An excuse to sleep more

My boss is lamenting the deterioration of her short-term memory. Well, she shouldn't be surprised: she is thirty-something. We can't expect our memory to last forever.

The other day she pleaded for suggestions on how she could improve her memory. The traditional brain-strengthening ideas were offered: Solving crossword puzzles. Doing word searches. Trading brains with someone who has an excellent memory.

Now this last option might be a good solution, but unfortunately it is specifically excluded in our company insurance guidelines: BRAIN TRANSPLANTS FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF IMPROVING ONE'S MEMORY ARE HEREBY EXCLUDED FROM COVERAGE. BRAIN TRANSPLANTS FOR OTHER REASONS, INCLUDING THE WISH TO FORGET HOW GEEKY ONE WAS IN HIGH SCHOOL, MAY BE CONSIDERED ON AN INDIVIDUAL BASIS.

But according to researchers, one of the best things any of us can do to improve our memory is to sleep more. I agree wholeheartedly.

The idea that we can strengthen our brain by resting it was a topic of much discussion at a conference of the American Psychological Association a few years ago. Apparently several sessions of the conference were devoted to discussing sleep and its benefits, including improvements in health and attitude. At many conferences I have been to, many of us do more than just talk about sleep: We heartily try it out. It certainly improves my attitude.

Sleeping, specifically dreaming, can also help us make sense of the day's events. For instance, I have been badgering Joe to find a new barber. After some time of being subjected to this badgering, he informed me that he had had a dream that he was on a fashion consultant show. The consultant told Joe that "long hair definitely doesn't work for you. You should go short and spiky." Joe acknowledged to me that this would definitely influence where he went to get his hair cut.

But back to sleep and memory.

According to researchers, Americans have a "pervasive sleep debt." This sleep debt is affecting our productivity, our work, our relationships, our ability to remember our name, etc. We become "clumsy, stupid, and unhealthy." If you are shortchanging yourself on sleep, It could even, as one researcher has chillingly pointed out, cause you to forget everything you learned about improving your golf swing in Wednesday's lesson so that by Saturday, you are worse off than if you had never taken the lesson.

This is serious indeed. If this collective sleep deprivation is left unchecked, we might find ourselves in a national crisis -- on the brink of sleep bankruptcy. Clearly, we must take action before disaster strikes. I propose, therefore, that we institute a bailout to deal with this issue. We must impose a sleep tax, effective immediately, to be paid by those who have a sleep surplus, such as babies, some elderly persons, and cats. The sleep tax would transfer units of sleep, called "units of sleep," to those with proven sleep debt.

Some, of course, may use their extra units of sleep unwisely, for raucous slumber parties, sleeping through church, etc. But this seems a small price to pay when the alternative is a nation of stupid, clumsy, unhealthy people.

We also need a stimulus package to get people to sleep more. As part of this sleep stimulus package, we might dedicate several hours each afternoon, as a nation, to napping. The traditional office forum for this, known currently as the Afternoon Meeting, is not entirely satisfactory and could be replaced by designated Nap Rooms, such as Joe's company has established in its new building. This would allow us to build up our own sleep reserves so that, in due time, more people could pay the sleep tax.

And if anyone questions your need for sleep in the middle of the day, just tell them you're off to improve your golf game.

The great dig

Compelling as the "vacation" involving tracking and counting mountain lions -- which we highlighted yesterday -- sounds, I'm afraid I've crossed that off our list of potential vacations. Although it it is important to think out of the box, stretch yourself, and all that, I also feel very strongly about staying intact. So I consulted our book about vacations that enrich your life for one that might offer excitement, but not that much excitement.

"You really should read this book," I told Joe. "There's a lot of cool things to do in here."

"Like what?"

"Well, I think there's a trip where you go to this little tourist town and, um, help sell souvenirs..."

"Take that book back to the store," he said.

But then, as I pointed out, we might miss the opportunity to help discover why a bunch of teenage mammoths in North Dakota all perished together in a sinkhole. This involves excavating a mammoth cemetery.

"You don't like dirt," he said.

I have to hand it to him. He brings out the heavy artillery right away.

But for some reason the story intrigues me. It sounds eerily like another I read recently, this time about a group of teenage dinosaurs in Mongolia who all died together in a bunch of mud from which they couldn't escape. Scientists theorize that the adults were not paying attention --will we ever learn? -- and, as teens are wont to do with no supervision, all got together and spray-painted the junior high (which has yet to be excavated). But then something went tragically wrong, and as they fled the scene of their misdeed, they were stopped by the mud, literally in their tracks.

