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Thursday, August 3, 2017

💀 ☠ The Five Categories of Food Shoppers

I suppose that my younger brother Mark only spent about a half-hour unconscious last evening after he was home from the bar, and settled into his living room chair to watch some T.V.  

He missed the last half of an episode of Iron Fist I had tuned in, and revived just into the start of an episode of Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency.

He was unconscious when my youngest stepson Poté arrived home ─ he had gone out to fetch back his girlfriend to spend the night here with him.

Oh, well...I won't live for too many more years, so it's not like I have to endure this interminably. 

It only feels that way. 

Mark went on up to his bedroom soon after 10:30 p.m., and that was my cue to shut things down for the night. I was likely in bed ahead of Mark ─ he always fusses around shaving and brushing his teeth before taking to his bed. He prefers getting it out of the way then, and not having to confront these chores early in the morning after the 4:30 a.m. summons from his clock-radio letting him know that a new workday is in store.

I recall rising once overnight during a wakeful period, making use of the bathroom and drinking some water.

And as usual, the predawn hours found me sleeping in short fragments. I was ready to commence my day at 5:52 a.m., but I lay restfully for a few minutes after removing my blindfold and taking out my earplugs. I could hear my eldest stepson Tho downstairs making his preparations to leave for work.

He left right around 6:00 a.m.; and Poté followed suit around 6:08 a.m., leaving me here at home by myself. Mark leaves for work long before anyone else is up.

This should have been a better day.

I busied myself with more edit work on the old post I am reconstructing at my hosted website Siam-Longings, but around 8:45 a.m. I began readying for a shopping expedition to Save-On-Foods about 1¼ miles away in Whalley here in Surrey.  

It was to be my day's only exercise.

The day has been so warm and humid!

I had the front door locked and was ready to set out at 9:22 a.m. There was nothing of note about the hike, apart from the fact that I had a heavier load to haul back home than I expected would be the case. It was 10:52 a.m. by the time I had the front door unlocked.

The high smoke from B.C.'s forest fires keeps the sky grey instead of blue, and the Sun is just a bright area within that grey. And there is that vague rosy tint because of conditions.

I don't know what it was that brought me down emotionally once I was back home. I put some further work into that post edit, knocking off for the day early into the noon-hour.

But despair was building within me ─ the futility of being caught up in the same useless routine day after day, and useless hoping that God cares enough to work a financial miracle to change my wasted, pointless life around.

I wanted to spend some time sitting outside in the backyard, but bizarrely I found it necessary to first dally in degrading waywardness ─ just as if to display how sick I have become from living my friendless life.   

But I did get out there to sit confronting the smoke-obscured Sun for just over 40 minutes (beginning at 1:03 p.m.), and wearing just a pair of athletic shorts.

Then after pulling up a number of dandelions ─ high-stalked affairs, with smaller flowers than typical dandelions ─ I came into the house and was soon involved setting up a new batch of vegetables to naturally ferment. This time, I worked with a large Chinese cabbage, one large leek, and two kohlrabi.

I felt harried, because my afternoon was fast approaching when either of my two stepsons might be arriving home, and I had yet to have my first meal of the day.

And of course, my self-disappointment was aggravating matters. 

Enough of me for now.

Here is a photo of Alex Dorosh, my mother Irene's husband ─ I talk of him later in my post: 


I have no idea where the location was, nor even when the photo was taken. Alex's age is too difficult to estimate in the photo ─ is he in his 50s? 

Or maybe his 60s?

That's a 20-year span! As a result, I can only suppose that the photo was taken during either the decade of the 1980s, or maybe the decade of the 1990s.  

Oh, gosh ─ it is already after 6:00 p.m. I had a couple of topics I wanted to get into.

As I said earlier, I went shopping today, and came home with a fair load ─ well over $90 worth of items.

I'm trying to lay off bread because I only want my bread to contain water, 100% whole grain flour, yeast, and a recognizable yeast-feeding agent such as honey or molasses ─ absolutely no other chemicals are required to make bread.     

