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Saturday, July 29, 2017

Citrus Fruit Daily May Cut Dementia Risk by 23% in Seniors │ The Power of a Mantra

My dear younger brother Mark never arrived home last evening until maybe at least 9:45 p.m.

I was finishing watching an episode of America's Got Talent ─ it was a 'judge's cut' segment, and the judges were informing the hopefuls who had performed earlier in the show as to whether or not they would be among the seven who had been favoured to progress toward the finals.

Mark seated himself into his chair with a beer, made a couple of negative comments about performers, and then had passed out before that small segment had finished.

He remained unconscious throughout an ensuing episode of Gotham.

I had intended to watch one further show if he was also watching, but I don't need to sit up watching T.V. by myself. He's the one who is still working for a living. I can watch T.V. anytime I want if I want to do so alone ─ I don't need to be sitting up both late as well as alone.

So I came upstairs here to my computer after tuning the T.V. onto a news programme, and I would normally have smartly gone to bed after dumping the junk from my E-mail Inbox that had accumulated since early in the evening. However, I got involved in a response to an E-mail from my half-sister Phyllis.

Meantime, Mark revived. Regardless, I was too bummed by him to care to rejoin his company, nor even bid him a good-night as I went to bed. I just went ahead and went to bed anyway.

I forget now what time that was, but it might have been around midnight.

I did not have a great sleep at all. During one wakeful period ─ possibly around 4:30 a.m. ─ I took advantage and used the bathroom and drank some water.

When I eventually felt like I was wasting my time trying to sleep any further, I checked the clock-radio and saw that it was 5:41 a.m. And that was when I commenced my day.

I was soon at work on the editing that I am putting together of an old post at my hosted website Siam-Longings. I was hoping that I would manage an early exercise session out in the backyard tool shed before Mark got up, but I was feeling peculiarly logy. I understood that I would not be exercising anytime soon if a miracle bowel evacuation didn't happen.

It didn't. 

And Mark rose far earlier than I ever anticipated ─ I heard him moving about in his bedroom at 7:11 a.m. It had already become too late to exercise.

C'est la vie.

He was soon going about his usual Saturday morning routine ─ until about mid-morning. Then he started readying to go out.

I enquired, "You got some early doin's?"

To which he replied in the affirmative. He needed to take his work truck from the compound where he keeps it parked, and have some work done on it ─ a government inspection is scheduled for next month, and it wouldn't likely pass muster without some improving. 

I was to have my exercising opportunity after all.

Since there was no longer too much urgency, I finished the post edit work that I had scheduled for myself for today. And then around 10:15 a.m. I was out in the shed and taking on that which currently constitutes a work-out. It takes about 25 minutes, I would estimate.

Mark was back home late in the forenoon.

He had me use my computer to look up via TransLink the best means of getting to the Nat Bailey Stadium if he was to take the SkyTrain from the Gateway Station.

Someone had given him a pair of tickets to watch the Vancouver Canadians play an evening game today, so he and his girlfriend Bev were planning on making the trip to check it out. He figured that they would start their commute around 6:00 p.m.

He normally spends Saturday nights at her home, so I expect tonight will be no different. I'll have the T.V. to myself.

I think that it was early after 1:00 p.m. I had to resort to a nap. I don't think Mark ever did. When I rose after a deep nap, he was gone.

I wanted to take advantage of the sunny day and sit out in the backyard facing into the Sun, so I went out there and started a session at 2:18 p.m. of just over 40 minutes. I was seated in a chair, and wearing naught but athletic shorts.

Initially, I was so fresh from my nap that I was almost stupidly groggy.

Oh!! I wanted to mention a mysterious E-mail that I received at a Yahoo address of mine that I don't always check ─ the message apparently arrived five days ago.

I have six hosted websites ─ Siam-Longings is one of them. Another is Thai-Iceland

This was the message, beginning with the Subject or Heading:

FWD: RE: Awaiting order [THAI-ICELAND.COM@domainsbyproxy.com] (FROM: p.silva@zoho.com)
donotreply@domainsbyproxy.com • Jul 24 at 6:13 PM 
To [Me] 
Hello, I wrote a mail to you before now.. Did you receive my mail? Please send to me an Invoice for the purchase order in the link below. Awaiting your urgent reply to proceed. 
Pamela Silva
Sales Personnel
TYC CalistAr LTD
Sent from my iPhone
Domains by Proxy is a legitimate outfit, and involved in leasing out website names (such as Thai-Iceland.com). When website owners have an expiration date approaching for their website domain name, they tend to get notified of the fact.

We never 'own' the names of our websites ─ those names are only ours for as long as we're willing to pay to keep possession of them.

