An old joke:
How do you get 25 Canadians out of the pool?
"Can everyone please get out of the pool?"
The prompt this week at writer's island, which is located in the searing tropics under the persistant heat of the noon day sun, is torrid. The word fits well THERE but HERE in the cold northern tundra where winter has choked the passion out of the land???......you have to use your imagination.....close your eyes and envision lying on the island's white sand warmed by penetrating rays, while being massaged by a dark mysterious beautiful man whose deep voice soothes and stimulates with it's charm as he encourages you to relax..........to let your mind flow into a fantasy of timeless lovemaking with the person you have always wanted to.......
But, torrid in Canada? Does torrid exist here? And if it does, do we import it? Or do we just keep it under wraps until the timing is right to let a flaming sense of fervour lap up with sizzle?
One of the qualities that always tops the list of describing a Canadian is "nice." It is somewhat complimentary, (I think people are being nice when they describe us that way, so you have to accept it nicely........:) )but it does have a scent of vanilla wafting around the word and vanilla is anything but passionate. Can nice evolve into a hip grinding salsa without apologizing for stepping on the partner's feet......? (We say "sorry" a lot around here too. ) Can the citizens of this country embrace the raging hunger of the heart needed to engage in torridly fueled passion? Or are we a doomed group of frontal lobotomized chipmunks who get bent out of shape doing the right thing? Can our brains turn off in order to allow the spicy feelings to be squeezed liberally from the heart?
Yes. It may show up in different milieus, but it's there, not too far under the surface. When it rears up into the soul to stir the loins and hearts of a Canuck, it echos across the ice covered tundra like a mad woodsman pining for the love of a voluptuous woman after being out too long in the wild. There's nothing as torrid as a lumberjack in heat except perhaps a Moose. May I recommend that you be nice and just get out of the way if you happen to see either?
Have you ever gone winter camping? This is a practise many fellow Canadians embrace as a really hot time. A tent, a coleman stove for hot toddies, bundled up clothing layers to wear while cooking dinner and doing all those hearty outdoor pursuits, and sleeping bags filled with materials to withstand the arctic cold of the middle of the night. The key to staying warm? Slipping into the sleeping bag with your buddy to thaw through naked friction. Frigidly rigidly Torrrrrriiiiiiiid!
Have you ever been to a peewee hockey tournament? Not only are most of our arenas hooked up to provide heated elements and fans to blow skin drying torrid producing heat down from the rafters to the hard benches along the sides of the rink where you sit to cheer on the local team, you will find pent up impassioned parents, particularly the mothers bellowing like that Moose in heat again.......encouragement to their son or daughter playing the game. Torrid tempers reign supreme in the hockey rinks across this vast and magnificent land. I have spoken to parents who describe the moment their kid scored their first goal. With choking teary emotion, they replay the scene with such intensity you'd think they had witnessed the coming of Christ. That's puck stopping torrid.
No matter what level of hockey it is, but particularly if it's a game between the Toronto Maple Leafs and the Montreal Canadiens, the torrent of torrid which emanates in a room full of lovers of the game is comparable to the frenzied feeling of losing ones virginity in the back seat of a car. "He shoots! He scores!" Ask any man to describe where they were when the goal that woke up a nation was scored by Paul Henderson in the 1972 Canada-Russia series and you'll know how quickly things can get torrid. No need for viagra when those sweet memories are produced.
Then there's curling. Have you heard those maniac beer slogging stone throwers when they are down to their last rock and it needs to hit the button? You'd think you were privy to the last vestiges of an orgasm. They bark and bellow and moan out the most bizarre phrases......"hurrrrreeeeeeeee...... ......haaaaarrrrrrd! ....... as they sweep with a passion comparable to scoring with the local puck bunny. The typical nice Canadian watching this openly expressed passion usually blushes, but deep down they a grateful for the chance to be close to such expressed animalistic passion.
But, I'd have to say that most of our torrid packing punch is saved for politics and satire. It is this arena which pops the lid off the pressure cooker, which makes our kettles whistle, which produces the foaming boil in our beastie breasts. Whether one LOVED or HATED former Prime Ministers Brian Mulroney, Pierre Trudeau, or Jean Chretien.......whether one is on the side of the Harper government or not........one's opinions are fueled with kerosene exploding as it is poured onto a campfire. And it doesn't matter what level of government is the source of the topic for the day, municipal, provincial or federal, torrid packs a wallop. Trudeau, known for his standoffish eccentricities once said that politics do not belong in the bedrooms of the nation. He's wrong, wrong, wrong........Not only is it discussed in the bedrooms of this nation, it can actually spark the passion, which in turn kicks the temperature in the room up a few notches.
Our comedians know this is where it lies............and satirical political commentary is a cottage industry in Canada. Humour bites hard and furious. It's like we have been weaned on it's quirkiness and lap it up like an aphrodisiac. When you ask a Canadian what is the most important characteristic you look for in a mate, humour tops the list. Not sexy cheeked butts, or faraway eyes.........NO! "She's gotsta make me laugh, bye......it's a right turn on doncha you know? Who gives a flying fig if she's not got a funny way about 'er?" The next two characteristics on the list? Knowing how to put up a tent in -35 degree weather, and enjoying Hockey Night in Canada. HOLY! I just described myself! And as an added bonus, I have a sexy butt too. :)
I do think we have uncorked our repressed desires to keep our patriotism, our lovemaking, our stirrings and yearnings under wraps over the past two decades. We wave our flags a little more often. We share our opinions more vehemently. We speak passionately and with feelings which recently were too hot to handle. And given the length of this particular winter, I would hazard a guess that there will be a torrid little boom of babies born in the early fall.
I guess you just have to be in the right place at the right time to feel it..........and you just may be in luck to be in the room where torrid comes a callin.' Anyone for some road hockey shinney?
For more torrid stories, visit Writer's Island.............it's a hot hot site.