I HEART Baseball and Other Tales of Horror (ROW80 Check-in)

There are so many things not for the faint of heart.

Parenting: What do you mean, you want to drop out of school and (insert your worst nightmare HERE) 

Sports: And the (insert your favorite losing team HERE) lose by one...

Now, add the two together and you have a double whammy of heart-rending material. The latest tale of rendering-o-the-heart comes to you by way of an All-Stars tournament:

Morning. Bottom of the second inning, Mauraders are up to bat, Nathan hits a solid single, next batter up, Nathan steals 2nd, on the first pitch -- he's safe. Which is good, 'cuz he's not exactly built with wheels. Second batter hits a single, Nathan's on 3rd now.

Third base coach calls for a suicide squeeze (Batter will bunt and Nathan will slide into home -- if catcher is in the way, you hope you can knock the ball out of his glove or get in under the tag) Nathan nods, he's ready, batter bunts Nathan's got a good lead and he slides into home -- perfect form -- ball is knocked loose and he's under the catcher...He's SAFE.

Nathan's not taking his eyes off the ump until he hears those words. Then he he starts to curl up into a ball. By this time I'm hitting my husband and saying, he's hurt, he's hurt. Husband starts to go to him -- dad has to go first, it's one of those made up rules in baseball, like a balk, or a delayed steal to home -- one of the coaches is there, helping him up -- I'm clutching the fence behind homeplate. Nathan reaches down, pulls at his sock -- it's ripped, then he sees his shin and starts to scream.

That's when I go -- made-up rules are stupid anyway. By this time he's got all the coaches, both teams and the ump surrounding him. Luckily, there were some medical people at the tournament who could check on him. I'm on the ground at his head, holding his hand and saying mom things. His dad's at his side -- letting him know, it's okay (totally lying -- because this shit sucks) The EMT tells us, he needs stitches and someone's called the ambulance.

Ambulance! We did accept the cart that drove Nathan and me back to the parking lot while Rick ran to get the car...we got to the ER in about 10 minutes with lots of creative driving, perhaps not always following the letter of the law, yet making sure we wouldn't add more injury. So, for the weak of heart, this is where you don't want to look -- for everyone else, here's the before and after pics. Nathan thinks they're really cool.

See? He really does HEART baseball!

Y? Why did this happen? But the stitches are in the shape of a V -- V for Victory!

There are so many writing analagies here -- but, I'm still so tired, that adrenaline is a killer, I'll talk about those later.

Quick ROW80 check-in: Still outlining steampunk YA -- lots of new plot twists, love that. Otherwise, pretty much nothing. But I'm gearing up for a big push here...any day now.

What did you do on your summer vaca?

ROW80 Check In. Where am I?

ROW80 check-in. Star Date, July 27th, 2011.

We find ourself in a strange, non-writing place. The inhabitants are friendly and the climate temperate. Which only leads to our own inability to put words on paper...how much longer can we go on?

This strange place's name? Staycation.

All silliness aside, I had great plans for this staycation 2 weeks of no work and lots of writing time. Yeah, not so much so. As you can see Sunday, when I should have been writing a ROW80 check-in, I was at a Twins game with our youngest. Monday and Tuesday a bit of writing got done, mainly for a contest. Plus, another baseball game, little league semi-finals. They lost :( after rallying back from a 5 run deficit, they were ahead by 1...other team had last ups and they pulled it off.

Plus, I don't know what I was thinking: no work. Ha! No work, except for laundry and vacuuming and dusting and organising and cooking. Not to mention all the stuff that needs to be done, but not enough time like, re-paint porch and basement. Crap.

Enough with the whining.

Even more than new words on the page, I need to nail the outline for my YA steampunk/fantasy.

NEW PLAN

Brainstorm and notecard outline

Re-write query 

Post on Blog 2x a week not counting ROW80 check-ins

I'm not posting a goal for wordcount this go around. We'll see how I feel on Sunday.

How's everyone else doing?

The Thinker

My Dad graduated summa cum laude from the school of journalism at the University of Minnesota. He went on to a career in finance but he was still a writer. He never sent anything in to a publisher, but he was still a writer. I remember saying to him--Dad, why don't you send this in to someone, The New Yorker maybe? And he said--It's too personal, I don't want some stranger reading this stuff--it's none of their business. But, he was still a writer.

He had great stuff too, maybe I'm biased (of course I'm biased--it's written into the rules) but I know great stuff and this sir, was great stuff. Personal? Hell yes. But isn't all writing personal on some level? I didn't have the argument back then to convince him to send his stuff in, but if he were alive today I'd like to think I could cajole and maybe convince. Or bully him if necessary.



I read one of his poems at his funeral, 13 years ago--my sisters and I displayed some of his other pieces, some poems, some just ramblings, all art--he's probably still mad at us...except, no one there was a stranger, so maybe he's okay with the whole thing.

Don't know what got me thinking about my Dad--except I always think about him, but it's not a birthday or an anniversary. It is almost Father's Day, but I think what it really is, is baseball season, it was his favorite sport--a thinking man's game, what better sport for a poet. And I would give anything to have him be able to see another grandson play ball.

He'd kill me, or worse yet ground me, if I ended with one of his poems, but I will end with an Al Kennedy quote: "It's alright...well, it's not alright, but it's okay." This was him trying to make me feel better about him dying of cancer--what a mensch.