Swimming Trunks Research Articles

Jumping Sharks

Jumping Sharks

PERFIL EPIDEMIOLÓGICO E CLÍNICO DE CRIANÇAS COM NEVO MELANOCÍTICO CONGÊNITO GIGANTE EM UM SERVIÇO DE DERMATOLOGIA

ABSTRACT: Objective: to describe five children with Congenital Giant Melanocytic Nevus (NMCG) at the Dermatology Service at the State University of Pará in Belém - PA, Brazil. Case description: patients aged 1 to 11 years, four of whom were female, all of them brown, in good nutritional status, prenatal without complications, and denied consanguinity. The five cases presented lesions on the trunk, with different distribution patterns: swimming trunks (1), body (1), back (1), and bolero (2), most with more than fifty satellite lesions containing hypertrichosis and pruritus. In the histopathological analysis, all of them were compatible with a nevus, one of the cases was associated with a neurofibroma, two with neurocutaneous melanosis and one with melanoma in the brain, evolving to death. Comments: Congenital Giant Melanocytic Nevus is a rare condition, defined by the presence of a melanocytic lesion, measuring at least 20 cm, present since birth. It has its clinical relevance due to the association with serious complications such as melanoma and / or neurocutaneous melanosis. The registration of this series aims to contribute to greater knowledge about the disease, which has physical, psycho-emotional, social, and risk of malignancy implications.

Perfil epidemiológico e clínico de crianças com nevo melanocítico congênito gigante em um serviço de dermatologia

OBJECTIVE: to describe five children with Congenital Giant Melanocytic Nevus (NMCG) at the Dermatology Service at the State University of Pará in Belém - PA, Brazil. CASE DESCRIPTION: patients aged 1 to 11 years, four of whom were female, all of them brown, in good nutritional status, prenatal without complications, and denied consanguinity. The five cases presented lesions on the trunk, with different distribution patterns: swimming trunks (1), body (1), back (1), and bolero (2), most with more than fifty satellite lesions containing hypertrichosis and pruritus. In the histopathological analysis, all of them were compatible with a nevus, one of the cases was associated with a neurofibroma, two with neurocutaneous melanosis and one with melanoma in the brain, evolving to death. COMMENTS: Congenital Giant Melanocytic Nevus is a rare condition, defined by the presence of a melanocytic lesion, measuring at least 20 cm, present since birth. It has its clinical relevance due to the association with serious complications such as melanoma and / or neurocutaneous melanosis. The registration of this series aims to contribute to greater knowledge about the disease, which has physical, psycho-emotional, social, and risk of malignancy implications.

Application of gas stations production Group Magnezit LLC for hot repairs of slopes of arc furnace-2 «BMZ ― Management company BMK holding»

The tests of the new filling mass of the production of the Magnesite group of the Magram P88 brand were carried out. Fighting lining repair was carried out on arc furnace № 2 of BMZ ― Management company BMK holding. The resistance of the mass of the brand Magram P88 with 2,5 wt. % temporary organic binder amounted to 18 swimming trunks, and with 1,5 wt. % ― 13 swimming trunks. The mass of the Magram P88 brand, compared with the mass of the Martenit-Om brand, is more evenly laid, having a greater adhesion to the working lining of the slopes, also its cost is 30 % lower. Ill. 1. Ref. 1. Tab. 3.

De zwembroek van de apostel Petrus

The present article shows how in late antique literature Christianity and classical culture are intertwined like grapevines, by offering a literary comparison between Nonnus of Panopolis’ Paraphrase of the Gospel of John and his Dionysiaca. It gives an example of the way in which Nonnus’ spirit is present in both works, the former a biblical epic dictated by the rules of the paraphrase, the latter an exuberant free-flowing creative work on the pagan god Dionysus. After a brief sketch of the cultural context and the paraphrasing technique, I analyse Nonnus’ metaphors, relating them to the Gospel of John on the one hand and to the Dionysiaca on the other. I then demonstrate how Nonnus turns a simple remark about the apostle Peter jumping into the water (John 21:7-8) into a full-blown and vivid epic narration (Paraphrase 21.35-54). The swimming trunks of Peter show that the same writer’s blood pulses through both the Paraphrase and the Dionysiaca.

