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The real tahitian monoi oil with tiare flower perfumed with vanilla : A pocket size Capacity: 1 Fl oz (30 ml) - SPF 3 - Not tested on animals
Capacity: 1 Fl oz (30 ml) - SPF 3 - Not tested on animals
The Monoi oil is infused oil made from soaking the petals of Tahitian gardenias (tiare) in a semi-wax coconut oil.
Monoi is an ancient Tahitian word meaning sacred oil and scented oil (Manogi in Paumotu language, Pani in Marquesan language). It has long been reserved for Arii, the nobility social class.
Production :
Perfumed Oil made from coconut oil and Tiare flowers gardenia tahitensis, the monoï - symbol of purity, beauty and sensuality - is the emblem of Polynesia. The flowers buds are associated with coconut oil and copra by a traditional and aboriginal manufacturing process. Thus, this oil is from the mists of time, a real daily beauty care from plant and natural products that combines the moisturizing virtues of coconut oil and the soothing and softening properties of the Tiare flower.
Use :
When applied directly on the skin to nourish and hydrate sustainable, the monoï provides a delicious sense of exoticism. A few drops paid in the bathwater give softness and a delicately scented to your skin.
For silky and shiny hair, the monoï applies as a nutritional protection against the effects of sun, sea salt or chlorine pools. Authentic natural care, it repairs capillary fiber. It also can be used as a regenerator mask before shampooing.
True Monoi of Tahiti - Appellation of Origin A.O. :
Tahitian women secret beauty for body and hair, the exceptional properties of the Monoï from Tahiti have been officially recognized in April 1992 by the Label of Origin A.O., which becomes an assurance of its authenticity and quality.
Advice :
The monoï tends to solidify when it's in a temperature below 24°C, far from the Polynesian tropical climate. Spend it few minutes under warm water before use to restore its fluidity.


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34 playmats in stock.
Limited edition Magic: The Gathering artist proofs. White-back, not-tournament-legal versions of all of the cards I've done. Artists receive 50 non-foil and 30 foil copies of each card.
"Can you sign my print?" No, unfortunately. All prints are made and shipped by other people, so I never get a chance to scribble on them. Sorry. I can, however, sign playmats, tokens, and artist proofs!
All prints crop the image a bit or they've got some blank space around them. This is pretty normal and has to do with the crazy aspect ratios that some of my paintings have. But don't worry, I try to give you the best cropping I can. :)


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Direct Lighting Solutions specializes in emergency energy efficient light poles, helping you light the smart way.
With over twenty-years of emergency energy efficient light poles experience we have all your needs covered. With ever-evolving technology and changing times, we bring the most efficient and eco-friendly lighting to our customers.
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By Jason Dearen
Associated Press
San Francisco (AP) – California's $324 million Mega Millions jackpot winner Steve Tran had a 3 a.m. epiphany earlier this week that spurred him from sleep and had him fumbling through a pile of lottery tickets on top of his dresser.
"I remembered, I think I went to San Jose," the Northern California delivery driver told state lottery officials, who had publicized that the winning ticket was purchased at a gift shop in that city.
Tran checked his tickets, and the winner was "just sitting in my house, on top of my drawer."
After hugs from family, Tran phoned his boss.
"I'm really sorry boss. I hit the jackpot. I don't think I'm going to come in today, tomorrow, or ever," Tran remembered.
The $648 million jackpot is the second-largest lottery prize in U.S. history. It started its ascent Oct. 4. Lotto officials say 22 draws came and went without winners. Some $336 million in tickets were sold for the Dec. 17 drawing.
The other winner, Ira Curry, is from Georgia and came forward to claim her prize Dec. 18. Lottery officials there say she opted to take the lump sum payment of about $120 million after taxes.
Tran has 60 days to figure out how he wants to be paid.
Tran, who did not say where he lives, said his family likes to visit San Jose because of the city's large Vietnamese population.
While visiting the area to eat and shop, Tran bought five Quick Pick tickets from Jennifer's Gift Shop, owned by Thuy Nguyen.
Nguyen will also receive $1 million for selling the winning ticket.
Tran told lottery officials that he saw coverage that the winning ticket had been purchased in San Jose, but had forgotten about his purchase.
"Must be a lucky man," Tran thought.
Then he went on vacation, and forgot about the lottery.
It wasn't until his middle-of-the-night inspiration upon his return that Tran realized he had indeed purchased tickets in San Jose.
He came forward Thursday, 16 days after the drawing, to claim his prize. (end)


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Winsor & Newton Design Gouache
Winsor & Newton have been producing Designers' Gouache since 1935 and to this day continue to offer the finest Artists' Gouache range available.
Designers' Gouache colours are a range of opaque water colours, mainly used by designers, illustrators, and commercial artists to create vibrant illustrations in solid colour. Gouache is also widely used in fine art as an opaque watercolour.
Today the Designers' Gouache range benefits from significant developments in technology and is smoother, flatter, more opaque, and more brilliant than ever before.


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The following is the complete text of Jack London's To Build a Fire. To see all available titles by other authors, drop by our index of free books alphabetized by author or arranged alphabetically by title. Potential uses for the free books, stories and poetry we offer * Rediscovering an old favorite book or classic survival story. * Bibliophiles expanding their collection of public domain ebooks at no cost. * Teachers trying to locate a free online copy of a classic outdoor adventure book or short story for use in the classroom. NOTE: We try to present these classic literary works as they originally appeared in print. As such, they sometimes contain adult themes, offensive language, typographical errors, and often utilize unconventional, older, obsolete or intentionally incorrect spelling and/or punctuation conventions.
