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Monday, January 22, 2018

Widespread Sugar Additive Implicated in Helping C. Difficle to Flourish

My younger brother was an utter drunken ass last evening, and had me practically raging within.

He needs to lay off the heavy drinking ─ there is so little brain life remaining when he gets that far gone.

Unfortunately,  after Mark got home from the bar last evening, my eldest stepson Tho let break to Mark that Tho and his younger brother Poté are going to Bali for about 10 days.

I further believe that they will be catching their flight tomorrow evening.

Their mother ─ my wife Jack ─ has been away for just over a week in Thailand to visit her mother, and the plan is that she will hook up with the boys in Indonesia. She will be bringing along their grandmother for a reunion.

The boys can't go to Thailand for potential problems relating to the mandatory requirement that all male Thai citizens ─ which the boys are, even though they are also Canadians ─ must present themselves at the age of 21 to the proper local authorities for consideration of military conscription.

Well, Tho is 24, and Poté is 20.

They have no intention of risking the consequences of that mandatory requirement that Tho never obeyed due to being here here in Canada since his last visit to Thailand in 2009.

So the only way their grandmother ─ who helped raise the two brothers ─ is ever going to certainly see them is to do so in a neighbouring Southeast Asian country.

She cannot come here to Canada even to visit without a very involved visa application process.

Mark was such an ignorant ass with me last evening that I finally broke and had a second can of strong (8% alcohol) beer ─ I had intended to hold myself to one, but the jackass pushed me too far.

He never retired to his bedroom for the night until possibly 10:55 p.m., so that delayed my own bedtime, although I may have been abed before 11:30 p.m.

Meantime, Poté arrived home from wherever he had been, and apparently in the company of his new girlfriend ─ for the first time, she was still here with him this morning. She has her own car, so in the past she has usually taken off for home after they finish whatever nonsense they involve themselves in.

But I didn't realize that she was with him last night. I had locked the front door before the kid got home; and when he had to unlock it and let himself in, I was essentially getting to bed.

His brother Tho was still up, however.

Both boys have of course booked off this and next week from work ─ I hope it's only the two weeks, for I sure as blazes don't want them hanging around here for a week all bloody day long once they're back from their holiday.

I had a bad night of it ─ perhaps too damned much stress in my life.

I got to sleep in what is average time for me ─ perhaps a half-hour or so. But I came to find myself so awake that I decided to check the time ─ it was 2:20 a.m.

I rose and used the bathroom, and then tried to return to sleep. Around 3:00 a.m. I gave up ─ my racing thoughts would not calm and allow me the sleep I desired.

So I rose and got to work on the old post I am performing a comprehensive edit of at My Retirement Dream, one of my six hosted websites. 

Then at 3:49 a.m., I heard my younger brother Mark's clock-radio come on. I had no idea that he was rising as early as this for his day of work.

He will be retiring at some point before June, and I heard him telling Tho last evening that he might get into some part-time work continuing to drive.

At present, he works for some warehouse firm as an owner / operator of his own large truck, making various deliveries and probably some pick-ups.

I returned to bed while he was still in his bedroom showering in his ensuite shower ─ so around 4:00 a.m.

I generally don earplugs, so I was not privy to his activities thereafter.

My mind was still active, but eventually I did sleep. And it was probably around 8:30 a.m. when I next checked the time and got myself up.

I was soon back at work on that edit of the old post at My Retirement Dream. By the time I was done with it just ahead of noon, I had actually added two mornings' worth of content, but there is still much work to do.

I had wanted to get out this morning for some local grocery shopping. And I tried.

In fact, at 10:30 a.m. or so I was on my way to do it, finding it heavily spitting rain despite there being some sunshine.

And then the thought struck me that I had meant to check my chequing account balance first. The monthly mortgage is imminent, and I didn't want to be standing at a cashier with the groceries I was intending to buy and then discover that my debit card was unable to access the necessary funds.

I still felt fairly secure, though ─ I had recently transferred $500 from my wife Jack's account, so I felt that there ought to be adequate funds. Upon getting back home, I could then check the account and ensure that enough money was in the account for the mortgage debit.

And then it struck me ─ just what date is it today? The mortgage just about always gets debited on the 22nd!

Reflection brought to mind that yesterday seemed to be the 21st ─ was today mortgage day?

There was no way I could continue on the shopping expedition without verification that the account could handle everything, so back home I trod. 

I came here to my computer and logged into my account...and discovered that due to a $300 bill payment I had mailed off that was negotiated two days ago, the account was over $180 too insufficient to cover the mortgage.

In a bit of panic, I hit up my wife Jack's account for a further $300. But I dared not shop now ─ not until the mortgage was safely debited.

Well, at this moment it is 4:44 p.m., and that debit has still not occurred. I am left with the deep and nagging concern that the mortgage debit was attempted early this morning when there were inadequate funds in the account, and now there is a smear against my credit reputation.

I don't quite know what to do other than to continue this waiting.

It rankles me that my youngest stepson Poté and his girlfriend were in bed until approaching 1:30 p.m., and then they left in her car while I was out in the backyard tool shed getting some exercise.

Poté has a job, but not once last year did he contribute to the mortgage. His mother does not insist on it.

His older brother Tho at least served as a buffer two or three times when there were inadequate funds in the account ─ Jack got him to agree to cover the shortfall, which he did willingly enough.

What I don't know is if she reimbursed him on her own.

So these two are about to be off to Bali for what will probably be a sensational trip experience, and I sit here fraught with worry because of how deep I am into debt, and how inadequate my monthly pension is to meet needs.

