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Friday, April 28, 2017

Equine-Assisted Therapy │ Certain Polyunsaturated Fats Linked to Sedentary Behaviour │ Are You Molybdenum Deficient?

This was not the day I meant for myself.

I could have gotten to be last night three hours earlier than I did: but I yielded to that most old addiction, and it was nearly 2:00 a.m. before I broke its hold and sought my bed.

My night ended when I checked the time at 6:46 a.m. this morning and had to rise. There were things I had wanted to do, but I knew that they were likely out of reach now.

I was happily alone in the house. My younger brother had of course gone to work; but neither of my two step-sons were home, either. Youngest step-son Poté had brought his girlfriend home last night to sleep with.

First up for me today was the allotted work I felt obligated to do at the Amatsu Okiya post I have been working on for just over a week. But had my spirits not been crushed by last night's soul-eroding behaviour, it had been my intention to undertake a beer-replenishment hike.

There was no possibility today that I would be capable of facing the world. Fortunately, I do have beer; I just wanted to get out and engage in a good walk.

For the previous couple or more days, it had been forecast that today would be sunny. However, last evening's T.V. news withdrew that promise. The best that can be expected is that things might clear up in the latter afternoon...but only for a time. There is some rain promised for the weekend.

And so I continue to live my unnatural life, shut up within my debtor's prison, and helplessly ─ hopelessly? ─ surrounded by untold miles of buildings, busy streets, barking dogs, and people.

I am some creature in a cage, bereft of natural instincts and ways, as corrupted mental and physical health attest.

Moving on....

I believe that it was Monday in which I bought a purple cabbage with an eye toward giving natural fermentation a try ─ my wife Jack had within the past couple of weeks fermented first some green cabbage, and then some bok choy. She said that her mother in Thailand used to ferment vegetables, and Jack herself had even done it.

But since coming to Canada in May 2006, she had not practiced at it until those two recent tries.

Thanks to my reading of Mercola.com articles, I knew that the microbes from naturally fermented vegetables are magnificently beneficial to our gut environment and our health, and it is encouraged in articles at that website that people learn to ferment their own vegetables.

However, what I read still made it seem complex ─ especially the description of equipment, for I do not have crock-pots, large mason jars, large stainless steel containers, etc.

In observing my wife Jack's procedure, she had largely broken down her vegetables with much kneading ─ "massage," as she referred to her action.

And she then poured out the accumulated juices, and even put the crushed product into a colander and liberally washed it clean ─ this is of course after already originally washing her vegetables.

I queried her as to why it was necessary to pour away the juices, but she had no answer ─ it was just what she had learned to do. Perhaps it was the safer thing to do in Thailand's climate?

When she had her purified vegetables, she then covered them in water in an enamel cooking pot, liberally salted the contents, and then put the lidded pot aside in my computer room so that no one else in the house would be meddling and contaminating the contents out of ignorant curiosity.

And on both occasions, we had what she called "pickles."

I found that I could not knead the cabbage as effectively as she did that first green one, so I resorted to just crushing the leaves as best I could by hand, and also tearing the larger pieces apart into smaller pieces.

I was going to use the enamel cooking pot that she had used, but it was soon too full, and I still had more cabbage leaves to break up and add.

So I had to locate a large rectangular plastic tub whose lid is cracked almost halfway across, and I put all of my cabbage bits into that, then flooded them with water until the topmost bits of cabbage were basically afloat.

And then I salted the top of the cabbage fairly liberally with a little pink Himalayan salt and also some Mediterranean sea salt (I had used up the little of the former salt that we had).

Jack does not yet know that I am trying this fermentation process.

Well, today I gave what I have a good look, and was a little concerned by the amount of frothing I could see. However, I tried a little of the juice with a spoon, and suspiciously judged that ─ although strongly flavoured ─ it did have some of that sour tang that was reminiscent of Jack's two fermentation experiments.

Still, what of that froth or foam?

I did some research, and found this article at CulturesForHealth.com: FERMENTED VEGETABLES TROUBLESHOOTING FAQ.


