SNOWSTORMS!

Welcome to a Canadian November in 2022 and it's TWO giant snowstorms!

Whoa! Wait a minute there, Stevie Boy, there's only one storm battering Ontario right now! 

I beg to differ, my dear friend. 

ONE storm is the granddaddy of them all, hammering western NY state first, then creeping its way northeastward into southern Ontario, blanketing all in its wake under record setting snowfall. Some of the areas surrounding Buffalo, NY, have reported almost 1.75 m (5+ feet) thus far with more expected before the weekend plays out. The squalls reached us here in Wasaga overnight, making for white out conditions when I arose at 6:30 am, and they don't appear to have any threat of lightening over the next little while.

The OTHER storm is the informational white out that Ford Nation is battering Ontario's citizen's consciousness through a sheer crap-storm of misinformation and outright lies that are soapboxed daily, mostly thanks to jabbering of the Minister for Education, the right honourable (??) Stephen Lecce. Yes, I'm still technically employed by that same education system and should choose keep my yap shut, but how can one sit idle when Ford et al use yours and my tax dollars to fuel such an outrageous campaign of destruction by actively creating strife through the vilification of education workers, blatantly lying about their complicency in the battle. The screen shot for one of Lecce's latest tweets would like voters to believe that in 33 years, Ontario's students have missed almost 12 years of school due to strikes. 

And he's the supreme leader of Ontario's math curriculum?

I can't tell the general public how to think, but I am not at all prepared to acknowledge that Lecce wishes kids back in class if he's trying to sway opinion using such a ludicrous claim. It staggers the imagination that he and his PR team thought that one would slide through!

Let's be clear about storm ONE. This baby is easily in the top 10, if not top 5, of winter storms to hit the western NY area, and with you and I caught square in its crosshairs, it may just make the top 5 for these parts. While the pundits claim that my part of the world ... Georgian Bay area ... will most likely not get slammed like Orchard Park, just south of Buffalo, but the generated chaos will be significant enough. According to CBC, "New York Gov. Kathy Hochul called in the National Guard, deploying about 150 members to help with snow removal and resident needs in the hardest-hit parts of Erie County. At a news conference on Saturday afternoon, Hochul said she would sign a request for a federal emergency declaration to seek reimbursements for expenses on storm response." 

Have it told you lately how much I dislike the snow?

Let's also be clear about storm TWO. Ford's cronies would have Ontario think that CUPE education workers are the bottom-of-the-barrel, lazy, entitled cretins that can't resist feeding off the public tete, and they're banking on public opinion being based on the mass media and not on the collective grey matter. If the events of last week were not enough to raise concern ... the whole NON-bargaining process kaput because you could ram legislature through using a foot-to-the-throat suppression of rights and freedoms ... then the consistent attempt to throw a white-out of confusion across our collective retinas via misinformational red-herring statistics should raise the alarm bells. Ford Nation has already approved $330+ million handout to parents prior to the political protest of November 11th to use as they see fit to offset the impacts of the pandemic, then they announce millions more for, "free childcare to eligible healthcare workers & childcare workers for the duration of any work stoppage." The combination of those two "bribes" alone would offset all requested increases CUPE has made. Kudos to CUPE and OPSEU for banding together and forcing the PCs to eat crow on their Draconian measures.

Look, let's call "a spade, a spade". I admit I am completely biased. When it comes to the education system, if you had invested over 30 years in an altruistic effort to prepare the next generations to look after us when we're no longer able, you'd likely have a soft spot for it too. 

Do I think that Ford's PCs are completely wrong? 

Not in the least. 

Do I think that they have stepped completely across the line of decorum? 

Absolutely so! 

Do I think the PCs and CUPE need to meet in the middle so disruption to schools is minimized. 

100% YES! 

Do I think that our EAs, office staff, custodians, etc deserve to be acknowledged for their commitment and vital contribution to Ontario's students? 

1000% YES YES YES!

I'm willing to help shoulder the added financial load, for sure, but there's tens of billions inequities and injustices in uncollected monies from business taxation, mismanaged accounting, and misguided grants that would make treating these classroom super heroes with the much deserved respect they are due an absolute reality. 

And, at the risk of gaslighting, CUPE is only step one of multiple negotiations that Ford/Lecce have to solve over the coming months.

