A cold day, during which I actually venture outdoors

After a long spell of mild temps, we got a blast of arctic air today. The very day that I had agreed to take Henry to a winter festival at the local park. Damn you, Mother Nature! Why do you mock me so? Okay, so it turned out to be fun. Jensen came into town to join us, and by the time we ventured to the park it was "only" -11 C. Bikini weather! Seriously, it wasn't that bad, although, as usual, I was slightly under-dressed for the cold. By which I mean that I wasn't wearing snowpants, a balaclava, and knee-high snowmobiling boots like everyone else who turned up for the festival. By my own standards, I was bundled up like the Sta-Puff Marshmallow Man, but my toes and legs were numb by the time we got home.

I blame my B.C. upbringing for my reluctance to get all geared up for cold. It seems natural to me to deal with winter by refusing to acknowledge that it's cold out. It's the B.C. way. When I was in Kelowna for Christmas I saw countless people venturing out in all manner of inappropriate clothing, including shorts (shorts!), ballet flats, and bare heads, bare hands, bare whatever they could get away with. It makes sense on this level: If you want to pretend you're the California of Canada, you've got to dress the part. You can't sissy out and wear some ugly-ass parka and hair-crushing touque just because it's several degrees below freezing. Come on! They may keep you warm, but it wouldn't be cool. In Ontario, however, they actually believe in winter, and no item of winter clothing is considered too dorky, too unflattering, or too uncomfortable to don as soon as the November wind starts biting. (Well, I haven't yet seen an adult in a one-piece snowsuit, but I'm sure a short trip over the bridge to Quebec would quickly put that bit of sartorial horror in view.) The rule is, if it keeps you warm, all else is forgiven.

ANYWAY, yes, the winter festival was a real slice of Ottawa winter, and a typical example of the wholesomeness of our wholesome little neighbourhood community. A team of volunteers turn a large portion of the park into a skating rink every winter by hosing the field and grooming the ice. Every night someone goes out and does the hosing. Just so the neighbourhood kids and hockey dads can skate. So there was skating. And free hot dogs and free hot chocolate in the field house, where you could warm up for free. Also, free rides through the park on a horse-drawn sleigh. Free! Henry and I sang Jingle Bells as we dashed through the snow. Henry and Jensen had tons of fun tobogganing down the hill. And I made chit-chat with the friends I ran into and recognized even though their faces were mostly obscured by polar fleece. I knew them by their coats. I realized last year that the key to maintaining relationships with friends and neighbours during the winter months is to memorize what everyone's winter parka and/or hat looks like, as that's the only way to identify individuals in the crowds of anonymous Sta-Puff People you see when you're out and about. So lots of fun for me and the boy. Worth a few numb toes.

In other news, Henry has a cold. And this is news. Honestly, it's the first time he's been sick since well before his second birthday. He was sick constantly as a baby, but since then, nothing. Perfect health. I do remember our pediatrician in Richmond saying, as she treated him for his umpteenth ear infection/cough/stomach ailment, that once he got over all these illnesses he probably would be immune to a ton of stuff and wouldn't get sick much in later years. But I didn't believe her. My dad thinks our house in Richmond was infested with toxic mold that made us all sick. I can't discount that theory, either. Whatever the reason, it's been a nice run, but with Dexter around now, I'm sure it will not be our last cold this season.

That was quite a ramble, wasn't it? Here are some pictures of our chilly playdate. It really is a beautiful park.