Jack's holiday was made possible by an injury settlement she received a few months ago due to her car being rear-ended maybe three years ago while it was stopped.

Jack hadn't braked suddenly. She had been stopped for a fair while before the offending vehicle came along and just ploughed into her because the driver wan't paying attention to what was ahead.

I think the legal firm let her have $30,000 of whatever the original injury claim paid out.

So what I do not know is if she is also wasting her money to pay for the entire trip for her two sons, as well as pay for her own holiday? ─ even though both sons each have full-time jobs and do not pay us a rent or help with the other monthly expenses like utilities!

All of this uncertainty and 'not knowing' just eats at me, and I grow so resentful. It only aggravates when my idiot drunken brother needles me with simple-brained upsetting jabs like he was doing last night concerning the Bali trip he had found out about.

Why the hell would I want to have a 70th birthday if this is the only life I am going to be living in my retirement? I retired at 61, and now I am 68.

I cannot go anywhere ─ my debt is too large.

I have no desire to air in this post my other failures that make my life so very disappointing and pointless.

So maybe there really are only one more birthday and Christmas for me before I call this madness quits.

I had hoped to buy some good eggs this morning so that I would be able to enjoy a protein-rich meal ─ I am not eating especially well at all. I think my 'saving grace' is that I have been ensuring to have adequate amounts of raw vegetables to help maintain a reasonably healthy gut population of microbes.

But this morning I used the last of my kale ─ I had finished my Swiss chard yesterday. I still have a fair amount of fermented vegetables, though.

To augment the last of the kale that I ate with my meagre first meal of today, I also had most of some basil that my wife Jack left in a closed plastic bag.

The leaves are not far from becoming slimy, so I did my best to wash them.

Now I am hoping that something pathogenic was not thriving on them, and for which I would be victimized for having ingested whatever organism it might be.

I just read today about a commercialized 'sugar' additive that is widespread in the food manufacturing industry may be largely responsible for the burgeoning cases of often-deadly Clostridium difficile infections.

Possibly this sugar that is known as trehalose may have more involvement in C. difficle infections than does the heavy overuse of antibiotics.

I will leave it to you to peruse these two references about this discovery:



Yesterday I had attempted to add a scan of a photo to that day's post, but Blogger just would not allow me to do it.

I will try again now:

Ahh! It worked today!

Okay, the following description is from the Google Plus album where I have the scan filed ─ this will be my closure for today's post:
The reverse of the photo has this written on it by my mother Irene Dorosh:

"John Nell Ethel Dan"

Obviously the sequence of those names is not in order.

So from the left we have Ethel, my eldest maternal half-sister (I have a younger older maternal half-sister named Phyllis); then Dan (who I suspect is Ethel's grandson); then Nell Halverson / Primrose (youngest sister of my mother), and John (brother to Dan, I would think).

The photo was probably taken sometime during the decade of the 1990s, if not the very early 2000s.

The location may have been the Thunder Bay region of Ontario.

Sunday, January 21, 2018

FDA Recall of Heart Implant Devices

Well, I rather threw away today by staying up late last night ─ and I had plans for the day.

It was a very blustery evening, and the hard gusts continued throughout the night and through the morning.

What got me hung up last night ─ and to my credit, I only drank one of the two cans of strong (8% alcohol) beer that I had brought out ─ after watching a movie and then giving up on a second one well into it once I realized that I had seen it before (I must have been drunk at the time), I wanted to watch the Holly Holm / Cris Cyborg match (UFC 119), for I couldn't recall if I had ever heard who had even won the fight.

The movie I watched first was Lucy. I was very much drawn into it, for Scarlett Johansson is beautiful and a superb action star.

However, I started to feel myself distancing from her the more the plot dehumanized her, removing her natural attachments to people.

I also did not feel appreciation that she was losing her humaneness so very much that she was perfectly fine with becoming virtually a form of energy.

I would love to be immortal and never have to eat and drink or even breathe to live, but I would not wish to lose everything within me that makes me the individual I am.

Rather, I would use my immortality to perfect my inner personality flaws, overcoming all of my bad habits as I perceive them ─ and I am very self-critical, so I would not stint in that area. 

But to become nothing more than what we might conceive of as bytes of data?

No, thanks.

Anyway, after watching the movie, and then aborting a second one after I had gotten quite a distance into it. I located the match I wanted to watch.

I had never seen Cris Cyborg fight before, although I was quite familiar with the name. I believe that her natural weight is in the mid-140s (pounds) at just about five feet and seven or eight inches in height.

Holly Holm is about the same height, but she had to gain weight for the fight as a featherweight. When she fought and beat Ronda Rousey for the bantamweight title in November 2015, apparently the weight spread for that category was 126 - 135 pounds.

Those featherweight and bantamweight classifications may have changed since Holly fought Ronda, for I don't think the bantamweight class even existed.

But I'm no expert.

I was sorry to see Holly get beat up so badly by Cris Cyborg, but at least Holly went the distance and weathered all five rounds; whereas Cris Cyborg had never before had to go to a fourth round.

I also found myself becoming very attracted to Holly's physique as she moved and fought ─ that was quite a first for me. She had not struck me before as being as appealing as I was finding her to be last night.

There was something else of note about last evening ─ my eldest stepson Tho contacted his mother via video chat on his cellphone. My wife Jack left Canada a week ago around 10:00 p.m. (Sunday) on a flight back to Thailand for an extended visit with her mother.

