Not exactly warm and cozy ...

I've never been so excited to be so cold in my entire life. My sneakers were quickly soaked through, I don't wear hats and I left my gloves in the car. To go play in a castle made entirely of ice. Perhaps not the best planning I've ever done, but ohmygod it was fun!

The other weekend, I went with a few friends to Saranac Lake to watch them build the ice castle, which is a tradition for that tiny, quaint town going back decades. It's also a tradition that it is built by convicts. I'm not sure that the convicts were working on it this year, or at least when we were there, as there were children running around, helping out and not a chain, warden, or big police van anywhere in sight.

It wasn't so much an ice castle as it was an ice complex. Sure, there was the massively large castle, but there was also an ice pirate ship and a smaller ice castle that was adorable, but that you couldn't actually walk into - there wasn't a door. Although it was big enough to go into, had they remembered to leave a door. Oh well. I guess we can't expect them to be engineers. Although the big castle had an arched doorway, which was impressive.

The ice blocks were incredible. They were huge - at least four feet long and probably two feet thick. Carved right out of the lake, floated down to where the castle was, and picked up and hauled around with backhoes. So much fun to watch. The guys were plastering the blocks together with a mixture of snow and water. They were definitely not going anywhere. Nor was the fish that was frozen in one of the blocks. At least, it looked like a fish. May have been a big leaf or some trash though. Can't say for sure - it was pretty high up.

Apparently, they light it up at night and do fireworks around it at the beginning and end of the Winter Carnival. Since it was still being built when we went, we didn't see that part. But watching them build it was cool enough. Those guys work fast! Of course, I guess when it's approximately 2 degrees out and you're sitting on an ice wall, the motivation is there to get your butt in gear before it freezes right off.

And then, in the summer. they just let the whole thing melt down.

snow tires!

Hooray - who knew buying snow tires could be exciting? Usually, I hate spending money on my car. It's one of those things, like dish soap and toilet paper, that should never run out or demand attention.

But up here, snow tires are definitely necessary. I've been on borrowed time for a while and the resulting excitement from driving on snowy roads is completely unnecessary in my life. *Note: the above picture is just the result of a Google image search.

So yay snow tires.

But yay even more for the guy - Art - who got them for me. Art owns a used car lot and garage in the village and he's really a nice guy.

When I told him I needed the tires, he promised me that he'd order them and call me back when he knew when they would be in so he could put them on. He gave me the impression that he'd order them that minute and call me back that afternoon. Well, he didn't. Nor did he call the next day. I thought something must have come up and he forgot. On my day off that week, I was going to call him and see what was going on.

That day, I was getting out of the shower at the crack of noon when my intercom went off. It was Art, who had just popped by to tell me that my tires were ordered and would be in later that week. He remembered where I lived from a conversation months ago, after I moved in. He'd written down my cell number wrong - he said he got some number in Texas - and came by to tell me the ETA of my tires.

Granted, his business is only about a half a mile from my apartment, but what mechanic would do that south of the Adirondacks? It was so sweet of him - just made my day.

Things like that almost make up for how bloody cold it is up here.

Canadian Parliament

On a very rainy and foggy day, "my two moms," my friend Kaitlyn and I ventured up to Ottawa, Canada's capital and home to the nearest cool malls - an hour and a half away. Anyway, this is a collection of pictures I took. They're a little blurry, but we'll pretend it's artsy. This is one of the Parliament buildings. Their clock tower is not as impressive as the one that houses Big Ben.

This is just a very cool, very ornate lamp-post. I was a big fan. You can't see a lot of the detail, but trust me, it was beautiful.

The architecture of Canada's Parliament is very clearly modeled off Britain's, except Canada's is a collection of three buildings. I have no idea what they each house, but I guess maybe each chamber has it's own building and then the judiciary? Dunno. Guess I'll have to take the tour someday.


The back of the main building. Kinda reminded me of Notre Dame, with the rounded shape and flying buttresses. Unlike Notre Dame, these buttresses are just there to be pretty. It's construction was apparently concurrent with the American Civil War.

This is not actually Parliament - it's just a view of an awesomely-lit building looking out from the fence around the Parliament complex. I have no idea what this building actually is. As Ottowa is home to some really cool museums, it may be one of those. It's also home to some really boring museums - those pertaining to world currencies - who wants to look at money rather than spend it? - and agriculture - ew, I see enough cows, thanks.

