Amid learning about the disturbing basis for the NRC's quantitative health objectives today, I made an inadvertent discovery regarding my long-time friend the peanut.
If you've been following the blog at all, you know I've been experimenting with intermittent fasting and that one of the interest areas unearthed in this endeavor was food effects on mood.
Sunday evening goes down as one of those toxic moods that you just can't shake yourself out of. I had been fighting a carpenter ant infestation for three days over the holiday weekend and the efforts were starting to wear on my nerves. The rest of the weekend, I had been taking the unexpected house workload fairly well, certainly compared with my normal reaction to such things.
But on Sunday evening, I would have been more than happy to see a 100 foot poplar tree come crashing through the ceiling, sever all the attic electrical lines and immolate the house in an electrical short meets plenty of flammable material nightmare.
Well, I just wrote it all off as an occasional knee jerk reaction to unexpected house maintenance. That is, until today Katy said I'm no longer allowed to eat peanuts.
I've noticed this effect before. I'll eat some peanuts and have a massive depressive episode within a couple of hours that seems to last the rest of the day.
Here's the kicker. Today I was in a great mood. And I had peanuts for lunch. They key difference seeming to be that the ONLY thing I had was peanuts, and had been fasting for 18 hours before that. No other food with them. I got them from the vending machine next to the training room after hitting the gym and running out of time to get something more substantial from the cafeteria.
But on Sunday, I had been eating normally all day. Then I jokingly asked Katy to get some peanuts from the store and she did. Then I ate about three handfuls. And in rushed the depressive state. Could it be that peanuts either with other food, or in a fed state, have a massive depressive effect on me?
Looking back through my logs, this seems consistent. All the massive depressive episodes were on days that I was eating normally and had peanuts. And.....dry roasted peanuts. Whole. The occasional PB2 powder (mixed with Orgain as my post-workout protein shake) or spoonful of peanut butter doesn't seem to have the same effect. Processing method? Dose?
I thought niacin, which peanuts are high in, was supposed to have the opposite effect. Peanuts are high in fat, but cheese doesn't seem to have the same effect. Also, almonds don't seem to have this effect, either. But I have only been eating almonds in a fasted state (a handful or two in my office, at lunch, when no other options are viable).
Oh well. Unfortunately this means that I'm ditching peanuts for the time being. Particularly whole ones. Too bad, they're one of my favorites.
Wednesday, May 29, 2019
Thursday, May 16, 2019
Normal behavior.....any guy would do this
The never-before-told story of the Navy plane that drew a giant penis in the sky
Sunday, May 12, 2019
Monday, May 6, 2019
weird days
last Friday, I was IM'ing colleagues at work about how last week was the dumbest week I had encountered so far. I told them, jokingly, to stand by for a new low...
I had no idea that Monday would set the new record. First, our brief to upper management was at 0900, scheduled for an hour. The director wasn't there to hear it, but her deputies were. We were told that the director was in an important meeting. Fair enough, this usually happens.
The brief went fine, not a lot of questions. We return to our desks to find a newsletter from the director to the entire workforce, sent at 0948, about holding a "jam" session.
Personally I've never heard of this. Apparently, it's an online forum that everyone can join and voice their opinions. The theme of this "jam" session is supposed to be a discussion of the future of the organization. I'm assuming the jam session will be of the Pink Floyd type, since we have been and will be shrinking significantly in the near future as our industry vaporizes, reaching 50 percent of its current capacity by the mid-2020s.
But my cynicism turns slightly to hope in that this "jam" session, if as advertised, will either be a magnificent dud if no one participates or devolve into total anarchy if a lots of people do. I'm hoping for the latter, so as not to ruin my popcorn.
Last week's idiocy focused mainly on new overly burdensome management oversight of low level communication documents. Monday's idiocy saw that oversight expanded its scope to documents they had already approved.
Sadly one of my documents was in the "not yet approved" category, which I have thus far taken to mean cancelled. But now it's half-revived, and I was instructed to attend a "mini-brief" to upper management on whether or not it will be issued.
I then made the happy mistake of asking what a "mini-brief" is. Two minutes later, the lead on developing a method to obtain management approval on such things appears in my cube. We discuss for a few minutes, and decide the best approach is just to show up, say nothing, and answer succinctly if asked any questions. When life hands you a "mini-brief," make nothing....
Our conversation then diverted, as conversations at my workplace often do, to the end of the world as we know it. You could say that morale is somewhat low on this metric alone. Anyhow, based on the content of my walls, everyone assumes that I am a doomsday prepper, and I make a habit of never correcting any assumptions that people may have about me.