My brine is foamy, bubbly or is not changing at all. Is it ok?
Some vegetables foam more than others. It is not uncommon to see some foaming on vegetables that have higher sugar contents, such as beets or carrots. The foaming is completely harmless and generally disappears after a few days. You may also notice some bubbling in the jar as gases are formed by the fermentation process. Again, this is normal. On the other hand, some vegetables get off to a slow start and don’t bubble as much. Many variables affect fermentation. As long as the ferment smells and tastes pleasant, the culture is doing well.
The questions at that webpage seemed to have a whole lot more issues going on than I seemed to have, and none of them were reportedly much worth being concerned about. As a result, I now feel quite secure about what I have.

Tomorrow, I think that I will actually try eating some of what I have. And I will reveal it all to Jack when next she is home.

As I said earlier, the flavour is strong ─ even odd. But it does have that sour tang. And why would it not taste strong and odd? It is a whole purple cabbage, after all. Cabbage is a very strongly-flavoured vegetable.

Now moving on again, I want to post some further photos taken when my wife Jack and some of her loved ones visited Wat Pa Phu Kon in the Na Yung District of Udon Thani Province.

Jack had gone back to the family home in the large village of Nong Soong to see her mother for the first time since early March 2013, even though the cost of the trip had to go to credit.

Nong Soong is perhaps a 15-minute drive from the city of Udon Thani.

I don't know why the English version of Wikipedia presently has no article on that temple, while the German version of Wikipedia does (Wat Pa Phu Kon). Nevertheless, my Canadian version of Google has translated that page ─ but if you are not in Canada, I am unsure how the link will work for you: Wat Pa Phu Kon.

My two previous posts included photos from there, so I will continue with yet more. I think the visit took place on November 14 (2016) ─ we shall lead off with Jack posed before some huge Thai inscription:

The next two photos are of Lumpoon, the eldest of Jack's two older sisters:

There are still many more, so I am going to call a halt here. My wife Jack phoned me about 15 minutes ago (around 1:45 p.m.) to check up on the state of the dishes that she had prepared for us yesterday; and in closing the call, she said that she would see us soon.

However, I don't know if she meant that literally and is coming home later today, or if she just meant it figuratively, as in, "See you later!"

Whatever the case, I had a nap earlier, getting back into bed just after 11:00 a.m., and spending better than an hour there.


Are you at all familiar with Equine-Assisted Therapy?

I never grew up around horses, despite living much of my young life in the country, so I never developed a personal attachment to them. In fact, when I was a very young boy barely into school, I reluctantly allowed myself to be plunked onto the back of a small one at some sort of pony ride that may have been part of the Calgary Stampede one year in the latter 1950s, and the darned animal turned its head and did its best to bite my leg.

There was a young guy leading the pony around, and he didn't seem particularly concerned ─ maybe he shook its bridle and censured it, for I no longer remember; but the incident had a lasting impact upon me.

I have never felt the sort of kinship for the animal that so many other people feel.

You might enjoy the following article about Equine-Assisted Therapy, even if I cannot identify with ever being involved with it and thinking that it could ever be of help to me:


There are of course people who have a great dislike of dogs, and others of cats, so I am sure there are those who also dislike horses. I wonder how exposing one of those people to a horse would pan out in this sort of therapy?


I am a rather big proponent of the hearty consumption of saturated fats such as butter, so the following reports on a recent Canadian study's results on polyunsaturated fats held some interest. Where young women ─ girls ─ were concerned, these dietary fats seemed to be associated with a strong disinclination by the subjects to do anything physically active.

These reports tell of the study:




This has me somewhat conflicted, though. As Wikipedia says, polyunsaturated fatty acids (PUFAs) can be found in "nuts, seeds, fish, algae, leafy greens, and krill."

Those are supposed to be absolutely fantastic oils!

Maybe the truth is that it's processed PUFAs that are at fault ─ as that last report says, it is the PUFAs consumed as "cooking oils like corn, sunflower and soybean and margarine" that are damaging for the young women ─ the natural oils in those other foods are to my mind undoubtedly beneficial when those foods are eaten as are.

I already know that we should not be using most vegetable oils for cooking with ─ this study just adds another reason as to why that is.


So...how's your molybdenum intake? I bet that's one nutritional component few of us ever have in mind!

