Tuesday, December 25, 2018

The Very Non-Christmasy Christmas of 2018

The past weekend delighted me very much, in that I got to see my entire immediate family. However, this year I did not book off Christmas from work, so technically, unless I somehow get the Julian Christmas off, I have this season without an official Christmas Day holiday. When Christmas falls on Tuesday or Wednesday, I’m not so thrilled about its arrival either, and it’s the case where that is happening for this year. It doesn’t feel like it should be Christmas day. It just makes for a split-up workweek with really no recovery time for sobering up and digesting properly after a gluttonous binge, so I thought that I should just work it, whereas I would prefer some continuity of having a good long go of it where it phases into a weekend. The years with Christmas on a Thursday, flowing into a Boxing Day on Friday, with the weekend to recover are the best of the cycle. Second best is Saturday, Sunday, Christmas Day Monday, then Boxing Day Tuesday.

For today, I’m not getting bitter, nor lonely, nor depressed really, but I am also actively doing stuff during the day to avoid going into a darker place. I’m making concerted efforts to avoid all forms of news media. I don’t need to know what disasters occurred, nor hear what new stupid thing the Chinese government is pulling off to harass and persecute our diplomats and citizens in that country out of spiteful retaliation.  I have no cares as to what Justin Trudeau* is going to announce in his address to the nation (also his birthday today), nor do I need to hear the holiday greeting from her majesty the Queen, and I sure as hell am not wasting any time listening to whatever is sprouting from the actions, or spouting from the big mouth of the orange-tinted crook downstairs*, or the status, impact, and repercussions of his shutting down of the U.S. government. But, it’s a day of doing one’s best of wishing others well, and to keep it a peaceful occasion. So, I shan’t dwell, or digress anymore, on political stuff.


I don’t want to watch any TV either: with the over-abundance of Christmas programming to distract and rob one of any genuine spiritual or soulful moments of the day. So, I choose to lose myself in writing again, and I began entertaining myself with my own curiosity of factual demographics, statistics, and other trivia, about the rest of this world that isn’t really partaking in the holiday today either, with some surprises about who does observe it. I like such moments to gain perspective.

Countries that don’t officially have Christmas (December 25th or Jan 7th) as a public or statutory holiday*:
Afghanistan, Algeria, Azerbaijan, Bahrain, Brunei, Cambodia, China, Comoros, Iran, Israel, Japan, Kuwait, Laos, Libya, Maldives, Mauritania, Mongolia, Morocco, North Korea, Oman, Pakistan, Qatar, Sahrawi Arab Republic, Saudi Arabia, Somalia, Taiwan, Tajikistan, Thailand, Tunisia, Turkmenistan, Turkey, Uzbekistan, United Arab Emirates, Vietnam, and Yemen.
Largest Country in the World (by population) with Christmas as a public holiday:
India – There are 28 million Christians in India, according to their 2011 census. Surprisingly, Christianity is listed as the third most practiced religion there (after Hinduism and Islam). That is even larger, by about 4 million people, than the number of cultural/religious Christians living here in Canada.
Number of Christians in the largest country (by population) that doesn’t have Christmas as a national holiday:
China, despite being a communist nation that endorses atheism, has 67 million people who identify as being Christian. That's 4.75% of their population. That’s like a full quarter of the Christian population of the United States, and more than double of that of Canada’s. I can't help but to think that this would be a huge number of dissidents to process for them if the government there decided to get even more repressive to religious groups.
Largest Primarily Muslim country (by population) with Christmas as a public holiday:
Indonesia – The largest Muslim country in the world also has Christmas as a public holiday. Given that this region was once a colonial possession of the Netherlands, Christmas became an institution there, and it surprisingly remained as a public holiday. Ten percent of Indonesia is Christian, so of that nation’s population, that still makes for 20 million people possibly celebrating Christmas there.
Country with Christmas as a national holiday; with also the greatest percentage of irreligious people:
Sweden – 73% of people there describe themselves as atheist, agnostic, spiritual-but-not-religious, anti-theist, and all other flavours of non-religious philosophical moral-ethical thinking amidst all that. A close second is Czechia (Czech Republic) at 72%.
Country with the most Public Holidays (but not one of them being Christmas):
Cambodia (28 days) – If you’d like to surround yourself with citizens with lots of time-off, while at the same time watching them living in abject poverty, maybe Cambodia is the vacation spot for you.
I’ll be more forthright next year with booking time off, now that I have a greater sphere to visit with. So, as the final hours of Gregorian Christmas Day fade, and as first hour of Boxing Day approaches, I wish everyone the best from me to you for the season, whether you opt to celebrate or not, even if you are stuck someplace where you are forbidden*** to do so. Take care, everyone.  
*- Spoken with neither any liking nor any hating for our current Prime Minister, as I see a balance of both virtues and deficits in him. Trump, however, is a different matter. I pity the Americans living under his bigot-empowering, demented, hateful, wrathful rule.
**- Surprisingly less than I thought, i.e. I expected to see more African countries counted to be in this list of nations. Christmas is celebrated from here to Timbuktu, literally: e.g. despite the nation of Mali being a majorly Muslim country and only 1% Christian, Christmas still a national holiday for them there.

***- Like in the Sultanate of Brunei, where any public display of celebrating Christmas can get you up to five years in jail.  

Sunday, December 23, 2018

Winter Solstice/Yuletide 2018: The Inaugural Yule Bookfest


I’ve been writing this in a piecemeal fashion, starting around the winter solstice, Dec 21st.

It has been a long while since I’ve posted an entry; for all good reasons. For the last while, with being in a new relationship, I’ve been more attuned into living intentionally and sharing my life privately with someone instead of being a passive commentator about life and sharing random observations about it with a general audience in written form. With the approach of our first yuletide season together, there also comes this excited eagerness and willingness in both of us to adopt some special thing to make as our own unique holiday tradition as a couple. So, we agreed to include a new observance for ourselves during this season. I feel like it is one worth sharing. Personally, I would hope it catches on with others as well if anyone so chooses to copy it.
The new custom we decided to observe isn’t really a specific local one, or even a Canadian one, but it serves our introverted selves very well. It’s one that we kind of appropriated from Icelandic tradition. By virtue of having relatives in Wynyard SK, a community that was largely founded by Icelandic settlers, I’ve already had some exposure to some traditional Icelandic Christmas (Jól) feast fare (like Rullapylse and Vinarterta) from my past holiday visits there. And now, strangely enough, we’re setting out to sample another custom similar to the one from that island, as a Canadianized form of it to suit us.
Temperature-wise, winters for that island nation seem relatively mild and less miserably frigid when compared to those here in Saskatoon, but given their proximity to the Arctic Circle, their winter nights are a lot longer during the approach to solstice*. The long cold darker nights around either side of winter solstice naturally stage an environment for which to retreat into coziness and stimulating one’s brain with a good story. Despite inhabiting one of the most expensive places to live on Earth, and being quite good at exercising frugality, folks in Iceland seem to spare no expense when it comes to buying and reading books. The result is that they have become one of the most culturally literate societies on Earth. Thus, books of all kinds are the most frequently gifted items around the Christmas season there: so much so that there is a word in their language defining this tradition of exchanging reading material as presents during the winter holidays. This annual tradition of buying and gifting books is called Jólabókaflóð, or “Christmas time book flood” roughly translated into English. It sparked some appeal in both of us when we heard about this custom because we do both like to read and would find this exchange quite endearing. We thought it best to anglicize the name to Yule Bookfest*, (see further below as to why). She suggested having this exchange on the last Advent Sunday before Christmas Day, and I thought that plan was perfect: a day of rest, dedicated to fully relishing the blessing of being able to read in peace with a fresh new story. As much as we love our families and friends; and having a chance to gather with them for feasting, gaming, and drinking, for introverted people this extra onslaught of social activity during the holidays, even with it being awesomely joyful and fun, can be a bit overwhelming and draining at times for our mental lives. Yule Bookfest is thus a way to have a day to simmer down the nerves; to take a breather from excessive social overload from the holidays, and to gain a sort of calmer private celebration; balancing the yuletide joy with some peace.
Most people around here refer to the “Christmas season” as the general period covering the latter half of December; I think this term is too vague, and a little thoughtless and sloppy for my liking. I’m a little more demanding of accuracy. I grew up in a family that, at least for a while during my childhood, observed both the Gregorian and Julian Christmases (December 25th and January 7th, respectively), as some other kids did in mixed Anglo-Ukrainian families in the community where I was raised, where these holiday traditions mixed and merged. In my formative childhood years, I remember that I was sometimes insistent in having others specify which Christmas they were referring to when they were trying to talk to me about the holidays. When I refer to Christmas, I mean specifically Christmas day (Dec 25th) or I get even more specific in defining it in mentioning Julian/Ukrainian/Orthodox Christmas on Jan 7th, and don’t usually use it so vaguely to refer to any other time within the period of December and early January. For that, I‘ve been reverting to the word “yuletide”, for referring to the greater span of days of celebrating between and during Advent and mid-January. Yuletide may sound a little more pretentious and a bit archaic, but it is a word I’m noticing that I’m becoming fond of and favoring (at least in my writing) of its use instead of using “Christmas” all the time ubiquitously over the whole season. Partially because it is a better term that can extend to generally include all days from the first Advent Sunday to Orthodox New Year’s Day (Jan 14th) and all days in between, and covering all holidays during that time from many other cultures, including newer bizarrely contrived ones (as perhaps ours is), with the celestial event of winter solstice roughly being the tethering post in the middle of it all. As for our new celebration, I’d like to start off doing this special day right, at the very least linguistically*. I see calling it “Yule Bookfest” instead of the original “Jólabókaflóð”, or “Christmas Bookflood”, as necessarily suitable because:

·         As I said, it leaves the word Yule to indicate an extended period of winter days; not just the singular day, of Christmas. After all, one usually needs more than just one day to completely finish and enjoy a book

·         Yule is a shorter word to type than Christmas. I get lazy at typing sometimes, and brevity is sweet and efficient for modernistic purposes. Plus, there are no accented characters, or funny letters (like eth -“Đ,ð”) to mess around with while typing, unlike the original Icelandic word.  This form does respect at least some part of the cognate** from which it was translated.

