Freeze Pop Quotes

The most important thing we've learned, So far as children are concerned, Is never, NEVER, NEVER let Them near your television set -- Or better still, just don't install The idiotic thing at all. In almost every house we've been, We've watched them gaping at the screen. They loll and slop and lounge about, And stare until their eyes pop out. (Last week in someone's place we saw A dozen eyeballs on the floor.) They sit and stare and stare and sit Until they're hypnotised by it, Until they're absolutely drunk With all that shocking ghastly junk. Oh yes, we know it keeps them still, They don't climb out the window sill, They never fight or kick or punch, They leave you free to cook the lunch And wash the dishes in the sink -- But did you ever stop to think, To wonder just exactly what This does to your beloved tot? IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD! IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD! IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND! IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND! HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE! HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE! HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES! 'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say, 'But if we take the set away, What shall we do to entertain Our darling children? Please explain!' We'll answer this by asking you, 'What used the darling ones to do? 'How used they keep themselves contented Before this monster was invented?' Have you forgotten? Don't you know? We'll say it very loud and slow: THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ, AND READ and READ, and then proceed To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks! One half their lives was reading books! The nursery shelves held books galore! Books cluttered up the nursery floor! And in the bedroom, by the bed, More books were waiting to be read! Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales And treasure isles, and distant shores Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars, And pirates wearing purple pants, And sailing ships and elephants, And cannibals crouching 'round the pot, Stirring away at something hot. (It smells so good, what can it be? Good gracious, it's Penelope.) The younger ones had Beatrix Potter With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter, And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland, And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and- Just How The Camel Got His Hump, And How the Monkey Lost His Rump, And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul, There's Mr. Rat and Mr. Mole- Oh, books, what books they used to know, Those children living long ago! So please, oh please, we beg, we pray, Go throw your TV set away, And in its place you can install A lovely bookshelf on the wall. Then fill the shelves with lots of books, Ignoring all the dirty looks, The screams and yells, the bites and kicks, And children hitting you with sticks- Fear not, because we promise you That, in about a week or two Of having nothing else to do, They'll now begin to feel the need Of having something to read. And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy! You watch the slowly growing joy That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen They'll wonder what they'd ever seen In that ridiculous machine, That nauseating, foul, unclean, Repulsive television screen! And later, each and every kid Will love you more for what you did.

Demi-glace. There are a lot of ways to make demi-glace, but I recommend you simply take your already reduced meat stock, add some red wine, toss in some shallots and fresh thyme and a bay leaf and peppercorns, and slowly, slowly simmer it and reduce it again until it coats a spoon. Strain. Freeze this stuff in an ice-cube tray, pop out a cube or two as needed, and you are in business — you can rule the world. And remember, when making a sauce with demi-glace, don't forget to monter au beurre. Chervil,

The phrase “cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey” is often said to refer to a metallic grid with circular holes in it, set under a pyramid of cannonballs on a ship’s deck to keep it stable. When this “brass monkey” got cold enough, the metal contracted and the cannonballs all popped out. In fact, the phrase means exactly what it says; the fake nautical euphemism is an attempt to make its rude humor more acceptable.

When is Colton coming over again?" I straightened magazines on the coffee table and pretended the subject didn't bother me. "When he realizes the truth about either me or Bryant." Julianne's head popped up from behind the couch, where Ken and a collection of tiny plastic picnic food had fallen. "When will that be?" "Oh probably around the same time hell freezes over." "I thought Colton was your friend," Evelynn said. "I thought you liked him." "I do-well, I used to." It made me feel sad just to say the words. Rebecca gave me a long look. "But you're not going to talk to him until hell freezes over?" I straightened another magazine. "Well, anything is possible. After all, Colton is in the same business as the devil, so he probably has some pull down there. Hell might be cooling as we speak.