Personally I think it likely that the two incidents are in some way connected. Perhaps some cosmic force was attempting to lure the young of the world away, for some nefarious purpose, and then abruptly abandoned its purpose when the teens wouldn't agree to change their cell phone ringtones to "All Hail the Cosmic Force." It's possible.

But we don't have to travel all the way out west to help dig things up. Although not technically a "vacation," more along the lines of "volunteer labor," there are opportunities to participate in archaeological excavations at Mount Vernon, which is only an hour from our house. Past digs have turned up wig curlers, forks made from animal bones, distillery items, lottery tickets. Okay, no lottery tickets.

Sadly, a dung repository has already been excavated and thoroughly researched, but I'm sure many other exciting opportunities await.

A lion of a vacation

This book we got on vacations is really useful. It's really useful for helping us know what we don't want to do.

For instance, tracking mountain lions in Arizona. According to the book, mountain lions -- which the author insists have "gotten a bum rap" -- are tracked and counted as part of conservation efforts ("No you can't make a spur to Interstate 37 here! This is a community center for twenty-nine juvenile lions! No telling WHAT they'll do if they have no place to hang out after school!").

So you, as someone who is concerned about conserving the natural habitat of mountain lions and preventing the tragedy of juvenile delinquency among them -- or alternatively, as someone who has a death wish -- are invited to join a group of experts in counting the lions. You get extensive training (Trainer [showing picture of mountain lion]: "This is a mountain lion." [showing picture of elephant]: "This is not a mountain lion"). Then you head out to stalk the lions with the experts.

So far, not bad. I would do this. I would do this while remaining in an armored vehicle at all times, with the National Guard surrounding me, and watching for lions on a little video screen at the front of the vehicle.

But the book is quick to point out that the object is not to actually FIND the mountain lions. Phew! I am relieved to know that, although not relieved enough to sign up. You are merely looking for evidence that a lion may have been hanging out in the area, perhaps something along the lines of a note pinned to a tree that says "For a good time, call Arthur. 723-9964."

Lacking that evidence, you can look for other lion signs: footprints, fur, the occasional leftover meal, and "scat." If you are unfamiliar with "scat," may I suggest visiting http://www.bear-tracker.com/animalscat.html. But do not do so within 3 hours of attempting to consume a meal.

Examining any roadkill you might observe and extracting information from it, however, is probably best left to the professionals. The following type of scenario is to be avoided:

Volunteer vacationer (attempting to interview a former animal): Uh, excuse me, Mr., uh -- what was this, anyway? It's kind of hard to tell -- uh, Mr. Deer...we'd like to ask you a few questions, sir.

Former animal: (nothing)

Volunteer (encouraged): OK, then, uh, we're interested in knowing what type of animal you had this, um, run-in with.

Former animal: (nothing)

Volunteer: Uh, it's real important that we get this information, Mr. Deer. This is for science.

Voice from behind: I can tell you who it was. RAWRRRRRRRRRR!

Volunteer: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Professional: Just kidding.

Volunteer: Why, that's a dirty --

Deep voice from nearby: You two puny things looking for me?

Professional and volunteer: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

What the book is not clear about -- maybe this is covered in advanced training -- is whether it is possible, if you follow enough clues, to accidentally find the lion that left those clues. There you are, hot on the trail of some footprints, scat, scattered fur, leftover dinner, more scat, and wham! You step into a clearing and there, right before you, in all the splendor and terror you could have imagined about such a sight, is a group of male mountain lions gathered in a circle, deep in concentration over a game of cards.

I mean, can you imagine what that would do to your efforts to keep out Interstate 37? ("After-school programs my foot. They want us to support a gambling hall!")

Personally I think it is a good thing to keep track of your mountain lions. Say one month you get a count of 427 lions in a particular area, which happens to be in some proximity to your house, and the next month there are only 426.

Uh oh.

So yes, more power to those of you who want to spend your hard-earned vacation time going around collecting fur samples and examining scat and interviewing roadkill in an effort to keep tabs on those lions.

If you see Arthur, tell him I said hi.

In which we seek answers

When we are little, we can't wait to grow up so other people will stop telling us what to do all the time, and we can do whatever we want. Then when we finally do grow up, and reach that point of maturity, we think: Finally! We can make our own decisions now. Just as soon as we consult our therapist. Or TV personalities. Or Google.

Because we don't really make decisions on our own. We rely on others for information, for answers, to tell us what to do.

