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Monday, May 1, 2017

New York State Proves Trans Fats Behind Heart Attacks, Strokes │ Vitamin B12 and Diabetic Neuropathy ─ the Safer Treatment

I was certain that my wife Jack would show up from Vancouver last evening. And when she was not yet here at the time I was prepared to get myself to bed, I was conflicted whether I should sit up awhile longer in wait.

No one else in the house was up, so I was reluctant to lock the front door and go to bed. She might have a load of groceries and whatever else, and the motion-detector light just outside the door just recently stopped functioning. She would have to open the door in the dark.

Her youngest son Poté was not yet home, either. If I knew that he would be the first to arrive home, then in good conscience I would have locked the door.

As I dithered over this, and had all but gone to bed, Poté pulled into the driveway. I was free to retire and leave the door situation entirely up to him.

It was 10:42 p.m. when I was into bed.

I was to remain there overnight, never bothering to rise to use the washroom any of the few times that I checked the time through the night.

It was 6:05 a.m. when I made a final time check and decided to rise. However, I was far from refreshed. Physically, I felt as if I had laboured long and hard yesterday ─ and I'm getting sick of feeling like this each morning.

I am also fed up with our dismal weather this year. When is it going to warm up? I am still almost reeling about reading in my journal for yesterday's date in 1976 that it was almost 80º Fahrenheit that day ─ that's about 26.7º Celsius.

By comparison, I heard on the radio this afternoon that the projected high for Vancouver today is 12º Celsius (53.6º Fahrenheit), but the announcer doubted that we would reach as high as that.

We had some rain at some point overnight, and it began raining towards mid-morning and continued through till around midday.

My eldest step-son Tho was still home when I first toiled at getting up, but he had left for work by the time I was dressed and exited the bedroom. Poté was still in bed. He never rose until after I had made my day's first hot mug of blended instant coffee / cocoa powder, and was at work upstairs here at my computer.

I heard him head out the front door at 7:09 a.m. to drive himself to work.

I have finally finished and published the post that I have been working upon at my Amatsu Okiya website for at least 10 days: Memoirs of a Geisha Director II. I have also set up the foundation of an edit to old post at one of my other five hosted websites.

It's a seemingly pointless cycle ─ as are the hours spent with this blog each day.

I was so engrossed this morning that I utterly forgot that I should have gotten out and bought some produce, for I finished the last of the greens that I had on hand when I ate early in the afternoon. I think that I had so wholly anticipated that my wife Jack would be home last night that I entertained no alternate plans for my morning if she failed to arrive and spend the night.    

In four recent posts (April 26, 27, 28, and 29) I posted photos that were taken on (I think) November 14, 2016, when my wife Jack and a few of her loved ones back in Thailand had traveled northerly to visit Wat Pa Phu Kon in the Na Yung District of Udon Thani Province.

I don't know if they were still in that area come the evening, or if they had managed to make their way closer to home ─ the very large village of Nong Soong, which is about a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.

If I am right about the date of that temple visit, that day happened to be Loi Krathong in Thailand. The following photos were taken that evening ─ some with a very shaky hand:


This is Lumpoon, the eldest of my wife Jack's two older sisters:




And that was it for the photos taken that evening!

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Here are some reports about a recent New York State study to determine the reason for a large dip in hospital admissions for heart attacks and strokes:

CBC.ca

NBCnews.com

JacksDailyDose.com

HSIonline.com

I have no idea why anyone buys hydrogenated peanut butter instead of the wholesome natural peanut butter. Granted, some natural peanut butters have been so diluted with peanut oil that it's impossible to make a sandwich, but is it worth courting cardiovascular disease for such a simple-brained inconvenience?

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The Pharmaceutical Industry and it authoritative mouthpieces just cannot seem to let medications slip away into oblivion without trying to flog them for any and all other purposes.

Note what drugs are being promoted and praised as treatments for diabetic neuropathy:

ScienceDaily.com

So the studies were all less than six months in duration. And more than 9% of the study subjects dropped out ─ remember, no one does that if everything is hunky-dory. Also, keep in mind that these were the percentages of folks who fled any involvement in the studies ─ not the percentages of people who were not helped by the drugs when the studies had concluded.

Here is a better assessment of what went on:

HSIonline.com

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Well, here it is 4:41 p.m., and I notice that there are some vague blue streaks up there amongst the cloud cover.

Big deal.

I am closing 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 guess it was somewhat like living in a small cellar, particularly since I kept my sole window utterly covered over with black plastic and blanketing. From the outside at night, it was impossible to know if I was home, so effective was the window covered up.