I was a bird. I lived a bird's life from birth to death. I was born the thirty-second chick in the Jipu family. I remember everything in detail. I remember breaking out of the shell at birth. But I learned later that my mother had gently cracked the shell first to ease my way. I dozed under my mother's chest for the first few days. Her feathers were so warm and soft! I was strong, so I kicked away my siblings to keep the cozy spot. Just 10 days after I was born, I was given flying lessons. We all had to learn quickly because there were snakes and owls and hawks. My little brothers and sisters, who didn't practice enough, all died. My little sister looked so unhappy when she got caught. I can still see her face. Before I could fly, I hadn't known that our nest was on the second-lowest branch of a big tree. My parents chose the location wisely. Snakes could reach the lowest branch and eagles and hawks could attack us if we lived at the top. We soared through the sky, above mountains and forests. But it wasn't just for fun! We always had to watch out for enemies, and to hunt for food. Death was always nearby. You could easily starve or freeze to death. Life wasn't easy. Once, I got caught in a monsoon. I smacked into a tree and lay bleeding for days. Many of my family and friends died, one after another. To help rebuild our clan, I found myself a female and married her. She was so sweet. She laid many eggs, but one day, a human cut down the tree we lived in, crushing all the eggs and my beloved. A bird's life is an endless battle against death. I survived for many years before I finally met my end. I found a worm at some harvest festival. I came fluttering down. It was a bad mistake. Some big guy was waiting to ambush hungry little birdies like me. I heard my own guts pop. It was clear to me that I was going to die at last. And I wanted to know where I'd go when I died.

A Party for New Year (for Lily and Maisie, the ladies what lunch.) Dear Lily, I have bought something frilly, to wear on New Year’s Eve. You may think it sounds rather silly, and, what I tell you, you will never believe. I met a woman in Primark, I know, not my normal shop. Just heard so much about it inside I had to pop. Well, the top I purchased, sparkles. The frills upon it abound. This woman I met in the changing room. On me, she said it looked sound. It's very, very silver you know. A little bit like Lametta. Oh Lily, I feel quite aglow. On no one could it look any better. Dear Maisie, Things are looking a bit hazy. A silver top, for New Year. Are you really, really that crazy? My word, you batty old dear. I'm wearing my old faithful. The black dress, with the gold trim. It's not like we’re doing anything special. In fact proceedings sound quite grim. Sitting on your old sofa With a Baileys, if I'm lucky. Watching the same old things on the box. I'm not excited Ducky. I want to be in the city and feel the atmosphere. It really is a pity that you want to stay right here. Dear Lily. Now you are being silly. What about your knees? Standing about, feeling chilly, and moaning you're going to freeze. Much better to stay indoors and watch a music show. We'll get the bongs at midnight. This you very well know. I don't have any Baileys. You drank it Christmas Day. But I found some cooking sherry. I want that out of the way. I even have some nibbles, so come on, what do you say? We'll have us a little party. Bring your nightie and then you can stay. Dear Maisie, Do you remember Daisy? Her with the wart on her ear. She thinks she'd like to join us to celebrate New Year. Do we really want her with us? She's quite a moaning Minnie. She always makes such a fuss. I'd hoped she'd celebrate with Winnie. I think I will come over Lil'. I'll even bring the wine. We really should start taking turns. Next year, you can come to mine. We'll have a great time, you and me. Go out in the cold? No fear. We'll be fine indoors, just you see. Friends together, celebrating New Year.