Day had broken cold and grey, exceedingly cold and grey, when the man turned aside from the main Yukon trail and climbed the high earthbank where a dim and little-travelled trail led eastward through the fat spruce timberland. It was a steep bank, and he paused for breath at the top, excusing the act to himself by looking at his watch. It was nine o'clock. There was no sun nor hint of sun, though there was not a cloud in the sky. It was a clear day, and yet there seemed an intangible pall over the face of things, a subtle gloom that made the day dark, and that was due to the absence of sun. This fact did not worry the man. He was used to the lack of sun. It had been days since he had seen the sun, and he knew that a few more days must pass before that cheerful orb, due south, would just peep above the sky-line and dip immediately from view. The man flung a look back along the way he had come. The Yukon lay a mile wide and hidden under three feet of ice. On top of this ice were as many feet of snow. It was all pure white, rolling in gentle undulations where the ice-jams of the freeze-up had formed. North and south, as far as his eye could see, it was unbroken white, save for a dark hairline that curved and twisted from around the spruce-covered island to the south, and that curved and twisted away into the north, where it disappeared behind another spruce-covered island. This dark hairline was the trail--the main trail--that led south five hundred miles to the Chilcoot Pass, Dyea, and salt water; and that led north seventy miles to Dawson, and still on to the north a thousand miles to Nulato, and finally to St. Michael on Bering Sea, a thousand miles and half a thousand more. But all this--that mysterious, far-reaching hairline trail, the absence of sun from the sky, the tremendous cold, and the strangeness and weirdness of it all--made no impression on the man. It was not because he was long used to it. He was a new-comer in the land, a chechaquo, and this was his first winter. The trouble with him was that he was without imagination. He was quick and alert in the things of life, but only in the things, and not in the significances. Fifty degrees below zero meant eighty-odd degrees of frost. Such fact impressed him as being cold and uncomfortable, and that was all. It did not lead him to meditate upon his frailty as a creature of temperature, and upon man's frailty in general, able only to live within certain narrow limits of heat and cold; and from there on it did not lead him to the conjectural field of immortality and man's place in the universe. Fifty degrees below zero stood for a bite of frost that hurt and that must be guarded against by the use of mittens, ear flaps, warm moccasins, and thick socks. Fifty degrees below zero was to him just precisely fifty degrees below zero. That there should be anything more to it than that was a thought that never entered his head. As he turned to go on, he spat speculatively. There was a sharp, explosive crackle that startled him. He spat again. And again, in the air, before it could fall to the snow, the spittle crackled. He knew that at fifty below spittle crackled on the snow, but this spittle had crackled in the air. Undoubtedly it was colder than fifty below--how much colder he did not know. But the temperature did not matter. He was bound for the old claim on the left fork of Henderson Creek, where the boys were already. They had come over across the divide from the Indian Creek country, while he had come the roundabout way to take a look at the possibilities of getting out logs in the spring from the islands in the Yukon. He would be in to camp by six o'clock; a bit after dark, it was true, but the boys would be there, a fire would be going, and a hot supper would be ready. As for lunch, he pressed his hand against the protruding bundle under his jacket. It was also under his shirt, wrapped up in a handkerchief and lying against the naked skin. It was the only way to keep the biscuits from freezing. He smiled agreeably to himself as he thought of those biscuits, each cut open and sopped in bacon grease, and each enclosing a generous slice of fried bacon. He plunged in among the big spruce trees. The trail was faint. A foot of snow had fallen since the last sled had passed over, and he was glad he was without a sled, traveling light. In fact, he carried nothing but the lunch wrapped in the handkerchief. He was surprised, however, at the cold. It certainly was cold, he concluded, as he rubbed his numb nose and cheek-bones with his mittened hand. He was a warm-whiskered man, but the hair on his face did not protect the high cheekbones and the eager nose that thrust itself aggressively into the frosty air. At the man's heels trotted a dog, a big native husky, the proper wolf-dog, grey-coated and without any visible or temperamental difference from its brother, the wild wolf. The animal was depressed by the tremendous cold. It knew that it was no time for traveling. Its instinct told it a truer tale than was told to the man by the man's judgment. In reality, it was not merely colder than fifty below zero; it was colder than sixty below, than seventy below. It was seventy-five below zero. Since the freezing point is thirty-two above zero, it meant that one hundred and seven degrees of frost obtained. The dog did not know anything about thermometers. Possibly in its brain there was no sharp consciousness of a condition of very cold such as was in the man's brain. But the brute had its instinct. It experienced a vague but menacing apprehension that subdued it and made it slink along at the man's heels, and that made it question eagerly every unwonted movement of the man as if expecting him to go into camp or to seek shelter somewhere and build a fire. The dog had learned fire, and it wanted fire, or else to burrow under the snow and cuddle its warmth away from the air. The frozen moisture of its breathing had settled on its fur in a fine powder of frost, and especially were its jowls, muzzle, and eyelashes whitened by its crystalled breath. The man's red beard and moustache were likewise frosted, but more solidly, the deposit taking the form of ice and increasing with every warm, moist breath he exhaled. Also, the man was chewing tobacco, and the muzzle of ice held his lips so rigidly that he was unable to clear his chin when he expelled the juice. The result was that a crystal beard of the color and solidity of amber was increasing its length on his chin. If he fell down it would shatter itself, like glass, into brittle fragments. But he did not mind the appendage. It was the penalty all tobacco-chewers paid in that country, and he had been out before in two cold snaps. They had not been so cold as this, he knew, but by the spirit thermometer at Sixty Mile he knew they had been registered at fifty below and at fifty-five. He held on through the level stretch of woods for several miles, crossed a wide flat of nigger-heads, and dropped down a bank to the frozen bed of a small stream. This was Henderson Creek, and he knew he was ten miles from the forks. He looked at his watch. It was ten o'clock. He was making four miles an hour, and he calculated that he would arrive at the forks at half-past twelve. He decided to celebrate that event by eating his lunch there. The dog dropped in again at his heels, with a tail drooping discouragement, as the man swung along the creek-bed. The furrow of the old sled-trail was plainly visible, but a dozen inches of snow covered the marks of the last runners. In a month no man had come up or down that silent creek. The man held steadily on. He was not much given to thinking, and just then particularly he had nothing to think about save that he would eat lunch at the forks and that at six o'clock he would be in camp with the boys. There was nobody to talk to; and, had there been, speech would have been impossible because of the ice-muzzle on his mouth. So he continued monotonously to chew tobacco and to increase the length of his amber beard. Once in a while the thought reiterated itself that it was very cold and that he had never experienced such cold. As he walked along he rubbed his cheekbones and nose with the back of his mittened hand. He did this automatically, now and again changing hands. But rub as he would, the instant he stopped his cheekbones went numb, and the following instant the end of his nose went numb. He was sure to frost his cheeks; he knew that, and experienced a pang of regret that he had not devised a nose-strap of the sort Bud wore in cold snaps. Such a strap passed across the cheeks, as well, and saved them. But it didn't matter much, after all. What were frosted cheeks? A bit painful, that was all; they were never serious. Empty as the man's mind was of thoughts, he was keenly observant, and he noticed the changes in the creek, the curves and bends and timber-jams, and always he sharply noted where he placed his feet. Once, coming around a bend, he shied abruptly, like a startled horse, curved away from the place where he had been walking, and retreated several paces back along the trail. The creek he knew was frozen clear to the bottom--no creek could contain water in that arctic winter--but he knew also that there were springs that bubbled out from the hillsides and ran along under the snow and on top the ice of the creek. He knew that the coldest snaps never froze these springs, and he knew likewise their danger. They were traps. They hid pools of water under the snow that might be three inches deep, or three feet. Sometimes a skin of ice half an inch thick covered them, and in turn was covered by the snow. Sometimes there were alternate layers of water and ice-skin, so that when one broke through he kept on breaking through for a while, sometimes wetting himself to the waist. That was why he had shied in such panic. He had felt the give under his feet and heard the crackle of a snow-hidden ice-skin. And to get his feet wet in such a temperature meant trouble and danger. At the very least it meant delay, for he would be forced to stop and build a fire, and under its protection to bare his feet while he dried his socks and moccasins. He stood and studied the creek-bed and its banks, and decided that the flow of water came from the right. He reflected awhile, rubbing his nose and cheeks, then skirted to the left, stepping gingerly and testing the footing for each step. Once clear of the danger, he took a fresh chew of tobacco and swung along at his four-mile gait. In the course of the next two hours he came upon several similar traps. Usually the snow above the hidden pools had a sunken, candied appearance