Good Luck, Cam

I got a call last week from my son Cam from Winnipeg, saying he had a job in Alberta, if I could get him out to Pincher Creek. Well, let me tell you, I got on that request in a hurry. Those calls are few and far between. Its usually a call from one kid or another, asking for money or help or some such soulful sacrifice that a person would only do for the children.

The shitty deal was, I could only get him to Edmonton under my train plan and Gramma (or some such anonymous benefactor, yes Gramma) grabbed him a bus ticket and hauled his few possessions into storage to get him on his way before someone else got the job. He is on his way in the marnin. Lets wish him luck.

That made my week, but for the wonky knee that befell me on Thursday. I rode the Hawg to 2 days of meetings in Toronto and headed out Thursday morning to stroll to the offices of one of the railways in our stable, when I felt a strange tightness in my knee. Well, by days end, my leg had gone el pego on me. Wassup with that?? The offices were eight or ten blocks from the hotel, so walking the limp for that distance put some kinda strain on the good leg and left me straddling the Hawg on Saturday morning looking like the saddle was more like a broom stick with my legs stretched precariously out past the foot-boards.

I dont know what my body is trying to tell me, because there was no advance warning or memorable strain or pull to associate to the restricted mobility. In fact, I had, only days before, struck the golf ball for 18 holes in Cottam and pedalled the mountain bike past the wetlands down the road from my place. My beloved Val is staying in town to commute to an interview on Monday, and not handy to suggest any remedies and the ole reliable chicken soup is not working. Time to break out the Tiger balm. Oy, I hate that smell.