Water Cooler Quotes

He uncovered the boat, his hands working the knots like he'd been doing it his whole life. Under the tarp was an old steel rowboat with no oars. The boat had been painted dark blue at one point, but the hull was so crusted with tar and salt it looked like one massive nautical bruise. On the bow, the name Pax was still readable, lettered in gold. Painted eyes drooped sadly at the water level, as if the boat were about to fall asleep. On board were two benches, some steel wool, an old cooler, and a mound of frayed rope with one end tied to the mooring. At the bottom of the boat, a plastic bag and two empty Coke cans floated in several inches of scummy water. "Behold," Frank said. "The mighty Roman navy.

Relax, Mr. Diggums. Have another nettle beer, or some spring water." The commander took two bottles from the cooler and offered one to Mulch. Mulch studied the label. "Derrier? No thanks. You know how they put the bubbles in this stuff?" Vinyaya's mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. "I thought it was naturally carbonated." "Yeah, that's what I thought until I got a prison job at the Derrier plant. They employ every dwarf in the Deeps. They made us sign confidentiality contracts." Vinyaya was hooked. "So go on, tell me. How do they get the bubbles in?" Mulch tapped his nose. "Can't say. Breach of contract. All I can say is it involves a huge vat of water and several dwarfs using our ...eh" Mulch pointed to his rear end-"... natural talents." Vinyaya gingerly replaced her bottle.

Part of water which is cooler always flows to below surface. I understand that hotheaded men always want to be noticed.

He did not want an affair with his boss. He did not even want a one-night stand. Because what always happened was that people found out, gossip at the water cooler, meaningful looks in the hallway. And sooner or later the spouses found out. It always happened. Slammed doors, divorce lawyers, child custody.

Everything I do is dictated by my relationship with other people, and I mostly like that about myself. I’m a good daughter, friend, neighbour, teacher, even colleague – I mean, I always take time to re-fill the water cooler when its nearing empty. But there’s one relationship I’ve neglected my whole life: my relationship with myself

If you hear someone at the water cooler say, “black people are always late,” you can definitely say, “Hey, that’s racist” but you can also add, “and it contributes to false beliefs about black workers that keeps them from even being interviewed for jobs, while white workers can be late or on time, but will always be judged individually with no risk of damaging job prospects for other white people seeking employment.

Meaning,” he growls, “that if I have you, you will be mine. You will not return to life as you know it. You will not flirt with men around the water cooler at work. You will bend for me, spread for me, allow me to have every inch of your surface, all while screaming my name and shuddering into my heart. That is what I mean.

Johnny-boy shook his head. Maybe he thought I wanted him to drink from the bottle. Hell, I have more class than that. There are paper cups over by the water cooler.

This is one of the harshest after effects of the pandemic that I am witnessing some and experiencing some, a diminished ability to deal with resistance, and so a willingness to stay in one place for too long, shut off from the outside world, nose in phone or binge-watching some show when once upon a time we used to have to wait a week for the next installment and discussed it with colleagues over water coolers and over landlines with friends. We need colleagues. We need friends.

For five days the city had wilted under a hard sky, sweltering in a temperature that stayed fixed in the middle nineties. Even at night there was no relief from the heat. Pyjamas and nighties stuck clammily to damp skin. Half-clad, self-pitying figures rose, exasperated by insomnia, to stumble through darkened rooms in search of a cooler plot than their bed, hoping that, all accidentally, they might waken any gross sleeper the house contained. Cold water ran hot from the taps, and the roads turned to tar.

Do not arrive as an interruption or disruption, attempting to divert your reader's attention from the object it is focused on, fighting to interest him in something different from what he is already, at this moment, interested in. Instead, align yourself with the subjects already possessing his attention, the matters already garnering his interest, the self-talk conversation already occurring in his mind, and the conversations he is already having around the water-cooler at work or at the kitchen table at home with peers, friends, and family.

But he found the routine of admin, diary-keeping, mail, billings—even the banalities of maintaining the coffee machine and water cooler—gave him quiet satisfaction. In part, no doubt, because he often arrived from Henry Road in a state unfit for much more than low-level administration.

if I have you, you will not return to life as you know it. You will not flirt with men around the water cooler at work. You will bend for me, spread for me, allow me to have every inch of your surface, all while screaming my name and shuddering into my heart. That is what I mean.” Holy shit.

Couldn’t we camp down by the lakes?” Nynaeve asked, patting her face with her kerchief. “It must be cooler down by the water.” “Light,” Mat said, “I’d just like to stick my head in one of them. I might never take it out.” Just then something roiled the waters of the nearest lake, the dark water phosphorescing as a huge body rolled beneath the surface. Length on man-thick length sent ripples spreading, rolling on and on until at last a tail rose, waving a point like a wasp’s stinger for an instant in the twilight, at least five spans into the air. All along that length fat tentacles writhed like monstrous worms, as many as a centipede’s legs. It slid slowly beneath the surface and was gone, only the fading ripples to say it had ever been. Rand closed his mouth and exchanged a look with Perrin. Perrin’s yellow eyes were as disbelieving as he knew his own must be. Nothing that big could live in a lake that size. Those couldn’t have been hands on those tentacles. They couldn’t have been. “On second thought,” Mat said faintly, “I like it right here just fine.

Lengthening the fermentation time of levain doughs by retarding them at cooler temperatures greatly improves flavor.

Unfortunately, there has been no escaping the water-cooler conversation.

And as he stumbled back from the water cooler, wiping his cold mouth with a warm hand, he began to understand for the first time that in another few months he would leave this place forever. All of it—lights, glass partitions, chattering typewriters—the whole slow, dry agony of this place would be cut away from his life like a tumor from his brain; and good riddance.

logged on to the various social media pages dedicated to Charon County. Those pages were the new water coolers and fences around which the community gathered. They were also where people had the tendency to expose themselves as racists, misogynists, and amazingly ignorant. Titus thought some people convinced themselves a community page held a sanctity it did not in any way, shape, or form.

Are you willing and able to help in an emergency?” she repeats.  “Sure. I’ll take a sparkling water, by the way. Extra lime.” My focus shifts back to my phone.  “There’s a cooler in the back row for you to grab it yourself.

Here’s one example to illustrate the point. When a smoker takes a cigarette break, on one level he’s simply seeking the nicotine his body craves. That’s the functional dimension. But that’s not all that’s going on. He’s hiring cigarettes for the emotional benefit of calming him down, relaxing him. And if he works in a typical office building, he’s forced to go outside to a designated smoking area. But that choice is social, too—he can take a break from work and hang around with his buddies. From this perspective, people hire Facebook for many of the same reasons. They log onto Facebook during the middle of the workday to take a break from work, relax for a few minutes while thinking about other things, and convene around a virtual water cooler with far-flung friends. In some ways, Facebook is actually competing with cigarettes to be hired for the same Job to Be Done. Which the smoker chooses will depend on the circumstances of his struggle in that particular moment.

