Montreal, I thought you were made of tougher stuff. 2.5 feet of snow overnight and they cancel life. I mean, you can't get around, and I sank up to my pantyhosed knees when I walked out the alley door. But isn't that what's supposed to happen? In Montreal? In winter? This is the only one I get!
It took four red-faced, short, burly Montreal guys to shovel a VW Golf out of a parking spot. Then they all piled in wearing most of the snow. Cyclists ride their bikes through powder toward the mountain, cross-country skis strapped to their back. Parents pull their offspring to daycare on sleds while the kids eat snowballs for breakfast. I'll try dog-sledding Plateau-style: I'll harness a plastic trash-can to Tibby and climb in. Sounds like something my dad would have done back in the day. I'll let you know how it goes. Back on the ranch, Alrik has dig-out cookies ready for whichever hero in a Caterpillar comes dig him out.
I find myself standing in the aisle of the grocery store. I'm holding 4 boxes of cookies and I just dropped two more, plus a box of Pop Tarts (frosted). I'm trying hard not to lose it. What am I doing? School is so intense, and time is going by so fast, and I'm getting so little of Montreal that this is how I internalize the experience: by eating my memories of being in Quebec.
I'm underwater in my Research Methods class. It was a two-day seminar held on two brain-dead Fridays. The presentation is due this week. When I open the analytics software, my mind makes itself into a very tiny, impermeable, tight seed. I tried to figure it out on my own, as I always do. I fell even further behind. So I did something different: I asked for help. The kind and supportive response from my fellow students brought me to my knees. So that's a lesson learned.
Also thrilling, the visit to Cirque du Soleil's HQ and our meeting with Daniel Lamarre. I hope he has 13 jobs for us. The circus, people. Run away with it if you don't know where your life is headed. It's the right thing to do for the past 150 years.