·         It better denotes that it’s not a serious religious observance; it’s open for anyone to enjoy, no matter what creed/faith, or lack thereof. One has only to appreciate the gift of a book, so we can just leave the term Christmas alone.

·         Rather than a flood, it’s just a single book to gift each other, for indulging in deeply. So, the word fest is best.

·         From the Wikipedia definition below,*** yule is a word originally derived from something rooted in a concept of playing, feasting, merrymaking, and joking around; not being seriously contemplative or solemnly meditative. There’s plenty of time left to do that latter stuff for the goddamned miserable other part, from January onward, of a Saskatchewan winter.

What else does this special day perhaps entail besides exchanging books? I think being costumed in ultra-comfortable loungewear (e.g. housecoat, sweatpants, and/or pyjamas), finger snacks (preferably drier ones to avoid smudging your pages: perhaps cheese, crackers and various other chacuterie), a warm(ing) beverage, perhaps by a crackling fireplace, and not moving too far beyond one’s armchair, or chesterfield. Snuggling and napping between chapters is permissible and encouraged.

My girlfriend picked out a perfect book for me: both in terms as theme material for this day, and the reflection of the kind of person I am, and the strange characters I’m interested in relating to. The book I was gifted for this inaugural celebration of pages was a piece of fiction written by Robin Sloan titled Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore. A cool story that involves a bright, but somewhat hapless young fellow who falls into unfolding some strange secrets centered around this bookstore and its gentleman proprietor, Mr. Penumbra. It's kind of book that will inspire you to recommit to being a more avid reader, and to perhaps try to write in more than just some unidimensional prose. It has re-affirmed ambitions that I should follow up on in the coming new year.
This is a bit of a digression . . . but the nerdy part of me usually likes to reflect on the anthropological stuff as to how and why certain traditions have originated over the holidays. This year, it’s kind of nice to be an active force in it all. Speaking of new and modern Canadian yuletide traditions, it leads me to wonder what will be unveiled in this special inaugural year of the legalization of cannabis in this country. I’m going to guess (perhaps correctly) that several folks around the country are probably going to embellish the theme having a “green Christmas” to the max. Perhaps this is the year where there will be started some grand tradition of some kind of Yuletide Bongfest which will become adopted by the potheads of this country: exchanging weed and the means for which to smoke and consume it. I presume it could be on December 20th (to correspond with the “20” in 4/20). Who knows.
If there was one thing I wish people would tune into more of as an addiction, I wish it was the substance of reading and literature. Long winters here in Canada would set us up for making a few more scholars if Yule Bookfest was taken seriously as a celebration.
*- Sunrise on Dec 21st in Reykjavik, 11:21 am; sunset, 3:29 pm. In Saskatoon, Sunrise, 9:12 am; sunset 4:56 pm.
**- Given that this is a bilingual nation, I would suppose that we could possibly call this “Fête d’Hiver des Livres” for the Francophones, but I’ll leave that to be properly translated by someone with a better command of French than I have.
***- Yule (from Middle English yole, from Old English ġeōlġeōla (“Christmastide, midwinter”), either cognate from Old Norse jól (“midwinter season, yule”),[2] from Proto-Germanic *jehwlą (“celebration, festivity; yule”), perhaps from Proto-Indo-European *yekə- (“joke, play”)) +‎ -tide (“period around a holiday”) (from Old English tīd (“period, season, time; feast-day, festal-tide”), ultimately from Proto-Indo-European *dī-(“time”)).

Friday, August 10, 2018

August Civic Holiday/Vacation 2018 (Lagom, Hygge, and Kalsarikännit)


As usual, as glorious as it can be, this summer in Saskatoon is passing too quickly. This one seems to be flickering past me even more rapidly than others. It may be because I have been overall happier. The inclusion of endearing forces in my life are doing me good. The absence of some other tyrannical, narcissistic forces, and whiney nagging people has allowed me to climb still further out of a hole of negativity. I’m enjoying the reprieve from that thus far. I feel strong enough to be a supportive friend again, and to be there for those who matter. 

It’s the beginning of another stretch of holidays for me, and yet I honestly haven’t been that eager to formulate some grandiose, concrete plan for a getaway for it; perhaps because it’s the first time after the longest time that I finally feel like there is nothing I really need to escape from. The most off-kilter thing I done throughout this time around was daring to play a clandestine poker game in a meat locker with a bunch of Russian gangsters*. My brain has been switched on to entertaining myself with puzzles and games again, on top of digesting some literature. It’s a personal barometer that indicates good things for me. It’s a peaceful retreat for this time, even when the annual ruckus of the Ex appears once again in the neighbourhood. My internal clock is already shifting itself now, by default, to waking up even earlier, and trying to nap a few hours during the heat of the day to compensate for the rest I won’t be getting at night. Yet, despite all that, I can retreat into my own head now more easily with a greater sense of clarity and contentment, without any great interference; and to seek such a thing from someplace else right now seems like a needless and futile squandering of energies. With temperatures rising as high as 40 degrees near week’s end, I’m even more disinclined to be too active. By then, the thought of playing games in an actual meat locker might really be appealing. Even more desirable would be an upgrade to a walk-in beer cooler.
I did give myself a few moments to wonder about and reassess my own personal reasons as to why I would travel. I did so because I was probed with such questions by my sweetheart about what I’d like to do for my upcoming birthday. The thrill of travel isn’t planting my ass on the sand of some beach, nor is it even visiting museums or festivals, though they’d be interesting enough I’m sure. Neither does much for me in exploring or understanding the vibe of the place, which I think is the whole jest of traveling to begin with. With this gaming mentality going on for me now, I realize that the thrill of travel for me is just to get a whole new perspective on other lifestyles and challenging myself to interact with them successfully. That’s like a game in and of itself. It includes the challenge of using and interacting with another language and finding avenues to do so for sake of just getting around and taking care of your basal needs of eating, lodging, and moving from spot to spot. It’s strange for me to see people who have traveled far more than I have, and yet who are totally scared shitless at the thought of daring to depart from their all-English-speaking tour group from their isolated resort. They say that they like to tour around; and at the same time are totally xenophobic. As introverted as I am I still like taking the more immersive and anthropological approach to traveling and touring by vagabonding.
This gaming/puzzling phase I’m in has made me both reflect and fantasize about the scenes I liked and would like to retreat to. I got nostalgic thinking about watching the citizens playing spirited games of dominoes in the outdoors taverns when I was doing life in Valencia many years ago. In past summers at some lake with family, when we were not cooling off in the water, or fishing, or eating, or listening to stories and gossip around a campfire at night, we were spending time playing Kaiser**, Meadow Lake Rummy**, or other card games in the campsite or cabin. I thought about how content I’d be and how cool it would be just chill out in a café nearby a souk in Istanbul playing backgammon with some locals, or perhaps learning mah-jong in a park in Shanghai or Hong Kong. I think about this because apart from the need to buy and consume, use math and logic, and listening to music; entertaining oneself with gaming is another thing that can transcend language, or at least be another avenue to learn about language and culture by this other amusing and informal vehicle.
Speaking of language and culture, that has been the subject of my non-fiction reading during this time off. It once again is a study into the Nordic/Scandinavian lifestyle, and being a nerd for linguistics. I should diversify into studying other cultural viewpoints, but once again, I can’t help but to be attracted to the subject of Scandinavia, as it always intrigues, interests, and impresses me. It is partly because despite with me not being immersed in such a culture, I yet somehow already live by, learned through my upbringing, or have adopted similar such equivalent ideas and ethics***; I just now have discovered new words for some of these memes by some strange synchronicity, which aren’t conveniently packaged into the English vocabulary for me to describe my own personal modus operandi. It’s the whole Law of Jante (Wikipedia source) thing they got going on over there - that I can deeply appreciate, which is sort of a Scandinavian societal modality that serves to curb things like vanity, greed, undo pride, pretentiousness, and a false sense of entitlement. The book I’ve been reading is called Lagom: the Swedish Art of Balanced Living, by Linnea Dunne. A guide for balanced living seems to be an appropriate thing to read while spending some holiday time alone. I touched on the subject of Lagom in a past entry, but I didn’t do it any justice in trying to elaborate on it.
The best new concept words I learned from this book that I can appreciate are:

·         Köpstopp – (pronounced sort of like “short stop”, switching the “rt” with "p") It’s the discipline of applying a spending cap for a given amount of time: a voluntary moratorium on shopping for anything beyond essentials for living. I experimented with this at the beginning of the year, I just didn’t have this concise name for this behaviour. A way to tame mindless consumption.

·         Panta – a recycling fee for your cans and bottles. The Swedish form of what would be the equivalent of a Sarcan refund here. A monetary incentive is always a good thing to encourage a cleaner environment.

·         Plastbanta – The banning of toxin plastic products in your household, and opting for wood/bamboo, stainless steel. I was already shifting towards this trend; again, I just didn’t have a concise name for it before.

