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Monday, May 7, 2018

America's Harmful and Ineffective Sunscreens

My younger brother Mark got his early-evening shut-eye yesterday fairly soon after getting home ─ he passed out in his chair in the living room before he had even eaten the meal he had put on the dining table, nor had he even brought to place beside him the glass of beer that he had poured.

He missed just about all of an episode of Preacher that I had tuned in (via our Android TV Box), and which he supposedly had sat down to watch.

When the episode was done, I switched the T.V. from the Android TV Box over to regular T.V. Had it been much later, I would have just gone to bed, but it was not yet mid-evening.

I killed some time ─ I even brushed my teeth, and was here at my computer for awhile; and then I went outside and watered most of the garden plants in the front yard.

Mark had finally revived by the time I was done, so I resumed the evening's Android TV Box entertainment ─ an episode each of Star Trek: Discovery, Z Nation, and The Brave.

I could have easily gone to bed before that letter episode, but it proved to be very watchable.

We usually top off the evening with a comedy, so I selected something different for us ─ the first episode of Letterkenny. It's hokey as heck, but Mark was keen on a follow-up episode, so we watched another one.

No small-town young hicks would ever be able to talk as rapid-fire as everyone does in this series ─ and so much of what they say is so rapidly presented that it is impossible to decipher it all.

A viewer also needs to be a veritable trivia buff.

Admittedly, a main draw is the precocious and leggy character Katy, main character Wayne's younger sister. She is portrayed by actress Michelle Mylett, whom I am unfamiliar with ─ yet I apparently saw her earlier this year in the movie El Camino Christmas that most definitely was NOT the sort of Christmas movie I had been seeking at the time.

This all kept me up later than I ever intended; it was 12:55 a.m. by the time I was in bed.

I had a good block of sleep, though, once I got there ─ I was not to become aware enough to care to check the time overnight until 6:10 a.m. And that is when I got myself up.

For the second consecutive morning, my computer has frozen badly after I have turned it on and it has begun the loading process. I wrote yesterday that I had to make five attempts; this morning, I think that it took me at least six.

It's concerning. I cannot afford a new computer, nor can I afford an external hard-drive to back this one up. I'm afraid that when it goes, that's gonna be it!

Once the machine fully loads and has been running for quite some while, it doesn't seem to have a freezing issue. I don't know if it's helping at all, but I try to let the machine fully load with the mouse disconnected, for my wee understanding seems to find blame with the cursor sometimes becoming arrested when it's resting on something like a desktop icon, or maybe something that's rather 'touchy' on a browser webpage.

Something graphic-rich like a video too soon after start-up will also result in the machine freezing.

I managed to add more content than I had self-assigned for the morning into the edit I am involved with of an old post at Siam-Longings, one of my six hosted websites. But I had to take an early break around 8:00 a.m. because Mark had inexplicably risen, and I needed to hie myself out to the backyard tool-shed to have my 13 or so minutes of exercising for the day before he had emerged from the bathroom after his shower.

Happily, I succeeded.

What was so perplexing about his early rising was that about two hours later, he was back into his bedroom, evidently seeking a nap.

I was still at work on the post edit, but finally called a halt and myself was again into my bed at 10:33 a.m.

I think twice I had myself pull out of the start of a descent into a nap ─ most annoying. But I was to get there, and I never checked the time until fully two hours after I had first gotten into bed for that nap.

It was a blissfully deep nap.

The morning had been cloudy, but I rose to find a sunny day out there.

Mark was temporarily absent, but he quickly returned to continue work on his bedroom's ensuite shower doorway-repair that he has been tackling for the past several days.

My eldest stepson Tho had not gone to work this morning, but he apparently disappeared while I was having my good nap. Did he go in for a partial day of work? I don't know.

His younger brother Poté seemed to have risen and taken off ─ probably for work ─ between the time Mark disappeared for his nap, and the time that I went for mine.

A car parked out on the street may be Poté's girlfriend's; so if it is, then she must have come here and the two of them went to work together in his car ─ they work at the same business.