that advertised the danger. Once again, however, he had a close call; and once, suspecting danger, he compelled the dog to go on in front. The dog did not want to go. It hung back until the man shoved it forward, and then it went quickly across the white, unbroken surface. Suddenly it broke through, floundered to one side, and got away to firmer footing. It had wet its forefeet and legs, and almost immediately the water that clung to it turned to ice. It made quick efforts to lick the ice off its legs, then dropped down in the snow and began to bite out the ice that had formed between the toes. This was a matter of instinct. To permit the ice to remain would mean sore feet. It did not know this. It merely obeyed the mysterious prompting that arose from the deep crypts of its being. But the man knew, having achieved a judgment on the subject, and he removed the mitten from his right hand and helped tear out the ice-particles. He did not expose his fingers more than a minute, and was astonished at the swift numbness that smote them. It certainly was cold. He pulled on the mitten hastily, and beat the hand savagely across his chest. At twelve o'clock the day was at its brightest. Yet the sun was too far south on its winter journey to clear the horizon. The bulge of the earth intervened between it and Henderson Creek, where the man walked under a clear sky at noon and cast no shadow. At half-past twelve, to the minute, he arrived at the forks of the creek. He was pleased at the speed he had made. If he kept it up, he would certainly be with the boys by six. He unbuttoned his jacket and shirt and drew forth his lunch. The action consumed no more than a quarter of a minute, yet in that brief moment the numbness laid hold of the exposed fingers. He did not put the mitten on, but, instead, struck the fingers a dozen sharp smashes against his leg. Then he sat down on a snow-covered log to eat. The sting that followed upon the striking of his fingers against his leg ceased so quickly that he was startled. He had had no chance to take a bite of biscuit. He struck the fingers repeatedly and returned them to the mitten, baring the other hand for the purpose of eating. He tried to take a mouthful, but the ice-muzzle prevented. He had forgotten to build a fire and thaw out. He chuckled at his foolishness, and as he chuckled he noted the numbness creeping into the exposed fingers. Also, he noted that the stinging which had first come to his toes when he sat down was already passing away. He wondered whether the toes were warm or numbed. He moved them inside the moccasins and decided that they were numbed. He pulled the mitten on hurriedly and stood up. He was a bit frightened. He stamped up and down until the stinging returned into the feet. It certainly was cold, was his thought. That man from Sulphur Creek had spoken the truth when telling how cold it sometimes got in the country. And he had laughed at him at the time! That showed one must not be too sure of things. There was no mistake about it, it was cold. He strode up and down, stamping his feet and threshing his arms, until reassured by the returning warmth. Then he got out matches and proceeded to make a fire. From the undergrowth, where high water of the previous spring had lodged a supply of seasoned twigs, he got his firewood. Working carefully from a small beginning, he soon had a roaring fire, over which he thawed the ice from his face and in the protection of which he ate his biscuits. For the moment the cold of space was outwitted. The dog took satisfaction in the fire, stretching out close enough for warmth and far enough away to escape being singed. When the man had finished, he filled his pipe and took his comfortable time over a smoke. Then he pulled on his mittens, settled the ear-flaps of his cap firmly about his ears, and took the creek trail up the left fork. The dog was disappointed and yearned back toward the fire. This man did not know cold. Possibly all the generations of his ancestry had been ignorant of cold, of real cold, of cold one hundred and seven degrees below freezing-point. But the dog knew; all its ancestry knew, and it had inherited the knowledge. And it knew that it was not good to walk abroad in such fearful cold. It was the time to lie snug in a hole in the snow and wait for a curtain of cloud to be drawn across the face of outer space whence this cold came. On the other hand, there was no keen intimacy between the dog and the man. The one was the toil slave of the other, and the only caresses it had ever received were the caresses of the whiplash and of harsh and menacing throat-sounds that threatened the whiplash. So the dog made no effort to communicate its apprehension to the man. It was not concerned in the welfare of the man; it was for its own sake that it yearned back toward the fire. But the man whistled, and spoke to it with the sound of whiplashes, and the dog swung in at the man's heels and followed after. The man took a chew of tobacco and proceeded to start a new amber beard. Also, his moist breath quickly powdered with white his moustache, eyebrows, and lashes. There did not seem to be so many springs on the left fork of the Henderson, and for half an hour the man saw no signs of any. And then it happened. At a place where there were no signs, where the soft, unbroken snow seemed to advertise solidity beneath, the man broke through. It was not deep. He wetted himself half-way to the knees before he floundered out to the firm crust. He was angry, and cursed his luck aloud. He had hoped to get into camp with the boys at six o'clock, and this would delay him an hour, for he would have to build a fire and dry out his foot-gear. This was imperative at that low temperature--he knew that much; and he turned aside to the bank, which he climbed. On top, tangled in the underbrush about the trunks of several small spruce trees, was a high-water deposit of dry firewood--sticks and twigs principally, but also larger portions of seasoned branches and fine, dry, last-year's grasses. He threw down several large pieces on top of the snow. This served for a foundation and prevented the young flame from drowning itself in the snow it otherwise would melt. The flame he got by touching a match to a small shred of birch-bark that he took from his pocket. This burned even more readily than paper. Placing it on the foundation, he fed the young flame with wisps of dry grass and with the tiniest dry twigs. He worked slowly and carefully, keenly aware of his danger. Gradually, as the flame grew stronger, he increased the size of the twigs with which he fed it. He squatted in the snow, pulling the twigs out from their entanglement in the brush and feeding directly to the flame. He knew there must be no failure. When it is seventy-five below zero, a man must not fail in his first attempt to build a fire--that is, if his feet are wet. If his feet are dry, and he fails, he can run along the trail for half a mile and restore his circulation. But the circulation of wet and freezing feet cannot be restored by running when it is seventy-five below. No matter how fast he runs, the wet feet will freeze the harder. All this the man knew. The old-timer on Sulphur Creek had told him about it the previous fall, and now he was appreciating the advice. Already all sensation had gone out of his feet. To build the fire he had been forced to remove his mittens, and the fingers had quickly gone numb. His pace of four miles an hour had kept his heart pumping blood to the surface of his body and to all the extremities. But the instant he stopped, the action of the pump eased down. The cold of space smote the unprotected tip of the planet, and he, being on that unprotected tip, received the full force of the blow. The blood of his body recoiled before it. The blood was alive, like the dog, and like the dog it wanted to hide away and cover itself up from the fearful cold. So long as he walked four miles an hour, he pumped that blood, willy-nilly, to the surface; but now it ebbed away and sank down into the recesses of his body. The extremities were the first to feel its absence. His wet feet froze the faster, and his exposed fingers numbed the faster, though they had not yet begun to freeze. Nose and cheeks were already freezing, while the skin of all his body chilled as it lost its blood. But he was safe. Toes and nose and cheeks would be only touched by the frost, for the fire was beginning to burn with strength. He was feeding it with twigs the size of his finger. In another minute he would be able to feed it with branches the size of his wrist, and then he could remove his wet foot-gear, and, while it dried, he could keep his naked feet warm by the fire, rubbing them at first, of course, with snow. The fire was a success. He was safe. He remembered the advice of the old-timer on Sulphur Creek, and smiled. The old-timer had been very serious in laying down the law that no man must travel alone in the Klondike after fifty below. Well, here he was; he had had the accident; he was alone; and he had saved himself. Those old-timers were rather womanish, some of them, he thought. All a man had to do was to keep his head, and he was all right. Any man who was a man could travel alone. But it was surprising, the rapidity with which his cheeks and nose were freezing. And he had not thought his fingers could go lifeless in so short a time. Lifeless they were, for he could scarcely make them move together to grip a twig, and they seemed remote from his body and from him. When he touched a twig, he had to look and see whether or not he had hold of it. The wires were pretty well down between him and his finger-ends. All of which counted for little. There was the fire, snapping and crackling and promising life with every dancing flame. He started to untie his moccasins. They were coated with ice; the thick German socks were like sheaths of iron half-way to the knees; and the mocassin strings were like rods of steel all twisted and knotted as by some conflagration. For a moment he tugged with his numbed fingers, then, realizing the folly of it, he drew his sheath-knife. But before he could cut the strings, it happened. It was his own fault or, rather, his mistake. He should not have built the fire under the spruce tree. He should have built it in the open. But it had been easier to pull the twigs from the brush and drop them directly on the fire. Now the tree under which he had done this carried a weight of snow on its boughs. No wind had blown for weeks, and each bough was fully freighted. Each time he had pulled a twig he had communicated a slight agitation to the tree--an