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I had every intention of heading out on the highway yesterday for a short burn out to Sandy Point but then my pillow got a hold of me and wouldn’t let go.

It’s just as well because I’ve heard a lot and I mean a lot of talk concerning rattlers lately and where I come from, its garter snakes and garter snakes only. Growing up on the farm, you tend to develop a non-fear of snakes and so I was really hoping to catch some rattle snakes on camera.

In hindsight, it’s just as well that I did not become ‘one with nature’. After a conversation came up with Dennis, he posed the question, ‘what if you get bit?’ Dennis has a good point, a very good point. So good actually, that I didn’t have an answer. While I am packing the high top, steel toed hiking boots, I’m thinking some sort of snake-bite kit should be in order before I pursue matters any further.

There tends to be a fine line between preparing accordingly and stupidity and I’m pretty sure I know which side of the fence I fell on.

So to you Dennis, thanks for reminding me that I’m the furthest occupation away from a professional snake handler. I think I’ll start with worms and work my way up from there, hence my upcoming fishing trip.

So to make a short story shorter, I spilt gasoline in the SUV last week and it still wreaks of the old 87’ ford half ton, complete with tool box and slip tank. Now, this wouldn’t normally be a big deal as my better half usually drives it however I’ll be living in it this week as I prepare to head off to northern Saskatchewan to attempt some fishing. (I may even bring my rod and reel)

I’ve tried Febreeze, Pro-Solve, soap and water, baking soda and every other chemical in my grasp to eliminate the smell of the fumes without any avail. And even though one listener suggested I burn the ride and claim insurance fraud, I’m not quite sure I want to head down that route yet.

And so here I am, once again asking for your suggestions. (legal or otherwise)

I’ve decided that ‘Mondays’ are a necessary evil in life. No one I know says, ‘Boy, I can’t wait for Monday to get here’. If people were required to dress up as their favorite weekday, only the warped would choose Monday. If Monday was a kid in a school, no one play with him/her.

Unlike Friday, Monday signifies the beginning of another work week, for the most of us anyway. Coming off of a great weekend, the first day of the week is always tough to face and never gets any easier.

Even on a long weekend that stipulates you must take Monday off, that doesn’t mean your work does too. It only adds to your ‘to do’ list.

However, ‘Mondays’ do present some positivity in the fact that this day makes all the other days look good. If you can get through Monday, the week gets a lot easier for some reason.

So do what you need to in order to get by. If that means a gallon of coffee with Red Bull chasers, go for it. A 2 hour lunch break and at least two 20 minute coffee breaks, why not. I say. Heck, phone in sick if you need to because there’s always another Monday just around the corner.

The Stampede and Exhibition is officially in full swing and aside from mini-donuts, cotton candy and horse pucks everywhere you step, no fair is complete without carnies.

Say what you want about the life of a carnival worker as they are the basis and butt of many a joke however would the midway be the same without your typical carnie worker? I think not.

Comments or questions are very much welcome and now if you’ll excuse me I’m very much in need of a shower before someone accuses me of being a carnie. (not that there’s anything wrong with that of course)

Originally I was going to write about the Frampton show last night and as I’m wearing my concert T, I would like to discuss something else that happened at The Esplanade aside from the show itself.

Niki and myself were having a chat with The Wookie and some of his crew when someone (I’ll assume it was a woman) grabbed my butt. I’m not talking about an accidental ‘brushing’ but rather a full out grab.

I would like to state on record that while I do possess a limited amount of positive qualities, my butt is definitely not one of them and therefore apologize to said stranger as I’m positive she was disappointed with the ‘walk & grab’ last night.

Aside from that, it was great to meet some of our listeners last night, including my neighbors who were at the show (hope you liked it Murray) and a big kudos to the staff at the Esplanade for their great service, especially Paul.