As I speak, his fingers trail down my arm. I’m just so relieved he’s willing to touch me after I’ve told him this. He turns my hand over and traces the fine lines on my palm. “And?” He looks up beneath heavy lids. “What else should I know about you?” “My skin—” I stop, swallow. He leans down, presses his lips to my wrist in a feathery kiss. “What about your skin?” “You know. You’ve seen it,” I rasp. “It changes. The color becomes—” “Like fire.” His gaze lifts from my wrist and he says that word he said so long ago surrounded in cold mists, tucked on a ledge above a whispering pool of water. “Beautiful.” “You said that before. In the mountains.” “I meant it. Still do.” I laugh weakly. “I guess this means you’re not mad at me.” “I would be mad, if I could.” He frowns. “I should be.” He inches closer to me on the couch. We sink deeper into the tired cushions. “This is impossible.” “This what?” I clutch the collar of his shirt in my fingers. His face is so close I study the varying color of his eyes. For a long time, he says nothing. Stares at me in that way that makes me want to squirm. For a moment, it seems that his irises glow and the pupils shrink to slits. Then, he mutters, “A hunter in love with his prey.” My chest squeezes. I suck in a breath. Pretty wonderful, I think, but am too embarrassed to say it. Even after what he just admitted. He loves me? Studying him, I let myself consider this and whether he can possibly mean it. But what else could it be? What else could drive him to this moment with me? To turn his back on his family’s way of life? As he looks at me in that desperate, devouring way, I’m reminded of those moments in his car when he tended the cut on my palm and ran his hand over my leg. My belly twists. I glance around, see how seriously, dangerously alone we are. More alone than in the stairwell. Or even the first time together, on that ledge. I lick my lips. Now we’re alone with no school bell ready to rip us apart. Even more alarming, no more secrets stand between us. No barriers. Nothing to stop us at all. I hold my breath until I feel the first press of his lips, certain I’ve never been this close to another soul, this vulnerable. We kiss until we’re both breathless, warm and flushed, twisting against each other on the couch. His hands brush my bare back beneath my shirt, trace every bump of my spine. My back tingles, wings vibrating just beneath the surface. I drink the cooler air from his lips, drawing it into my fiery lungs. I don’t even mind when he stops and watches my skin change colors, or touches my face as it blurs in and out. He kisses my changing face. Cheeks, nose, the corners of my eyes, sighing my name it like a benediction between each caress. His lips slide to my neck and I moan, arch, lost to everything but him. In this, with him . . . I’m as close to the sky as I’ve ever been.

The Tired Ramblings Okay so you’re out the gates and in the race and you get an education and a job and a wife and a kid and you drink and you eat and you make love when you can sometimes more than you can and you consume things like your lover and a cigarette and a drink and a bite to eat before you go to sleep and then wake up and do it again because you can and you will and that’s what’s expected of you just like they expected it of your father and his father before him and one day they’ll expect it from your kids too and then their kids will follow your over trodden footsteps into the office and get a cup of coffee and talk by the water cooler about what movies they saw last night. You need to slow down. There is more than this.

He smiled through his greasy glasses with his clear eyes. “Why do we all expect to be happy? We all came out of our mothers crying. Pain is what we do.” It reminded me of a tweet from Alain Botton several years back that sparked a Twitter chat between the two of us: “Happiness is generally impossible for longer than fifteen minutes. We are the descendants of creatures who, above all else, worried.” Indeed. The great worriers of history were the ones who saw the charging rhinoceros first, had an action plan ready to go should a tiger in camp, fretted that the basket of weeds collected that they may be poisonous. We carry this terror in our genes into our suburban lounge rooms, to our office water coolers, to our IKEA-issue bedrooms. Worry is our default position.

Planck understood that Clausius was not simply stating the obvious, but something of deep significance. Heat, the transfer of energy from A to B due to a temperature difference, explained such everyday occurrences as a hot cup of coffee getting cold and an ice cube in a glass of water melting. But left undisturbed, the reverse never happened. Why not? The law of conservation of energy did not forbid a cup of coffee from getting hotter and the surrounding air colder, or the glass of water becoming warmer and the ice cooler. It did not outlaw heat flowing from a cold to a hot body spontaneously. Yet something was preventing this from happening. Clausius discovered that something and called it entropy. It lay at the heart of why some processes occur in nature and others do not.

Instantly I was thinking about those Post-it notes stuck all over my house. How had I allowed myself to become so busy? How long had it been since I’d spent a day in the sun, eating sandwiches from a cooler and watching water ripple across the surface of a lake? Why do I so often behave as though there will be unlimited days to sit quietly with my own beloveds, listening to birdsong and wind in the pines?

Instantly I was thinking about those Post-it notes stuck all over my house. How had I allowed myself to become so busy? How long had it been since I’d spent a day in the sun, eating sandwiches from a cooler and watching water ripple across the surface of a lake? Why do I so often behave as though there will be unlimited days to sit quietly with my own beloveds, listening to birdsong and wind in the pines?

The way grew more and more stony and this made me suspicious. If we were approaching a town we ought by now to have found a path. Instead there were these jumbled white stones that looked as if they had been combed out by an ignorant hand from the elements that make least sense. There must be stupid portions of heaven, too, and these had rolled straight down from it. I am no geologist but the word calcareous seemed to fit them. They were composed of lime and my guess was that they must have originated in a body of water. Now they were ultra-dry but filled with little caves from which cooler air was exhaled—ideal places for a siesta in the heat of noon, provided no snakes came. But the sun was in decline, trumpeting downward. The cave mouths were open and there was this coarse and clumsy gnarled white stone.

As soon as she releases me, Galen grabs my hand and I don’t even have time to gasp before he snatches me to the surface and pulls me toward shore, only pausing to dislodge his pair of swimming trunks from under his favorite rock, where he had just moments before taken the time to hide them. I know the routine and turn away so he can change, but it seems like no time before he hauls me onto the beach and drags me to the sand dunes in front of my house. “What are we doing?” I ask. His legs are longer than mine so for every two of his strides I have to take three, which feels a lot like running. He stops us in between the dunes. “I’m doing something that is none of anyone else’s business.” Then he jerks me up against him and crushes his mouth on mine. And I see why he didn’t want an audience for this kiss. I wouldn’t want an audience for this kiss, either, especially if the audience included my mother. This is our first kiss after he announced that he wanted me for his mate. This kiss holds promises of things to come. When he pulls away I feel drunk and excited and nervous and filled with a craving that I’m not sure can ever be satisfied. And Galen looks startled. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that,” he says. “That makes it about fifty times harder to leave, I think.” He tucks my head under his chin and I wrap my arms around him until both our breathing returns to normal. I take the time to soak in his scent, his warmth, the hard contours of his-well, his everything. It’s really not fair that he has to leave when he’s only just gotten back. We didn’t have much time to talk on the way back home. We haven’t had much time for anything. “Emma,” he murmurs. “The water isn’t safe for you right now. Please don’t get in it. Please.” “I won’t.” I really won’t. He said please, after all. He lifts my chin with the crook of his finger. His eyes hold all the gentleness and love in the world, with a pinch of mischief. “And take good notes in calculus, or I’ll be forced to cheat off you and for some weird reason that makes me feel guilty.” I wonder what Grom the Triton king would think of that. That Galen basically just stated his intention to keep doing human things. Galen pushes his lips against my forehead, then disentangles himself from me and leads me back toward the water. My body feels ten degrees cooler when his arms fall, and it’s got nothing to do with the temperature outside. We reach the others just in time to see Rayna all but throw herself at Toraf. I can’t help but smile as they kiss. It’s like watching Beauty and the Beast. And Toraf’s not the Beast.

office, with its water coolers and soda machines and soft, quiet carpet. While temping there are breaks, and lunch, and one can bring a Walkman if one so desires, can take a fifteen-minute break, walk around, read— It’s bliss. The temp doesn’t have to pretend that he cares about their company, and they don’t have to pretend that they owe him anything. And finally, just when the job, like almost any job would, becomes too boring to continue, when the temp has learned anything he could have learned, and has milked it for the $18/hr and whatever kitsch value it may have had, when to continue anymore would be a sort of death and would show a terrible lack of respect for his valuable time—usually after three or four days—then, neatly enough, the assignment is over. Perfect. In her sunglasses and new Jeep, Beth picks Toph up from school, and he spends the afternoon at her little place, sharing her futon, the two of them studying side by side, until I get home. At that point, Beth and I do our best to fight about something vital and lasting— “You said six o’ clock.