imperceptible agitation, so far as he was concerned, but an agitation sufficient to bring about the disaster. High up in the tree one bough capsized its load of snow. This fell on the boughs beneath, capsizing them. This process continued, spreading out and involving the whole tree. It grew like an avalanche, and it descended without warning upon the man and the fire, and the fire was blotted out! Where it had burned was a mantle of fresh and disordered snow. The man was shocked. It was as though he had just heard his own sentence of death. For a moment he sat and stared at the spot where the fire had been. Then he grew very calm. Perhaps the old-timer on Sulphur Creek was right. If he had only had a trail-mate he would have been in no danger now. The trail-mate could have built the fire. Well, it was up to him to build the fire over again, and this second time there must be no failure. Even if he succeeded, he would most likely lose some toes. His feet must be badly frozen by now, and there would be some time before the second fire was ready. Such were his thoughts, but he did not sit and think them. He was busy all the time they were passing through his mind. He made a new foundation for a fire, this time in the open; where no treacherous tree could blot it out. Next, he gathered dry grasses and tiny twigs from the high-water flotsam. He could not bring his fingers together to pull them out, but he was able to gather them by the handful. In this way he got many rotten twigs and bits of green moss that were undesirable, but it was the best he could do. He worked methodically, even collecting an armful of the larger branches to be used later when the fire gathered strength. And all the while the dog sat and watched him, a certain yearning wistfulness in its eyes, for it looked upon him as the fire-provider, and the fire was slow in coming. When all was ready, the man reached in his pocket for a second piece of birch-bark. He knew the bark was there, and, though he could not feel it with his fingers, he could hear its crisp rustling as he fumbled for it. Try as he would, he could not clutch hold of it. And all the time, in his consciousness, was the knowledge that each instant his feet were freezing. This thought tended to put him in a panic, but he fought against it and kept calm. He pulled on his mittens with his teeth, and threshed his arms back and forth, beating his hands with all his might against his sides. He did this sitting down, and he stood up to do it; and all the while the dog sat in the snow, its wolf-brush of a tail curled around warmly over its forefeet, its sharp wolf-ears pricked forward intently as it watched the man. And the man, as he beat and threshed with his arms and hands, felt a great surge of envy as he regarded the creature that was warm and secure in its natural covering. After a time he was aware of the first far-away signals of sensation in his beaten fingers. The faint tingling grew stronger till it evolved into a stinging ache that was excruciating, but which the man hailed with satisfaction. He stripped the mitten from his right hand and fetched forth the birch-bark. The exposed fingers were quickly going numb again. Next he brought out his bunch of sulphur matches. But the tremendous cold had already driven the life out of his fingers. In his effort to separate one match from the others, the whole bunch fell in the snow. He tried to pick it out of the snow, but failed. The dead fingers could neither touch nor clutch. He was very careful. He drove the thought of his freezing feet, and nose, and cheeks, out of his mind, devoting his whole soul to the matches. He watched, using the sense of vision in place of that of touch, and when he saw his fingers on each side the bunch, he closed them--that is, he willed to close them, for the wires were down, and the fingers did not obey. He pulled the mitten on the right hand, and beat it fiercely against his knee. Then, with both mittened hands, he scooped the bunch of matches, along with much snow, into his lap. Yet he was no better off. After some manipulation he managed to get the bunch between the heels of his mittened hands. In this fashion he carried it to his mouth. The ice crackled and snapped when by a violent effort he opened his mouth. He drew the lower jaw in, curled the upper lip out of the way, and scraped the bunch with his upper teeth in order to separate a match. He succeeded in getting one, which he dropped on his lap. He was no better off. He could not pick it up. Then he devised a way. He picked it up in his teeth and scratched it on his leg. Twenty times he scratched before he succeeded in lighting it. As it flamed he held it with his teeth to the birch-bark. But the burning brimstone went up his nostrils and into his lungs, causing him to cough spasmodically. The match fell into the snow and went out. The old-timer on Sulphur Creek was right, he thought in the moment of controlled despair that ensued: after fifty below, a man should travel with a partner. He beat his hands, but failed in exciting any sensation. Suddenly he bared both hands, removing the mittens with his teeth. He caught the whole bunch between the heels of his hands. His arm muscles not being frozen enabled him to press the hand heels tightly against the matches. Then he scratched the bunch along his leg. It flared into flame, seventy sulphur matches at once! There was no wind to blow them out. He kept his head to one side to escape the strangling fumes, and held the blazing bunch to the birch-bark. As he so held it, he became aware of sensation in his hand. His flesh was burning. He could smell it. Deep down below the surface he could feel it. The sensation developed into pain that grew acute. And still he endured it, holding the flame of the matches clumsily to the bark that would not light readily because his own burning hands were in the way, absorbing most of the flame. At last, when he could endure no more, he jerked his hands apart. The blazing matches fell sizzling into the snow, but the birch-bark was alight. He began laying dry grasses and the tiniest twigs on the flame. He could not pick and choose, for he had to lift the fuel between the heels of his hands. Small pieces of rotten wood and green moss clung to the twigs, and he bit them off as well as he could with his teeth. He cherished the flame carefully and awkwardly. It meant life, and it must not perish. The withdrawal of blood from the surface of his body now made him begin to shiver, and he grew more awkward. A large piece of green moss fell squarely on the little fire. He tried to poke it out with his fingers, but his shivering frame made him poke too far, and he disrupted the nucleus of the little fire, the burning grasses and tiny twigs separating and scattering. He tried to poke them together again, but in spite of the tenseness of the effort, his shivering got away with him, and the twigs were hopelessly scattered. Each twig gushed a puff of smoke and went out. The fire provider had failed. As he looked apathetically about him, his eyes chanced on the dog, sitting across the ruins of the fire from him, in the snow, making restless, hunching movements, slightly lifting one forefoot and then the other, shifting its weight back and forth on them with wistful eagerness. The sight of the dog put a wild idea into his head. He remembered the tale of the man, caught in a blizzard, who killed a steer and crawled inside the carcass, and so was saved. He would kill the dog and bury his hands in the warm body until the numbness went out of them. Then he could build another fire. He spoke to the dog, calling it to him; but in his voice was a strange note of fear that frightened the animal, who had never known the man to speak in such way before. Something was the matter, and its suspicious nature sensed danger--it knew not what danger, but somewhere, somehow, in its brain arose an apprehension of the man. It flattened its ears down at the sound of the man's voice, and its restless, hunching movements and the liftings and shiftings of its forefeet became more pronounced; but it would not come to the man. He got on his hands and knees and crawled toward the dog. This unusual posture again excited suspicion, and the animal sidled mincingly away. The man sat up in the snow for a moment and struggled for calmness. Then he pulled on his mittens, by means of his teeth, and got upon his feet. He glanced down at first in order to assure himself that he was really standing up, for the absence of sensation in his feet left him unrelated to the earth. His erect position in itself started to drive the webs of suspicion from the dog's mind; and when he spoke peremptorily, with the sound of whiplashes in his voice, the dog rendered its customary allegiance and came to him. As it came within reaching distance, the man lost his control. His arms flashed out to the dog, and he experienced genuine surprise when he discovered that his hands could not clutch, that there was neither bend nor feeling in the fingers. He had forgotten for the moment that they were frozen and that they were freezing more and more. All this happened quickly, and before the animal could get away, he encircled its body with his arms. He sat down in the snow, and in this fashion held the dog, while it snarled and whined and struggled. But it was all he could do, hold its body encircled in his arms and sit there. He realized that he could not kill the dog. There was no way to do it. With his helpless hands he could neither draw nor hold his sheath knife nor throttle the animal. He released it, and it plunged wildly away, with tail between its legs, and still snarling. It halted forty feet away and surveyed him curiously, with ears sharply pricked forward. The man looked down at his hands in order to locate them, and found them hanging on the ends of his arms. It struck him as curious that one should have to use his eyes in order to find out where his hands were. He began threshing his arms back and forth, beating the mittened hands against his sides. He did this for five minutes, violently, and his heart pumped enough blood up to the surface to put a stop to his shivering. But no sensation was aroused in the hands. He had an impression that they hung like weights on the ends of his arms, but when he tried to run the impression down, he could not find it. A certain fear of death, dull and oppressive, came to him. This fear quickly became poignant as he realized that it was no longer a mere matter of freezing his fingers and toes, or of losing his hands and feet, but that it was a matter of life and death with the chances against