·         Lördagsgodis- Not everything falls under the self-regulatory restrictiveness of the Laws of Jante, or the discipline of Lagom in Sweden. There are memes for unfettered indulgence, like this one meaning “Saturday goodies/candies” basically meaning going whole hog on sweets and snacks, but just for once a week. It coincides and accords with my cheat days whenever I have the hair-brain schemes of dieting, and whenever I entreat myself to something weird and exotic to experiment with in my kitchen, as the rhythm for that typically falls on Saturday.

·         Fredagsmys – Another once a week institution. This time meaning roughly “Friday coziness”, relaxing and retreating in your own home with nothing but your snacks at the ready and other creature comforts, and no other obligations to do anything else but veg out. Being that they neighbour as countries, I imagine there may be some correlation with the Finnish meme of kalsarikännit at this time of the week (read on further).   

·         Pyttipanna- A general cooking method of creatively making the most out of the leftovers in your fridge and pantry. Something I do all the time as a personal principle, because being wasteful disgusts me.

·         Loppis – A word meaning to tour flea markets, yard sales, and other places for gently used goods. Loppisrunda means making an entire day’s event of it. Another movement towards frugality, and waste-reduction, repurposing, and giving second hand items a new home and life.
The other Nordic memes I’d like to look into more, study, and explore are the concepts of hygge (Danish) – something akin to “coziness” but I’m led to believe and understand that it is something more divine and intricate than that, and the Finnish institution of kalsarikännit – I apologize that the translation is not too succinct: it roughly means “underwear drunk” but it actually essentially means succumbing to the urge to get intoxicated at home alone in your underwear after a bad day, with no intention of going out and socializing. That’s perhaps the perfect one to test out on a smoky, smouldering, 40 degree August afternoon, like what’s coming ahead.

*- Not for reals; in the Xbox game Prominence Poker. It’s the fact that I’m playing video games to begin with, instead of immersing myself in some other strange little project: that’s what is off-kilter for me, but it beats frying in the merciless heat for now.
** - Two very regional games unique to the area where I was raised here in Saskatchewan. 
*** - Perhaps it’s all mysteriously inherited and instinctual, seeing now that 25% of genome is Scandinavian after a DNA test. Nature versus nurture arguments will be for some other time.

Sunday, June 10, 2018

For Anthony . . .


“Travel changes you. As you move through this life and this world you change things slightly, you leave marks behind, however small. And in return, life - and travel - leaves marks on you. Most of the time, those marks - on your body or on your heart - are beautiful. Often, though, they hurt.”
Anthony Bourdain, The Nasty Bits: Collected Varietal Cuts, Usable Trim, Scraps, and Bones
June the eight started magnificently. I got to cycle to work on a day when all the conditions for making it the perfect morning for it were there. I had a smile pasted to my face that reflected all that was making me happy and grateful to be alive: the marvellous weather now thought of in contrast to how bitter it was here just two months ago, an end (or at least a blissful lengthened reprieve) from elements of tyranny, my once ailing pet is now recovering soundly, and all the things my sweetheart does, has, or just is, that make me so joyful that I fail to find words for in describing it all deeply and accurately. It was at work where I volunteered to fix up a cable box and reprogram a replacement remote control; where then it felt like this sphere of bliss I was in that morning became shattered by a wrecking ball as the first thing I viewed on this now functioning television was a breaking news report of the death of Anthony Bourdain. He was found in a French hotel; the cause of death being suicide by hanging. I’m trying to write words befitting of his genius and his passionate soul as my effort to remember him.

Even now as I write this three days later, I struggle to sort out the thoughts, and the words to bind them to adequately reflect all my disbelief, my shock, my sorrow about this great and devastating loss of this magnificent curator to all those who want to and dare to experience, appreciate, and dream of, both bliss-laden gastronomy and adventurous wanderlust. He was a unique celebrity: not an actor; a very real person open to exploring any countries or classes: dining along with, and genially discussing things with all sorts, ranging from patrons of Michelin starred restaurants to the humblest of street vendors. He made me want to be that kind of person with that kind of social fluidity, despite my introvert tendencies. He made me appreciate the will to craft the talent of writing better, and to note the importance and impact of honest and simple prose, and beauty of the written word, even when they are used at times to commentate with profanity on subjects leaning towards the vulgar. He reminded me that I once had the cajones to strike off to foreign places not commonly chosen as travel destinations, daring to eat local cuisine, intermingling with the locals; that I’d do it all over again once funding and freedom permits, and that it is a special privilege to be able to do so, and that past experience of doing it ultimately did me good.

One of the best books that one of my friends ever gifted me that was meaningful to my own life was a copy of Kitchen Confidential, with him as the author. His account of his humble beginnings and course of career through the culinary arts, showing all the wild, the humorous, the sultry, the seedy, and the scary behind-the-scenes happenings of the world of the kitchens ranging from eateries to upscale restaurants. It gave me the greater appreciation of improving and daring to amp up my own cooking skills, but yet it also served to scare the living hell out of me from ever wanting to pursue a career as a full-time chef or restauranteur. It also hooked me into wanting to know what his perceptions were of the rest of the world with this sort of background before he even became a traveller and gaining popularity as a TV host.

He, more than anyone, gave me the sense to see where there could be goodness, and even something majestic and exotic, in something ordinarily thought of as crude like offal, and how awful it is having the insidious metastasizing interference of monoculture of fast food chains. His tastes reflected so many of my own. He was an epicurean in the purest sense, knowing that life is lived through the senses; that is why it is so hard for me to stomach the fact that he took the extreme of ending his own life when he so boldly showed us what was beautiful and wonderful to experience in all corners of this globe. It thus must have been an extreme leave of his own senses. Having been through harsh phases of addictions, depression, and anxiety, he no doubt was exhausted of all his remaining energy to mask such things. It was apparent that he mastered doing it well, unfortunately. I can’t begin to guess what personal existential torment he must have had, or what finally made him act on this drastic and final self-destructive impulse. His death comes a month after I was left to process and be supportive to someone grieving the loss of their own child to suicide. Maybe on the subject itself, this occurrence showed me that I’m not yet done with reconciling whatever suffering it brings to those who are enduring the loss of the loved one this way.

In my own fantasy world, there is a list of people with whom I would love to have convened all together for a good dinner party: a group of contemporary celebrity figures (both living and not) for me that I regard as endowed with enough wisdom and style for living well in an enlightened or almost Christ-like manner. They would be like my personal apostles at my very own last supper. Anthony Bourdain was definitely on that list . . . and still is. He would probably would have recoiled at the thought of himself being compared to a Jesus figure, but nonetheless, he certainly was an influence on me in helping me to opt for constructive and hopeful things to do at times when I myself was in a pit of despair; helping me find simple ways to approach rejoicing life with living sensually in the little, but powerful and even medicinal, things and ways that honestly good food can possess. I wish that point of enlightenment was realized by himself and had rescued him before whatever demons he felt he was facing had led him down this dark path.

Thank you, Tony. You deserved a finale better than this; but thank you all the same for this journey you shared with us all. I know my words are nowhere close to being in the same league of mastery as yours in comparing our styles of writing, but please know that they are genuine and heartfelt. Bon voyage et bon appetite . . . and rest in peace.

Monday, April 2, 2018

Abstention Project 3: March – The Carb Omissions


“The cardiologist's diet: If it tastes good, spit it out.” - Author unknown

Prelude: March was so named to honour and commemorate Mars, the Roman god of war. This month is my time to get ready for a battle ahead … and there’s nothing sweet about preparing for it … quite literally in the context of this next mission – or “omission” rather.
The main objective, the ultimate one really, is fighting to get back the runner’s form that I used to have. It was my reflection of my Bond-self: the pinnacle of the best physical shape that I feel I’ve ever been in. Not only that, it was part in parcel of becoming my best mentally as well (focus, clarity, calmness, taming anxiety, ability to sleep/being restful). I started skiing more intensively last month to strengthen my legs, loosen my joints, but most importantly, to recondition my lungs and increase their efficiency. Now I’m looking forward to start running again, and to regain that capacity for it. The problem with the month of March for this region is of course the weather being so erratically inclement and schizophrenic outside a lot of the time, and it wavers wildly into many extremes: from giant dumps of snow, harsh regressions to cold snaps some days, followed by thawing that makes icy patches; all are most unfavourable for presenting risks for wiping out and falls, and getting joint damage or worse. I can’t set myself up for any risk of internal bleeding anymore either. Before I could start running a few odd years ago, I did a lot of passive weight loss through other solutions before I even hit the trails and track, as to avoid putting extra stress on my hips and knees and risking injury before I actually started running. I thought I should pull the same trick this time around, hoping that a few extra years of age since last time won’t be a hindrance. There is the Ketogenic Diet which I could have enacted, which is super strict and forbidding for sugar and carb consumption, but that is more ideal for bodybuilders who are bulking up with muscle as well as shredding fat. It is not a great help to anyone trying to build up activity endurance. Some carbohydrates are a definite must for that unfortunately. So, the method I used for this was the Slow-Carb Diet1
Of all reduction diets I tried, the Slow-Carb method worked most splendidly for me to shed off weight. I can’t remember the exact amount of mass I lost, but I did go down two pants sizes within four weeks. It was undeniable that cutting out excess sugar and carbs did the trick, with a strategically placed cheat day* to boast my metabolism to keep the momentum of it going. Cheat days also coincide with my most intense days for cardio exercise and working out with other exercise, so there is some balance struck there. To be crudely accurate, it made excess fat drop away from me like shit from a tall cow. However, the fact that I didn’t/couldn’t continue the Slow-Carb Plan just indicates that it wasn’t so easy for me to stick to and maintain. I found that giving up sugar and starch is an extremely tough action to commit to, especially when trying to be mindful of maintaining a modest food budget. While cleaning out closets back in January, I found my old notes and spreadsheet charts for the introductory fitness plan that set me on the right course before I could take off running that eventually led to me on a course to my personal physical best several years ago. Hence, along with the carb omission challenge, I’m also actively reverting to the Craig Plan to strengthen both muscle and joints. No, not the stupid Jenny Craig diet plan; I’m talking about the Daniel Craig fitness plan. All for the same reasons for when it was first executed several years ago: same height/same age motivators, minimal need for a gym or special equipment for some exercises, and minimal effective dosage advantage (see link: My Celebrity Fitness Role Model). It’s a body form that’s not too bulky, and yet not too lean, plus it just looks like good utilitarian piece of equipment that can endure, take a beating, and spring back and recover well afterward considering its particular count of years, which is really the most practical thing I should be aiming for given my recent history of health/injury issues**.
For myself, excess sugar and carbs is the most consumed, potentially addictive substance, of all my vices, even though I’m not want you’d typically call a “sweets person” compared to others. Sugar (and refined carbohydrates) is far worse than alcohol in some respects in that people of all ages have freer access to sugar and refined carbohydrates than to alcohol, and it is so pervasive and hidden in so much of our processed food that we eat it unwittingly all the time. It is why I needed more time to research and plan (with a greatly revised grocery list) for this challenge than I did with giving up alcohol last month (Abstention Project 2: February – Temperance). In terms of the count of diagnoses, excess sugar is actually the bigger culprit for so many more metabolic diseases than those caused by excess alcohol. 
Mission: A month of eliminating all refined carbohydrates from my dietary regimen. This includes sugars, (white) starches, and high glycemic index carbohydrates, which means not eating food or products containing the following ingredients:

·         All-purpose and other highly refined flours
·         Sugar (white, brown, and all forms of it in between)
·         Honey
·         Maple Syrup
·         Molasses
·         Fructose (which includes most fruits and berries)
·         Dextrose
·         Maltose
·         Sucrose 
·         Malto-dextrose
·         Lactose (Milk)
·         Pasta and noodles
·         Rice and rice flour products
·         Potatoes
·         Beets
·         Corn Products (including popcorn, cornstarch, and corn syrup)
·         Sweetened alcoholic beverages
·         Bacon, ham, and other sugar (dextrose)-cured deli meats
·         Meat Jerky
·         Gravad Lax, Imitation Crab and Lobster, and other sugar-cured fish products (also full of Sorbitol)
·         Processed snack foods, candy, and other confectionary items
·         Pop, kvass, and any other sweetened carbonated drinks (all forms, including diet sodas)
·         Anything else canned and preserved in syrups
·         Artificial sweeteners of all kinds (Aspartame, Sorbitol, etc.) 
Exceptions:

·         The Slow-Carb diet allows for some strategically placed cheat days within the program: 1 out of every seven to be exact, where you can go wild and eat anything you want, including some sugary starchy food. It actually does something to rev up the metabolism, so you burn up even more weight as a bonus. I opt to make my cheat days for Saturday, and March this year is great because it has five Saturdays in it. However, I think I’ll only exploit the privilege for only four Saturdays. I reserve March 10th (a care-free night to spend with someone special, to celebrate her return home), March 17th (St. Patrick’s Day, when I’d love to indulge in a pint or two of Guinness), and March 24th (a dinner theatre night, with the chance to enjoy some birthday cake with my Mom), and of course Easter weekend is just paved with to many sugar-laden landmines to avoid.

·         The only drinkable calories I will be using for this foray is one small glass (150 mL) of unsweetened grapefruit juice, daily in the morning. Its purpose is for stimulating some helpful liver enzymes***.  

Reasons, Facts, and Figures:

·         Fact 1: Data from the dietary history (according to US statistics) has shown that humans have on average eaten 4 lbs of sugar per person per year starting in the 1700s, rising steadily in annual consumption right up until this decade, which averages about 180 lbs per person per year. That’s a 4400% increase between the amounts of 1700 and of today.
·         Fact 2: Drinking one can of pop each day for a year puts an additional 22.68 Kg (50 lbs) of consumed sugar into one’s body annually.
·         Fact 3: If the current trend in sugar/carb consumption continues, the cost for treating diabetes alone could possibly defund all our healthcare dollars by the year 2026 (only eight years from now!). 
·         Fact 4: Once a cancer cell develops, the best way to make that thing grow and spread is to feed it with a diet high in sugar.

Substitution Materials, Activities, and Alternate Behaviours:

·         Swapping out potatoes, rice, pasta, and bread with pulses and legumes (lentils and beans). Yes, there are carbs in them (complex ones though), and the protein and fibre content in them makes using them worthwhile.
·         More vegetables of all kinds, except starch-rich root vegetables.
·         Going nuts - as in real nuts (almonds, pecans, cashews, et al. – all unsalted) for snack food
·         Automate meal plans, and keep meal options limited to a just few simple selections 
·         Cache away all sugar, flour, bread, pastry to the bottom of my deep freeze; knowing that if I ever crave them, there is a lot of extra bother ahead to access them.
·         No drinking my calories (water, tea, black coffee). Drinking alcohol is permissible, but limited to weekends, more wine/less beer)
·         Most awesome tool for this project: I found a greatly discounted vegetable spiralizer to make zoodles (zucchini noodles) to substitute for my grain pasta.

Feedback Mechanisms:

·         The bathroom scale and a measuring tape
·         Looser clothing
·         Jarv Elite Bluetooth Smart Band Fitness Tracker
·         The My Fitness Pal App, to gain a fuller idea of carb and sugar content when I’m composing recipes at home. 
·         Improved endurance with my other exercise, and other physical activity
Progress:

·         Mar 1st – Mar 7th – So far, the process has been committed to. Getting up to eat breakfast in a timely manner (and one absolutely needs 30 gm of protein for the first meal of the day) was the hardest habit to change. I’ve been so sleep deprived for most of the winter, that forcing myself to commit to the task of preparing breakfast seemed to be a great strain. However, after feeling the punishment that a body goes through without doing it through a drastic drop in blood sugar, I’ve been more diligent to see it through. Headaches occurred; thankfully not to the point of migraine level. The biggest hurdle to overcome is finding food at work that isn’t contra to the plan. The super dump of snow that happened on Mar 5th thwarted a plan to try a little outdoor running, and ironically, there was too much snow to go skiing. The trails were perfect, but the parking lot to the course I use couldn’t be accessed without a 4x4 vehicle with winter tires. The seething anger I had for that day alone probably amped up my metabolism a great deal. I compensated with my exercise through shoveling and moving the ridiculous amount of accumulated snow.

·         Mar 8th- Mar 14th – I kept to the plan in an orthodox manner, eating and drinking nothing with added sugar, or other carbs. My cheat day wasn’t even that much of a stray from the plan. Breakfast had just bacon and some sugar in the coffee, Lunch was Dim Sum in which I avoided the breaded and filled buns, and supper was homemade pizza(s) and some wine. As much as I could have devoured an entire one of the two I made, my appetite was shifted to other non-edible things. I did an amplified body core workout Saturday and then amped up skiing a bit for the day after, reaching a new personal record for skiing since the embolisms (emboli) occurred.

·         Mar 15th – Mar 21st – Measurements and fittings on the 15th showed that I’m down by one pants’ size since the beginning of the month. There was too much thawing happening to allow for skiing. So, the plan switched over to try to run now that I shed some poundage. However, dealing with icy patches is still a treacherous affair, even without slipping and falling. After such a long lapse, my first two trials of 4km (Thursday) and then 6 km (Friday) have been harsh to say the least. My legs have been seizing up rather quickly given that there is no simple flow or continuity (like skiing has) throughout the course when given instances of being forced to react instantly to gear down the pace and breaking momentum while trying to establish better footing when switching surface to surface contact, (ice to concrete to pavement to ice, etc.). It might have been to do easier years ago, but this switching up is especially (and evidently) taxing to stubborn old muscle memory. I was very sore and cramped on St. Patrick’s Day (Mar 17th). Thankfully it was a cheat day, and thence comes the amazing healing properties of beer. Of all the remedies (aside from proper rehydration) that ever helped me avoid brutal cramping after workouts, beer is the chief among them. It seems to go deep into my muscles and helps to nourish and loosen them up better. The sweet coaxing from my “sleep” coach helped to make me recover better too. Another thing to note about this cheat day was that I really had no strong craving for sugar itself. I thought I might really go wild, but my only carb fixes for that day was an English muffin (refined flour, probably sacrilegious to eat on an Irish holiday), Gruyere cheese shavings in an omelet (mild lactose) with bangers (mild, with dextrose), and a peach with skyr for breakfast (fructose, low lactose), rice noodles for lunch, a couple pieces of leftover pizza from last week, and two beers). I relished more in the fact that there was just an easement of not having to actively review the carb/sugar content of whatever it was that I was eating than being tuned into being really obsessed to consume anything sweet or starchy. Sunday was too beautiful to avoid a run outside; conditions were perfect. My legs were still a bit crampy, but a 5 km commitment was made. I stuck to an automated plan for the rest of the week. My pants are beginning to sag badly and are practically falling off me. I’ll have to either dye my hair and pretend to be a teenager, or tighten up the belts and drawstrings

