August 4, 2002

It feels like December. Really. It's another gray day. This has lasted longer than is decent. How can you go from 34 degree weather in one month (July) to single digits the next (August)? Only in Alberta. High country is not all it's cracked up to be. Living on the great central plain of North America means you're on a meteorological yo-yo. When the sun is out, it's hot as a griddle and you're the flapjack. When the sun ducks behind the clouds, the temperature plummets and you're the toe that needs amputating because it's so damn cold!

Actually, it's not so much the temperature that gets to you as the dull skies - a December ceiling with a wintry feeling. Of course, it's not nearly that bad out there. Not even close. But gazing at it from inside, looking out at a dreary street that seems to have been abandoned by humanity, it feels like December, the seasonal dung hole of every year.

Look ... someone just rode by on a bike, weeping and tearing at their hair. Okey ... maybe they didn't. But they might have! And who would have blamed them?

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