Sparky's Life Lesson #587

A couple weeks ago, my best friend, Peter, and I had some items to discuss regarding our gluten-free cleanse business, so we headed down to the Lustre Pearl, a rad Austin bar that's feels like a cross between a British pub and a barbecue in your cool friend's big backyard.

We found a table out back on the patio, since it was a nice evening. We were done within a half hour, but didn't quite feel like going home, so we stuck around to chat and enjoy the night air.


Two attractive women were sitting together at a table further back on the patio. Literally every time someone came into the bar, the person would immediately walk straight over to that table, hug the taller of the two women, and sit down. 90% of these new people were women. Within an hour of this, this table collected maybe 30 women and two or three men.

Eventually, Peter had seen enough. He got up, went over to their table, hugged the taller woman, and sat down. I followed behind, but just sat down, not wanting to seem like the follower I really was.

Turns out everyone at this table studies Chinese medicine at what I swear they said was named Areola Acupuncture School, though I'm sure that's just what my subconscious wanted to hear, what with me being surrounded by dozens of gorgeous women at this point (it's actually called AOMA, I just looked it up). Anyway, everyone was incredibly smart, very interesting, and extremely nice. Peter and I made a lot of new friends.

In particular, I spoke with the shorter of the original two women for some time. She's possibly the most beautiful chica I've come across in years (both inside and out), and we really hit it off. Unfortunately for me and the rest of the male species, I'm fairly certain she doesn't swing my way (she mentioned her girlfriend several times), which is fine by me, because I can always use awesome new friends, no matter who they are.

With her being a brilliant (albeit ungraduated) Chinese medicine practitioner, and me being the mouthbreather I am, I couldn't resist asking if she'd take my pulse (as in, "I know you build boats for a living, but hey, could you build me a just one tiny little boat right now, just for free?") and tell me what she finds.

Generously, she agreed, and she immediately asked if I'd ever been cold, really cold, in my life. I told her yes, many times, even getting frostbite on one occasion. I related that I adore a good summer swelter and can barely tolerate even the mildest winter nip. Before anyone jumps to conclusions, the night was fairly warm and I dressed appropriately for the weather. So...

She told me I can cure this coldness problem. All I have to do is chop up a pound of fresh ginger and boil it in a big pot until the ginger is pulp and the water turns yellowish-brown. Then strain out the ginger pulp, pour myself a cup of ginger tea from the pot, draw a scorching hot bath, and pour the rest of the pot into the bath. Then take a bath, drink the tea, and sweat it out as long as I can stand it. Rinse off the ginger, and I'm done. I'll have melted away my never-ending coldness for good. Sounds odd, but I've got an open mind and would certainly like to be warmer, so why not?

Tonight, I tried it. Boy, did I ever cook in that bath. And the ginger "tea," woo-ee, was it ever intense. I'll taste nothing but ginger for a week. Eventually, I settled in, acclimated to the heat of the water and the spice of the ginger, and relaxed.

Now, my friends will all tell you that I've never done anything in my life halfway. Moderation is for wimps. So, simmering there in the ginger bath, I got to thinking that maybe this ginger cure really does work some magic, and maybe these Chinese medicine healers know some things I don't. Maybe it would work even better if I pressed my piping hot mug o' gingerness into my seven chakras, in succession. So I did, and that felt kinda good.

I could feel the energy beginning to flow. The hot water of my bath actually felt cool to me now. I was one with the heat. I'd become a sweltering master, the ginger ninja. But was that enough for Mr. No Moderation? Of course not. I began pouring the ginger tea directly over my seven chakras, in succession. And that's when I discovered Sparky's Life Lesson #587.

Sparky's Life Lesson #587: Never, under any circumstances, pour distilled ginger on your balls. It burns. Bad. For a long time. Try to keep it out of your eyes too.

The upshot is that it's a couple hours later, it's 58 degrees in my house, I'm still naked, hacking away at my laptop, and I'm still roasting all the way to the core, sweating like Swede at the World Sauna Championships. My feet aren't even cold, and my feet are always cold. The ginger bath seems to work, short term at least. Ask me next winter if the cure lasts for the long haul. Regardless, I'm making this an annual ritual, maybe on the winter solstice.

That is, all except for the bit about pouring distilled ginger on my danglies.