Snowy Sunday

Remember that time that I wrote about Janice and I stopping to chat with a homeless man? And how Janice gave him a box of oranges and he told us about his dog, and depression, and the Surrey house he lived in being sold and so on?
Well, his story was the lead story in Friday's Langley Times!
That's right.
I report the news HERE on this blog, even before the local papers know there even is a story.
.
.
Oh.
You're right.
This isn't about me. And my blog.
It's about the homeless guy. Living out in the snow.
Pray for him, K?
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It's still snowing.
It hasn't stopped since yesterday. And I don't like it.
I have nothing against the snow exactly, it's just all the responsibility that accompanies it.
Drew mentioned last night that he was invited to go to Cypress with his cousin Ali and her friends. All I had to do was pay his lift ticket, give him money for lunch, and drive him over to Fort Langley first thing in the morning.
.
Oh. That's all.
I got up this morning to a white world that was getting whiter with each passing hour and dreaded the thought of driving in it.
No. Really dreading it.
Dreading it in a out-of-proportion-could-be-that-time-of-the-month way.
When, by 10:30, we hadn't heard from them, I thanked God that they had changed their mind, and went to have a shower.
At 10:45 Drew announces that we have to go NOW. They're ready to leave and are waiting.
"Hurry mom. Now. We have to leave now."
.
You know what?
I'm sick of being the dad and mom around here.
There are days when I crave to be the weaker, gentler adult in a household of alpha males. Alot of days.
Sometimes I just plain get tired of being strong. And capable. And brave. And wise. I just want to be the one who bakes cookies and listens to Christmas music on snowy days.
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I slapped on some make up, dried the front 1/3 of my hair, got dressed in anything warm, then stomped out to the truck.
"What is your problem?" he barked at me.
"Nothing."
I navigate us out of our neighbourhood and onto the highway.
"Dad would be driving twice as fast as this."
"Dad's truck is way better than this piece of junk. His headlights are automatic ..."
"Dad ..."
Tears start to drip.
"ARE YOU CRYING?" He roars.
"Never mind."
"I can't believe you. What are you crying for?"
"Don't you EVER you leave your wife. You stay with her, you hear me? You stick around and do all things a guy is supposed to do, OK? Your kids are going to need a dad. "
"What?"
"I'm just tired of being brave about driving in the snow. I know I have a tank. And that we're safe. I'm just old I guess."
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I got him there in time.
I am da man.
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I need some midol. And valium. And July.
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With Drew on the mountain, Clint out n' about with my truck, and Max somewhere that wasn't here, I settled in to watch this:

Do you know who was in it?
Meg Ryan with a head full of incredible hair.
Annette Bening with long legs and pencil skirts.
Jada Pinkett Smith as a tough lesbian.
Debra Messing who delivers her 5th child with all her best friends in the delivery room.
Candace Bergen who plays Meg's mom.
Cloris Leachman who plays Meg's housekeeper.
Eva Mendes.
Bette Midler.

To quote a male movie reviewer: "It was a spectacularly dull film. "
But the potential? Oh the potential for this film to be spectacular? Off the charts.
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Remember when I wrote about the calendars and art work that a bunch of Capilano students were selling?
Well I ordered some calendars, and they are spectacular.
If you want to help out some young artists, take another look at their website.

Three things I'm thankful for:
1. Despite the teary start to my day, it ended up fine.
2. Only two more days of work. Then a buncha days off.
3. The back half of the house is warm.


Shalom,