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Wednesday, December 20, 2017

Believe It or Not: Chinese Study Finds Just 1½ Ounces Daily of Cheese Slashes Risk of Heart Disease and Stroke

Another poor night's sleep.

I got to bed last night no later than 11:01 p.m. while my wife Jack was involved in the bathroom. She had worked the day at a Thai restaurant over near Guildford.

Last night was in fact the third consecutive night that she would be spending here at home ─ she spends most of each week somewhere in Vancouver

Well, I had some difficulty easing into sleep. The bedroom light is left on when I retire ahead of her, and I retire with earplugs and a blindfold.

But it is impossible not to feel some discomfort as I await Jack's eventual coming to bed.

I know I must have slipped into at least a little light sleep. However, when I recognized that she was finally coming to bed, I checked the time once the light was off and saw it to be 1:38 a.m.

It was just over 2½ hours since I had retired.

By the time I heard her eldest son Tho tap on the bedroom door this morning and softly call to his mother to alert her to get up and drive his lazy behind to the SkyTrain for his commute to work in Burnaby, I was somewhat relieved ─ I could end my torturous struggle to keep seeking any further snatches of sleep.

I waited until Jack had actually gone outside to start the car before I rose and dressed.

We had gotten some snow yesterday. There probably wasn't two inches of the stuff, and I expected it to be gone after a couple or so days.

Unfortunately, the stupid weather has decided to freeze now, and the snow is frozen. It won't even begin to melt.

We may end up with a white Christmas, but it will be white with this garbage snow.

Wherever people and vehicles left treads and ruts yesterday, we now have treacherously icy ridges that make walking so awkward, and of course slick ice in the depressions.

Anytime a car or truck uses our cul-de-sac, the noise almost resembles a glacier breaking up.

Once Jack was back from her chilly errand, she made a hot tea or something and took it back to the bedroom with her, where she remained until emerging again a minute or two after 1:00 p.m.

I finished and published the post I spent that past 10 or so days constructing at Siam-Longings, one of my six hosted websites: Thailand: A Traveller's Companion.

Supposedly, it comprises over 16,500 words.

During the noon-hour I ventured out to the backyard tool shed and performed the day's four sets of pull-ups.

The sky may be entirely cloudless, but it is cold and no help at all where melting of snow is concerned. Things will undoubtedly be worse overnight.

Jack seems to have arranged to have round-trip tickets for a couple of flights reserved for her two sons to fly to Indonesia ─ she will be taking a January 15 flight to pay a visit back to her family home in Thailand, and remain there until March 5.

Her two sons are going to have a shorter holiday if they go.

The oldest lad ─ 23-year-old Tho ─ needs to avoid the risk of being nabbed by the Thai military for not presenting himself for the draft around his 21st birthday.

He's Canadian, but he is also Thai, and all Thai males are supposed to potentially do a term in the armed services. There is a sort of lottery process in play whereby in certain districts in Thailand an eligible male might avoid conscription if that district has a large enough induction base, but the family doesn't want Tho to take any chances at all.   

I had wondered why the brothers didn't just fly to Laos, for it is far nearer to their Udon Thani home village. But as Jack brought to my attention, there may not be a flight from Canada that will go to Laos without first laying over in Thailand ─ and it is then that Tho might be found out.

Thus, the surest flight seems to be one to Indonesia.

Meantime, I remain at home under virtual house arrest because I am the only member of my family who seems to be under any moral obligation to suffer the strictures arising from the debt Jack and I are in.

I wonder how everyone would feel if they knew that I am contemplating making the Christmas of 2018 my last?

I retired from work in early April 2011, but have never been able to enjoy retirement. I am housebound.

I have no friends near. I cannot afford to go out and get to know people.  

I am but a financial slave to my wife and her two sons ─ she who lives as if there is no debt; and they who offer no help with matters such as the monthly mortgage that is my endless concern every month of the year.

I am barely able to afford a can of beer or two an evening here at home. To go out and drink publicly is unthinkable.

Forget travel!

So I just live here, shut up in this debtors' prison that my home has become, watching my life drain away.

I am 68 now. I do not want to still be living like this at 70. It is better that such a milestone never arrives for me.

