Distracted distractions

I got distracted this week, first by that sinister winter villain who lurks in dark shadows and preys upon the tired and weary: the common cold; and then while firmly wrapped in the cold's embrace, my attentions were captured and enamoured by the snowstorm late in the week.

I had managed to elude this winter's sickness outbreak that had many people away from work and school, and those who were afflicted were quick to share their cautionary tales of woe and misery and in-between hacking coughs and sniffling and nose wiping they'd tell you it was a killer, and they wouldn't wish it upon their worst enemy. But you knew secretly if it were that bad, they'd do almost anything to get rid of it themselves...

And so they share it with you, and everybody else within a germ's sneeze of reaching.

The boy succumbed first, after the hockey tournament in Fargo a few weeks back - but he was only minorly sidelined, his athletic metabolism and youthful immune system functioning like the fine-tuned machine it has become. He passed it on to mom, who battled the coughing and sore throat the way a nurse's brain will, with bags of throat lozenges, gallons of cough syrup, some OTC meeds for good measure, and boxes of tissue, but none of those have proven anymore effective than the other, and together they haven't really done anything but made her feel slightly less uncomfortable.

I was valiant in my fight, mostly by blind luck, when you consider three people living in one house, two of them sputtering and punctuating the air with sharp exhalations of viral war-fare, while the third pretends not to notice, offering up his sympathy and trying to help them feel better, hoping that maybe he'll be spared this time around.

Who am I kidding? It was only a matter of time. The sore raspy, scratchy, throat, the kind that makes swallowing a pitiful painful process; the runny nose and stuffy head that clouds your ability to think clearly and presses your concentration to the edge of its limits; and then that persistent cough, dry at first, then as the head drains later, morphing into the lovely chest congested, impossible to sleep peacefully, cough up a lung, green mucous, mess we all love.

Sorry, you weren't eating were you?

That was the story of my week - or so I thought, until Mother Nature decided we hadn't yet seen enough of her awesome powers, and with the media already in a tizzy over early spring flooding forecatsts, I suspect she figured it served us right for trying to predict conditions 3 months ahead of time, so she brought in an Alberta Clipper (I love how we name weather patterns so we can placate ourselves by blaming our meteorologic misfortunes on those who live in the region where the high or low pressure system originated - in this case Alberta - who while enjoying their balmy shinooks have affected our peaceful coexistence further east and must surely deserve our shaking fists and mumbled curses... you know who you are.)

6 to 8 inches of pouring snow later - depending of course on where you live, and how the winds swirled to drop it all on your back patio or front walk or drifted over the just-cleaned backyard rink, it was past, and the winds stopped, and you looked out to see your world covered under a deep white blanket of perfection, momentarily at least, everything still, everything silent, and you enjoyed it for a few minutes.

Then you called the boy who had a suspicious Friday off from school, and told him to get his boots on, and grab a shovel, and meet you in the backyard, where the snowblower required a bit more attention than it should in January, and together you tunnelled and trenched and dug your way through the yard, around the house, greeting your neighbour next door doing exactly the same thing - the silent greetings we do over the rumbles of 4 stroke Briggs and Stratton's - and you excavated your car from your side of the driveway; her car away at work, and in a few hours you, the boy, your next door neighbour, and the retired neighbours down the street who seemingly live for snowdays, have once again claimed mastery over Nature - at least as far as being able to navigate around our own homes and driveways is concerned - and you return inside, physically exhausted now, finally remembering you didn't have much strength to begin with today, and crash in front of the tv and watch afternoon cartoons with the boy over mugs of hot chocolate and a plate of chocolate chip cookies...

It's amazing what we can accomplish when we distract ourselves from our afflictions long enough to succeed.

Enjoy your week...

January coffee

I sat and enjoyed my coffee this morning, looking around at life, wondering how it got to be the middle of January.

I remember the fall just like it was yesterday, the days began to get noticeably shorter, football practice ended sooner as a result but started sooner after dinner to make up for it, and then it was playoffs and hockey tryouts at the same time, and school again, and before I knew it, here we were. Dazed in that post December way that seems to afflict us every year; the parties and celebrating behind us, the houseguests all returned to their own homes, and the bleakness of January greets us with its frigid embrace and we stare at it dumbfounded like we've never seen it before.

We know better. This is not new. It happens every year, some years it lasts longer and others it comes and goes off and on, but every year it is the same thing come January in Winnipeg - it gets cold. We know this, yet we continue to be caught off guard by it when it happens, and it serves as a source of entertainment and an excellent conversation starter with whomever you meet.

"Cold enough for ya?" we ask it like its some kind of dare, like we're waiting to see who is going to be the tough guy to stand up and claim he wants more than this; or who is going to show their true colours and admit it has been too much for them - but no one does, that's not our way. No, one doesn't turn and run from January when it's 40 below - we're hardy stock we are, those of us who for whatever reason or lack thereof decided to live here on the prairie and we'll take whatever Mother Nature can throw at us because that's just what you do, you take what you're given and you deal with it.

Oh sure we'll complain about it and many will secretly wish they were someplace warm, where the palm trees grow, and the grass stays green and the gentle breezes won't kill you if you step outside - but we will all deal with it. And before we know it, it will be spring again, and it won't seem that bad, like a distant memory almost.

We took a break from the beginning of winter and relocated to Orlando for a week in early December visiting Walt Disney World and found that even there Jack Frost can still find you if he tries hard enough. Disney can't control everything, not even in it's own backyard. New record lows while we were there, a grand test I think, designed to try our spirits and our mettle. Poke the bear to see how it reacts sort of thing. Why would we expect anything different. We still enjoyed our time away, putting life on hold for a week, and then returning to hit the play button and fast forward at the same time to warp into the Christmas season at full speed; our favourite time of the year, with all the decorations and presents and lights and music and baking and an air of promise and hope for more of the same in the new year, everywhere you go.

I think it will be a year of changes this year, and of continued growth and opportunities. I've started down a few new paths, and I'll share those with you in due time; when you need to hear about them, or I need to talk about them - whichever, but until then I think I'll finish that coffee I started awhile ago. It's become like my January. It's cold. But it still tastes just right, and satisfies me and I still enjoy it.

What more should we ask for?