Popping Hostas

 Its always been my point of view that if you feel like shit you might as well go to work and get paid to feel lousy. The other day I was feeling a little weak but hopped on the sporty and headed to work anyway. The bike must not have been feeling well either because halfway there it began spitting and sputtering, I swung a u turn and headed back home for another machine.
 My supply of road worthy bikes is down to one from three. I blame it on dry weekends. The first crap weather weekend will be dedicated to bike maintenance rather than road tripping. I rolled the big Ultra out of the garage and headed to work.
 Wrench on some chainsaws, run to the bathroom, repeat. Not a very glamorous topic for todays blog but we've all been there. By noon I had enough and went home. I can't remember the last time I didn't work because of illness but I suppose it happens about once maybe twice a year. I also can't remember the last time I've rode home from work in such a hurry!
 I decided the best way to rest was to ease back in my lazyboy, turn on some boring television for background noise and drift away. The television was tuned to one of them oldies channels. I hate calling them oldies because they are all shows from my youth. I was half alert and half asleep while those old shows triggered a lot of memories from my youth. One of the biggest memories revisited during this nap was that of popping hostas.

 I know, what the hell? Dreaming about popping hastas? Nothing about riding bicycles, building forts or bb guns. I must have also had a fever. Maybe I just miss the simple days of being a kid. I do remember it was fun running around finding just the right flower to squeeze before someone else found it. POP! Oh that was a good one. The memory is vivid as I'm writing this shortly after waking from the dream. Innocent kids without a care in the world. No knowledge of evil, bills or responsibility. Gotta love it.
 The next day when I staged the pic you see here, things weren't the same. No happy memories. No searching for the next victim to pop. I did think about how these weeds need to be pulled and the walk should be edged. Definitely not the same. The more I think about it the more I think the dream had something to do with missing my mom.

 In motorcycle related news, it's been a few days since the "sick day" and now back on earth the sporty is running again. A while back the key switch took a shit. In a pinch I replaced it with a cheap toggle switch and that switch just took a crap. I put another $5 switch in there hoping I will get another years use out of it. No big deal if it fails because hot wiring it would only take a minute or two. At some point I'm thinking that bike will morph into something a bit different and the power switch setup will change again. Morph into what? I dunno. The point is that I have enough bikes here to change things up every so often without bringing new iron into the garage. The BSA is proof of that. I haven't touched it since the last time I posted about it here.

Later.