·         Mar 22nd – Mar 31st – Well, the last 10-day stretch is here, sort off. The runs outside have been postponed due to another wallop from a spring snow storm. I’m relegated to use a treadmill now (I hate bloody treadmills, I need to feel myself moving through space), or compensate with more weight training. The one in my building is on the fritz again, and I’ll have to pay admission to use some other one elsewhere. I may just return to skiing if the trails aren’t slushy. I am noticing that I really don’t have a big craving for anything thought of as sugary per se as I had expected. Or it seems at least that this progressive move of being weaned from it has indeed put a waning to such cravings. But I do get hankerings for things like bread and deli meat most strongly out of all the things on the taboo list. My cheat day breakfast was an exquisite plating of English muffins layered with homemade gravad lax****, crowned with poached eggs. Sugar somehow has an inflated potency in taste for me now. When I use sugar in my coffee***** on my cheat days, the regular dosage that I used to do now seems far too intense for sweetness, and I’ve cut back my addition of sugar to my weekend coffee by two thirds. I’m also discovering things that are delights to have as snacks that are fulfilling, even decadent, which don’t necessitate carb intake. Fresh oysters (sea oysters, not prairie oysters!), for example, now that they are in season and cheap(er) and now that I’ve learned how to shuck them properly, kissed with a squeeze of lemon. I’ll have something like that over a bag of chips any day. The temperature has plummeted drastically since the last Wednesday of the month; and is expected to not get above freezing until the first week of April has passed. Running far in the cold has been brutal for the lungs for these final days of the month (-20 wind chill on Thursday afternoon’s trial), especially when they were just starting to become acclimated to warmer temperatures. Friday`s run almost resulted in a serious wipe out on ice that put a cramp in my leg. The last day of the month was a cheat day, and a great day to reunite with faces from my past that have I’ve lapsed too long with seeing. I’m thankful that my old friends are doing well and are looking healthy. Celebrating Easter was a welcome reprieve too.
Violations (Penalties): The penalty is simply just a straight up addition of mileage or exercise I needed to perform to practically rid myself of those extra consumed calories from the accidental, or incidental, intake of refined starch/sugar.
Final Words: The result for the month was a loss of 7.26 kg (16.1 lbs). I don’t believe that it was as much as that last time I did this seven years ago, but I’ll blame some aging for that. I still have a way to go to get into optimal form: by a loss of that mass, plus even a little more. April will begin just as cold and miserable as March is ending. I`ll be extending this challenge into the next month as well, barring a few vacation days early in the month where I`ll be a little more indulgent with feasting to celebrate another reunion of sorts. The worse thing to deal with was the loss of bread and noodles/pasta in my diet. I’m quite dependent on sandwiches it seems. The bonus is though that I realize that I didn’t have a lot of taboo foods around the house to begin with, and whatever I needed to sustain this challenge was minimal. On a scale of 1 to 10 though, I rank it on a high in terms of difficulty it terms of performance and commitment (8.5). I only faltered once, and it was on Good Friday, near the end of the month (I sampled some cinnamon buns). One thing that I experienced through the middle two weeks of the month was an accentuated lack of energy. I consulted with a co-worker who is also an expert on planning these types of reduction diets, and his feedback from what I shared with him was that I`ve been eating too little. Hopefully, I`ll be able to amp up the mileage and strength building throughout next month; the goal being to make a personal best for either the 5 or 10 km race for the Saskatchewan Marathon in May, sticking to the programs to make the River Run Marathon later in the summer. The greater ambition though, not linked with a formal race, is to collect bridge crossings again. This time, Saskatoon has more bridges than ever, and I have yet to map out what exactly that distance is for crossing all seven (eight later this year) pedestrian accessible bridge decks in this city.
Bibliography and Resources:

1.       Ferriss, Timothy. (2010). The 4-Hour Body. New York: Crown Archetype

*- The added advantage of this system with this one cheat day per week is that it helps banish a sense of deprivation. If I have a craving for something, all I have to do to note it on my cheat day list and save it as a possible menu idea for Saturday.
**- Daniel Craig’s own list and history of injuries he sustained just for preparing and filming for the role of James Bond is very extensive, and the timelines he had to recover from them were impressively shorter than one would expect.
***- Grapefruit juice is a notoriously powerful and tricky substance of the world of pharmaceuticals: there is a myriad of medications that contraindicate with it, even with modest consumption. One needs to be careful with it while on prescription medication.

****- Last week, I learned and discovered from my DNA test that a larger component of my genome that I thought was stemmed from heritage in the Britain Isles is actually Scandinavian (25%). The flippant joking remark I made in my last Christmas blog entry in 2017, is actually true! I learned how to make gravid lax long before I knew this about my genome, and perhaps it explains why I have a craving for such stuff once in a while.  
*****- I separate my coffee drinking activity to drinking it just black while I’m at work; using sugar and cream on days when I’m not. A personal crotchet I use to be mindful of separating business from pleasure; not related to any diet plan.

Thursday, March 1, 2018

Abstention Project 2: February – Temperance


 “It takes only one drink to get me drunk. The trouble is, I can't remember if it's the thirteenth or the fourteenth.” - George Burns
“Be wary of strong drink. It can make you shoot at tax collectors ... and miss.” - Robert Heinlein
Prelude: My last drink before this challenge – Date: January 31st. I’d say that I really deserved this one, and thus had to make it special. Beverage of choice: Single Malt Scotch on the rocks (Jura), a double, pulled from my stock. I consumed and enjoyed it consciously, in a manner that allows it to linger and flirt with my senses to the max, as I always do with scotch. It was enjoyed after coming home from a good and convivial Union facility meeting earlier in the evening. A private and silent toast was made in recapping my day, to thank whatever Creator we have for allowing me to witness the rare and spectacular Blue Moon eclipse earlier that morning, to the much welcomed end of a month that was quite taxing to me in many ways, for (so far) lasting through exposure to sick people without getting ill myself, to a new and happier phase of life for a retired co-worker, and also for a moment to offer some thoughts and prayers of peace and solace to a soul that passed today, a person for whom we gave care to, who will now suffer no longer.
I’m probably shocking some people who think they know me better with my acceptance of a challenge like this. Drinking is certainly a fact of my life, and although I’m honestly not a lush, nor fall anywhere on the heavy side of doing it, I still can’t deny either that after any particularly taxing, stressful, and drama-laden day, that one potential inclination after coming home and trying to put such days behind me may be to relax with a beer or cocktail sometimes. Still, it’s not a frequent or automatic first response; and thankfully, I’m not having too many of days like those anymore where it could be. The truth is that my drinking has already declined markedly since November 2014, because after that date I needed to be mindful that over-imbibing to levels which I could have previously happily tolerated before that time can now lead to some serious complications. I can still drink daily if I wanted to, but within a limited range of moderation, of course. I’m not a barfly, but I do poke my nose into such places the odd time when I do get those rare urges to crawl out of my shell, and at least pretend to be social.
My overall opinion of exercising temperance is as such - I don’t look down on people who choose not to drink, nor do I pressure them to join me whenever I do. Their choice and their reasons, be they medical, or moral, are their own and respected. If they teetotal, I often do comply with accepting a non-potent potable as a refreshment in their company. My non-drinking friends that I have (I have more than just one of them), don’t judge me harshly just because I do drink every now and then. If it’s not a vice for which one totally abuses or allows to be an all-encompassing obsession in one’s life, I don’t regard it as one to totally discount the better parts of a person’s entire character for. However, I don’t put up with the sanctimony of others trying to tell me how inherently worthless and sinful I am because I like the odd nip now and then. I think can recover more easily from drinking than they probably can from being stupid from whatever puritanical religious or moral platform they are pontificating from. I’ve witnessed such confrontations before between casual social drinkers and some hardcore temperance adherents: be they Christian, or Muslim, or Buddhist, or ultra-purist vegan atheist hipsters, or whoever else takes a staunch unwavering stance against alcohol. If a person like this chose to engage with me this way, I would honestly attack back. Not by showing anger, or being rude, but by being tough on them with simple logic. I have a canned response against that sort of self-righteous approach. I would ask them which of the two people they would rather have being the major player in governance and setting a future course in the history the world: a determined sort who is an absolute teetotaller vegetarian, who is artistic and who loves animals; or a steadfast guy who rigorously defends and inspires his people, but also tends to occasionally overuse alcohol. If they respond with the vehement and absolute support for the former mentioned teetotaller, I would then ask them why their right arm isn’t shooting up in front of them with a Nazi salute after they answered that way, because I’d then indicate, that by their flawed thinking, that they then would have rather liked to have seen Adolf Hitler emerge victorious from the Second World War instead of Winston Churchill*. I do confess that I’d get a sense of schadenfreude as I’d watch them try to process this factoid, with the gears of cognitive dissonance grinding in their skulls. However, I’m not so spiteful as to disincline myself from the challenge of not drinking for a while, although I did get more selective as to when I would commit to this process than with the other abstention projects.
Alcohol doesn’t necessarily have to be bad for you. If one is physically/genetically well-suited enough to tolerate and metabolize it, there are countless medical reports out there expounding benefits of using it (in moderation). It was funny - back at my last physical when my blood work results were being reviewed with me by my physician. After already feeling sheepish after confessing to my doctor my steady decline in healthier food choices, he leaned towards me, raising an eyebrow, and said, “You drink beer regularly, don’t you? I would guess some sort of unfiltered micro-brewed or craft brand?” Shocked to hear him correctly identify and get that specific about my habit of homebrew consumption just from my blood sample, I was then noticeably rolling my eyes, automatically thinking dreadful thoughts of something preachy and prohibitive coming along for me; another possible loss of one of the few pleasures I have in life. I was then stuck there trying to think about I was going to dance around the next questions of how much and how often. Instead, he shocked me again by just saying, “That’s good! Because there’s no other way to explain these elevated Vitamin B levels of yours with the kind of diet that you just told me about.” He said that he wished that other patients had levels that were so good. I took it as a compliment. He didn’t even warn me to drink less. In fact, he listed a limit figure off to me of what he deemed passable as moderation, that was actually higher than what I was already consuming; so long as it didn’t veer too far over into more commercial beer (where yeast nutrients get lost through filtering and pasteurization) I was OK. Still needing to be mindful of quantity of course, my choices and pattern of drinking apparently weren’t harming me now. A big sigh of relieve there.
This doesn’t happen to all non-drinkers of course, but I have noticed that among those who opt to decline or totally abstain from alcohol, that many often just more frequently pick out/abuse another socially acceptable/permissible potentially addictive neuro-chemical substance, from which they may be finding hard to part from in the same way a heavy habitual drinker would from alcohol. With the alcohol gone at a dry social event, what you’ll most likely find instead is just other more common addiction substitute modals being served, like caffeinated beverages and sugar/carb rich drinks, treats, and confections. I’m also going to try to not fall into that trap. It was interesting to study how much of a huge influence our toxins of choice played as tidal motions and memes for determining our global history, in terms of colonisations and trade economics, through one documentary series I found1.
Mission: No alcohol consumption in any form for the entire month of February. This includes even the so called de-alcoholised wines and beers (that slop, for the illusion of drinking alcohol, is still overall pretty costly).
Exceptions: None
Reasons, Facts, and Figures:

