Sunday, December 16, 2007

Blinded By The White


Screwed out of a Christmas get together in Toronto last night with some fellow bloggers and all purpose snipers due to blizzard conditions and Sheena feels trapped and cranky.

Did a roast pork loin marinated in the marvelous all-purpose Rosemary Wine Syrup from Malivoire estates in Niagara along with a casserole dish full of roasted potatos, peppers, onions, carrots, garlic. Opened a light and fruity Henry of Phlegm Gamay Noir 2006

Stared out the window. Snow still blowing and falling as at this writing. A little bored. Have work I could start doing but not in the mood. Dragging out more old CDs. Forgotten treasure of the day Sam Robert's We Were Born To A Flame. Remembered the summer I tried to convince my secret American assignation accomplice that it was the greatest thing ever.

Dreading the trek into the office tomorrow. Glad I bought a shovel.

Look down the street and feel a little wistful. No one is going to come check on me out here. Eyes well up a bit remembering the greatest blizzard story ever. Winnipeg, November 1986, when the city was in full paralysis

Sheena was a starving student madly in love with what she then thought was The One. He was working downtown on a Friday night when the skies opened up and he took shelter in a borrowed dorm room. One for the record books. Her crazy baba got stuck at the CN yards and legend has it made it part way home on someone's skidoo. Gido did a quadruple shift, as did auntie Nurse. They were snowed in at work and no replacements were possible.

Sheena didn't have much in her apartment and figured she'd ride it out by borrowing essentials from downstairs. Looking out the window, the car in the drive way was completely obliterated. One big snowbank had engulfed it. Radio and TV blaring on about shutdowns, cancellations, no buses, no taxis, nothing but emergency services for the next 48 hours.

And then a knock at the door. Before her stood a tall imposing figure matted with snow and ice, facial features almost unrecognizable. In his hand was a bag. With a bottle of orange juice and a box of Old Dutch Ripple chips. "I stopped at the Shell store in case you ran out".

He walked home. From the University of Winnipeg, across the river to where Sheena lived. Down the middle of the empty unplowed streets. About a 5 mile walk according to Mapquest. He had mild frostbite on his ears and didn't stop shaking for hours. Soaked to the bone and boots full of snow. But it was worth it. He was coming home to me.

Sheena still has the blue and white sweater he wore home that day. His abominable snowman sweater as it henceforth became known. Maybe I'll go put it on. Take the chill off.

17 Comments:

At 8:21 PM, Blogger Antonia Z said...

Awww, I hope you washed it.

 
At 8:56 PM, Anonymous spy said...

awww that is a cute story

 
At 10:22 PM, Blogger Whitenoise said...

awwww...

 
At 12:14 PM, Blogger rgraham666 said...

Sweet story, Sheena. I'll write that down in my idea book. I'm sure I'll get something written from it.

And it was too bad you couldn't make it to the fest. Still, there's always next time.

 
At 6:21 PM, Blogger CheekierMeSly said...

Schweet memory, Sheena. Good times. Good times. Spanks for sharing.

 
At 9:00 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

So what about the part of shovelling the driveway and eating chili with your crazy ant?

 
At 12:46 AM, Anonymous sooey said...

Is Sheena you, Sheena?

 
At 9:45 AM, Blogger Leatherhands said...

Beautiful story. Sniff. (I'm struggling a bit with the "eating Old Dutch chips with orange juice for dinner" part, but sweet story...)

 
At 12:00 PM, Blogger Candace said...

What a great story! OT - Merry Christmas! I'm outa here for the holidays & will catch up with you in 08 - stay away from drunk drivers and have a great New Years!

 
At 1:34 PM, Anonymous Rachel said...

Thank you for the nomination! Someone sent me the link yesterday. :)

Hope you have a great Xmas!

Rachel

 
At 5:36 PM, Blogger raymi lauren said...

i met the husband of 'mommy blogger' at the gibson party, email me if you want to hear the hilarious exchange, he said her MO is mothers are women/people first, moms second, cant remember actual quote, but it was a goody and i managed to not snort-laugh somehow. i told him thats fine and all but i am way more famous than her and i made myself famous on my own, he then shut up.

 
At 5:40 PM, Blogger raymi lauren said...

ok i just read yer post, touching. i had a severe seizure when i was a toddler during a snowstorm took the ambulance over an hour to get to our house. maybe ill blog about it.

 
At 5:41 PM, Blogger raymi lauren said...

holy shit 86 maybe it was the same storm as yours!

 
At 7:42 PM, Blogger Sheena said...

Whipper snapper Bitch.

 
At 11:35 PM, Blogger Saskboy said...

Where're these t-shirts you promised ;-)

 
At 7:17 AM, Blogger Sonny Drysdale said...

It's true - there are no good men anymore.

 
At 12:09 AM, Anonymous victor immature said...

Sheen bean, this is a romantic story. But one cannot predetermine instances of olfactory nerve reactions, since they are part of the collective unconscious, which Jung ignored. It is science.

 

Post a Comment

<< Home