A recent study by the American Heart Association dated 2013 April 4 revealed that people who do brisk walking will be able to lower their blood cholesterol, blood pressure and blood sugar with same level as frequent runners. Although brisk walking is not as extreme as running, the researchers found out that both activities involve the same muscle groups. This potentially explains why the results translated to reduced risk for heart disease. When you have heart disease, you may experience valve problems. If heart valve damage occurs, repair or replacement of the valve surgery may be considered. Antibiotic therapy has significantly reduced the incidence and mortality of rheumatic fever and rheumatic heart disease rates.
The infection often causes heart lesions, particularly scarring of the heart valves, forcing the heart to work harder to pump blood. Our modern diet and lifestyle are the cause of most heart problems, and the best way to prevent or reverse heart disease is to change our habits. The best treatment for rheumatic heart disease is prevention.
It is best to avoid cardiovascular disease through natural remedies. However, there are many things a person can do to prevent cardiovascular disease, as it is certainly manageable and preventable. Eat well, exercise, manage stress, and to identify and treat genetic susceptibilities that are known to bring on cardiovascular disease. Because heart disease is caused by a variety of factors, it is best to include several types of therapies in the treatment or prevention plan. If you have cardiovascular disease, either personally or looking for information on behalf of another person, this page contains some important tips for you.
Children aged 5 to 15, in particular if they experience frequent infections strep throat, are more at risk of developing rheumatic fever. Symptoms of rheumatic fever usually begin about one to five weeks after your child has been infected by the streptococcus bacteria. The following are the most common symptoms of rheumatic fever. The symptoms of rheumatic fever may resemble other conditions or medical problems. Rheumatic fever is rare in the United States, except in children who have had strep infections that were untreated or inadequately treated.
Wow, cool, flutes! I love flutes. Not really.
And do you know what I like less than the flute? The piccolo. Smaller, uglier, more piercing and annoying.
So I think I'll pass on the Flute Society's upcoming event, "A Piccolo Extravaganza!"
The group's web site advises, "Come early and try out a variety of piccolos!"
Oh God. Wait, I mean, Oh God!
The Washington Post today features "Philadelphia's BYO Revolution," by Jason Wilson, about the proliferation of "bring your own bottle [or booze]" restaurants in this city.
Wilson generally gets it right, in terms of both the advantages and disadvantages of the trend for diners. But with respect to the latter, what Wilson doesn't mention is the typical BYOB charges fairly high prices for its appetizers and entrees, presumably to make up for the profits lost by not selling wine and liquor. So, if you're not drinking, your money likely would be spent better elsewhere.
I'm worried about my neighbor. Whenever she comes home, no matter the time of day or night, I can hear her vomiting through the wall.
No, the vomit doesn't come through the wall, the sound of the act of vomiting penetrates the divide.
I think that's what she's doing, anyway, and it's kind of freaking me out.
What's causing this behavior? Bulimia? Or the fallout from an addiction of some sort? Something else, perhaps an asthma-induced coughing fit that while violent, really doesn't involve actual vomiting even if it sounds likes it does?
What should I do? Nothing?
Slip a brochure about drug rehabs under her door?
A friend is taking a college-level mathematics class, aiming to earn a degree in the field, and gee whiz, good for -- and brave of -- her for that.
A recent e-mail took me on a walk down memory lane, a very dusty path that, when she was saying something -- I didn't catch it all, even though I could have read it a hundred times -- about polynomials.
Oh, yeah, polynomials. Right, those. I remember. No I don't. And peeking in here, it probably will stay that way.
I overheard this bit of conversation in Center City Philadelphia this morning:
Woman No. 1: How was your weekend?
Woman No. 2: Nice. We came into the city and saw Chiquita Rivera at the Merriam Theater.
Chiquita? Bananas, I say.
Okay, about the Mummers Parade: Yep, it sucked again.
Here's a hint, guys. Nobody, and I mean nobody who is not a Mummer or who is related to a Mummer or who knows a Mummer or who drinks like a Mummer, cares about "a parade" that lasts eight fricking hours.
Save this otherwise wonderful thing!
You know what? The Rose Parade runs two hours and captures the attention of a nation.
Goombas, get with the program, would you?
In trying to get to the Adirondacks for a family skiing-oriented gathering later this month, I've been visiting, and then hitting and missing, various web sites, the names of which I will withhold, that promise, um, what should we call them, cheap tickets, which I've learned require considerable flexibility when planning to travel.
May I just say that as far as itineraries go, Philadelphia to Charlotte to Pittsburgh to Raleigh to Albany has me reaching for the Preparation H before I sit down once, let along four times?
I'll keep looking.
Hey, listen, I've been away for a while on vacation, and now that I'm back I'm wondering, Did the Mummers Parade suck again this year? Oh, I see. Sort of yes and no, I guess.
Of course we care! Reichen Lehmkuhl -- Not his real name; duh! -- is involved!
Still, I want to know why this guy I hadn't heard of until today, Brandon Beemer, who hooked up with Lehmkuhl -- Just on MySpace.com, I mean! -- isn't getting more work.
Surgically hacked Alex Kuczynski, "critical shopper" for the New York Times, gets all catty in today's review of Loehmann's, though not so much about the store as about a pair of well known designers:
Loehmann’s is home to the misfit toys of the retail world, the “designer” clothes and purses you’ve never quite heard of, or the major designers who have had a sketchy year. I’ll never forget the year Badgley Mischka gowns filled the evening wear department; within a few months, they were manufacturing a bridge line.
Meow!
