An Ottawa street scene (possibly after Lowry)

The latest version of “Snowmageddon” hit, apparently starting late last night and supposedly bringing 4-5cm per hour until late afternoon: 45cm (that’s 15 inches) is apparently the minimum we can expect. Certainly, when Mrs. Ottawacker and Ottawacker Jr. were out before school/work, they were struggling to clear a path. Ottawacker Jr. went over to the neighbours’ place to do his stuff, and all I could see from the upstairs window was a small head. All of the school buses were cancelled, so for a brief, glorious minute, he imagined the small 25cm of snow that had already fallen would be enough to close the schools. Tomorrow is already a “PD Day” for staff… another one… and he has to go in to the National Arts Centre to work on his performance routine for the weekend concerts. He’s quite motivated for it – mind you, I’m pretty sure that if I was being taught by the German artist Ceren Oran, I would be too – so he hasn’t minded that (or indeed, missing a football match to do it) – but MISSING A “SNOW DAY”? That, is a step too far. I watched him trundle off up the road (accompanied by his friend Crosson, who does have a day off because he takes the school bus to his distant school) and I could almost feel the injustice of it all burning a path through the snow. Tell me about it, son, I grew up in Thatcher’s Liverpool.
 
The snow fell steadily all day, eventually slightly curtailing around4 and then stopping altogether just as the snowplough passed. Cue mass action on the street, as neighbours rushed out with shovels and snowblowers, eager to take advantage of the lull. All except for one, of course: well, someone has to record it for posterity.
 
Evening was pleasant, spent inside, in the warmth. Ottawacker Jr. has discovered and introduced us to Crime Scene Kitchen, which is an appalling US take on a baking competition. In teams of two, competitors have to go to a “crime scene” (i.e., a dirty kitchen) and, from a series of clues, guess what dessert has been made. Appalling it might be, but it’s compulsive viewing. Some of the contestants are horrific (yes, you, Leslie and Emma); some are incomprehensible (yes, you, Cory & Donte); and some you just want to fail for no specific reason (yes, you, Shania and Hope). The biggest take away is that baking professionals (some of them own their own patisseries – or as they call them “cake shops” or “beck’reez”) are just as capable of screwing up a basic recipe as you or I, especially when the pressure is on. The second biggest takeaway is the way some Americans can manage to mangle the most basic names of baked goods or desserts. That has been the biggest fun so far – seeing how the teams mangle the words: for example, “meringue” has been pronounced as “merr-ing-vay” and “daquoise” as “‘day’ker-voyz”; at one stage, someone was arguing whether they should bake a “lurrkek” or a “blurrbree lettuce pa”. Turned out they meant a “layer cake” or a “blueberry lattice pie”. The worst offender, Donte, has been eliminated now, so at least some of the words are comprehensible; I’ll miss him. I never did find out what a “jerdode cake” is. The highlight so far has been one of the competitors confusing isomalt for Styrofoam. Sadly, he didn’t try to cook with it. It’s down to the final now, so I imagine we’ll watch that this weekend.