One Slightly Used Boyfriend, Blog!
It was a rough night. I tossed and turned and just could not get the day out of my head. The “chattering monkeys” were keeping me awake and my lion was having a tough time chasing them away.
And then my phone rang at 3:47 AM. I recognized the number and grudgingly answered; no-one was there. I guess she changed her mind?
Now I was awake. I grabbed some water, washed my face, attempted to lie back down, but the birds were singing as, somehow, even at that early hour the first rays of morning were peeking above the horizon.
“It’s too early for daytime” I thought to myself. Now just past 4:30 AM I decided to watch a little TV news to see if somehow the earth had shifted on its axis causing daylight to be at my windows way too early.
Nope, everything seems normal on the news, same old same old. So at 5:30 I made a decision that I was in a rut and the universe was tired of listening to me bitch and that I needed to get outside and do a workout and my first run since I damaged my knee 3 years ago.
I grabbed a towel and my keys and left. The sun was warm, the air was cool, and the aroma of honeysuckle was overwhelmingly delicious after last night’s storm.
I had a great workout in Seton Park and only had to contend with one other early runner jogging around the astro-turf baseball field with me.
After an hour I had had it and decided to do a meditation in one of the dugouts. The sun however was lovingly peeking out from behind Whitehall and so I hoofed it on over to shortstop, laid my towel down to keep my butt semi-dry, and got into my best lotus position with the sun drenching my face and body.
A thought had slightly crossed my mind as I sat down, something like “I hope another runner doesn’t decide to run the bases like I do, full speed, head down, and not see me and crash!
I dismissed it as silly.
The sun was incredible. It was nirvana. It was bliss. It was amazing.
And then it happened.
Out of the corner of my eye and racing towards me at full boar was a young, gorgeous blond. She not only didn’t seem to be slowing down, she was in fact picking up speed, eyes directly focused on mine, making a beeline for my sitting position. Before I could react she bowled me over onto my back, my feet up in the air, kissed the entire right side of my face and lay down onto my chest.
I was conquered.
I was done.
I never had a chance.
Her name was Faith and her blond hair was all over me. I was at this point laughing so hard I could barely breathe. Didn’t she KNOW that I was attempting to meditate? Who was she to disturb me in this manner?
Well, at this point another blond, this one much older came running towards me with apologies on her lips!
“I’m so sorry” she uttered, “When she saw you on the ground, well, that’s how she plays with my son!”
I told her that no apologies were necessary and that in fact, despite having a soaking wet back, a face dripping with slobber, and covered in blond hair, that Faith had made my day.
You see the Universe liked the fact that I got out of my way and outside where I belong, running, meditating, and back to being who I used to be.
And the Universe provided me with pay in the form of an 8 month-old, female Golden Retriever named Faith who thought I was her long-lost brother and treated me thus.
I never did get quite back into the meditation mode, I tried, but I was just too giddy and perhaps a bit skittish that Faith would find me, yet again!
I walked home, stopping 4 times to breathe deeply the honeysuckle outside my home, and thought to myself that I need to make sweeping changes in how I live my life. I’ll be making lots of phone calls today, I can tell you that!
Spike
http://www.DeMistyfiedDating.com
Showing posts with label baseball. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baseball. Show all posts
Friday, June 10, 2011
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Not a baseball blog, oh not at all!
I'd really love to hear the comments from both men and women to this story I wrote years ago, and which appears in chapter 11 of my last book "Interknot" the Internet dating storybook. (www.interknot.us)
I will not tell you why I wrote this story, so you'll really need to read between the lines just a wee bit and you'll get clearly what this story intends on teaching.
Spike...
Life can be so very strange. Just when you think you have it all
figured out, you miss a down and away curve for strike ONE….
Then, after you brush yourself off, you get the heater down the middle,
catching you unaware, for strike TWO…
Now, on your guard for something off the plate, low and outside, comes a little chin music, throwing you to the ground violently, one ball two strikes.
Now you’re PISSED!
You brush the mud from your uniform, stand as tall as you can, and get back
in the box for another try…heater down the middle, foul ball…
Uncle Charley low and outside, two balls two strikes.
She looks at you with disdain, but respect, as you glare back at her,
twirling your 34 oz. bat around like it were a toothpick. She goes into
the stretch, the sign, the delivery, as you swing with everything
you’ve got…
IT’S A LONG FLY BALL, DEEP TO LEFT, IT’S LONG ENOUGH, IT’S HIGH ENOUGH, IT’S, IT’S,
IT’S……..
FOUL…….
You wince,
as another awesome effort is wasted. Hard to return to the batters box after that
last one. You’ve should’ve had it, ya jumped all over it, leaving her
gasping for breath and afraid to give you another one down the middle,
as you wore her out on the last go round.
She steadies herself as the manager pats her on the butt. She studies your every move now, thinking, debating every tiny movement and sound you make. You smile at her, and step back up to the plate, as you know that you own her.
Low and inside, high and outside, fastball, slider, curve, it does not
matter. You can handle anything she can throw at you.
She sets, you brace, here it comes, right down the middle, but dropping rapidly, and slowing, falling….
you back off, ball three in the dirt, full count.
Now it’s on, as there will be only one winner here.
