I grew up in Edmonton, Alberta. The summers were generally glorious - not too hot, light out until 10 p.m., rat-free - and winters were fucking freezing.
Edmonton routinely reached temperatures of -40C in the winter, back in the day. For you Fahrenheit lovers, that's -40F. And the windchill - don't get me started about the windchill. When I saw the opening Hoth sequence in The Empire Strikes Back, I asked my mother if the film had been shot in Edmonton. I can't count the number of times I walked to and from school, wishing for a nice warm Tonton Tauntaun to ride, or at least slice open and curl up inside. Perhaps with some hot chocolate. And Leia. Perhaps with her shirt off. Mmm. . . Leia.
I remember I lost half my eyelashes one winter's day when the condensation from my breath froze my face to the scarf I had wound round my head several times and when I removed the scarf, several lashes were pulled right out. The real indignity? That my lashes are so sparse and stubby to begin with that no one noticed they were gone. This incident is why, to this day, when I remove a scarf, I handle it very carefully, like it's made of plutonium and about to go off in my face.
The thing is that I LIKE the cold. It makes me feel brisk and alive. I love the snow and the ice. I feel invincible. Also, I'm a bit of a masochist. When I moved to Toronto to go to university years ago, I blew my fellow students away by wearing Birkenstocks, sans socks, well into December. My campus nickname was "Alberta Feet" and I was proud. I wore the lightest of jackets and when Torontonians talked about the "wet" cold and how it was so much "worse" than "dry" cold because it got into your "bones", I called them "pussies" because the coldest "wet" cold Toronto has to offer still cannot compete with "losing half your eyelashes" in -40C/F.
I'm not going to lie to you. I felt superior here, in that incredibly annoying "My experience completely trumps your experience, so shut it" way. But the truth is that I haven't experienced a whole Edmonton winter in nine years. And guys - I've gotten soft.
I've been in denial about this the last couple of years. I still mock people who talk about the "wet" cold, but, as I taunt them about not wearing a hat, I think that I too have noticed the wet cold. This winter I wore gloves more often than I ever have before and when the harsh wind blows right in my face, I MAKE A NOISE instead of taking it stoically as I used to. I buy thicker socks. A couple of times this past winter, I actually TURNED ON THE HEAT. But because I am delusional, I was still somewhat secure in my ability to withstand the cold. Until yesterday.
Katr's best friend Dapo and his lovely girlfriend Jebr scheduled a garage sale this weekend and we agreed to help out. The sale was originally scheduled for Saturday, but was called off due to possible rain and rescheduled to Sunday. Saturday was a beautiful day. Sunday - not so much.
When we checked the weather in the morning, it didn't look so bad. The sun was shining; it was +5C (41F) and going up to +10C (50F). To me, that is sweater weather. Since I figured we would probably get warm by lifting and moving garage sale things in the morning chill, I wore a t-shirt, jeans, sandals and the ram-pocket mammy cardigan I bought in Galway. I was certain I wouldn't need it for long.
The first sign that the weather might be a problem was when Dapo brought out some shelves and the wind blew them over. The wind then threatened the tables and everything on the tables. Even the 100lb box of dishes rattled from time to time. Every time we turned away, the wind sent relatively heavy things skittering across the street. Undaunted, Dapo, Jebr and Katr continued to set up while I "supervised" and crooned sweet nothings to my Tim Horton's coffee in the one sunny patch of the sidewalk. It was rather strange - I knew I felt uncomfortable in some way, but I couldn't figure out WHY. And then, when the wind whipped a piece of my hair into my face so hard I thought I'd lost an eye, it hit me:
I WAS COLD. IN TORONTO. IN MAY.
Naturally, I wasn't the only one of us who was cold. I was just the only one who didn't want to admit it, particularly in front of Dapo, another Albertan, who was wearing even less than I was. People came and bought things and were jovial and wished us luck in the foul weather. Dapo kindly fetched us some warm socks to wear, and my Alberta Feet thus wore "socks with sandals", which I swore I'd never do. Though stunned by my own wimpitude, I entertained no thoughts of cutting out. But as the wind rattled Dapo's coffee maker and pierced my mammy sweater, I felt my stoicism . . . slip. The last straw came when the rascal wind gusted up and blew my full cup of Jebr's signature sweet coffee onto my leg, where it was delightfully warm for a nanosecond before becoming a cold, wet weight, like a toddler, made of ice, peeing ice water on my lap. You know, those ice toddlers. Let's just say it was a "wet" cold.
It was all downhill from there. I had the wet leg. I had socks on my hands. I was visibly shivering. And then, when the staccato of my chattering teeth grew so loud Dapo had to strain to hear a guy asking "how much do you want for this Hibachi?", Katr TOOK ME HOME. And I WENT.
I would like to take a moment to apologize to Dapo and Jebr for wimping out. I am mortified, to say the least. And then I would like to apologize to all you people who I've made fun of over the years. It was wrong and I am sorry. And as soon as I'm finished posting here, I'm gettin' back to my knitting. Because clearly, I'm going to need more hats.