At her feet, a luminous path lit the way through the grassy field. It was made entirely from glow sticks; each of the radiant lights had been painstakingly set into the ground at perfect intervals, tracing a curved trail that shone through the darkness. Apparently, Jay had been busy. Near the water’s edge, at the end of the iridescent pathway and beneath a stand of trees, Jay had set up more than just a picnic. He had created a retreat, an oasis for the two of them. Violet shook her head, unable to find the words to speak. He led her closer, and Violet followed, amazed. Jay had hung more of the luminous glow sticks from the low-hanging branches, so they dangled overhead. They drifted and swayed in the breeze that blew up from the lake. Beneath the natural canopy of limbs, he had set up two folding lounge chairs and covered them with pillows and blankets. “I’d planned to use candles, but the wind would’ve blown ‘em out, so I had to improvise.” “Seriously, Jay? This is amazing.” Violet felt awed. She couldn’t imagine how long it must have taken him. “I’m glad you like it.” He led her to one of the chairs and drew her down until she was sitting before he started unpacking the cooler. She half-expected him to pull out a jar of Beluga caviar, some fancy French cheeses, and Dom Perignon champagne. Maybe even a cluster of grapes to feed to her…one at a time. So when he started laying out their picnic, Violet laughed. Instead of expensive fish eggs and stinky cheeses, Jay had packed Daritos and chicken soft tacos-Violet’s favorites. And instead of grapes, he brought Oreos. He knew her way too well. Violet grinned as he pulled out two clear plastic cups and a bottle of sparkling cider. She giggled. “What? No champagne?” He shrugged, pouring a little of the bubbling apple juice into each of the flimsy cups. “I sorta thought that a DUI might ruin the mood.” He lifted his cup and clinked-or rather, tapped-it against hers. “Cheers.” He watched her closely as she took a sip. For several moments, they were silent. The lights swayed above them, creating shadows that danced over them. The park was peaceful, asleep, as the lake’s waters lapped the shore. Across from them, lights from the houses along the water’s edge cast rippling reflections on the shuddering surface. All of these things transformed the ordinary park into a romantic winter rendezvous.

He hadn’t even any satisfaction in the new water-cooler! And it was the very best of water-coolers, up-to-date, scientific, and right-thinking. It had cost a great deal of money (in itself a virtue). It possessed a nonconducting fiber ice-container, a porcelain water-jar (guaranteed hygienic), a drip-less non-clogging sanitary faucet, and machine-painted decorations in two tones of gold. He looked down the relentless stretch of tiled floor at the water-cooler, and assured himself that no tenant of the Reeves Building had a more expensive one, but he could not recapture the feeling of social superiority it had given him.

At Takamatsu Station I take a bus to the fitness club. I change into my gym clothes in the locker room, then do some circuit training, plugged into my Walkman, Prince blasting away. It’s been a while and my muscles complain, but I manage. It’s the body’s normal reaction—muscles screaming out, resisting the extra burden put on them. Listening to “Little Red Corvette,” I try to soothe that reaction, suppress it. I take a deep breath, hold it, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. Even breathing, over and over. One by one I push my muscles to the limit. I’m sweating like crazy, my shirt’s soaked and heavy. I have to go over to the cooler a few times to gulp down water.

then I must have dropped off. It wasn’t much later that I awoke—the story of my life since my mate passed away. I get tired, wiped out, even, but can’t seem to sleep more than a few hours at a stretch. It’s such a weird time to be awake—noon. Spooky, really. There have been a few occasions when, tired of just standing there and hoping to fall back to sleep, I got up and flew around. The dining options were definitely interesting—lapdogs, ducklings, I even saw an iguana sunning himself on top of a Styrofoam cooler. But there was also a lot of traffic and noise. I never liked the world I saw during the day. Then I started hating the one I saw at night and wondered, What’s left? What changed things, albeit slowly, was learning. It’s like there’s a hole where my life used to be, and I’m filling it with information—about potatoes. About hot water heaters. Anything will do. These leeches, though. For the first time in memory, I was unable to sleep not because I was anxious but because I was excited. To live in a damp crowded asshole and sing—if these guys don’t know the secret to living, I don’t know who does.

I walk into the water and it’s ten degrees cooler than the air, absolutely freezing freezing cold, it makes my breath come all fast and I can only take in little gulps of air. I feel the sting of the cut on my leg as the salt gets in it. And I push further into it, so that the water comes up to my chest, then my shoulders and now I really can’t breathe properly, like I’m wearing a corset. I feel tiny fireworks explode in my head and on the surface of my skin and all the bad thoughts loosen, so I can look at them more easily. I put my head under, shaking it to encourage the bad thoughts to float away. A wave comes, and the water fills my mouth. It’s so salty it makes me gag and when I gag I swallow more water and don’t manage to breathe and more water goes in, and it’s in my nose too and each time I open my mouth for air more water comes in instead, great big salty gulps of it. I can feel the movement of the water under my feet and it feels like it’s tugging me somewhere, trying to take me with it. It’s like my body knows something I don’t because it’s fighting for me, my arms and legs thrashing out. I wonder if this is a bit what drowning is like. Then I wonder if I am drowning.

You've had hot coffee before, and in the hands of a skilled maker, coffee can be amazing. But the fact is that coffee is one of the hardest things to get right in the world. Even with great beans and a great roast and great equipment, a little too much heat, the wrong grind, or letting things go on too long will produce a cup of bitterness. Coffee's full of different acids, and depending on the grind, temperature, roast, and method, you can "overextract" the acids from the beans, or overheat them and oxidize them, producing that awful taste you get at donut shops and Starbucks. But there is Another Way. If you make coffee in cold water, you only extract the sweetest acids, the highly volatile flavors that hint at chocolate and caramel, the ones that boil away or turn to sourness under imperfect circumstances. Brewing coffee in cold water sounds weird, but in fact, it's just about the easiest way to make a cup (or a jar) of coffee. Just grind coffee -- keep it coarse, with grains about the size of sea salt -- and combine it with twice as much water in an airtight jar. Give it a hard shake and stick it somewhere cool overnight (I used a cooler bag loaded with ice from ice camp and wrapped the whole thing in bubble wrap for insulation). In the morning, strain it through a colander and a paper coffee filter. What you've got now is coffee concentrate, which you can dilute with cold water to taste -- I go about half and half. If you're feeling fancy, serve it over ice.

Geographically the island had dramatic coastline of secret coves and forests. It was surrounded by water of turquoise color and reef. It had rich, fertile lands and a very hot temperature all year round. All year the temperature averaged 105 degrees. It got a bit cooler at night but people could still sleep under the stars and sky. It had very little rainfall and no snow or frost. Temperatures dropped a little in the winter”.

Effect On Culture Organizations are made up of people. Those people work and “live” there with other people at least 40 hours per week. Like the connective tissue that begins to form when we are injured or when we are healing and becomes a part of who we are, team members are a part of the connective tissue of the organization. What happens when we remove or tear out a piece of that tissue? Not only does it hurt a lot, it causes heavy bleeding. If it doesn’t heal properly, there are complications. We may never regain our function in that area. When good productive people leave, we feel the pain and so does the culture of the team. The only way to mend the tissue permanently is to do the right things to engage and retain them. Spillover Effect We don’t talk about this much, but there is a psychological impact on other productive and engaged employees when they are forced to work with disengaged employees. Whether it is during water cooler talk or just in combined work spaces, the negative energy that disengaged employees pass to the entire team and organization can be toxic. Oftentimes, the disengaged employees are the scapegoats to deeper organizational issues. When we do not look at what is causing them to be disengaged, we enable the spillover effect to continue. Organizations that want a thriving workplace must rid themselves of disengaged employees, not necessarily by termination, but by living by the Laws found in this book. Negative Word Of Mouth Remember that unhappy employees don’t make for good promoters of your brand. In fact, disengaged employees are likely to tell more people and blurt it out all over social media and at every party. Reputationally, this negative word of mouth works against your brand promise. Who are you out in the world to your customers? Whatever that is, it must match who you are to your employees. Loss Of Organizational Stability Stop for a minute and think about what it says to your customers, partners, and investors when your employees keep walking out the door. Potentially, they could be in the middle of a complex project implementation and having a consistent point of contact through that process is key.

