The Plight of Math Homework…and Blizzards…and the Icicle Apocalypse

So, it seems the ‘Blackout of 2014’ has abated..for now.  After a few days with no power, then rolling blackouts, it seems we’re almost back to normal.  The blizzard conditions, the mountains of snow, then rain and now back to a frozen ice rink has left us all dazed and a bit disoriented, but with lights on in most places (AND THE MALL IS OPEN AND TIM’S IS SERVING COFFEE AGAIN.  I AM SAVED!!), we are almost at that crucial I-am-so-over-this-blackout-shit and moving on.  T-shirts with “I Survived the Blackout of 2014” are at the press right now.

 School has been closed all week leaving us home with the youngins unschooled and wrangly and me not able to return to work until the building has been deemed acceptable to the sufficiently ‘warmed up’ stage.   That leads me to believe that my office is currently suffering from an icicle apocalypse, frosted with ice as clear as glass and dangerously hanging low, ready to stab the innocent by-stander in the face.   It stands to reason that my office is probably a danger zone for humans, so when the ice has melted to some degree, we can all return.  Good.  Otherwise, I could have used a random trash can as a hub for a latent bonfire…could have been epic.  Anybody have any marshmallows?  Wow. Now I want to go back.  Just for the roasted marshmallows and the bonfire.  We could sing songs…great start to a new year. Of course, the stabby icicles would start melting and falling downward at an alarming rate, sending everyone for cover and wondering if stabby-icicles are supposed to be here?  Yeah.

My front screen door...minus the screen and add the frost.

My front screen door…minus the screen and add the frost.

The days have all melded together in what seems like a time-void.  When the power goes out and one is sitting by candle light and attempting to read by the little book light that gives about as much light as a firefly, it really made me think about all those women in the ‘olden days’ who did this every bloody night for eternal years and years.  Gawd.  It’s all about what you’re used to folks, and unfortunately only the bold go forth and prosper…the rest of us plod on and read by crappy book lamps.  Those ladies had serious fortitude and if not for their strength and endearing spirit to read by candlelight, stock the firewood, cook on the open hearth,  we would not be sitting in front of our fires and wishing the internet would spring it’s lovely glow to light our internal world with news from the outside.

The Mags and I cuddling by the reading to be done

The Mags and I cuddling by the candles…no reading to be done

The days when kids sat in one room school houses with a pot-belly stove and slate boards for doing math are long gone, but I was thinking if the blizzard we had on Friday had happened a century ago, kids would still have walked to school, still have sat by the warmth of the pot-belly stove, still would have a teacher there to teach them their ‘lessons’  and still would have math homework.  Progress??  Hmmmm….

So, as we sit and wait for further updates as to whether everybody will be plodding on to school and work tomorrow, savour your good fortune in being warm and having a light to read by.  And do your math homework, will ‘ya?  Geesh….

Son shoveling the front stoop instead of doing his math homework.  Fair trade...I guess.

Son shoveling the front stoop instead of doing his math homework. Fair trade…I guess.

Snowy Days

charlie brown shovelling

Our first snow-fall of the season and I’m exhausted.  With Hubby out of commission, (knee surgery..again. )  I decided to command the snow blower in order to move ma lovely car…so I could get to work on time.  Students were awaiting ma arrival to begin their exams!  I needed to sweep in there and make sure all were taken care of in a super-human and wonder-womanish like manner…kinda.  So at 6 am I head out to the man-shed and

…stood there looking like an ass.

I had no idea how to open the blessed doors…then I couldn’t find the light switch.  Hubby came hobbling out on one leg to show me how to turn on the light (the switch on the right hand side should have been my first clue. Duh) and how to start the snow blower…apparently, you have to plug the bloody thing in.  Who knew?  Last time I ran it I had to push a button.  He changed it up on me.  The thing is old, so it’s necessary to do a series of steps after it’s plugged in and before you start it.  I had to do a bunch of hand signals, push this, pull that and it magically started…I looked like that pretend sign language interpreter dude at Mandella’s funeral.

Only he’s a bit taller and he wasn’t wearing a parka.

The snow blower started and away I went…I almost took out the gate and part of the fence but the thing was moving!  I was so proud…until I hit the first drift and almost stalled the thing out.  Hubby comes hobbling out again…”You’re making my snow blower sound funny”..  “No I’m not!  That’s how it sounds!  It’s not like it’s supposed to speak whale or something, is it?!”

He takes it from me and proceeds to push it through the first drift…on one leg.  We start yelling at each other.  Me telling him to go back into the house and he trying to direct my snow blowing techniques.  Pretty soon, it was a full on “YOU LOOK RIDICULOUS! GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME TO DO THIS BEFORE YOU HURT YOURSELF”  and he “I WILL AS SOON AS YOU DO THIS RIGHT!”  I’m surprised the neighbours weren’t calling the cops and having them cite us for disturbing the peace. All I needed was one good push and hubby would have been like a turtle on its back in the snow…No, I wouldn’t do that…

Where everyone could see me.

 He relents and hobbles back into the house while I continue to get rid of the snow.  It wasn’t perfect, but I was able to blow out a major portion of it in front of my car and D1’s car. Of course, there were a few tense moments when the blower got away from me and D1’s front end almost had some festive green paint and a lovely little dent added to it. Perfect holiday effect.

  Yay me!

Of course, then I had to put the thing back into the shed…which he watched me do from the kitchen window.  I wanted to ram it into the fence but changed ma mind on account that it would just give him something to yell at me about AND I would have to re-stain the whole fence after he fixed it in the spring…so really, it was about saving work for me.  I wheeled the blower in perfect rotation into the shed.  Then I couldn’t turn it off, dammit.  I forgot the magic sequence of hand signals and turny knobby thingys.

I yelled.

He yelled back.

I turned it off.

All done.

I rock.

Kiss ma ass, snow.

Snow Storms and Swearing

The impending snow storm has various members of our community in a tizzy.  The grocery stores and supermarkets should be inundated with hoards of people ready to buy the last banana and potato chip bag left on the quickly depleting shelves.  I dare say the liquor store is the busiest. Afterall, what is a major snowstorm without the booze and Doritos?  Bring it, snow Gods we have our beer and are ready to partay!!   All I need is a 60cm snow drift in front of my door to block out the asshats who think snow storms are for driving around in and MUST GET TO WORK!  What??!!  I can’t hear you with the 100km/hr winds drowning out your sorry excuse of a yell…go home!  No!  I can’t help push your tiny smart car down the street…Ugh…

I can’t talk about what I really want to talk about because I’m not fully exonerated from my sins yet, so I will say this instead…um…..fuck. 

I sincerely enjoy that word.

Fuckity, fuck-fuck, fuck…shit.  Dammit…fuck-poop…

My verbal cussing is enjoyable for me.  Sorry if you-

Wait…nope, can’t apologize…I’m not sorry. 

I’m not fucking sorry.

There, that’s better.