Sonnet # 3, and: Sonnet # 5, and: Sonnet # 7, and: Flight to Portland

Sonnet # 3, and: Sonnet # 5, and: Sonnet # 7, and: Flight to Portland Jalen Eutsey (bio) Sonnet # 3 In the dream of the life you did or didnot live, disease spins eddies in the bloodof your kin and bullets do what they willin the dark. Yet the repast still smellsof fried catfish and ham hocks—someone mustmake a run for more hot sauce. In the dreamthat is memoir, you died before a kingtide swept through the city and reshaped coast-line and inland escape without bias,before anyone could solve the brutalmystery of blue—you never gave MaggieNelson the time of day. What about gray—the brain’s subtle decay, another coastleft lifeless, left longing in rank silence. [End Page 42] Sonnet # 5 The story always starts with slaves,a sucked-up swamp, some ill-placed railway,and generations worth of loot overstuffedinto bags & bull-knotted aroundthe ankles of the not yet dead. Later,the capital starts to play its bloodymelody. Song of Solomon, your choicebook in the good word. There was a poetdeep inside you when you said, you got tobring yours to get mine, when you curved orangeand road, and planned a grandchild’s whooping.Like the perfect bend of a switch, the turntakes time to master. In the dream of life,this sonnet is the sole box you’ll sleep in. [End Page 43] Sonnet # 7 For Biker Boy Will How could America ever love you?She misunderstands your fresh pressed white T,the gaudy ticking gold on your left wrist,the swim trunks and fitted, the retro Jsgracing the grimy pink-red outside courts.She don’t know what to do with all your swaggerand braggadocious bluster, the gum-flappingwolf—pronounced woof—tickets. You said,the losing team’s son aint gon eat tonight.You said the game was for five racks.You could lie your ass off.You said, this shit is really really hard.But of course, there is a mother’s protection—my old girl kept me in the house and I thank her for that. [End Page 44] Flight to Portland We all have weak, uncontrollablebladders, brutally boxed inon this Boeing Airbus. The head flight attendantis a whip of a man,tall and southern, his briskwalk only bested bythe tempo of his tongue. His quick wit I suspectis both weapon and shield,from what I wonder? The flitter in his voicewhen he says down,makes an older gentlemanchuckle and reminisceon a past lover. All of us on this full flighthave named him I’m sure—Boy Wonder, Rude Boy,Waylon, maybe. I’m a flight attendant,I’ve had it all, he says.Any other questions? [End Page 45] Jalen Eutsey jalen eutsey is a poet, librarian, and sportswriter from Miami, Florida. He received an mfa in Poetry from the Writing Seminars at Johns Hopkins University. His work has been published in or is forthcoming from South Florida Poetry Journal, Nashville Review, storySouth, Harpur Palate, and others. Copyright © 2022 Jalen Eutsey

Skansen czy skarbnica? Obraz kultury materialnej bydgoszczan zapisany w ich gwarze miejskiej (analiza etymologiczna)

The study concerns the names of clothing, home furnishings, everyday objects, tools, and means of transport contained in the lexicon of the Bydgoszcz city dialect. This lexical stock includes the names of the outer garment (e.g. buks ‘trousers’), recreational clothes (badeje ‘swimming trunks’), headgear (e.g. lujmycka ‘hooligan’s cap’), footwear (e.g. kropusy ‘men’s shoes with high uppers’). Another area is the apartment; for example, the names of kitchen equipment have German origin (e.g. ausgust ‘kitchen sink’, kastrolka ‘saucepan’). This also concerns the names of three stools differing in height: the lowest one is called ryczka, a taller one is szemel, and the tallest is hoker. Texts in the Bydgoszcz city dialect also contain the names of artefacts necessary to perform everyday activities, such as cleaning (e.g. szruber ‘rice brush’) or laundry (e.g. balia ‘large wooden bath tub’). A separate place in the material culture of the inhabitants of Bydgoszcz is occupied by technological vocabulary, such as the names of tools (żaga ‘saw’) and transport (e.g. rolwaga ‘horse-drawn cart for transportation of goods’). Most of the names are Germanisms. A smaller number come from rural or folk dialects (e.g. modre ‘bleaching agent’, rydelek ‘visor of a cap’, szlory ‘old, trodden footwear’, trygiel ‘cast iron pot’). It is concluded that the city dialect is not only a museum or heritage park but also a treasury of old words.

МАГНИТОМЕТРИЧЕСКИЙ ПОДХОД К ИЗУЧЕНИЮ ВЛИЯНИЯ УГЛЕРОДА И АЗОТА НА КОРРОЗИОННУЮ СТОЙКОСТЬ АУСТЕНИТНЫХ ХРОМОНИКЕЛЕВЫХ СТАЛЕЙ

