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Sunday, January 29, 2017

Common Garden Pesticide Raises Risk of Diabetes │ Yummy Crispy Snacks Are Probably Cancer-Causing │ Rose Hips Proven to Burn Away Visceral Fat

I am not going to speak overmuch of today, for I am starting this post later than usual. Suffice it to say that after spending the morning compiling further material into the post that I began last Tuesday at my Lawless Spirit website, it was time to return to bed to rest my eyes and maybe even grab a nap.

My younger brother Mark ─ who had spent last night at the home of his girlfriend Bev ─ was already in his room resting.

I suspect that I was down but an hour, yet it was difficult to escape the delicious languidness of the comfort of bed. However, I had a purpose. After about two weeks of having been essentially housebound, I was finally going to make one of my beer hikes ─ the four-mile round-trip foray to the government liquor store at 108th Avenue & King George Boulevard here in Whalley.

There had been some fairly serious rain during the latter morning, but when I headed away at 2:05 p.m. it had reduced to a very light drizzle. In fact, it was to stop without me even realizing it until long afterward.

I had a $115 cheque to mail for an entry in a hospital home sweepstakes contest, so I would be mailing that at Pearl Photo / Canada Post in Surrey Place (Central City), which is about halfway to the liquor store. As well, I had a scratch lottery ticket to cash in worth $2, so I would be seeking out one of the lottery booths.

On the premise of possibly getting hit up by a panhandler, I had $3.40 in change in my pocket ─ normally I do not carry any change. The opportunity to part with that sum arrived just outside of the liquor store ─ a short, bulkily-dressed woman was loitering on the approach to the doors, and turned to me with the hopeful query about any change.

Since I was prepared, I stopped and said that I thought I could help her, and I fished into the wrong pocket. Upon trying the correct pocket, I extracted the $3.40 in change, and placed it into her partially-mittened, outstretched hand.

She did look destitute, and her "Thank you!" seemed sincere enough, so I wasn't feeling too much like I had been duped.

I bought my usual two dozen cans of strong (8% alcohol) beer, and set off on the return haul. The panhandler was not there.

However, after I had gone the shortest of distances, I heard a female voice call out, "Thank you!" yet again, so I looked and saw her rounding the corner of a building 'way off to my side. I acknowledged her with a, "You're welcome!" as I continued on with my journey.

This second expression of gratitude made me feel even more that she likely needed the money. Could I have known that for certain, I might have instead given her a $5 bill that I had, instead of the smaller figure in change.

Anyway, I was back home at the front door at 3:34 p.m.

I wish here to make a commendation concerning my youngest step-son Poté ─ something I rarely do. Thanks to pizza that he 'ordered in' last evening, my supper that night and my first meal of today have been entirely comprised of that rather tasty fare.

I shall leave this section with some further photos that my wife Jack had taken when she charged up the fare for a flight back to Thailand last Fall to see her mother after more than 3½ years.

The family home is in the very large village of Nong Soong, which is no more than about a 15-minute drive from Udon Thani.

This set of photos involves a meal of sorts at the family home, beginning with a shot of these three lads sitting just outside the front door:

This is Jack's mother:

Jack actually just phoned me now around 4:45 p.m. to have me take some fish and chicken innards from out of the fridge icebox to thaw, so I expect that she will be home late this evening. Had I not gone for that beer today, my chance would not have been here tomorrow.


We are constantly learning about how dangerous the chemicals are with which we surround ourselves. Research has now identified that a common garden pesticide contains an ingredient that disrupts our melatonin system and ultimately increases the risk of diabetes.

These two reports tell of the study:



This paragraph from the first reference concerns me:
The current research focuses on two chemicals, carbaryl, the third most widely used insecticide in the U.S. but which is illegal in several countries, and carbofuran, the most toxic carbamate insecticide, which has been banned for applications on food crops for human consumption since 2009. It is still used in many countries, including Mexico and traces persist in food, plants and wildlife.
Since last Summer, I have noticed that some of the vegetables that I commonly would buy ─ like green onions ─ seem to be imported all the way from Mexico. Why? There are plenty of local vegetable farms.

I am more judicial now, and try to take note of the origins of the vegetables I buy, for I know that even those coming from the States are probably more heavily treated with chemicals than local Canadian produce.

