The female brain.

A couple of weeks ago I bought a few books, one of which was "The Female Brain" by Louann Brizendine, M.D. The blurb on the cover (by another female M.D.) says, "Sassy, witty, reassuring, and great fun. All women - and the men who love them - should read this book." Couldn't resist.

Twila saw the book on our table and read it and said she has mixed feelings about what the author says. Apparently there is a lot of the nature vs. nurture controversy. I haven't read it yet, but I'm willing to say what I think.

It is obvious to most people that women and men are different physically. Not just in the genital area, but from head to toe. Size, softness, hair, whatever. And all of that is consistent with our #1 instinct, to preserve the species.

Men are bigger and stronger and more aggressive because their role in nature is to provide for and protect their families. Women are designed to create families and hold them together. With all of the physical differences, why wouldn't our brains be different? I think they are.

Lawrence Summers, when he was the president of Harvard a few years ago, got into a lot of P.C. trouble by saying that women have less aptitude than men at mathematics and science. It was like Jimmy the Greek ruining his career by saying that slaves were bred for certain characteristics (I can imagine that, but I don't know if it's accurate.) Even if you say something that is true or that you think is true, you will be spat upon if your views touch a specific nerve, and with gender and race those nerves are prominent.

Men need math and science because their primary function is to provide, to produce. Why wouldn't their native aptitude for those disciplines be stronger? Women need communication to keep relationships strong, so why wouldn't their skills in that area be stronger? And isn't there plenty of evidence that those differences are real? Even brain scans show that the male and female brains work differently.

What I don't understand is why people get upset when they hear that our brains are different. Well, why women get upset - I don't know many men who think that they can handle relationships and interpersonal communication as well as women. Left brain vs. right brain dominance isn't a value judgement.

Of course, nurture plays a large role in our actual lives. The feminism movement of the '60s was one of our great accomplishments, because it freed both women and men to be what they want to be. Now, partly because of feminism and partly because of technology, we are transitioning toward a matriarchy, which will be a great societal advance. Men don't know how to negotiate, they only know how to fight. It will be a better world when women are in charge and men are off doing math and science.

Odd Days: Money where the mouth is

I'm trying to prove to my sister that there are adventures to be found in the oddest places. So here's a pictorial of our NYE adventure.

WARNING! The following pictures are not for the faint of heart.

Before picture:
















As you can see, the anticipation required a calming cigarette.

In contrast, Durf, the butcher, looks amazingly calm. But why not? These clippers are at home in his hands. Know what I mean?
















But then something took hold of him...
















Hmmmm. Not sure I like that look in his eye...
















Here's the after picture. Sure glad I found another cigarette...and my lucky Broncos t-shirt.

Bloggage.

I know I've blogged this before, or at least I think I have, but this time it's a tad mite different because I'm changing my policy.

Blogging is talking. There are blogs about politics and sports and current events and fashion and all kinds of things. Blogs with a theme are easy, because you just write about whatever happened recently in whatever your theme is. Our New York blog was easy for that reason - and also because when I was working in the lab I had plenty of time to think of things to write about. Oui-Sez isn't quite that way. It is a blog with no theme, other than Twila & Durf. So that's a problem.

Twila figured it out and cut her work in half by choosing "Odd Days". She goes out and does things and gets blown out of her shoes and whatever, plus she has a great imagination. I told her yesterday that she blogs like I would expect Gail Collins to blog, so she could even make something like cutting her hair into an interesting and funny story. Not me.

As you can tell by my recent lack of posts, I haven't had much to blog about. It's not surprising. I spend 2-3 hours every morning reading newspapers, then I struggle with my computer, work on my helicopters, play pinball. And, whereas Twila is anxious to experience everything she possibly can to fulfill her bucket list, I'm more focused on internal things. I haven't been able yet to fully process all the experiences I've already had and figure out how they've affected me, so that's what I'm working on.

Anyway, I've decided to change my bloggage. Previously I had some rules: don't blog about politics or religion; say interesting things; try to be funny; write things our readers (I think there are 3 of you) would like to read. I hereby cancel all of those rules. I'm going to blog about whatever is on my mind at the moment. I'm going to blog for me instead of for you, and I feel okay about that because you don't have to read anything I write - there won't be a quiz. Promise.

One thing I want to write about is drugs and the war on them, which have been interests of mine for many years. That will probably cost us a couple of readers before I even write anything, but it is what it is. One of the biggest problems this country has with drugs is ignorance about them, and I'm retired now and can write whatever I want. Heh.

I also plan to write about the changes I'm experiencing now, after all these years. Who said an old Durf can't learn new tricks? People talking about themselves is usually boring, so I will at least try to keep it to the high (or low) points.

And Twilight Zone, about which I would write a book, if only anyone under 50 knew what a pinball machine is.

Brave new world, here I come.

