Interrupted

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.

Assessment

Resolutions for the New Year Part One: Stock Taking

Well, Christmas is over again for another year. It was a frenzy, as usual, although it was a lot of fun for the kids. I think this was the first year they really understood what was going on. They had the same so-excited-I'm-almost-sick look on their faces, that I remember so fondly. Christmas morning quickly became a lesson in how to express gratitude (we'll work on why to express gratitude soon), as they ripped into presents with the same ferocity as a lion taking down a wounded impala during the dry season. It never occurred to me they might need to be reminded to look at, and thank for, the things they received before diving into the next one with nary a breath between. By the end of the day, though, they were demonstrating appropriate gratitude and manners toward the people who so thoughtfully picked out their gifts. Of course, now, "there's nothing to do"... but that's another story.

The best present of all was my sister, flying in Christmas Eve night to surprise us. No one, including my parents, had any idea she was coming until she walked in the door. It was a spectacular surprise.

And now that the frenzy is over, the tree is down (yes, I took it down yesterday; the living room real estate is too precious to share it for long with a 7 foot dust collector), the chocolate is almost all eaten, it is time for the annual reassessment of life. I always enjoy this stock-taking, this evaluation of what is good and what needs improvement. It's almost like my own personal report card, written by me, for me. And now, for you, my loyal fans.

Here are the things I do well:
-exercise
-eat healthy food
-drink alcohol
-work
-show up on time to things
-spend money
-collect junk
-do laundry
-take care of my skin
-organize activities and events for my family
-keep my family clean and dressed and generally safe and healthy

I expect to add to that list as I go along, so check for new editions and additions in the next few days. Suggestions welcome. Tomorrow's task, however, is to look at the things I want to improve upon, and that will probably be more interesting. That little self-evaluation is always a somewhat humbling.

Tonorrow: The Plan: Resolutions, down here in black and white, for all to see and remind me of. Regularly. In the meantime, consider the things that are conspicuously absent from today's list. We'll compare notes tomorrow.

Addendum

Oh, and when it's really really cold, car exhaust is so thick it is makes intersections blind and dangerous, and then it settles to the ground and makes the roads extra slippery. And fuel economy goes to hell, because cars need to be started and running for ten minutes before they will drive forward without horrible mechanical screams emanating from under the hood. And the rubber on tires gets more solid and the air inside shrinks so that the bottoms of the tires are flat and for the first few blocks it's like driving on cubes.

Damn, it's cold. I don't expect my hands and feet to warm up until June.

Cold

It is cold outside. This is winter in the Canadian prairie. Cold. So cold it almost defies explanation, but, as usual, I shall endeavour to describe, for those in a warmer climate, how cold Cold is.

Imagine standing in your freezer... with an industrial fan aimed at your face. Then imagine it colder.

Today is was -35 C when we left the house. That is air temperature. It, apparently, felt like -45 C with the wind chill factor. It's hard to tell, though; anything colder than about -25 C, with or without wind, all feels the same. Damned cold.

It is so cold that I have insufficient colourful words in my vocabulary to describe how unpleasant our weather is. -40 C is the same as 40 below F, which is only slightly less cold than 0 Kelvin, or Absolute Zero, when all molecular activity stops.

It is my humble opinion that the fact that we choose to live in this climate entitles us to some allottment of whingeing. Others, however, may just feel that if we are stupid enough to volunteer our flesh for some sort of predictably annual experiment in hypothermia survival, we should just grin and bear it, or move somewhere warmer. I think, though, that we are somehow, secretly proud of this hardship that we endure for five or six months out of every twelve. I think it makes us tougher. I think our city continues to function under circumstances that would force other, lesser cities to call in the military for emergency assistance.

There is no comparison to hot climates. We get nice, hot weather in the summer, briefly, and I'll take the hottest weather over the coldest, any day of the year. I'm certain that hot climates are equally uncomfortable, and, possibly, related to an equal number of deaths, but if I were a homeless person, you can bet I'd rather be one in Florida or California than here.

I think it takes balls, or something, to stay in a place that is dangerously cold for at least a third of the year. After all, cold hurts. It is unsafe to be out in -45 C for more than a minute, because exposed skin freezes in less than a minute at that temperature (which really sucks when your bus stop is 10 minutes from home). Frozen skin is as painful as burned skin. It has lasting consequences, too; if it is salvaged, it will always remain more susceptible to worse frostbite, and usually need plastic surgery. With worse cases, things get gangrenous and need to be amputated. The most serious situation, obviously, is where one just gets sleepy and sits down to rest, and is found hours later, perfectly preserved like the slab of steak in your deep freeze, never to know warmth again.

Aside from the life-threatening consequences of exposure to excessive cold, there are the petty annoyances. Glasses fog, windshields frost, and clothes layered over longjohns and extra tshirts bind at critical junctures. Big chunks of frost collect on the latchplate of our front door and our dog has gotten his tongue stuck to cold metal three times (picture scene in A Christmas Story where Ralphie licks the flagpole - bet you didn't know that frozen blood is bright red). My electric blanket draws a buttload of power. Oh, and the kids take 15 mintues to get out the door, on the most efficient and attentive morning.

I have just checked the temperature; it has "warmed up" to -24 C. No wind chill. I think the thing that makes me whine the most is that yesterday was The First Official Day of Winter. We have at least another 2 months of this rotten, godforsaken weather before it starts to feel habitable again. And another two after that before we can start thinking about putting the winter clothes away.