I really only need bread for peanut butter ─ I'm otherwise not a sandwich aficionado.

But until I get adventurous and try my hand at baking my own bread, I have found that I don't mind eating my peanut butter as a gruel with other things ─ even cooked rice.

So today I bought some buckwheat and some quinoa ─ this latter was a mix of two or three colours.

At this point, I am unsure if I will try these two types of grains after they have been well soaked, or if I will maybe make a sort of porridge with them.

In either case ─ and the porridge would already have to be cooked, if I chose that path ─ I would mix in my peanut butter, some tahini, regular butter, coconut oil, a dash of cinnamon, turmeric, dates (if I have any), some chopped raw ginger root, and some chopped raw garlic cloves.

Then I would just eat the gruel, while also having a bite each of green onion and raw kale, and maybe a small bite of a banana, if I have any.

I was looking at walnuts in the bulk food section, but they were priced at $13.99 a pound just for pieces; a mix of walnut halves and pieces were a dollar more.

I can't afford that.

And then I stumbled across packaged shelled walnuts bearing the Western Family brand ─ 908 grammes of these 'halves & pieces' were just under $11.

Apparently a half-cup of walnuts a day in one's diet almost brings miracles of health benefits, but I will probably just limit myself to having some anytime I make that gruel I described above.

A feed of that gruel as described is an entire meal for me ─ and I only eat twice a day.

Of course, I also might have a little fruit of some sort after my gruel, and maybe a helping of my fermented vegetables.

All of this is my lead-in to a discussion I read this past week which expounded upon the supposed fact that we all ─ as shopping consumers ─ fall into one of five distinct categories when we are buying  our food.

The commentary was basing itself upon this April 6, 2010, article at Nielsen.com: Are Healthy Thinkers also Healthy Shoppers.

Can you identify yourself  in any of the five categories?

DrMicozzi.com

I cannot clearly identify myself as falling within any one specific category.

For me, my shopping choices are dependent upon cost. I would love to just buy nothing but pesticide- and herbicide-free organic foods, but that is financially impossible for me with my limited pension.

I don't drive, so I can only shop at outlets I can walk to.

I have no access whatsoever to anyplace that sells raw dairy products ─ those would be a financial luxury well beyond my reach.

Consequently, mentally I could place myself primarily into the group comprising 18% of shoppers ─ the "food active" ─ but  it is not always possible for me to make the purchases that I would like to do.

I have little choice but to buy mainly pesticide-laden vegetables and fruit, for example; and CAFO meat and dairy products, as well as eggs.

Yes. I well know better. But I have no other option. The alternative is not within my reach ─ financially, or else geographically.

I hate these simplifications. There are far more complexities involved than people who do not have to be careful with their money seem to realize.

Heck, I dare not go any farther with this, nor try to get into the other topic I wanted to discuss today.

I am going to close today's post now with this 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.

The three-day long weekend that recognized the relatively new  B.C. Day had just finished, and so I was back to work at the New Westminster charitable organization I was involved with ─ S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends).

I was about midway through a three-month contract of full-time employment with them, and I worked as a swamper on their blue pick-up truck.

I had previously done some part-time work with S.A.N.E. ─ maybe stretching as far back as into 1974.

In those early years, the old building housing S.A.N.E. was located on Carnarvon Street. Today, that same location is now approximately where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station spills forth onto Carnarvon Street. 

S.A.N.E. is no more, but the organization simply changed its moniker and is now known as the Fraserside Community Services Society.

I had spent the long weekend camping with my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther (and her two young daughters). Unfortunately, none of us had 'the best of times.'

I must have had a later start at work than I now remember, for I often seemed to have time in the morning to head out and do some errands.
TUESDAY, August 3, 1976

Tomorrow is the Western Lottery.

I arose about 6:30 a.m.

I'm going to try sleeping on the floor tonite because I've again awakened with a stiff & sore lower back, a feature I've attributed to leg raises, but which my lack thereof this week-end, and freedom of discomfort have forced me to put weight in my suspicion that my bed is at fault.

