@the_leighton_show Anybody remember this one? It’s that time again #mulching #funny #husband #mulch #yardwork
I was pretty sure that’s what I was doing to myself Sunday.
Finished up the can of Starlino Hotel cherries. Trying these Amarena cherries tonight 🍸
Sunday Serial: BBB method, Fresh Clean Threads, and Local Joints
Here’s this week’s list of things to check out.
1. BBB Method: We bought a pool back in 2011, and one of the concerns I had, outside of the cost of the pool itself, was the cost and trouble of maintaining the water. I in short order found what was then called the BBB Method; BBB stands for bleach, borax, and baking soda. With this method, outside of a few other problems or considerations, you can maintain your pool using three things you can find at any Walmart or grocery store. It works. Cheaply.
This tree is on the side of our house; it reliably bears nice sweet mulberries every spring. The groundhogs like it. I do too. Joe still wanders out there once in a while and eats them off the tree.
I’ve been hearing about the Franklinville Inn for a couple of decades, but have never had occasion to go. My parents went years ago and seemed unimpressed, so I wasn’t in much of a hurry It is locally famous for being hard to get into, although I was able to get us a rez for an admittedly early-bird seating in under 24 hours on OpenTable for last night.
The Inn reminds me a bit of the late Busch’s down in Sea Isle; it’s dark, outdated, but comfy. The crabcakes are as good as everyone says they are. Our martinis were both delicious and gigantic (Tanqueray, up, olives). Rhonda’s ribeye was better than my NY Strip, but both were good; hers had a nice, salty crust I found lacking in the strip.
We split the creme brulee and it was excellent, although you can tell they pluck a ramekin out of the walk-in and dump some booze on top and light it on fire tableside. Theatrics aside, it was still a bit boozy (and I’m not teetotaler), but otherwise delicious. I just don’t like this final step.
Definitely a good spot and I’m looking forward to going back.
I’ve written about Spark a bunch here on Uncorrected. It’s been my iOS and iPad OS email client of choice for many years.
Spark recently moved over to Windows, which was fortuitous because I was already a subscriber. The Windows version was unveiled alongside the 2.0 Spark for Desktop release, which was a marked departure from the original, and widely loved, Spark on the Mac. For one thing, it’s an electron app. Spark jettisoned many beloved features in creating Desktop, and moved to a subscription model.
On Windows, Spark was slow. I’m talking unusably slow, from a painfully long launch to sluggish performance in normal use.
But since a recent update, I’ve found Spark on Windows to be snappy, and the calendar feature is pretty much perfect for my needs.
Like most people, I like funny things. I like to be funny; I delight in cracking people up. But I’ve always wondered about it, and more broadly in the context of why we like comedians (because I really enjoy a good comedian, thinking of Dave Chapelle and Tom Segurra especially).
The notion that the chorus of the Greek tragedy was a subject of serious philological debate. predates my curiosity about laughter and partly inspired it. I remember reading about The Birth of Tragedy and was struck that this element of a Greek play—a group of performers that spoke in unison—remained a source of intrigue… that its function, separate from the audience’s acceptance of it, was something of a mystery.
So to with laughter, perhaps?
Why do we laugh? What function does it perform? If it even does?
[I]ts principal function appears to be creating and deepening social bonds. As our ancestors began to live in larger and more complex social structures, the quality of relationships became crucial to survival. The process of evolution would have favoured the development of cognitive strategies that helped form and sustain these cooperative alliances.
This article differentiates between two kinds of laughter: volitional and spontaneous. There are audible differences between the two, and people can reliable detect one from the other. But both types fulfill the same need.
In the same vein, but with an added caveat: Laughter is a sign of safety:
“The idea was that laughter was an external signal that can tell the group everything is OK, we can relax. (There is) no need to be anxious or threatened by what’s happening around us. And so this would really be a great survival tool for groups of humans,” she explained.