So I had to have some interaction with her ─ and her mother, who I could clearly see was seated nearby in the background just beyond Jack.

My younger stepson Poté was also here at home, albeit with his new girlfriend. Tho had to take the phone to his younger brother because Jack also wanted to talk with him.

It was nice to see Jack like that. She said that she was soon to go out to do a little partying, and claimed not to have done any drinking to that point in her visit.

I would have been into some beer soon after arriving at my destination over there!

Anyway, it was 1:34 a.m. by the time I was in bed.

I suppose my initial block of sleep was actually a rather lengthy one. And I think that it was something like 8:32 a.m. when I finally checked the time and got up this morning.

I almost felt like I had been partying myself last night.

I got to work adding content to the old post I am editing at My Retirement Dream, one of my six hosted websites. I think in yesterday's post I mistakenly said that it was a new post I was constructing.

I stuck with the work until the morning's assignment was completed, by which time my younger brother Mark had long since come home from his girlfriend Bev's residence where Mark had spent the night.

In fact, Mark was shut up in his bedroom by the time I finished my work on the post; and I was to do the same in my own bedroom most smartly. It was a little after 11:00 a.m.

I think I was abed for something over an hour, and emerged to find that Mark was still shut up in his own room.

The nap did me some good, but I would not be getting out to do any shopping ─ no need felt pressing enough.

Besides, there had been some rain overnight and into the morning, but when I rose from my nap it was to find sunshine glaring outside. I don't much like getting out into the public in the sunshine when I am feeling below par ─ I prefer inclemency.

Without any kind of outing for an excuse to avoid my backyard tool shed exercises, mid-afternoon was to find me out there discharging the obligation.

Mark had left for the afternoon maybe an hour earlier after getting some assistance from Tho in changing ─ or perhaps just rotating? ─ tires on Mark's van.

During that time, I had placed an order to Canada's Amazon on Mark's behalf for three two-vial packs of CAN-C eyedrops.

The U.S. Amazon has a better deal for its citizens, of course ─ apparently the same product can be obtained at ⅔ the Canadian price: CAN-C Eye Drops 2x 5ml Vials - 3 PACK by Can-C.

Mark had been diagnosed last Summer or maybe even the Spring as having a cataract developing in at least one of his eyes, and he is determined to avoid surgery ─ the drops are supposed to help eradicate early cataracts.

Staying on the medical-related theme, earlier this afternoon I read about an FDA recall of an artificial heart valve device ─ can you imagine having one of these things in your heart, and then learning that the very same model had been discovered to be faulty, and can even lead to death?

From what I can tell, about 110 of the Agilis Steerable Introducer Sheath devices contain that valve, and those devices are "used to insert and position cardiovascular catheters in the heart."

The faulty models were produced and released last year between January 1 - May 5.

Here are two FDA.gov notices about them:
And here is a less cautionary report about this recall, and which contains some excellent advice:


But back to my own life!

I suspect that Friday was the final day of work for both of my stepsons ─ I think both are taking off two weeks from work so that they can have a 10-day holiday involving Bali, Indonesia.

At least I hope they are only taking off two weeks from work! I don't need them hanging around here after they return.

Due to military conscription avoidance issues of a legal nature that the eldest lad is facing if he returns to Thailand, he as a male Thai citizen does not dare to risk setting foot on Thai soil.

The brothers have not seen their grandmother ─ who helped raise them ─ since their last visit to Thailand back in 2009, and she very much wants to reunite with them.

So my wife Jack plans to take her mother and fly her to Bali when the boys go there.

Indonesia is apparently the nearest Southeast Asian country to Thailand that has a flight from Canada that will not stop-over in Thailand.

Okay, now I want to post a scan I made of an old photo ─ the description beneath it is from the Google Plus album where I have the scan filed:

Oh, damned Blogger! This is the third time this month that I have been met with a pop-up declaring:
www.blogger.com says: 
Sorry!  We could not copy your photos to your blog.
I added my complaint to a Blogger Help Forum thread here.

Well, I may as well bring my post to a 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 just two houses up from Third Avenue.
FRIDAY, January 21, 1977

I arose about 7:30 a.m.

Today, Mark, I, and Daboda head for 100 Mile House and Norman.

I am not all that eager to begin the driving.

If Chris' truck is at Bill's, I'll leave a list of the December 31 Provincial Lottery winning numbers (Melody a while back said he didn't know if  his ticket placed).
My old friend William Alan Gill was renting an apartment approximately four or so blocks from my room. Chris was a younger co-worker of my brother Mark at the plywood mill they both were employed by.

Melody St. Jean was my ex-girlfriend, who had tied up with Chris.

I guess Melody must have mentioned that Chris didn't know yet if his lottery ticket had paid off, so "out of the goodness of my heart" I was going to leave that list of winning numbers on his truck if he and Melody were at Bill's apartment (as they often were ─ but I haven't the time nor interest to get into that right now). 

This was the very first time that Mark and I went to 100 Mile House and hooked up with my old friend Norman Richard Dearing who was then living in that town ─ or its reasonable vicinity.  

Daboda was Mark's wonderful German shepherd ─ he usually came on our adventures.

I had recently acquired my learner's driving permit, and taken some classes at John's Driving School. But Mark drove a yellow GMC pickup with a stick shift, and I just could not master those gears.

Since Mark had worked a graveyard shift overnight and thus not gotten any sleep, he had said that he would let me drive while he kicked back and enjoyed some beers as we traveled.

And if he lapsed into some sleep, so be it.

