Diabetes and Okra

This article -- What Are the Benefits of Okra for People with Diabetes? -- seems to provide a reasoned and reasonable treatment of the topic.

I noticed a meme recommending the daily ingestion of “okra water” as treatment for diabetes: nip the okra ends, pierce the sides, and leave in water overnight.  Drink the resulting swill in the morning.   Every morning.  Okra sorely offends me, but moreso would diabetes.

Interested, I grabbed the meme-fashioned tutorial and tucked it away in my Health folder.  When I had time, I sought to vet the claim.  Snopes -- who I trust as much as I trust fat cat Purrle to not dump the wastebasket in the night if there are chicken bones in it --  to my surprise, was not able to entirely dash the claimed benefits of leaving okra overnight in a glass of water and ingesting the resulting liquid.

I found this particular snippet in the Snopes article, quoted from Bioactive Food as Dietary Interventions for Diabetes (2012),  noteworthy:

“There is anecdotal evidence for the amelioration of diabetes by dietary consumption of okra but what are lacking are controlled clinical trials. There are constituents of okra such as polyphenolic molucules [sic] that provide encouragement for such studies in the future.”  Snopes Article  

You don’t say.  It’s a positive admission I wasn’t expecting to find.  Which august body, though, would deign to conduct such trials?  The FDA?  The pharmaceutical industry?  Heh.  I daresay this will be one left to the general public, with only anecdotal evidences from which to draw knowledge.

Information garnered from the Internet is as trustworthy as is the stranger who posted it.  Perhaps okra water (or daily eating the slimy vegetable) should be filed in everyone’s Health folder, so it can be tried by those we know who might benefit from it.

Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.  -Matthew 10:29-31

I Found the Lost Tomatoes

And the 265 other photos.

This is a shadow one doesn't want cast upon her curtains.

SugarPlum made magazine art when she was last here for a visit.

I caught Son4 before the mirror in the kitchen,
admiring his harvest earrings.

Let every thing that hath breath praise the LORD.  Praise ye the LORD.  -Psalm 150:6

A Dinner Party

Yesterday, I had a lovely conversation with a dear friend.  Reflecting upon it now, the story of this dinner party comes to mind:

And one of the Pharisees desired him that he would eat with him.  And he went into the Pharisee's house, and sat down to meat.  And, behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box of ointment, and stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment.

Now when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, he spake within himself, saying, "This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him: for she is a sinner." 
 
And Jesus answering said unto him, "Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee."

And he saith, "Master, say on."

"There was a certain creditor which had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty.  And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both.  Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most?"

Simon answered and said, "I suppose that he, to whom he forgave most."

And he said unto him, "Thou hast rightly judged."

And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, "Seest thou this woman?  I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head.  Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet.  My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment.  Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little."

And he said unto her, "Thy sins are forgiven."

Luke 7:36-48

But sanctify the Lord God in your hearts: and be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear.  1 Peter 3:15 || And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.  Revelation 22:17

PTTD

Son4 told his dad last night he has PTTD:  Post Traumatic Tomato Disorder.

As he helped me scald nearly 100 tomatoes, he asked, "Have I told you how much I like tomatoes?"

"This isn't a labor of love for you, is it?" I responded, long aware of Son4's distaste for tomatoes.

"It's a labor of loathing," he muttered.

Bathed and cooled, I arranged the tomatoes just-so on trays on the table, so I could memorialize them via photography before we dispatched them.  Years ago, when I was smitten with blogging, the camera was my near-constant companion, providing images to illustrate most blog posts.  Maybe I could restart that engine, and an image of one hundred tomatoes on the table seemed fitted to the post forming in my head. 

When I inserted the camera card into my computer this morning, I noticed it contained over 250 photos.  Drat, I'd never erased those early July photos.  I'd do that with this upload.  Then something went wonky with the process, the card contents were erased, and the photo destination folder was also empty.  Oopsie. 

I made salsa with the bulk of yesterday's portion of the harvest.  Some of those tomatoes were peeled, seeded, and refrigerated for making tomato butter today, a favorite of Charles'.  The recipe is here, if that piques your interest, and you're overrun with tomatoes.  And I can steal the recipe's illustrative image for this post.  Heh.

