One of my ongoing reading projects is to take note every time I come across a reference to Canada's iconic coffee shop, even though I don't drink coffee and I don't even like doughnuts all that much. (I have a hard time saying no to cake, however.) Here's a link to collections from previous years.
Tim Hortons retains the name of the Canadian National Hockey League player who opened his first doughnut shop in 1964 in Hamilton Ontario. As far as I can tell, the Tim Hortons franchise is currently owned by Restaurant Brands International (RBI), a multinational fast food holding company based in Canada.
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Data management is pocked with pitfalls. In Arizona, a computational error once changed hundreds of deer, elk and pronghorn to beavers, ruining two years of records. One highway contractor in British Columbia, tasked with submitting carcass locations to the province's roadkill app, got in the habit of uploading his reports over coffee, rather than from the field. Biologists figured that out when the app showed a roadkill hotspot: a Tim Hortons.Crossings: How Road Ecology Is Shaping the Future of Our Planet by Ben Goldfarb
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If you know what to look for you can make it through the douchebag wasteland of ghosting guys blowing up the dating sites for their skin. Iris hopes it won't matter that she got no game later because actual nice guys got no game either. They are a gameless lot and therefore her very best bet. Iris is going to get herself a genuine nice guy if she gets through this day alive, promise, promise. Iris and Jo strongly concur on this last point. Iris and Jo mostly agree. So much so that Iris becomes disappointed when they don't. She is forlorn when they don't laugh at the same jokes. Other things they don't agree on include pop music, timbits and technology. Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club by Megan Gail Coles
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But part of my disbelief in chance is tied to my sense that my fate is, in some way, guided. As a result I am, at times, susceptible to those who seem to know -- or, even, pretend to know -- things about me that I don't. This has led to some complications in my life.
It is, for instance, what had led me to the Tim's at King and Bathurst where I agreed to have coffee with Furaha.
[...]
She spoke these words in the most reasonable tone imaginable, daintily sipping on her double-double and hiding her mouth each time she bit her plain old-fashioned. I remember there was a moment when I was struck by the thought that she was making sense. But, of course, the situation was absurd.Winter, or a Town Near Palgrave by Andre Alexis; published by Coach House
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