One reason why the dietary element should matter to you is touched upon in the following article ─ the reason does extend beyond assisting with alcohol consumption, incidentally:


Of the so-called 'molybdenum-rich' foods that were listed in that article, the only one I eat in abundance are peanuts ─ but in the form of peanut butter. I eat the stuff ─ natural peanut butter ─ just about daily, and often twice a day.

But I wouldn't let that article's list of sources alarm you if you don't recognize much of what is listed as being in your diet. I don't think the author eats meat.

Here's what Wikipedia offers for sources:
Pork, lamb, and beef liver each have approximately 1.5 parts per million of molybdenum. Other significant dietary sources include green beans, eggs, sunflower seeds, wheat flour, lentils, cucumbers and cereal grain.
I'm unsure why we are supposed to have any idea why "1.5 parts per million of molybdenum" is supposed to identify a rich source. Would that mean that by the time I have eaten 1½ million mouthfuls of beef liver, I will have had the equivalent of one mouthful of molybdenum?

If so, that still doesn't help me, I'm afraid.

At least it's good to know that pork, lamb, and beef liver are strong meat sources; and eggs figure in, too.


It did indeed become very nice outside by the mid-afternoon, but that is too late for me to benefit. It might as well have rained all day.

Have you any idea who this beautiful woman is?

She is Maureen O'Sullivan, the most well-known of the various actresses who portrayed 'Jane' in the numerous Tarzan movies.

In the following interview from March 24, 1986 ─ when she was perhaps 74 ─ she tells David Letterman some of her experiences behind the scenes of those Tarzan movies:

Okay, I am going to close now 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 little space in a house located on Ninth Street, and maybe two houses up from Third Avenue.

On tap for me this day was the 1½-hour hike out to the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey to check for mail at my mother Irene Dorosh's home. She was away to Reno, but the home she and her husband Alex shared was my main mailing address.

The house no longer exists, but its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.
WEDNESDAY, April 28, 1976

I got up at 6:00 a.m.; I felt definitely like having further sleep.

I did my laundry, though I didn't dry it; there was nothing of literature found at the store.

The day is going to be exceedingly sunny and hot. I'm leaving for mom's by 9:10 a.m. I hope her Reno vacation is pleasurable.

I got to mom's just in time to hear the phone ring twice. When it straight off began ringing anew, I suspected it was for me.

It was Cathy.

Her father is coming out Friday, and she wants me to go with her to the airport and pick him up. He's to be around for about 10 days. And Marian & boyfriend are coming out on Monday. One week from Friday is Cathy's divorce.

We conversed about 45 minutes; I ate during the last half hour; lots of carbohydrate.

I left for home some minutes before 3:00 p.m.

I am to sup Friday at Mark's, as mom & Alex are supposed to.

I shall retire tonight at 9:30 p.m.
I believe that the laundromat I had to use was located on Sixth Avenue, right near the public library. Thus, it was little more than a three-block walk.

I no longer remember what store I frequented on those occasions in order to check for new comics, paperbacks, or magazines that might interest me.

The phone-call I tested at my mother's home was from my younger brother Mark's beautiful girlfriend, Catherine Jeanette Gunther. She was like family to us all, as were her two beautiful little girls.

Her actual family lived in Saskatchewan, so I expect that it was from there that her father was supposed to be flying out. Mark probably had to work, so this was likely why she was enlisting me for company on the drive to the airport.

I don't ever remember meeting her father, though ─ so did he not come after all? Or did I make myself scarce in that time?

I certainly remember Jeanette's sister Marian. Before she got that boyfriend, she was available and I had a very real chance with her, but blew it by distancing myself when she tried to set something up between us.   

I regretted that. She was beautiful, too ─ blonde hair in pigtails and looking very much like some Germanic or Nordic maiden. And very hardy ─ she was always dressed much like a hiker, and was very much my kind of girl.

I was a cowardly idiot.  

I don't remember meeting her boyfriend, either ─ this makes me even more wonder whether I made myself scarce during that period when the father came out, if he indeed did. I was very uncomfortable socially, so it is most possible.

Jeanette was not yet legally divorced, but apparently that was almost finalized.

I guess my walk ─ a three-hour round-trip at a darned goodly pace ─ must have been uneventful, for I said nothing of it.
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