Not even real coffee
Spent a few minutes in the wonderful world of Jer In His Car. Not the real name of the show, of course. In truth, I’m not even sure they had real coffee. This is the world of TV, and all of the coffee was wonderful, episode after episode. That’s not even plausible. I say that as a purist, who pulls his own shots in the kitchen and then rarely touches the stuff outside of my comfort zone.
We’re in the home stretch now, as far as winter goes. Outside, about the same accumulation as a year ago, but there’s little chance of a big storm between now and bare feet in the grass. I’m already preparing myself for the next bump, when we play with the clocks. Just over a week away, apparently. Time to start sleeping in.
The best story in my local newspaper today, bar none, is the admission that road signs in the next province over are trying to prevent escape by those who pass through. Make them drive in large, meandering circles, said one traffic engineer… Yes, we got caught by the strategy, last two trips. Perhaps we’re slow learners; more likely, the department of highways has been playing with things. Testing new versions. Even with a GPS, you’re going to get lost (because GPS does not equal awareness). When a service station operator admitted that hundreds of tourists are getting misled, the truth is clear. Come on, Drive Through Province. Play fair! To the rest of us, one tree looks much like another.
