Frazzled Grandma

Last weekend the cousins came over for the afternoon.  We set up the tree and the kids ran riot around the house. 

As Aunt Julia was organizing another round of hide and seek, the kids careened past grandma in the living room.

Grandma: Why do they have to do this in the house?
Me: Because it's minus 30 out.
Grandma: Hmmph... (heads back into the kitchen)

Fa la la la la...la la la la...

Household communication

The farmhouse is not a typical place. It's BIG...built to accommodate the merging of four households about 25 years ago. The residents have changed over the years, but obviously, the size has not.

Like many 80's homes, it incorporated the latest gadgetry of the time...trash compactor, a jacuzzi tub...a household intercom. Truly state of the art.

Over time, we've come to the inevitable realization that the household intercom is annoying. Like all public announcement systems, you never really HEAR what has just been broadcast, just experience the burst of static that leaves you knowing that something was announced and standing at the bottom of the stairs hollering to each other to figure out exactly what it was.

Happily an ancient technology has solved our communication problem for us. It's called "the telephone". Yes, we are that lazy, that hollering has finally moved us to pick up our respective phones (there are four lines in the house) to reach out and touch each other.

It works and it's one of the few local calls we make! :)

When it just doesn't matter anymore...

This morning in the kitchen, Uncle Peter wandered near the window with the view to the thermometer...

Dad: What is it...about minus 27?
Peter (not bothering to look out the window): Well, it's below zero...

'nuff said.

First solo assignment

It's -22C on this balmy farm morning. Chris has been given his first solo assignment - go chop a hole in the ice for the cattle.

As we lounged in bed this morning with Dexter demanding alternate book readings from us, I pointed out the time - we were late for the 8 am daily planning meeting at the breakfast table.

"No problem" said Chris,"until they pick up the new snowmobile (more on that later), I can't go out with them...not enough vehicles." He relaxed back under the covers.

Eventually we surfaced and found that Dad had a meeting and Peter was happy to give Chris his first task.

The exchange was something like:

Peter: Do you remember where to go?
Chris: I've only been to that one place...is that it?
Peter (looking blank): Sure....
Chris (looking nervous): Then I know where it is.
Peter: Remember where the ax is?
Chris: Sure...
Dad: You know how big to chop the hole?
Peter and Dad: (discuss back and forth about size of hole - Dad - 6 feet across, Peter - 'about this big' holding hands apart, whether cattle have been going far out on the ice...etc, etc)
Peter: Take Sam (the dog) with you, he knows where he's going
Chris: Okay....

And off the menfolk went. I heard Chris clumping out of the house in his uber boots, super touque, new mittens about 2 hours ago.

Hang on...it's been 2 hours!?!? I'm sure all is well. What could possibly go wrong?