My 202nd Blog. Yeehaw.

Wow. According to the count on blogger.com, I’ve managed to write over 200 blogs. And, okay, maybe saying “over 200” sounds like a lot over 200. Probably I should confess that the number (including this blog) is really only 202.

Nevertheless, writing 202 blogs IS a milestone for me. Plus, a few months ago I added a “stat counter” to my page, which shows that my blog has been viewed nearly 4,000 times. I don’t think that’s too shabby.

Oh, sure, there are people out there with thousands and thousands of friends, family and complete strangers from all over the globe reading their blogs – so my 202^nd blog and my 3,964 “hit” ain’t all that and a bag of chips. But I still think it’s pretty great.

Especially since I sometimes think I’m running out of things to say. But then I mentally slap myself upside the head and repeat these words: “I CAN ALWAYS MAKE STUFF UP!”

Usually I don’t have to, though. Life is filled with too many funny/goofy/interesting or just-plain-sad sorts of things. The only thing I need to watch is my tendency to observe rather than participate. Many times I will be hanging out with family or a group of friends and an interesting topic of conversation arises and I start mentally writing a blog about it without actually participating in the conversation. Part of it is that I enjoy listening to others. The other part of it that I can’t usually walk and chew gum at the same time so it takes all my concentration to write a blog in my head. If I tried to add to the conversation, it might sound like gobbledygook. The blog I’ve written in my head, by the way, is always brilliant. It’s just that by the time it finally gets out of my head and into my computer, the brilliance has leeched away and I’m left with the dregs. But I make do.

The way I look at it, I take great joy in writing about funny things that happen to other people or interesting conversations I hear. Yet I really don’t want to call anyone out and embarrass them. That’s why writing about strangers is good – a stranger will never know I’ve written about him. Hey, whenever someone does something that makes me laugh unexpectedly, well that, my friends, is a blog-worthy subject.

Frequently I end up writing about things that happen to me. I mean, it’s hard not writing a blog about someone accidentally running into a wall for no apparent reason. And since the person accidentally running into a wall for no apparent reason is usually me, I pretty much need to call myself out.

Hey, what can I say? I have balance issues.

The last time I ran into a wall, coincidentally, was today. Fortunately, nobody saw my graceful pirouette as I rounded the corner to head into the copy room and – smack! – hit the doorframe face first.

This is just what happens when a person deals with a 100% hearing loss in one ear. The other ear works hard to keep up, but the inner ear balance thing is simply out of whack.

In the past whenever someone caught me running into walls (and excessive alcohol was not involved), and they started laughing, I tried shaming them. I’d get all serious and tell them I lost the hearing in my left ear as a young child (cue the violins) when I suffered terribly from a horrendous case of German Measles. I would then go on to tell them it was only by the grace of God that I recovered at all – but was devastated to discover a short while later that the auditory nerve was damaged beyond repair and I’d been rendered completely deaf in my left ear.

You’d think that would shut ‘em up, wouldn’t you? Perhaps they could tell that I was not exactly emotionally scarred by the German Measles since I don’t actually remember being sick. (Unlike my vivid memories a year or so later when I had the Chicken Pox.) But, anyway, after my gut-wrenching story, they usually cup their hand over their ear and say, “What??” in an annoyingly smug tone of voice. Like they think they’re funny or something.

Sigh.

But it doesn’t really bother me. I don’t even think about it when I run into walls or doors or whatever since I’ve been doing it for such a long time now. More often than not, I am able to catch myself before I actually hit the wall or door in question, so I’m generally not walking around with black eyes. Thank goodness.

There was only one time I truly remember embarrassing myself. I was in my mid-20s and flirting with some guy at work. He was leaning against a wall near the lunchroom and we were chatting away and having a friendly conversation. Eventually, I told him I needed to get back to my desk and we said our goodbyes. I turned to walk away and round the corner, but instead ran right into the corner of the wall. Hit myself in the forehead and everything. Some graceful exit, huh?

While he laughed, I rubbed the rapidly forming bump in the middle of my forehead while my face turned scarlet. And then I slunk away. Strangely, the guy never asked me out. Go figure.

Ah well. He wasn’t right for me, anyway. Vince might think it was a little funny to see me walking into a wall – but before a ghost of a smile crossed his face, he’d first check to make sure I was okay. That right there is true love!

So there you have today’s “running-into-a-wall” story. Be sure to remind me if you read about them too frequently. By the 303^rd blog I might forget what I’ve already written about and start repeating myself.

And, by the way, thanks. I hope you’re still reading by the 303^rd.