On the 8th day of Hanukkah, it was rather quiet…

Except for occasional crunches of plastic sleds being dragged over snow, and the occasional car creeping up the road. Despite the light overnight snowfall, people have all but given up, and are staying home. They are leaving their cars where they sit, parked haphazardly all around the crescent. The light rail is back, the trains are running – with delays, but moving slowly. The buses out of town are running, but we haven’t seen any inner city buses pass our stop since Monday. And cabs –hah.

D. put on his ice crampons and hiked to the University yesterday, and later we mapped out a strategy to get up the steep hills to Strathclyde Uni where we rehearse — only to be overjoyed that chorus rehearsal has been rescheduled. The 7°-9°F/-12° and -14°C temps we’re having are supposed to break by Thursday, but if they don’t, we will have zero rehearsal time, and we have a performance this weekend! We hope the orchestra and soloists are at least able to rehearse, since they’re the main draw.

When we moved here, we were told a.) that it rarely snowed and b.) that it could get quite cold, but mostly didn’t. Because we are wimpy Californian nutcases, we bought silk long underwear, take-no-prisoners heavy boots, wool socks, balaclavas to wear over our heads and faces, knitting needles and lots and lots of yarn. Guess who is happy to have been a wimpy nutcase. The Canadians are laughing at us — and well they should, because this little snow and ice should not shut down a whole city — but we are, at least, mostly warm. …And thinking we should maybe start knitting some more indoor-woolens, as we have frost on the INSIDE of the bathroom windows and the candles and heater aren’t exactly keeping up with this. Oh, well. This is why we have blankets. And hats. Which we’re wearing indoors…

According to The Geography of Bliss, by Eric Weiner, people living in cold countries are… happier. Weiner attributes this to the “get along or die” school of thought – that interdependence is a necessity to get through something like cold. It’s the idea that we all have to hang together, or we’ll all hang separately.

Maybe after a LOT of snow and cold, we could understand that. But as of now, most people can fall down on the road, and have others perhaps gasp, but not offer a hand up. Smiles are exchanged, with endless eye-rolling facial commentary about the ice, snow, the frozen puddles, etc. — but not much else. Head down, we hurry forward, scarves wrapped around our mouths, just hoping to draw breath without coughing, just wanting to get home.

We shudder to think what would happen if we did have to rely on each other. Hopefully this time we won’t find out…

The River Kelvin, Freezing. (The park fountain is frozen solid. Should go get a picture. Eventually.)

Looking up at the University

Stay healthy. Make soup. Keep baking! And stay warm!