Ice Cream Day. Twenty degF outside. At least according to the Greater Metropolitan Arab weather station. So any ice cream outside is likely hard frozen. And inedible.
Not that I eat much ice cream. It extracts a penalty. The penalty of being modal. Like the whelming majority (~ 0.75) of adult humans, my body does NOT secrete Lactase. So I cannot digest Lactose. And when I consume Lactose I get horrible gas pains. And other ills.
So I try to only eat ice cream that has been cooked – decomposing the Lactose – of from which it has been extracted. But because of being forced to drink milk (and eat cereal) past puberty – more misplaced parenting that does (did) more harm than good – I have a psychological aversion to milk products. So even though theu make Lactose-removed milk I can’t drink the stuff without becoming ill. Child abuse or self-delusion?
That any adults humans can secrete Lactase is due to one of a group of mutations collectively known as “Cattle Herders” mutations. These developed among people who first herded cattle, for whom the ability to digest milk and cheese was a survival boost. Yea, Lysenko! And while it is preferentially distributed among people of western european heritage, only a quarter (approximately) of the planet’s humans have any of these mutations.
But much of western society acts like everyone does. Just try to get non-dairy creamer at a chain restaurant. Bring your own and complain bitterly to the local spayed management.
As is usual on a sundae, I received the weekly eNewsletter for my high schule class triad. It’s a good rag, well written by an accomplished – former HS paper – editor. And it’s usually got something of merit in it.
This morning the keystone was a bit about our best friends of high schule being our best friends of life. Many reasons are listed for this and it is quite convincing and comprehensive.
It’s also rot.
I didn’t have many friends in high schule. I had lots of acquaintances, which were important. But not many friends.
I haven’t seen most of those friends since graduation. We dispersed. This isn’t the first half of century twenty (and it wasn’t then,) so none of this everyone adapting to find a place in the home town.
Some of my acquaintances were important. We went to the same undergraduate schule. They became close for the duration. I still see a couple of them once every year or two. Would like to see them more often but ain’t gonna happen. Dispersion. Of geography. Of interest. Of activity. The closest we get is FaceScroll.
None of these folks went off to graduate schule. I remet some when I went to work for the Yankee army, but none were close.
I have a few friends now. Only one can be called a best, because otherwise the word is used wrong. We’ve doen research together and written papers. I have no idea what music he listens to or any such.
None of my frequently encountered friends did I go to high schule with.
Not sure if I am fortunate or misfortunate. But I am sure I don’t really care. Friends aren’t stamps or rare widgets. They’re a process. Ride the Wave. And ignore other people’s lists.