Damn it, Jacob, I’m freezing my butt off.” “I came as fast as I could, considering I thought it would be wise to walk the last few yards.” Isabella whirled around, her smiling face lighting up the silvery night with more ease than the fullest of moons. She leapt up into his embrace, eagerly drinking in his body heat and affection. “I can see it now. ‘Daddy, tell me about your wedding day.’ ‘Well, son,’” she mocked, deepening her voice to his timbre and reflecting his accent uncannily, “’The first words out of your mother’s mouth were I’m freezing my butt off!’” “Very romantic, don’t you think?” he teased. “So, you think it will be a boy, then? Our first child?” “Well, I’m fifty percent sure.” “Wise odds. Come, little flower, I intend to marry you before the hour is up.” With that, he scooped her off her feet and carried her high against his chest. “Unfortunately, we are going to have to do this hike the hard way.” “As Legna tells it, that’s what you’re supposed to do.” “Yeah, well, I assure you a great many grooms have fudged that a little.” He reached to tuck her chilled face into the warm crook of his neck. “Surely the guests would know. It takes longer to walk than it does to fly . . . or whatever . . . out of the woods.” “This is true, little flower. But passing time in the solitude of the woods is not necessarily a difficult task for a man and woman about to be married.” “Jacob!” she gasped, laughing. “Some traditions are not necessarily publicized,” he teased. “You people are outrageous.” “Mmm, and if I had the ability to turn to dust right now, would you tell me no if I asked to . . . pass time with you?” Isabella shivered, but it was the warmth of his whisper and intent, not the cold, that made her do so. “Have I ever said no to you?” “No, but now would be a good time to start, or we will be late to our own wedding,” he chuckled. “How about no . . . for now?” she asked silkily, pressing her lips to the column on his neck beneath his long, loose hair. His fingers flexed on her flesh, his arms drawing her tighter to himself. He tried to concentrate on where he was putting his feet. “If that is going to be your response, Bella, then I suggest you stop teasing me with that wicked little mouth of yours before I trip and land us both in the dirt.” “Okay,” she agreed, her tongue touching his pulse. “Bella . . .” “Jacob, I want to spend the entire night making love to you,” she murmured. Jacob stopped in his tracks, taking a moment to catch his breath. “Okay, why is it I always thought it was the groom who was supposed to be having lewd thoughts about the wedding night while the bride took the ceremony more seriously?” “You started it,” she reminded him, laughing softly. “I am begging you, Isabella, to allow me to leave these woods with a little of my dignity intact.” He sighed deeply, turning his head to brush his face over her hair. “It does not take much effort from you to turn me inside out and rouse my hunger for you. If there is much more of your wanton taunting, you will be flushed warm and rosy by the time we reach that altar, and our guests will not have to be Mind Demons in order to figure out why.” “I’m sorry, you’re right.” She turned her face away from his neck. Jacob resumed his ritual walk for all of thirty seconds before he stopped again. “Bella . . .” he warned dangerously. “I’m sorry! It just popped into my head!” “What am I getting myself into?” he asked aloud, sighing dramatically as he resumed his pace. “Well, in about an hour, I hope it will be me.

the muscles in your feet. Then clench your calves, then thighs. Work the contractions up your body until every part of you is tight from the bottom to the top. Clench your stomach, your chest, fingers, biceps, and jaw. Tighten the muscles behind your ears and imagine all of this pressure that you’ve built up going out the top of your head like you were rolling out pizza dough. Whenever I do this I end up making all sorts of grunting noises and squint my face into awkward contortions. It feels like I’m going to pop. But I never have. Once you finally have to breathe, take in a half lungful of air and hold it for about 10 to 15 seconds. This is the recovery breath, and it feels awesome. Now start over from the beginning. Since your lungs start near empty, it won’t be possible to hold your breath as long as with the basic breathing technique. Aim to increase the amount that you hold your breath with each repetition. When I do it I start with

Knock, knock. Who's there? A: Lettuce Q: Lettuce who? A: Lettuce in, it's freezing out here.. . 2. Q: What do elves learn in school? A: The elf-abet . 3. Q: Why was 6 afraid of 7? A: Because: 7 8 9 . . 4. Q. how do you make seven an even number? A. Take out the s! . 5. Q: Which dog can jump higher than a building? A: Anydog – Buildings can’t jump! . 6. Q: Why do bananas have to put on sunscreen before they go to the beach? A: Because they might peel! . 7. Q. How do you make a tissue dance? A. You put a little boogie in it. . 8. Q: Which flower talks the most? A: Tulips, of course, 'cause they have two lips! . 9. Q: Where do pencils go for vacation? A: Pencil-vania . 10. Q: What did the mushroom say to the fungus? A: You're a fun guy [fungi]. . 11. Q: Why did the girl smear peanut butter on the road? A: To go with the traffic jam! . 11. Q: What do you call cheese that’s not yours? A: Nacho cheese! . 12. Q: Why are ghosts bad liars? A: Because you can see right through them. . 13. Q: Why did the boy bring a ladder to school? A: He wanted to go to high school. . 14. Q: How do you catch a unique animal? A: You neak up on it. Q: How do you catch a tame one? A: Tame way. . 15. Q: Why is the math book always mad? A: Because it has so many problems. . 16. Q. What animal would you not want to pay cards with? A. Cheetah . 17. Q: What was the broom late for school? A: Because it over swept. . 18. Q: What music do balloons hate? A: Pop music. . 19. Q: Why did the baseball player take his bat to the library? A: Because his teacher told him to hit the books. . 20. Q: What did the judge say when the skunk walked in the court room? A: Odor in the court! . 21. Q: Why are fish so smart? A: Because they live in schools. . 22. Q: What happened when the lion ate the comedian? A: He felt funny! . 23. Q: What animal has more lives than a cat? A: Frogs, they croak every night! . 24. Q: What do you get when you cross a snake and a pie? A: A pie-thon! . 25. Q: Why is a fish easy to weigh? A: Because it has its own scales! . 26. Q: Why aren’t elephants allowed on beaches? A:They can’t keep their trunks up! . 27. Q: How did the barber win the race? A: He knew a shortcut! . 28. Q: Why was the man running around his bed? A: He wanted to catch up on his sleep. . 29. Q: Why is 6 afraid of 7? A: Because 7 8 9! . 30. Q: What is a butterfly's favorite subject at school? A: Mothematics. Jokes by Categories 20 Mixed Animal Jokes Animal jokes are some of the funniest jokes around. Here are a few jokes about different animals. Specific groups will have a fun fact that be shared before going into the jokes. 1. Q: What do you call a sleeping bull? A: A bull-dozer. . 2. Q: What to polar bears eat for lunch? A: Ice berg-ers! . 3. Q: What do you get from a pampered cow? A: Spoiled milk.

