First snowfall


These are only a few of the words used by folks when discussing the first snowfall of the year. For instance, today I was speaking with someone who described this day as one akin to a “blanket of warmth”.

Standing back sipping my coffee I wondered quietly what kind of hashish this individual had smoked, and surely it was laced with something chemical? Because, are you serious?

The first snowfall is oftentimes accompanied by my brothers and sisters Canuck who – having invented the world’s warmest winter jacket – can’t remember how to drive slowly or carefully and so more often than not, usually kill a few other Canucks during the first 24 hours of this prick we call Winter.

Today is precisely this day in Ottawa, the one for which I have been preparing since early October when I began wearing my very large parka, taking up much too much room on both elevators and buses, suffocating at least one person who dared stand next to me (much in the same way as the effects of quicksand, this is what happens when one is caught in the outer layer of my parka). Really, everywhere I go I take up the same space as a baby elephant. Thanks, Canada Goose.(1)

Since morning, there has been neither calm nor peace. There has, however, been an endless array of sirens and ambulances rushing about in an attempt to keep up with the useless Canuck drivers who keep forgetting how to drive in such weather. As equally bothersome are three other minor sounds: the slobbering of wet pant bottoms across floors and carpets; snow pelting at one’s exposed skin including eyeballs; and, the yelps of people as they crash over snowbanks and slide off of sidewalks.

…and one major sound, that of the shovel scraping across the walkways and driveways. The sound most bothersome to your webMum most especially when she is the one generating said noise.

We recently purchased a very pretty snow-blower. It remains pretty and shiny and lovely, sitting quietly in the corner of the garage because I am too afraid to use her. This evening, I walked into the garage and stood quite still in front of the snow-blower, staring at her very hard, willing her to tell me how she is to be used.

If we were in a relationship, she would have said something like: I don’t mind if you occasionally have a thing with Mr. Shovel, or even Miss. Broom, depending on the amount of snow that drops. But the moment you need real and serious support, you had better come to me. Or it’s over. Because between you and me, that’s the only thing that really gets me going…

I walked away from the snow-blower with the same amount of knowledge I had when I approached her – zip. I don’t know how to use one and I am in fact scared to use one. They are really loud and look like they could run away if you don’t strap them to your arms. And, what if I blow snow in the wrong direction? Like, into the wind? Or at my neighbor? Or in my ear?

Anyway. All the above to say that today was Ottawa’s first prick of a snowfall. I shoveled while a beautiful snow-blower sat in the garage warm and cozy. I did this while padded into my parka…and later realized that had I just laid down and rolled across both my walkway and my driveway, the size of me in my parka would have done a better job than Mr. Shovel.

I am rendering null and void my prior thought that Javier Bardem smolders. For the record, please let it show that I now find his head much too large for his shoulders and so think he is creepy looking. Thanks very much.