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Friday, June 23, 2017

The Iron Man │ Eat Apples and Their Skins to Burn Fat and Slow Ageing │ Research Identifies Why Starvation Dieting Fails

Although I cannot now recall the precise time that I made it to bed last evening, it was ahead of 11:00 p.m., and I got to lock up the house before my youngest stepson Poté had come home from wherever it is that he persists in going so often in the evenings.

My younger brother Mark had managed to retain consciousness throughout the evening once he was home from the bar, but he had managed to curb his drinking due to a 6:30 p.m. dental appointment he kept for a crown procedure.

I took advantage in one break in sleep overnight to use the bathroom and drink some water, and it may have been around 6:21 a.m. when I checked the time this morning and made the choice to rise.

Mark of course had long gone to work, and so had my eldest stepson Tho. I was a little surprised to find that Poté was up and readying for work. He'll be staying out late one too many nights eventually ─ he can sleep through alarms with the best of 'em, so he's definitely taking chances.

If I am remembering correctly, it may have been something like 6:38 a.m. when he headed out the front door to his car to get away to work.

I got carried away this morning watching YouTube videos instead of getting to the task of finishing up the last bit of work I should have managed to put into the post this morning that I have been building at my Lawless Spirit website for the past 10 or so days.

I had come across an Australian interview from this past May with former actress Teri Garr ─ a lovely blonde who always attracted me in the 1970s and 1980s. I never knew that she had multiple sclerosis.

When I watched the interview, I just assumed that it was age and her MS that seemed to have affected her face somewhat, and she seemed a little thoughtful and slow of speech. But that Wikipedia article on her that I linked to said that in 2006 she suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm and required considerable therapy thereafter to regain speech and motor skills.

Man, time is a wretched bugger!

So I kept looking up videos of her in her beautiful prime on various talk shows.

Anyway, I wanted to get out fairly early today to do a couple of errands, so sloughing of time as I did meant that I never even began any work on that post at Lawless Spirit before I had to start readying for my hike this flawlessly sunny day.

I think that I got out of here before 9:30 a.m.

My first destination was the ATM outside the Coast Capital Savings Credit Union building over by the King George SkyTrain Station. I had a cheque to deposit from my brother Mark ─ his half of the annual home insurance that we had to pay for June 14.

And once I had gotten that done, I proceeded along the King George Boulevard to Save-On-Foods to do some grocery shopping.

So by the time I was back home again, I had covered at least 2½ miles.

It was only then that I got to work on that website post, but I only put in just over half of the work that I had intended for today.

Oh, well; I will simply top it off tomorrow morning and then publish it.

That walk was all the exercise that I managed to acquire today. I got in some sunning on the backyard sundeck afterward, commencing my session at 12:45 p.m. and knocking off at 1:59 p.m. I wasn't feeling too overheated, so I checked out the backyard tool shed where I normally exercise, but it was a little too warm in there by then.

In yesterday's post, I mentioned that on that date back in 1976, a book I had mail-ordered haf arrived from the F.&S.F. Book Co. of Staten Island in New York: The Iron Man by Robert E. Howard. It was a hardcover published by Donald M. Grant.

Supposedly, only 1,600 copies were published.

Here is a scan of the front dust jacket (along with the spine) of my copy:

This is the inside flap from that front dust jacket:

And now here is the back dust jacket, followed by the inside flap of that same back dust jacket:

And finally, the package shipping label and the postage stamps used in getting the package to me:

Note that the address on that shipping label was for my mother Irene Dorosh's home ─ it was my main mailing address. But that house no longer exists, so no structure is extant any longer that bears that same address.

Do you enjoy eating apples ─ skin and all?

I am sure most commercial apples are likely polluted with insecticides ─ and whatever it is that is used to make so many apples skins so unnaturally waxy.

I bet that coating makes washing off any insecticides a major undertaking, since the waxy coating would serve as a shield to protect the underlying insecticide.

Those are just my thoughts.

As I am sure you have, I have seen articles extolling the nutritional health benefits of apples, but I bet you have not likely seen an article that gets as specific into detail concerning those benefits as does the following report:


I have of late fallen away from eating apples very often, but methinks that I am going to have to correct that error.

I'll look for apples that have not been waxed. Sometimes in the Fall, apples such as the McIntosh will still have a dust-like covering all over the skin. The correct term for that dusty material is bloom, and it's the surest sign that the apple has not been washed and/or polished.