I see that my next journal entry is dated two days later, so I shall wait two days before learning what I recorded about the trip ─ I will find out what I had to say as I type out the journal entry into my post of two days' time.

What I do remember of the trip to our destination is that Mark did all of the stick shifting until we got beyond Chilliwack, and I took over from there because there were few traffic lights after that.

I also remember that I also drank steadily during that long drive ─ maybe not as much as Mark, but I was certainly never dry.

Saturday, January 20, 2018

Just a Post on a Rainy Saturday Spent at Home

With my younger brother Mark home last evening, and it being the weekend, I was to sit up a little later than usual. I also had two cans of strong (8% alcohol) beer instead of the single can that served me each evening during the workweek.

I don't recall just when I was in bed, but it was after midnight. Not terribly long after, though.

Mark had in store another Saturday early-morning chiropractor appointment ─ his third consecutive such appointment.

My sleep overnight was quite broken. And when I checked the time around 5:52 a.m. this morning, I felt myself to be done with scrabbling to find yet another short snatch of sleep ─ and so I rose.

I could hear Mark's clock-radio playing. Even so, he never rose for at least a half-hour.

The day was to be one of a drizzling light rain.

I discharged the morning's assignment of content supply at the new post I have started up at My Retirement Dream, one of my six hosted websites.

Mark was back from his appointment before I was done.

Then quite soon after 10:00 a.m., I returned to bed to accumulate some further needed sleep.

After a nice nap achieved lying on my left side, I pondered rising. However, a shift in position felt so delicious that I simply lay there enjoying it, and actually fell back into a brief nap of maybe a dozen minutes.

During it, I dreamed.

If I am remembering correctly, I seemed to be in a vehicle being driven by my eldest stepson Tho, and his younger brother Poté may also have been present.

There may have been one or more others.

We must have been in Thailand, for we were driving along what seemed a coastal road, and met with a colourful procession involving at least two or three elephants ─ the small specimens that certain mahouts can be found using in tourist areas to compel people into paying the mahouts coin in order to buy from them some short pieces of sugar cane to feed to their animals.

Tho of course had to slow down to a stop to allow the procession to pass, and I wondered if one of the elephants was going to damage the vehicle, for it was a tight squeeze.

That's all I remember. Perhaps I came out of the nap.

It still felt really exquisite just lying there in bed, so I probably expended at least another quarter-hour just delighting in the experience.

Why do I not feel so wonderfully comfortable in bed at the end of my nights? Often, I am eager to rise despite a bad night's sleep because it is just far too uncomfortable lying there.

Sometimes I feel physically abused, as if I had toiled at labour all the day before and was now suffering the consequences.

Mark was shut up in his own bedroom when I at last rose, but he was not very long in making his appearance. He could not have gotten much of a nap.

Then early in the afternoon he left without a word to me, but he was conversationally engaged with at least one of my stepsons.

Mark usually spends Saturday nights at the home of his girlfriend Bev, so I expect not to be seeing him until tomorrow morning.

It was not too very long after Mark's departure that I ventured out to the backyard tool shed for some exercising, but I was to find myself somewhat lacking in strength reserves.

The pull-ups were most taxing. Admittedly, I just wasn't into doing them.

I weighed myself afterward as fully clothed as I had been when exercising, and I was at least 195 pounds (at a height of about five feet and 10¾ inches).

Hauling up that much weight at my age (I am 68) is a challenge, particularly since I am not using a proper chin-up bar.

As I was typing this account around 2:30 p.m., Poté came upstairs to shut himself into the bathroom ─ his older brother Tho was downstairs, probably loafing in bed.

The doorbell sounded.

I do not get visitors. I have no friends nor family living anywhere near here. Thus, there was no doubt in my mind that the caller was not someone I cared to see.

For all I knew, it was Poté's new girlfriend, and she's already becoming an annoyance to me by how much time she spends here.

So I remained here, working on my blog.

The doorbell rang a second time, and that was it.

I could hear Tho talking on his cellphone directly below me where his bed is, but he never bothered himself responding to the doorbell ─ and he has a window affording him a direct view of whomever would be there. 

I would expect that he must have taken a peek.

Probably it was merely a religious proselytizer or two, or some sort of donation-seeker.

I noticed a notification from Google that it has created a collage from some photos in my Google Plus albums ─ the collage is supposedly a commemoration of this day exactly six years ago:

Google often gets lazy in creating these collages ─ it used the very same two photos last year:

The original photos back in 2012 depict a view of the back of our house from the tool shed that I exercised in earlier this afternoon; and at the front of the house and from the open-sided carport, a view that is looking left across a neighbour's yard at my wife Jack's car driving away from home:

My wife Jack is presently back at the family home in Thailand visiting her mother ─ Jack was scheduled to leave Canada on a 10:00 p.m. flight last Sunday.

Her flight to bring her back to Canada will not leave Thailand until March 5, if I have the dates right.

Her two sons may be leaving this next Tuesday evening to fly to Bali, Indonesia for perhaps 10 days. The plan is that Jack will meet them there, bringing along the boys' grandmother (Jack's mother).

Tho doesn't dare go to Thailand, for he is 23 years old and never presented himself (as a male Thai citizen) to the proper authorities at the age of 21 for the mandatory consideration for military service.

He was of course living here in Canada and is a Canadian citizen.

However, that may not exempt him. A Thai constitutional law is still a law.

So better to stay out of Thailand.

Poté will be in that same boat after his next birthday, for he is presently 20.

Anyway, the only way their grandmother was ever going to see the boys would be uniting with them in some neighbouring country, and Indonesia seemed to be the nearest that had a direct flight.

