Trigger warning: This post includes non-minus-a-bazillion temps and absence of face-destroying windchill. ‘Tobans and ‘Sotans – consider yourself warned.

It was our first real weekend here since the previous one was still boxtastic and we spent most of it unpacking/tripping over piles. This weekend held only a few hours of picture hanging, but after that we were free and clear.

And, oh my, so very clear! Yesterday we watched the horror that was the Vikings game (both in terms of the ending and the thermometer) and went out for a walk to take The Husband’s mind off it. Turns out we live only about a mile from Tryon Creek State Park, Oregon’s “only state park in a major metropolitan area.” Can you believe this is only a few minutes from my house?!

I actually was expecting to stumble upon a hobbit around every corner.

(Note: Not hobbit. Actually a husband.)

And can I push  my luck just a bit and post this? It’s not a schadenfreude flower count in February, so maybe it is okay?

(“Oh look, PM – it’s your favourite flower. The only one you can actually grow…)

Okay, back to the frosty part of our post. Guess what else happened this weekend?!

Holy guacamole, that is MY SON! Playing HOCKEY! On the ICE!

(And yes, I am aware of the irony that my Canadian/Minnesotan son laces up his skates for the first time for real in Oregon of all places.)

It’s perfect. There’s a “learn to play hockey” league that takes all levels and gets them ready for the real deal. It’s all light-hearted and fun and “good for you!” and low-key – nothing like the “my son is the next Wayne Gretzky and he needs 8 ice times a week” pressure of Edina/Winnipeg.

Crossing fingers he takes to it! We’ll make a real Canuck out of him yet…