“I like living in Our Town,” said the Knik Canuck — who previously hailed from Vancouver and Anchorage. “I like it plenty – A to Zed.” He and the Soupster had met up on Lincoln Street earlier and strolled together, heading east.
“Zed?” said an incredulous Soupster. “Don’t you mean zee? A to Zee?”
“You say toe-may-toe and I say toe-mah-toe,” said Knik. “Canadians say zed and Americans say zee. Same thing, really. A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
“Even a Sitka Rose?” asked the Soupster.
“Especially a Sitka Rose,” said the Canuck,
A warm headwind down Lincoln Street swept by both men.
“While the Eastern and Western U.S. is battered with storms, we never seem to get cold anymore,” said the Soupster. “Even on sunny days.”
“It’s been so eerily warm this winter,” Knik said. “Wonder what kind of summer, we’re going to have?”
“Wet and grey,” said the Soupster, “Based on my years of observation. Cold winter, warm summer. So, warm winter, cool summer. That’s the process.”
“Aha!” said the Knik Canuck. “You said `prah-cess.’ The word is pro-cess. Like, `progolfers know less or “show ponies can make a mess.”
“You Canadians speak in riddles,” the Soupster announced.
“I’m just tired of 3 to 7 degrees, day after boring day,” said the Knik Canuck. “I’d give anything for it to hit Minus 15 – now that would be the ticket for a good crisp winter day!”
The Soupster was dumbfounded until his brain lit up with the word “Celsius.” He mentally translated to Fahrenheit: 37 to 45 degrees, and 5 degrees above.
“Just so it gets to be freezing, at least once more,” said the Soupster. “Thirty two degrees Fahrenheit.”
“You mean zero,” said the Knik Canuck. “Freezing is zero degrees Celsius.”
“Don’t start that again,” begged the Soupster.
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