Now, who'd want to move and leave all of this behind? I'd miss the frosty mornings when my windshield wipers are frozen solid to the windshield, and I'd miss watching the wiper blades tear apart as I gingerly try to pry them from the windshield. What fun would exist in a windshield not covered in enough ice to require a belt sander, sixteen blow-dryers, and a good sized ball-peen hammer to restore its visibility capability? I'd also miss that burning sensation in my fingertips when they come in contact with metal chilled to a perfect -40C. The sound of plastic handles snapping off of suitcases would be sorely missed. How could I cope with the loss of the unending pain from a severly bruised tail-bone, the victim of an icy sidewalk encounter. What about all of the fun resulting from changing a flat tire at -35C? Who'd want to miss the sickening sound of an engine that won't turn over anywhere near fast enough to start, as your wristwatch reminds you that you'll definitely--definitely be late, and probably fired, simply because some fat-head forgot to plug the block heater in on a lovely Northern night that dipped to a relatively balmy -30C? How could I survive without the knowledge that exposed flesh can freeze in several minutes--and with a good wind chill, much faster than that? Who'd ever think of going without that exhilerating stinging/asthmatic/choking sensation from the lungs, resulting when you've been foolish enough to run, and attempt breathing, at minus 25? Where would the justice in the world be without the challenge of black ice on an otherwise innocent looking highway? How could survial happen without having to stamp your feet constantly to remind your stupid heart to keep pumping blood to your ridiculously cold toes? Think how awful it would be in a good blizzard to actually be able to see where the highway you're supposedly travelling on actually is? What's the challenge of just walking up your sidewalk, without having to tunnel to reach your front door?!? All the fun of life would be missing without the fascination of lugging bales of hay through snow drifts to stranded cattle. And, how about all the excitement of chopping a hole in water in its frozen state, hoping to find some beneath it in a liquid state? What fun would it be if, while outside, your mouth was actually warm enough to properly form words--so you could be understood? The great Northern guessing game would simply vanish--what a tragedy.

You know, looking back on my musings (or, articulated ravings) those of us that live in the North are either Nuts, or very, very tough! And, then again, maybe we're just tough and nuts. . .

Later,

Lanny in AB