Now, Where Were We?

It cost a few extra coins, but I've ferried back across the River Styx and have left Death behind for awhile. After a week of visitations, funerals (two of them, actually), long-lost relatives, too many death certificates, and a quiet spot for ashes under a leafless Magnolia - it's time to cast these eyes back towards the Living.

Today was Winter Preparation Day at Casa Crazylegs. The lawn got one last trim, the pump has been pulled from the pond, the deck chairs and bikes have been crammed into the shed. I can, once again, fit the van into the garage.

Now - we wait.

I hate Winter a little bit more every year. Sure, all you glass-half-full types might have said something like, "I like Winter a little bit less every year". Not me, though. My hatred for Winter just grows.

It's not that I don't like snow. I like snow just fine. And cold? Bring it on, man. It's just that Winter has become much too ambiguous for me. Winter in Southwestern Ontario is decidedly an under-achiever these days, and someone ought to do something about it.

What has happened to the Winters of our youth? When was the last time we had to call out the army to rescue stranded motorists? Anymore, Winter is nothing but nothing but feast-or-famine snowfalls and a continuous cycle of freeze/thaw. We have a whole generation of kids who've never had that sense of entitlement for Snow Days.

So come on Winter. Show us what you got, or I'm calling Al Gore.