Re-learning to ride the bike

...so I'm re-reading some of my former posts, just to see for myself if my writing is getting better...or (hopefully not) tanking.  Jury's still out. But, As I'm reading it dawned on me that writing is sort of like riding a bike...you know...once you learn you never forget.  Now that I have kids; however, I acutely recall the pain and suffering that my boys poured into the process of learning to ride a bike to get from Point A) crashing in a humbled, crying, bruised heap of blood and flesh and metal and gears to, Point B) TA-DAAA...sweet success...no crash!  Because even though I remember how to ride that proverbial bike,...I easily forget the painful process (a D-- on my first paper in Freshman English. I kid you not, she gave me TWO minus signs so as to exclamate the fact that 1) I am not a very good writer and 2) she didn't give me the F showing her divine benevolence.  I felt like Ralphie in "A Christmas Story").

Where was I?  Oh yes, bikes! What I'm trying to say is that it's been a while since I've ridden this "bike" (all you who are reading who have not yet caught on...when I say "bike" I really mean "writing"- I'm merely using an allegorical tool to creatively make a point which makes it, I hope, more interesting to read) and while I kind of remember, I am probably going to have a few crashes. Hopefully only a few... and while I'm lying in that crumpled heap, with handlebars wrapped around my allegory, and blood dripping down my alliteration...please try not to stare. Just walk away politely and come back in a few days with hopes that I've regained my balance and have not just thrown away the bike.  There are those days.

Update: I was going to do a Top Ten list on " Worse times to say "I'm licking my chops", but I only came up with a few, so it became the Top Few List: (you'll see why)

10) after your high school date's Marine father tells you to have a good time with his daughter.
9) your wife asks you to clean the boys bathroom
8) your kid asks if you want to see how he can make the milk come out his nose.

OK...remember...please just walk away politely.  Or if anyone out there cares to reply with 1 though 7 I welcome the company.

Next time:  My kids love the GEICO commercials and have practically memorized most of them to the point of acting them out (I think the schools should re-think their teaching methods).  When I think of my friends kids reciting Wordsworth while my kids practice their Geico gecko accent...it makes me sad.  So in the spirit of the guy who is saddened by the color yellow...I think I'll be taking a trip to mamby-pamby land.  Stay tuned.