I blame my mother and the dog

An (apologetic) invitation to just let something go

The role of Otis the Weiner Dog is being played in this image by a virtually identical dog who exists in the universe of Stock Photography.

Greetings subscribers!

Here we are on Monday morning and I find myself with nothing for you but a jumble of incoherent fragments that have not yet added up to a post.

I blame my Mother, because yesterday was Mother’s Day and instead of writing, I spent the whole day just hanging out in a movable multi-generational feast of appreciation, gratitude, and connection.

(Could I have written a post earlier? Of course. But don’t tell my Mother that - it is far more fun to blame her.)

I also blame Otis the weiner dog because there’s a man coming today to start installing new windows in the house, which will, any moment now, cause Otis to bark his noggin off in an ear-splitting attempt to protect me from all things that dare to move, make noise, or invade his territory.

You know the detective-show trope of the poor civilian who finds themselves wearing a TNT-laden vest, standing dazed in the middle of the street, hoping to be saved before the bomb goes off?

That’s me, sitting on my bed, trying to project comforting energies, waiting for this dog-bomb to explode. And there’s no heroic cop on the way to save me. Can I gather my nerves together long enough to weave some helpful thoughts about the creating process while I await the moment of detonation?

No, I cannot.

(If it were helpful, I would point out that Otis is not even my dog, he is my daughter’s dog, and so the fact that I’m the designated bomb-vest wearer for today probably suggests a pathological level of maternal masochism…but that insight does not feel super helpful right now and will be filed for future analysis.)

The best I can do is offer you an apology and an invitation to keep me company by picking something this week that you are committed to doing, and not doing it.

You have my permission to blame your Mother or the dog or maybe one of your planets is out of alignment? (If you are more mature than I, you could, I suppose, skip the blame and just relish in the not-doing - but where’s the fun in that?)

I’m off to find some noise-cancelling headphones. Wish me luck, and I’ll see you here next week!

- Sara