Extensive investigations of the corrosion resistance of austenitic chromium-nickel steels (with stable and unstable austenite) do not reveal the full nature of the phenomena studied. By the magnetometric method, using the specific magnetic susceptibility c0 of austenite and low content Рd d-ferrite (0…0.5 %), the corrosion properties of steels were studied. These parameters are determined by the chemical composition of steel, heat treatment and deformation. The pitting corrosion rate correlates with these parameters. In the scientific literature, the results of studies of the corrosion resistance of metals with variation over a wide range of carbon and nitrogen contents are given. In this work, the influence of these elements in five swimming trunks of each steel grade AISI 304 and AISI 321 is investigated. In steels AISI 304 and AISI 321, with an increase in c0 and Рd (under the condition low content of d-ferrite), the pitting corrosion rate К decreases. The values of c0 and Рd from the total content Q (wt.%) of all alloying elements for each melt are determined. The dependences of the corrosion rate K on Q for each melt of AISI 304 and AISI 321 steels are obtained. Various forms of К(Q) dependency curves are caused by a lower content of nickel, silicon and a higher content of chromium, manganese, carbon, nitrogen in AISI 304 steel. Also in AISI 321 steel, titanium is present. The dependences of К, c0 and Рd on the content of carbon and nitrogen, in the presence of all other alloying elements, are determined. Various (presence of a maximum or minimum) parabolic dependencies of К, c0 and Рd on the carbon and nitrogen contents were revealed. For melts of steel AISI 304, of the effect carbon and nitrogen on corrosion resistance are the opposite of the sum of all other alloying elements. For melts of steel AISI 321, the carbon present makes a smaller contribution to corrosion resistance compared to nitrogen. For AISI 321 steel melts, an ambiguous character of the dependence of the pitting corrosion rate K on the total content Q of all other alloying elements was found. Two values of Q (a parabolic dependence of K(Q)) can correspond to one value of K. The critical points (the content of alloying elements), before and after which the parameters c0, Pd can increase or decrease, are determined. As a result, the paramagnetic state of austenite changes, which correlates with a change in the corrosion properties of steel.

Effect of wearing jeans on the back muscle flexion-relaxation phenomenon

The flexion–relaxation phenomenon (FRP) in back muscles is related to the lower back load. Although the FRP has been widely discussed, the effect of wearing jeans—a common attire in workplaces—on the FRP is unexplored. This study recruited 20 male participants with high and low flexibilities (10 each) and measured the related muscle activity and lumbopelvic movement at five trunk flexion angles (0°–90°) when wearing two types of bottom wears (swim trunks and fit jeans). Results revealed that the bottom wear type and trunk angle significantly affected all responses, whereas flexibility affected only erector spinae and hamstring activities. Participants with high flexibility and wearing swim trunks exhibited greater erector spinae activity than did those with low flexibility and wearing jeans. Thus, those who have low flexibility or are wearing jeans are likely to experience more activity reductions in erector spinae. However, the result with hamstring activity was the opposite. Wearing jeans limited participants’ pelvic rotation, forcing them to bend their lumbar spine further to complete trunk flexion, thus reducing erector spinae activity. A looser attire should be chosen to avoid constraining the pelvic rotation when work involves a deep trunk flexion. Relevance to industryPeople wearing jeans have limited pelvic movement and decreased erector spinae activity during deep trunk flexion, and this may further strain their interspinous ligaments. Thus, people should not wear fit jeans when in workplaces where their work involves stooping or trunk flexion exceeding 45° to minimize the load on their lower back.

Physical and chemical bases of decarburization of high-carbon ferromanganese melt

The aim of the work is to establish physicochemical patterns of behavior of carbon, silicon, manganese when using the method of oxygen purge of high-carbon ferromanganese. Method. The process of blowing red metal to sour is neglected. With the fusion of fused acid, it is more important to oxidize silicon. Its presence in metal is practical in the block of oxidized manganese. Because oxygen is an assimilation gas, the mixing processes of the converter bath components and the reduction of manganese oxides at the metal-slag interface do not develop properly during purging. The smelters of the medium-carbonaceous ferromanganese in the converter are characterized by a stable chemical warehouse and even a higher number of vimogs for this type of alloy. The low concentration of silicon in metal over a number of swimming trunks can be easily shoved with a hat of pre-purge bathtub with sour at the final stage of refining. The behavior of phosphorus in these smelts is not controlled. The content of P2O5 in the final slag is 0.1%. To achieve acceptable concentrations of phosphorus in the metal, it is necessary to use starting materials with a low phosphorus content. Scientific novelty.Taking into consideration the high affinity of silicon for oxygen, the physical and chemical basis for the production of medium-carbon ferromanganese, as well as metallic manganese and low-carbon ferromanganese, is the process of the interaction of manganese oxides of a certain basicity slag melt with silicon dissolved in ferromanganese (manganese), that is, as combined reduction -refining process to produce manganese ferroalloys with a given silicon content standard

