Unengaged in the Head

Mundane day again. Week in. And not very satisfying so far. Gym was moderate and the only weight bouncer was the polite one, so that was marginal. The equipment is still ratty and unmaintained so using it is a crap shoot in hurting oneself. The podcast was a CBC “Best of Ideas” episode about some Pennsylvania’s architecture and it was at best marginally diverting.

Have to motor shortly to Nawth Alibam’s Shining City on the Hill. Medicalist appointment. That’s probably why the day seems so dark. 

Film at Eleven.

The Bad, the Good, and the Good

Once more to the edge of week out. Ice cream day. And I did get to go for constitutional in the park. Which was a bit inundated/flooded from the rains yesterday. Not badly but there were places whee I had to concentrate on my trajectory. I didn’t quite finish the podcast episode, mostly since I missed yesterday, but the loss portended to be minimal. A good diversion but not really informative. 

But I did run across some articles that were and since it is ice cream day it seems meet to clear some of them out. 

In the category of bad is a study [Link] out of U California that indicates that even moderate, continual consumption of fructose sweetened soda cause increase likelihood of heart disease. Like fall down in the middle of a bottle, discorporate sort of thing. Another reason to avoid fructose. 

The next falls into the category of good. It seems [Link] that McDougal’s has closed 350 stores – nobody wants to call them restaurants for fear of regurgitation – in the last two years. Seems even the happy box kids don’t want to go there any more. What is amazing is that the bogs can actually get a bit rational (?) in this?  Nah. Gotta be something else. Better taste? Not hard. Anyway, it won’t likely be any improvement. The nature of society seems to be every worst food and the niceties of climate change (no law yet in Alabama forbidding the phrase but give the council of thieves in Muntgum a chance to finish making abortion a felony and they’ll likely do so) portend it getting worser. Glad I’m old.

Last, it seems Megahard is losing money also. [Link] Seems the bogs aren’t buying PCs and therefore MegaHard is cash arid. What happened to their corporate addicts who just threw money at them? Have those corporations ditched PCs? Or switched to a good OS? I doubt it. Could it be that the tablet is a better fit with what humans want for home use than a computer? Do they do any intelligent composition? Do they create code? Do they crunch numbers of meaning? Consistent NO! Standard deviation zero. And which of them want a MegaHard tablet? Evidently no one who has money to spend on a tablet. MegaHard doesn’t seem to even be able to give away its tablets. Which doesn’t generate cash flow either way. 

Now the day is brighter. New version of Debian out. To Systemd or not? Hamlet had an easier time. But at least Linux boxes are still selling. As are nerd boxes. Some things can’t be done on a tablet. Unless you turn it into a box. Selah.

Two Time

Yesterday was a bit of a rat’s maze. Had to motor to Nawth Alibam’s Shining City on the Hill for the annual (hopefully!) inquisition by the pump physician. He is not the problem. Rather a nice chap for a medical specialist. The problem is the instrumentality. The efficiency of the visit was minimal: four hours spent for seven minutes with the physician. For the maths challenged (and the actually acalculate,) that’s an efficiency of 0.03 (approximately.) If I subtract out transit time then that figure about doubles, which is still considerably less efficient than my motorcar but not my maternal parent’s nagging. 

The carrot, if I may mangle the metaphor, is not having to take a stress test. You know, the thing where you run rather briskly on an antediluvian treadmill and then after waiting interminable periods being force fed horribly salty crackers that are worst tasting than library paste (and, I Suspect, less nourishing) one lies motionless belly down on a narrow board while a rather archaic x-ray machine semi-circles your chest. The latter is the main problem. That board and I are at outs.

Invariably the imposed motionlessness results in a loss of sensation so when the test is concluded I end up being able to get off the board only by rolling off and onto the floor. I have never been harmed but too often the action freaks the junior matron in charge of watching the chap on the board. The last time resulted in some rather impressive histrionics leading me to conjecture that the poor lass would have been better off pursuing an opera career than nursing schule.

That was evaded. Evidently gym plus constitutional is adequate demonstration of moderate wellness for such matters. Thankfully I should say on my part.

Which relief did not erase the trauma of the interminable waits involved in the process. Sometimes when I am waiting in the pseudo-aseptic confines of the hospital I wonder if I will see Semmelweiss wandering about. Which leads me to wonder why I see hospitals as older than colleges?

Stone Food

Once more to ice cream day and the back edge of week out. And the weather beavers are foretelling more periods of solid dihydrogen oxide. Why does winter become a synonym for phase change? With liquid good, or, at least, acceptable, and solid is bad, or unacceptable? 

Speaking of which, I got an article [Link] from a colleague, Total Linear Angular Momentum, about Paleodiets. This fellow claims to be gluten whacked, and is tepid on paleodiets. He isn’t the type to be a fanatic but he claims that there are merits. I don’t disagree greatly but I do tend to agree more with this article that looks at the risks and uncertainties involved in composing these diets. 

