My New Year’s Resolution post has been interrupted. By a blizzard.
Yup, it’s a good old Canadian prairie blizzard. Visibility is 100 metres. Highways are closed. No car has gone more than 40 km/hr since 3:00 this afternoon. There was a snowdrift at the back door that caved in onto the floor when I let the dogs out. The kids put on mittens and made a snowball, indoors, which they threatened to throw, until I threatened them with bodily harm. They put it in the freezer to keep until I wasn’t looking.
The forecast is for snow all night. We were sure missing our Subaru tonight. This is the first storm without a 4WD car. Thank goodness it isn’t too cold, just -7C or so. No wind to speak of. I will probably get to work tomorrow, if not on time, thanks to the bus. T and I were remembering the blizzard of ’86 where the city actually shut down for a few days. The old-timers at work were reminiscing about being escorted to work at hospitals on snowmobiles and in military vehicles. I was in high school, endlessly bored at the best of times, but thrilled by the prospect of a real, live Snow Day. Several people died of heart attacks that weekend, during or after shovelling their hundreds of cubic feet of snow. And, hey, they say there was a mini baby boom about 40 weeks later. I remember going to a hockey game and not being able to get in the driveway afterwards for the snow.
I expect tomorrow we will have a pretty quiet clinic, which is fine. And it will be nice to wake up on the first day of the new year with a fresh coat of white covering everything. I’ll have to get T out with the camera. The snowbank is higher than me already, just from driveway snow. If we can even get out of our bay tomorrow, I expect the pile will need to become plenty higher. I hope we have candles and stuff, if the power goes out.
Some kid stories to relate:
Aimee has become a pre-teen at 6 1/2 years old. The other day she was mad at us for daring to suggest it was time for bed or something, and she flounced off to her room where she threw herself dramatically on her bed and wailed. I listened from the hall (it’s not like I was eavesdropping, she was screaming so loudly it couldn’t be helped). This is how it went:
A: Everyone hates me! I hate everyone except Melissa (her auntie)! I hate Mommy and Daddy and Jack and I even hate myself! I especially hate my legs!
(At this point I went into her room, thinking maybe I should try to intervene in this crisis of self esteem)
Me: What’s wrong with your legs?
A, louder: LEAVE ME ALONE!!!
(I guess this was the wrong thing to say)
Another kid story: The other day they were at Siobhan’s daycare for the day and she took them to the birthday party of one of Siobhan’s regular charges, who was turning two. They had to leave before cake, but the mom let the kids each pick 2 treats. Aimee picked a Kit Kat (later referred to as a “Nik Nak”), and a box of Smarties. Jack picked 2 boxes of Smarties, but in typical, distractible Jack fashion, he forgot to bring them home. He realized it on the way home and was despondent, but Aimee piped up, unprompted, and offered to give him her Smarties. What a selfless, generous offer for a little kid. I mean, what is more precious to a kid than candy? Hooray. It makes me think maybe we are actually doing something right, despite the story I told up above, which I should probably make you promise never to repeat in her presence.