Becoming Amish

The north country is slowly turning me Amish. Not because I want to suddenly live without electricity, cars or indoor plumbing. Not because I regularly see Amish buggies driving around.

This is not conversion by choice, folks.

Where I'm from, shopping is what we do. Bored out of your mind with nothing going on? Easy - go to the mall and blow $45 at H&M on things you don't really need but are sparkly and which Vogue or InStyle tell you are necessary to life.

Here, that's not so much the case. Here, there is one very substandard mall. The best it has to offer is TJ Maxx, a store I never set foot in until I moved up here. Most people do most of their shopping at Wal Mart. I am sad to admit, I have become one of them. *Cue violent shudder of terror and disgust.*

To counteract this travesty, a friend and I went up to Canada to go shopping. Yes, the nearest mall worthy of the name is in Ottawa, about an hour and a half away. So we went over for the afternoon.

Walking into that mall was like being born. Waking up from a coma. Or, if you're Amish (and if you are, what are you doing reading this blog??), like ... walking into a mall. Lots of people, bright lights, tasteful Christmas decorations (perhaps a tad early, but I guess they don't have the after-the-last-Thursday-in-November rule in Canada) and real shopping!

Lots of glorious stores to explore. Not just the Gap and Banana Republic and Aldo - exciting in themselves. But Canadian stores that I've never heard of whose names I don't remember, as I've already thrown out the receipts. And a food court. With Chinese, Japanese and Thai. And a French fry stand which sold poutine, which is fabulous and worthy of a post of its own.

It was the first time I've seen a four-lane highway since I went home a month ago. It was the first time I've seen a parking garage since graduation. It was the most people I've seen in one place since graduation. Heck, there were probably more people at that mall than live in all of the village of Waddington, population 900. Literally, I just looked it up. Here, check for yourself if you don't believe me.

Let's go Tech!

I feel that I have officially become a resident of the north country - I went to my first-ever hockey game on Saturday (click on the Clarkson vs Yale slideshow).

And it was awesome.

Of course, I really don't understand the rules. But it's the first sport in my repertoire where that doesn't really matter. I did learn about icing and high sticking and the thing where a member of the opposing team deliberately crashes into someone from behind although I clearly don't remember what it's called. Someone who does, feel free to remind me in the comments section. Thanks.

This game bore absolutely no resemblance to my brother's roller hockey games when we were tweens, no offense to him. Most obviously, of course, it on ice, rather than pavement. But it was incredibly fast, and rather brutal. Which is why it was okay that I didn't really understand what was going on.

Unfortunately, the Clarkson Golden Knights lost to the Yale Bulldogs 3-2. But it was okay. Hopefully, they will make up for it at the next game. Because I'm totally up for going back.

One of my favorite things about the game was the crowd. The student section was obviously the most active and the most crowded. Walking in, we even passed a bunch of guys who had completely painted their chests green. It looked like they were wearing turtlenecks. Of paint. Every time the marching band - who sadly did not attempt to march across the ice - played a certain song, the students all started to do a choreographed dance-type-thing. It consisted of doing a sideways chopping-type action to the left and then the right and then left and right again faster, ending with a body shake. Hilarious.

Even better was the three year old boy sitting behind me - we were not sitting in the student section because it was standing room only by the time we got there - who knew all the cheers. All of them. From "let's go tech" to "you can skate" to I don't even know what else. And he was wearing a Clarkson hockey jersey. Did I mention that he was three?!? Too cute.

Cheel - the building that holds the rink, student center and on-campus bar - was incredible. It was my first experience with a really big, D-1 university. They don't build 'em like this at tiny private elitist colleges like Goucher. It was huge and had a Subway, among other vendors, inside. And stands selling Clarkson hockey paraphernalia all over the place. I was tempted to buy something. Maybe at the next game.

I was also surprised to find out how many Canadians go to Clarkson. Or maybe there aren't actually that many and they all just happen to play Clarkson hockey. Seriously, about half the team was from north of the border. They even played the Canadian anthem before the American one at the start of the game. Pretty cool. And one guy was from Finland. His name was Loren. Therefore, he is awesome.

A few observations

Deer hunting season started today. Awesome. While I don't really understand the hunting culture, if it keeps me from having another run-in with Bambi after dark, that's cool with me. (No, I didn't hit him but he did run out in front of me and scare the crap out of me.) However, if I see any strapped across some guy's truck, well, that opinion may be up for revision.

But, deer hunting is just another part of north country culture that I just don't get. This post is devoted to other observations that I've made about life up here.

