Snowchitecture.

Canadians are hardcore. Especially Canadian boys. I actually think I heard the words "You can tell we all grew up in Canada because we know how to build a snow wall," come out of someone's mouth this weekend.

It started off innocently enough at our friend Serge's house on Friday night. It's his birthday weekend and he'd recently built a fire pit (because that's the normal thing to do in the dead of winter) in his back yard. He wanted to try it out since the wind was calm and it was fairly mild outside. Seemed like the perfect way to spend an evening and unwind.

So a few of us gathered around the fire while Serge sat presiding over his court. We dragged out deck chairs and titled them next to the fire, close enough to dry the snow but not too close to melt the chairs. We poured drinks and pulled out blankets to keep our legs warm. Conversation was flowing and all was right in the world.

Then someone went to get more firewood. They brought it out in a big plastic tub. You know the kind you would use to chill beer and bottled water at a party? Within minutes the tub was emptied of firewood, refilled with snow and turned upside down.

Then it was refilled and dumped again, sand castle style.

Then I asked if they would mind making me a table for my drink while they were at it. Sure, they said.

As soon as we all had end tables the building recommenced. Nothing better than a table that holds your drink and chills it all at the same time.

The pile got higher and higher.

They didn't appear to have an exact plan, but they seemed to have vision. Build as high as they could. The snow would become whatever structure it was meant to be.

They were so serious at one point someone (I can't be sure who because they were hidden behind the wall) yelled, "Hey, shovel hog!" I tell ya, you will never hear me utter those words. Never.

Meanwhile the rest of us without shovels remained in our patio chairs enjoying the fire.

Occasionally one of the builders would even come out and join us. I mean, this work had been going on for hours and they needed a break.

Finally, after hours of hard manual labor that caused The Canadian to strip down to just his t-shirt, the vision was complete. Is it a wall? Is it a couch? No! It's a giant SNOW THRONE!

It even moonlights as a refrigerator. Man, is snow ever versatile.

And if one throne/wall wasn't enough they started in on a second wall. I think they were going for a complete dome. 

The second side never amounted to much more than a wind barrier, but it was a damn impressive wind barrier and definitely helped keep me warm and the bonfire smoke from blowing in my face.

The final product. Complete with a tiki torch enterance. Welcome to Snow Festival 2012!

6 Miles is 6 Miles.

In high school I was a solid B/C student. Except for Chorus, I got A's in there. It wasn't that I didn't possess the potential to earn A's, I just didn't care. I was happy with a B on my report card. On report card night I would come bouncing home and flaunt my B's to my parents, hoping they would ignore the C in Latin. No such luck. Ever. Instead, I was greeted with a "Why aren't these A's?" Even the occasional A went overlooked, shadowed by the gruesome B or C.

It's not that my parents weren't proud of the A. They just wanted to challenge me, to make me work a bit harder and push myself to my potential. Unfortunately for them, I didn't have the same sentiments.

The past couple of weeks I've been running four nights a week. I'm toying with the idea of training for a half marathon in May, but at the very least I plan on training for the 10k. Seeing as I ran 6 miles last week that shouldn't be too hard. All I need to do is keep up with my new found hobby.

The first time I ran 6 miles I texted my marathon-running dad a photo of the treadmill screen. "Good work!" he said. The second time I did it he responded with a "Very nice. That's great. Keep it up."

The third time I managed 6 miles was last night. I was a sweaty mess with sore feet. Turns out when your shoes are bald as a baby's bum it is time for new running shoes. Also, my sports bras are from high school and I wear Hanes tank tops from WalMart that chafe my arms. It might be time to up the ante and go wild by investing in some Old Navy tops and some sports bras that actually have elasticity.

Where was I? Oh yes, "Dad!" I texted, "I did it again!" I sent along another photo of the treadmill screen broadcasting 6.0 miles and a time of 70 minutes. Fully expecting something along the lines of "Good job, honey. You're a badass." I was shocked when he responded with, "You can do that in under 60 minutes. Push it a bit." Hello, high school? Is it report card day again?

He's not being mean, mind you. Of course he's proud of my running. He just likes to challenge me. He knows that I can't back down from a good challenge. And he knows that I can do it.

You know what? He's right. I can push myself a bit more. I almost died, but I did it. I squeaked out 3 miles tonight at a 10 minute/mile pace (ignore the extra 3 minutes, it was a warm-up). I don't know why the hell I'm concerned about speed when I should just be concentrating on not keeling over dead in the middle of the gym,  but whatever. I did it. Mission accomplished, Dad. Can I go back to my nice 11 minute/mile now? Okay, great. Thanks.

But seriously, thanks for pushing me and always giving me a good challenge to work toward.

Oh, and I'll be buying new running shoes this weekend. Wanna lend me a couple bucks?

Kidding! I'm kidding. I can buy my own running shoes. Old habits die hard.

In The Woods.

Maple is sick. I'm sure you can tell by how pathetic and lethargic she seems. Clearly, the bag of trash she enjoyed the other day did not sit well in her belly. Thanks to our lovely neighbors she left me several lovely presents on the floor yesterday. Remind me to send them a card. 

Yesterday, The Canadian and I decided to forgo the usual Valentine's Day hoopla and take the dogs for a nice walk in the woods. We probably should have busted out the snowshoes but we decided to be tough and just wear boots. 

Maple had a wonderful time destroying as many sticks as possible. She sprinted back and forth, all across the trails searching for the perfect stick. Once she would find it, she would lay down in the snow and do her best to create wood chips in a matter of seconds.

Obviously another critter has been enjoying the trees as well. Not to worry, we didn't see the little guy. I'm sure Maple and her scary ways kept him at bay. She's fierce like that.

The trail we were attempting to follow happens to be one of TC's favorite biking trails. Unfortunately most of it is being cleared for new houses, as evidenced by the bull dozers we could hear in the distance. I read in the paper that our town has grown by 26% in the last three years so I guess they're going to have to make room for all these new folks at the expense of our biking and walking trails.

Lucky for TC several of the biking obstacles (what do you call those things?) were still intact.

He went back and forth, back and forth, trying to coax the dogs to climb on. No such luck. They ain't as stupid as they look.

It was nice to take a random afternoon walk though the woods with my favorite guy and the two monsters. It helps to ease the pain of a long winter.

The Bailey's in my coffee helped too. It makes me feel like I just may survive until Spring after all. 

If these "warm" temperatures keep up we might just have to trade in our parkas and coffee for bathing suits and margaritas. Fingers crossed.