The easiest way to write a book is to use the Table of Contents as an outline. People get stuck when they think in terms of writing a book. Do not let this delay you. There are a lot of book outline writing software’s available today, but I personally believe they have the potential to cause more distraction then assistance. The best possible outlines have come from pure "flow". I advise my clients to do a simple process of setting the timer for 2 minutes and just writing. I ask that they write everything that pops into their heads without thought or judgment on the subject. The questions I ask are: What is most important to you? What do you know a lot about? Tell me 12 things that fall under that subject that are valuable to know. Under each of the 12 things, give me 3 things that are a "must" in that category. Using index cards to write your answers on is a useful way to arrange chapters and sections of your book. Believe it or not, my students have come up with a Table of Contents/outline in less than 10 minutes using this method. Our greatest block is that we tend to over think things too much. We over analyze and what happens is that we get into analysis paralysis. Our creativity and ‘flow’ freezes up and all spontaneity and creativity just exits out of the thought process. When we stall the creative flow by trying to be correct, proper and appropriate, we end up talking ourselves out of what we intuitively know that we know and into a space of doubt, or what we think we do not know.

Triple Power Icy Lemon Pops The Dursleys don’t want to buy Harry chocolate ice cream when they take him to the zoo on Dudley’s birthday, but when the lady asks him what he’ll have, they at least have the decency to be embarrassed to not buy him anything. They compromise by buying him a lemon pop, which Harry enjoys anyway (see Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, Chapter 2). Grated zest of 1 lemon 3 tablespoons lemon juice 7 tablespoons granulated sugar 1¾ cups water ½ teaspoon lemon extract Place the lemon zest, lemon juice, sugar, and water in a saucepan and heat, stirring frequently, just until beginning to simmer. Remove from the heat and stir in the lemon extract. Pour into ice pop molds. Freeze until solid, about 5 hours. Makes approximately 4 (4-ounce) pops These lemon pops get their bright lemon flavor from three sources: grated lemon zest, lemon juice, and lemon extract, hence the name “Triple Power.

Twenty-eight courses?" Dylan mused. "Get comfortable," Grace said with anticipation. They came on little spoons, tiny plates, in small glasses, atop mini-pedestals even speared and hung, suspended on custom-made wire serving devices like little edible works of art, which was entirely the point: mint-scented lamb lollypops, osetra and oysters on frothed tapioca, beet gazpacho and savory mustard shooters, foie gras porridge with a sweet ginger spritz in an atomizer, ankimo sashimi on house-made pop-rocks, plums in powdered yogurt, goat cheese marshmallows, venison maple syrup mastic, warm black truffle gumdrops with chilled sauternes centers. Foamed and freeze-dried, often accompanied by little spray bottles of fragrance and tiny scent-filled pillows, the food crackled and smoked and hissed and sizzled, appealing to all the senses. Thin slices of blast-frozen Kobe carpaccio were hung on little wire stands to thaw between courses at the table. All sorts of textures and presentations were set forth. Many were entirely novel and unexpected renderings of traditional dishes. Intrigued and delighted by the sensory spectacle, Dylan and Grace enjoyed the experience immensely, oohing and aahing, and mostly laughing. For as strange as each course might be, as curious as the decorative objects that presented them, each one was an adventure of sorts, and without exception, each one was delicious, some to the point of profound. And each one came with an expertly matched extraordinary wine, in the precisely correct Riedel glass.

