Fahrenheit 451---But What's That In Celsius?

   Well, it's about 233C, if you really wanna know....damn hot either way!
   It's coming on winter in these parts and as the temps begin to drop it's almost inevitable that we spend more time checking them---if for no other reason then to figure out what to wear to work in the morning.
   I am of the generation which grew up on Fahrenheit as a temp measurement scale and was really only familiar with Celsius (Centigrade) as it applied to physics in high school. I can remember doing the math in trying to figure out how one related to the other and thinking never gonna need this! Well, I was wrong.

In case you wanted to have a bit of an idea

   As an adult living in Canada, I then found myself dealing with our country's switch over from Fahrenheit to Celsius and a few other nasty little things such as miles to kilometers and pounds to kilos. 
   This was all to bring us in line with almost the whole rest of the world, minus the United States, stubborn as they are. In time, I got used to it. I knew that 32F and 0C were the same thing and I kind of went from there. If the weather was up in the twenties, then it was pretty nice out!
   Somehow or other, though, my weather app stuff has now converted back to Fahrenheit and this is kind of cool because I only really know what temperature it is if it's in Fahrenheit.
   Oddly enough, though, there is enough of an age gap between Doralyn and myself (almost 15 years) that if I tell her what the temp is in Fahrenheit she has no idea what I'm talking about. A couple of days ago I told her it was going to be a warm day (for this time of year) because it was going up to 56 degrees. She had no clue what that meant. And I couldn't tell her what it meant because I had no clue what it was in Celsius! (it's about 13 degrees).
 I find myself referencing the temperature reasonably often over on my running blog, Ragged Cap Runner. I do this so other people might know what I either do or don't suffer through while I'm out running. I generally will mention the temp in Celsius and then remember that I have a handful of readers in the States and I find myself needing to refer to my Celsius to Fahrenheit conversion app just to let them know exactly how much I was suffering (or enjoying myself.) 
    

Sort of what you look like after a -40C and F run....

   Okay, while I'm on the subject, I've got something very cool to tell you about. Very cool. With all the vagaries of the two systems of temperature measurement, I had reason a couple of winters ago to discover one very interesting fact---forty below in Fahrenheit is the same temperature as 40 below in Celsius. I only discovered this because I was set to run in a race wherein the temperature, with the windchill, was going to reach -40C. In an effort to describe to my Amurrican friends just how cold this was, I discovered the aforementioned fact. Now how cool is that?! Well, too freakin' cold to run in, for one thing.....

Snow

   For the fifty-second time in the fifty-two years I've lived in London, Ontario, snow has arrived. I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest that this was also the trend prior to me moving here.
   I'm tired of it.

Looking out my bedroom window this morning.

   I can clearly remember a time when a heavy snowfall got me all giddy and excited and eager to pull on the boots, scarves, snowpants, mitts and toques and get out there. There was a small hill at the side of our house back then and any appreciable snowfall created a large drift along the crest of it. I would stand before this drift in wonder at all the opportunity it offered for diving right in. There was, however, also some pristine beauty to an undefiled drift and I would always hesitate, knowing that I was about to spoil this forever. And then in I dove.
   Along the way, there were also the delights of tobogganing, skating, bumper-jumping and, when I got a little older, cross-country skiing.
   But that was then and this is now and, as an aging Canadian, I've discovered why other aging Canadians occasionally find their way down south for four months about this time of year. I don't know whether we've become more susceptible to the cold, less physically able to dig our way out, or just more psychologically weakened by this change of seasons but each successive winter just seems that much more difficult to bear.
   Saying all this seems somewhat traitorous--Canada means snow and if you hate the snow then you must hate Canada, right? Our national identity was carved out of a chunk of ice, right? Well, I still love Canada and would never think of moving away, even for just part of a year, but I just hate the thought of another winter. And winter is here now!
   Two days ago, we could all have been wearing shorts outside and we actually broke a temperature record for this time of year. Yesterday, lake-effect snowsqualls hit town, along with the accompanying dose of seasonal reality. Oh well....
   Likely, (and I know this because it always happens) once I get back into the routine of it all, find my winter clothes, get the snow tires put on and start living a wintry life, things will be fine and I'll somehow manage to make my way back through to Spring again. In the meantime, I need to go out and find my car... 

Strange Boy

   It was this past All Hallows' Eve when the Strange Boy appeared, literally plopped down in our midst, almost from out of the darkness of nowhere.
   It was the spacesuit which held him apart from all the others who'd trundled up our steep wooden steps. Some otherworldly force (his Dad, I think) had enabled him to levitate past those foreboding steps and land there in front of us.
   He had never been there before and looked about at this strange new place, our entranceway, in wonder and possibly a little bewilderment.
   When he landed among us, I was in our kitchen, cleaning up a few of the leftover dishes from dinner. Doralyn had gone to the door when this Strange Boy arrived and it was her loud, gasping ohmigod which then alerted me to the presence of something new and wonderful in our house.
  I investigated and came face-to-face with the visitor from out there, as well. I had the same reaction as Doralyn when I saw him--my jaw dropped a little and the rarefied air he'd brought along with him caused me to inhale fully and deeply.
   He looked like he might have been one and a half years old and had simply one of the most the beautiful, tiny faces we had ever encountered. This same face peered out from his velour space helmet and as he looked up at us his mouth dropped open, in wonderment, as well. He was not quite sure why he had landed here and he alternated between staring up at us and then turning to his Dad's voice coming to him from outside. His visit was brief and, insofar as he had obtained quite a bit more candy than any of the other kids had, his mission was complete. Back out onto the launching pad of our porch and then flying away into the darkness, and his Dad's arms, he went.

   I returned to the kitchen sink and the almost-completed dishes. It was here that I began to feel the effects of the Strange Boy's visit---suddenly my eyes began to well up with tears and this choking sensation took over my throat. This tiny visitor had done something unexpected in the short time he was here and I was at a bit of a loss as to exactly how this had happened.          I am not totally immune to the cuteness of young children as I encounter them but, for the most part, this entails complimenting parents on how adorable their child is, and maybe squeezing the odd chubby cheek or two. This Strange Boy was different, however. 
   I am still at a bit of a loss as to being able to adequately explain how I felt while he was here. A part of me wanted to envelop him in our world and, if had stayed with us, that might have been fine. It also could have been that he was a bit of a time traveler, that somehow he was perhaps connected to my kids when they were that age. The other possibility with this theory was that he came from the future. All I remember was that he didn't seem sure why he was there and, as much as his father thought he had just landed for the candy, I'm not so certain either how and why this Strange Boy came to visit, from out of the dark and past the stars.