·         Reason 1 – I’m not quitting drinking based on some new found moral reason; I do so more out of economy after processing the actual cost of it all after reviewing 2017’s expenditures from last month’s abstention challenge. It’s one more of my wasteful expenses that I could do without for a while. I also do this to establish some sort of historical baseline for myself, because I honestly don’t know what the actual longest period of being alcohol-free has been for me at any time during my life as an independent adult. I know it sure hasn’t been a whole month, or exceeded that. I don’t consume alcohol problematically, thus it has never been something that I ever had a conscious need to monitor before. I certainly don’t expect some medal for going dry for one month, especially with the knowledge that expectant mothers are relegated to go for at least nine without alcohol, with some supportive husbands joining them on the wagon for that duration. What I do expect of myself while I’m being my own experimental guinea pig is to study and learn how I may and could change by doing so.

·         Reason 2 – Generally, because I remind myself that February is the worst month of the year for me to endure: when the deepest trough of the winter blues seems to afflict me almost to my wits’ end. Little good ever comes of living around here through this month, and for this year, it is proving to be nothing else different from other past Februarys at the time that I write this. I usually encounter at least one or two crises to manage within this wretched cycle of 28 days. Thus, this month doesn’t need to be miserably accentuated or worsened further through consuming a neuro-chemical depressant. Drinking around this time of the year obviously doesn’t accord to the overall year’s mission resolution of somehow trying to be happier.

·         Reason 3 – Because I didn’t want to do this challenge next month, and not be able to enjoy a couple pints of Guinness for St. Patrick’s Day in March. Nor would I want to be doing this in May, when the much beloved and anticipated Top of the Hops event comes to town (a beer, wine and spirit expo that is a great beginning to my summer), and any part of a hot summer without some cold beer would seem a little too unnatural for me.

·         Reason 4 – There is a movement going on to try going dry for the month of February to support cancer research. I could be on board for that.

·         Reason 5 – Alcohol is the next most toxic substance that I willingly take into my body. See next month to find out what the worst is. It would probably do me some good to have a bit of a prolonged break from it and monitor for some of the potential physical and mental changes from not imbibing, if any.

·         Reason 6 - Memory Skill Retention/ Improvement – Given that I live alone (and may possibly die alone), I have no one else around to pester and rely on to keep track of things and life tasks for myself. It’s perhaps the other reason I task and trouble myself to write out stuff like this through blogging: because these entries serve as guideposts in my own life, and without any one else around to remember any of my life for me, this is all I have left to show and prove that I once existed, or at least show in all honesty the character that I once had sometime down the road should I ever start showing signs of slipping gears cognitively. Being more proactive in keeping up with brain fitness is a more important priority for me to be mindful about than it is with most other people who are coupled. I can’t afford to be declining into cognitive impairment and decay with things like dementia as I age if I want to still live independently in my senior years. Using brain training apps like Luminosity, puzzles, or playing the odd video game with heavy emphasis for remembering maps and spatial orientation may be beneficial. Using time like this right now to make efforts to find the words to chronicle things through writing, and learning alternate languages is a help also, at least on a lexical/language level of memory skill retention and intelligence. If alcohol is indeed a great impairment for all these things, I could stand to learn other ways to be content with using less of it.

·         Random Fact 1 – The city I inhabit, Saskatoon, was originally founded in the latter 1800’s as a Methodist temperance colony. I guess that didn’t work out so well for them, seeing how now the Broadway area, the original site of the settlement, has one of the bigger concentrations of bars, taverns, and licensed restaurants in the city.

·         Random Fact 2 – February is Roll up the Rim Month promotion from Tim Hortons, where my money ordinarily used on liquor can be gambled with in getting a possible prize by consuming more of their coffee. You have to hand it to Tim Hortons: they took the shittiest month to be alive in Canada, and turned it into a coffee lover’s dream, although very much exploiting the strained hopes of their customers through a contest to sell more coffee by getting people to wander outside into the frozen misery to get it, for the odds of winning a big ticket prize that possibly match those of surviving a nuclear war. I can’t tell if this is brilliant marketing genius, or a sick and sadistic cruelty. Because that’s what you want around here: to keep being depressed during this season and be yet even more awake and alert to reflect upon it <sarcasm>.

·         Random Fact 3 –Initial temperance movements in the early 1800’s in Britain weren’t even meant to outlaw drinking at all, but just to control it to limit public intoxication, associated more the evils of “strong drink”, i.e. distilled alcohol like gin, rum, and whiskey. The initial movements didn’t even exclude all alcoholic beverages. Non-distilled fermented drinks, like beer, wine, and cider, weren’t considered to be in the same league as “strong drink” and were fine, initially. Those were even promoted more for consumption to dissuade the working man away from using spirits. However, as the Industrial Revolution took hold, and demanded a more punctual and efficient workforce, it placed less tolerance for workers being hungover on any form of alcohol, and temperance was then redefined to mean no alcohol at all, and this is when social and religious promoters of temperance and prohibition movements gained some leverage (Party-poopers!). As temperance movements grew in momentum, the institution of afternoon tea also took hold in Victorian Britain, to accommodate for their caffeine habit from their other substitute addictive beverage, along with the addictive substance of sugar to add to it, as trade for both commodities and mass production to process and refine them began to flourish in the empire. Their temperance movements also had no problem introducing things like laudanum (an opiate derivative) to cure people of alcoholism and delirium tremens, and cocaine was used as a supposed treatment for liver disease from alcoholism. Addictions don’t really stop; they just change forms. As easy and as tempting as it would be for me to opt and appreciate the earlier definition of temperance, I decided to commit to the complete disuse of all alcohol for this month.

Substitution Materials, Activities, and Alternate Behaviours:

·         Kvass – A carbonated, grain-based drink to serve as my substitute for beer; it’s also mildly healthier than pop is. Though technically a fermented beverage, it is a probiotic elixir made with a dominant lacto-bacillus culture, not primarily yeast. The homemade stuff is very low in alcohol (a fraction of a percent by volume), while the commercial stuff has no alcohol in it at all (however, the trade off is that it’s also then typically sweetened, sterilized, and filtered of any probiotic benefits). I’ve been using the latter. My source for it in town is Slavianka, a Ukrainian and Russian food shop.

·         Milk – Moo juice, beneficial because of the added boost up of vitamin D: good to have extra of for this time of the year.

·         Clamato juice – My favourite virgin cocktail is a V-Caesar. Again, as it isn’t a sugary drink, it’s a healthier alternative than pop or other fruit juices.

·         Lemon Water/ Mint infused Water – Detox essentials

·         Tisanes – Herbal tea hot drinks, trying not to swap lessened alcohol with too much increased caffeine intake.

·         Social venues centred around coffeehouses, if any such things exist here.

·         The Winter Olympics

·         Exercise at home and skiing

·         Scheming and planning for next month’s project

Feedback Mechanisms:

·         The number of emptied liquor bottles shouldn’t change in my recycling bin between Feb 1st and Feb 28th

·         Weight change (due to over/under consumption of other things in lieu of booze)

·         Clarity of mind, sleep changes, regained energy, etc. (see below)

Violations (Stakes and Penalties): Opening and consuming from any bottle of liquor during this month means a monetary fine, a donation equal to the value of the retail price of said bottle of liquor**** to be made out any one of the many wretchedly despicable and awful institutions I’d hate to support with any monetary funding: i.e. any of the several ridiculous ultra right-wing-conservative, anti-science, anti-union, political movements out there (including this current provincial government). The penalty amount is tripled if any of that liquor has been acquired through any of the new privatized (non-SLBS) vendors.

Progress: It would probably just be easier for me to recap and summarize this effort by focusing on a week by week progression through the month, mostly confined to the weekend activity since most of my drinking is confined to Friday through Sunday anyway, outside of my work hours.

