As any writer (or in my case, “wannabe writer”) will tell you, there are days when the ideas and the words just come from nowhere, flying on to the paper. Other days, though, there’s just nothin’. After sitting down at the kitchen counter this morning, my laptop and my Sugar Free RockStar energy drink before me, I realize… I got nothin’. I’m just in a writing funk this morning. Maybe it’s my brain.

Or maybe it’s my hand. You see, I incurred a softball injury last night at the ward activity. There I was, puttering around in the outfield, acting like I was actively engaged in the game, when my husband got up to bat. “Suz, it’s coming to you!” he yelled. I smiled and punched my fist into my glove a few times thinking, that silly man thinks he can aim where he’s hitting. So of course, to my great surprise, he smacks it right out to me. Crap. I have to try to catch something. So I run backwards a little bit, thinking I’m under it. And then I realize that it’s going way behind me, and I’m not anywhere near under it. I completely missed it. Everyone around me groans, and I’m hoping that no one has put any money on this little pick up game. I’m a little embarrassed. So the next guy gets up to bat and I’m thinking okay, if anything else happens to come out here to me, I have to really try to catch it. So then this guy also smacks it right out to me and I’m wondering what the hell… But this time I get right under it. I’m totally going to catch it. Crack. Instead of hitting the pocket of my glove, it hits the kinda fleshy part of my wrist. I can’t even pick the ball up off of the ground now because my hand immediately goes totally numb. The six year old boy, Anson, next to me in the outfield picks up the ball and throws it infield. “Are you okay??” everyone is yelling to me, because it was the crack heard ‘round the world. My pride is also totally numb at this point, and I’m suddenly remembering why I was a cheerleader in high school instead of playing a real sport. (yeah, I said it. Cheerleading isn’t a real sport…) At least when I got up to bat I managed to hit it, and I ran to first base successfully. It wasn’t a total failure. But my hand really hurts this morning. And I’m not typing anything unless it’s really worth typing because pains are shooting from my wrist to my elbow, so I’m not wasting the pain on just any crappy…

woah, look it… I wrote a post. How did that happen?

And here I thought I had nothing’…

1 Comment »

1. Suz, you aren’t a wannabe writer, you’re a real writer. And a great one.

   Hope your wrist is okay. If it’s any consolation, I’m the weak spot everyone hits to in the outfield.

   Comment by Leslie — May 27, 2007 @ 11:22 am

RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URL

Leave a comment