Yep, TWO massive storms!

The good news is that one of them won't last much more that a day or two more.

OOOOPs!

I am writing this on November 17th, 2022. 

I awoke this morning to a massive feeling of OOOPs!

When I originally approached my bestie Joyce with the idea of selling our Barrie home of 30 years, I felt strongly that I really desired a change of surroundings, and to her credit, she agreed. I was raised in Barrie, left for the extended university years, and then taught in Barrie for 30 years. I loved the city and all the fantastic memories I had made there be it personal, familial, or professional, but the dazzling gleam of snowflakes in the air were fading, with it winter recreational activities were losing their attractiveness. All of this created a yearning to experience a different community. 

Those of you that have read a few of my posts are likely already familiar with the escapades of relocating to Wasaga Beach by way of a year long stop-over in Guelph, but in the event that you're a first time reader, we rented a condo in Guelph, fell in love with the vibe and energy of the city, entrenched ourselves in the wide assortment of outdoor recreational activities available, and were pleasantly pleased with significantly less winter weather ... aka snowfall.

We started the search for real estate we might purchase with the hopes of putting down roots in the Guelph area, but months of searching left us feeling hollow since what we desired, we refused to pay the asking price, and what we were willing to pay for didn't check enough of the boxes on our list. When we expanded our search to include locations in Simcoe County that were NOT Barrie, we were tickled to find a place in Wasaga that checked most of our boxes AND we were willing to pay the asking price. 

Now, back to the OOOPs ...

While we immediately fell for the serenity and beauty of Wasaga pre-winter, we were timidly optimistic about what the looming winter would look like. Would it feature frigid on-shore gales, December cousins of the heavenly zephyrs of the summer and fall, and would they carry the accursed snow streams inland, missing our new little digs? Or, would those winds simply deposit large volumes of 'Fluff Stuff" in our laps? Well, early indications would favour the latter, as we awoke this morning to an overnight accumulation of 20+ cm!

Shazbat!

One thing unique to condo life is the snow removal waltz. Like many at our complex, we are fortunate to own two parking spots, one that we choose to use because of its desirable location to our front door, and one that is less so. In hopes of getting our number one spot plowed, I hustled down to "dig" the RAV out and was greeted with almost knee-deep drifts and 20+ cm effectively camouflaging the RAV with its never-ending whiteness. It was a race against time as the plow clearing the unoccupied spaces was nearing completion, and I was filled with sadness as I watched him pull away at the same time I pulled into our second spot.

Drat!

With a defeated shrug, I left the RAV in our second spot, and hoped that the day's sunshine would eventually do the deed and clear away the blight. Imagine my relief when this afternoon I heard the unmistakable return of the plowing company as the clunks and bangs of a Skid-steer quickly solved our accumulation problem. 

Now we play the "Wait 'n See" game of what the rest of the 2022/23 winter season will bring. Perhaps this was an aberration and we won't get buried? Perhaps all will be right and the snow squalls from H-E-Double hockey sticks won't fill us with regret. 

I will tell you that a pleasant walk around the neighbourhood this midday bolstered our spirits with Hi's and Hello's of neighbours busily dealing with the overnight conditions. To be honest, we really do like this new-to-us part of the world.

Especially when it doesn't include snow!

Wish us luck!

Lest We Forget

Lest we forget their sacrifice!

I hope that the folks at Elmvale DHS won't get a big head, but I'd like to take a a few minutes to tell you about yet another outstanding experience I enjoyed thanks to taking a supply job there! To add to your understanding, you should know that this past week has been a busy one refereeing basketball because it's playoffs and club games are also going full steam ahead, so I was choosing to not take supply jobs. 

I'm retired dontcha know and the weather begs for me to get out there on my bike. 

Having said that, I consented to take this morning shift at EDHS because the OA there, an absolute gem of a human, texted me looking for some assistance. PSSSST, don't tell her that I have a hard time turning her down! HaHa!

