It snowed last night as we slept. And that's about all I have to say about that.

(Good Lord, how bad is it when you start quoting movies? Talk about a barren imagination.)

The angst of October continues ... Waking in the early AM hours I found myself lost in the dark of an existential despair. I went to sleep, woke again later and discovered I had confused the gibberish of Sarte and Camus with snow.

Yes, it snowed in the night. A greybeard whiteness covers the lawns and trees. But it's not the stick-around kind. No, this is just the briefest of flirtations. A tease.

Let me tell you ... October in this part of the world gives new meaning to the word drab. So the snow can't come too soon, as far as I'm concerned. White is infinitely better than all this bland, boring grey and brown.

Dreams ... Go figure! For me, last night's dreaming was particularly stupid. Example: my neighbours seek my okay for laying sod. Not unusual except there is nowhere to lay sod where we live. Our domiciles open onto a brick covered courtyard. So the neighbours are putting in two 3 foot by 3 foot wooden boxes, like those buildings use for plants or small trees. But in this case, the earth is covered over with strips of sod.

Kind of dumb, but it gets odder still ... with several of my women friends, plus my sister, I go to a university to see a movie - probably some foreign thing. Naturally, I try to put my pants back on. (Yes, for some reason I'm not wearing pants - don't ask.) Someone hands the pants back to me but they're corduroy and therefore not my pants. I ask my neighbours, "Where are my pants?" but they're to busy laying sod to answer. (Yes, laying sod in small boxes outside our doors ... at a university where we're trying to watch foreign movies!)

The audience wants to see the movie. My friends go in search of my pants except they don't. They get caught up in conversations about everything except my pants, and I start getting pissed off. I'm in an impotent rage, "Where are my pants? Where the hell are my pants?"

Then I wake up. And of course, I'm not wearing any pants.

What a dumbass dream. (Aren't you glad I shared?)

If life is not a yo-yo, surely the weather is. I wake to a temperature of -1 Celcius. Expected high? 2. I'll repeat that: 2 (two). Yet in a few days, it's expected to be around the 15 degree mark. (Could be worse, I suppose. At least it's not Calgary, where it snowed yesterday.)

The past few days have been windy and chilly. From my window, I see at least one tree completely denuded. It shivers like a dog left tied to a pole on a winter night while some self-obsessed bonehead sits inside a restaurant eating. It is time; early though it may be. Bring on the snow! Send us something to drape the barren, lonely landscape and relieve this sense of apocalyptic desolation.

(Was that a little over-the-top, ya think?)

Here it is, several days later, and not only have I not corrected the numerous text mistakes I mentioned below, I've discovered there are even more. Yes, ding-dang-it ... I can't write to save my damn life, damn!

Oops. I've posted three new reviews in the Movie Room. Unfortunately, I neglected to proof them. Wow! Talk about your typos, spelling and grammatical mistakes. They look like they've been transcribed by a monkey. Hopefully I'll be able to correct them tonight. We'll see.