I’ve been reading blogs for about nine months now. I’m reading a lot more than I used to because I’ve discovered the joys of RSS. I can honestly say, I haven’t learned much that I didn’t already know, or have an inkling about. A lot of the bloggers I read are boomers, so we have lived similar lives. Most of them are a little younger, most of them are female, and most of them have grown, or nearly grown kids. We have a lot in common. I read a few bloggers who have young children because they are very entertaining and it’s fun to hear of their family escapades.
I find that I don’t enjoy reading blogs by most men because they are political or bitch all the time.
One blogger who doesn’t fit that mold is Mr. Fabulous of Pointless-drivel.com.
- guy is a very clever writer
- he has a large and clever following of commenters
- who are mostly young women
- who like to write dirty
- and he likes to write dirty
- his wife lets him write dirty to young women
- their husbands let him write dirty to them
- he does podcasts so he can actualy talk dirty to them too
and he makes jewelry
Therefore, I am proclaiming my official
envy jealousy, no let’s face it hatred of Mr. Fabulous.
For all the reasons above?
Nope. Not even close.
Because he has put into a few words, what I have been struggling all my life to explain.
The concept of “in the ballpark.”
I call my jewelry “Ballpark Jewelry”. Not because they have anything to do with baseball or ballparks, but because I don’t have the attention span or patience to take the time to do any step correctly.
Are the beads the same size? No, but they’re in the ballpark.
Are the beads all perfectly round? No, but they’re in the ballpark.
Are the beads glazed evenly? No, but they’re in the ballpark.
All my life I have struggled with hobbies and chores. I never could put my frustration into words. I just wasn’t happy doing all the things that are “normal” hobbies or chores. I wasn’t any good at them. I had the wrong attitude. I wasn’t “in the ballpark.”
I thought the wallpaper patterns should match when I attempted a remodeling project. Nobody told me it just had to be “in the ballpark.”
I thought when I tried to fix up an antique car it had be as beautiful as the others. Nobody said it could just be “in the ballpark.”
I thought when I read a book and discussed it with others, I had to know what I was talking about, but no, I could just be “in the ballpark.”
I thought when I played bridge, or hearts, or spades, or crazy eights, I was supposed to take tricks. “In the ballpark” would have been a lot more fun. Same with chess, checkers, or Parcheesi.
Even when I played baseball, I didn’t know “in the ballpark”, was acceptable.
I really hate Mr. Fabulous for exposing me to this truth of life at this late stage in my life. What am I supposed to apply this adage to now?
I’m a Christian. I guess I could start going to Mosque. At least when I die, I’d be “in the ballpark.”