I can't recall when Amy or I have had such a full weekend as this one was. Socially speaking. From Friday evening right through to early Sunday morning, with (thankfully) much of Sunday to recuperate, the boys delightfully absent.
When dawn arrived Sunday, however, it did so with the creaks, groans, and tell-tale fibrous pops that speak of a house forcibly adjusting to a rapid and drastic drop in temperature. (It can be sort of unnerving because it often sounds like some guy randomly banging on your front door while making low, ominous howling noises. Because, you know, it was windy too.)
We had gone to bed by about 2 AM Sunday morning with a clear sky and an unseasonably pleasant temperature right around the freezing point. We woke up to heavy, blowing snow and about -22 Celsius (-8 F).
My brother came over in the early afternoon and took me, mostly on a whim, to pop some caps at the Wild West shooting range at West Edmonton Mall. But, like any good ol' Alberta boys, we stopped for a burger and a couple of beers first. Nothing quite like shooting a .45 calibre revolver with a very minor beer buzz. I was feelin' lucky. Punk.
When Buster drove me back home, he helped out with the worst of the snow clearing before taking off. As you can see in the picture below, he likes to hover a couple inches off the ground while he shovels. (Show off...)