One would think, then, that the weather we've been having here lately -- teens to mid-20s with light, wind-blown snow -- wouldn't faze him, and yet at the shop, even during long stretches spent indoors, he complains of being cold.
Sometimes the lessons take. Sometimes they don't.
Ok, we work in and around a drafty, poorly insulated concrete-block building with a poured floor. The furnace is unreliable and, even when it works, it puts out barely enough so-called heat to take the edge off the chill. So no, it's not ideal, but it's more than livable.
The solution, indoors or out, is practicing the art of layering. (If that's as much of a no-brainer for you as it is for me, feel free to stop reading here.) There should be an inner layer to wick away the body's moisture (perspiration), middle layers (note the plural) to trap warmth and, for trips outside, a top layer that blocks wind and wet.
I'm amazed that so many folks ignore the benefit of a wicking inner layer, or who wear cotton fabric next to their skin and expect to stay warm -- "cotton kills," or so goes the truism. I wear flimsy bargain-store polypropylene and it's just fine for my workday purposes.
Polypro sock liners are a must. Depending on where I am and what I'm doing, synthetic glove liners help a lot, too.
For my warmth-trapping middle layers, fleece rules. Wool runs a close second, but decent fleece is lighter and shares wool's ability to insulate when wet. It's relatively inexpensive as well, especially this time of year -- while browsing our local Gander Mountain the other day, I saw half-zip pullovers for $10 and vests for $15. At those prices, fifty bucks can buy a winter's wardrobe of serviceable fleece.
Piling on layers is good, but (other than the wicking layer) they should be loose-fitting. Compressing insulating layers robs them of the ability to trap the body's heat -- bundling-up tight creates a system that'll conduct warmth out and cold in.
That goes for feet, too -- a thin polypro liner under a thick wool sock and a stout boot works for me. (I'd wear waterproof, insulated leather boots if I were hiking, camping or otherwise trudging through snow for long periods.) I leave the laces tight enough for support but loose enough to avoid compressing the wool.
Like I said earlier, all this layering stuff is pretty natural for me. It probably is for you, too. And although I'm not going to spend a lot of time trying to educate my co-worker, I probably should have a chat with our older spawn. He came into the house shivering last night after spending all of five minutes outdoors -- attired in slip-on shoes (no socks), t-shirt and shorts.
Then again, maybe that'd be an equally poor use of my time.