I arrived at the school and found out the morning's duties would include a 1st period prep and a 2nd period escort / supervision. I honestly tried to hire myself out for that 1st period prep, especially since I was only booked for the morning, but the office staff insisted all was good. With the entire student population going to the Elmvale Remembrance Day ceremony, and if you've not worked in a secondary school, me saying that the entire school was going somewhere won't have the same impact than those who have had that experience. According to a previous conversation with the principal, Mark Ruzylo, the school's roster was 500 souls strong, but that included grades 7 through 12. Even if you factor in a 30% absenteeism ... quite normal these days ... that's still a boatload of young people to move from one place to another in an orderly fashion.

I chose to have a small chat with that 2nd period class prior to our walking journey about the nature of a Remembrance affair, and I was quite impressed with their insight, appreciation, and agreement. The Elmvale Cenotaph is situated on the main street, in front of the town library. While I was summarily impressed with the deportment of the hundreds of students walking the few blocks from EDHS to the Cenotaph, it pales in comparison to my appreciation of that same 300+ hoard's conscientious, respectful participation in what was an involved, yet moving, service. Even the students who struggled with attention carried out their responsibilities with dutiful observance of decorum for the 75 minute (yes, 75) ceremony that included traditional observance, wreath laying, religious blessings, and musical celebrations ... music performed, I might add, by Mr Muldoon and his senior music class. 

I should take time to note that one student, a Sr named Jacqueline if memory serves, who shared an original solo piece beautifully, moving many to nod in agreement by her well written lyrics. She's quite the talent, if I'm honest. 

Let me be perfectly clear about EDHS.

I loved my years at Barrie Central, of that there's no secret, but I also loved my years at Barrie North, the staff being made up of a host of folk that I grew to appreciate in a short space of time, and I would willingly choose to fill in as supply for colleagues from those Central or North days. The Elmvale experience (sounds like a rock band name) is a different, albeit amazing, phenomenon altogether with a unique energy that I can only guess is part staff, part student, and part small rural town. With apologies to my former colleagues, EDHS has become my new favourite place to supply for. 

And I am amazed with how the town embraces it's relationship with the school!

Getting back to the Remembrance ceremony though, I've got a soft spot for November 11th partly since it's the right thing to do as a proud Canadian, but partly because I have a direct connection to the great wars and the sacrifices given. My papa, Jack Gladstone Keachie, was born in 1897 in Glasgow, Scotland, but moved with family to Canada early in life. When WWI hit, he enlisted then celebrated (???) his 16th birthday in the trenches. Yes, you read that correctly, he enlisted at 15 years old. Obviously, he successfully survived the experience since he eventually had my mother, who eventually had me, but to say that he returned unscathed would not be accurate. He struggled for a significant time with what would be labelled PTSD by today's standards, and for the rest of his days, he refused to talk about that experience lest he drag long repressed memories to the surface to be lived over again. Years ago, my mother framed a photo of him in uniform and his medals. When she sold our childhood home, my brother Dave was entrusted with guardianship of this family treasure. 

For my papa, for my family like my nephew Jeff Sarazin who is stationed in Germany right now, for friends who have served or are serving in the forces, for those that paid the ultimate sacrifice in any of those cursed armed conflicts Canada has participated in, I thank you for willingly giving that we might enjoy the freedoms and safety that we often take for granted.

Lest We Forget.

It finally happened!

It finally happened!

After putting 20,000+ km on my Argon18 steed since I purchased it, and more importantly my Hunt wheel set, I recently discovered that I had broken my rear rim, actually pulling 2 spokes out of the metal. I noticed about a week ago that my rear tire little wobble had advanced to a bike-inspired version of the Charleston, and I guessed with 20/20 hindsight that it was the compromised metal of the rim that was the culprit. I enjoyed a social ride with 2 buds this weekend passed and we discovered the spokes had ripped completely out of the rim when we got back to my RAV.

As you may recall, I went out for a big ride Tuesday last, and was inflicted with a rear flat coming back to the beach along the Simcoe Rail Trail, just south of Anten Mills, thanks to a wayward nail buried in the freshly resurfaced trail. It was soon after fixing the flat and getting back on the trail that I noticed the shimmy was dangerously close to the support frame making the slog through the newly regraded surfacing of the trail tough work. Showing my naivety, I reasoned that the weather gift from Ma Nature was far too valuable to waste, so I kept riding despite the pronounced shimmy, bolstered by assurances that subsequent rides would not harm my gears or frame. I was warned, however, that it could most definitely result in popping a couple of spokes, requiring a rescue run from Joyce. 

