So much to say and so little time. In fact, I’ve neglected this part of my world lately and hope to return for more than a quickie (although I do love quickies).
Like many of you who live in the North, we are experiencing extreme cold with temps in the negatives and I hate it. Every cell in my body (that has not been frozen) is revolting. Yes, I know everyone hates this weather so you may be asking what makes me special, different or gives me any more complaining rights? I’m glad your raised the question. You see I have a built in thermometer, barometer, and if I push it even a weathervane.
I can thank my father for passing down this special mutant power. It is none other than the Italian Schnoz or Schnozolla. It’s special powers can be seen in the above photo where it is lit up that “it’s too freaking cold” kinda Rudolph red. Like a thermometer, it has built in degrees and bystanders can accurately gauge temps based on the color and dripping (yes, dripping because flaming discoloration wouldn’t be entirely accurate so our ancestors had to breed in nasal discharge) of the Schnoz. The color change in arctic weather is unavoidable somewhat like Pinocchio and his lie growing Schnoz. Nothing can prevent the transformation. Not make-up, not scarves and sadly not even the salvation of all…Starbucks (I was on my second cup).
We inheritors of the Schnoz have an unspoken understanding, a language if you will. As I pass another flaming red Schnoz soon on the verge of open faucet, I nod and smile. I look the other way as the coat covered wrist swipes across the nostril catching the drip just in time. Now the awkward part arises and that is what to do with the snot smear? If it’s cold enough the snot smear usually freezes solid and can be chipped off. If not, a quick wipe with the other hand or across the jeans usually does the trick. Again, I look the other way providing privacy during this sensitive time. Told you. It’s the whole unspoken language/understanding thing. Sometimes I offer a tissue although I often find the stash living in my deep coat pockets (because deep pockets are a must for people of the Schnoz) have become crumpled and disgusting looking. I try to avert my eyes from all the facial Rudolph going on but like a guy trying to pry his eyes off of big boobies (something I’ve never encountered) it is challenging. So I get it guys, I get it.
Notice my daughter who is sitting beside me suffering exposure to the exact same temperatures. Her nose is perfectly unchanged and non-dripping. She can thank Mr. Pavlov for giving her that cute little button nose. And I can thank my dad for being a walking thermometer as my kids gauge their need for a coat on the color of my nose. I pretend not to hear them when they can say,
“Yep, it’s cold enough for a coat, Mom’s nose is red.”
The nose knows. And those of us with the all knowing Schnoz know that winter is not easy, for Italians.