Caribou! A progress report on Canada's new national toast

It has been almost a year since I christened Caribou! as Canada's national toast. So it seems time for a refreshing update.

With the exception of some initial encouragement from the lovely Aggie, my proposal was met with skepticism on the part of most of the ESIs.

So after generating some summer buzz at Bluesfest, I took the concept on the road. After all, sometimes Canadians honour their own only after people abroad have given their blessing. (Katrina and the Waves are still virtual demigods among the Jarawa of India's Andaman Islands.)

A frothy cappuccino at Heathrow Airport's Caffe Nero in late July marked the first international Caribou! cheer. Only two problems: I am alone. The coffee sets me back £4.30.

On to Morocco, a land renowned for its hospitality and therefore the perfect launching point for the African Caribou! craze. With Audrey as my witness, I raise a Casablanca beer to introduce Canada's national toast the Dark Continent.

However, it soon occurs to us that in a largely Muslim country alcohol is somewhat difficult to find. So the next cry of Caribou! is heard over milkshakes at a rather exotic Marrakech luncheon spot that serves something called the McArabia.

Three continents down. Four to go.

If dogs run free...

Speaking of Ottawa and silly walks, I have a beef with park planners. City, National Capital Commission, doesn't matter -- they all like to draw designs that they think look pretty in aerial photos, insteada planning functional spaces. Take Confederation Park, at the corner of Elgin and Laurier, f'rinstance. Please. Nice space (we coyotes always approve of open green space dotted with lotsa hiding places), dumb pedestrian plan.

Contrary to what some might say, we coyotes walk and think in fairly straight lines. But here, some well-papered plannerly type thought long and hard, then drew a long, carefully arced sidewalk from the entrance just across the street from city hall, to the stairs that take you up to the Mackenzie King Bridge. Then them pesky pedestrians ignored this pretty sidewalk and walked on the grass, bee-lining straight from entrance to stairs, because they could see their destination, and the un-curved distance was shorter. Imagine that.

What the NCC's control freaks did next, rather than admit its planners are less than demigods, was plant a buncha unsightly shrubs across either end of this straight line, to try to passively force people back onto the sidewalk. Didn't work. Bipeds continued to wear a long, straight path through the shrubs, across the grass. Imagine that. Since that proved unsatisfactory, the NCC planted even more unsightly snow fences in the middle of the two shrub beds to make 'em harder to traverse. From my lurking lair I still see people stomp down snow fences on occasion. Imagine that.

One of the smartest park planners I ever ran across had no fancy planning degree, but a lotta horse sense. Entrusted with a big new park, he seeded it to grass, and left it that way for a summer. In fall, he looked at where walkers had worn the heaviest paths in the grass, and had all his sidewalks put right there, along the lines that people were walking anyway! Then they all pretty much stayed on the sidewalks, unless they were playing pick-up frisbee. With coyotes they thought were just plain ol' domestic dogs. Imagine that...!

Why I like the Usual Spot

Coyote dropped by today to drop off an item for one of my secret projects and to collect an aspidistra I'd set aside for him. I enticed him to stay by offering food but then set him to work on a little home repair project.

By ten o'clock, we were a bit tired and thirsty, so I suggested we make our way to the usual spot for a beverage.

Not wanting to leave the aspidistra outside in the bicycle trailer where it could be stolen, I brought it in and put it on our table.

"Maybe this will help us meet girls," suggested the C-dog.

"Not likely," I said. (You'd think the Coyote would know by now that when he's at a bar with me, there'll be no young ladies approaching. It's not like when he's on his own cutting a swath with cagey American coyotes.)

Then the waiter came and asked what beverages we'd like. Coyote ordered his usual libation and I ordered a dark frothy ale (only a small one.)

"And what would you like?" The waiter stared at the aspidistra.

"Our friend will have a glass of water," I said. "No ice."

A few minutes later, he brought us all our drinks. The aspidistra finished his first. Chugged it, you might say.

Keep on Struttin'

Mayor Lex Luthor thinks Ottawa needs to become more swagger worthy. Seems we don’t have enough pride about our town and we need to express it via some kind of new strut. In fact, our mayor is so confident about its impact he thinks citizens may even add a gratuity payment on our tax bill once the swagger takes hold.

I think Lex is on to something. Seeing that the ESIs are now promoting contests, I suggest we put out the call for a new Ottawa swagger.

So get out your video cams and send us a demonstration of what you think Ottawa’s new swagger should be. My nomination is a perennial Ottawa favourite called the bureaucratic two-step: one step forward, two steps backward. Get your ideas to us pronto. We’ll need to rehearse it in time for the Senators Stanley Cup victory parade.

For inspiration in designing a swagger you may want to consult this web-based utility

Of lists and trysts

Metasexual or not, Audrey says blogs need more lists. So she took to the keyboard and tapped out one of her own to spice up the ESI site:




My favourite things besides sex

1 old houses
2 champagne
3 dancing at the Marina Beach Club in Benalmadena, Spain
4 my friends - The IO, Fourth Dwarf, The Chair, The Research Director, Conch Shell, Aggie/Eigga, Coyote, {redacted}
5 books and magazines
6 sunshine
7 sparkly skirts
8 the colour pink
9 Jamaica
10 The Sunday Times
11 my little Canon camera
12 chocolate
13 kissing
14 activities leading up to sex which aren't sex
15 men who read
16 Chris Chelios
17 The Strokes
18 Rome
19 taking baths
20 roses