Dear Diary:

I learned my first lesson of the new year about 45 minutes into 01-01-01 when I stepped out of our neighbour's New Year's Eve party and into about six inches of fresh snow, with lots more falling around me. This would be on top of the six inches dropped earlier in the day.

I want to emphasize to both my readers right now that it is NEVER a good idea to make fun of a Canadian winter, eh. Take it from me, showing winter some 'tude can come back to bite you on the butt big time.

So yes, I deeply, deeply regret making fun of winter and winter storms. I do. Can we make it stop snowing?



Yep, I love a man who would wear an orange touque with the word Skidoo on it in large letters.  But then, not many men would put up with a woman as quirky as I am, eh. As you can see from this picture, we now have some serious snow, up over our knees. You're also witnessing the opening salvo in The Great Grey Squirrel war. This morning the spousal unit dug down through over two feet of snow and pickaxed a hole into the frozen ground so we could move our bird feeders into the middle of the yard, far from trees that the squirrels could use as a launch pad.

The squirrels are ticked off; it's quite hilarious. They've been travelling in little tunnels under the soft snow to the edge of the skidoo track, which circles around the feeders. As they move, it looks just like one of the spice worms travelling under the sand in that sci-fi novel "Dune". I cracked Paul up big time when I said "The squirrel is the spice." Um, maybe you had to be there for that. Maybe you also have to be a big science fiction dork.


Oh and even you know what? The best part comes when the squirrels hit the edge of the soft snow. They pop their heads up just like that "Whack A Mole" game. Zubby goes simply mental from his perch in the kitchen window when he spots one of them doing that. I can see quite clearly that the squirrels are reconnoitering the situation carefully.

There may be a counterattack, eh. I'll issue a bulletin if there is, of course.

Oh, and did you notice that object in the back of the picture, just to the left of my porch steps, the one with the large white bulb of snow on it? That would be my barbeque, last used a few weeks ago.

Oh, and don't laugh because I can promise you that I will be shovelling it out from time and time and barbequeing on it Because I Am Canadian And This Is What We Do. We can't beat winter, so we kind of pretend it's not really there.

It strikes me that I may be creating an unreal stereotype in the minds of my readers, both of whom might not know much about Canada.

For instance very few Canadians live in isolated log cabins in mountain valleys as I do.

Most of us still live in igloos, switching to teepees for the two and half weeks that the typical Canadian summer lasts.

And did you know that very few Canadians travel up to their homes by skidoo?

Most of us still use dog sleds.

Oh, and nobody says "eh" in Canada. I just um .:blush:. made that part up .:blush:.

I hope you can forgive me, eh.


Old Drivel - New Drivel

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Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -

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