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Friday, June 30, 2017

Can a Tough Childhood Ultimately Be Beneficial Once an Adult? │ Dangers of Aspirin for the Elderly

My younger brother Mark seemed especially in control of himself last evening. I was to learn that he had undergone a partial crown procedure at a dentist's office earlier in the evening, so clearly he wasn't downing the beers that he otherwise would have.

He watched T.V. with me, and went to his bedroom for the night ahead of 10:30 p.m. And that freed me up to work towards getting myself to bed.

I made a final check first of my AdSense account, and was surprised to discover that I had accumulated 91¢ that day ─ a far cry better than the 1¢ daily that I struggle to achieve.

None of it was attributable to this blog, however. Apparently 90¢ derived from my hosted website My Retirement Dream, while the extra cent sprang from my website Thai-Iceland.

So I went to bed feeling a little better than usual. I don't recall the exact time, but it was before 10:40 p.m.

I rose once during the night to use the bathroom and drink some water; and it was not too long after 6:00 a.m. that I started my morning. My youngest stepson Poté was already up, and I think that it may have been 6:34 a.m. when he headed out the door to his car to drive to work.

I was home alone.

I did some work adding further content into the post I am constructing at my hosted website Latin Impressions. And then I broke from it shortly after 8:30 a.m. to start readying for a local shopping excursion to Deepu's No Frills supermarket roughly four blocks from here in the Cedar Hills shopping plaza (96th Avenue & 128th Street) here in Surrey.

I left here less than 10 minutes past 9:00 a.m., discovering that the sunny day was already very warm. The market opens at 9:00 a.m., so I sure never expected to find it to be as full of shoppers as it proved to be. There were four tills open by the time I was ready to cash out.

Once I was back home, I finished working on the Latin Impressions website for today, and then went out to the backyard tool shed for some exercise. It was too late into the morning for me to care to take on the full session of my current routine. After I dealt with the very strenuous pull-ups, I stopped. I think the oppressive humid warmth was threatening to give me a bit of a headache.

Upon returning into the house, a naked weigh-in found me to be at least 189 pounds. I had not eaten yet, but I postponed that ─ I wanted to do some sunning on the backyard sundeck first.

I commenced that passive activity at precisely noon, and called a halt at 1:08 p.m. Meantime, I had heard one of my stepsons messing about in the house during the noon-hour. It could have been Poté ─ he sometimes shows up at his lunch break; or it could have been his older brother Tho who sometimes gets short Fridays due to lack of work.

I had little doubt that it was Tho. Even where I was out on the sundeck, I could smell his cologne.

He was gone again when I came back into the house, so I gathered together the makings of my day's first meal and finally ate.

After that, it was time to get busy readying a new batch of vegetables for natural fermentation: a green cabbage, three leeks, a fennel bulb with the stumps of about four to six stalks, and four or five Chinese broccoli.  

I was sorry that the fennel had such truncated stalks. I never used fresh fennel before, so I did not expect the strong and pleasant sambuca-like odour they threw off when I was slicing them up.

While I was at work, Tho returned in the company of his girlfriend Tiffany, and they were soon busy washing and cleaning out her car.

My batch of vegetables should be ready for consumption by Wednesday, so I will have to ensure that I moderate myself and finish off the last batch no sooner than Tuesday.

For any of you who do not know, there is nothing to this natural fermentation of vegetables. Just shred and slice up the washed vegetables into small pieces, add water to pretty much cover, and salt the surface rather liberally with some natural salt like sea salt. Table salt will work, but it is not a pure salt, having been treated with chemicals to keep it from clumping. Also, I read one article whose authour speculated that the added iodine in table salt might be detrimental to the wholesome bacteria that we want to liberally proliferate during the fermentation process.

Just place a cover over the container to keep out things like insects, and that's it!  

Tomorrow I will press down the vegetables that are poking above the surface of the developing brine so as to prevent them being exposed to mold development or anything else undesirable that may try to get a foothold.