And what, really, to make of this observation, considering the number of times Kuczynski has put herself under the plastic surgeon's blade, proceeding to live and tell about it, incessantly:
Perhaps the store’s most unintentionally famous features are the communal dressing rooms, fluorescent-lighted spaces the size of boxing rings, which, at least in my experience, can house up to 20 women at a time. This is why Loehmann’s is for only the bravest of creatures, women unafraid to bare their fat rolls, dimpled thighs and other unappetizingly jiggly bits without shame. As a teenager years ago, this shocked me, but today it’s kind of a relief to see up close and personal that no one is a supermodel.
Research?
Nothing good will come of this:
A new Cambridge company is planning to launch a service that would allow drivers to hunt for parking spaces using their cellphones.
A kind of eBay for parking spots, the service will be an online market for anything from driveways that private property owners want to lease for a few hours to empty spaces at garages and curbside metered spots that are about to become vacant. . . .
To use the service, customers would punch in the address of a destination, along with the date and time they want to arrive. A map would pop up with a list of nearby available spots, showing the price of each and the time it would take to walk to the final destination.
The service, to be tested in Boston, Cambridge, New York, and San Francisco, uses information from local garages, which will list spaces they have empty at any given time, and posts from those who own spaces they don't use during vacations or work hours. Eventually, Rollert said, the service will include postings from motorists who have parked at metered spaces and want to auction their departure time to the highest bidder.
Because what we really need right now, is a reason for more drivers to be spending more time on their cell phones.
Does anyone else think it's weird that Milton Street, Philadelphia Mayor John Street's indicted older brother has a lawn jockey in front of his Moorestown, N.J. home? Sure, it's a white one, but it's still a little odd, I think.
[Post-publication addendum (November 30): Philadelphia Inquirer columnist Monica Yant Kinney noticed the lawn jockey too: "Why did the most entertaining political brother since Billy Carter insist on running for office in Philly, when everyone knows he lives in the little green bungalow with the white lawn jockey in leafy, lovely Moorestown?"]
I guess I do have some sort of an accent.
| What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Northeast Judging by how you talk you are probably from north Jersey, New York City, Connecticut or Rhode Island. Chances are, if you are from New York City (and not those other places) people would probably be able to tell if they actually heard you speak. | |
| Philadelphia | |
| The Inland North | |
| The Midland | |
| The South | |
| Boston | |
| The West | |
| North Central | |
| What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes | |
True that.
(Note: First saw this test over at Plucky Punk's Happy Land.)
[Post-publication addendum: By "Me Talk Funny One Day," an obvious (I would think) reference to David Sedaris, I meant to indicate, but failed to, that I was surprised to see how much the test thinks I speak like a Philadelphian, because I assure you, and myself, I certainly do not. I don't even call this city "Philly." The word makes me cringe. And that statue atop City Hall? That's William Penn, not, ugh, "Billy."]
I ran across this beautiful video of Carly Simon and her son, Ben Taylor, performing "Love of My Life," a song featured in the film, This is My Life.
The woman I love most in my, well, life, sent me the words to this song at one of the lowest moments of my, well, life.
The lyrics were so appropriate and so apt -- and so needed -- at that time, and I will never forget it.
Ever.
A friend recently returned from a ten-day trip to Italy with absolutely beautiful, impressive, and gorgeous photos of Rome, Venice, Siena, and Capri, the photos of Siena -- a "side trip," she explained -- offering numerous pleasant surprises.
I will admit I was a little jealous looking at these shots, but I'm pleased to say that that I was more happy than jealous, and therefore I was happier than I was jealousier. (I know that's not really a word; I just made it up.)
Anyway, the whole thing reminded me that as little as I have traveled in my life, having not left this country since 1980, that I have a list of my own, a list of my top-ten preferred foreign destinations, in order, as follows.
1. Scandinavia. Okay, so that's really four countries, so maybe this should account for four entries, and if it did they would appear in this order: Iceland, Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. And they preferably would be visited by cruise ship.
2. Finland. And no, it's not the same thing, because Finland is not a Scandinavian country. Nordic, yes; Scandinavian, no.
3. Italy.
4. Ireland. (I know, Mom, it's one rung below Italy. I'm sorry.)
5. The Netherlands.
6. South Africa.
7. Argentina.
8. Chile.
9. Uruguay. I know, other than the whole "Who wants to go to Uruguay?" thing, these last three make up the "Southern Cone" and all that, and really, I should group these three together, like I did with Scandinavia, which would allow this list to extend to a count of twelve. And so see the associated continuation of this list below.
10. Germany.
11. Australia.
12. Czechoslovakia. Oh, wait. That's two countries now, isn't it?
What was the point of all this? Well, I guess I was putting it all to paper, or to the web, to serve as a reminder to me, and maybe to some of you, that we need aspirations, just a little something to look forward to, even if that something is thousands of miles, and dollars, away.
[Afterthought: England, France . . . been there.]
Thank you, Steven Stern, personally, and thank you to the New York Times, as an institution, for "Liberal Arts in Philadelphia," from Sunday's edition of T Style Magazine: Travel, which managed to tell readers about the arts scene in Philadelphia without descending into condescension.
Thanks. Really, thanks. We're so grateful.
Because we live and die by what you think of us up there.
We just had two weeks of "unseasonably mild," as they call it, weather here in Philadelphia, and now it's cold again.
Inside and out; more inside than out. I think my landlord hates heat. Or, at least, he hates giving it to us. What does he care? He lives in New Jersey. I assume it's warmer over there.
Anyway, it doesn't matter much. I'm going away for the holiday on Wednesday, so there's relief in the near future.
Oh, wait, I'm headed north. Way north. Like, kooky north. The kind of north that makes you say, "What the hell are you people doing up here, anyway?"
(Actually, the forecast isn't that bad. I remember going home for Easter one year during college, the day after three feet of snow fell on the ground. In April. Now, that was weird.)
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