Other countries such as Laos have flights that first stop-over in Bangkok ─ something the boys cannot risk.

It is going to be very peaceful here for me each and every day once the lads are gone for those 10 or so days! 

There is little else to speak of going on here at home today, so I will bring the post to a 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 just two houses up from Third Avenue.

In the previous day's journal entry, I had described my plan for an extended hike that would ultimately bring me to my mother Irene Dorosh's little home in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey.

The home she shared with her husband Alex was my main mailing address. And although it no longer exists, its address was 12106 - 90th Avenue.

To hike directly there from my room could be done in 1½ hours at a rapid pace.

But I was going to extend the hike by first following the King George Highway (now King George Boulevard) all the way to Newton.

From there, I would turn right, and then work my way to my mother's home.

I had not gotten to bed until 12:30 a.m. the night before, and it was my intention to get up at 4:00 a.m. to begin preparation for that long venture.
THURSDAY, January 20, 1977

Off I go, hopefully via the route listed last night, to mom's; leaving 4:15 a.m.


Chris' truck was again outside Bill's.

I lightly jogged across the bridge and up as far as Ravine Rd. and across and above A&W.

I walked to Townline (96th Ave.) and jogged to Newton (72nd Ave). 

It couldn't have been more than 7:10 a.m. when I got to mom's.

She was up, but Greta [a Dutch friend visiting her from Barriere] was abed.

Phyllis [my older maternal half-sister] came over later, and around 9:15 a.m. they all left for Bellingham.

I ate, of course.

Greta is supposed to leave for home today.

For mail I had a pouch of Western Express [lottery] tickets (February 9) on credit from St. Joseph's School, plus 5 more from B.C. Wildlife Federation as well as a Provincial [lottery ticket].

Mom gave me $5 before she left toward half of the other Loto Canada ticket I'm expecting.

I slept badly last night, so I left for Mark's before mom got back; Greta is treating her to a Reno trip February 13 (I spoke to her son Ron on the phone; he also called Thursday when she was out).  

Mark was sleeping, so I bedded too, but slept poorly.

In the evening shortly after 6:30 p.m. Jock [John Halverson, my maternal cousin] & Billy [William Little, a friend of the Havlersons] dropped by for 10 - 15 minutes to see if Mark would be free to transport some furniture Billy had bought that night; the answer was no.

Again, Mark went into town early, and I walked home; but first he phoned me at 11:00 p.m. for CKDA's frequency. 

I'm to expect him around 9:00 a.m.

Bed: 12:40 a.m., and I truly feel wiped out.

I discovered my "rebate certificate" from John's Driving School came today.
My old friend William Alan Gill was renting an apartment perhaps four blocks from my room. Chris ─ whose truck was parked near to it ─ was a young co-worker of my brother Mark.

I had noticed the truck parked very early into my hike that morning.

My younger brother Mark was renting a duplex unit less than three miles from our mother's home ─ I believe that the duplex was on Semiahmoo Road, and a fairly short distance from Old Yale Road.

I would have walked to there after leaving my mother's home that afternoon.

Mark was working a graveyard shift that week at a plywood or similar mill, and had to drive through New Westminster to get to it.

My intention was probably to ride back to town with him.

However, he was somewhat involved with a gal, so he was leaving for New Westminster earlier; and for some reason I preferred not to get back to my room that much earlier.

So I stayed at his suite for awhile, leaving later that evening and walking back to town. 

In all, I would have hiked (and jogged) a lot of miles that day.

But back to the present. 

Mark did show up just after 3:30 p.m., and loaded up into his van a number of dozen empty beer cans that he would be taking in for the goodly refund ($1.20 per dozen).

He had been away getting some repairs done on his work truck.

He never said anything about the following, but his parking spot in the carport near to our front door was occupied by Poté's car ─ or maybe it was Tho's girlfriend's car, for hers looks very similar to Poté's car.

In either case, Mark would have had to park a little farther from the front door to carry those empties ─ in several trips ─ than he likely cared to do.

Also, he would have needed to intrude upon whichever couple was here at home, for the empties are kept in the laundry room ─ which is accessed by walking through the boys' den area.

Poté has his bed in the den area, and Tho's bed is in full view of the area where the empties are accumulated.

Perhaps the couple had some snuggling interrupted by Mark's uncomfortable intrusion.

But so what? Neither working stepson pays a rent, so why should they be entitled to much concern for their privacy in situations like this? 

Friday, January 19, 2018

Warning to Avoid Romaine Lettuce

Despite being comfortably in bed last evening at 10:59 p.m. ─ and getting asleep in what is normal fashion for me ─ the time arrived when I felt myself to be so very awake that I could not help but check the display on my clock-radio.

It read just 12:25 a.m.

I hadn't been in bed quite 1½ hours, and already my sleep was fragmenting.

And so it went the night through.

Incidentally, I only had one can of strong (8% alcohol) beer last evening, so I do not know what I can be doing differently to gain sound and extended sleep.

I now do not exactly recall what time it was this morning when I checked my clock-radio and decided I was done, but it was within 10 minutes of reaching 6:00 a.m.

I rose and dressed, but I then lay back down upon my bed, for I expected that my eldest stepson Tho was bustling about as he prepared for work.

Initially I kept my earplugs in, but I soon removed them. And after a bit, I realized that I was hearing nothing from Tho. The time read 6:04 a.m., which is just a bit early for him to be leaving home.