I'll mail my letter to Terri on my way to Woodward's

There I bought a $26.57 money order for books, and $4.10 of groceries ($3.10 for Sunny Jim Old Fashioned peanut butter at 64 ozs, a new size; $1 in cheese).

I found here a letter from the Bank of Nova Scotia re a loan offer.

I saw that strange female hiker when leaving Woodward's.

The day was cloudy and quite mild, with some small attempts at showers.

Going to S.A.N.E. I met up with Duck & Eric who were setting off for a beer parlour.

Steve Thackray & I spent the day doing a 3-load moving job for a woman then living beside Took; she's now in Burnaby.

I lunched on 3 apples, 5 o'clock finding me eating my true lunch.

I spent $4.94 at Safeway (Magic Milk: $2.99; chicken liver: 77¢ lb; and butter: $1.18 lb.).

I'll order my F. and S.F. Book Co. books on my way to mom's (Lord's The Last Celt, Peacock Press' Frazetta artbook, Akers Manhounds of Antares, Bradley's Endless Voyage, Alexander's High King, Carter's By the Light of the Green Star, and Williams' People of the Ax). I'm leaving near 6:10 p.m.

I arrived to see the yellow truck there, and Mark & Cathy visiting Alex. The kids were off to the park with Sherry, who was staying there.

My mail was an ad from New York's (West Nyack) Parker Publishing Co., Inc, for the book Telecult Power, the 1st issue of the Worldwide Church of God Co-Worker Newsletter, a $42 tithe receipt, and an informative letter from F.&S.F. Book Co. Inc. acknowledging their switch of Far Lands for the second copy of Rogues in the House which I had inadvertently reordered; all my William Hope Hodgson titles have yet to be shipped, while Castle of Lyre [sic] is presently out of stock.

Alex gave me 2 vodkas with orange juice.

Mom wasn't long in getting home.

Mark & company left about 9:00 p.m., and though I thought maybe I'd get away about 9:15 p.m., Alex was rather insistent I have a coffee. So I didn't leave till just past 9:30 p.m.

Cathy is definitely heading East for her vacation with the kids, tomorrow, I guess.

Bed at 11:40 p.m.

Note: I'm back to walking ─ not jogging ─ home, and I did 60 regular push-ups. Alex gave me a garlic bulb.
Well, it took me until nearly 8:00 p.m. to get that entry typed up here, with the reference links affixed. By then, my younger brother Mark had gotten home, so I suspended further work to go downstairs and watch T.V. with him.

It is now 11:15 p.m., and he is still up ─ apparently he is taking tomorrow off work so that he can take a trip to Kelowna or some such with his girlfriend Bev.

I will just briefly offer some background on that entry.

For starters, I have no idea now who I meant by "that strange female hiker." I also do not remember my co-swamper that day, Steve Thackray or Thackery or whomever he was.

Donald Fraser ("Duck") is a friend of my maternal cousins, the Halversons; and Eric was a friend of his whom I have not seen since the latter 1970s. Don's still around, though ─ sometimes I am in E-mail contact with his wife Roberta.

"Took" was another S.A.N.E. co-worker, but I have no idea now where it was he was living. Thus, saying that the woman Steve and I moved that day lived next door to "Took" is useless information now.

I guess I sometimes wrote things that I expected myself to recall details of forever!

My mother Irene Dorosh and her husband Alex lived out in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey ─ their home was my main mailing address. The little house no longer exists, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue. To hike there from my room in New Westminster would take about 1½ hours at a good pace.

It was my younger brother Mark and Jeanette who were there visiting with Alex ─ my mother was not immediately present as yet.

It was likely a good visit overall ─ it was always nice getting drinks from Alex. And it would have probably made my hike back to New Westminster a little less onerous.

I haven't the time to talk about those books other than to say that I still have the first two I mentioned as mail-ordering. 

I referred to Jeanette in my journal as "Cathy" because I obstinately preferred her first name Catherine over Jeanette.
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