·        Feb 1st – Feb 7th: Every day has had a notice an extreme cold warning from the Weather Network during some part of each day. Thursday, uneventful . . . and dry. Tuned into TV and texting Friday evening, felling asleep on my chesterfield (getting old) – no booze then. Initial INR test done Saturday morning (1.9). Bought some groceries after my shopping hiatus. Devoted energies to restocking my kitchen, processing a lot of stuff in a manic fashion. I admit right now that this was no doubt due to too much coffee in the morning, followed by too much sugary kvass. The combination of the two seemed to have worked on me physically like a two-stage rocket fuel system. If I had a beer or two, I may have levelled out; I didn’t yield though. My heart was pounding, and I was going super-hyper and crazy, barely able to keep focused. Working like mad in the kitchen to process my pantry supplies was probably a subconscious effort to clear stuff away for my next month’s challenge. I crashed hard later, followed by blogging about the previous month’s challenge. Sunday – still booze free. Monday – Ironically, I resorted to making beer (no violation can happen since it won’t be ready to consume for over a month). Tuesday – still good. On Wednesday the 7th, I was shaken a bit with some emotional things. It was a complicated sort of paradox to process with a few strange ironies blended in it for even more awkwardness. It was a silly thing now that I look at it clearly: dealing with a sense of loss for something I never really had. It was an odd situation where no one even did anything wrong, and everyone involved was acting on the best of intentions, and there was no one to blame. I was still very harsh on myself though. Being a hapless and hopeless loser was about the kindest thing I could say for myself then. There could have been an excuse to take to a bottle as a reaction to this. But I never did that before in similar situations, so why do that now? Luckily, I’m not too impulsive by nature. Those feelings were short-lived, and maturity prevailed. It was just a thing that was beyond my control, and it was as useless to complain and lament about, as one passing day of bad weather in a week. Nothing really happened to be ashamed of, and yet nothing resulted to be proud of either. One could argue that avoiding alcohol for the week maybe was even a help for me in managing to pull my senses together to reframe things and make peace with the issue. Fate is how you are dealt the hand, but how you play the cards is choice. I chose the most honest and amicable way, because the other people involved are ones who I inherently like, and they deserved that much. I at least tried to walk my way through this with some dignity and maybe making better, trusting, and hopefully more strengthened friendships. I at least hope that they can understand that I have no resentments at all. I realize now that I didn't lose anything, but actually gained more in other aspects. The lesson itself was harsh and sobering in its own way, but it really ended better than I could have hoped for. I can’t speculate if opting to drink would have shifted my perception of the matter for the worse, even if it was used to just to allow me to somehow escape into sleep. However, I didn’t break my vow and succumb to that action. When all was said and done, things worked out for the best for everyone. I then felt quite lucky. I thank the sweet angel who helped carry me through this time, before and after.

·        Feb 8th – Feb 13th: Thursday – I struggled all day at work trying to keep my mind right from the insomnia I had from the unrest from the night before, trying not to trip over my own feet. No drinks taken later when I got home from work, as tempting as it was to seek that out for some sort of practical sedation. I’m glad I didn’t because, somehow, a long-lasting migraine was triggered later; I was fearing as well that I may have been coming down with the flu. It pretty much cancelled out any appetite for alcohol, plus anything else consumable for that matter. Though it was on the milder side**, it was bad enough to keep me from sleeping well, and it left me trying to function through a dulled and blurred state for many hours. Could alcohol have prevented all that misery to begin with when used at a strategically placed time? I doubt it. Was avoiding alcohol the culprit for creating an imbalance that put me in such a state. I doubt that too. And the migraine did phase into Friday - I finally fell asleep at early morning (4:00 AM), waking fitfully throughout, arising at 7:30 AM. Things relaxed head-wise fully at about 12:30 PM. I tried watching some Olympics coverage, but I couldn’t focus, and I was too still low to be primed by any interest in it. I invested some time to check out the Wellness Expo at Prairieland in late afternoon, to do something practical and proactive in dealing with what I had experienced throughout the evening, night, and day of the pain I had, plus I attended a seminar of a relevant subject for next month’s mission. The rest of evening was a boring affair of reading, watching TV, and periodically needing to rest my eyes. Nothing more potent was consumed than decaf tea.  Saturday and Sunday – I stuck to being Mr. Fix It***. It was rewarding to complete such things and clear them off a list, but they were not accomplishments to be celebrated with any beer. I joined a friend for a belated birthday lunch on Saturday after her fitness class. Even though I did kettlebells and some core work that morning, and skied in the afternoon, her workout routine makes me feel slothful and puts me to shame. Since we ate at a health food joint, it would have been senseless to ruin whatever benefits there were of dining there with alcohol, if having a drink even crossed my mind that is (which it didn’t). I skied on Sunday, through harsher conditions than the day previous. As tempting as it could have been to have a lovely frothy apres-ski pint after that laborious affair, I managed to be disciplined for all the rest of that day. Monday and Tuesday, both days uneventful after work – just watching Olympics, skiing, and taking time to install and configure a Bluetooth system in my car . . . still staying dry.  

·        Special Note, Feb 14th: Ash Wednesday/Valentine’s Day – the midpoint of this wretched month. It started to storm with blowing snow, as well as plummeted in temperature as the workday ended, as if to correctly punctuate just how awful and abysmal such a day is for me. If Valentine’s Day had me already feeling beat up and thrown out into a crap-festered gutter in a funk of depression, the weather change came along to stomp an extra boot down on my throat to take away anything else of the remains of the day that could have been pleasurable. It was the same sort of stupid day as it is for me every year, but seemingly worse with it being even more laden with anomie and isolation as a single this time around. Except for sending out a few critical texts and responding to a couple of emails, I just kept my cellphone off for most of that day; tuning out and ignoring all other media for the day as well. I was just feeling too low in spirits to want to deal with anyone, and yet at the same time I didn’t want to be sitting around at home all evening later either; making things worse by brooding and fueling the feelings of defeatism. I also realized that it’s all well and fine for me to quit drinking at home, but to really test myself I needed to leave the beach and wade into shark-filled waters. My last month’s review had shown that I averaged between 2 or 3 visits to a tavern, or licensed restaurant per month, and I thought I would keep that frequency now. Again, fate cards dealt, but how to play them is a choice. I chose not to mope around at home. I dared myself to go to a licensed establishment, not even considering if my resolve would remain or crumble after actual exposure to the presence of liquor, in a leisurely environment. Ideally for that evening, I learned that there was the Anti-Valentine’s party at Winston’s Pub: perfect for the equivalent of the grinches of St. Val’s like me, and other singles who are in simpatico out there, who have their own reasons for loathing this observance. It was thus a perfectly acceptable place to enter alone and dine on a later supper, hopefully in peace. If I had any heart left for this Valentine’s Day, I was probably trying to put it out of its misery by inducing infarction with the contents on my pub food dinner platter: a huge prime rib burger with tasty fries, which shouldn’t have been so good given how greasy they were. However, the only ale I had there was ginger ale, plus a passable V-Caesar. At the risk of looking a little dorky to those who seen me there, I remained resolute. It wasn’t really that much fun; certainly not healthy, but it was just good to be out, even if not for the sake of being sociable, and it was probably less destructive to my psyche than rotting away idle at home alone for that evening. There were some augmented pressures during this stretch of seven days, but I ended this second week without one drop of alcohol consumed. I then thought about writing, and I asked myself, “How would Anthony Bourdain (a guy who struggled with addictions/finding sobriety) capture an evening like this in words?” I then headed on my way home and wrote this point of entry for the day as you see it here; hearing his narration veering to the crusty, smart-ass tone in my head as I write this. The only other thing I did to keep me from being buried completely in the blues was to bring to mind all the women who came into my life who have made me happy in their own special way. All of them now are either coupled already, or living far away from me, or otherwise had just saw fit not to be with me as a partner for other reasons. I extended a general greeting to all of them on social media. It was the only small glimmer I had left in me to share that evening to make something that may have looked like love shine on.

·        Feb 15th – Feb 21st: Thursday- I’m seeing how I’m becoming more mindful of the ways that I’m finding more alternate things to escape into in lieu of alcohol. They are listed below, some positives as well as things that were negative over-compensations: like playing video games for an obscenely long time once or twice. Another of the downsides is that I’m ashamed to say that I find myself doing is wasting more time on being entertained by more banal and frivolous things on social media and television than I should . . . well . . . more than I already usual do. It’s not stuff I’m learning much from for my betterment; I sense another future mission in the making. Instead I turned to Pinterest to be inspired and to find motivators for my next challenges and projects. I don’t want to draw out and dwell on the other trivialities of this week, except that momentum was being kept where I remained on the wagon. The truth is that throughout this month, drinking didn’t even consciously enter my mind for most of it. I didn’t crave it, nor did I look around to score the stuff on my odd weekday evening or the weekend, which is my usual frequency and pattern of consumption for it. It was a good validation to prove to myself that I have no real addiction to it. The only time I consciously dwell on the subject is when I come and sit down here to write about my activity for the weeks of this month in a piecemeal fashion. Even then, there is no urge to get up and grab any afterward. This weekend’s events included touring a giant indoor Flea Market near where I live. More skiing was done despite the wretched wind chill. After reflecting on the misery of Valentine’s Day, there followed the ultimate, bordering-on-insanity, writing exercise: crafting a good online dating profile for myself. I found that especially taxing in that I had to pull out all the stops to present myself as a suave, silver-tongued devil to compensate for me outwardly looking like some sort of rough-around-the-edges, silver-haired, goofball. As tempting as it was to have help from Comrade Vodka for some extra creative writing prowess, and to maybe make myself feel sexy somehow with some liquid confidence for that whole mess, there was none taken. Midway through that process though, I still felt hapless and hopeless, feeling nothing better coming from me to apply to it - project terminated. I had a tougher Wednesday: dealing with a couple urgencies, and trying with no success later in the day to get either tickets or company for an upcoming weekend Rush game. To be fair, I didn’t give anyone enough notice; which was just as well, because I was getting sick. But then, as if manifesting magically and mysteriously, some interesting things started to develop (see next point). Three of four weeks accomplished in staying dry.