Well worth it, I reasoned.

As I mentioned, when my friends Hardy, Roelie and I returned to the parking lot, the deed was discovered as metallic shards were folded back like petals of a rose, barely containing the head of two spokes. Hardy, with all of his bike mechanic knowledge, assured me that my days of riding that particular wheel were over. Yesterday's activities included a trip to Barrie's Bikeland, the only bike shop I like that had operating hours on Mondays, where a knowledgable youngster named Chris offered a couple of solutions to make haste of my dilemma. My cycling itch was calmed with the purchase of a new rear rim that is scheduled to arrive on Wednesday or Thursday, and Chris has kept my old rigging to make for a quick set-up and swap when it arrives. All in all, only a few days out of the saddle ... of my Dark Matter that is, because you know I'll do a couple of sessions on the indoor trainer.

All of this has provoked a view of my year's stats on Strava. 

For those not in the know, Strava is a multi-tiered app that is the choice of many cyclists for tracking their training/riding. Using either the free version or the data-hungry driven paid version, the cycling community uses Strava like a trail Facebook for sharing routes, tracking KOM's (King of the Mountains), and posting segments. Being inherently frugal ... cheap ... I have opted for the free version and despite leaving a host of metrics on the table, have enjoyed perusing the available data's intoxicating lure. According to the app, I have traversed 20,855 km on my trusty Dark Matter since I first embraced cycling as a viable alternative to running following a meniscus mishap in March 2020, coincidentally the beginning of the Covid Pandemic. The first of my 29,357 all time km's were thanks to the combination of my old Legacy Compass mountain bike and Davinci Democles road bike, but the transition to the Argon18 Dark Matter gravel stallion threw the barn doors wide open to to exploration of the wonders around me, be it Simcoe County, Florida, or Guelph area.

All time, I have amassed 550 rides for the aforementioned 29,357 km's with 206,183 m climbing during my 1134 h of riding. This year I feel I have truly embraced the Bike Life with over the 420 h, resulting in 11,032 km and 2 m shy of 65,000 m climbing. That may all sound bewildering to you, but to me it represents a complete investment in myself and my health. I've written about Kevin Simms in other posts, and his role in starting me down this cycling path, and every time I am faced with raised eyebrow of incredulity, I am reminded of his words, 

"We ride to stay healthy enough that our wives won't have to wipe our bottoms when we're old and grey." For that, my darling Joyce, you are most welcome!

I would be remiss if I didn't also give credit to fellow cycling enthusiasts Hardy Wind and Jay Rothenburg, equally responsible for stoking the biking fire and being willing compatriots on so many of those wondrous social rides. It behooves me to also mention my SYGA (Simcoe York Gravel Association) riding mates for including me in their regular assaults of gravelly terrain in and around Simcoe and York regions.

Some might feel the pang of disappointment when they wear out their machinery. I choose to wear it like a medal of honour, a symbolic talisman of dogged determination and lactate-infused perseverance. The bulk of those 1100+ hours of riding have been in the company of me, myself and I as I contemplated my way through life's peaks and valleys, cycling tunes quietly caressing my eardrums, all the while bursting with gratitude for the wondrous sights I would never have experienced behind the wheel of my Tacoma or RAV. Plus, it's no secret that all this riding allows me to justify visiting the region's best bakes shops!

In no way, shape or form do I compare myself with the fictional Forest Gump, but I completely relate to the portion of his story during which, "He waas runningggg!" 

#lifeisgood #bikelife #retirementlife #livinginthemoment

Head scratchers!

I'll readily admit that life in post-retirement times is definitely less complicated with a perceived significant reduction in the number of required daily issues, but I'd like to go on the record that although the number has decreased, the complexity of each has generally increased, leaving me scratching my noggin in pure perplexity.

Head Scratcher Numero Uno surrounds my first-person experience of my brother's medical treatments. Joyce and I recently joined my SIL in a trip down to the Big Smoke to visit him at Sunnybrook because he's been in the ICU for a few days thanks to the complications his treatments have had on his health. He's dealing with a host of issues right now that are causing a pause on the final stages of his treatments, issues that individually are serious, but combined could lead to dire outcomes. Fully admitting that I am on the outside of the Health System looking in, it would seem to me that the various Doc's involved are prescribing treatments only for their part and they don't seem to be communicating, causing a profound amount of head scratching for my brother, his immediate family, and our extended family. 

