Not Like Riding a Bike

You pick up the ball, but it feels awkward in your hands.  Too heavy, or maybe too light.  It's hard to believe there was once a time you were even decent at this at all.

You look at the goal, but it seems too high or too far away.  You decide to dribble a couple of times, an attempt to get a feel for the game once again.

There's no one around, so you shoot.  You miss the goal by a foot and the ball bounds harmlessly, first on the pavement then into the grass.

Air ball.

It was always your tradition, or compulsion, to make your last shot of the day.  Which today might very well be your first shot of the day.  So you retrieve the ball, dribble back to the same spot and try again.

Though it feels as clumsy as the first, this time the ball clangs off the backboard then the side of the rim.  A little closer.

As you try and miss a third time, you wonder if it will ever feel as it once did, years ago when you could sometimes sense where the goal was and make the basket without even looking.

You think most likely not.  O, how you took those times for granted.

Finally, on your seventh or eighth or ninth attempt, the ball drops through the rim unscathed, making that sweet, once-familiar sound as it swishes through the nylon.

And you think maybe -- with good weather, countless hours of practice and frustration, and help from above -- you can learn to write again.

Just pray no one sees that first shot.


"Keep on dreamin' even if it breaks your heart..."

Twenty-seven days hath Blogtober

I've gotta make some changes in my life. A total of four blog entries in September? I'm embarrassed. Coming here after each seven-to-ten-day absence feels like calling to wish your mother a happy birthday a week late. I think it's got to be all or nothing for me. I'm not a person who can be happy doing things halfway. Well, other than relationships.

And so, I hereby do proclaim this the month of Blogtober. What does this mean? It means that I am going to make myself spend at least thirty minutes writing for the next thirty-one days. Except that I'm four days late--that's what she said--so make it the next twenty-seven days.

Will I post everything that I write? No. None of you have done anything terrible enough to me to deserve that. But I do hope this will result in a few more posts this month anyway.

For those who make it to the end of the month, rumor has it there will be a big celebration across the United States as well as the Motherland, where not only will you be able to dress up in costumes but apparently some people will be buying up candy by the bagfuls and just giving it away.

So welcome to Blogtober. Now get ready to read some crap!

In other news, I went to a county fair last weekend. My favorite part of the fair is the food. On this particular evening, I enjoyed a corn dog, fries and lemonade, with a caramel apple for dessert. My least favorite part of the fair is when I see some adult--excuse me, over-grown kid--hogging the rides and dominating the fishing game, playing against children. Then later you see him on the merry-go-round, making horsey noises. It's just sad, really. For example, this guy:



Caption? "The Almost-NASCAR Driving Experience wasn't quite what Bone had expected." Feel free to come up with your own.

"Well baby you know I just love the sound of that pipe organ on the merry-go-round, baby down at the county fair..."

A blogger book

A few months ago, I was told about a book being compiled by Peach and four other bloggers. It was to be a book of shared experiences written by bloggers, titled You're Not The Only One. They were accepting submissions of previously unpublished material from anyone with a blog.

At first, I wasn't going to submit. Then later, I still wasn't going to submit. Because as much as I profess to want to be a writer, I had never officially submitted my work anywhere for possible publication, nor possible rejection. But hey, to never fail is to never try, right?

One thing that really pushed me over the edge and made me finally decide to submit this time was that proceeds from the book were going to charity. And not the Human Fund, but a real charity. I've always been impressed by the overall generosity of bloggers and their eagerness to help.

So finally, up against the deadline, and thanks to some gentle encouragement and arm twisting from a few people, I sent in a couple of submissions. I never figured any of mine would be selected, but always hoped.

Well, the book is out now, and I am in it! Checking Peach's blog Monday night--as I have done almost daily for the past three months--I was unexpectedly overcome with emotion when I saw "Bone" on the list of contributors. I didn't realize how big a deal it would be for me--someone who has never been published--to have a piece included in this book.

That being said, this isn't about me at all. As I mentioned earlier, proceeds from this book will go to Warchild, which works around the world to help children affected by war.

Also, thanks to Peach and the others who helped put this book together for giving bloggers like myself a chance to have something published. They are to be commended for the countless hours they undoubtedly spent on this project. What a wonderful and worthwhile thing to do.

You're Not The Only One includes stories from over a hundred bloggers. The cost is around $22. For more details, visit Peach. And again, it's for a good cause.



"Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book? It took me years to write it, will you take a look?"