Charles brought in a bag of another 25-30 last evening and was met by 2 silenced mouths and 4 widened eyes.  In addition to yesterday's canned salsa, we already had fresh tomato juice, fresh salsa, and ketchup.  That tomato-butter-to-be is waiting in the wings (and clearly, I'm ignoring it).  What next?

Poor Son4 will be suffering RTTD -- Recurring Traumatic Tomato Disorder -- for some time to come.  Into each life a few tomatoes must fall.  And to some, a bit more than others.

 



Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.  Colossians 3:2

Cantaloupe

Among other things, Kevin's growing cantaloupes this year.  As we were paring and cutting another this morning, and Kevin sampled a piece, I asked if it was sweeter than previous ones have been.  He said maybe a little bit, but he's liked them better -- at my suggestion -- with some sugar added.  "Well you didn't add sugar to that last bowlful, did you, because I did."

"Yes," he said, "I did.  But I only used about a teaspoon.  How much did you add to it?"

"Two or three tablespoons."

Candy.  We have cantaloupe candy.
It's delicious!  

How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!  Psalm 119:103

Facebook ID Photo Tutorial

Not.
Not really.
But I updated my ID photo today, and the gyrations were mildly interesting.

One can access a real tutorial here, which is where I began to understand the magicNot which occurs with photos uploaded to Facebook.  And it was through the counsel on that website that I learned an ID photo should be 160 pixels by 160 pixels.  To preserve clarity, uploading double that size, 320 pixels x 320 pixels, is advised.  I assume the web page author has tested this with good results.

Do I want good resolution at my age?  Prettymuch not.  However, my own past experience has taught me the ID photo size is increased in the photo album, itself, and if I’m going to be blown up, I’d prefer to not also be terribly pixelated, for a pixel-raggedy face is about as uncomely as, and more bizarre than, one bearing the etchings of real time; a very long flood stream of real time.   So I chose 320 x 320 as my base photo size.  Yes, it needs to be a square, or Facebook will apply their own cropping tool, and one doesn’t want to become a blockhead or lose a limb.

Now, I didn’t want my whole, old selfingness tattooed on the Internet.  My face would be humbling enough.  Neither, though, did I want that in size SCARE-US.  So I measured Facebook’s album presentation of my last ID photo.  The thing measured more in the neighborhood of 365 x 380, so I‘m not sure where Mr. Tutorial got his figures, and that’s way too much of my face in yours.   

“I can beat this thing.”

I put a gray border around my me-photo.  I was getting smaller.  Then a put a white picture frame around the gray, said frame actually being a blotchy white edging.  Next, I put a blue picture frame inside the white one, this comprised only of some thin, faint lines, tying it to the trim color in the page header and hopefully having the effect of drawing others‘ attention from MY FACE: “Oh look, how did she get those blue lines on there?”  *snort*

Now I totaled 380 x 380, further diminishing my SCARE-US factor, for a goodly bit of ME was framing.  How accomplished did I feel?  A bit.

The worst element in the process, though, is uploading the photo, for no matter how quickly one reloads the page and deletes the resulting post from her timeline, it stinkin’ hits the News Feeds.  NO!  STOP IT!  Don’t make people try to think of nice things to say to me about that photo!  For cryin’ in a bucket, I did all that maneuvering in an effort to be small and unnoticeable, and you slammed a report in the evening news.  Cruel. 

I’d only changed the photo because the last one had a shadow cast on my forehead which looked like I was wearing Buster Brown bangs.  I bore that shame for several months, actually preferring it over the News Feed’s mouthy LOOK AT HER! which would result from switching out the photo.  Where’s a rock?  …Are you kidding me?  I wouldn’t fit under that thing.  Just look at me.  NO, I DIDN’T MEAN THAT.  DON’T LOOK AT ME! 

When thou saidst, Seek ye my face; my heart said unto thee, Thy face, LORD, will I seek.  Psalm 27:8