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Monday, May 29, 2017

Blueberries Proven to Boost Failing Brain Function │ Coming Soon to the U.S.: Chinese Chicken Meat in the Marketplace │ Common Painkillers Found to Increase Heart Attack Risk

My younger brother Mark indulged in another bout of beer-induced shut-eye last evening instead of paying attention to the programming on the T.V. I have noticed that he is starting to remind me now of our mother who frequently needed to have parts of shows explained because some element escaped logical understanding.

It got me angry last evening at one point, and I thereafter felt remorse for the heat of my explanation.

I believe that I was in bed by 10:38 p.m., but sleep was to be elusive. We are not accustomed to the lingering high temperatures that we are getting.

I now forget just when it was that I checked the time this morning after a night of very fractured sleep, but it was the usual time of late ─ well enough ahead of 7:00 a.m.

As I often do when I go downstairs to prepare my day's first hot beverage, I gave a good look to the door leading to my eldest stepson Tho's sleeping area ─ it was closed. He only leaves it closed when he is in bed ─ i.e., he had not gone to work.

And he never did.

His younger brother Poté rose right after I was back upstairs here at my computer, and he soon left for work. Tho rose soon afterwards, but he remained home. The only time he went anywhere was in the afternoon when he hiked on over to the gym he uses roughly four blocks from where we live.

I had hoped that I would get out for some local shopping this morning, but I failed. Perhaps Tho's presence was just enough to put me off course. But at least I did get out to the backyard tool shed around 9:30 a.m. for a session of exercise before the shed warmed up too much.

After putting in the allotted work that I wanted to get done today on the post I have been putting together for the past half-dozen or so days at my Latin Impressions website, it looked like I was making great progress on the day. I got the backyard sundeck all set up for a sunning session that I could have commenced soon after 11:30 a.m., but then I decided to squander time with prurient pursuits here at my computer.

It was 12:49 p.m. before I had at last begun sunning. Certainly that is not too bad; and I was done by a minute or two after 2:00 p.m. I then came into the house to prepare my first meal of the day.

Meantime, it was then that Tho announced that he was heading out, and would soon return.

I ate my meal, and then got right back at the nonsensical waste of my day's time. I only got back on track once Tho had returned.

So I am getting a far later start on this post than I like, nor ever imagined would be the case.

The following might be of some amusement for you ─ I sent this out to my E-mail list on May 23:
I think these tests are stupid because it's impossible to give proper 'yes or no' answers ─ most of us will undoubtedly misidentify our own traits, whether for better or worse.

The first question is perfect for that ─ just how does one identify exactly what a “realistic person” is? We'll all have our own notions of what that really means, and what's “realistic” to one person won't be to another.
Anyway, I emerged as measuring up as a 27-year-old.

Is it possible to come out as a ten-year-old?
I didn't ask for anyone to respond back with their results, but two people did regardless: one registered as 35, and the other as 33.

By the way, I am 67.

I also want to post the following photo that I recently scanned ─ the description beneath it is from the Google album where I have the scan saved:

My mother Irene Dorosh.

The photo may have been taken in the decade of the 1970s at the home she shared with her husband Alex in Surrey B.C.

Their little house is now gone, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.

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I posted about the following topic a month or so back, but it is always good to keep the benefits of blueberries in mind ─ we tend to easily lose hold of the details anytime we read an article about them.

I was actually going to have some frozen blueberries with that meal I had earlier, but then I entirely forgot until now. They can wait.

Here's the article I wanted to bring attention to:

DrMicozzi.com

Why wouldn't anyone with a family member whose faculties are beginning to fail not want to give this a try? It most definitely will not cause any harm ─ no drug can have that said of it.

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This is rather concerning for Americans ─ or it should be, anyway. I'll let you figure out for yourself what this pertains to by reading the headlines of these three reports:

NPR.org

Forbes.com

HSI.com

I sure wouldn't mind knowing what the Canadian situation concerning Chinese-sourced chicken is.

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A couple of days ago I posted about how it has come to light that various common pain medications can increase the risk of someone having a heart attack.

People need to know about this, so I shall post another couple of reports about it:

CBSnews.com

HSIonline.com

The risk is presented by just taking these types of painkiller for a mere week. But how many people are going to pay heed? After all, if it never happened before, where's the worry?

As usual, anyone reading about this only has him- or herself to blame if that unexpected heart attack does pay a visit.

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I put today's post to rest now 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 in a house located on Ninth Street, and maybe two houses up from Third Avenue.
SATURDAY, May 29, 1976

Dad came knocking and calling at 4:00 a.m. or 5:00 a.m.; I am sure he had a taxi or something outside.

I got up at 7:30 a.m.

I'm really running down.

Bill & I are to buy our roasts this morning, letting his mother cook while we run off fishing.

What developed was we spent so much time doing so little ─ as Bill is extremely effectual at ─ we got to Harry's about 2½ hours beyond the 11:00 a.m. Bill had told him.

And we forgot all about David till we were on our way there, though we later learned he phoned Bill's and spoke to his mother.

Because the day was pregnant with rain, and due to the lateness, all we did was retire to the Clover Inn where I spent $5. I owe myself $15 now.

Anyway we left Harry finally about 5:30 p.m. (he may phone Thursday) and headed back to eat.

I glutted on my pot roast, plus some spuds, yams, carrots, and a large onion; and for dessert a mince pie and 1 pint of ranch pecan ice-cream. This on top of 8 or so beers; so much for a sane diet.

I should be in bed by 10:00 p.m., though I'm so full I expect a difficult sleep.
My father Hector was one of the last people I ever wanted anything to do with when he had been drinking, and that would be the only reason that he would have shown up at my door at that hour. So I just ignored him until he went away.

My old friend William Alan Gill was renting a bachelor suite that may have been little more than four blocks from my room. We were supposed to have gone shopping together the evening before ─ I had learned of a sale on pot roasts that may have been as cheap as 69¢ a pound, but Bill never came around to my room until after 8:30 p.m., and it was too late.

He could be quite unreliable, but he was the one with the car.

The previous weekend, we had been drinking in the main hotel in Cloverdale, and I had recognized Harry Klassen there ─ he was an old school chum from when we attended Surrey Centre Elementary School in the latter 1950s.

I never had my own phone, so Harry had Bill's number, and it had been arranged that we three would go fishing on Saturday.  Apparently Bill had told him that we would be by his place in Cloverdale around 11:00 a.m.

Yeah, right.

Poor Harry.

Bill had me so flustered that I totally forgot that my old friend Philip David Prince ─ who was renting a room in New Westminster ─ had previously phoned Bill and arranged that he would come with us.

But at least we finally did catch up with Harry for awhile.

I'm unsure what I meant by owing myself $15 ─ maybe I had dipped into money that I had destined for some other purpose.

Lord, Bill and I could eat back then! For me, it was akin to 'fast or famine,' for I could normally afford very little. Thus, when food was presented, I found it irresistible and could not be temperate.
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