I'm still around, but I've been out of the writing mood for a while. Still plenty of fun stuff going on in my world, but writing it down has been a bit of a chore lately. Therefore I'm going to try something different.
For the next couple of weeks, I'm going to write something - anything - for at least a half-hour a day. We'll see what happens. May post some of it, may not. Just have to wait and see. In the meantime, if you're interested in seeing what else is going on in my spooky world, feel free to follow me on twitter or facebook. Just search for spookyrach. (Please add a note with any friend requests, letting me know that you're a blog reader. Unless you are some sort of psychopathic probationer or under-achieving stalker trying to get information about my oh-so-boring personal life. In that case, please include a death threat or something similar along with the friend request.)
So, here goes for tonight…
I’ve fallen down on the unicycle practice for the past couple of weeks. No pun intended. However, last Thursday a member of the local constabulary stopped by the office to collect some information on a guy they are looking for. When he saw the unicycle resting against the hallway wall, he mentioned that his ex-wife is an accomplished unicyclist. He admits the fact that she mastered the skill and he could never learn royally pissed him off. After inquiring about my progress he suggested a different learning approach. Instead using my hang on to the door frame until working up the courage to let go and start pedaling plan, he suggested I get two sticks and use them like ski poles to balance until I get the hang of it.
This sounds like a really good idea.
Granted, it came from a man who was never able master the single-wheeled peregrination.
But, consider this! A pair of crutches would be the ideal height for this purpose. And, if I’m not particularly successful – as may well be the case – I’d be properly equipped for recovery. Someone suggested I make a run over to the Salvation Army Thrift Store and secure a pair from their Lourdes-like wall of discarded medical paraphernalia.
No need for that, though. Jackson’s got plenty of them that I can use. (Have I mentioned he used to play football? Lots and lots of football? Followed by years of orthopedic surgery?)
I’ll let you know how it goes. Provided they have wifi at the hospital.