Colorado Pure is a leading water cooler supplier in Colorado Springs. We offer the highest quality water coolers! Call us at (719) 633-6887 to discuss your options.

We work long hours at these shows, and no matter how funny someone's writing sample is, if they are too talkative or needy or angry to deal with in the middle of the night by the printer, steer clear.

If you’re a recent college graduate in an entry-level job, for example, you’re much more likely to hear “go change the water cooler” than you are “go change the world.

The months of June and July passed. The monsoons were tardy this year—the nights hinted rain constantly with an aroma in the air, a cooling on the skin, soundless lightning across skies. But when morning came, the sun rose strong again, mocking Agra and its inhabitants. And the days crawled by, brazenly hot, when every breath was an effort, every movement a struggle, every night sweat-stewed. In temples, incantations were offered, the muezzins called the faithful to prayers, their voices melodious and pleading, and the bells of the Jesuit churches chimed. But the gods seemed indifferent. The rice paddies lay ploughed after the pre-monsoon rains, awaiting the seedlings; too long a wait and the ground would grow hard again. A few people moved torpidly in the streets of Agra; only the direst of emergencies had called them from their cool, stone-flagged homes. Even the normally frantic pariah dogs lay panting on doorsteps, too exhausted to yelp when passing urchins pelted them with stones. The bazaars were barren too, shopfronts pulled down, shopkeepers too tired to haggle with buyers. Custom could wait for cooler times. The whole city seemed to have slowed to a halt. The imperial palaces and courtyards were hushed in the night, the corridors empty of footsteps. Slaves and eunuchs plied iridescent peacock feather fans, wiping their perspiring faces with one hand. The ladies of the harem slept under the intermittent breeze of the fans, goblets of cold sherbets flavoured with khus and ginger resting by their sides. Every now and then, a slave would refresh the goblet, bringing in another one filled with new shards of ice. When her mistress awoke, and wake she would many times during the night, her drink would be ready. The ice, carved in huge chunks from the Himalayan mountains, covered with gunnysacks and brought down to the plains in bullock carts, was a blessing for everyone, nobles and commoners alike. But in this heat, ice melted all too soon, disappearing into a puddle of warm water under sawdust and jute. In Emperor Jahangir’s apartments, music floated through the courtyard, stopping and tripping in the still night air as the musicians’ slick fingers slipped on the strings of the sitar.

Just grind coffee—keep it coarse, with grains about the size of sea salt—and combine it with twice as much water in an airtight jar. Give it a hard shake and stick it somewhere cool overnight (I used a cooler bag loaded with ice from ice camp and wrapped the whole thing in bubble wrap for insulation). In the morning, strain it through a colander and a paper coffee filter. What you’ve got now is coffee concentrate, which you can dilute with cold water to taste—I go about half and half. If you’re feeling fancy, serve it over ice.

The water harmed him. Soon after Anyanwu had revealed herself, he began to grow ill. He became dizzy. His head hurt him. He said he thought he would vomit if he did not leave the confinement of the small room. Anyanwu took him out on deck where the air was fresh and cooler. But even there, the gentle rocking of the ship seemed to bother him— and began to bother her. She began to feel ill. She seized on the feeling at once, examining it. There was drowsiness, dizziness, and a sudden cold sweat. She closed her eyes, and while Okoye vomited into the water, she went over her body carefully. She discovered that there was a wrongness, a kind of imbalance deep within her ears. It was a tiny disturbance, but she knew her body well enough to notice the smallest change. For a moment, she observed this change with interest. Clearly, if she did nothing to correct it, her sickness would grow worse; she would join Okoye, vomiting over the rail. But no. She focused on her inner ears and remembered perfection there, remembered organs and fluids and pressures in balance, their wrongness righted. Remembering and correcting were one gesture; balance was restored. It had taken her much practice— and much pain— to learn such ease of control. Every change she made in her body had to be understood and visualized. If she was sick or injured, she could not simply wish to be well. She could be killed as easily as anyone else if her body was damaged in some way she could not understand quickly enough to repair. Thus, she had spent much of her long life learning the diseases, disorders, and injuries that she could suffer— learning them often by inflicting mild versions of them on herself, then slowly, painfully, by trial and error, coming to understand exactly what was wrong and how to impress healing. Thus, when her enemies came to kill her, she knew more about surviving than they did about killing.

All of these states have vast, clean, reliable sources of fresh water. They won’t endure the blistering heat of the South. And except for a corner of New York, all of them are far from the coasts, so they won’t suffer from sea-level rise and hurricanes. Because they’re cooler and wetter than the West Coast, they’re even less prone to wildfires. The Great Lakes themselves have recently experienced massive algae blooms, some of which kill fish, birds, and turtles and poison our drinking water. Fertilizer and household cleaning products running into the watershed help to feed these blooms. The affected states have teamed up to study and fix the problem. Otherwise, though, many of the cities on the Great Lakes are ideally suited to a life in the new, hotter, drier, rainier world. Read on.

Before we could continue our telepathic foreplay, his players dumped the water cooler of Gatorade on his head. Hutch’s white polo shirt became see-through, so really, we all won tonight.

BARTON CENTRE, 912, 9th Floor, Mahatma Gandhi Rd, Bengaluru, Karnataka - 560 001 Phone Number +91 8884400919 Situated off the southeast shore of Africa, Mauritius is a shocking island country in the Indian Sea known for its perfectly clear waters, white sandy sea shores, and lavish green scenes. The volcanic island flaunts pleasant coral reefs and a different scope of verdure. Culture and Language Mauritius is a mixture of societies, with impacts from Indian, African, Chinese, and European practices. Local people communicate in a blend of dialects, with English, French, Creole, and Hindi being ordinarily utilized. This social variety is reflected in the island's food, music, and celebrations. 2. Outline of Mauritius Visit Bundles Sorts of Visit Bundles Accessible Mauritius Tour Package From Bangalore offer various choices, from extravagant ocean side hotels to daring eco-the travel industry encounters. Whether you're searching for a heartfelt escape, a family get-away, or a performance experience, there's a bundle to suit each voyager's inclinations. Irregularity and Best Times to Visit The best opportunity to visit Mauritius is from May to December when the weather conditions is cooler and drier, ideal for investigating the island's attractions and appreciating outside exercises. Top vacationer season is from October to April, so reserving your visit bundle ahead of time is suggested. 3. Features of a Mauritius Tour Package From Bangalore Flight Subtleties and Travel Length Departures from Bangalore to Mauritius normally take around 7 to 8 hours, with non-stop flights accessible for a helpful travel insight. Some visit bundles might incorporate flight appointments and air terminal exchanges for a problem free excursion. Considerations and Prohibitions in the Bundle Normal considerations in Mauritius visit bundles are convenience, dinners, touring visits, and exercises, for example, water sports and spa medicines. Rejections might shift yet frequently incorporate travel protection, visa charges, and individual costs. 4. Convenience and Transportation Choices Well known Lodging Decisions in Mauritius Mauritius offers a scope of facilities, from extravagance resorts disregarding the sea to shop lodgings settled in tropical nurseries. Famous decisions remember ocean front pieces of land for Terrific Baie, extravagance withdraws in Beauty Female horse, and eco-accommodating hotels in Dark Waterway Canyons Public Park. Transportation inside Mauritius Transportation choices in Mauritius incorporate taxicabs, rental vehicles, and public transports for getting around the island. Many visit bundles give air terminal exchanges and may likewise incorporate confidential transportation for touring visits and journeys. 5. Energizing Exercises and Attractions in Mauritius Ocean side Exercises and Water Sports Mauritius is a heaven for ocean side darlings and daredevils the same. From lazing on the immaculate sandy sea shores to enjoying an assortment of water sports, for example, swimming, scuba jumping, and parasailing, there is no deficiency of energy here. Whether you're a carefully prepared surfer or a fledgling hoping to get a few waves, Mauritius offers something for everybody. Investigating Nature and Untamed life Nature fans will be in wonderment of Mauritius' different scenes, from lavish woods and cascades to shocking greenhouses. Investigate the Dark Stream Crevasses Public Park to detect extraordinary widely varied vegetation, or visit the Seven Shaded Earths in Chamarel for a characteristic miracle. Try not to botch the opportunity to experience monster turtles at the Île aux Aigrettes nature hold for a really remarkable encounter. 6. Test Schedule for a Mauritius Visit from Bangalore

Colorado Pure is a local Colorado Springs company offering bottle-free water coolers, ice machines and water dispensers for offices. Contact us at (719) 633-6887 to solve your office water needs.