Atomic City

Atomic City Lacey Rowland (bio) Fathers In the high desert, fathers don't stick around. Something about the arid heat, or the brutal winters, drives them away. Pete's dad stuck around, but it wasn't pretty. Calvin never knew his father, he jetted off before his mother had a chance to say, "I'm pregnant." My father stuck around as long as he could. My father was a spent-fuel handler for the Idaho Nuclear Laboratory. My mother worried that the radiation would poison him, that it would melt his insides. Sometimes she would kid, tell him that she was starting to notice a strange glow around him, an aura. My father would laugh, a laugh with an edge. I imagined my father working in a nuclear plant like the one on the Simpsons. It made the worry easier. They found my father slumped over the steering wheel of his truck at a rest stop off the highway. He was coming home, and he must have needed a little shut-eye. The coroner said his heart failed him. I remember in science class dissecting pig hearts. How the heart lay limp on the little metal tray, splayed out with pins to hold it in place. I didn't think it looked like all that much, a lump of muscle. I didn't think about that pig heart again for years until I saw the urn with my father's ashes on my mother's bedside table. Pioneers As kids, Calvin and I collected soda cans. Our garages filled with bulging black garbage sacks of them. Coke Red and Pepsi Blue. Our teeth ached from sugar. We took our collection out to the pasture, stacked them on a ragged fence line or a rusted-out barrel and took turns shooting them with my grandfather's antique pellet gun. We pretended we were pioneers on the range. Sometimes we were on the Oregon Trail. I'd contract cholera or dysentery or small pox. Calvin never got sick, said his mother told him he had a "good constitution." But sometimes he'd pretend to be shot in the chest with arrows, or a victim of stagecoach robbery. Our deaths were always slow and painful, drawn out and melodramatic. When we'd shot our fill, we'd collect the cans and cut them into shapes with tin snips. Hung them by fishing line in a grove of Russian olives by the irrigation canal to mark our territory. The cans told other children in our neighborhood to stay away, that this was our land now. [End Page 156] This Is What It Means To Be Alone It is possible for a man to go his whole life in solitude, surviving a year off thirty pounds of salt, a can of tobacco and a box of matches. Maurizio Montalbini lived alone in a cave for 210 days. I can go days without saying a word, and in a crowd of people I feel like drowning. The Pool Summer before our senior year, Calvin's mom bought one of those doughboy pools from the Walmart in Idaho Falls. Pete and Calvin were fighting again, one of their regular fights, but once we set up the pool walls and filled it with water and the proper chemicals, the blue gem brokered a truce between them, however temporary. Calvin's mom dragged out a tired air mattress, the velvet top rubbed raw, and we took turns blowing it up. Each time someone would see stars, see the light fading in their eyes from lack of oxygen, we'd pass it off. Pete would wipe the nozzle with the hem of his swim trunks after Calvin, as if worried he'd catch whatever it was that made Calvin Calvin. We'd had a series of violent thunderstorms, ones that would rile up the horses and get them running in circles around the pen. That summer, it was dry lightning that caused the first fire. After that, the flames licked up mountainside after mountainside. From the flats we could see a wall of smoke that lingered around the foothills. "It's all about the pool," Pete said, with a wink...

Jabari Jumps by Cornwall, Gaia

Reviewed by: Jabari Jumps by Cornwall, Gaia Elizabeth Bush Cornwall, Gaia Jabari Jumps; written and illus. by Gaia Cornwall. Candlewick, 2017 [32p] ISBN 978-0-7636-7838-8 $15.99 Reviewed from galleys R* 3-6 yrs Today is the day. Swim trunks—check. Goggles—check. High dive at the pool—bring it on. Jabari's a great jumper, after all, so he insists he's not scared in the least. Dad is keeping his own counsel on this one, holding his son's hand as they scope out the board: "'Looks easy,' Jabari said. But when his dad squeezed his hand, Jabari squeezed back." Jabari approaches the ladder, and then lets other kids go first. All of them. Halfway up the ladder, he takes Dad's suggestion that he break for "a tiny rest." Do a little stretching. Maybe wait until tomorrow. Then he thinks about Dad's comment that sometimes a scary thing can feel like a surprise. Up the ladder and off the board Jabari jumps, surfaces, triumphs: "Surprise double backflip is next!" There are plenty of picture books reassuring kids who don't quite achieve their own goals when they want to (see, for example, Ashley Spires's The Thing Lou Couldn't Do, BCCB 4/17), but here Cornwall celebrates success earned through overcoming fears and through reliance on the supportive presence of a loving parent. The collage and mixed-media artwork, with deep brown skinned Jabari and his family solid figures against the cool turquoise of the pool and surrounding urban greenery, captures Jabari's trepidation and courage as he approaches the diving board—the ladder that seems to go up forever—and peers down to the water, which looks to be miles below his toes. Pool season is right around the corner, and this funny and joyful outing will put everyone in the mood for a dip. Copyright © 2017 The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois

Haze

Haze Yusef Komunyakaa (bio) Characters (in their twenties): The Inquisitor Ralph, Master of Rules Morgan, Master of Arms Simon Jindal, a Pledge Antonio Chen, a Pledge Eugene Maceo, a Pledge The Tattooed Oracle / A Dancer Setting Time and Place: Now. Near a quarry in a college town. The lights come up slowly on Antonio Chen and Eugene Maceo locked in pillory stocks, facing the audience, their heads covered with black hoods. Birds chirp. A wheelbarrow of torture devices sits at the rear of the stage. A military drum is on the ground near Antonio and Eugene. The splashing sounds of Ralph and Morgan diving into the quarry. Antonio and Eugene struggle to break free from the stocks. The birds stop chirping. Antonio and Eugene freeze. Ralph and Morgan run on stage; both wear swim trunks, water dripping off them. Morgan rolls the wheelbarrow to the front of the stage. Ralph goes to the wheelbarrow, unties a bundle of switches, and takes one out. He walks over and does a mock thrashing of Antonio and Eugene, grinning. Ralph: They call me Torquemada’s son, and that’s all you need to know about my pedigree. (A grand sweep of his arms.) You see, this little gala is arranged for you. (Antonio and Eugene shift in the stocks.) Do I sense a slight protest? (Pause) Look, you asked for this! Did we run begging at your door?! (Pause) Damn, I get so incensed when initiates attempt to wriggle out of a grand deal with the higher powers. [End Page 844] Morgan shakes his head. Morgan: Hathor, have mercy on these two. Ralph: It’s hard to trust a man who’d shed his skin easy as a snake. Morgan: But there’s gonna be a hot damn time in the old hoedown this evenin’. Ralph: (glances at his watch) Especially if Simon doesn’t get his ass back here on the dot. Morgan: Maybe we should’ve dispatched him on that mission. Ralph: We? Morgan: Yeah. Ralph: You! Morgan: We’re brothers, Ralph. Ralph: No, it was your harebrained idea. Morgan: Are you sure, pighead? Ralph: You out rank me. Morgan: A spur of the moment thing. Ralph: It’s all about power, Morgan. Morgan: I’m the most caring guy in our little autocratic club. Ralph: You can’t be serious. Morgan: When Simon gets back he’s almost full-fledged. Ralph: It didn’t have to happen now. Morgan: We put that boy through the wringer. Ralph: One step at a time down a long road, that’s my motto. [End Page 845] Morgan: He’s almost one of us. Ralph: Almost is almost big as if. Morgan: We have to work together. Ralph: That’s exactly my point. Ralph walks over to the wheelbarrow and pulls out two squirt cans; he gives one to Morgan, and both squirt milky water on to the heads of Antonio and Eugene. Morgan: This is maggot shit. Ralph: And maggot shit begets other maggots. Morgan: A fucking whole maggot horde. Ralph: How good is your imagination? Morgan: When does the silent eating—the devouring begin? Ralph: Brother, haven’t you heard? Morgan: Huh? Ralph: There’s no time in limbo. Morgan: But maggots say there’s alchemy in the spheres. Simon runs on the stage, in blackface, clutching a large purse. He falls to the ground. Simon: (overly dramatic) No more! Never again! Ralph: Good Lord, boy, at least try to stay inside your skin. Simon: This is it! Morgan: Another fucking plebe. Morgan and Ralph stand there, nodding their heads. Simon: She looks like my mom. [End Page 846] Ralph: Another tenderfoot. Simon: Why do we have to be brutes? Morgan: Are you getting soft? Ralph: Anything soft makes me hard. Simon: Her eyes. Ralph: And merciless. Simon: She looks like mom. (Pause) Ten years older. Ralph: That’s your problem. Simon: We could feed the homeless or something. Ralph: We’re putting pepper in the eggnog. Morgan grabs the purse from Simon; he rifles through it, tossing items to the ground. Morgan: Damn, look at this booty. Ralph: We could steal from the rich and give to the poor. Simon: She...

Fun in the Sun by David Catrow (review)

Reviewed by: Fun in the Sun by David Catrow Jeannette Hulick Catrow, David Fun in the Sun; written and illus. by David Catrow. Holiday House, 2015 30p ISBN 978-0-8234-2945-5 $16.95 R 4-6 yrs A rotund, Chihuahua-like dog takes a jaunt to the beach with his pet goldfish and, once he finds a good spot (after he mistakenly sets up camp on the large tummy of a sunbathing man), he enjoys lunch, a dip in the water, and some kite-flying, before heading for home. Stripping off his fabulous striped swim trunks he declares, “I hope I didn’t forget anything,” while the readers will notice his intense sunburn—highlighted by the white, underwear-shaped patch where his swimsuit was—and a bottle of unused sunblock. It’s an amusing story that will make a funny readaloud selection, and the simple text (“It’s time to rinse off. We splish, we splash, we float like a boat”) is also accessible to beginning readers. Catrow’s zany pencil and watercolor illustrations not only help flesh out the narrative but also humorously articulate the understated text. The dog’s declaration to a fellow beachgoer that “you, sir, have a silly hat” is accompanied by a rib-tickling image of a man with a duck floaty ring on his head, while “Fish has made a friend” captions a large green octopus overflowing the bowl of unfazed Fish. Catrow’s human figures are comically grotesque, and their exaggerated absurdity is droll, and the pudgy, pop-eyed little canine is endearing. This would make a diverting addition to a storytime about beaches or pets, or, shared in an educational setting, an amusing way to help primary-graders make that transition from summer to schoolwork. Copyright © 2015 The Board of Trustees of the University of Illinois