There were just too many would-be visitors I did not want.

The house I was renting the place in was located on Ninth Street, and about two houses up from Third Avenue. 
SATURDAY, May 1, 1976

Did I make the Western preliminary draw? I'm hoping, but won't know till I come across The Province

I got up at 8:00 a.m. feeling hungover; in fact, I'd been awake awhile, trying to log up further sleep. I thought I'd had a WD (while nursing on the breasts of some fabulous lovely), but I later had to decide otherwise.

After my morning meal, it wasn't long till I'd decided I should try and rest up; I got up at 1:30 p.m.

At 3:30 p.m. the landlady came for her rent.

Reading a biographical introduction to Out of the Storm, I was surprised to learn that William Hope Hodgson was a bodybuilder.

Perhaps 5:20 p.m., Bill dropped by; it seems he had committed us to going to the States with Alan & Marie. 

He left to see them, and then to change, promising to come for me about 6:30 p.m. after we had 6 small doughnuts apiece of his. 

We may go to Nell's first, so it is my powerful hope that they detain us. I don't want to share in the financial burden of buying beers in the U.S.

Well, after Bill came for me, we went to Alan & Marie's. After a couple beers there, we 4 then went to Nell's to pick up Randy & Sandy, and discovered that a group of others there were also going in Earl's truck; besides Earl & Nell, there were Bruce, Donna & mother, Jock, Ricky, and Eric.

We all went to the Cocoanut Grove. In all, I spent $6.50! And I am expected to help Marie celebrate her birthday next week-end!

After getting back to Canada, and leaving Nell's, my hungry companions ended us up at the Night and Day; Bill bought me a $2.10 hamburger plate.

I got to bed at 5:00 a.m.

So now Marie and Cathy (her divorce) want my participation in celebrations next week-end. I hope I'm somehow passed over.

Apparently Larry and some others met Mark & Cathy out alone in some pub.
I was hoping on the Western Lottery. I am still desperately hoping today of a big win before it is too late for me to benefit from it.

My old friend William Alan Gill was renting a bachelor suite that may have been little more than four blocks from my room. He was a working man with a car, and seemed to be more involved with my relatives than was I.

Al and Marie Varga were friends of members of my maternal Aunt Nell Halverson's large partying household off in Surrey. I think the Vargas were then living in New Westminster, too.

I had so very little income ─ it was always internally burdensome for me to be obligated for any social involvements that meant visiting public venues, or having anything else to do with expenditures I could ill afford.

Anyway, the crew we joined up with at my Aunt Nell's home included her and her common-law-husband Earl Primrose; Nell's oldest son Randy Halverson and his wife Sandy; Nell's second oldest son Bruce Halverson; Donna Montroy and her mother; Nell's third son Jock (John) Halverson; our cousin Richard Hyatt; and an older fellow named Eric who lived in New Westminster, I think, but was frequently visiting out at Nell's.   

I don't recall the night, but some research shows that there is a bar in Bellingham called the Cocoanut Grove ─ perhaps that is where we all went.

When I exclaimed having spent $6.50, that was definitely quite a lot of money for me to be parting with. The idea that Marie Varga and my younger brother Mark's girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther (who was finally getting her official divorce) both wanted me involved in celebrations they were planning for the following weekend, would have been a weight upon me. 

Once Bill, the Vargas, and I parted with the bunch at Nell's home, it must have been to the Knight and Day Restaurant in Whalley that we stopped to eat.

While we were still at Nell's after returning from the States, Larry Ernest Blue ─ another of Nell's large household ─ mentioned to me that he saw my younger brother Mark and Jeanette out by themselves in a pub that Larry and whomever Larry had been drinking with had gone to.

But let's return to the present just before I close.

My wife Jack showed up around 5:15 p.m. with her eldest son Tho. As I mentioned in a few previous posts, I tried my hand on Monday of last week to see if I could successfully naturally ferment a purple cabbage.

Well, I showed Jack the big plastic tub I have the project in...and she was not at all impressed. She won't even try some.

I scooped off the questionable sections of cabbage-pieces from the top that looked like they might be moulding, but my understanding is that the fermentation juices should otherwise keep any pathogenic bacteria from developing.

I had a small helping of the brew just to show Jack that I find it to be nicely pickled ─ it tastes quite a lot like sauerkraut. But she is unmoved about not trying any herself, so the tub is back up here in my cool computer room.
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