Neither God nor Good Fortune leave me with any other option that I can recognize. 

Let's change topics.

I wanted to open this section by asking you to guess what unexpected foodstuff has been found in a Chinese study to slash the risk of both heart attacks and even strokes, but anyone who saw the title of this post already knows.

Here are some reports on the study:




How many people have Western governments killed over the decades by duping their citizens into following the governmentally-prescribed dietary guidelines?

It's appalling.

Now to switch topics yet again, I wish now to post the following image ─ the description beneath it is from the Google Plus album where I have it filed:

A scan I made of an old photo that belonged to my mother Irene Dorosh and her husband Alex.

I have no details to refer to on the reverse of the photo, but I would guess that the photo was likely taken during the decade of the 1980s.

My mother and Alex are in the very centre.

The couple at the right in the two rows are their friends Kay and Andy Kris (or however their name was spelled).

I am at a loss to identify the couple at the left. 
My wife Jack is away on a couple of errands, so I now must hasten to close with this old journal entry of mine 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. 

It was a Monday, and I had not made an entry over the preceding weekend because I was not at my room to do so ─ therefore, I expect that this journal entry will be somewhat extended.

I had last written on the Friday that I was leaving my room around 9:15 a.m. to hike out to the duplex unit of my younger brother Mark ─ he was renting just a short distance along Semiahmoo Road from where it meets with Old Yale Road in Surrey.

Mark was at work, but I had means of gaining entry to his rented unit in the duplex.

A special two-hour road practice was scheduled for me via John's Driving School (I had already taken three such practices, but was drunk on the first and third); unfortunately, I realized that I was not able to afford this extra session. Thus, it was my intention to call and cancel.

I had already tried from a payphone, but I had gotten no response. And I had no phone in my room.

My maternal cousin Bruce Halverson was to getting married on Saturday, and I was to be his best man. A rehearsal was scheduled for the Friday ─ one of the reasons that I was hiking out to Mark's duplex unit. I think Bruce lived about half a mile away. 
MONDAY, December 20 1976

I got my appointment to drive cancelled Friday. 

As for the wedding rehearsal, there was nothing to it; we didn't even have to dress up. I had 3 beers with Bruce, and succumbed to the pressure to stay the night.

Mark stayed at the Vargas' after getting plastered at the dance [Friday night]. I came to his place about 9:30 a.m. Saturday morning to find him not home; he didn't show up till about 12:30 p.m.

But we got to Bruce's in good time, and commenced drinking.

The wedding lasted no more than 20 minutes: Chris & Melody arrived there after the service had begun, so they remained outside.

Everyone then returned to Bruce's, and the boozing began.

By supper, Melody & Chris had gone, so I ate heartily. However, they eventually returned.

Lots of pictures were taken. And there was much dancing.

I learned Sunday that Chris was evidently angry Melody was dancing so much. I danced with her and Sandy, I can recall, but mostly with Wendy [Bruce's youngest sister, who was in her mid-teens] & her friend Cathy.

The whole night was very successful, and I got plastered.

Lil's [the bride's mother] kid Mark gave Bill a plate of dog food which he ate, believing it part of supper.

Chris & Melody left quite late, though I don't remember when.
Well, that was not so long after all!

I have many of those old photos ─ I will post them tomorrow. 

Mark had attended a Friday evening dance that he had committed himself to attending through Al and Marie Varga, a couple who were renting an apartment in New Westminster.

Melody St. Jean was my recently ex-girlfriend, and Chris was the young chap she had taken up with. 

I mentioned dancing with Sandy Halverson ─ she was the wife of Randy, Bruce's older brother. Wendy Halverson's friend Cathy was a young beauty, but she never seemed fully aware of just how much so.

It must have been my old friend William Alan Gill who was conned by Mark Montroy into eating the dog food.

Enough of that for today ─ my heart is not into this reminiscing.

My wife Jack returned home, and then did some cooking; and at 5:55 p.m. or so set off on the drive back to Vancouver.

I likely won't see her again until Monday evening ─ unless she tricks me like she did earlier this week and shows up Sunday evening. 

I've found something out concerning her that I am not prepared to speak about at present.
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