Muscles to Smile

I wanted to quote Prairie Home Companion: It takes 41 muscles to smile, but only 4 to give them the finger.   It was a new twist on the common expression that it takes more muscles to smile than to frown and I wanted to cite the correct number of muscles.

When I turned to the web for an answer I found that the answer is actually unknown (snopes.com).    Answers.com got David H. Song of University of Chicago Hospitals to enumerate the number of muscles as 12 to smile and 11 to frown.   (In counting the muscles ("A genuine smile takes two muscles to crinkle the eyes, two to pull up the lip corners and nose, two to elevate the mouth angle, and two to pull the mouth corners sideways. Total smile: 12.")  I come up with 8.  Perhaps "lips and nose" meant two muscles each.)

The Answers.com article also pointed to the ability of human's to distinguish sincere smiles by the recognizing the small but characteristic changes to the eyes and nose in a real smile.

Snopes provided a jibe from Auburn's basketball coach, Sonny Smith, at his rival, Wimp Sanderson: Sanderson's smile led Smith to conclude that Sanderson was suffering from muscle fatigue.

My only contribution to the number of muscles to frown vs the number of muscles to smile literature is this:  "Frown: consider it an aerobic workout for your face."

Nose Job

My brother decided that a spot on my nose needed the attention of a dermatologist. I searched through my parents' phone book to find the dermatologist who looked at my nose when my father told me to have someone look at a spot on my nose. (I told my father that he could look at the spot on my nose right then for free, but he'd better hurry because the price was going up soon. He was not amused.)

That time the doctor said that it was nothing to worry about. This time the dermatologist looked at me with sorrowful eyes and said the only hope was for me to join the Tea Party and vote Republican. Seeing the tears brimming in my eyes he offered an alternative: he'd lend me a razor and the use of his tub.  For slightly more he'd lend me a gun and guide me to the men's room.

What actually happened was that he said my skin was pretty good for my age and that if I wanted he could scrape the spot off, but it wasn't necessary.  bye.  See you in October.

The Morning the Milking Was Finished

I stumbled across the article, "The Morning the Milking Was Finished" on the day it was written, February 3rd of this year. The single column article by Peter Applebome described how in the morning of January 21 Dean Pierson, 59, a dairy farmer in Copake, New York, finished the morning milking and then shot each of his 51 cows. He then killed himself.

An extension agent was quoted: “They lost money on every cow every day of every month last year.” The author probably paraphrased the family vet wrote: "Being a good farmer gave Dean Pierson a life where you worked a 15-hour day and at the end of it handed someone a $100 bill for the privilege."

When people I know complain about overwork and under paid, I usually make a comment about stoop labor or share croppers. This bleak story of a man who strained to maintain a way of life against economic pressures will be what I cite.

A Peculiar Smell

Last week I noticed a peculiar chemical odor in the air.  The smell had a hint of rubber.  It didn't seem to come from a particular direction so my first thought was something from airplanes.  On the third day I realized that it was the smell of spring. 

It's been a long time.