Tunnelling Through The Snow

            Around this time of year, I always used to hope for a huge snowfall. Not just because it would mean school would be cancelled, but because I needed a lot of snow for my favourite winter activity: building snow tunnels.

            Of course, at the time, I didn’t call them snow tunnels – I called them igloos. This is a misnomer, because real igloos are constructed using blocks of ice (or packed snow), whereas what I made involved tunnelling out a mound of snow. Since we Canadians live in igloos year-round, it’s an important distinction to make. For the purposes of this blog, I’ll periodically call them igloos for simplicity’s sake.

            Anyway, the first time I made an igloo, it was a big family project. My parents, brother and I all worked really hard on it. To this day, I couldn’t say for certain how big that igloo was, because I was rather small at the time – in my memory, it was at least five-feet tall with a diameter of ten feet. Big enough for my entire family comfortably fit in, at least according to me. In reality, it was probably significantly smaller.

            After that initial construction, my brother and I got creative. We built a second, much smaller, igloo and attached the two with a tunnel. My poor mother nearly got stuck in that tunnel – it turns out adults are bigger than kids, but we were so proud of our accomplishment that we wouldn’t let her alone until she’d crawled through it.

            In future years, my brother and I became experts at tunnelling through the snow. This was, in part, for safety reasons. Around this time, there was a great deal of concern about kids getting injured in collapsing snow tunnels. One of my friends (you know who you are, and I know you’re reading this) was only allowed to play in our tunnels with us as long as she kept her head outside. My brother and I felt this was unnecessary because none of our igloos ever collapsed (unless we jumped on them or they melted) – we believe that the any that did were poorly constructed.

            Here are the guidelines we used for making our tunnels:

-          First, only use snow that packs decently. Light, fluffy snow won’t hold together well enough to form a solid structure. It is a good idea, once your pile of snow is ready to be tunnelled, to ensure it s sufficiently packed. To do this, carefully (so as not to leave footprints) climb to the top of the pile and roll down the hill. If the pile isn’t too high, it is also possible to jump lengthwise onto the top before rolling down. Repeat this until the hill is sufficiently packed on all sides and feel free to continue for as long as it’s fun.

-          Second, when tunnelling, make sure the walls are the correct thickness. If they are too thick, they could collapse from the weight. If they are too thin, they won’t be strong enough to hold up the structure. The ideal thickness is right before the point when you can see sunlight through the walls. The best way to achieve this is to tunnel until you can see a bit of light – then pack some snow over top of that and use that location as a guide for the continued tunnelling process. It is especially important to focus on getting the roof the right thickness, since that is the most likely part to cave in if there is a structural problem. In that event, a thinner roof is less dangerous.

-          Third, the don’ts. Don’t freeze your igloo – the process of freezing it will make the structure weaker and, in the event of a collapse, more dangerous. Don’t fill the walls with windows and doors – one entrance is enough, maybe one or two tunnels if you have a complex structure. And whatever you do, don’t jump on top of it – especially if there is another person inside.

Using these guidelines, my brother and I crafted many interesting snow tunnels. From a triplex of interconnected igloos to an igloo fort with a tunnelled outer wall, we had a great time every year we got enough snow (right up into out twenties). It helped that we had a large driveway – big enough to hold 6-8 card or 3 (friendly) dogsled teams. The snow needed to be shovelled anyway, so why not put it all in one place?

            So, if you’re stretched for things to do this winter, and you happen to get a lot of snow, try tunnelling. It’s a great deal of fun – just make sure you stay safe.

Disclaimer: To the best of my knowledge, that driveway has never had a dogsled team parked in it – and no, all Canadians don’t actually live in igloos.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

Also, make sure you check out my wife's blog and her life coaching website.


If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Pizza and Brains

            It’s interesting, what sticks with you over time. It isn’t always what you expect.