But when I opened my bedroom door, the house was in darkness downstairs. I could smell his cologne ─ he drenches himself in it. Thus I knew he had been about and obviously left for work, and was not still in bed and taking the day off.

Soon, I was busy setting up the edit of an old post at My Retirement Dream, one of my six hosted websites. When I checked the post, I found that it had only ever contained a small image and a YouTube video; but over time, that video had become unavailable at YouTube, and thus it would not play.

So I will be doing a full overhaul of the post, leaving only the small image. The process will take around 10 days.

Early into that foundation work, I could hear my youngest stepson Poté's mobile phone sounding off alarms every once in a while, but he was not getting up.

The young fool was still not home last evening when I went to bed, apparently unable to part from his new girlfriend.

Well, I have no patience for that nonsense, so I left him to it. If he needed to get up ─ too bad!

Eventually he did get up, and at 8:49 a.m. headed out the front door to his car to drive to work. 

I had hoped to get out this morning for some grocery shopping, but that never did happen. With my inadequate night's sleep, I needed a nap after I stopped working on the old post at My Retirement Dream.

I returned to bed, and was there for well over an hour, finding the noon-hour perhaps a quarter deep.

I fixed up my day's second hot beverage, and then tuned in Team Ninja Warrior ─ the very first episode, for I have never watched any before.

The day was to be largely one of quite light rain, so the possibility still existed that I might at least get out locally for that grocery shopping.

The hot beverage and the show did a good job of imparting life into me, so I decided that I should have some exercise out in the backyard tool shed and then consider the local shopping expedition.

However, by the time I was back into the house, I felt rather physically taxed. And the afternoon was wearing on ─ I believe by then it must have been around 2:00 p.m. Soon, the local elementary school would be done for the day, and the students flooding the streets.

So I cancelled the outing.

Last afternoon I took down the Christmas lights festooning the area of the living room window, and today I felt some impact from their absence. I love having those lights glowing so beautifully as daylight dies out, and to illuminate the living room when I commence watching evening television.

In yesterday's post, I wrote how I had a confusing texting exchange with my wife Jack who is over in Thailand this week visiting her mother.

Jack wanted me to set her up as my contact in the Line application I have on my cellphone, but using her mother's phone number.

This would require me texting an automated invitation to Jack through Line to establish a link.

But Jack was texting me via her own phone...and that number is already registered in Link ─ along with her ─ as one of my contacts.

Thus, I would be unable to get Link to send an invitation to that number, for Link would undoubtedly tell me that it is already one of my contact numbers.

Did Jack intend that I send the invitation to her mother's number?

I have no idea. If so, then why did she not herself link us up by sending me the Link invitation?

I don't even know if the mother's number is for a mobile phone ─ it may just be for a landline, and thus texting is impossible.

Not knowing what else to do, I sent an automated Line invitation to the mother's number, which of course is long-distance from here in Canada.

I don't know if Rogers will charge me for that or not.

After the invitation was sent, I texted Jack what I had done, but I have never heard back from her.

I cannot help but wonder if she is exasperated at me because I failed to understand what it was that she wanted me to do.

But maybe she is just having too good a time, and I did what she wanted; and anon she will find occasion to accept the invitation on her mother's phone and then establish a video call with me.

If, of course, her mother's phone is a mobile phone and not a landline that never was able to receive a text invitation.


Do you eat much raw produce? I think I can safely claim that I do.

I also ferment my own vegetables, and try to have some of those every day.

Where the fermentation is concerned, I have the hope going that the good fermentation bacteria will overwhelm any microbes that might be harmful.

But there is no such hope when it comes to just eating things raw, such as kale and green onions and lettuce.

Every now and then we hear about people getting sick and even dying from eating fruit or raw vegetables that were contaminated with something like Escherichia coli.

Well, it has happened again here in Canada and the U.S., but have you heard anything about it? The culprit this time appears to be tainted romaine lettuce:


There are actually two ConsumerReports.org warnings:
That is very interesting that simply washing produce will not effectively remove the pathogen, for it is most adept at sequestering itself into cracks and crevices where it is not going to be possible to thoroughly remove all of it.


I want to post this scan of an old photo ─ the description beneath it is from the Google Plus album where I have the scan filed:

The reverse of this photo has this written on it by my mother Irene Dorosh:

"Dan with Ethel's Dog 'Oakly'"

Ethel Morency was my eldest maternal half-sister, and I suspect that Dan was likely a grandson of hers.

I don't know when the photo was taken, but I speculate that it most likely may have been during the decade of the 1990s, although the very early 2000s are a possibility,

The location was probably in Ontario.
And that essentially brings me to the close of today's post, so here 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 in a private home located on Ninth Street, and two houses up from Third Avenue.
WEDNESDAY, January 19, 1977

I arose nigh 8:15 a.m. after a night of horrible dream.

I was first to the laundromat. At the store I bought 1 D.C. comic (Jack Kirby is on the F.F., so I didn't buy it; I detest his art).

I wrote dad a letter which I'll mail today.

I'm bound for Mark's shortly past 1:30 p.m.


Chris' truck was outside Bill's.

I hated my walk, as usual.

Mark was in bed, so cause my head didn't feel too well, I too got some sleep.

In the evening after he got up, Dianne phoned and invited him over; he left at 8:00 p.m.

I remained watching TV, consolidating my thoughts and deciding to arise at 4:00 a.m. and strike off for mom's ─ from my place ─ via the King George to Newton to Sandell [Sandell Road was the old name for 128th Street in Surrey].

