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Thursday, July 13, 2017

Perfect Digestion Tips │ The Increasing Perils of Cosmetics, Toiletries, and Even Tattoos

My younger brother Mark continued his recent streak last evening of missing out on the television fare I had tuned in ─ he keeps passing out right after he parks himself into his favourite chair in the living room.

It was an episode of Orphan Black that he fell oblivious to. But he hadn't gotten home until after 9:00 p.m.

He was still out of it when I left to seek my bed well after 10:30 p.m., but I noticed just before actually entering my bedroom for the night that he had vacated his chair.

I didn't bother going downstairs to exchange any good-nights with him ─ I had enjoyed enough of his companionship for the evening.

It was at most 10:48 p.m. when I was into bed. Mark has his clock-radio set for 4:30 a.m. to get him up for work; but whether he quickly followed my suit last evening, or had gotten up after rousing from his living room chair just to open another beer, I have no idea.

I didn't have a great night, finding my blocks of sleep to be very short. The first one saw me avail myself of the bathroom and some drinking water shortly after 1:00 a.m.

My day began at 6:10 a.m. My night seemed full of odd dreams that I could no longer recall.

It was with considerable relief that I detected my eldest stepson Tho's cologne lingering in the bathroom ─ evidence that he likely had gone to work earlier, after having skipped the previous two days and denying me those two days home alone (albeit his younger brother Poté and the kid's girlfriend were also here on Tuesday).

As I was making my day's first hot beverage, I could hear Poté's phone alarm sounding on and on.

I wasn't feeling right. Whether it was due to a bad night's sleep, or if the bad night's sleep itself was due to something amiss with me, I do not know.

I put in the day's assigned amount of work building content in the post I am creating at my hosted website Thai-Iceland ─ I was done by about 9:00 a.m. And then I had to resort to my bed ─ fully clothed.

The morning was overcast and with a coolness that I was unaccustomed to at this point in the year, but some of that may have been a symptom of whatever was not right with me.

I had hoped that I would be getting out this morning on a shopping expedition, but it was clear that was off the books. I wasn't even sure if I would be exercising.

I was in bed until about 9:55 a.m., and when I went back downstairs to see if a second hot beverage would assist in invigorating me ─ for the lie-down failed on that count ─ I was almost amazed to discover that Poté was gone.

I hadn't been wearing earplugs when I lied down, yet I never heard anything of him in the 55 minutes I was abed. Undoubtedly, I must have slipped into a deep nap.

I decided to add some extra work on the Thai-Iceland post while having that mug of a blend of instant coffee and cocoa powder; and then quite late into the forenoon changed into shorts and went out into the backyard to see if I could resurrect enough wherewithal to take on the exercise that I could not easily forgive myself if I was to entirely miss out on.

I suppose that a full current session must run nigh to a half-hour, and the most strenuous exercises are the pull-ups which are roughly central in that session.

Just before I engaged them, I took a break to reduce the punishment I was imposing upon myself.

It was at 11:45 a.m. that I saw the very first full sunny break of the day, but it was only temporary.

Anyway, I eventually finished the full exercise session, and then came into the house for my day's first meal.

I managed to while away time otherwise, as well. One thing I accomplished was locating a 2013 British T.V. movie called Our Girl that led to a British T.V. series (also Our Girl) that I had read about.

I want to add the series to those shows that I watch in the evening with Mark via our Android TV Box, but I wanted to ensure that we watch the movie first. I found that it is available on YouTube, and that I can access it there through the Android TV Box and thus view it on T.V.

So we'll be doing that tomorrow evening ─ this is the nearly 1½-hour YouTube source that I had located: Copy of Our Girl 2013 FULL.

After getting that all figured out, I decided that I should not remain locked up in the house all day cut off from the daylight, so I went out into the backyard to sit in a chair while barefooted, and facing toward the Sun's location.

It was 2:00 p.m. There was a fairly strong cool breeze aggravating the overcast conditions, and after several minutes I almost gave up and came back into the house.

But finding some determination, I stuck it out, and then was blessed with an amazingly hot sunny break.

Cloud returned; but by about 2:20 p.m., the Sun had just about prevailed, and it appeared that the remainder of the day was going to be all Sun. My sleeveless pullover was soon off.

And so I sat basking until just after 2:40 p.m.

Then I came into the house and set up a batch of vegetables for natural fermentation: a green cabbage, three leeks, and two red onions.

And with that done, I was freed up to get to work on today's blog post after fixing myself an instant coffee with just some half-and-half. Mark keeps buying this watery 10% butter fat cream ─ I won't buy anything less than the 18% butter fat product, but his carton is all that is presently open.

Google notified me today that it had created another of its five-year celebratory collages from photos in a Google album of mine ─ this is the image:


The setting was a party at the home of Jack's friend Fanta and Fanta's husband Scott.

I tracked down the original photos, so here they are starting with the top row of three.

