Methinks that Mother Nature sure must be pissed off at
something this winter.
Sunday, January 20, 2013, 3:00 a.m. – house is still and
quiet but through my open bedroom window, I can hear the wind wailing around
the corners, reminding me of a long-drawn out E note on an alto sax in a bad
jazz riff. A rumble reaches my ears and
I think, “Is that... thunder?” Can’t be, it’s January. We're supposed to have snow in January, not thunderstorms.
Deciding I was having a weird dream, I turn my back to the
window and do some deep breathing - in through the nose, out through the mouth. Restarting the music CD I had fallen asleep
to some hours earlier, I focus on that instead of the noisy maelstrom outside, in
what is normally a pool of peace.
Starting to relax again and on the verge of sleep, bass drum
rolls rumble lazily through my window. Again? Thunder?
Is that really thunder?
Incredulous and exasperated, I fling the covers aside and jump out of
bed to close the window. I’m tired of
being woken up by Mother Nature’s cacophony of bad music and of course, want to
keep the rain out. I fast-crank the
window shut, shivering all the while.
Too bad I don’t have someone I can shove out the side of the bed and ask
nicely (demand) that he close the window before we get soaked. Well, there are good things and not-so-good-things
about sleeping alone. This is one of the
not-so-good-things.
Rushing around to my side of the bed (Sofie, The Wonder Dog
occupies the window side), I quickly crawl back in, quietly cursing the
now-freezing sheets. I guess most people
keep the heat at a ‘normal’ level but since I like to sleep with the window
open, I don’t see how that makes much sense in my house. So, at night, the programmable thermostat is
set to drop to brrrrrrrrrr(ish) 63°
f (17° c). The cats are glad that I set the gas
fireplace remote to ‘Auto’ and it comes on when the living room temp drops to
68° f (20° c). At least then, they won’t
freeze to death (with their fur coats hmmmm).
Yanking the covers
up around my ears and trying to tuck them around me as snugly as a cocoon, I
dislodge one of the braver felines who seems to share my love of frigid. She
mutters something rude and then settles down again, as I clutch the quilt up
around my neck, to keep a cold draft out.
Pinky pushes herself down into the ‘v’ of my bent knees and starts
kneading. Her purr is much more soothing
than the raucous chorus still reverberating outside. Of course, her sharp little nails piecing the
blanket aren’t. I give the quilt a yank
and she kinda goes flying a bit. She
runs out of my bedroom in a snit and I start my deep breathing again.
As I warm up a bit and my body stops
shivering, I begin to relax and my mind goes back to growing up in Montreal. It was a wonderful place back then – oh,
about 50 or so years ago. Winter was my
favourite season. So many funny and wonderful
memories flit into my tired mind.
You know people here in Ontario bitch every time it snows – the near
north (my new home town), south of 7 (Highway), The Town down under... Every time it snows, the city, especially the
south of 7 area, goes into panic mode and the city stalls. You’re lucky if you can get to work in 2 or 3
hours and you only live 20 miles (30 km) away.
Oh and then getting home…But then, that's Toronto. The MINUTE one white, fluffy, flake touches the ground in that city, traffic grinds to a halt and doesn't ever seem to get back to normal until June.
One time I remember the then-mayor of the
GTA (Greater Toronto Area) calling out the military ‘cause Toronto got slapped with a lousy 3 feet (1
metre) of snow. I still laugh when I
remember good ol' Mel doing what he did.
The then-mayor delighted the rest of the country by drafting Canadian
soldiers to wage war on snow drifts and free buried bus shelters. Boy, it’s a good thing he was mayor in Toronto and not Montreal. A smile curves my lips as I remember Mel’s Folly
that January 4, 1999.
As I slip back to my childhood, a memory which
always makes me laugh now, comes to mind - we are living on Walkley Avenue, in NDG. It has been snowing for what seems like days
and days. My mom is so worried about my
dad getting home from work safely and then, not being able to find a place to
park. My two sisters and I decide to
brave the elements and dig out a parking spot on the street for him. There was a space almost right in front of
our row house and we bravely troop out into the swirling snow and gusting
wind to wage war and liberate a parking spot.