I wasn't much feeling like wasting sleep-time and energy coming to my place for the short night, but The Quest's "The Last of the Mountain Men" gave me the lift I required.

Bed by 12:30 a.m.
I used a laundromat that I believe was located on Sixth Avenue and very near to the public library. The laundromat's door automatically opened at 8:00 a.m. each morning.

As for the store where I was browsing comic books, it may have been called The Bluebird.

My old friend William Alan Gill may have only lived around four blocks from my room ─ he was renting an apartment. Chris was a young mill co-worker of my brother Mark. 

Back then, Mark was renting a duplex unit that I believe was located a fairly short distance along Semiahmoo Road from where it attaches to Old Yale Road in Surrey.

That was my destination when I left my room shortly after 1:30 p.m. ─ I would have walked. And with all the damned traffic, I generally hated such walks.

The evening telephone call Mark got was from Dianne, a sister of Marie Varga ─ Marie and her husband Al Varga were renting an apartment in New Westminster. Mark and I had gotten to know the Vargas through our maternal relatives, the Halversons.

Mark was working a graveyard shift that week at the plywood mill, and he would normally drive through New Westminster to get to work. Thus, if he was going to visit Dianne in New Westminster that evening, then he just would not return ─ he would go directly to the mill for his midnight start after parting from her, and return to his suite in Surrey the following morning.

In referring to the Wikipedia article about The Quest T.V. series that I watched that evening, Wikipedia indicated something most peculiar concerning that specific episode: "Never aired."

How then did I manage to watch it? I believe that I will rely on my journal entry that the episode did indeed air, and did so on January 19, 1977.

I found myself a little confused about my later walking plans, but I managed to figure out that it was my intention to leave Mark's suite that evening and hike back to my room in New Westminster and spend some of the night in sleep.

I indicated that I was getting to bed midway through the midnight hour; and then I planned to rise at 4:00 a.m. to soon get that long hike underway.

The plan was that I would leave my room and hike across the Pattullo Bridge, and then follow King George Boulevard all the way to Newton.

I suppose from there I would work my way over to 128th Street, and then further wend my way over to where my mother was living in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey.

Believe me, there are few people today who would perform that same hike if I did indeed go ahead with it ─ and I had done it several times in 1976, so I probably did go through with it yet again.

Tomorrow's journal entry will tell.

Thursday, January 18, 2018

My Tribulation with the Line Application (Software)

Involvement with an E-mail response last evening kept me up until possibly as late as 11:45 p.m. It hadn't helped that my younger brother Mark never went on up to his bedroom until approaching 11:00 p.m., for he had not gotten home until maybe 9:40 p.m. at earliest.

For a change, I had a good initial block of sleep. I believe that it was at least 5:51 a.m. before I bothered checking the time ─ it was a welcome surprise to find my night so advanced into the direction of morning.

I got up and dressed, but I then lay back on my bed and awaited my eldest stepson Tho's departure for work, for I could hear him still fussing about as he readied himself. 

He left around 6:12 a.m.

His younger brother Poté arose shortly afterward; and at 7:46 a.m. or so, he was on his way out the front door to drive himself to work.

Of course, my younger brother Mark had gone well before Tho had even risen, so I was home alone ─ just as I best like it.

It was lightly raining when I first rose, and that carried on for some time. Eventually, however, the morning was to become a mix of cloud with sunny breaks and considerable stretches of blue sky.

I put in the morning's assignment of content supply at the post I have been building at Thai-Iceland, one of my six hosted websites. 

I could see that its finish was within reach ─ a mere half-morning's workload.

But I had become weary of it, and so I returned to bed for an hour or more.

Before I first rose earlier in the morning, I had enjoyed a somewhat romantic dream that seemed to involve a younger version of myself and an even younger lass who may have been a lovely Mexican señorita, for I have the impression that I was somewhere right around the northern border to Mexico. 

Even my nap seemed to have a pleasant dream, but I now have absolutely no recollection of it.

It was difficult rising from my nap time in bed ─ lying there was exceptionally comfortable. However, I could tell that a resumption of a nap would not come anytime soon, so I opted not to idly expend time in such an enjoyably fruitless pursuit.

But the morning was not yet done, so I got back at the Thai-Iceland post with a determination not to have the work of its completion carry over to tomorrow. 

I succeeded, and the post of just over 11,000 words was finished and then published: Thailand Er Ge Feng Amulets.

I wanted to have some exercise out in the backyard tool shed before I ate anything today, so I tuned in an episode of Steve Austin's Broken Skull Challenge for the inspiration.

It was an episode featuring eight women contestants, and they were all substantial in size ─ a couple were right around the 170-pound mark, but athletically built.

Suffice to say, the episode was sufficient to get me out for my own exercise.

It was around that time that I discovered that my wife Jack ─ who is over in Thailand this week visiting her mother ─ had sent me a text this morning at 5:34 a.m. to give me her mother's phone number, and direct that I should set it up in the Line application I have on my iPhone 5 so that Jack and I can video-chat.

Well, what a bugger that application is to do anything like that ─ as far as I can tell, it is impossible to set up a contact by simply entering a telephone number like that along with somebody's name.

Rather, the stupid Line application wants to itself verify the contact via one or another means, including an E-mail invitation. And since the phone number is of course not my wife's, it would never be able to reconcile that Thailand phone number with her.

But I have Jack already listed as one of my few Line contacts ─ this was set up the last time she was in Thailand in the Fall of 2016. Was that her mother's phone number we used back then?