If you've ever had the pleasure of meeting my brother, you'll already be astutely aware of his acerbic wit, razor-sharp sarcastic tongue, and devilishly wicked sense of humour. If not, well let's just say you've no idea of what you're missing out on. The ramifications of his treatments have resulted in an extreme amount of discomfort in things you and I take for granted, and the only way to effectively deal with them is medication. Unfortunately, that results in a fogginess that makes the confusing assortment of treatments all the more frustrating and irritating. The nurses, God love them, are bearing the blight of said confusion and even they don't seem to be hitched to the same cart. 

All of this makes our extended family anxious and concerned, brows fully furrowed, eyes squinting, cheeks raised, a look like someone is holding a small turd under our nose. Despite the noticeable, albeit gradual, improvements over the stay in hospital, we yearn for the veil to be lifted from our eyes that we might understand my brother's near future. I'll fully admit that my knowledge of the health system is very limited, and despite my profound appreciation for the compassion and empathy they have extended to my brother, I'm still perplexed.

As my mother remarked in conversation the other day, "It's incredible how much damage they inflict in an effort to save you."

Head Scratcher Numero Dos was a situation I became aware of the other day while supplying for a friend who was dealing with a death in the family. With November looming, those in the education system ... and those recently departed from ... are keenly aware that report card time is nigh, the deadline for submission only days away. For a number of years, teachers were forced to use a particular software for composing and submitting those reports to the office staff so that the report cards cold be printed for distribution. It turns out that someone higher up the "Food Chain" decided to change that software just last week, without inservice or documentation on dealing with a significantly different tool. 

Seriously? How does that happen? And why now? Perplexed only sort of explains how I feel!

My heart goes out to my education friends that are afflicted with this ridiculous scenario!

Head Scratcher Numero Tres comes from the curious minds of Ford Nation, most specifically, Stephen Lecce, our Minister of Education, and surrounds the absolute disdain he continues to show for education workers and the value they hold for the people of Ontario. Even during his first term in office, the privately educated Lecce demonstrated an apparent lack of understanding surrounding the actual goings-on in publicly funded classrooms, taking every opportunity through carefully worded misinformation and warped statistics in an effort to vilify education workers in the minds of Ontario voters, all the while deftly altering the funding model to squeeze more and more out of the education budget.

A few weeks ago, Lecce added to his already incredulous contempt by announcing $365 million dollars to fund "Catch Up" payments for children under 18, whether mainstream or special needs, payments he urges to be used to offset the damages caused by the pandemic. I say he urges because this handout has "no strings attached" and can be used for any purpose. 

"These relief payments are part of a $365 million Plan to Catch Up, which the government first announced during the throne speech in August. However, at the time, details about how this lump sum of money would be divided were sparse. This is not the first time parents have received payouts from the Ford government. Last year, parents received $400 per child aged 0 to Grade 12 while parents with children who have special needs under the age of 21 received $500." (Link here)

While on the surface this looks like well intentioned empathy for Ontario's children, it becomes an intensely perplexing head scratcher when viewed through a full-picture lens that includes knowledge that the PC's are in negotiations with Education workers, most specifically CUPE, the federation whose members include custodial staff in the SCDSB. CUPE members have been subjected to over a decade of imposed frozen or 1% contract raises that have lagged well behind the rising cost of living. The present strife between the province and CUPE will reach a crescendo this week thanks to Ford Nation ramming through new legislation the force CUPE back to work despite being in a legal strike position, thanks largely to Lecce's cronies walking away from negotiations. 

This is a slippery, slimy slope here folks.

The $365 million just given away would have more than covered the $260 million that CUPE was asking for, but to walk away from negotiations knowing that you'll simply legislate the workers back by again using the "notwithstanding" clause borders on tyranny. It's easy for those not involved to sneer in derision at the requests of education workers for better working conditions, but if the PC's can treat a well oiled machine like CUPE with such disdain, it's not really a leap of faith to see them doing the same with the Health Care workers, Emergency Services, or any other organized group. They're warping the law to suit their needs so any one can be caught in the crosshairs.

