Thursday, February 14, 2019
ROBBLOG #769 Snow, Shorts, Shovels and Prognostications
First of all- F**K!
Now, I feel better and don't tell me Islanders or Easterners that you haven't said that out loud this past week or at least those same four letters have passed by on the tickertape of your mind.
It's been quite the six days- and that doesn't make a week but it sure feels like a year.
Pardon me if I repeat myself from the previous BLOG.
I did tell you that this is the most "Island Snow" in 23 years- right?
We are at or round 60 cms. That's close to two feet in an area that lives by its claim to be a Mediterranean climate zone.
The only one in Canada.
In defense of this climate, it does snow in Rome and even in Tuscany, a place where we think it's hot and grapes grow year round. I am reading a book on Tuscany right now and believe me it is one of the only things getting me through this "Snowmaggedon".
I just came in the house from scraping another few cms of snow off our drive here at Palm Villa. Now, a half hour later, I could probably go outside and do it all over again. There's another winter storm warning in effect with not only snow this time but with rain in the mix as well.
Gee, thanks Jesus.
I say "thanks Jesus" because some people are blaming Jesus and his Dad for all this weather.
These same people can't walk up the street or do something on their own that they are proud of without spouting thanks to God or his Son. Cheese and Crackers folks, give yourself some credit that you, a lovely human being, can do some pretty amazing things on your own without God sticking his almighty finger up your ass to prod you along. If God's got that much free time, ask him to shovel my drive once or twice!
I can see a weather trend that this snow-horror, this brutal, savage weather pattern is going to stop- maybe next week. We have some sunny days and 5c ahead. Not the 10c we should be seeing but it's a start. We actually walked today, the Mister and I. Someone had made a path with a 4 wheel drive ATV along the trail. We finally got some exercise. For a change, I even let the Mister scrape potatoes while I scraped the driveway.
See, I am not a monster after all.
I do my share of winter chores as long as I don't lift the stuff.
As we walked on the trail, along came three joggers wearing shorts. They had miner's lights affixed to their caps, running along merrily in the snow over the horse bridge near our Palm Villa. It was close to 6 o'clock and the light was dimming.
Typical Island stuff.
I am not sure.
I am hoping the result of "Tall Steve" dancing naked around a fire in the forest behind us will do the trick but I am a little hesitant to believe that or form a picture in my mind of "Tall Steve" prancing naked in the snow around burning brush or bush- in the case of his dancing prowess taking him far too close to the open flames.
Anyone else smell singed pubes?
In this mess of white, we guard our little red shovel with our lives and right now this instrument is worth its weight in a bar of gold.
Another sure sign of island snow- a neighbour with his son- both on a toboggan, sliding down the winding trail that leads from our neighbourhood to the Trans Canada Trail below. I would much rather have passed this "Daddy" on a hot, sultry, summer Island day when he is stripped to the waist, muscles glistening and sweat clinging to the thick mat of black chest hair covering his upper torso as he jogs up our street.
That's the first toboggan I have seen on the island last winter or this winter. It is not the first display of black chest hair I have seen on the Island- thank goodness!
Now, if all this snow-talk hasn't brightened your spirits, read this next bit and ponder it well. Islanders are aware that the last time we had snow like this was way back in the year 1996.
That's 23 years ago.
So, they say we'll not see another storm like this for a long time again.
If it takes that long, a little bit of figuring and conjuring with those figures- not necessarily while stripped naked and dancing the Hullabaloo in a forest around a flaming pit of fire, soon tells me that if this much snow waits another 23 years to fall, I'll be a spry, old 91 years of age. Why, I'll be strapping on my Depends to saunter over to the window to watch the flakes fall while I wait for Nurse Ratchett to enter my room to change those diapers and wipe my hairy, old, wrinkly, white ass.
Put that in your bucket of snow and slush and ponder it well...
Posted by Rob Reid at 7:38 PM