And then each day after that, I will just stir the vegetables to essentially redistribute everything. As I said, by day five the result will already have an excellent sauerkraut flavour and be ready for hearty sampling.

It's far cheaper and healthier than spending money on probiotics, and the batch is also prebiotic. As well, I believe that this fermentation elevates the vitamin K content and availability.

I want now to post a fairly interesting photo that I scanned from my mother Irene Dorosh's collection ─ I didn't quite get it perfectly aligned.

I don't know where the photo was taken, nor do I have any idea of when. I just like the view.

I wouldn't mind knowing what sort of development used to be there that is now betrayed by those foundation ruins:


Do you consider yourself to have had a particularly difficult childhood, or do you recall it fondly as being full of warmth and nurturing?

Probably most of us believe that our childhoods were more of a blend of these two extremes.

The following article reports on a study that found support for believing that a difficult childhood can actually lend certain strengths to that person in his or her adulthood, but I just do not understand the two tests it speaks of.

Don't be put off by the seven appearances of the fraction '¾' in the article ─ for whatever reason, those are just where a dash (i.e., '─') failed to display, for whatever reason:

DrMicozzi.com

I had to resort to the reference that was cited in order to get some sense of what the two tests were about:

PsychologyToday.com

My childhood was not one of comfort and plenty, but I did not at all match up with the state of mind described in this set of statements:
Broadly speaking, those who grow up in safe, predictable environments with adequate material resources tend to employ "slow" strategies—they study hard, delay gratification, put off marriage and reproduction, and generally follow the advice given to most middle- to upper-middle-class kids on how to stay on that course. Those who experience considerable upheaval early in life tend to employ "fast" strategies—for example, having sex earlier or becoming parents at a younger age. The fast strategist's "reward horizon" is shorter, and their future less assured; they will take a smaller immediate reward instead of a larger payoff later.
Even though I had little as a child, as a young adult I dreaded bringing a child into this world because I well recognized that I might never be in a position to help comfortably support such a responsibility as a child. Yet I almost felt detestation at those peers around me who freely engaged in sexual liaisons and fathered children out of wedlock.

I kept waiting until such a day when I would be in a position to be able to comfortably afford a family.

By the time I was finally gainfully employed relatively late in life, there was no time for a social life ─ my so-called career consumed my time.

I was 55 before I ever got married ─ and that was to a lady in Thailand I had met at the age of 53 when I first traveled there. I had no marital prospects here in Canada.

But she already had two sons. It was not feasible to my thinking to now try for a child. It was too late for me. I was employed, yes; but my wife and her two sons were more financial struggle than I ever dreamed that I would be met with.

And I see that I have let myself get badly sidetracked. I do not want to dig into this painful area.

I want now to bring up the topic of daily aspirin use. 

When I was a younger adult, I often took aspirin before bedtime after I had been doing a lot of drinking. The hope was that it would benefit me however it might, and more certainly help reduce the hangover effect ahead of time.

But I later came to regard aspirin to be as likely dangerous in its own fashion as are acetaminophen and ibuprofen.  

I quite recently stated in a previous post in my blog how this June 1 article at DrMicozzi.com rather bothers me: Daily aspirin reduces cancer risk by up to 30 percent.

And now a new study that has been published should be all the warning that senior adults need to have them stay clear of the stuff ─ these three reports tell of the research:

JacksDailyDose.com

HSIonline.com

CBSnews.com

Man! It's a real bugger getting older!

I am going to close for today 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 private home located on Ninth Street, and about two houses up from Third Avenue.

I was perhaps finished my first month of what I believe was a three-month contract of full-time employment with 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 working as a swamper on their blue pick-up truck ─ which was usually driven by Esther St. Jean, a sweet woman in her early 40s.

I had worked for S.A.N.E. as far back as 1974, but only on a part-time basis of maybe a day a week ─ with two or three breaks in continuity over that period.

The evening prior to this journal entry, I had worked with a number of other fellows filling up a three-ton truck on behalf of Shirley Johnston or Johnson, who was to be moving rather far afield from New Westminster. I never got back to my room until 8:30 p.m.