The first image has me in the cap posed with Trent, Fanta snuggled against Trent, and a gal I cannot recall any longer:


Fanta is just visible at the left of the next shot, but I do not recall the fellow in the white top; the gal striking the pose in the centre of the photo is Chu Chu, Trent's wife:


Now we have my wife Jack in the centre of this trio of gals ─ Fanta is at the right, but I cannot identify the gal at the far left:


Starting now with the bottom row of two photos, I am only able to identify Fanta in the centre of this group of three gals:


And finally, I am only able to identify Chu Chu at the right:


I cannot recall now what the occasion was all about back on July 2012, but that is indeed a stripper pole.

These next two photos ares not part of the collage, but they sure are a nearly painful reminder to me of far better times in terms of marital relations between my wife Jack and I:



But I don't wish to sink into the doldrums, so I am going to change topics.

Have you digestive and related troubles?

I sure used to suffer indigestion throughout the first two or three decades of my early adulthood, but it all pretty much came to an end when I stopped being a glutton.

As for constipation, it would only be an issue if I wasn't eating very much by way of bulk or fibre. I can still experience some temporary constipation when I limit my eating to very little over a period of a couple of days. I always know that things will correct themselves if I simply begin eating more, so there is no real problem.

But some people just cannot seem to figure out how to naturally find relief from indigestion or constipation.

If you are one of those, then try this article:

LifeSpa.com

I hate that bloody newsletter subscription pop-up at that website ─ time isn't even given to check out the article. Why would someone sign up when he or she has not even had a chance to read anything and see if there is anything worthwhile there?

But the article is very helpful for anyone needing the tips and advice.

Let's talk about things like cosmetics and toiletries now ─ I hardly use any of them anymore, for I know that just about everything contains harmful ingredients.

And it's getting worse ─ note these articles:

CNN.com

NPR.org

HSIonline.com

That last report really should have linked to the Environmental Working Group's relevant webpage. 

It did not, so I will: www.ewg.org/skindeep/.

There is a somewhat related topic I will just briefly refer to ─ it involves getting tattoos.

You may know of risks that a dirty needle may pose where something like hepatitis is concerned, but not many people likely ponder just what constitutes the tattoo ink. There are some dangerous materials that go into the inks and colours, and those are being inserted into your flesh ─ supposedly for the remainder of your life:

DrMicozzi.com

Yes, there are untold numbers of sports figures and celebrities who are almost covered with tattoos, but most of these people are still relatively young. Will there be health consequences by the time these same people are entering their 60s, 70s, 80s...?

Bad ink is what scares me and may ultimately be the deciding factor convincing me to choose not to ever have a tattoo. 


And now I have reached that point in my post where I am going to close out with a journal entry of mine 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 something over a month into full-time employment on a three-month contract 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 truck swamper on their blue pick-up truck ─ the driver of which was usually Esther St. Jean, a most likable woman in her early 40s.

I had previously worked for S.A.N.E. on a very limited basis ─ off and on as a part-timer ─ since back into at least 1974, as I recall.

The old building that housed S.A.N.E. in those earliest years no longer exists, but its location was right about where today the New Westminster SkyTrain Station opens up onto Carnarvon Street.
TUESDAY, July 13,1976

My alarm went off at 5:30 a.m., so I remained abed till 7:30 a.m. trying to catch up on needed rest.

I shall mail an enquiry to Rosell Institute, Inc. of Chambly, Quebec, referred by the International Yogurt Company. 

I met up with Took. I learned he opted yesterday not to swamp because of a numb foot; and it's still that way.

He was later persuaded to have it examined, and didn't come back; Esther said the suspicion is he had a stroke.

There wasn't anything for me to do before lunch, at which time I had a slice of apple pie.

Clouds predominated the day.

In the afternoon, I went ─ in the back of the truck ─ with Esther, Mike, & Steve on a trip to Vancouver. Esther bought us a double-headed ice-cream each at a Big Scoop. Mine was butter pecan and rum & raisin, but cause she couldn't handle hers and drive, I had the most of Esther's maple walnut and licorice.

All I really did today was carry a box upstairs.

Note: As we were leaving for Vancouver, I saw and greeted Duck.

For the sake of a nap I bedded at 5:40 p.m. till 7:20 p.m. I had today planned on jogging tonight, but I felt so feeble after my nap I decided to remain inactive. 

I am retiring no later than 10:00 p.m.
The letter to Quebec was in search of information on an affordable yogurt-making machine, I believe.

"Took" was an Indigenous Canadian who often co-swamped with me. I had been thinking that he was maybe well into his 30s, but perhaps he was older than I remembered.

I do not remember the two co-swampers I had that day ─ "Mike" or "Steve" ─ but I have previously written that the former was fully named "Mike Fleming".

I have no idea if Big Scoop is still in business ─ I think that it was a franchise specializing in only ice-cream. I would not accept any such product today, but back then I was far less scrupulous concerning harmful fare.

Duck was a nickname for Donald Fraser, a friend of my maternal relatives, the Halversons. They loved devising nicknames.

By the way, my wife Jack will be showing up from Vancouver sometime this evening, in all likelihood. And she will probably head on back to Vancouver after spending the night here.

A bridge she generally uses to cross the Fraser River to get here to Surrey will be shutting down from 9:00 p.m. Friday evening until 5:00 a.m. Monday morning ─ repair work. So rather than postpone visiting until after the weekend, she will come this evening.
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