Vive le Quebec

Big day today:  I brought the three munchkins to the Snowflake Kingdom at Jacques Cartier park, in Hull.  We didn't bring our passports, but bravely drove the 6 minutes from our house, over the bridge, and found a nice, free parking spot just a short walk from the festivities.  

I didn't see the foreshadowing when I pulled up in a snowy (about 6 inches) section, behind a snowed-in car, backed up a bit to make sure I'd be able to get out, and a Jeep pulled up beside me.  A man jumped out, and said, "Are you stuck?"  And I smiled and said, "No.  I'm in a Volvo!"  He waved, said, "That's why I love my Jeep!"  We high-fived (ok, we didn't really, but it would have been totally appropriate), and off he went.  

I got the kids out, loaded up Miss Tamsin into her chariot (a wee little blue sled that had once belonged to the Vaughnster), and off we went.  

We go to the Snowflake Kingdom every year.  There's a small jungle gym, some ice slides, some Ice Hog mascots (really, they're Groundhogs wearing sweaters), some neat cultural stuff (native and Quebecois history), and, of course, la pièce de résistance, Beavertails.

This year was a bit more challenging, and not just because of the addition of a third small-but-big-and-heavy child, although she did leave me with one less hand to hold.  Chris doesn't usually come with, so it's a nice, laid-back, walk-around-and-see-stuff kind of outing.  We met up with a friend and her son, who was on a mission:  he wanted to find the skiing station.  I'd never heard of it, but was game... but wanted to See Stuff on the way to find it.  Like the Native woodworker and his snowshoes and sleds, which Vaughn and I questioned with interest (and his wolf pelts, too).  Like the snow artist intricately carving a massive, 2-story block of snow with what looked like a leaf-blower.  Like tubing down an ice slide, and then hauling the tubes back up the hill with kids inside them (hello, glutes!).  We did, finally, find the skiing display, which was only for 5 to 8 year-olds.  Resilient Ailsa took it very well - you can't fight age -- and we left Vaughn to wait with Amanda and Alex, and took Beavertail orders (it was getting on lunchtime, after all, and I hate lineups). We picked up some cinnamon sugar and Killaloe Sunrises, and went back to eat the treats together.  Their group was just about to go in, and as the boys started forward, the guide finally answered my repeated question:  How long will this take?

One hour.

Yikes.  Tamsin and Ailsa can be lovely and patient, but another hour?  With no real food?  Amanda amazingly offered to stay with the boys and bring Vaughn home later.  I'm pretty sure that I left a cloud of snow behind me as I dashed away.

Ailsa didn't want to go on any more ice slides (rats - I love those), but was keen on trying out the giant snow maze.  We bought tickets, and away we went... I expected a nice little walk together, still pulling Tamsin in the sled.  She handed the tickets to the lady, smiled at me, and ... ran as fast as she could!  "You can't follow me, Mommy!" she directed, and told me to turn down a different path.  The maze was well set up, so that you could always see the rest of the maze, so I wasn't worried about losing her, but it was very twisty and turny - each time I got close to an opening that would lead me to her, she'd laugh and run another way.  We spent about 10 minutes in there, before heading back out the way we came, but the woman pretended that we weren't allowed out.  "You have to find the exit!"  

Tamsin decided she'd had enough, and climbed out of the sled.  Ailsa climbed in.  I handed her my purse, picked up Tamsin, and ...ended up back where we started again.  I put Tamsin down, picked Ailsa up, and ... got turned around again!  Finally, we found our way out.  Ailsa gave the volunteer a great big high five, then turned to me.  "My legs hurt, Mommy."  

You and me both, kid.  

The walk back to the car wasn't too long, but we were cold and tired.  And then I saw our car.

The snow is a nice touch, n'est-ce pas?

The plow jerkface had come by in the 2 hours I was gone, pushed a million pounds of snow up over my bumper, and kept going.  I had left about a foot between me and the car in front of us, and ... well, that was my only hope.  I loaded the girls up, put the sled in the trunk (had to slide it in through the backseat, of course), and took a photo, mostly to show Chris, but now I'm thinking of filing a formal complaint with the city.  This can't be legal.  A family walked by, shaking their heads.  "Do you have a shovel?" they asked.  "No, but I'm borrowing that one" -- I indicated one leaning against a house close by -- "if I need to."  They gave me some encouragement and kept walking.  