Off We Go Like a Herd of Turtles

Whenever we went to ocean, we had assigned tasks. Four children, two boys and two girls, all under age of five-my sister grabbed towels, strong brother grabbed cooler, younger brother would collect toys, and I, even then a bit too occupied with appearance, usually got sunscreen and hats. We repeated these acts so often they were second nature.My mother, a large woman who was uncomfortable in a bathing suit, rarely joined in. She hid her body, herself, away from us most of time. So when Dad called, off we'd run, four little children, bleached blonde by sun, nearly impossible to tell apart. We'd gather supplies and pile into brown-and-cream-colored van that we'd named Beach Wagon and say in unison, Off we go like a herd of turtles! while Mom watched from window.For especially long trips to Connecticut shoreline, we'd add a plastic shell on top of Beach Wagon to stow chairs and coolers in. We, of course, called this the turtle. So we'd go, in our herd, and unpack our belongings and begin our play.One day as I grabbed suit to head to beach, I noticed it was still wet from day before. It was draped across shower curtain rod in bathroom. The bathing suit looked tired.Daddy! I yelled, uncertainty in high-pitched voice, my swimsuit's still wet!That's not a problem, ApriIJo, he replied, walking in a few minutes later. His blue eyes beamed against his tan skin as he pulled out a pair of brother's bright-orange swim trunks and handed them to me. Just wear these instead.So I did.At beach, I marveled at way water felt against bare chest, imagining that somehow I was swimming in a different ocean. This new ocean was colder, more bubbly with water that was more slidey. One moment, I was a fish! Dolphin! Otter! I leapt face first into waves, relishing impact-an explosion of cold and salty goodness that left me tingly. I'd never noticed that in ruffled one-piece I'd separated myself from so much feeling. My mother had always been pretty strict about idea that a young girl shouldn't wear a two-piece, but father's offering of trunks was a beautiful glimpse into a world I didn't know was so different. The water, which had always felt like home to me, offered me new secrets with each dunk. I followed wispy trails of clams and shellfish underwater with eyes open and watched crossing light of waves above me dance across skin. I was more connected with water than I'd ever been.But a fish, I was not. After swimming for a while, I noticed prunes on fingertips and headed to beach to warm up and dry off.A group of children around kindergarten age, like me, had gathered to make sandcastles on shore. My brother and sister were among them, Lorene in her fluorescent-pink suit, twin, James, in a pair of brightgreen shorts, similar to mine. Walking up, I recognized a boy and girl from school.Hi, guys, I said, waving a wrinkled hand. Can I join?The boy looked at me and grimaced, his face scrunching into a tiny rippled ball before it opened back up again.'Are you a boy or a girl? he asked.Everybody working on sandcastle put down their shovels.At first, I wasn't sure that he was talking to me. I looked over at James. Being twins, we have similar faces. The same big eyebrows, high cheekbones, and a mouth that seems too wide for thin lips that surround it. And, in current outfit, James and I had same bare chest-ribs sticking out and deep holes where our collarbones jutted from our necks. James turned his face to sand, where his yellow plastic shovel had been digging a moat.I'm April.The other kids resumed digging, sandcastle a higher priority than ambiguous appearance. The moat was getting deeper by second. I reached for bucket, but a hand moved it away. …

The relationship between radiant heat, air temperature and thermal comfort at rest and exercise

The aims of the present work were to investigate the relationships between radiant heat load, air velocity and body temperatures with or without coincidental exercise to determine the physiological mechanisms that drive thermal comfort and thermoregulatory behaviour. Seven male volunteers wearing swimming trunks in 18°C, 22°C or 26°C air were exposed to increasing air velocities up to 3ms−1 and self-adjusted the intensity of the direct radiant heat received on the front of the body to just maintain overall thermal comfort, at rest or when cycling (60W, 60rpm). During the 30min of the experiments, skin and rectal temperatures were continuously recorded. We hypothesized that mean body temperature should be maintained stable and the intensity of the radiant heat and the mean skin temperatures would be lower when cycling. In all conditions, mean body temperature was lower when facing winds of 3ms−1 than during the first 5min, without wind. When facing winds, in all but the 26°C air, the radiant heat was statistically higher at rest than when exercising. In 26°C air mean skin temperature was lower at rest than when exercising. No other significant difference was observed. In all air temperatures, high correlation coefficients were observed between the air velocity and the radiant heat load. Other factors that we did not measure may have contributed to the constant overall thermal comfort status despite dropping mean skin and body temperatures. It is suggested that the allowance to behaviourally adjust the thermal environment increases the tolerance of cold discomfort.