him. This threw him into a panic, and he turned and ran up the creek bed along the old, dim trail. The dog joined in behind and kept up with him. He ran blindly, without intention, in fear such as he had never known in his life. Slowly, as he ploughed and floundered through the snow, he began to see things again--the banks of the creek, the old timber-jams, the leafless aspens, and the sky. The running made him feel better. He did not shiver. Maybe, if he ran on, his feet would thaw out; and, anyway, if he ran far enough, he would reach camp and the boys. Without doubt he would lose some fingers and toes and some of his face; but the boys would take care of him, and save the rest of him when he got there. And at the same time there was another thought in his mind that said he would never get to the camp and the boys; that it was too many miles away, that the freezing had too great a start on him, and that he would soon be stiff and dead. This thought he kept in the background and refused to consider. Sometimes it pushed itself forward and demanded to be heard, but he thrust it back and strove to think of other things. It struck him as curious that he could run at all on feet so frozen that he could not feel them when they struck the earth and took the weight of his body. He seemed to himself to skim along above the surface and to have no connection with the earth. Somewhere he had once seen a winged Mercury, and he wondered if Mercury felt as he felt when skimming over the earth. His theory of running until he reached camp and the boys had one flaw in it: he lacked the endurance. Several times he stumbled, and finally he tottered, crumpled up, and fell. When he tried to rise, he failed. He must sit and rest, he decided, and next time he would merely walk and keep on going. As he sat and regained his breath, he noted that he was feeling quite warm and comfortable. He was not shivering, and it even seemed that a warm glow had come to his chest and trunk. And yet, when he touched his nose or cheeks, there was no sensation. Running would not thaw them out. Nor would it thaw out his hands and feet. Then the thought came to him that the frozen portions of his body must be extending. He tried to keep this thought down, to forget it, to think of something else; he was aware of the panicky feeling that it caused, and he was afraid of the panic. But the thought asserted itself, and persisted, until it produced a vision of his body totally frozen. This was too much, and he made another wild run along the trail. Once he slowed down to a walk, but the thought of the freezing extending itself made him run again. And all the time the dog ran with him, at his heels. When he fell down a second time, it curled its tail over its forefeet and sat in front of him facing him, curiously eager and intent. The warmth and security of the animal angered him, and he cursed it till it flattened down its ears appeasingly. This time the shivering came more quickly upon the man. He was losing in his battle with the frost. It was creeping into his body from all sides. The thought of it drove him on, but he ran no more than a hundred feet, when he staggered and pitched headlong. It was his last panic. When he had recovered his breath and control, he sat up and entertained in his mind the conception of meeting death with dignity. However, the conception did not come to him in such terms. His idea of it was that he had been making a fool of himself, running around like a chicken with its head cut off--such was the simile that occurred to him. Well, he was bound to freeze anyway, and he might as well take it decently. With this new-found peace of mind came the first glimmerings of drowsiness. A good idea, he thought, to sleep off to death. It was like taking an anesthetic. Freezing was not so bad as people thought. There were lots worse ways to die. He pictured the boys finding his body next day. Suddenly he found himself with them, coming along the trail and looking for himself. And, still with them, he came around a turn in the trail and found himself lying in the snow. He did not belong with himself any more, for even then he was out of himself, standing with the boys and looking at himself in the snow. It certainly was cold, was his thought. When he got back to the States he could tell the folks what real cold was. He drifted on from this to a vision of the old-timer on Sulphur Creek. He could see him quite clearly, warm and comfortable, and smoking a pipe. "You were right, old hoss; you were right," the man mumbled to the old-timer of Sulphur Creek. Then the man drowsed off into what seemed to him the most comfortable and satisfying sleep he had ever known. The dog sat facing him and waiting. The brief day drew to a close in a long, slow twilight. There were no signs of a fire to be made, and, besides, never in the dog's experience had it known a man to sit like that in the snow and make no fire. As the twilight drew on, its eager yearning for the fire mastered it, and with a great lifting and shifting of forefeet, it whined softly, then flattened its ears down in anticipation of being chidden by the man. But the man remained silent. Later, the dog whined loudly. And still later it crept close to the man and caught the scent of death. This made the animal bristle and back away. A little longer it delayed, howling under the stars that leaped and danced and shone brightly in the cold sky. Then it turned and trotted up the trail in the direction of the camp it knew, where were the other food providers and fire providers.
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This Sunday, a presidential election will be held in Honduras. Nine candidates are vying to lead the Central American country. The top two contenders are the candidate from the ruling party that took power in a 2009 coup, and the wife of the former president who was deposed in that coup. [POST-BROADCAST CORRECTION: There are eight presidential candidates, not nine, and the ruling party did not take part in the 2009 coup.]
Crime and the economy are the big issues in a country with the world's highest homicide rate, rampant drug and gang violence, and a government that's mired in debt. NPR's Carrie Kahn reports from the Honduran capital.
CARRIE KAHN, BYLINE: The ruling national party's candidate, Juan Orlando Hernandez, likes to say his party is the largest, strongest and most organized in the country. So do his billboard-sized campaign posters, and ads dominating national TV.
KAHN: Orlando Hernandez, currently the head of Honduras' Congress, has tried to project the strong man image, and it seems to be working. His popularity has risen in recent months in this country where the homicide rate is now the highest in the world, and drug traffickers and gangs have free reign. At his campaign headquarters last night, Orlando Hernandez said he will restore order in Honduras.
JUAN ORLANDO HERNANDEZ: I have to.
KAHN: How are you going to do it?
HERNANDEZ: (Spanish spoken)
KAHN: In his standard white, crisp-pressed shirt and blue jeans, the 45-year-old lawyer switches easily between English and Spanish. He says he'll put criminals where they belong, and use the military to police the streets, a move that has worried human rights activists who've long complained about abuses at the hands of the armed forces. And Orlando Hernandez says he will bring jobs to the country.
KAHN: His national ruling party has been busy doing just that. In the runup to the elections, a flurry of new roads, bridges and a mass transit bus line are being built in the capital, providing hundreds of new jobs. Worker Javier Marellada wears an Orlando Hernandez bandana under his hardhat.
JAVIER MARELLADA: (Spanish spoken)
KAHN: He says he's just using it to protect his neck from the hot sun. While he appreciates the job, he's voting for Xiomara Castro, the candidate for the new LIBRE party, a coalition of unionists, gay rights activists, and members of her husband's old liberal party who refused to back the coup. The ruling party, and many in Honduras's controlled media, have branded Xiomara Castro as a puppet for her husband's past leftist causes and someone who will change Honduras into the Venezuelan and Cuban communist model.
XIOMARA CASTRO: (Spanish spoken)
KAHN: Speaking to a crowd of reporters recently, Xiomara Castro, wearing her usual red scarf and often referring to campaign supporters as comrades, says she has been the target of a dirty campaign. She insists - like her opponent - she, too, will reign in government spending, which has pushed Honduras's debt to more than 6 percent of GDP, the largest in Latin America. And she'll also enter into a loan agreement with the International Monetary Fund, a move welcomed by the business community and market watchers.
Eric Olson - of the Woodrow Wilson Institute, in Washington - says the race is going to be tight. So many candidates are on the ballot. The country has only had two parties trading off power since military rule ended in the 1980s.
ERIC OLSON: Honduras, despite having an election, may be in a politically weakened situation where the victors win with a small percentage and don't have a mandate.
KAHN: And, he says, no one will win an outright majority in the Congress. Observers warn that a close election night could spark violence and charges of fraud. Officials at the General Hospital say they've shored up blood supplies and put doctors on call, and prominent business leaders have reportedly increased their own personal security.
Carrie Kahn, NPR News, Tegucigalpa. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.


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Top 5 Reasons You Shouldn't Go the FSBO Route
In today's market, with home prices rising and a lack of inventory, some homeowners may consider trying to sell their home on their own, known in the industry as a For Sale by Owner (FSBO). There are several reasons why this might not be a good idea for the vast majority of sellers.
Here are the top five reasons:
1. Exposure to Prospective Buyers
According to the 2017 Profile of Home Buyers and Sellers from NAR, last year 95% of buyers search online for a home. That is in comparison to only 15% looking at print newspaper ads. Most real estate agents have an internet strategy to promote the sale of your home. Do you?
2. Results Come from the Internet
Where did buyers find the home they actually purchased?
- 49% on the internet
- 31% from a Real Estate Agent
- 7% from a yard sign
- 1% from newspapers
The days of selling your house by just putting up a sign and putting it in the paper are long gone. Having a strong internet strategy is crucial.