After several courses, Dylan looked at the menu, noting that "Cheeseburger" was next up. "Okay, this is something I recognize," he said with relief. "Don't get too excited," said Grace knowingly as she sipped the last of a bright and barnyard funky Romanee-Saint-Vivant from a big-bowled burgundy stem. The waiter stepped out of the shadows and set two servings of the next course on the table simultaneously. Another server placed two very large Bordeaux stems on the table, and then carefully filled each with just one and a half ounces of wine. "This is Chef's cheeseburger," the waiter said. "Paired with the '70 Latour." The waiter and other server then backed away. Dylan and Grace leaned forward, examining the strange creation. It smelled amazing, though it looked much more like something from a science class than from a Michelin-starred restaurant-- a tiny piece of freeze-dried cheese on a teaspoon of bison tartare, lying atop a small lettuce pillow that had been filled with Vidalia onion smoke. It sat on a small warm open-face wheat bun, and the whole thing was presented on a miniature plate on which was a little pool of foamed heirloom tomato, and another of foamed mustard seed. And it was all topped with a few droplets of pureed brined Japanese cucumber. Dylan just stared at it. "I feel like it belongs in a museum." "I know. It's almost too beautiful to eat," Grace said. They were both captivated by the variety of scents coming from the presentation. It did, indeed, smell like an amazing cheeseburger. "Well, I'm gonna try," said Dylan, putting the little top bun on. Grace watched as he picked it all up with his thumb and forefinger, dapped it in the foamed tomato and mustard, and popped it in his mouth. Dylan's mouth and nose were filled to bursting with all the expected flavors and scents of a great cheeseburger-- bread, meat and cheese, ketchup and mustard, lettuce and pickle. Oh, wow, it was good. And as he chewed, he popped the lettuce pillow, adding just the right touch of sweet onion scent and flavor to the mouthful.

But what do we do about brain freeze right now? Well, that’s easy enough. Slow down when you’re eating ice cream, or if you are unfortunate enough to get hit with a case of brain freeze, put your tongue on the top of your mouth. It works every time.

The Titan's Fall by Stewart Stafford Colossus ship of the Titans, Flames of Tartarus in its belly, Unsinkable beneath the stars, Champagne popped too soon. In infinite glacial hubris, Collided with its own ambition, Immortal Gordian Knot slashed, And freezing death crept aboard. Cantering up Scotland Road, Trojan Seahorse's Achilles' Heel, Solitary children drowning, In heartbroken submersion. The River Styx fell silent, But for whimpered prayers. As Charon's boat of death, Ferried them to Hades. The tangled Medusan wreckage, Once a great wonder of the earth, Plunged into an underworld abyss - A terrible beauty on the seabed nests. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

Cathedral of Light by Stewart Stafford The wintry grey forest branches, Embrace freezing fog as build, Backlit by the pushy noon sun, Revealing a cathedral of light. An air frost of transient structure, Reprieve from a hangman's bloom, Naked limbs greeted the icy cover, The looming cape of ersatz foliage. Tongues of wind scatter the pop-up, Six sheep in a straight line saw it off, A still and sunny afternoon followed, Frozen matinee fades another day. © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.

of the tiny aircraft and helped the third passenger aboard, his girlfriend Sandra, 30. The plane taxied and sped down the runway. As it rose into the blue California sun, Norman felt a surge of excitement. But as they banked east over Venice Beach, it was clear there was a storm ahead. In front of them a thick blanket of grey cloud was smothering the San Bernardino Mountains. Only the very tips of their 3,000 m (10,000 ft) peaks showed above the gloom. Norman Senior asked the pilot if it was okay to fly in that weather. The pilot reassured them: it was just a thirty-minute hop. They’d stay low and pop through the mountains to Big Bear before they knew it. Norman wondered if he’d be able to see the slope he’d won the championship on when they wheeled round Mount Baldy. His dad nodded and sat back to read the paper and whistle a Willie Nelson tune. Up front, Norman was savouring every moment. He stretched up to see over the plane’s dashboard and listened to the air traffic chatter on his headphones. As the foothills rose below them, he heard Burbank control pass their plane on to Pomona Control. The pilot told Pomona he wanted to stay below 2,300 m (7,500 ft) because of low freezing levels. Then a private plane radioed a warning against flying into the Big Bear area without decent instruments. Suddenly, the sun went out. The greyness was all around them, as thick as soup. They had pierced the storm. The plane shook and lurched. A tree seemed to flit by in the mist, its spiky fingers lunging at the window. But that couldn’t be, not up here. Then there really was a branch outside and with a sickening yawn, time slowed down and the horror unfurled. Norman instinctively curled into a ball. A wing clipped into a tree, tumbling the plane round, up, down, over and round. The spinning only stopped when they slammed into the rugged north face of Ontario Peak. The plane was instantly smashed into debris and the passengers hurled across an icy gully. And there they lay, sprawled amid the wreckage, 75 m (250 ft) from the top of the 2,650 m (8,693 ft) high mountain and perched on a 45-degree ice slope in the heartless storm.

