One of the nicest parts of my short trip to Montreal was the snow. Not like a Christmas card (or not much), real mounds and mounds of city snow, and ploughs, and buried cars, and slush, and people on the streets moving through it, going about their daily business. I felt an especial surge of Canadian pride as the shuttle pulled in to my hotel and I realized that the flight had left on time from Toronto and landed on time in a blizzard, whence the bus had proceeded, on time, through the white-out, like it was no big deal. It was, in fact, a “snow day” in Montreal: schools were closed. But that didn’t stop anyone from doing anything.
I’ve got lots to blog out, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Tonight I have to participate over the phone in a doctoral defense — it takes place at some reasonable hour in California that translates into my evening. I’m drinking gobs of wine to prepare.