Thus the next hour was spent discussing which fruit plants, nut trees, and vegetables are doing best in our local climate, how much ammunition is appropriate for defense, small and large game, etc., and which livestock would be best for each of our respective situations. Water sources and most likely causes of total societal collapse were also discussed. Also the taste varieties of local ants. You know, the usual office fodder.
I then learned that my colleague has chickens and four dozen eggs for sale in the refrigerator on our floor. I immediately said I'm in, not really because I need eggs, but more that I needed to be buying eggs out of a refrigerator at NRC to round out my day. And yes, I work on the 13th floor.
I also asked colleagues last week if our workplace is really a piece of giant, intricate performance art. No one could deny it, and several took to the idea. Today did not do much to prove me wrong.
On my way out, I discussed the day with another colleague who is convinced we are living in the Matrix. I guess since we're both programmers, the glitches ar more obvious. We both agreed that the Matrix code seems to be getting more unstable, and it's doing an ever poorer job of rendering our colleagues, most notably management. Also, it's script writing has been getting worse and worse, as if it no longer cares how obvious its existence is.
We also discussed which instruments we planned to bring to the "jam" session. I'm bringing a harmonica.
After today, I can honestly say that I have no freaking clue what tomorrow will bring.
I had no idea that Monday would set the new record. First, our brief to upper management was at 0900, scheduled for an hour. The director wasn't there to hear it, but her deputies were. We were told that the director was in an important meeting. Fair enough, this usually happens.
The brief went fine, not a lot of questions. We return to our desks to find a newsletter from the director to the entire workforce, sent at 0948, about holding a "jam" session.
Personally I've never heard of this. Apparently, it's an online forum that everyone can join and voice their opinions. The theme of this "jam" session is supposed to be a discussion of the future of the organization. I'm assuming the jam session will be of the Pink Floyd type, since we have been and will be shrinking significantly in the near future as our industry vaporizes, reaching 50 percent of its current capacity by the mid-2020s.
But my cynicism turns slightly to hope in that this "jam" session, if as advertised, will either be a magnificent dud if no one participates or devolve into total anarchy if a lots of people do. I'm hoping for the latter, so as not to ruin my popcorn.
Last week's idiocy focused mainly on new overly burdensome management oversight of low level communication documents. Monday's idiocy saw that oversight expanded its scope to documents they had already approved.
Sadly one of my documents was in the "not yet approved" category, which I have thus far taken to mean cancelled. But now it's half-revived, and I was instructed to attend a "mini-brief" to upper management on whether or not it will be issued.
I then made the happy mistake of asking what a "mini-brief" is. Two minutes later, the lead on developing a method to obtain management approval on such things appears in my cube. We discuss for a few minutes, and decide the best approach is just to show up, say nothing, and answer succinctly if asked any questions. When life hands you a "mini-brief," make nothing....
Our conversation then diverted, as conversations at my workplace often do, to the end of the world as we know it. You could say that morale is somewhat low on this metric alone. Anyhow, based on the content of my walls, everyone assumes that I am a doomsday prepper, and I make a habit of never correcting any assumptions that people may have about me.
Thus the next hour was spent discussing which fruit plants, nut trees, and vegetables are doing best in our local climate, how much ammunition is appropriate for defense, small and large game, etc., and which livestock would be best for each of our respective situations. Water sources and most likely causes of total societal collapse were also discussed. Also the taste varieties of local ants. You know, the usual office fodder.
I then learned that my colleague has chickens and four dozen eggs for sale in the refrigerator on our floor. I immediately said I'm in, not really because I need eggs, but more that I needed to be buying eggs out of a refrigerator at NRC to round out my day. And yes, I work on the 13th floor.
I also asked colleagues last week if our workplace is really a piece of giant, intricate performance art. No one could deny it, and several took to the idea. Today did not do much to prove me wrong.
On my way out, I discussed the day with another colleague who is convinced we are living in the Matrix. I guess since we're both programmers, the glitches ar more obvious. We both agreed that the Matrix code seems to be getting more unstable, and it's doing an ever poorer job of rendering our colleagues, most notably management. Also, it's script writing has been getting worse and worse, as if it no longer cares how obvious its existence is.
We also discussed which instruments we planned to bring to the "jam" session. I'm bringing a harmonica.
After today, I can honestly say that I have no freaking clue what tomorrow will bring.
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