I sent her a text asking that very question, for once again, Line seems to make it impossible to know what a contact's phone number is ─ all I can seem to do is bring up a contact's name. No phone number displays with it.

What a bloody cumbersome application!

Let's get off the topic.

Actually, my afternoon is dying out, so I do not have all that much more time for this post.

I want to add this scan of an old photo before I move to finish the post ─ the description beneath the image is from the Google Plus album where I have the scan saved:

My mother Irene Dorosh with her mother Jessie Hyatt.

If I had to guess the dating, I would suggest the first half of the 1990s.

I cannot surely recognize the setting ─ my grandmother lived in Ontario, so perhaps my mother went back there to visit her.
And now to bring the post to a close, here 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 in a private home located on Ninth Street, and just two houses up from Third Avenue.

I left off in the previous day's journal entry by writing that I was leaving my room at 3:51 p.m. to hike out to my younger brother Mark's duplex unit that he was renting ─ I believe that it was a reasonably short distance along Semiahmoo Road from where it attaches to Old Yale Road in Surrey.

That specific week, Mark had begun a midnight shift at the plywood mill that employed him.

In recent weeks back then, I had been dropping in on Mark every day or two, and then usually riding back into New Westminster with him when he drove through it to get to the mill.

Often, I would spend the night at his duplex unit ─ especially if he had a day shift, for I could just come back into town with him early in the morning.

I expect that the latest journal entry will probably explain what befell after I had left my room the afternoon before for that decent hike.
TUESDAY, January 18, 1977

Actually it's after midnight, but I've just walked home from Mark's (he came into town early to see Dianne; he's still on his graveyard shift playing first-aid man).

[Dianne was a sister of Marie Varga ─ Al and Marie Varga were a couple who were renting an apartment in New Westminster. Mark and I had gotten to know them through our maternal relatives, the Halversons.]

I got soaked walking out to his place yesterday; he was out, but soon showed.

Al [Varga] phoned later to talk us into going in to his place and partake of a meet re health supplements & related products. 

I wasn't in any mood for such a stale evening (Al plans to become a seller of these wares), so only Mark went. He was to take me out in the morning for job applications, so I stayed the night.


I slept very badly.

I waited long for Mark.

I viewed a show that included a 15 - 20 minute profile of Arnold Schwarzenegger, who looked priceless.

Mark got a letter from the City of New Westminster instructing him to come in on the 27th at 8:30 p.m. to write a test for firefighter (I got their letter yesterday saying I didn't qualify).  

I left Mark a note telling him to come after me, and at 10:00 a.m. I set off for mom's.

[Our mother Irene Dorosh lived less than three miles from Mark's duplex. Her home in the Kennedy Heights area of Surrey was my main mailing address.]

He caught up with me as I was onto the short hill just before her place.

He took me to Green Valley Fertilizer, Panco, and Ferro; but no one was accepting applications. A place called Shanahan's took my name and phone numbers though.

Then Mark dropped me off at mom's.

She & Greta [a Dutch friend of my mother's who was visiting from Barriere] had gone to town, according to a note.

Mail included a Loto Canada ticket (mom already bought half of it) from B.C. Wildlife Federation, a non-topical note from Cathy [Catherine Jeanette Gunther, Mark's ex-girlfriend of around three years' duration] requesting we communicate, an $8 money order from Canada Post (their Supreme Court and Coastal Ships 8¢ stamps are out of stock), and Winter book list #118 from F.&S.F. Book Co.

As I was sleepy, unbathed, and upset with conditions in my immediate life, after eating I walked back to Mark's before mom & Greta got back.

I slept a couple hours.

And that's it, except I still weigh in at 191 [pounds].

Bedtime: 12:40 a.m.
Mark must have gone directly to work from the Vargas the night before, and then got delayed in coming home that morning.

Of the four businesses I was taken to by Mark to seek employment, I think Shanahan's is the only business still operating in Surrey. Panco Poultry doesn't exist any longer, as far as I know; and I have no idea now what Ferro even was.

The Canada Post money order was a refund of an order I had tried to place for a couple of panes of commemoratives.

I have always regretted that Jeanette (Catherine Jeanette Gunther) and Mark broke up, and my family lost touch with her.

Had I not been so involved with a problematic girlfriend of my own at the time of their breakup, I would have been far more involved when poor Jeanette was in such a desperate plight.

She had two beautiful little girls.

I might have found the motivation to have gotten gainfully employed if I had made Jeanette my cause, for she meant so very much to me. 

My mother and her husband Alex loved Jeanette and the little girls, too ─ the girls regarded my mother and Alex as their grandparents, and I know their feeling about serving in that role was wholehearted. 

But back to the present for just a short bit.

Jack texted me a couple times (while I was involved typing out that journal entry) to insist that I send her a Line invitation so we can set her up through her mother's phone number. I tried to explain that Line already has Jack as my 'friend' at the number she is texting me with.

Either she did not understand me, or she really wanted me to text to her mother's number. So I finally did that ─ a long-distance number.

I don't know if I'll get charged for it or not.

I don't even know if Jack's mother's number is for a landline or a mobile phone!

I would have gone and sought Poté's assistance, for my youngest stepson is now home. However, all is in darkness in the boys' den area where he has his bed ─ he is no doubt in it with his new girlfriend.

He's always bloody in bed with her, it seems! Such was the case last night when I finally went to bed ─ and they had already been sleeping together during the latter afternoon.

She doesn't seem to sleep overnight, though. She has her own car, so she can get herself home.

Incidentally, they are also co-workers, so just how much freaking togetherness do the two require?