Riding home from Ryerson tonight, feeling the chill in the air and remembering how hot the day was, I had a sudden startling thought: My God, this is actually spring!

This is what spring feels like. I’ve joked for years about Toronto’s absurdly short springs – seventeen minutes between fleece and snow boots, and tank tops. But this year, we are getting a real spring – a cautious exploration of the concept of heat, with a few forays into warmth during the day and a quick retreat to cold at night.

When you were a child, did you own a spring coat? I did – my mother made sure I had a spring coat, which was sort of heavy but not too heavy. And that’s what’s needed this week, in Toronto.

Last night, oh the pleasure – two of the most spectacular men on the planet in conversation: New York’s mayor Bill de Blasio (be still my beating heart), the tallest and most intelligent and socially conscious mayor ever in the history of the world, and Jon Stewart, my beloved Jon, the shortest and most intelligent and socially conscious TV host in … etc. Could I love these men more? Only by a smidgen, because the day before I watched, on TCM, “The Long Hot Summer,” a 1958 movie starring Joanne Woodward, Orson Welles, and the sublime Paul Newman. In heaven, I want to sit at Paul Newman’s feet, or, no, on the back of his motorcycle. What a great man – not only smart, incredibly handsome and talented, but a star who married and remained faithful (as far as I know) to a woman more famed for her sharp intelligence than her beauty.

In the past two days, I’ve been awash with Paul, Jon and Bill. Jon was particularly brilliant last night about Caitlyn Jenner.

Ryerson student Laura, who was at the So True readings, said about it tonight, “The stories were so good, it was like being at the movies.”

Oh, to be a movie producer. And cast Paul Newman.