And now I see that I have yet one further reason to do my best to buy local produce.


I have known for several years that not only the scorching or charcoaling of foods can produce cancerous substances, but even just crisping or browning of foods can also do so.

It is the big reason that I gave up eating potato chips and crackers once I learned about the danger.

The substance that gets produced is acrylamide.

Well, now a new alarm about them is being sounded in the U.K.:




I realize that things like pizza are at fault here, too. But who amongst us is sin-free?


I find this report to be most intriguing ─ a natural food that...well, the title of the article should clue you in:


If rose hips' tiliroside can burn off dangerous visceral fat, I think most of us might be interested in trying the stuff.

From what I have been able to learn concerning the 2015 12-week study talked about in that report, the participants took a 100-milligram supplement of rose hips that contained .1% (.12%, actually) of tiliroside, so that would be the minimum potency you should look for if you seek some rose hip extract to try this out. 


I had best hustle now and close out 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 was renting the small place in a house located on Ninth Street, and just one or two houses up from Third Avenue.

This day I had a hike planned to get me out to my mother Irene Dorosh's home in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey. And although that little house that she shared with her husband Alex is now gone, its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue ─ it was my main mailing address for years.

To hike there from my room would take about 1½ hours at a very good pace.

On this day, however, my start would be later than usual. My social worker Russ Jeffs had sent me a letter some days earlier instructing me to come in this day to see him.
THURSDAY, January 29, 1976

I roused about 6:15 a.m.

I sought my welfare appointment shortly after the place opened at 9:00 a.m., yet it was at least 10:15 a.m. when Jeffs called my name, and I was off for mom's in the mist-like rain before 10:30 a.m.

He confirmed that my contract for S.A.N.E. had permanently expired, but I forgot to ask of I would get credited for tomorrow, or even get a cheque come the mid of next month.

As concerns Skolseg and my medical examinations a number of weeks back, I am to drop in and see Jeffs again in 1 week.

At mom's I found a letter from Terri.

I ate to capacity.

Mark later dropped Cathy off while he went about on some business, coming back later. I never really communicated with them.

Just past 3:00 p.m. mom and I walked to Safeway where I bought 8 ─ no,10 ozs. of bran for 35¢, then to the health food store where I discovered they sell the stuff a lb. for 20¢; I bought 1 lb. of shelled pumpkin seeds for $1.45.

Sherry was home when we got back.

After 4:00 p.m. Phyllis came by; she wants Mark & I to aid her move Sunday, using Duck's truck. I wound up getting a ride from her to the bridge, which my flabby belly didn't need.

The misty rain had stopped.

I bought a SWAT TV Guide at Wong's coming home.

Apparently it costs 13¢ to mail a letter in the U.S.; it's still 8¢ here.

I went over to Bill's and watched a couple hours of TV.

Bed at 9:15 p.m.
I worked one day a week ─ usually Friday ─ as a truck swamper for a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that is today called Fraserside Community Services Society.

I was employed there through an employment initiatives or incentives programme in place between New Westminster social services and S.A.N.E., but apparently my tenure of a couple or so years was coming to an end.

I forget just who "Skolseg" was ─ probably someone else involved with the government. He had gotten me to get myself medically examined, and it potentially involved getting training of some sort.

The letter awaiting me at my mother's home was from Terri Martin, an American pen-pal I had at the time.

I am unsure why I didn't interact much with my younger brother Mark and his girlfriend Catherine Jeanette Gunther when they came for a visit with my mother.

After my mother and I walked over to do some shopping, it was my older maternal half-sister Phyllis's daughter Sherry who was at the house ─ she had been practically living there because her mother was...I think I said 'footloose' in a previous post.

Phyllis seems to have finally gotten a new residence to live in, so I was getting enlisted to help make this happen. The truck to be used belonged to Don Fraser (nicknamed 'Duck').

I undoubtedly accepted the ride just to be obliging to Phyllis. I am sure I would have preferred the walk.

The TV Guide I bought at Wong's family convenience store up on Sixth Street a couple or so blocks above Royal Avenue was this one:

My old friend William Alan Gill lived right around there, renting a bachelor suite. Since he had a nice colour T.V. (I only had a smaller black & white model), a couple hours of T.V.-watching with a dear friend would have been a nice way to cap off the day.
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