The three of us shovel furiously but it seems
like we’re not making much of a dent in the drift that was taller than all of
us. The crap shoved up by the plow was
almost more than we could move. My
mother keeps a close eye on us from the living room window, our baby sister
clutching at her house dress to keep her balance, merrily waving away. Boy, she was lucky that she was too little to
hold a shovel.
(Me & The Baby Sister)
Finally, finally, we got a space cleared
that was just big enough for my father to get the car into. Wearily, we start back to the house, no
energy left to even lift our feet clear of the snow-clogged walkway. We fall into the tiny foyer and start
stripping off our Michelin-man type snowsuits and then the 4 or 5 layers we
were wearing underneath. To this day I
wonder how we were able to bend any of our joints, dressed as we were.
Just as we were almost out of our snowsuits,
we could hear our mother gasp and then start pounding on the window, where she
was still standing, watching out for dad.
As one, we ran into the living room, asking what was wrong. My mom turns around and yells that some
S.O.B. (didn’t know what that meant for years), was parking in Daddy’s
spot. Not on your life, we yell. Re-energized by the injustice of some schmuck
stealing our hard-won parking spot, we pull up our snowsuits, throw on our boots and run back outside, brandishing our shovels.
The S.O.B. has already made it about halfway
to his house and was carefully ignoring the three shrieking banshees behind
him. O.K. He wants to play dirty, we can play
dirtier. Up we stomp to the top of the
five foot drift, which covers most of the sidewalk. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, we start kicking
the snow bank we had just finished shoveling up, back down against the driver’s
side, all the while yelling at the S.O.B. to come and move his car. He stops walking and turns to see what we
were doing. Encouraged, we jump off the
snow bank and run to the passenger side and start shoveling the plow crap up
against that side of the car. He
realizes that we’re shoveling him in, and runs back. We give a mighty cheer as he moves his car,
all the while mouthing obscenities at the three sweet innocents. We heave tired sighs, as we realize that now
we have to shovel out the space again but at least it wasn’t as bad as the
first time.
Another
grumble intrudes on this childhood victory and I slide into memories of The
Storm
of
’69…
Left to right – Me the 2nd child, the
third youngest, the oldest & the shortest, The Baby Sister)
*Image courtesy of by Vlado/FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Not much time these days to catch up on my writing. I do have a new story in the works and have managed to write one whole paragraph. Whoppee!!!
UPDATE ON ‘SNOWED’ - Since I got no response from The Dragon
Lady about my concerns regarding the
non-clearing of my driveway, I decided to take it to court and have filed
an Application for Hearing with the Landlord & Tenant Board. SCA has been served with the paperwork and
the hearing date is in March. I’ll let y’all
know how it turns out. Strangely enough
(but in a good way) my driveway has been cleared in a much more timely manner
since SCA was served. Coincidence? Or maybe The Dragon Lady realizes that I’m not
one of those ‘little old ladies’ who will just go away? I actually served the Notice of Hearing on The
Dragon Lady herself and now I know what someone who just sucked on a nice, juicy,
fresh lemon looks like. 
Next twist in my life - a
few weeks ago, I finally made contact with The Boss, aka The Delusional Moron. I had to drive to Markham (Steeles &
Woodbine) to find him but there he was, larger than life, in the office, with
his new live-in girlfriend, Sing, who, I came to find out, has been given my
job. Nice, huh? So, all these months stringing me along by
telling me he wants me back, all for naught.
Another life lesson learned, ladies – never wait for a man, no matter for
what. 
I just spent six months waiting to
be called back to work and now the woman who’s sleeping with The Delusional
Moron has my job. He really should know
better than to mix business with pleasure, since the previous persona of the
business was owned by his then-common-law wife, aka my BFF. After their relationship imploded, so did
business decisions and my relationship with her - sorry
about the pause, folks. 
