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Thursday, November 30, 2017

The Superb Dietary Benefits of Nuts │ Are Vitamin Supplements Less Important Than Mineral Supplements?

One of the shows I try to keep up with is The Voice. So last evening, I started off the evening's viewings with the latest episode, which had actually aired the day before.

I have grown to like Miley Cyrus very much ─ she often has such a sweet, guileless, wholesomeness to her expressively open face, that I am consistently reminded of some little girl.

I can believe that she can be a crier ─ and in that episode when her teammate Janice Freeman was voted out of the competition by an apathetic America, it was all I could do to keep it together while Janice and Miley declared their enduring friendship and love for one another through their tear-soaked faces.   

Here is one excellent description of that episode of The Voice:


And here is an article defining just how adamant Miley still was the following day about sustaining her friendship with Janice:


The first report was not doing full justice to the emotional scene where Janice was being told she had to go ─ I could barely believe that she would tell Miley in front of the viewing world that she would do anything for her, anytime Miley might ever need her.

It was riveting.

I was tired last evening ─ my day had been so darned rough due to such a bad night's sleep. And in the late afternoon and early evening, I was suffering some eyestrain and the vague beginnings of a headache.

But I was anticipating that I would at least be having a very good night's sleep.

Well, that wasn't so.

I got to bed very soon after 11:00 p.m., and certainly did get to sleep easily enough. But overnight my right nasal passageway block entirely up, and my breathing was so limited with just a left passageway that sleep was difficult to find.

I rose around 4:38 a.m. to use the bathroom, hoping that being erect would help open the blockage. My younger brother Mark was downstairs readying for work.

I even stood for awhile in my unlit bedroom, and then tried sitting up against the backboard of the bed for awhile after that.

Next I just piled up a pair of pillows and sought some elevation in that fashion.

But ultimately, I was too uncomfortable to get to sleep like that.

I had to resort to just lying flat.

The problem seems to be a blockage of an opening to or from a sinus cavity ─ it's nothing that can be blown clear, nor is it anything that one of those stupid "Breathe Right Nasal Strips" could even remotely begin to assist.

The blockage is deep.

I gave up trying to sleep shortly after 6:00 a.m. and came directly here to my computer.

The blockage soon enough eased up, but I remained up, involving myself in further construction of the post I am building at one of my six hosted websites.

I don't think that my eldest stepson Tho slept at home last night; but younger stepson Poté rose for work and soon enough left me home by myself.

I had hoped to get out for some grocery shopping now that I have my monthly pension, but I felt too disabled. The effect of the bad sleep compounded my natural social inhibitions, and I couldn't bear going public.

I have not in fact left my property since Monday of last week ─ remaining housebound or holed-up like this erodes my social confidence and brings out the recluse in me.

It would have been a good day for shopping, for it is a wet one ─ raining with just the right light intensity. 

I failed to finish the expected morning's assigned quota of content supply at my website before I had grown so groggy that it was ridiculous struggling against the urge to return to bed.

I don't recall the precise time I went back to bed, but it was well after 10:00 a.m.

I believe that I was down for over an hour. I probably should have used earplugs straight off ─ doing so would likely have brought me a solid nap. But as it was, my nap was somewhat light and broken.

When I rose and got back at the website post, it was after 1:00 p.m. before I had finished what should have been a regular morning's work.

Yesterday I got so involved with blogging that it was 5:34 p.m. before I realized that I had not done my (usually) daily pull-ups; and by then it was as dark as things would be getting.

The shed has no electricity, so there was nothing I could do but cancel the session.

I haven't made that mistake today.

I even had a weigh-in afterwards once I was back in the house and utterly stripped naked ─ a flat 190 pounds  (86.1826 kilogrammes) at a height of about five feet and 10¾ inches (179.705 centimetres). 

I wish that I had a genuine chin-up bar set up to work with, however. Then I could use varying grips.

I only have a child's playground ladder aloft over some rafters, and I climb up and grip the sides of the ladder with my clenched palms facing toward each other.

I cannot do true chin-ups because if I put all of my weight onto just one side of the ladder, the other side would probably flip up.

Consequently, what I am able to do is a very limited exercise movement.

Nevertheless, at the age of 68 as I am, it sure beats doing absolutely nothing.

As I keep declaring, it really sucks only having a limited monthly pension ─ there are so many exercise aids that I am simply unable to afford.

That limitation also extends to quality of diet, of course.

I would love to be able to afford a liberal amount of different kinds of nuts ─ research keeps proving how invaluable they are, as these recent reports on a latest study reveal:





I'll stop with those.

Since I am dietetically limited due to finances, I ensure that I keep a supply of key nutritional supplements.

Because of that, I find myself much at odds with the following article that tries to make the argument that vitamin supplements may not be as essential to good health as are certain mineral supplements:


Sure, if I had unrestricted access to a plethora of truly organic animal products, fruits, vegetables, and nuts, then I could see the sense of shucking my various vitamin supplements 'by and large.'

But I have nothing like that sort of diet.

I will leave the topic there.

In fact, I am going to close today's post now with a journal entry from 41 years ago when I was 27 years old, and living in a basement housekeeping unit in New Westminster.

I was renting in a private home located on Ninth Street, and not more than two houses up from Third Avenue.