So why do we live here? It's cheap, our families are here. There's lots to do, and we make our own fun. I hear there's a bit of a baby boom every fall (you do the math). Our family has built a skating rink in the back yard for the last two years... that is only fun when it's really cold, because otherwise the ice gets too soft. We use it every night. And there's mother nature's freezer, too. Friends of ours bought a half of a butchered cow. Who has room in the freezer for a half a cow? No problem... just stick it out the back door. Perfectly preserved until the bonspiel thaw in February. That's the week of warm weather in February when everyone books their hockey tournaments and curling bonspiels because, hey, it's February! The rinks are bound to be frozen!

Well, there's my attempt at a silver lining. I'm going to bundle up. T is picking me up tonight... a special treat. I hope he's got the heated seat switch clicked on... it is the only thing that makes it worth leaving the house. One of my colleagues is moving to Hawaii next week... I'm thinking of checking a large suitcase in her name, with myself inside. I wonder if they need nurses in Hawaii? They probably have a lot of skin cancer there... Hmmm... Ideas are brewing. Remind me again why I live here?

Aging

The other day I discovered, and promptly evicted, forcibly, a longish, dark hair sprouting from my chin. It was dispatched swiftly and ruthlessly, but it prompted some thoughts on aging and how time does fly.

Somehow, I have become the mother of kids who are five and six. Not too long ago, I could not have seen doing anything for five or six years. More shocking, I have been married for eight years. When did that happen? I can't possibly be old enough to have been married for eight years.

In some respects tempus, for example, as a parent, has crawled by. While in the moment, there is nothing fugit about a temper tantrum, but then all of a sudden, the Era of Tantrums is over and I never even saw it pass. It was just gone. (Ok, that is a little literary license, there... the Era of Tantrums may never be gone. But the are less frequent now; say daily, instead of hourly). In other respects, though, it has passed with the speed of light. I remember being sure I would remember each little outfit I put Aimee in during her first days of life. Now, it is difficult to reconcile my memories of that tiny thing with the girl I see now.

The last time I saw my Real haircolour (nondescript mouse brown), I found a gray hair or two. Somehow, I had never really believed that it would happen to me. But, when I wasn't looking, a few snuck in there. I change the colour regularly just because I like the change. It's safe, reparable, and it covers up my two gray hairs (well, it's actually been so long that there may be another one by now). Maybe I'm in denial that I am still as young as I once was.

My twenties are gone, and I am approaching the half-way mark of my thirties. I still feel the same, maybe with just a few more experiences under my belt. I assume that that same sense of self will remain constant, so that in my seventies or eighties I will be writing the same sentences, with different numbers. Sometimes first person perspective is maddeningly limited. I just can't imagine it, just like a few years ago, I just couldn't imagine being the parent of a school-aged child. Sometimes it would be nice to look down on one's life, rather than just looking forward (and back, if the visibility is reasonable).

Some days, the weight of the responsibilities I have assumed feels like it might crush me. Those are the days when every decision I make, however apparently trivial, suddenly has life or death potentialities. Those are the days I long for the sweet oblivion of my bed. Other days, I am filled with the certainty that everything will work out, somehow. Hopefully, the latter outweigh the former, in the grand tally card of life. I still think of myself as a glass-half-full kind of girl.

It still regularly catches me by surprise that I have a marriage, and a house,and a mini-van, and a couple of kids, and a bunch of pets. It's like catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror the first day or two of a new haircolour and, for the first second, not realizing I am looking at myself. I know how I ended up here, but I don't know, all at the same time.

I guess all I can do is what I've been doing. I find the opacity of the future infuriatingly frustrating, but maybe the patience to Wait and See is maturity. If so, I am definitely still working on maturity, even if I am aging without any effort at all.

Lifestyle

I am feeling fairly virtuous this week. For the past two weeks now, I have gotten up at 5:55 am on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and run 3 miles, each day, on the treadmill.

This may not seem like much of an accomplishment, but for those who know how much I love my bed, you will know that it has taken a willpower I did not know I possessed. But I have been faithful. And I feel pretty good.

The runs are hard because I am not properly hydrated after a night of sleeping and a day of insufficient water consumption and the occasional supper hour cocktail, but it feels so good to have it done, it is making me keep going. It makes my day feel longer because I am not trying to squeeze in a run in the evening, but also because I have more energy, most nights.

It means I probably drink more alcohol than I used to, though, since I can have a glass of wine with dinner as I am not desperately trying to hydrate for a run. And it means my nutrition is probably less than optimal, since I feel like I can snack on whatever comes around (I just had 2 brandy-filled chocolates from a box that a patient brought to the clinic). But of the major health-affecting areas of my life (nutrition, hydration, exercise and sleep), I do pretty well at at least two and better than average at the other two.

I watched Super Size Me the other day. For those who so not know, it is a documentary about a man who ate McDonald's food three times a day for a month. It was a fairly scientific endeavour, and it obviously damaged his health. I felt quite virtuous watching that, too. Lots of good statistics and things, but it made me realize that the lifestyle my family leads is probably healthier than the average North American's. Good for us. At work I see too much of what happens when people don't make an effort (I refer you back to my smoking diatribe), and truly, the major illnesses we treat do not very often happen to people who actively reduce their risk factors. For me, now, it's a lifestyle more than a choice, and it's not even that hard anymore. I can even do it at 6:00 am.

When I got a failing grade in Grade 9 gym class, who would have thunk it?