Ice Age 2,588 million years ago, at the start of the Pleistocene, the Earth entered an Ice Age. It followed 50 million years of climatic downturn, and was the first full-blown ice age for a quarter of a billion years. Cooler, arid conditions alternated with warm, wet conditions as ice sheets ebbed and flowed in higher latitudes. The ice sheets alternately locked up vast amounts of fresh water, then released it again as temperatures rose. This alternation between a cooler and a warmer climate has continued right up to the present day. The cold spells are often referred to as ‘ice ages’. In particular the end of the most recent glacial period 11,600 years ago, is popularly known as the end of the last Ice Age. In fact the warm spells – interglacial periods – are no more than breaks in an on-going ice age. The current Holocene epoch, that followed the last glacial period, is such a break. In theory, glacial conditions will one day return, though the effects of anthropogenic (human caused) global warming make this uncertain. Glacial periods are not necessarily periods of unremitting cold, but alternate between colder and warmer intervals known respectively as stadials and interstadials. The idea that there were periods when glaciers extended beyond their present-day limits gradually emerged during the first half of the nineteenth century. Geologists sought to explain such phenomena as rock scouring and scratching, the cutting of valleys, the existence of whale-shaped hills known as drumlins and the presence of erratic boulders and ridges of rocky debris known as moraines. The term Eiszeit (‘ice age’) was coined in 1837 by the German botanist Karl Friedrich Schimper.

HOW TO BE COOL Swim. Most swimming pools are quite a bit cooler than the body; lakes and oceans definitely are. Incorporate swimming into your regular exercise regimen. Do a polar bear plunge. Many cities have cold water swim clubs; look one up and join it. Cold water plunges are more fun with other people. Visit the baths. Russian, Turkish, or Korean, proper baths have cold plunges. Some gyms have cold plunges too—if they don’t, a cold shower will do. Take cold showers. If it’s too intense to start cold, then start warm and gradually turn it colder. It helps you wake up, too. Build a cold plunge. Fill a bathtub or large plastic tub with cool water. Add ice. Enjoy. Turn down the thermostat. Let the air be a touch cold rather than a touch hot. Others can choose to wear extra clothing if desired. This also improves alertness and saves money. Exercise outdoors. Whatever the activity, do it outside. With gloves and a hat you can wear only a t-shirt, even in winter.

In high water, fish migrate to the banks to stay out of the fast currents and to take advantage of the worms, beetles, ants, and other terrestrials being swept into the river by the floodwaters. If the water is very dirty, they position themselves right next to the bank, a rock, or the bottom in order to keep their equilibrium. In warm water, they move to the deeper cooler waters or place themselves near a cool spring or tributary. Alternately, they could be under the fastest turbulent cascades where there is more dissolved oxygen.

First time on a sailboat?” she asked, as casually as if she wasn’t standing there, gripping the wheel of a sleek, forty-foot sailing vessel while looking like sex candy on a stick. “First time on any boat,” he told her. She turned that smile on him again, and his body leaped to attention, while his mind leaped to wondering just what it was she had in mind. Looks might be deceiving. But he was beginning to hope they weren’t. “Looks like you’ll be getting a few firsts this afternoon, then.” With that little bombshell dropped, she calmly looked back to the water as she navigated the boat away from the pier and through the other vessels tied up along the maze of docks and piers, some of them sailboats but more of them working ones. With nothing else to do, and fairly certain if he stared at her in that tropical print napkin any longer he’d simply lunge at her, he made his way over to the picnic basket and cooler and stowed both in one of the big storage bins Thomas had showed him earlier.

Kuhn Bath, sit in a tub filled to the height of approximately one foot with room temperature water (or slightly cooler) and soak up to the belly button. Do not soak any other part of the body. Remove the legs from the tub and keep the knees out as well. Soak here for at least 15 minutes. Do not end with a shower but

The traditional office layout, with individual cubicles and offices, is designed so that the steady state is quiet. Most interactions between groups of people are either planned (a meeting in a conference room) or serendipitous (the hallway / water cooler / walking through the parking lot meeting). This is exactly backward; the steady state should be highly interactive, with boisterous, crowded offices brimming with hectic energy. Employees should always have the option to retire to a quiet place when they’ve had it with all the group stimulation, which is why our offices include plenty of retreats: nooks in the cafés and microkitchens, small conference rooms, outdoor terraces and spaces, and even nap pods. But when they go back to their desk, they should be surrounded by their teammates.

Tehnoloģiskās iespējas nediktē indivīdu uzvedību, taču konfigurē vidi veidā, kas ietekmē indivīdu iesaistīšanos. Piemēram, pildspalva „izraisa“ rakstīšanu, tālrunis — zvanīšanu, sastapšanās pie ūdens automāta ( water cooler) darbavietā — iesaistīšanos neformālās sarunās.39

I pursed my lips. “Well maybe I didn’t,” I said. I felt horribly like a hoodwinked schoolgirl. “Understand, I mean.” Mirela sighed and stroked her hand and looked down at the cold shaft of the prosthesis. “We had a nice time, didn’t we? But now we have to go back to our lives. You know that.” I got up and began storming about the room. “But you don’t—” I said agitatedly. “I mean to say you don’t love him—” She could not have turned cooler if I had poured iced water over her; I could feel the temperature in the room drop. “I never said it had anything to do with love,” she said impersonally, like a piano teacher correcting a child who keeps fudging his scales. “Who or what I love is my business. I said I needed him.

The taste of revealed flesh drives vipers out into the open. Let’s create an atmosphere where the nakedness of our brothers and sisters does not become a water-cooler conversation piece. Let’s practice the love that covers a multitude of sins and see if we can’t minimize the target for our enemy.

classifying region being dominated by strong and persistent trade winds. These trade winds lead to equatorial upwelling through Ekman divergence at the surface, as well as to a generally strong westward surface current. Climatologically, both the upwelling and the westward current act to cool the local SST by advection of cooler waters (the zonal temperature gradient is generally negative, except during the most extreme of El Niño events). Westerly anomalies in this region would lead to

It requires writers to do two things that by their metabolism are impossible. They must relax, and they must have confidence. Telling a writer to relax is like telling a man to relax while being examined for a hernia, and as for confidence, see how stiffly he sits, glaring at the screen that awaits his words. See how often he gets up to look for something to eat or drink. A writer will do anything to avoid the act of writing. I can testify from my newspaper days that the number of trips to the water cooler per reporter-hour far exceeds the body’s need for fluids.