I’ve got strong feelings for her, yeah,” I confess, throwing all secrecy out the window. “Not sure if I can call it love, but yeah, I care about her.” Letting out a sigh, I then add, “No one knows except my pops and Sarah. To everyone else, we are just vegan besties.” I can’t help but crack a smile remembering when she gave us that nickname. “But why are you asking me all this?” “I'm moving to Singapore in a few hours,” he announces. And his tone is enough to make me freeze in my seat. “So I need to make sure she’ll be alright once I’m gone.” I put down the cutlery and take a sip of my smoothie, trying to disguise my smile. Is he really leaving? Damn! “Um, sorry, but why are you leaving?” “That’s beside the point,” he snaps. “She’ll need friends around her. Friends that

pity narrative comes in the form of a music video made in South Africa in 2012 that has over 2 million hits on YouTube. It is a song for a campaign called Radi-Aid and it turns out to be a satire on Live Aid, Band Aid and all the other celebrity-driven “aid-for-starving Africa” campaigns. It features a dozen African musicians asking their fellow Africans to donate money to buy radiators—heaters—to help freezing Norwegians survive the gruesome Nordic winter. The narrator, a concerned pop star, peers through the misted-up windows of a snowbound home where a blond Norwegian family is huddled around a crackling log fire. “Africa, we need to ship our radiators over there, spread some light, spread some warmth, and spread some smiles,” he intones. The joke is clear—stop thinking of Africa as a place of helpless people in need of your pity; it would be ridiculous if we were to do the same to you.

EL Ideas- Chef Phillip Foss Valentine's Day Menu freeze pop- honeydew/truffle/bitters shake and fries- potato/vanilla/leek black cod- black rice/black garlic/black radish cauliflower- botarga/anchovy/pasta brussels sprouts- grits/kale/horseradish apple- peanut/bacon/thyme french onion- gruyere/brioche/chive ham- fontina/butternut/green almonds pretzel- beer/mustard/cheddar buffalo chicken- blue cheese/carrot/celery steak- components of béarnaise pie- lime/graham crackers/cream cheese movie snacks- popcorn/Twizzlers/Raisinets

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like many gay men after a family Christmas, I decided to seek the comfort of strangers, only where could I find a comforting stranger on a freezing cold Christmas night in the middle of Northamptonshire? I pulled into a lay-by, hidden by woodland, expecting it, on this most holy night, to be deserted, but it wasn’t. A car was parked in the darkness, the engine turning over but with no lights on. I parked in front of it, a few yards ahead, and noticed in my rear-view mirror something stir within. The headlights flashed. A signal. I switched on my interior light and switched it off again. After a moment the car’s headlights came on and stayed on. A figure got out and came and stood in front, illuminated by the headlamps. It was a man, doing a dance, and he was completely naked apart from a bow of tinsel, which he had tied round his balls. Merry Christmas, I thought: Happy Feast of the Nativity.

