Signs

Yesterday, the major highway that we take to go golfing was closed for the Ride For Heart event. I did not know this because at 6:30 am on a Sunday I can barely manage to put on two socks that match and brush my teeth, nevermind turn on the radio and listen to the traffic report. However, when we discovered this, we immediately tuned into AM 640 on the car stereo. Why? We can see it's closed. We can see the bikes. There are pilons blocking the on-ramp. What more do we need to know? I don't know, but I'm addicted to up to the minute reports on the ones. It was all worth it, though, because we learned, by listening, that the bikers in the event raised 3 million dollars. That's a lot of money for a morning of pedal pushing.

I was happy. Then I was sad, because I remembered I don't have a bike because the first bike I got when I came to Toronto got taken away by the city after the lock froze in the winter and then the street cleaners cleaned it off the sidewalk before I could figure out a way to gnaw off the lock and free it from the bike stand. Then my second bike was stolen from our parking garage by a very mean person. I would get a bike but walking is cheaper, and also, when it rains or is windy or I'm wearing cute shoes or have gone shopping, I have a tendency to leave my bike and take the subway home and then I forget about my bike and have to go back another day to get it. I don't think I deserve to have a bike. I'm not responsible enough. So I cannot ride a bike in bike month. But maybe I will ride my imaginary bike. Or the stationary bike at the gym. We'll see.

So anyway, on our detour we passed a church, whose sign out front read:

"Someday is not a day of the week."

That made my day. It's almost as good as the transport truck I saw on the freeway in San Diego that said:

"Jesus Christ is our Savior, not a Swear Word."