Welcome to my world.
It is -40 celsius outside as I type this. Yes, you read me right; not even December and already we Albertans are in a deep freeze. The Farmer's Almanac predicted that this winter would be harsh, but most of us scoffed and hoped desperately that the stupid farmer's with their stupid almanac's would be wrong.
Joke's on us; turns out the good book of weather is infallible.
And the snow. I am sick and tired of the snow already. The highways are concrete pads of death, and the traffic gal on the news this morning spent a good ten minutes detailing all of the rollovers and accidents and vehicles in ditches (including a grader).
And I, gentle readers, got stuck this morning. In my parking spot in front of my house. It's a hit to my pride, my Albertan ego. You see, I am a true Albertan country girl. I live surrounded by farm lands and fields, I practically learned to drive on gravel roads (I've driven a tractor for crying out loud). I spent my formative years on acreages and in small hodunk towns that don't know the meaning of traffic lights (though I am proud to say that we do have a four-way stop, complete with signs). For good old-fashioned winter fun we go ice-fishing, we skate on ponds and drive skidoos; there are no malls or movie theatres or even a damn bookstore unless one drives from the country to the city. I even work in the country. I drove a Ford Aspire for 8 years through harsh Alberta weather...and I got stuck in my bloody Ford Focus this morning!!
I rocked it. I dug it out. I rocked it some more, dug some more. Moved slowly, inch by inch, until the front end of my car was pointed toward the road and the darn thing just wouldn't move any further without help. I stood in snow up to my knees, shovel in hand, and contemplated either stomping into the house to have a good bawl-session or kicking the heck out of my tires with the frozen lumps that used to be my feet.
And then a very nice gentleman stopped his jeep behind me and asked me if I needed a hand. I could've crawled on my knees and kissed his Sorel boots...if I hadn't worried about my lips fusing to 
the cold plastic. He stopped, in -40 degree weather, and pushed the back of my car while I stepped on the gas and took a layer of rubber off of my tires. I thanked him fervently, knowing that there wasn't enough I could say to let him know how truly appreciative I was. If I'd had a case of CANADIAN in the house, I'd have given it to him. (maybe after taking a hit from a can myself)
Instead I'm drinking Tim Horton's French Vanilla Cappuccino and wondering why I didn't just throw in the shovel and stay home today.
So that I can go through it all over again tomorrow.
In my next life, I want to be a Canadian Goose.
Welcome to my world.
It is -40 celsius outside as I type this. Yes, you read me right; not even December and already we Albertans are in a deep freeze. The Farmer's Almanac predicted that this winter would be harsh, but most of us scoffed and hoped desperately that the stupid farmer's with their stupid almanac's would be wrong.
Joke's on us; turns out the good book of weather is infallible.
And the snow. I am sick and tired of the snow already. The highways are concrete pads of death, and the traffic gal on the news this morning spent a good ten minutes detailing all of the rollovers and accidents and vehicles in ditches (including a grader).
And I, gentle readers, got stuck this morning. In my parking spot in front of my house. It's a hit to my pride, my Albertan ego. You see, I am a true Albertan country girl. I live surrounded by farm lands and fields, I practically learned to drive on gravel roads (I've driven a tractor for crying out loud). I spent my formative years on acreages and in small hodunk towns that don't know the meaning of traffic lights (though I am proud to say that we do have a four-way stop, complete with signs). For good old-fashioned winter fun we go ice-fishing, we skate on ponds and drive skidoos; there are no malls or movie theatres or even a damn bookstore unless one drives from the country to the city. I even work in the country. I drove a Ford Aspire for 8 years through harsh Alberta weather...and I got stuck in my bloody Ford Focus this morning!!
I rocked it. I dug it out. I rocked it some more, dug some more. Moved slowly, inch by inch, until the front end of my car was pointed toward the road and the darn thing just wouldn't move any further without help. I stood in snow up to my knees, shovel in hand, and contemplated either stomping into the house to have a good bawl-session or kicking the heck out of my tires with the frozen lumps that used to be my feet.
And then a very nice gentleman stopped his jeep behind me and asked me if I needed a hand. I could've crawled on my knees and kissed his Sorel boots...if I hadn't worried about my lips fusing to
the cold plastic. He stopped, in -40 degree weather, and pushed the back of my car while I stepped on the gas and took a layer of rubber off of my tires. I thanked him fervently, knowing that there wasn't enough I could say to let him know how truly appreciative I was. If I'd had a case of CANADIAN in the house, I'd have given it to him. (maybe after taking a hit from a can myself)
Instead I'm drinking Tim Horton's French Vanilla Cappuccino and wondering why I didn't just throw in the shovel and stay home today.
So that I can go through it all over again tomorrow.
In my next life, I want to be a Canadian Goose.