A couple brief descriptions of bloom are here and here. I am very familiar with it on certain plums, and on concord grapes.

That apple article mentioned that they have a substance that can help with the metabolism of body fat. This should certainly interest people preoccupied with diets and efforts at weight loss.

And so should the following study on mice ─ it has found an explanation of why voluntary starving is ineffective as a means of weight loss. These three reports speak of the study:




The only way most dieters are going to lose weight is by abandoning those fat-producing carbohydrates. It is not the healthy, natural fats in the foods we eat that have been the problem.

And those same healthy fats curb the appetite, while carbohydrate-rich foodstuffs can actually accelerate the desire for more of the same. 

Well, I see that my afternoon has gone and I am into the early evening ─ time 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 in a house located on Ninth Street, and about two houses up from Third Avenue.

I must have been just about done my first month of a three-month contract working full-time for a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends) that is today known as Fraserside Community Services Society

In those earliest years, S.A.N.E. was housed in an old building on Carnarvon Street. The building was torn down long ago, but it was located about where the New Westminster SkyTrain Station today opens up onto that same Carnarvon Street.

I was working as a swamper on S.A.N.E.'s blue pick-up truck, which was usually driven by a grand gal in her early 40s ─ Esther St. Jean. 
WEDNESDAY, June 23, 1976

Good luck to Cathy, I guess.

I arose about 6:35 a.m., definitely underslept.

There was a misty rain when I went to do my laundry, meeting Mike Schutz and speaking some while with him; I bought a TV Guide.

There was no truck duty till after lunch.

I laboured with Gordie; Melodie came along, and has led me to deduce she is impregnated and may be having an abortion.

Esther was an especially lousy driver, and I spent the day in the cooped-up truck on the verge of a headache.

Gilles was in today, but I slipped away after work unnoticed.

For a space today we were driving behind unawares Russ Jeffs.

There was an encouraging long letter from dad here (and the damn census thing); he's about written off existence with Marie, hopes to give up boozing, and is trying for some work. Maybe we'll get together yet.

Cathy knocked later ─ with her brother Don. She is a divorcée. Anyway, with Bill, we 3 went to Scott Road's neighbourhood pub where I expended $2, and drank 1½ mugs of beer.

We later drove to Crescent Beach & White Rock, thanks to Bill's big mouth.

When I finally got home, I yielded up my typewriter.

So much for catching up on sleep by retiring at 9:30 p.m. My bedtime is 12:20 a.m.
Catherine Jeanette Gunther was my younger brother Mark's girlfriend. They had been together for a couple of years by this time, but she had never gotten a legal divorce from her husband. This was the day it finally became official.

I had to do my laundry at a laundromat ─ I believe that it was up on Sixth Avenue, very near to the public library. Mike Schutz was one of the few guys from my New Westminster life that I wish I had not lost contact with.

As for working at S.A.N.E., I believe "Gordie" was a somewhat mentally challenged young fellow who could talk the wildest nonsense. "Melodie" was more likely correctly spelled Melody ─ she was the youngest of Esther's two daughters (Esther's only children).

"Gilles" was a very nice young French Canadian lad who sometimes worked at S.A.N.E., but I tried to avoid the guy because he always seemed intent on monopolizing all of my time. 

Russ Jeffs was my social worker ─ an elderly, genial, red-headed Englishman.

Jeanette was to come calling early that evening after I was back at my room for the day. Her brother Don was probably out visiting from the family home back in Saskatchewan. I don't ever remember meeting him.

My old friend William Alan Gill was renting a bachelor suite that may have been little more than about four blocks from my room. Since Bill had a new car, it is likely that he was present with Jeanette and Don ─ he may have been driving them.

I have no idea now what neighbourhood pub on Scott Road out in Surrey that we went to. Obviously if I have no memory of Don, then I certainly wouldn't remember being out anywhere with him, Jeanette, and Bill.

I no doubt just wanted to get back to my room that evening, but felt the compunction to help Jeanette celebrate her legal freedom. The two beaches Bill must have suggested checking out were both a long distance from Scott Road, let alone New Westminster!

Jeanette sometimes borrowed my Brother Deluxe portable typewriter.

I wonder whatever became of that little machine? I may have owned it since my junior high school days. It was likely a casualty of some rough times that were ahead for me when I had to part with so many things valuable to me.
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