But what about watching a comedian or comedy with others? Why do we like that?:
This form of (Duchenne) laughter is involuntary and highly contagious (we are up to 30 times more likely to laugh when we watch a comedy video in a group than if we watch the same video alone
Most research on the functions of laughter has focused on the information being broadcast by the person laughing or its role in inducing positive affect in the listener, thereby facilitating interaction or reducing threat
As mentioned above, there is the kind of laughter I was curious about: spontaneous laughter, or what is also called Duchenne laughter (named for the scientist who discovered the physiology of a spontaneous smile). But there is another kind of smile, and a corresponding kind of laughter: volitional. Unlike spontaneous laughter, the telltale sign is the eyes. Interestingly, such laughter is punctuational… calculated, even:
The results were surprising, even to Provine: Less than 20 percent of the real-world laughter incidents he cataloged were in response to anything resembling something funny. Far more often, people were giggling or chuckling at innocuous statements such as “I’ll see you guys later,” “I see your point,” and “Look, it’s Andre!” What’s more, in all of these cases, the person who produced the laugh-provoking statement was 46 percent more likely to be the one chuckling than the person listening. And while laughter might seem like something that can erupt at any point in response to something funny, in only eight of the 1,200 laugh episodes Provine cataloged did the laughter interrupt what somebody was saying. Instead, 99.9 percent of the time, laughter occurred in tidy, natural breaks in the conversation, punctuating the speech like a period or exclamation point.
Applying the prongs of his box to people’s faces, Duchenne evoked one kind of smiling—the voluntary kind, the type of expression we produce when we a grin to be polite. This mannerism, he discovered, involves the face’s zygomatic major muscles raising the corners of the mouth. But Duchenne discovered there was a second variety of smiling and laughing, one that occurs when we find something truly entertaining or funny. This expression was more complex, utilizing both the zygomatic major muscles and the orbicularis oculi muscles that form crow’s feet around your eyes. It’s why people say a real smile is in the eyes. Duchenne was never able to reproduce with his electrodes this second form of expression—now known as a Duchenne smile or Duchenne laughter—and he came to believe it was “only put at play by the sweet emotion of the soul.”
But then, sometime in the hundreds of thousands of years after that, theorized Gervais and Wilson, the other sort of laughter emerged—the non-Duchenne sort, the kind that isn’t dependent on something being funny. As people developed cognitively and behaviorally, they learned to mimic the spontaneous behavior of laughter to take advantage of its effects. They couldn’t get it right—they couldn’t simulate the eye-muscle movements of real laughter and smiling—but it was close. Mimicked laughter was a way to manipulate others—sometimes for mutually beneficial purposes, sometimes for more devious reasons. As Gervais and Wilson put it in their paper, “non-Duchenne laughter came to occur in aggressive, nervous, or hierarchical contexts, functioning to signal, to appease, to manipulate, to deride, or to subvert.”
We took the boys out for Indian at our local favorite spot (we actually have two Indian restaurants nearby now, although they are the same owner/name/menu). It’s always good and the service most polite. Split a bottle of Chardonnay with Rhonda.
I’m trying everything from the lamb and goat sections. My favorite so far is either the Lamb Rogan Josh or the Lamb Korma. Another favorite is the Chole Batura, which is a dish I tried at a place in Camden County that’s now out of business. It comes with spicy chickpeas in a red sauce and a puffy, naan-like bread. We split Aloo Chaat this time instead though. The bread basket at Royal Spice is pricey but definitely worth it; there’s naan and roti in the basket, of varied flavors. Love this place.
We nipped out to Kohl’s after and I get these natty Vans. That’s a good time to shop! The joint was empty.
I changed the rear tube on the Gunnar and took a quick spin around the (admittedly capacious) ‘hood. This was fun and a first of sorts: I haven’t been on a bike at this weight since maybe 5th or 6th grade. Effortless isn’t the word… sinuous perhaps.
