TBT #74: Oh, snow

It’s not really winter.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking: you hate vague introductions. Seriously, what kind of lead is that? It doesn’t tell you anything about what’s to come. And furthermore, it doesn’t make any sense! It is January. Of COURSE it’s winter. Everything from the television to respected academics to the dictionary will tell you that much. But you have to understand: for all the literati and literalists that will tell you that this — right now — is indeed the depth of winter, I cannot and I will not accept that. For I have seen the face of winter. And I’m talking true winter. Like the curl-your-toes, pain-in-your-face, zero-visibility, oh-god-I-can’t-see-for-all-this-whiteness winter. I’ve seen snow falling on cedars that would make even the most diehard of the grunge era forget all about that Ethan Hawke movie. I’ve watched people stumble and fall wearing giant ill-fighting snowsuits, tripping through snow so deep that it could swallow an albino midget forever, laughing and dodging tree branches and thinking about all the woodland animals they could be, right now, if not for the power lines and their lives back home. I sat and watched, in awe, as three of my closest friends set to work on an ill-defined snow-eating contest, the only rules being that 1) there are no rules and 2) no using your hands. And it didn’t seem to matter that there was snow falling from the sky, dooming any sort of mad fool quest to eat all the snow in the area to failure. Because, hell, this was winter, a time where the world says fuck it and tosses all the moisture it has to the earth in a grand ridiculous display, spontaneously turning liquid to solid, gritty to slippery and green to white.

There’s a reason people from warmer climates are so freaked out by the concept, and the sight, of snow. It’s because it’s such a bizarre, confusing and ultimately unlikely thing to happen. If I bet a man in the desert that, if it were to be a little bit colder, white stuff would fall from the sky and severely effect driving conditions, he would probably laugh and stab me and have his camel spit on me. Because guys in the desert have no patience for liars.

And the best part of all of this, my seeing and experiencing and knowing of winter? It happened mere WEEKS ago. And considering that today I walked outside in a light jacket, feeling pretty comfortable, watching a bunch of kids play road hockey, not so much as a breeze against my face, I have to count that as a lucky experience. As much as I appreciate not having to think about — much less worry — about shoveling snow and trudging to class in knee-deep slush, there is something to be said for the definitive winter experience. The kind of uniquely Canadian holiday snowfest that makes you appreciate living so far from the equator. The kind that makes you understand that Christmas, despite all that Jesus rhetoric and claptrap about giving, is really about one thing — and one thing only –: snow. Those guys who sang about the White Christmas? Good guys. People should listen to them. They understood the kind of experience everyone should have in the winter months.

I had that experience. And you, probably, did not. So ha-ha. Suckers.

What Brought Us To Where We Would Be Later

I don’t want to point any accusing fingers, so I’ll try not to name names, but I can’t think of another way to start this story other than to say: I don’t know anyone who is really great at planning things. And I am including myself in that. It’s not even really a slight as, despite the lack of planning, things tend to spontaneously come together and lead to great (or at the very least bizarrely remarkable) experiences that I will remember for if not the rest of my life than at least a good few weeks.

We came into the week before Christmas knowing that we wanted to do certain things, but kind of unsure of how exactly we would go about doing them. This was the agenda:

• Go into Toronto to get Toni to her exam and also to hang out
• Go out to dinner with Kristine’s sister and her boyfriend
• Attend the Billy Joel-themed musical event Movin’ Out
• Sleep somewhere for the night
• The next morning, drive to my family’s cottage in Minden, ON
• Stay there for a few days

I guess to normal people this wouldn’t seem quite so epic, but personally I was beyond impressed by the way everything came together. Not only did all these things happen, they actually happened on time. It was like we were all part of a well-oiled machine. And not any regular machine: an INCREDIBLE machine, like the ones you put together on the computer in your classroom as a kid. You know the ones — they had bowling balls and hamster cages and stuff.

I’d call it a Christmas miracle, but I think it would pale in comparison to other Christmas miracles. It wasn’t quite a virgin birth or a star in the sky or some guy deciding not to kill himself after a visit from a ghost, so I can’t in good conscience ascribe the word miracle to the events that took place. But there were times, throughout, where things felt pretty miraculous, and for that I guess I’ll thank Santa Claus.

Uptown Girl, living in her white bread world

Upon dropping Toni off at her exam, we had a ton of time to kill in Toronto before the musical would start. In what must have been foreshadowing, it was really goddamn cold, necessitating running as opposed to walking. Because of this, we opted to spend most of our time indoors, to the point where the only thing I remember about the hours prior to meeting up with Toni again and getting ready is drinking coffee. Oh, and I guess riding the subway, a task that surprised the hell out of Jeremy. I also bought a sweater and stood outside a La Senza for a while, trying not to look conspicuous.

Toni managed to find her way to an agreed-upon meet-up spot, a feat that I think deserves an award of some kind. Her exam went pretty well, I think, and at the very least it has to feel nice to be down with geology if only because you won’t have to hear any more ‘geology rocks!’-style jokes all the time. We dropped by Nicole Kozicki’s apartment to change and then headed out to the Red Room (Red Room, Red Room…) for dinner. This picture was taken, which you should really ask Kristine about. The food at the Red Room was not only good but also spectacularly cheap, making the whole thing a rather successful outing (Thanks Nicole!). In addition, when I asked Nicole and boyfriend Nick to pose for a couple picture, they did! And then when I asked Nick to include the Ice Planet Hoth in his toast, he did that too. I love it when people give me what I ask for.

