HEADING SOUTH CARRYING A BLOCK HEATER CORD
There is this fabulous song called "Marching Inland" about a disgruntled sailor who wants to leave the sea behind. When he finally sets foot on land he thinks things over and comes up with an ingenious plan. He decides to throw an oar over his shoulder and keep walking inland until someone asks him, “What is that funny thing you got?” That’s when he’ll know he’ll never have to go to sea again.
This recent cold snap has made me think of doing something similar. Instead of an oar, I’ll pull my block heater cord out for all to see and start driving south. When someone asks, “Goodness gracious, what’s that cord hanging out of your hood for? Is that an electric car or something?” I’ll know I’ll never have to fear for freezing off my fingers – and other bits that I’ve grown rather fond of other the years - again.
But seriously, this is ridiculous. I’m hoping that by the time you read this we’re revelling in sunshine and Chinook breezes, because if we aren’t this could very well be the longest cold snap on record. It’s not even a snap. A snap implies that something takes the same length of time as it does to snap your fingers. A snap is quick. You’d have to be a special kind of slow to take six weeks to snap your fingers. Unless they froze off and you’re still trying to locate them in the snow. If you think finding a needle in a haystack is hard, try finding a frozen finger in 60 acres of snow.
This week it actually got up to minus five once. I was so excited at the prospect of getting outside that I couldn’t zip my parka up fast enough. Imagine my surprise when my face turned to cement and my lashes froze shut before I even reached the end of the driveway. Oh, what a laugh we had when I finally made it back to the house and learned that while it was indeed only minus five, the wind chill factor made it minus 32. Whatever happened to those warm Chinook kind of winds?
I was lamenting to a friend about the cold. “It’s been minus 28 at our place for the last three mornings,” she cheerfully informed me. “But, hey what can you do?”
What can you do? What can you do! You can move, that’s what you can do! I told her about my block heater cord plan, but she refused to play Louise to my Thelma.
“Where would you go? It’s January in Canada. You can’t afford to live in Vancouver and even if you could, things are just as bad down there this winter anyway.”
“The world doesn’t end with Canada you know. It’s a big planet. I’m thinking Africa. Or maybe Australia; I just did a Google and it’s 28 degrees Celsius in Sydney today.”
“Big deal, it’s 28 degrees here too.”
“Yeah, but they’re plus and we’re minus.”
“Some say too-may-toe, some say ta-mah-toe.”
“What the . . . and just what do you think you’re doing talking to me about tomatoes in January? You know perfectly well we won’t have any tomatoes until August. Do you know how long it is until August? They sure wouldn’t guess what a block heater cord was in Australia. I bet they’re eating tomatoes off the vine down under right now.”
“This is why I don’t like being friends with you in the winter. You get all cranky and weird. ”
“I’m not cranky and weird. I’m just cold. And who’s the one babbling about tomatoes? Maybe you’re cranky and weird. Did you ever think of that? Hello? Hello?”
That’s okay. She’ll phone me back in June. She always does. In the meantime I have tomato seeds to order. And frozen fingers to find.
Shannon McKinnon is a humour columnist from the Peace River country. She can be reached at peacecountry@msn.com
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