:pNY

This is a holiday that makes no sense. I'm not complaining, of course. I think New Year's Day is a holiday for two reasons: 1) a soft landing after Christmas; 2) an excuse to drink heavily. In my view, Christmas is over-hyped and I don't need an excuse to drink heavily, but gather ye rosebuds and all that.

Odd Days: HNY!

To all the faithful readers of this blog: Happy New Year!

Thank you for reading and commenting on our blog. The whole endeavor was one of the highlights of 2011 -- for me anyway.

(Sorry, that's all you get. It is just too difficult to be interesting on two odd days in a row.)

My favorite singer of all time.

Odd Days: Confession

I have a character flaw. It might have cost me my first marriage. In fact, it was during said marriage that the flaw became apparent to me, although it's conceivable that it was apparent to others long before.

Early in our marriage, H#1 and I took a recreational trip to Reno during one of the winter months. Lots of ice and snow. We exited a casino late one night and were walking to our car, when all of a sudden H#1's feet flew out from under him and he did a flying plank, landing on his back on the sidewalk, with his skull hitting the pavement a nanosecond later.

I did what seems to come naturally to me in these situations, I burst into peals of laughter. Mind you, he was not moving. And yes, it was possible that he had died on impact. Like I said, it's a character flaw. And like I said, we are now divorced.

Flash forward 40 years. Day before yesterday, I went out to get the mail. It was windy, but not atypical. With mail in hand, I turned to go back toward the house when a mighty -- and I mean MIGHTY -- gust of wind blew me right out of my shoes. I am not exaggerating. I went up, my shoes came off and miraculously I landed on my feet again although there was a stone under one foot which made me howl. Meanwhile, my shoes were blowing toward hell or highwater across the great plain that is our front yard, so off I went in pursuit -- through the stones, the prickles, the broken branches, the rabbit poop.

Some time later, I caught up with my shoes and gingerly made my way back to the house. I opened the front door, and what do you think I found in the foyer? I'll tell you. It was Durf, doubled over in laughter.

This particular flaw must be contagious. Either that or Durf wants a divorce.

Eclectic or FUBAR?

I think both of these are great songs. So far I haven't found anyone who agrees.

Odd Days: Statistics, love 'em or ignore 'em

If you are wondering why my voice has not been heard here recently, it's because I came down with a sound-stifling case of laryngitis.

This wouldn't be the first time I've lost my voice. It used to be a regular affliction. I remember one terrible two week period during which I could not emit a squeak, and yet I insisted on continuing to frequent bridge clubs and tournaments, forcing opponents to read my lips. When there was a dispute, I was unable to make my usual witheringly snide remarks and had to resort to glaring, which was totally unsatisfying because nobody would look at me.

But I digress. My belief is that I have a genetic predisposition to laryngitis. Of course now that I've submitted my spit for genotyping, I am suddenly of the opinion that all of my personality traits are genetic. I have in my possession predictions about me (based on statistics for my genotype) that run the gamut from eye color to likelihood of coming down (up?) with Parkinson's Disease. I carry the report around with me so that I can understand my behavior at any given moment.

Some of the results are downright insulting (I'm an "unlikely sprinter"). Others are flattering. Take pain tolerance, for example. I have spent the first 61 years of my life warning doctors that I have a low threshold of pain. I've always been annoyed when they take issue with that statement. But my genotype report indicates that I am likely to have a higher than average threshold of pain. (Never mind that there were only 5 people in the one study that came up with this result. Never mind that I could well have a terribly low threshold of pain in spite of the "likelihood.") On the face of it, I should be flattered. But the more I think about it, the less sure I am that pain tolerance is a good thing. Take an apocalyptic scenario, for example, where there is a limited supply of pain meds, I'd probably be one of the last to get the goods.

I don't like the sound of that.

Odd Days: And then there was Skype

Perhaps I haven't given it a long enough trial, but so far skype has limited appeal for me. I can tell you straight off the bat that skyping with a client is something I'm pretty sure I will never do. After years of building up a mystique, I can imagine it all dissolving in one quick video chat during which a cowlick sits at attention on my head, mocking my sobriety, or worse...some body part comes untucked. You know what I mean?

But what about skyping with a friend. If you use a phone instead, at least you can wander around, clean the house, make yourself a cup of tea or put him/her on speaker and continue to work. (Be sure to put the phone far enough away that your friend can't hear the clacking of the keys.) Nope, not skyping with friends, either.

Here's what skype is for:

1. Talking to your honey when he is 8,000 miles away. It will remind him that you are keeping an eye on him.
2. Looking at a friend's new and drastically different haircut, so you can see him/her squirm and blush.
3. Facilitating a conversation between grandma or grandpa and the rugrats. Better than sending a DVD. This way grandma and grandpa can see that the rugrats really have no interest at all in sitting in front of the "TV" talking to grandma and grandpa. So grandma and grandpa need not feel guilty for not making the trip to rugrat-land.
4. Pranks. No details, but I advise you to remain on the qui vive...at all times.