After dinner, it was musical time. We walked up stairs, we watching Bryan buy gum and we saw a show so monumentally inexplicable that to explain it here would require me to double, no, TRIPLE the length of this article. Suffice to say that I had no idea that there was so much dancing in Vietnam. At the very least, however, we all looked good, though my unbridled desire to be overdressed (I really like wearing suits!) was kind of ridiculous.

We made it home just after midnight, with Kristine and Bryan staying at my house and Toni and Jeremy bunking at her place in Mississauga. Jeremy, unfortunately, was unable to join us in Phase Two of the plan, which was the cottage, because he had to go to a library and learn about microfiche or something. It sucked. I didn’t even know libraries were open the week before Christmas. It seems sacrilegious in a way.

But Toni, Kristine, Bryan and I made it off without a hitch the next morning, even leaving (relatively) on time. The ride up was smooth thanks to an entirely expected level of competence in driving from Bryan Mrezar. And before we knew it, we were there. Minden, Ontario, in the middle of winter, with no one else around for miles and miles and miles.

The cottage

I wish this was not the first picture I had of the cottage. And I wish even more that this was not the second. They are not at all representative of the time we spent up north, and I hope the readers of this account are able to appreciate them for what they are: the result of a bizarre request to put on shiny red snow-pants, followed by the addition of a shiny and sparkly scarf. This has only happened to me once.

This is what the cottage looks like. You’ll note it’s not exactly a dark and musty log cabin from the turn of the century with a wood stove and oil lanterns. It’s a big an pine house with everything from running water to DVD players, not exactly perfect for ‘roughing it’, but entirely appropriate for bizarre family photographs in front of the Christmas tree. (This one is a bit nicer but lacks the “We’re a lesbian couple with an amputee son” subtext of the first.)

We could have spent all of our time indoors, as we were well-stocked with board games, alcohol and stories to pass the time (plus things like this were happening, which are a sure sign of fun), but we were unable to resist the appeal of fresh, untouched snow. Perhaps it was because it reminded us of our purity; I don’t know. But we were going outside.

I dreamt I saw you walking on a hillside in the snow

Outside. The snow was to our knees and trails were for suckers. We had giant ill-fitting snowsuits and we were not afraid to use them. I’m unable to describe so many of these pictures. It’s not that they’re complicated or overly bizarre or anything, really, it’s just that I feel that, were I to describe them, I’d overuse the word magical. And there’s not a lot of words more cliche and kinda girly than magical. But how else do you describe a bunch of friends pretending to be animals in a makeshift fort? Or climbing a small hill like it was a mighty mountain? Or Bryan’s constant tackling of people? It’s only magical! There are no other words.

The route

We had no real idea we were going. We kind of wandered back into the woods and then, once we had lost all sight of civilization, worked our way forward towards other cottages and the lake. Somewhere along the line Toni looked shocked as we came across the driveway to another cottage. This, it was decided, was the perfect place for Bryan to drag his friend Kristine around. And then drag her some more. And then further. Kristine then tried to drag Bryan but was unable to do so, even with help. They just sort of fell over.
There was little time for snow angels or pretending to be a deer because we were almost at the lake. And what a scene it was. I deftly checked the thickness of the ice by stomping my foot against it and decided that it was perfectly safe to walk on. So off we went, stopping here and there to appreciate giant icicles and pose for buddy shots.

We made it back to my cottage’s beachfront, and once again I find myself invoking the magical clause if only because, whoa, three months ago people were WATERSKIING out there.

And the sun came up over Santa Monica

It was getting dark and everyone was bit tired. Still, though, when the call came up for the aforementioned snow-eating contest, people were eager to get started. Like, really eager. And once again I must state that this was a concept without precedent, without consequence, without stipulation and with no prize. It was done purely for a love of snow. And in that regard, they are all winners.

You can see my cottage in the background of these pictures. We were almost home. But once again any exhaustion felt was curtailed by an insane desire to experience another facet of this winter. In this case, it was attempting to sled without an actual sled. This worked surprisingly well for Bryan, but Kristine and Toni found themselves stuck. (Toni, ever the actress, made it LOOK thrilling, though) Later attempts to sled down the stairs — again, without a physical sled — seemed successful as well, but looked really really painful.

The winter of our content

The rest of the stay, after so much magic, was a whirlwind of ridiculous excitement. Bryan pointed at the ceiling, an international symbol of dance, and dance they did. Right there in the kitchen, surrounded by the awesome parts of winter. We danced, we spun, we slid on the floor — we looked like the best of friends, and never wanted to go home.

This was winter for me. Everything after this will be a pale imitation, like winter in Groucho Marx glasses. Winter is not the damnable season that sends you out shoveling or gets your sock soaking wet without warning. It is better summed up with oversized snowsuits that smell like a crawl-space, a nature walk through untouched snow, a former girl-guide speculating at every hole in the ground that maybe — just maybe — an animal lives here, and the force against your back, sending you toppling towards the ground that says, yes, I was just tackled by my roommate.

Click here to view all of the pictures

Tags:blog christmas fourth year pictures fun photo snow the best things

2006

8

Jan

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