Howdy,

How ’bout a multiple-choice question to start our day?

NO, NOT A TEST!! COME ON, WHY?!

It won’t be that bad … In fact, ridiculously easy, or at least ridiculous and easy.

Let’s do it:

“If my wife, Sarah, and I have 3 children, and [no, don’t worry, this won’t be mathematical on what time two trains (and maybe a mystery third train) crash inside a dark tunnel under a steep, snow-covered mountain specifically in a particular point on that certain death curve] one of us is going to be the one to have had 3 epidurals, which of the following is/are true?”

A) Duh. Sarah, the beautiful mother of three amazing boys.

B) “B” because “B” is for Billy. Makes sense.

C) Hmm, “If” — Maybe they don’t even have three children …

D) Wait, trains???

E) What does this have to do with anything?

And the answer is, checking the answer key, ah …

ANSWER: B) Billy.

Choice B), and maybe E). We’ll see how this post goes. Leaving station with a rickety-trestle departure.

Come to think of it, maybe E) will be the overriding answer, and I should lock the brakes on this runaway right now. But I watched Unstoppable, and that seemed like a lot of effort. You can-not stop this. (Also watched Hitch.)

To get back on track, so, yeah, if you think of it and would be so kind as to say a prayer for me, this afternoon I’ll be getting my third spinal steroid injection for a bad back. My bad back.

It’s been over three years since my last epidural spinal steroid injection — steroid injection sounds so much manlier than epidural — for relief, recovery, and rehab help, but this summer sparked new herniated disc trouble (PAIN!!) pushing out against the opposite side nerve — shifting sciatica fire from left side to the right. Cue it up: “My life is good!” (Just seeing if you’ve been paying attention; and because it’s fantastic to have nerve pain actively encroach both sides of the body over time. It’s the best.)

Speaking of steroids, a fit friends tells me I should workout like mad while this stuff’s in my system to take full advantage of it. His personal trainer wife says it doesn’t work that way. We can keep an eye on the earlobe muscles to find out.

If you’ve waded this far through the silliness, I really would like you to know I’d appreciate your prayers, especially since I was supposed to receive the spinal injection last month, but the procedure didn’t go as expected at the start and was halted midstream after the numbing shot; the doctor choosing to play it safe. Me fully agreeing, especially considering the discussed potential complications and outcomes. Thus, I’m a little more rattled than I’d been the previous two times a few years ago.

Also, yes, it’s true. My Beautiful Love, Sarah: three wonderful boys birthed, zero epidurals.

Nothing against epidurals; obviously, I’m grateful for them, thankful to be getting one today. Also, in regard to pregnancy, labor, and delivery, I’m in no position to rate or pontificate about the serious, severe, and even life-threatening pains and complications pregnant women endure. Thank you, Mothers; you are amazing.

About my wife, she’s amazing. Astonishing. That’s my point. Sarah’s so tough and gracious she doesn’t always get her due when she’s due. She wouldn’t say it, but it’s true.

There’s even rumor of pregnancies during which I vomited more than she did.

It was bad pizza, I tell you. I’m not a wimp. At least, it tasted bad the way I last remember it. And there, my friends, we’ve hit the tangle of trains …

Rewind & Redo: my wife and sons are wonderful, moms are amazing, and I’d appreciate your prayers today. Thank you!

—Billy

Reading. Writing. Living.

P.S. For D), who doesn’t want to say, “Well, when do they leave where, and why? For goodness’ sake, WHY?”

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Howdy,

I have two big toes.

Good for you, Hawes. That appears an obvious statement to which most people who’ve avoided severe frostbite in their lifetime can say, so what, so do I.

But this isn’t like an opposable thumbs thing: I’m sporting balloon toes.

I’m talking like sore-thumb big toes.

Those two do however happen to also be my big toes. I have two big balloon big toes.

And it hurts and I want to cry a little. Blog tears.

A few days back I spent a day and a half on the Sacramento river fishing for salmon. (No doubt what I should be describing rather than whining about my big big toes, since we caught fish, the setting held overwhelming beauty, and it proved a wonderful expedition with the guys; but who wants to hear about salmon fighting on line, our boat floating in tapestry sunsets expanding in wide-open sky reflected in the evening river, and a bunch of men eating an absolutely delicious wild game feed, shooting pool, and talking 2016 politics over a presidential debate? Back to my whine … )

I had a problem the morning after returning home from catching salmon (yes, catching, not just fishing — even if I wasn’t one of the ones in the boat who caught one: shout out to Kevin Heppner and my dad, Bill Hawes! Also, thank you, Uncle Donnie for the trip. The smoked fish tastes so good.) My problem was I had a big big toe.

