As we hit another New Year’s I was reviewing past resolutions and found this gem from 2013 in the files. My late wife, The Pearl of the Orient, took her diet and exercise seriously. As her life partner I was subjected to her enthusiasm on the subject.
As she headed out from the Florida condo one morning, she detoured by the bedroom to poke my carcass with one of her steel tipped walking sticks.
“C’mon Elliott get your butt out of the sack. It’s already nearly 6:30. Get out there and pound the pavement. Get some blood pumping through those arteries and burn off some of that sugar you consumed with all those holiday goodies,” the Pearl urged as she gave me a couple of more prods.
“Why?” I grunted as with a pillow I parried another thrust from the offending stick.
“Your health! I don’t want you croaking on me down here or stroking out before we get home. I need someone to drive me,” replied the Pearl with all the sensitivity of a rattlesnake.
I considered the argument. It was valid. Besides forcing the Pearl to drive herself on these redneck roads would be downright inconsiderate- to the motoring public that is.
I struggled out of the sack and noting the cold weather apparel the Pearl was sporting I decided a cold front had moved into the Beach so dug out the insulation. My long underwear and heavy wool black socks under my beach shorts and sandals should be adequate. A hoodie, leather jacket, insulated gloves and a toque finished off the costume. I set off.
The Pearl was already out of sight so I headed down the street my teeth chattering as the gale force morning breeze roared through the gaps between the condo towers along the Beach. This was in my pre-recumbent trike days so I struggled along bravely heading for the McD’s a couple miles down the Beach. The first gaggle of sand surfers I over took was a squad of the fashion police. They were variously attired in the latest LuluLemon tights and pastel hoodies.
Makeup was liberally applied and hair coiffed and kerchiefed impeccably. It lasted until the next blast of winter air and beach sand ripped at them. It did not completely drown out their comments of, “My Gawd! Look at that bum! Giving we Canadian Snowbirds a bad rep!”
“Don’t get too close. He might be contagious!” caution one when I whipped out my ragged old hanky and noisily blew my dripping nose.
I ignored their snarky comments and picked up the pace towards McD’s. I caught up to the Pearl and her gang just as they reached my destination.
“Oh good! You’re just in time to buy us a coffee… and a snack. You pay. We never brought any money” enthused the Pearl. I rushed up to the counter to beat the Fashion Police. I blew my nose noisily once more and they stopped crowding me.
With the orders of steaming coffee, and the aroma of sausage biscuits and hash browns making me weak and ravenous, I made my way back to our booth. The fashion patrol eyed my bounty hungrily, but I wasn’t in a sharing mood.
We gossiped and gorged for a good half hour and then after another 45 minutes for bathroom rotation, the ladies headed back down the Beach chattering away about how good they felt after their vigorous exercise.
I settled back for another coffee refill and what the heck, I cashed in the coupon for the free sausage biscuit.I was saving for tomorrow After all, I had completed a strenuous exercise routine and it was a long trek back to the condo.
