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blizzard warnings - 13:52 , 03 October 2013

heelerless - 21:32 , 18 August 2013

Red Coat Inn in Fort McLeod - 11:38 , 23 June 2013

rushing into the waters - 09:53 , 21 June 2013

choosing a spot - 17:43 , 27 April 2013

17 December 2007 - 14:20

party dismay

If someone asked you to draw "dismay", you would have drawn her face.

If I had known that would be her reaction, I might have kept my mouth shut. Certainly her husband wishes I had.

Otherwise, it was a pleasant Saturday Christmas party. Yes, the wind was strong and the roads bad. To the point of several vehicles getting stuck just outside the home we were in. And that on a main drag.

The official Christmas party for the outfit was running at the same time, but 127 miles away. Not very attractive for families with young children. You feel negligent taking them on those dangerous highways at night in the winter (we did, once), but it's kinda hard to get a sitter when the best you can hope for is getting home after midnight, and there's usually a 50-50 chance you'll have to stay the night.

Or two.

Such is the reality of winter travel in our state.

When our boys were young, the wife and I took to hosting Christmas parties for the local families of the Outfit, simply to avoid the hazardous drives. And as our sons grew up, one of the wardens in town, with young children, occassionally took over hosting duties.

But it's been a few years. So we were pleasantly surprised when one of the new warden families came up with the same old solution. And here we all were, some spouses meeting for the first time. Finally getting to put faces on the names and voices they have been regularly hearing about and from for months. And kids doing the traditional maneuverings to get themselves at the "big people's" table, rather than enjoying all the activities set up to amuse them.

Yes, by the end of the evening, they all were in playing cards with us. It really is more fun that way.

Kinda different visiting with people whose big excitement was the great seats they had at Nationals.

Right over the chutes.

Some of you would know exactly what they meant, but for others at the table it took a while to figure out which sport's "Nationals" they were talking about.

The dinner was potluck, of course, and good. We and another family were caught kind of flat-footed when one family took it upon themselves to provide gifts for everyone else.

We didn't have any to reciprocate.

The best parts of gifts received were the hand-written, cleverly composed poems attached to each.

For gifts like snowman poop, or reindeer droppings.

The reindeer droppings disappeared fast.

The 8-month old snagged onto my snowman poop like it was, well, candy.

Even though he never got the baggy open. The spongy marshmallows just felt really great on his teething gums.

Yeah, we let him keep 'em.

But it was somewhen during the card games that conversation turned to the blowing snow outside. When yet another vehicle could be heard spinning tires in the drift through the intersection.

Across the table was the 8-month old's mother, a recent transplant from urban California.

Southern California.

I pointed out the blowing snow is a good thing. If we don't get some of our ground bared off, the heavy cover of reflective snow starts to make its own weather. Temperatures never rise. If that happens, I predicted...

That snow out there will still be there in April.

It was then the look of dismay sprung onto her face.

When she asked "Really?", you could see she was hoping I was kidding.

I unconsciously shifted my feet away from her native-born husband's legs as I answered...

Really.

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