I’ve been informed by an angry mob on my front lawn that – to most
people, anyway – March 8th is officially called “International
Women’s Day.” I’m sorry if I ruffled a few feathers out there but it certainly
wasn’t my intention.
You see, when I was growing up, International Romans’ Day was always a
big deal in the Scarecrow household. Even now, I can picture those heady
childhood days when we’d all break out our togas and helmets, crack open a few
ice-cold Dr. Peppers, and throw our neighbours to the lions. How was I supposed
to know my parents were nuttier than a two-dollar coffee cake?
Ah, well! Live and learn…
I wonder if it’s not too late to return that chariot I bought on Kijiji.