With the sunny weather back again, I wanted another 40 minutes of Sun exposure, so at 1:58 p.m. I commenced just over 40 minutes seated out in the backyard on a deck- or lawn-chair, and clad only in a pair of cutoffs.

Mark announced early into that session of Sun that he was headed away for the afternoon.

Tomorrow I hope that I can begin doing some sunning of my back and the rear of my legs ─ I do not wish to exclusively be exposing just my front. Otherwise, I am soon going to look most peculiar.

My wife Jack will probably be home for the night late this evening ─ I have had no contact with the hateful thing since she left here wordlessly Friday afternoon.

It will be rather interesting to see if her pique has endured.

I just wish that I could win free of my financial bondage and find happiness elsewhere ─ it will not be found here, and my life is running out.

Let's return to the topic of sunning.

I don't use a sunscreen. If I was to be outdoors and exposed for excessive duration to the burning Sun, then I would simply hope to cover up.

I don't know how it is here in Canada where sunscreen products are concerned, but apparently in the U.S., the government prohibits the availability of sunscreen products that are both safe and effective:



If you want to check the safety of any sunscreen product that you may have, here is the link to the Environmental Awareness Group's Guide to Sunscreens.

I don't intend to spend the entirety of my remaining afternoon on this post, so I am going to start bringing the post to a close.

Much earlier this year, my wife Jack arranged with her two sons to fly to Bali to be present for a small family reunion with five of their family relatives from Thailand.

Here are two photos apparently taken on January 27, beginning with this one at a beach, and featuring Jack's mother at the left, and then Jack's sister Lumpoon and Lumpoon's husband:

I have no idea what the significance of this shot is ─ although Jack does love flowers, and that red bloom is central in the photo:

Here now to close is an 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 the small suite in a private home located on Ninth Street [Google map], and two houses up from Third Avenue.
SATURDAY, May 7, 1977

The time of dreams ended when I arose at 7:30 a.m.

It's going to be sunny.

I typed up Cathy a letter.

[Catherine Jeanette Gunther was my younger brother Mark's beautiful ex-girlfriend following a three-or-so-year relationship. She is someone I wish had never left my life.]

About 12:20 p.m. ─ no, 12:40 p.m. ─ I succumbed to a mental succubus.

I'm afraid to go outside this fine day; I've too much displeasure with my physique ─ if only my legs were fuller!

I napped well, feeling better in spirit upon arising.

I went to the library and borrowed The Good Fare and Cheer of Old England by Joan Parry Dutton, first mailing Cathy's letter.

Bill came just after I started showering, but I let him in to wait till I finished.

[William Alan Gill was an old and dear friend of mine.]

He visited with me for a fair while.

I ate after he left, reading Andre Norton's Victory on Janus.

I am bored, but entirely lacking of desire to venture onto the monotonous city streets for a walk, for I feel so listless now, it would be torture to do so. Why must I live where and as I do?

Bed 10:20 p.m.
I still wonder that same thing: "Why must I live where and as I do?"

That library book sounds rather interesting ─ the reviews it has gotten at the U.S. Amazon site are really good (even if there are only the two reviews):

From KirkusReviews.com here:
If you had a semi-English upbringing -- or even an English grandmother with a flare for food -- this will be a nostalgic book which brings back many a pleasant memory. And if you love England and have learned for yourself that her food is not as unpalatable as it is rumored, you will enjoy this for the quality of re-experiencing the English countryside, the glimpses of the best of English inns, and learning the stories behind the traditional English dishes. Much of the material is based on home kitchens, much on pre-World War I abundance of provisions, but Mrs. Dutton reports that England is reclaiming her right to good fare and cheer. The cheese, the fish and game, the puddings and mince pies, the roasts and Yorkshire pudding -- all are here, and there are recipes which fill in the gaps in other cookbooks. This for the travel and regional flavor experts, with some side market among specialty cookbook collectors.
Some research I just did reveals that the book has 246 pages ─ a reasonably good size.
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