All of the following is courtesy of everyone’s oh-so-scientific publication. Once upon a time, I eagerly waited for the Science Section every Tuesday. This was a time before I was blogging and when I actually had brain cells. Also a time in which I read the paper in HARD COPY over BREAKFAST. So, very very long ago.
Some people get old after a lifetime of eating whatever they want, get away with it, and celebrate this in unusual ways. The authors mother describes herself as “a very naughty girl.” Mary Pyland, 92, of Abilene, TX makes “a caramel pie that was just about the best thing you ever put your lips around.”
My Unhealthy Diet? It Got Me This Far [NYT]
Eating Things Off The Floor
Dr. Roy M. Gulick, chief of the division of infectious diseases at Weill Cornell Medical College says that “The five-second rule probably should become the zero-second rule.”
Think it’s all the upholstery’s fault, and you’re safe because you never take the couches you desperately want to haul up your five-story walk-up off the street? FALSE.
“With both wood and tile, more than 99 percent of the bacteria were transferred nearly immediately, and there was no difference by the time of contact. Carpet transferred a smaller number of bacteria, again with no difference by contact time.”
The 5-Second Rule [NYT]
Not Being So Hard On Yourself
“People who score high on tests of self-compassion have less depression and anxiety, and tend to be happier and more optimistic.”
Why? Dr. Kristin Neff, an associate professor of human development at the University of Texas at Austin says “that the biggest reason people aren’t more self-compassionate is that they are afraid they’ll become self-indulgent. They believe self-criticism is what keeps them in line. Most people have gotten it wrong because our culture says being hard on yourself is the way to be.”
What to do? “…Dr. Neff suggests a set of exercises — like writing yourself a letter of support, just as you might to a friend you are concerned about.”
Yeah, this isn’t going to happen. One time, it was April and I was about 11 and it would not stop raining. New York was the greyest, most dismal place in the world to live and I was so unhappy about it and actually beginning to develop SAD that I briefly renounced my atheism and love for said Science Times and started writing letters to God everyday, praying that he would stop the rain and make it sunny. I even put these letters behind this poem hanging on my wall because I thought that was the least sacrilegious place in my house and there might be a slightly greater chance that He would forget my transgression and help a pathetic, weather-obsessed child out. Moral of the story: letters don’t work. The weather just changes.
Go Easy on Yourself, a New Wave of Research Urges [NYT]