Some chemical C and a chase through the nation
Seems like a lifetime ago, that I read about the research presented by Linus Pauling. A little Vitamin C and you could live forever, or at least avoid the near occasions of death by head cold. Of course, the doctor didn’t live forever. And it turns out that the Vitamin C idea was a profit center for the citrus industry. When I was offered an alternative method of “getting my C” that didn’t involve peeling a pile of over-ripe fruit, I opted in. Forthwith, a tall glass of something that didn’t smell particularly Florida-fresh was at my place.
And with the conviction that “this must be good for me”, I drank heartily. Error! Whatever the nutritional virtue, a counterbalance of aspartame took care of it. Terrible! Horrible! Ack! Never again. I’m back to my bags of oranges (and tangerines and clementines and grapefruit). Besides, this head cold should soon run its course (after three weeks).
The man with the bin truck came and took away the contents of my now-dead freezer. I am glad! Still haven’t decided on what (if any) replacement will be put in place, but with that cold snap we avoided any odours.
A relative of a relative offered a research challenge. Find her grandfather’s origins. I did just that. He led me a merry chase, despite being buried for decades: from the mining areas of Northern Ontario, down to the chemical belt around Sarnia, across to Niagara Falls, into upstate New York and then back to his origins in Austria. I feel like I’ve been on a whirlwind tour.
