For those who have missed it, we live in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada. Saying you live is Canada anywhere in the world other than Siberia and Alaska is grounds for jokes about frost bite and polar bears. Saying you live in Manitoba to another Canadian gets you the same, unless they're from Nunavut or the Yukon - but nobody is from there. Saying you're from Winnipeg is like saying you're from Detroit, only with mosquitoes that carry away small pets. In fact, our crime rate would be much higher if only gang bangers didn't have to spend seven months a year indoors.
Take today, for instance. Days like today, where it's -50c outside, are special days. They're the kind of days where the minimum recommended clothing for being outside is a pair of wicking socks, a pair of wool socks, then winter boots; thermal underwear, sweats, then regular pants; more thermals, a long-sleeved shirt, a sweater, a hoodie, then your parka, possibly with an extra hoodie squeezed in there somewhere. I have hoodies in three different sized for the purposes of layering. Then you've got a gloves, a neckwarmer, scarf, and some kind of fur hat that makes you look like some kind of freakish lovechild of the Michelin Man and Grizzly Adams. This probably takes 30 minutes to put on. I go outside to shovel the snow, since we got two feet of it this weekend, and after 10 minutes at most, I go back insisde to make sure I still have a face, and remove any icicles which may have formed. Warm up, repeat until whatever silly task that needed doing is done.
By some cruel trick of atmospheric pressure, I would actually be warmer today if I jumped naked from an aircraft at 10,000 feet than if I stepped out the front door. Bringing up the weather here is makinmg polite conversation anywhere else in the world. Here, it's just rubbing salt in the wound, unless you're not from here - then we get to enjoy the false send of superiority that comes from living somewhere that doesn't have weather so much as cyclic wrath of God.
The time it takes to type this up is about how long it takes to get feeling back in my toes, in point of fact. So now I'm back at it. Wish me luck, and if I don't blog again in the next week, send a search party to my backyard.