3. There Are Too Many People to Negotiate With
Here is a list of some of the people with whom you must be prepared to negotiate if you decide to For Sale by Owner:
- The buyer who wants the best deal possible
- The buyer's agent who solely represents the best interest of the buyer
- The buyer's attorney (in some parts of the country)
- The home inspection companies, which work for the buyer and will almost always find some problems with the house
- The appraiser if there is a question of value
4. FSBOing Has Become More And More Difficult
The paperwork involved in selling and buying a home has increased dramatically as industry disclosures and regulations have become mandatory. This is one of the reasons that the percentage of people FSBOing has dropped from 19% to 8% over the last 20+ years.
5. You Net More Money When Using an Agent
Many homeowners believe that they will save the real estate commission by selling on their own. Realize that the main reason buyers look at FSBOs is because they also believe they can save the real estate agent's commission. The seller and buyer can't both save the commission.
A study by Collateral Analytics revealed that FSBOs don't actually save anything, and in some cases, may be costing themselves more, by not listing with an agent. One of the main reasons for the price difference at the time of sale is:
"Properties listed with a broker that is a member of the local MLS will be listed online with all other participating broker websites, marketing the home to a much larger buyer population. And those MLS properties generally offer compensation to agents who represent buyers, incentivizing them to show and sell the property and again potentially enlarging the buyer pool."
If more buyers see a home, the greater the chances are that there could be a bidding war for the property. The study showed that the difference in price between comparable homes of size and location is currently at an average of 6% this year.
Why would you choose to list on your own and manage the entire transaction when you can hire an agent and not have to pay anything more?
Bottom Line
Before you decide to take on the challenges of selling your house on your own, sit with a real estate professional in your marketplace and see what they have to offer.
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Signings for the week of December 22, 2016. If you do not see a signing in this week's VitalSigns, that you think should be here, it is likely that we have already updated our database, so please try searching our members area for all details.
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Anonymous said...
No mention of Dave Matthews riding SWORKS. BOO
July 16, 2013 at 2:57 AM
Sorry, but I have no interest in Dave Matthews or in Specialized bicycles, both of which make me think of fraternities, ratty baseball hats worn backwards, and plaid shorts with flip-flops worn right up through October. Therefore, when you put them both together the repellent effect is synergistic and I run screaming the other way.
Actually, that's not entirely true. My kid rides a Specialized, but it's just a gap bike for when his Vanilla is ready in 20 years. Sacha White's team of clairvoyant artisan bike-fitters use foraged herbs, sooth-saying, and lasers to accurately predict a child's adult proportions. Unfortunately, they can't predict future bottom bracket interfaces, so by the time the bike's finished it will already be obsolete.
Speaking of people who listen to Dave Matthews, check out this duder using the Citi Bike as his personal office and receiving a "high five" for doing so from his erstwhile fraternity bro:
Yes, Citi Bike has profoundly altered the face of New York City cycling, telecommuting, and duder high-fives, though the system is not without its growing pains. (I mean the bike share system. As far as I know there's not a system for duder high-fives, though maybe they do find each-other via some "duder app" so they can slap hands during rush hour. I wouldn't know, I was never in a fraternity.) See, here's what the Citi Bike app looks like on your handheld smart phone device. I'm the blue dot, and I'm standing right at the station:
See how the bike share station balloons are two shades of blue? That's supposed to indicate how full or empty they are. So when I headed to the station to which the green arrow is pointing, I naturally assumed it was half-empty. (Yes, half-empty. I'm a pessimist. If I were the kind of optimistic hand-slapper who through things were half-full I'd be listening to Dave Matthews and spinning on a docked Citi Bike right now, waiting for high-fives.) However, as it turns out, it wasn't half-empty or half-full. It was totally empty, save for one bike with the seat turned around, which means that shit was broke:
Also, as I approached the station, I witnessed a woman checking out the very last working Citi Bike, and here she is salmoning away as she cradles her cellphone to her shoulder:
My first instinct was to give chase and insist she surrender the Citi Bike on the grounds that her behavior was highly illegal and if she didn't I'd turn her in to the NYPD. My second was to un-dock the broken Citi Bike anyway, since as far as I could tell all that was wrong with it was that it had a flat tire. So why not just "rim" the fucker to the next station and swap it out for a better bike? It's not like it's my bike, so who cares if I trash the wheel?
But then I realized that was silly, since there's a Citi Bike station roughly every four feet, so I might as well just walk to the next one. Here's me heading downtown to another dock:
This station was also far emptier than the app indicated, but there were two working bikes:
However, when I approached, this guy told me the station wasn't working:
"Who the hell is this guy and what does he know?," I thought to myself as I inserted my key and discovered that he was exactly right.
By this time I'd inadvertently walked halfway to my destination, and a reasonable person would have simply said "Fuck it" and continued to do so. I, however, am not reasonable, and at this point I wanted a Cit Bike out of spite. In fact, I was prepared to continue walking past my destination if necessary, stopping only at the first Citi Bike station with a working bike in it, or at the Staten Island Ferry, whichever came first.
Fortunately, at the next station, I spied a bike waaay in the distance:
I was ready to fight him if necessary, but it wasn't, and I finally checked out a bike and rode it a mere ten blocks to my extremely important recreational beer-drinking appointment.
As far as I know, the guy in the green shirt is still there.
By the way, there have been a lot of complaints about Citi Bike, but how come nobody is outraged by the wanton seductresses who parade their wares at each station?
I assume they loiter there in order to take advantage of the sorts of rubes who think things are half-full. "Hey there, tiger. My Citi Bike key isn't working. Could you check out a bike for me? I don't want to be late for my waxing appointment. If you wait here for me I'll let you inspect it." Then they ride off into the sunset, never to return.
Actually, maybe that's what happened to green shirt guy.
At any rate, once I had my Citi Bike, I joined what in New York City these days is actually shaping up to be something like a bicycle rush hour:
Though as soon as the light changes, the attacks begin--and not the Cat 6 attacks, either. No, I mean the "dooring" attacks, visible in the distance:
Note also the New York State plaque indicating the driver is a judge or something (I didn't actually stop to look at it and my shitty photography renders it unreadable) and thus part of a vast anti-cycling conspiracy:
I also attempted to get a shot of the shitty passenger responsible for the dooring attempt:
Sadly I failed, but I did at least get a shot of the numbnuts in the passenger seat:
Honestly, I don't really care if these guys want to sit around in the middle of traffic rubbing their schlongs because they're in the government mafia, but could you at least just close the fucking door please?
Fuck you very much, I appreciate it.
Next come the attacks from the pedestrians:
I suspect that at least 75% of the people who complain about sidewalk cyclists have no idea that they're actually walking in the fucking bike lane:
I also suspect that the guy in the business casual attire is schlepping a duffel bag full of body parts:
As for this guy, clearly he found himself on the wrong side of the scaffolding, didn't want to walk over the grates lest he fall through and join the C.H.U.D.s, and so now he's making his phobia your problem:
He'll be penning an angry anti-cyclist screed to the New York Post as soon as he gets home.
Meanwhile, in more Fredly news, James Huang is now taking on tubelessness in his "Yeah, I Just Went There" column:
Now that's how you avoid a pinch flat.


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There have been several incidents, even fights, during recent New York theater performances. An argument over a woman nosily unwrapping her Twizzlers, a man throwing a Web-browsing woman's cell phone across the theater. What is going on? Are audiences less well mannered today?
We sent NPR's Margot Adler to find out.
MARGOT ADLER, BYLINE: I'm standing around the TKTS line on Broadway, where tourists and New Yorkers line up for lower priced tickets. Are audiences increasingly boorish?
VICTORIA PETTY: I think it depends on what play you go to see, and which musical, you know? Because I have been to some of them where the audience is absolutely fantastic, but then I have been to some where like there's just people just sitting there talking, like through the entire thing. It's awful.
MARC DEFUSCO: I think it's because we're used to talking at home, watching movies.
STEPHEN CALKINS: You know, the shows now allow like a lot of snacks, and a lot of, you know, drinks and things to be brought in. It's much more casual.
