Thursday night in Trois Rivieres, Quebec. The cold is the kind that makes your nostrils freeze up, that gnaws on your toes the minute you step outside. I am huddled in a hotel room in a not-so-comfortable bed piled with pillows and blankets, a computer with a wireless connection, and a view out onto the street. I don't mind doing work at 8:30 p.m. like this too much. It's better than in an office, I suppose. Either way, I mostly end up searching for random videos on You Tube:
So it's that time of year where I kind of just want to crawl into a hole and sleep for awhile and avoid: deadlines, phone calls, memos, clients. But it is also that time of the year when all of those things are unavoidable. Um.
When I told people I would be moving to Montreal, they warned me of the sub-Arctic winter conditions. I didn't need any warning: I was perfectly aware of the strength of a Quebec winter, and had already begun mentally preparing myself for it. Before the snow even fell I bought the warmest parka ever (let's not talk about the fur around the hood, which I was sure was fake until Christmas Eve when Andrew's mother shook her head and said, "Um, Teri? I'm pretty sure it's real."), ugly warm boots (not Uggs), and installed snow tires on my car. I was ready. But, it's January 4th, and I'm walking around outside with my coat unzipped and my gloves in my pockets. Global warming, etc. However, despite the freakish weather, I somehow managed to drive through the only 2 storms that have blown through the area over the holidays. First, leaving Montreal on Boxing Day, highways piled high with snow and trucks constantly spraying slush, and then, leaving Toronto a few days later, where I witnessed no less than 15 cars that had slid off the highways. Not fun.
What calms me down most when the driving conditions are treacherous is to crank up the volume and sing along to a record (or uh, to stop for McDonalds). In Toronto, I was happy to find time to visit Soundscapes, which has been my favourite record store for awhile - it has a great selection, good prices, and it always feels like you're shopping in someone's living room. I bought some stuff I knew I would already like, but decided that it didn't make sense to leave without something new. I picked up Jon-Rae and the River Knows What You Need, listened to it in the car and in the midst of blowing snow and the prospect of a solo six hour drive, suddenly felt like I was at some kind of Southern Ontario punk gospel choir performance. They sing songs about hitting the road, sex, losing everything, and the glories of Friday nights, and this one, which is a good song to tuck under my belt for the upcoming busy season.
It occurs to Charles that songs are always appropriate. Once, on a date in high school, when he was going to tell his date he loved her, Elvis Presley came on the radio singing "Loving You." It always happens: politicians are always crooks, records are always applicable to the situation. - Ann Beattie, from "Chilly Scenes of Winter"