I took a deep breath, got in the car, and shifted into reverse.  Nothing, as I expected.  I put it in drive, cranked the wheel, eased forward, and ... I moved!  I cranked the wheel the other way, backed up a little more, and then... I drove away.  Just like that.

About half a block away, the same family was still trudging to their car.  The father turned around and gave me a big thumbs up as I drove past.  I honked the horn, and shouted, "Woo-hoo!"

Vive le Volvo!

It's that time again

You know which time I mean. The semi-annual "Why the heck do I still live in this country?" time (also occurs in July). A time of deep, introspective thought, soul-searching, and of questioning how it can go from 35 degrees C (but it FEELS like 50) to -20 degrees (but it FEELS like -41), with really only about 6 pleasant days in between, and why we put up with it, instead of moving to a more reasonable climate.

Friends? Family? The ties that bind? Don't be silly. In weather like this, they don't venture out of their homes, either - I could email Meaghan just as frequently from Bora Bora.

What about the people I'd leave behind, though? Could I just up and leave them to their fate? Not with a good conscience, so here's what I propose:

Since everyone complains about the weather, and nobody does anything about it, then dammit, it's time for change.

I propose that every man, woman and child of voting age... ok, just the men and women, then... write to their MPP. Large corporations, departments, and associations should post open letters to Mr. Harper - calls to action to the Minister of the Environment (is it still Rona Ambrose? I haven't paid attention for a few weeks) - if somebody would only legislate some reasonable maximums and minimums, why, our problems could be solved!

Now, I'm not saying that we should go overboard and block out winter altogether. Our status and cachet as hardy Canadians (not to mention our tourism industry) depends on some snow and ice - the canal, Winterlude, etc. However, I think most of us would agree that it doesn't really need to be colder than -15. Ever.

And if it dares dip down to -25 plus windchill?

Retribution! Pitchforks and torches and all that... a stream of angry citizens chasing after weathermen... looting, chaos, and all that good stuff.

Who's with me?

Winterlude 2007

I heard an expression once from a comedian, and I can't think of it in any other way, now. Winterlewd. Heh.

Here I am, skating on the Rideau canal. You can see me just about to go under the bridge - I'm the one in the tocque.

How's the ice, you ask?

http://www.canadascapital.gc.ca/bins/ncc_web_content_page.asp?cid=16297-16299-10080-10081&lang=1

Just made it through the first weekend of Winterlewd (hee hee) 2007. The weather was great for strolling through the Market (on my way home, or on the way to the gym), dodging tourists (with skates swinging from their shoulders), stopping for poutine (after too long at the Brig), and passing by a BeaverTails stand (again, 2 blocks from my house). The plans to go snowboarding on Saturday were quickly downgraded to plans to rent a movie and order pizza... because, at minus 6, it was pretty chilly, and probably chillier up on a ski hill.

Come to think of it, my usual efforts to Embrace Winter!TM have sucked pretty badly for the past two years. I used to bundle myself up and go for walks, go skating, and try to do as much outside stuff as possible, in order to step outside of my warm, hot-chocolate-filled cocoon (happy, happy, warm cocoon...). To Embrace Winter!TM, three years ago, I would walk 45 minutes to go meet a friend for tea. Two years ago, I took snowboarding lessons, which meant that, every Wednesday, come freezing rain, minus-20-degree weather, or... actually, it was only those two conditions, alternating without fail... where was I? Oh yes. I was inside with a book.

Last year, I went skating once. ONCE! No skiing, no snowboarding, no walks through beautiful Gatineau Park. What's changed?

10 guesses, and the first 9 don't count.


Ah, relationship comfort. If I may, let me look back at my past Embrace Winter!TM attempts, and see them a bit more clearly. In fact, instead of Embracing!TM, I think you could also label my outside activities as ones designed to Impress Boys!TM.

The truth is hard to swallow. This mug of hot chocolate goes down much better... especially with a wee bit o' baileys...