Thought for Today

When I look out the window it appears to be a beautiful, sunny day. But it's December 8th and I know better; it may be sunny, but it's not warm. In fact, it's -11°C here in Ottawa, and the weatherman says it feels like -17°C with the windchill. I wonder why we don't factor in the windchill during the summer. How come we don't say that it's 30°C but it feels like 23°C with the windchill? After all, there have been days in the middle of July where I sit on my deck under the glare of the sun and am forced to wrap myself in a towel by an overly-zealous summer breeze.

Perhaps I'm just sensitive about the topic because, as I get older, I am becoming more and more aware of changes in the temperature; particularly where those changes mean a dip in the thermometer. In the past few years, I have become increasingly fond of scarves. I have a growing collection of them to protect my neck from winter's bite. Turtle-necks and scarves have become a staple in my wardrobe. Diane Keaton gets ribbed all the time by fashionistas who criticize her for having a matronly, if not masculine, style of dressing. I'm thinking she just doesn't like to be cold. I'm with you Diane!

I bought a shawl for myself last year around this time. I thought it would make a nice addition to the outfit I intended to wear to our company Christmas party. I reconsidered after I envisioned myself maneuvering my way down the buffet line with a plate in one hand and a wineglass in the other, all the while trying to keep my shawl locked into the folds of my elbows to keep it from dragging behind me. As the scenario played out in my mind, I saw my boss tripping on the dragging end of my shawl and stumbling into me with a plate full of prime-rib swimming in rich, brown gravy. In my mind it ends tragically; he ends up on crutches and I end up fired. Within a few minutes, I managed to convinced myself that I was one bad accessory away from the unemployment line. I decided that I would rather be chilly.

When I realized the temperature was going to stay below zero for good, I changed my PT Cruiser for a Cadillac. It feels like I borrowed my parents' car...it has heated seats though, which makes it perfect for me right now. I just start the ignition, turn on the heated seats and make a hasty retreat to the warmth of the indoors until it's ready. I swear you could fry eggs on these seats. When I find I need to continually reposition myself to avoid, what feels like it could be, a second-degree burn I turn the setting down to low. Every passenger in this car gets a heated seat. There are temperature controls for the passengers in the back and more storage room than my first apartment. If it had running water, I'd be inclined to take up residence for the winter.

I know, I know...Canadians are chronic complainers where weather is concerned. I admit it. We are weather-centric and we revel in it. It is what we talk about and it's how we build our relationships. If the weather gets bad enough, complete strangers will work together to get a car out of a ditch, clear a driveway or even commiserate with one another until the mood lifts.

We Canadians enjoy a love/hate relationship with our weather. We love it and love to talk about it. Even when we hate it, we love to talk about it.