- Driving. Yes, most people have trucks and follow the speed limit. But then there's what I've termed the "north country drift". Technically, it's a left turn, but they just meander on over, across traffic. Granted, there's usually not traffic, which is why it flies up here. But they cut the corner completely, beginning in the shoulder of the road they are turning onto and drift over to the right lane. Or, even worse, they'll start to drift before they even get to the road/driveway they're turning into. This means, yes, they are driving on the wrong side of the road for a while before they drift through the shoulder and lane where the oncoming traffic would be in more populated areas.
Granted, there's never anything coming when they do this. But I was taught that all turns into other roads should be ninety degrees. Every time I see it, it freaks me out.

- Brie. I went into the market down the road from my apartment and found some - it's delicious - and the check-out clerk looked at it like it was a pod from outer space. Then she asked me if it was like goat cheese. Then we had a lovely conversation about just how exciting goat cheese is. But she had never heard of brie. Never even seen it, even though it is for sale at her place of employment. Guess there's not much demand for it.

- Small town America. Yes, I know, that's kind of the purpose of this blog. But, I've lived in my apartment for three-ish months. When I went grocery shopping at Wal-Mart on a Friday night after work, I ran into two people that I knew. A) Wal-Mart is freaking huge. B) Who goes grocery shopping on a Friday night?
What are the odds of this? Pretty good, apparently. I've also run into people I know several times at the aforementioned market.

- It's mid-October and by 5:30, the sun is setting. Isn't that a little early? I submit that it is.

This list will grow as I notice other stuff.

Scarecrows ... or BUDDYcrows??

At least a month ago, I was driving around the north country, and happened to pass a farm - not, in itself, surprising - that was swarming with guys putting up scarecrows. But they weren't putting them up in the fields, in the hopes of scaring away deer or crows or whatever other animals plague farmers. They were arranging them in scenes - painting the barn or sitting next to it or looking at other scarecrows and one clearly about to fall off his ladder.

Needless to say, I was amused. And curious. And then life got in the way and I forgot all about it.

Then that farm and I crossed paths again, and I stopped to see what was going on. In addition to a great story, I met some of the kindest people I've ever met in my life.

It seems to be a theme here that despite having a slight - and hopefully benign - superiority complex, I somehow get sucked into the culture up here and end up loving it. Well, this farm and the people creating a whole new city of scarecrows were no exception.

It was a Friday afternoon and I was all about going home and getting my weekend started right, but I ended up hanging out with the Maslins for at least two hours. And trekking all over their fields in two-and-a-half-inch heels. Because I'm really good at planning, sometimes.

But I digress. In my two hours hanging out with this family - which consists of five sons and six grandchildren - I really felt like I became part of them. They were telling me all about themselves - their past, which is colorful, to say the least. And how Andy Sr.'s wife died tragically and suddenly of cancer over the summer and how all they want to do is make people happy. But people say that all the time and you can tell they don't mean it. The Maslins do.

To that end, Andy Sr. takes all the crap he's accumulated over the years - he's a pack rat to the nth degree - and makes games and attractions out of it. So the old exercise equipment becomes a couple scarecrows working out at an outdoor gym. And a bunch of old saws become an exhibit on wood chopping through the years, as demonstrated by scarecrows. And an old washing machine and a big tub are a history lesson about dirty laundry.

Scarecrows are sitting or leaning on fences along the path of the wagon ride - I thought one looked like Tom Sawyer and a friend thought another looked like it had drank too much tequila. Both observations delighted Andy, because he wants people to come up with stories about these silly hay-stuffed people dressed in old clothes he couldn't bear to throw away. So much so that he's been talking to a writer about doing a children's book about his buddycrows, as he calls them. So named because he doesn't believe in all the scary stuff that has come to be synonymous with Halloween.

The next week, Andy called me to thank me for coming out and talking to them. He then told me that I should consider myself a part of the family and feel free to come over and hang out with them whenever I want. I've already done it a few times, and had a great time both times I saw them.

When my friend Kaitlyn went over to do a story about Scarecrow Fantasyland, Andy sent her home with a box of organic apples and pears for the two of us to share, since she mentioned we were friends, and a similar invitation to be a part of the family.

I also can't wait to go back and see the site, now that it's all completed. I'm most excited for the corn maze. The Maslins, of course, were amazed when I told them I'd never been in a cornfield before. I wonder if I'll meet Shoeless Joe Jackson.

Things like this would never happen downstate.