NRS called the “Big Basin Water Container” -

In 1857, to encourage continued settlement of the West, Congress passed the Pacific Wagon Road Act, which among other improvements to the trail called for the surveying of a shorter route to Idaho across the bottom of the Wind Rivers and the forested Bridger-Teton wilderness to the west. Frederick W. Lander, a hotheaded but experienced explorer and engineer, was assigned the job. He made Burnt Ranch the trailhead and main supply depot for the trail-building job, which became one of the largest government-financed projects of the nineteenth century. Lander hired hundreds of workers from the new Mormon settlement at Salt Lake and supplied the enterprise with large mule-team caravans that ferried provisions and equipment from U.S. Army depots in Nebraska and eastern Wyoming. “With crowds of laborers hauling wood, erecting buildings and tending stock,” writes historian Todd Guenther, “the area was a beehive of activity.” The engineers, logging crews, and workers quickly hacked out what became known as the Lander Cutoff, which saved more than sixty miles, almost a week’s travel, across the mountains. In places, the Lander Cutoff was a steep up-and-down ride, but the route offered cooler, high terrain and plentiful water, an advantage over the scorching desert of the main ruts to the south. Eventually an estimated 100,000 pioneers took this route, and the 230-mile Lander Cutoff was considered an engineering marvel of its time. This

went straight to the water cooler. “Goddamn, Sarge, you look, like holy

We don’t want to get off the main road,” I said. “There’s way too many tack weeds out there.” “Those stickers are worse than real tacks,” said Henny. “Maybe we should leave our bikes and walk. I don’t want to take any chances.” That’s the trouble with having such a nice bike, with so many terrific gadgets. Henny doesn’t like to ride unless conditions are ideal, like maybe around a newly paved parking lot. “Henny,” I said. “It’s definitely time for us to move on. Your inner tubes will be safe if you just stay on the highway. Besides, it will be cooler with a breeze blowing in your face.” Henny got back on his bike and slowly pedaled it up to a speed past wobbly but short of smooth and comfortable. “This is not a breeze,” he called up to me. “This is hot air being forced up my nostrils. This is hot air drying out my already parched throat. Water. I need water.

Cade applied the cool vinegar water to Lily's head when the fever grew stronger. When she began to sweat and toss restlessly, he peeled her gown from her shoulders and bathed her shoulders and breasts. She quieted with his touch, and he continued the soothing motion until she felt cooler again. When he was certain that she slept peacefully, Cade stripped off his clothes and joined her beneath the covers. They hadn't been together like this for so long. He pulled her into the curve of his body and rested his hand protectively on her swelling belly. His child grew there, and he protected what was his. He had so very little, he would fight for what he had. Exhausted,

Most believe the Flood of Noah triggered the Ice Age. The rising magmas, lavas, and hot waters associated with continental plate movements would have caused ocean temperatures to rise. Also, fine ash from volcanic eruptions probably lingered in the upper atmosphere in post-Flood years, which, unlike a greenhouse effect, would reduce the sunlight for cooler summers. So the mechanism for such a rare event was in place due to Genesis 6–8. But what happens in an ice age? A lot of water is taken out of the ocean and deposited on land, so the ocean level drops.7 This exposes land bridges. One well-known land bridge was the one that crossed what we call today “the Bering Strait” from Alaska to Russia, so it is easily feasible for animals to have walked from Asia to North and South America.

We go back to our silent fishing, but I'm smiling the whole time. The tension has dimmed. Well, until Blake shoves Graham into the river. A gasp leaves me, my mouth hanging open as I watch my roommate sputter to the surface of the dirty water. I drop my fishing pole, frozen in place. My dad mutters, “What the hell?” Blake throws his head back and laughs like I have never seen nor heard him laugh before. The loud and hearty sound is cut off short when Graham comes barreling out of the water, his body aimed straight for him, his eyes daggers of retribution. He lunges for his brother, wrapping his arms around his stomach and heaving him toward the water. Blake stumbles back, landing on his rear just inside the water. The sound of jeans smacking into water is sharp. He swipes water out of his eyes as Graham smirks at him. “What is wrong with you two?” I demand, more annoyed than worried. They seem to be getting along, even if they are being brutish about it. Suddenly I have the attention of two wet men, twin calculating gleams in their eyes. Graham is closest, his steps slow and purposeful as he approaches me. “Don't even think about it.” I put my hands out in front of me to ward him off. His grin deepens as he reaches me. Water drips from his hair down his face to become one with his soggy clothes. “Don't think about what?” A glance over my shoulder tells me a tree, the first form of cover I think of, is too far away. Not one to give up, I move for it anyway, but a wet, strong hand grabs the back of my shirt and pulls me away from where I want to go until I am flush with a cold chest. Cold clothes; warm body, I should say. His skin is burning through the dampness of his shirt. “Graham, I swear, if you throw me in that water, I will never speak to you again.” His voice is low and close as he says, “You make it sound like that wouldn't be a good thing.” I haven't even finished my sound of incredulity before I am gathered into his arms, my arms unconsciously going around his neck to anchor me to him. His touch is gentle, his eyes are smiling. “I mean it. This won't be good for you.” “Oh, I don't know about that.” His arms swing out, and I tighten my hold on him, threatening him even as he is laughing at me. He does it again as we move closer to the water and I glare all my irk at him. “If I go, you go.” He tilts his head as he studies me. His voice is unnaturally sober as he tells me, “That's fine with me.” I don't have time to process that before he lets go of me. I hit the water, refusing to let go of his neck, and we both go under. Lucky for me, the water is only a couple feet deep. Unlucky for Graham, I twist around until I am straddling him, keeping him down with my weight so the only thing above water is his head. I give him a sweet smile. He doesn't return it. “Hi,” I purr. He grunts in response. “Fancy meeting you here.” “What can I say? Where you go, I follow.” I pat his cheek. “That's so sweet.” “I'm a sweet guy.” “So sweet,” I agree. “Hey! You're scaring the fish away.” This from Blake, who is now standing near my father. “The fish love me!” I declare, sweeping my arms out wide and losing my balance. I splash into the water, first laughing, and then choking as water goes down my throat. Graham lifts me out of the water by my shirt. “The weight of your arrogance obviously tipped you over.” “It was more like the air couldn't handle all my splendor.” Half of his mouth lifts. “Something like that.” “Fishing with the three of you is impossible,” Dad grumbles and stomps to the cooler, opening a can of soda and gulping it down

The “Period Brain” Puberty marks the onset of the menstrual cycle, which can profoundly alter the circuitry of a teen girl’s brain, impacting the way she thinks, feels, and acts on a monthly basis. The notion that a woman’s cycle can befuddle her brain is a main staple of popular culture. Dismissive and often derogatory statements like “She must be PMS-ing” are by now part of the everyday vernacular. As unsympathetic as these expressions can be, many women do experience a vulnerable side during their period. But while that’s made it into society’s wry water-cooler rhetoric, the flip side has not.

Ms. Buck, I feel like a corpse this morning. What do you advise?" Belva raised an eyebrow. "You might try putting down the bottle one of these nights." Lee was ready for this. "That might help long term, but I'm looking for something more immediate. As in, right now." Belva sighed. "I'm not sure you deserve it, but I don't like seeing you in pain." She dipped into the cooler and pulled out a vial of a bright green liquid. Lee had only been joking, but she was drawn to the vial now, her mouth watering. She took it from Belva, uncapped it, and shot it back. The taste was of plants picked too young--- sweet, raw, and nearly fizzing with life. She waited for something to happen. Nothing. Belva watched her intently, and Lee wondered at her curiosity. She'd probably given this hangover remedy thousands of times. And then Lee felt it. The smell of wet dust and the hum of the fluorescents and the staleness inside of her receded. In its place, the smell of dewy grass and the silent spill of sunshine and the feeling of a new day beginning spread through her. Like a phoenix, she was resurrected.

