A path to the big pasture; when Mr. Martin used to drive his cows up the hill to the best field in the area, it probably wasn’t much to write back to the Old Country about. After all, cow paths are important to a niche group. It would appear that the city is back to that mindset.
posted in politics | Comments Off on Just change the boundaries and make someone rich | 298 words
If my calculations are correct (and the data set is accurate) then 56% of my fellow citizens now enjoy a mid-winter civic holiday. As of this year, four provinces have designated the third Monday in February as Family Day. One more province and we’re at the level of participation that could be used for things like constitutional amendments. Come on Maritimes! And Newfoundland. You can push this whole numbers game over the two-thirds required. Just out of curiosity, who used that number with a country composed of ten provinces. Can we say “it does not compute” in either official language?
posted in politics | Comments Off on The potential holiday draws near | 275 words
It’s not who you know but rather what you know. In a nutshell, the story of my life and relative success. Give me a round of trivia and I’ll forego a social occasion any time, hands down. Testing is now believed to increase retention, so I will continue to rise every day to a quick round of online trivia. And I am not alone.
posted in history, media | Comments Off on More retrospection on television | 385 words
Head protection. It only makes sense. After all, if you’re halfway up the local version of a skyscraper, and a hot rivet falls from above (not the sky – just a floor or two up) then that tin pot covering the bald spot is probably a good idea. Ditto the soldier in a foxhole; if you stick it into the freefire zone and the lead is soft enough, it could provide a good story around the table in your local legion for the next half-century.
posted in health | Comments Off on Cover your head | 295 words
Perhaps if the lost pilot had been found, the story wouldn’t have even made much more than the back pages of the local newspaper. Instead, when Steve Fossett and his airplane didn’t arrive at the destination, the story “took wings”. After all, here was an experienced navigator with boats and planes; if there’d been a locomotive handy, he’d have driven it too. He’d gone around the world non-stop. This time, the plane didn’t arrive at the airstrip.
posted in history | Comments Off on Missing and declared unlikely to land | 304 words
While listening to sons #1 and #2 explaining how they had tricked a naive classmate with a fake Valentine note (the usual drill; pretending it was from a secret admirer and then busily snickering over the unreasonable hope level they’d created), I remembered how it was in “the good old days”. Best days of my youth, etc.
posted in history | Comments Off on The early form of public love | 441 words
The day began with a whisper of wind. A swirling of snow, a tapping of bare branches against each other, just enough to promise better times on the way. I checked the road cams before daylight, secure in the knowledge that mercury vapour lamps would show any new accumulations on the various interchanges. After all, with the “snow-dometer” now reading 336.2 cm, we’d never notice any change from the windows of the house.
posted in Wx | Comments Off on It begins with a whisper of wind | 321 words
Let us join together in protest, for a wrong has been done to one of our neighbours. Somewhere, tonight, an innocent lobster named Goliath must prepare to be de-named. A return to the anonymity of “just another bug in the water”.
posted in travel | Comments Off on Nameless and in exile | 290 words
“He jests at scars that never felt a wound”. Wait, that must be me. Back when I memorized the line during a high school English class (actually, it took more than one class, because the whole text was of low relevance to me in those halcyon times), I didn’t realize that it would finally be useful, four decades later. Today the news made it all clear.
posted in computing | Comments Off on An outage by any other name would smell as sweet | 254 words
A notice to the commercial recording industry of America; you can keep your junk food. This year, my house is Grammy-free (this has nothing to do with grandmothers, for those who are easily confused!). Moreover, it isn’t because we can’t receive the telecast, but because we are disinterested, to a man. I will let the woman speak for herself.
posted in music | Comments Off on Where’s my music? | 300 words
