The right to gripe and grumble about winter is something we exercise freely in Central Alberta.
Each year, the snow comes with a fury and each year we all freak out as if winter were some unjust punishment handed down by God himself.
Although it’s only been a few short months since the previous winter’s snow melted away, we seem to forget how to drive, how to dress and how to cope with the cold each time it comes anew.
It’s high time somebody crafted a basic how-to guide for surviving winter in Red Deer — something to remind us how to endure Central Alberta’s harshest months with as little suffering as possible.
When my wife and I were in the market for our first house a few years ago, we made a small list of ‘must-have’ features for our future home.
That list included things like a nice kitchen, finished basement, lots of closet space, large bedrooms, etc.
After months of browsing in all areas of Red Deer, we found ourselves more and more enchanted with the character and beauty of the city’s mature neighbourhoods.
In the end, we chose an older house located in the heart of Bower. It had very few of the mandatory features on our list.
I’ve always held a pretty relaxed view on marijuana use.
I partook in the occasional toke in high school and college, although for me it was more about appearance than enjoyment.
While some of my friends remain lifelong devotees, Mary Jane and I never really hit it off.
To be honest, I think it was the smell that killed it for me. Whenever I catch a whiff of weed, I am reminded of every seedy stoner house I’d visited in my younger days — dark, dreary places with sleepy people lying around and 1970s rock cassettes playing in the background.
As a parent responsible for helping shape two rapidly growing children, there are a great many things I lose sleep worrying about.
• Am I being a good role model?
• Do we read to them enough?
• Are our discipline methods working?
I awoke Sunday morning with the feeling I was being watched.
Still foggy with sleep, I looked to my left and saw the gleaming blue eyes of my three-month-old son Grayson staring at me. My wife, Amanda, had him propped up on her pillow in anticipation of me waking up to my first Father’s Day as an honest-to-goodness daddy.
“Hey dude,” I said, and he replied with a happy gurgling sound and an ear-to-ear grin.
I couldn’t imagine a better way to start that day — or any day, really.