            This week, for the first time in over three years, I returned to the pizza store where my wife and I used to work. Colleen had just been cured of lactose intolerance and we were celebrating with lots of cheese.

            We were both uncertain as to what would be dredged up in our memories as we returned. While it makes the best pizza we know of, that store was a source of great stress for both of us – so much so that it led us to quit, in spite of the fact that we generally enjoyed the work itself and were very attached to the place.

            Entering the store as a customer (for the first time), I expected to be flooded with reminders of all the negativity that led to me quitting. Instead, I was surprised to find that, instead, I was remembering all the good times I’d had there. A few of the more entertaining bad memories surfaced, but my mind just glazed over them. Colleen reported much the same. That’s nostalgia for you.

            It’s nice to get flooded with positive when you’re expecting negative. I wonder if that’s just how our brains work – with it being easier to remember the good than the bad, as long as it was from long enough ago. Hmm... Now I must do some research into that.

            Oh, and the pizza was excellent. Coming from someone who spent five years treating making pizzas as an art, that’s saying something.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Where Wild Brains Roam

            Have you ever looked down at your feet and realised just how far away they are? No, really. I mean, if your head were to fall off for some inexplicable reason, when it landed, it would hurt. Really hurt. Although, with your head falling off, I really have no idea why you’d be worried about a little pain. Seriously, get your priorities straight.

            Where was I? Oh, yes, feet! Way down there (perhaps closer for some of you than others *cough*mydad*cough*). How did they get there? Don’t you remember a time when they were much closer? No, not quite that close – yes, I know all infants go through that stage where they chew on their toes and some people never grow out of the phase of constantly putting their foot in their mouth, but I'm talking about when you’re standing straight as a board. As in a two-by-four (properly treated so it doesn't twist – if you have to twist to see your feet, I'm afraid I must tell you that you've gone and got your feet on backwards. You might want to have someone look into that) rather than a board of directors because those are rarely straight.

            So, yes. Closer feet. Back then, the drop wasn't nearly so far. We could fall flat on our faces and hardly notice it. Of course, we also had the energy to go whizzing around , so we were far more likely to fall flat on our faces. Or run straight into walls. Or trees. I did that once, I should tell you some time. My dad tells it better though. My version has me, my brother, a Batmobile Nerf gun and a tree. My dad’s version has pirates marauding on highway 403. Way better.

            Anyway, your feet were once much closer, then, suddenly, one day, you look down and discover just how far away they are. Has that ever happened to you? It happened to me today. I guess that just goes to show what kind of funny thoughts can spring into your mind sometimes.

            Now, pick your head up off the floor and put it back on your shoulders where it belongs. This isn't the Labyrinth, you know.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Of Music and Maille

            Oooh, this is new! I'm actually writing my blog while still at an event. Hopefully I won’t get interrupted too often, but if I wander off I hope you don’t mind.

            Festival of Friends is a music festival, rather than the usual medieval fairs or geek conventions we go to. We were uncertain of how well we’d do here, but we've done quite well for ourselves. People love our stuff! And because this isn't the sort of event people usually find chainmaille at we drew a lot of attention.

            We've even continued the pattern of selling a tie at every show we've been to. Just before I sat down to write this, one of the vendors across the aisle from us could no longer resist the ties he’d been admiring all weekend.

            Oh! We also have someone who wants to stock our products in her shop! That’s exciting news.

            I haven’t wandered around the festival that much – I'm a little afraid of being disappointed. Festival of Friends was an annual event for my family to attend, but a lot has changed. Instead of being out in a park, it’s moved to a fairground and that has changed the entire feel. It feels... well, like a fair. Not that it’s a bad thing; it’s just different.

            The music has changed a lot, too, but that’s a good thing. There’s a very good variety, ranging from folk to rock (the later it gets, the younger the music gets). And the crowds attracted? All ages. It’s not often I see such a diverse crowd. We've even encountered a number of fellow geeks! (One of the security guards was at ConBravo! Where we had a table two weeks ago.)

