Winging off in a New Direction

Spring, ummm, unleashed

Canadian spring is technically upon us. Oh, I know some of you sneer that you already had this august event timed to the very nanosecond, because your TV weatherman of choice quoted the friendly neighbourhood National Research Council/ Herzberg Institute of Astrophysics' cesium-slurping sidereal clock thingy to you, on last evening's news.

But we six millennia old, semi mythical, quasi animistic, partly totemic coyotes prefer to sniff the wind and read time-honoured traditional sign ourselves, and actually sense spring rising like green maple sap in our creaky old bones. Even if we've lately become a little more citified - and sap headed - than we would like.

To whit:

The receding snowdrifts' stripteasing revelation of a winter's worth of plastic bags full of toy poodle poo, not unadjacent to the mouth of the ol' den. They're courtesy of an elegant lady of a certain age, who looks law-abiding, in whose mouth butter would not melt. She scoops under duress (i.e. If she knows someone human is watching) but invariably chucks the distasteful little baggy into "somebody else's problem" territory, when she thinks potential eyewitnesses are past. Nota bene: Coyotes watch. Always. Yer busted. Happy Spring.

Legions of empty, abandoned Tim Hortons Larges, rocked gently in every downtown gutter by a light, chilly Northern breeze. A marked section of each paper cup lip is artfully unrolled to display the sad comment, "Better luck next time..."

The annual horde of complaints about the annual carpet of pate de merde graisse produced by the annual horde of Canada Geese, often in the immediate environs of Andrew Haydon Park.

The Prime Minister's and Finance Minister's protestations that the economy is just fine, darn it! Ummm, okay, that last one is not technically a sign of spring. They've been spouting pretty much the same "We're delusional! Re-elect us!" shit since last fall.

Ooh. Look! Point Number Five. Anybody see a theme here?

Come to think of it, things don't actually smell like proper spring yet. Not really. Pardon me while I just, ummm, hold my nose here. And keep popping Vitamin D for another week or two....

Workout Wednesday: Aruban pole-dancers

Dewey Decimal Dame

I bought new reading glasses, and I commented to Fourth Dwarf that I like that when I wear them they make me feel sexy - like Catwoman as a librarian.

"Catwoman wasn't a librarian, Woodsy," he responded. "Batgirl was a librarian."

I disagreed with him, and I insisted that I was right. For days I stubbornly refused to Google it. I wanted to trust my memory.

Do you trust your memory? Vote below before you Google for the correct answer.

Who was a librarian?
	Catwoman
	Batgirl
Free polls from Pollhost.com

Happy St. Pattie's Day...

Now you tell me!

Apparently we coyotes wuz vastly misinformed about the exact nature of the saint that many people believe to be connected with certain popular eponymous, ummm, religious celebrations.

Meh. We like ours better...