It's true. Of a cool autumn morning, you really can feel where you've broken various bones. My right thumb is killing me and my left ankle, normally no trouble at all, is all twingy.
On the other hand, it should be kissing up to seventy degrees today, which is perfect shootin' weather. (Actually, any weather is perfect shootin' weather, but I'll not quibble with a last round of warm sunshine.) I have to go to the range today to atone for my dismal showing last Saturday morn...
I'd rather be at the range, but the inbred Kansas 'church' is protesting at the funeral of a couple of high school kids killed in a traffic collision and my club is riding down to form a chrome and leather wall between the families and the freaks.
ReplyDeleteIf they have the right of 'freedom OF religion' then the mourners should have the right of 'freedom FROM religion'. Meanwhile, we are just 'peaceably assembling'.
I love our Constitution!
It'll be a little brisk this morning, but good riding days are gonna get mighty scarce for a few months around here.
John, good on ya. Being an ass is not Christian behavior, be sure to remind those dorks of that, if you have a chance.
ReplyDeleteTam? Give it ten more years, and you will be able to predict weather by your injuries. And if you like organ meats, you miiiight keep a weather eye out for your uric acid levels, gout is wonderful about finding injuries and concentrating on them.
Word verification: Flogra. A new drug to help elderly men improve the volume of their... nevermind.
Thanks John and the PGR for doing that.
ReplyDeleteSigned- another rider who feels his broken bones every morning
There is a story about an old Finnish soldier, a veteran of the "Winter War" with the Soviet Union. While the world's attention was elsewhere, the Soviets tried to invade tiny Finland, and the Finns, like a pack of crazed wolverines, tore the Russkis up. Many years later our old soldier was being interviewed by a touchy-feely television reporter. At one point, the reporter, his voice full of sympathy, asked, "Was it hard, killing people?" And the soldier answered, "Yes, very hard. You see, they tend to run around and hide behind things."
ReplyDeleteNow, that story occurs to me when I think of bowling pins; the damned things all look alike, and I am convinced that sometimes they hide behind each other. There is no other explanation for how they can evade a carefully aimed shot from, what? Seven yards? So there is no shame in missing a pin or two; the damned things run around and hide behind things.
I am getting a bit riled at the number of people that think a death is something to make a statement over, death is only a time to grieve and say goodbye to the life that has departed. Like any day is a good day for the range, almost every day without icy roads is a great day to ride.
ReplyDeleteIs this what I have to look forward to? I also broke my right thumb or, rather, had it broken for me.
ReplyDeleteI heard that, Tam, Breda. I dislocated my right pinky toe when I was 10 and my brother (rest his soul) reset it for me. It's fine on all days except when the weather's about to turn nasty; then it's all achy. Then there's the hairline fracture in my left pinky @ the middle joint which stiffens up when it gets too cold. The broken rib that reminds me when it's about to rain. But I wouldn't trade these pains for the world. Ahhh...the memories associated with them :)
ReplyDeleteNancy Willard wrote a fine poem called "Telling the Weather" that treats this subject. It's out of print, but ends similar to:
ReplyDeleteThe bones you broke as a child
Falling for joy
from the fierce trees of summer
Ache, and the knowledge
Hurts.