Posted by: dodgrblu | June 25, 2010

Be Careful What You Wish For…

Even though I’m a writer, I’ve always had two excuses why I wouldn’t start a blog.

First, the Internet is teeming with people harboring the delusion that somebody cares about what they think. I didn’t want to be one of them.

Still, those who know me know I am pretty opinionated. I used to think that was a bad thing, but I’ve come to believe there’s nothing wrong with being opinionated. Having an opinion means you’re thinking. I try to keep my opinions to myself, but I’m not entirely successful. So, usually I avoid public outbursts of my opinion by venting in the car. This works pretty well when I’m alone in the car. But now Little Vamp and Baby Vamp are often in the car, so they are subjected to my opinions. And as They Might Be Giants or Chris Ballew (or any of the other former pop musicians who have turned to making music for children) could tell you, small children make a great audience. They can’t tell you that you suck, and they can’t expose the flaws in your logic. Ah yes, the car was the perfect place to air my opinions–until last Tuesday night.

Tuesday night, the girls and I were on our way home from the Mariners game. Being a masochist, I wanted to hear the end of the Dodgers game. (Hurray for XM radio!) The Dodgers had wasted a three-run lead and a pretty good start by Clayton Kershaw, and were now losing 6-3 in the 9th. So, top of the 9th, Jamey Carroll gets on, with the top of the order coming up. Okay, Russell Martin can’t be counted on to help, but surely Ethier can get on base and Manny can be Manny, and I can have extra innings to entertain me on the way home?

Alas, no. Ethier couldn’t, neither could Manny, and stop calling me Surely.

As soon as Manny made the third out, I launched into my rant about the wretched state of the Dodgers’ offense. This is becoming automatic these days: like Randy Newman’s “I Love L.A.” starts playing right after the Dodgers win, I start bitching after they lose.

I sputtered and spewed until a little voice piped up from the backseat:

“That’s annoying.”

“Excuse me?” I said.

“That’s annoying,” Little Vamp repeats.

Wow.

In my defense, I don’t know exactly what was annoying her: my rantings, the Dodgers’ abyssmal offense, or just having something besides “This is Halloween” coming out of the radio. But when a kid who is enthralled by the freakin’ Little Einsteins tells you you’re annoying, something has to change.

So, while I still believe that no one really cares what I think about anything, why should my darling daughters be the only ones to suffer?

My other excuse was that I didn’t have time to write a blog. This is where, “Be careful what you wish for” comes in.

On my way to work Thursday morning, I got into a car accident. Totally NOT my fault: the other driver drove into my lane, headed straight for me. It’s a pretty narrow road: it used to be only two lanes; now it’s two very skinny lanes, with a very skinny turn lane in the center. [Think Calista Flockhart, Nicole Richie, and (insert your favorite supermodel here), standing shoulder to shoulder.] So, here’s this Honda Odyssey headed right for me, and I have nowhere to go, so I slammed on the brakes. The Odyssey hit my Nissan Rogue head-on. I don’t know when I’ve been so scared. After the crash, I couldn’t get my door open, so I had to climb over the center console and out the passenger door. There were lots of witnesses. From what a couple of them told me, the woman in the other car fell asleep. Fell asleep–at 8:00 in the morning? It’s called c-o-f-f-e-e, lady: LOOK INTO IT.

I was mostly okay, but as the adrenaline disappeared, my foot and ankle really hurt. So, some very nice medics carted me off to the hospital: my first time in an ambulance. I have three broken bones in my right foot: that would be the foot that was clamped down on the brake pedal. I went home with a splint, crutches, an Rx for Vicodin, and a referral to an orthopedist. I’ll eventually be in a cast, and the ER doctor said I will have to keep weight off my foot for at least the first three weeks.

Three weeks in bed or on the couch is a long time.

And there went my last excuse for not writing a blog. (Or joining Facebook: start the bidding for my soul at $9.99.)

My first few posts are very likely to be about baseball, since that’s what I obsess about from April through October. And there probably will be a lot about the Dodgers at first, since I was already frustrated with them before I ended up off my feet with too much time on my hands. (The Mariners suck this year, so they are not proving to be a good distraction.) But stick with me. I promise I will write about other stuff–children, beer, wine, toys, books, food, music–all the topics that, like little vampires, suck my brain power away from developing the ultimate unified field theory, or solving the Middle East crises, or anything that would make the world a better place.

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