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Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Some Benefit to Infrequent Exercising │ U.S. Top 10 Personal Medical Costs │ Warm Drinks Make Us Feel Warmer Towards Others

My plans for the day never had a chance.

I believe that I made it to bed last night around 11:08 p.m., and I think that I may have been the last person still up. My youngest step-son Poté, of course, was in bed with his girlfriend.

I have noticed this morning that she has quite a cough. She seems to regularly come down with something that leaves her with an occasional cough that lasts for months.

My usual problem with clogging nasal passageways disrupted breathing and sleep during the latter half of my night, and I was up long before 8:00 a.m. But I felt more 'off' than usual.

As I reported towards the finish of yesterday's post, I have a sensitive swollen lymph node or something to the left of my throat and just under the jaw ─ I don't know if that has anything to do with how I felt.

Nevertheless, I worked at adding more content to the new post I began last Wednesday at my Siam-Longings website, but there came a point awhile after 10:00 a.m. where I just had to knock off and return to bed.

A dream attests to the fact that I derived at least some sleep in the 1¼ hours that I was down.

I certainly never felt like doing anything after that, but I at least finished the work I wanted to perform as a minimum at that Siam-Longings post.

I had hoped to get out today on one shopping excursion or another ─ there are three that I could do. But I need to be home alone in order to prep myself for any such outing.

I thought that perhaps Poté and/or his girlfriend would have to work at some point today, but here it is 1:39 p.m. as I type these words, and both are still here. I find this so discouraging ─ I need my alone time during the weekdays.

It would have been a decent day in which to get out. We've had some rain overnight, and off and on over the day thus far. It is very mild out there ─ the ice and snow do not stand much of a chance of enduring with any consequence beyond today.

However, apart from Poté and his girlfriend, I am also discouraged by my chequing account. The $1,600 mortgage may get debited from the account as early as Friday, but as it stands right now, we will probably be about $250 or even $300 short ─ and that is if I spend nothing between now and then.

Which I cannot do.

And there are never any financial miracles. In fact, all my AdSense account has generated in the previous four days has been 1¢.

I am so weary of having nothing to inspire me and live for ─ no involving purpose. All I have is futile routine drudgery that merits naught.

But here are a few more photos taken somewhere in Ayutthaya, and possibly out over the shore of a canal, on (I think) October 30 last year.

Jack and some of her family had visited the temple ruins, and these photos were taken while the group were seeking something to eat. I was likely mistaken in yesterday's post when I identified that the photos were taken the day after visiting the ruins




In this next photo, Jack's sister Penn's face is partially seen at the right, while her other sister Lumpoon is at the left and facing away to the side. Penn's son Daniel is beside Lumpoon. And that is the sisters' mother just beyond Penn:


That is Jack's older sister Penn in this next photo, beaming at the camera, while their mother is just beyond and reaching for some food:


This is Jack sandwiched between a couple of Ayutthaya Kingdom re-enactors:


And now she is with three of these period portrayers:


Here Jack's nephew Daniel has joined Jack amongst the three fearsome actors:


Don't tell me these historical performers are actually sitting in for lunch?



And I will stop here.

By the way, I think the rain has been a steady drizzle all the day long thus far.

Also, right around 2:00 p.m., Poté and his girlfriend headed out. However, whether for long, I just do not know.

I want to mention that I am trying to no longer double-space after periods and colons. That extra space seems to sometimes appear at the left margin of a new sentence when a post gets published, and it looks like sloppy blogging.

However, I grew up and went through school always using that double-spacing. It is nearly impossible to unlearn it.


This study's conclusions ought to be encouraging for those folks who just cannot seem to be regular with their exercising and/or scheduled activities ─ these reports tell of the study:



The benefits are not as profound as daily activity would be, but it still does help ─ and it should be encouraging anytime we just don't find the time or motivation to tackle exercise each and every day.
Weekend warrior and other leisure time physical activity patterns characterized by 1 or 2 sessions per week may be sufficient to reduce all-cause, CVD [cardiovascular disease], and cancer mortality risks regardless of adherence to prevailing physical activity guidelines.
Nevertheless, what of those other studies that proclaim extended periods of sitting are ultimately deadly? To my thinking, if a person is only managing to exercise once or twice a week, then is he or she basically not doing a thing otherwise on all of those other days but sit on his or her posterior?


I don't know how it is in Canada or any other countries, but Americans are bleeding dry financially where medical costs are concerned:




I spent absolutely nothing on any sort of medical care since 2011, when I had the final follow-up visit with the knee surgeon who had reattached my left quadriceps tendon to my patella (knee cap) on the evening of November 5, 2010.

I only blow bucks on nutritional supplements...and beer/booze.


Dr. Marc S. Micozzi has a nice essay on the importance of warm beverages as opposed to cold ones:


I took a look around to find the two studies that affected how people viewed strangers, if you are interested.  There is nothing exceptionally scientific about the terminology, so you should be able to handle reading either one.

For the study where people holding a warm drink were influenced to see others more positively: Experiencing Physical Warmth Promotes Interpersonal Warmth (doi: 10.1126/science.1162548).

And for the study in which people who have tasted something sweet feel a similar disposition towards others: Sweet Taste Preferences and Experiences Predict Prosocial Inferences, Personalities, and Behaviors (DOI: 10.1037/a0025253).

If that latter link should fail, you can at least read about the study at ScienceDaily.comPeople with a 'sweet tooth' have sweeter dispositions.


My wife Jack phoned me around 3:00 p.m., roughly an hour after Poté and his girlfriend went off to somewhere. She asked if he was up yet, if you can believe it ─ she knows what he's like, clearly.

Upon learning that he was gone, she asked me to have him call her when he returns. And I am to loan him my phone to do so. Apparently he cannot use his own phone.

From what I gather from Jack, her oldest son Tho had replaced his own phone; but somehow in activating it, Poté's number was used.

The brothers had shared a cellphone plan, but Tho got himself set up with his own plan within the past year.

Still, I don't exactly understand how the person who activated Tho's new phone would have settled upon Poté's number as the one to have set up.

Actually, it is all quite bewildering. Shouldn't Pote's phone still work regardless? In other words, wouldn't it simply mean that the two phones use the same number?

I sure don't know!

Anyway, Jack sounded very upbeat. I wish that she was more like that when she is home with me, and not the generally reticent personality I tend to find myself exposed to.

But it's time now to 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 those small quarters in a house located on Ninth Street, and maybe a house or two up from Third Avenue.
SATURDAY, January 17, 1976

I got up about 6:30 a.m.  

I enjoyed a WD during the night. The girl was young and very ripe, and bold; she was a very fine blonde, even pubicly. My release came thanks to my imaginary efforts in the ─ in this instance ─ bogglingly savoury adventure of oral love; was she ever tender!

This morn I typed up Jean a letter.

Not too long after 11:00 a.m. I lied down for over 2 hours, gaining a nap.

I spent a rather boring day, and in the early evening experienced some apprehension over the trend of my life.

Bed about 9:10 p.m.
Even back then in my physically active life, I sometimes spent a day entirely alone in my room.

I miss having those erotic dreams. They seem to be a feature of my younger adulthood. The rather odd thing about that specific dream is that I had never in my life engaged in oral sex. Heck, I had only ever had sex with one girl ─ and maybe just three or four times, back around 1970. 

The letter I typed was to Jean M. Martin (née Black), an American pen-pal I had.

Now, back to the present ─ it is 5:31 p.m., and I am still home alone.

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