Simply put hunter-gatherers ate what was available in their area. There is a feast-famine thing. This is reflected in how we gorge ourselves with foods. Logic dictates that HGs ate what they could when there wasn’t much and were selective during times of plenty. And they had favorites and preferred those over broccoli. 

But we don’t know what those favorites necessarily were, and perhaps more importantly, a lot of the stuff the HGs ate isn’t around any more. Simple example: go to the grocery store and ask for Goosefoot. It’s a veggie, not the feet of birds. And you can’t get it.

Which brings me to my point. Since a paleodiet is impossible in a rigorous sense, the most important part of diet is rationality. First of all, diet is what you eat, not what you eat for the next week. Weight control is important for moderns, wasn’t on the attention span for HGs. Second, are you eating healthily? That’s a trick question since it depends on what you think and what your medicalists think. Valid knowledge is key here, as well as rational thinking. Not the opinions of friends and colleagues necessarily. 

Diet isn’t just something you do. It has to be managed. And not by the advice of television personalities or paid motivationists. Ultimately you are responsible and that means be adult. Accept that you won’t do it right but keep trying. Consult reputable nerd tomes and if necessary, a graduate dietician. 

Next, starve yourself occasionally. Once a month eat half rations and fast over the weekend. Water only. And once every month or so have a gorge meal. That’s a key aspect of the whole paleo thing.

Stay away from manufactured foodstuffs as much as possible. Ditto chain restaurants. If nothing else that will cut your sodium and fat intake and make a critical difference in being healthy. 

Don’t accept others’ opinions and ideas without research. 

And exercise. Not for sculpting or speed, just for well being and endurance. 

And don’t trust any of this without researching reputable information sources.

Selah

Life in Alabama 4

Gad! I hate winter. Currently enjoying that strange sinus drainage where you can respire easily if vertical but as soon as you are horizontal your nostrils shut off. Hence, no sleep since Saturday. Or let us say, only lousy sleep. And no, I don’t mean lice infested sleep. That would be an improvement, I think.

Anyway, my mind is so much slime mold right now – and I know that’s a horrible oleo of metaphor but it’s indicative of the effects of lack of good sleep – and blogging is at the sorry state you are reading.

I am reminded of what one of the Bishops of Rome – one of the Leos, I believe – told Anselm. Since I’m already tired and sore and achy I may as well fast, and going the next mental step to hallucinations isn’t that far away.

Meanwhile, we have another bitter day on the way to a night of drippage. So perhaps the absence of sleep tonight won’t be a waste.

Food for Thought

Into Freya’s day, the boundary between gym and week out. And the sky droolith dihydrogen oxide. I assayed it moments ago to trundle the recyclage bin from garage to verge, meeting the apparently arbitrary cutoff time by 420 seconds. I say arbitrary since the actual time the recyclage gets collected by the teleoperated arm lorry is somewhere between two hours from now and two days based on actual observation.

The good news is that since there is liquid precipitation – the weather beavers foretell (soft) solid precipitation on the morrow – and hence the air temperature is above the phase shift. The sky must be overcast because the light pollution is less than usual, limited to the verge lamps which is one of the few useful (?) services provided by the city governance of real estate agents. Evidently well (??????????) lit neighborhoods helps sell houses. Otherwise the government would spend the money on something else of likely no benefit to the tax payers.

I have noted this trend of late. The nature of government is that we pay taxes and the government provides collective services less a bit of overhead. The services are supposed to benefit the taxpayers, with those who do not pay taxes getting a bit of free ride. But these days it seems the free riders get rather more than the tax payers. Ah well, the Reprodenialists must be in the legislative majority.

On the goo azimuth, I noted an article [Link} about how European archaeologists had dug a cave in Spain (no mention of rain) and discovered (?) that ancients ate dogs, cats, foxes and badgers (among other, usual (?) animals) during a period between 3 and 7 KYA observed. This is only semi-news. It has long been known that humans tend to widen their dietary choices when the density gets low. And we have societies, both here in the Americas and in Asia, where dog is still meat. But I am intrigued by the idea that dogs have been domesticated longer than this but not cats. Is this because cats resisted domestication until we got more disciplined (?) in our culinary choices? And is eating dog a betrayal of trust?

I should comment that I have never eaten either, but I am not indisposed to sample cat. I do feel it would be treachery to eat dog. Dogs are valued companions. Cats on the other hand are parasites and they hunt tree mammals who are also a bit nasty but not in the mid to far field. Just keep them away from rising dough. I once put some yeast roll dough out on aft porch to rise and the squirrels were all over the wire wall. I must remember to ask my biologist colleagues what it is about the aroma that draws them.

Anyway, I should imagine that cat would be quite good if roasted in mud under embers. Not that I am about to try it. Easier foodstuffs to obtain. And if I ate the cats who would I get to practice my language skills on?

Still Present

Winter continues. Last night was almost anti-climactic, or at least anti-weatheric, if I can coin the word. Temperatures not as low although the nasty is supposed to resurge tonight.

That doesn’t make it feel a whole lot better. Drainage is the Tartarus of winter. The rest is just additional pain sources.