Pinch me.

I saw my book on a shelf in a book store yesterday, and I got to tell you, it was electrifying. I always dreamed of the day that Iwould walk into a bookstore and see my book on a shelf. I have another recurring daydream where I walk into a music store, sit at the grand piano, and hammer out some flawless Brahms. However, I do not play the piano. I picked up a guitar at age 57, five years ago, and I am about as good as a seven year old. The piano thing is never going to happen. Then there's the daydream where I can tap dance like Gene Kelly. This won't happen either because my knees are shot; and I never had rhythm anyway. When I played youth football, I was the full back and the line backer-- a graceless wrecking ball.--and it set a pattern that brought me into journalism when I grew into adulthood and discovered that I was far too small for college or professional grid-iron, head bashing. Muck-raking was a decent alternative. But this book dream-- I knew I could write, but I never seemed to get a break with the agents or the publishers. So it seemed like another pipe dream. But the dream came true-- and now I'm sort of numb. Wonder how I'll feel on the day I spot the book on a remainders' table?