My car got stuck in the snow this weekend. I guess that’s what happens when it snows 10-15 cm in five hours. I was not impressed. I was even less impressed when I realized that the shovel that should be the in the trunk of the car was not there. I had managed to maneuver my car from its parking spot to behind someone else’s car, effectively blocking them in. I felt like a real champion. Thankfully the grandmother I had blocked in was a good person and didn't rage at me or ram my car. She talked me through rocking my car out of the snow, got a shovel from a nearby business, and shovelled me out when needed. She even offered me words of encouragement while standing out there in the wind chills of at least -20.
In hindsight I shouldn't have gone out in the snow, but I figured if I could get out of our garage, out of our laneway, and make it to a main road without getting stuck I was going to be fine. I had a hair appointment to get to and live in Saskatchewan for crying out loud. Nothing shuts down life in Saskatchewan, not even -72 degrees with the wind chill. I wasn't about to let a little snow stop me from driving ten minutes down the road. Especially if it meant someone else was going to wash my hair for me.
When I made it home from my hair cut, miraculously alive and in my own car, I had a good cry. You don’t get stuck in the snow in a parking lot while you’re husband’s out of town with no idea who to call or what to do while you’re pregnant and HAVE TO PEE even though you just went without getting to cry a little bit about it.
So I skipped church morning because my desire to get stuck in the snow again was, on a scale of one to ten, a negative eight. I did go to the gym, however, because it was close by and I needed to walk out my winter stress to the sweet sound of Mike Holmes trash talking another contractor’s work. And I won't be able to walk outside again until some time in April or when the snow and ice are fully melted.
It was Family Day here in Saskatchewan and probably other provinces too, this weekend. That meant a blissful three day weekend after only 2 ½ days of work for me. Karl went to Alberta but I just didn't have it in me so I stayed home, read, watched a couple movies (The Fault in our Stars and The Book Thief. Both were good and one made me ugly cry for a solid 30 minutes. I’m sure you know which one I'm talking about), and cleaned the house. There’s nothing like spending a few days home sick to make you realize how important it is to keep your house clean all the time. Especially if your morning sickness comes back even a little bit. Head in toilet = need for super clean toilet.
The three day weekend meant that I could be lazy and productive all once. Those three bathrooms I'm super grateful for yet terrified of all got cleaned more than ever before, the kitchen was scrubbed, the floors done, the laundry washed, and I organized the office and hall closet. I even washed all my bras. I feel like (embarrassingly) that’s the most neglected washing I do, so it needs to be added to the list. When all was said and done I made myself dinner and felt like I needed a glass of wine to celebrate. It’s not like I went hardcore on the cleaning or anything, and I did it over three days, but wine and productive house cleaning seem to go hand and hand to me. It’s not even that I wanted wine, it just felt like a wine moment. So I drank water.
After more crawling around on the floor than usual (but the baseboards behind my toilets are SPOTLESS) my body has given up. Bending over is my least favourite activity today. Putting on tights this morning was a challenge. I've become a grunter. Tying up my runners at the gym yesterday was hard, especially trying not to sound like a baby warthog. I refuse to believe that, with another 15 ½ weeks to go, I'm already losing my ability to bend forward. I blame the cleaning and the coughing before that. My abs just need a break. I really really hope.
When Karl got home yesterday he got the fun job of shovelling our 10-15 cm of fresh snow that accumulated while he was away. To give you some perspective of what it actually was, though, the snow was higher than my boots, walking from our back door to our garage. The drifts on one side of our garage go up close to my waist and I am a woman of average height, people. You want to come over and build an igloo? Just kidding, we’d freeze to death. Come over and we’ll have tea and I’ll make more banana cinnamon buns and we’ll turn the heat up and the humidifier on and pretend like we’re in Cost Rica.
Every time I look at the snow I see my poor little Mazda stuck in it. I think I'm emotionally done with this winter. Every time I see a picture of home and the flowers are blooming and the sun is shining and people aren't wearing parkas and the ski hills are closed because NOT ENOUGH SNOW I want to throw my phone again the wall. For serious.
I finished off my weekend on a high note yesterday, though. You know where this is going, I’m sure. Waffles.
It’s been year since I used my waffle maker and I always had it in my head that waffles were a lot of work. Clearly I was using too fancy of a recipe. Waffles are amazing and simple and taste so darn good when covered with coconut whipped cream, sliced banana, and a dusting of brown sugar/cinnamon/cocoa. They were everything I’d hoped they would be. And now that I know they take less time than pancakes to make, I’ll probably make them more than I care to admit. Because waffles, you guys. Waffles!