Joe's answer to pretty much any perplexing life question, for instance, is to Google it. Admittedly this is very helpful for certain things, although it doesn't work for the really important questions, like "Where is the ketchup?" -- although if anyone could figure out a way to find things in the refrigerator by looking on Google, that person could name their price -- or "How mad will my wife be when she finds out I put the white underwear in the washer with the red towels?" Nevertheless it remains many people's first choice for Seeking and Obtaining Information.

My answer to life's perplexing questions is to get a book about it. Joe says I rely too much on expert opinion.

"I don't think Suze Orman would agree with you," I say.

He scoffs at the idea that anyone who has extensively researched an idea, spent years putting this idea into practice, labored over endless drafts of a manuscript to share this knowledge with others, endured a grueling editing and publishing process, become a world expert, etc., could possibly know anything about the topic. Whereas someone writing on a forum online, under the name "Who Wippy Dog," and who demonstrates the grammar skills of a sock, does.

Call me stubborn and old-fashioned, but still I persist in turning to books when I want to know something.

Which is why, as we were contemplating where to vacation this year, my first impulse was to get a travel book. A book that would tell us the absolute coolest places to take a vacation.

One book presented, it said, 100 best vacations to enrich your mind. This sounded very noble. I flipped through the pages, past the spa chapter (which could have been titled "Way Expensive Vacations You Will Never Be Able to Afford") and also past the section about making a difference in other people's lives, because, I admit, we are not so much looking to enrich our lives -- or anyone else's -- as just to have fun.

"Look," I said eagerly, showing a page to Joe. "We could go on an archaeological dig and look for actual artifacts!"

I have always secretly wanted to be an archaeologist, although it proved to be somewhat incompatible with my philosophy of never getting dirty on purpose. There's just something irresistible about poking around for clues to ancient life. Actually, I have had some minor experience with this. Cleaning out my parents' freezer, for example, although I could easily have resisted that experience.

So when I saw this opportunity for a vacation that's all about digging, I thought we are all set. But it is amazing how, after only 3 years (and 10 months, 2 days, 17 hours, 43 seconds) of marriage, you develop an uncanny ability to look at your spouse's face and tell, in a nanosecond, that whatever you have just suggested is the worst idea since ideas were invented. But there is always the chance that you have misread him or her, and so you ask for clarification.

"I'm getting a sense that you really don't want to go around digging in the dirt," I said.

In answer he flipped to another page in the travel book. "HERE we go. 'Weave rugs with tribal elders!' " he said. "That would be so cool!"

I snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure there's a lot of weaving going on in between smoking the peace pipe or whatever it is they smoke."

What is really needed is "separate but parallel vacations." Two opportunities in roughly the same geographical location, but where you get to do your thing, the other person does his or her thing, and everyone's happy. Perhaps, for instance, there is an archaeological site near where the smoking -- I mean, near wheren the rugs are being woven.

I'll have to look for a book on it.

Trade-offs

With Joe's recent switch to a gluten-free diet, our concern for nutritional value is at a new low, eclipsed by the need to find something -- anything -- he can eat. Gluten lurks in everything -- we have become suspicious even of our toilet paper -- and must be thoroughly eschewed, even at the expense of higher fat, higher cholesterol, greater belt size, etc.

Puffin Flakes Cereal? Great! Who cares if it has 8,274 grams of sugar in it? It's gluten free!

Amazon Granola with more calories than ice cream? Load it on!

Ice cream one of the few things you can eat for dessert? Pass me a big spoon!

But thank goodness for companies like Dannon. Although most Dannon yogurt, sadly, cannot be considered gluten free, certain flavors, basically the plain ones, are. Whew! What a relief! And the reason they are gluten free -- this is even more of a relief -- is that they contain "no natural flavorings."

Well, what's the big deal about natural flavors, anyway.

Our concern for taste is also at a new low. Joe is getting used to his hockey-puck bread -- so called not only because of its consistency but also because that's about the size of each piece -- in the way you get used to the thought that at any given time there are roughly 1.3 million microscopic bugs crawling around your bedding.

I read the ingredients for Garbanzo Bean Chocolate Cupcakes and got as far as reading the second step in the directions before I realized I was actually considering making chocolate cake with BEANS.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

To be fair, the recipe did get good reviews. (I read those, too.)

I suspect the truth-in-advertising laws are suspended for gluten-free products. From the taste of some of them, there can't be more than, say, .2% actual food particles in them. The rest is made up possibly of debris from Halley's comet.

This is not to say that everything gluten free tastes bad. There's still rice cakes.

Canyon Dust vs. Go-Go Green

It is a truth universally acknowledged that, out of the approximately 13,874 paint colors known to man (whose name is Benjamin Moore), two spouses, of sound mind and living otherwise harmoniously together in the same dwelling, will be able to agree on: exactly none of them.

