My Musings

This text is currently hidden by a css change. Alow's me to go directly to the category description because it is editable in the front end,
Font size: +


I think I will never see a White Christmas again unless I move to Mount Everest. An exaggeration, of course. I am a citizen of Canada and could easily move north if I need snow on Christmas. I think I'd have to move pretty far north, however. Maybe the Yukon. The city of Whitehorse got a few flakes on Christmas Day, I am led to believe. This seems like a reliable enough destination.

As I plan my move to Whitehorse, I notice that it will take 61 hours to drive there from my current home in Massachusetts. I'm not sure my 2007 Mazda 3 has 61 hours of tread left its tires, and that isn't even factoring in that rural Canadian roads are notorious for being poorly kept. One may note the large potholes encountered enroute to the frigid (but White Christmas-y) Yukon destination and report them to Canada, but Canada is busy trying to settle down it's enfant terrible, Quebec, which is levying extra fees on out-of-province college students in an apparent effort to rid itself of higher-ed scourges, such as McGill University. Complain anyway! What is the gas tax for if not to fix the road to the Yukon? Your call will be answered by a pleasant government official, who will note your complaint and, in a few years, maybe after McGill uproots itself and moves to Whitehorse, someone will come to repair those potholes.

You'd think that Whitehorse, located some 1,500 miles north of Seattle, would have limitless cheap real estate for McGill to gobble up when it joins me in the Yukon, but it turns out that the real estate isn't very cheap after all. A three bedroom, three bath attached home on a postage stamp lot will run you more than half a million dollars. That's the cost of doing business in a region that is home to large mammals, such as Grizzly Bears. As McGill will require a lot of space for its 30,000 undergraduates, you can expect that the cost of building a bear-free campus in Whitehorse will be passed along to the higher-ed consumer.

OK, maybe becoming a Yukoner isn't the perfect solution to my White Christmas quest, but you have to admit that it's intriguing. I've been dreaming of a White Christmas for so long that it's beginning to feel a lot like a waste of my dreaming energy. Maybe next year we'll get snow in New England at the end of December. 

(Yeah. Keep Dreaming.) 



No comments made yet. Be the first to submit a comment
Already Registered? Login Here
Tuesday, 23 April 2024



Daily Haiku


Cats oft’ void their guts.

They cough out fur balls. They puke.  

We tread carefully.  


College Tuition

We dig ourselves a deep hole

Need a second job.


Now that I’m sixty

People think I’m a wise man

Probably, I’m not


I’m in my Fifties

But tomorrow I’m Sixty

Will need a sports car


My PCP Says

“Keep doin’ what yer doin’”

Prob’ly I should not


It’s St. Patrick’s Day

We eat beef that has been corned

Whatever that means


Robots and A.I.

I will make use of these soon

To do my taxes


Strange Oscar night end

Pacino failed to mention

Best pic nominees


Who’s this Katie Britt?

Scary. Wierd. We could have used

A Trigger Warning


Subscribe To The Blog

Produce This Audio Play!

Ever wanted to produce a radio play?  Think you have the mettle?  Read on!

Tag Cloud

College Fiction Work Soup Barber Shops Spoon the band My Estate New England Football The Old Days The Future COVID-19 coronavirus Audubon Bar Golf Eating and Drinking Spice Girls Earth Halloween Weather Canada My Parents TV Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde Them Kids War and Peace The future Bands I've seen Drumming plan mid-winter vacations Bands I haven't seen Bunker Cats Plastic Scotch and Sirloin COVID technology Yeast Martinis Mom and Dad Rabbit Hole Belgian Ales Elvis Presley BB King Ice Dancing curling shoes Marketing Gimmicks Roommates I've Had Skiing town square US Senate Wind Godfather Stairs Music Putin Peacekeeping Boston Soul Coughing Me Head injuries Liz Phair Accounting Hurricanes Good Reads Knots Ticketmaster the sea Food Mass General Hospital Biden Reveillon soapbox rantings Hot Air Balloon Mike Doughty 1980s Sugarbush afterlife acerbic high school principal Big Shoes NPR Europe Cars Vaccines the future Butterfingers Candy Zoom Bicycles Guns and Ammo Masks Christmas Trump China Coyotes Emergencies cornhole nukes First World Problems Sports weather baseball Canadiana Pats Climate Change high winds The Past Syracuse Stories I should write Diseases When I die My grandparents Hand Planes Imaginings Soviet Union Snow Guns Tom Waits Mustard Soccer gathering throngs NFL People I know Art Royal Stuff Grass Skiing Bodysurfing Reese's Peanut Butter Cups Ketchup Bikes Things I've done Hache Verde midwinter vacations Car Dealerships Motorists Chowder Vaughn tambourrine Bob Dylan Existential Crisis Brewing Quebect Advertising Eclipse seasons winter Texting Short Fiction Folk Music Radiohead Teeth Bands I've Seen Real Estate Skating Red Sox Religion Politics As Usual Allergies Hawaii Audio Higher Education Brain Surgery vacation Rock Bands My sisters Joan Jett Dad advice Cornhole star Communication Channels Bill Monroe Ukraine Email Beer Theater punk music