Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column with SARS.
We think. But probably not.
We’re thinking we might because of this head-in-a-vice ache we’ve got going on in the temporal lobes and a scratchiness in the back of the throat. That, and on our way back from our foray to Mid-America over the weekend, while changing planes in the
Minneapolis-St. Paul airport, we passed two Chinese guys who were wearing surgical masks. Sure, you say, they were probably worried about contracting the respiratory killer themselves, but we like to use the junior high logic of “whoever smelt it, dealt it,” if you know what we mean.
And if it isn’t SARS, this malaise could have something to do with the fact that we spent three days with the most lovable little germ bags known in familydom – three nieces, all under the age of six. After this experience in exposure quarantine, we’ve completely changed our opinion about routing out the world’s biological warfare maniacs. Getting sick stinks. We need to track down Saddam and lock up all these preschoolers before they’re the death of us all.
Sylvia Conway, faithful watcher of our avian friends, sent us a Nature Alert!! Sylvia says she saw the first humming bird in Frisco on Saturday at 9:46 a.m. He (or she) was tanking up on the pussywillow catkins along Second Avenue.
“All other signs to the contrary, summer is officially here!” she wrote.
Let’s hope they haven’t given up on the High Country summer and headed back to their winter watering holes, Sylvia. And, by the way, what’s a catkin?
Attention all you Icicle Contest! entrants. We’ll be announcing the winners tomorrow. We promise. Stay tuned for all your fabulous prizes and honors. And then we’ll announce our Mud Season contest, sure to tickle your funny bones (hint: start stocking up on petroleum jelly, Tang and hair clippings from your local barbershop).
It’s Wednesday, or so we’re told. Feel free to tell us differently at
firstname.lastname@example.org, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just hum like a bird on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.
We’re out drowning our cooties in echinacea …
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