And now I was expected to report in this new day at 9:15 a.m. for what might be more of the same. 
WEDNESDAY, June 30, 1976

I hauled out of bed about 5:30 a.m., none too refreshed.

I did my laundry, buying a TV Guide and 2 comics; seems I'll have to check elsewhere for missing titles that should already have been out this month.

On my way to Shirley's I'll mail my 3 money orders.

I had an easy day; Mike drove, and only Steve assisted us (Took was drunk).

My cheque was for $254.50.

Mike was going past Woodward's, so I got off there and bought about 18 ozs cheese for $1.17. Then at National Meats I blew cash on some beef / chicken ground, and 2 89¢ lb pot roasts (the "hamburger" was 69¢ lb, I believe).

I'd already bought 3 money orders at Woodward's (2 for $3 for a Western Lottery ticket apiece for Mark & I, and $27.76 for books from F.&S.F. Book Co.).

Then I went to Woodward's ─ no, Safeway ─ and bought $5.55 worth of stuff, but couldn't find any green peppers for my pizza, nor yeast; but this latter I can get from mom.

Needless to say, I got off early today ─ a very muggy one.

I'll mail my latest money orders on my way to mom's.

I had to lie down for about 50 minutes. As I was washing after, Bill came. I gave him the black biker boots, then he called in his mother. They had some story about an Irena or Rena who phoned for me; Bill apparently took the return number (521-5812), but I never returned the call. Hell, he probably misheard whoever the party really asked for. I know no one with those names.

Anyway, I went to his place, had a light supper, and spent the evening watching TV; he took his mother home without me.

Toward 11:00 p.m. Mark phoned; all 5 of them and the dog are going to a Ross Lake out past Silver Lake or whatever. Bill said we'd drop out sometime on the week-end to join them, but I'm going to refuse to go unless Bill promises and understands that I will not be forced into remaining there over night. I wish to spend my life as I wish to enjoy it, not as part of his fixation for those two; they're not my habit.

I'm still bugged by this incredibly muscular-armed fellow I saw in Safeway today.

Bed at 11:40 p.m. 
I do not remember Mike Fleming, the chap who drove that day. Nor do I remember a "Steve." However, "Took" was an Indigenous Canadian who was at least into his 30s.

Woodward's was situated on Sixth Avenue where the Royal City Centre Mall is today.

I see that there still is a National Meats in New Westminster: 619 Belmont Street. It must surely be the same business, for it is very near where Woodward's used to be.

My younger brother Mark had a birthday coming up in July, so I was gradually mail-ordering a few lottery tickets for him as gifts. 

My old friend William Alan Gill only lived a possible four or so blocks from my room. He was renting a bachelor suite, and very often had his mother Anne Gregory around ─ she was renting a suite of her own out in Maillardville.

The boots I had for him were a pair I had picked up at S.A.N.E. for free. I think they were just a little too loose, whereas Bill had a very wide foot.

I was getting annoyed with Bill for being unreliable about trysts we would arrange, and for enmeshing me into social engagements that I wanted nothing to do with.

I must say, though, that the prospect of going off to some lake with Bill, Mark, beautiful Jeanette, and her two little girls ─ and German shepherd Daboda ─ sounds absolutely fabulous to me today. 

The fifth person must have been Jeanette's visiting brother Don (I think was his name), probably out from the family home in Saskatchewan

As for Ross Lake, it was more likely someplace out beyond Silver Creek (not any Silver Lake).

It's too bad that I was feeling so stressed then. I am sure that the telephone message fiasco was no help, for I was definitely not about to blindly phone back someone whom I did not know, nor have any idea why she had called.

Would it have been too difficult for Bill or his mother to have just asked what the matter concerned? 

As I suggested, it could even have been a wrong number, and Bill and his mother just thought that it was me that the caller had asked for ─ they both had a form of selective hearing, only 'hearing' what seemed to fit into their scale of awareness.

Too polite to ask questions when they were unsure of something, they would just forcefully conform what was being said into something that made sense to them.
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