Well, BB got past whatever it was that was bothering him last night and I got some sleep. I am in a much better place. Oddly enough, I don't function well physically or emotionally when I get only 2 hours of sleep.
I apologize in advance, because I am about to write about a topic that I make every effort to avoid on my blog: the weather. Why do I try to avoid it? Because it is the topic of conversation in my part of the world. And not as a small-talk thing, either. So I am tempted daily to write something here regarding what Mother Nature is doing outside. But I doubt anyone reads this because they are interested in meteorology. So I resist.
Never the less, here I go. It is cold outside. Almost -40 degrees. And since Mr. Fahrenheit and Madame Celsius meet at -40, there is no need for translation. Cold.
These cold days are easy enough to deal with. Stay indoors. Plug in the block heater on the car and start it 15 minutes before you go anywhere. Wear your snowsuit, scarf, and tuque if you need to be outdoors for an extended period of time.
When the temperatures start dropping, I can feel it when I breathe. I have lived here my whole life. I know what -40 feels like when I breathe it into my lungs. It crackles as it passes through your nose. The crystals of snow take on the consistency of baking powder and the sound of the snow beneath my boots takes on a recognizable crunch.
Three Januaries ago, it was cold. It was -30 on the night C. was born. I always laughed that it would be cold on the night my son was born: I was right. That temperature was the excuse my brother-in-law used to avoid coming to the hospital that night. You would be right if you guessed I haven't forgiven him that. The whole rest of our family was there.
When it is this cold, the days are always sunny and bright. A meteorologist would likely explain that the cold Arctic air of the high pressure system clears away the clouds. All I know is that when it is cold, the sun shines.
On those long, cold days three years ago, I sat huddled under the blanket on my couch. My cat sat purring on my lap. And I stared. I stared at the wall for hours. And cried. And stared. And cried.
I used to love winter. I don't hate it now. But I don't love it anymore either.