            Backtracking to when Festival of Friends was at the park, I simply must share a story from when I was a kid. This is the story of the time I got lost. Well, actually it’s the story of the time my family got lost. We were at the festival and my parents had been talking about leaving and I was adamant about staying. So, there I was, watching the band playing on stage, and my parents got up to go juggle. I looked around, couldn't find my parents and panicked. I thought they’d left without me!

            So, I did what any kid would do – I tried to catch up with them. I ran all the way to the car which, to my relief, was still there but, to my despair, was devoid of any family members. However, I had been taught very well – I knew that if I got lost, I was to stay in one place until I was found. Plus, if I stayed by the car, there was no way those dastardly abandoning parents of mine could leave without me.

             I waited. And I waited. Crouched down beside the car (probably crying), I waited. During this time, there were announcements I couldn't hear at every stage of the event telling people to look out for me and telling me to report to the missing children’s tent while my parents themselves (and any other relatives still at the event) frantically searched for me. They did eventually find me, but not until their second trip to the car because, with me crouched down, they couldn't see me.

            And that is the story of the time I caught my parents trying to abandon me and I cleverly outwitted them when I was somewhere between the ages of six and eleven.

            Well, I should sign off before the crowds of the last rush show up. Next week I may have something interesting stories as I plan to be attending a free online writer’s conference this week. Write On Con. If you’re an author, you should check it out.

P.S. Be glad that I edited this between the time when I originally wrote this post (surrounded be music, talking and distractions) and the time I posted it. Be very, very glad.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.

Nostalgia

            What is it about the past that we find so enthralling? It doesn't matter if it was good or bad; something always draws our minds to the past and somehow, the past was always better than the present.

            Nostalgia is such a fascinating thing, not because it exists, but because it exists in so many people. While I’ll freely admit that there is a lot of merit to the saying “They don’t make things like they used to” (don’t get me started on built-in obsolescence), was the past really better than the present?

            When I think back to when I was a child, I wonder at how easily I was entertained and how much fun I had with simple things. Swimming is a perfect example. My parents have numerous pictures of me swimming and having a grand old time. I remember having a blast pretending to be a dolphin or just paddling around. Now, however, I don’t see a point in swimming. There’s no purpose to it and, because of that, I no longer have fun.

            So, is swimming less fun now than it was when I was a kid? I find that doubtful. Swimming is an activity, it cannot change – but I can.

            What is it, then, that changes us as we grow older that makes us enjoy life less, or at least think we do? Is it growing up? Gaining more responsibility? Having greater knowledge?

            If I had to choose one, I would have to go with knowledge, because growing up is optional and in order to have responsibility you have to accept it. Knowledge is the one thing that is irreversible – once we have it, there’s no going back (well, at least not while you still have a healthy mind).

            Knowledge is important to our way of life and it’s supposed to be a good thing. So why does it seem like the more knowledge we have, the less we can enjoy life? I think it’s because we over-think things. We spend our time worrying about what other people think of us, what we could have done in the past to make the present better, when the next terrorist attack will come and what we can do to get a raise. Then we look back at our childhood selves and think, “Gee... I had it made back then.”

            The funny thing is that life isn't all that different now than it was back then. We just know more, which means we have to sift through a lot more before we can arrive at what we enjoy – or we don’t enjoy things because we don’t understand why we enjoy them.

            Instead of looking back at how great the past was, I think we should take all this knowledge we've accumulated and, rather than allowing it to make us think life is worse, use it to find ways of enjoying life more. We’ll never enjoy life the way we did when we were children – we have too much knowledge for that – but we can enjoy life differently. Not more, not less, but differently.

            Either that or we should accept that ignorance is bliss and go live in the trees like every kid wants to. After all, kids have it made.

Click here to find the charity anthology containing a couple of my short stories.

If there's any subject you'd like to see me ramble on about, feel free to leave a comment asking me to do so.