I didn’t have a specific place where my Perfect Day would occur. I just knew it would be somewhere that it got cold. I wanted to be wearing a cozy sweater and warm jacket. It didn’t need to be freezing, but I imagined the weather would be chilly enough to make my cheeks red. I’d be in a small town. The kind of town where people knew you. Where you’d walk past a store and the owner would pop their head out the door trying to lure you inside to see the latest jewelry they got in stock, or to try a new recipe they were testing. At some point, I’d get a hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows, using the heat from the cup to keep my hands warm. I’d walk down a street lined with twinkly lights and garlands draped between lampposts. Everyone I walked past would say hello. When it got just cold enough, that’s when I’d walk past the bookshop. It would smell like cider inside and sure enough, there would be a little beverage cart near the door with cups and a cheery sign that would read help yourself. I’d switch out my hot chocolate for a cider and wander around the store. It would be large but full of books and leather chairs and maybe even a cat lounging on some shelves. Every book I wanted to buy would be in stock and I’d find a few more that I hadn’t even known I wanted. But the thing that made it the Perfect Day would be that when I went to check out, the salesperson would recognize me. It’s you, they’d say, and then point to a shelf where my book was prominently displayed. Would you mind signing some copies? they’d ask. We’re big fans of your work. That, I think, would truly be the Perfect Day.

brain freeze.” Scientists identify it as a stimulus headache, or sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia

miracles are pretty common, if you ask me. The chances of life existing at all are infinitesimal, but it somehow keeps popping up all over the place. Then there’s the fact that this planet is precisely the right distance from the sun so that we don’t frazzle or freeze.

I’ll t-tell Dad!” Dudley whimpered. “W-where are you? What are you d-do — ?” “Will you shut up?” Harry hissed, “I’m trying to lis —” But he fell silent. He had heard just the thing he had been dreading. There was something in the alleyway apart from themselves, something that was drawing long, hoarse, rattling breaths. Harry felt a horrible jolt of dread as he stood trembling in the freezing air. “C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I’ll h-hit you, I swear I will!” “Dudley, shut —” WHAM! A fist made contact with the side of Harry’s head, lifting Harry off his feet. Small white lights popped in front of Harry’s eyes; for the second time in an hour he felt as though his head had been cleaved in two; next moment he had landed hard on the ground, and his wand had flown out of his hand. “You moron, Dudley!” Harry yelled, his eyes watering with pain, as he scrambled to his hands and knees, now feeling around frantically in the blackness. He heard Dudley blundering away, hitting the alley fence, stumbling. “DUDLEY, COME BACK! YOU’RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!

Top Shelf made bold claims asserting it was, “faster than frozen”. The company hired Dick Cavett, the well-known and trusted television personality, for a series of commercials. These dinners had no preservatives, did not require freezing or refrigeration, heated in two minutes, and could be carried to work in one’s briefcase without spoiling. Cavett earnestly sold this innovation by admitting all sounded too good to be true. To battle consumer skepticism, the company pledged twice the money back if dissatisfied. That may have sealed its fate as Top Shelf and its “faster than frozen” process quickly shut down.

I have to unblock myself from this bathroom before someone thinks I’m ending it. I spend thirty minutes in the bathroom, first washing my face and then reapplying makeup, even though my hands are unsteady, and my face keeps doubling up in the mirror, with my eye movements. I know at some point. My head is still fuzzy and pounding with every move or eyelid blink I make. I was trying so hard to not think yet this popped into my mind. ‘If you don't have trust, you don't have anything. And if you don’t trust them you lose them to someone that well.’ Jenny sees me down the hall and runs to my side… Saying- ‘Come on back. You're- such a baby, we didn’t mean anything by it.’ Jenny is such a bull-crapper and Maddie drunker and then me and with her. Liv is like a little girl on Ritalin when she has a sip too many and I’m antisocial and paranoid, and someone cracks a window to let out the smoke and sex stink yet know does. They're like are you nuts, it's freezing out… that was the look on their cold-hearted faces, everyone in the room is like icebergs to me, and I felt like the Titanic was about to sneak, no mercy, no compassion. I was a- nobody among everybody.

saw a “blond guy”—as he was so vividly described—if it’s him. But how hard can he be to spot, right? He’s her twin, he’ll look like her. “I can’t wait to go on this vacation! Me, Mom, my aunt, my mall-loving cousins and Miami Beach!” She chattered endlessly, which is why she’s dubbed Chatterbox Lilly. And, as often happens, I phased out. I wish Mom took me on a three week “educational” vacation and kept me out of school! But I barely see my mom. She’s a cultural anthropologist—she travels all the time. So I’m stuck home with Dad, a novelist. He spends all day in his office and gives me the be-home-by-ten-each-night lecture every morning. Speaking of which, I figured I really should go. Her brother’s plane was even later than we were, and I couldn’t wait any longer. I sighed uncomfortably, just as she laughed. “What?” I asked. “You know, I don’t even know what to say to him! We’re not even that close! It’s weird.” “Recap. Why is he moving in with you all of the sudden?” And why was I not informed he exists before he had to? She popped a bubble noisily. “He said he needs a change of scenery! Personally, my idea of change of scenery is someplace where I can’t freeze to death getting from the front door to the car!

