Long-married couples with dogs joke that they ought to greet their partner with all the enthusiasm and love with which they greet their dog — at least now and again. “Oh HELLO! How’s my big boy? Are you such a good boy?”
On this morning’s walk I realized that it wouldn’t kill me to praise myself with the same enthusiasm that I praise my dog — at least now and again.
Finn doesn’t react to Marmaduke dog from the brown duplex. “YES! What a good boy!”
I restrain my tongue recently at a couple of critical junctures. “YES! Atta girl!”
Two loud city buses lumber past and Finn doesn’t lunge. “YES! What a good boy!”
I take off my semi-decent pants and new sweater before bleaching the toilets. “Atta girl, Dee!”
Finn lifts the paw irritated by a piece of salt. “YES! Good, good boy! How smart you are!”
I start following query and MSWL hashtags on twitter. “Smart move, Dee! Keep at it!”
(MSWL stands for Manuscript Wish List. It’s a good resource for finding out what kind of books agents are interested in).
You get the idea.
Meanwhile, the slow down of sewing continues. Same with taking pictures. I hope this is some sort of mild seasonal arrhythmia or a function of writing-focus. But it’s weird and disorienting.
I backed and basted a small geometric study in vibrant colors and started quilting it. It’s crib-sized but I don’t expect grandchildren any time soon or perhaps ever, so why?
That’s the winter talking. Don’t mind me.
You wrote a post in spite of feeling mute and grey. ATTA GIRL! You have nothing, really, to report, but you reached out. Good, good girl!