In "Wake Up Routine" I shared a screenshot from OneNote of my wake-up routine since I started my new gig. Because I have to wake up a bit earlier to get to work (due largely to an earlier start time), I hit the Concept2 within minutes of rising. Contrast this with my previous routine:
I had a good 30 minutes after rising to drink some coffee (and sometimes house a banana) before rowing. I attribute to this my more lackluster rowing performance (at least compared to my previous efforts): I was up, well caffeinated, and alert by the time I was downstairs.
I added this little twist to my routine in order to get my body and mind up to speed more quickly:
It’s pretty good and seems to be helping me warm up more quickly.
I was listening to the Mind Pump Podcast and in the course of the conversation, one of the hosts asked what everybody’s favorite dinosaur was. He added that this was important. I chuckled about this diversion, as I think most kids (especially boys) have an opinion in this space.
My answer is easy: I always preferred the brontosaurus, now known as the apatosaurus. I liked the idea of a quiet, gentle giant pensively chewing plants in a body of water. This creature always stood in stark contrast to the T-Rex, the aggressive bully of childhood’s dinosaur landscape.
I consider these kinds of preferences a kind of projective test, telling you a bit about the person sharing their preference. I’m not an in-your-face kind of person, and am not likely to (purposefully) rock your world with a phone call or email. I always had a more mild personality, and even at a young age, the apatosaurus drew me in.
And the same host who asked the question? He described persons who answer “T-Rex” to be a “generikid,” a portmanteau I’d never heard but found satisfyingly succinct. The apatosaurus fans among us appreciate this kind of comeuppance.
Bonus: What Dinosaur Are You?
I wrote about feeling your feelings as an important piece in developing a healthy emotional gestalt. Some suggestions for dealing with negative feelings or emotions include allowing yourself to feel them, and reapprising your interpretation of them, to name a couple.
But there is a dark side to feeling, and it involves rumination, which is associated with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder.
What is rumination? It is effectively dwelling on a theme or thought.
I found a site by Dr. Michael Greenberg about the topic, and his advice flies in the face of more common "cures" (I’m looking at you, Mindfulness.)
When I talk about rumination, I’m talking about any type of mental engagement with the problem; put another way, I’m talking about shifting into problem-solving mode. This includes analyzing, mental reviewing, mental checking, visualizing, monitoring, and even directing attention toward the problem. Crucially, all of these mental processes are controllable. They don’t happen to us; we do them on purpose.
Rumination comes in a number of insidious flavors:
There’s a lot to write about Greenberg’s conception of rumination and its consequences, but I want to focus on three aspects: problem solving, directing attention (or just stopping), and the Core Fear.
Problem Solving
This is the root of your suffering if you are prone to ruminating. As mentioned above, shifting into problem-solving mode is " analyzing, mental reviewing, mental checking, visualizing, monitoring, and even directing attention toward the problem" Having thoughts isn’t rumination (you can’t help having thoughts), but trying to figure out what the thought means is. Neither is having a problem or a question. But trying to solve or answer it is.
For Greenberg, this is the cornerstone of OCD (and anxiety): controlling mental processes that you can’t control, while failing to control those you can.
So what processes can you control?
Directing Attention
Greenberg is critical of mindfulness-based strategies because they, by their design, either attempt to distract you or encourage you to stay in problem-solving mode. And his simple exhortation, challenging in practice, is to just stop directing your attention to the problem you are trying to solve.
So what are you supposed to do? Nothing. Greenberg writes that "instead of looking for an antidote, just stop eating poison." To stop ruminating, you don’t have to do anything. You just have to stop ruminating. Don’t direct your attention to the thought. This is where I think the feeling your feelings angle comes in, because not directing attention doesn’t mean thought stopping or trying to force yourself to stop feeling a certain way. You can’t do that. But you can make a simple choice: to not direct attention to the thought. Here’s how.
The Core Fear
Greenberg attributes the Core Fear to Dr. Elna Yadin. Examples include:
OCD symptoms are strategies designed to help the person avoid ever feeling the Core Fear. For Dr. Yadin, there is one most common Core Fear: being a bad person. (Others include fear of dying, suffering eternally, ruining one’s life, and remaining alone).