Let It Snow

We're currently riding out the first bonafide snow storm of the year. It's 3:30 p.m. and there's a foot of snow on the ground. I can't recall the last time there was such an unapologetic storm, such a full on assault from winter. The Marine's been out in it for two hours or so, walking around running errands and picking up groceries. I think he likes winter in his own way. It's certainly pretty seeing the street draped in white curtains of snow and feeling the city quiet as it hunkers down. It happens so rarely now. The Marine wonders what the big deal is. "We had snow falls every week like this when I was a kid." he observed as he headed out the door.

I have no such ambition. I slept in until noon and have been cocooning ever since. As much as everyone collectively moans, I think that inwardly we're all grateful for an enforced respite.

Sitting inside, listening to the wind howl, I'm thinking of my grandmother. Regretfully, I found out yesterday that she has been in hospital since Tuesday and was not doing too well earlier today. She seems to be better now and my Dad is hoping to go over to see her tomorrow. Travel today is next to impossible.

I keep thinking about the last time I saw her, and how much fun I had learning more about knitting. We had delicious food, great coffee and we talked a bit about her childhood. I never knew she had wanted to become a nurse. My paternal grandmother is as sharp as a pin and I think she would have been a great nurse - hell - a great doctor. But she grew up in a time where it was only deemed of value to educate men and the money for school went to her brothers.

I think often of my grandmothers in this context, how it is unimaginable for me to be in a world where I don't have options and where so many other people and circumstances would make my decisions for me. And I think of my own mother who worked outside the home, and all the crap she had to put up with. It's one of the main reasons why my own ambitions are so important me, why the lost time I've had feels like such a colossal waste, and why it is imperative I remain true to myself. I need to honour the lack and the sacrifice of the other women in my family that now makes so many things in my world a given.

Speaking of great ladies, I met with Dallas yesterday for our annual holiday get-together. This year we wanted to do something different and decided to unleash our inner Victorians and have afternoon tea. We'd originally settled on Red Tea Box on Queen Street, but I found the staff member who answered the phone so rude and abrupt when she informed me in an "oh you silly person" tone that they don't take reservations, that I immediately got in touch with Dallas and in my usual eloquence declared, "They can f*ck right off. Let's go somewhere else."

What I love about Dallas is that she is never short of great ideas, particularly when it comes to fabulous outings. Her suggestion was tea at the Windsor Arms hotel. Fortunately, I was able to secure a reservation for their Twilight Tea, which commences at 5:30 p.m. What can I say about the Windsor Arms? It's considered to be one of the preeminent hotels in the city, famous for its celebrity guests during the golden age of touring stars in the 50 and 60's. Before they renovated it and built a condo on top for good measure, they had a contents auction. My parents purchased a headboard, two beautiful deco chairs and some works of art I believe.

It didn't disappoint, although there was some throwing of napkins and cutlery that seemed almost brutal in its contrast to the expected gentility of a formal tea, the finger sandwiches were a little stale and there was a lack of tongs for obtaining then, all of which Dallas saw a decided slip in the refinement of previous standards. I freaking love this woman.

It was overly priced, ostentatious and the valets were hot. In other words, utterly perfect.

We spent a lot of time catching up and she was very excited to hear of my upcoming theatrical adventures. I'd actually arrived early and had spent half an hour at Theatre Books across the street. It was wonderful. I've also cracked out Uta Hagen's A Challenge for the Actor, a text from my school days in New York, and have begun reading it again. I'm appreciating her insight all over again and it's amazing to think of the period she started in American theatre [late 30's] and some of the people she knew and worked with [the Barrymores, Stella Adler, Clifford Odets].

Anyway, here's to an easy dig out tomorrow and my grandmother's recovery. Wherever you are, keep warm.