ADLER: So it's much more like going to a ballgame or something.
CALKINS: Yeah, it really is.
ADLER: You heard Victoria Petty, Marc Defusco and Stephen Calkins. And then there's Jan Simpson. She writes a blog called Broadway and Me.
JAN SIMPSON: I'm old fashioned. I like people to be silent.
ADLER: She attends about 150 performances a year. She also teaches journalism at the City University of New York. Think of the changes over the years, she says. Forty years ago, people dressed up for the theater. They were formal.
SIMPSON: Today if you can get people in with a T-shirt on, they feel they're dressed up.
ADLER: On the other hand, she says this whole notion of silence goes back only about 150 years. It took gas lights and then electricity to allow theaters to lower lights.
SIMPSON: The lights are going down, that means you be quiet - don't bring your food in.
ADLER: In Shakespeare's time they threw food on the stage. In fact those prime orchestra seats people so desperately want, that was the worst place to sit.
SIMPSON: Because the people who were sitting above would throw their food down and spit.
ADLER: Evangeline Morphos is a professor at Columbia University who teaches television, film and new media. She has also produced plays and says she goes to roughly 100 theater events a year. She says what you are really seeing in these fights between audience members, is a clash between different types of theater goers. One group, she says average age late 50's.
EVANGELINE MORPHOS: And they are subscribers. They go to multiple plays a year. And they consider themselves audience members of the theater, and they expect a certain kind of decorum.
ADLER: The other group, averages age 42, she says, and they have sometimes paid as much as $400 for a theater seat.
MORPHOS: So they don't consider themselves audience members; they are consumers. And they want a different kind of experience for their money.
ADLER: And then there are tech-savvy younger audiences. Some want to tweet about their experiences. In fact, at some off off-Broadway shows, there are tweet seats in the back, just as there are at TED conferences. Morphos remembers a performance at the Brooklyn Academy of Music,
MORPHOS: They were encouraging audience members to tweet about the performance.
ADLER: During the performance.
MORPHOS: During the performance and to send photographs of it; the idea was that you are part of the experience.
ADLER: I guess what you're saying is you don't think it's a problem.
MORPHOS: I don't.
ADLER: Theater blogger Jan Simpson is more ambivalent. For as much as she loves silence in a darkened theater, she is quick to say, the theater of 40 years ago was only for the elite.
SIMPSON: And now it's opened up and lots of different kinds of people are going, which I love. I'm a cultural populist.
ADLER: So the question is how to create a balance for these different audiences, amid changing technology and changing values.
Margot Adler, NPR News, New York. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.


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Our Services
Although dental injuries and dental emergencies are often distressing for both children and parents, they are also extremely common. Approximately one third of children have experienced some type of dental trauma, and more have experienced a dental emergency.
There are two peak risk periods for dental trauma - the first being toddlerhood (18-40 months) when environmental exploration begins, and the second being the preadolescent/adolescent period, when sporting injuries become commonplace.
Detailed below are some of the most common childhood dental emergencies, in addition to helpful advice on how to deal with them.
Toothache is common in children of all ages and rarely occurs without cause. Impacted food can cause discomfort in young children, and can be dislodged using a toothbrush, a clean finger, or dental floss. If pain persists, contact the pediatric dentist. Some common causes of toothache include: tooth fractures, tooth decay, tooth trauma, and wisdom teeth eruption (adolescence).
How you can help:
Dental avulsion (knocked-out tooth)
If a tooth has been knocked-out of the child's mouth completely, it is important to contact the pediatric dentist immediately. In general, pediatric dentists do not attempt to reimplant avulsed primary (baby) teeth, because the reimplantation procedure itself can cause damage to the tooth bud, and thereby damage the emerging permanent tooth.
Pediatric dentists always attempt to reimplant avulsed permanent teeth, unless the trauma has caused irreparable damage. The reimplantation procedure is almost always more successful if it is performed within one hour of the avulsion, so time is of the essence!
Dental intrusion (tooth pushed into jawbone)
Sometimes, dental trauma forces a tooth (or several teeth) upwards into the jawbone. The prognosis is better for teeth that have been pushed up to a lesser extent (less than 3mm), but every situation is unique. Oftentimes, the force of the trauma is great enough to injure the tooth's ligament and fracture its socket.
If dental intrusion of either the primary or permanent teeth is suspected, it is important to contact the pediatric dentist immediately. Depending on the nature and depth of the intrusion, the pediatric dentist will either wait for the tooth to descend naturally, or perform root canal therapy to preserve the structure of the tooth.
Tooth luxation/extrusion/lateral displacement (tooth displacement)
Tooth displacement is generally classified as "luxation," "extrusion," or "lateral displacement," depending on the orientation of the tooth following trauma. A luxated tooth remains in the socket – with the pulp intact about half of the time. However, the tooth protrudes at an unnatural angle and the underlying jawbone is oftentimes fractured.
The term "extrusion" refers to a tooth that has become partly removed from its socket. In young children, primary tooth extrusions tend to heal themselves without medical treatment. However, dental treatment should be sought for permanent teeth that have been displaced in any manner in order to save the tooth and prevent infection. It is important to contact the pediatric dentist if displacement is suspected.
Crown fracture
The crown is the largest, most visible part of the tooth. In most cases, the crown is the part of the tooth that sustains trauma. There are several classifications of crown fracture, ranging from minor enamel cracks (not an emergency) to pulp exposure (requiring immediate treatment).
The pediatric dentist can readily assess the severity of the fracture using dental X-rays, but any change in tooth color (for example, pinkish or yellowish tinges inside the tooth) is an emergency warning sign. Minor crown fractures often warrant the application of dental sealant, whereas more severe crown fractures sometimes require pulp treatments. In the case of crown fracture, the pediatric dentist should be contacted. Jagged enamel can irritate and inflame soft oral tissues, causing infection.
Root fracture
A root fracture is caused by direct trauma, and isn't noticeable to the naked eye. If a root fracture is suspected, dental x-rays need to be taken. Depending on the exact positioning of the fracture and the child's level of discomfort, the tooth can be monitored, treated, or extracted as a worse case scenario.
Dental concussion
A tooth that has not been dislodged from its socket or fractured, but has received a bang or knock, can be described as "concussed." Typically occurring in toddlers, dental concussion can cause the tooth to discolor permanently or temporarily. Unless the tooth turns black or dark (indicating that the tooth is dying and may require root canal therapy), dental concussion does not require emergency treatment.
Injured cheek, lip or tongue
If the child's cheek, lip or tongue is bleeding due to an accidental cut or bite, apply firm direct pressure to the area using a clean cloth or gauze. To reduce swelling, apply ice to the affected areas. If the bleeding becomes uncontrollable, proceed to the Emergency Room or call a medical professional immediately.
Fractured jaw
If a broken or fractured jaw is suspected, proceed immediately to the Emergency Room. In the meantime, encourage the child not to move the jaw. In the case of a very young child, gently tie a scarf lengthways around the head and jaw to prevent movement.
Head injury/head trauma
If the child has received trauma to the head, proceed immediately to the Emergency Room. Even if consciousness has not been lost, it is important for pediatric doctors to rule out delayed concussion and internal bleeding.
If you have questions about dental emergencies, please ask your pediatric dentist.
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When you own a pet, there are many things to keep in mind. You not only need to make sure their environment is safe for themselves, but also have a working knowledge of what pets should and shouldn't eat, and keep their best interests at heart. In addition, it's important to know some pet first aid tips, just in case.
Necessary First Aid Supplies
First aid kits are not only important for humans. If you own a pet, you should have a first aid kit prepared in care of emergencies as well.
That kit should first and foremost include the phone numbers of your veterinarian, the nearest emergency veterinarian clinic (if your vet doesn't offer an emergency option), and the number for animal poison control. These phone numbers will be crucial if your pet is in distress and needs help.
Additionally, your kit should include a leash, gauze, strips of cloth, adhesive tape for bandages (not human bandages), milk of magnesia, hydrogen peroxide, an eye dropper, a digital thermometer, muzzle, and even a board or blanket that can be used to stabilize an injured pet.