One spouse will insist on Fun Colors, defined roughly as anything not Brown, Beige, or White. The other will believe that Heaven itself is filled with shades of Brown, Beige, and White -- although this belief is not based on a strict interpretation of the Bible -- and that their little slice of heaven here on earth should mirror the greater.

These paint preferences are notoriously difficult to change, although it does happen (a documented case occurred on January 16, 1932, in Ketchum, Idaho, where a man finally agreed to let his wife paint the kitchen Wild Manzanita, with the stipulation that she wait until after his death). But do not think you can trick your spouse into believing that a color is fun when in fact it is not. I tried to elicit Joe's support for Muddlement, a color that I hoped might pass for pumpkin -- which he tolerates because it exists in a no-man's land between Fun Colors and Unfun Colors -- but that was, basically, brown. I did not mention this fact.

"How about this one?" I said. "It's sort of pumpkin-y."

He peered at it. "That's brown," he said. "Nice try."

The statistics on wallpaper agreement are even more dismal, if possible. Friends of ours clashed so vehemently over wallpaper samples that the saleswoman grew alarmed, believing a dissolution of their marriage would take place right there in the store.

Although the marriage is still thriving, they have never yet had wallpaper in their home.

*Note: All names of paint colors mentioned in this post are actual -- no whitewashing of the truth HERE -- although I cannot claim acquaintance with anyone who has personally used them.

Ask the Expert II

Today we bring you another important Q & A session on issues pertaining to food. These questions have to do with the food guide pyramid, which has guided generations of consumers (at least since 1992) in making healthy, heart-smart food choices. Unfortunately, in recent years the food guide pyramid has been found, through scientific study, to cause obesity. This was not, of course, the government's fault, but it was considered prudent to come up with a new system, which is called the "food guidance system."

Q: What is the food guidance system?

A: The food guidance system is a representation that divides various foods into groups based on taste. Based on research showing an absolute inverse relation between the nutritional value of a food and its taste, the new pyramid has several vertical sections, labeled roughly "Foods that Taste Awesome (Do Not Eat Any of These)," "Mediocre-Tasting Foods (Eat More of These)," and "Healthy, Eat-All-You-Want Foods that Taste Like Tree Bark."

Q: Does the new system include exercise?

A: Of course it does! The government knows you're not going to stick to foods you are supposed to eat, so in order to work off all the foods you eat that taste good, you must exercise. The new system therefore depicts a person ascending a staircase to represent the role of exercise in a healthy lifestyle. Alternatively, this person might possibly represent a wandering soul in search of an approved food that does not taste like tree bark.

Q: Why is the new food guidance system better than the old pyramid?

A: Clearly, one size does not fit all when it comes to diet (particularly since consumers are growing collectively larger). Therefore, the new system allows consumers to individualize their eating plan based on their age, gender, body mass, astrological sign, birth order, political party affiliation, personal beliefs about whether Jell-o is an actual food, and other important factors.

Q: How does a consumer go about individualizing his or her food guidance system?

A: The new pyramid is blank, and you fill in your own food requirements. In extreme cases, pyramids should be left blank indefinitely, and no food should be consumed.

Q: The pyramid doesn't show any actual food categories? That doesn't seem like much "guidance."

A, really a Q: Do you think the government can solve all your problems?

Q, really an A: Yes.

A: Then I have some bailout funds for you.

Q: Um, so, in the old food pyramid, fats, oils, and sweets were at the top of the pyramid. Why?

A: Because they were considered the top priority in a healthful, happy diet. People were encouraged to consume plenty of these foods, especially sweets. This had nothing to do with the increase in obesity among consumers who followed the food guide pyramid.

Q: What do the different colors in the new pyramid represent?

A: These colors correspond to your personal color type, i.e., whether you are a Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, All-Season Person, Rainy, Drippy, Sleety, etc. If you are a Fall person, for example, the foods shown in the fall colors on the pyramid will make you appear thinner.

Q: I'm a Spring, but there aren't any pastel colors on the pyramid.

A: This means you are free to choose whatever foods you want. You can blame the government for the consequences.

Q: Do other societies have different food pyramids?

A: Recent discoveries indicate that a certain society, which shall remain nameless, has a pyramid containing categories for "chemical enhancements" and "unidentified proteins."

Q: Ugh!

A: Yes.

Q: What is wrong with the average American diet today?

A: WE'RE SORRY, ATTEMPTING TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION HAS CAUSED OUR SYSTEM TO CRASH. THAT WILL BE ALL FOR TODAY.