As an informed, interested voter, I find this choice of action alarming.

Look, I'm not writing and posting this to garner support for personal causes or opinions, but rather to shed light on issues that I find perplexing in hopes that anyone who chooses to read this might find it interesting enough to do some digging of their own. My hope is that if we are better informed, we can hold whichever group more accountable to act in a more common sense, compassionate manner.

Lord knows we need a little more compassion these days.

It was inevitable!

As I gather my thoughts for this piece, I am distracted by the cacophony of colour outside my window, nature's paintbrush seemingly more brilliant this fall than previous memory, and I find myself mentally retracing the events of the past few days with mild curiousity, some of it not really adding up. The good news is that Joyce and I survived the inevitable Covid-19 infection with relatively few dire consequences or repercussions. The bad news is that it happened at all.

As background, we both felt strongly that the vaccination argument held true so we willingly accepted the "jab" as often as the Ministry would allow for, Joyce's birthday allowing her to sneak in a 4th shot ahead of the government's cave-in to public pressure that allowed "young'ins" like me to get theirs. Having a somewhat thorough education in the sciences, I felt competent in understanding the mechanism behind vaccinations and how it would provide us with an immunity to severe Covid implications. Having said that, we also felt strongly that we should do all we could to decrease exposure since our nuclear family included a host of diabetics, an octogenarian, a nonagenarian, and an active cancer battle. Conscientious use of quality masks, fastidious personal hygiene, and avoidance of super-spreader events were the daily norm. 

The aforementioned inevitable collision occurred because we let our guard down after seeing so many others returning to "normal" activities, so when we found ourselves out and about with errands that required a trip to Barrie, we shrugged off our paranoia with indoor dining room settings for a treat of quality cooking from The Mexican House in the city's south end by rationalizing that we were the only patrons in the entire place. Of course, as you might have guessed, that soon changed and despite our tentative natures, we continued to enjoy a most delicious meal (you REALLY should try this place if you're a fan of Mexican). As time ebbed on with neither of us feeling even a trace of Covid-like symptoms, we surmised that we "dodged the proverbial bullet".

Bolstered by this minor success, I chose to accept an invitation to join some friends in an adult beverage at a local Barrie watering hole in celebration of some recent success, yet while the libations and snacks were most enjoyable, the arrival of a sore throat, drippy nose and dry cough a couple of days later were concrete proof that I had made a poor choice after all. You can likely guess that if I had symptoms, I was actively sharing my demise with Joyce, and she should expect her own battle soon enough.

I was feeling ashamed when I contacted my Simcoe Cycling friends with the news of my carelessness since I had spent the day before traversing gravel trails throughout Simcoe with them, but as the days proceeded, I was relieved to learn that no one had received a large enough dose from me to fall victim.

On this Heavenly Birthday of my D.O.D., I'm reminded that one of the many benefits of being my father's son was the immune system of steel that resulted from the constant exposure to a wide variety of maladies he would bring home from his daily battles in Royal Victoria Hospital. It's the only explanation I have for the fact that my mother, 3 brothers, and I rarely get ill, and when we do, it's short and quick. With this in mind, you can imagine that my Covid experience was more of the same, and I turned the corner in scant days, beset by relatively minor complications.

My wife Joyce didn't grow up with me.

When Joyce's infection finally surfaced, it blew in like a hurricane, knocking off her feet for a few days, inflicting her with triple the force of symptoms, and a nagging hack that has hung around for an annoyingly long stretch. 

Which leads me to the latest instalment of Porter's Peeves!

With Joyce's symptoms waning at a glacial pace, the inevitable loss of quality sleep began to weigh heavily on her mood, and we agreed that she needed assistance from the local pharmacist to endure. Being on a fixed income, I decided to save a few shekels by shopping at Walmart for the magic elixirs, and was only slightly put off by the lengthy lines at the checkouts. It slowly dawned on me that the reason the lines were ridiculous was due to only 2 being staffed and literal dozens of self-checkouts relatively barren. Normally, I am not shy in my criticism of conglomerates like Walmart's trend toward cutting the chaff by having us give them not only our money, but our energy and time as well, and I avoid self-checkouts like the plague. Alas, today I was in a hurry so I chose the cursed choice. As I was preparing to leave the area, I was stopped by an employee emphatically fulfilling the role of Gandalf the Grey with her grandiose, "You shall not pass" insistence on scouring my chit in what I could only guess was a contemptuous attempt to ensure I had paid for all I had. She obviously took the role seriously, comparing the bill with the few items in my hands with fervour before begrudgingly "allowing" me access to the exit. 

