Why close a park in the winter? I understand if you’re not going to maintain the paths and you’ll just “let snow fall” but is it dangerous? Should I close my front lawn too? What lives under the snow in Ottawa that we don’t know about?
Blog
The Park is Closed
Holding the Surface
There are MANY days that I don’t want to go much farther than my front door – in this case I did – by about a foot.
Little Red Snowsuit
I can’t wait for Quinn to be able to play in the snow – I really remember enjoying putting on a full snowsuit and just going nuts with my GT Snowracer, or those slick and dangerous fun “magic carpets” and…
okay, I have to stop there. I was trying to find a Wikipedia article to link to GT Snow Racer and came across this instead.
I, I’m just… like, wow. I’m done here, peace.
The Grunge
I owned a flannel shirt once, got it in Grade 9 – right about the time I bought Nevermind and Ten. I didn’t have it for long though, I was invited to a New Years Eve party and left it there – never got it back.
Beyond that, the grungiest I ever got was the Pearl Jam No Code tour shirt – pretty lame I know – but I don’t think you have to live the style to appreciate the music.
Strawberry Swing
Mel’s been away for the week and, because of that, I’ve regressed into bachelor ways. I drink a bit every night, I’ve been smoking Cigars (Cohiba’s from Mel’s sister – SCANDAL!), and staying up late watching TV shows I haven’t had the chance to in a long time (What’s up with Gaeda being a punk on BSG yo!?)
So Friday night, while indulging in all of these things, someone comes-a-knocking on my door. Why it’s my friendly neighbourhood drunk guy, well, one of them anyways. Seems he can’t get into his apartment next door, and seems to think I know my way into his house.
I figure “what the hell” I’m flying solo and I’m up for an adventure (I’d be wrong on this point) so’s I go out with the guy (His name is Sean… I think, anyways, he kept calling me “guy”). So we go to his place the door is locked, he said he lost his keys in the snow (if you haven’t heard we’ve got a few feet of the stuff here in Ottawa right now), and he wants me to break the door down: I’m not interested.
Still, I end up hanging out with his drunk ass and even let him into the house to warm up a bit – drink, and subsequently spill, a glass of water – and eat the ruined bagel-bites that I was cooking up when he knocked on the door.
He’s sitting in my hallway, half passed out, when I say “okay, it’s time to get you to your place, time for you to go to bed” and he says “yes guy!” and starts heading up to mine.
This pissed me off – I’m not interested in this kind of drunk booty-call – so I tell him who’s boss (me) and get him the frack out of my house. I end up banging the shit out of his neighbours doors until someone wakes up, calls someone else, and gets his roomie to come open the door for him.
Now I don’t want to sound elitist – I’m 28; I’m neither accomplished, nor am I destitute – but I sure as hell hope I don’t end up like this guy in ‘X’ number of years.
Cold, alone, reduced and forgetting exactly where I live, and how to get in there.