The Year I Learned Everything

The Year I Learned Everything Roxane Gay (bio) 1. It is summer in a dead-end town. There's not much good to say about that. I have been spending a lot of time at the community center pool. The lifeguards at the pool are all ugly so it's kind of a waste of time. I always hope I'll see a cute boy there and I like how the hot pavement feels when I walk barefoot. One of the lifeguards, his name is Jason Miller. He's in college and still has terrible acne. I feel sorry for him. Acne is supposed to go away when you're in college. You're supposed to grow into your looks. He seems pretty lonely. Even though he wears sunglasses all the time, he stares at me. I always set my towel right next to his lifeguard stand and make sure to wear my skimpiest bikini. I feel like I'm doing a good deed. Sometimes, after he jumps in the water to help a kid who can't swim or whatever, he climbs back into his seat and water from his body drips on me. He tastes like chlorine and sunscreen. I keep waiting for him to ask me out. He knows I'm going to be a senior this year; I told him. I think he's afraid of girls. My brother says men who are afraid of girls are gay but Jason Miller isn't gay. When I roll onto my back and see him staring at me, I also see a rise in his swim trunks. Last week, I saw him at the Skate & Bowl with some of his friends. He's the best looking of the bunch so you can imagine how ugly his friends are. They were all bowling and really getting into it like total fucking losers. I mean honestly, it's bowling. My dad bowls. Bowling is the only thing that makes him happy but he's old so he has an excuse. These guys are like nineteen or twenty and bowling makes them happy. There's no hope. Anyway, Jason Miller was sitting off to the side drinking a beer. He must have a fake id. He looked lonelier than he does at the pool. I sat next to him and started drinking his beer. He didn't say anything so I stared at him and slowly drank every drop of that beer and he stared right back and when I finished, I set the glass down. He said, "You're welcome," so I said, "Thank you." Then my friends came looking for me. I squeezed his thigh, surprised by the muscle and he [End Page 23] turned bright red. I slid my hand higher to see how red he could get. I would have stayed longer. I wanted to stay longer. I would have squeezed other parts of him but I had to go. I want Jason Miller real bad. 2. My perfect summer of lying out at the pool was too good to be true. My dad made me get a job, said I had to earn my damn keep. I decided to get the worst job I could think of to punish him, something that would make him embarrassed when word got out. You know how it is in this town. I forgot what my mom said about my dad, how he has no shame. Now I am stuck waiting tables and washing dishes at a crappy chain restaurant. They don't even really cook the food there. It comes frozen and they reheat it like a frozen dinner. Sometimes when people try to get real fancy with their orders, I want to tell them look, you're being served micro-waved food, you should have just stayed home. I'm the only girl who works in the kitchen. The line cooks spend most of their time staring at me even though I wear a t-shirt and jeans every day. I like to be comfortable and let's face it, I run so much I look good in most anything. By the middle of my shift, I may...

The Move

The Move Debbie Urbanski (bio) They moved to Chicago because of their son and what their son did to that girl. Their new house looked like anybody else's, only it was emptier, and without family photographs, because Alice threw out their pictures before the move. Alice's friend Judy said the Midwest was supposed to have big and honest people in it who didn't go nosing around in others' lives. Judy said, "You have moved to a place that has a large and healing heart." Has she ever been here? Michael asked. Does she even know where Chicago is? Neither Alice nor Michael needed jobs right away. Their savings would be enough for a while, based on their inexpensive tastes and also on the lack of Jake, who was their only son. Without a child, life was a bargain. Everything seemed on sale. Michael said other people dreamed of living like this. A month after the move, Alice signed up to be a role model to an inner-city youth. "Since when do you care about black kids?" Michael asked. But she needed something to do with her time, something more than gardening, and she had seen the advertisement in the paper, a woman of Alice's age looking satisfied as she clutched a dark-skinned girl to her, while the girl looked up at the woman with an enormous love. Alice remembered Jake, too young to speak, looking at her like that—his clear eyes speaking to her. "I believe in your love," his eyes said. Her hand cupped his head. A tired caseworker sat in their kitchen and passed Alice a picture of a skinny twelve-year-old in tight braids, laughing at something outside of the photograph. "She's too old," Alice said. The caseworker said everybody wanted a younger child so they were all taken. "Her name is Alissa and she needs you," the caseworker said. Alice pictured the girl with the eyes of an infant. She pictured the girl looking up with love in her eyes. It was August by this point, the sky hard and blue, and squirrels had begun chewing through the wood of their garage. "Let them," Alice told Michael, feeling kind-hearted, saving this, saving that, until she spotted Michael, in the backyard, chasing down the squirrels with a fierce and focused intensity, an iron rod in his hands. In this new life, Alice thought her son would become an afterthought, hardly worth the mention, but even on the drives away from the city, where the landscape became obvious, a flat obvious surface, with nothing to hide and nowhere to hide things, there Jake was, hiding. His hands over his eyes. "Can you find me?" he said. "Find me, find me!" They were driving west to someplace, the sun in their eyes, and Michael was talking to her again. Alice, listen, he said. Michael was saying shit happened to [End Page 117] everybody. And did she think everybody walked around like she was, like a sad clown with shit all over her face? "People are more than their tragedies," Michael said. He was full of big talk that year. Michael said all along he would not set a foot in jail to visit their son, so, in their old life, Alice had gone alone three weeks after the arrest. Jake already looked different, paler, and his hands—had they always been like that? How they appeared stronger than necessary now. She asked what he ate for breakfast. How he slept. "How do you think I sleep?" Jake said. The new and sterilized smell of him, the smell of disinfectant covering a gray and possibly rotting thing underneath. "Are you all right?" she asked. According to police reports, Jake had done what he did, and then he packed his linen shirts and swimming trunks and joined Alice and Michael in the Caribbean, their first family vacation in years, to celebrate the new year, where they all had a fine time, eating bowls of shellfish in the sun. Things had been more beautiful there. Everything. Paradise? Alice asked, and Jake leaned over to place a shrill red flower in her hair...