Seriously?

It's not enough that we have to pay exorbitant amounts for goods that have risen double digit percentages in the past few months, nor that we are herded into self-checkout lines like so many cattle awaiting the heavy hammer, but now we are treated like "guilty before proven innocent" criminals to ensure that Uncle Sam Walton's family continues to enjoy billions in profits. 

Enjoy it Walmart ... you won't enjoy my money for quite a while.

The good news is that despite all of this, Joyce and I are regaining our health and back to almost normal.

The list!

My apologies for not writing for such a lengthy period. No excuses, simply allowed my self to get gosh-darned busy with cycling, supply teaching, and refereeing over the last couple of weeks. With Thanksgiving upon us, I felt the urge to list a few things that I'm thankful for here in 2022.

The obvious choice is my extended family. 

I'm Uber thankful for my wife, Joyce ... she is my rock, my bestie, my primo persona, my everything. She keeps me grounded, humble, happy and grateful that she finds my company desirable. Besides which, she's one "Hot Mama" and I fall deeper in love with each passing day. For those that know me, you will be empathetic to her plight, my quirks and quarks are a challenge at the best of times.

I'm grateful for mom's and my MIL's continued happiness, good health and faculties. These are scary times for seniors, and I'm forever grateful that they both have escaped hindering complications, even though my mom recently shared that she has tested positive. She's not sure where she became exposed, but she's on the backside of it and didn't require help beyond some much-needed rest.

I'm thankful for my children's continued successes, health and happiness. I cannot begin to adequately express how pleased both Joyce and I are that our children have found their path in life, found partners who complete them sufficiently to foster the happiness of sharing a life together, and have embraced that ideals we so painstakingly strove to teach them as their were growing up. They both will never know the depth of pride we feel until they themselves embark on the journey of offspring, something that both Joyce and I are eager for them to experience because we've embraced our readiness to become Nana and Papa. 

Ha Ha Ha!

I'm grateful for all of my brothers, but at this time, especially grateful that my brother Rob has such a stellar team of health professionals assisting him through his trials. It is a source of great anguish to see him struggle through the rigours of his treatments, but his "no quit" attitude shines brightly through the dogged determination to beat his affliction. 

UPDATE: I'm sincerely sorry to have not included Gary and Ruth Foster, my BIL/SIL, in my original post. I'm thankful that they continue to do well, despite some health obstacles in the past, and that they were able to be with my MIL on Thanksgiving after I tested positive. They are great people and Joyce and I wish we could be with them more often, but the distance between us is significant and makes that difficult.

I'm grateful for the plethora of friends and acquaintances I have garnered along the Path of Life because they provide me with fellowship, connection, and support. Most have come through associations fostered through my passions of athletics or education, but they will never completely understand how much they mean to my overall happiness. Of course, near and dear to my heart are my relatively new cycling friends as they so willingly accepted this "Newb" into their fold, sharing their knowledge and experience willingly and generously.

Lastly, and certainly not leastly, I'm grateful to my father who inadvertantly brought home a cornucopia of infections each night when he returned home from his work at Royal Victoria Hospital "stamping our the seeds of disease". His enduring legacy, thanks to continued exposure creating immune systems of steel, culminated in the fact that my family rarely falls ill, and it takes something significant to knock us off our feet. This was never truer than this morning when my rapid antigen test indicated that my cold symptoms were actually a wretched Covid-19 variant had finally found me after all this time. Other than a drippy nose, and constantly clearing my throat, I've escaped significant complications. 

I find Social Media a bit much at times, mostly because of the negativity and vindictiveness, my primary focus of using it being the connections that can be maintained across great distances, but the flood of well wishes that have decorated the pages of Facebook and Instagram this weekend gives me those "warm fuzzies". I wish all of my connections health, happiness and peace.

We all have a list of things to be thankful for.

Let's make sure everyone on that list gets told.