Without checking, I don't actually know if my lease or contract for Thai-Iceland.com is nearing expiration.

Nevertheless, that message rings out loudly as being sheer bogus. Heck, there wasn't even that mentioned link, which I never would have clicked due to being suspicious like I am ─ who knows what sort of dreadful viral or related payload might get dumped into my computer?!

And who the hell are "TYC CalistAr LTD"? I have never had anything to do with such a company name before ─ and I have had Thai-Iceland for a half-dozen or more years, I think.

The same goes for Zoho.com, even though I see that there is such a website online, and it offers ─ among many other things ─ an E-mail service called Zoho Mail. 

This "Pamela Silva" must have such an account with them ─ it does not at all mean that she is an employee of Zoho.com anymore than it would mean that I am an employee of Yahoo for having a Yahoo E-mail account.

I have no idea what Pamela Silva's game is, but I have never purchased anything from her, have never received a message from her before, and obviously I certainly have no Invoice for the non-existent purchase.

As far as I am concerned, it was just a ploy to get me to click on some link that failed to present itself in the message. 

Or maybe her English is so limited that what she meant was to just E-mail her? Her E-mail address was a live link ─ I deactivated it for purposes of presenting here in my post.

Never click on any kind of link in strange messages like this. If you do, you may find that your computer has been hijacked for ransom, or something else every bit as nasty has been done.

But on to something else ─ a photo I scanned a few days ago. The description beneath is from the Google album where I filed the scan:

A photo from the collection of my mother Irene Dorosh.

Beautiful as the setting is, I have no details whatsoever concerning it.

The back of the photo has the date July 1989 stamped on it ─ which must be when the roll of film was developed that this shot was a part of.
When I was part of the work-a-day world, I used to take a lot of fruit to the job with me. But after retiring, I sometimes go a week or more without having any at all ─ just vegetables.

Some recently published research has come up with the statistics that seniors who daily had some kind of citrus fruit were 23% less likely to develop dementia than were those seniors who only occasionally ate citrus fruit.

I'm 67 ─ should I be concerned about this?

Here are some reports about the study:




A word to the wise, perhaps?

This might also be helpful ─ it concerns the power of employing a mantra.

I will leave it to you as to whether to check out the article ─ this is the intriguing opening paragraph:
New research has shed new light on how the silent repeating of a word – any word – can have profound physiological benefits.
Here is the article:


Well, my evening is underway, so I am going to close out now with a 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.

I was roughly midway through a three-month contract of full-time employment with a New Westminster charitable organization called S.A.N.E. (Self Aid Never Ends). Today, that organization is called Fraserside Community Services Society

I had worked part-time with S.A.N.E. in the past ─ but at most, a day per week. Still, my association with them possibly went back to 1974.

I worked as a swamper on their blue pick-up truck ─ a vehicle that was generally driven by a wonderful lady in her early 40s, Esther St. Jean. 

In those early years, S.A.N.E. was housed in an old building on Carnarvon Street. That old building no longer exists, but back then it was standing roughly where today the New Westminster SkyTrain Station spreads out onto Carnarvon Street.
THURSDAY, July 29, 1976

Up at 7:00 a.m., stiff & sore, to a grey morning.

An undistinguished day but for the cherries and apples I partook of in a yard Took, Bill Sevenko, and I were clearing.

This week's been a drag.

I came home with an intermediate-sized pot, frying pan, and wok.

Again I made my "after a fashion" 18 chins. But I always feel so weak and drained; probably I do so adequately because my present ephemeral diet should have resulted in some weight loss.

Canada's still doing lousy at the Games; not yet a gold!

Bed at 11:00 p.m.
"Took" ─ an Indigenous Canadian ─ and Bill Sevenko were my co-swampers that day. It seems that we were tasked with a yard-clearing project by someone.

Sometimes we even would move a household if we could get the job done in a day.

I sort of remember "Took," but not Bill Sevenko. Nevertheless, I know that both of them were probably middle-aged ─ Bill was probably the eldest, and was likely well into his 40s.

As for those chin-ups back at my room after my day at S.A.N.E., I only had an extremely narrow and low doorway with one of those cheap telescoping chin-up bars locked into place.

The doorway was so low that ─ with the chin-up bar just low enough beneath the top of that doorway so that I could get my hand gripped around the bar ─ I had to duck my head to walk through the doorway.

And the doorway was so narrow that if I gripped the two ends of the chin-up bar, my hands were not much wider-spaced than the width of my shoulders.

This was probably the first time in my life that I had taken an interest in watching the Olympic competitions. The female athletes just fascinated me ─ I longed to know someone like one of them!
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