The Ballade of Hirsuteness of Yore, and: Morning Sex

The Ballade of Hirsuteness of Yore, and: Morning Sex Julie Kane (bio) The Ballade of Hirsuteness of Yore Where, pray tell, in what sewer drain Reposes that pectoral rug That seemed to the young Julie Kane Such a poppyfield-like drug When she’d nestle her hairless mug [End Page 72] On a boyfriend’s chest? Razors, Nair— Be damned! Calvin Klein models—ugh! Where are the shows of frontal hair? Where did Catholic high-school swains With the holy medals she dug (Hypnotic on silk cord or chain Over chest fur and swimming trunks) Go? Younger women just shrug; They don’t understand her despair, Out of date as the jitterbug. Where are the shows of frontal hair? Yet those same old boyfriends might faint To see how she has been plucked Since the days when they’d tell her, “It’s plain You’re a natural redhead, my love.” These days it’s “Brazilian,” one tuft In a fanciful shape, down there, In place of that seventies shrub. Where are the rows of pubic hair? Black, curly vee in Casey’s scrubs, In Playboy crotch shot: gone, but where? When did we all go smooth as slugs? Where are the shows of frontal hair? [End Page 73] Morning Sex Pre-Viagra, pre-Cialis, When my beaux were young and randy, Always poking with a phallus, It was just a snack, like candy. How I miss those long-bygone days When the flesh was firm and fecund: Now the snack’s become the entrée, And there’s not a hope of seconds. Julie Kane Julie Kane can remember Khrushchev banging his shoe, the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, and the birth of pantyhose, though she tries in vain to pass for Gen X. Her new book, Jazz Funeral, won the Donald Justice Poetry Prize. Copyright © 2009 University of Nebraska Press

Cutaneous Vasodilation Response to a Linear Increase in Air Temperature from 28°C to 40°C in Prepubertal Boys and Young Men

The cutaneous vasodilation and sweating responses of prepubertal children to heat stress were examined. Seven prepubertal boys (9-11 years old) and 9 young men (20-24 years old) were seated wearing only swimming trunks while the air temperature (T(a)) was linearly increased from 28 degrees C to 40 degrees C over 50 min and then maintained at 40 degrees C for an additional 10 min. Skin temperature, cutaneous vascular conductance (CVC), and local sweating rate (m(sw)) were measured at multiple sites on the body. The boys had a significantly greater mean surface area-to-mass ratio compared with the young men. The rectal temperature did not change in either group with increasing T(a), although it was significantly higher in the boys. During the first half of the exposure period, when T(a) was less than the mean skin temperature (T(sk)), the boys had significantly higher CVC on the chest and significantly lower m(sw) on the chest and thigh as compared with the young men. During the latter half of the exposure, when heat stress was increased as T(a) exceeded mean T(sk), the boys had significantly higher mean T(sk), greater CVC on the chest and finger, greater rate of increase in the CVC on the forehead and finger, lower m(sw) on the chest and thigh, greater increase in heart rate, and higher thermal sensation. The mean body temperature at the onset of sweating was significantly greater in the boys than in the men. These results suggest that, compared with young men, prepubertal boys manifest greater physiological and perceptual strain under heat stress induced by T(a) exceeding mean T(sk), which is most probably attributable to a combination of lower evaporative heat loss, as evidenced by lower m(sw), and greater heat gain owing to a larger surface area-to-mass ratio. The maturation-related differences in heat loss responses vary according to body site.