Collier understood and preached this swim-with-current-rather-than-against strategy. Do not arrive as an interruption or disruption, attempting to divert your reader's attention from the object it is focused on, fighting to interest him in something different from what he is already, at this moment, interested in. Instead, align yourself with the subjects already possessing his attention, the matters already garnering his interest, the self-talk conversation already occurring in his mind, and the conversations he is already having around the water-cooler at work or at the kitchen table at home with peers, friends, and family. About this, Collier wrote: “Study your reader first — your product second…. The reader of your letter wants certain things and the desire for them is, consciously or unconsciously, the dominant idea in his mind all the time. He is also engaged by the news or events or public conversations of the day. Put yourself in his place. If you were deep in discussion with a friend over some matter and a stranger came up and said: ‘Mister, I have a fine coat I want to sell you!’ — what would you do? The same thing happens when you approach a man by mail. He is in discussion with himself. If you just butt in, will you be welcome? How would you do it if approaching him and his friend in person? You'd listen and get the trend of the conversation. Then, when you chimed in, it would be with a remark on a related subject. Then you could gradually bring the talk around logically to the point you wanted to discuss. Study your reader. Know what interests him. Listen to the conversation he is already having with himself. Enter where he already is.” There are some obvious, perennially occurring attention dominators, such as seasons and holidays, and linking to these — regardless of whether your business naturally links or not — can be extremely helpful. You need not be a florist, jeweler, or restaurant to utilize Valentine's Day, for example. Beyond that, and deeper than that, every customer group has some shared item on their minds. Know it. Start your conversation with them with it. And be sure to take advantage of one of the great advantages of today's online media, including e-mail, blogs, and social media sites — being day to day, even hour by hour, timely. You can link a marketing message to world or local, financial, or cultural news of the moment — and you should.

If you hear someone at the water cooler say, “black peoples are always late,” you can definitely say, “hey, that’s racist.” But you can also add, “... and it contributes to false beliefs about black workers that keeps them from even being interviewed for jobs while white workers can be late or on time but will always be judged individually with no risk of damaging jobs for other white peoples seeking employment.

The warm surface layer is stable, and except in fierce storms, like hurricanes, it stays intact and the cooler waters below do not mix with it.

You said that last Monday morning, Elaine. This isn’t a goddamn strip club and we are not making small talk at the office water cooler. I don’t exactly do this shit for fun, I do it to pay for law school. Now, do something about him.” Jacqueline slammed her heels on the ground. “I know we’re not a fucking strip club. Let me go out and talk to him.” “I better get a bigger cut in tips this morning—

If you hear someone at the water cooler say, “black people are always late,” you can definitely say, “Hey, that’s racist” but you can also add, “and it contributes to false beliefs about black workers that keeps them from even being interviewed for jobs, while white workers can be late or on time, but will always be judged individually with no risk of damaging job prospects for other white people seeking employment.” That also makes it less likely that someone will brush you off saying “Hey, it’s not that big of a deal, don’t be so sensitive.” Tying racism to its systemic causes and effects will help others see the important difference between systemic racism, and anti-white bigotry. In addition, the more practice you have at tying individual racism to the system that gives it power, the more you will be able to see all the ways in which you can make a difference. Yes, you can demand that the teacher shouting racial slurs at Hispanic kids should be fired, but you can also ask what that school’s suspension rate for Hispanic kids is, ask how many teachers of color they have on staff, and ask that their policies be reviewed and reformed. Yes, you can definitely report your racist coworker to HR, but you can also ask your company management what processes they have in place to minimize racial bias in their hiring process, you can ask for more diversity in management and cultural sensitivity training for staff, and you can ask what procedures they have in place to handle allegations of racial discrimination. When we look at racism as a system, it becomes much

case, it is important to consume the right foods to drive out the dampness in the spleen. Foods that are good for both nourishing the spleen and getting rid of dampness include: winter melon, pumpkin, ginger, lotus roots, lotus seeds, Chinese barley, and Chinese yam. Because of the hot summer weather, it is good to balance out the body heat by consuming foods with cooler energies.  That also means you should avoid or cut down on foods with hot energies such as fried foods, meat (especially lamb) and lychee.  Example foods with cooler energies are water melon, bitter melon, peach, strawberries, tomato, mung bean, and cucumber.

iced hibiscus tea This tea is one of life’s simple pleasures. At Little Pine, it is a constant—as in, the staff is constantly awash in the stuff. You will be, too, once you’ve tried it. TIME: 15 MINUTES SERVES: 6 4 cups boiling water ½ cup loose-leaf Art of Tea Hibiscus Cooler or other dried hibiscus flowers 2 cinnamon sticks 1 star anise pod 4 cups room-temperature water Pour the boiling water into an 8-cup pitcher. Put the hibiscus tea into a tea bag. Drop the tea bag, cinnamon sticks, and star anise into the boiling water. Let steep for 15 minutes, then take the bag out of the water, leaving the cinnamon sticks and star anise. Add the room-temperature water, let the tea cool down, then enjoy.

Car Camping Tips and Tricks Arrive in camp with a full tank of gas. Gas stations can be few and far between in the mountains. Store food in the car at night to deter bears and critters. Slip a headlamp around a gallon jug of water, with the lens side facing the plastic, to illuminate your tent with ambient light. Freeze water in plastic jugs and bottles and use them in the cooler instead of loose ice. Make fire starters by rubbing petroleum jelly onto cotton balls. Store in a ziplock bag. Bring a Frisbee and after playing, clean it and use as a plate or cutting board. It can also be a shovel in emergencies. Before you leave, crack any eggs you’ll need into a reusable water bottle and store in your cooler. Place spices in a weekly plastic vitamin or medicine container and relabel the top.

There is another world under this, and it is like ours in everything—animals, plants, and people—save that the seasons are different. The streams that come down from the mountains are the trails by which we reach this underworld, and the springs at their heads are the doorways by which we enter it, but to do this one must fast and go to water and have one of the underground people for a guide. We know that the seasons in the underworld are different from ours, because the water in the springs is always warmer in winter and cooler in summer than the outer air.

As the panel elaborated on their 12 principles of Management 2.0, I realized that this new management model was powerfully grounded in social and collaborative principles that unleash the collective brainpower of an organization to drive innovation and success in an agile manner. This can be viewed as the new incarnation of the participatory style of management. Andrew Carusone's presentation, "Beyond the Water Cooler: Using Collaborative Technology to Drive Business" shared an implementation of this model at Lowe's. Carusone pointed out that workforce development today was all about developing awareness, creating engagement, and promoting commitment. In his model, management continues to have decision and approval authority, but all employees have the power to recommend, provide input, and perform their duties to the best of their abilities.

Notably, the trade winds that come from the east flow over mountains, hills, and valleys to produce drafts and gusts almost all over the islands. A lot of the ocean is cooled by a return current of cold water that runs down from the region of the Bering Straits. Taken together, these mean that the Hawaiian Islands are several degrees cooler than any other island at roughly the same latitude. On the whole, though, Hawaiʻi’s east-facing and west-facing sides are noticeably different. Its eastern sides are windy, rainy, and heavily wooded, with thick forests. The western sides are much sparser in vegetation, being warmer and drier. This difference in plant life is obvious enough to be seen from true color satellite images of Hawaiʻi.

Hawaiʻi has a hurricane season that runs from June to November, but the group of islands is buttressed from any real threat by the cooler waters that surround them.

But I couldn’t do it alone; my success relied heavily on my crew. Unlike most endurance events, Ultraman is a completely self-supported adventure. From a van that was packed floor to ceiling with spare bicycle parts, tools, food bins, canisters of race nutrition, coolers of ice water, overnight luggage, and enough race apparel to suit all weather conditions, it was up to my crew to not just cheerlead, but monitor my hydration and caloric intake, manage unforeseen obstacles like equipment failure, and navigate the many tricky turns necessary to keep me on course. Of course, nothing ever goes according to plan. But I’d assembled a great team that was captained by my cyclist friend Chris Uettwiller. Also helping out: the Buddha-like L. W. Walman, and my dad, who’d flown in from Washington, D.C., and was thrilled to be handling driving duties.

It was a pretty great picnic, if I do say so myself. I’d helped Mrs. B prepare it, and I enjoyed listening to Karina and my father ooh and ah as I took out tiny cherry tomatoes stuffed with spicy cheese filling; avocado, spinach, and red onion sandwiches with walnut oil vinaigrette on seven grain bread; mozzarella sandwiches with roasted red peppers and pickled mushrooms on Italian bread; peanut butter and apple butter sandwiches on whole wheat bread; new potato salad with dill; and grapes and strawberries and kiwi fruit salad with poppy seed dressing. Plus granola bars for snacks. “And for dessert we have cheesecake with raspberry sauce,” I announced, taking the last bottle of sparkling water out of the cooler.