The only thing I do miss is not being able to have witnessed Andy, our evening dude and Promotions Director, getting kicked out of the VIP party on the Terrace but with Pat Benatar coming up soon, I still may have that chance

So as I’m watching the horizon turn from a dark sea blue to shades of purple and orange, waiting for the sun and my mind to rise and face the day, (something I feel I need to do every day) I’ve noticed that I have a morning routine and that it throws me from my game if that routine is altered.

And while I’m only partly talking about the physical aspects of my routine like the way I keep all my clothes and essentials in a room that’s not my bedroom I’m finding that I also have a mind/mental routine that exists. Basically, if I don’t wake up between 3:15-3:24 AM, my day is shot. If I don’t get a coffee in me by 4:30 AM, my day is shot. Those are just a few examples but I’m sure you know what I’m yappin’ about.

This morning on the quiet and dark commute to work, I took an alternate route and I didn’t care for it much. There was nothing specifically wrong with the old way or even the new way for that matter but it just didn’t feel right, you know?

So strange that as creative as the human mind can be, we, I, am definitely a creature of habit.
Please feel free to share your thoughts.

Where do I begin without writing a chapter?

I guess I’ll start by stating that after a week of touring the Canadian Rockies, the flatlands, landlocked harbors and parts of the Great Canadian Shield via my bike, not to mention an evening spent drinking with a Dutchman, a night sleeping with a hatchet at my side and one less toenail than when I set out, it’s great to be home.

What constitutes a house as a ‘home’ is where some of my thoughts wandered while keeping the rubber side down over the course of the last seven days. Sure, I spent 18 years of my life and then some in one place but I haven’t lived there since the 90’s. I’ve also lived in campers, trailers, a slew of apartments, behind a gas station, at work, in a buddy’s car and countless friends’ couches. Is that home?

‘Home is where the heart is’ according to one timely adage and I would have to agree with that. It’s not about the bed you have or the comfy chair waiting for you in the living room. It’s about where you feel comfortable and seeing that highway sign that read ‘Medicine Hat – 35 km’ almost looked as good as it felt to ride around the corner of my street before parking the bike in the garage, taking a second for everything to sink in and realizing that, ‘yes, I’m home and it feels great’.

I’m fighting with Mother Nature and I know that this is one battle that I will never win. Ironically, I love the rain and yet as I ready myself to leave on vacation via my bike, this is the one time I don’t want the rain. Cue Murphy’s Law.

Fortunately and unlike Mother Nature, humans have the capacity to change their mind or in this case, change their travel plans. And so after two hours of watching the Weather Network, one carafe of coffee and three beers, a discussion with Niki and several phone calls to my friends, I have reversed my plans.

Kinda like how I eat the tastiest morsel of food on my plate last, I have decided to ride through the mountains first, saving Lake of the Woods for the latter part of my trip.

And the more I think about the alteration in my mini vacation, I’ve decided this is for the best as it will give me a chance to unwind before I see the family and friends, leaving the ole’ noggin a little more fresh.

Poncho

Default hit up the Doghouse last night, along with the likes of Mobile and One Bad Son.

What surprised me was the clientele and how I DIDN’T feel like I was an old man babysitting the neighbor’s kids. It was refreshing to say the least to see guys and gals there my own age.

And you know how there’s always at least one guy at every bar who’s been drinking all day and assumes the two of you are the best of friends? Even ‘that guy’ was tolerable last night and it all happened on a weeknight to boot.

And then, on my way out, Niki brought my attention to the following:

Our stickers now have a 5 star safety rating.

After living vicariously through Ian, our evening dude, I’ve been reminded of how vicious it can be to be living the dating life. Sporting a 1/9 record, Ian has scored himself a date with one of our listeners, Heather.

Not only is it a date, but a Friday night date, an evening held in reserve for your most important weekly functions.

I have to give kudos to both Ian and Heather as it takes a certain amount of confidence and courage to hook up with someone that you really don’t know. Good luck to you both.

Of course, please feel free to share any dating advice or even some of your stories if you feel fit either here or on our phone line at 403-529-1053.