Of course, I’m talking about what most people know as “brain freeze.” Scientists identify it as a stimulus headache, or sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia for all you science nerds. You may be surprised to learn that serious studies have been conducted on brain freeze at major institutions such as Harvard University. These studies have shown that brain freeze happens when an extremely cold substance quickly hits the roof of the mouth, causing the capillaries to constrict, followed by an equally quick rewarming when warm air is reintroduced to the mouth. This warming causes vasodilation, or a widening of the blood vessels. The rapid changes in temperature in the upper mouth lead to this painful sensation. Most of this is standard knowledge, but a study by Dr. Jorge Serrador revealed that there is a correlation between brain freeze and migraine sufferers. His research found that those suffering from migraines are more likely to get brain freeze, which suggests that there may be similar biological processes at work. Understanding how the contraction and widening of blood vessels in the brain take place may help scientists develop better headache medicines.

if you are unfortunate enough to get hit with a case of brain freeze, put your tongue on the top of your mouth. It works every time.

In order to prime your body to get to the gasp point earlier (and thus build a stronger wedge and activate the sympathetic nervous system), start with the basic breathing method for approximately 30 quick, deep breaths. Keep your eyes closed and breathe hard enough that you begin to feel light-headed. Now, instead of taking in a deep breath and holding it, let most of the air out of your lungs like you would at the end of a normal breath (by which I mean, don’t force it) and hold your breath with mostly empty lungs. Your body will quickly deplete the oxygen stores available in the lungs and have to rely solely on what is available in the bloodstream. When you get close to needing to gasp, you can extend your limits in two ways. The first is the same as with basic breathing, slowly letting out what is left of the air in your lungs. The second method will become critical later for controlling vasoconstriction. It consists of a rolling set of muscle contractions that you start at your feet and sequentially tighten until you reach up to your head. The process is as follows: Relax your body and clench the muscles in your feet. Then clench your calves, then thighs. Work the contractions up your body until every part of you is tight from the bottom to the top. Clench your stomach, your chest, fingers, biceps, and jaw. Tighten the muscles behind your ears and imagine all of this pressure that you’ve built up going out the top of your head like you were rolling out pizza dough. Whenever I do this I end up making all sorts of grunting noises and squint my face into awkward contortions. It feels like I’m going to pop. But I never have. Once you finally have to breathe, take in a half lungful of air and hold it for about 10 to 15 seconds. This is the recovery breath, and it feels awesome. Now start over from the beginning. Since your lungs start near empty, it won’t be possible to hold your breath as long as with the basic breathing technique. Aim to increase the amount that you hold your breath with each repetition. When I do it I start with a 1-minute hold, then 2 minutes, then 3. Even though everyone’s physiology is different, Hof says that at 3 minutes you’ve cracked into your sympathetic nervous system.

Black Bean and Sweet Potato Burgers This crowd-pleaser is sure to gain you some new fans. Double or triple the recipe and use in your weekly meal prep. (They freeze well, too! Fully thaw in the fridge then pop in the air fryer to cook.) Serve on whole wheat buns with lettuce, thick-cut tomato, and avocado. Top with a healthier Sriracha mayo using equal parts Greek yogurt and mayo, adding a little Sriracha to taste. MAKES 4 BURGERS Ingredients: 1 cup mashed cooked sweet potato 1 cup cooked brown rice ¾ cup rinsed-and-drained canned black beans (about ½ the can) 2 tablespoons taco seasoning Pantry items: Cooking spray Directions: Preheat the air fryer to 360°F for 5 minutes. In a medium bowl, mix together the sweet potato, rice, beans, and taco seasoning until well combined. Divide the mixture into 4 equal portions and form into patties, about 4 inches wide. Lightly coat with cooking spray and place 2 patties in the fry basket. Cook for 7 minutes. Flip and cook until firm to the touch and browned, 5–7 minutes more. Repeat for the remaining 2 patties.