I am aware that there is nothing more important in Life than keeping up with this blog. Anything else in my life pales in comparison. Unfortunately though, I can only ignore the real world for so long. It has a way of insisting on my attention. So I took a few weeks to try and get it in order. Made some headway too.
Damn it's hard to get the words out after being M-I-A for a few weeks. This writing shit is not exactly like riding a bike. But it is close I guess. I haven't forgotten the words. Just the logical and ordered way I should put them down seems to have taken a hit.
But like riding a bike, all I have to do is get back on the saddle and start pounding away. Eventually some synapses will get in sync. Electrical impulses will all run the same way. My brain and fingers will become one. Of course, even on a good day, this is a rare occurrence. It does happen though.
So anyway, I have been a busy little camper these past few weeks. Many hours spent trying to make sense of the madness at the bike shop. I move from one fire to the next. Always falling short, I never seem to catch up. Sometime in August, I may be back in control. Until then I will just hold on and try to steer my way through my own "Perfect Storm".
I get the repairs under some control and the new product in boxes waiting to be tagged and bagged for sale sits gathering dust in front of the skateboard counter. I take care of the product and all of a sudden I am backed up with 35 prepairs in a heartbeat. And in the meantime, the floor stays unswept and dust and clutter begin to squeeze my small shop from every nook and most crannies.
About the time I am sure men with nets and a rubber suit in my size will drop by to give me ride to the local basket factory, some good friend will drag me out for a ride. And sanity returns. Even if just for a minute.
The few waking hours I have had outside the shop will find me with a mower in front of me, pruning shears in hand, or a hose trying to water soemthing back to life. It's odd finding pleasure in yard work again. 15 years ago, I lived to fight the good fight keeping the the local jungle at bay. Never reached that "Better Homes & Gardens" yard, but I kept it tidy and trim. Somewhere, sometime I lost my way, my interest or enthusiam for anything related to gardening.
My yard became a chore, not the party it used to be. I stopped mowing, raking, weeding, and pulling posion ivy out by the roots. The jungle creeped in reclaiming a foot there, a few yards here. The next thing I knew, my yard had disappeared. Replaced by a sad and pitiful space. Grass up to my asshole. A field of wild roses and thistles blocked the back from incursions and also excursions. No one rubber necked anymore when they drove by. I was now the embarrassment of Sam Page Road.
Well, Mike's back! I can drive by my neighbor's yards now and often sneer, " My grass is shorter than yours". Instead of being the shame of the neighborhood, my yard can stand tall with the big dogs on Sam Page Road now.