Bases loaded, two outs, three balls, two strikes. The crowd is out of their minds. The sweat is trickling down her nose, onto her neck, glistening in the sun,
but you cannot lose focus now, this is the real deal.
She heaves a deep sigh, takes in a full breath. Her chest rises and falls as she
climbs the hill back to the mound from which she will deliver her final
pitch. She sets, gets the sign from the catcher, and you call time and
step out of the box, just to shake her up even more, just to get her
thinking, “what IS he gonna do next?”
You put some pine tar on your bat handle, as you wipe the sweat from your brow. Kicking the mud from your spikes, you glance out at the mound. There she stands, proud, defiant, amazing, talented. Exactly the type of pitcher you’d like to
go to war with. Unbowed, undaunted, but you HAVE put an ounce of fear
into her, just by being who you are, nothing more, nothing less. You flash a sudden smile in her direction, and she gives one back that cuts into the very fiber of your soul.
You stagger, and she knows she has you.
You enter the box with a confidence level, just slightly bowed by a tiny doubt, due to the glint in her eye. The first baseman had said something to her. You have played with this first baseman before, and had success, but she knows you. All the good and all the bad, and you wonder, just what it was that she shared with the pitcher that has her smirking?
You are unbowed though, and prepare to give her best pitch the ride of it’s life. So she sets, and you dig in. The delivery is swift and sure, but you are prepared.
You connect on the sweet spot, solid, strong directly back at the pitcher a blistering line drive that will surely go for a bases clearing double.
If only life were so simple.
If only we got what we deserved, what we worked for.
She raises her glove in self-defense as her eyes close. The ball sticks, the glove closes, three outs.
You gasp!
You did your best.
There was nothing more you could possibly have done! You may never have
hit a ball this sweetly before, yet you come away empty, game over, and
on to the next one……
oh well……
I will not tell you why I wrote this story, so you'll really need to read between the lines just a wee bit and you'll get clearly what this story intends on teaching.
Spike...
Life can be so very strange. Just when you think you have it all
figured out, you miss a down and away curve for strike ONE….
Then, after you brush yourself off, you get the heater down the middle,
catching you unaware, for strike TWO…
Now, on your guard for something off the plate, low and outside, comes a little chin music, throwing you to the ground violently, one ball two strikes.
Now you’re PISSED!
You brush the mud from your uniform, stand as tall as you can, and get back
in the box for another try…heater down the middle, foul ball…
Uncle Charley low and outside, two balls two strikes.
She looks at you with disdain, but respect, as you glare back at her,
twirling your 34 oz. bat around like it were a toothpick. She goes into
the stretch, the sign, the delivery, as you swing with everything
you’ve got…
IT’S A LONG FLY BALL, DEEP TO LEFT, IT’S LONG ENOUGH, IT’S HIGH ENOUGH, IT’S, IT’S,
IT’S……..
FOUL…….
You wince,
as another awesome effort is wasted. Hard to return to the batters box after that
last one. You’ve should’ve had it, ya jumped all over it, leaving her
gasping for breath and afraid to give you another one down the middle,
as you wore her out on the last go round.
She steadies herself as the manager pats her on the butt. She studies your every move now, thinking, debating every tiny movement and sound you make. You smile at her, and step back up to the plate, as you know that you own her.
Low and inside, high and outside, fastball, slider, curve, it does not
matter. You can handle anything she can throw at you.
She sets, you brace, here it comes, right down the middle, but dropping rapidly, and slowing, falling….
you back off, ball three in the dirt, full count.
Now it’s on, as there will be only one winner here.
Bases loaded, two outs, three balls, two strikes. The crowd is out of their minds. The sweat is trickling down her nose, onto her neck, glistening in the sun,
but you cannot lose focus now, this is the real deal.
She heaves a deep sigh, takes in a full breath. Her chest rises and falls as she
climbs the hill back to the mound from which she will deliver her final
pitch. She sets, gets the sign from the catcher, and you call time and
step out of the box, just to shake her up even more, just to get her
thinking, “what IS he gonna do next?”
You put some pine tar on your bat handle, as you wipe the sweat from your brow. Kicking the mud from your spikes, you glance out at the mound. There she stands, proud, defiant, amazing, talented. Exactly the type of pitcher you’d like to
go to war with. Unbowed, undaunted, but you HAVE put an ounce of fear
into her, just by being who you are, nothing more, nothing less. You flash a sudden smile in her direction, and she gives one back that cuts into the very fiber of your soul.
You stagger, and she knows she has you.
You enter the box with a confidence level, just slightly bowed by a tiny doubt, due to the glint in her eye. The first baseman had said something to her. You have played with this first baseman before, and had success, but she knows you. All the good and all the bad, and you wonder, just what it was that she shared with the pitcher that has her smirking?
You are unbowed though, and prepare to give her best pitch the ride of it’s life. So she sets, and you dig in. The delivery is swift and sure, but you are prepared.
You connect on the sweet spot, solid, strong directly back at the pitcher a blistering line drive that will surely go for a bases clearing double.
If only life were so simple.
If only we got what we deserved, what we worked for.
She raises her glove in self-defense as her eyes close. The ball sticks, the glove closes, three outs.
You gasp!
You did your best.
There was nothing more you could possibly have done! You may never have
hit a ball this sweetly before, yet you come away empty, game over, and
on to the next one……
oh well……
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