Why You Need These Supplies
Obviously, you should use supplies like gauze, strips of cloth, and adhesive tape for wound care. If your pet has an injury and is bleeding, it is important to apply pressure and try to get the bleeding under control as quickly as possible.
A leash and muzzle are helpful if your pet is injured to keep both you and your pet safe. Especially if your furry friend has the tendency to bite when it's hurt, the only way you can help them is to muzzle them.
A digital thermometer should be used rectally to monitor the temperature of your pet, and you can use the eye dropper to administer medicine or even to help flush a wound.
Lastly, the hydrogen peroxide can be used to induce vomiting in your pet, but should only be used after you have spoken to a doctor. Similarly, after speaking to a professional, you can use the milk of magnesia with activated charcoal to help absorb poison in your pet.
First Aid Tips
What To Do When Your Pet is Poisoned
If you suspect your pet has been poisoned, it's important to act quickly. Whether you think your pet has accidentally ingested something that it shouldn't have, or it was attacked and even purposefully poisoned, you must move fast. In fact, you need to seek care for your pet immediately.
When speaking to a professional on the phone they may suggest you use either the hydrogen peroxide to help your pet to throw up the poison, or the milk of magnesia to help remove the poison before you can bring in your pet for further care. Either way, you never want to give your animal medicine without talking to a professional.
In many cases, your pet may only have a few hours before something critical happens. But sure to think clearly and make decisive decisions.
How to Handle a Choking Pet
Another first aid tip you should know is how to deal with a choking pet. We all know that sometimes, our furry friends eat more than they can handle or chew on something that they shouldn't. When that happens, you should be able to do something to alleviate your pet from choking.
If your pet is choking and clearly in distress, you should first try to see if you can see the object in the pet's throat. Depending on the size of your pet, you might be able to open their mouth and actually see the object that is choking them.
If you can clearly see and grip the object, then proceed with that and pull the object from the throat. But be aware that your pet may be more likely to bite when it's in choking distress. If you are unable to remove the object or your pet collapses, you should try to lay it on its side and strike the rib cage with the palm of your hands 3 to 4 times.
Pet Safety and First Aid During Hot Days
During hot days, it's particularly important to keep your pet's safety in mind. If you suspect that your beloved pet is suffering from heat stroke, remove them from the heat as best and fast as you can. Place a cool or cold wet towel around its neck and head without covering the eyes, nose, or mouth. Switch out the towel regularly until you are able to get your pet to a vet for medical attention.
Handling a Bleeding Wound
For external bleeding, it is best to muzzle your pet to help you better treat the wound. Press a gauze pad over the wound to help to control the bleeding, and make sure that you apply pressure in order to get it to stop. You may also want to consider using an eye dropper to help flush the wound from any dirt and debris. And again, seek medical attention if you are unable to get the bleeding to stop, or the wound is large, because it may require further medical care. When in doubt, calling your vet is never the wrong choice.
Suspecting a Seizure
Lastly, if you suspect your pet is having a seizure you shouldn't put your hands near its face. Instead, make sure that you remove any objects around the pet so it doesn't get hurt. You should time the length of the seizure because it's very important information to give to your vet when you call them. After the seizure has stopped, be sure to call your vet and ask for further instructions on what to do with your pet.
These tips are important to internalize for any pet owner, and in some cases can be the difference between life and death. Just like it's important to know first aid for humans, the same is equally true about your pets. To learn more about how to properly take care of your pets in an emergency, please contact us.


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Change the MySQL Temporary Files Directory
By default, MySQL's temporary files are stored in the tmp\ subdirectory of your XAMPP installation directory (usually, C:\xampp). In case you wish to change the location of this directory, follow these steps:
Edit the my.ini file in the mysql\bin\ subdirectory of your XAMPP installation directory. Within this file, find the tmpdir variable in the [mysqld] section and change it to reflect your new desired location. For example:
tmpdir = "D:/temp"
Save your changes to the file.
Restart the MySQL server using the XAMPP control panel.
MySQL's temporary files should now get created in the new location.


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What are Appraisal Methods?
There are 3 common approaches, or Appraisal Methods, used by Appraisers to establish property value. After thorough exercise of all 3, a final value estimate is correlated. When evaluating single-family, owner-occupied properties, the Sales Comparison Approach is heavily weighted by an Appraiser.
- Cost Approach – A formula is used to obtain the property value: Land value (vacant) added to the cost to reconstruct the appraised building as new on the date of value, less accrued depreciation the building suffers in comparison with a new building.
- Sales Comparison Approach – The Appraiser identifies 3 to 4 comparable comps, recently sold properties in the neighborhood, ideally, sold in the previous 6 months and within ½ mile of the subject property. A comparison is done between the recently sold properties and the subject property including square footage, number of bedrooms and bathrooms, property age, lot size, view, and property condition.
- Income Approach – The potential net income of the property is capitalized to arrive at a property value. Capitalization is the process of converting a future income stream into a present value. This approach is suited to income-providing properties and is used in conjunction with other valuation methods.


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© Based on JMdict, KANJIDIC2, and JMnedict, property of the Electronic Dictionary Research and Development Group, used in conformance with the Group's licence. Example sentences from the Tatoeba project (CC BY 2.0). Kanji stroke order data from the KanjiVG project by Ulrich Apel (CC BY-SA 3.0). See comprehensive list of data sources for more info.
Search other dictionaries for へらじか:
Yahoo!辞書 / goo辞書 / alc.co.jp / Weblio / Wiktionary


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The Czech Republic is a cool little landlocked country south of Germany and Poland, with a national addiction to pork and beer. Potatos, cabbage, and dumplings are close behind them, and they also have this great bar food called "utopenec." It means "a drowned man," it's pickled sausage with onions, perfect with some dark wheat bread and beer. The Czech bread is legendary, like a meal all by itself.Czechoslovakia first became a sovereign state in 1918 when it declared independence from the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The state of Czechoslovakia lasted until the "Velvet Divorce" of 1993, which created Slovakia and the Czech Republic.It was occupied by Germany in WWII but escaped major damage, unlike most other European cities. The nation's capital, Prague, retains some of Europe's most beautiful Baroque architecture as well as one of the largest medieval castle complexes still standing. The President of the Czech Republic has his offices in the Prague Castle even today.There was a coup d'etat in 1948 and Czechoslovakia fell under Soviet rule. For fifty years Czechoslovakia was a Socialist state under the USSR, subject to censorship, forced atheism and even the arrest of jazz musicians!In 1989, communist police violently squashed a pro-democracy demonstration and pissed everybody off so bad that a revolution erupted over it, finally ending the Communist rule.The next twenty years saw rapid economic growth and westernization. Today in Prague you can eat at McDonald's or KFC, shop for snowboarding boots and go see a punk rock show.The Czech Republic took over the presidency of the European Union in January 2009. This instantly created lots of political drama because the President of the Czech Republic, Vaclav Klaus, is a renowned Euroskeptic.We anxiously await the outcome of "President Klaus vs. the Lisbon Treaty", a world heavywieght fight sceduled for spring 2009.Text by Steve Smith.


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Alesha Hoop Earring Set In Silver-Tone
Hoop earrings are a classic design for a reason, impactful, stylish and bold, but hoop sizes can be difficult to co-ordinate for different outfits and occasions. Which is why our Alesha Hoop Earring Set was made with versatility in mind. Featuring three pairs of gorgeous, rounded hoop earrings in varying sizes.
Product Code: | DE1003R |
Collection: | Alesha |
Type: | Post |
Material: | Base Alloy Metal |
Dimensions: | 3.5 cm, 2.7 cm, 2 cm |
Pendant Dimensions: | |
Style: | Contemporary, Hoop, and Set |
Includes: | Silk Pouch |
Complete the look:
Alesha Elasticated Rope Bracelet In Silver-Tone
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