Checkered Lounge Pants

Well the sun slowly settles downward in the west over ILER Beach's horizon leading out past the Lake Erie mouth of the Detroit River and beyond towards Monroe County in Michigan, let me just say, it's been a full day. Lately a full day's criteria does not seem to take near as much anymore, since my motorcycle wounds and the subsequent healing game my body endures every day. A simple walk in the park, so to speak, can be a bleeding drain on energy stock piles on me the equivalent of which, remind me of a full week of negotiations at the bargaining table when I chaired the National negotiating teams for the railway workers. Or so it seems. I spent the day touring a greenhouse operation in Leamington with Val and her sister and flourished in the distracting production of colourful plants and flowers that filled thousands of square feet of computerized climate controlled growing houses. The thousands of different flower combinations and planter designs seemed to fill my eyes

Where are the yard sales this weekend? Have you ever spent a day visiting yard sales. My mother is a yard sale believer. She likes to store all the items life seems to bring around, and every once in a while set up a table at a local flea market and sell the items that have no useful purpose except for hidden treasures of sentimental value. I live in a yard sale mecca. There is one town close by that dedicates a whole week to a community yard sale that attracts customers and browsers from other towns and cities miles around. Almost every yard in Cottam sets up a display of every imaginable sort to attract visitors that walk, drive, or pedal through the town. My beloved Val is roaming the county today with her sister. She has flown in for a visit this week. They are scouting the numerous communities and villages and beaches this morning looking for free market opportunities this weekend. I have heard said, one person's trash is another person's treasure. I hope they find their t

Holy Moly...my blood pressure has run through the roof and its early morning. Just because today is the first follow up visit, with one of the three doctors attending on my wounds, at the out-patients clinic. Everything, blood wise, was normal with my medication until this morning, and I had an appointment at 9:30 with the chest physician. The nurse slaps on the arm sleeve first thing after I arrive, and my blood pressure is even higher now, than at sunrise. Krikee me thinks, I might have to stay in the dam hospital! Then comes the xrays that were developed the day earlier and the sound of "tsk tsk tsk" comes from the mouth of the stethoscope dawned head facing the monitor with my chest images. "Hows the pain?" I am asked. "Its all good as long as I stick to your prescription orders Doc", I reply. "When I get off track", I go on, "I feel like I have a little Hibachi heating up in my chest". He laughs and says to come back in three weeks

I think the word I am looking for is "paradox". I am not really sure. I had initially looked up the word "irony" but that does not seem to apply in my case. Let me step back and walk the trail that brought me to this puzzle. I had just arrived home from the hospital after ditching my motorcycle to avoid a collision with some farm machinery. I was just beginning the road to recovery from the sustained injuries and getting an avalanche of well wishes and speedy recovery communiques when my mobile buzzed me with a text message. The message was a heads-up letting me know my old hombre Gerry Desharnais was buying a new Harley. I responded to the messenger that he was jokingly teasing me after my skidding and flipping my Hawg and imagined the motive of his message was to trick me to thinking this deal was true. You see, Gerry and I had been biker buds for over 30 years but he had wrecked his last bike and never replaced the loss, while I had proceeded to ride Harley David

I called my buddy John to swing by and take me for a ride to get out of the house for a spell on Friday. "Where to?" he said. "Can we stop at the shop and look at the battered bike?" I asked. I hadn't mustered the courage through the pain of 11 broken ribs, to even look at the remains of my leather jacket let alone the Hawg, until now. "Sure!" he announced as we rolled away in his Jeep. Automobile rides have been a hurdle for me, what with getting a comfortable seat for my darn ribs, and all. The passenger seat of my car is suitable for short distances but anything beyond a small commute requires adjusting the seat periodically. My good friend, Joe, took me to Maroviantown earlier in the week and we had to stop so I could walk a few laps around his Lincoln SUV to satisfy my agonizing rib cage, along the way. John's Jeep seemed to excel at appealing my injuries in the passenger seat, thank the healing powers that be, or, perhaps the meds were perfo

Headline read..... "Harrow motorcyclist in fair condition after crash" I left the house two weeks ago to drive my Hawg to the Harley shop in Wheatley for a summer tune up, and, woke up in ICU in the hospital in Windsor with no recollection of the previous 24 hours. My beloved Val was to fly to Winnipeg the next day for a weeks holiday. She cancelled the trip to be by my side. After 7 days in the hospital I was released and sent home with.....11 broken ribs, a broken clavicle, bruised lungs, scrapes and contusions but NO LIFE THREATENING INJURIES. Thanks to the hospital staff, doctors, fellow patients, neighbours, friends and family for the support, good wishes, cards, flowers, emails, calls, gifts and visits that all collectively joined to raise my spirits and bolster my strength to endure the pain and soulful mysteries that accompanied my injuries. The global conflicts seem to fizzle from view when the crisis is closer to home. Priorities can be so much different when someth