I just made a grave mistake. I went outside. I don’t think I’ll do that again. Yes, yes, we’re hardy up here, impervious to the cold, reveling in the plume of steam that unfurls from our happy mouths as we trod along on snowshoes singing fa-la-la, but there’s a point where it actually is too cold. Today’s close. From ‘CCO, some timely advice:
If you think you have frost bite, here’s how to treat it without doing more harm to your body. The first thing sounds simple, but you should get out of the cold.
You may want to print that out and carry it around.
Also, Take off any wet clothing and get dry clothes on. Lastly, warm the affected tissue with warm water, not hot water.
The last line is useful; if you have no feeling in your fingers, hot water may burn them. the word “tissue” has a green link on the original page, by the way; it’s one of those evil sponsored links that pops up a box advertising something called “Kleenex.” Seems it’s a thin, disposable piece of paper you can use to blot nasal discharge. Fascinating! Thanks for the heads-up, and I’ll look into it.
CHRISTMAS STATUARY Here’s another picture from a trip to Menard’s Plastic Seasonal Aisle. The first one is a rather empty manger; seems to suggest that Jesus came back after 30 years to check out the old neighborhood.
The Illuminated Cow is in the background, and there’s also Permanently Scarred Horse:
He’s seen things. Horrible thing. If he has a name, it’s probably Pris.
CHECK PLEASE The 44 worst people in every restaurant. The list starts strong and peters out, but it makes a few old points. Everyone should work in a restaurant in their late teens and early twenties. It teaches you everything you need to know about work. It’s menial, creative, require a host of social and logistical skills, and leaves you better prepared to deal with idiots, tyrants, thieves, and angels.
The author of the piece, alas, has that snooty tone you get when waiters start to admit how much they hate people. Specific people. Oh, heck, all of them.
Do you really think that by calling prosciutto “pra-shoot” that the Italian waiter will go back to the kitchen and regale the chefs with praise-filled stories of the man at table 16? Also, you’re from Wayland, MA.
And if the guy says “Prossy-cuto” or “”pros-koo-eeto” or some other variant he’s a moron, and you’l go back and tell the chefs how he pronounced it.
The site threw up a screen asking if I wanted to subscribe to get all the latest Minneapolis-St. Paul-related news in my inbox. Oh don’t be silly, of course not. Because your site has stories like this:
If a stranger ever leaned over in a public place and said “you should be eating this sandwich” you’d ignore him or move away. If he persisted in telling you what you SHOULD be doing RIGHT NOW and got too close I think you're legally permitted to step on his feet “by accident.” Let me check with a lawyer.
As long as we’re on the subject of “Sponsored Content” that makes erroneous presumptions:
I'm thinking I might not.