Uncle Donnie sneaking credit for Kevin & Bill’s fish while we were still out in the boat. (Kevin’s is the bigger salmon, but that’s okay, Dad, both taste great!)

My right foot big toe swelled with pain, bubbled and red with what had to be infection. I hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but because I wore my wetsuit booties my feet were wet with river water even while fishing in the boat. I’m guessing that’s how I picked up the reaction in my right toe, which blew up tight like a helium Zeppelin floating for sale fresh over a store’s cut flowers.

Thus I was soaking my foot in Epsom salt while my ball team, the San Francisco Giants blew a 3-run ninth inning lead to eliminate themselves from even-year World Series contention. New kind of pain. I say, toss that SF bullpen into the salty McCovey Cove bay.

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Screenshot from challies.com

Howdy,

Right off, I have to say I have MAD RESPECT!

And you ask, mad respect? For what?

My respect(!) — and whatever amount of jealousy I can entertain without coveting my neighbor’s oxen — targets Tim Challies’ consecutive days blogged.

Look at it (pictured above). It’s insane. Thousands of days. To be exact, 4,732 days of writing posted without a single omission, skip, or sick day. All in a row. Every day.

Let’s do some math today. *Rubbing hands together for comforting warmth to carry me through and wiggling fingers and thumbs for iPhone calculator readiness*, here we go. Let’s see, 4,732 divided by 365 is … 12.9643836! As in hold-your-breath-for-a-beat and it’ll be THIRTEEN YEARS!

I’m impressed. As a writer, and simply as a person who finds difficulty in doing enough anythings as consistently as I’d dream. And Tim Challies has good stuff at challies.com. Long posts. Wisdom. Words on words on words for days and days and days. Years, even. Thirteen of them. Way to go, sir.

Hard not to think that equals a head start.

It does.

That’s four years before I was married — and I’ve got three kids now. It’s a head start, and a long way downriver. But, well, not really. I mean, for him it is, but not me, and I won’t compare myself and billyhawes.com to prolific Mr. Tim Challies as a blogger because I’ve been on my own journey, done my own work, and done my own slacking and my own writing. Writing a novel. I will however take his impressive tally as a motivating challenge.

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Hey, I didn’t write the title … but I’ll take it! — Photo: Billy Hawes

Howdy,

Now you know why I start my posts with Howdy, right?

Mariposa.

I love Mariposa.

Turlock, too, since — for one who hasn’t moved that much — in many ways I feel I have multiple hometowns. But Mariposa is a childhood home, and those are special in a special way. I have parents, a grandmother, and The Property up there. With Yosemite thrown in to boot.

I want to thank the Mariposa Gazette and writer Matt Johnson for a wonderful article about my Baseball Boys novel in last week’s edition of the newspaper.

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Bumper-to-Bumper — Photo: Billy Hawes

Howdy,

Previously I posted a shorter Facebook version; but thought here I’d expand this personal drama and question for all humanity.

Pride v. Grace.

I asked, Reader — and hopefully eventually, Listener, with our scenario pondered and discussed in podcast form — are you, “Curious to hear about as FIRED UP & STUBBORN (!!) as I tend to get?” (From my perspective, so … ???)

My intention for this is meant neither to be cocky nor prideful. (But I just used neither and nor, so I don’t know if I can be trusted.)

Some situations, though, some human interactions, some people, are full of pride. Drip with it.

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Team Hawes — Photo: Matt Garman

Howdy,

And now I must say, again, “Hello, my name is Billy Hawes,” (even on billyhawes.com, ironically) because, already, three months simply evaporated since my last (and first) post, Welcome to My Blog.

Not doing so well on being active and consistent online or in my writing life. (Though brother-in-law Matt Garman and I have been podcasting like Olympic champs! Or, at least, honest-to-goodness participants in the Games.)

Not excuses — because my plan’s to push through and fight on-write on — but a little explanation as we rev up:

1) I wanted to create a self-hosted site/blog (a dream, aka long-time thought-and-stall from costs and dragging feet and fingers) before …

2) Our BABY came! I got my website up (accomplishment!) and he came! (blessing!!).

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Hawes Fam — Photo: Rebecca Schuller

Howdy,

Welcome to my new blog. My name is Billy Hawes and my goal is to take you with me on a creative journey — writing posts and books, podcasting conversations, and building a platform to share. Learning a craft and finding and fulfilling an audience. Together.

I look forward to connecting with you and running with endurance the race set before us …

This is an invitation. Shoulder up and let’s jam!

Looking to uplift — Photo: Billy Hawes

—Billy

Reading. Writing. Living.

Billy & Sarah

Please subscribe to mailing list for the Reading Writing Living journey we’re on and get the goodies that’ll come from time to time with my newsletter. Thank you.