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enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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Grace a...

Well, it is VERY cold. Minus thirty with the windchill. I am glad that I don't have to walk to work. I hate the feeling of the wind on my face.

The view from here, however, is purty. It's sunny and bright and crisp.

I must admit that lately I have had a compliment to pay to Canadians. I rarely do this, so I feel I ought to. One of the best things about being Canadian is that people don't really complain about the weather. I don't say this to make fun of the English and their snow - I know they weren't prepared for it.

The thing with Canadians is that many if not most have family in the country or further north. Many have moved into the cities from elsewhere, or they've at least lived somewhere else in the country. We can get snow drifting up to the top of doors and people will say, "Great day for snowmobiling, eh!"

If it's extremely cold, people still get out, plug the car in, put on a fur hat, and get to work. They get into the elevator and say, "Colder than a witch's tit, eh!"

Basically you have to have an ice storm in which the power has been out for a few days and people are buying supplemental generators and their roofs are caving in from giant icicles falling on them, before you hear people actually complaining. It was not that long ago that I was in high school (OK - yeah, it is twenty years), but I remember that my walk to school was nearly two miles. When it was extremely cold my mother would just put a balaclava and a snowsuit on me and throw me a pair of mitts and tell me to get going. I remember that I'd structure my route so that I could warm up at the hockey arena(!) on my way to school.

But all of this I like. I find I don't like complaining all that much. Complaining and moaning about stuff always seems like wasted air. I'm quite impatient about it. Which is why I've hated being an anxious person, because in effect I'm complaining all the time to myself (and of course to you, my poor, friendly readers). I CANNOT tell you how happy I am to find myself in a period of relative *grace*.

So there is ONE thing that I like very much about Canadians: their practicality. Even city Canadians know how to dig a car out of a giant snowbank. Women in high heels will help out.

The other thing I like and that I hope I never have to use, is that I know how to build a proper snowhut, in the event that I am lost in the wilderness in a blizzard. Don't ask me how I know how to do this, but I do. I even know how to make pemmican.

This reminds me of the former governor general's husband. He is a philosopher who wrote a book that basically declared that not only are the first nations people underrepresented in our history, but that the importance of their culture for the roots of our attitudes as a society are way under-acknowledged. I found this idea and intriguing. He believes it's true right down to the kinds of compromises and community compacts that we've built into the British parliam3ntary system and the British common law traditions that are our foundation.

So, what to do today? It's so cold and I have that second chicken, but somehow I feel as though my shelves are under-stocked. I kind of want to eat something different (right now I'm eating a bowl of shredded wheat), but I wish I had a boy toy to go and get it for me. :) So I have a question: are boy toys an American idea (i.e. Madonna), or are they a European idea (e.g. the Rivi3ra). Discuss.

I guess I'm not THAT Canadian. And, I'm extremely silly. My plumber hasn't arrived yet. I wonder if I will be treated to plumber butt...

XOXOXO

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9:15 a.m. - 2010-01-29

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