The last day of November back then was a Tuesday, and I had spent quite the weekend partying with my brother Mark and the large household of our maternal relatives, the Halversons. 

I was recovering from a final breakup with my 20-year-old girlfriend, Melody St. Jean. The final cause of that breakup was her becoming involved with Chris, a young co-worker of my brother Mark.

My involvement with her had at least spurred me to start taking classes at John's Driving School, and I had been told by them that my first road practice test would be coming up in two days.

I was unemployed, but doing what I could to find a job. I was at least collecting Unemployment Insurance (U.I.) from the federal department of Manpower and Immigration, as well as trying to regularly check the latest job postings at their local offices.

Despite Melody's full involvement with Chris, she and her furniture were housed in the bachelor suite of my old friend William Alan Gill, who was renting about four or so blocks from my room.

Melody and Bill had originally planned on finding accommodation for all three of us to live, but her unfaithfulness ended that scheme.

I had no telephone ─ or much of anything ─ so I often left Bill's phone number as my contact number whenever I had to leave such information with a job application or anything else. 

Anyway, I had slept at Mark's residence out in Surrey Sunday night, and he did not get me back to my room until late Monday afternoon.

But I see that I still had news to report concerning Monday. I somehow became involved with Bill that evening.
TUESDAY, November 30, 1976

Before I got away last night, Bill came and said John's Driving School scheduled me for road training this morning.

I got naught done. 

He insisted I accompany him eventually to pick up Mel from her parents, and go drinking; and await Chris.

Well, she wasn't intimate with me, merely sociable.

We 3 plus Gordie went to the Dell. 

I got bombed badly.

Mark showed with Chris. 

But I went home with the other 4 and got a bit greasy.

I don't know, but it may have been 4:30 a.m. - 5:00 a.m. when I, the last, fell asleep.

I awoke early, phoned the driving school, and learned they would pick me up at 9:30 a.m.

Here I wait, at least, I am sure, $15 poorer today ─ maybe $18.

It's sunny out, if frigid; and I'm very, very drunk...as well as tired.

I refused to leave Bill's last night till I had passed out; but I retired to the floor on my own.

I wish Melody & I were closer.

Maybe bad fortune will strike young Chris, and good will come to me, allowing me to assume permanent possession of the girl ─ even if she is getting chubbier round the tummy; so am I.


My instructor turned out to be John himself.

But I performed averagely, driving in some traffic from beyond 12th St to here.

I paid up my final $59.

After I'd been home for 10 minutes or so, I thought Bill was knocking; it was Mark.

Seems he was running around town last night attending the old man, who was very drunk.

Mark came here just to pick up a business letter I typed for him last night; I could have left with him, but I require sleep, and wish to exercise later.

I have my final 2 hours of class at John's school tonight; my next 2 hours on the road are 9:30 a.m. December 7, one week from today.


While having a short nap, I ignored somebody's unfamiliar knock around 2:00 p.m.

I never was able to amass sufficient sleep, so I was obliged to forget my taxing workout.

According to a note, my mystery knocker was Gilles.

When I head off for my 7:00 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. driving school class, I'll mail my Special K sweepstake entry and a letter to Terri I typed up this early evening.

I am sleepy.


Well, I'm now through with driving classes.

All evening I felt lonely for Melody. I pray I can win a good lottery.

It's clear and cold out; I'm leaving for mom's about 9:30 p.m.; likely I'll beat an urge to visit Bill.
The walk to my mother's home off in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey normally took 1½ hours of fast-paced walking. She and her husband Alex were away on a good holiday, so I was not planning to be returning to my room that evening. 

I don't remember that I spent the remnant of the previous night in Bill's apartment after drinking at the Dell Hotel beer parlour in Whalley.

Gordie was some sort of family friend of Melody's family. If he's the guy I am thinking of, I always figured him to be a little mentally challenged.

Mark and Chris car-pooled with their pickup trucks, so the pair joined us in the Dell Hotel late that night after they had finished work at the mill that employed them.

The Dell no longer exists, alas. 

It isn't entirely clear, but I suspect that Mark must have gone to his residence after we all forsook the Dell, while Bill, Melody, Chris, Gordie, and I went to Bill's apartment.

Yes, I expect that I became pretty owly by then. 

The only thing I now recall with any clarity is that I took that road driving lesson while I was plastered ─ surely John could smell it on me?

What I do not now remember is that I had a second road lesson. But apparently I did ─ it was upcoming in another week.

The letter I mentioned typing and mailing was to an American pen-pal, Terri Martin. 

As for my attempted visitor who disturbed my nap, it was a young chap named Gilles. He was a very nice fellow, but he talked far too much ─ I couldn't take being in his proximity for too very long.

But he was also hard to separate from ─ it was much better to be avoiding him, or else having a darned good excuse for cutting matters short and extricating oneself.

I didn't expect such a long journal entry. It is now after 6:00 p.m., so I must proofread and then publish this.

First, though, here is an old photo of Melody and Chris ─ they are of course the couple at the left:

The photo would have been taken at the home of my Aunt Nell Halverson, I would expect.  

The older chap in the centre is someone I only knew of as Eric, while at the right is Larry Ernest Blue. Larry was like another of Nell's sons, and thus like a cousin to me.

I miss Larry. Cancer took him January 21, 2011.

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