone to hyperbole, and the sleep questionnaire would reflect that. After all, unless the study participant knew just what it is like to win a small fortune, there is no way that he or she could respond about it with any accuracy.

And let's also use study participants who are in considerable debt!

So...I don't believe this study's conclusions one danged whit. Heck, at the root of my inability to sleep exceptionally well is probably the debt I have!

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The following headline was the recent sort of nonsense that mainstream media proclaimed concerning a study of a cholesterol-lowering drug called Repatha:

USAtoday.com

In contradistinction, here are some articles by folks who actually checked beyond the surface of the study's claims:

HealthNewsReview.org

HSIonline.com

JacksDailydose.com

So don't fall for sensationalist headlines, especially when the articles beneath them are information directly from researchers working for the pharmaceutical corporation responsible for producing and marketing the drug.

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When it comes to making positive changes in our lives, too often we think that we should perform an utter turnaround. But that is possibly a disastrous choice.

The following article gets into why it is better for most of us to start with just the most basic steps or stages:

DrMicozzi.com

Not all of us are cut out to be Olympians, after all!

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Here now to close out today's post is a journal article from 41 years ago when I was 26 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster. I was paying rent for the little place I had in a house located on Ninth Street, and maybe two houses up from Third Avenue. 

Normally I hiked out to the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey at least a couple of times a week to visit my mother Irene Dorosh ─ her home was my main mailing address.

The walk from my room would take about 1½ hours at a good clip. That little house no longer exists, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.

This was to be my first visit of the week, for events had conspired to keep me from getting out there earlier in the week.
FRIDAY, April 2, 1976

I roused about 5:00 a.m.

I composed and shall today mail a letter to Marvel re the advisability of a Squadron Supreme serialization.

I plan to get to Woodward's early, buy 3 lbs of liver, and 3 tins of mackerel. After bringing it home, I'll then cash my $160 cheque (the landlady already took off somewhere, so I can't yet  pay her). Then I'll head for mom's.

(Note: I saw Garry in the S.A.N.E. truck on my way to Woodward's.)

It was a sunny day, and my hair has never behaved so well!

My girl took me over from another at the bank, and even observed my hair was different. If I were rich, I think I'd ask her out, just for always being so kind to me.

Mom was out when I arrived; I discovered at her return she'd come to town to see me, and left a note. She also picked up my Sunburst products here for me: the 360 tabs of Sunburst "52," and 1000 tabs of 10 mg zinc ─ plus my free Indian Princess pendant (an owl, silver and red); I had a $4.93 duty charge.

And I also had a stack of mail: an ad for the book Mind Reflexology: Key to Perfect Health, and one for The Miracle of Metaphysical Healing, both from Parker Publish.

I also received an offer for The Financial Post, a Church of God letter, and a good letter from Terri.

Too, I received the first issue of Human Potential, a lavish magazine put out by Armstrong's AICF.

And lastly, I got a collection of some Weider literature.

I forgot to mention I bought 2 money orders ($3, $10) so to order an Olympic and a Western Lottery ticket.

I succeeded in fighting off great temptation, and I've stuck to my diet.

Cathy had brought over my typewriter during the week, I was glad to learn.

Phyllis dropped by just to collect her mail.

Due to my heavy load (including some onions from O'Farrall's, and a slew of pens from mom), I decided to ride into town when Kay came to take her to work. We didn't get away till after 5:30 p.m....well after.

The landlady came for the rent when I was halfway through my token curls; she came home after I did, apparently deeply involved in Lent.  

I'll go to bed at 9:00 p.m.
I loved my Marvel comics, and sometimes sent in fan letters concerning one or another issue of their series.

Woodward's used to be located on Sixth Avenue ─ the Royal City Centre Mall now occupies its old space.

The cheque was social assistance. I had been working one day a week for a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends), but that was through a grant ─ it had recently run dry, and my contract was not renewed.

I was a swamper on S.A.N.E.'s blue pick-up truck ─ that was the truck I saw when I was walking to Woodward's. If I am remembering the proper fellow, "Garry" or Gary likely had the family name of Foreman or Freeman ─ something along those lines. He would have been driving that day.

Now the Royal Bank! The cheques I received were always made out to an account at that bank, so I would go down to the Columbia Street branch to cash them. However, I had neither an account there or anywhere else, nor did I have photo identification.

Consequently, I often faced reluctance from a cashier or teller when it came to getting a cheque cashed.

But there was an attractive young woman working at that branch whose name I believe was Mary. I never knew why she took so kindly to me, but she always stood up for me if she saw that I was having problems with one of her co-workers ─ she would even say that it was okay to cash the cheque because she knew me, and I was who I claimed to be. 

As far as I know, though, we only knew one another there in the bank. I will never forget that sweetheart.

I am not going to explain every piece of mail I had waiting for me at my mother's home. It should be apparent that Sunburst were (and maybe still are) a nutritional supplement company in the States with whom I had placed an order.

The one letter I received was from an American pen-pal ─ Terri Martin.

My typewriter ─ a Brother Deluxe portable in a nice case ─ was one I had loaned to the girlfriend of my younger brother Mark. Catherine Jeanette Gunther was the lass.   

It was my older maernal half-sister Phyllis who dropped by just to pick up her own mail at our mother's home.

I don't know if I spelled the supermarket's name correctly, but "O'Farrel's" used to be located in the Scott Town or Scottown shopping plaza at the intersection of Scott Road (120th Street) & 96th Avenue in Surrey. I must have stopped in on my way to my mother's home. 

She and her friend Kay Kris or Krys were partners in an evening office janitorial contract, and they had to come in to New Westminster anyway, so the ride I got was no inconvenience for them. 

I was doing dumbbell curls when the landlady came for the rent.

And that about does it. Mark is now home, so I must proofread this and get set for our evening of T.V. via the Android TV Box.
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