·        Feb 22nd – Feb 28th: The physical changes are becoming noticeable now. I don’t know if it’s from three weeks of the detoxifying effects of the lemon infused water (later to include garlic to fight infection holistically), or if my own liver was indeed becoming healthier, regenerating, and starting to reset its function better hormonally and metabolically from the disuse of alcohol, but I’ve been having wicked surges and spells of voracious hunger midway through the waking hours of my remaining days of this month’s challenge. I’ll spare the more vivid details, but after some abdominal pain, there was evidence of my body ridding itself of old gall stones. A throat infection was afflicting me since Tuesday evening. It was a motivator to keep me from drinking actually: knowing that it would probably not only just be painful, but also dehydrating my throat further and making things worse when I don’t have much for other remedies available for me to use. Physically (before getting ill), I seemed to have a little more energy, but that may be due to a boost in metabolism from more exercise. Mentally, I don’t feel much different; still the same problems with sleeplessness at night, or wasteful times when nap attacks strike me in mid-afternoon which then corrupt my nightly sleep hygiene later. My throat worsened throughout Thursday and Friday. On Saturday, I forced myself into at least work out indoors if skiing wasn’t feasible with the throat issue, and I used the steam room for a while afterward hoping it would cook this damn bug out of me. I hopefully got rid of what I prayed would be the last of that affliction. I could have just planted myself at home for the rest of Saturday, stewing in my failure for finding company for the game that night, but again I fought this brooding-in-isolation instinct, like I did for Valentine’s Day. I was receptive to the gentle persuasion and coaxing of someone to meet up with her before she headed out on her own holiday. Her approach to me was through that very thing that I was initially going to abandon out a sense of futility. I dared myself to go, and got myself collected into the group she was in. An uncharacteristic maneuver for shy little me. She and her company were doing rounds of beer and shots while I remained steadfast on just having some ginger ale and feasting on cough drops. As tempting as it was to join them, I found an even better reason not to mess up whatever healing was happening. I managed to lose my creepy, raspy, virus-afflicted voice just in the nick of time. Throughout that evening, I ended up not being really happy at all . . . I would say rather that I ended up being quite delightfully overjoyed! Sunday – boozeless, followed by the sweetest Monday evening I’ve ever had in a long while, if ever (still no drinking). Tuesday – no booze. I hit the finish line on Wednesday, Feb 28th and went even beyond without touching a drop of any alcohol, as I wrap up writing this on March 1st . . . Mission accomplished!
Rewards and Final Words: Instead of viewing consuming alcohol as a problem (which it isn’t on an addiction perspective for me), the real premise of this exercise perhaps was to see what sorts of problematic things were/are entering my life that spark and trigger me to want to drink for relief. I think I have a clearer picture of what those are now. They tend to be people centred/related stressors: dealing with the (potential) loss of whatever or whoever is the precious good in this world for me, if I had to gauge things honestly. Thankfully, I’m not driven to drink by anger. Being introverted as I am most times, I really see now that if I am ever reliant on alcohol for any one thing it’s to draw me out of that shell, and sometimes that doesn’t even do the trick. Mostly though, I drink to relax, and to dare myself to be more disinhibited to find more humour in things than to really escape from them. After all, it is a big sad scary world out there sometimes. I’m also discovering that brooding for me can incite using alcohol; not usually the other way around. Upon reviewing a broader picture of life, I reconciled with another truth: that it has occurred at times that I’ve just buckled and drank out of being plain old lonely and feeling like a rejected misfit. Of my reasons for drinking, it’s the rarer occurring one, but nevertheless, it has come to pass at times that way. Upon reflection, if I’ve ever approached inebriation at times long before this exercise, it thankfully was never inching towards the side of being mean, vulgar, boorish, angry, or aggressive. These are exactly the kinds of drunken behaviours I despise seeing in other people. Sure, there are things I did during this shift to sobriety during the month that made me feel and perhaps even appear a little crazy (including writing all this as a summary as an example), but all in all in the bigger picture, that’s not even a fraction as bad as abusing a substance to give oneself a license and an excuse to be mean, vulgar, and abusive, as some people I know/knew have done. The rewards for me giving up drinking for a while are as such:

·         One reward for this period of temperance was saving the money I could have used on liquor to instead acquire myself a new passport. To welcome and invite a chance for new experiences abroad. It seemed like a prudent measure to do. I’m more compelled than ever to fly away from this place. It’s a bittersweet move though. I’ll have this thing to permit me some freedom to travel, but as things like Valentine’s Day painfully drove home, there’s no one for me to travel with. Everyone I know is coupled, or can’t afford to travel, or wouldn’t be interested in most of the places I would opt to go to on my travel wish list. *****

·         Not wasting away all my time being immersed in dejected self-loathing/self-pity for something like Valentine’s Day. Perhaps staying away from alcohol helped. I broke away from the usual annual tradition of moping and brooding around home. I also didn’t yield to doing something ridiculous for the sake of quelling loneliness. Drawing back from the past at a time when I was in a role of being a mediator/counsellor to victims, it amazes me now what kind of nonsensical abuse and torment (escalating at times to violence) people will surrender to in their domestic and intimate affairs, all in the name of being less lonely. Even though I was amongst an indifferent crowd, still alone that evening, I made better use of the alone time being in sober solitude doing some people watching.

·         The crisis level for this month, compared to other past Februarys, has been relatively low thankfully. Being more proactively focused on maintaining some soundness of mind through substance avoidance may have contributed; or maybe I was just finally lucky for a change in that regard.

·         I exercised more, getting a good sweat going to detox me, and a lot of fresh air to rejuvenate me and re-condition my lungs, forcing myself to do so even on the harsher days outside. I finally made it to doing 10 km skiing. Something impossible for me even just a month ago. 

·         Writing more, improving some skill in it; by taking this piecemeal approach to it, by exploiting kaizen (progressive shifts in improvement through small changes), it was an awakening for me in varying my style. The downside may be that I’ve been perhaps overly candid with the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly truth of it all. I won’t learn anything though if I’m not honest with myself. Communication, it seems, is always a skill I need to improve on. I’ll say now that writing with a clearer, soberer, mind can lead one to get nailed with some harder truths about one's personal reality. However, it will also give a better sense on how to deal with them.

·         I tried to renew some old friendships.

·         I lost some weight through the month (2.72 kg/6.00 lbs).

·         I became a little more mindful of what sort of private hell people with bona fide hardcore addictions must go through, especially when that said particular addiction isn’t something seedy and hidden in the back alleys of life, but right there out in front of that person at any public establishment, out in the open and ready to tempt such people.

·         The complete success in this means no penalties, thus no punishments of financing causes I don’t support, respect, or believe in.

Greatest Triumph: finding that one good final Saturday of February, where the course of the lonely hell of this month ended and actually yielded to something good, and hopefully will progress into something even better. If it was due to me following the strange winding trail of cause and effect throughout this challenge, so be it, and I’ll just be grateful for it. It didn’t need to be as crazy as a mad-cap adventure. It just involved being honest, and open, and taming and pushing past the impulse to brood, (which is hard to do when you have the mentality and predilection of a writer) and someone who could appreciate all that. I hope she will be as grateful as I am for this too.
I also realize that this trial of temperance actually isn’t going to stop 100% immediately after Feb 28th, since there are stipulations for my next challenge in March which necessarily include disuse of most alcohol, or at least an adjusted level of moderation than from what was recently normal for me. If I had to rate the difficulty of this challenge between 1 and 10, with 1 being the least and 10 being the most challenging in difficulty, I would honestly rate it as between a 2 and a 3. Doing some liver-cleaning hopefully will give me an advantage to deal with what is coming to task in March. I’m not going to preach temperance, but I would endorse anyone who would want to give it a try for a prolonged while. If gaining some clearer insight into some matters is all you’d get from it, that’s more than worth it. I might make this a tradition for every February now.
The greater part of February was still characteristically harsh on my wits. If I could address this month anthropomorphically, like it was the dirty old malicious bastard that it always has been to me, I would tell February that it’s about bloody time that I’ve been given some reprieve from the ordinary round of nastiness. The last few days of it were a small step towards redeeming itself. I at least leave this month better than I entered it. It took patience and calm to overcome moments of obvious depression, and the will to be empathetic, forgiving, and bidding peace to not only others, but to myself as well. Alcohol itself, or rather the lack of it, didn’t do much to change my innate character. Life was just as challenging for me without it. I am thankful that the task wasn’t too hard to commit to. However, given next month’s challenge, and the outrageous amount of prep and planning for it, I don’t think it will come anywhere close to being as easy as it was for this month . . . 

Bibliography and Resources

1.       Addicted to Pleasure – (BBC production) seen on Netflix, hosted by Brian Cox

*- “I have taken more good from alcohol than alcohol has taken from me.” - Winston Churchill
**- Although it is hard to differentiate what is “milder” in severity with such a thing. It’s like saying that getting hit by a bus is relatively milder in severity than getting hit by a train.
***- Using some hacks to fix and refurbish a broken office chair, rewiring my entertainment centre, editing and reprogramming variables in the script code of a spreadsheet. 
****- If it’s a beer, then the fine is the SLBS retail price of a 12 pack of that same or corresponding brand. 
*****- This was written prior to Feb 24th ; I will hope that the dynamic will change now where I’d be able to retract this. We’ll see.