I’m not embarrassed to admit I think Shoji is a lot cooler than I am, even if he is younger than me. He’s always so calm—bordering on mysterious, even. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve; he keeps it in a locked box with all of his dreams and expressions because he doesn’t want to share them with the rest of the world. I don’t have that kind of control. My feelings tend to burst out of me like I’m a water balloon. Mom always says it’s because I’m overly sensitive, but I can’t help it. I don’t have a box to hide my emotions the way Shoji does. And besides, everything breaks eventually if it’s put under enough strain. Even titanium. That’s not sensitivity—that’s science.

The Mortuary Committee would be burdened with many unenviable tasks, but the first was straightforward: instead of storing the corpses at a half dozen locations around town, which made it more difficult for soldiers to transport the bodies and record-keepers and families to find them, they needed to select a single building to house an official, temporary morgue. They quickly settled on the Chebucto Road School, which, despite its broken windows, had a lot to recommend it: it was large, it could be quickly cleared out and converted to its new purpose, and it was close to Pier 6, minimizing the transport of corpses and travel for their relatives. The committee also needed a place that could keep bodies for as long as possible, giving them the best chance of being identified. They designated the upper floors for offices and the wide-open, cooler basement for the bodies, which they planned to lay in rows and cover with sheets. The Royal Engineers quickly fixed up the damaged school, covered its windows, and cleaned the space. As soon as people learned of the location, bodies began to pile up outside the building, stacked two and three high until morgue workers could retrieve them. The Relief Committee also dispatched crews of volunteers to put out fires and turn off water mains, faucets, and spigots, and to pick up the dead—tagging their names, when they knew them, to the victims’ wrists, or simply attaching a number when they didn’t—loading them onto rudimentary flat wagons dozens at a time. They soon learned to conduct this dispiriting job late at night so as not to offend the friends and relatives of the deceased. But because everyone could hear the horses’ hooves each night, the rolling midnight morgue was a poorly kept secret, one that woke many Haligonians whose homes still lacked windows.

She pulled a half pint of Jack Daniel’s out of her purse and poured me a shot in a small paper cup she took from the water cooler. “Dr. Jack always makes house calls and the boy cures what ails you.

He’d spread out several quilts and a couple of pillows. A cooler was in the far corner. I crawled to the middle and sat down. Beau stood at the tailgate, watching me. The shadows from the moonlight shaded his eyes, so I couldn’t be sure what he was thinking. “Are you coming?” I asked, almost scared of his answer. “Yeah, I got a little sidetracked by the view,” he replied. A shiver of anticipation ran through me as he crawled onto the truck bed. Kneeling in front of me, he reached out to take my right foot and lay it against his jean-clad thigh. Fascinated, I watched him as he undid my sandal and placed it beside the cooler. He placed my foot back down on the blanket then reached for my left foot, and with the same slow careful attention, he removed my other sandal. Once both my feet were bare, he lifted his gaze to meet mine. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “I like your pink toenails,” he replied, glancing back down at my feet. My silly heart thumped wildly in my chest, and I let out a nervous laugh. “It’s cotton candy. The color is, I mean.” I couldn’t even form coherent sentences. “I like cotton candy. Those toes of yours just may be sweeter, though.” As he moved to sit down beside me, his warm hand squeezed my foot closest to him. Neither of us spoke as we stared out over the still water. I’d never been so nervous in my life. Beau shifted beside me and then lay back on the pillows behind us. I turned slightly to peer down at him. Did he want me to lie down too? Tucking one arm behind his head and stretching the other out beside him, Beau grinned up at me as if he could read my mind. “Come here,” he said. I quickly scooted over and curled up next to him, resting my head on his chest. There was a peace in his arms I’d never experienced with Sawyer. It was as if I’d come home after years of searching.

Second, you need an effective opening. That means thanking the group that invited you to speak and expressing appreciation if someone gives you a nice introduction. Next, you should tell a joke or story to loosen up the crowd and show your human side. For example, after expressing appreciation for an effusive introduction, I might say, “But you forgot my basketball career!” I would then briefly recount my teenage efforts to guard Calvin Murphy, who went on to be a high scorer at college and an All-Star player for the Houston Rockets. I was determined to guard Calvin closely—if he went to the water cooler during time-outs, I went, too. By guarding Calvin really closely for the whole game, I held him to 56 points—only 6 above his season’s average. At that point I decided to give up my basketball ambitions and concentrate on finance.

On our way back to Los Angeles, we drove down through Grapevine Canyon on the northern end of Death Valley. This is where Scotty’s Castle is located, with its cooling system and power provided by an underground spring. Everything was so different from anything I had known back East, and very interesting. We continued through Death Valley, with water bags hanging from the car’s front bumper and a water cooler tightly clamped into a window on the passenger side. There were no rest areas in the desert, so we had to make stops alongside the road. Out in the open, in the middle of the day, this was the way to get back to nature! We hadn’t seen a car in hours, so there was no problem regarding modesty. In those days, cars were not as reliable as now. Driving through Death Valley at high noon in the middle of summer wasn’t the brightest idea, but it was an adventure! It was so hot that I watched my urine sizzle and instantly evaporate off the pavement of Badwater Road, which runs the length of the valley. At Stovepipe Wells we turned west on SR 190, heading towards Keeler and Dolomite. On this stretch of road we could look ahead and see Mount Whitney with its summit being 14,505 feet above sea level. It was exciting to see the highest mountain in front of us and look back to the lowest point in the United States at 282 feet below sea level. At that time, Alaska and Hawaii were not yet in the Union. Now Mount McKinley in Alaska tops Mount Whitney by 5,732 feet, being 20,237 feet high.

For an organization consisting mainly of engineers, whiteboards served as the corporate equivalent of the water cooler.

water coolers, water filtration system, water filters

He reasons that if the flow of heat from a hot place to a cooler one can create motive power and raise a weight, then a machine can exist that does the opposite. In this machine, the motive power obtained from a falling weight will force heat to flow “uphill” from cool sink to hot furnace. There is a direct analogy with water mills and water pumps. The former uses the downward flow of water to produce motive power; the latter uses power to push water uphill.

With all the different options that home owners have nowadays regarding water delivery services, how do you choose? At the least, you want the ordering process to be quick and easy. The water should be clean, crisp, and refreshing. Having options regarding the types of water you can choose and how you access the water is ideal, whether it’s a case of individual bottles or a water cooler with access to instant hot or cold water. The home water delivery process should be convenient and stress-free. With nearly 30 years in business and roots in the industry that go back centuries, h2go Water On Demand. is proud to offer all of the above. Keep reading to discover the PWI Advantage, the reasons that make us the best home and office water delivery company in CA. Call us at- (510) 556-4380

A weird thing happens when people watch a viral video. In catching up with a cultural touchstone, the clip everyone's talking about at the water cooler, we assume we're on top of the whole story. After all, we've seen what everyone else has seen. Whatever gets edited out isn't part of the conversation.

The smoky smell of the first burgers hitting the grill lured the early arrivers to the backyard, and the barbecue kicked off. Mae left the front door unlocked and opened the back gate to let people come as they pleased. Slowly, the table filled with more food beyond Mae's contributions: Harriet's cornbread, Patty's tea cakes, a burger and hot dog station Jeremiah had set up, Phyllis's coleslaw, collard greens with pink flecks of ham from another of Althea's church friends, a watermelon and cucumber salad from Marlene and Joan, and more. In the ice-filled coolers Mae and Connor had set out, people were helping themselves to sodas, beers, water, and---once Richard arrived---homemade cider.